HAERE KI O
KOUTOU TIPUNA

Kawe Draper

TE RANGATRIA TUA TAHI

a tribute by B. Grove

Dignity and humility, music and laughter, sympathy and understanding …

These are but a few of the attributes applicable to one who possessed them, but was never aware of their true meaning because they were so natural to her.

Born in 1892, in Pirongia, Rangitokotoko Te Pere, (Kawe) was a direct descendant of Hoturoa, captain of the Tainui Canoe. As a small child she was taken back to Kawhia, when her mother died. There she met and married an Englishman, who built their home on the surrounding hillside, overlooking the last resting place of the Tainui Canoe.

Kawe Draper was well loved by all who knew her, both Maori and Pakeha. She showed great pride in her heritage—in Maoritanga, and loved music, action songs and chants.

A well known characteristic was the generosity shown to so many; not in financial aid or in worldly possessions—for her belongings were meagre—but from her garden would come the choicest of blooms and the most delectable of homegrown vegetables.

These were given to new residents, holiday-makers, and wherever illness or misfortune happened to be, and her kumara plants were

very much in demand by all home gardeners. She would toil for days and even go without herself, so that everyone could have a share.

The two words ‘communication’ and ‘involvement’ are often discussed these days, especially in Christian circles. Her infectious laughter was a delight and everyone who heard laughed also even if they didn't know what the joke was about. In a gathering of several hundred people, those who knew her would just say, ‘Ko Kawe tera a kata ana’. Perfect strangers were soon her closest friends after only a few moments conversation. Here then was the art of communication, and involvement! Her sense of humour and style of telling jokes, Maori myths or riddles, were so popular that at any Maori meeting or Pokai she was soon the centre of attraction, her countenance always a ray of sunshine, making others happy just to be in her company.

To her family she was not only a wonderful wife and mother, but a teacher in the simple things of life which money cannot afford. She taught that life, body and soul, are sacred and beautfiul, to be treasured, to be revered.

Some relatives are left with great riches, or houses and lands, but she has left behind the wealth of her example in every phase of life.

This then, is why she is affectionately known to us, as ‘The First Lady’ or ‘Our First Lady’.

‘Well done, good and faithful servant, you have travelled the road of life which I set before you. Now it is time to come home.’

KATENE HEPI

by Con O'Leary

When Ngatoroirangi, who arrived on Te Arawa canoe and founded Ngati Tuwharetoa, cast a tree from a hill, the waters of the sacred lake, Kopua Kanapanapa (Taupo), sprang forth.

It was a tree that felled Hohepa Katene Hepi on December 1 and with his death a lake of tears sprang from the eyes of relatives and friends.

When a large party of mourners took him from the marae at Kauriki, where he had lain, to Whanganui, the burial ground of his ancestors in Western Bay, the two lakes, the sacred and the symbolic, were one.

Haere, Katene. Haere.

There Katene, the eldest son of Te Kahurangi Hepi, leading elder of the Parekawa subtribe of Ngati Tuwharetoa, was buried alongside his grandfather Hepi Te Huia.

He was born 46 years before at Bulls on the site of the recently opened meeting house. Parewahawaha. Also a member of the Pare-wahawaha sub-tribe of Heeni Hepi (née Gotty), a direct descendant of the poetess Puhiwahine.

Educated at Waihi Convent, Taupo, he was one of the most experienced bushmen in the King Country and had worked as a mill manager and a bush contractor.

A few weeks before his death he had been elected a member of the committee of the 16,000 acre Hauhungaroa 2C Incorporation. Katene was dedicated to serving the interests of the owners in the bush his family, with others, had pioneered for the incorporation, which now combines timber and farm development.

He had become accomplished in whai korero and it was tragic that he should be struck down just as he was coming into his own. He was killed in the Hauhungaroa bush.

His death has made others the more determined to carry out the ideals for which he strove.

