Taku Haere Ki Japan

na Kingi Ihaka

No te paunga o nga rā o te tau 1973, ka tae mai te tono mai ki ahau a te Japan Foundation kia haere atu ahau ki Japan i mua atu i te paunga o nga rā o Maehe 1974, ki te mātakitaki i te āhua noho o nga tāngata o taua whenua. Ko te hiahia o taua Foundation kia toru wiki ahau ki Japan, mā rātou e utu taku haerenga atu me taku hokinga mai, tae atu ki taku noho i reira, me aku kōpikopikotanga i reira. No te 8 o nga rā o Maehe ka rere atu ahau i Akarana ki Poihakena. E tata ana ki te waenganui pō o taua rā ano, ka rere atu i Poihakena ki Japan. E iwa haora e rere atu ana i Poihakena, ka tau atu ki te taunga manurere nui o Japan, ko tōna ingoa ko Haneda Airport. Atu i Poihakena ki Japan, tata kore ana ahau e moe ahakoa taku ngenge. Ko taku mate nui, he mataku i te āwhā. Ka kake, ka heke, ka kake, ka heke te manurere nei i te kino o te āwhā, engari, tae pai atu ana mātou ki Japan.

No te atatū, i te ono i te ata, e pouri tonu ana i te mea he hōtoke ki Japan, ka tau atu te manurere. I tera taima o te tau, ka nui te tino kōpeke (makariri) o tera whenua, na i tō mātou taunga atu, e whā degrees (4 degrees) te makariri o taua wāhi. I reira hei tūtaki mai i ahau ko tetahi o nga tāngata o te Japan Foundation me tetahi o nga hekeretari o te Embassy o Niu Tireni i Tokyo. Ko te hekeretari nei, he Pākehā no Poneke, kua pau kē te rua tau ki reira, a kua mohio ki te reo o nga Hapanihi. Kahore i roa i te Airport, ka mauria ahau ki taku hōtera i roto ake i te taone nui, ara i Tokyo. Ko Tokyo, e tata ana ki te 12 mirione nga tāngata kei reira e noho ana. Ko te mea i tino mataku ai ahau, ko nga motokā; ko te tini ai, me te horo ki te haere, me te mātotoru o te haere o nga motokā, ano nei ki au, e tata pā atu ana tetahi motokā ki tetahi. Ko nga rori o taua taone, kī tonu i te motokā i nga taima katoa. Ko te hōtera i haere atu nei ahau, horekau i nuku atu i te tekau maero te tawhiti atu i te Airport, engari i te kaha tini o te motokā, nuku atu i te haora, katahi ano mātou ka tae.

Ko te hōtera i reira nei ahau e noho ana, e toru mano nga ruuma moe, engari ko nga ruuma, tino kino te nohinohi (iti). I pēnei ai, he nohinohi ano no te nuinga o nga tāngata o taua whenua. Ko nga moenga, nga taonga katoa o ia ruuma o te hōtera, he nohinohi. Ko te mea i kata ai ahau, ko te taapu kaukau, Ko te waihanga, i rite ki te kāwhena te āhua, engari mo nga tāngata nohinohi anake. E toru putu nuku atu te hohonu; ko te whānui, e rua ano putu. Ko te take i pēnei ai nga taapu kaukau o reira no te mea, horekau te Hapanihi e kaukau penei ana i a tātou nei. Ka haere te Hapanihi ki te kaukau, ka timata atu ia i waho o te taapu. Ka timata atu tana horoi i a ia e noho ana i runga i te tuuru, e tū ana ranei. Ka mutu tana hopihopi i a ia i waho o te taapu, ka horoinia atu e ia nga hopi, katahi ano ka tomo atu ki roto i te taapu, ehara i te mea ki te horoi i a ia, engari ki reira okioki ai. E tata ana ki te haawhe haora a ia e noho ana i roto i te taapu wai, āhua wera, katahi ano ka puta mai.

Ko nga whare paku, i rerekē noa atu i o tātou. He tini nga whare paku o reira horekau e wehe ana mo te tāne mo te wahine, ara, kotahi ano te whare paku mo nga wahine me nga tane. Na reira, kia tūpato te haere a te tangata kei rokohanga atu e whakakākahu ana te tangata i a ia. Tuarua ko nga wāhi mo te tiko, kahore he tuuru; hāngai tonu nga wāhi tiko ki raro i te papa (floor) o te whare. Horekau ahau i taunga ki tenei tikanga, ka hoki mai ahau.

E kore e taea te korero whānui nga āhuatanga i kite ahau i reira; heio ano me whakarāpopoto ake nga korero ki nga mea whakamīharo i kite ahau.

Ko etahi o nga tikanga a tērā iwi, i āhua rite ki nga tikanga a te Maori. Ko etahi o nga kāinga, kahore e whakaaengia kia mau hū (shoes) te tangata. Ka tae atu koe ki waho, me ata unuunu nga hū, katahi ano

ka āhei te tomo atu. Ko te nuinga ō ō rātou whare, he mea whāriki ki nga whāriki mātotoru, na rātou ano i raranga, ara, he mea raranga-ā-ringaringa, horekau i mahia e nga mihiini. E rua, e toru inihi ranei te mātotoru o nga whāriki nei.

E toru aku haerenga ki nga karakia Mihinare i reira, engari ko nga minita he Hapanihi a ko te reo, he Hapanihi ano. I taku taenga atu i taku haeranga tuatahi, i waho ano o te whare karakia, ka kite ahau i nga hū e tākotokoto ana i waho. Mahara pai ahau ki etahi ō ō tātau marae ki te haere ana ki nga tangihanga. Ka tangotango ahau i aku hū, ka tomo atu. Mai i te tīmatanga tae noa ki te mutunga, kotahi ano reo o te karakia, ko tō rātou ake reo. Whakamīharo atu ahau i te tapu o te karakia. Ka mutu mai te karakia, ka tūtaki ahau ki te minita, katahi ano ka karangatia te whakaminenga kia hoki ano ki roto i te whare Karakia. Ka karanga mai te Minita ki au kia korero ahau ki te whakaminenga, na tetahi ō rātou i whaka-hapanihi aku korero. Muri tata mai, ka putaputa mai mātou ki waho, e taka ana he kai me nga tāngata. Ko nga kai, he raihi he miiti, he paraoa, he tī. Na ko ēnei tikanga, ara, te whāngai i te tangata ki te kai i muri mai i te karakia, i pēnei ano i a mātou e noho nei i te Mihana Maori o Akarana. Pera ai hoki tā mātou ture i nga Ratapu katoa — ka mutu te karakia, ko te kai. Ko nga kai a tērā iwi, e kore te Maori e ora. Ko etahi o ā rātou tino kai, he pāua, he kina, he ika, he tuna. Reka kē ki a rātou te kai i nga kai-moana me kai mata. Ahakoa nga ika, e kai matangia ana. Ehara rātou i te iwi kai miiti. I mua hoki, kahore tō rātou whakapono e whakaae kia kai rātou i nga kararehe e whā nga waewae. He tino kai nā rätou te heihei me nga kai moana katoa.

Ko Buddha me Shinto nga haahi nui o tera iwi. Kei raro ake i te kotahi paiheneti nga karaitiana o tērā ake iwi. I haere ahau ki te kite i ō rātou temepara, ara o nga haahi o Buddha me Shinto. Ko te nuinga o nga temepara nei, nui noa atu i te taone hooro o Akarana. He whakapakoko te nuinga o nga taonga o roto. Kei muri i te aata nui, ko te whakapakoko o Buddha, e rima tekau putu nuku atu te teitei, tekau ma rua putu nuku atu te whānui. Kei nga taha o Buddha, he kānara, kei mua mai, he kāpura (ahi), na, kei tetahi taha he wāhi pēnei i te taapu nei, hei takotonga mo nga koha a nga tāngata i haere atu ana ki reira karakia ai. He iwi mataku kehua tērā iwi. E kore e taea te whakamārama poto ki te reo Maori etahi o nga tikanga a enei haahi. He maha ō rātou tuāhu, he maha ō rātou atua. Ko etahi e whakapono ana ki nga rākau, ko etahi ki nga kōwhatu, me nga mea tinitini noa. He iwi whakataputapu; he iwi tūpato; he iwi whakapono ki ō rātou ake atua. Ka puta mai nga tāngata i nga temepara, ka haere ki te uhiuhi i a rātou ki te wai makariri (penei ano i etahi ō tātou o te iwi Maori), ki te paoa (auahi) ranei. He rite katoa nga rā ki a rātou; kahore i penei i a tātou nei, otira i etahi o tātou, hei nga Ratapu anake ka haere ki te karakia. Ko to rātou rā nui mo te haere ki te karakia he Harerei, engari i nga rā katoa, e hia rau tāngata e haere ana ki nga temepara, ki nga tuāhu.

