Embedded Files
This article is drawn from a presentation to the Society in November 2022. The History curriculum has since been further revised.
This year, 2023, will see everyone in New Zealand schools from year one through to year 10 (what used to be called the 4th form) learning about our history. Previously New Zealand history was not a compulsory part of the curriculum, even for those studying history as an NCEA subject from year 11.
I worked on the communication of the new curriculum for a few months and thought a lot about what it could mean for those learning in Ōwhiro, Houghton and Island Bays. Here are some of those thoughts.
The former US Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld drew international attention to an old adage that applies to our local history as well as it does to world affairs:
“There are ‘known knowns’: things we know we know. And there are ‘known unknowns’: things we know we do not know. But there are also ‘unknown unknowns’—the ones we don't know we don't know”.
History can deal only with the ‘known knowns’ and the ‘known unknowns’. And historians must always expect to be surprised by new discoveries of ‘unknown unknowns’ things we did not know that we did not know.
Various people have been credited with the witticism that history is ‘just one darned thing after another’. But whoever said this was wrong. The telling of history is not the recitation of events but the putting of events into context. And the new curriculum attempts to do this by telling schools what they choose to teach should relate to one of four ‘big ideas’. And they are big:
the foundational and continuous history of Māori,
the impact of colonisation and settlement,
the power people and groups hold, and
the relationships that shaped our history.
The local curriculum our local schools will teach will not necessarily be about things that happened near to the schools. In a curriculum context ‘local’ means what is taught locally, not ‘teaching about local things’.
But Island Bay, Ōwhiro Bay, Houghton Bay history has the power to stimulate and inspire learners because it is literally ‘starting where the students are’.
It will very quickly become apparent that ‘local’ is always just the beginning and that our communities as we imagine them are really part of something much bigger.
We have always been a part of much larger communities
First – a Māori network of hapū and iwi, exploring and trading among themselves
Then – a place where people from other local areas farmed, fished; quarried or came for recreation;
Then – a place where people (mainly) came to be with their families and sleep, and from which they had to travel to paid work.
These are, broadly, the events which can be thought of in terms of the curriculum’s ‘big ideas’.
The foundational and continuous history of Māori
The foundational and continuous history of Māori
This ‘big idea’ proved to be controversial when first proposed. People felt left out. Why ‘just’ Māori? And is it true that Māori history is ‘foundational’ for the history of those who are not Māori?
So many local histories have a page or two at the start dealing with Māori history and then go on to cover later years after Pākehā settlement as if Māori had ceased to exist. Histories of Wellington are typically like this. They are told as a story of replacement. This excludes the Māori of today and all those in the generations between Pākehā settlement and now.
So the curriculum drafters are right to stress the historical reality of Māori as first people and as a continuing living part of our history.
Reflecting this reality in what is taught in our schools needs to begin with getting a sense of how what is now our home was seen by the earliest settlers – who were to become the ancestors of Māori.
Our bays are only about 20 kilometres by sea from Wairau Bar, a site now proven by DNA and other analysis to be the resting place of people who had immigrated to New Zealand from elsewhere in Polynesia. It is a site of first settlement and has provided huge amounts of information about those first humans to come here. The is a ‘known known’. What is unknown is whether those people came to Houghton, Island or Ōwhiro Bays. But we can speculate from shreds of evidence.
From our area to Wairau bar – on a good day, very close.
In Ōwhiro Bay various finds are recorded including items of (to me) archaic Polynesian appearance and a group of adzes.
Island Bay was the site of a pā. We know its name: ‘Uruhau’. It is always dangerous to infer meanings from parts of words but ‘Uru’ can mean – among other things - ‘to enter’ and ‘west’. ‘Hau’ means ‘wind’ or ‘breath’. Another known unknown: why was it so called?
The pā was not one of those enormous stuctures familiar to us from reconstructions of ancient pā built on Auckland volcanoes. It is described by a modern archeologist, Janet Davidson:
“On bare hillside exposed to the southerly wind. Water available in the gully below. Beach immediately below with shellfish available. View out over Island Bay towards Sinclair Head and across Cook Strait to the South Island. Partial view up the Paekawakawa valley to Berhampore."
