Witi Ihimaera - The Parihaka Woman

‘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.

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] Ibid., p. 471.

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 .

‘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.