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The New Zealand Reader

Travelling In The Kaipara In 1838

Travelling In The Kaipara In 1838.

We now came in sight of the rich kauri forests which skirt the Kaipara district. Here the kauri grows, not, as more northerly, a few here and there among the miscellaneous vegetation of the forests, but in grand masses, claiming sole possession of large portions of country, and enriching the landscape with its lovely green.

Again we entered a wood, and, in the course of our journey through it, had to cross the Kaihu River six or seven times, sometimes wading knee-deep. So very intricate are the windings of some of the rivers that in one journey the same stream has been crossed thirty or forty times. In returning from Whangaroa to the Kerikeri with page 119one of the missionaries, my journal records that we took the road through Kukuparere, to avoid the very frequent crossings of the river, which, nevertheless, we had to pass through seven or eight times. In the wood we met a party of Waikato Natives on their way to Mangungu, who greeted us in a most friendly manner, and stopped for a few moments' conversation.

While we were travelling through the wood the fruit of the kohutuhutu* served as an agreeable refreshment. The berry is black, of rather insipid but not unpleasant flavour; perhaps more grateful to a European palate than any other indigenous fruits, of which there are very few eaten by the Natives.

One of the principal edible fruits is the berry of the karaka, a beautiful laurel-like evergreen. The fruit is in appearance somewhat like a small egg-plum, and its pulpy or fleshy part may be eaten freely with impunity; but the kernel of the stone, if eaten raw, produces dreadful contortions of the limbs. Boiling entirely counteracts the injurious effects. The cooked kernel, the taste of which is nauseous to a European, is much sought after by the Natives.

The tupakihi produces clusters of small dark berries, the expressed unfermented juice of which is called tutu, and is drunk with avidity. The berries, of the size and colour of elderberries, and hanging in long bunches, are squeezed by hands none of the cleanest, and the juice, of the rich colour of elder wine, is usually collected in the half of a large calabash, the seeds being carefully rejected. No undue excitement is produced by drinking this harmless wine; but the berries, eaten with the seeds, are of a poisonous nature, producing a degree of intoxication approaching to raving madness. I knew a case of a white man who had imprudently eaten tupakihi berries, and who was obliged to be held by three or four strong Natives till the violence of the fit was over.

Tupakihi bushes are found in abundance in rich land, growing among the high fern. The leaves are a favourite food with cattle; and, if in a district where there is no abundance of grass as a corrective, the consequences of eating it

* Fuchsia excorticata.

Corynocarpus lævigata.

Coriaria sarmentosa.

page 120too freely are precisely the same as those which often follow from feeding too eagerly on rank young clover: the belly swells, suffocation ensues, and, without timely aid, death is frequently the result.

The height of the tupakihi, as generally seen, seldom exceeds seven or eight feet, but this must be owing to the frequent form fires constantly keeping the growth down; for I saw at Coromandel Harbour a tupakihi tree with a trunk as large in circumference as a man's body.

One species of the ti,* which somewhat resembles the grass tree of New South Wales, is planted out and cultivated by the Waikato Natives for the sake of the root, which furnishes a saccharine matter, and is called mauku. The young seedlings are carefully selected, though but little care is taken in planting them out; and the following year the root is fit, for use. It is dug up, and stacked in small piles to dry in the sun. The filaments are burned away by making a fire under the pile, and the roots are then left for some days for further drying. When sufficiently dry, the roots are scraped and put into the hangi, or Native oven, to remain from twelve to eighteen hours, when the preparation of the mauku is complete. It is either chewed for its sweet taste, or it is pounded, washed, and squeezed, to get rid of the fibre, and then used as a sweetener with the kaanga pirau, or with baked fern root.

The Natives also chew the ripe fruit of the kawakawa, the pepper of New Zealand.

Paukena brought me for examination some berries of the titoki.§ The exterior of the fruit is a brown husk, having the appearance of a small nut. The husk is, however, cast spontaneously, laying bare a black, hard, shining berry|| resembling a head, and attached to a pulpy substance of raspberry form, but of a brilliant scarlet colour. An oil expressed from the berry is used by the Natives to anoint their heads. This oil is but little used now that the Natives can obtain abundance of whale or shark oil and pork fat. Formerly the fat of the Native rat, noted for fatness, and the oil of the titoki berry, were their only unguents.

* Cordyline australis [i.e., the cabbage-tree.]

[Putrid maize.]

[Piper excelsum.]

§ [Alectryon excelsum.]

|| [Not unlike the berry of the common yew (Taxus baccata).]

page break
Kauri Tree at Hunua, Auckland.