He leaves his parents, brothers Ngahianga, Patoropa, Hurihanga, Korota, Rawiri, Tiniwaata and Ruka, sisters, Rihi Puhiwahine, Waiparemo, Rerehau, Ngarino, Punateahu and Matetu-O-Rihi, his wife Rai (née Amorangi) and 17 children of whom the eldest is Puau (Bernard).

A devout Catholic, he worked hard to provide his children with the best in education.

On the news of his death Father T. Curton of Taumarunui went into the bush to anoint him. Father D. Horrigan of Waihi said requiem mass at Kauriki. Father J. Van Tilborg, a friend, came from Whangarei to stay in the whare puni, lead prayers and whai korero before the cortege left. Father P. O'Connor of Ohakune also attended the last rites.

Attendances at Kauriki were large with the 200-seat whare kai holding from three to seven sittings for each meal. Mourners came from Christchurch, Wellington, Palmerston North, Bulls, Wanganui, Marton, Mangakino, Taupo, Hamilton, Auckland and other places.

The people of four areas—Waihi, Kauriki, Takapou, Tiraha and Whanganui—advanced claims he be buried there. His children chose Whanganui, a place he himself had cherished.

He had surveyed the road through the Whakarawa Block (Hauhungaroa 3A, 2A and 2B) to the bay, previously accessible only by

boat from the lake, and spent much time there. A marae at Whanganui was a project dear to his heart and is now being given fresh consideration.

At Christmas, about 200 members of the Hepi family gathered at Whanganui, erecting marquees along the lakeside, to spend Christmas with him.

Two priests, Father G. Haring of Hamilton and Father G. Mertens of Putaruru braved the precarious mud road to say mass on Christmas Day and other masses for Katene, who lies on a hill with tracks cut to give the grave a clear view of the lake below and, to its left, a waterfall.

In his death he breathed fresh life into the place he loved so much, Whanganui.

Mate atu he tete kura, ara mai he tete kura.

Katene Hepi

Two Manuscripts of Te Rangikaheke

Translated by Margaret Orbell

Wiremu Maihi Te Rangikaheke, also known as William Marsh, was a famous chief of Ngati Rangiwewehi, in the Rotorua district. The son of a celebrated priest, he was born in about 1820 and died in 1893. In his recent book, ‘Te Arawa’, D. M. Stafford tells us that Te Rangikaheke was ‘one of the more turbulent characters of Te Arawa … he became in his time a most controversial figure, claimed by some to be a chief of the highest rank and by others a person of much less dignity. He had many admirers and ardent followers, but there were just as many who disliked and would have nothing to do with him. He was a skilled orator, and those whom he chose to like found him an absolute gentleman with a charming manner. Those he disliked found his tongue was as sharp and bitter as could be imagined and had good cause to avoid him. That he was a man with a profound knowledge of Maori lore and tradition is beyond doubt.’ Mr Stafford also quotes a Pakeha woman who described him as ‘a wild looking handsome fellow.’

Although he played an important part in Arawa politics, Te Rangikaheke is chiefly remembered today as a writer, and especially as a recorder of Maori traditions. In the late 1840s he became acquainted with the Governor, Sir George Grey, and for a time he worked in the Native Office in Auckland. During the years from 1849 to 1853 he wrote for Sir George Grey some five hundred pages of manuscript. Most of this material consists of traditional stories and songs, and of commentaries upon such material. When Grey compiled his collection of Maori myths and legends, ‘Nga Mahinga a nga Tupuna’ (also published in translation as ‘Polynesian Mythology’), about a quarter of his material was taken from the manuscripts of Te Rangikaheke. He also made extensive use of them in his collection of songs, ‘Nga Moteatea.’

Te Rangikaheke's manuscripts are now in the Grey collection in the Auckland Public Library. In recent years some more of them have been published, including a description of Maori marriage customs that appears in Dr Bruce Biggs' book, ‘Maori Marrage’, and a legend, ‘The Deeds of Tiki-tawhito-ariki’, also edited and translated by Bruce Biggs, that is in the ‘Journal of the Polynesian Society’, vol. 61, pp. 183–191. However, most of Te Rangikaheke's manuscripts have not yet been published.