“A series of terraces above a small village fortified by a stockade according to [Elsdon] Best. Twelve terraces are cut in the hill on the north side of the ridge and extend from just below the trig station down to a small flat area with steep drip on three sides. There are remains of terraces on this area. There are now no traces of fortifications. The lower area could, however, be easily defended. with steep drip on three sides. There are remains of terraces on this area. There are now no traces of fortifications.” .
Janet Davidson illustrates the site in this rough drawing:
Uruhau pā
Budding junior historians looking for topics of study will not find a lot about local Māori traditions in published material. But there are some.
Kupe, mentioned earlier, is associated with Pari Whero Red Rocks:
Nā, kei Pariwhero kei reira te wāhi i karapititia ai te ringa e te pāua ki te toka, ka pakaru te toto o te ringa o Kupe, whero tonu atu ngā pāua, ngā ngākihi, ngā pūpū o tērā wāhi, me ngā kōwhatu hoki tae mai ki tēnei rā e kīia ana.
“It was at Red Rocks, Sinclair Head, that his hand was pinched against a rock by a pāua, and the blood gushed forth from Kupe's hand and rendered red all the pāua, limpets and pūpū shellfish of that place, as well as the stones, and it is said that they are still red”. (Journal of the Polynesia Society 1927:275).
Another tradition, noted in the same source, holds that the red staining resulted from the regret Kupe felt for his relatives Matiu and Makaro, for whom the island in Te Whanganui a Tara Wellington Harbour are named.
Katahi a Kupe ka haere tonu mai, tae rawa atu ki te Whanga-nui-a-Tara ka mahue ena iramutu o Kupe, a Matiu, a Makaro. Katahi ka haere, tae rawa atu ki Pariwhero katahi ano ka tahuri mai ki muri, ka tangi a Kupe ki ona iramutu, whero tonu iho ki te paua, ki te powhatu, ki te ika, aranga tonu iho a kona ko Tangihanga-o-Kupe
Then Kupe travelled on, leaving Wellington Harbour and leaving behind his nieces, Matiou and Makaro. On reaching Oariwhero he turned and cried for them, staining red the pāua, the rocks and the fish; for this reason it is called ‘The weeping of Kupe’. [Note that Barretts Reef also has this name].
I have also heard that rather than Kupe himself being at Pariwhero, it was Matiu and Makaro who were there lamenting his absence and cut themselves in mourning, staining the rock.
A historian must decide whether to accept one of the stories as an accurate account of a real tradition or event, or some of them, or all of them, or none of them. I prefer to think of them all as stories telling us that Kupe was closely associated with the area and that Red Rocks had lasting importance, possibly as a navigational point, for many centuries. People with rocks taken from there should return them, I think.
Māori, in early times, I think, probably thought of the whole area of the top of Te Waipounanu, the South Island, and Te Upoko o te Ika, the bottom of the North Island, as linked areas of different activities – horticulture, hunting, fishing, stone mining and so on. The Historical Atlas of New Zealand makes this clear. Anyone studying history in school should have access to this book.
There is a story told of the transition of power between Ngāti Ira and Ngāti Toarangatira and Te Atiawa. The great leader Tamairangi and her son Kekerengu are said to have made a final stand on the Island of Taputeranga before leaving and confronting Ngāti Toa at Makara. It is said that Tamairangi so impresses the Ngāti Toa leader Te Rangihaeata that he took the group under his protection and they then lived freely for a time on Kāpiti and Tītahi Bay. This story is sometimes told in the context of bloodthirsty speculation and words like ‘conquest’, ‘extermination’ and ‘massacre’ are used. But descendants of Kekerengu live to this day in southern Wairarapa. Ngāti Toa and Te Atiawa dispute the issue of who has mana over Taputeranga Island.
