Studying In New Zealand: THE NORTHLAND DISTRICT

On the weekend of Febuary 14^th, I was invited to a weekend meeting held by my friend’s hapu. We stayed at their marae (extended family) in Hokianga, a tiny rural community in the Northland District. This building, consisting of a large meeting room, which doubles as open sleeping quarters, a dining space conjoined to the spacious kitchen, and male and female bathrooms, overlooks the Tapuwae (Sacred Feet) River. This river runs further inland and spills out into the Hokianga Harbor. Just beyond the water sits the Rawene ferry harbor. A vehicular ferry crosses the short distance between Rawene, a costal fisheries town, and the Kohu Kohu ferry landing. Hokianga Road leads visitors farther east and west. A ten minute drive along the north-eastern route on this road takes ferry riders to Kohu Kohu, an equally small town with an illustrious history of wars, trade, and missionary settlements.

The ambience of the Kohu Kohu is punctuated with historical artifacts, which give it a feeling of settler quaintness. The first rail carriage is displayed at the edge of the town centre; the first bridge in New Zealand is preserved and the history of how it came to be in Kohu Kohu is written on a board. Where tall high rises would be, there are instead mostly single story, colonial-style and bungalow buildings. A memorial to fallen war heroes, marking the entryway to the town pier, commemorates these communities’ intimate relationship with patriotic losses. Maori history in contrast is more subdued, interwoven quietly into the strands of the more vocal, European fabric. The small town character is further pronounced by the typical sounds of nature; noises associated with traffic and industry are replaced by the rustling of leaves that brush against foliage, the high-pitched squeals of sea birds, and the steady murmurs of insects.

There are many reminders of colonial settlement here. The marae, too, reveals its ties to the past. The walls of the marae are filled with photos of kin, who had served in wars, had built the first, thatched-roof marae, and those who had built the first Catholic Church in Hokianga. This church, its stature dignified by a large cross at the steeple, can be seen clear across the Tapuwae River from various points along Hokianga Road. The marae’s family tree is illustrated through last names. Proof of bloodline is in the faces of extended family members who bore traces of features inherited from their progenitors.

Traces of this history are mapped on the face of my friend. His nose resembles that of a dark-skinned uncle and his mouth and chin look very much like those of a matrilineal aunt, whose features divulged a strong, European lineage. His face leaves no doubt that he is a part of these souls. He had told me that he was Maori by virtue of his birth mother; he talked occasionally about his family in the North, and explained bits and pieces of Maori culture to me. His words would sometimes be peppered with Maori terminology, informing me that he understood the language better than he had at first let on. Not able to speak or understand the language, I often got lost during revelations about his other culture.

On the day of the meeting, I decided to walk to the local library, a mere 6 kilometers away from the marae. Along the way, however, I ran into a black-and-white “backpackers” sign pointing to a dirt road to the left of me. A sign at the edge of this dirt road identified it as the Tree House Backpackers. Certain there was internet connection there, I turned in and made enquiries. The owner greeted me and offered to sell me internet time and a cup of coffee. As we went through the motions of paying, setting me up with the internet so I could send my curriculum vitae to a research institution in Potsdam, Germany, and serving coffee, I learned that the owner and her husband, both from Australia, sort of came into the Tree House by chance. After letting people traveling to the Northland stay on their property, they decided to convert it into a backpackers’ hostel. They built and expanded over a number of years, adding bungalows and more rooms, to become a full service hostel.

I must say that I was impressed by the cleanliness of the hostel and the hospitality of the owner. Although I wasn’t a paying guest there, she accommodated my needs, very much like my hosts at the marae. The hostel is surrounded by nature, as the sleeping and eating quarters are nested in the back of the road towards the mountains. I perused through the tourist materials as I waited for my coffee to steep in the press, and discovered that the owners sponsor nature walks amongst the kiwi birds that as I learned over this weekend are plentiful in this area. Most importantly, this cul de sac of a hostel is extremely quiet. On this particular later morning, the fruit trees growing in the property and wildlife kept me company. The only sounds indicating the presence of humans are the muffled conversations of a couple in the parking lot and the distant shuffling of footsteps in the main room below where I sat with my book and brew.

The beautiful setting of the hostel rivals that of this area. Apart from the occasional car on the road, tranquility characterizes the ambience of Kohu Kohu and Hokianga. The landscape is dominated by green hills, coastal waters, swampy river banks, and lush foliage. Losses of Kuari forests, while devastating to the balance of the ecosystem, failed to destroy the beauty of this cresecent-shaped community in the lower northland. Even the Lonely Planet seems to know nothing about it. The pages devoted to the Northland District acknowledges Whangare, Keith Urban’s hometown, the Coromandel Region, the Kauri Forest Coastline, Waitangi, and Thames. Not surprisingly, the Lonely Planet devotes most of the pages written about this district to European settlements. There are no words on the changing demographics of this region; it could be that compared to the Auckland districts, the migration patterns of this region is somewhat inert and doesn't inspire analysis from some visitors.

Something else I found remarkable about this area was the food. Though much of what is produced here can be bought anywhere in New Zealand, the flavors of the lamb from a lamb farm not far from the marae of my friend’s cousin and the kumera, which I bought from the local pub, tasted sweeter and more wholesome than any other I had tasted in my time in New Zealand. The cousin had fed us on the evening of our arrival, treating us to a fare of roasted lamb and root vegetables roasted in his oven in a very simple way. On our final hours, we were treated to mussels and sea urchin harvested from the coast. The flavor of the urchin lingered on my tongue, attesting to the freshness of these newly harvested water bounties. The sweetness of the sea urchins was especially delightful since the ones I have tasted in Japan were a little bitter. Besides being sweet, these also had the texture of durian flesh. Mmmmmmm.

At the end of this weekend, my friend’s hapu took a boat ride along the Tapuwae. This ride exposed the channels, which jut out onto the mainland, and gives a different scenic view. One of the elders told stories about the times when, in his childhood, they collected mussels buried in the sandbanks of the River and fished for mullet, which still inhabit the river. No doubt these fish find sanctuary in the tangled roots of the mangroves that are planted like permanent fixtures all along the length of the river’s edges.

It was a learning weekend for me, one that allowed me to understand a little more about European-Maori relations and to catch a deeper glimpse into the beginnings of this relationship. Upon reading more about the Northland District in the Lonely Planet, I learned that this district bore the marks of the first European settlements and the painful concessions made by the Maori in the Waitangi Treaty. Land contestations continue today.