EARLY DAYS IN OTAGO

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21601, 23 March 1932, Page 5

EARLY DAYS IN OTAGO

' THE FIRST WHITE BOY

Written for the Otago Daily Times.

By H. Beattie.

L. I. At a farmhouse situated on the plen■ant Waituna terrace, about three miles from the town of Waimate, South Canterbury, dwells one who claims to be the first white boy born in Otago. Mr Thomas Kennard saw the light of day at Waikouaiti on May 6, 1841, and anyone viewing his alert frame and active movements might readily be pardoned for taking him to be a quarter of a century younger than his actual age. A philosopher might argue that this healthy state of affairs is the direct result of the foundation laid in a youth spent in primitive simplicity in a day when Otago sported no shops or luxuries. And mentally this veteran’s alertness is in unison with his physical activity, and he recalls names and details of far-off events with an easy facility that wins the admiration of the interviewer.

.His father, William Kennard, was “ a man of Kent,” but about the year 1837 or ’3B he turned his back on the Old Country and sought the wider spaces and greater opportunities of Australia. Here he had been farming two years when he was one of those selected by Mr “ Johnny ” Jones to come over to the latter’s farm at Waikouaiti, Otago. The 11 families' picked for this enterprise arrived in the brig Magnet at their destination on March 18, 1840. The last survivor of those who came across that trip was Mrs Woolscy (nee Mary Coleman), of Port Chalmers, whose death occurred last year. Mr William Kennard was accompanied by his wife and three children, the older two of whom had been born in England and the third child on the voyage out to Australia. In common with their fellowvoyagers on the Magent they were placed on what wag at first called Prospect Farm, and later better known as Matanik Farm (Matannic or Matanik being a corruption of the Maori name Matainaka). This property must not be confused with the later well-known Cherry Farm. A number of small cottages, mostly of two or three tiny rooms, were run up for the new arrivals. There were no ferntrees in the nearest bush, and the architecture of those huts not made of sods was of a decidedly wattle-and-daub nature, but all had one feature in common —they were roofed with thatch. When the narrator was about five years old he remembers that a better-class of house was built for Mr Jones, the builders being Messrs Charles Windsor and Alderman Gibbs, the latter a Scotsman and a near relation of Sir Walter Hunter Baird. The timber for it was all pit-sawn, and William Kennard helped to saw it in Jones’s Bush at Hawkesbury. As the buildings for the stock were principally constructed of timber, although roofed with thatch, the noteworthy fact stared any visitor in the face that the cowshed and barns were better than the men’s dwel lings. In this environment was born Mr and Mrs David Carey’s daughter, Julia, the first white child born in Otago. She was afterwards Mrs John Taylor, and died tome years ago. A few weeks later Thomas Kennard was born, and thus becomes the first white boy born in the province. It was sometimes claimed for Mr James Carey, who died at Invercargill in recent years, that he was the first in this connection, but his birth was many months later than that of Mr Kennard. The track from Moeraki to Waikouaiti came over the Tumai Hill and dropped down to the. Matainaka Beach at the northern end of the Waikouaiti Bay. As it passed quite close to where the Kennards’ lived they had a plain view of passers-by, and the narrator’s earliest recollection is of a long line of stalwart Maoris marching past in Indian file. There was considerable talk of Te Rauparaha then and occasionally alarming rumours ot possible invasion, and this vague fear affected even the children. “I was very small —practically only an infant,” says Mr Thomas Kennard, “ and the sight of these wild-looking fellows terrified me. I fled to my mother and she had to take me up in her arms and hug me to her bosom for quite a time before she could soothe me.” Tales of Maori ferocity were very common in. those days as the recollection of tbe fighting days was still recent and the reports of Maori doings were usually much exaggerated. Once on a trip to near Akaroa Mr Kennard saw a large collection of human bones and was told that “ Tuawaik,” or “ Bloody