The two short manuscripts published here show us something of the beliefs and attitudes of this highly intelligent and gifted man, at a time when Maori thought was being greatly influenced by new knowledge, and by the pressure of the rapidly increasing Pakeha population.

It is obvious that Te Rangikaheke thoroughly enjoyed writing. In fact, much of his work has a literary sophistication not to be found in the writings of more strictly traditional recorders of Maori material. He was a very talented writer, who achieved in his work a unique blend of the new and the old.

But in spite of his friendship with Sir George Grey, he was far-sighted enough to fear for the future. His dream is an expression of this fear. The manuscript is entitled, in different handwriting, ‘A dream of Te Rangikaheke, written by himself’. It was believed that many dreams foretold the future, and seers who had such dreams often communicated them to others in the form of matakite, or visionary songs. The language of these visionary songs was usually metaphorical and often cryptic. Te Rangikaheke includes a song of this kind in his account of his dream.

The proverb ‘Taku ringaringa tē ngaua e te kur’ means, ‘No dog dares bite my hand.’ Sir George Grey quotes it in his collection of proverbs (‘Ko nga Whakapepeha me nga Whakaahuareka a nga Tipuna’ p. 83), and says that its wider meaning is, ‘None interferes with me.’ The saying also occurs in the story of Takarangi and Raumahora, where Takarangi uses it in a speech asserting that his warriors will always obey him (‘Polynesian Mythology’ p. 229). It seems likely that the dog in Te Rangikaheke's dream is partly derived from this traditional image.

The word ‘arawhata’ literally means ‘sus-

pended way', and may refer either to a bridge or a ladder. In this account it is translated as bridge, but it may mean ladder.

The second manuscript describes Te Rangikaheke's meeting with a man who must have come from the Pacific Islands. Sir George Grey has entitled it, ‘An address by Te Rangikaheke, a New Zealand Chief, to the inhabitants (imaginary) of Hawaiki.’

The migration traditions tell us that the Maori people came to this country from Hawaiki, and most of the Maori myths are also set in Hawaiki. Myths are sacred stories that help men to understand the nature of the world, and of human life. Before the Europeans came, Maori myths were believed to tell of events which took place in the earliest times, and which determined the nature of things. However, myths have no connection with what we now regard as history.

When Pakehas such as Sir George Grey began to study Maori stories, they decided that Hawaiki must be a group of islands somewhere in the Pacific, and that many of the myths were, in fact, historical in the European sense. Learned Maoris such as Te Rangikaheke were very interested indeed when they were told that the whereabouts of Hawaiki was now known, and they became anxious to communicate with the inhabitants of Hawaiki and to learn from them the correct versions of their myths. Since Hawaiki was their homeland, they were sure that its inhabitants must have a superior knowledge of these matters.

In this letter addressed to the people of Hawaiki, Te Rangikaheke names various figures that occur in Maori mythology, and asks for further information about them. In the third paragraph, he refers to the mythical battle of Ihumotomotokia. An account of this is to be found on page 138 of Grey's ‘Polynesian Mythology’. When Ngatoroirangi heard that he had been insulted by his brother-in-law Manaia, he returned to Hawaiki and defeated Manaia in a series of battles, of which this was the first. These battles were regarded as setting the precedent for all subsequent fighting in which men have sought to avenge themselves for insults or for earlier defeats. Te Rangikaheke asks why this first battle occurred, apparently believing that if it had not done so, men would have lived in peace. It is rather like asking why Eve, in the Garden of Eden, listened to the serpent.

The word ‘wāhu’ is not in Williams' ‘Dictionary of the Maori Language’. It is used in the centre of the North Island and in Northland to refer to a person who has an extremely dark complexion. Here the reference is to such a person who comes from America, a Negro.

Te Rangikaheke's letter is unfinished, breaking off in the middle of a sentence. It may be a partial copy of an original letter, or his friend may have sailed for home before it was completed.

