The young missionary was nervous; nervous because he had heard more than he had seen, nervous because he was going in alone and nervous because this was what he had been waiting to do for many months. He was to travel to the new settlement on the eastern coast and to teach the natives, teach them to read, teach them to write, to teach them about God. Such excitement he had never experienced and hoped that all he had imagined would be true.
When he arrived at the settlement he was surprised; he had imagined a few huts and larger meeting hall but what he saw was a bustling settlement closer to what his village in Britain, wooden houses had been constructed for families to live in, a larger building seemed to be the hospital and next to that a building of a similar size but with a large cross adorning the peak of the roof. The door was closed; the man who had driven the carriage explained to me that the Minister, a military representative and Maori Chief were discussing the suppression of guerrilla forces.
Inside the doors an intense discussion of tactics was taking place the Maori chieftain named Te Kirangi was becoming enraged. “They will not give up their land peacefully; sending the boy in will do no good he is uneducated and inexperienced with such matters! Such foolishness will certainly lead to conflict.”
The reverend who went by the name of Williams jumped in “ We do not need to rush the process, perhaps we can send him as an envoy, allow him to get some standing within the tribe, establish a relationship with the tribe”
“How is that going to allow us to move in and establish our control? That’s what this is about; if we cannot prove that they have intentions that are anti-government we cannot get what we need. Sending in an envoy to get closer to the tribe will give the appearance that they are working with us.” The military representative was a nasty grey haired man; Colonel Richardson a man with little tolerance for the Maori people and an even greater passion for power.
The issue being discussed was that of the Ngati Tuhoi tribe and the land they were in possession of; land which was rich in natural resources, much needed by the settlers.
“We will send the young missionary in our stead, allow him to make contact, establish a relationship with the tribe, allow him to find out what he can about their supplies and from there we shall make our move; but not until he has returned safely, with the information we need.” The Colonel stated. He was the most senior of the three members in the discussion as Chief Te Kirangi had already established an alliance with the government.” He is to leave at first light tomorrow.”
The young missionary strolled around the settlement, smiling and greeting people as he passed. Many of the people in the village were of European descent but he was surprised at the number of Maori who were present in the settlement too, he had heard that the government had an ally nearby in Chief Te Kirangi. He was glad; this gave them an established base from which he could begin his mission without worry of conflict in his new backyard. A young Maori boy called out to him “Father, Father, they want to see you” He followed the boy back the way he had come and up the path to the church. Inside he greeted the trio, a handshake for the two Europeans and a hongi with the chief.
“We are very glad to have you here, I have been in dire need of assistance and your arrival comes at an opportune moment. Reverend Williams explained. “We are in need of a missionary to travel to the Ngati Tuhoi and establish a government presence, we need diplomacy between the government and the tribes but so far we have been short on volunteers”
“Gladly Father, it has been my dream that I should be able to travel and share my knowledge with the natives”
“That is good news my son, Raka will show you to your quarters. Get some rest for you depart tomorrow.” The Father said softly.
The young missionary took up his quarters in a small hut in close proximity to the church, a bed, a bible was all that awaited him but after a long day of travel and new experience after laying his head down on the hay he could scarcely keep his eyes closed and drifted away into a deep slumber.
He was awoken at daybreak by the young boy who had called out for hi yesterday. He assumed this was the Reverend’s messenger boy, or perhaps he was already training to become a cleric. He lead him to the stables where the Reverend and the Chief were waiting. “The Pa is a two day ride from here, the journey should be straight forward and we have provided a map to guide you, a musket to protect you and some potatos and dried meats so you will not go without food.” said Reverend Williams.
The missionary assured him he had knowledge of maps and a good sense of direction as well, he selected a strong mare from the stable, fixed the saddle and strapped on his travel pack.
“You’re arrival will be unexpected so do not be surprised if you are met with animosity from the men. The chief is an educated man however and he will understand that you are a man of God with good intentions. Be certain however not to make give any inclination of land confiscation, although they have not allied with government forces, they have shown no hostility and as such we have no right to take their land. You are to educate and to learn so keep your ears open to the goings-on of the Iwi. Good luck and God’s speed.”
