'A blight on our history'

The King Country section of the main trunk railway was transferred from the Government to Ngāti Maniapoto – and back again – in a ceremony at Te Māwhai on Saturday.

The event acknowledged “a blight on our history,” Treaty of Waitangi negotiations minister Andrew Little said.

Hundreds of people attended, many wore hats, gloves and scarves against the cold weather.

An historic taonga also made an appearance: a wheelbarrow associated with the tupuna Wahanui and used in a parallel event, 138 years ago, on Āperira 15, 1885, when the first sod was turned before the railway’s construction. Saturday’s date was chosen because it was the first April 15 after the treaty settlement was signed in late 2022.  

The Government party arrived by steam train this weekend, mirroring the first ceremony.

The occasion had two deeper meanings.

One was to redefine the relationship between the parties as a true co-governance partnership.

The other was to acknowledge the impact of the Crown’s past breaches of Te Ōhākī Tapu, the sacred compact. That was a series of discussions and assurances between Maniapoto and the Government during the late 1800s, which paved the way for the railway’s construction.  

The agreements upheld Maniapoto’s mana whakahaere or governance over its lands and people, or so rangatira had negotiated at the time.

However the Crown was soon showing “selective amnesia” about what they had promised, in the words of historian Dr Tom Roa.

Saturday’s speakers pointed out that the breaking of the sacred compact had many consequences.

Maniapoto orator Shane Te Ruki began by saying – as the crowd gathered in the shadow of Kakepuku – that he would go straight to the core of the issues.

“The heart of the matter is: our lands are gone.”

The gathering did not even take place on Māori land, Shane said.

“The train continues to roll through on the daily. But what have we gained from it? Landlessness, loss of language, the corruption of our tikanga, the corruption of our daily being.”

He said the Government would be held accountable, both today and through the coming generations.

“We are not an unreasonable people.

“We are patient, but patience can only endure so much.”

It was all about keeping promises, he said.

“We have kept ours; it is time for you to keep yours.”

After this and other speeches, the transferring of railway corridor ownership began.

The land was immediately switched between the two parties because Maniapoto wanted to emphasise that they continued to honour the deal made with Government, Tom said.

“We will not break the sacred compact. Our tūpuna agreed that they could have that area of the King Country for the railway.”

Saturday’s main focal point symbolised this back and forth.

Andrew wheeled a barrow across, after the pōwhiri.

“After that, rangatira, descendants of those who made the agreement back in 1885, exchanged some sod and wheeled it over a little causeway and gave it back to the Crown,” Tom said.  

The bright yellow 2023 barrow was a modern one – Wahanui’s taonga had been too fragile to use for its original purpose after the passage of nearly one and a half centuries.

Andrew’s speech covered his aspirations for the Crown’s role going forward.

“We seek to restore the relationship, long broken and fractured. Long the basis of mistrust, and the loss of hope.

“For my generation those events are a blight on our history. We can’t forget them, and we shouldn’t forget them. The Crown has made promises; it has broken those promises. Now we must restore your faith.”

Local officials including Ōtorohanga mayor Max Baxter and Waitomo mayor John Robertson were present.

Max described the events as “a long time coming.”

In an earlier comment on the occasion, Te Nehenehenui chair Bella Takiari-Brame said the ceremony contained lessons for the future.

“This ceremony is a reminder that our tūpuna held fast to their beliefs during challenging times, and we must carry that through to today and into the future.”

In that future, Tom said there would be more direct communication, for example.

“Annually we will meet face to face with Crown representatives, but in particular, ministers of the Crown,” Tom said.

The iwi would hui with Government about its aspirations for the health, education, housing and employment of its people, including the 90% of Maniapoto who live outside the rohe.

For Te Rohe Pōtae historian and kaumātua Dr Tom Roa, the key to understanding this kaupapa begins in the turbulent 1870s.

“Following the battle of O-Rākau and the laying down of the aukati [boundary] ... the King Country was closed to anyone unfriendly to the Māori King, or to the Maniapoto rangatira.  

“On pain of death, actually,” Tom said.

“The Government sent some surveyors into the northern King Country. And they were politely escorted off. They came back the second time. Their pegs were pulled up. And then they were again, escorted out of the King Country and told, ‘If you come back, you’ll be shot.’

“They came back. They did it again. So, why waste our time escorting them out again? [The leadership] decided to send a message to the Crown that this is not on.

“The [surveyors] came back and they were shot.”

The then-Government claimed the men were “executed as spies.”

“[In reality] they were surveying Māori lands. They’d been warned not to do it.

“This was the extent of mana Māori motuhake back in the 1870s; Māori autonomy.

“We had this central part of the North Island that was ostensibly a part of New Zealand but was actually a sovereign territory which became known as the King Country.

“For about 25 years ... Māori rule in that space was unchallenged.

“Ngāti Maniapoto says we’ve never surrendered the mana Māori motuhake which still sits over the King Country, despite the fact that de jure [according to the the law and the legal systems] so much of the land was taken. And now it is in other than Māori hands,” Tom said.

Another key factor, according to historian Vincent O’Malley, was the doubling of the King Country’s population between the 1860s and the 1880s, with refugees from Waikato and Taranaki.

This happened at a time when war and the confiscation of Waikato lands meant there were vastly fewer resources available to feed those people.

“That caused enormous suffering,” Vincent said.

“The rangatira were under acute pressure.”

Against that background, hui about building Te Ara o Tūrongo took place in the 1880s.

Railway mania gripped the world at this time – transcontinental tracks were being laid in Europe, Russia, the United States and Australia among other places.  

Ngāti Maniapoto leadership saw opportunities for their people by allowing the North Island’s cities to be linked.

“Trading the goods that were being produced in our gardens and our farms through our own agricultural effort,” was one such advantage, Tom said.

They would be able to catch the train and travel in relative comfort without having to walk, take a horse and dray, or row a boat.

With these considerations in mind, the rangatira gave the Government permission to build the railway line. But the Crown honoured few of their agreements.

For example, the land permitted by Maniapoto was supposed to be one chain [20m] either side of the tracks, other than where railway stations had been planned.

“The Crown ignored [that] and had the resources to just take it over, through much legal artifice, as well as the old adage that possession is nine tenths of the law.”

They also allowed the Land Court into the King Country, which was contrary to the agreement.

“And it’s fair to say that some of our people, Ngāti Maniapoto also took advantage of financial gain by working with the Crown,” Tom said.

Maniapoto leadership were told they could travel by rail without charge. The Crown also offered free access to the railway system to send Te Rohe Pōtae resources to market across New Zealand.

Neither happened.

“The Crown reneged on their sacred compact.”

It was also agreed that the King Country would remain dry – but soon afterwards, Tom said, liquor was being sold at Kāwhia.  

Vincent said the Crown saw Te Ōhākī Tapu as, “a means to prise open the district.”

Maniapoto wanted to preserve control over their affairs, he said.

“Ultimately the Crown betrayed those aspirations. It was used as the thin edge of the wedge to open up the King Country to Crown control.”

The Crown went on to claim there had not even been an agreement – an omission Tom Roa called “selective amnesia.”

Historian Michael Belgrave wrote that Maniapoto maintained they had agreed to a compact. But:

“The Crown rejected this claim for, as Alexander McLintock, the parliamentary historian, found, there was no one event that could be called a compact.”

Vincent supported Tom’s characterisation of the Government perspective as selective amnesia.

“It certainly suited the Crown’s interest to deny those obligations.”

Vincent also said they demonstrated a monocultural perspective in arguing that because there was no one written document there was no agreement.