The manuscript reference for the account of his dream is GNZMMSS 93. The reference for the other manuscript is GNZMMSS 45.

A Dream

A Letter

The Last of the Taniwha

by Lesley Cameron Powell

Tahu was different from other boys. Things happened to Tahu. Some folk said it was because he was half Maori, half Scots. His father, Andrew Cameron, said it was because he was the seventh child of a seventh child. In any case Tahu had the strangest adventures; but the most exciting of all he told nobody about.

At first it did not seem like an adventure at all. Tahu woke up to find that he had slept in and missed the bus that was taking the school to the city for the day. His mother, cross that his sisters had not woken him, made him help in the house. It was ten o'clock before he could go down to the beach.

‘You mustn't go in the surf by yourself, Tahu,’ his mother called.

‘I'm not,’ he answered. ‘I'll go in the pool.’

He could see that he would have the whole place to himself. The day was glorious. The sun shone on the white wave-crests, and the distant sea was so blue and beautiful that he was glad he had missed the bus. Trailing a stick, Tahu made his way to the southern end of the beach where the river's last bend before it lost itself in the ocean made an ideal swimming pool. It was here that Tahu's father had taught all his children to swim and to dive. Their mother did not like the pool. However deep they dived nobody had ever been able to touch the bottom. Tahu's mother said a taniwha lived down in its depths, and so she would never swim there, but her children all swam so well that she had given up worrying about them.

Tahu sat a while on the rocks, cutting the surface of the water with his stick, and dreaming summer dreams.

When the sun began to burn the back of his neck he stood up, took a very big breath and dived deep into the pool. He swam as far down as he could and came up gasping and rubbing the stinging water from his eyes. He was about to climb out for a second dive when his heart gave a little jump of surprise. Seated on the diving-rock, his feet in the cool water, was an old man!

‘Where did you come from?’ asked Tahu. He realised at once that he must sound rude, but he could not understand how he had failed to see the old fellow arriving.

The man smiled down at the boy and Tahu saw that many wrinkles lined his cheeks. His chin was covered with a snowy beard, and his hair too was snow-white.

‘E tama, tena koe,’ he said.

Tahu scrambled out and greeted the man in a manner more befitting his great age. He could not help adding:

‘You don't come from around here, do you?’

‘I do,’ said the old one, ‘but hardly anyone ever sees me.’

It seemed an odd answer, and Tahu thought the old man looked sad in spite of his pleasant smile.

‘Tell me, boy, can you dive to the bottom?’

‘Nobody can do that,’ said Tahu. ‘We have all tried, and so has our father, but we think there is no bottom to this pool.’

‘Of course there is,’ said the old man. ‘I can show it to you. Here! Hold this in your left hand and take my hand in your right, and we shall find it together.’

Tahu looked down. In his palm lay the most perfectly-shaped pendant. It was the clearest piece of tangiwai greenstone, like a huge green teardrop, and smooth as glass. He looked at it a long time, wondering what he should do.

‘If I dive with you, shall I come up again?’

‘For sure! You have only to drop the greenstone and you'll pop up again like a stick of whau.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Tahu, grasping the old hand and taking in a deep gulp of air before plunging into the depths of the pool.

The old man's fingers were rough, but Tahu held on firmly. He felt himself being dragged at tremendous speed. When he opened his eyes he could see only murky darkness. Soon he felt soft sand beneath him, but the horny hand dragged him on. He was not afraid now and his breath seemed to last wonderfully well. Suddenly they were travelling upwards and the water around them was growing light. A couple of kicks brought him to the surface.

Tahu saw that they were in some sort of cave. High above, through a cleft, he could see a tiny patch of sky. The rest was rock, and swirling, roaring sea water. He had no time to see more for the old man was tugging at his hand again. As they dived the water seemed to crash and surge all around them, yet they cut through it like porpoises. Soon the roaring ceased, the sea became calm and paler again, and they were swimming more slowly.