Jack,” had been there and massacred them all. He estimated there must have been the remains of fully 100 human beings in the heap, and it was said that later the Government had them interred. " Johnny ” Jones was practically the "uncrowned king” of the district and his ■word was law. Like all the old whaling leaders he had to be prepared to back up his commands with physical force, and his fists were always read to follow his words, He has been condemned in some quarters for some of his forceful qualities, but the narrator says he was not so black as he was sometimes painted. He could easily have degenerated into a despicable bully, as he had every oppprtunity to use his power harshly and unjustly. “ The whole place was under his thumb,” says the narrator. “ as he controlled all the stores and the shipping and was the only one from whom anyone could get employment. Many men who live highly respected lives now would have been far bigger tyrants had they had half his chances. My father always got on all right with him, and so did the other men if they used discretion. “ But he was a hot-tempered man on occasions. He kept a stud groom, an exuniversity man named Sulman, to look after three entire horses he valued, and one day he got very angry and hit him. The groom retaliated, and, although his clothes were torn in the struggle, he gave his boss a hiding. When ‘ Johnny ’ cooled down he shook hands with his opponent end told him to call at Oxley’s store. The groom went there expecting to get the sack, but, instead, he got the surprise of his life, for he was presented with a new suit of clothes and a rise of £lO in wages. He stayed on for years after that.” The farm at Waikouaiti could not be said to be an unqalified success, and when their time of service (said to be for two years) was up some of the employees left, and either drifted back to Sydney or went across to the whaling station at Otago Heads. The Kennard family stayed on and saw the gradual development of the district. Agricultural work on the farm was practically a failure, but the pastoral side of operations proved capable of betterment and of definite expansion. Horses were then selling cheaply in Sydney, and the enterprising proprietor of the first farm in Otago laid the foundation of an ample stock. He also stocked np with cattle and sheep, and when the Otago Settlement began in 1848 he is said to have owned 200 horses, 200 cattle, and 3000 sheep. This was a regular boon to the earliest pastoralists in the new settlement, and many a runhokler in a small way got his first start and the nucleus of his flock from stock bought from the squire of Waikouaiti. Three months after the Magnet passengers landed in March, 1840, a Wesleyan missionary, the Rev. James Watkin, came to Waikouaiti. He loft again in May, 1844, Thomas Kennard does not remember Mr_ Watkin, bat has quite a clear recollection of his successor, the Rev. Charles_ Creed. These devoted men ran a Maori missionary school, and for a short time the narrator and his brother attended it. being the only white children at it, although some half-castes attended in addition to the Maori children. The probable reason why more white children did not go is that a number of the European families had shifted to “ Otago" (the district round the Otago Harbour or Otago River as some of the old whalers called it). Among those who left were Mr and Mrs David Carey with their large family, and some of their descendants arc ■cttled there still. When Thomas Kennard reached an age at which he could observe things for himself he noticed that all the women at the whaling station (except, of course, the missionary's wife) were Maoris. An exception had been the storekeeper’s wife, Mrs Thomas, but both she and her husband died before be could remember, but lie often saw their graves in the old graveyard by the Mission House. Of white women in the district he i-ecollccts Airs Ben Coleman, Mrs William Coleman, Mrs Pryor, Mrs Hawkins, and Mrs Tom Jones (a sister-in-law of “Johnny " Jones). Among the passengers by the John Wickliffe which arrived at Port Chalmers on March 23, 1848. was a welleducated young man named Thomas Ferens. Air Creed sought him out, and offered him the position of school teacher at the mission station at Waikouaiti. Mr Ferens accepted the proposal, and was installed in „his new position in July of that year. Among his star pupils was a seven-year-

