Waitangi Day

It is our national holiday this week. February 6. Celebrated on the anniversary of the day that the first Chiefs signed the Treaty with the English in a tent on the lawn at Mr Busby's home in Kororareka (now Russell) in the Bay of Islands.

It was contentious at the get-go, and those feelings of doubt and the shady translation at the time have permeated through our history ever since. Land Wars and Treaty settlements where land has been given back to the affected iwi. 

A lot of the discontent hinges on the meaning of sovereignty - and I'm not going to go into that in case I get it all wrong. But I do imagine it must have been difficult for the English translators to have been able to find the "right" words to convey just what the English understood sovereignty to be.

I came across an article reported in at least two Australian newspapers a month after the signing took place. It is quite long so I have only included part of it here. I was interested to see that one of the Englishmen who acted as translator was the Rev Williams who lived at the mission with his wife and quite substantive family (eleven children). This man is a direct ancestor of my neighbour.

This is the part of the article that refers to the day the signing began. The day before had been taken up with the address, then the reading and translating of the treaty. Much discussion was held afterward with concerns raised and debated, and a decision to allow time to reflect and consider the proposals.

New Zealand. (1840, February 26). The Sydney Monitor and Commercial Advertiser (NSW : 1838 - 1841), p. 4 Edition: MORNING. Retrieved February 2, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article32167331

I love that all that is documented for the following day is the comment about the weather !

The next portion in this report from New Zealand was about the arrival of the first wave of settlers to Port Nicholson (Wellington). They were disappointed ? What did they expect to find on their arrival ? A fully functioning settlement ? They were the first settlers arriving there for goodness sake. I hope they made a concerted effort to establish the town, so that when my first emigrant ancestors arrived in mid 1841, they were not disappointed with what they saw.

New Zealand. (1840, February 26). The Sydney Monitor and Commercial Advertiser (NSW : 1838 - 1841), p. 4 Edition: MORNING. Retrieved February 2, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article32167331

Nowadays, the official Waitangi Day celebrations take place on the marae at Russell. In many towns and cities around the country local communities hold festivals and events which embrace the many cultures of our people as we strive to become a harmonious multicultural society.


This post forms part of Trove Tuesday as suggested by Amy, from Branches, Leaves & Pollen.

Lost in a sea of belongings and "keep-me's"

Why do I have so much stuff ?

I'll tell you - its because I have never lived in the same place for so long ever before in my life, and every little piece of paper I have ever touched has multiplied itself a thousand-fold.

Well, it is time to stop. Life was so much simpler when there was less. I have made a start.

Over Christmas  I filled destruction bins with lots of paper, boxes and bags with books, clothes and other "stuff" I really have no need for, and donated them to local charities.

But still there is more.

Tonight I have emptied half of my garage into someone else's life. That felt so good. I don't care if they chuck it out - but at least they can decide.

I have so much craft paraphernalia I could start my own shop. If only I could actually find the time to start some of the projects that have inspired me to buy all these bits. I'm thinking it will all need to go. But where ? There must be a fair fortune of paper, embellishments, paint and fixings here. I don't really want to just give it away, but maybe I will.

I have a goal, and that is to live a less cluttered life.

Books I will keep and photos (for one day I might need photos if my mind cant store all the memories - who knows ?) But actual possessions ? furniture and furnishings ? clothes ? There isn't much in that vein that really pulls on my heart strings.

Family tree discoveries and research notes - I'm trying to eliminate the amount of paper by checking the discoveries have all been updated on my genealogy programme, or saved in a soft copy somewhere on my computer or within an account on the net. I've actually made a lot of progress with this part. Although if I am tempted to get distracted I often find myself adding to the pile instead of taking away. Oh well. Little steps on the journey.

I have Christmas decorations for Africa. I'm one of those people who love Christmas, and I like themes. So I have a collection of things - bright ethnic sorts of baubles, red and white, green, gold, black and silver - what to keep ?

