Copyright is owned by the Author of the thesis. Permission is given for a copy to be downloaded by an individual for the purpose of research and private study only. The thesis may not be reproduced elsewhere without the permission of the Author. Belonging: Pakeha women's practices i n Aotearoa New Zea land A thesis presented in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy In Social Anthropology At Massey University, Palmerston North, Aotearoa New Zealand Wilma Penelope Robinson 2005 i i Abstract Belonging: Pakeha women's practices in Aotearoa New Zealand T h i s thesis i n vestigat e s p ractices of b e l on g i ng a m o n g Pakeha w o m e n i n Aotearoa N e w Zeal a n d . Acknowled g i n g t h e i r ori g i n s t h ro u g h B ri t i s h o r E u ro p e a n a n cestry, t h e research e x p l o re d t h e i r b e l o n g in g u s i n g a rang e of m e t h o d s . I t c o n c l u d e s t h at w o m e n actively e n a b l e d t he i r b e lo n g i ng u s i n g a rang e of p racti c e s , evident i n everyday l i f e . U n d e rsta n d i ng t h e wom e n ' s p ractices w a s ass i sted by com b i n i n g th eoretical con cepts of p ractice w i t h b o ta n i c a l m etaph ors t o descri b e t h e compl exity of b e l on g i n g . Exte n d i n g the m etap h o r e n a b l ed a d e e p e r u nd e rsta n d i n g of belo n g i n g i n t h e Aotearoa N e w Z e a l a n d c o n text a s a n evol v i n g p rocess, i nf l u e nced b y past p ractices. Key word s : Aotearoa New Zea l a n d , b e l o n g i ng, g e n d e r , i d e ntity, oral h i story, p ractice, v i s u a l a n t h ro p o l o g y . i i i iv To my communities of belonging v vi Acknowledgements I am truly grateful to many people. They include all those who have helped me in the process of becoming, but particular ly those who have been instrumental in the development of th is thesis. I give immense thanks to the sixteen research participants - Joan Bu l lock Morre l l , Ruth Gedye, Joan Gray, Joan Hal l ett, Ruth Jane, Roselene Kerr, J i l l Kirk, Margaret McCosh , Diane Moreland, Yvonne Q'Connor , Kathy Olsen, Pamela Richardson , June Sheppard, Ai lsa Stewart , Debbie Spence and Margaret Mary Watt . These women invited me into their l ives and provided those immeasurable gifts of time and their insights. My supervisors, Sita Venkateswar and Mandy Rudge, guided me into academic person hood . Their generous understanding and knowledge assisted in developing mine; enabled me to acknowledge my strengths and weaknesses; and aided me in understanding myself and our wor ld . Keith R id ler encouraged my interest in visual research and in itiated this process. Henry Barnard suggested a way of conducting anthropology at home, enabl ing me to meet family commitments, and fol low my academic heart; and shared his scholar ly knowledge and computer ski l ls wi l l ing ly. Jenny Coleman deepened my understanding of feminist scholarship. My col leagues in the Social Ant hropology department, especial ly those around the monthly seminar table, provided support dur ing the journey through academia and l ife - Robyn Andrews, Ann Appleton, Noel ine Arnott , Lorena G ibson , Dominic Moran, and, more recent ly, Tr is ia Pr ince, Lesley Read, Kathy Stuart, and Susan Abasa. Cherie Fair ley was eff icient and cheerfu l , sending to me necessary information as it arose. Susan Simonson proofed the first complete draft within days of joining our office team, and commented usefu l ly from her perspective as a recent Scots migrant. Yumiko Ql l iver gave unstinting support, generous insight and wise counsel, and proof-read the final document, as d id Robyn Andrews. I am very grateful for the f inancial support provided through scholarships awarded by the Massey Doctoral Comm ittee, the Wi l l iam Georgetti Foundation, the Whanganu i Community Trust, and grants from the Massey University Graduate Research Fund. Their support enabled me to take on th is major project, and maintain my existing commitments. I acknowledge some other very special people. Many knew me before I began this research, and have continued to support me throughout a long, arduous, and excit ing process. Huda al-Tamimi encouraged me to enrol l at post-graduate level , and set a f i ne example of persistence in sett ing and ach ieving goals; Cherry Novis has long shared my interest in photography, and al lowed me to use some of her images for photo-el ici tation ; Adr ienne G i lbert monitored my progress, taught me new computer ski l ls, and, with Lois G i lbert, and Kahukura Taiaroa, developed my understanding of te reo and t ikanga. Manu Metekingi ass isted in my search for whakatauki, providing two from the col lection of his late father, Rangipo Metekingi . Mary Featonby provided the stimulus for the chapter on 'taking tea', an activity we have engaged for near ly thirty years; Debra Elgar, Yoka van Dyk, Lois Gi l bert, and Paula Woodman engaged me in thoughtful conversation, deepening my knowledge and understanding; Genny Matthews, and Jahanara, Noushin and Tabassum Begum encouraged my bel ief i n myself and wr iting; Michael McCarthy and Rachael Gar land provided usefu l words from their extensive vocabu lar ies; Garnet Spooner gave me access to land for garden ing , which enabled me to take time out to tussle with ideas as I to i led physica l ly. Robyn and John D. Thomas provided me with solitude in the Hali burton Highlands, g iving me space to edit the f inal draft. vi i My parents, June and Peter Grove, taught me the importance of fami ly, education, place, and commitment to one's ideals; my husband's parents, Patr ic ia and Lewis Robinson, were supportive role models, who pursued and attained their own academic aspirations, as older people. My brother- in- law, Richard, asked tough questions and forced me to be succinct. My chi ldren - my oldest son, Tim, my daughter, Emily, my younger sons, Marcus and Andrew, and my daughter- in-law, Natal ie , acknowledged the efforts involved in study, and encouraged me to keep going. I thank my husband, Peter, for h is patience, ongoing support, and most of a l l , h is love, which enabled me to complete th is major undertaking . vi i i Table of Contents Abstract Acknow l ed g e m e nts Chapter One: Looking to the past to bui ld the future I ntrod uction The Research C on t ext Beg i n n i n g s Loca t i n g Aotearoa N ew Zealand W/h/a n g a n u i b ri ef l y Def i n it i o n s Conc l u s i o n Chapter Two: Disentangl ing identity from belonging Introd uction I d e n t i ty a n d b e l o n g i ng Be l o n g i n g Develop m e nt a n d P ractice E m otion H o m e a n d P lace I n d i g e n o us/sett l e r belo n g i ng Metap h o rs Conclus i o n Chapter Three: Methodology I n trod uction Motivati n g Factors Ge n e rat i n g s k i l l s Native a n t h ropology L i m its E t h i cs Gatheri n g i nformation Life h i stories a n d photo-e l i citation F i n d i n g p a rt i c i pa n ts N a r rative C o n c l u s i o n Chapter Four: Defining Selves I n trod uction T h e p a rt i c i pants Aotearoa New Zea l a n d e r , Kiwi , Pakeha o r E u ropean C o n c l u s i o n ix i i i vi i 1 3 4 5 6 6 8 8 1 2 1 7 1 8 19 21 22 2 3 2 4 2 4 2 4 25 2 6 27 30 33 38 39 40 4 1 4 1 78 80 Chapter Five: Origin stories I n troducti o n G e n e ra t i n g history I m m ig ra n t o ri g i n stories T e l l i n g stor i es O r i g i n s a n d jo u rn e ys Attach m en t s W h y Aot e a roa N e w Zea l a n d? D i s c o v e ri n g the p ast U s i n g h eritage C o n c l u s i o n Chapter Six: Experiences, Values, and Practices I ntrod u c t i o n C o m m o n expe r i en c e s S h a re d v a l u es H e ro e s a n d re negades C o n c l u s i o n Chapter Seven: Places and spaces I ntrod u c t i o n P l a c e a n d space P ast and p resent p lace Past s i m i l a r it i es - e nv i ro n m e n t 'Aro u n d h ere' I ns c r i p t i o n a nd acti o n I c o n s C o n c l u s i o n Chapter Eight: Community Engagement I n t r o d u c t i o n P ro g re s s i o n s G e n eration Exc l u si o n C o n c l u s io n Chapter N ine: Codes of hospital ity I ntrod u c t i o n H os p i t a l i t y Tea h istory O cc u r r e n c e H o s p i t a l ity at h o m e C o l l e ct i v e h os p it a l i ty R o u ti n e s M o u r n i n g C o n c l u si o n x 8 1 8 1 82 83 85 90 92 94 96 9 9 1 0 1 1 0 1 1 05 1 07 1 1 5 1 1 6 1 1 6 1 1 7 1 2 6 1 32 1 35 1 43 1 48 1 50 1 50 1 52 1 58 1 5 9 1 6 1 1 6 1 1 62 1 63 1 6 5 1 7 1 1 74 1 76 1 79 Chapter Ten: Intergenerational transmission Introd u c t i on P e rsonal p rese ntat i o n ' D ressing food' Practice absorbed C o n c l u s i o n Chapter E leven: Talking d i rectly Introduction ' H o m e ' a n d be long i n g W h at we b e l ong t o A 'fe e l ing' Acceptance E x p e r i e n c ing ancestral orig ins Recogni zing b e l o n g ing N a m in g C reating and m a inta ini ng b e l o n g ing G i fts and t h anks D i m i n i s h e d b e l ong i n g C o m m i t m e n t B e l o n g i n g i s . . . Chapter Twelve: Conclusion Introduction Towards b e l ong i n g Metap h o rs Contri b ut i o n s D i rections Appendices A p p e n d i x 1 : A p p end i x 2: Information s h eets and consent forms ASAANZ Code of Eth ics A p pendix 3: A p p endix 4: A p p e n d i x 5 : Appe n d i x 6: N O H ANZ Code of Conduct Copy of letter seek ing p e r m i ss i o n to arc h ive v i d eotaped o ra l h i sto ries, conversati ons and p h oto g ra p h s . G u idel ine f o r i nformation to be inc l u ded in l i fe h i story i n t e rvi ews O ut l ine for investigating p a rt i c i pants' concepts of be longing References Cited xi 1 8 1 1 8 1 1 84 1 86 1 93 1 94 1 95 1 96 1 98 1 99 20 1 201 204 204 205 206 209 2 1 1 2 1 3 223 2 1 5 218 2 1 8 220 223 228 230 231 232 233 List of illustrations Fig 1 : Aotearoa New Zealand. 5 Fig 2: Research equipment in a participant's home. 3 1 Fig 3: Margaret Mary at the Thistle Sweet Shop. 32 Fig 4: Margaret Mary sharing photographs with Eileen, an interested non-participant. 33 Fig 5: During a Multicultural Women's Group meeting, a friend photographed me (in blue), showing members how to make Victorian posies. 34 Fig 6: Gravestones with f lowers. 37 Fig 7: J iII seated in her preferred chair in her l iving room. 44 Fig 8: Ruth demonstrating sweet, and jam, making. 46 Fig 9: Margaret Mary arriving for a function at the Opera House. 48 Fig 1 0: Great-nana Joan Hal lett and her g reat-grand-daughter, 50 Violet Rose, on Joan's e ightieth birthday. Fig 1 1 : June (facing) playing mahjong with friends at home. 52 Fig 1 2: Joan in her sunroom. 54 Fig 1 3: Joan with her faithful border col l ie, Tui. 56 Fig 1 4: Ruth J pouring tea, after completing a video-taped interview. 58 F ig 1 5: Diane in her favourite chai r in the corner o f her l iving room. 60 Fig 1 6: Roselene at her kitchen table. 62 Fig 1 7: Ai lsa chairing a meeting. 64 Fig 1 8: Kathy in her garden. 66 Fig 1 9: Yvonne in her 'new' office. 68 Fig 20: Penny, with Noushin Hafiz, at a Christmas Party. 70 Fig 21: Pamela, and her older daughter, Karen. 72 Fig 22: Debbie ushered in costume at an Opera House f i lm festival. 74 Fig 23: Margaret McC on stage during an Opera House fundraiser. 76 Fig 24: Ruth's King James' B ible. 79 Fig 25: Diane's sewing room and her 'Rogue's Gal lery'. 84 Fig 26: My daughter, Emily, and me, after her christening in 1 98 1 . 88 Fig 27: Farewel l to 2nd 7 Armoured Vehicles Regiment, Wanganui, 1 943. 1 03 Fig 28: Ruth's g randson's photo (right). 1 1 2 Fig 29: Ornamental crosses and trinket box. 1 20 Fig 30: The North Mole from Castlecliff Beach. 1 22 Fig 31 : Whanganui River and city from the Durie Hi l l Tower 1 23 Fig 32: Whanganui River and the Tasman Sea, from the Durie Hi l l Tower. 1 24 Fig 33: Whanganui River and city, looking north-west. 1 25 Fig 34: View through g lass. 1 27 Fig 35: A neighbour's plum tree. 1 28 Fig 36: The entrance to Joan's property. 1 29 Fig 37: One Tree Hi l l, New Zealand. 1 31 Fig 38: Mowhanau Beach, Kai Iwi. 1 33 Fig 39: Pumice and stones edge June's garden. 1 35 Fig 40: Garden border with statue and Christmas l i l ies. 1 36 Fig 4 1 : Wheelbarrow and garden tools. 1 37 Fig 42: Ruth G i n the town square. 1 39 Fig 43: Ruth G creating a palm print for a public sculpture. 1 40 Fig 44: Joan B, statue, and children, at Virg in ia lake. 1 41 Fig 45: Moutoa Gardens/Pakaitore. 1 42 Fig 46: Kathy's version of summer and Christmas. 1 44 Fig 47: Yvonne and Zoe on Mt Victoria in Wel l ington. 1 45 Fig 48: Mt Ngaruahoe from a bus window. 1 46 Fig 49: An East Coast Beach. 1 47 Fig 50: Sharing a pre-Christmas meal. 1 55 Fig 5 1 : Instal l ing a backyard swimming pool. 1 56 Fig 52: Rest-home residents 'taking tea'. 1 64 Fig 53: Tray prepared for morning 'tea' with a visitor. 1 65 xii Fig 54: Home baked goods (clockwise from front left): sultana biscuits, fruit cake, Maori kisses, and Russian sl ice. Fig 55: Ruth J pouring tea . Fig 56: Cups on a servery, ready for afternoon tea. Fig 57: Final preparations. Fig 58: CoF members chat before enjoying afternoon tea. Fig 59: Ruth G and a friend hug each other. Fig 60: Chatting at an 80th birthday afternoon 'tea' . F ig 61 : A Christmas cake. Fig 62 : Thelma's birthday cake. Fig 63: Joan G offering Thelma the first sl ice of cake. Fig 64 : Learning by doing - offering guests biscuits. Fig 65: Toddlers absorb cultural practice. Fig 66: Supper backstage for orchestra and crew. Fig 67: Transmitting knowledge. Fig 68: Preparing chocolate ecla irs. Fig 69: Ruth G and a great-granddaughter d iscussing qui lt ing. Fig 70: House interior, Christmas Day, 2000. xi i i 166 1 69 1 71 1 72 1 73 1 77 1 83 1 84 1 85 1 86 1 87 1 88 1 89 1 90 1 91 1 92 207 XIV REFLECTIONS The voices contained in this thesis are those of a selected group of Pakeha women who l ive in Whanganui. While their voices and practices may convey the sense of belonging experienced by many Pakeha women, particularly those l iving in the provinces, they do not necessarily represent belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand, or to Whanganui , held by all Pakeha women. Metropol itan women are l ikely to engage in simi lar practices, although their expressions, attachments and outcomes may differ. The responses of Pakeha academic women scholars, particularly anthropologists, engaging with Aotearoa New Zealand, and the Whanganui R iver, are revealed in the i r writings. Their standpoints and perspectives necessarily differ from that of the research participants. They write as cultural scholars, historians and anthropologists engaging with other cultures, usually located within Aotearoa New Zealand's borders. Academics such as Dame Anne Salmond, Judith MacDonald, Judith Binney, Rosemary du Plessis, Robin McKinlay and Trish Laing (Patricia Kin loch) should be i ncluded in this scholarship, and consideration given to their practices of belonging, strongly impacted by cross-cultural engagement. I engaged with the work of Pakeha women authors such as Bonisch-Brednich (1999, 2002) and Park et al (1991) , and international scholars such as Strathern (1982) and Kohn (2002) because their focus related more directly to my own investigations. I was particularly interested in how 'ordinary' Pakeha women engaged in belonging. What stood out in the research part icipants' practices was the tangential nature of thei r relationship to Maori . The absence of the Whanganui River as an active component in their belonging puzzled me init ial ly, as did their lack of engagement with ' iconic' city spaces with which I felt an affinity. My surprise arose partly because the river, some of its communities, and some river residents, have become part of my Whanganui experience. Negotiating the different sets of voices, 'academic' and 'ordinary' was challenging. I did so through ongoing reflection for the duration of the project; by explain ing to participants the theory behind some of my questions; and by juxtaposition of theoretical knowledge with personal and participant experience as I wrote . I was aware of the news-mediated and political debates about Maori and Pakeha. These may have raised the awareness among Aotearoa New Zealanders of Maori practices, and impacted subtly upon Pakeha concepts in everyday l ife . U ltimately, it was the si lences evident in , and the fears expressed through, participant practices and narrative, that enabled me to comprehend how the divide continued. For such reasons, I used Maori concepts and ideas to inform my understanding of how the Pakeha research participants practiced belonging. Bearing in mind that many factors impact on individual belonging, furtner studies could also investigate how Pakeha scholars, female and male, and metropolitan women, practice belonging in Aotearoa New Zealand. Penny Robinson February 2006 Chapter One Looking to the past to build the future Nga moe moe a ki tua Nga ara ki naianei Nga tupuwae ki mua The visions of yesterday Are today's pathways And tomorrow's stepping stones. (Rangipo Metekingi 1962, recal led by h is son, Manu Metekingi 2004) 'Belonging' implies very much more than merely having been born in the place ... (b)elonging suggests that one is an integral piece of the marvelously complicated fabric which constitutes the community. .. (t)he depth of such belonging is revealed in the forms of social organization and association in the community. .. (Cohen 1985:21) Introduction This thesis investigates how some Pakeha 1 Aotea roa New Zea land2 women practice belonging in and to Aotearoa New Zealand. Acknowledging the i r colonial origins through British or Eu ropean ancestry, the research suggests that these women regard themselves as belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand, and that they a re using active practices to develop and ma intain belonging. I n this chapter I provide a n overview for the thesis, the background to the research and the cata lysts for my choice of subject and the location. I describe the research location, then g ive a brief h istory of Aotea roa New Zealand's immigrant past, and situate the location within th is context. The Research Context As overcrowding and unemployment in the Brit ish I sles du ring the 19th and ea rly 20th centuries forced residents to look elsewhere for opportunit ies, the p rospect of em igration to dista nt lands generated hope. B ritons and Europeans f locked to other lands i nclud ing Aotea roa New Zea land, Austral ia, Canada, and the Un ited States. The migrants endured the ha rdships we have come to associate with 19th and ea rly 20th century migration . These included depa rture from a l l that was famil iar - long, exhausting jou rneys, bewildered a rr ival, lack of materia l goods or access to them, and l ittle knowledge of what lay ahead. They a lso experienced the a nticipation of a new way of l ife with greater opportun ities than ava i lable in the la nds they left behind, as I discuss in Chapte rs Five, Six and E leven . Those who migrated to Aotea roa New Zea la nd did so against a background of Brit ish inte rnationa l colon ization (Bel ich 1996; 2001; Fraser and P ickles 2002; Simpson 1997). The early m igrant settlers were strongly attached to their la nds of orig i n, refe rring to the British Is les or e lsewhere as 'home' (Porter and MacDonald 1996), highl ighted in Chapter Seven. I n their new locations, migrant settlers often displaced the ind igenous 1 A term used to describe Aotearoa New Zealanders of British and European origins. The term may be "derived from 'Pakepakeha', a mythical human-like being with fair skin and hair (Ranford 2000). Today 'Pakeha' is used to describe any peoples of non-Maori or non-Polynesian heritage ... a way to differentiate between the historical origins of our settlers, the Polynesians and the Europeans, the Maori and the other" (ibid). Whanganui Maori use the term kotuku, a native white eg ret or heron, meaning white stranger (Taiaroa 2004: personal communication). 