The Dream Swimmer, page 16
The eastern gate was a construction emblematic of Rua himself. The word Mihaia appeared as a crest surrounded by icons of esoteric power – alpha and omega, the trefoil, the eight-pointed morning star Venus, and seven-pointed Halley’s Comet. Venus and Halley’s Comet signified the two Sons of God, Christ and Rua.
The trefoil and diamond were the predominant emblems of the fabulous Hiona, Rua’s court house and meeting-house. Modelled after the Temple of Solomon, Hiona was a completely circular building of two storeys. The lower great court was sixty feet across and twenty-six feet high; there the Tekau ma rua met in judicial hearings relating to the community. The upper court was sacred to Rua, his wives and two Tuhoe elders, and symbolised their elevated status above the rest of the Iharaira. From an outside staircase Rua often preached and uttered divinations to the people. Hiona was a Maori mosque. Its brilliant colours of white, with diamonds of yellow and trefoils of blue, replicated Israel’s royal vestments. They conjured up biblical ancestors like Mordecai, David, Solomon himself. And by using the iconic diamond, they tied the history of Israel to that of Te Kooti, Te Whiti, Ratana, Rua himself and the Maori Israelites living in Aotearoa. Inside was a circular table that could revolve at the touch.
‘When my hair is at its full length,’ Rua said, ‘all the kings of the world will come to Maungapohatu. In Hiona are thrones for King George V, the Kaiser and other rulers, but mine is highest. And when they come, then will be abolished the Parliament in Wellington, and I will rule New Zealand from Maungapohatu.’
All this was potent to the Maori imagination.
So too was Hiruharama Hou, the double-gabled house celebrating the allegiance of Tuhoe and Whakatohea to Rua’s millennial dream. The frontage was decorated with emblems signifying Rua’s sovereignty over the world, the Holy Spirit of God and God’s promise to his Chosen People, the Iharaira. There were sixteen rooms in the house which was of the same dimensions as Solomon’s own house at Jerusalem.
From the flagstaff of Hiruharama Hou flew Rua’s flags of joy. His own flag carried the slogan ‘Kotahi Te Ture Mo Nga Iwi E Rua Maungapohatu’. An ancestral flag acknowledged Maori nationalism.
The prophet Rua also lived within the wahi tapu. Like King Solomon, Rua took unto himself many wives. Pinepine was the senior wife, the one called ‘the mother wife’ who eventually bore Rua seventeen children. After her came Pehirangi, Te Akakura, Te Aue, Mihiroa, Wairimu, Whirimako, Ngapera, Kiha, Waereti, Te Arani and Piimia. Of all the wives, Te Akakura was Rua’s favourite and was likened unto the Queen of Sheba. She was passionate, wilful, quarrelsome and disobedient, and Rua couldn’t get enough of her. A major chieftainess of Ngatirongo, she brought to the marriage the iwi who had been Rua’s primary opposition within the Tuhoe confederation.
Like their husband, all the wives dressed formally in the European style of the day: high-necked, lace-frilled blouses, ankle-length skirts, waists cinched with wide belts. Their personal jewellery – rings, pendants, brooches – set them apart from other women. People still remember the mystique and glamorous aura that surrounded them. When out, they always wore feathered hats and twirled parasols. When you saw them together, they were an exotic and unforgettable assembly, mysterious and alluring.
The wives, all of whom had household staff, lived with Rua in his House of the Lord. The exception was Pinepine. She was like unto the daughter of Pharaoh who married Solomon, and therefore had her own quarters. People who wished to visit her had to take their clothes off and sprinkle water over themselves before entering. When they left, this ritual was repeated. Nor did Pinepine ever handle cooked food.
It was to Pinepine that Rua entrusted his English Bible. He built a small whare, Te Whare Kawenata, to house the Bible, and only Pinepine could enter it. The Bible had an embossed velvet cover, was eighteen inches thick and weighed seventy-seven pounds, equivalent to the seventy-seven sins of mankind. The people believed that it was the covenant that had originally come from the Holy Land of Israel.
For nine years from 1907 to 1916 Maungapohatu thrived, and Rua was in his ascendancy. It wasn’t all plain sailing, but Rua triumphed in establishing a bastion of Maoridom against the Pakeha.
Pharaoh, however, could not countenance such a kingdom within his lands. As he had done with Te Kooti, and as he was to do later with Riripeti, the Pakeha declared war on Rua.
