Te Whētiwara O Poronīhia
Polynesian Festival, 1972

Ua Sao Le La O Samoa

‘The Samoan Canoe has broken through the reef’

‘Ka to he ra ka rere he ra’

The sun has set, a new day is born. How very true this is from our point of view, for our participation in the New Zealand Polynesian Festival has given us Samoans from Wellington, something to think about.

Living on Mataatua Marae alone has revived memories of home (Samoa). It has given our generation food for thought. The festival was a success and a milestone was passed.

Our welcome by the Tuhoe people at Mataatua, and living as Maoris has reminded us of our culture left behind on the shores of Hawaiki with our coming to New Zealand and now we are determined to revive it. Take it from us that it will be a

different story at Rotorua next year, should there be another festival.

No longer shall we go as guest performers and as amateurs. Now that our canoe is in sight of land, we plan to pull it ashore, As far as the Samoan group is concerned there is to be a follow-up action to this operation. We are going to see this through by reviving our dances and national activities. So much interest has been created that we have formed ourselves into a permanent culture group in the Hutt Valley.

And what of the hospitality of our host Tuhoe of Rotorua? In my language all I could say is: Tuhoe malo teu malo le fa'aaloalo. Ua fo'i le va'a le mama ua lomi ua malie le va'ai. Fa'afetai. In Maori presumably it could mean, Tuhoe, mou mou kai, mou taonga mou mou tangata ki to po. No tribute could be adequate or fitting. From the minute we landed on the marae until we left, it was home away from home all over again. And to be privileged to sleep on the marae was an experience. Tears were shed, (this is true Polynesian parting) and deep inside our hearts we told ourselves we will return, and this we will do—return to Mataatua.

The competitions were a treat to our young members (who went planning a sightseeing tour of Rotorua which never eventuated) who as amateurs are now determined to go back polished and as real Samoan entertainers, next year. The Maori groups showed our members uniformity in its wide sense; the Cook Island group, rhythm to the beat of drums, the tin cans and goodness knows what; the Tokelauans, gracious moments and gently does it; and for Niueans, all energies preserved was the caper. But what of us—just wait and see. We know we can do better. Here is a classic example. We beat ‘Little Samoa’ our Auckland brothers and that speaks for itself. Any tiny brother who annoys a big brother deserves a lesson or two. And now that ‘Little Samoa’ (Auckland) is hurt it is enough evidence that in a festival next year the Samoan competitions are going to be hard to judge. All groups are out to win. We are looking forward to the acid test and let it be done in the true Polynesian spirit.

A new day is born: To ka rere he ra. Ua sau le aso fou.

Soifua. Hugo R. Stanley

The Rev. Kingi M. Ihaka, M.B.E., J.P., Chairman of the Festival Committee, gave this address of welcome to Their Excellencies the Governor-General and Lady Porritt at the official opening of the first New Zealand Polynesian Festival at the Sportsdrome, Rotorua.

Korohi pō… Korohi ao
Ko Rongo i tūria ki te mātāhau o Tū,
Tū te winiwini, Tū te wanawana,
Tū i whakaputaina ki te whai ao,
Ki te ao mārama
Tihe… mauri ora!

Te pou! Te pou!
Te tokotoko i wherangi,
Te tokotoko i whenuku,
Tukia! Tōkia!
Ko te mumu, ko te āwhā,
Ko te mānihi kaiota,
Takere, panapana,
Ka rau i runga,
Ka rau i raro,
Ka whai tāmore i runga,
Ka whai tāmore i raro.
Tena ko te pou,
Ko te pou no Rongo
He rongo!
Unuhia i te rito o te harakeke
Kei hea koe, e te kōmako, e kō,
Whakataerangitia!
Rere ki uta, rere ki tai,
Kī mai ki ahau, ‘He aha te mea nui?’
Māku e kī atu ki a koe,
‘He tangata! He tangata!’

E ngā iwi, e ngā mana e ngā reo, kua manaakitia tātou e ngā rangatira o Te Arawa; kau paenga te taha ki a tātou. Nā reira, tēnā tātou katoa!

Te Arawa, our hospitable hosts, have already welcomed the participating groups and their supporters, in order that we, both Maori and our brethren of the Pacific Islands, may ally ourselves with our hosts, not only to welcome you, Your Excellencies, but also to assure you of our steadfast loyalty to the Crown.