2 The term, Aotearoa New Zealand, reflects an increasing emphasis on national bi-cultural awareness. I use the term throughout but most participants refer only to New Zealand. I have retained this reference in their d i rect speech. 1 p o p u l ation, rap i d ly becom i n g t h e d o m i n a n t g ro u p , n u m e ri c a l l y a n d p o l i t i ca l l y . I n Aotearoa N ew Zeala n d , t h i s process "created t h e P a k e h a p e o p l e a n d m a r g i n a l ized the M a o r i3 in l ess t h a n half a c e n t u ry" ( B e l i c h 2 00 1 : 1 1 ) . Many P a k e h a Aotearoa N ew Zea l a n d e rs no l o n g e r q ue s t i o n w h e re ' h o m e' i s . T h e y c l a i m b e l o n g i n g to Aotearoa New Z e a l a n d , a l t h o u g h t h e i r r i g h t t o d o so h a s b e e n contested by i n d i g e n o u s people (Tanczos 2004 ) . W h y P a ke h a c l a i m b e l on g i n g , a n d what g ives t h e m t h e r i g h t t o d o s o , i s a q u es t i o n w h i c h h a s a r i s e n m o re f req u e n t l y , as i n d i g e n o u s people i n t e rn at i o n a l l y asse rt t he i r own b e l o n g i n g i n t h e i r n ative l a n d s ( K i n g 2003/2004; W a l k e r 1 990) . As i n oth e r l a n d s , i nd i g e n o u s c l a i m s a re ofte n based on l o n g e vity o f res i d e n c e a nd/or assoc i a ti o n , o c c u p a t i o n a n d l a n d u s e , k nowledge o f p laces a n d space s , a n d a n c e st r a l c o n n ectio n s . T h i s k n ow l e d g e i n corporates ' m yt h s a n d l e g e n d s ' o f p laces a n d p e o p l e , rec a l l s past e v e n ts , and e s ta b l ishes p hysica l , s p i r i t u a l and relational c o n n ecti o n s, d etai l e d i n C h a p t e rs Five t h ro u g h Te n . Obse rvi n g i n d i g enous p e o p l e ' s 'se n s e of d e e p b e l o n g i n g ' , m i g ra n t sett l e rs h ave b e e n f o rc e d to q u est i o n t h e i r own ' s e n s e/s of b e l o n g i n g/s, . 4 T h e y have asked t h e m s e lves, and have been a s ke d , how t h e y c a n have such s t ro n g f e e l i n g s of c o n n e c t i o n w h e n o t h e rs c l a i m t h e i r own d i sp l a c e m e n t , d e s p i t e a r r iv i n g o r b e i n g ' h e re ' f i rst. T h e i m m i g rant d e sc e n dants a r g u e that t h e y h a ve n o oth e r h o m e l a n d , d e s p i t e t h e i r o r i g i n s . They s e e k ways o f e x p l i c at i n g c o n n e c t i o n s t o e n a b l e t h e i r own c l a i m s to 'be l o n g i n g ' ( R ead 2000: 1 - 5 ) . Pake h a Aotearoa N ew Z e a l a n d e rs , espec i a l l y those b o r n i n t h e l a n d , b e g a n asse rt i n g th e i r r i g h t to be l o n g , m o re lou d ly a n d s t ro n g l y , d u r i n g t h e 1 970s a n d 1 98 0 s , when M a o r i p u b l i c l y p o l i t i c i z e d i s s u e s s u r ro u n d i n g t he i r own b e l o n g i n g , a n d t h e i r s u bord i n a t i o n w i t h i n t h e nati o n a l c o n text ( K i n g 2003/2004; W al k e r 1 990) . Weve rs a rg u e d t h at "the 1 970s w e re a t i m e of e n o rm o u s c h a n g e . . . a n ' e x p l o s i ve' p e r i o d . . . that s ha p ed who we a re today ( q uoted i n ' R e m e m b e r t h e Seve n t i e s ? ' 200 5 : 2 0 ) . Som e P a k e h a recog n i ze t h at t h e i r b e l o n g i n g d iffe rs f r o m t h a t exp e r i e nced b y Maori ( S n e d d e n 2004 ) . Other Pakeha argue that t h e i r b e l o n g i n g i s s i m i la r (Tu rn e r 2004) D u r i n g l i b ra ry resea rc h , I became aware t h at b e l o n g i n g was often conflated w it h , o r d iscussed i n associ at i o n w i t h , i d e nt i ty ( C o h e n 1 98 2 , 1 99 4 ; G i dd e ns 1 998; M a t h ews 2000) , a n d also w i t h c o n cepts of ' h om e ' ( Battag l i a 1 99 6 ) . T h e i r t h e o ri e s p ro v i d e d i n s i g h t s i n to belo n g i n g , w h at i t w a s a n d how i t was co n st r u c t e d , b u t w e r e c o n ta i n e d wit h i n explorations of i d e n t i t y . M o re rec e n t l y , b e l o n g i n g h a s b e e n i nvesti gated a s a top i c i n its own r i g h t (Do m i n y 200 1 ; R e ad 2000 ) , oft e n i n t h e t r a n s n ational c o n text ( C ham b e r l a i n a n d Leydesdorff 2004; P ratt a n d Y e o h 2003 ) , a s d i scussed i n C h apter Two. I n t h i s t h e s i s , I argue t h a t d e ve l op i n g a n d m a i n ta i n i n g b e l o n g i n g is an active p ro c e s s , i n v o lv i n g a ran g e of practi c e s . These i nco rporate e m b o d i m e n t , p e rf o r m ativity a n d i ns c r i pt i o n . B e l o n g i n g oft e n appears to b e d e e p l y e m b ed d e d , accord i ng t o r e lati o n a l , e n v i ro n m e n ta l , p h ysical a n d m etaphysical i nf l u e n ce s . I t a p p ea r s to d ev e l o p t e m p o r a l l y , b e co m i n g laye red a n d i n t e rwoven h o ri zo n ta l l y a n d v e rt i c a l l y . Because o f the d i ve rs e factors i m pact i n g u p o n b e l on g i n g , i t a p p e a rs to be m u lt i p l e , f l exi b l e , m ut a b l e , f l u id a n d e m ot io n a l , w i t h t h e acco m p a n y i n g i m p l ications of attach m e n t and co n n ect i o n s . B e l o n g i n g a p p e a rs a l so t o b e context u a l , p o s it i o n a l , a n d s u bj ectiv e . I m pacting factors i nc l ude g e nd e r , e t h n i c i t y , a n d socia l , a n d c u l t u ra l , h a b i t u s . Be l o n g i n g seems t o i nvolve t h e i nt e r r e l at i o n s h i p o f p e r s o n a l a g en c y i m pacted b y c u l t u ral m o r e s , wo r k i n g i n c o nj u nct i o n w i t h o n e a n ot h e r , so that as a g e n t s create t h e ms e l ves, t h ey also c reate com m u n ity and v i c e v e rs a ( Bo u rd i e u :0 Aotearoa New Zealand's indigenous people, 4 I use the term, 'sense/s of belonging/s', deliberately, here, but generally use the less cumbersome term, 'belonging', Where it seems to convey the meaning better, I use 'sense of belonging', This assists in indicating that I regard belonging as being multiple, flexible and mutable, transferable. layered, positional and relational, and subjective, 2 1982, 1990 ; Giddens 1991) . Understanding belonging more deep ly i s enabled by extending these concepts and elaborati ng on particular metaphors which I clarify in Chapter Two. There I d iscuss belong ing, its interrelationship w ith identity and, to a lesser extend, home, and possible metaphorical app roaches. Belonging appears to be uneven, and to expand and contract, with peop le belonging only in some areas of l ife and community. To understand belonging, I focused on processes "conceived less as a matter of ' ideas' than of embodied practices that shape identities and enable resistances" (Gupta and Ferguson 1997:6, my emphasis) . For at least one group of Pakeha Aotearoa New Zealand women, belonging was multip le, l inked to thei r pasts, through immigration or descent from immigrant sett lers. Th is combined with interactions and knowledge of peop le, p laces and cultu re, transm itted intergenerational ly, and integrated into everyday practices. This dissertation investigates active practices amongst these Pakeha women in Aotearoa New Zealand . I next outl i ne why I chose to investigate this topic in the particular location . Beginnings My own sense of dislocation, as an incomer to the Whanganui5 community, provided the catalyst for this dissertation . Aotearoa New Zealand-born, I arrived in Whanganui when I was 22 years o ld . I g rew up nine hours dr ive to the north. There I became fam i l iar with rounded landforms, soft clouds, and sub-trop ical f lora. As a third-generation member of a r esident farming fami ly, whose maternal ancestors arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand w ith the ear l iest British and European immigrants, I was strongly attached to kin and place. When I took a job as a journal ist in Whanganui, I left behind fami l iar people and p laces. Whanganu i p rovided stark visual contrasts with its windswept coast l ine, blocky land forms and narrow val leys. Social ly and cu ltural ly, the community was s imi lar, as one might expect of a s imi lar-sized city in the same land. The same gendered mores were evident in re lationships between men and women. Men, and mascul ine behaviours, were and, to a large extent, sti l l are, dominant, ref lecti ng Aotearoa New Zealand's patriarchal or ig ins (Law, Campbell and Dolan 1999) . Marrying, and raising a fami ly in Whanganui, I learned that it can take a very long t ime to develop the sense that one belongs in, or to, a place and its peop le, even when one shares the same culture . Although I discovered ancestral connections and the presence of d istant kin, became part of an extended fami ly, developed a community p rof i le, engaged in community activities as an emp loyee and volunteer, and was regarded by many residents as 'belonging', to the extent of being 'one of us', I had not internal ized my belonging. I wondered how other women had coped, whether, when, and how, they perceived that they belonged, and what practices enabled their belonging. As my research progressed, I began to wonder how peop le could belong if they or their ancestors were not born in a place. I f belonging was more than birth, then how d id individuals and col lectives develop belonging? What if the be longing was so strong that peop le claimed a right to belong in the land which was not where their ancestors had originated? Did they think they belonged, and, if they did, why d id they th ink that? What d id they do that might demonstrate or deepen their belonging? As I noted earl ier, migrant settlers were often strongly attached to their lands of or ig in, referr ing to the B ritish Is les, or elsewhere, as 'home'. M igrants in diasporic and transnational communities appear to feel s imi lar ly, that 'home' is frequently somewhere else (Baldassar 1997; Fraser and Pickles 2002; Pohl 2001) . Such research indicated that migrants had a sense of 'deep ' belonging w ithin their 5 Debates rage about the spelling of WhanganuiIWanganui (Stowell 2004). The awa (river), the National Park, the electorate, and the region, all contain the letter 'h', but the city is spelled Wanganui. The tension appears to relate to perceptions of local dialect. I use the spellings, Whanganui and Wanganui, as they occurred in texts, and used my discretion in reporting direct speech. I also use the spelling, Whanganui, when making generic references. 3 countries of orig in . This appeared to be simi lar to the belonging which ind igenous people experience in their native lands (Cohen 1 982) , for the same sorts of reasons as I felt I belonged in Northland but not in Whanganu i , that is, b i rth combined with relational and environmental connections. This dissertation, which is based on one year of intensive fieldwork with sixteen Whanganui women, combines with nearly 30 years of persona l residence in the city, before , during and after the init ial f ieldwork. I t focuses specifically on Pakeha women, who, like me, are of British or European orig in , mostly born and raised in Aotearoa New Zealand. This is expanded in Chapter Three, where I discuss the methodology, and i n Chapter Four, where I introduce the participants individual ly. From Chapters Five to Eleven, I discuss and analyze the ethnographic material drawing on the participants' narratives and discourse, their references to place, people , and material objects i nc lud ing photographs, and the i r heritage. Each of those chapters explores particular aspects of partic ipants' belonging. Chapter Five focuses on narratives about the i r heritage, investigates how aspects of the narrated past is incorporated into belonging in the present, and explores cultural 'games' played with in Aotearoa New Zealand . Chapter Six reviews common experiences and shared values. There I argue that experiences, shared temporally although separated geographical ly, and shared values, arising from simi lar experiences and/or cultural orig ins , can broaden connections, and intensify belonging . I also consider decision making, the tension between publ ic concepts and personal behaviour, and how shared values can contribute to the construction of heroes and renegades. The relevance and meaning of places and spaces in belonging provides the focus for Chapter Seven. The part icipants' worlds, their responses to various locations through inscription and engagement, and the role of icon ic places in their belonging are h igh l ighted . Other p ractices involved in belonging, and the part icipants' connections, provide the essence of Chapter Eight. In Chapter N ine , I reflect on codes of hospital ity, related particu larly to 'taking tea', a generic for a range of related activities. Cont inu ing this theme, in Chapter Ten , I d iscuss inter­ and i ntra-generational transm ission of cu ltural practices. I n Chapter Eleven , the participants reflect d i rectly on belonging, its impl ications and ram if ications . In the final chapter, I draw aspects of several theories together, and expand some theoretical metaphors to provide insights into how these Pakeha women engage in belonging. I a lso suggest where this research m ight be located international ly , how it cou ld be used and how it cou ld be extended. Locating Aotearoa New Zealand Aotearoa New Zealand ( Fig 1 ) l ies in the southern Pacif ic Ocean . I ts nearest neighbour, Austra l ia , l ies 1 600 km to the west. It is composed of the North and South Islands and several smal ler is lands (Virtual New Zealand 2004) . W ith j ust over four m i l l ion people, "mainly of Brit ish , Polynesian and I rish descent" ( Bel ich 1 996) , the population and land area are "smal l i n international terms" ( ib id) . "Human sett lement p robably dates back no further than a thousand years, when the ancestors of the Maori people a rrived from tropical Polynesia" ( ib id :7) . The f i rst permanent European settlers arrived i n the 1 830s. I n 1 840, Maori iwi6 and British Government representatives signed the Treaty of Waitangi/Te T i rit i 0 Waitangi , described as New Zealand's founding document (Virtual New Zealand 2004) . This has d iffer ing interpretations. The Brit ish signatories assumed it provided 'sovereignty' to Britain , and resu lted in vast tracts of land being sold to, and settled by, the white i ncomers (ibid) . This led to 'traumatic interaction' between Maori and Pakeha (Bel ich 1 996) . There was much i nter-ethnic warfare, government intervention, and often the confiscation of Maori land. Whanganu i experienced much 6 Tribe. 4 of th is and tensions continue . Recent governments have attempted to resolve this fraught heritage, by establ ishing a tr ibunal to hear Maori c la ims and make f inancial compensation, return or real locate land, recogn ise prior use rights, and sometimes urge reinforcement in legislation , as with recent foreshore leg islation (NZ Herald 2003) . Bay of Island s A4Jcklcnd �orth Island Hamilton Tauranga Rotorua �jew Plymouth Taupo Napie- Wanganui Plcton Wellington Nelson South Island Greymouth BI81hem Ho Kitika Kaikoura Franz JOSB Ch ristchu rd1 Lake Tekapo Queen st OW"l Wanaka Dun.din Invercarglll Fig 1 : Aotearoa New Zealand (New Zealand Tourism onl ine 2004). W/h/anganui briefly Located in a long , sweeping bight on the west coast of the North Island , Whanganui is prone to batter ing from strong equinoctial winds. Volcanic cones are visible to the north and west. The city and district are bisected by the Whanganui River which flows through forest to bare eroding hi l ls and across a wide flood plain to the Tasman Sea. The district's proximity to Wel l ington, and its accessib i l ity by river, made it an ideal location for early European sett lement. This began in earnest after 1 840 when the pressure g rew on land a round Wel l ington (Wanganu i District Counci l 1 994) . In the early years, friction occu rred between Maori and Pakeha over diffe rences in perceptions about land use, land sales and occupation rights (Downes 1 922/1 976) . Once this was resolved, the non-Maori popu lation g rew slowly but steadi ly with a notably prosperous period from approximately 1 880 to 1 930 (Smart and Bates 1 972) . The reg ion's ethn ic composition i s s im i lar to the nation's, although more res idents in Whanganui identify as both Maori and European. The national 200 1 census recorded about 84% of Whanganui residents identifying themselves as European compared to 80. 1 % nationally, and 21 % as Maori, compared to 1 4 .7% nationally. Other ethnicities included Samoan, South Asian, South-East Asian and Polynesian (NZ Department of Statistics 200 1 ) . At that time , the city was struggl ing socio-economically. More young and older people l ived in the city than elsewhere. Compared to the national f igures, residents were general ly poorer and less educated . Their households were smal ler and more people l ived in lone-parent households; unemployment was higher; fewer people had access to a telephone, the internet, and motor vehicles. On the other hand, s l ightly more Whanganui res idents owned their own homes, with or without mortgages than average naiionaiiy (ibid) . More recent statistics and business commentary suggest that the city's fortunes are improving, in l ine with national economic improvements (Wanganu i District Counci l 2004) . Wanganu i became a city i n 1 924 (Wanganui District Council 1 994) .7 I t has a 7 "With a population of 24,000, (it was) then the fifth largest centre in New Zealand" (Wanganui District Council 1 994). 