I tae au i tetahi rā ki tetahi temepara nui i Tokyo. I taku taenga atu, e tū ana i waho i te temepara tetahi teneti nui, ki ana i te putiputi mā. I roto i te temepara nei, he putiputi mā kei nga wāhi katoa—atu i te kūwaha, tae noa ki te aata. No taku pātainga atu ki nga tāngata i reira, ka kōrerotia mai ki ahau e kore e roa ka whakahaeretia he karakia nehu tūpapaku. Nōku i taua temepara, ka patapataingia atu e ahau, ā rātou tikanga mo ō rātou tūpapaku. He maha ā rātou tikanga i rite ki a tātou. I te wā e mate ai he tangata, ka horoia ki te wai wera. Muri mai, katahi ka whakakākahungia ki te kākahu mā. E rua rā te tupapaku e takoto ana i te kāinga, katahi ka mauria ki te temepara ki te tuāhu rānei. E tangihanga ana rātou i roto ake i ō rātou whare. Ko te teneti nui e tū ra i mua o te temepara, kei roto nga pukapuka hei tuhinga mo nga tāngata katoa e haere ana ki te karakia nehu, i ō rātou ingoa. E tahungia ana nga tūpapaku katoa, ahakoa ko wai. Ka mutu te karakia i te temepara, ka haere te nuinga o te whakaminenga ki te kāinga o te tūpapaku ki te takahi i te whare ki te mau taonga hoki ma te kiri-mate. Ko nga tāngata katoa e tae ki te tangihanga, ka

Continued on page 21

Passing Through

by Fiona Kidman

And the world was a new day, the sun a golden apple hovering over the broomstick tops of the poplars. A thrush settled himself, comfortably slung in space between telegraph poles, so that he could sing sweetly to her. Fat notes dripping honey mead, morning had broken all right.

Roimata lit another cigarette. The bank she was sitting on was not quite dry yet. Instinctively she pulled out one of the parcels from the heap beside her and slid it under her bottom. Mrs Allen, her mother-in-law, always said one should never sit on wet grass.

Upon which thought she replaced the packet with the others.

Not for her, thank you, she wasn't here to do what Mrs Allen thought she should any more. No fear, that was all over.

She trickled fine blue veins of smoke out of her mouth and watched them go curling above her. She must be nearly out of smokes, she thought to herself, and reached into her jeans pocket for her tobacco. Might as well roll a couple to pass the time. Pity she hadn't changed out of her jeans, but then again, what the heck, there just hadn't been time. When the shearing gang finished up at Utiku the day before it had been one mad rush to get into Taihape before the shops closed.

‘What's your hurry mate?’ they'd asked her. ‘Plenty of time to celebrate. They don't shut till ten.’

‘Not the pub,’ she'd told them. ‘I gotta go shopping.’ Boy, how she'd needed to go shopping, with that great roll of notes burning holes in her pocket. More money than she'd had since, oh goodness knows how far back, long before she'd married Robbie, that was for real. Get to the shops and use it for what she had planned on. Spend it before the merry night took hold and it went sliding through her fingers, the way it used to. Robbie said she was careless with money. He forgot easy how she'd picked him up when he was broke. Times his mother never knew about, his wild days, their best ones, before they loused it all up with marriage.

Oh, but he was a sweet beautiful boy though, hanging tight to his dreams and hard to wake in the dawn of whatever place they happened to be, those times. A dozen different places, construction sites, farms, in a car at Waikaremoana one winter night and hadn't it been cold, cold all over they'd been, and when he did wake up, it was with never failing surprise that she was still there.

When Debbie was on the way, it was then he got the call. He'd been expecting his mother to sing out that she needed him sooner or later. Being a widow and brought him up, what could he do? Couldn't let her down could he? They had gone to his home together.

A-e, but it was good to be back with the shearers though. The fleeces thick and pungent, the floors of the shed heavy with oil, the noise, the laughter, the bleating of the sheep, the cussing when one got away. The money too.

Tai, in the gang, was married. He knew how she felt about things, so he gave them the hurry along, so that they got down to Taihape by half past four. It wasn't too long to do shopping for two kids. The toy shops were that busy with Christmas only a couple of weeks away that it took her all her time to get served. Probably didn't think she'd be much of a customer. That's until they saw the money, more than any of the farmers' wives were handing round. They mostly said ‘Charge it’ anyway. Half of

it was gone by the time the shops shut at 5.30.

Then there she was on the pavement in the middle of Taihape, strung with a giant teddy bear, dolls and toy guns, a plastic policeman's helmet perched on her head for nowhere else to put it, and trailing a tiny midget-sized trike. Absurdly, crazily happy—Look Tai, look what I've bought—just wait till my kids see this lot—.

She didn't go to the party. After a couple of drinks at the hotel, a stock truck driver came in, a nice bloke. Tai chatted him up, said ‘Why don't you go up to Hamilton with this joker? He's going through that way tonight.’ Good old Tai, he knew.

The truckie was okay, no nonsense, he had a girl in Hamilton. They swapped yarns and cigarettes on the way, stopped at the piecart on the way through Taupo, and set off again with the steam of coffee and hamburgers just about coming out of their ears. ‘Regular geysers,’ she joked to him as they headed across to Atiamuri. A good night, like the old days. He let her sleep in the cab when they got to Hamilton, provided she promised to be off at first light.

She took a taxi out to the suburb where the family lived, when she reckoned Robbie would have left for work. She got the driver to set her down a little way off from the house. Not quite ready yet, and she needed some time to look the place over.

Anyway, Mrs Allen wasn't ‘at her best’ in the mornings and the kids would take time to be dressed and fed. Daniel, the baby, would be all right. He'd always been easy going, but Debbie, three, going four now, and a year older than him, was a different box of tricks. A proper monkey, and ‘a difficult child’ as Mrs Allen would say.

Roimata's face changed. Hard bitter lines shaped around her mouth. They hadn't been gone so long that they didn't come back easy when she started to think.

Yes, Mrs Allen would be doing her Christian duty by the kids. Though it hadn't been obvious to Roimata at the outset that she was a woman of such principle, she'd been elevated to Christianity by her neighbours as the trials of her daughter-in-law mounted and beset her.

Not that she had said much when Robbie took his wife there. Oh no, the neighbours just said, ‘Well, you are a Christian (or a Briton, depending on their persuasions), I mean mothers and daughters-in-law don't always get on, do they?’ Which was a roundabout way of saying what was in their minds, and placing the credit squarely with Mrs Allen, a stance they never forsook. That might have seemed fair enough in the light of how things turned out, but Roimata doubted it.

After all, she tried for a long time too. She started wearing tweedy looking skirts and sensible flat lace-up shoes, a good quality that Mrs Allen had helped her buy during her pregnancy. Her hair was still long but worn back in a ponytail, and though she still smoked she changed to tailor-mades. Even harder, she went to Plunket instead of the District Nurse with the baby, and when the nurse suggested she join the Plunket mothers' club she went along to that too. The women were all over-effusive, but no one invited her to pop in for coffee after the meetings, like the others all did of each other.

When about a year had passed, the penny dropped that Robbie didn't find her as fascinating as he once did. She guessed it was because she was no longer the old Roimata he knew, and a rather poor imitation of being anybody else.

‘Let's go live somewhere else, Robbie,’ she whispered to him in the night. ‘Get our own place. eh.’

But Daniel was on the way, places were dear to rent, and what was the point when his mother had all that space to herself. She didn't know who to be any more.

The decision was made for her by the Plunket people when they sold clothes to the Maoris at a pa out of town on Family Benefit Day. Every good fund raiser knew that you had to catch the Family Benefit before it was thrown away on booze. Mind you, my dear, just close your eyes next time you're passing there, really demoralises you to see your old clothes being worn that way, even if they were ready for the jumble sale.

When Roimata turned up at the meeting

house to serve behind the counter she felt ashamed. ‘You ought to be proud of yourself,’ she told herself sternly. For after all, had she not come full circle, standing here on this side of the stall? Once her mother had clothed her from just such a sale.

Warm the voices in the thick air, the little fellas underfoot, the women with their baskets full, laughing in a corner, sharing a friendly smoke, glancing now and then in her direction, from under their eyelids. It was too much to bear.

That day she went home for morning tea with someone. Tea and scones, and she never went home till late that night, even though Mrs Allen had an Institute meeting that afternoon. She never went back to the mothers' club.

Now she knew who she was again, but Robbie didn't recognise the old Roimata in strange surroundings. Now she was no one in his company but at least she had somewhere to be herself.

Some days she would go to the hotel with her mates, and that got back to the Allens. It made Roimata mad the way she saw some of the sly Pakeha matrons slipping into the private bars in the afternoon. At night they would go home and cover themselves by saying to their husbands, ‘So and so and I just slipped into the hotel today for a bit of a giggle, and on the way, would you believe, we saw that poor Mrs Allen's daughter-in-law in the public bar.’ But wouldn't they be just as flushed and loud and silly when they came out of there as anyone!

Poor Mrs Allen. Maybe she was. Roimata's face softened. You couldn't blame her altogether. There were lots of times when she looked tired and grey with all that minding of the kids. It would have been hard work for her with Debbie and Daniel since she left too, but at least, she, Roimata, the great big bone of contention, was out of it. Roimata hoped her mother-in-law wasn't too tired. Soon the kids would be off her hands though, now that she was back on her feet.

Time to go in now. Clumsy with all the parcels to collect, Roimata got to her feet.

At the gate she hesitated, but then she heard a child's voice and she ran up the steps.

Mrs Allen was having a pick-me-up cup of tea when she went into the kitchen. The cup slopped sideways in the older woman's hand. She uttered a harsh inarticulate cry.

‘What do you think you're doing here?’ she said finally.

But already Roimata was on her knees gathering up her children, crying, face pressed into the curves of their necks kissing every exposed piece of honey-coloured skin. Around her lay the parcels in confusion.

Shrilly Mrs Allen cried out again, ‘What do you think you're at, walking into my house?’

