Kelly settled peacefully into married life and the following year Annie gave birth to a baby girl. Their first child was christened by Reverend Heywood, Eliza Mary Kelly. Annie was pleased to have the child baptised soon after its birth, though Kelly insisted the christening was their dedication of their child to God and not a baptism. “She can get baptised,” he said, “when she’s old enough to make the decision for herself.” Two years later, the second Kelly child was christened Imogen Catriona, and their third, three years after that, Charles Michael. The Kelly home grew as their family grew, with Kelly enlisting the services of Jackson the carpenter again to add a room to the house after the birth of the second child. Annie continued nannying for the Bucklands until she became a mother herself. She was no longer the waif-like girl of those early days in New Zealand. If she were a cattle beast, Kelly would have said she’d put on condition. He noted, with some pride, that when they were out and about, her pretty face still attracted admiring glances from other men.
It was a time of prosperity for the country, that is for the European population, who had taken possession of most of the land, and developed the best of the land for pastoral farming. The indigenous population declined in number, owing to the loss of their economic base and consequent poverty and sickness. Kelly and Rāwiri continued to contribute to, and benefit from, the Dilworth enterprises.
Rāwiri remained single and became something of a man of the world, of two worlds in fact: Māori and Pākehā. He was respected by most in the business community, despite some lingering prejudice against his Māori blood. But he identified primarily as Māori and kept in contact with his mother and other whānau in the Rohe Pōtae, with occasional trips to their home. Kelly continued to be a benefactor, making contributions to the whānau, particularly in support of the child he had fathered to Pania. Wiremu, Kelly’s ‘other son’ was well aware that he had a Pākehā father in Auckland but had no interest in meeting him. As Rāwiri explained to Kelly, “It is important to ‘us Māori’ to know our whakapapa, our genealogy, to know our identity. It would be wrong to withhold such information. Wiremu is named after our kaumātua, Wiremu Tāmihana, but actually he looks more like you,” Rāwiri chuckled. “A darker version of Finbar Kelly.”
“We named our boy Charles after our kaumātua Charles Stuart Parnell,” Kelly said. “And his middle name Michael, after Michael Davitt.”
Rāwiri was a regular visitor to the Kelly home and the children came to regard him affectionately as their ‘Māori uncle’. They were unaware that they were in fact part of his whānau, by virtue of their father’s liaison with Rāwiri’s aunt, that they were actually cousins. It was never spoken of in the Kelly home, not until circumstances necessitated a decision regarding the delicate matter. The occasion was Tāwhiao’s royal tour of the Waikato and Auckland. Ᾱwhina was part of the king’s retinue, and she would be bringing Wiremu with her to Auckland.
“Ᾱwhina is eager to see you again,” Rāwiri told Kelly. “And there is also a matter she wants to discuss with you, concerning Wiremu’s education. He’s been attending a native school in Te Kuiti, but Ᾱwhina wants him to have a higher education too, to help him to get on in the Pākehā world.”
“I’ll support that,” Kelly said. “What school does she have in mind?”
“St Stephen’s Boarding School for Māori Boys.”
“Right here in Parnell.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s a good choice,” Kelly agreed. “You should have a word with Dilworth about it. He knows the headmaster there, Mr. Davis, or Davies.”
*
The Kelly children were twelve, ten and seven when their parents sat them down for a serious talk, old enough to understand and hopefully to accept, the truth they were about to hear.
“King Tāwhiao is coming to Auckland soon,” Kelly began, “and Rāwiri’s mother, Ᾱwhina with him and her nephew, Wiremu. Wiremu’s mother, Pania died when Wiremu was born.”
Kelly paused and glanced at Annie. “Before your mother and I were married, when I was here in New Zealand by myself and I was injured Ᾱwhina and Pania helped to look after me and Pania stayed with me for a time…”
Kelly had told many stories about the old days, about the fighting and about Rāwiri’s mother, who was so dear to him, but the children had never heard of this Pania. Eliza looked at her father, then at Charlie and Imogen. There was something different about this story, about the telling of it.
“Well,” Kelly continued, “Pania and I had a baby together. I am Wiremu’s father. He is a half-brother to you.”
Eliza looked from her father to her mother. Her father had suddenly become a different person. Annie sat calmy with her eyes downcast. How could this be true? It was absurd. It was as though one plus one no longer equalled two. For Charlie the mystery of having babies had suddenly become even more confusing. He thought that perhaps Eliza would explain it all to him later in a way that made sense.