5 sta b l e pop u la t i o n of a ro u n d 4 0 , 000 a n d t h e atmos p h e re of a l a r g e c o u n t ry tow n . C u l t u ra l l y , i t i s p r e d o m i n a n t l y P a ke h a , w i t h l i m i te d Maori material o r c u l t u ra l v i s i b i l it y ( La u re nce 2 0 0 4 ) . The m a i n street was u p g raded d u r i n g t h e 1 990s , foc u s i n g o n t h e central b u s i n es s d i strict's Victorian a n d Edwa r d i a n b u i ld i n g s . M o s t r es i d e nts a re aware of t h e M a o r i popu l a ti o n , p a rti c u la rl y s i n c e t h e 1 995 occupati o n of an i n n e r c i ty park ( R o b i n s o n 1 9 95) . Fre q u e n t socia l i n t e ract i o n a p p e a rs to be r a r e , as d o e s M a o r i i nvolve m e n t i n l o c a l gove r n m e n t . S u p e rf i c i a l l y , t h i s h as a l te re d s i n c e t h e 2 0 0 4 l o c a l gove r n m e n t e l ec t i o n s , w h e n t w o peop l e w i t h M ao r i e t h n ic c o n n e ct i o n s w e r e e lected to the c ity's g o ve r n i ng p o l i t i ca l body. s As w i t h t h e nat i o n , a g r i c u l t u re p rovides t h e c i ty's eco n o m i c b a s e . T h e re i s s o m e l i g h t m a n ufactu r i n g . Mod est b u t s u ccessf u l efforts a re b e i n g m a d e t o d e v e l o p o p p o rtu n i t i es f o r t o u rism . Defin itions I n a l l c o n t e xts, m i g ra n ts a r e i nc o m e rs b u t , as Kohn (2 002) a ss e rte d , i n h e r I n n e r H e b r i d e a n I sl a n d researc h , i nc o m ers c a n become i n s i d e rs ove r t i m e , b y adapt i n g t h e i r b e h av i o u r , adopti n g certa i n p ractices, a n d m a k i ng c o n t r i b u t i o n s to t h e com m u n ity. W it h i n some com m u n it i e s , r es i d e n ts ref e r to ce rta i n p e o p l e a s 'old­ t i m e rs', 'real' v i l l a g e rs, i s l a n d e rs o r r e s i d e n t s , i m p l y i n g h istorical a n d a ncestral con n ectio n s , and describe oth e rs as i nc o m e r s , s t ra n g e rs o r o utsi d e rs ( Ko h n 2002 ; Mars 1 999; S t rat h e rn 1 982 ) . T h e se te r m s p rovide ways of d iffe renti a t i n g h i st o r i ca l , t e m p oral , a n d com m u n ity stat u s . Koh n ' s c o n cept of a n ' i s l a n d er/i n s i d e r/ i n c o m e r cont i n u u m ' i s u s ef u l b ecause i t provided a w a y of locati n g people w i t h i n t h e i r com m u n i t i e s . ' I s la n de r s ' we re g e n e ra l l y t h o s e w h o c o u l d c l a i m seve r a l c e n t u r i es of a ncestral res i d e n c e . ' I s l a n d e r' status was a l s o accorded to t h ose whose a n c estors a rrived from t h e 1 85 0 s to 1 950s, b o u g h t p ro pe rt i es , farmed cattl e a n d/ o r m arried i n . They d e m o n strated com m it m e n t to the com m u n ity t h ro u g h act i o n and res i d e n c e . I sl a n d e r s were always i ns id e rs . I nc o m e rs cou l d b e co m e i n s i d e r s , t h ro u g h act i o n s and p ractice , b ec a u s e t h e s e d e m o n strated com m i t m e n t . I n com e rs w h o d i d n ot d e m o n strate c o m m i t m e n t , o r r e m a i n e d a loof , conti n u e d to be r e g a rd e d as o u t s i d e rs , d e s p i t e l o n g -term resi d ence , exte r n a l l y i m posed c o m m i t m e nts (Le. f i n a n c i a l contri b u ti o n s l i k e rates p a y m ents) , a n d u s e of p u b l i c fac i l it ies ( K o h n 2 0 02 ) . S u c h 'outside rs' we re l i ke l y to b e spoken of d i s p a rag i n g ly , as were 'old' o r ' r e a l ' res i d e nts i f t h ey a p p e a r e d o l d ­ fash i o n e d , c u l t u ra l l y i n e p t o r t o o conservative f o r t h e p resent d a y ( Strath e rn 1 98 2 ) . T o d iffe r e n t i ate stages i n movem e n t a l o n g t h e conti n u u m o f accepta n c e , a n d p e o p l e ' s o ri g i n s , as wel l a s e m i c a n d e t i c p e rc e p t i o n s , I u s e fo u r s p e c i f i c t e r m s - O l d W h a n g an u i , i ns i d e r , i nc o m e r a n d o u ts i d e r. O l d W ha n g a n u i i m p l ies p e o p l e w h o were descended f ro m e a r l y sett l e rs and whose fa m i l y h ad u n b roken res i d e n c y . They were l i ke l y to r e g a rd t h e m s elves as 'real' i ns i d e rs and to be p e rce ived as s u c h by i n com e rs . I nc o m e rs somet i m es described such people as 'born a n d b re ds ' . I n s i d e rs n e a r l y always i m p l i e d O l d W ha n g a n u i r e s i d e n t s , and t h e i r k i n - t h o s e w h o w e re b o r n a n d raised i n t h e area, b u t l ived e l s ew h e r e . I ns i d e r cou l d a l s o b e a p p l i e d to i nc o m ers w h o h a d d eveloped i n s i d e k n ow l e d g e of t h e c ity, its p e o p l e a n d its h istory, t h ro u g h resi d e n t i a l l o n g evity, and d e m o n strated co m m it m e n t . I nc o m e rs w e re p e o p l e w h o h ad l ived e lsewhere, a n d r e located f o r a vari ety of reasons i . e . e m p l oy m e n t, ret i re m en t , k i n , l ifestyle . O u t s i d e rs desc r i b e d recent a r rivals a n d/or v i s i to rs w i t h n o apparent c o n n ectio n s t o t h e a r e a , a n d res i d e n ts w h o m ad e n o c o m m it m e n t o r rejected b e l on g i n g . Conclusion Bea r i n g m y own s u bj ect position i n m i n d , Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d b o r n , e ducated, P a k eh a, fem a l e , i n a sta b l e eco n o m ic a n d m arital s i t u at i o n , t h i s 8 Neither campaigned actively from a Maori perspective. 6 disse rtation investigates Pakeha b e longing against a backgro u n d of B ritish c o l o n ization d u ri n g the 1 9th and e a r l y 20th c e nt u ri e s . I n this context9, Aotearoa N ew Zealand, like H awaii, c o u l d be described as a "postcolonial e n tit(y) in which t h e politics of i n digen eity a re t e n s e . . . varied historical c o n n ections, as w e l l as t h e diffe rent config u rations i n which d o m ination, resista n c e, and everyt hi n g in b e tw e e n a r e e m bedded , h ave c o n tributed t o t h e sociopolitical dive rsity of b o t h regions" ( Besnier 2004: 1 725).10 It is one of few settl e r c o l o n i e s to have sig n e d a treaty with t h e i n d i g e n o u s people a r o u n d t h e tim e of sett l e m e n t . I n t h e first 1 20 years or s o of sett l e m e n t, Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d maintained s t ro n g c u l t u ra l and economic l i n k s to its a n cestral h o m e l a n d s. C o lonial sett l e r attitu d e s , such as a sense of c u l t u ra l inferiority, a n d ' li m ited col o nial c h aracte ristics', s e e m t o para l l e l t h ose desc ribe d i n o th e r sett l e r colonies (As h c roft, G riffiths a n d Tiffin 2000: 4). Links t o t h e ' h o m e l a n d' reduced d u ri n g t h e 1 970s ( Belich 2001 : 1 2), as p o l itical awareness of indige n o u s rights i ncreased. Acknow l edging this backgro u n d, t h i s t hesis investigates t h e active p ractices s o m e Pakeha w o m e n u sed i n b e l o n gi n g . 1 1 9 As opposed to transnational or diasporic dislocation and belonging. 10 Although Besnier (2004) refers to Hawaii and Aotearoa New Zealand as postcolonial entities, the latter, at least, is heavily imbued with colonial institutions and attitudes. 11 I am aware that the practices I am investigating are those of a specific group immigrants, incomers, Pakeha. middleclass, women, members of the dominant culture, with the gendered, cultural and social expectations and qualifications that apply. While their belonging may differ from those of the indigenous population, their attachment to land, place and people is no less valid, although as Read (2000) and King (1999) have noted, some people feel guilty for ancestral actions. 7 Chapter Two Disentangling identity from belonging You have to have something to belong to, a family, a heritage. Israel i Jewish sett ler (McNeish 1 980 : 1 67 ) I ntroduction Livi ng requ i res action. Actions are observab le , and rep l icable . I nd ividua l ly and col lectively, we perform our cu lture, embody our emotions, and engage i n l iv ing . We demonstrate who we are i n a variety of ways, i nc l uding our codes of conduct , environmental engagement, and relationships w ith people and p laces. We observe, learn, copy, engage and/or perform i n the p resence of elders, peers and j un iors. Once l earned, we continue some practices alone and others col lective ly . We cont inua l ly assess and reassess our practices, consciously and subconsciously. We engage i n being , evolving continuously, never static even when sti l l . We d iscover how people practice belonging through simi lar means - by observation , engagement and ref lection on what we are told , observe or do ourselves. With in anthropology, concepts of identity and belonging in p laces and spaces through t ime have become increasing ly debated. Often the concepts a re conflated with a th i rd , that of home, imp lying that the three are one, apparently inseparable , and always i nterwoven . S imi larit ies and overlaps are apparent and def inite i nter-relat ionships exist. Therefore, they a re , u nderstandably, not a lways easi ly separated. I n this chapter, I d iscuss thei r interweaving , and argue that i t is possib le to study the concepts separately. Home, i t seems, can be i ncorporated i n discussions about either one. Doing so enables a deeper understand ing of belonging. I work mostly f rom an anthropolog ical perspective , but a lso d raw on cultural studies, communications theory, and human geography. I expla in why J bel ieve it is des i rabl e to i nvestigate belonging separately, and argue that it is engaged i n and revealed through p ractice, as wel l as d iscourse. Since conduct ing my in it ial research in 2000, I am more convinced than ever that belonging deserves separate i nvestigation from identity. To argue that they should be completely separated would be reductionist, not a d irection I wish to pursue . But consider ing belonging i ndependently assists i n gain ing a better understanding of its complexity and construction in p ractice. Doing so may a lso deepen our understanding of identity and its formation . Th is chapter is d ivided i nto four parts. F i rstly, I refer briefly to the h istory of identity theory, then , i n l ight of recent debates, I discuss the work the term , identity, did. Secondly, I descr ibe how identity theorists have d iscussed belong ing . I a rgue that belonging can be better understood by combin ing theories which focus on active practices and their associated envi ronmenta l , emotional , relationa l , posit ional and genealog ical aspects. I n association with th is I d iscuss aspects of home and the emotional content of be longi ng . Thi rd ly , I d iscuss how scholars have sharpened the focus on belong ing , with part icular reference to research into belonging in Western colonized lands l ike Canada, Austral ia , and Aotearoa New Zealand. Lastly , I d iscuss how several metapho rs m ight be comb ined to extend our understand ing of belonging. Identity and belonging In discussing belong ing , it is useful and necessary to d iscuss the theoretical debates and the h istorical contexts i n which the concepts of identity, home , and belonging are situated. I n identity theory, belong ing is often used to imp ly s im i larity and attachment. As I noted above, the concepts are often conflated, used i nterchangeably, and i nvestigated accordingly. This also occurred in cultura l stud ies. A myriad of meanings can be found in various works (Berger and Luckmann 1 967 ; 8 Cohen 1 985, 2000; Giddens 1 998) whi le lay people also attribute a variety of meanings to identity. Brubaker and Cooper (2000) , Calhoun (2003), Brubaker (2003) and Sokefeld (200 1 ) refer to 'belonging' in d iscussions about identity, and describe it as a part of being connected to, or l iving with in a community, or culture, or in the world. Brubaker and Cooper (2000) provided a detai led description of the work the term , identity, has done since its rise in use since the 1 960s. At that t ime, Erik H . Eriksen described identity as "a kind of consol idation of self" (Eriksen 1 963: 1 59, noted in Luhrmann 2001 :7 1 54). Today, identity theorists have moved away f rom the early focus on indigenous people. They consider identity across a range of cultures and social groups, and are more l ikely to a rgue that identity is "a kind of mastery of mult iple narratives of self-representation" (Luhrmann 200 1 :71 54-71 59) . Luhrmann argued that the " l i terary, 'postmodern' tu rn in the social sciences, with its emphasis on narrative and performance (and) . . . power and agency" had been a major influence (with) identity being understood as being "perform(ed) , enact(ed) and present(ed)" ( ib id ) . These terms highl ighted the active nature of belonging as well as an understanding that identity was actively constructed. In substantial ly detai l ing the meanings and use of the term, ' identity' , Brubaker & Cooper argued that it had lost "its analytical purchase" (2000: 1 ) . Their arguments h igh l ighted the work the term, identity, had done, and the difficulties that arose when various meanings were used interchangeably. They asserted that it was useful to d isentangle a number of terms from their conflation with , i nclusion in , or confusion with , the term, identity. Belonging was one such term. Contending that "(s)ocial analysis . . . requi res relatively unambiguous categories"( ib id :2 ) , they argued that "identity" is too ambiguous, too torn between 'hard' and 'soft' meanings, essential ist connotations and constructivist qual if iers, to serve well the demands of social analysis" ( ibid :2) . I t had been used in many ways, some of which contradicted others. The main uses were to h igh l ight non-instrumental modes of action; to focus on self­ understanding rather than self-i nterest; to designate sameness across persons or sameness over t ime; to capture al legedly core, foundational aspects of self-hood ; to deny that such core, foundational aspects exist; to h ighl ight the processual, interactive development of solidarity and collective self-understanding; and to stress the f ragmented qual ity of the contemporary experience of "self" ( ib id :8 , my emphasis) . They noted that the f i rst was "ge nera l enough to be compatib le with a l l of the others" ( ib id) , aff in it ies were apparent between some, and strong tensions evident between others. Identity was used to h igh l ight 'fundamental sameness' or reject such notions, invoke a sense of action, or imply staticity ( ib id) . Clarifying the d iverse uses of the term , identity, enabled an understanding that identity construction was an active p rocess, involving agents and sol idarities. The processes i nvolved are the practices through which belonging is constructed, demonstrated and can be observed. Brubaker and Cooper (2000) suggested that "alternative terms m ight stand in for ' identity' , enabl ing theoretical work to continue without the cu rrent confusion ( ib id : 1 4) , part ly to avoid the reification which ' identity' had suffered. They proposed using "active, processual terms" ( ib id : 1 7) such as identification - of self and others - (as being) i ntrinsic to social life . . . and fundamentally situational and contextual" ( ib id : 1 4) ; "self­ understanding . . . a dispositional term that designates what might be 9 cal led "situated subjectivity,, 1 2 ; "commonality, connectedness, groupness" to convey " the emotionally laden sense of belonging to a distinctive, bounded group, involving both a felt solidarity or oneness with fellow group members and a felt difference from or even antipathy to specified outsiders ( ib id : 1 9 , my emphasis) . The th i rd cluster was a imed at avoid ing "st i rr ing al l self-understandings based on race, rel ig ion, ethn ic ity, and so on i nto the g reat conceptual melt ing pot of ' identity' . Doing so would encourage using "a more d ifferentiated analytical language; . . . (c)ommonal ity" denotes the sharing of some common attr ibute (and) . . . connectedness the relational t ies that l ink people". These terms, i n combinat ion, may engender "groupness" - the sense of belonging to a d isti nctive , bounded , sol idary g roup" ( ib id :20, my emphasis) . They a rgued that they needed supplementation by a th i rd element, what Max Weber called a Zusammengehorigkeitsgefiihl, a feeling of belonging together. Such a feeling may . . . depend . . . on the degrees and forms of commonality and connectedness . . . (and) other factors such as particu lar events, their encoding in compelling public narratives, prevailing discursive frames and so on ( ib id , my emphasis ) . (They aimed) to develop an analytical id iom sensitive to the multiple forms and degrees of commonality and connectedness, and to the widely varying ways in which actors . . . attribute meaning and significance to them ( ib id :21 , my emphasis) . Brubaker and Cooper asserted that doing so wou ld make it possib le to differentiate between lesser and g reater forms of aff in i ty i . e . g roupness. L ike them , I am "not persuaded that the term , identity, is ind ispensable" ( ib id :9) . The i r adding Weber's concept to the third c luster deepened the concept of the belonging to which I refer. This enabled an understanding of belonging as being affected by factors in common, and by relational t ies, as wel l as events, their "encoding in . . . pub l ic narratives, p reva i l ing discu rsive narratives and so on" ( ib id :2 1 ) . Understanding these as i nf luences on belonging enabled the development of a way of understanding belonging as active , and involv ing i ndividual and col lective practices. I t sti l l d id not a l low for understanding how people develop belonging, especial ly when they may exhib it evident d ifferences i n ethn icity, cu lture, rel ig ion , language within the same geographical spaces. Nor does i t explain why people who are apparently s im i lar may lack a sense of belong ing . Un l ike Brubaker and Cooper, Calhoun preferred the concept of socia l sol idarit ies, c la iming that "(t)o speak on ly of identifications . . . i mpl ies that indiv idual persons are real i n a sense i n which g roups and social re lationships a re not" (2003:536) . He asserted that people must belong "to social g roups, relations or cu lture. The idea of i ndividuals abstract enough to be ab le to choose a I / the i r ' identif ications' is deeply mislead ing" ( ib id ) . He argued, as Geertz ( 1 973) d id before h im , a lso i nf luenced by Weber , that people "are necessarily s ituated i n particu lar webs of belonging, with access to part icular others but not to humanity i n general" ( ib id) . Calhoun argued that the f ixity or f lu id ity of identity and belonging varied according to c i rcumstances, and that "differential resources give people differential capacities to reach beyond particular belongings to other social connections - i ncluding very b road ones l i ke nations , c iv i l izations or humanity as a whole" (2003:537) . He argued that there was no one "basic identity common to al l members of a g roup" ( ib id) , but that any group was " internal ly d ifferentiated i n a variety of ways, and overlap(ped) with , and (was) crosscut by, various other 1 ? "One's sense of who one is, of one's social location, and of how (given the first two) one is prepared to act As a dispositional term, it belongs to the realm of what Pierre Bourdieu has called sens pratique, the practical sense - at once cognit ive and emotional that persons have of themselves and their social world" (Brubaker & Cooper 2000:17). 