ON NEW ZEALAND ROADS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22949, 29 January 1938, Page 1 (Supplement)

ON NEW ZEALAND ROADS

By KOTARE ,

Holiday Impressions

THERE are multitudes on the roads these days, and taking them all round, one finda them mighty good roads to be on. There is dust, of course, outside the favoured concrete and bitumen areas, and some of the pumice roads are as corrugated as a, corduroy coat. But on the whole surfaces are good over all the route I lately travelled, and the motorist has very little to complain about. It was a surprise to meet' so few, caravans on the New .Zfifllsnd roads# Campers there were in Bhoals. They preferred to pitch their tents in some favoured spot, perhaps in a thronged motor camp, or as often as not ton some shaded ground under the trees with a stream close at hand. Many like myself, finding the excitements of camping in the open not as congenial to comfortloving middle-age as they were to adventurous youth, work the bed-and-breakfast method, having scratch meaia on the road and pulling up every night at some caravanserai for a bed and a meal other people have taken the pains to provide. An admirable method I have found it.

The most curious provision for the road, yet one with distinct points where time was not of the essence of the contract was an ancient cart we passed far in the south. Two young people had built a tent upon it. In the shafts was a serviceable horse that probably reeled off some twenty miles ,a day. They would cover a lot of ground iij a month, and their only worries would be water and firewood, items that should not present any gre.it difficulties on the New Zealand landscape. It was pleasant gipsying. They pulled up where they wanted, always had a tent pitched and ready for occupation, did not need to worry about the weather, and had plenty of exercise padding the roads alongside their moving There are many worse ways of spending a holiday. Unlamiliar Noises We are all creatures of'habit;. The man accustomed to sleep with the noise of many waters in his ears finds it hard to woo slumber in a complete silence. The man used to perfect stillness will toss and turn if he camps by a 'running stream. The unfamiliar noises of early morning on a farm will mar. the coxjifort of the first few days ir'or a city, dweller. I spent three nights trying to ignore the nocturnal commotion of ail adjacent; railway yard. I was informed by local residents that it needed at least r. week before the hissing of steam and the jolting of cars and the moaning of frightened anijnals had a decidedly, soporific effect on the slumber meeker. It was small comfort for hours of lost sleep and the nervous tension inevitably associated with them that _in time I would not be able to sleep with out these disturbances. At least it' gave-my, imagination plenty of scope. : '; > I never looked at the yard, in daylight, for a train and everything connected with it had become temporarily anathema to me. But apparently it was composed of a myriad of side-lines, each one containing one cattle truck filled with victims destined for the slaughter. The shunting engine, with loud shrieks and grinding of brakes and joyful accelerations that split the night, charged down on each individual truck, raced ahead, and then with triumphant puffing and panting, hurled it along the main line till it clanged into position. So at long last the cattle train was assembled, and I dozed till the good work began again. Perversely in the night watches there came floating in memories of Orpheus and his late and its power to make Huge leviathans forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sand. An Aged Prophet iI was anxious to see Parihaka again. I was there thirty-two years ago; Te Whiti was still in his glory. The aged prophet—he was ninety-five at—the time —was full of vigour. The faithful had built for him an immense house in the current European fashion. it was raised on a solid concrete foundation, in the semi-bungalow style. Across the village rose a mansion of two or three storeys in a less conventional style of architecture, the abode of another prophet, Tohu, if my memory serves me. Every month Te Whiti held a gathering of his followers, and they must even then have been numbered in thousands. On the seventeenth* of each month they came .to do honour to their chief. For days before, the roads carried the little companies, the men with feathers in their hatis. The great day was March 17. This was the" climax of the Parihaka year. As I stood again before the long verandah I could still see the grey, remote figure as he had sat there over, thirty years ago. With the confidence of youth I had tried to engage the old man in conversation. But. he would say nothing There was no rudeness about his refusal. He seemed to be outside our ordinary contacts and somehow above them. In front of where he had sat on that former visit stands to-day his monument. He died in 1907. The inscription refers to his love of his people, the sincerity and simplicity of his religion, and, with special emphasis, to his work as a peacemaker. And a peacemaker he was, if ever there was - one. The folly and greed and injustice of the post-war years, the promises broken, the faith betrayed, grievously embittered the Maori hearts sore enough in all conscience under the sting of defeat. Departed Glory Te Wliiti stood forth as the champion of the rights of his people. He difficult material to handle. But he was as wise as he was strong. At one stage only Te Whiti stood between our country and a new Maori war. The Government set itself to overawe the natives by nn overwhelming display of force. 3So doubt that seemed the wisest policy at the time. The march on Parihaka which brought two armed forces face to face ended in comedy, througfr the masterly tactics of Te Whiti. He sent out the children and women to greet the invaders with songs and sliouts of welcome, and one of our gravest crises passed off in laughter. Te Whiti was • arrested and ser\t to gaol, but the danger-point ha-1 been safely negotiated, thanks to one man's vision and wisdom. And these thirty years he has lain in the heart of his old stronghold. J The village is practically in ruins. The great house of the chief is still as it used to be, but most of the houses, once thronging with busy life and laughter, stand desolate. A few fowls scratch m the dust of the ancient meeting place. Some of the houses still are occupied. But many have lost much of their outer boarding, and the raupo interiors are forlornly exposed. Great things for New Zealand were once done here, voices of passion and voices or ; wisdom rang over the inarae.. i>uv tn .... glory is gone for ever.