The later history of Māori in our region includes the history of Māori who continued to fish here and hunt birds; the fishing was partly ruined when in the later 19th century sewage began to be dumped in the sea along the south coast. The outflow of sewerage pipes is tapu; food cannot be gathered where it is present. And so the use of the area for this purpose finished. But in the 1980s and 1990s Māori such as Ray Ahipene Mercer (a descendant of Tamairangi) were leading advocates of the clean water campaign that ended the practice.
Continuous Māori history is also the history of Māori families who settled in our bays living alongside other members of the community and who are no less Māori for that. These families had a range of relationships with their home marae and communities and also a range of participation in pan-tribal Māori organisations such as the Māori women’s welfare league. Suzanne Aubert, the founder of the Home of compassion was fluent in Maōri and wrote a Māori language grammar. Some of the sisters were Māori. There was probably Māori involvement as workers in quarrying and building – both houses, roads and infrastructure.
And in the 1970s Tapu Te Ranga Marae, founded by Bruce Stewart, created a new centre for Māori cultural activity influencing other organisations such as local conservation groups.
I think it is important that schools see continuing Māori history as being ‘what Māori people have done’ whether or not it fits preconceptions of what is ‘Māori’ and what is not.
The impact of colonisation and settlement
The impact of colonisation and settlement
Māori were the first settlers of this area – it is interesting how when people say ‘early settlers’ they usually mean ‘Pākehā settlers as if previous settlement was of no consequence’.
However, The modern Southern Bays are a product of British colonisation and imperialism after the workings of the New Zealand Company, the New Zealand wars and the Native Land Court dispossessed Māori of the land. The land was used for recreation and then for living space to support settlers – especially those who arrived after the 1860s; the nature of the areas relationship to imperial Britain was underlined by the hundreds of local men who fought in World War l and later World War Two. The communities’ experiences of these upheavals and the great depression are important parts of our histories.
Ken Findlay, of Te Rarawa, add iwi a local resident and campaigner – part of continuous Māori history. He featured in Southern Bays 2022
The colonial nature of New Zealand meant that non-British (called ‘alien’ immigration was discouraged. Southern Bays settlers were overwhelmingly British leading to the establishment of an Italian population being seen as a distinctive part of the character of Island Bay. The Italian community was, like its ‘British’ counterpart, wider than the Bays, with close ties to Lower Hutt, Eastbourne, Makara, Arapawa Island and Nelson. Again, the idea of ‘local’ history is not quite right. Those who disagree with colonialism and imperialism as a focus for the history curriculum need to look at how else to explain the different treatment in immigration and later, wartime, of the Italian population. But imperialism is not of course restricted to British imperialism: Southern Bays has previously documented the support in the 1930s among local Italians for Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia.
Like it or not, we were founded as British communities
‘Colonial settlers’ is one good naming option but it cuts across the fact that by the time most post-Māori settlement of our bays took place New Zealand was no longer a colony but a self-governing Dominion. There are interesting conversations to be had by those studying under the new curriculum about whether post-1907 immigration was ‘colonisation’. I would say yes, it was, but others may not.
Our early European settlers were focused on using our bays for a wide range of things. Farming was important (although before the widespread use of artificial fertilisers a great deal of land was needed for each of the town-milk-supply cows grazing our hills). Quarrying was important, with sand and gravel from the Ōwhiro Bay quarry a significant component of Wellington buildings and roads, including parliament buildings. It’s interesting to note that both Māori and then Pākehā searched for and used stone resources. The ‘Stone Age’ continues.
Another extractive industry, fishing was centred on Island Bay from the earliest days. The quarry has gone, unlamented, but fishing continues to be a source of identity and pride for us. The quarry operation of course can be seen as an extension of the important Māori industry of searching for, mining, and working stone for tools essential for their survival.
Gathering gravel at Ōwhiro Bay.
