Topic: A meal at Paewhenua

[piersdad]

I was sorting through some papers of my late father and came across this true story written by him.


A meal at Paewhenua

It was in 1886   when the New Zealand frontier was new and raw, and where pioneer settlers any where along the upper  Waikato line of demarcation between pakeha and Maori, from Maungatautari to Pironga, were never quite sure of their Hauhau neighbors across the confiscated boundary.
Some times the furtherest out farmers went across the  Aukati line to trade with the Maori for horses, cattle and pigs, and they were on friendly terms with many of the  King-ites, some times there were alarms of impending raids.

   One day Andrew Kay saddled up his horse and rode away from his Orakau farm  across the Punui River and up into the King Country, to Paewhenua which was then a large village with cultivations of potatoes, maize, and wheat.
   It lay in the midst of a beautiful undulating open country studded with ancient fortress hills.  About 25 miles from Orakau there lived a newly – made friend of his, the grim old warrior chief Hauauru head of the Ngati- Matakore clan.
The settler had paid the Maoris of Paewhenua some  30 pounds  in advance for cattle to be delivered, and he wished to collect the stock.
   Paewhenua was a long ride over narrow tracks with a succession of deep swamps and many streams to be forded. It was very tired and hungry settler who rode into the green square between the raupo thatched houses in the afternoon. He was puzzled and annoyed at the cool nature of his reception. He  was met with sulky looks and reticence, strangely different from the vociferous welcome usually given to strangers, even to those whose farms  might become the objective of a raid some night.
Most of the people seemed to be gathered in the Nikau Thatched meeting house.

 The pakeha called for the boy to take his horse, but  no one stirred.

“It’s always a trump card to tell a Maori you are hungry”, said my old friend, in telling me of his adventure. He said to the people around him. “Well I have come a long way and I’m tired and hungry” This is not the way a Maori usually treats a visitor.”
This appeal had some effect, a small flax basket of cold boiled potatoes was brought to him by one of the women and he was told as soon as he had eaten he was to go away.  Not another word could he get out of  the  people. Knowing that some thing mysterious and probably dangerous was afoot he ate his potato rations and rode off to the Pumiu and Orakau

   Long after Andrew Kay heard the reason for his strangely inhospitable treatment by the Hauaru’s tribe.
  When he rode into Paewhenua that day a most desperate and implacable foe of the pakeha race, Keropa,
   picture of keropa te rau
the Hauhau leader from the bay of plenty, was in the meeting-house.  Keropa it was who put the Rev.C. S. volkner to death at Opotiki in 1865 and swallowed his eyes.
Kai- Whatu became his second name, - the eater of eyes- For 3 years he had been in the bush in the Urewera country.  Now he had come to the king country to stir up the people to a new campaign against the Europeans.
  Keropa had with him an armed party of his Hauhau disciples from the Urewera country.
   They sat in the meeting house with their double barreled  guns by their sides, their tomahawks in their belts.   The cannibal prophet was addressing the people of the Paewhenua when Andrew Kay rode into the village.
  A Maori of the Urewera tribe, one of Keropa’s men who had observed the white mans arrival, went to his chief and said “A pakeha has come what shall we do with him?”
  The gray old ruffian was speaking to the assemblage of Ngati-Matakore and their kin from his place in the quarters usually given to  guests of great importance, the place on the matted floor  near the sliding window of the house.
He ceased his passionate exhortation and looked out through the open window. He saw the pakeha, who was just dismounted, and was waiting for some one to put his horse in a paddock while he transacted his business with the  tribe..

Keropa’s eyes glittered, his hand went to the big horse-pistol he wore, a pakeha to sacrifice,  he is the flying fish that crosses the bow of the war canoe.
With those words that boded a sudden end for the unsuspecting frontiersman.

The chieftain’s wife was very concerned as if the respected frontiersman was killed and eaten then great retribution would be taken by the pakeha.
  She leaped up as Keropa strode to the door of the meeting house and blocked his way.
   The very brave woman told him in no uncertain terms that he would have to kill her to get past her and deal with the frontiersman.

After much heated discussion the prophet thought that he had better not argue and get on the wrong side of a tribe he was wanting to help his cause and he returned to his place letting the white man live.

That Frontiersman’s daughter was my grandmother
 
pakeha= white person

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