In two weeks, I want to be living in a less cluttered home, one that is tidy and ordered and has no distractions for me that might let me fall back into old patterns.

Patterns ? Did someone say patterns ? I have some of those too; sewing, knitting, cross stitch.

Watch this space - its going to get bigger and clearer. I mean it. Once I finish this.

Resolutions and redirection

Another year has slipped on by, and not much blogging has been happening for me. Too many other distractions and life in general keep getting in the way. 

It is holiday season though, so I have been trying to win that war with paper and other accumulated nonsense again. I think I am getting there. If only I could make some of the big decisions in my life as well.

I've always talked about packing up and taking off and living somewhere else for a bit, but life takes over, or I let myself talk myself out of it. I'm "okay" with my little life, my job is alright (not anything I am particularly passionate about though) and I like where I live (apart from the wind and the ever present earthquake potential). I keep thinking though, that if I do just stay in this little box and go along with the ride, will I regret not jumping off and doing something adventurous later - when I'm too old to do it ? Being a fortune teller would be a great help with this dilemma.

Should I sell my house ? Or rent it out ? I need to get some money from somewhere if I am going to jump off this path and get some adventure in my life. A few more years and the mortgage will be gone, but can I wait ? I could have already been mortgage free had I not made some of the other decisions I have in the past. Like give my daughter the opportunity to have holidays and do extra curricular activities like her friends, when she was still at school. Support her while she was studying because there were no other monetary support systems available. 

I have pondered the idea, over the past few years that home ownership is not really an option for single people. It doesn't feel like it makes good economic sense to me. Would I feel so conflicted about this decision if I didn't have a mortgage ?

Life certainly seemed a lot simpler when you just decided to move and gave notice - none of this house sale rubbish, preparing and planning. Other people do it though - my parents just have. Sold the house and begun building another. That decision really unsettled me though as it came out of the blue. I have become used to it now although I will miss having them so close to me. Sometimes I feel as if I am trying to live other people's lives instead of just my own.

So where to go, and for how long and when ? 

I met an acquaintance the other day and she said when faced with questions like this you should replace the "buts" with "ands". I think I should try this, as well as a list of pros and cons...and keep working through the other list of things to do - like talk to some realtors about my options and tidy, tidy, purge, recycle and set a date.

Hopefully 2014 will reveal some of the answers to the questions and doubts that 2013 has raised.

The trouble with cars

It is a sad day today.

My car has been given a terminal diagnosis. "No-one else in my family seems to have this problem", I thought earlier today when I was feeling sorry for myself. But I have remembered a few incidents now, which must have bought despair to their owners at the time.

Both my grandparents owned Morris Minors or Morris 1000s when I was little and many fun outings took place in them. One Nana was a more nervous driver than the other. Although I don't remember it, I apparently once told her what I thought of her bunny-hopping across an intersection. Another time she mixed the pedals or the gears up and went the wrong way out of the garage.

My other Nana loved her car and the independence it gave her. She drove to Auckland frequently, and even to Wellington once. Her much loved Morrie, now named Elsie in her honour has been passed about the family since her death 23 years ago. First to my cousin, then an aunt, then my Dad and now my brother. No heating, and originally no seat belts or radio, pull out buttons for the choke and ignition. Life was so simple. Nana changed gears like she was driving a truck and wore out several clutches over the 20 years she owned her car.

Once in the school holidays, she took my brother and me to the pool at Cambridge and on the way back steam started pouring out from the bonnet. No cellphones then, my brother walked for a few miles to a garage to get water. I cant remember if he walked back, or if someone gave him a ride. Not many 11 or 12 year olds would do that nowadays. I think he must have got a ride, because somehow we ended up being towed somewhere to get a hose replaced before we could make our way home.

A couple of cars my parents owned were troublesome too. We thought it was comical when we were little, but then we didn't understand the "what ifs" or have to pay the bill.

