Bloodshed to belonging
home and to the atrocities committed more than a century earlier.
Patrick was also in charge of delegating his fellow militia members land and recording the land claims on behalf of the colonial troops. Patrick himself divided up thousands of acres of stolen Ma¯ ori land to his cohort, most of which was never given back.
His role in the Raupatu (confiscation of Ma¯ ori land) in the Waikato remains a shameful chapter in my family’s history. Many ku¯ papa (pro-government or neutral) also had their land seized in the midst of the fighting, adding to the list of victims of the land-grab.
Patrick was soon joined by his brother William Corboy in New Zealand.
Landing in New Zealand in 1866, William enlisted with the Forest Rangers in the same year. William was given similar pay: 50 acres of farming land and a small plot in the town of Kihikihi.
The Forest Rangers were among the least favoured corps in the area; their role in the sacking of Rangiaowhia just a few short months earlier meant they were later on the wrong side of history.
Rangiaowhia
The value of this land was, however, known to Ma¯ ori long before Pa¯ keha¯ settled on it.
The fertile soil of Rangiaowhia, protected in the wars by a huge defensive line known as the Paterangi line, was essential for the growing and storing of crops.
Rangiaowhia was described as essential for ‘‘supplying food to the fighters in front.’’ The small farming region had rich soil and made for some of the best farming in New Zealand. Settlers of the Anglican and Roman Catholic faiths had even established churches at Rangiaowhia.
Rangiaowhia was raided in the early hours on February 21, a Sunday. The settlement was largely undefended with most of the men away, leaving mainly women and children.
In the gunfight that ensued, British troops set alight one of the whare. Ma¯ ori women, children and elderly were killed, along with five troopers. Many Ma¯ ori hid inside the churches of Rangiaowhia, which escaped unscathed.
And so I learned how family had settled on land stained by innocent blood.
What kind of mana did my family have, if this was a secret buried within our past? It seemed unforgivable in my eyes, and my wha¯ nau were just as much to blame as those who fought against Ma¯ ori during the wars.
William Corboy
William Corboy’s town allocation was used to build upon Kihikihi’s Alpha hotel, where my great-great grandfather was born. His land outside Kihikihi was fertile and accommodating for crops, and he found success in farming on the land.
William, joined by his new wife Mary, dedicated their lives to the small town of Kihikihi. Running a bakery and a general store, they oversaw the development of the hotel in an expanding township.
Mary herself was a maverick. Smart, talented with finances and people skills, Mary landed in New Zealand with almost nothing. She was nudged by her friend into dating shortly upon her arrival.
Mary Donovan was set up with her future husband by her friend (and later relative), Julia Cullen.
‘‘I know a young man who would make you a fine husband,’’ she said.
She later married William Corboy, and together they put their hearts into the development of the hotel.
Despite his role at the helm of a prominent hotel in the Waikato region, William still described himself on the 1881 electoral role as ‘‘a farmer, rather than a hotelier.’’
William expanded his property by acquiring a further 300 acres of farming land in the Rangiaowhia/Kihikihi area by purchasing from other landowners in the area.
William Corboy also found favour with the Ma¯ ori king Tawhiao upon his return to the Waikato.
William Corboy was mentioned as ‘‘among a select few Pa¯ keha¯ who were welcomed by Tawhiao and Rewi to a hui at Hikurangi,’’ an honour in spite of the history ingrained in the region.
William would die before he saw the hotel finished, and in death left an emotional and meaningful legacy.
Upon his death in 1882, William was mourned by Pa¯ keha¯ and Ma¯ ori alike. At his funeral, Rewi Maniapoto spoke of William’s ongoing support for Ma¯ ori, and his goodwill for members of the community.
An astonishingly large presence of Ma¯ ori at the funeral surprised locals, with Maniapoto requesting that all Ma¯ ori who accompanied him took a moment to view the body.
When I found this out, I was uncharacteristically emotional. Despite playing an active role in the distributing of stolen Ma¯ ori land, and even receiving their own share, my tipuna had died at peace with Ma¯ ori.
Finding this out didn’t rectify any of the injustices my ancestors had carried out, nor did it diminish their role in the wars.
But it was forgiveness and respect from the people who were wronged by my ancestors, and to me it was a start.
The local public school closed for two days out of respect for William Corboy.
William was buried in the Catholic cemetery in Rangiaowhia. His tombstone reads:
In loving memory of William Corboy, native of Tipperary, Ireland.
My family history had lain dormant for many years.
The role my tipuna had played in the establishing of New Zealand was greater than I had ever imagined, but our family history is interwoven in the war and conflict that shaped 19th century New Zealand.
During my search, I constantly asked myself of what mana my family had, and whether I had anything to be proud of.
Whakapapa is a taonga, and is one of the only things now connecting me and my wha¯ nau to Rangiowhia and Kihikihi. All the stolen land my family settled on has been sold off over the last century, with no Corboys owning any property in the area.
My whakapapa has become so important to me. It is a story of good and bad, of injustice and conflict.
But it’s also a story of forgiveness, retribution and respect. The history is already written, but it is only by learning about it that we can hope to put into perspective what is going on around us.
Researching and learning my whakapapa has let me grow closer with my family history, and with the people who made me who I am.