In my prelude, I quoted a saying attributed to a high ranking lady of my tribe. Freely translated, it reads. ‘Ask me: what is the greatest of all things? I will answer: Tis a human being: A human being.’ It is because of our concern for human beings, primarily for those who are classified as Polynesians, that we have promoted this festival, confident that partnership in action will greatly contribute to the betterment of race relations in this country. We have always desired to meet one another on a common ground, and this has proved successful in a few areas. But never before in the history of this country have we—the various ethnic groups under the umbrella of Polynesia—come together, not as rivals, but as a united front, to provide what I believe to be the first of many New Zealand Polynesian Festivals.

Nowhere else in the whole of the Pacific, is there anything approaching the array of Polynesian talent that exists here. I am confident that eventually we could provide Polynesian entertainment on a scale, and of a standard, which could not be equalled anywhere in the world.

I believe that the reception by the Maori people to Her Majesty the Queen and members of the Royal Family at Gisborne in 1970, was a most spectacular and moving performance. This acted as a stimulus to those of us who have been concerned with the preservation of Maori culture as well as concern for the type of entertainment which has been labelled as ‘Maori’, to do something positive in this field. We felt that the time was opportune for the Maori to exhibit his talents and perhaps recapture the spirit of his ancestors, to compose his own songs, chants, haka and so on, rather than rely on the latest pop tunes, to move him to write lyrics.

We felt also, that here in our country we have the best racial climate in the world, to promote through song and dance an even warmer climate in our relations one with another. It was natural then, that we should invite our Polynesian brethren in New Zealand to join us, with the result that we have five groups representing the Samoans, Tongans, Tokelauans, Niueans and Cook Islanders with us today.

Let me hasten at this stage to assure the non-Polynesians that we have no intention of excluding them. We welcome them and we hope that they will join our ranks, provided that what they display is of Polynesian origin.

It is encouraging, Sir, to note the marked interest in things Maori by a fair section of our New Zealand society. I am particularly impressed with what a number of schools are doing in this respect, and I have no doubt that when more qualified tutors are available, more and more schools will take advantage of their services. I would suggest, however, that there are still more important avenues available for propagating this. I am looking forward to the day, for instance, when radio and T.V. announcers will include as part of their normal Iangauge, Polynesian phrases. It would be good to be greeted on a cold wet morning by, ‘Kia Ora!’ or ‘Tēnā Koutou!’ or ‘Talofa Lava!’ or ‘Kia orana koutou katoatoa!’, instead of ‘Good morning’ when one is still tugging away at blankets to keep warm. If you, Sir, during the remaining months you have with us as Governor-General can convince someone of the beauty of the Maori and Polynesian languages and incorporate them in radio and T.V.—not as an extra, but as part and parcel of the daily routine, I am sure we all will be most grateful. But there is a proviso to this plea. It is simply this: please ask them to pronounce the words correctly.

May I, as chairman of the New Zealand Polynesian Festival, now extend our warmest gratitude to the Government, and the Maori Purposes Fund Board, for supplying us with the bulk of our financial needs. There were also some business firms and Maori Trust Boards which assisted. Provided we can depend on these sources, plus a marked increase from the business world, for funds, and provided further that the Maori and the Polynesian people support us, we intend to make this an annual Festival.

At a wedding banquet, the supply of wine proved inadequate. Because of a miracle, a further supply of a more superb quality was obtained. The master of the house complained that the more palatable wine was served last. Your Excellencies, the more palatable section of the Festival will follow soon.

Before you address us, however, let me add this. I feel that it is most fitting that the first New Zealand Polynesian Festival should be held during your term of office as Governor-General, because you, Sir, are the first son of the land to hold such an exalted office, and as a New Zealander, you have carried out your onerous task with great dignity. You and Lady Porritt will leave our shores before the end of this year, with our

love and affection and I express the hope that you will both return one day to enjoy the friendships you have made here.

Kia hora te marino;
Kia whakapapa pounamu te moana;
Kia tere te karohirohi i mua i to korua huarahi.
May peace be widespread;
May the sea glisten like the greenstone,
And may the shimmer of light guide you on your way.

To which I may add the words of the Psalmist, ‘The Lord preserve your coming in, and your going out, from this time forth, and forever more.’

Your Excellencies, I am greatly honoured and pleased, on behalf of this Festival, to present you with these gifts of our aroha.

E iti noa ana, nā te aroha.
Though small, ‘tis all that love can give.
Tēnā korua! Tēnā tātou katoa! Talofa lava.
Kia orana koutou katoatoa.

Replying to Rev. Ihaka's speech, His Excellency said,

‘Tena koutou, aku hoa.

