ON THE FRONTIER. AN UPHILL STRUGGLE. A SKETCH OF MAORI LIFE.

Evening Post, Volume LXVII, Issue 147, 22 June 1904, Page 2

ON THE FRONTIER. AN UPHILL STRUGGLE. A SKETCH OF MAORI LIFE.

Back nn the borJcm of Tuhoeland (the UreweraJ, embosomed in tho historic valley of the Wbirtnoki, and over-shadowed by a steep ridge where, stand the blackened remains of a Maori pah of renown, lici tho little settlement of 'Xo Whaiti. Tho white population consists of a district constable and storekeeper, his partner, and the master of tlie Maori School. Tho Maori population lives some quarter of a mile higher up the Whirinuki, on land partially enclosed in a head of the river, and is houi'«l in soin« do/xn v/haros, which probably do not reflect tho l.igliei-t credit on tho sanitary administration of tho Maori Council. The life of tho Maori is for the mos-t part squalid and aimless. The constable has to keep him in order, the fchuolmu#Ur to uplift, hiiu. And UiCi-e is not tho slightest doubt which hna the harder task of the two. Foe. years To Whaiti saw practically no European visitors, except such as caate, either from Rolorua or the Bay of Pknty, to GulaU'u, a small settlement in tho valley of the Kungitaike, and then on up tho WliiiiDuki, which is a, tributary of Uie Rangituike. Visitois from. these quarters have increased in number since th* two rivers got reputations as trout streams, and now a new pedestrian or horse traffic (summer only) is setting in between Rotorua. and Waikareinoaim, along the Ruatahuna trail, and therefore through Te Whaiti. But Te Whaiti is still autlicieiiUy out of the way to show the native problem — tho transition between semi-civilisation nnd barbarism — in some of its sud phases. Immediately beyond, in Tuhoeland itself, which i» a native reserve, the Maori is almost entirely in tho primitive atage, and possibly better off than his half-and-half brother. Hero, at Te Whaiti th© two streams* meet. The history of the place sums up tho annals of a large section of the Northern Maori. To Te Whaiti in tho old days came a missionary, who had a nieetingplnce anil a house, a garden and an orchard. No doubt his labours were long aud chequered, but of their immediate roKiilts little is recorded. At any rate, he was swept away by tho wave of llauhauLsui which marked the second epoch in native history. Tho missionary and the religion of peace were, rejected for armed fanaticism and Te Kooti. Tho man who haxl waged war on the earlier paganism was in his turn driven away, his house became a bone of contention between two natives, tho loser burned it down, and to-day nothing remains of the missionary's works but clumps of foreign trees and a few English flowers standing pathetically alone in the niictat of the native growth. Acacins, honeysuckle, and a bush «f hawthorn — those are the earlier Christianity's la.^t word. Tho Te Kooti wave spent itself, and left behind it a» a relic a thatched edifice, which, unlike the missionary's place, was protected by the Maori tapu. "J'e Kooti's liouso" had, however, of late years fallen into sad disrepair, the weather being no respecter of tapucd property ; and in the meantime (he returning lido of civilisation was marked by the erection in the To Whaiti seltWrncnr, not far from Tc Kooti's old roof of thatch, of a new school nncl dwelling. Within the last f<Mv weeks iho weather has finally demolished the Hauhau chief's ex -nwidonco, and little remains save the wild-biiurs iv the enclosure. So the work of Huubauism in its turn has disappeared. But think of the tn."k of the Fchoolmj&ter to gather up the remnants flung here and (here hy twu conflicting wavio and. a backwnxh, and to piece together a useful whole, in the face of famine, filth. .disei>&e, and a general failure to comprehend why things should bo otherwise. 'J>-Wh.uti-nu>-«-Toi — the full name, signifying "Tho Unnul Caiinn of Toi"— -is n mystical place 1 where every stream, gorge, and liißsido have been stained with old native, blood, and is surrounded by a hnlo of legend. It still partakes of tlie pristine , i« grand and inspiring, nnd places oik- constantly on the threshold between tho unwritten old and the new. But tho same process of comparison leads one co the thought of what the native inhabitants w-ero and are, and that is a sad story indeed. Th« weather that demolished Te Kooti's house provided nlso a flood that did much damage to the potato plantations, nnd hns altered tho river bed. Not mn'ny years ngo an epidemic thinned off the young people of tlie village; now they aro in danger of famine, on whom diatase constantly waits. No wnndcr that tho schoolmaster writes to a friend that for th« children tho winter will be a hard one. "Tho riwai (potato) nearly all perished in the great flood, and there is little moaoy to buy them clothes. I look at their pinched fncos of a morning, and I feel very sad. lam Bonding for a kerosene heater for the schoolroom, so they will bo kept M-nnn whilst in school, and that will liolp them a little." To people who grow scarcely anything el«e but miiize, the loss of the potato crops is indeed a cruel blow. Probably they will know of no shift to make— they will just go on. The result is that, to the usual difficulties 'of cleaning (sometimes a .scrubbing brush i* used), disciplining, and engaging the nttenticm ofthe. uimless Maort juvenile, in now added tho task of get tine him to work on an empty stomach. Meanwhile, the small brown martyr will peg away without, much complaint, for "whnt'fi the use of it? Only one day his pl,i C o will probably bo empty, and the M'hoolhou.so in t!><> Cmon of Toi will know him no more, "hat Is all!