Dawn light catches steam mist

rising through tree and bush, floating

over front lawns, vacant lots. 
We wait for the ski rental place to open.

The korimako and tui make morning song.

By sailing ship, by foot
Te Mānihera, you journeyed far

before strangers placed your bones

in this church yard
under an engraved marble slab —

‘martyred in the service of Christ’.

Walking in your black suit 
burning with the Holy Spirit

Kereopa at your side,

you stopped at every village, Taupō 
to Turangi, reciting the Beatitudes,

keeping faith, heavy of heart, fearing death.

On Route 41, cars and trucks whoosh
up to Taumarunui, the Western Bay.

Year to year I’ve shot through here

not knowing the sins of this land. 
A stagecoach appears. You step out,

teeth missing,

dried blood on your face. 
We hongi, share breath.

You smell of forest, warm earth.

I feel the bones in your suit jacket. 
When they axed you down,

nothing was resolved.

But, in time, ways of thinking changed. 
On this crisp morning, ancestors stand

with us, life and death embrace.

We scoff meat pies, slurp coffee.
These journeys and leaps

of faith, of language, of world view

take us further than ships can sail
faster than cars flash

down the Desert Road.

Beyond the red roof
and cream walls of this wooden church,

Mount Pihanga rises, cloaked in green.

The moment fills with peace.
Te Mānihera, you believed in miracles,

saw what’s precious.

Holding you in mind
I see differently

Tokaanu, these roads,

a day skiing Whakapapa.



* Te Mānihera, a Māori Christian missionary, and a would-be peacemaker, was a chief of the Maruwharanui tribe

of Taranaki in 19th century Aotearoa New Zealand. In his final journey, Te Mānihera, accompanied by Kereopa, went

to make peace with the Tuwharetoa tribe of southern Lake Taupō. But the Tuwharetoa leaders wanted vengeance for

deaths of their people in Taranaki. On entering Turangi on 12th March 1847, Te Mānihera and Kereopa were ambushed.

Kereopa died instantly from a musket wound; a wound to Te Mānihera was non-fatal. Surrounded by those who would

shortly kill him with an axe, Te Mānihera sang his own death song (or waiata poroporoaki). Moved by the song, the

Tuwharetoa chief requested Te Mānihera sing it again so they could memorise it before finishing him off. Weeks after

the killings, the people of Tuwharetoa felt remorse, converted to Christianity, and established a teaching program

that evolved into a Christian summer camp near Tokaanu. The summer camp program survived more than a

hundred years.