The good life

A young Boydie — “It was an entirely different life”. Picture supplied

Kuratau faces south on a hillside with Mangaheia Station to the west, inland from Tolaga Bay. The first Te Rāwheoro Marae stood here, and it’s where Boydie Pomare Kutia, or Papa Boydie as he is known, was born almost 90 years ago. With his daughter Suesanne Landa, he talked to Loren Sirl.

Boydie Pomare Kutia was born on a dirt floor at home in 1934 to Rawiri Te Kume (Sonny) Kutia and Te Mamaeroa Piri (Billy) Kutia (nee Tuhou).

“It was an entirely different life back then,” said Boydie. “I was brought up in a generation where hard work was survival.”

Nestled in the valley below the family home was one of the biggest natural lagoons on the east coast. It was abundant with eels and wildfowl, and was a way of life for Boydie and his six siblings.

“We swam in the lake, played hide and seek in the raupō (New Zealand bullrush) and built huts out of the dried-up mud. It was a place that provided us with kai and recreation — somewhere to play.” Puha and watercress was plentiful and the family grew up on a diet of meat and vegetables — “everything off the land”, said Boydie.

Cissie, born Titihuia Haerewa (nee Maurirere), was one of 16 siblings. She wed Boydie when they were both just teenagers.

They went on to have four children.

Boydie recalls, “Because we were so isolated, we had discipline, in the way listening to your parents was essential. If your nanny or grandfather said something, you did it, because it was about survival.” His mum’s whistle was also something not to be forgotten.

“It wasn’t like a shepherd whistling his dog to come home, or for some other reason. As much as it made us angry when we heard it, we would obey quickly and head for home. Even at our young age and being isolated as we were, that whistle meant get home quickly something might be wrong,” he said.

Chores on the farm included milking the cows. “You stood in cow shit to keep your feet warm on frosty mornings.”

Breakfast was a simple meal of round bread straight from the oven covered with home-made butter and topped with golden syrup. This was all washed down with an enamel mug of tea without sugar. Trips to the shops were few and far between, but they made do.

“The briar berry and ordinary scotch thistle were as good as any lolly you buy at the shop.

“The old lady was a fanatic for medicines; in our mugs of tea she would put in a sprinkling of Epsom salts  — no wonder the kids went around looking sour all day!”

Other home-made remedies were a nightly dose of Lanes Emulsion, an Oamaru invention, smelling strongly of fish due to its high cod liver oil content. It was a staple product in the home medicine cabinet from the late 1800s.

“If you felt a sore stomach coming on you would try not to show it, otherwise a dose of castor oil would be coming your way.”

Going to school in the 1940s evokes heartfelt memories of a harsh time in New Zealand’s history.

“When I went to school, if you said ‘Kia ora’ you would get the strap. A lot of us couldn’t speak English; we were only five years old.

“That was a hard day for Māori kids,” Boydie, recalls with a tear in his eye.

Shearing, shepherding and horses were a part of life. Living in a farm environment, the relationship between animals and their keepers was a special one.

“In those days animals and humans seemed to understand each other. The cat would be the first to the woolshed, the cows would stir, stretch and fart and take themselves towards the gate. Every animal responded to their own type of sound. We regarded them as friends and very much part of the family.”

Horsemanship skills were passed through the generations.

“Grandfather was in the home guard — they could strip down a gun, put it back together at full gallop,” said Sue.

Boydie trained with the NZ Army during the Korean war, but the war ended before he was posted for service.

During the 1950s Boydie was gifted a block of land on Tauwhareparae Road. It was covered in scrub and big gorse and after a day’s work of shepherding, he and his uncle Richard would tackle the property armed with sickles.

As part of the urban migration Boydie decided to relocate to Rotorua with his young family. The move gave him a better pay packet and the opportunity to build a house on his beloved land back home.

Working night shift at the Waipa Sawmill, Rotorua and taking on extra jobs soon saw him promoted to foreman. He was also a volunteer fireman at the Waipa fire brigade. His hobbies included axeman competitions but his passion was rugby, playing as a youngster.

“In our minds we were all future All Blacks — we played with great expectations. Toko (Tokomaru Bay) were our greatest nemesis, but they were also our greatest games.”

He described the game back then as “grunty – you bloody well get there boy, bloody well do this, bloody well do that”, he laughs.

He remembers Wally Kaa, “one of the oldest players on the Coast, kicking and hissing his way through the scrum”.

Following the sale of the Waipa Sawmill, Boydie and his family took the redundancy option and headed back to Tolaga, the house on Tauwhareparae Road now completed. He took up managing teams of seasonal workers and also started a vegetable garden, supplying the local marae. Multi-talented, he kept up his creative side with sculpture, lamp-making and illustration.

This is something he continues today in his room at Te Wiremu Lifecare  and Village in Gisborne, where brightly coloured artwork is displayed across the side table.

Boydie made the decision himself to move into town, after eight months consideration. Cissy had passed and his family had their own busy lives.

“God’s looked after him all his life,” Sue says, and her dad agrees.

The Kutia family were brought up in the Mihaia Church, Tolaga Bay with their grandfather being a lay preacher. Boydie recognises that life has certainly changed over time.

“Ūawa was once a town of plenty, boasting two garages and a picture theatre, but those who really grew rich sold out to forestry. There is nothing left, no dairy factory, not even a butcher’s shop. That is an era lost. Pollution is already in our rivers and streams; I have seen the mess.”

One of Boydie’s fond memories is recorded in his journal —

“The wind and rain would come howling up the Kuratau Valley, the trees would whistle and bend, but our house stood firm and sound. With the knowledge the dogs were tied up and snuggled in their kennels, the wood stove stoked up and turned down on low to smoulder all night, we were warm and safe. Many families throughout Uawa were as isolated as we were.”

Boydie will celebrate his 90th birthday at Kuratau in May with five generations of his family.