Going to the old world and seeing buildings and cities that were being used or lived in when Aotearoa was still only inhabited by birds, bats, fish and reptiles is humbling for any born New Zealander.
European settlement of Whanganui only goes back to about 1841. In 1843, the first Christian missionary to head there, Richard Taylor, recorded 3240 Māori living in the Whanganui River valley and 205 settlers living in town, with about a dozen families living outside the town boundary.
It was not until 1848 that the first land sale of 80,000 acres was finalised between the Crown and iwi. A millisecond in time. Māori have more than 40 generations of history invested in our district - still a teaspoon of time in terms of world history.
For perspective, my English great-grandfather, a man my father knew and loved, was born in 1845.
When we look at our beautiful wee town nowadays, it’s hard to imagine what life was like back in the day. Old photos and lithographs give us an idea. It all looked pretty tough. Life looked - and by all accounts, was - very hard and, sadly, very short for many.
It’s great reading the history of Whanganui and seeing the old names, Māori and Pākehā. Reading of their deeds. Highly relevant today, especially when one either knows or knows of the descendants of these hardy, tough people. There are ancient families still living in Whanganui today, as well as families descended from the very first white settlers.
Descent reaches across both Māori and Pākehā cultures. Yes, we went to war against each other, much to the ultimate regret of everybody, but we also spent a lot of time loving each other and mixing it all up too, giving many of us joint heritage.
New Zealand is a small place and, if you are Māori or can trace your European lineage back to the New Zealand of the 1840s, you may be surprised by what you find in researching that history.
We can all tell stories of being somewhere in New Zealand and tripping over an unknown relative; of being related to New Zealanders of note, of being recognised by someone anywhere we go, of bumping into others we have not seen in years. New Zealand is a very small place, and very hard to be anonymous in.
As a recent ‘blow-in’ to Whanganui, only 40 years ago, I have few, if any, historical connections here, neither Māori nor Pākehā. That’s why reading about life in the old days is interesting to me. I’m always looking for a connection. I am sure there has to be one. A small quest of passing interest.
Pākehā were still few and far between when my European lot arrived in New Zealand in the 1850s, so I am assuming most people would have known, or known of, each other in most towns and settlements. Settlers in those days were quite mobile - fortunes changed quickly for many, so moving towns or districts was common.
Whanganui was a settlement of some significance in the 1850s, a haven in a wild and sometimes hostile land. Europeans lived here under the protection of the local Māori chiefs and were, by all accounts, mostly very grateful.
I look at our city from on high, from Bastia Hill or Durie Hill.
The way the river meanders gracefully through town and out to the Tasman Sea, Kowhai Park, that old Dublin Street bridge, the trees, the beautiful old homes, the ancient marae, those two sandhills in the middle of town; sites of ancient and recent fortifications, now sites of both sport and culture.
The main street, which seems to have changed little compared to most main streets in New Zealand. A main street that still has Victorian buildings in use. An Old Town area that just gets more and more interesting as time goes by.
I feel a deep sense of privilege and gratitude to those welcoming old chiefs and all those brave settlers from across the sea, both Māori and Pākehā, for creating this jewel in our country’s crown.
I am home.