The children at the sound of her voice cowered away from their mother, clinging fearfully to the legs of the table.

Kneeling there, Roimata looked down at her empty hands.

‘I've come back — Mother,’ she said, with the familiar difficulty over that last word, trying desperately to bridge the gap.

‘I can see that.’

As she got up off the floor, Roimata said, ‘I've brought the children their Christmas presents. Theyre early but — gee, I wanted them to have them, you know. Couldn't wait.’

‘Presents?’ There was scorn in her mother-in-law's voice now. ‘Presents you say. Look at you, dirty and filthy, you come into my house with presents and expect me to take you back. Presents don't always make you friends.’

‘I don't want to come back. I've come to get the children. I'm okay now. I've got plenty of money, an' somewhere to take them. It'll be all right. You can have a rest now. You'd like that, wouldn't you?’

Mrs Allen stood wondering at the girl. ‘Take them away? You can't take them away. Don't you know that?’

‘They're mine.’

‘No they're not. They're Robbie's.’

‘Robbie's? Oh no you can't do that. Me, I'm their Mummy.’

‘They're Robbie's I tell you.’ And triumphantly, ‘The Court says they're Robbie's.’

‘Court?’

‘Didn't you get the letter from the lawyer?’

‘I haven't had no letters. Oh — we moved round a couple places. Probably missed me.’

‘Moved around, eh? That's what I'd have expected of you. And what if one of them had been sick? where would we have found you? Moving around somewhere. Oh no my girl, you can't buy these children back, they need love.’

Love. What was she talking about? Roimata realised quite suddenly that she was tired and the whole conversation seemed a bit silly. The beginnings of a goofy smile hovered on her lips.

‘Don't you laugh at me — you …’ Then, after words had failed for a moment, out they came, a great torrent of words lashing about them all, storms from strange seas, tides of anger out of the deeps, despair, disgust. The children crouched under the table whimpering. And at last, at long last, the fury eddying away, receding, and amongst the flotsam, the word ‘police’ tossing untidily around the room.

So that was it. The police could stop her taking the children with her. It began to make some sort of sense. No matter where she went, she would be hounded. No matter who she went to, they would not be good enough for the law. No matter how her arms ached to hold her babies, they would be torn from her grasp.

She collected herself together, and headed for the door.

‘I — got a tie in there for Robbie, ‘mongst that lot,’ said Roimata, pausing and nodding foolishly at the parcels.

‘A tie for Robbie? Oh God — you're hopeless. What did you expect to get from Robbie? He was always a good boy — only when you came along he got mixed up. That's over now, he's all right again. Go on, take your stuff with you. Take it.’

‘No,’ said Roimata, suddenly firm. ‘No I won't take it. It belongs to them.’ She indicated the children.

Mrs Allen picked up a parcel, and catching her roughly by the arm tried to shove it into her hands. Roimata pulled away. ‘I wouldn't do that,’ she said dangerously, then taunting her, ‘I might get the pol-eece after you for assault, mightn't I?’

She walked outside, wishing she could be proud of her parting shot, but it seemed an empty victory.

Behind her in the doorway, Debbie appeared. Roimata stood at the gate watching. The child walked down the path, stooping halfway to pick a daisy from the border. She continued, clutching the flower in front of her.

‘Your present, Mummy,’ said Debbie, holding it out.

For a moment mother and daughter looked at each other. Then swiftly Roimata leaned down and kissed her child. As she straightened up, she curled her fingers round the small hand.

‘It's a lovely present Debbie,’ she whispered, ‘Lovely present darling. But you must take it to Nana. You must look after Nanny now. She needs a present.’

Her daughter studied the rejected offering curiously, then slowly turned back down the path, towards her grandmother.

Up above, the sun had wheeled higher.

The thrush still sang praise, all praise, upon the day.

The road Roimata would take swam before her. The morning had broken apart.

Maori Women's Welfare League
Conference in Hamilton

After special greetings to the people of Waikato, the League's Patroness, Dame Te Atairangikaahu, and the guest of honour, Minister of Maori Affairs, The Hon. Matiu Rata, the League's president Mrs Miraka Szaszy challenged and inspired the delegates and observers gathered at Claudelands, Hamilton, with her opening address.

‘Ruia, ruia, opea, opea, tahia, tahia,
Kia hemo to kakoakoa,
Kia herea mai te kawau koroki,
Tatata mai ana i roto i tana pukorokoro whai karo,
He kuaka marangaranga—
Kotahi manu i tau ki te tahuna,
Tau mai, tau mai, tau mai

‘Ministers of the Crown, His Grace the Bishop of Aotearoa, the representative of the New Zealand Maori Council, the Deputy Mayor of Hamilton, representatives of kindred organisations, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to our conference, on behalf of our Patroness and the delegates.

‘Delegates, observers and members, nga mema o Te Ropu Wahine Toko I Te Ora, Nau mai! Haere mai! Piki mai! To the junior members present, a special welcome, and we hope that for you this conference proves to be both memorable and worthwhile.

‘How thrilled we are that our first president and another foundation member were in the recent honours conferred by Her Majesty.

Our congratulations also to other Maori recipients, especially the local carver, Piri Poutapu.

WAIRERE-O-TE-HAU

by Van Phillips

It was Sharon who first saw them.

We'd just finished an early tea, when Sharon, washing up in the kitchen, happened to glance out into the gloom of the back yard.

There, in the softly falling winter rain appeared koro Petau and koro Mat. Bareheaded they stood, twisting their hats in nervous hands, and looking silently towards the house.

There was a moment or two before Sharon recovered from her surprise and called to me. I thought she wanted a hand with the dishes, so I ignored her. At least until I heard a note of panic in her voice.

‘Look!’ she whispered. ‘There!’

I saw them.

‘Hell—they gave me a fright!’. She wiped her hands against her apron and gave a little shudder. ‘What d'you think they want?’

I wondered. It wasn't often anyone from the pa came up to the house. In fact, I'd spoken only briefly to one or two of the locals since we'd moved onto the farm some six months previously. But I knew these two old men. I'd seen them outside the pub at Pihi. Sitting in the weak sun, deep in conversation, with a bottle between them.

Now they stood outside in the dusk. Looking towards the house.

‘I suppose I better see.’

Sharon flicked an uneasy glance at me. ‘Look—it's probably nothing.’

Sharon didn't seem so sure, but she made no move as I opened the door and walked out onto the back verandah. The two men shuffled forward. I could sense Sharon standing behind me, partly hidden by the open door.

Koro Mat spoke. ‘Good evening sir.’ His eyes briefly caught koro Petau's before he looked back at me. ‘I'm sorry sir.’ He shifted his feet uneasily. ‘I hope we've not come at the wrong time.’ He nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Petau and me would like to speak with you.’

‘Of course—come in out of the rain.’

I motioned them to enter the kitchen. They seemed shy and uncertain. Petau made as if to remove his boots.

‘A bit more mud won't matter—come on in’.

They entered nervously. Sharon appeared, greeting the two men with a forced smile. She was still puzzled by the men's actions. So was I. This matter they wanted to discuss with me. Perhaps it was about the kids from the pa whom I'd caught the previous week, riding the old gelding in the bottom paddock. I was a little worried by the seriousness of the two men.

However, they entered the kitchen and I introduced them to Sharon. We all smiled uneasily at one another and sat. To break the ice, Sharon offered the two men a cup of tea. They politely refused.

‘Bad weather setting in.’

They both nodded and shyly examined the room. Sharon glanced secretly at me and raised her eyes ceilingwards.

Mat cleared his throat.

‘Ah sir.’ He stopped.

Koro Petau looked absently at the door.

‘Sir—the people— our families have talked this matter over and we have come to you.’ He took a deep breath and searched for further words. ‘There is trouble—ah—!’

The kids and the horse. Surely not that. I'd only threatened to boot their backsides if I caught them again. Must be something else.

Koro Petau licked his lips. ‘Sir—there's a

problem. Your advice we would like.’

Me. Why me? Sharon shrugged her shoulders.

‘I hope you will excuse us.’

I was becoming impatient. Why the beating round the bush? Sharon looked towards the kettle and I nodded. She began to make tea. Koro Mat sat back in the chair and rested his gnarled hands on the edge of the table. Both men steamed.

‘It's Wairereotehau!’

‘Wairere-o-te-hau?’

Sharon looked across at me. The old men saw our puzzlement.

‘Wairereotehau—a canoe—an old canoe—he's lying on the bank and now the Pakeha is taking him away.’

So this was it. But I couldn't see why they wanted my help. Petau must have sensed my confusion.

‘We would like you to speak with the Pakeha.’

So this was it.

Koro Petau sighed with relief, and both men lapsed into silence. Sharon and I looked at each other. We still weren't much wiser.

‘This canoe—whose is it—who owns it?’

Koro Mat coughed. ‘It belongs to the Wallaces—they lent it to the Moananuis to carry wool, now Moananui has given it to the Pakeha!’

‘It is not theirs to give—the Wallaces never give Wairere away!’

‘This man from the city’, muttered Petau, ‘he takes him—he should remain here. This is his river!’

Both men were angry. Sharon placed tea before them.

‘You'd like me to see this man?’

They nodded.

‘The Pakeha—you talk to him for us. It's better that way eh?’

Mat nodded in agreement.

‘Would it be best to check with the Wallaces first?’

Both looked at me quizzically, then Petau nodded.