Tahu's head broke the surface just as the old man's hand let his loose. He swam on, still clutching the pendant. He was making for a tiny golden beach that lay ahead. Above the shoreline, tall pohutukawas twisted, and beyond, he could see on the flat, an old-style Maori whare.

The old man had reached the shore first and was waiting on the sand.

‘Do you know where you are?’ he asked.

Tahu knew that he had not come far from home, but that he had never been in this spot before. Looking out over the sea he thought he could make out, away to the north, the familiar headland that formed part of the view from his bedroom window. He could not remember having seen it from this angle, yet he knew the hills and shore like the back of his hand. There was only one place he could be. Nobody he knew had ever visited it. He was almost afraid to ask.

‘Am I on the tapu island?’ he said at last.

‘That's right. We are on Motu-tapu.’

‘But I'm not allowed here! There is a taniwha here—and—and—bad things will happen.’ Tahu was alarmed.

‘No, boy! No. Do not be afraid,’ said the old man soothingly. ‘No bad things are here today. Did not the greenstone protect you through the breakers and in the cave, and bring you safely here?’

‘Yes, I suppose it did,’ Tahu answered.

‘Then you are safe here too,’ said the old man. ‘Look. That is my house over there. Does it look like a house of bad things?’

‘No, but it looks awfully old: too old to be real.’

The old man laughed.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I shall tell you a story, and you will understand all …

‘… Long ago, when first the Maori people came to these parts, many taniwha lived in the sea and in the rivers. There was much

warfare between them and the people of the land. People were killed, and taniwha were killed and there was much bloodshed. But there was one taniwha who believed that people of the land could live in peace with people of the waters. Each day he used to leave his home at the mouth of the river and go up into the rivers and talk to the children who played there. He did not like to think of making war against the fathers of these new friends, and so he refused to join the other taniwha in their battles. This made them very cross of course. More and more taniwha got caught in eel-traps and nets until only five were left, but still he would not help the other four to fight. Finally they asked Tangaroa to punish the taniwha who would not fight.

“‘Very well,” said Tangaroa, the great god of the waters. “I will make him so that he cannot swim, nor play with the children of the land. I shall turn him into a little island for one hundred years.” So the taniwha became an island off the coast. The other four taniwha used to swim round it, but the land people could not come near because their canoes were always wrecked on the nearby rocks. By the time one hundred years had passed all the other taniwha had been killed. Tangaroa left the island where it was, but he let the taniwha come to life again.

‘He was a sad taniwha now, and he wept bitter tears for his lost friends. The tears turned to tangiwai or greenstone. Tangaroa was sorry for him, because he was the last taniwha in the world, but he did not have the power to change him into a man. He called in the help of Papa, the Earth Mother. Together they decided that the taniwha could be a man so long as he stayed on the island, but if he went into the sea or visited the mainland he would become a taniwha. On one day each year he could visit the land as a man. The rest of the time he must live on the island and guard the spirits of the old taniwha.

“‘On that one day of the year,” Tangaroa said, “you must return with the second tide. If you disobey you will become a sharp reef that kills people.”

‘Tangaroa kept his side of the bargain, and the taniwha-man kept his, and so it has gone

OVERWEIGHT

… THEN YOUR BODY IS UNDER THIS SORT OF STRAIN

When you are over 30 years of age, excess weight can be hazardous. Overweight has been closely associated with heart troubles, diabetes, arthritis and other disorders.

STAY HEALTHY … KEEP FIT

(a)	CUT DOWN ON CALORIES
(b)	TAKE REGULAR AND REASONABLE EXERCISE.

The Health Department's free booklet ‘Slimming’ gives you an extensive calorie chart and diet programme complete with healthy weight margins for your height, age and build.

YOU USE THREE TIMES MORE CALORIES WALKING BRISKLY THAN SITTING.

Regular exercise is important in weight control. It tones your muscles, improves circulation and general well-being.