‘Glory be to thy Holy name,’ Riripeti said.
‘Do not think, Grandchild, that Pharaoh had ever been happy about the presence of Rua. As far back as 1907 he had passed the Tohunga Suppression Act, a piece of legislation explicitly aimed at Rua’s activities. When it was deliberated in the House, Hone Heke, the MP for Northern Maori, suggested that it be extended to include European quacks and Pakeha tohunga!’
The matriarch laughed, her voice trilling in the air. Then her voice darkened.
‘Dr Bellamy even threatened to use the Act to suppress me when I built the Ship of God. Did you know, e mokopuna, that the Act is still in force?’
It was difficult for Pharaoh to enforce the Act against Rua. Nevertheless the Pakeha authorities watched his actions with increasing concern, and doubled their efforts to find the excuse to imprison Rua.
At the time, Maori were banned from selling liquor to other Maori. Rua himself had earlier preached against its consumption. However, drinking increased, and he sought to control it, as well as to benefit from selling it, by being a purveyor of alcohol. In 1911, Rua faced his first charge of supplying liquor to the Natives. He was tried and fined. In 1915 he was similarly charged with sly grogging. He was busy harvesting at the time and did not appear in court. Justice Dyer held him in contempt, and fined and sentenced him to be imprisoned for nine months.
In February 1916, the police tried to arrest Rua at Te Wai-iti, near Ruatahuna.
‘There are three of them, husband,’ Pinepine said.
‘So I see,’ Rua answered. ‘Just let them try to arrest me.’
Rua was resting with twenty of his followers, and watched with amusement as the three policemen came walking out of the sun. He knew they were disconcerted at the extent of his support. He waved them to come forward.
‘Are you Rua Kenana Hepetipa?’ Sergeant Cummings asked. He gave warning glances to Constable Keepa and Constable Grant to be on their guard.
‘You know I am,’ Rua laughed. ‘Have we not seen each other before, or is it just that all Maori look alike?’
Pinepine tittered and others took up her derision.
‘Sir,’ Sergeant Cummings said, ‘I am required to serve you with two distress warrants. You have defaulted payment of fines for illegally selling liquor to the Natives. If you pay the fines your length of imprisonment may be reduced.’
‘You know very well,’ Rua answered, ‘why I continue to refuse to pay. Why should only the Pakeha be able to sell liquor to my people, and the Maori not? Why should there be one law for the Pakeha and another for the Maori? We should all be under the one law.’ Rua paused and his eyes glowed. ‘Nor will I go back to prison. I am not a petty criminal. I am Rua, the Chosen One of God. My mana and tapu will be made noa if I go to prison. Not only that, but I have already served for the offences of which I am charged.’
Sergeant Cummings stiffened. ‘Sir, should you not pay the fines, I am empowered to seize as much of your stock as required to be equivalent to the fines.’
‘Seize what you want,’ Rua laughed. ‘You will be in the possession of nothing because I have no stock.’
Rua loved to tease the Pakeha and to surround him with uncertainties.
‘In that case,’ Sergeant Cummings said, ‘I am obliged to place you under arrest.’
Pinepine gave a small moan. Rua’s stance stiffened.
‘No, I will not go with you.’ He indicated his followers. ‘I will die first. I will die on the land before the Government will take me. Do you think my Iharaira will let you take me?’
‘Is that a threat?’ Sergeant Cummings asked.
‘You touch me, and all my people will tackle you,’ Rua answered.
Pinepine intervened. ‘Husband,’ she said, ‘we should start back to Maungapohatu.’
Rua nodded. He looked at Sergeant Cummings with a pitying smile.
‘Why were you sent to deal with me?’ Rua asked. ‘Tell the big man to come and see me. Tell him to come to me at Maungapohatu. He can see for himself that all the rumours about me are wrong. I have not fortified Maungapohatu.’
‘Who is the big man?’
‘The Governor, the Prime Minister, or the second fellow. No use sending anyone else. I am a rangatira and deal only with other rangatira.’ Rua motioned to Sergeant Cummings that the audience was at an end. Then, ‘Oh, yes,’ he continued, ‘you tell the Prime Minister that I have fourteen hundred men and I am not letting any of them join up to fight in the war.’
‘Why not?’