The first car I remember was a Ford Prefect complete with running boards. It didn't like going up the Kaimai hills on our way to the Mount and would overheat frequently. Friends of my parents also had a Prefect and we used to leapfrog our way over the hill. Them passing us on one bend as we waited for the car to cool down some, then us passing them a few bends later while they did the same.

Once during the summer holidays we were driving from Milford Sound to Dunedin over unsealed roads when the car (Hillman Super Minx) began to make a strange noise. I think we had to be towed to some little town which had a garage and lots of dust and not much else. It was something with the wheel or the axle, I cant remember now if the wheel had actually sheared off or whether it fell off when the mechanic inspected it. The part had to come from Dunedin, so a very long hot boring afternoon was spent waiting in that town.

Another time, with maybe the same car. We drove to town on Friday night to go to the Library. As we turned left in to the street where the Library was there was an almighty thud, screech and sparks...and then the back wheel rolled on past the car along the street as we wondered what had happened. I think we went home in a tow truck that night.

There was the car my friend and I bought off another friend for $50 because he couldnt afford to get it fixed. It had a noisy muffler, so being resourceful girls we superglued a 10 cent piece of the hole and Bingo ! no noise. We made a fair profit on that one.

The next car debacle I remember was one we bought cheap at the auctions. $180 I think. It had been pink stickered, but we got it going and registered pretty cheaply. Then we set off to drive to northern New South Wales for Christmas and it kept overheating. We spent an interminable amount of time at a garage near Newcastle with a 6 month old baby. At least there was grass, and coffee and no dust. They couldn't work out the problem so we carried on with the journey albeit much slower than we had planned, using lots of coolant. On our way home it was no better and we called in at the same garage thinking it had to be a gasket....only to find it was that the head was not bolted down tight and was letting the water out ! How did they miss that ?

Then there is this car, which has just been a bucket to throw money at for the past few years. Every time I think I will sell it, some thing major happens. But I am not prepared to put another reconditioned motor in it. I am annoyed as it has new tyres, battery and registration though, so I don't want to just give it away.

You would think that having a great grandfather who was one of the earliest taxi drivers at the turn of the last century that I should have a bit of luck with automobiles.

Can I live without a car though ?

It was just a bit windy

We had a storm a week or so ago. Ask anyone who lives in New Zealand what they think of Wellington, and they'll say it's windy. Always blowing a gale. True, we do get big winds. But they don't normally last too long or do much damage - and actually, ours is a pretty awesome little city. Built on the hills around a very picturesque harbour. You can't beat Wellington on a good day.

My Dad used to joke when we experienced our first southerly storm after moving to Wellington, that the first settlers must have been blown into the harbour in a storm and not been able to get out. Why else would they settle here ? And then we discovered two branches of HIS family had been amongst those early settlers. One ship was even blown back out to sea so far they could no longer see land, to ride out a storm before they tried again to gain entry to the harbour. Early Governors of the new colony described the harbour to have "treacherous and violent" winds. Mariners treated them with respect, some even relishing the challenge of navigating their ship through the narrow entrance in high winds. A little like pilots today, who manage aircraft in often strong, variable crosswinds as they land at our airport.

When we do get a real storm, often they are real doozies. Like the one that blew through town June 20 & 21, 2013. They compared this one to the Wahine Storm of April 10, 1968. The one where the inter-island ferry Wahine hit the reef entering the harbour, and eventually founded off Worser Bay. Wind gusts of up to 120 miles per hour (198 kph) were recorded, people were told to stay home. But as word got out (there was a lot of disbelief) about the ferry sinking, locals took to their runabouts and fishing boats and set to helping the tug boats and police rescue passengers.It was the worst maritime disaster in modern time. What spirit was shown by Wellingtonians that day. And despite initial fears, just 51 lives were lost.