Two other extractive industries fueled our development as suburbs: coal and timber. We don’t know where the timber used to build the hundreds of houses that sprang up here after 1905. It’s another ‘known unknown’. The kauri doors of our older houses must have come from Coromandel, Auckland or Northland as those ancient forests were plundered and turned from the place of gigantic plants plains and hills of grassland. The rimu and matai may have come from the massive forestry projects that stretched from Upper Hutt into Rangitikei. One day soon someone will do DNA testing and find out. This timber industry of course was a colonialist enterprise, driven by the short-term profit to be extracted from lands recently acquired from Māori. Recent work by the Waitangi Tribunal helps identify the processes by which the land changed hands, and out houses came to be.
Another known unknown is how, in the early days, the huge amount of timber needed was transported here, along with tonnes of nails, hectares of glass for windows, and kilometres of corrugated iron. So far I have found no images of horse-drawn carriages of petrol lorries transporting the timer from either the Port of Wellington or, possibly, the railway station. And where did the thousands of tradespeople live? In those days of construction was there a rush hour in the morning towards, rather than from, Island Bay?
Another extractive industry that fueled, literally, our suburbs’ growth was coal. Look at any old picture and count the chimneys. Every classroom in the schools had a fire. A three-bedroom house would have a coal range in the kitchen and at least one other fireplace, sometimes two. This coal was being transported over many, many kilometres to Island Bay but one of the things we don’t know is exactly how this happened. We know there were coal depots, but how was the coal taken to them. What was the system of delivery? Was it horses as it was until a late date for milk? How much did it cost? Houses were of course poorly insulated – did coal, with all its pollution problems overcome this? People sometimes praise the trams which were so important to our communities as early examples of clean fuel use for public transport – they were electric. Yes, but they depended for reliable generation on the coal-fired power station at Miramar.
Looking south from where Aranoni St is now c 1930. Note the timber construction of the new house on the left – and count the chimneys!
There is a lot of information about fish and fishing centred on Island Bay and some illustrates the hard life of colonists, whatever privilege they were exercising in establishing themselves and exploiting the resources of the area. In the Previous (2022) Southern Bays there is a wonderfully-written description of net fishing in Cook Strait in the 1890s by Will Lawson, who as well as the fishing itself, described life ashore.
The whare is made of a medley of material. “We make,” a fisherman says. And it is a creditable performance. Galvanised iron, old boxes and driftwood all find a sphere of usefulness here. Inside, there is a wide fireplace, and at the opposite end wide double bunks, four in number, fill nearly half the space. Here they live, these toilers of the sea, rent free and comfortable enough, but for the chilliness that bites through galvanised iron in the hours before the dawn, and the isolation. From elderberry wood a man is skilfully shaping a netting-needle, and with a similar needle another is mending a net. With the net the fish are caught, and the price of the fish pays for all the labour — adequately or otherwise, as the gods decide—but the skill is there all the time, and the endless toil.
The modern local fishing industry is now approach its 150th year of operation and before that there were 500 or more years of Māori fishing. Developing curriculum material based on this would offer not only historical but science and literary fun and facts for students.
S.C. Smith Photo. Original caption (NZ Graphic): The photo shows a cottage at Island Bay which was literally blown away by the force of the gale last week. The original position of the cottage is indicated by the chimney, from which it is now separated by a distance of almost 25ft.
The most obvious consequence of colonisation and settlement of our Bays is our houses. Their ages range from 120 years to houses built yesterday. But housing was not the first Pākehā use of the area. It was recreation – first the famous racecourse running along Medway St, across the Parade, to Clyde, Derwent and Humber Streets; and also the Hotel and other tearooms, cafes, and nightclubs.
The extension of the tram lines all the way to the sea in 1905 brought hundreds of people to the area on weekends and no doubt increased demand for the houses eventually built on the land levelled for the racecourse.
Before public transport we were just too far away for people working in the industrial centres of Newtown, Evans Bay, and the Courtenay Place area of Wellington to live. The trams were the basis of the development of Island Bay and, with a bit of walking, Houghton and Ōwhiro Bays too.
Changes in housing density between c1909 and 1985.