‘Eee—that's best. They're in the phone book—down the city—Maggie Wallace.’

I left the two men in the kitchen with Sharon, and put through a toll call. Mrs Wallace was at home. I explained who I was, and my reason for phoning. She was uncertain at first—perhaps suspicious. However when I explained that I was phoning on behalf of koro Mat and koro Petau, she warmed immediately and explained the situation. It was her husabnd that owned the canoe, and he had, just before his death, given the canoe to a Mr Davey Rhodes. Mr Rhodes evidently had a small private collection of Maori artifacts, and he intened to repair the canoe and add it to his display. So there we were. There was apparently nothing we could do. I thanked Mrs Wallace and returned to the kitchen.

They all looked at me expectantly. I shook my head.

‘I'm sorry’ I said. ‘Mrs Wallace has given permission for the canoe to go.’

The two old men looked at each other in disbelief. Petau slowly shook his head.

‘He must not go!’ A little tear ran from the corner of his eye.

Sharon, to cover up her embarrassment, bustled at the kitchen sink. Mat gazed into the distance.

‘I remember when the Health Department doctor came up the river in that canoe.’ He thought for a minute. ‘I was about ten then—I remember him sitting in a ponga whare.’ Mat giggled at the memory. ‘The rain dripped through.’

‘Could carry two cord of wood,’ added Petau. ‘Used to have a big diesel once.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Think the Moananuis took it out.’

Mat grinned. ‘Think they didn't keep the payments up, eh!’

Petau smiled at the memory, and for a moment both men were once again on the river in days gone by.

Sharon smiled sadly at the two old men. ‘We must do something,’ she whispered.

Mat looked at her.

‘Why can't the Pakeha leave him alone! Poor Wairere—taken from his river.’

I felt uncomfortable. As if I was responsible.

Petau sighed deeply. ‘You see’, he said slowly, ‘Wairere is old—like me. It's better his bones rest here—where he spent his youthful days—than to go away to the city. He's then like a man without a family—te mokai!’

I felt both sad and helpless. Both Sharon and I could sense the frustration of these two men. The loss of the canoe would be deeply felt. It was not just a canoe. To the old men it represented memories and their histories.

‘Ha-well’, said Petau slowly rising, ‘Sir—I thank you for your help—perhaps this is meant to be—! Who knows God's thoughts!’

Yes, who knows.

Sharon looked pleadingly at me.

I shrugged. There was nothing to be done other than perhaps speaking with Mr Rhodes. Somehow I didn't think that would alter the situation.

Mat and Petau stood.

‘Thank you sir.’

‘I'm sorry I couldn't be of help.’

Mat patted my arm.

They had come with hope and I had failed them. The sadness in their eyes disturbed me.

‘Never mind—’ Petau turned to Sharon. ‘and thank you missus.’

They smiled sadly, excused themselves, and vanished into the darkness.

The canoe was to be floated down the river on Sunday.

At the top of the farm, where the high cliffs overlooked the river, I had often sat during the previous week—watching a group of four or five men uncovering Wairere-o-te-hau. The canoe appeared to have been buried under the silt carried down by repeated floods over the years. Then a blanket of blackberry had added a final covering to the canoe's hiding place. Now the men had slashed back the brush, and dug a shallow trench exposing the long hull once more to the elements.

On Sunday I was determined to have a closer look before the canoe was floated away. I walked down the track to a point opposite the bank on which the canoe lay. A member of the group working on the canoe waved across to me. He pointed questioningly at their aluminium dinghy that was tied to the bank. I nodded. At least I could lend a hand. But then should I?

The man brought the boat across the slow current and nosed into the bank.

‘Gidday.’

I introduced myself.

He gave me a sharp glance. Perhaps he'd heard that I'd rung Mrs Wallace. However he said nothing and introduced himself as Davey Rhodes.

‘Like to come across? Could use another hand.’ He grinned and looked across the river.

‘Yeah—I'd like to have a look—thanks.’

We putt-putted across the sluggish water that flowed slowly in a wide curve. Below, it narrowed into a gorge that ran for four or five miles before widening into the lower coastal valley.

The canoe lay parallel to the river, some eight feet above the water level. Wairere-o-te-hau was some thirty feet in length, built from a single tree trunk. It had warped slightly during the time spent in the ground. At one end the wood had begun to split.

Two men were busy placing zinc sheeting over the weakness, while a third caulked the split. Davey introduced me to the workers. Two were his neighbours. The third member of the party was his son. Davey explained how they intended to ease the canoe down the slipway they had dug in the clay bank, then mount an outboard motor for the run down the river. Certainly it seemed to me a perilous undertaking, but Davey seemed to have confidence in the scheme.

By mid-morning the canoe was ready for launching. Surprisingly, little effort was required. Wairere seemed anxious to once more enter the water. The canoe teetered slightly on the edge of the bank, then with little encouragement, slid gently into the river. Davey looked relieved as he hopped aboard and tied a bow rope. The other three laughed loudly. Proudly Wairere lay against the bank.

For some reason, perhaps a movement caught my eye, I happened to glance upward. There on the cliff, on the opposite side of the river were koro Mat and koro Petau. Watching. Silent. How long had they stood there? How long had they watched? I felt strangely uncomfortable. I bailed out the little water that had entered the canoe. I could feel their eyes. What were they thinking?

Davey piled the shovels, axes and ropes into the dinghy and loaded the rest of their equipment into the canoe. The four then donned orange-coloured life jackets and prepared to leave.

I was still uncomfortably aware of the watchers on the cliff.

Wairere-o-te-hau lay quietly, moving just a little as the current tugged at its bow. Eager to be away. Eager to once more challenge the rapids and float on the long stretches of placid water. I was glad to see Wairere once more where he belonged.

But then I remembered Mat and Petau, and my eyes crept up the cliff. They still stood—watching. Watching Wairere as he pulled gently at his tethering rope. A final look at an old friend before he made the long trip to the sea. To the place of strangers.

Davey offered his hand. I was uncertain. The watchers on the cliff. Damn them. I shook hands with the men and wished them luck. Davey then returned me to my side of the river.

I stood and watched as Davey returned to the canoe and made ready to cast off. I knew Mat and Petau still stood on the cliff above me, waiting. I wondered what they thought of me. Still, it was done.

Davey Rhodes and his two neighbours climbed into the canoe. They had fixed a small outboard to a bracket they had built at the stern. Davey's son, in the dinghy, made slow sweeping circles around Wairere as he nosed his way out into the centre of the river. Davey waved in my direction and then set about turning the bow down river towards the gorge.

Proudly the canoe moved away. For twenty years he had lain in the earth, and now he was free to travel the old waterways of his youth. Eagerly he ran, picking up speed as he caught the current that channelled in to the upper gorge. Eager once more to fight the foaming waters. Onwards Wairere dashed.

As they reached the first rapid, the motor raced madly for a moment, then stopped. The son sped forward in the dinghy and was swept sideways and pinned against the bank by the weight of water that poured over the boulders. The canoe, suddenly without power, shot forward, bucking wildly as it hit the boiling waters. The two men in the bow were thrown violently out. Their heads became bobbing black specks in the white foam. Davey, in the stern, desperately tried to keep the canoe's bow into the mainstream. His orange jacket leaped about, then suddenly was lost from view. I started running up the track, hoping to get ahead of the canoe before it plunged into the gorge proper. Davey had been thrown from the craft and was clinging to an upthrust tree trunk that had been caught in the centre of the river.

The canoe, uncontrolled, was swept onwards.

Suddenly, the bow shot skywards and momentarily the canoe stood on end—upright and unmoving.

Saluted the sky. Saluted the bush.

The river hushed. The rumbling of the water faded to the merest whisper.

I knew the two on the cliff were watching.

There was a split second of silence. And then Wairere-o-te-hau—slowly—very slowly slid backwards into the deep water and was lost from view.

I looked up to the cliff. I could just see the backs of the two old men as they walked homewards.

New Zealand's First Students
at United World College

Mamae Wikiriwhi, a 16-year-old sixth form student at Auckland Girls' Grammar School, left on 27 August for the United World College of the Atlantic, at St Donat's Castle, South Wales, where she will study for two years. The New Zealand Government is sponsoring two students, the other being Paul Mitchell of Geraldine. At the college will be about 300 students from 40 countries aged from 16 to 18, taking a pre-university course. They will graduate with an International Baccalaureate, acceptable as entrance to University in most countries

Each student takes three subjects to a high level and three to a subsidiary level. Mamae will concentrate on English, mathematics and music, and choose between French, environmental studies, political studies and economics for her other three subjects after she arrives at the college.

Mamae is the younger daughter of Monty and Jean Wikiriwhi. Her father, Senior Welfare Officer with the Maori and Island Affairs Department at Auckland, comes from Te Arawa, and her mother, well known as a cultural tutor, is the sister of George Moke of Kawhia.

Mamae attended Onepoto Primary School and Northcote Intermediate School, where she was an above-average pupil, and at Auckland Girls' Grammar School she has been in the top academic class for four years. Last year she passed School Certificate in six subjects, English, French, mathematics, music, history and science, gaining particularly high marks in maths, music and English, and being the school's top music student.