And so the young missionary began on his mission, aided with his compass and a map he proceeded for most of the first day without incident the bush around him was dense and at certain points he’d had to turn around to find another way. However, the second day of travel began badly, his horse had gotten ill, possibly from something it had eaten off the bush and had collapsed, whining and neighing in obvious distress. With no knowledge of animal medicine he did not want the horse to suffer unduly and decided he would have to put it out of its misery and continue the mission on foot. He was nervous and concerned with how much longer the journey would take but he had faith that God alongside his musket would keep him safe.
He continued on, exhausted and lost, the bush seemed to stretch out forever in front of him and with only a basic bearing and no horse the second day ended with the young missionary no closer to reaching his goal. As he searched for a location to camp out his footing gave way and he fell, rolling and tumbling to the bottom of a ravine, the pack which contained his map and compass had been lost in the fall and the young missionary was unable to move.
The sunlight awoke him the next morning and he was able to move again. He found his pack 20 feet from where he had landed and unfortunately in the fall his compass had broken. Frustrated and angry he yelled to the heavens, but nobody responded, just the endless song of the tui and the melancholic chant of the morepork. He trudged on, no longer aware of where he was he headed back to the top of the ravine and began search for the highest point hoping he could gain his bearing once again. After hours of bush and brief glimpses of mountain tops he began to grow desperate and he began to lose hope of ever reaching the tribe. The sounds of crunching leaves draws his attention, the sound stops immediately as he turns to the noise, not seeing anything he continues his harrowing journey, tense and nervous, he knew the Haas eagle was the only creature in this land that was worth being afraid of, but these were unknown lands, his map, although it was accurate, was of no use to him after losing his compass in the disorienting fall and he had no idea how far or close he was to hostile territory. He had heard in whispers that the Maori who had not allied with the government where not welcoming of the Pakeha, regardless of intentions.
He continued to search for a vantage point for what seemed like an eternity, the colour green enveloping him from all sides with the glimpses of sunlight becoming less frequent with every step. Two crunches from behind his left shoulder, and the young missionary’s heart nearly came to a stop, spinning he caught a glimpse of a face in the shadows, menacing and angry, and it disappeared. Summoning his courage he shouted at the gap in the brush where the face had appeared.
“Who’s there?! Show yourself, you coward!”
More crunches, like the person to whom the face belonged was sprinting, unafraid of being heard now he moved quickly through the bush, the missionary was turning his head so fast to catch a glimpse of the man that he nearly made himself dizzy when all of the sudden the warrior leaped from the bush and approached with his chest puffed out and his tongue seemingly separated from his mouth for how far it was protruding. In his hand he held a club, pure white except for the Paua shells glittering on the handle. The sight nearly made the young missionary faint, but realising he wouldn’t be able to negotiate his way out of it, he made a quick prayer to God and decided he would break his peaceful vow and stand up for himself. With no chance of survival if he did not the missionary decided to attack first, running at the warrior and attempted to tackle him to the ground, but the warrior was too fast and skipped to the side, delivering a vicious blow to the young man’s shoulder blade. Wincing, but with a surge of anger he turned and ran at him again, fists wailing and bellowing at the top of his lungs the warrior diligently side stepped the attempt and connected with a brutal kick to the face as the missionary fell.
He felt as though this was the end of his journey that this would be the last face he ever saw. Turning skyward he waited for the face of his assailant to appear when without warning a vicious crack and the warm feeling of blood on his face. Having felt no pain, he was in shock to see the warrior’s body crumble under his own weight, behind him stood a beautiful woman, dressed in a warriors outfit, breasts exposed and her moko of such rich detail spoke of a powerful presence. Without uttering a word she turned and made her way back from where she had come.
“Wait! Who are you?!” The missionary yelled out after her, and knowing if he continued on his own the likelihood of him surviving the night was close to nil. So he gave chase, tripping over tree roots and hanging vines he could only keep his eye on her, not gaining, nor loosing pace until she turned in one swift movement.
“I do not know what you seek Pakeha, but I assure you following me will lead you only towards more trouble, our tribe will not make any deals with your thieving government.”
“I seek only to educate, to teach your people the ways of God and so the violence may cease and together, the Maori and the Pakeha may find peace. Your people are in need of teaching, we can teach cloth making to the woman, teach the men advanced methods of hunting, weaponry and warfare” The missionary explained, doing his best to keep his voice under control as his heart pounded underneath his shirt so loudly he was sure she could hear it.