The Canberra Times (ACT 1926 - 1995) Thursday 11 April 1968 page 1 article107046299-3-001

This latest storm was gnarly. Wind gusts up to 200kph - stronger than 1968, power outages, airport closures, rail lines breached, road closed and commuter chaos. It was the first time I really felt like I might lose a window (floor to ceiling southerly facing wall of glass in my lounge) I'm glad it was dark and I couldn't see it flexing behind the blinds. It was like a freight train hitting the house, continuously. Don't go out if you don't have to, the authorities said. We were expecting wind and rain - but nothing like what we got.

Still, the next morning with the winds dropping ever so slightly the city began to pick itself up. People surveyed the damage (half a fence and a tree at my place) after a sleepless night. Friends lost trampolines, garden sheds, rooves etc tossed about like toys in the night. The house next door lost all of the protective tarpaulin covering the repair work - revealing the bare bones of the building for all to see. It was still cold, and windy - but at least you could stand up and not get blown off your feet - and rainy, but the worst seemed to be over. Many households were without power some even until the end of last week. Trees did the most damage falling across roads, on cars and houses, and the waves  pounded the south coast damaging toads and the sea wall and tossing debris (and the occasional fish) metres into front yards and across the road. 

There is true SPIRIT amongst Wellingtonians. "Its just wind", "What an amazing storm". We just picked ourselves up and got on with life. The power outages were fixed, the trees cleared and roads reopened, the seawall reconstructed and the rail line repaired, airport open and ferry sailings resumed. Open for business again, within days and at most a week.

Hurricane Sandy bought the eastern states to a standstill last year with winds not even as strong as our little southerly. But its all about attitude - we're a hardy lot. I think we are secretly a city full of crazy storm chasers - we love it, even if at the time it does mess up your hair and the garden.

This post forms part of Trove Tuesday as suggested by Amy, from Branches, Leaves & Pollen.

Memories

Yesterday, 10 June was an anniversary. Twenty five years since my Nana left this life.

She wasn't too keen on us digging around in the past. I am sure that was mostly because of the secrets she and her sister kept, that buried the hurt from their childhood. But she did share some tidbits with us, and I'm sure she'd be mighty intrigued with all the discoveries we have made beyond that hurt.

Born in Milverton, Warwickshire in 1907 she was the 2nd daughter in her family. Her father was a groom, and later a cab-driver or chauffeur. Her mother had been a housemaid before her marriage in 1901. She never knew any of her grandparents, both of her grandmothers had died when her parents were less than a year old. Her grandfathers both remarried, one even twice more. 

By 1911 the family had grown, with the arrival of a third daughter, and shortly after the census was taken, a son. At some point after this, family life turned to custard. 

There were little bits of stories that we would hear. Her mother had two brothers who had emigrated to the US with their wives and settled in Washington State. Nana knew their names and occupations and she and her sister wrote letters to their aunt for many years. An aunt of their mother had also emigrated to the US, and Nana believed that their own family had intended to join them, but that her father had changed his mind.

Their mother became unwell, today we would mostly likely treat her for depression. She was hospitalised, and their father would take them to visit. These visits became upsetting for the children and for their mother as well as she didn't seem to recognise them after a while. For whatever reason, their father apparently decided it was best to stop the visits and tell the children that their mother had died. This would appear to be around 1915.

There didn't appear to be much support from either family. I imagine it would have been pretty tough to try to hold your family together, hold down a job and deal with your own feelings about your ill wife. The children especially the elder two would have become the housekeepers and carers to the younger children. I'm not sure how long they stayed at school, but I believe they worked as housemaids at some point. If they saw their father driving in the street, they were not to acknowledge him - if they did, they would hear about it later.

Nana's elder sister married and emigrated to New Zealand in the 1920's and Nana followed in 1929 to start a new life as well. Their younger sister joined the Baptist Mission and travelled to India as a missionary while their brother remained in Leamington Spa.