‘This is surely a great day for New Zealand! Only once before have representatives of all the Maori tribes been gathered together

on one marae for a common purpose—and that was on the famous occasion of the Maori welcome to Her Majesty The Queen at Gisborne during the Captain Cook Bicentennial Celebrations two years ago. Today we add to representatives of all the Maori tribes (17 teams from eight Maori Council Districts)—some hundred or more of our friends from the Pacific Islands— from Samoa, the Tokelaus, Niue and the Cook Islands. Indeed it is a noble and historic gathering!

‘Remembering, as we should do on such an important occasion, our worthy and revered ancestors and forbears—it is not

difficult to picture their amazement had they seen such a magnificent korerorero as this.

‘So, my friends, let us realise and appreciate straight away that, despite all present differences and difficulties, we have come a long way in a relatively very short time in history towards achieving that ideal we all in our heart of hearts hold so dear—in your language kotahitanga—in ours living peace-peacefully together in mutual trust and understanding. The aims and objectives of this Festival—the encouragement and promotion of Polynesian culture—have already proved to be a very important factor in producing this much-to-be-desired result and I have no doubt the doughty deeds of this weekend will greatly enhance that influence.

‘The word ‘culture’ is often misused and certainly overused—but here it simply stands for those simple and delightful activities of singing and dancing, playing and talking, weaving and carving—the intrinsic values of which are just that amount greater as our world becomes more mercenary, mechanical and over-mobile. In this sense, I am sure few would deny the increasingly important part Maori and Polynesian cultural activities have played in recent years in our national life—a part all the more vital at a time when minority factions are not being particularly helpful in assisting the natural —and inevitable—merging of the two great streams of Polynesian and European thought and tradition into one great river

of racially unified New Zealanders.

‘And as a New Zealander I sincerely trust and fervently believe that in this respect New Zealand may yet in due course give an example to the world—as it has already done in an extraordinary number and variety of aspects of life considering its small size and even smaller population. I note, with warm delight, a very simple evidence of this here today, where most of the Maori groups contain Pakeha members —Pakeha who have earned their places not only by their ability and skill in the arts portrayed, but by their spontaneous enthusiasm for and love of what is being done. So does a modern New Zealand weld together its ancient traditions—from all sources.

‘As the years have gone by, I think I am becoming a little allergic to the word ‘Pakeha’—as this in Maori originally meant ‘stranger’—and this is something I have

never felt on the many maraes and at the many Maori gatherings my wife and I have been privileged to attend. After all, there should be no strangers in the world—only friends we have not met! I came across a few words the other day which seem relevant to this concept. They read—

I sought my soul;
my soul I could not see
I sought my God;
my God eluded me
I sought my brother,
and found all three.

‘This discovery of our brothers should not be all that difficult. After the Captain Cook Bicentenary Celebrations I used to say to school children, “I would advise you, as soon as you can and as much as you can, to go out and do exactly what Captain Cook did—discover New Zealand!” It is high time we went out and discovered New Zealanders! We all live in a country much blessed by nature—a country of incomparable scenery, of equable climate, well-stocked with food and with facilities for leisure and recreation unequalled in the world; a country with enormous developmental potential, an age-old legal system, a first-class health service, great social amenities and a highly comprehensive educational system. It is this last—our educational facilities, which if fully used and appreciated could supply the answer to most of today's problems. The opportunities are all there, but they need acceptance and this applies particularly to you—my Maori friends. You know, as I know, that with a full and proper education there is nothing you cannot achieve. Go to it!

‘But let me revert to this Festival—a Festival of joy and happiness, of sunshine and of pleasure. And there is one matter. (I nearly said ‘little matter’ but that would be utterly wrong.) to which I must refer. The Festival is the brain-child of Reverend Kingi Ihaka—it is he who nursed it from the inception of the idea—it is he with his bubbling enthusiasm, his flair for organisation and his slave-driving tactics, who has been, admittedly with many good friends, advisers, and helpers, responsible for the complex administration that has brought us all together today. We would all wish to thank him most gratefully and to congratulate him. “He amorangi ki mua”—it is good to have a priest in front! I know his greatest reward would be for the success of this Festival to justify it becoming an annual event—spreading its beneficent influence more and more over this our country. So let there be “Aroha, mai, aroha atu”—love coming towards us, love going out from us.

