The Parihaka Woman

by Witi Ihimaera

  It was Rangiora who provided further news.

  ‘I was in a later group of prisoners sent to the South Island,’ he began. ‘What I can tell you is that because Horitana, Paora and Riki were deemed to be resistance leaders, they were split up. Paora was sent with a batch of prisoners to Hokitika …’

  ‘But all those men are back,’ Ripeka cried. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Perhaps he was transferred from Hokitika to another prison,’ Rangiora answered.

  ‘Do you have news about Riki?’ Meri asked, her lips trembling.

  ‘He is either still in Christchurch or Dunedin.’

  ‘What about Horitana?’ Erenora asked. ‘Tell me the worst.’

  ‘I will not lie to you, Erenora,’ Rangiora answered. ‘One early morning, a Pakeha was seen entering his cell. He had with him some of the gaolers. Horitana was heard screaming, “Kaore au ki roto i te Po, please, not eternal darkness.” That is the last anybody saw of him. He could still be in Mount Cook. He could be in the South Island. He could be anywhere.’

  Something in the back of Erenora’s mind brought back Piharo’s words, Heard from your husband lately? ‘Taku tane kua ngaro ki te Po!’ she cried out in agony, ‘Horitana has been swallowed up into the Great Night.’

  She fell to her knees in karakia. ‘Oh Lord, protect him,’ she prayed.

  6.

  Parihaka was between the pit below and, above, the pendulum.

  And all around the build-up of constabulary and settler forces was escalating. Bryce, confident that the inquiry would find for the government, was preparing to move the recalcitrant villagers out.

  Did that bother Te Whiti and Tohu? No, their nerves held. In defiance, they encouraged the people of Parihaka to rally. They embarked on a new construction programme.

  To fly in the face of the odds … what a gesture. New houses were built, in the European style, including the imposing two-gabled w’arenui, Miti Mai Te Arero. Its name, ‘To Defiantly Protrude the Tongue’, defined its political role. By the time the new buildings were raised, Parihaka had become a settlement of 350 houses. And despite the deportations to the South Island, new supporters boosted the population to around 2,000.

  Te Whiti and Tohu would not submit to the might of the Pakeha.

  Nationally, however, matters outside the prophets’ control were spiralling Parihaka into Te Po. The warmongering talk among Pakeha reached the pitch of hysteria, as did the scare tactics that advised an uprising was likely. The consensus was that the time had come to extinguish the Maori citadel.

  And closer at hand, mustering at nearby Rahotu, was what the people began to call ‘Mr Bryce’s Army’. It came by ship, along the coast and by road from the north to surround the kainga.

  This is how James Cowan described the scene:

  By this time [October, 1881] Taranaki was a great armed camp. Redoubts with tall watch-towers studded the face of the land; loop-holed blockhouses stood on commanding hills; Armed Constabulary tents whitened the plains.16

  Then the Confiscated Lands Inquiry was completed and the ‘betrayal’ was confirmed when the commissioners, instead of affirming Te Whiti and Tohu’s ownership of the land, decided the government owned it.

  But don’t worry. Reserves would be set aside for the iwi where they would be resettled to live the rest of their days in happiness.

  The inquiry congratulated itself on being able ‘to do justice to the natives’ and continue ‘English settlement of the country’. Legislation was passed to bring the findings of the inquiry into law. To make sure that the law was obeyed, anyone who did not subject themselves to the findings, or who obstructed the continuation of further settlement in non-reserve lands, could be accused of sedition, arrested without warrant and imprisoned for up to two years with or without hard labour.

  Regarding Bryce’s roadbuilding, well, the inquiry realised that might have been premature, but their findings validated his action, didn’t they?

  Te Whiti and Tohu were ordered to submit to the authority of the Queen and prepare their people to move from Parihaka. Maintaining his position of passive resistance, Te Whiti responded with a message from within the kainga. This was man’s will, not God’s:

  ‘Though the lions rage,’ he said, ‘still I am for peace.’

  His was an act of brinkmanship.

  Bryce disregarded it and decided to go in.

  15 James Cowan, The New Zealand Wars: A History of the Maori Campaigns and the Pioneering Period, 2 Vols Government Printer, 1922–23, Vol. 2, p. 469.