She met and married my grandfather by 1931 and started their own family. They moved a lot as Granddad was involved with the construction of hydro power stations in both the North and South Islands, eventually settling in the Waikato. This part of New Zealand always reminded her of "home" with the green rolling hills.

She loved to garden, read, solve crosswords and was a great knitter. We all had wonderful jumpers and cardigans as children. Family was important, letter writing kept the post office in business, seedlings for the garden were swapped amongst family and friends (thanks NZR buses) and regular lengthy phone calls boosted telephony companies profits. She loved the community camaraderie of hydro village life, played tennis and baked. The best meals were to be had at Nana's - cottage pie and rice pudding. Yum. Learning to make pikelets; standing on the chair by her side watching for those bubbles to pop, so you knew when they should be turned. And the games; we'd play at school - spelling words with the alphabet macaroni, and play that join the dots to make the squares game with her for hours on end. She regularly drove to visit us as our families moved a little further afield, and would help at church with care and craft for the "oldies" when she really wasn't much younger than some of them.

She was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother and great grandmother, we miss her.

Transported

I made an exciting discovery about Joseph Dickinson (who I have written about before) on Ancestry, way back on Australia Day. Thanks to the banner on Ancestry for prompting me to search the convict records again that day. I don't even know what made me put his name in to search, as I had seen nothing in my 20+ years research to suggest he might have been a convict. But search I did - and results I found ! 

I haven't been able to find much about his trial or the crime. On his certificate of freedom (27 September 1841) along with the description of his numerous tattoos and the revelation that he had red hair and bluish eyes are the words "stealing a box". What sort of box ? what was in the box ? Or what was the box made out of ? There must have been something surely to make this a crime worthy of transportation. Perhaps it was nothing at all - just a way to send tradespeople to the new country - using any minor misdemeanour as an excuse. Joseph was a plasterer and so was his father before him. I would imagine plasterers would have been quite sort after in the burgeoning building trade.

We have all heard about people transported for crimes such as taking a loaf of bread, stealing blankets - objects which in reality are simply necessities of life. My other convict Mary Brown stole a couple of pairs of shoes with her friend Mary Cannon. (Actually I think my Mary was the accomplice not the mastermind). But a box ? It must have had some value - to Joseph to entice him to steal it, and to the owner who felt wronged by its loss and their desire to have it returned and the thief bought to justice. I will find out more, eventually.

Anyway, Joseph was sentenced at Westminster 30 January 1834, and sailed 11 April 1834 from London arriving in Sydney on the "Surry", one of 260 convicts on 17 August, 

 The Sydney Monitor (NSW 1828 - 1838) Wednesday 20 August 1834 page 2 article32146993-3-001

but still lying in stream on 23 August. The Sydney Monitor (NSW : 1828 - 1838), Saturday 23 August 1834, page 2 article/32147026 .

On the 1837 muster Joseph is assigned to T A Murray and located in the Goulburn district. He was granted a ticket of leave in 1838, and his certificate of freedom 27 September 1841. I haven't found an application to marry, although he must have married Ann Blackman about this time. He appears in the New South Wales, Gaol Description & Entrance Books 1818-1930 for Goulburn Gaol. He served two months imprisonment from 31 March to 28 May 1850, though I'm not sure what for. 

From reading copies of The Goulburn Herald and County of Argyle Advertiser (NSW : 1848 - 1859) on Trove, to try and discover his crime, I discovered that T A Murray had property in the Lake George area. This all ties in with Joseph's other records and backs up the birthplace of his daughter Sarah, which is written on her marriage certificate (although no record of that birth seems to exist anywhere else). Apart from this scrape with the law, Joseph's only other appearances in court in Australia were where he was a witness rather than an offender. Some of these are mentioned here .


Perhaps I should try the convict records with all my hard to find people, in case they too are hiding a secret.


This post forms part of Trove Tuesday as suggested by Amy, from Branches, Leaves & Pollen .