‘I can assure you all, there are few things I have done in this country which have given me greater pleasure, greater pride or a greater sense of privilege than officially to declare open this First National Polynesian Festival. Kia toa, kia kaha, kia ora.’

going to the Chats

by Sh [ unclear: ] ila Natusch

That was what somebody's kind Maori grandmother, said, when we were waiting at the Wellington Airport for our call to board the Bristol Freighter: ‘Going to the Chats?’ She was, too, but just for the weekend. ‘I wouldn't like to live there!—couple of good seas, it would wash away!’ But plenty of kai moana: and the weather, though inclined to be misty and blowy, nothing like as rough as we'd been having over the first weeks of spring about Cook Strait. As a Stewart Islander now living in Wellington, I didn't expect to feel out of place in the Chathams. My husband, like most of his generation, had been overseas, but for me this was the first time—well, I was at least going to get a foot half-out of New Zealand!

What to take? We were allowed 44Ibs luggage. My brother had been over the year before, so I wrote to him. He couldn't think of anything to add to my suggestions—‘but I'm not commodity minded,’ he wrote. ‘If for instance ice cream was banned and I didn't hear the news I wouldn't notice its absence perhaps for several years’—nowadays such things are obtainable at the Chathams anyway. For our own use, he recommended short gumboots: ‘handy in bad weather as they can be kicked off at doorsteps as is custom to stop dragging mud in. Each house has a little row of little gumboots at back door. All the same brand—red tops—obviously sold at Chatham Store. No doubt sometimes the wrong boots go on the right feet. Gumboots without red tops and got in New Zealand would be easily identified.’

We also took tramping gear, a camera, a couple of sketchbooks, and a few things like oranges and bananas to fill the corners: no doubt there would be enough Chatham Island vegetation and rock samples to fill a couple of Bristol Freighters on the way home! I was pleased to note that we could see out: the Chathams plane has a passenger box that slides in and out, and its windows line up with those of the plane. What did we see?—we saw the sea; but the Pacific was terrific: just white-speckled blue from up there, but mighty crashing combers at boat-level. I shouldn't wonder. I'd like to have gone by sea, but the Holmdale is not a Women's Lib. ship.

The freighter flew on, steady as a rock. We were given a tasty and substantial lunch.

‘Can you see anything yet?’ asked my husband; but I couldn't. I began to peel an orange for us, and just as we were dripping juice and bits in all directions, rocks and kelp and land appeared from nowhere and we were there! Dazzling white sand with foaming breakers; salt water clear as emerald (why hadn't we brought our togs?); moorland patterned in purple and brown; vast expanses of water inshore as well as out—and next thing we were charging a bright green runway, while neighbouring sheep and their tail-swinging lambs bustled for cover. Rows of Landrovers were there to meet the plane, and rows of trees, neatly fenced off. had shiny leaves as green as the grass.

Our Chatham host couldn't have been kinder: ‘Had lunch? Well, how about a trip to Kaingaroa—you can see Chatham Island

forgetmenots in their wild state!—only, first, there's something I want to show you in a karaka grove—kopi, they call them here.’ He stopped the Landrover by the roadside. A walk over the paddock, through the trees, past a clearing into more trees—and there stood an old kopi, yellow with lichen, green with moss, and carved with a quaint and attractive figure—human or gnome?—with a tiki-like face set squarely, not over to one side, on a stripy body; the stripes looked a bit like those on a wasp, but they may have meant ribs. I wish we knew more about the Morioris! The last full-blooded one, the popular and jolly Tommy Solomon, died in 1933; there was a picture of him in our history books. His people were Polynesians, a branch of those who settled in New Zealand in far-off times to become the moa hunters. When the later Maoris reached New Zealand, the moa hunters faded away before them; but their Moriori cousins were left in

peace at the Chathams for several hundred years longer. It was only after Pakeha sealers and whalers arrived in the Pacific that the Chatham Islands were drawn to Maori attention: Te Rauparaha was then on the warpath, and ‘a displaced and restless group’ of Taranaki people took over first a trading brig and then the Chatham Islands. The poor Morioris didn't have a chance.

The seal seems to have been important in their way of life. On a limestone wall by Te Whanga Lagoon is carved a great shoal of flickering seal-like figures; but we don't really know what they mean. But sealing was

hard on the Morioris, for they ate seal meat and wore sealskin clothes; and although (as in New Zealand) the introduction of ailments like measles and influenza was quite accidental, it was still devastating to a people who had never met such things. Like the moa hunters, they seem to have been a peaceful, wandering people; that, and their undermined health and spirits, must have made it all the easier for the newcomers to take them over. Enough of them must have been killed and umu'd to show was boss; many became slaves. The women went to the victors. All this was according to the customs of Maori warfare of those times. A few years later, missionaries were persuading their converts to free their slaves, but by then the Morioris had little to live for. History is no longer treated as a matter of ‘goodies and baddies’ so much as a jockeying for position in the matter of land, food and other goods; but it is always sad when a whole race dies out. However, there are still strains of Moriori, as well as Maori. Portuguese, Russian Finn, Scandinavian, French and British stock, among the Chatham Island families; and they add up to a friendly, easy-going and kindly people.

