A Tribute to Wallace Mangu How can the word integration be defined? The dictionary says, ‘Combine parts into a whole’. Applied to Pakeha and Maori, what does this mean? Too often it means brown puppets with white men pulling the strings. Too often it means a flashy house, a T.V. set, a big car; and too often it means that one more Maori family has lost its identity. Instead of combining parts that have character and depth of their own into a whole pattern full of colour and variety, the tendency has been to produce a whole that is a colourless, dull mass. A tukutuku must remain clear and bright if it is to retain its meaning. If it is soaked until the colours run its character is gone. It is smudged and dirty and meaningless. Wallace Mangu who died this year had become part of the integrated whole; yet he had retained the colour, the individuality and the pride of a Maori. He never apologised for his Maori blood. He never said, ‘Us poor Maoris. Give us time’. He kept his Maoritanga in his heart and the Pakehatanga in his head. He held his head high, he worked with all the energy God gave him and he envied no man. He had the best of both worlds because he contributed to both. At his funeral the two worlds joined to pay a tribute to a man whose forty-eight years had been spent ‘combining parts to make a whole’. Proud of his race, he believed in its ultimate ability to give New Zealand a culture unique to her. Those who mourn him remember his fun, his banter; but they remember too that he was ruthless in his condemnation of any man not proud enough to hold his head up or stand firmly by a principle no matter what it cost. Wallace Mangu was born at Ruatoria in 1919. Educated at Manutahi Maori School, he began his farming career while still a school boy. He milked by hand, with cousins and uncles to help, and freed the family farm of mortgage. That task completed, he set off for Hawkes Bay, where he worked for four years before returning to share-milk at Ruatoria until the war broke out. He was a volunteer, leaving with the second Echelon to see service in Britain, Greece, Crete and North Africa. He returned to be discharged with the first furlough group in 1943. Wallace's philosophy was not learned from the pages of Homer or Plato. Life was his university and honesty his school master. He was never half-hearted, and no job of work was done ‘halfpie’. Apathy was not in his vocabulary. He played rugby, he broke in horses, he hunted, he showed ponies, he loved music, he lived. Pain could not defeat him. A back injury bequeathed by the war was never his master. In 1944 he married a teacher, Rose Mac-Vean from Otago, and their family of seven Wallace Mangu and his wife, when presented with the Ahu-whenua Trophy in 1962.