OUR FIRST VISIT TO KARITANE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3706, 24 March 1925, Page 7

OUR FIRST VISIT TO KARITANE.

By

Aroha.

I. In the early nineties a young insurance clerk, still well under 30, was attending to a lady who was insuring the first seaside cottage, for non-permanent residence, built at Karitane, and she mentioned that she would not mind letting it-. The rent asked at that time was the large sum of 16s per week. At the preeent day £3 would be quite moderate The young man thought he might get a holiday and take the family, a wife, two infants, and little maid there. Consequently, off we all started one glorious afternoon in February. None of us had ever heard of the place, and knew not the least what it was like. In those days people did not travel much, and as holidays were not given every year, it happened that we had not slept out of our own house since our marriage. r lhe lady owning tno house directed us where to go, and whom to write to. When we arrived at the Puketcraki station that glorious evening and saw the white-tipped waves rolling in on two beaches, the river winding its way up towards Waikouaiti, the setting sun shining on Matonal?a and the Point, we exclaimed at the beauty of it all. We were met by a lovely young Maori woman in the early twenties, who, however, looked only 18 or 19. With her black hair in two plaits, a very gay handkerchief on her head, and a bright red jacket, her flashing 'black eyes, rosy cheeks, and perfect teeth, made a beautiful picture She had brought a sledge for our luggage —a very primitive-looking contrivance, and her picturesque figure walking down beside it made a spectacle never to be forgotten. She pointed to where we had to go, right out on to the Point. It looked a very long way indeed, but our delight was not to be damped, and the beautiful corn and a field of barley that were ripening added to the beauty of the scene. Husband, wife and young maid took turns in carrying the two infants, and off we all started. There were at that time two houses on the Point, four where the village now is in the vicinity of the store, these including the school house, and two over by the Long Beach. The old mission house in which the Watkin family had lived was near the old cemetery. Mr Muir’s house was the only one on the road to Merton. The Paratas, both Woods families, and a few others lived on the way to the station. The school at that time was purely a native school governed and inspected from Wellington. There were several very interesting and quaint residents at Karitane at that time, among them being old Mr Apes, who had then lived there for over 50 years, and had many stirring tales to tell of the old whaling days, when he had been the chief harpooner, owing to his enormous strength. He was a man magnificent physique, well over 6ft m height, broad and splendid looking. With his flaxen-coloured hair and blue eyes, he reminded one of the Norsemen of old, whom one sees in pictures. He had led a most adventurous life, and the record of his hairbreadth escapes when killing whales vould fill a book. He often spent as much time in the water as in the boat How different from the present-day, when there is no danger or adventure, as tne harpoon is now shot out of a sort of gun from a safe distance from a calm boat run by .in engine! He remembered, as ecveral others did, the visits of Bishop Selwyn in 1845, when that intrepid man come down the coast in all sorts of craft. fJomo of tho descendants of those who wore christened then still boar tho name of Selwyn. From Waikoiiaiti the bishop went on to Ruapuke Island, where there were also a fair number of Maoris, long before the settlement of Dunedin. There is a graveetone in the old Karitane Cemetery recording the death of Captain and Mrs Thomas, within a short time of each other, in 1841. An old Maori told tho writer that in about 1846 a beautiful boat, with all sails set, came into the hay, to the great surprise of everyone. It had come from Sydney. Two men came ashore with the headstone, erected it, and fonced round the grave, and the ship sailed away next day. About ton years later this Maori mot a beautiful young white girl on the beach. Her arm covered over her eyes, and she was weeping most bitterly. Pointing up to the cemetery, she said: “Oh my people, my loved ones,” and went on. There were no trains at that time, and no ship was in sight, and my informant knew not whence she came or went. In the early nineties tliero still survived many of the customs and unwritten laws handed down by the natives—customs of hospitality and of holping each other without reward, which were greatly apprcciatad by the dweller from tho oity,