Music has always been one of Mamae's main interests. Like her older sister she has studied the piano for several years, and the day before she left for England, sat her Grade 8 examination. Although she has not sat violin

examinations she has learnt for five years, and is leader of the school orchestra. When a 4th form student, she won the Auckland school chamber music piano competition, last year was second in piano and third in violin, and this year won again. Last year she won her school's ‘Susan Smith Music Cup’ for all-round participation in music. Unfortunately the school's Polynesian Club meets at the same time as the orchestra practises, so Mamae has not been able to participate regularly, but she knows many Maori songs and with knowledge gained from a recent course in the use of flax for traditional clothing and baskets, she will be able to demonstrate many aspects of Maori culture to her fellow-students.

Although excellence at sport is not a

dominant factor in the selection of students for the United College, participation in sport is regarded as another evidence of all-round ability. Mamae's interests are in indoor basketball, netball, cricket and tennis. She has represented North Shore in junior tennis.

Together with academic and personal qualities, the students are expected to have taken part in some community work. Mamae's involvement has been as a judges' assistant at competitions society festivals, and working in a geriatric hospital during her school holidays. Each applicant was required to write an essay on their aspirations and to state their personal qualifications. Also the headmaster or headmistress of their school was required to comment on the pupils. From about 30 regional finalists Mamae was chosen as one of eight who travelled to Wellington for final interviews.

The United World College of the Atlantic was opened in 1962 as the first of a number of international colleges to be established throughout the world, designed to offer to selected students of different nationalities and high ability a two year academic course immediately before entry to university. The project has two main aims: ‘to promote international understanding through education; and to provide a pattern of education adapted to meet the special needs of our age.’

From the outset, one of the college's aims was a genuinely international matriculation examination, and students are now able to

enter over 150 universities throughout the world. ‘But,’ they say, ‘it is not enough only to remove academic barriers. Young people today must be made aware of the modes of thought and characteristics of other nations and races. They must come to feel sympathy with them, without becoming alienated from their own culture and society.’

The whole college programme is geared to the development of human understanding among students. All activities are under the guided control of a Student Council; students are encouraged to make friends outside the college; dress is very informal during the day, slightly more formal in the evening; there are regular Saturday evening dances and Sunday evening concerts; programmes of films, music and lectures by visiting speakers are arranged; there are no resident clergy, but students are encouraged to attend their own church; no applicant is excluded because of race, religion or political allegiance.

Many sports are catered for, but first aid and swimming are the only compulsory activities in the college. It provides rescue services covering 15 miles of the Bristol channel, and every student is given training for four hours per week in the first year, then becoming involved in the Beach Rescue Unit, Cliff Rescue, Inshore Rescue Boats, Social Services, Environment Development, or a specialist First Aid Unit.

Similar colleges have been set up in various parts of the world, and more are planned. Other New Zealand students are expected to go to Canada shortly. The whole project is now vested in an international council under the presidency of Lord Mountbatten, who aroused interest in the colleges when he was in New Zealand recently for the British Commonwealth Ex-Services League Conference.

New Zealand has been asked to send students each year, and those interested should write to The Secretary, New Zealand National Committee, United World Colleges, Box 5087, Wellington, for further information.

We wish Mamae well as an ambassador for our country, and trust that she will enjoy her two years in Wales.

Four Poems

by Vernice Wineera Pere

Cambridge Scholarship

High academic achievement has won for Robert Bryant, an Auckland Grammar School student, a scholarship to Cambridge University, where he will study for three years, before returning to New Zealand to study medicine. The scholarship, worth $3,200 annually, has been given by the Worshipful Company of Girdlers, one of the old liveried companies in Britain, which has set aside part of its income for scholarships for boys and girls who, having distinguished themselves in their schools, might wish to take degree courses at one of the old British universities. One of these scholarships is available each year for a New Zealand student, and if the successful applicant is a boy he takes up the scholarship at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. The selection committee also considers the all-round qualities of the candidate as well as his academic qualifications.

Nineteen-year-old Robert is half-Maori, and lives on the North Shore in Auckland. At primary and intermediate school he read a lot, and did well at school work. He was an out-of-zone applicant for Auckland Grammar School, and in the first examination did well enough to be placed in 3A. From then on he was in the top class of his form right through secondary school. For School Certificate he took physics, chemistry, biology, mathematics, English and French, and had an average of 89%, obtaining 97% in maths. Because his class had already done some University Entrance work in the fifth form, they did the bursary syllabus in the sixth form, and Robert gained a University Junior Scholarship from his marks in chemistry, maths and biology. He stayed on at Auckland Grammar for a seventh form year, and was the school's top scholar in the scholarship examination, with the outstanding mark of 96% in English. His very high marks won him the Cambridge scholarship. Robert feels that the only drawback to the award is that it entails waiting for the beginning of the Cambridge year in October. Medical students do not usually apply for this scholarship, as it covers only three years study, so Robert will study biochemistry at Cambridge. Besides, New Zealand medical training is regarded as some of the best in the world.

If Robert had left school after his sixth form year, he would have gone to medical school, as although he obtained high marks in physics, chemistry and mathematics, he finds these subjects lack human interest, and medical studies have a more personal approach.

He has always enjoyed sport, and plays soccer and tennis, the latter to keep fit for the former. He was in school teams in both sports.

Robert feels that he has missed out a little in not acquiring a better knowledge of Maori culture, even though he is interested in it, and believes he has come across many situations as a Maori, where a knowledge of the Maori language would be satisfying, rather than a knowledge of French. Looking back, he would rather have taken Maori to School Certificate stage than French, but says that when he began secondary school he just did what everyone else was doing. He feels a School Certificate knowledge of Maori would have been sufficient for him to continue study outside school without affecting his other studies. He enjoyed taking Latin for two years.

He is certain that he would not have done as well academically at any other secondary school, and is grateful for the quality of teaching and availability of study material at Auckland Grammar. He also feels that much of his success was due to his family's quiet home life. Of his three sisters, two have attended Auckland Girls' Grammar School, one taking up computer programming and the other beginning nursing.

Robert's headmaster says of him, ‘He is an outstanding scholar. He obtained a

University Scholarship in 1972 from the sixth form, a tremendous achievement, and in 1973 was top scholar at Auckland Grammar School in the Scholarship examination. His approach to his studies is that of a genuine student; he is hard working, he has a real flair for the sciences especially, and has the potential for work of distinction in some branch of science. He is extremely well-read, being fond of poetry, both English poetry and, in translation, poetry of other languages including Chinese. He was the winner of the 1973 Ngarimu V.C. Essay Competition held amongst pupils of Maori descent from schools throughout New Zealand.

‘He is quiet and reserved, but there is a great strength of character and an assured self-reliance that will enable him to adapt to life at Cambridge. This school is proud of his achievements and we wish him every success in the challenging years ahead.’

Te Ao Hou echoes those sentiments, and wishes Robert well in his future study, both in England and in New Zealand.

Outstanding Individual Results
By Maori Trade Trainees
in 1973 Trades Certification Board Examinations

Maori boys training under the special schemes run by the Maori and Island Affairs Department in conjunction with the Technical Institutes, continue to show excellent results. Below are some of the most outstanding.

Trade Training Target

From the Minister of Maori Affairs

The Minister of Maori Affairs, the Hon. Matiu Rata, has set a new target of at least 1,000 trainees each year through the trade training schemes of the Maori and Island Affairs Department. This nearly doubles the number at present involved in the existing courses.

In the past the plea has been for time for advancement. Now the drive is for expansion in new directions. ‘We need the co-operation and goodwill of all sectors—private, public, State and trade union,’ said Mr Rata.

The greatly expanded programme is one of the measures designed to implement the Government's people-oriented policy in Maori Affairs. Mr. Rata has said that the two areas of greatest concern here are people and land. Legislation dealing with land is already under way and an expansion in the existing trade training scheme is a practical way of trackling the problem of giving more people greater opportunities.

In an address to trade union representatives and Maori and Pacific Island organizations at Auckland, Mr Rata laid down the targets for the trade training schemes. They are:

1.	The distribution of the Maori work force throughout the total occupational levels in the same proportions as the overall New Zealand work force.
2.	The raising of the median income of Maori wage earners to that of the non-Maori.
3.	The pursuance of policies which will result in making it possible for Maori wage earners to enter the work force later and retire earlier than is now the case.
4.	The pursuance of policies which will make it possible for married women not to be forced into the work force because of necessity.
5.	The opportunity for Maori workers in unskilled and semi-skilled occupations to be retrained for a higher occupation commensurate with job satisfaction.

‘The area of greatest concern is the 12 to 24 age group,’ said Mr Rata. ‘As far as the young are concerned it is not a happy situation when they are confronted with the real possibility of failure in education.’

Of 6139 Maori school leavers in 1972, 4582–74.6%—left with no qualifications.

Nevertheless, without comparing the rate of success with that of other New Zealanders, the Maori pass rates in School Certificate, University Entrance and higher

examinations have shown exceptionally high percentage increases each year and should continue to increase. The actual numbers are still small, however, and rather than wait for time to take its course Mr Rata sees the need for some definite impetus.

‘The continuing rise of dissatisfaction and feelings of frustration so evident among the young are the signs that we are heeding. If we want to arrest these feelings of futility and frustration that have persisted for too long, the opportunities for clear success in different avenues must be created.

‘For this reason the need is obviously to expand their opportunities so as to develop their full potential and to draw out the range of talent which has not been utilised fully.’

In 1972 there were 564 boys and girls involved in 29 courses run by the Department, a sizeable step from the one course for 10 boys when the scheme began in 1959. Now the target is 1,000 trade trainees at least each year, and to achieve this the goodwill and co-operation of all are needed.