There are hundreds of Moriori carvings on trees and rocks if you know where to look; and in the sandhills you sometimes find middens of various ages. Sand blown aside revealed the place an old-timer had been laid to rest; it was so long ago, and he looked so peaceful, that one could only hope that no wandering stock would disturb his bones. One gets rather used to bones on the Chathams: sheep, cattle, horses, sometimes persons; and along the lagoon shore the teeth of sharks that died not thousands but millions of years ago. One is very much aware of the past, and of the fact that man hath but a short time to live; but at the same time there is every reason to enjoy life while the going's good! People live scattered about, but nowadays it isn't too difficult to hop in the Landrover and join the rest at some gathering: a wedding, a hangi, the pictures maybe.

We saw the giant blue forgetmenots all right: a great shoal of them, as blue as could be, flowerheads the size of A & P Show

cauliflowers massed among enormous glossy leaves. Towards the other end of the island, we also came across patches of the lovely Chatham Island ‘aster’, a daisy-flowered shrub with silvery green, softish leaves and large flowers shading from lilac to deep violet. There are shrubs related to the New Zealand mingimingi, but with leaves like totara; they are crammed with berries just now, waxy white; white with a delicate flush of pink; rose pink; ruby red. Gentians were beginning to flower in the peat bogs, mostly white with delicate lime-green streaks, but I also found a lovely pink one. But the trees are sad. Except in one or two places where someone has fenced them off from stock, they are dead and dying, bleached like the bones, and there are no seedlings coming on. Even the famous blue forgetmenot is rare now, except in people's gardens—and of course even that is better than nothing. There are a few places along the lagoon shore where it's possible to collect seedlings of the interesting trees found only on the Chathams: a tree olearia (ours here are nearly all shrubs), a tree corokia, and so on—often a plant we know in New Zealand as a small shrub has a king-sized relation in the Chathams. But so many of the kings seem to be dying out, like the Morioris.

The old Chatham Islanders, from early European times, have been fishermen and farmers. The crayfish boom of the sixties brought many outsiders to the district. At Waitangi, Government employees run the radio and weather stations, post office, marine department office and police station; there is a hall, a church, a small hospital, a pub, the beginnings of an interesting little museum, and garages. There are boats in the bay. There are other settlements, mostly fishing places with little freezers or factories, on other parts of the coast, Stewart Island is much better off for shelter, though! We had a trip across to the other main island, Pitt, and it was a real taste of the high seas. After all, these islands are away out in the middle of the ocean. But they are a very interesting, if semi-detached corner of New Zealand. I'd like to go back to ‘The Chats’!

Summer School at Whakatane

Tihei Mauri Ora! Tihei Mauri Mate!

He mihi tēnei nā te rōpū whai i ngā tikanga o te tangata. Ko te mihi tuatahi ki ō tātou tīpuna kua tīraha, kua moe i te moengaroa. I runga i tēnei āhua e mihi ana mātou ki a Pita Fairbrother i mate i te marama o Māehe i tenei tau.

Koia Tēnā i tīmata, i hanga, i ārahi mātou i roto i te rohe o Ngātiawa me te rohe o Tūhoe. Ko Pita te pou tokomanawa o mātou te rōpū e whai ana, e whiriwhiri ana, kia rongo mātou i te taonga e mōhiotia ana ko te Māoritanga.

I mamae te manawa, i heke ngā roimata, taumaha ana te ngākau, taka iho te hūpē i te tangi mōhou, e Pita. Ka nui te pōuri i te maharatanga ki ō mahi, ki ō whakaaro mō te katoa.

Mate kino! Mate kino: Maumau tangata ea. I mate taurekareka koe, e Pita. Nō reira, haere e Pita, haere e te hoa, haere ki Hawaiki nui, ki Hawaiki roa, ki Hawaiki pāmamao.

Ka huri ki te korero mō tētahi mahi a Pita i mua tonu o tōna matenga.

Anthropology is the study of man in society and no amount of academic study and theory can wholly replace direct involvement with people. Yet all too often second-hand knowledge from books is all that the student has.