‘The King of England is already beaten,’ Rua said. ‘The Germans will win and, when they do, the Kaiser will make me the King here in Aotearoa. I’ll be the King of the Pakeha and the Maori.’
And because of his words, Pharaoh added another charge to Rua’s list: sedition.
Rua retreated to his holy city. He had no inkling that Pharaoh, enraged beyond measure at Rua’s defiance, would come after him. He charged Commissioner John Cullen with the task of bringing the traitor Rua Kenana to justice and putting down the armed resistance that was likely to be put up by the stronghold of German supporters.
Three police squads were organised to rendezvous in Maungapohatu to carry out Pharaoh’s orders. They were already in battle mode, hyped up by rumours that Maungapohatu bristled with machineguns and cannons.
The first scouting squad of three police originated from Whakatane and reached Maungapohatu via the Waimana Valley on Saturday 1 April. The second squad of seven police came from Gisborne. Travelling fast up the Hangaroa River track, they met with the first squad on Sunday 2 April. Meantime, the main squad of fifty-five crack police, led by Commissioner John Cullen, was on its way from Rotorua. ‘We shall teach Rua a lesson he will never forget,’ Pharaoh said.
Bivouacked on Monday 27 March, the main squad comprised two munitions wagons and six brakes. When they reached Ruatahuna on Thursday 30 March, arms were issued to the squad: twenty .303 rifles and some forty service revolvers. The rest of the munitions were transferred to twenty packhorses for the ascent to Maungapohatu. By midday on Sunday 2 April, the squad had come in sight of its target.
‘Squad, halt,’ Commissioner Cullen called. ‘Load weapons.’
Rua was by now aware of the impending action. Together with his two sons Whatu and Toko he had already had discussions with the two earlier squads, inviting them to take tea with him and shaking their hands. He was apprised of Commissioner Cullen’s imminent arrival. He called to his women to prepare a feast of welcome. Then:
‘Tell Commissioner Cullen to come and speak with me,’ Rua said. ‘It is our custom to welcome guests formally here and talk the matter over first. Until the welcome is over, tell him to keep the soldiers back. Don’t bring them on to the waahi tapu.’
Commissioner Cullen’s response was to disregard Rua’s request. He advanced on his horse. Others of the squad also mounted and accompanied him. When Rua saw the police coming, he went across to some of his people sitting on the marae and said, ‘Go inside the meeting house.’ Some of them refused. ‘Well, if you will not go inside, you must not interfere. Even if I am dragged through the dust and my face is spat upon, don’t interfere. If I am arrested, you are not to oppose it.’
Then Rua and his two sons turned to welcome Commissioner Cullen.
‘Which one of you is Rua?’ Commissioner Cullen called. He was still on horseback.
‘I am Rua.’
‘Haere mai, Rua,’ Commissioner Cullen called. ‘Come with me.’
Rua stepped towards him and Commissioner Cullen urged his horse towards the walking man. The motion alarmed Rua. Then he saw mounted horsemen come abruptly upon him from the side.
Rua put out his hands. ‘Taihoa. Wait.’
He called to the people who had refused to go inside the meeting house.
‘He pu era. He kino. They have guns. That’s bad.’
From the shade of her sacred whare, Pinepine saw it all.
‘We were not armed. We didn’t think it was going to happen. We were unprepared for the swiftness with which the police attacked, and their hostility. They thought we were a military fortress and they were expecting resistance. When resistance came, they immediately attacked. I heard the big man call, ‘Rua’s bolting. Collar him.’ Three policemen came swiftly up to my husband. He tried to move away from them. One of them grabbed his arm. I heard the rip as one of his shirt sleeves was torn off. I cried out to him, ‘Husband!’ Then several other constables tackled my husband and they all rolled down the bank. One of them punched him in the face. Another had an axe which he was going to use on Rua. He put it on the ground and tried to handcuff Rua. Then Whatu was there, and he picked up the axe to defend his father. Aue, the police surrounded him too, and knocked him to the ground and handcuffed him.
‘By that stage all the Iharaira were starting to moan. They saw their prophet being handcuffed, and some ran to save him. The police were forcing him to walk, frog-marching him from us. He was yelling at me, at all of us, to save ourselves.
‘Then someone in the police fired. We were so shocked. The noise echoed around and around the hills. The dogs barked. People started to scream. The police scattered. It was like somebody had aimed at Heaven.