Mr Rata has made it plain on many occasions that he agrees wholeheartedly with the concept of equal opportunity, a point which is made strongly by trade unions. He has emphasised, however, the need for some special training to achieve equal opportunity. Thus a wider range of trades will be aimed for, including schemes for marine and fish-farming and for agricultural occupations. This will provide a choice for those who may prefer to remain in or go to rural areas.

Opportunities in rural towns and such provincial centres as Rotorua will need to be created so that the current trend of sending youths away from their home environment is lessened.

Adult retraining opportunities will also be looked into.

Mr Rata sums up his views with a quotation from the 1962 Report on the Commission on Education which says: ‘In the Maori people lies the greatest reservoir of unused talent in the population. The benefit that could finally accrue in the field of race relations if the Maori could play the important part in all areas that his numbers warrant needs no emphasising.’

Ngati Poneke Honours Service
Club Leader

by Margaret Kelly

Miss Gwendoline Ryan, the retiring president of the Altrusa Club of Wellington, received an unexpected honour at a hangi dinner held by the club on Saturday 15 June, when the Rev. Canon Hohepa Taepa bestowed on her a traditional kaitaka in recognition of the support given to the Ngati Poneke Building Fund Appeal by the Altrusa Club. Two years ago the club undertook to raise $3,500 for the building fund. $2,000 was presented to Mt Duff Daysh, Chairman of the Appeal Executive Committee, in December 1972 and the balance of $1,500 was presented to Canon Taepa at the hangi dinner.

Miss Ryan, who is Senior Mistress at Mana College, Porirua, became President of the Altrusa Club of Wellington in June 1972. Among the various projects programmed by the club for the period covering her term of office, was support for the Ngati Poneke Building Fund, a project which Miss Ryan was particularly anxious to promote as a form of service to this important section of the Wellington community.

The Altrusa Club of Wellington is one of thirteen such clubs in New Zealand, which are all part of Altrusa International, a service organisation for executive women which was founded in Nashville, Tennessee, U.S.A. in 1917. There are now Altrusa Clubs in thirteen countries of the world and members of these clubs are women holding executive positions in professions or in the business community. Invitations to membership are governed by classifications available and the various clubs operate by drawing on the leadership abilities of its members in seeking out and attempting to meet the needs of the community. In the Wellington Club there are 35 members and because Wellington is the centre of Government, a number of these are in executive positions in the Civil Service.

The Altrusa Club of Wellington has achieved a great deal since it was established in 1966. As well as supporting a number of smaller projects the club has made major grants from time to time. In 1969 it made a grant of $3,500 towards the building of the Waitangirua Kindergarten in Porirua East, and in 1971 the club raised $1,300 for cancer research. Then came the undertaking to raise $3,500 for the proposed new marae for Ngati Poneke.

Over the past two years, as well as honouring its promise to Ngati Poneke, other worthwhile projects have been completed. One of these was the bringing to New Zealand of a Solomon Island Nursing Sister—Sister Veronica—who had suffered the amputation of a leg. She was in need of a properly fitted light-weight leg which would enable her to give to her own people the service for which she had been trained. With the co-operation of the Melanesian Mission, the Altrusa Club of Wellington brought Sister Veronica to New Zealand for eight weeks. Here she was fitted with the new limb and visited hospitals and institutions for further nursing experience.

Another project was the purchasing of a movie projector for the League for the Hard of Hearing, to assist with the teaching of lip reading. The club also provided a tea and coffee dispenser for the Intensive Care Unit of the Wellington Public Hospital. Other work in the community has included assistance to Youthline, Birthright, Medical Aid Abroad and the Crippled Children's Society.

The raising of funds for its various projects is done by holding special functions and by

individual members using their own talents for raising funds. As well as raising money to support community projects, club members are involved in giving time, thought and care for others who need the support of human sympathy and aid.

Funds raised for the Ngati Poneke project have come from Music Hall evenings organised by the club and from the very successful hangi-dinner held in the Ngati Poneke Hall just before Miss Ryan retired from her presidency of the club, in June. The latter was an all-out effort by club members and helpers from Ngati Poneke to cater for a total of 250 and the success of the evening exceeded all expectations. The dinner also represented the annual birthday celebration of the Altrusa Club. It is a tradition for the club to make a special gift each year at the time of its birthday dinner. In 1972 the club presented a deep freeze unit to the Newtown Presbyterian Social Services Association and the previous year hand resuscitators were given to the Wellington Free Ambulance Service. Last year an automatic dishwashing machine was presented to the Sisters of Compassion for their new creche in Suffolk Street.

This year it was decided that the eighth birthday of the club would be celebrated by holding a combined hangi and birthday dinner at the Ngati Poneke Hall and that the gift this year would be the promised cheque for the Ngati Poneke Building Fund Appeal. The original intention was that the $3,500 which the club undertook to donate to the fund, would be for the building of a small kitchen in the new marae.

The hangi-birthday dinner combined the serving of food prepared in the traditional hangi style with the serving of party ‘extras’, prepared by members of Altrusa. The tables in the hall were attractively decorated and presented a really festive air. During the dinner there was first rate entertainment by members of the Ngati Poneke Young Maori Club. Don Selwyn acted as Master of Ceremonies and also contributed a bracket of solo items.

The traditional Ngati Poneke motifs in the hall, were joined by the large circular blue and white symbol of Altrusa International and a pennant with the message ‘TURN CONCERN INTO ACTION’ which was the world-wide Altrusa theme in 1972, when the Altrusa Club of Wellington undertook to support the Ngati Poneke Building Fund Appeal. In putting the kaitaka on Miss Ryan, following her handing over of the cheque at the dinner, Canon Taepa referred to this theme of TURN CONCERN INTO ACTION as it applied to the club's concern for the providing of a new home for Ngati Poneke.

Among those who attended the hangi dinner were the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr Matiu Rata, and Mrs Rata; the Chief Justice,

Sir Richard Wild, and Lady Wild; the Mayor of Wellington, Sir Francis Kitts, and Lady Kitts.

Mr Rata spoke at the dinner and said he expected to be in a position soon, to advise that additional land under consideration for the new marae had been made available.

It had been anticipated that the building of the new marae would start in June and many Wellington citizens, particularly the Chairman of the Building Fund Appeal, Mr Duff Daysh, have expressed their disappointment that this has been postponed. Mr Daysh was unable to attend the dinner but in sending his apology said that he was concerned about the delay.

The Altrusa Club of Wellington is one of many organisations which have made tremendous efforts to raise funds for the new marae, which is to be built at the Northern entrance to the city, on Thorndon Quay. These organisations include many Maori groups and there is also a long list of private citizens who have made donations to the appeal fund. The land for the proposed marae is just below Old St Paul's, an historic area of Wellington which is of considerable significance to the Maori people.

Cabinet has now approved a land transfer adding 2 roods 6.5 perches to the existing site of 1 rood 2.3 perches already held by the club, and this should enable the building to be started. We are all concerned that Ngati Poneke should have its new home in the very near future.

These Things
We Must Not Forget

by Ernest E. Bush

On an abandoned pa they buried their dead, those early missionaries who came to Tauranga in the early years of last century. And when bloody war came into their midst, it was in this burial ground they interred the casualties of battle.

But thirty years of Christian teaching had had an effect on the Maori, who was now the enemy. The battle that was fought on Tauranga's soil has become an epic in the history of our land. Whenever men speak of the Battle of Gate Pa, they speak of the chivalry displayed by the Maori foemen, and they tell the tale of a gallant act of Christian courtesy that became enshrined in sculpture.

To commemorate the chivalry of the Maori as an enemy, and to commemorate also fifty years of lasting peace, the European community marked the jubilee of the Battle of Gate Pa. First, they had exhumed the body of Puhirake, leader of the Maoris, from his grave in the trench where he died fighting, and they re-interred his bones in the Mission Cemetery, where now they lie with the remains of the leaders of the British Army and Navy who died in the conflict. Over this grave, they now erected an obelisk, and inscribed on it are the reasons why both Europeans and Maoris wished to raise this monument.

“… to commemorate his chivalrous and humane orders … and for the respectful treatment of … the slain … The seeds of better feeling between the two races thus sown on the battlefield have since borne ample fruit …”

On one face of the obelisk is a pictorial representation of that act of bravery that has characterised the chivalry of the Maori as a fighting warrior, and epitomised that chivalry and Christian action in an incident after the Gate Pa battle fought between Maori warriors entrenched in their fairly rapidly constructed fortification, and the British under General Duncan Cameron, who attacked the pa.

It was called ‘Gate Pa’ because it was erected across the pathway out of Tauranga. The site of the construction was Pukehinahina, a hill near the western end of the peninsula; Pukehinahina was the western boundary of the land ceded to the Church Missionary Society. To mark the boundary, a ditch crossed the peninsula, and where the path crossed the boundary there was a gate. So the pa constructed at this gateway became known thereafter as Gate Pa.

Because the fortification was placed across the road that was the highway to the west and south, Cameron saw it as a threat to communication. Only when this pa was built did he move against the Maori. Up till this time, the forces that had occupied Tauranga since January were there for the purpose of preventing Ngatiporou from reaching the Waikato to assist the Kingite movement, and at the same time ravaging the land in their passage to the Waikato.