1 0 identit ies" ( ib id:546-547). One or another might come to the fore depending on circumstances. These claims can be al igned with factors other scholars, such as Cohen ( 1 982) , Pohl (200 1 ) , and Yus (2001 ) , have asserted were important in identity formation . These included language, ethnicity, kin t ies, reg iona l connections and/or cultu re . Simi lar factors a re involved in constructing belonging, often l inked with emotions of attachment and connection . Brubaker (2003) rebutted much of Calhoun's argument, asserting that in many respects their stances were simi lar. The difference, perhaps, was that the former tended towards individual ism and bounded attachments, the latter towards col lectivism and the al lowance for belonging to incorporate a range of connections, dependent on situation . Combining these arguments with Bourd iuean concepts of structure and agency, and theories developed by Deleuze and Guattari ( 1 987) , I ngold (2000) and Kohn (2002) enables a deeper understanding of belonging, and the l inkages between collective and individual perspectives, because together they encompass a range of possib i l it ies. I discuss these theories with their associated metaphors later in this chapter. Sokefeld (2001 ) asserted that anthropolog ists often had d iff icu lty with concepts because "not all human beings employ the same concepts" , and that "(c)oncepts orig inate from specific contexts in which they have more or less precise meanings" ( ib id :528) . I n the past, one problem was that concepts were often used out of context for comparative purposes, and "become increasingly d iff icult to define" ( ibid) . What was in it ial ly emic, encapsu lated in 'particular cu ltural ci rcumstances' became etic . W ith meaning assigned external ly ( ib id :529), a concept m ight be attributed an incorrect meaning because it was considered out of context. I dentity was one such concept . S imi larly, conflat ing belonging with identity creates problems for at least three reasons: f i rstly, because doing so can suggest that one concept is another; secondly, because different cultures m ight conceptual ize the concepts d ifferently; and th irdly, because it becomes more d ifficult to understand how the concepts of identity, home and belonging are intertwined, where, and why, they are simi lar , or different. Sokefeld claimed that " ( i )dentity was not se lfsameness but sameness i n terms of a shared difference from others" ( ibid :536) . This defin ition does not fu l ly expla in belonging because belonging impl ies a degree of sharing and connectedness but does not always reveal itself as se lf-sameness. Belonging has emotional connotations, some of which occur dur ing, result from, or deepen during practice, the sharing of events, engagement in simi lar processes, and the resu ltant movement along a temporal conti nuum (Kohn 2002) as wel l as experiences of common, yet temporal ly or geographical ly distant, experiences. I argue that the term, identity, does not enable a clear understanding of belonging because it is i nterwoven with too many othe r concepts. Like Brubaker and Cooper (2000) , I agree that ' identity' has had to work overt ime, and that breaking the concept into components may enable a deeper understanding of the world . I concur with thei r claims that using ' identity' as a term to cover a range of meanings and understandings has become confusing. I found some of their suggestions usefu l , but prefer to refer to 'belonging' or, as noted in the introduction , 'sense/s of belonging/s' to imply the multitude of mean ings people apply to what they m ight refer to as 'groupness' , and what Calhoun described as 'social sol idarit ies'. By these he meant those greater or lesser forms of aff in ity which i ndividuals, social groups, commun ities and cultures develop, or are encouraged, pol it ical ly, to develop . Weber's concept of ZusammengehorigkeitsgefOhl, a feel ing of belonging together" (2000 :20) , indicated the importance of emotion and connectedness in belonging. I t extends our understanding of belonging to internal ized and emotional as well as being externally observable . In a recent study, Savage, Bagnal l and Longhurst (2005) argued in favour of a concept they termed 'elective' belonging. I n the i r late 1 990s British research , the 1 1 interweaving of the concepts of identity, home and belonging was apparent as they focused on d iscovering how belonging was articu lated, perceived and constructed in Manchester , England. They aimed to elaborate empirical ly the impact of global isation on concepts of local belonging, using narrative and d iscourse to discover how the residents regarded be longing from the perspective of their dwel l ing places. They argued that the i r research revealed that "the power of place is defined by a large g roup of those who 'electively belong' to the specific residential location which they can make congruent with the i r l ives" (Savage et a l . 2005:203). Global ization impacted more strong ly on f ields l i ke music and c inema, but other fields, specifical ly residence, did not al low for 'considerable spatial extension' ( ib id) . Respondents defined 'the i r social position' through residential space, with 'one's residence' being crucial in identity construction . People del iberately chose whe re to l ive and often used this to "announce their identities" ( ib id :207) . D ifferent p laces appealed according to one's degree of cu ltural and economic capital ( ib id) . Savage et a l . (2005) prefe rred the term, 'elective be long ing ' , to 'outside belong ing' . They argued that "the latter depend(ed) for its analytical power on an alternative notion of ' inside belong ing' . . . largely absent" from responses ( ibid :207- 208) . E lective belonging "involves people moving to a p lace and putting down roots" ( ib id :207) , and p rovided "a way of deal ing . . . with people's relative fixity in the local routines of work, household relationships, and le isure . . . and the mobi l ity of their cultural imaginations" (ibid) . The respondents developed " identities . . . through the networked geography of places a rt iculated together" ( ib id :208) . These included fee l ing "at home among the cu ltu ra l values and objects of Engl ish, American and . . . Austra l ian and Canadian nations . . . networks of g lobal u rban space" ( ib id) , and with in a b roadly defined northern region where respondents "had kinship ties and emotional connections" (ibid) , " (t) he national frame of reference" featur ing l ittle in the respondents' 'cu ltu ral imag inaries' ( ib id ) . The emphasis they p laced on belong ing , and the importance they attr ibuted to its contribution to identity construction , demonstrated that belonging could be the research focus rather than being contained in and tagged onto research d i rected towards identity. Other research has indicated that belonging was sometimes ascribed. This involved acceptance by 'locals' , as Mars ( 1 999) a rgued with i n the context of h is Welsh research. Reflecting on commun ity response to the ret irement of a part icular long-term incomer, Mars argued that , temporal ly, committed incomers could develop connections and attachments. Eventual ly, they m ight be ascribed belonging . This was a lmost opposite to elective belonging . I t developed differently. I t a rose not f rom a personal decision to belong , but through insider acknowledgement that the incomer had demonstrated commitment, interest and involvement. Th is combined with temporal longevity to enable belonging. Whi le 'elective' and 'ascribed' belonging may d iffer from ' indigenous' belonging, they are forms of belong ing , a lso revealed through attachments and connections to people and places. Belonging Having argued that belong ing can be researched and d iscussed separately from identity, I now suggest how aspects of several theoretical concepts might be fused to provide deeper understanding of what belonging means ind ividual ly and col lective ly, and how emotion and practice could be included. I draw on theories wh ich incorporate practice, expanding Bourdieu's approach to understanding cu l tu re and society ( 1 982 , 2001 ) with approaches p romu lgated by Cohen ( 1 982 , 2000) , Deleuze & G uattari ( 1 987) , Geertz ( 1 973) , I ngold (2000) , and Kohn (2002) . Bou rd ieu ( 1 982) asserted that society and cu ltu re could best be understood by investigating practice. To better u nderstand the interaction of cu l tural structu res and indiv idual agency, he developed a theory which incorporated concepts of habitus, f ie ld , capital and practice. He a rgued that people reproduced what they were social ised into through their behaviours. This occurred " without 1 2 presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary to attain them " ( ib id :72 , my emphasis) . People also responded to specific situations in ways which might generate new and different behaviou rs. Within a range of responses, no particular response cou ld be expected. To respond differently would mean act ing outside pre-defined boundaries and was less l i kely to occur ( ibid :23) . Suggesting that f ie ld could be viewed l ike a force f ie ld , dynamic and with differing potentials ( ibid:7 ) , Bourdieu asserted that the concept of practice was created by combining habitus with capital . Human action occurred within these f ields. They were sites where agents battled for resources and power (economic capita l ) . Within those sites , agents aimed to d ifferentiate themselves from others and acquire usefu l capita l , of which Bourdieu identif ied two forms, one economic, the other cultural (or symbol ic) . Economic capital was p redicated upon money and property, with position and power conti ngent upon these. Cultural capital determined one's status and could be strengthened through jud icious use of economic capital i .e . for education, which furthered one's abi l ity to comprehend cu ltu ral capita l . This cou ld also be turned into economic capital i .e . th rough employment. Most importantly, cultural or symbolic capital could be used to signify social position and therefore assisted in ind icating one's own , or dete rmining another person's, status, obl iquely (Bourdieu 1 982 , 1 984, 1 990; Kato 2004; Pierre Bourdieu ( 1 930-2002) 2002) . Bourdieu argued that people developed strateg ies to explain what happened in their social world, c laiming that agents "respond to the invitation or th reats of a world whose meaning they have helped p roduce" ( 1 997: 1 8) . Structure was deeply embedded, i nternal ised , and embodied, "constituted in the cou rse of col lective history," (but) "acqui red in the course of ind ividual history" ( 1 984 :467) . Resonating with these a rguments were Ingold's (2000) contentions that people g row and develop "relat ional ly as a movement along a way of l ife" ( ib id) , and Epste in's ( 1 978) assertion that chi ldhood infl uences were so deeply embedded that they affected one's world view. Ortner sounded a warning about adopting a solely Bourdiuean approach and "writing in terms of the old binaries - structu re/event, structure/agency, habitus/practice" ( 1 996:2) . She a rgued that the "chal lenge is . . . to recognise the ways in which the subject is part of larger social and cultu ral webs, and in which socia l and cultural 'systems' are predicated upon human desires and projects" ( ib id ) . She proposed a "model of practice that embodies agency but does not begin with , o r pivot upon, the agent, actor, or individual" ( ib id) . To go beyond the concept o f 'free agents", Ortner adapted the concept of the 'game' , (Bourdieu 1 990), and 'play' (Geertz 1 973). She introduced the concept of 'serious games' , asserting there was "never only one game". That the game was 'serious' added "the idea that power and inequal ity pervade the games of l ife in mu lt iple ways . . . the stakes are often very h igh . . . (and) must be played with intensity and sometimes deadly earnestness" ( 1 996 : 1 2- 1 3) . She h ighl ighted gender d ifferentiation in game playing, recal l ing the view that women had been regarded as "having no autonomous point of view or intentional ity" bu t were associated with male games, or seen as 'pawns' i n those games ( ib id : 1 6) . I t was important to find a way to discover women as agents , without cast ing women as "enact ing whol ly different. . . projects" , and to examine the contradictions which arose, partly because male and female agency may be "differently organized : women's agency may be seen as bound into a contradiction that underm ines its possib i l ity for enactment" ( ib id: 1 7) . I d iscuss some aspects of cu ltu ral games in Chapters Five and Six. I ngold's (2000) assertion that agents were constructed through the i r own experiences al igned with this, p roviding a means of u nderstanding how diffe rential agency could arise from experience, and be demonstrated in action. Like Bourdieu 1 3 ( 1 982) , I ngold (2000) developed a theory of practice, moving from a genealog ical to a relational model, and p romulgating "an ecological approach that situates practitioners in the context of an active engagement with the constituents of their su rroundings" (cover) . This p rovided some f lu id ity because it enabled the inclusion of environmental interaction and engagement, in conjunction with social and cu ltura l structures . I ngold a rgued that th is model of i nhabitation (dwel l ing) and instantiation explained the world better than a genealogical mode l , i . e . a tree, f rom the perspective of hunter/gatherer (foraging) communit ies, at least. Focusing on i ndigenous people, he used f ive key terms - ancestry, generation , substance, memory, and land - in h is analysis . He a rgued that the genealogical model assumed that or ig inal ancestry l ies at the point where history rises from an ah istorical substrate of 'nature' ; that the generation of persons involves the t ransmission of b iogenetic substance, prior to thei r l ife in the world ; that ancestral experience can be passed off as the stuff of cu ltura l memory, enshrined in language and tradit ion ; and that the land is merely a surface to be occupied, serving to support i nhabitants rathe r than to br ing them i n to being. ( i bi d : 1 32) He contended that people whom anth ropologists classified as ind igenous "actual ly constitute their identity, knowledgeabi l ity, and the environments in which they l ive" ( ib id : 1 33 ) . He suggested "an a lternative relational approach . . . more consonant with these people's l ived experience . . . cultura l knowledge and bodi ly substance are seen to undergo cont inuous generation in the context of an ongoing engagement with the land and with the beings - human and non-human - that dwel l there in" ( ib id ) . I n developing this approach , I ngold adapted Deleuze and Guattar i 's ( 1 987) model of a rh izome, whi le not ru l ing out the possibi l ity that some growth may be dendritic (2000: 1 40) . The rhizome al lowed for connections and heterogeneity, mu lt ip l icity, and rupture (Deleuze and Guattari 1 987:8-9) . They argued that (a) rh izome as a subterranean stem is absolutely d ifferent f rom roots and radic les . Bulbs and tubers are rh izomes. P lants with roots o r radicles may be rhizomorphic i n others respects . . (e)ven some animals are, in their pack form . . . ( b )urrows are too, in a l l of their functions of shelter, supply, movement , evasion and breakout. The rh izome i tself assumes very diverse forms, from ramified surface extension in all di rections to concretion into bu lbs and tubers . (Deleuze and G uattari 1 987:6-7) They contended that a rhizome "connects any point to any other point . . . has neither beginn ing nor end, but always a m iddle (mi l ieu) from which it g rows and overspi l ls" ( ib id ) . I t is "another way of t ravel ing and moving . . . coming and going rather than starting and f in ishing . . . a stream without beginn ing or end that undermines its banks and picks up speed in the middle ( ib id:25) . Their description favoured g rowth , movement, f lu id ity, and cont inuous change. It also moved f rom the 'what you see is what is there' understanding of the environment, to incorporate structures and systems which occur below the surface. Extending the concept botanical ly , it is pert inent to note that rh izomes present above the surface as leaf, f lower and seed. They expand and grow, shr ink , wither and/or die, depending on their envi ronment . Their "concretion into bu lbs and tubers" ( ibid) suggests bounded belonging, whi le its "ramif ied surface extension in al l d i rections" ( ib id) suggests extensive, f lu id belonging, mobil i ty and mutabi l ity. I use this expanded metaphor i n Chapter Twelve to a rticu late my understanding o f belonging. Unconcerned about botan ical accu racy, I ngold asserted that the rhizome was "(t)o be envisaged as a dense and tangled cluster of interlaced th reads or f i laments, any point in which can be connected to any othe r" (2000: 1 40) . I t p rovided a means "to conceive of a world in movement, where in every part or region enfolds, in its growth , its relations with al l the others . . . i t is a progeneration , a continual ly 1 4 ravel ing and unravel ing relational manifold" ( ibid) . Although I ngold (2000) appl ied the concept to ind igenous societies, it could be applied to any society. I t offers an extension of agency, less evident in Bourd iuean theory. Bourdieu's ( 1 982) theory of practice favou red i nterplay between agents and structures, with underlyi ng regulation of agents arisi ng from self-regu lation due to their subconscious awareness of the underlying systems and structu res. I ngold's (2000) theory extends ind ividual agency, impacted by engagement with , and with in , the envi ronment. He argued that agents engage in , and move through the envi ronment, and that, through this process and engagement in l iving, people generated themselves and others. He asserted Through conception, birth or long-term residence a person incorporates the essence of a locality into his or her own being, even to the extent of a substantial identity. Every being is instantiated in the world as the line of its own movement and activity: not a movement f rom point to point as though the l ife course was al ready laid out as the route between them , but a conti nual 'moving around' or com ing and going - l ifel ines of different beings cross, interpenetrate, appear or d isappear (and reappear) . They intertwine . . . (p )ersons are "continual ly coming into being. Rather than encompassing l ives within generations . . . generation is encompassed with in the p rocess of l ife . . . living makes people . . . (t)hrough their actions (people) contribute to the substantive make-up of others . . . they grow . . . (and) are grown . . . within . . . a sphere of nurture . . . (by) ancestors . . . and ordinary l iving persons (who) contribute reciprocal ly to the conditions of each other's g rowth as embodied beings . . . people exchange substance at the places where their respective paths cross or commingle . . . with knowledge being generated in the course of lived experience. ( I n this way) one shares in the process o f knowing. ( ib id: 1 4 1 - 1 46, bold ital ics, my emphasis) The emphasised terms highl ight the importance in this theory of active engagement with people and places. It suggests that we come into being through practice. In doing so, we 'make' belonging because we engage in l ife and the world. The processes I ngold described involved actions and outcomes which depended on individuals and their encounters i .e . the formation of connections and relationships, aspects important to the development of belonging. Whi le I do not think that only ' l iving makes people' , any more than 'structures' and 'structuring structures' and 'agency' makes people or society, Ingold's arguments enabled an understanding that belonging is an active process. His assertion - that people incorporated the essence of a p lace "(t) h rough conception, b i rth or long-term residence" ( ibid) and that people 'g row' and were 'grown' , the l ines crossing, interpenetrating , appearing and disappearing - p rovided a way of understanding how belonging developed. The points at which ind ividual paths crossed can be read as nodes, or spaces of commun ication , moments or positions where connections occur, spaces where relationships form and knowledge is transm itted. In later chapters, I d iscuss this in the l ight of participant concepts, comments and their behaviours/practices. I ngold claimed that, by adopting the relational