The Parihaka Woman

by Ihimaera, Witi

  ‘“Children, quickly!” I called. They came running from the paddock. Over the loud din of the engine, Quentin tried to give the old Maori couple some money but they wouldn’t hear of it. We thanked them, though. The woman reminded me of somebody. Just as we were leaving, she smiled and cried over the engine noise, “Hasn’t it been lovely to spend a moment together in the sun?” Then she reached for my hand and clung to it. “Are you happy?” she asked. I was startled. “Yes, of course I am.” Then she asked, “Is your father still alive?” I wondered how the kuia had known Papa. “Yes,” I answered. “He was a good man,” she said.

  ‘Afterwards I wondered about her remark. More intriguing was when she cupped my face in her hands and traced my chin.

  ‘“How pleased I am that you have found a good husband,” she said. Then she kissed me lightly on the cheek.

  ‘“Leb wohl, mein Herz. Go well, sweetheart.”’

  Donald put the diary down.

  ‘You know …’ he began, ‘that diary entry has always puzzled the family. The Maori woman seemed to be acquainted with the lives of Marzelline and Rocco. How?’

  He was looking at me, but I shrugged my shoulders and kept my silence.

  Then Donald told me that at Marzelline’s death a locket containing dark hair was buried with her. ‘We’ve always believed it belonged to the Maori boy that Great-grandmother met while she was on Peketua Island with her father,’ Donald said carefully.

  All along I’d told Donald that I was a descendant not of Eruera but of a person whom he took to be a separate identity, Erenora. How could I tell him that Eruera hadn’t been the person Marzelline thought he was? That he hadn’t died?

  Should I tell Donald the truth? Or should I maintain the fiction? Such a moral dilemma! Even though I was only an amateur historian, did I not owe it to history to tell the truth?

  I realised that Rocco himself offered an answer. He had obviously not told his impressionable young daughter that the boy had been, in fact, a woman. Perhaps Rocco had loved Erenora also. If it was good enough for Rocco to keep the secret out of love for his daughter, I would too. And Erenora, as well, she had chosen not to disclose the truth when she met Marzelline on that spring day in 1914 and, as you know, I love my ancestor.

  Wasn’t that what history was, after all? A matter of perspective, determined by whoever told it? Even if it wasn’t, surely it was better for me to leave Donald’s family with the story of a Maori boy who was Marzelline’s first love and, from the sound of it, had held her heart always?

  Wasn’t it their history, not mine?

  ‘Well?’ Donald asked. ‘So who was the woman Great-grandmother Marzelline met that day?’

  The coals crackled in the grate. The flames flickered and then settled into a warm glow as I told Donald the truth.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I have always loved political opera, in particular Ludwig van Beethoven’s Fidelio. Indeed, inspired by Fidelio, in 1993 I wrote an opera libretto, Erenora, recasting Beethoven’s heroine as a Maori woman.

  Sixteen years later, in 2009, I began a collection of novellas called Purity of Ice. Realising that an opera production of Erenora in New Zealand was unlikely to happen, I decided to turn it into one of the novellas but giving the original libretto a preceding context: the extraordinary events of Parihaka and the exile of the prisoners of Parihaka to the South Island.

  Sometimes, however, things don’t turn out the way you intend them to. The novella kept on growing as I continued my exploration of the intertextual techniques, multiple narratives and perspectives that I had begun to develop in The Trowenna Sea (2009). In this case, I was particularly fascinated about the possibilities of further acknowledging the boundaries between fiction, history and biography by making visible historical and biographical material and using footnotes. And, of course, there were the intersections with Fidelio to consider.

  The novella was still growing when my good friend, agent and mentor, Ray Richards, to whom this book is dedicated, finally suggested that I extract Erenora from the completed collection and publish it as a separate book. It became The Parihaka Woman.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Although The Parihaka Woman is, above all else, a work of imagination, I have attempted to maintain it within an accurate historical context.

  For tribal aspects and oral narrative, I am particularly grateful to Ruakere Hond (Taranaki, Ngati Ruanui me Te Ati Awa) and my friend Miriama Evans (Ngati Mutunga) who advised on the Parihaka and mana wahine aspects. Aroaro Tamati (Taranaki, Ngati Ruanui and Te Ati Awa) also read the manuscript. The main texts consulted, as far as Taranaki and Parihaka are concerned, were G.W. Rusden’s three-volume History of New Zealand, (mainly Volume 3), Chapman & Hall, 1883; and James Cowan, The New Zealand Wars: A History of the Maori Campaigns and the Pioneering Period, two volumes (mainly Volume 2), Government Printer, 1922–23. Now out of print, these texts were consulted at Wellington Central Library.

