Witi Ihimaera: The Parihaka Woman

‘There was also the matter of Rimene. He had left Warea before the Niger’ s shelling, and some people even said that he had probably given the Crown details that enabled them to target the community. Although, under Te Whiti and Tohu’s guidance, we rebuilt Warea, especially the mill, the people were suspicious of him. Whose side was he really on? He made several attempts to convince us that he loved us but, clearly, the assault on Taranaki placed all missionaries in a difficult position: they were shepherds with Maori flocks, but their masters were Pakeha. This was why, I think, many Taranaki tribes turned against the missionaries and also rejected the baptismal English names that had been given them.

‘Notwithstanding the suspicions about what Rimene did, or might have done, I will always remember him for a particular kindness. He must have had a soft spot for me. On the last occasion I saw him, he gave me a gift, a book of German phrases, and he stroked my chin. “Leb wohl, mein Herz,” he said. “Go well, sweetheart.”

‘I never forgot the words or him. But when Rimene abandoned us, we had already learnt to fend for ourselves.’

The situation between Maori and Pakeha escalated to full-scale war, and the Pakeha soon discovered that the love of Taranaki iwi for the land was greater than their own desire to steal it.

In 1860 Maori fought battles at Puketakauere and Omukukaitari and faced bombardment at Orongomaihangi. In 1861 they faced off troops under Major-General Thomas Simson Pratt for almost three months as he advanced by a series of trenches and redoubts.

Facing strong Maori resistance, however, and the huge costs of maintaining his troops, in May 1863, Governor George Grey declared the abandonment of the Waitara purchase and renounced all claims to it. At the time, Grey was in control of all military operations in New Zealand; he was in his second term as governor.

The troops may have retreated from the Waitara but they appeared within weeks to occupy the Tataraimaka Block and were closing in on Warea again.

Erenora was seven years old by then, and Te Whiti and Tohu had stepped into the gap left by Rimene’s desertion and become the people’s leaders.

‘We had already faced bombardment three years earlier by the Niger . This time, under supporting naval fire from the Eclipse , forty of our warriors died at the outer trenches of our pa. They had been protecting the rest of us; as was our practice we were sheltering within.

‘Te Whiti and Tohu kept us at prayer in the darkness but I saw Huhana stealthily leave our huddled congregation. “Where are you going?” I asked her. She replied, weeping, “You stay here, Erenora. I have to see what has happened to my husband. If Wiremu is dead, I must find out what the soldiers have done with his body or where they have taken him.” Even though Huhana told me to remain, I followed her. When she saw me dogging her footsteps she said, “’aere atu, go back, you’ll only get in the way.” But I wouldn’t listen to her.

‘The bodies had been laid out in a long row in front of the trenches and rifle positions where they had fought. Two important-looking men came to inspect them. I didn’t know it at the time but I later found out that one of them was Governor Grey. He seemed like a king on his white horse; it was such a pretty horse, stepping lightly along the trenches as, from his saddle, Grey inspected the dead warriors. Then he nodded to the soldiers and left.

‘Poor Huhana was distraught when she saw Wiremu’s body being dumped into a pit with all the others; some of the warriors were still alive, and one arm appeared to reach up before the dirt covered it. Our hearts were thudding as we waited for the soldiers to leave. Some of the bluecoat sailors stayed to have a smoke; how I wished they would just go. But once they had departed, Huhana called to me, “Kia tere, Erenora, quickly!” We ran to the pit to dig the men up. From all around, other villagers, having ceased their praying, were also running to dig, dig and dig with their hands. Huhana began to wail loudly when she found Wiremu; she hugged him close to her chest.

‘Among those who were kua mate, gone, I saw a twelve-year-old boy; his was not the only young body among the warriors. I recognised him as the same one who, three years earlier, had soothed my fears. I had come to know him as Horitana and had grown accustomed to seeing him from the schoolroom window, sometimes waving to me as he worked in the potato plantations.’

Erenora cleared the earth from Horitana’s face. He was still and wan with the waxen pallor of death.

‘When we first met,’ she said to him, ‘my heart opened to your aro’a, your love, but now you are dead. And every now and then I have seen you watching me in Warea to see if I am all right. How will I live without you?’ She lowered her face to his and wept and wept.

All of a sudden, Horitana coughed dirt from his mouth … then more dirt. He was alive! He began to take deep breaths and, once he had recovered, looked into her eyes and smiled weakly. ‘God has saved me for some purpose,’ he said. ‘He took me down into death so that I would get the taste of the land in my mouth and, behold, I am resurrected. Now that I have savoured our sweet earth, I will always serve it.’

Erenora cried out to Huhana, ‘Kui! Help me!’

Other women hurried to her side. They lifted Horitana from the earth. ‘We must keep digging out our other men, Erenora,’ Huhana said. ‘You take Horitana to the stream and wash the dirt from him.’

Erenora led him away but, when they reached the waterway, Horitana was embarrassed. ‘No, I can wash myself,’ he said.

Afterwards, when he was huddled in blankets, Erenora sat with him as he ate bread and drank some water.

The following days were a blur of men digging graves for those who had died and women wailing at tangi’anga, the burial rites. In the aftermath, Horitana stayed with Huhana and Erenora, chopping wood, gathering potatoes and catching fish for the cooking fires of other villagers. Huhana may have hoped that, now that she was a widow, Horitana would stay and become as a son to her. Every now and then, however, she saw him looking at the faraway hills; she knew he was restless.

A few days later, Erenora saw Horitana talking to Huhana. Then he knelt before the old woman. ‘What’s going on?’ Erenora asked.

‘Horitana has asked my blessing,’ Huhana answered. ‘Maori chiefs are fighting to the south, and he wishes to join them.’

‘What about us?’ Erenora was panicking.

‘Erenora!’ Huhana reprimanded her. ‘We can look after ourselves.’ Ignoring the young girl, she began a prayer for Horitana’s safety.

At the end of the karakia, Horitana saw that Erenora was still disconsolate. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back,’ he assured her.

That evening, he said his goodbyes to Te Whiti, Tohu and the villagers. He asked Erenora to walk with him to the perimeter of Warea. Although he was tall, he was still a boy and not yet a man.

They stood watching the moon, and then Horitana turned to Erenora with his shining eyes. ‘Will you wait for me?’ he asked.

Erenora was much too young even to know what he was talking about. She knew, however, that she couldn’t say no.

‘If you want me to,’ she answered.

She watched with sadness as he melted into the bush and headed north.

Not long after that, Te Whiti and Tohu decided to take leave of Warea. They called upon those who had always followed them, and any others who wished to join them, to trust in another journey.

‘When I brought you here from Waikanae,’ Te Whiti said, ‘I thought we would be safe. But we have already been attacked twice. What happens if the soldiers come again? We have lost enough of our people. It is time to leave.’