It was in order to gain some understanding of the Maori way of life, both traditional and contemporary, that the Anthropology Society of the University of Auckland organised a summer school at Puawairua Marae near Whakatane. For ten days the group of 15 students and other interested people stayed together there, not only learning about the Maori way of life, but to some extent, living it. For instance, for most of us community living was a new experience, and many of us were surprised to find it a very agreeable one.

At the start of the school our ignorance of Maori custom and etiquette was obvious, but our hosts, the tangata whenua, remained calm and tolerant, helping us over difficult moments with timely suggestions and, later, explanations, so that our embarrassment was soon replaced by a keen desire to know how to behave in accordance with the customs and to understand the deeper meanings behind them. Many and varied were the opportunities for learning in both formal and informal ways. The more formal aspects included ceremonial welcomes onto three maraes and lectures and talks given by local people and by visiting speakers. These were on various topics and all were followed by questions and discussion. The people of the district and town had been invited to attend the lectures and participate in discussion, and the school was greatly enhanced by their interest and contributions.

After the welcome onto Puawairua Marae, introductions, and lunch, the school was officially opened by Mr J. W. Gow, Chairman of the County Council. This was followed by Peter Fairbrother giving a talk on the Role of the Anthropologist which was a fitting beginning to the school.

On Sunday morning we ate a leisurely breakfast while listening to a broadcast of the local weekly Maori programme, Te Reo Irirangi o te Tahi Ripeka Rua, initiated, organised and run by Manu Paul. We then moved into the meeting house where Ching Te Hau Tutua explained the importance of

genealogical knowledge to the Maori in establishing his identity and his right to speak on a marae. Using his own genealogy as an example, he showed how descent could be traced right back into mythological times. Sunday afternoon saw lively dialogue when local members of the Maori Women's Welfare League, under the chairmanship of Mrs M. Kingi, came to answer questions and to tell of their work on both the community and national levels. For many present (especially the men!) it provided an insight into the power of this organisation. A visit in the evening to a Ngati-Awa Maori Executive meeting at Toroa Marae gave the group a rare opportunity to see some aspects of another important Maori organisation.

During the week a great variety of lectures and talks was given. Dr Theo Roy from the University of Waikato spoke on ‘Elite Political Communication in a Multiracial Society’, his thesis being that the ‘people at the top’ tend to understand each other and have more communication and even co-operation (even though they may be in opposing camps) than the leaders and the ordinary members of a given group. Peter Ramsay from Waikato University spoke on some aspects of education, while Ross St George, also from University of Waikato, spoke about ‘Cross cultural studies’ pointing out that in fact there has been little good work done in this field. Professor M. P. K. Sorrenson of University of Auckland spoke on the ‘Historical Viewpoint on Maori Land Tenure’, and Gerhardt Rosenberg of Auckland School of Architecture and Town Planning gave a talk, illustrated with slides, on ‘Maori Housing in Urban Areas’. He showed that much of the housing for Maori families is not really suited to their needs, and that much more useful homes could be built without increasing spending. Peter McClay, headmaster of Whakatane High School, spoke on ‘Education in a Multi-racial High School’, drawing on experience in his school to give vivid impact to his talk.

One of the week's highlights was the evening when John Rangihau came over from Rotorua to speak to a packed meeting house on ‘The Cultural Renaissance’. He traced the history of the Tuhoe people up to the present day, and made this an historical occasion in itself by announcing the successful amalgamation of the Tuhoe lands under the Tuhoe Trust, which had only become finalised two days before. Several high school students were there and if they had ever missed the feeling of belonging and pride then they must have felt it very strongly since that evening.

On Wednesday a visit was made by some of the group to the clothing factory at Opotiki, where they spent a most informative morning talking to the owner and manager, Mr Perry, and the women who work in the factory. Meanwhile, others of the group were driven up the Waimana and Ruatoki Valleys where a number of carved meeting houses were examined, and where the people were very welcoming and helpful. Everyone then met to go onto Tanatana Marae where we had been invited for lunch. We were warmly welcomed and then joined the people for a delicious meal. This was followed by talks and discussion in the meeting house.

Throughout the week free time was used to relax and to become more familiar with the district. Among other things we swam at the nearby beaches, and hot pools, had a barbecue and swim in the Waimana Valley, learned how to weave tipare and rourou, had a wonderful party at the home of Peter and Betty Fairbrother, rode horses and drank in some of the pubs, enjoying all of these activities to the full. Besides these trips out we also had a late-night showing of slides of the Urewera National Park. Peter Fairbrother showed these and his intimate knowledge of the Park and his job as Chief Ranger made this most interesting and full of amusing anecdotes. On Saturday night a social was held and this was very well attended. The school wound up on Sunday morning with a hangi, beautifully cooked under the supervision of Harry Reneti. This was the first time that many of us had seen the preparation of the traditional hangi and eaten food cooked in this way.