  Other texts consulted from my own personal library for more specific detail were Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, Heinemann/Southern Cross, 1975; James Belich, Paradise Reforged: A History of the New Zealanders from the 1880s to the Year 2000, Penguin, 2001; Hazel Riseborough, Days of Darkness: Taranaki 1874–1884, Penguin, 2002; Danny Keenan, Wars Without End, Penguin, 2009; Rachel Buchanan, The Parihaka Album: Lest We Forget, Huia, 2009; Kelvin Day (ed.), Contested Ground: Te Whenua i Tohea — The Taranaki Wars 1860–1881, Huia, 2010; Michael King, The Penguin History of New Zealand, Penguin, 2003; Jane Reeves’ essay, ‘Exiled for a Cause: Maori Prisoners in Dunedin’ in Michael Reilly and Jane Thomson (eds), When the Waves Rolled In Upon Us: Essays in Nineteenth-Century Maori History by History Honours Students University of Otago 1973–93, University of Otago Press in association with History Department, University of Otago, 1999; and Bernard Gadd’s essay, ‘The Teachings of Te Whiti O Rongomai, 1831–1907’, in the Journal of the Polynesian Society, Volume 75, No. 4, 1966.

  Hazel Riseborough’s text requires special mention. I agree completely with her approach, as articulated on p. 9, that ‘Archival material is a totally inadequate source from which to draw a “Maori” perspective of the Parihaka years … What he [Te Whiti] is purported to have said, and more importantly to have meant, has come to us almost exclusively through European reporters dependent on European interpreters of varying ability and persuasion.’ In her book Ms Riseborough practises what she preaches by showing admirable discipline and restraint in not offering too many instances of what Te Whiti said. When one couples this with the moving and generous offerings by Te Miringa Hohaia of waiata surrounding Te Whiti and Tohu, you realise how refined and layered Maori language is.

  I also consulted some internet sites on Taranaki and on Te Whiti, Tohu Kaakahi and other real figures, notably the online Dictionary of New Zealand Biography on teara.govt.nz and the Ministry for Culture and Heritage’s NZHistory.net.nz. I apologise in advance for any omissions in acknowledging sources.

  The story of Parihaka is never-ending. I look forward to the day when a son or daughter of the kainga writes with the resources available from their elders.

  All errors of fact or interpretation are my own.

  Special mention must be made of Te Miringa Hohaia, Gregory O’Brien and Lara Strongman (eds), Parihaka: The Art of Passive Resistance, City Gallery Wellington, Victoria University Press for Parihaka Trustees, 2001 (especially the essay by Hazel Riseborough). This publication, which was the joint winner in the history section of the 2001 Montana New Zealand Book Awards, accompanied the exhibition of the same name at the City Gallery, Wellington. Held between 26 August 2000 and 22 January 2001, the exhibition was the most significant event in recent years in terms of bringing the story of Parihaka before the public gaze.

  The exhibition later travelled to other galleries, including the Dunedin Public Art Gallery, from 26 November 2002 to 10 February 2003, where a new component, Te Iwi Herehere, Nga Mau Herehere Torangapu, was added. Put together by Bill Dacker, Te Iwi Herehere
conveyed the story of the Maori political prisoners from Taranaki in Otago 1869–1982. It was supported by the Dunedin Public Art Gallery and the Otago Settlers Museum and remains the most complete statement to date about the Otago prisoners.

  Adam Gifford knocked on my door and supplied me with information on the Parihaka prisoners in Dunedin; Dick and Sue Scott read the manuscript and gave me their aroha; Bill Dacker, author of Te Mamae me te Aroha: The Pain and the Love, (1975) a history of Kai Tahu whanui of Otago, 1844–1994, took valuable time to generously assist with information that he could well have withheld for his own research and publications. Karin Meissenberg and Cath Koa checked the German reo to ensure that it conformed to the South German dialect of the period.

  Grateful thanks to the University of Auckland for superlative support, and to Harriet Allan and her staff at Random House New Zealand. Harriet suggested that Anna Rogers edit the book and it has benefited from her painstaking editorial analysis.

  I also record my gratitude for the funding support of the New Zealand Arts Foundation, 2009, Creative New Zealand Te Waka Toi, 2010 and the Premio Ostana (Italy), 2010.