  16 Ibid., p. 471.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  5 November 1881, Te Ra o te Pahua

  1.

  ‘We all knew that Mr Bryce and his army of constabulary and volunteer settlers were coming,’ Erenora wrote, ‘when, on 2 November, some of our villagers, going to a wedding, were turned back on the coast road to Patea. I rode out to the checkpoint to see for myself. A squad of constabulary was manning it. Nobody could get out. Nobody could get in.

  ‘As soon as the news spread that we were imprisoned, we knew we had to expect the worst. “The man that is come to kill is standing in front of us,” Te Whiti told us. “Behind is the dark.”

  ‘The next morning, 3 November, Huhana woke us as usual with her karanga. When she finished she said to me, “All these years I have always had a competition with the birds to see whose karanga is the most beautiful and loudest. I won today. There was no birdsong.” Nature itself was showing its disquiet.

  ‘The day was hot and the sky clear. Despite our anxieties, we all went about our daily duties. The men were still putting the finishing touches to some of the new houses they had added to the kainga. Heedless of Mr Bryce’s army, the women went to tend the gardens. I took the tataraki’i for their school work but, in the afternoon, Te Whiti sent a message that the bullocks were playing up. They were lowing and shifting dangerously in their pens. Would I go to their enclosure and calm the beloved companions? Some of the tataraki’i came with me. We were halfway to the barns when, suddenly, I heard bugles and rifle shots.

  ‘“What’s going on over there?” one of the boys asked. I shaded my eyes and saw a rifle unit practising mock attacks, bayonets at the ready, raising clouds of dust which drifted over Parihaka.’

  ‘On 4 November, Te Whiti and Tohu called us all together. There was still no birdsong. How could they sing when their homes as well as ours were being invaded?

  ‘“Mr Bryce plans to surprise us,” Te Whiti said, “but we know he comes to Parihaka tomorrow.” When he said these words there was a moan of fear. Te Whiti called for us to remain calm. He told us that the best way to defend ourselves was not to take up arms. “If any man thinks of his gun or his horse, and goes to fetch it,” he began, “he will die by it … place your trust in forbearance and peace … let the booted feet come when they like, the land shall remain firm for ever.”

  ‘Instead, he instructed us to offer peace, and said that the women should bake loaves of bread to offer Mr Bryce’s men. I asked, “Why should we bake bread for them?” He knew I was in a wilful mood and could not be pacified. He turned to Huhana and some of the other women and said, “Gather the tataraki’i together and teach them a song to sing to the troops as they enter our holy citadel, eh? And —” he turned to the assembly “— those of you who are concerned for your safety should leave while you can.” He was referring to secret tracks out of the kainga.

  ‘I couldn’t help but hear Meri weeping quietly as she held Kawa close to her breast. She had always had a nervous temperament. “You should go, sister,” I said to her. When she nodded, I was relieved; at least I wouldn’t have to worry about her. That evening, Ripeka and I accompanied her and Kawa to the beginning of the track along the Waitotoroa Stream and said goodbye.

  ‘Just as she disappeared, we saw some strange men and women sneaking towards us. “E a’a to ma’i?” I asked them. “What are you doing here?” The bush telegraph had been busy and supporters from far and wide were slipping through the
army’s cordon. “We’ve come to sit with your people,” they said, “and to wait with you.”’

  ‘That evening, the sky was dark. There was no moon or wind. At 2 a.m., under the cloak of darkness, we had breakfast and karakia.

  ‘“It is time,” Te Whiti said, “to get dressed in our best clothing and to wait for Mr Bryce and his army. Let him see that his surprise is not a surprise and that we are prepared to greet him in mana and with dignity.”

  ‘We reassembled on the marae, maybe from 3 a.m. onward. As the dawn rose, changing from deep red to blazing light upon our sacred mountain, Huhana gave her usual karanga, “O’o ake nga iwi ki o tatou ma’i o te ra!” I had never heard her voice so strong and so beautiful. “Rise up, people, and begin the work of the day!” But when she had finished she began to weep. “Will the birds ever return again to join me in welcoming the sun?”

