OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 78, 4 June 1943, Page 2

OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE

(Supplied by llie YVhakatp

A RANG ATI RA

A Nursing Sister overseas describes an experience of interest to us all. Next day was the Sabbath and I was on duty all day, but 1 was off] in time to go and sing with the boys. 1 sat at a wee table with two Maoris—one, witli a lace like a bulldog, sang so furiously that the perspiration dripped off his brow— the other was a sweet faced lad who chose the most delightful tunes. The poor old Padre always eyes me with a suspicious glint in his eye. and he didn't seem to find it a pleasing trio before. his vision. When the "sing" was over, the canteen man gave me biscuits and orangeade for my dark friends, and I. had a highly entertaining time with them. But I really think that Monday brought forth the most amusing trip I have ever known. In my ward are several buys awaiting the ship home and my favourite is a Maori —two days previously I had promised to take him to Port Said. As. he is in plaster from his waist to his chin, you can avc.ll imagine that travelling per foot Avas about to be a spectacular performance. For the two whole days, he cleaned, his teeth and his shoes alternately—he. made the boys push him, evcryAvhere in a wheel chair in case lie gre'w tired, and even refused a trip on; the previous day to see a football match. I'll spare you all the details of how I nearly had to fail him— of lioav I roared at the formidable old Quarter-Master because the. ambulance couldn't take us, and oh! lots; more. At any rate tAVO of the clock saAV me and my great "Rangatira" sitting up in front of a truck and off to Port Said. To my horror, L saw that I had seven more chargcs all resplendent in their doubtful looking "Hospital blues." Into Simon Artz I swept Avith my family— the assistants nearly SAVOoning to the ground as they watched the cavalcade marching s'.owiv across their austere sho;*. 1 chose a table on the balcony OA^ylooking, the harbour and sat them down to tea. They giggled a bit over the dainty teacups as compared Avith the. hearty enamel mugs; they eyed the toothsome cakes with a gleam in their shining eyes; the cake forks tickled them I could see; but they struggled manfully to a successful ending. The Maori sat like a monarch surveying the scene before him—he might for all the Avorkl lurve been Lord of the Admiralty looking out upon his ships'. Such dignity and such delightful charm as that man possesses, I have yet to find in any pakeha—as I told the girls afterAvards I felt as if I avc re in the presence of royalty. Well, tea over, 1 managed to persuade some of the others to take off on their oavu— 7 the "Rangatira" and \ I had serious business afoot, and we couldn't be frivolling' over women's clothes when there was a suit length lo lie bought for his. royal

ne Ministers' Association).

highness. Slowly, avc plodded through the streets—pedestrians and traffic alike stopped to stare at the spectacle—"hut Rangatira" was to all appearances, quite oblivious of their stares. Only once with a mischievous look in his big bro\yn eyes, he said. "T think the ladies must like this. Maori!" His knowledge of the quality of material is equalled only by that of my little mother—solemnly he sat in each shop looking for he sought, i giggled once when I heard him .say "What weight is this cloth?" The Wog replied, impatiently, 'Ml." "No, no, how many ounces?" Too much for the Wog, lie did not know. And so we travelled from shop to shop, in between times, Ikl rush off and help the others —it was a grand afternoon. My Maori had been in England ' and gravely told me of how he bought materials in London. "The. Lords of England wear beautiful striped trousers and plain coats/' he said. "Surely," 1 thought to myself, "this is a Lord of N.Z." He bought a beautiful suit length complete with lining, stiffening, buttons and silk—and then the nine of us sat down to eat —and ho ! how lie ate, and how he talked that nighT when Ave eventually got him home, of his great shopping expedition. The following day was my day off and needless to say, the mid-day sun found me still in my bed, but it was worth being tired. We're still busy, but then I'm in my favourite place, an orthopaedic ward—that's always heavy. Later Often in my letters of late I've mentioned to you about the noble Maori whom I christened "The Great Rangatira"—well, to-day, lie gave us a treat. "Always," he said, "you people look after the Maori; to-day we will sing to you." So, promptly at 3.15 p.m.. a little party arrived at the door of our Mess —some in wheel chairs, some on sticks and crutches, very shyly they came in and had. tea. Then the Rangatira gathered his flock and they sang as only the Maori can. After a little while he made them hum softly "Farewell to tliec," and above their melody, lie gave his speech. It wasn't many minutes before I found that there was a most uncomfortable lump in my throat —the soft, melodious voice went on describing the. fireside at home and the rain and how, on a winter's night, when he gets home he'll look back and picture the scenes of the 2.G.H. in the sands. He spoke of our people and how he'll be. seeing them before >vc Will —by the time he'd finished his speech of gratitude I don't think there was. a dry eye in the. room. Once more, I repeat, such charm and such chivalry, 1 have never .seen in any pakeha. I don't think the British, or Americans, or Aussics, or any other fo'k will ever be able to fathom the love we have for our Maori.