and pave a fragrant charm to old Karitane. We found that flowers had been put all over the cottage and that a jug of milk awaited us on the table. Of course we do these things for each other now, but at that time it wa s done for absolute strangers, whose names were even unknown. Fish and rabbits were brought to the door, and heads were turned away when money was offered. It is a great pity that the old mission house was at this time sold to a storekeeper at Seacliff. It was carted down there and erected near the old Seacliff Hotel, and was burnt with that hotel some years later. It should have been preserved at Karitane, and would have been of great interest to the present day visitors there. Its chimney was the first brick one erected in Otago. Many of the bricks still to be seen on the section on which the old mission house stood, show them to have been handmade and quite different from any seen in the present day. There is a very good picture of the old place, as the writer remembers it, in the Hocken Library. At that time Mr and Mrs Green were teachers at the school. They were an English couple who, having in their young married life been fired with enthusiasm to come out and work among the Maoris, had fitted themselves as teachers. Mr Green acquired a certain amount of medical..knowledge and studied the language, while Mrs Green was a perfect teacher of sewing, cooking, and all housewifely knowledge to the Maori maidens, and indeed often to the Maori matrons too. Mr Green was once called upon to put several stitches in the head of a boy who had received a kick from a horse. Shortly afterwards the Greens returned to England to spend the evening of their days, as they had always intended to do. Over 20 year? later, the little boy who had been kicked, having been to college and ordained as an Anglican clergyman was on bis way to become chaplain to the British Embassy in Spain, while interviewing Mr Robert Mill, manager of the Bank of New Zealand in liondon, himself a Waikouaiti boy, the latter asked him if he knew some clients of the bank named “Green,” who once 'lived at Karitane, and were always interested in anyone from New Zealand. “Know them !” exclaimed the padre. “I should think so; where can 1 find them?” When the now aged Mr Green opened his door and was asked, “Don’t you know me, Mr Green?” his reply, “I can’t say I do, tho’ you will be from New Zealand.” The visitor pushed his hair up, and showing the ugly scar, asked, “Now do you know me?” “Oh my, of course I do.” Mr Green’s astonishment must have been great to find that the little daredevil boy who was game to mount anything on four legs, and who had afterwards become one of the most intropid and daring ricier of horses should stand before him as the Rev. Hoani Parata. f

The reference to the Rev. Iloani Parata’s horsemanship reminds me that in the nineties his father was a very fine horseman and that as a member of that crack cavalry corps, the good old Otago Hussars, he could hold his own with anyone. What about the song “I tickled her under the chin?” Many old Hussars will remember how, at tne annual camp, at Tahuna Park, they would get “Jack” Parata out of his bed in the middle of the night, stand him up on a barrel, and make him sing this song of his though he seldom got past “never mind about your ma,” a s it made him laugh so much himself that he could not complete the song. There woie a number qf Otago Hussars in the Karitane and Waikouaiti districts at that time. Among them, besides Mr “Jack” Parata. there were tho Orbells, “Bill” and “Jim” Apes, “Bill” Black, “Jack” Muir, “Davie” Taukoro, “Bob ” Templeton, and “Jack Ellison.” It was a beautiufl sight to see them riding into town for their annual camp-beautiful horses, well groomed, mounted by not unbeautiful men! The writer well remembers the funeral of pi>or “Davie” Taukoro, when a large company of Otago Hussars, under Captain Robin (as ho t-hon was), came out and carried tho coffin from tho little cottage on the I-ong Beach to the old cemetery the smart Hussars marching over the rough paddocks with arms reversed. At the head of the grave stood the European clergyman in his white surplice, while Native women, with green wreaths on their heads, and carrying green boughs, wailed their haunting noto of lament that will never more be hoard in that district, for the old order changeth. Several of those wahines wero tattooed and looked very fine, too. “Harry” Orboll, “ Jack ” Muir, and B. Black wore among the first two or three to volunteer for South Africa, and slipped quietly away from those little wayside stations, with no fuss or final leave, off they wont. Poor “Jack” Muir came back not too well, but ho wont Home to King Edward’s Coronation, and immediately it was over sat in the King’s chair for a minute. Another Karitane boy, “Tom” Parata, was also at