“Will he be coming to live with us?” Imogen asked.
“No, his whānau in the King Country adopted him. But he may be coming to stay in Auckland, to go to boarding school.”
*
The New Zealand Herald published a front page story about Tāwhiao, ‘the King of the Māoris’ and ‘a man of peace’ and reported on his grand tour of the Waikato and his much anticipated arrival in Auckland by steamer, from Ōrakei. Civic dignitaries and thousands of other Aucklanders gathered on the Queen’s Wharf to welcome the king. Among the crowd were Rāwiri and the Dilworths, and Kelly and Annie, with their three children, excited at the prospect of a ship arriving with a king onboard, and uncertainly anticipating meeting their half Māori half-brother.
Buildings near the waterfront and ships in the harbour were festooned with brightly coloured flags for the festive occasion. There were no Māori vessels in the harbour or at Mechanics Bay as in days past. Sailors on the deck of a German warship, the SMS Habicht, saluted the king as the steamer passed. The steamer docked at the wharf and Tāwhiao appeared on the deck, wearing a fine ornamental cloak and a white top hat adorned with huia and peacock feathers. As he raised a whale bone mere in his right hand, a cheer rose from the crowd and a band struck up Auld Lang Syne. Tāwhiao strode barefoot onto the wharf and was welcomed by Mayor Clarke. The king’s secretary, Hōri Kerei, responded with a speech, in which he remembered the dead of the land and greeted the land itself, Auckland, Tāmaki-makau-rau, Tāmaki-of-a-hundred-lovers, and finally greeted the people congregated there. Tāwhiao was taken by coach to the Governor Browne Hotel and he saluted people on the way who had climbed onto the shop balconies to watch the procession.
More of Tāwhiao’s party followed: some of his family and his closest associates: Major Mair, Wahanui and Manuhiri. And there, finally, were Ᾱwhina and Wiremu, who was about the age that Rāwiri was when Kelly first made his home with Quinn and Ᾱwhina. Rāwiri rushed to his mother and hugged her. When free of her son’s embrace, she hugged Kelly. “I’m so sorry to hear that Pania died,” he said. “My condolences to you and all the family.”
“My condolences also to you,” Ᾱwhina said, quietly. “Now, finally you meet Pania’s son, Wiremu.” She was going to say ‘your son’ but was uncertain about whether Kelly had acknowledged him.
Kelly wanted to embrace Wiremu but the boy hung back diffidently and Kelly instead extended his hand. Wiremu shook his hand with a formal Māori greeting: “Tēnā koe, Matua.”
It was a poignant but awkwardly intimate moment in the presence of the others who had not yet been properly greeted. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your family?” Ᾱwhina said.
“Of course. This is Annie. Annie, Ᾱwhina.”
“Delighted to finally meet you,” she said, shaking Annie’s hand.
“And this is Eliza, Charles and Imogen.”
It was all rather perplexing for the children to feel a connection to a person from ‘the other side’ but undeniably familiar.
After also warmly greeting the Dilworths, Ᾱwhina gazed about at her surroundings and marvelled at how Auckland had grown and changed. “So many brick buildings and I didn’t even recognise it from the sea. Fort Britomart and all the Britomart headland is gone.”
Ᾱwhina and Wiremu stayed with Rāwiri for the duration of Tāwhiao’s Auckland tour and Ᾱwhina was also a guest in Kelly’s home for an evening. Kelly drove a carriage to Rāwiri’s home to fetch his guests. Wiremu was reluctant to go with Kelly, and Ᾱwhina took the opportunity to have the private conversations she’d been wanting to have with Kelly.
“Have you told your children?” That was the first question to get out of the way.
Kelly assured her there was no secrecy and they were able to move on to discussing the prospect of Wiremu going to St Stephen’s School. “I’m happy to take care of the fees, and Annie and I are happy to have him staying nearby,” Kelly said. “And I hope to have some contact and get to know him.”
“He doesn’t seem to be ready for that now,” Ᾱwhina said.” But hopefully, in time.”
Ᾱwhina found the Kelly home to be so like the one where she had lived with Quinn that she was assailed by memories of her former life, a life of joys and sorrows and loss. There was, of course, the extra room and the extra children. The children quickly warmed to Whaea Ᾱwhina as she fondly recounted stories of the old days when Kelly came into her home and into her life.