  ‘Ripeka and I were sitting together, and I pressed her hands. All around, everyone was greeting the person next to them, “Kia ora. Hello. It is so good to be together and to draw courage from each other.” Te Whiti and Tohu were smiling at us. I saw that grand warrior Titokowaru and rushed to embrace him. “Aue, Erenora,” he said, “I weep for you, I weep for all of us today and I weep for Horitana, who I have always thought of as a son.” Nearby was Wiremu Hiroki, the man who had killed one of the surveyors when they had come onto our land. His face was sombre. He knew that once Mr Bryce came into Parihaka, Te Whiti’s cloak of protection would no longer hold.

  ‘But was that Meri, holding Kawa and stepping through the crowd towards me and Ripeka? Why hadn’t she been obedient?

  ‘“Don’t be angry with me,” she began. “I had to come back. Even though the soldiers surround us, I’m happier with my sisters.” When she said that, Ripeka started to cry. My sisters both embraced me, knowing I was irritated. I resigned myself; there was a great love between us.

  ‘And then Mr Bryce and his army came in.’

  2.

  It was 7 a.m., Guy Fawkes Day.

  War fever was in the air as Bryce’s army of 644 Armed Constabulary and 945 volunteers prepared for the action ahead.

  The Armed Constabulary headquarters was at Pungarehu. Two companies had come from the Rahotu camp, along with the Nelson artillery and volunteers. To give you a better idea of their makeup, here are the units of Timaru Camp, just outside Parihaka: the Wellington Engineers, the Wellington City Rifles, the Wellington Guards, the Masterton Rifles, the Makara Rifles, the Greytown Rifles, the Marlborough Contingent and the Canterbury Contingent under the command of Captain Alfred St George Hammersley of the Timaru Artillery. Also on duty were support units, including a medical corps. A 6-pounder Armstrong gun was positioned overlooking the village on a nearby hill that the constabulary called Mount Rolleston.

  The perimeter of the kainga bristled with men. The army’s orders were to provide cover for Bryce as he rode in to arrest Te Whiti and Tohu for non-compliance with the order to submit and move with their people to reserve land.

  Throughout the preparations, the army had been hyped up to expect the worst. ‘We are expecting treachery from Tay Witty and Tay Tow-hoo, lads. Be on your guard, as his bloodthirsty warriors have been ordered to retaliate with arms from their cache of secret weapons. Don’t forget, Titokowaru’s with them! He has a squad of 500 warriors in hiding, ready to overcome us.’

  Oh yes? The overwhelming army response was, ‘Let the Maoris try! If even one black bugger fires off a shot, we’ll rake the lot of them with covering fire and rip them all to shreds. And if we’re wounded, well, they’ll be honourable wounds. Our medical corps will patch us up good as new, eh lads, and we’ll live to tell our children and grandchildren that we were there the day Parihaka was brought down.’

  Around 9 a.m., was that John Bryce preparing to go through the gateway?

  ‘Look at him, spick and span in his uniform, on his prancing white charger. Raise a cheer, lads, for our leader and the brave men with him as they advance fearlessly into the fanatics’ den. Doesn’t he look like the grand old Duke of York, boys! But what’s this? Are little children guarding the way? Bloody savages! Mr Bryce, they may have weapons concealed on them. Don’t trust the buggers, sir! Mow them down, go straight at them! Who’ll be the first to kill a Maori, lads?’

  3.

  ‘I put my hands over my eyes to shade them and, from out of the sun, Mr Bryce was riding.

  ‘Our tataraki’i awaited him. There were around 200 of the little cicadas. They were arranged in their usual lines of welcome, singing, chanting, skipping and playing with their tops. As usual they had dressed ceremonially in shoulder cloaks and some had feathers in their hair. The boys were in the front and, behind them, around sixty young girls. Among them Huhana and an old tau’eke led them in their song. If you come in peace and greet the tataraki’i with smiles, they spin their songs with brightness and beauty; if you come in anger, their song changes.

  ‘My heart was in my mouth as Mr Bryce ordered his men to charge straight at the children and the old man. “Be careful, tataraki’i!” I called. I heard the drumming hooves, saw the horses’ flowing manes and I thought the children would be cut down.