On 28 April, Cameron moved his forces out from The Camp, in the vicinity of the Mission buildings; the army personnel were joined by sailors and marines from the ships lying in the Estuary. Eight abreast they marched along the road that had been laid down, Navy and Army moving equally. They took up position on a hill about a mile from the pa, and waited the day of battle.

About dusk, Col. Greer led his regiment around the flank of the pa, to take up a position in the rear. From this position he was able to penetrate the fortification, and

prevent the retreat of the occupants if and when they were driven out.

April 29 was a misty, unpleasant day. The first shot from Cameron's men killed a Maori priest as he was conducting prayers. All day his guns pounded the fortification till about mid-afternoon a breach was made. Cameron moved his men up for an assult upon the pa. Led by their officers (who thus were the first to be struck down by the Maori warriors) the men swarmed into the trenches, and began to drive out the defenders. But Greer's men were at the exits, and the Maoris poured back into the trenches. The soldiers and sailors now in the pa believed this rush to be reinforcements. Without the leadership of their officers, they fled the pa, still held by Ngaiterangi and their allies.

During the night, the Maoris silently withdrew, disappearing through the swamps to higher ground up the valley. The pa was occupied only by the wounded and the dead invaders.

It was through this night that the cries of the wounded calling for water could be heard — and it was the compassion of a Maori that responded to the plea. At risk of being heard and shot by the British sentries, this compassionate warrior stole down to a well among the fern with a container, and brought back water for the parched lips of the stricken soldiers. This then is the deed that epitomised the chivalry of the Maori as a warrior and as an enemy at the Battle of Gate Pa, 29 April, 1864.

Who was this courageous and compassionate warrior? The plaque on the obelisk to Rawiri Puhirake attributes it to Henare Taratoa, and there was circumstantial evidence that it was he. Henare was the scribe who had penned the messages from Rawiri to the British through the months of occupation, notes which in all their messages conveyed a feeling of Christian concern for the British. Henare had been a student at St John's College under Bishop Selwyn, and had been imbued with the Christian ethic. He had, however, allied himself with his own people in their quarrel with the Pakeha.

Probably the greatest piece of evidence was produced at his death, when, fighting beside his leader, they were both shot down in the trenches at Te Ranga, some months after Gate Pa. On his body was found a paper that was the Battle Orders. Beginning with a prayer, containing instructions for the treatment of prisoners and killed, the order concluded with a text from Scripture, words which identified themselves with the action of giving water to those parched and thirsty in the lonely trench. ‘If thine enemy hunger,’ the words read in Maori, ‘feed him; if he thirst, give him to drink.’ What more striking proof could anyone wish, to ensure that the young Christian student from Otaki was the hero of the battle!

And yet it wasn't Henare Taratoa, although his name gained the history books. He was only believed, from the weight of evidence, to have been that warrior. Later evidence has revealed that we can believe that the carrier of water in the night was a woman — a halfcaste who had been fighting beside her brother. Being part-European, she was not under the tapu that forbade Maori women to fight in battle. The evidence comes from more than one source.

First, we have the word of Col Booth, one of those who lay through that night, and who was rescued the next day, mortally wounded. He told how a woman had brought water to them in a can. Some years later, the proprietress of an inn near Maketu, one Jane Foley, told James Cowan of the incident, and described how she had carried out the act. Before her marriage, she was Heni Te Kirikaramu, and living with her tribe. The word of these two has led to the recognition of this brave woman for the act of bravery and compassion that has made the story of Gate Pa live on in history, and has ennobled the record of the Maori as an enemy.

Heni te Kirikaramu is immortalised by a plaque erected in the porchway of the Memorial Church of St George erected on the battle-site. Heni was the grand-daughter of a Ngapuhi chief, and the daughter of a European named Russell. By her first marriage to an Arawa chief, Janie Russell became Heni te Kirikaramu. Some years

later, marriage again changed her name, and as Jane Foley she became respected in both Maketu and Kati Kati, where she and her husband lived with the family born to them.

The plaque in St George's Church was presented and unveiled by an old friend of Mrs Foley, Mrs L. Simons of Tauranga. The memorial address at the service of dedication was given by the writer to a large congregation which included many Maori, among them a great-grandson of the woman in whose honour the service was held.

‘God bless you,’ she records that Col Booth said to her, as she poured water into her cupped hand, and gave him to drink. In the beautiful and expressive lines of Rarawa Kerehoma, we can say of that place.

E tangi haere ana
Ngatai te uru ei
ka mai angi nga mahara
Ano he pawa ahi
Kua makeariri ke
Te okiokinga puehu kau.

The tide ebbs silently away.
Memories rise in the still air
Like smoke from many fires.
Is this the same place.
This place of ashes?

Kaumatua Flats
Opened at Manutuke

‘I know of no greater urgency than to see our people well housed, and no greater joy than to see many of our elders enabled to live beside and to keep our maraes warm.’

These words were expressed by the Hon. Matiu Rata, Minister of Maori Affairs, in a letter to members of a marae committee considering the erection of kaumatua flats in their area; and in a speech prepared for the opening of ‘Manawaru’, the Maori and Island Affairs Department's most recently completed block at Manutuke, Gisborne, he said, ‘As young people, particularly young parents, face the necessity to move from traditional tribal areas into the cities and towns to be able to earn a living, the older members of the family are often confronted with a dilemma. They have to decide whether to keep the family together in a new location at the risk of imposing a burden on the breadwinners, or whether to remain in the home area and to risk weakening the links with the past which the younger people will need to depend on as they cope with the new and strange situations of life in the city.

‘Many of those who have made the decision to stay have had to cope with inadequate housing conditions in their declining years. The plan is to build flats adjacent to active maraes so that retired people can take a full part on marae activities. This is good for the people and good for the marae. This is nothing like a feeling of being useful to make one's life a satisfaction.

‘Rather than thinking that our building homes for the elderly is to show our gratitude and our aroha, which we must keep if we are to retain our integrity as Maori, the real reason is the desire to keep our elders where they become the ones who keep our maraes, our communities and our lands warm with their presence. Not for us the Eventide homes, the boarding houses where the elderly are put on their own, the communities consisting solely of the aged and the infirm. Elders are part of the community and must

be given better housing within the community. The need for them as the link between the old and the new and as the stabilising group which will perpetuate Maoritanga is greater now than ever before. Ko koutou lo o matou pakeke nga kaihautu o te taonga nei te Maoritanga, mai rano.’

Unfortunately, because of the necessity to remain at Parliament on opening day, the Minister was unable to be present, so the Maori and Island Affairs Department's District Officer at Gisborne, Mr P.J. Brewster, spoke on his behalf.

The block of flats at Manutuke, nine miles from Gisborne, adjoins the Manutuke marae, and the shopping centre, primary school, church and Police Station are all within easy walking distance. The site was purchased from the Waiapu Board of Diocesan Trustees, who before transferring the land which it held as part of its church property, obtained the consent of the descendants of the original Maori donors. This was readily and willingly given.

The Rongowhakaata Maori Committee

decided on the name ‘Manawaru’ for the new block, a name of deep historical significance to the district, as explained by local elder Mr Tom Dennis in his welcoming address. Manawaru, which means ‘delight’, owes its origins to Hine Hakirirangi who brought the sacred kumara tubers with her on the Horouta canoe. She took up her abode at Papatewhai at the foot of Te Kuria-a-paoa—Young Nick's Head—then traversed the entire Manutuke locality in search of suitable ground in which to plant the tubers, and eventually selected the hill now known as Manawaru. Symbolically, local tradition has always observed the custom when planting the kumara of ensuring that the roots of the first row of plants are pointed to the east. The roots of the second row are always pointed towards Manawaru, and by observing this practice a bountiful crop is said to be ensured.

Bishop Reeves of Waiapu, who dedicated the block, said he welcomed the building of the flats as all ages would be represented and housed in the community, to give a balanced group of people. He welcomed anything that would bring youth and the elderly together, and considered that many problems in a community would subside if this were done.

Mr Brewster paid a tribute to those who had given their time and help in establishing the flats and grounds, especially a Pakeha farmer and his wife, Mr and Mrs John Clark, who had spent many hours, often in inclement weather, assisting in the layout of the lawns and gardens. Mrs Clark donated the flower plants, a number of shrubs and the jacaranda tree which was planted by Bishop Reeves at the end of the ceremony.

The Rongowhakaata Maori Committee who selected the three tenants, Mrs Iranui Williams, Mr Oha Porter and Mrs Rangitahi Kaimoana, and the local Youth Group, had displayed a keen and active interest in the project, and have undertaken to keep a close watch on the welfare of the tenants and the upkeep and maintenance of the grounds.

Since the first block was opened in Kaikohe in 1965, flats for elderly Maori people have been erected near maraes in Paihia, Te Kao, Ahipara, Waitangi and Tauranga, and this year a block has also been opened at Ruatoki. More flats are under construction at Te Hapua, Tauranga and Tokomaru Bay. Discussions on suitable sites are being held in several other places.

The Department of Maori and Island Affairs has sought the co-operation of local Maori Committees in the siting of these kaumata flats wherever they have been built. In some cases land adjacent to a marae has been given by the tribal committee, and of two blocks under construction in Northland, one site was gifted by a Maori Incorporation and the other by a local European resident. Sometimes it has been necessary for the land to be purchased, but this has inevitably delayed building.