perspective, people were rendered "more or less the same or d ifferent (by) the extent to which their own l ife­ histories are intertwined th rough the shared experience of inhabit ing particu lar places and fol lowing particular paths in an envi ronment. Common involvement in spheres of nurture . . . creates likeness' ( ibid : 1 49, my emphasis) . This requ i res action, and entai ls practice, showing how and where people might develop , maintain , acqu i re , accept, o r create belonging. I n the relational model , "there is no room" ( ibid) for classifyi ng people by inner attr ibutes such as ethn icity or race, but 1 5 "by their positions vis-a-vis one another in the relational f ie ld ( I ngold 1 993a:229) . The relational model . . . renders difference not as diversity but as positionality' ( I ngold 2000: 1 49) . By arguing that d ifference is positionality, it fo l lows that belonging m ight a lso be positional , developing temporal ly through 'common involvement' in regularly , and i rregularly , inhabited places and spaces . What I ngold h igh l ighted was the importance of active engagement i .e . practices. H is emphasis on 'coming and going' , 'becoming , be ing 'grown' and 'growing ' , conveys action , emphasising l iv ing as p rocessual . H is contention that "(t)h rough conception, b i rth or long-term residence a person incorporates the essence of a local ity i nto h is o r her own being, even to the extent of a substantial identity" ( ib id : 1 4 1 ) , resonated with Cohen's ( 1 985) concepts about belonging within establ ished British commun ities. Cohen asserted, "The sense of belong ing , of what it means to belong, is constantly evoked by whateve r means comes to hand; the use of language, the shared knowledge of genealogy, ecology, joking, the solidarity of sect, the aesthetics of subsistence skills" ( ib id , my emphasis) . The h igh l ighted items ind icated what Cohen regarded as necessary to decipher and describe belonging, i . e . shared attr ibutes. This suggested that a combination of d iscourse and p ractice was necessary for t ransmitting knowledge and increasing understanding. In most respects , the components Cohen referred to a re what comprise anthropological and sociolog ical definit ions of identity and/or ethnicity (G iddens 1 998; Kottak 1 997; Poh l 200 1 ) i . e. language , ancestral knowledge, group sol idarity, knowledge of practice, and development of p ractical ski l ls . In long-establ ished commun it ies, belonging is understood to incorporate aspects of individ ual and col lective experience, interpersonal relationships, pract ice , gender, commitment and interests (Cohen 1 982; Strathern 1 982 ; Larsen 1 982) . They a rgued that i n smal l British communities , mostly islands o r vi l lages, be longing involved the interrelationship of personal agency impacted by cultural mores, i . e . habitus. These appeared to interact so that, as agents created themselves, they created community and vice versa. The status, c la ims and emotional attachments of is landers and vi l lagers in these communities seemed l i t t le d ifferent from othe r indigenous groups whose ancestors were most l i ke ly autochthonous, or f i rst sett lers. Like many ' indigenous' groups with in anthropological scholarsh ip , the is lander and vi l lager constructions of belonging were contingent on kinsh ip , temporal ity, longevity of residence, and fam i l iarity with places and people. Most l ikely ind igenous themselves, such people presented a col lective identity derived f rom the i r own belonging, Le. col lective memories, shared activities , experiences, h istory and cu ltu re . They too had their own stories , often m isted through t ime, described as myths o r legends, and located with in places and spaces. 1 3 Kahn's contentions about the Papua New Guinea Wamira people described how attachments cou ld be revealed. She asserted , Meaning attached to landscape unfolds i n language, names, stories , myths and rituals. These meanings crystal l ize into shared symbols and ult imate ly l i nk people to a sense of common history and individual identity . . . I f meaning attached to landscape can unfold in these ways, then it seems appropriate to me to extend the statement to acknowledge that 'meaning/s' genera l ly "unfold in language, names, stories, myths and r ituals. ( 1 996: 1 68) J ust as Kahn observed the relationship between landscape and mean ing , so I ngold's term, 'h istory congealed' (2000 : 1 50) , appl ied to land, not as a stage for perform ing history, o r a surface on which it was inscribed . He too suggested a s imi lar i nterrelationship between people and places. 13 ct. Scots, I rish, Welsh or English fairytales, myths and legends. 1 6 I n contrast, Savage et a l . 's (2005) exploration of people's relationship of residential location to spatial organization , discussed earl ier, suggested that incoming residents paid l ittle regard to local h istory, even though some respondents were ' locals' ( ib id :45) . Savage et al argued that "the perceptions and values of incoming migrant groups . . . more powerfu l ly establ ish (ed) dominant p lace identities and attachments" ( ib id:30) . They criticized "standard post-war views of community stud ies" and the idea that places are characterized by tension between 'born and b red' locals and migrant incomers. People's sense of being at home . . . (was) related to reflexive processes i n which they can satisfactorily account to themselves how they come to l ive where they do. ( ib id) They incorporated Bourd ieu's concepts of habitus and capital in exploring "local belonging as f lu id and contingent" argu ing that (b)elonging should be seen neither in existential terms (as primordial attachment to some k ind of face-to-face community ) , nor as discursively constructed, but as a socially constructed, embedded process . . . Residential p lace continues to matter since people feel some sense of 'being at home' in an increasingly turbulent world . ( ib id : 1 1 - 1 2 , my emphasis) They argued that belonging "art iculated senses of spatial attachment, social position , and forms of connectivity to other p laces. Belonging was not to a fixed community, with the impl ication of closed boundaries, but was more f lu id , with places viewed as sites for performing identities" ( ib id , my emphasis) . Whi le this might be so for thei r sample and the apparent lack of engagement between incomers and 'born and breds' , this is un l i ke ly to be so for every population . Their concepts f it with those who a rgue that belonging is complex, multip le , relational and positional . The argument that belonging should be seen as social ly rather than discu rsive ly constructed , with their reference to 'performing identities' also emphasised practice. The various arguments discussed so far ind icate that belonging is being researched discursively, and as a practice. Partic ipant-observat ion, cu ltural and social engagement, and visual materia l can also clarify and deepen experiences, and knowledge of events or locations. Cohen ( 1 982) , Feld and Basso ( 1 996) and Kohn (2002) investigated place and practice d i rectly, as did Geertz ( 1 996) , Morley (200 1 ) and Tuan ( 1 977) . I d iscuss aspects of the i r arguments below. Development and practice Kohn (2002) reflected on her own performativity and commun ity engagement to argue that a continuum could be used to describe how belong ing altered. Studying a Scottish Hebridean Island community, she used Ardener's ( 1 989) argument that " ' ( i )ncomerness' in both a past and present context f its with in the notion of 'the social space' . . . the social space has been able to accommodate positions for people anywhere along the i ncomer-islander continuum" (2002 : 1 44) . She asserted that "various local identities and the movements between them . . . were demonstrated through action in the present" ( ibid : 1 45, my emphasis) . Embodiment, performativity and action were ways of gain ing , assert ing, demonstrating and reading belonging. She recogn ised and described her own embodiment and performativity, as she argued that ' incomers' could be seen to relocate themselves, through action, on an ' islander/incomer' conti nuum. Where people had l imited temporal or ancestral connections, they, and others , sensed that belonging differently, or engaged in active p rocesses as they developed it. This re lates to the definit ions I p roposed i n Chapter One - Old Whanganu i , 'born and breds', ins iders , incomers, and outside rs. Kohn's argument a lso l i nks with I ngold 's argument, that d ifference is positional ity. Belonging appears also to be positional , 1 7 developed temporal ly through common involvement and practice i n regular ly , and i rregu larly, i nhabited places and spaces. Kohn's argument a lso resonated with Read's (2000) contention that belonging was personal , a notion I discuss later in th is chapter. In l ight of the above, I suggest that , although belonging is often conflated with identity, belong ing encompasses other factors. S imi lar in many ways to identity, often aris ing from through s im i lar combinations of factors, belonging is not identical and is separable. I t contains other factors, including the requ i rement for active engagement. It is ongoing , emotionally experienced, and often i nternal . It is a 'feel ing' , a way of 'being' , or 'becoming' . I t can be enacted, embodied and performed, external ly observed and described . I t imp l ies l iv ing ' i n the world a round here' (Geertz 1 996) , however 'the world around here' is constructed. That may arise th rough dwel l ing , b i rth, or connections to communit ies i n part icular, and commun it ies i n genera l . I t contains a sense of being 'at home' , wherever and whatever 'home' is . I next d iscuss the emotional content of belonging fol lowed by concepts about home and p lace . Emotion As I noted earl ier, conflat ing identi ty with belonging can imp ly that shared identity necessari ly means shared belonging. This tends to overlook the emotional component of belonging, a factor which can enable or d isable belong ing , despite differences o r s imi larities. I t also imp l ies that people with d ifferent identit ies cannot, o r are un l ikely to 'belong' , or be able to belong, out of their cu l tura l , socia l o r national context . Research i nto diasporic g roups and/or m igrant i ndividuals tends to negate th is imp l ication (Kohn 2002 ; Mars 1 999; O lwig 1 997) , suggesting that , wh i le people a re most at ease with the i r 'cultu ral fami l iars ' , they cou ld belong in other places, spaces and cultures, even without sharing identit ies. This often depended on fami l ia rity and temporal ity. In t ime, connections developed which enabled local knowledge, and people and place attachment. Emotion and belonging are i nterwoven conceptual ly, and have been h igh l ighted more recently (Bradford, Bu rrel l and Mabry 2004; Nussbaum 200 1 ; Read 2000 ) . Nussbaum argued that s ince "emotions shaped the landscapes o f our mental and social l ives" (2001 : 1 ) , they shou ld be recognised for the i r impact on our l ives, "and be recogn ised and acknowledged as active agents i n our thoughts, att itudes and behaviour" (cited i n C hamberlain and Leydesdorff 2004:237) . Drawing on Nussbaum, they asserted that one way of better understanding "contemporary m ig rant l ife (was to) "engage with memories" since doing so wou ld enable an understanding o f how migrants "ref lected on the i r l ives and t he fami l ies that surround them often (and often only) i n the emotional and imaginative world" (2004:237) . B radford et a l . (2004) argued that "the relat ionsh ip between belong ing and cu ltura l ident i ty negotiat ion has been somewhat understated i n past d iscussions of cu l tural identity, perhaps due to tendencies . . . of earl ier scholars to focus more on the identity development process than its emotional and relational outcomes ( ib id :3 1 6) . They asserted, (t)he notion of belonging resu l ts in a "double-bind ing conund rum" for ident ity negotiation . There are . . . good reasons for belonging to g roups inc luding: strength in numbers , teamwork and distr ibut ion of labour ; self­ esteem; pride; personal support ; and resou rces for learn ing . . . ( I ) im itat ions associated with belonging i n a part icu lar group inc lude: possible rejection of out-of-group members, conformity, m in im ization of personal responsib i l ity and subj ection to peer p ressure (Carnes 1 995, as cited in B radford et al . 2004:323) . Tensions may arise when boundaries are "perceived as immutable o r i nf lex ib le" , t h e group as ' impermeable t o others" o r the members "unresponsive to contextual changes" ( ib id ) . This h igh l ighted "the tension of belong ing 1 8 (was) . . . balanced between inclusion versus exclusion" ( ibid) . Savage et a l . (2005) h igh l ighted how respondents combined local with reg ional belonging and , sometimes, to distant cit ies. They managed and constructed belonging with "social networks of residence, work, and fr iendship rarely overlapping ( ibid :207) . The researchers argued that this was "consistent with a view that cu rrent globalisation is . . . a deepening of long-term trends towards social d ifferentiation" ( ib id) . I t also imp l ied the development of belong ing through networks of choice , a process which may disable the concept of del iberate exclusion or ascribed belonging. I nstead , people chose to 'opt' in rather than wait ing to be 'let' i n . 1 4 Home and Place Concepts about home and its associated emotions a re often incorporated into discussions about belonging with lay people and scholars both conveying a sense that belonging incorporates home . Their concepts of 'home' often imply ease , comfort or fam i l iarity. Even when 'home' has been destroyed through natu ral or people-perpetrated disasters, l ike war o r abuse, home is associated with particu lar spaces, p laces, and re lationships. I t is regarded as a dense, mean ingfu l , ideal ized 'space' , physical, metaphysical , metaphorical , psychic, cu ltura l , h istorical and social (Casey 1 996; Morley 200 1 ; Stefano 2002; Tuan 1 977) . I t can be physical and symbol ic i n the same moment. Morley (2001 ) described it as having notions of emotion and active engagement. (T)he physical p lace - the domestic household" also contains "symbolic ideas of Heimat - the 'spaces of belonging' (and identity) . . . the local , national or transnational communities in which people think of themselves as being 'at home' . This is to speak of home not s imply as a physical place but also as a vi rtual or rhetorical space . . . (t) h is is an idea - or perhaps, better, a fantasy - of that u lt imately heimlich place where, to put it more prosaical ly in the words of the old Cheers theme tune - 'everybody knows your name' . (Morley 2001 :425) 'Home' was not necessari ly where one originated, but was a 'space of belong ing ' . Stefano contended s imi lar ly, arguing that 'home' could be described as imaginary . He argued that it was i ntegrated into, and vita l to, concepts and practices of belonging, asserting , home is not necessari ly a f ixed notion. I t is a space or structure of activity and bel iefs around which we construct a narrative of belonging. More than a physical space , home might be understood as a fami l iarity and regu larity of activities and structures of t ime. "Being at home " may have more to do with how people get along with each other - how they understand and are understood by others, as opposed to being in an actual space - so that feeling included and accounted for becomes a means of defining a sense of belonging. (2002 :38, my emphasis) Stefano's argument that "home might be understood as . . . activities" ( ibid) bespeaks practice, as does his content ion that "(b)e ing at home may have more to do with how people get along"( ib id) . His contention that "feel ing i nc luded and accounted for becomes a means of defi n ing a sense of be long ing" ( ib id) warmed the concept since it incorporated emotion. H is and Morley's reflections also signal led the possib i l ity of choosing one's identity (Mathews 2000) , h igh l ighted the importance of connecti ng with others through active engagement, and signal led the possib i l ity of belong ing i n a wider arena than the loca l , of 'being at home i n the world' (Jackson 1 995) . 1 4 This resonated with Berne's ( 1 964) arguments that people engage with those who 'play' similar 'games' to themselves, and remove themselves from groups where the members are too different. 1 9 Geertz argued that "no one lives i n tile world i n general , everybody . . . lives in some confined and limited stretch of it - 'the world around here ' ( 1 996:262, my emphasis). H is contention is a useful remi nder that dai ly l i fe is locationally constra ined. 