There is no doubt that all who participated in the school benefited from the experience. For the visitors from Auckland it

has led to some understanding of Maori-tanga, an awareness of Maori activities and the efforts of groups and individuals to shape the future of the Maori as a New Zealander with equal opportunities for education, and for political and economic power while still maintaining his pride and integrity as a Maori. It has also led to at least five of the 15 beginning to learn the Maori language. For our hosts and other people of the district it has provided the stimulation of hearing both local and outside speakers. We also hope that it has dispelled any mystery and aura that may have surrounded universities and students, and that it has made higher education seem even more accessible.

Yet the greatest and most obvious benefit for all must be the close friendships formed during this week. It is difficult to describe the warmth and sincerity except to say that it was felt by all. There was a directness, humour and spontaneity in the exchanges both inside and outside the meeting house.

To a very large degree the school was organised and held together by Peter Fair brother and his wife, Betty. Without Peter's deep personal interest and intimate knowledge of local people and affairs the school could not have been the success it was—indeed would probably not have been held at all. The shock of his death only serves to emphasise the enormous contribution he made, not only to the school, but to the lives of us all. If anything positive can be said to come from his death it is that the others of us feel all the more determined that what Peter had so successfully begun must not be lost, but grow. To this end, next year's summer school is already being planned and it is hoped that this will become an annual event dedicated to the growth of friendship and respect between people as individuals and as races. These schools will be known as the Peter Fairbrother Summer Schools.

And So I Go

by Patricia Grace

—Our son, brother, grandchild, you say you are going away from this place you love where you are loved. Don't go. We warm you. We give you strength, we give you love. These people are yours.

These hills, this soil, this wide stretch of sea. This quiet place.

—This land is mine, this sea, these people. Here I give love and am loved but I must go, this is in me. I go to learn new ways and make a way for those who follow because I love.

My elders, brothers and sisters, children of this place, we must go on. This place we love cannot hold us always. The world is large. Not forever can we stay here warm and quiet to turn the soil and reap the sea and live our lives. This I've always known. And so I go ahead for those who come. To stand mid-stream and hold a hand to either side. It is in me. Am I not at once dark and fair, fair and dark. A mingling. Since our blue-eyed father held our dark-eyed mother's hand and let her lead him here.

—But our brother, he came, and now his ways are hers out of choice because of love.

—And I go because of love. For our mother and her kind and for our father. For you and for our children whose mingling will be greater than our own. I make a way. Learn new ways. So I can take up that of our father's race and hold it to the light. Then the people of our mother may come to me and say How is this. And I will hold the new thing to the light for them and point and say See. You see, that is how it is. Then take up that which is our mother's and say to those of our father You see. See there, that is why.

—And brother what of us. Must we do this too. Must we leave this quiet place at the edge of hills at the edge of sea and follow you. For the sake of our mother's people who are our own. And for our father and because we love?

—You must choose but if you do not feel it in you, stay here in warmth. Let me do this and do not weep for my going. I have this power in me. I am full. I ache for this.

Often I have climbed these hills and run about as free as rain. Stood on the highest place and looked down on great long waves looping onto sand. Where we played, grew strong, learned our body skills. And learned the ways of summers, storms and tides. From where we stepped into the spreading sea to bathe or gather food. I have watched and felt this ache in me.

I have watched the people. Seen myself there with them living too. Our mother and our blue-eyed father who came here to this gentle place that gives us life and strength. Watched them work and play, laugh and cry and love.

Seen our uncle sleeping. Brother of our mother. Under a tree bright and heavy with sunned fruit. And there beside our uncle. his newest baby daughter sleeping too. And his body sweat ran down and over her head in a new baptising. I was filled with strength.

And old Granny Roka sits on her step combing her granddaughter's hair, patiently grooming. Plaiting and tying the heavy tangled kelp which is her pride. Or walk together on the mark of tide, old Granny and the child, collecting sun-white sticks for the fire. Tying the sticks into bundles and carrying them on their backs to the little house. Together.

And seen the women walk out over rocks when the tide is low, submerging by a hole of rock with clothes ballooning. Surfacing with wine-red crayfish, snapping tails and clawing air on a still day. And on a special

day the river stones fired for cooking by our father, our cousins and our uncles who laugh and sing. Working all as one.