Kelly pointed out, with obvious pride, the bits of furniture he’d built himself, including a rimu bookcase standing in the same place as the original. Ᾱwhina noted on the shelves a collection of children’s books and English novels by Jane Austen, Charlotte and Emily Brontë, and George Eliot, Butler’s Erewhon, volumes of poetry by Keats, Shelley, Coleridge and Wordsworth, and a well-worn Bible. Annie had become a proficient reader, with Kelly’s help, and progressed to become an avid reader of newspapers and books and the book. In the Catholic church back in Ireland, even those who could read did not read the Bible. That was only for the priests, and the common people received the word of God from the preaching of the priests. The Bible on the shelf was a wedding present from the Dilworths. It accompanied the Kellys to church every Sunday and the congregation were encouraged, even exhorted, to study the scriptures.
Annie called the family and their guest to the table and Kelly gave a prayer of thanksgiving before they started on the meal. Ᾱwhina commended Annie on the roast lamb, which was a treat she seldom enjoyed these days, and the home grown potatoes, kūmara and pumpkin. During the meal she asked about life in the city and directed questions especially to the children.
Conversations about life in the King Country would wait till after dinner when Annie and the children read bedtime stories and the children went to bed for the night. Kelly had been following the news of ongoing disputes over confiscated land as best he could, but he wanted to get Ᾱwhina’s version of the political situation regarding the Waikato and find out what was happening in the King Country, which was still a territory closed off to European intrusion. Ᾱwhina did not long dwell on the past, with Kelly turning the conversation to more recent events. He began by saying he’d read that Tāwhiao and his followers had surrendered all their weapons to Major Mair in Alexandra.
“That’s how the newspapers reported it,” Ᾱwhina said, “but it was not surrender or submission. They laid their weapons down at Mair’s feet as a gesture of peace. We are still fighting the government, but with words, not guns. We petition the government to challenge the legality of the raupatu in the Supreme Court but the government commissioners refuse to hear our arguments.”
“The raupatu. That’s the land confiscations?” Kelly said.
“Yes, the confiscation of over three million acres of the Waikato. Since the colonial government won’t hear our case, we have decided to appeal directly to the Queen, our sovereign and treaty partner. Tāwhiao’s tour of the Waikato and Auckland is to gain support and contributions of money for a trip to London.”
“So will you go as Tāwhiao’s interpreter? Kelly asked.
“No, that honour will go to George Skidmore or Te Wheoro.”
“Te Wheoro, who is now a Member of Parliament.”
“Yes. Premier Grey and Native Minister McLean have been trying to get Tāwhiao to accept deals for himself. There was a meeting at Hikurangi, where they offered him five hundred acres of land at Ngāruawahia, a house at Kawhia and a pension of five hundred pounds per year. And he would be the ‘administrator’ within his own district.”
“Nothing for the people?” Kelly said.
“Just some reserves,” Ᾱwhina said, “all the unsold land west of the Waipā and Waikato Rivers. Inferior lands. Crumbs from the Europeans’ table. It’s their best offer and there are some who are advising Tāwhiao to take it but that would condone acceptance of the raupatu.”
“So Tāwhiao still demands the return of all the confiscated lands of the Waikato,” Kelly said.
“Yes, just as Tāmihana did.”
Annie had returned from putting the children to bed and made a pot of tea. Ᾱwhina sipped her tea and said, “I’m afraid you’ll find all this political talk rather boring, Annie.”
“No, I’m keenly interested,” Annie said and added, “And I thought it was bad in Ireland.”
“What is happening in Ireland now?” Ᾱwhina asked, wanting to bring Annie into the conversation.
“We have our Irish Land League, and the Fenians are rebelling against British rule in Ireland and fighting for Home Rule to run our own affairs. I say fighting, but our man, Parnell is the President of the Land League now and he’s anti-violence. They’re trying to get justice by peaceful political means.”
“This all sounds very familiar,” Ᾱwhina said. “Actually we had some Fenians out from Ireland with us in the King Country a few years ago. Their leader, Michael O’Connor, wanted to form a Fenian colony to fight the British and create a Kīngitanga-Irish uprising in the Waikato, but nothing much came of it.”