Kauri Tree at Hunua, Auckland.

page 121

In the evening we reached the village of Kaihu, and found Parore, the principal chief, sitting in his house. At first he received me very coolly, and appeared reserved, but soon became more sociable; and while the lads were getting the tent ready he conducted me to Paora's harvest field. Paora had been busy the whole day cutting his wheat, and I found him and his people engaged in ricking and housing it. His field of wheat surprised me, as I did not expect to find in this part so great an advance towards civilisation.

Returning to the village, I found my tent pitched not far from the low rush building used as a chapel, in which I would have met the Natives, but was warned not to enter on account of the fleas. It is usual to ring the bell, or some substitute for one, to call the people together to prayers. Sometimes a suspended axe or hoe, struck with a stick or stone, answers the purpose. One party that I used to visit had a bent gun barrel hung up for a bell. The chiefs, however, like to have a proper bell, and, if I recollect right, we had one at Kaihu.

About forty Natives assembled in front of the tent, and very attentively listened while I addressed them. Although 1 rose at five the next morning the Natives had met for prayers among themselves before I left my tent. They generally retire to rest early at night, and rise with daylight in the morning; but in days of excitement, or to chat over news, they will sit round the fire a good part of the night. During the day they often spend much time in sleep, and, when resident with white men, they soon acquire the habit of later rising.

When ready to start I ventured near the front of the chapel to look in. A moment was quite enough, The hopping hosts could be distinctly heard among the dry rushes and litter which strewed the ground. My light trousers were literally covered, and Paukena, to whom I had handed my cloak to clear it, significantly said on bringing it back, "Tenei ano tou kete puruhi" (Here is your basket of fleas).

The land in the immediate neighbourhood of the Kaihu village, being level and exceedingly rich, is admirably adapted for cultivation. Further on, the scene changes to barren hills and swamps, with here and there a patch of wooded land, and some kauri.

page 122

In travelling through Now Zealand you must often encounter swamps of greater or less extent, covered with raupo, or korari. The raupo,* the reed-mace of New Zealand, always grows in swampy ground. The leaves or blades, when full-grown, are cut and laid out to dry, forming the common building material with which most Native houses, are covered. A framework is erected of posts and poles, crossed at right angles and tied together with the split leaves of the flax plant (called, in this state, harakeke). The raupo is then gathered up in small bundles, and fastened to the frame by strong harakeke ties, one bundle of raupo being placed as close as possible by the side of another. When the sides of the house are thus closed in, and a layer or two of raupo has been fastened on to the rafters, the roof is usually completed with a thick covering of wiwi (a small rush), and the sides receive a second coating of raupo, and sometimes one of the wiwi over all.

In raupo swamps there is always a ferruginous deposit; and the water, especially in dry seasons, is strongly chalybeate. The Natives collect the yellow farina of the raupo, form it into a cake, and eat it.

The korari, or New Zealand flax, is now well known as one of the most valuable natural productions of the Island. It is often planted by the Natives in small quantities, in dry, rich soil near their villages, where it is exceedingly convenient for use in a green state, for making the baskets out of which they eat their cooked food, or as small cordage for any and every purpose. Thus planted, the korari assumes a much finer appearance, being of larger growth, and the leaves greener, than in its native swamps; but the fibre of these handsome plants is never used as flax, being destitute of those qualities which render the Phormium tenax valuable as an article of commerce. The flax is mvariably procured from the korari swamps, some of which are very extensive. There is one between the Thames and Matamata, and another to the east of Maketu, in the Bay of Plenty, covering many square miles.

The Native mode of preparing the flax for use is by scraping with shells, so as to leave the fibre clear. This is

* [Typha angustifolia.]

[Phormium tenax.]

page 123usually performed by women, and no method has yet been found superior to it, no attempt at rapid preparation producing so serviceable an article. The flax machines tried at Tauranga proved an entire failure. Of late years the flax trade has been declining; but, now that the great korari swamps are coming into the hands of Europeans, the discoveries and improvements of science will be made to bear on the preparation of the material on the spot, and there is every reason to believe that the flax trade will again revive, and become a source of inexhaustible wealth to the Island. Apart from its being an article of lucrative barter, the flax plant is of singular utility to the Natives: garments, floor mats, baskets, boat sails, fishing-lines, and nets are made from it, and, as a tie, it serves the place of nails both in houses and canoes.

We stopped by the Waimata River for an early dinner;. and, again moving onward over hills skirted by woods, with a sprinkle of kauri, we came to open country, with the Wairoa and Kaipara Rivers in the distance. A little more exertion over the hills brought us to the Wairoa, and opened a splendid prospect before us. The broad river, sweeping in bold and elegant curves through forests of kauri, mingled with a variety of other native trees, formed a landscape which brought English scenery to mind.