  Finally, I must acknowledge Te Haa o Ruhia and Turitumanareti, the dream swimmer. I thought you had left me forever, but you are beside me still.

  CHAPTER NOTES

  Prologue: Taranaki

  CHAPTER 1: ALWAYS THE MOUNTAIN

  The derivation of ‘Taranaki’: in Maori ‘tara’ means mountain peak and ‘naki’ is thought to come from ‘ngaki’ meaning ‘shining’. See ‘New Zealand Volcanoes’, on the GNS science website, www.gns.cri.nz, accessed 19 December 2009.

  Erenora is the Maori transliteration of Leonore, which is the German variant of the French Eleanor, meaning ‘shining light’. Leonore is the heroine of Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio (Op. 52), 1805–06.

  The Last Samurai, Warner Brothers, 2003, was co-produced by and starred Tom Cruise and was directed by Edward Zwick. This epic film was set in the samurai culture of nineteenth-century Japan. Irony: how come the story was not set among Taranaki Maori of nineteenth-century Aotearoa? Where is Kimble Bent when you need him?

  The Wiremu Kingi Te Rangitake quote, ‘I have no desire for evil …’ comes from G.W. Rusden, History of New Zealand, Chapman & Hall, 1883, Vol. 1, p. 631. The incident of the women facing off the surveyors was published in the Southern Cross and is also cited in Rusden, Vol. 1, p. 631.

  For further reading on J.F. Riemenschneider see W. Greenwood, Riemenschneider of Warea, A.H. & A.W. Reed, 1957, and T.A. Pybus, Maori and Missionary: Early Christian Missions in the South Island of New Zealand, Reed, 1954.

  Act One: Daughter of Parihaka

  CHAPTER 2: FLUX OF WAR

  The Great Maori Land March of 1975 was led by Dame Whina Cooper (1895–1994) from Te Hapua to Wellington. The marchers arrived at Parliament on 13 October where a petition signed by 60,000 people was presented to Prime Minister Bill Rowling. The march was a defining moment in Maori history, marking a new era of Maori land rights protests, and political, economic, social and cultural activism.

  Horitana is the Maori transliteration of the name Florestan, who is the hero in Beethoven’s opera Fidelio. The Maori name should really be Horetana but I decided to be kind to readers by opting for Horitana, a name easier to look at and pronounce.

  CHAPTER 3: TE MATAURANGA A TE PAKEHA

  The incident of the rapa is cited by W.H. Skinner, Pioneer Medical Men of Taranaki, 1834–1880, New Plymouth, 1933, p. 94.

  The description of Te Karopotinga o Taranaki is drawn from various sources, including G.W. Rusden, other texts listed and internet sources.

  CHAPTER 4: OH, CLOUDS UNFOLD

  The quote from the Nelson Examiner is cited by Dick Scott in Ask That Mountain, Heinemann/ Southern Cross, 1975/ p. 23.

  The physical description and biographical information about Te Whiti o Rongomai in this chapter and throughout The Parihaka Woman, and the physical description of Parihaka, have been primarily sourced from oral information supplied by Ruakere Hond but also from G.W. Rusden and other texts listed and internet sources.

  For a more comprehensive account of Titokowaru, no more fascinating account exists than James Belich’s I Shall Not Die: Titokowaru’s War, 1868–1869, Bridget Williams Books, 1989.

  The description of General Gustavus von Tempsky is based on internet sources.

  CHAPTER 5: PARIHAKA

  The political and social contexts for this chapter have been primarily sourced from Ruakere Hond and G.W. Rusden but also Dick Scott, Hazel Riseborough’s Days of Darkness: Taranaki 1874–1884, Penguin, 2002, and others mentioned.

  Dick Scott expanded his 1954 Parihaka Story into Ask That Mountain, published in 1975. There are also some radio items on Parihaka in New Zealand broadcasting archives, two of special interest by Haare Williams and Selwyn Murupaenga. I must not forget, either, Harry Dansey’s play, Te Raukura: The Feathers of the Albatross, a few years later in 1974, the first published play by a Maori.

  Regarding the term ‘demilitarised Maori zone’, Rachel Buchanan alternatively offers the wording, ‘right in the middle of the confiscated zone’, in her Parihaka Album: Lest We Forget, Huia, 2009, p. 39. Take your pick.