“We are advocating for Home Rule just as the Irish are,” Ᾱwhina continued. “One of our members of Parliament, Hōne Tāwhai, told the House we are being deprived of our land in the same way the Irish were. He even went so far as to say, “I am an Irishman.””
Kelly wanted to bring the conversation back to Ᾱwhina and with some hesitation asked about what had been happening in the King Country.
Ᾱwhina sighed and said, “Life has been hard in the Rohe Pōtae. We’ve been living in the wind, but we have moved on from survival to protecting what remains of our land.”
“The King Country is The Rohe Pōtae?”
“Yes, the District of the Hat. The King’s Hat. The King Country.”
“I’ve heard the government are wanting to open up the King Country to put the railway through all the way to Wellington,” then Kelly hesitated and added, “and open it up for European settlement.”
“Yes, open it up,” Ᾱwhina sighed again. She seemed not bitter, but sad and careworn. “The battle is to keep the Land Court out of the Rohe Pōtae. McLean is trying to get access for surveyors to mark out the boundaries of the Rohe and get land for the railway. His strategy is divide and conquer. He’s dealing with Rewi Maniapoto as the paramount chief and setting him against Tāwhiao and creating more divisions by dealing with individual hapū to buy land.”
“Many of our people are going to the Land Court in Cambridge to get deeds of title to retain ownership of our land. But we can’t get title for communal land so the land is divided into blocks with a few individual owners. Some of our people are selling pieces of land to settlers to get money to buy stock and grass seed and fences. One of our hapū sold his land to avoid prosecution for debts, for money he owed for the surveying costs and legal costs and also for food and alcohol. Now he has no land and nothing to show for selling it. They’re stealing from their grandchildren.” Ᾱwhina fell silent for a moment and then added, “The land jobbers come in, the wealthy speculators, offering money as deposits on land even before the titles are issued.”
“Isn’t that illegal? said Kelly.
“Yes, of course, but it’s happening and it’s drawing us into the Land Court and there are disputes over who owns which bits of land. Our land is being divided and our people are being divided. The Pākehā, they build trig stations on the high points of the land to spread their mana over the land, to survey the land, to divide it, to slice it up like a piece of meat to buy and sell. The Pākehā buys the land and owns it forever, for evermore.” Ᾱwhina was looking tired and seemed to drift into a reverie. “Mine, not yours. Gone for evermore. Evermore. Ever more.” She shuddered herself back to wakefulness. “The rich Pākehā, the speculator, he buys much land and divides the land and sells it for more money and gets richer without working.”
“That’s capitalism,” said Kelly. “It’s the Pākehā way.”
“It is not the Māori way,” said Ᾱwhina. “The Māori, we live on the land. The land, the whenua, is our mother. It is the mother of our tīpuna, our ancestors. Does the land belong to us? Do we belong to the land? Belong. Belong. Be long.” Drifting again. “The land belongs to the hapū, not to any one person. We can live without courts, roads, railways, but not without land.”
“And what’s become of Hamana?” Kelly asked, after a long pause.
“Well, you know he fell in with Titokowaru. Titokowaru has gone to Taranaki and he’s joined Te Whiti and Tohu at Parihaka. Tāwhiao has told me that Hamana will be there too if he is still alive. I’m sure I would know if he had been killed. So that’s where he will be, at Parihaka. Tāwhiao is committed to peace and supporting Te Whiti and Tohu and he’s encouraging his people in the Rohe Pōtae to go to Parihaka, those who are willing to go, especially the Waikato refugees, so as also to relieve the burden of survival in the Rohe Pōtae. But there is trouble brewing in Taranaki.”
“What kind of trouble?” Kelly asked.
“More land confiscation. Te Whiti and Tohu are prophets and leaders of peaceful resistance against the creeping confiscation. More and more of our people are joining them at Parihaka. The Minister Bryce won’t stop until he has driven the people off the land.”
“I see John Bryce is now also the Minister of Defence,” said Kelly. “Are you sure it will be peaceful?”
“Yes, on the Māori side anyway.”
“And will you go there yourself?”
“Yes, I wish to see Te Whiti and Tohu and I hope to see Hamana too.”
Ᾱwhina seemed to be fading with tiredness and Kelly returned her to Rāwiri’s home.
“She’s lovely,” Annie said, when Kelly returned. “I can see why you have such a soft spot for her. And she’s had such a hard life.”
“She’s a survivor and a battler,” Kelly added.