'The sense of interconnectedness imposed . . . by the mass media, by rapid trave l , and by long-distance communication obscures th is as does the feature lessness and interchangeabi l i ty of . . . publ ic spaces, the standardization of . . . p roducts, and the routin ization . . . of our daily existence" ( ib id) . I t is useful to recal l , i n the context of a cont inuum and a rh izome , Geertz's ( 1 973) earl i e r argument that culture is l i ke a 'web' even though a web is one­ dimensional . Geertz argued, l ike Weber, that humankind was "an an imal suspended in webs of s ignificance he (sic) h imself has spun," with culture be ing those webs ( 1 973:5) . The webs, which individuals create , attach them to, and form , the i r worlds. If one super imposes web on web , with the points of connection be ing read as nodes, one has another way of u nderstanding the concept of the rh izome with i ts mult ip le internal entanglements. Whi le the metaphor of the web can be extended to indicate the nature of belong ing , the metaphor is l im ited by the web's p recise form and structure . The rhizome extended understanding to incorporate the possibi l ity of boundlessness, f lu id ity and movement. The rhizome also enabled an understand ing of how 'the world around here' can extend beyond the local and regional to national and i nternational spaces and p laces. Whi le physical p resence may be the substantial factor i n be ing in 'the world around here' , personal experiences impact on how and where one conceives of one's world . With the expansion in mass g lobal communications (Massey 1 99 1 , 1 994) , travel to distant lands has become faster and less expensive. More people travel and return home with knowledge and material goods which can affect local l i te. This coincides with Savage et ai's (2005) preference for e lective belong ing , where belonging was "more f lu id . . . (wi th) places as sites for performing identit ies (and) . . . spatial attachments, social posit ion and forms of connectivity to other p laces" ( i b id :30) rather than "to a f ixed commun ity with . . closed boundaries" ( ib id) . Tuan's contentions are pert inent in th is context as they reveal earl ie r theory about belonging and p lace attachment. He argued that p laces were "centers of felt value" ( 1 977:3) , suggest ing that people developed attachment (a sense of belong ing) to places temporal ly, since "space becomes p lace as we get to know i t better and endow i t with value" ( ib id :6 ) . As I ngold (2000) asserted later , Tuan argued Human beings, l ike other an imals, feel at home on earth. We are, most of the t ime, a t ease i n our part of the world. L ife in its daily round is thoroughly fami l iar . . . We are oriented . . . (i)n time, what was strange in a place becomes, if we spend enough t ime there, familiar . . . (a}bstract space, lack ing significance other than strangeness , becomes concrete place, filled with meaning. ( ib id : 1 99 , my emphasis) Agai n , l ife is conceived as cycl ical , with 'ease' experienced as place becomes fami l iar . J ust as Tuan ( 1 973) and Kohn (2002) proposed that belonging requ i red act ion , engagement and t ime, Casey ( 1 996) did S imi larly, argu ing that places were created through p ractice. He 'en l ivened' place, relevant because engagement in and around place are l i nked to belong ing , i ntertwined and further comp licating the whole . Casey argued that p lace was "somethi ng for wh ich we cont inual ly have to d iscover or invent new forms of understanding . . . (a) place is more an event than a thing to be ass im ilated to known categories" ( 1 996:26). He suggested that we "get back i nto p lace" the same way as we "are always already there - by our own l ived body" . . . (p laces) 'gather' . . . th ings in the i r midst where "th in gs" connote various an imate and inan imate entit ies. P laces also gather experiences and h istories, even languages and thoughts" ( ib id :2 1 ) . These approaches are dynamic . They emphasized that be longing requ i red 20 engagement, connection and communication and involved embodiment, performance and memory. People engage in and perform routines and processes dai ly and/or seasonal ly, soc ia l ly and cultural ly. Living and belonging can be viewed as evolving and revolving, ebbing and flowing, thickening and th inning, continuous or d issolving into a different rea lm when circumstances alter. When we d ie , life as we know it, as earthly l iving beings, ends. Whether we continue in another realm or not, is not something I wish to debate here. But, in Ingold's terms, we don't stop being. We continue 'becoming ' , 'g rowing' and 'being grown' in some way or other, just as the animal wh ich meets the forager g ives itself up to death to enable other l ife to cont inue (2000: 1 43) . These are not oppositions but progressions. In I ngold's conception , "birth and death . . . are merely moments in the progenerative process, points of transition in the circu lation of l i fe" ( ib id) . W ith this in m ind, it can be argued that Pakeha claims to belonging and their practices involve this progenerative process, aspects of which I d iscuss in the fol lowing section . I also detai l h istorical aspects of indigenous, colonial and post-colonial be longing, and the changes which are occurring in some colonized lands. Ind igenous/settler belong ing As I noted i n the introduction , with in the past twenty to one hundred years, depending on the geograph ical location and era of colonizat ion, descendants of colonizing 'settlers' have begun to claim 'belonging/s' to the lands their ancestors colon ized . Recognising that there was no 'home' for them to return to, and acknowledging that they 'fe l t at home' in the land of thei r b i rth , their awareness of the impact of colonization increased as colonial h istory was revisited (Bluck 1 999; King 1 999; Read 2000: 1 -5 ) . The altered emphasis, h igh l ighting injustices which occurred with the arrival of increasing numbe rs of white sett lers , demanded reflection on what it meant to belong to Aotearoa New Zealand . This forced Pakeha to consider their claims to belonging and to review their val id ity. As I noted in Chapter One, some Pakeha understood their belonging as d ifferent to indigenous belonging (Tanczos 2004) whi le others claimed it was the same (Turner 2004) . Scholars who have investigated colonial and post-colonial notions of belonging more recently i nclude Dom iny (2001 ) , Read (2000) and Strang ( 1 997) . I n the Commonwealth countries of Canada, Austral ia and Aotearoa New Zealand, such scholars are often of colonial descent themselves, suff iciently cultural ly s imi lar or cu ltu ral ly cognizant, to have experienced or to be aware of s imi lar attachments and arguments in their homelands. Dominy (200 1 ) and Strang ( 1 997) researched concepts surrounding colon ial and ind igenous senses of p lace, which they demonstrated was emotional ly f raught. They did not invest igate people who were 'relative ly d isadvantaged' as ind igenous people often are, but groups who cou ld be perceived as advantaged th rough land ownership , and membership of the dominant social , cu l tural and pol itical g roup. Carrier (2003) argued, accurately I bel ieve , that Dominy's and Strang's investigations pertained to somewhat anachronistic and isolated communities, with strong land attachment generated through t ime, residence and active physical engagement. I t seems logical to argue that such people wou ld have a deeply ingrained 'sense of belonging' , or place attachment. Th is probably a rose from envi ronmental engagement wh ich occurred du ring everyday l ife . Constant observation and engagement combined with repetitive, ongoing movement through the landscape embeds knowledge. I t appeared s imi lar to the way indigenous forage rs ( I ngold 2000) generated belonging. Read (2000) investigated belonging th rough d iscourse and practice, su rveying Austral ian poetry , song, art, and h istory, and through interviews and discussions with a wide range of Austral ians. He argued that, for non-indigenous residents of colon ized lands, in particular, the prob lem which confronted them was how to reconci le the i r own belonging with that of indigenous people, g iven the issues that have arisen over ind igenous rights. This was partly because, "those 2 1 p laces which we loved, lost and g rieved for were wrested from the I nd igenous people who loved them, lost them and g rieve for them sti l l" (2000:2) . H is research provided emic i nsights into how non- indigenous Austral ians conceived of 'deep belonging' . Thei r reflections encompassed aspects of identity, p lace attachment, environmental engagement, and practice, combined to create a sense of belonging to a conceptual Austral ia. Read argued that belonging was better understood by al lowing for "emotions and i ntu it ions (as) part of deep belonging" ( ib id : 5) . Doing so would enable scholars to "move across the boundary of rational ity to an acceptance of the metaphysical and spi ritual", used a lso in d iscussions about 'home' (Morley 200 1 ; Stefano 2002) . As I noted earl ier, Read's f inal content ion was that "be longing . . . is personal . There are as many routes to belonging as there are non­ Aboriginal Australians to f ind them" ( ib id :223). He contended that "(t)he u l timate question of a mig rant's belonging is not where or how one belongs in a new country , but the relationship between the old and the new ( ib id : 1 48) , a factor which seems pertinent to this research, since some partici pants are d i rect migrants, the others descended f rom migrants . Like Australian Aborig ines, Maori, and other ind igenous g roups, i ncomers often developed an attachment to land, p laces and people (Dominy 200 1 ; Read 2000; Strang 1 997) . Sokefeld (200 1 ) and McDowel l ( 1 999) a rgued that people who occupy the same geograph ical territory m ight not share the same sense of it , nor m ight their geographical p ropinquity imply social propinqu ity. Drawing on these arguments, it seems reasonable to argue that d ifferent groups m ight conceive of , and engage in , 'belonging' differently, even though they may occupy the same geograph ical territory. These contentions lead to the question of how incomers understand and enact belong ing . Pakeha, with shorter temporal claims, occupy the same geographical locations as Maori . I do not suggest that Pakeha concepts are identical to those held by Maori but argue that they are l ikely to be revealed throug h s imi lar processes, i .e . narrative, dai ly practices, cu ltu ral games, codes of hospital ity , observation of, and engagement i n , shared activities, and the i r connections to places and people. The relative invis ib i l ity of belonging, and its need for temporal longevity, may answer questions about why deep belonging in these colonies is only being investigated now. These factors combined with earl ier pol itical encouragement of assimi lation in Aotearoa New Zealand m ight provide the answers about why sett ler migrants have only recently begun to claim belonging publ icly . Metaphors I n th is chapter I discussed the conceptual ization and evolut ion of the term , identity, and i ts f requent conflation with belong ing . I argued that doing so muddied the meaning of be longing and its practice, and that researching concepts of identity, home, and belonging separately could enhance understanding. I agreed that developing and maintain ing belonging was active , i nvolving a range of p ractices, i ncluding embodiment, performativity and i nscription . Often deeply embedded according to relational, environmenta l , physical and metaphysical inf luences, belonging appeared to develop temporal ly , and could be vertical ly and/or horizontal ly layered. Because of the d iverse factors impacting upon belonging, i t was best described as mult ip le, mutable , f lexible, f lu id and dense with emotional meaning. Belong ing impl ied attachment and connections. I t was contextual , posit ional , and subjective, i nf lected by gender, ethn icity, and social and cu l tura l habitus. I t involved persona l agency impacted by cu ltura l mores and could be s imu ltaneously positive and negative, i nvolving feel ings of emotional ease, fami l iarity, comfort and sometimes f rustration . Not belonging could arguably be the opposite of be longing, but mostly, because belong ing involved so many factors, i t appeared to ebb and f low rather than d isappear completely. 22 Belonging was more than ZusammengehorigkeitsgefOhl (Weber) 'g roupness' (Brubaker and Cooper 2000) or "(b)eing at home in the world" (Jackson 1 995) . It seemed to requ i re stronger, deeper art iculation , a blend of these concepts. I nternal ized by ind ividuals, external ized in practice, and made visible in the everyday l ife of col lectives, be longing could be understood metaphorical ly, particu larly by combin ing aspects of the rhizome with elements of the continuum and, to a smal l degree, the web , as deta i led th roughout this thesis, and drawn together in the conclusion (Chapter Twelve) . Conclusion Like identity, belonging prove to be m ight be a useful cross-cultural concept, provided we approach comparison cautiously, recognis ing that people and cultu res probably sense and describe belonging d ifferently, even though the practices involved - embodiment, engagement, performance , inscription, narrative, language and so on - are sim i lar . Jackson contended that " ( i )dentity is a by-product of interrelationships" ( 1 996:27) . Belonging might be a s imi lar 'by-product' , developed with in the processes and p ractices of relat ing to other people and places. In the chapters which fol low, I tease out the layered multip l icity of belonging, revealed through a range of Pakeha women's practices. I use the rhizomatic concept as a metaphor to enable an understanding of the depth , breadth, extensiveness, and temporal i ty of belonging. I explored participant practices from a range of perspectives. These included ancestry and heritage, common experiences and shared values, attachment to places with cont i ngent processes such as inscription, other active behaviour, engagements in codes of hospital i ty , and the intergenerational transm ission of knowledge. I argue that these activities reveal and provide some of the rh izomatic threads which enable belonging. Each th read p rovides d ifferent i nsights into varying aspects of belong ing. Each forms a f ibre with in the rhizome, thickening and th inn ing to form the embedded practices which are belonging. These f ibres include belongings emotional aspects. They enable an examination of belonging as a 'by-product of interrelationships ( ib id) .The participants' practices revealed belong ing as it had been described by others, with its sense of being 'at ease' , 'at home', of being 'with in the fam i l iar' . They also revealed that it went beyond Weber's concept of ZusammengehorigkeitsgefOh l , and Brubaker and Cooper's (2000) concept of 'groupness'. I t not on ly involves 'being at home in the world' (Jackson 1 995) but comb ines these things and goes beyond them, possibly s imi lar to the way Gestalt theory explains how the whole is more than the sum of the parts. In belonging, many factors are involved , including commitment and frustration . To extend u nderstanding , I use a rh izomatic metaphor, combin i ng Deleuze and Guattari 's ( 1 987) botanical arguments with I ngold's (2000) approach. The next chapter describes and d iscusses the methodolog ies used to investigate belonging through observation of , and engagement in , everyday l ife . I discuss my research practices, inc luding verbal and visual methods, personal engagement, the eth ics of engaging in human research , and those associated with creating and publ ishing pictorial representations of partic ipants. 23 Chapter Three Methodology (I)t's good getting yourself in like that. Joan B I ntroduction Conducting research in one's own community of residence, where one antic ipates remain ing when the research is completed, creates d ifferent tensions to conducting research in a d istant commun ity. This is partly because one is l i ke ly to encounter part icipants dur ing the dai ly round. In this chapter I d iscuss, f i rstly , the rationale for choosing to conduct research in my community of residence; second ly, why I describe myself as a 'native' anthropologist; th i rd ly , enter ing and establ ish ing myself in the f ie ld , and how I found a way to leave , without relocating; fou rth ly , the ethics and d i lemmas of conducting research i n one's own commun ity and cu l ture . Lastly, I out l ine my methodology, and d iscuss benefits and concerns around naming rather than anonymising participants, and us ing photographs and videotapes in publ ished material . Motivating Factors When I f i rst decided to conduct post-graduate research , I felt constra ined by fami ly obl igations to remain in Whanganu i 1 5 • This precluded my doing, as anthropologists frequently do, i nvestigating 'another' cu l ture in a d istant land. Studying other cul tures 'at home' has become more common s ince the 1 970s (Messerschm idt 1 98 1 ; Wolcott 1 98 1 ) . I was aware that a range of people with d iffering cultural origins lived in Whanganu i . I had conducted cross-cu ltural research among them ( Robinson 1 996) and was aware that, s ince the early 1 990s, Maori had openly p referred to conduct their own research . They argued against Pakeha conducting research among them, except in specific or contro l led situations (Berg 2004; Dekker 2004:B7) . Recognising that problems could arise if I ignored th is p reference reduced my options. Conducting research in my own cu lture became the p lace to beg in . As I detai l l ater , I was aware of constraints and benef its that cou ld arise through being a 'native' anthropologist; and that my own dis location was behind my choice of dissertation topic - how did other resident Whanganu i women construct a sense of belonging? Did the i r sense of be longing extend to Whanganui itself? I f it d id , then how did they regard belonging? After discussion with my supervisors, I chose to gather information using a combination of participant observation , l ife stories (oral narrative) , conversation , photo-el icitation and focused interviews. Us ing a range of methods with wh ich I was fam il iar (Robinson 1 996, 1 998) seemed a usefu l way of intensifying the research , and provided a means of cross-referencing , enabl ing comparisons between d iscourse and practice. The photo-el icitation progressed from using researcher-selected and researcher-generated photographs to i nc lude participant-generated photographs to extend the research . Generating skil ls Although I was once a technophobe, my fascination with combin ing textual , visual , and ora l imagery forced me to abandon my gendered ideas about women not being good with gadgets. Since the early 1 980s, I had learned to use cameras, aUdio-tape recorders , and video-cameras, without fear . I developed some of these ski l ls as a p ract ic ing photo-journal ist ( 1 983- 1 995) , using a camera to compose photographs del iberately and convey a message. I also learned how to combine text 1 5 Our four school-age children lived with my husband and me. My conditioning emphasised mothers as primary caregivers, and completing what one began. 24 with photographs to tel l a story. As a reporter ( 1 973- 1 995) , I l earned how to interview and interact with people from diverse backgrounds. I have loved being told stories si nce I was a smal l . Two elderly aunts told my sibl ings and me stories about their Engl ish chi ldhood, and the myths and legends of our Scots and Eng l ish origin cu ltures. My mother encouraged reading, and b rought home l ibra ry books about Maori and other cultures. Subtly, I learned how stories, mythical and factual , enable us to connect with people and cultures in ways which extend our understanding. Native anthropology Before I began this research, I was aware that studying my own culture in my own community could create some anxiety. I was unsure of what they would be but doing so had its own problems and rewards. One could argue that I do not fit a frequently-used def in ition of 'native' anth ropolog ist because I am not a 'th i rd-world' native investigating my own world 16, but a 'f i rst-world' native investigating her own l ife and cu lture . Aotearoa New Zealand is my native land . Aside from brief international forays, I have l ived al l my l ife tlhere. For that reason , I describe myself, in this research context , as a native anthropologist. Like others before me, (McKenna 2003, Narayan 1 989, Visweswaran 1 994) , I discovered the benefits and di lemmas of being a native anth ropolog ist. Some strain occurred partly because of my position ing and engagement with i n my own cu ltu re . Visweswaran ( 1 994) and McKenna (2003) addressed the d ifficulties of being resident insider researchers. Each was fearfu l of imposing upon the research participants or over-emphasising their s imi larities , for fear, "of abusing my 'powerfu l ' position as interviewer (McKenna 2003:abstract ) . L ike her , I was aware of "the complex power dynamics at work in the i nterview encounter" ( ib id ) . Such experiences rem inded me of the possibi l it ies of unevenness, and encouraged me to continue a practice of non-insistence, and self-reflection . Sometimes, I felt l ike an equal , and sometimes as a pupi l , being i nstructed in the ways of my cu lture. 