INCREASE YOUR CHANCES FOR A LONGER LIFE IN BETTER HEALTH …

WATCH YOUR WEIGHT.

N.Z. DEPT. OF HEALTH

S167

Views on the Office of Bishop of Aotearoa

An item of some interest to the Maori Anglican population since the news of Bishop Panapa's resignation is, of course, his successor.

Heading the list of likely candidates by virtue of seniority are the four Maori Canons, Canon S. Rangiihu of Te Whakatohea, Canon J. Tamahori of Ngati Porou, Canon Wi Huata of Kahungunu and Canon H. Taepa of Te Arawa. In a recent article in Te Kaunihera Maori, December issue. A. Mahuika argues that academic qualifications, confidence and ability in Maoritanga, and international experience are important prerequisites for eligibility for the office.

Revd K. Te Hau of St Faith's pastorate, Rotorua, was inclined to stress the qualities of humility, sympathy, and understanding. He argues that a Bishop possessing these attributes is able to reach his people, and can communicate with them in a language they can appreciate. This, of course, extends the sphere of selection to include relatively unknown outsiders as well as those who feature regularly in public news. Whatever criteria is employed, the responsibility of selection rests entirely in the hands of the four North Island Bishops. They constitute the Selection Board, the convenor of which is Archbishop Lesser, who is also Diocesan Bishop of Waiapu.

The subject of the Bishopric, if it were not part of the agenda, was very much to the fore in the minds of the delegates and lay people attending the Waiapu Diocesan Pastorate Conference at Murupara on 23–24 February.

In his welcome speech, Mr H. Bird of Ngati Manawa set the mood when he stated on the marae that he hoped some decision would be made at this conference with regard to the Maori Bishop. A vain hope, undoubtedly, but he voiced an attitude shared by a large sector of his people, and more significantly his speech pointed to the interest that Ngati Manawa had in this important position. Sir Turi Carroll, chairman of the N.Z. Maori Council and a leading elder of the Kahungunu tribe, Wairoa, redirected attention to what he considered the primary concern of the moment. In a discussion on the Bishop of Aotearoa's residence he pointed out that this conference was ‘putting the cart before the horse’. ‘We need a Bishop first,’ he said, ‘and then we find a house’.

While the meeting was in progress notice of a motion was proposed requesting that the conference be asked to examine fully the role of the Bishop of Aotearoa. I spoke later to those responsible for making the request, Mr Sonny Baker and Revd A. Mahuika. Three main reasons motivated the request for the discussion. First, they thought that the whole position of the Bishop of Aotearoa should be thoroughly examined, for few people actually appreciated the full import of the office. The discussion would question, for example, the rights and duties attaching to the Bishopric, the method of appointment of the Bishop, his significance and effectiveness to Anglicans generally.

Then, given this information, combined with an awareness of modern Maori social trends, the conference could recommend amendments to regulations covering the Bishop of Aotearoa which would better equip the church in the performance of its duties. Finally, they recognize that the office of Bishop of Aotearoa is much more than an Anglican Bishopric—he holds a position of responsibility to all Maoris. Whether he likes it or not, once a man accepts the office of Bishop of Aotearoa, he automatically assumes a position—and a large one at that—as a leader of the race. So any assessment of the office and role of the Bishop of Aotearoa could not ignore this important aspect.

As it was, the conference refused permission to allow an examination of the role of the Maori Bishop. Canon Rangiihu, opposing the request, said the conference as it was then convened was incompetent to handle the subject. He added that Canon Law clearly stated the regulations governing the office of Bishop of Aotearoa. Others supporting Canon Rangiihu said that a discussion would be time-consuming. Bishop Panapa, now retired from the post of Bishop of Aotearoa, supported them, stating that he was quite satisfied with the status quo and could see no need for reappraisal.

