MY FIRST CONFERENCE

Te Ao Hou, March 1961, Page 52

MY FIRST CONFERENCE by MARY FINDLAY Secretary, Wellington District Council, Maori Women's Welfare League It has been moved and seconded that Mrs Tokomaru and Mrs Tuahiwi be our delegates to the 1960 Conference.” I was very happy about it. It would be my first Conference, but Mrs Tuahiwi was a seasoned campaigner and all I had to do was to accompany her and listen—she would do all the talking. The blow fell a week before Conference. Mrs Tuahiwi became a grandmother. She was sure I would understand and I would be perfectly all right—everyone was very friendly—the baby was lovely and best of luck—and there it was—she was the grandmother and I was left holding the Conference baby. Gone was the mood of complaisant acceptance and in its place a certain apprehension. Taranaki had taken off his mantle of snow and was smiling in the sunshine as our train pulled in. We were all friends now, tired and travel-worn but bound together by the fellowship of the journey and the excited anticipation of the morrow. I felt somewhat forlorn as I took my seat in the Conference Hall the following morning. How I wished Mrs Tuahiwi had been with me! I was among strangers and there was little opportunity to get to know them, for proceedings were about to begin. Still there was much to observe. The entrance was impressively decorated with Taranaki King fern; the long tables had cards bearing the names of branches and district councils—and on the stage the members of the Dominion Executive were exchanging greetings. The noise was unimaginable. I looked around for my train mates, those friends of teas, pies and ham sandwiches with whom I had picnicked on yesterday's journey. I recognised them with difficulty. Surely those chic and elegant women, formally-hatted and gloved, were beings from another world! Could they possibly have eaten a pie out of a paper bag only twelve hours ago? The hubbub faded to a whisper, and then to respectful silence—the ceremonial greetings began. The Tangata Whenua, the Mayor of New Plymouth, and representatives of the Department of Maori Affairs, each gave and received a welcome. They were followed by the Ministerial Party with Sir Eruera Tirikatene, who declared the Conference open. Strange—I do not remember much about the speakers. It is the singing that stays with me. As each honoured guest approached, that spontaneous welcome of action and song! Who could be unmoved by it? To the Maori, guest and host alike, it is customary and as such right, familiar and good, but on the more inhibited Pakeha the effect is at once as stimulating as a dip in the ocean and as welcome as the caress of warm sands. How I loved our Maori women that day for the naturalness, the warmth and the sincerity of their welcome. It gave life to the impersonal walls of the Queen's Hall. Tatau, tatau. How proud I felt to be part of this great gathering and how hopeful for the future of the race. And I was to feel even prouder as ceremonial greetings over, the delegates got down to the business for which they had assembled. I have often been asked “What is the business of the Maori Women's Welfare League? What do they do?” In broad outline, the M.W.W.L. is a nationwide movement for the welfare of the Maori race. Its work falls into three main categories—Health, Housing and Education. Yearly programmes are planned by the branches which encompass this wide field. Speakers are invited and aspects of Health, Education, Public Relations and Maori Culture are discussed. Activities include Horticulture, Domestic Arts, visits to the sick and distressed and money-raising for Government subsidy, for educational purposes. The work of the League is constructive and preventive, with the underlying motive of self-help and co-operation within the group, and in the wider sphere of public relations. Members have their ears to the ground and try as far as possible to solve local problems, by bringing pressure to bear in the appropriate quarters. If they meet with no success, then the matter is brought to Conference in the form of a remit. At this conference remits were brought

forward on a wide variety of topics affecting the welfare of Maori women—Jury service, Equal pay, Nuclear tests in the Pacific, as well as the teaching of Maori in schools. Domestic matters such as League Constitution and League Independence were also discussed. As speaker followed speaker, I was reminded of a quotation I heard once, ‘Go boldly, go serenely, go augustly, for who can withstand thee then?’ This would surely apply to these women, with the possible addition—go with a sense of humour! Here at our Maori Women's Conference were gathered together women, young and old, who could speak fluently, logically, and to the point in two languages, and who could leaven it all with humour. As the time passed my trepidation increased. How would I, a newcomer, acquit myself and justify the faith of those who had sent me? When my turn came, I was taken aback by the behaviour of my legs, which had set up a persistent knocking at the knees. My arms were not much better, the microphone resembling a poi out of control—in fact I shook, the mike shook, the table shook—I was really ‘all shook up’, except miraculously my voice, which I was told did not shake. I resumed my seat with only one coherent thought—‘This is my first Conference, it is also my last! Never again!’ But the tide of Conference flows too swiftly to allow time for inquests, and the evening programme was in full swing with Mrs Hetet and her group demonstrating the ancient art of Korowai making. So well compered was this demonstration that observers were able in the space of a brief half-hour to visualise the entire process from the cutting of the flax to the wearing of the finished Korowai. I cannot remember the name of the wearer of the Korowai, but I cannot forget the stately figure she presented with her truly wonderful long, long hair. The panel on Delinquency left me fiercely proud and furiously angry. I wanted to crash my fist on the table, and say, ‘Why are you so humble, meekly accepting all this criticism? I know the statistics are grim—but so are other aspects of modern society. Do not be so downhearted—here in this hall is hope. If the Maori people can produce women of this calibre, the race has nothing to fear. Maori delinquency is Transitional Teething Trouble. Soon the toddler will walk surely and steadily, and you, the mothers of the race, will watch with hope and pride.’ Conference 1960 is drawing to its close. The election of officers is over and the member representatives thank those who voted for them. The closing prayer is said. Old Taranaki, who took off his cloak to welcome the ladies, now weeps in sorrow at their departure.