1 7 Narayan warned of a further possib le d isadvantage , when she argued that being tagged as 'a native anthropolog ist' might cloud others' perceptions that our own experience can "represent an unproblematic and authentic insider's perspective" ( 1 989:672) . Entering the f ield for me was d i rect yet surprised me because of its complexity. Like Panourgia ( 1 995) and Meyerhoff ( 1 980) , 1 8 I was 'the f ield' . I had to overcome my own preconceptions, that to be a worthwhi le anthropologist, I needed to conduct study among people un l ike me , p referably in another land. Okely questioned the 'complacency' of Westerners about investigating 'seem ingly fami l iar territory' ( 1 996:5) . By conducting her own research in such spaces, she demonstrated how investigations could be conducted at home, recal l ing "Mal inowski's p lea to look at the ' imponderabi l ia of everyday l ife' ( 1 922) which may . . . be more extraordinary than anything so already framed" ( ib id : 1 ) . Mead argued that for her "moving and staying at home, t rave l l ing and arriv ing, are al l of a p iece" ( 1 972:9) . I n the absence of travel , staying at home did not seem 'al l of a piece' to me. Messerschm idt ( 1 981 ) provided some reassurance, clarifying that research ing 'at home' was val id , frequently engaged in , and p roduced valuable insights. Certain constraints occurred because of one's fam i l iarity with the culture . For me, one of these was f inding a way of disconnecting so that I cou ld understand my culture d ifferently. Because I ' l ived' in the 'f ie ld' , I understood that I needed to disinter my own "sol id ly entrenched . . . cu ltu ral presuppositions . . . for inspection" (Mart in 1 987: 1 1 ) . '6 Others who write about aspects of this i nclude anthropologists /ethnographers such as Kamala Visweswaran ( 1 994), Lila Abu-Lughod ( 1 986, 1 993), Nita Kumar ( 1 992) and Sondra Hale ( 1 99 1 ). Cl. Davies ( 1 999) for a detailed discussion. 17 The reasons for this varied. Sometimes it was age difference or my lack of particular ski l ls. The learning and teaching which ensued facil itated a sense of partnership. 1 8 Panourgia ( 1 995) researched death in Greek culture from the perspective of her grandfather's death. Meyerhoff ( 1 980) researched elderly Jewish people, l ike the person she anticipated she would become. 25 These inc luded my ethnicity as a member of the 'dominant' PElkehEl culture, and my gender a s a woman i n a patriarchal , evolving society. Like the chi ldren , and grandchi ldren, of New Zealand educator, Jack Shal lcrass, I "th ink of (myself) as (a) New Zealander who belong(s) in the Pacific, not in Europe" ( 1 988:22) . Being a native anth ropologist was possib ly easier at the beginn ing of research , because I remained in regular contact with , and cont inued with i n , the fami l iar , rather than engaging with the processes anthropolog ists in fore ign commun it ies face (Le . different language , cu lture, re l ig ion , pol it ics, economics and l iving conditions) . Davies argued that the ethnographer became more " int imately a part of the research p rocess when ( they) are members of the col lectivity they a re researching" ( 1 999 : 1 89) , whi le Narayan argued that knowledge "is situated, negotiated and part of an ongoing process" ( 1 989:682). Messerschm idt asserted that "th e extent of relative ' i n sided ness' . . . between resea rcher and subj ects is best conceived of as a cont inuum from virtual oneness to a marginal nearness" ( 1 98 1 :8) . My own position altered accord ing to age, educat ion, socio-economic situat ion and l i fe experience, relative to i ndividual participants. I f u rther l earned that with in the research context, one needs to consider how one's own knowledge changes, and to question one's behaviours, with in ethical gu idel ines, as one determines how to interact - as friend, researcher , resident , adviser , sometimes even as confidante. I often asked myself questions l ike , is this research? I s this confidential to ou r fr iendship? Is this relevant to the commun ity, o r to the research? By disclosing i nformation , shared in that strange borderland of fr iendship , which is not with in the research , and yet not beyond the research, am I transgressing the bounds and bonds of fr iendship? At t imes, I felt as i f I was l iving three l ives, my own, the researcher's, and another, interwoven l ife wh ich integrated aspects of both . In one's own resident ial commun ity, one has the burden of incorporating research into fam i l iar , dai ly l ife , switching f rom researcher to resident and back aga in , sometimes with in the hour . Eventual ly, research and personal l ife seem to meld , not always easi ly , but possib ly as an impe rative for personal survival . This meld ing may signal the decreasing of the 'uneasy d istance' researchers can experience between the i r own and "what to others is taken-for-granted rea l ity" (Narayan 1 989:682). It may later be subsumed by the " intensity of the research" ( ibid) relationship, and developing fr iendships . D istancing oneself can be d iff icult when the i n it ial research phase is completed , because one does not actual ly ' leave' the fie ld , and because one is i ntensely famil iar with one's own culture. One has to decide how, and when , to l eave the f ie ld , how to put down fr iendships, and enjoy recal l i ng the experience. It is more d ifficult to detach from the research community when it remains with i n easy access (Mart in 1 987) . D istancing does not mean one loses interest in the participants but that, in one's 'home p lace', l i fe exerts other pressures. Se lf-preservation is vita l , and slow d istancing enabled me to involve myself more deep ly in ongoing analysis and writing. In genera l , my experience was positive and , I hope , so was the partic ipants. The friendly conversations we have when we meet , occasional in-depth contacts in the past fou r years, and thei r wi l l ingness to be interviewed again in 2004, suggest th is was so. The advantages and d isadvantages of researching 'at home' were p robably balanced, in the same way as the problems and rewards of research ing 'away' f ind the i r own equi l ibri um . Wolcott's ( 1 98 1 ) refl ections on researching and writ ing about 'here ' and 'there' h ighl ighted the d iffe rences between working in the two locations. Limits I l im ited the research by gender and ethn icity , which resolved several personal confl icts. Fi rstly, it a l layed my d iscomfort at conducting research on 'others' , before i nvestigating my own cu lture and society. Secondly, it resolved concerns I had about including men at this stage . I feared that doing so could cause 26 others to give more credence to the male than the female experience (Oakley 1 982 ; Jaggar and Struhl eds. 1 978) and, th ird ly, I disl iked the gendered power relations I had experienced previously. I was reluctant to engage in those dynamics if I cou ld avoid them . I was uncerta in whether I could overcome my diffidence , and confront authority effectively. I also feared my own encultu ration might weaken the research, as I enacted women 'doing n ice' (Shopes 2003) . Un l ike the self- imposed l im its j ust described, external constraints also impacted. Some related to my extensive community knowledge and the contacts made through kin, employment, business, and commun ity interests. I n some instances, these precluded research involvement for reasons of privacy. This led to my seeking participants e lsewhere to avoid mutual discomfort and/or accidental d isclosu re of knowledge. Other constraints related to being a lone researcher and my cultural and social position ing. There were many g roups amongst whom simi lar research could be conducted, but with whom I d id not engage. I address this in the f inal chapter. Ethics Before I began f ie ld research, I considered the ethics involved in engaging in anthropolog ical research. I discuss fi rstly , those which related specif ical ly to working in my own community, and secondly, more generic eth ical processes. Most ethnographies of fieldwork conducted 'at home' (Oempsey 1 990; Lovelock 1 999) were unable to prepare me for research in my own community because anthropologists who conduct research in their homelands do not usual ly engage as d i rectly in their own long-term residential communities. Panourg ia's ethnography about "rituals of mourning and memory in modern u rban Greece" ( 1 995:cover) assisted. Return ing to her Greek homeland, she explored the topic "with in the context of her own fam ily" ( ib id ) . Her d iscussion of d iff icult ies which can arise when people close to you are research part ic ipants enabled me to understand that involvement and d isengagement were possib le . Before entering the f ie ld , I d iscussed ethics with my supervisors and p repared consent forms, interview gu idel ines, and letters to send to partic ipants outl in ing my proposal (Appendix 1 ) . These outl ined the research, explained the methods I proposed to use, and indicated to participants what their engagement could involve . The research was conducted in accordance with ASAAlNZ1 9 (Appendix 2) and NOHANZ20 (Appendix 3) principles. Their approaches and p rinciples are s im ilar. After d iscussing my approach with my supervisors, my p roposals were reviewed during a session with the Chair of the ASAAlNZ Ethics Committee, Or Jeff Sluka. The consent form enabled part ic ipants to withdraw from the research at any stage, the right to view their own mater ia l , and to veto al l or parts of its publ ication .2 1 Whi le th is approach might seem risky, because partic ipants have such control over what is publ ished, it forces researchers to behave openly and honestly at a l l t imes. It means they must develop transparent procedures and bui ld t rust effectively, if they want to succeed. I felt anxious at the beginning, because there was a remote possibi l ity that all participants could withdraw perm ission for use of their materia l . I sti l l regarded it as an approach wh ich would ult imately benefit me and the participants. The steps, bu i lt i nto the process, stopped me worrying about the impact the material m ight have on participants, and other people's perceptions of them, because the participants had the fi nal say. This approach may a lso assist in overcoming the problems caused when academic d i rectives insist that social scientists dispose of material once the 19 Association of Social Anthropologists of Aotearoa New Zealand - Code of Practice. 20 National Oral History Association of New Zealand - Code of Practice. 21 This happened twice , once when a participant concluded the photograph did not convey truthfully the essence of an individual, and once when a participant's relationship with the people photographed changed. 27 research process is completed, or with in f ive years of doing so. Such d i rectives can leave researchers feel i ng frustrated and participants feel ing rejected, part icularly if the latter perceive that their material was 'not good enough ' ( Laurie 2000/2001 ) .22 O ral h istorians adopt a practice which can resolve researcher frustration and participant feel ings of rejection and/or in it ial m istrust. They argue that a recorded l ife narrative only becomes an ora l h istory when it is a rchived . Archiving recorded and associated material means i t becomes "avai lable for research , subject to any condit ions p laced on it by the person interviewed" (NOHANZ 1 997:3) . P roblems of confidentiality are overcome by t reating interviews as "confidential conversations, the contents of which are on ly avai lable as determined by written or recorded agreement with the person interv iewed" ( ib id) . The concept of archiving material raises questions about an academic institution's eth ical d irectives and attitudes towards part ic ipants. The part icipants' agreements to being identif ied by name and photograph, and to the archiving their materia l , suggested that we can become over-protective i n our efforts to behave ethical ly. We may fai l to acknowledge the participants' abi l i t ies to make their own j udgments. I do not mean that eth ics should be disposed of . They must not be. But nor shou ld we, as researchers , behave autocratical ly, imposing our views of what has worked e lsewhere on other s i tuations.23 L ike Laur ie (2000/200 1 ) and Rudge ( 1 996) , I suggest that participants are often more wi l l ing to be identif ied than is sometimes assumed. Their experiences ( Laurie 2000/200 1 ; Rudge 1 996) and mine suggested that it was important to consider situations and part ic ipants individual ly. Several factors m ust not be overlooked. These include people's genuine goodwi l l ; their wi l l ingness to contribute to the development of knowledge; excitement at being involved; and the desire for pub l ic , as wel l as p rivate , acknowledgment. Being i nvolved in research often enables people to val idate l ife-changing decisions, and signals their wi l l ingness to suppo rt others. Sometimes, the invitation to become involved empowers participants, s ignal ing that othe rs respect what they have to offer. The opportun ity to speak, to be heard , and to be seen may be regarded by participants as a g ift , un l i kely to occur without researcher faci l itation. I nvolvement in research can enable marg inal g roups to share the i r experiences further afield , and benefit from wider understanding or acceptance. Whi le this m ight suggest coercion, whether i t is , or not, depends on each situation and each individual researcher's approach . When research deals with d i ff icult personal situations and experiences, such as abuse, the situat ion alters . Essential ly, i f safety and simi lar issues have been met, identif ication by partic ipant choice can be respectful , and empowering. Consent forms can make th is a choice , or include a suggestion that, although the requ i rement for anonymity may be an institutional p ractice, partic ipants can nominate their preference later.24 I d iscussed anthropologica l concepts of anonymity with participants , and explained that they could nominate a pseudonym if they wished. Al l e lected to use their real names, bearing out Katz's contention, in the J u l 'hoansi context , that naming ourselves "is an act of cultura l and personal aff irmation and pol it ical l iberation . The abi l i ty to name oneself is an indicator of . . . the power to determ ine how one is represented to oneself and the world" (Katz, B iesele & S t Denis 1 997: 1 66) . I t a lso suggested that academic d i rectives that research partic ipants must be anonymised a re autocratic, and potential ly damaging of research partic ipants. I t i s appropriate to consider each case on its merits , according to Destroying materia! is not an ASAA/NZ directive. 23 Where participants have referred to people by name, I used a pseudonym to provide some privacy, except where the reference was to a participant's contact, directly involved in the research, such as family members taking �hotographs. L4 In her oral h istory research consent forms about immunization in Aotearoa New Zealand, E laine Ellls-Pegler made provision for participants to request their names be used ( Personal communication June 2005). 28 participant preference, enabl ing their discretion . I have used participants' names, except when the material seemed controversial or d iscomfort ing to participants, their fami l ies or fr iends. I f nam ing seemed l ikely to cause problems, I combined s imi lar comments without identifying the commentators. The participants concurred with this action . Oral h istorian Paul Thompson argued against creating "sem i-fictional informants, by exchanging quotations between them , or d ividing two from one, or c reating one out of two . . . (a)n oral documentary which does th is may gain in effect, but it becomes imaginative l iterature, a d ifferent kind of historical evidence" (2000:263). The approach I adopted (of combining without identifying) seems to serve the pu rpose of both disc ip l ines without creating a d i lemma for the participants o r the evidence. Participants later agreed independently to their material being a rch ived (Appendix 4) . They were aware that it might be used by other researchers, and were wi l l ing to al low that to happen, with in the constraints of the arch iving i nstitut ion.25 Their agreement suggests that the research d i d not threaten them , though some were hesitant in it ia l ly . This process also highl ighted the importance of p roviding clear information before f i nal izing participant involvement; the value of trust; the confidence g iven when insiders introduce researchers to other participants; and the wisdom in seeking approval for actions l ike archiving after participants have reviewed their material . When participants know what they a re agreeing to , mystery is removed . Some were surprised at the quantity of material used, commenting later , " I d idn't realize that a l l that wou ld be in print , but that's a l l right" . Seeking approval in two stages, the fi rst for the research and the second for archiving material seems to have made the process smoother . The participants had t ime to get to know me, develop trust, and review their material , according to ou r agreement. None refused permission to archive mater ia l , un l i ke a situation reported during student research in the United States. An oral h istory research participant was asked to sign an agreement about publ ishing and archivi ng pr ior to the material being recorded. I n itial ly, the part icipant refused arch iving perm ission , and demanded that al l material be destroyed once the thesis was completed. Further discussion , and clarif ication of the participant's concerns, reversed the request (Kuhn 2004 a , b) . I communicated with part icipants in several ways : in p re l iminary face-to-face discussions; telephone conversations; meeting them informal ly at home; attending formal meetings of organizations they belonged to,26 and interacting with them in the meeting spaces; by mai l ; p roviding copies of photographs and videotapes; asking them to amend, or add to their transcripts; conf i rming approval to present material to thei r own , and the academic commun ity, i f the presentations m ight go beyond those orig inal ly d iscussed. The women agreed , usual ly adding that they were 'glad to help' . Occasionally, partic ipants revealed that they d id not fu l ly appreciate what presenting the material meant. One day, when I was preparing boards for display, a participant visited me. She was startled to see an image of herself being used, and asked why. She may have been su rprised because she was not expecting to see a photograph of herself that day, and perhaps, had not fu l ly understood the scope of the research. After I explained, she understood, but the experience suggests that part icipants may not always understand what they are agreeing to. This is another reason for seeking permission for d ifferent aspects as the research proceeds. 25 Whanganui Regional Museum 26 These included local government sessions and personal interest groups. 