  ‘They didn’t care! They kept to their ranks and the soldiers had to wheel away at the last moment.

  ‘The cicadas became loud and furious as Mr Bryce ordered another charge. Piharo was among the horsemen. I cried out to him, “They’re only children.” The sun flashed on him and I knew he would give no quarter. After all, was his soul not made of hard black stone, dark and sinister?

  ‘But the tataraki’i were ready. Again they held their ground. At the last moment they clapped their hands loudly, took off their capes and waved them at the horses. The sharp sound of their hands split the air and the capes created unsettling whirlwinds. Take that, Mr Bryce! The horses reared, whinnying wildly and plunging away, unseating a few of their riders. Furious, Mr Bryce could only call a squad of his constabulary to come forward and bundle the children away. As the men did so, the children began to buzz loudly. Their song was one of prophecy:

  ‘“Hear the sound of the cicada! Do not assume you have power over us. We filled the skies above Egypt in our millions and brought down the plague upon Pharaoh.”’

  Erenora and the women were watching and waiting.

  ‘Not a good start to Mr Bryce’s invasion, eh?’ Erenora laughed, and the women laughed with her. ‘Now, wa’ine ma, it’s time for us to do our part.’

  She put on a brave face for Te Whiti; she was doing this only because he wished it. As Bryce, Piharo and their accompanying contingent proceeded toward the marae, she led the women, carrying 500 loaves of warm bread, gifts for the visitors. The women had smiles on their lips as they held up the food, but Erenora was not smiling. She had no gladness in her heart. It took all her willpower to stop the derisive patere that threatened to rise unbidden to her lips.

  Bryce, his horsemen and accompanying constabulary passed by, rejecting the women’s offerings. Bryce’s horse was prancing, its stirrups jingling, such a pretty horse, and Erenora gave a sudden moan. Her memory flashed back to the time when she had been a young girl, watching Governor Grey inspecting the bodies of the dead warriors at Warea. She could not restrain herself. ‘Titiro!’ she called. ‘Bryce ko’uru kua tae mai i roto i a tatou! This is Bryce the Treacherous who comes among us! Beware of him!’

  Breaking away from the women’s ranks, she ran after the invading contingent. She wanted to leap up, drag Bryce off his horse and stop him from advancing any further. But she saw Te Whiti on the marae and, all of a sudden, she heard his voice in her mind saying, No, Erenora, what must be will be.

  She faced him, defiant. ‘No, rangatira, no.’

  4.

  The grand old Duke of York! He had ten thousand men!

  He marched them up to the top of the hill …

  The sun was spinning, spinning, spinning in the sky. Ahead, Tohu Kaakahi’s marae was shimmering with heat. Fronting it was the meeting house known as
Toroanui.

  Bryce’s face registered surprise at the large number of Maori gathered with Te Whiti. Two thousand five hundred, maybe more, all most excellently dressed. A good-natured voice from the crowd called to him, ‘Friend, you’re a bit late. We’ve been waiting for you since one o’clock this morning.’

  Bryce heard the laughter rippling around him. His throat was parched. He had to sit upright to calm himself. How had the Maoris known he was coming?

  Piharo reined up beside him. ‘The fanatics’ den,’ he muttered to his leader.

  ‘We have lost the element of surprise,’ Bryce said. Suddenly, light blasted from the meeting house, Toroanui, dazzling his eyes. He jerked the reins of his white charger. When the bit pulled at its mouth the horse pawed and stamped the ground.

  Since first coming to New Zealand Bryce’s greatest fear was of what he called the ‘sacred medicine-houses’ of the Maoris: the hideous carvings, the three-fingered monsters with their protruding tongues and serpent tails, and the other forms of beings half-human, half-inhuman. The house before him did not have such embellishments but, even so, it was still to be feared. His heartbeat rose as from out of the shimmering heatwaves came three voices, so loud that he put his hands to his ears.

  Bring your treachery no further.

  Bryce shook his head quickly to clear his hearing. Before him were Te Whiti, with Tohu, Titokowaru and other Maori elders. Wary, he turned to Piharo. ‘This’, he said, ‘is as far as we shall go.’