“These are things which bring nothing but misery to others, we have seen and heard word of the massacres and violence that dealing with the Pakeha has brought other tribes, whether they refuse to side with the government or not. Your people are not peaceful, nor do we need your education, you have nothing to teach us of this land which we do not already know.”
“I do not come as part of the greater cause of the government; I can see that you already speak English which means that you have already accepted at least one learned man into your midst”
She turned reluctantly, “Ok follow me, and try to keep up, I will take you to my father to see what he thinks.”
They walked for hours but with a sense of direction each step became lighter and his outlook more positive, he was on the right track and had already made leeway in introducing himself to the tribe.
2 months had passed since the young missionary had been taken in by Chief Kirangi’s daughter, Ngaio, the Chief had decided he needed time to think about what he was going to do about the arrangements with the Government and with some added convincing from his daughter he was allowed to stay.
The young missionary was quite taken aback by how these people lived, harmonious and in unity with each other and the earth, and he began to believe the God was not in the church, or in the sermons, but He was in nature, He was surrounding them in the beauty of the landscape. As the Kaumatua of the tribe had been discussing strategy, the young missionary and Ngaio had had a lot of time; he had begun to teach the children English as best he could but with no way of writing as his books had been damaged in the fall the progress was slow, he began to wonder how had Ngaio learnt; it was apparent that the others knew little if no English whatsoever, how had she developed such a grasp of the language. He decided that he would have to pursue this intriguing woman more.
She showed him the land; taught him how to spot tracks and easier ways of moving through the dense brush, taught him how to fish, catch birds and the ancient art of carving. These days were wondrous for the young missionary, he had never imagined that living in a world so far different from his own, one so simplistic, yet so advanced in its culture and understanding of the land. This tribe more so then the Nga Huroi of Chief Kirangi and of any others that he had met had a special connection to Papatuanuku, the Earth Mother, that no matter the offer they would not let the Pakeha impose their will on the land with no understanding of the relationship the tribe had for it.
This had to change, and he was going to aid them. The next day after a fishing trip he approached the Chief with his concerns; about the government’s plans to extort an agreement and strip the land of what it had to bare, and should they not agree the Crown and the Government by the Land Confiscation Act would take the land from them by force. Using Ngaio to help translate his message to the Chief the young missionary began to explain;
“I was selected to come on this mission because they took me to be naïve, because they assumed I would follow their orders. Even after a few weeks among your people I began to see that this land, and the connection you have with it is more sacred then the forced agreement between your people and the Crown. They will attempt to take this land from force and if I am right and you have decided not to allow the Pakeha influence to spread to your people I will stand beside you, to fight for this land, I have chosen to renounce my quest for God and take my place among your people if you should have me; I can teach my language to your youngsters, allow them to be better prepared for the uncertain future.”
The look on the Chief’s face was not what he had expected; anger and betrayal were struck on his tattooed face as though made of stone. He ordered the young missionary to be tied up and kept prisoner.
Weeks passed and an envoy from the Crown finally arrived, anxious that they had not heard word from the missionary. Of the two men who arrived with the ultimatum of surrender or death only one returned, bearing the head of his companion as a message of defiance to the Government.
On the evening of the 9th day the sounds of trumpets were heard on the horizon, the sound of a well ordered military force, the clink of metals and the steady left-right-left-right of soldiers marching in time as the ground seemed to shake. The warriors of the Ngati Tuhoi were dispersed in the bushes dug into trenches where the musket balls would not reach.
The battle that would ensue would leave many of the Ngati Tuhoi dead and a great deal more injured. Ngaio, sensing that this was not the wish of the young missionary released the young missionary from where he was being held and urged him to help her tribe. Knowing that this was the start of a great battle the best thing they could do would be to retreat and seek asylum with an ally to the south. Getting the message through to her stubborn father was not easy and only after seeing another group of his warriors blown up from cannon fire did he decide to retreat.
The Ngati Tuhoi retreated and took refuge to the south, vowing that the Pakeha would not maintain control of their land for long.
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The young missionary would become a great ally to the Ngati Tuhoi as them and Chief Kirangi, now fugitives from the Crown would inspire the resistance of the Maori people in the Waikato region and eventually lead to the establishment of Maori Royalty.
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