Yet there is a certain amount of dissatisfaction with the office as it exists now. Among the ranks of the Bishops of New Zealand, the office of Bishop of Aotearoa presents some-

thing of an anomaly. The Bishop has no diocese of his own, but acts as assistant Bishop to the Bishop of Waiapu. Therefore he has none of the responsibilities which confront a Diocesan Bishop of which his most constant and pressing worry is the raising of funds. He is not selected in the normal way, but is appointed, and he holds full voting rights in General Synod despite his status as assistant Bishop.

Mr Baker, a leading layman of the Turanga pastorate, Gisborne, disagreed that there was no need to re-examine the office, and was particularly critical of the means of appointing the Bishop. Neither clergy nor laity had a voice in the decision. A Diocesan Bishopric on the other hand, is an elective position; representatives of the clergy and laity meet in Diocesan Synod to vote, so that the appointment is a result of a majority decision in Synod.

In an interview with Canon J. Tamahori at the conference, I asked how he thought the Maori Anglican community could express an opinion, given the opportunity. He said that the Bishop of Aotearoa should continue to be appointed by a Selection Board such as currently exists, but it should be assisted and guided in its choice by an advisory committee. The advisory committee could consist of prominent laymen of each diocese in which lived sufficient Maori Anglican population to justify membership of it. He thought too that the office of Bishop of Aotearoa was still necessary to the Maori people. He had observed that large numbers of young Maoris had moved out of the East Coast, Northland and King Country, many to settle in the South Island as well as urban centres of the North Island. In view of this transmigration there was a greater need for a Bishop of Aotearoa than ever before.

The 1966 census reveals that in urban areas which fall under the Waiapu diocesan boundary, such as Napier, Hastings, Tauranga, Rotorua and Gisborne, 10% of the total Maori population is located. Despite the fact that the figures given pertain to urban areas only, still the greater proportion of the Maori population lies outside the Waiapu Diocesan district. If the Bishop of Aotearoa is to be an effective leader of his Maori followers, the greatest demand will come from outside his officially designated district which is Waiapu. But his power in reaching this section of the people is dependent upon the granting of a commission by the Bishop of the diocese which he purposes visiting. Therefore, while officially recognised as ‘Bishop of Aotearoa’ he is so, in fact, only at the request of the Diocesan Bishops of New Zealand.

Archbishop Lesser stated publicly in a farewell ceremony to Bishop Panapa, that he looked forward to a time when, ‘the office will fall into abeyance and that a Maori priest will be appointed as a Diocesan Bishop so that the appointment is not consequent upon race, but simply ability to assume the responsibility of office.’ In view of the current mode in which Diocesan Bishops are appointed, the likelihood of a Maori succeeding to the office appears politically unfeasible. The most up-to-date figures disclose too great a gap between Maori and Pakeha parishioners of any diocese for the scheme to eventuate democratically.

An alternative proposal by Revd A. Mahuika favours abolishing the office and appointing a Maori with his own Diocese, including too its consequent responsibilities and privileges. In this capacity the Maori Bishop would have jurisdiction over Pakeha and Maori parishes and pastorates, and would enjoy equal status with the other Bishops. An important side effect of this diocese would be the provision of a testing ground for New Zealand, of the extent and sincerity of European willingness for integration.

If changes are envisaged to the office of Bishop of Aotearoa the decision rests ultimately with General Synod. Three houses constitute General Synod, and any alterations to the canons or constitution would require a majority vote in each house before it can take effect. If a proposed change is lost in any one of the houses then the issue is defeated. General Synod meets once every two years and since the next meeting is scheduled for April of this year, perhaps greater interest will be attracted to Synod proceedings among the Maori community than there has been in the past.

Kiri Haira

Whakarewarewa Maori School's most senior old pupils at the centennial. From left, Tangirau Karekare, Guide Ellen, Mamaeroa Maniapoto, Guide Kiri and Guide Rangi.
National Publicity Studios

Maori Schools Centennial

by Kiri Haira

The Maori Schools Centennial organized by the Rotorua and District Maori School Committees Association was held at Whakarewarewa Maori School, Rotorua, on December 9–10 of last year. Guest speakers at the celebration included the M.P. for Eastern Maori, Mr P. Reweti, and the Education Department officer for Maori education, Mr N. F. Harré.