Our little brother's horse walks home with our little one asleep. Resting a head on his pony's neck, breathing in the warm horse stink knees locked into its sides. Fast asleep on the fired flesh of horse. And I ache. But not forever this. And so I go.

—And when you go our brother as you say you must will you be warm. Will you know love. Will an old woman kiss your face and cry warm tears because of who you are. Will children take your hands and say your name? In your new life our brother will you sing?

—The warmth and love I take from here with me and return for their renewal when I can. It is not a place of loving where I go or not the same as love that we have known. No love-fire there to warm one's self beside.

No love warmth.
Blood warmth.
Wood and tree warmth.
Skin on skin warmth.
Tear warmth.
Rain warmth.
Earth warmth.
Breath warmth.
Child warmth.
Warmth of sunned stones.
Warmth of sunned water.
Sunned sand.
Sand ripple.
Water ripple.
Ripple sky.
Sky Earth.
Earthy Sky.
And our beginning.

—And you ask me shall I sing. I tell you this. The singing will be here within myself. Inside this body. Fluting through these bones. Ringing in the skies of being. Ribboning in the course of blood to soothe swelled limbs and ache-bruised heart.

—You say to us our brother you will sing. But will the songs within be songs of joy? Will they ring. Out in the skies of being as you say. Pipe through bone caress flesh wounding? Or will the songs within be ones of sorrow?

Of warmth dreams.
Love dreams.
Of aching.
And flesh bruising?
If you listen will it be weeping that you hear?
Lament of people.
Earth moan.
Water sigh.
Morepork cry of death?

—My sisters and brothers, loved ones, I cannot tell. But there will be gladness for me in what I do. I ask no more. Some songs will be of joy and others hold the moan and sigh, the owl cry and throb of loneliness.

—What will you do then our brother when the singing dirges through your veins, pressing and swelling in your throat and breast, pricking at your mind with its aching needles of sound?

—What should I do but deny its needling and stealing into mind. Its pressing into throat and breast. I will not put a hand of comfort over body hardenings nor finger blistered veins in soothing. The wail, the lament shall not have my ear. I will pay the lonely body ache no mind. Thus I go.

I stand before my dark-eyed mother, blue-eyed father, brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles and their children and these old ones. All the dark-eyed light-eyed minglings of this place.

We gather. We sing and dance together for my going. We laugh and cry. We touch. We mingle tears as blood.

I give you my farewell.

Now I stand on a tide-wet rock to farewell you sea. I listen and hear your great heart thud. I hear you cry. Do you too weep for me? Do you reach out with mottled hands to touch my brow and anoint my tear wet face with tears of salt? Do not weep but keep them well. Your great heart beats I know for such as these. Give them sea, your great sea love. Hold them gently. Already they are baptised in your name.

As am I.
And take your renewal where I go.
And take your love.
Take your strength.
And deep heart thud.
Your salt kiss.
Your caring.

Now on a crest of hill in sweeping wind.

Where I have climbed and run. And loved and walked about. With life brimming full in me as though I could die of living.

Guardian hill you do not clutch my hand, you do not weep. You know that I must go and give me blessing. You guard with love this quiet place rocking at the edge of sea.

And now at the highest place I stand.

And feel a power grip me. And a lung-bursting strength. A trembling in my legs and arms. A heavy ache weighting down my groin.

And I lie on soil in all my heaviness and trembling. Stretch out my arms on wide Earth Mother and lay my face on hers. Then call out my love and speak my vow.

And feel release in giving to you earth and to you sea, to these people.

So I go. And behind me the sea-moan and earth-cry, the sweet lament of people. Towards the goddess as she sleeps I go. On with light upon my face.

Polynesians and the Law

It is indeed an honour to be asked to speak to your Annual General Meeting. I thank you for your invitation to last night's official opening. The setting of the Maori Court in the museum was a reminder of a great heritage, those who have gone, and those still with us.

I have for many years admired and respected the activities of the Maori Women's Welfare League, and the way in which the devoted services of your League members all over New Zealand combine together in useful service to the Maori people—but not only to the Maori people, because anything that benefits Maoris, benefits New Zealand as a whole. I regard the Maori Women's Welfare League as one of our most important national service organisations in New Zealand.

I have been asked to speak to you on the subject of ‘Polynesians and the Law’. The subject was not of my own choosing, because I felt that to do justice to it in the time that I had available for preparation would be a difficult, if not an impossible, task. I am, however, glad to be able to attempt to cover the subject but in a some what patchy, not very deeply considered, manner. There is so much that needs to be studied—so much to be done—in this particular field; and, so far as I am concerned, it seems there is so little time to do it.