that coronation. Splendid “Jack’’ Muir came homo only to die, after a lingering illness, and we had another Hussar funeral, Colonel Robin (as he had then become), who was always very proud of his Karitane and Waikouaiti men, being in comniand. We have had heroes and sadness in beautiful Karitane. ‘‘Jack” Muir’s only brother lies somewhere at Passchendaele. Dr Fookes was at that time medical superintendent of Seacliff. It was before the coming of Dr Truby King, who was to give the name of Karitane to the baby hospitals all over New Zealand, and not only in New Zealand, but also, I believe, overseas. The real meaning of the name “Karitane’ is “where women dp men’s work.” There is also a Karitane in the North Island. In the old days, when the warriors wont off to fight, they left the women in some quiet, sheltered spot, where during the absence of the men, they hail to dig for fern roots and generally provide the food, hence the name “Karitane.” There was a very great wedding there in those days of the nineties. One of the Misses Parata married the son of a wealthy and powerful North Islander, not altogether to the satisfaction of the South Island beaux, for she was a very beautiful girl. Large numbers of people from far and wide attended the wedding. The bridegroom’s father had entertained the Duke of Edinburgh when be visited New Zealand in the sixties. Qn the return of her son to England, Queen Victoria sent this distinguished man a magnificent Union Jack, a photograph of which has been seen by the writer hanging over the balcony oi ine beautiful homestead where the Duke of Edinburgh had paid a visit. “The Kaik,” as Karitane was always called in those days, was a very model village indeed, this being due to the influence and supervision of Mr and Mrs T. Parata. Especially did Mrs Parata weild a powerful influence. A woman of great per sonality, she spoke little, but that little secured attention. She was of most aristo cratic lineage and handsome appearance, and was a perfect, housekeeper. Despising any sham or subterfuge, she was indeed a power in that, little place—and all for good Her own home being beautifully clean and spotless, she expected the same of others, and any hint conveyed to her of the lapse of some young housekeeper would cause Mrs Parata to announce that she was about to pay a few visits. Oh, the rush and cleaning of houses that ensued ! This noble woman, who held out a helping hand to all. died with the dignity with which she had lived. When it was suggested that an operation might be performed, she turned away from the thought with horror. “ No, not for me,’’ she said. “ I have never had a doctor doing anything to me, and I will not now.” She went round her house arranging various affairs, and then went calmly to bed, and before very long passed peacefully on, alike noble in life and in death. Mr (afterwards the Hon.) T. Parata was a very clever intelligent man, a fluent speaker both in Maori and English. Well the writer remembers one occasion in Wellington when some stonewalling was going on, Mr Parata would start off and go on and on in Maori, smiling blandly when begged, ‘‘Oh, for Heaven’s, sake give it lo us in English for a while, just for a change.” Stonewalling in Maori is a trifle monotonous, as Mr Parata well knew. Maori members are allowed to speak in Maori if they chose—and can have their speeches interpreted into English by an interpreter. When Mr Parata was seen coming to the House with an interpreter, there was always a laugh, as he could speak fluent English—and better English, too, than many of the European members. He never forgot a friend or a favour. The last time the writer saw him, a few old friends went over to his house after service rn the church. Among the number were the Rev. H. 0. Fenton, and a son of Sir Thomas Mackenzie. After saying something very nice about our friendship, and expressing his pleasure that we had found bo much happiness at Karitane, ho turned to young Mnokenzio and said, “To your good father, sir. I owe to a great extent being called to the Upper House. But,” putting his hand most, affectionately on Mr Fenton, “to tliis young man’s father I owe far, far more, for ho it was who united mo to my dear wife, over there in Waikouaiti, away back in the far fifties.”