The celebrations attracted old pupils of Maori schools from such distant points as Cape Reinga in the north, the East Coast, Taranaki, Wanganui and Hawkes Bay. They were welcomed by the mayor of Rotorua. Mr A. M. Linton, the chairman of the organizing committee, Mr Macfarlane, who is himself an old boy of the host school, and a leading elder of the Tuhourangi tribe, Mr Matina Makiha.

A gallery of old photographs and press clippings tracing the history of individual Maori schools was arranged for public viewing by parents, old pupils and teachers of

Sister Annie, deaconess of the Maori Synod of the Presbyterian Church, talking to Mr H. R. Lapwood, M.P., for Rotorua, and Mr N. B. Hunt, chairman of the Rotorua County Council. Sister Annie worked among the Tuhoe people of Ruatahuna for 50 years and retired in 1964.

Maori schools. This aspect of the centennial celebrations was well presented and well received; it contained a wealth of information which would have been useful to the student of Maori history and Maori rural life in the early years of this century. It is unfortunate in this respect that the anniversary was not better supported.

A variety concert was held on Saturday evening at the Sportsdrome, and each school party or school district was invited to make a contribution to the programme. The procedure was quite informal and ended with a cold supper.

The centennial weekend was completed on Sunday with a church service at St. Faith's, Ohinemutu, the Revd Te Hau officiating.

End of an Era

The 1967 Centennial celebrations mark the end of an era in the history of New Zealand education. The Minister of Education, acting on the advice of the National Committee on Maori Education announced that Maori schools would be transferred from Education Department control to Board control. The transfer would be complete by the beginning of the 1969 school year. The most important consequence of the School Board take-over, the Minister foresees, is an improvement in the quality of Maori education because existing educational resources administered by the

Mr M. Makiha, tribal elder of Tuhourangi, giving the baptismal ring to the memorial bell commemorating 100 years of Maori Schools service.

Board will service Maori schools more efficiently than was possible under the Department's control.

It is as well, however, to heed the warning

continued on page 43

A group of old pupils from Ngati Porou and Whanau-a-Apanui districts pictured with their Arawa host. Haratia Rogers.

Two members of the Ngapotiki group ready for the dress rehearsal.

Waitangi Day 1968

Speaking at this year's Waitangi Day Celebrations on 6 February, New Zealand's new Governor-General, Sir Arthur Porritt, said that when he recently re-read the Treaty, he was amazed at its simplicity and its symbolic significance.

‘It's moral purpose was, and is, crystal clear, whatever may have been its validity as a legal document, a matter on which I am most certaintly not qualified to express an opinion. It was a promissory note of mutual trust. The Maoris, as British subjects, were not only to be constitutionally ruled by the Queen, but also officially protected by her.

‘Captain Hobson became not only governor of the new colony, but also consul to the Maori chiefs,’ he said.

Sir Arthur said that the fruits of this somewhat philanthropic document were before us today, and a study of them could reasonably bring pride and satisfaction, and that much of the fruit had ripened well, although all of it had not yet matured. He said he felt New Zealanders should look even further forward to a time beyond today's generation when a

The Whakatohea group performing for Their Excellencies.
National Publicity Studios

Wren drummers, officers and ratings parade during the ceremony.

In expressing his pleasure at being at the ceremony, Sir Arthur said, ‘Nothing more than this great gathering has brought me back more fully to my native country. Nothing will give me greater satisfaction during my term of office than to do all in my power to further the common interests of and yet greater understanding between our two peoples.

‘I only wish like Sir Bernard Fergusson I had the gift of tongues. An even more primitive sense thans peech, however, is feeling, and this, I can assure you, I have in full measure.

‘From that full measure, may I on this New Zealand's day at Waitangi, wish you all everything of the best—health, happiness, and, dare I say, prosperity for the coming year.&rs