A report from Northland, where the scheme began says, ‘In the past, elderly people have been very reluctant to live in a rental home of any description, preferring in spite of their age to one day own a home of their own. However, since they have experienced living in flats over the last decade, their views have changed to those of praise for such accommodation. Demands are now being made to build this type of accommodation in other rural areas, and there have been a number of people who have come forward offering the Department sections on which to build flats.’

It is obvious that the demand for these kaumata flats will increase, but it is not intended that the Maori and Island Affairs Department will build them all. Last year the Government made it possible for the Board of Maori Affairs to acquire Maori land by way of gifts, to be used for housing the elderly. It is also possible for statutory Maori Trust Boards to receive subsidies when they undertake to house elderly people, and it is hoped the Boards will take advantage of this provision.

It seems that after initial hesitation about the whole idea our elders are now ‘only too happy to move into modern flats provided they can stay near their own relatives’, to quote another report, and the indications are that Manutuke elders feel the same way, as plans are going ahead to build a second block of two flats beside the three recently opened.

The Second Breath

by Witi Ihimaera

The first breath had been drawn at Te Kaha last year. This year came the second breath at Wairoa. The occasion was the second Maori Writers and Artists Conference, held during Queen's Birthday Weekend. Like the first, it revealed an urgent need to extend the opportunities for Maori creativity to flourish.

Over 400 people attended this year's conference, an increase of 200 on last year. They came from all parts of Aotearoa to gather in Ngati Kahungunu country at the maraes Takitimu and Taihoa. And they owe one person above all their gratitude for being able to meet together—Mihi Roberts, Conference Convener. Many months before the conference she had been working virtually single-handed on the hui. The task was a formidable one and, as had been shown by

Hone Tuwhare who had been convener for the initial conference, the direction and format for this year's event took their bearings from her.

Last year, there had been a lot of talk and passing of remits. This year, Mihi wanted more action in the form of workshop sessions in the traditional and contemporary Maori arts. She wanted this conference to be more constructive, and attempted to encourage by practical means the artistic expression of those people attending. Kia ora, Mihi.

Undoubtedly, it's impossible to turn people into artists and the like over a weekend, but it would not be surprising if future Maori artists stemmed from that weekend.

Constructive action set the pace for the conference. Indeed, it became a kind of “teach-in” with workshop sessions in writing, art, creative dance, photography, screen-printing and other contemporary art forms, conducted by such luminaries as Harry Dansey, Ani Bosch, Hone Tuwhare. Robin White, Haare Williams, Don Soloman and Elizabeth Murchie. Offering their advice and expertise were Patricia Grace, Selwyn Muru, Fred Graham, Rowley Habib, Tilly Reedy, Paul Katene, Michael King, and many others. Chairman for this year's conference was Dr Douglas Sinclair.

But the action was not mainly in the contemporary arts field at all. From the very beginning, the Takitimu and Taihoa maraes exerted a strong influence on the shape of the conference. Here, where Maori tradition was very much an intact force, the strength of the traditional arts began to be felt. The oratorical gifts of the local elders including Syd Carroll who was deputising for Sir Turi

Carroll, Charles Maitai and Canon Wi Huata, placed emphasis on Maoritanga. The presence of Moni Taumaunu, Bub Wehi, Charlotte Solomon, Tamati Reedy, Sonny Waru and other exponents of the traditional arts—carving, weaving, whaikorero, waiata, action song and so on—created a kind of tidal force which pulled at the blood and revealed an urge in most of the manuhiri to learn of the roots of their culture. Bill Parker was probably the first to discern the changing tide.

It was a tide which swept the manuhiri with it. On reflection, it probably could not have been otherwise: the number of actual practising artists was extremely small, reflecting perhaps the failure of this country to encourage Maori creativity. Outnumbered by students, people simply interested in things Maori, the contemporary artists could only stand by and watch. Some revelled at the new direction in which the tide was sweeping, others were unsure about it.

But no-one, surely, could have remained

unmoved when a student panel cried out for knowledge of the traditional arts, for Maoritanga. They had come from urban areas and the marae experience was a new one for many of them. Their blood had been stirred by the experience. They asked for a longer conference, a more extensive one, and one based in the traditional arts.

Constructive action had set the pace for the conference. The influence of Maori tradition began to shape it. From the first breath at Te Kaha has arisen a second larger breath. And that breath has revealed that the structure of the present Writers and Artists Conference is inadequate and needs to be extended.

Whether it will be or not, however, is the question. It is very easy to become fired with enthusiasm and say “Let it happen”, but there are practicalities which must be faced.

There are likely to be over 700 people at the next conference. The part-time committee organising the conference this year had problems enough with four hundred people,

and some of them are faced with paying the bills from their own personal resources. We are grateful for the grant to subsidise travelling costs, provided by the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council; the Maori Purposes Fund Board also gave some aid. Under the circumstances, the third breath next year will strain the resources of the part-time committee elected for the purpose. As it is, they already have one major problem: finding a venue for next year's event.

Yet the tide runs on and is not even at full flood. It compels us to do the best we can—to foster the traditional arts. The results, hopefully, will alter the present cultural landscape in New Zealand and may even alter the vision we have of ourselves as a nation. For too long, the roots of our culture have remained neglected. We must ensure that they be encouraged to flourish. It would be a tragedy if the tide was forced to ebb during these times when it is most needed.

Action at
Regatta

President
Nyrere of
Tanzania
Visits
Turangawaewae

Ceremonial Gates Opened
at Turangawaewae

Te Aroha—Mountain of Love

by Ernest E. Bush

Aloft it stands, sentinel of Hauraki, of Ohinemuri, of the Western Bay of Plenty. Mountain of Love, it has long been the trysting place of Maori lovers, made so by the spirit of love innate in the mountain. Now the site of the transmitter that beams the television signal from Auckland to the south and west, the mountain has ever stood as a beacon in Maori lore. From its summit, 3126 ft above sea level, there are magnificent views. A road wends its way up to the transmitter, passing on its way the tailings and lake from a mine, still operated.

The naming of the mountain is lost in legend; there are several stories to account for the giving of a name tha [ unclear: ] symbolises the love felt by a person for his home. Two such stories are quoted, as the origin of the name that imbued this mountain with love. Both convey the love of the beholder for his home, but each for a different reason. One looked upon the home from which he had strayed, and was seeking; the other the home she was leaving forever.

Te Mamoe of Maketu with two slaves was wandering in a valley, uncertain of the direction of his home marae. They climbed to the summit of the mountain from which the valley came. There to the east he could see the long range of Toi (Te Paeroa o Toi), the sea of Toi, and in particular the headland of Maketu. Such was his joy, that Te Mamoe cried out: This mountain shall be called the mountain of Aroha; herein shall repose the great love of Te Mamoe for ever.

The legend of Te Kahu-rere-moa carries the mark of the same love. A runaway from her village on the Thames coast, she wandered for a long time around the swamps of Hauraki, eluding her pursuers. At last, she felt safe, and climbed the highest peak that would give her both an eastward and a westward look. There, on the coast of Coromandel, lay her home, where dwelt her loved ones, from whom she was to escape a marriage that was not of her liking. The love she bore her own folk welled up within her, as she gazed seaward. Such a love — Te Aroha. Then she turned her back upon the vision, and looked to the east, to the hills of Waitaha beyond Tauranga, where dwelt the son of a chief. About this youth had grown a legend of great attraction, and Te Kahu-rere-moa was seeking to establish for herself the truth of that legend, for she was already in love with the youth. To Waitaha, then, she looked, and in her heart welled the aroha she felt for the young chief whom she was destined to wed.

These are the stories they tell to explain why this Mountain of Love is a special mountain, why it is the trysting place for Maori lovers. Its summit is seen from the east and from the west. Ihenga of Arawa, he who discovered Rotoiti and Rotorua, is said to have travelled from Maketu, and ascended the mountain; Rakataura of Tainui came from Kawhia and climbed to the summit. Ihenga and Rakataura are said to have named the peaks Aroha-ki-tai and Aroha-ki-uta, the landward and seaward loves.

The spirit of Te Mamoe, in gratitude, caused a stream of crystal-pure water to spring from the slopes of the mountain. The water of this stream was warm, healing and pleasant to taste. Other springs appeared, one in a cleft so deep it was known as The Mirror of Te Mamoe. A bore brought into being Mokena, the only soda geyser in the world.

Although it was the discovery of gold in the vicinity by Hone Werahiki in 1880 that drew the Europeans to settle, the first white man was an Irishman, George Lipsey, who built a hotel to encourage use of the spa. But settlement came late to Te Aroha. The explorer-naturalist Dieffenbach makes no mention of occupation. The area was the

hunting ground of Ngati-Maru of the Coromandel coast.

George Lipsey married Ema, the daughter of the chief Hou Mokena; he built the first weather-board house in the district, and cultivated his wife's holding of 100 acres, the site of the present town. Through the generosity of Ema and Hou, much land was given for use by the town that was to be built. The gift included the spa, known now as Herries Park (named for Sir William Herries, M.P. and Minister of the Crown, who represented Tauranga). But the early Te Aroha township consisted largely of miners' shacks; the farming community centred around Te Aroha West, where a settlement of farmers from Lincolnshire had been established.

But the gold gave out. The town did not die; the fame of its spa drew people from far and near. The waters of Te Mamoe made the name of Te Aroha known throughout the world. And it is fitting that the name of the chief who through his love for that place gave the healing waters to the nation should be remembered in the soda geyser, Mokena.

This mountain shall be called Te Aroha; herein shall repose the great love of Te Mamoe for ever.