  ‘The ark by which’ is cited in Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, pp. 105–06. ‘What matters to us’: J. Caselberg (ed.), Maori Is My Name: Historical Maori Writings in Translation, Dunedin, 1975, p. 136, is cited in Rachel Buchanan, The Parihaka Album, p. 26. Both utterances were made on 1 November 1881 before the invasion of Parihaka. By the way, when you are researching you come across such good old friends, now gone. It was John Caselberg who took me over to Otakou Kaik when I was Burns Fellow at the University of Otago in the 1970s.

  See Te Papa-Tai Awatea/Knowledge Net for biographical information on Alfred and Walter Burton and their photography firm; the photograph which the anonymous narrator describes is based on ‘A Parihaka scene in the eighties’, Alexander Turnbull Library, reproduced in Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, p. 39.

  ‘Softly you awoke my heart’ and ‘And I, dearest wife’: the exchanges between Erenora and Horitana are modelled after the aria, ‘Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix’, Camille Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila, libretto by Ferdinand Lemaire, 1877, Act 2, Scene 3.

  CHAPTER 6: A PROPHET’S TEACHINGS

  Tohu Kaakahi’s haka is cited in Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, p. 37. Maori and English from Whatarau Ariki Wharehoka, to whom Scott dedicated his book.

  ‘The twelve tribes of Israel’ comes from the New Zealand Herald, 21 June 1881 and is cited in Bernard Gadd, ‘The Teachings of Te Whiti O Rongomai, 1831–1907’.

  ‘I do not care’ is cited in Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, p. 79.

  CHAPTER 7: WHAT WAS WRONG WITH A MAORI REPUBLIC?

  The 1881 census statistics come from the Auckland Star, Issue 4109, 22 June 1881, p. 3; also ‘Vital Statistics for May’, Evening Post, Vol. XXI, Issue 146, 24 June 1881, p. 2.

  ‘The land is mine …’ is taken from G.W. Rusden, History of New Zealand, Vol. 3, p. 261.

  One surveyor reported to the West Coast Commission Report in 1880: ‘The natives came to remove my camp, and I was very much pleased with their quiet behaviour, the utmost good humour prevailing on both sides’, cited in G.W. Rusden, History of New Zealand, Vol. 3, p. 260.

  ‘Ich hab auf Gott’ is from Beethoven’s Fidelio, Act 1 trio.

  Act Two: Village of God

  CHAPTER 8: DO YOU KEN, JOHN BRYCE?

  The description of John Bryce uses G.W. Rusden, Dick Scott and other texts listed.

  For an interesting government perspective on Hiroki, see R.R Parris, Land Purchase Commissioner’s supplementary report to the Under-Secretary, Native Affairs, Appendices to the Journal of the House of Representatives, G.I. 1882, New Plymouth, 23 May 1882.

  Although Erenora explains that the name Piharo is derived from the Maori word ‘piharongo’ (a very hard black stone used for making implements — H.W. Williams, A Dictionary of the Maori Language, 1957) the n
ame is also used to maintain the parallel with Beethoven’s Fidelio. Piharo is the Maori transliteration for Pizarro, the governor of the Spanish state prison in which Beethoven sets his opera.

  Piharo’s motto, ‘Fais ce que voudrais’, also happens to be the motto of The Hell-Fire Club: Marjie Bloy, ‘The Hell Fire Club,’ www.victorianweb. org. Bloy gives the motto as ‘Fay ce que voudres’.

  CHAPTER 9: THE YEAR OF THE PLOUGH

  The main source for the historical context remains G.W. Rusden, but other important informants in constructing the context for the fiction were Ruakere Hond, Miriama Evans, Bill Dacker, Dick Scott and Hazel Riseborough.

  ‘I want you to gather the men’ is after Dick Scott, Ask That Mountain, p. 55.

  ‘I Te Raa o Maehe’ is cited in a number of references. The full waiata is printed in Miringa Hohaia, ‘Ngaa Puutaketanga Koorero Moo Parihaka’, in Te Miringa Hohaia, Gregory O’Brien and Lara Strongman (eds), Parihaka: The Art of Passive Resistance, City Gallery Wellington, Victoria University Press, Parihaka Pa Trustees, 2001, p. 48. Hohaia’s use of double vowels has been retained. In his note to the song, Hohaia wrote: ‘This song … was composed by Tonga Awhikau, a returned ploughman who died in 1957 aged 104. He is remembered for leading the land struggle in the 20th century. People flocked to hear his oratorical skills and to see this charismatic tamaiti rangatira noo Taranaki (child leader of Taranaki).’