My intention now was to visit the Wesleyan Mission settlement near Aotahi, about thirty miles up the river; but, on account of the ebb tide, we had to wait some hours at Te Wharau, where we procured a canoe.

There is a great difference between the canoes of different tribes. The simplest form of canoe is a single tree, hollowed out into the required form, chiefly with adzes. This is called tiwai. In former days adzes of basalt or green jade were used for the purpose; but now that iron tools abound, if a carpenter's adze cannot be obtained, a plane iron, fixed into a handle adze-fashion, answers the purpose. To build a canoe of larger dimensions, thick planks or bulwarks of the required height are added on to the tiwai by secure ties, a band of flexible wood being fastened over the seam. In a war canoe this band is blackened, and ornamented with snow-white albatross or gannet feathers. The vessel is completed by the addition of a carved stem and stern, and is stained all over with red ochre.

page 124

A single war canoe will sometimes carry from eighty to a hundred men. The Natives row with short paddles, and one of the party, called the kai-tulci, generally stands up in the middle, to give the time, and to incite the crew to vigorous effort by his song. In boating with the Natives, who can pull a long oar desperately for a while, and will then slacken off to little more than just dipping the oar in the water, I have often found an advantage in getting a sharp lively fellow to tuki. His extemporaneous song will consist of such matters as arise from the circumstances or feelings of the moment; grumblings for want of food; complaints of small payments; remarks on the pakehas in the boat; rejoicing that soon there will be plenty to eat; with occasional phrases and short sentences addressed to the rowers, bidding them to be strong, to let the oars dip deep, to pull all together, &c. But whatever be the burden of the song, it admirably answers the purpose of keeping them in time and tune, and of speeding the boat on its way.

A stranger would be astonished at the cool indifference of the Natives, even, in cases of emergency. Going up the Waitangi River in Mr. Busby's boat to see the Haruru Tall, we grounded on a low reef in the middle of the river, and, the swell setting in strongly from seaward, we were placed in a situation to require prompt righting of the boat and shoving her off; instead of which, the fellows most provokingly waited carefully to tuck up or take off their trousers to save wetting them, regardless of the risk we ran of being swamped. It is common with Natives in your employment, when told to do a thing immediately, to answer "Taihoa." This word has been translated "by-and-by"; but it has all the latitude of directly, presently, by-and-by, a long time hence, and nobody knows when. You, perhaps, have an engagement for the afternoon, and are in haste for dinner; you know that everything is ready, and call the girl to bring it in; but the deliberate reply is "Taihoa"—and how long you may have to wait who can tell? Just the same if bread is burning in the oven, and you bid them take it out,—"Taihoa." In fact, this patience-trying word meets you at every turn.

page 125

The most glaring instance I ever met with of total unconcern as to the consequences of delay was in the sending of our mission boat Kahawai from the Bay of Islands to Tauranga. As the boat was needed for the Tauranga station, and some Natives from the southward were at the Bay of Islands, wishing for an opportunity of returning, but having no canoe, we intrusted the Kahawai to their care. The distance they had to go, making allowance for the indentations of the coast, was rather more than two hundred miles—it might have been two hundred and fifty or three hundred. It was five weeks after the boat left the Bay that we at Tauranga were first informed that she had started, and, nothing having been heard of her, we felt great apprehensions that the Kahawai and her crew were irrecoverably lost.

These apprehensions appeared to be fully realised when, nearly a month afterwards, we heard from some of our people that pieces of broken board and an old Native blanket had been picked up at Katikati, supposed to be from the wreck of our boat. And now Mr. Chapman, at Rotorua, began to be much annoyed by the Natives, on account of the loss of the chief Wharetutu, to whom the boat had been given in charge.

Six weeks more passed on, and the Kahawai had ceased to be talked about or thought of, when, to our no small astonishment, she suddenly made her appearance close to Te Papa station, with Wharetutu and all the Natives, twenty in number, perfectly safe, after spending nearly as much time in going over two or three hundred miles as it would have taken for an ordinary vessel to make a good voyage to England. Their only excuse was that they had sometimes been detained by the weather, and sometimes waiting for three canoes which they fell in with and had in company; though, in fact, they had no business to linger for any canoes to the detention of our boat, the hindrance of our work, and the annoyance of our friend at Rotorua. As there had been plenty of fair wind and weather, they had doubtless passed the time comfortably here and there ashore, just suiting their own convenience or pleasure.—W. R. Wade ("A Journey in the Northern Island of New Zealand," 1842).