Island Bay houses and commercial buildings are built in every style possible from Edwardian villas through to modern flats. The area seems to have been planned with infill housing in mind as some streets have missing post box numbers, presumably in anticipation of the back yards being filled. You can also see 120 years of home improvement with Edwardian villas transformed with architectural elements of every era since. Each of our churches has an interesting history, from a Chapman Taylor shed at the Anglican church to the modern buildings that replaced the Presbyterian and Baptist originals to the Three buildings associated with the Catholic Church – the original church, now Serbian Orthodox, the Humber St Hall, for a time the Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the 1960s architectural statement dominating the valley. Erskine College is gone, but the historic chapel remains and the Home of Compassion has lost its original buildings but added history in the form of a museum and visitor centre focussed on their founder, Suzanne Aubert.
You can also see the development of Island Bay from a sparsely populated new suburb in the 1920s to a much more densely populated area in the 1970s. Now, of course, the density is increasing and Island Bay is gradually taking on a more urban, and less suburban, nature. Houghton and Ōwhiro Bays are not far behind.
Power
Power
The remaining big ideas of the curriculum are abstract: the exercise of power and relationships.
Island Bay has, from its earliest days, been the scene of disputes and conflict. From the succession of Māori iwi, to the disputes over the cycleway the humans of the area have not always agreed, and often battled each other and Government, with the Wellington City Council, with land developers, quarry owners and with each other.
Good topics for local history study involving ‘power’ include:
The sucession of iwi holding mana over the area, acquisition of land by the New Zealand Company, conscription in World War l & ll, the state surveillance of Italians in World War ll, immigration restrictions that hindered immigration of non-British subjects and so-called ‘race aliens’ such as Chinese, and political campaigns around both local and central government policies and personalities. The Society Archive is fill of information on these subjects.
Evening Post 9 December 2000
Some local power struggles of recent times
Cycle-lanes Sea-wall Erskine College Flooding Gorse fires Potholes Tram-lines Bus-stops Speed-humps Speed-limit Dee St roundabout Pedestrian crossings Footpaths Alcohol Public toilets Police station Post Office Bait shed Schools Cellphone transmitters Horses Dogs Cats Gulls Sand removal - Princess Bay Quarrying Red Rocks Oku Street Knoll St houses Save the Skyline Marine Reserve Te Raekaihau Point Frigate F69 Community Centre Heritage Area Apartments Wet House Tsunami lines Medium density housing Cycleways…..
Relationships
Relationships
This might be thought of as a bit abstract for primary schools but the opportunities for story-telling about what has brought our communities together are greater than those for the things that have divided us. The three local bays have a long history of ‘group formation’ that is, people getting together. Examples are the relationships between people in the contexts of:
Ethnic groups
Religions and religious associations
Sport – tennis, football, baseball, bowling, surf-lifesaving
Community groups – RSA, Scouts, Guides, Boys Brigade
Environmental groups
Political parties
Schools
Work and commuting
There will be a reluctance, probably, at least in our secular schools, to look too closely at matters of religion – but the religious communities of our bays have been a major feature of our history. Although in our time there have been intense religious controversies in New Zealand there seems to have been little or no tension between religions here. There is a long history of cooperation, going back at least as far as the influenza epidemic of 1918, and I continue to marvel at Catholic organisations using the Masonic Hall for events. Even today a Catholic who joins the Masons is excommunicated – but locally such issues seem not to have harmed relationships between people.
It’s possible – and this is mere speculation – that the stated philosophy of Suzanne Aubert, of helping those of all religions, and none, in the
Home of Compassion in Island Bay and her other works spread a sense of cooperation between us – at least on matters of religion.
The article on James Ritchie (p 5), however, sheds another light on local religious sectarianism, at least among young people.
Our area, especially Island Bay, is one of the most-photographed Victorian and Edwardian settlements and we also have an astonishing number of published works from which young historians can draw information. Online resources, especially PapersPast are also full of stories about what we know, and don’t know about the way we were.
Venerable Suzanne Aubert
A few of the published works about our area and our people
There is a lot of information about all the themes mentioned in this article in past editions of Southern Bays. There is more in the Society’s collection, which includes interviews, clippings, and articles, images and maps. Schools wanting to use the material should get in touch – we are only too happy to help!
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