old bov named Thomas Kennard. Mr Ferens’s term at the school was three years, and that is also the duration oi Kennard’s schooling, for he left school days behind at the age of 10, and thereafter set out to pursue his way in the world. His chief recollection of the school is that his principal mates were two Maori boys, Peneamene Tigi and Rewhiti te Alaire, who were better known to the pakeha as Joe Benson and Harry Davis, both of whom died full of years at Waihao during recent years. Mr Ferens is described as a nice man of a firm manner and a good teacher. All the Alaons were keen to learn, and the adults would attend classes at night. Old Rawiri te Maori learnt to read and write English, and once when Mr Kennard, sen., “ took the census ” for the district some of that chief’s work came under his notice, and proved to be excellent. The Maoris were a perpetual source ot interest to the few white hoys in the locality. They dwelt in whares built in the traditional shape of an inverted V, roofed with grass, and lined inside with the reeds of the toetoe or Hew Zealand pampas grass. The orthodox Maori name of these reeds is pukakaho, but the early settlers at Waikouaiti called them ‘Tiukaka.” These whares were warm—too warm frequently for the average white man. “A fire would be lit on the middle of the floor,” says the narrator, “ and in winter the people would sit round until you could not see them for smoke.” “ I remember when I was a small' boy,” continued Air Kennard, “that many of the Maoris wore no European clothing. Father had brought out a belltopper with him, but, as he had no further use for it, mother gave it away, together with a shirt and a pair of trousers, to a Maori who had done us a favour. The Maoris were a very generous race, and this one shared his new treasures with two mates, so that the comical spectacle was seen of three Maoris dressed in white man’s clothes, one wearing the trousers, another the shirt, and the third the belltopper. “ In the earliest days the Alaori women seemed to have an objection to tying anything round their waists and, if given European clothing, they usually wore it in some funny fashion. They had been used to their Native mats which were generally draped over the left shoulder, leaving the right arm free, and so when given a petticoat, they would hitch one aide of it over the shoulder and trust to luck that the rest of it would fit somewhere. The Maoris had been used to seeing white men’s clothing from the earliest sealing days, but the sight of European women’s clothing was still fairly new to them. In later years, when they got a little money, the women would come out in all the colours of the rainbow.

“The Alaori mats were made of feetow (whitau or dressed flax). They were well made and warm, but must have been rough on the skin until one became used to them. They were hung over one shoulder and fastened under the other, and as they had no proper overlap you could often see one side of the wearer bare right down. You could see this summer and winter — the season made little difference to what they wore, and I have always said that they must have been real hardy beggars to stand it. The wearing of European clothing seemed to bring about a softening in the race.

“They were very skilful at making * hogek ’ (pokeka in standard Maori —it means raincloaks). They seemed to plait the flax in layers, and all round they left little tails in rows hanging over each layer. They could squat on their heels, draw this cloak over their heads, sit in a steady rain for hours and not one drop of water would get through. The whites would copy the Maori way of scraping flax for various purposes, and when their boots gave out would sometimes wear Alaori ‘ pararas ’ or sandals.

“ The Natives were very hospitable and would always share their food with all who came along. When I was a boy I sometimes joined in with them at their meals. Their fish and “ spuds ” were much the same as such foods anywhere, but 1 sometimes tackled their native foods. i thought the kauru prepared from the cabbage tree was nice, but I did not like fernroot. The Alaoris were skilful fishermen, and before there were any fishmongers in the small, settlement of Dunedin the Alaoris caught fish and sold them on the Maori reserve on the foreshore.

“ Before the coming of the families brought out in 1840 by “Johnny” Jones the whalers who were married had Alaori wives. At a later date some ‘spongers’ took Alaori wives, and getting into Alaori ways lived on them. Being so generous, the Natives were easy victims of unscrupulous men. At the same time I have heard traders say that the women married to decent white men were much better payers of accounts than- were the rest of their race. The Maoris were very superstitous, but notwithstanding this, I found them a fine people, and must say that I always liked them.” Leaving school at the immature age of 10, Thomas Kennard assisted his father to the best of his boyish ability. His father had a farm at Goodwood to which he added an accommodation house which was well known on the Dunedin-Oamaru track in the fifties and sixties. Air William Kennard died in 1875, aged 62. He had been ailing for a long time through the hardships endured in early lifo, and when he was coming home from a visit to Timaru on a very rainy day the coach roof leaked so badlv that he got wet through. In his enfeebled condition this brought on an inflammation which speedily carried him off. His widow survived him 28 years, dying at the age of 90. Both are buried at Palmerston, and thus their ashes rest in the district in which they had spent all the days of their New Zealand pilgrimage.