‘I heard one of the police call out, “It’s an ambush! It’s an ambush!” My son Toko and the koroua, Te Maipi, armed themselves in defence. The police began shooting and shooting. No orders were given, and yet the shooting carried on for thirty minutes. They opened up on us. We were all in such terror at Pharaoh’s rage. When it was all over, two were dead and three were wounded. And one of the dead was my son Toko. He had run to get a double-barrelled shotgun. He was trying to save his father. When he was wounded, he tried to limp away. The police tracked after him and shot him dead. They shot Te Maipi too.
‘The children saw it all. So did the women. We were screaming and wailing, and the children were like little birds trying to escape the murders that were done that day. As for me, how can a mother ever forget it, when her son dies bloodied in her arms?’
Toko’s shirt was white, and when he was hit a red rose blossomed against the whiteness.
The bullet had fractured both bones in his right arm and severed both arteries. The bullet had struck his wrist and travelled toward the elbow. It shattered the whole of the forearm upwards. It tore the sinews at the point of entrance and made a large gaping wound. Blood was fountaining everywhere.
With a cry, Toko fell to the ground. The long grass hid him from the sight of the police, who began to cry out, ‘Where did he fall? Where has he gone to ground? Has he been hit?’ He knew it would not be long before they came upon him. He began to stumble and crawl away to safety. Behind, he heard a voice crying, ‘He’s been hit, boys! Here’s his trail of blood. Let’s hunt him out.’
The shock of the wound was beginning to affect Toko. He saw somebody coming and gave a small cry. But it was Te Maipi. He had a gun, and with him was another Iharaira.
‘We must get you away from here,’ Te Maipi said.
But it was too late. The police were upon them. When Te Maipi tried to stop the police, gun at ready, a hail of bullets greeted him. The three men split up. Te Maipi tried to find safety under a whare. The police dragged him out by his feet into the paddock. They shot him like a dog while his face was to the ground. One of the bullets left a wound extending from behind his right ear to above the right eye. The skull was shattered, destroying part of Te Maipi’s brain. His gun, a Browning automatic, was later found to have jammed.
All Toko could think of was that he must seek refuge with his mother. He stumbled toward Pinepine’s whare.
‘Oh, mother,’ Toko cried as she gathered him in her arms.
Quickly, at the back of her house, Pinepine bandaged Toko’s wound. But the police fell on Pinepine’s whare like wolves. A bullet whined and punched through the door.
‘Surrender!’ the police called.
Pinepine had one of her young children with her.
‘Save yourselves,’ Toko said. ‘It is only me they want.’
With a cry, Pinepine kissed her son. Another bullet went over her head as she made good her escape. She looked back in time to see Toko lying under washbasins near her whare.
Toko was unarmed, but like Te Maipi he was dragged out from beneath the washbasins and taken into the nearby paddock. He was killed by two .303 bullets, one at the bottom of his heart and the other on his right chest. The trajectory suggests that he was shot in the back. He was Pinepine’s dearly beloved son.
It was only when the women of the marae came out of the meeting house that the shooting stopped. They began to walk across the lines of fire, calling, ‘Children of Israel, hoki mai, hoki mai.’ The firing died away, the shots splintering across the sacred mountain.
The police began to round up other villagers. They took them down to the marae at gunpoint. Among them were Rua’s sacred wives.
‘If you don’t come quickly we will shoot you,’ the police said.
Thirty-one men were arrested. Not one of them was armed. For three days the police kept Maungapohatu under a condition of virtual imprisonment. Then they left, taking Rua and five others to trial in Auckland. That trip was a nightmare of pain. The prisoners were forced to walk behind the horses. The handcuffs had no swivels. Shackled together, the men had to try to walk in time with each other’s movements. As they departed the area it is said the angel Gabriel came unto Rua and wept with him.
Rua’s trial began on 9 June 1916. The actual trial documents no longer exist, having been destroyed in 1949. For the next forty-seven days, the proceedings captured the New Zealand public.
One of the first facts to come to light was that the arrest, having been prosecuted on a Sunday, was illegal under the Lord’s Day Observance Act. Commissioner Cullen knew that he had an illegal warrant and realised the implications of his wrongful arrest almost immediately after the attack. He could face eleven charges: two of murder or manslaughter, others of causing bodily harm and assault with intent to kill. If charged and found guilty, he could be hung or made to serve a long period of imprisonment.
