If economic base returns, onus will be with Maori

Press, 23 September 1987, Page 21

If economic base returns, onus will be with Maori

Alice Norton, better known by her middle name, Sally, was a big woman, 193 cm tall and weighing 114 kilograms. She was also a brave woman whose three daughters died of tuberculosis before they were 45, leaving her to bring up 14 grandchildren. Today, her grandson, Trevor Howse, a Ngai Tahu elder, and senior researcher in the tribe’s land claim, remembers the old woman with pride. Through her he gained his dignity, pride, and ability to survive. Living in the northern part of Kaikoura, in an area between the Hapuka bridge and Clarence River, the family ate and lived by the tide.

“When the tide was low we ate. When it was high we did not. I do not know to this day how my people managed to bring us up. In an area where we once had land we struggled hard through the lack of it.”

Trevor Howse’s curiosity as to how his family came to be dispossessed of land developed long after his grandmother died. What he learned gave rise to extended research which covered the loss of lands through hundreds of families in the South Island. He had made thousands of 'visits to Government departments, and journeyed to marae. throughout the South Island — never forgetting the wishes and rights of his people.

He discovered that his own people had been allocated a 4800-acre reserve which the Government representative of the day, James Mackay, considered "utterly worthless” for European settlement.

In a checkerboard fashion land became landlocked. Access was sealed when the Government took strips from the frontage, roads split reserves, and land taken for “scenic” purposes is now littered with caravans and tents.

Examples of such manipulation and disregard for rangatiratanga — Maori right to maintain mana and administration over the lands — being denied, has been presented in the evidence of Government transactions in Kaikoura, which were carried out late last century and earlier this century.

The injustice is still felt today, but Trevor Howse is determined to let dignity reign. “What you had in the past was an attitude which allowed greed to exist. Because the Maori did not use land as the European did the land was considered wasted,” says Trevor Howse. “The European concept was of course, to cultivate land and use it, but what they considered ‘use’ did not line up with the Maori spiritual bond with his land. “But what I’ve' basically arrived at, rather than becoming cynical or going off on a witch hunt for perhaps the wrong reasons, is to put together the systematic line of attitude taken by certain agencies involved in transactions. “Let us understand that they used the particular legislation which was available so perhaps the agents themselves were not really to blame.” But the efforts made to protect the Maori and maintain the race’s right to land were negated by other interests, he says. Now that the Treaty of Waitangi is arguable in a court of law, such interests could prove to be' a breach of the spirit of that treaty. “Some of the people in charge of agencies for land transactions became God and it is my belief that the system which allowed that to happen was wrong,” he says. There is no question that there were many instances of legislation being used to deny Maori people their rights, he says.

, “The fact that a race can be oppressed, put down, or denied an economic base, does no credit to the justice system of this country. “The ability to suppress justice does no credit to anyone. Perhaps the. Government may finally have the courage to answer these questions now.” The next generation? “It will speak for itself. If the claim is not answered I cannot speak for what might happen. It is my hope that' we will have some influence over the way that generation could react. But there would still be a lot of bitterness. “There is a lot of anger today. Just how long we can go on acting with dignity — which I feel Maoridom has done for the last 140 years — is quite debatable."

His deep voice resonating around the room, Trevor Howse sits in an office which bears testimony to his work, files thick with documents, cartons full of maps, arid a photocopier that is almost burning through over-use. The work continues.

One wall is dominated by a poster which has been Illustrated with elegant italic lettering — a Howse talent. A shield to the bitterness which has at times threatened boardroom conferences, it contains a' quote, and every Friday night when Maori and pakeha gather to discuss the claim, the words serve as a reminder that peace and hope must be maintained ...

“Once more, gentlemen, let us work amicably together each doing his best, and we shall do much. Many a hope of last year we must relinquish, but some things we may yet do on a better considered scale,” the quote reads.

“Let us then first count our resources, learn what we cannot do, and give up wishing for it, learn what we can do and do it with the earnestness and energy of men. Then, if we do good, we will thank God for it, and even if we fail we shall not be disgraced, for we have done our duty.” Trevor Howse is into positive thinking. “That means we are going to win. What is down the track? We’ll meet that when we are there,” he says.

i “It is my belief that if we had been left our economic base to ; begin with, our people would not

ibe as dependent on the social welfare system as they are supposed to be. 1 “If we get that economic base back again it will be up to the Maori to prove we have the ability to administer it. There are Maori administrations, especially Ngai Tahu, who are successful, so in those areas where the track record is good there is no reason to suppose that the Ngai Tahu could not handle economic development on that next level.”

There are many other possibilities, including partnerships in administration, he says. “People and land cannot be separated, their lives and history are intertwined. Fortunately, history has a habit of coming back to haunt both Maori and pakeha. That history is showing that the dealings of the European were very often not in keeping with the spirit of the Treaty of Waitangi.

“It was wrong — now let’s address it.” The main differences between the Maori and pakeha ways of viewing the land claim is .that many pakeha do not have a clue what the Ngai Tahu - “are; on about.” ''

“A great deal of pur work is spent in trying to educate ■ pur European cousins. ( We> will'’always be aware that the red-neck is out there and we are never going to get rid of him. But let’s educate the others if we can,” says Trevor Howse. “In the past, it seemed, if you didn’t like something -Wwas taken out of the book or never taught. All that has ; got . to change.” n? One of the major assets for the Ngai Tahu today is the understanding that is coming through the conservation lobbies. “It also has its fish hooks, but those allies are there, relating to the land on much the same level as us — a spiritual basis where you take what you need but not too much,” he says. V; What would winning the claim and gaining compensation for lost lands mean? “It would, be the justification of all that has been said by my people. After 140 years my greatest desire would be to justify those people.”

It would honour the ancestors who struggled in the past and enable the children of the future to struggle less.