29 Gathering information In Aotearoa New Zealand gathering oral h istories became publ icly encouraged during the 1 980s.27 I developed my ski l ls by recording personal narratives on audio-tape , and video-tape (Robinson 1 994, 1 999) . I learned how to transcribe those stories and to craft fami ly and community h istories, conta in ing personal and h istorical narratives, d iary excerpts and photographs (Robinson 1 998, 2001 ) . These p ractices involved researcher and participants in frequent dialogue , encouraged trust and required ongoing association for completion . I did not realize how embedded the ski l ls had become unt i l I developed the in it ial p roposal for my d issertat ion. Combining inter-related visua l , textual and oral information-gather ing methods was valuable, and assisted in comparing, conf i rm ing , and expanding information . I collected material using video and sti l l cameras, handwritten , and head, notes. The methods are summarised below. Continuous 1 Participant observation. 2 Home visits, attending meetings.28 3 I nformal conversations. 4 Collat ing items from dai ly and weekly local newspapers, bu l let ins, posters, leaflets etc. 5 Field note, made at the t ime of experience. 6 Field journal , made after the experience, including events and reflections related to the research focus. 7 Personal d iary . This provided me with a means of debrief ing . Notes often recorded my health , emotional events, my l ife beyond the research and confidential material which could not be used for pub l ication . First Stage 1 Collecting l ife stories/ personal narratives/ oral histories.29 2 I ndividual interviews/conversations. Second Stage 3 Photo-el icitation with researcher-selected historical photographs. 4 Photo-el icitation with researcher-selected recent photographs of publ ic places, sites and events. 5 Photo-el icitation with researcher-generated photographs made during research. Third Stage 6 Participants generated their own images specific to events, p laces, peop le , i n the i r own l ives. 7 Conversations around partic ipant-generated photographs. 8 I ndividual focused interviews . I asked participants where they would prefer to be interviewed, the i r home or mine , the i r office or mine. For the in i tial research , most chose thei r own homes. Four years later , local cafes provided another venue and were selected by th ree partic ipants. Each interview lasted for about an hour, and, if recorded, began with a l ight and sound check, a statement about the recording equipment , and interview location. Participants recorded thei r ful l name , basic biographical details and some ancestral information. They cont inued by talk ing about their l ives. Dur ing the next visit or visits we d iscussed their perceptions of belong ing , identity and home, and 2 7 The National Oral History Association of New Zealand was established i n 1 986 (NOHANZ 1 997). 28 Scheduled regular organisation meetings, mostly monthly, sometimes weekly. 29 At times it is difficult to decide whether and how these differ. The participants provided not only bare facts, but narratives fil led with rich, warm, human stories. Al l have agreed to archive their research material. Following Laurie's argument (2000/2001 ) that audio-taped personal narratives/life stories become oral h istories when they are archived and available for future research, then, once the narratives have been archived, they could be described as oral histories. Cf. H-Oralhist for a discussion th read about contexts for using the terms oral history and life story. 30 clarified earl ier materia l . I interviewed or talked with most participants formally at least twice, and some up to f ive times, as wel l as engaging in informal , face-to-face, and telephone conversations. This resu lted in about 40 hours of video-taped conversation ; several hours of video-taped activities in domestic and publ ic locations; detai led hand­ recorded notes; f ield, and head, notes; and a reflective , personal diary. I p repared a l ist of questions (Appendices 5 and 6) , but most conversations proceeded without referring to these. Some participants asked me to mai l the questions beforehand so they could reassure themselves that they could contribute. Some worried about answering questions, but relaxed when I explained that the process was l i ke having a conversation. I often made sti l l and moving images during the same event, using video and sti l l cameras. I used two video cameras, a Panason ic RX3, and a Sony d ig ital H i -8 TRV520E. I pu rchased the latter partway through the research. I t had a wider range of options, including the abi l ity to attach a microphone for improved sound, and p roduced f iner images. I used a Minolta 7000i sti l l camera with two lenses (28 - 80mm, and 1 00 - 300 mm lens) , detachable flash, and colour print f i lm?O Fig 2 : Research equipment in a participant's home. As researchers, we often become so fam i l iar with our 'tools' , tripod , cameras and their containers, audio tape recorders, notebooks and pens, that we forget how daunting they may appear to participants. The photograph (Fig 2, above) with tr ipod ( right) , and two camera bags (on the window seat) reminded me of the quantity and size of the 'tools' . Re/viewing them enabled me to understand why some people reacted nervously to the i r presence. They were not ordinary domestic objects, but h igh-tech work tools. On the table is an image used for photo-el icitation . 3() The brand depended on price/value. I preferred ASA 1 00 and ASA 200 for sensitivity and reproductive quality. Films were processed in Whanganui . 31 Most f i l m i n g occu rred i n doors in a rt i fi c i a l , or low, n a t u r a l l i g h t ( Fi g s 2 & 3 ) .3 1 S o m e material was recorded o u tdoors , m ostly w h e n I was an act ive p a rt ic i p a nt­ observe r , a n d m y i n volve m e n t was i n t e g rated . S o m eti m es , p a rt i c i p ants, or i n t e rested non - p a rt i c i pants, p h otog raphed me and gave me c o p i e s . T h ese p h otog raphs, the v i d e otaped m eeti n g s , a n d e n c o u nters, formed an i m po rtant and va l u a b l e p a rt of m y research d i a ry . They t r i g g e re d my m e m o ry , p ro v i d e d v i s u a l d e s c r i p t i o n s , a n d s i t u ated peop l e i n soc i a l , c u l t u ra l a n d co m m u n ity contexts, as F i g 3 ( b elow) d e m onstrate s . Fig 3 : Margaret Mary at the Thistle Sweet Shop. Ma rga ret Mary asked m e t o acc o m pany h e r t o a special ist store t o b u y decorations f o r h e r 80th b i rthday c a k e . S h e i s p u tt i ng c h a n g e i n h e r p u rse after c o m p l e t i n g h e r p u rchases. They are the g re e n p a p e r pa rce l s on t h e c o u n t e r (front left ) . The p h otograph exe m p l if i e s the i t e m s I d e s c r i b e d above, act i n g as a m n e m o n i c for an event, a n d provi d i n g context, locat i o n a n d l i g ht i n g c o n d i t i o n s . To m ake t h e i r o w n records , p a rt i c i p a nts used Agfa32 27-shot d i sposable c a m e ras with f l a s h . 33 S u c h c a m e ras h ave severa l constraints. They a re s m a l l , and can be m is l a i d , b u t thei r size a n d l i g h t w e i g h t e n a b l e d p a rt icipants to c a rry t h e m easily. T h e f l a s h enabled t h e m t o m a k e i m ages i n do o rs . T h e f i x e d - l e n s m eant c a m e ras worked best for m i d d l e a n d long d i sta n ce s h ots, rat h e r than close - u p s . T h i s d i d n o t p revent participants f rom tak i n g c l ose- u p s t o m ake state m e n ts a b o u t i m portant obj ect s . T h e research processes were i n t e r- re lated a n d often ove r l a p p e d . I t took t i m e f o r p a rt i c i pants t o beco m e acc u st o m e d t o t h e p resence o f m y e q u i p m e n t , p a rti c u l a r l y t h e sti l l ca m e ra , w h i c h c l i cked l o u d l y w h e n t h e s h u tt e r b u tton was d e p ressed . T h e l e ngth and blackn ess of the 1 00-300m m l e n s s o m e t i m e s d i scon c e rt e d p e o p l e , p a rt i c u la rly n o n - pa rt i c i p a n t s . E v e n w h e n m e m b e rs h a d a g re e d 31 I d id not use additional artificial lighting, although with the still cameras I used the flash. I have altered the brightness and contrast of some photographs to make them clearer. 32 Brand name. 33 Their purchase was funded by the Graduate Research Fund. 32 to fi l m i n g , I noticed that sometimes n o n -parti c i p a n t women avo i d e d m e . W h e n I had c o m p l eted f i l m i n g , t h e same wom e n relaxed and talked with m e a t l e n g t h . O t h e rs w e re relaxed about m y p resence w i t h the e q u i p m e n t , cu rious a b o ut t h e res e a r c h , a n d e nj oyed revi e w i n g p h otog rap h s , often w i t h t h e m i n c l u d e d . Pa rticipants s h a red p h otog rap hs with n o n -p a rt i c i p a n ts, m i n e and t h e i r own . F ig 4: Margaret Mary sharing photographs with Ei leen , an interested non-participant. Life histories and photo-el ic itation I used p h oto- e l icitation34 exte nsively bec a u s e , fi rstly, I h a d used i t s u ccessf u l l y i n p revious research ( R o b i nson 1 999) ; a n d , seco n d l y , I h ad a g rowi n g i nt e rest i n social h i story , a n d s o u g h t ways o f d iscov e ri n g h ow part i c i p a nts reca l l e d t h e past. P h oto- e l i c itation i n c l u d ed u s i n g h i storic p h otog raphs o f W h a n g a n u i , a n d r e c e n t p h otographs of p l aces i n , a n d n e a r , t h e city. I sel ected o r m a d e t h e p h otog rap h s , a n d i n c l u ded s o m e fam i l y i m a g e s . Early o n , I rea l i zed t h a t m ost o f t h e p a rt i c i pants w e r e t e l l i n g m e , i n d i rect l y , that t h i s was n ot p a rt i c u l a rl y effect i v e . Th e i r respo nses va ried b u t many p h otograp h s d i d not faci l i tate d i a l o g u e . I co n c l u d ed that t h ey were either too old ( 1 9 0 0 - 1 950) or too p u b l i c, and t h e refore not r e l e va n t t o p a rticipants. W he n t h e y responded posit i v e l y , it w a s e i t h e r because t h ey h a d e x p e rience d p l aces activ e l y , o r beca u se t h e p h otog rap h s l e d to t h e m recal l i n g s i m i l a r eve n ts o r e x p e riences f r o m t h e i r own l ives . 34 Cf. Caldarola ( 1 985), Coll ier & Collier ( 1 986) and Niessen ( 1 991 ) for detai led information on photo-elicitation. 33 I re-co n f i r m e d to m yself t h at my real i n t e rest lay i n c o n d u cti n g active resea rc h . I had a l ready e n g aged in active p rocesses , record i n g partici pant stories and focused i n terviews. I was i n vo l ved a t d iffe r e n t l ev e l s in t h ree g ro u p s , as a part i c i p a n t-observe r , an active p resenter ( F i g 5 ) , a n d a researc h e r . © Miyoko Ijima Fig 5 : During a Mu lticu ltural Women's Group meeting, a friend photographed me ( in blue) showing members how to make Victorian posies. I had h e l p e d to p l a n a n d p u rc h a s e i te m s f o r i n d i v i d u a l c e l e b ra t i o n s , c o n t r i b u te d foo d , c l ea red tables a n d t i d i ed u p a f t e r m e e t i n g s . My c h a n g e of f o c u s e n a b l e d me to b u i ld o n these act i v i t i e s . I a d o p t e d m o re i n c l u s ive p a rt i c i patory m ethods. F o l l o w i n g a col l e a g u e ' s s u ggest i o n , I i n corporated a p ractice k n own as p h oto-nove l l a (Wang and & B u rris 1 994) . It was used to enable i l l i te rate r u ra l C h i n ese wom e n to t a k e t h e i r o w n p hotog r a p h s , a n d g e n e rate i nformation a b o u t com m u n ity h ealth n e e d s . They d ecided w h at w a s i m p o rtant to t h e m . By p h otog rap h i ng t h e i r own l i ves, and u s i n g t h ese as the basis for d i scussion in see k i n g s o l u t i o n s to comm u n ity p r o b l e m s , p a rt i c u l a rly t h e i r own a n d t h e i r c h i l d re n ' s n e e d s , p a rt i c i pants were e m powere d . T h e p rocess e n a b l e d t h e m t o rel ate t h e i r own experie nces t h ro u g h t he i r own eyes, rat h e r than oth e r p e o p l e ' s . The W ha n g a n u i p a rt i c i p a n t-g e n e rated p h otog rap h s w e r e l i k e ' c u l t u ra l i nvento ries' , w h i c h "some a n t h ropolog ists c o l l ect o f h o m es a n d possessions w h e n d o i n g research . . . a c u lt u ral i n ve n to ry expl o res s p a c e a n d t h e w a y i n w h i c h objects a ro u n d homes are positioned in relation to each o t h e r" ( O l l i v e r - R i c h ardson 2 0 0 2 : 4 9 ) . They a re s i m i l a r to the ' p e rsonal i n ventories' J ap a n ese A m e rican wom e n p re s e nted d u ri n g O l l iv e r- R i c h a rdson's research in H a wa i ' i . C o m b i n e d with p a rt i c i pant d iscussions, t h e p h otog ra p h s ope rate l i ke p h oto nove l l a , because t h i s m et h o d "uses people's p h otog rap h ic doc u m e n tation of t h e i r eve ryday l i ves as an ed ucational tool to record a n d to reflect t h e i r need s , p ro m ot e d i a l o g u e , e n c o u ra g e action a n d i nf o r m " (Wang & B u rris 1 994: 1 79) 35 . 35 Using researcher-generated images, anthropologists have used photo-elicitation effectively (Caldarola 1 985; Harper 1 987; Niessen 1 991 ) . Using specifically participant-generated images was less usual. It had been used by Wang & Burris ( 1 994), Burke (2004) and Mclntyre (2003). 34 A l t h o u g h I hesitated to ask p a rt i c i p a nts to p hoto g r a p h t h e i r own l i ve s , not wan t i n g to i m pose f u rther o n t h e i r goodw i l l , o n l y one parti c i p a n t d e c l i n e d . She was f u l ly com m itted and felt awkward at t h e p ro s pect of p hotog ra p h i n g i n h e r workplac e . S h e s u g g ested t h at h e r moth e r, a p a rt i c i p a n t , w h o l ived w i t h the f a m i l y , take t h e photogra p h s , s u g g esting that t h ese wo u l d p rovide i n s i g hts. T h ey d i d so , a l t h o u g h t h e perspect i ve was n o t as f u l l o f t h e yo u n g e r wo m a n ' s p ract i c e s as h e r own p h otog rap h s m i g ht have p ro v i d e d . Anoth e r p a rticipant off e r e d acce ss to h e r own extensive, l if e - l o n g col lection of p hotog rap h s . Anticipating t h a t these wo u l d p rovide val u a b l e i n si g h ts, I accepted . Mcl ntyre (2003) a r g u e d t h at w h e n a p roj ect has a s p ecific focus, caref u l p l a n n i n g w a s desirable. I s u spected t h a t , i n t h e W h a n g a n u i rese a rc h , a f l u i d a p p roach w o u l d reveal m o re a b o u t t h e p a rt i c i pants' l ives t h a n if I d i rected t h e m s t ro n g l y . I f e l t e m p owerment w a s m i ssi n g f o r u s al l , d u e , I su spect, to t h e way t h e research w a s o r i g i n a l l y conce i ve d . F r o m early Decem b e r 2 0 0 0 t o late J a n u a ry 200 1 , p a rt i c i pants p h otog raphed p l aces, peop l e , and events of i m po rtance to t h e m . T h ey l i v e i n w h at m i g h t be refe rred to as a 'ca m e ra' c u l t u re ,36 were f a m i l i a r with u s i n g c a m e ras, a n d req u i red m i n i m a l i n struct i o n . The two m o nths c o i n c i d e d with t h e s u m m e r vacat i o n , and i n c l u de d C h ristmas and New Y e a r c e l e b ra ti o n s . I t was long e n o u g h f o r partici pants to refl ect on t h e i r l i ves, and s h o rt e n o u g h f o r them to reca l l why t h e y h a d taken specific photographs. I had two sets of p h otographs deve l o p e d , and g ave each p a rt i c i p a n t t h e i r own copies. W it h t h e i r a g reement, I v i d eotaped o u r conversations as w e d i s c ussed t h e m . Alt h o u g h part i c i pants i n it i a l l y f o u n d t h e v i d eo-cam era on its t r i p o d off - p u tt i n g , they often forgot a b o u t it after we started tal k i n g . D u ri n g ea r l i e r i nt e rviews , I d e p a rted from m y p revi o u s practice of sitt i n g opposite the p a rticipant. 37 I n stead, I p l aced t h e v i d e o-ca m e ra on a tri pod a n d i n c l u d e d myself v i s u a l l y i n f i l m i n g . D o i n g s o m ea n t I e x p e r i e n c e d t h e d i scomforts of f i l m i n g , a n d t h e d i sconcert i n g e x p e r i e nce of s e e i n g m y s e l f o n scre e n . P a rticipants a p p roved of t h i s , co m m e nt i n g , " ( i )t 's g o o d g etti n g you rself i n l i k e that" . Conti n u i n g t h i s p ractice was usef u l w h e n d i s c u s s i n g p a rt i c i pants' p h otog ra p h s . We s a t s i d e by s i d e , s o m eti mes rearra n g i ng t h e f u r n i t u re f i rsea. We revi ewed p h otographs tog e t h e r , a n d e n s u red they were recorded on t a p e . Partici pants often 'showed t h e c a m e ra' the p h o to g ra p h s , chuckl i n g w h e n t h e y d i d so. S o m e d ealt with t h e c a m e ra p resence d i rectl y , as w h e n J o a n B a s k e d w h e t h e r s h e s h o u ld "address t h e c a m e ra o r m e o r both " . W e ag reed she w o u l d acknow l e d g e my p resence b y ca l l i n g m e b y m y g iv e n nam e . P a rt i c ipants beca m e s o co mforta b l e t h at a t t i m es t h ey rem a rked that t h e y "forgot t h at t h i n g was sti l l o n " . S o m e t i m es part i c i pants asked me to t u rn t h e c a m e ra off before they d i s c l osed p a rt i c u l a r i nformation , u s u a l l y o f a gynaeco l o g i c a l or u n com p l i m e n tary nat u r e ; t h e i r reti ce nce ref l e ct i n g c u ltural m ores about t h e i m p ro p r i e ty of d i scuss i n g f e m a l e b i o l o g y , a n d spea k i n g i l l o f ot h e rs. 39 Occasional l y , part i c i p a nts asked m e t o l e ave t h e v i d eo­ ca m e ra record i n g when they talked about s i t uatio n s w h e re they h ad been u pset, insulted o r offe n d e d , and had dealt with t h e situation assertive l y . They act i v e l y created a record t o e n s u re that eve n t u a l ly t h e y m i g ht be h eard a n d respected f o r contrav e n i n g soci a l expectations o f passivity a m on g st wom en . T h e i r s peaki n g a b o u t t h e s e e v e n ts i n d icated self- respect a n d h ow i t c o u l d b e developed o r e n hanced . 36 All had photograph albums, framed photographs and, sometimes home photo "galleries", with images of their ancestors, themselves and their descendants. 37 MacDougall & MacDougall (workshop suggestion, August, 1 998) suggested interviewing people involved in activities. Participants seemed to expect that we would sit together and talk. My initial reference to ' interviews' might have encouraged this expectation, as might participant exposure to television. 38 I sought permission to move furniture, and replaced it afterwards. 39 Sometimes participants chose to disclose the information off the record. When they did, I made a mental note only. Turning the camera off enabled trust to develop, because participants saw that their wishes were being respected. The silences speak loudly of social and cultural mores, and are perhaps more telling for being unspoken, or revealed off the record. 35 As wel l as p rovid i n g p a rt i c i pants w i t h copies of p h otog ra p h s , I a l so gave t h e m copies of t h e i r v i d eo-ta p e d i nt e rvi ews a n d t r a n s c r i p t s . A l l c h ecked t h e t ranscri pts, m a d e m i n o r a m e n d m ents, a n d corrected s p e l l i n g . T h e y a p p eared satisf i ed that t h e tapes acc u ra t e l y reflected t h e i r l i ves and t he i r t h o u g h ts . Several p a rt i c i pants e x p ressed p le as u re at v i e w i n g i nt e rviews with k i n a n d report i n g positive reacti o n s , p a rt l y because t h e v i e w i n g e n a b l e d k i n to " l e a r n m o r e a b o u t m e a n d t h e i r fam i ly h i story" . S o m e f a m i l ies asked f o r extra copies a n d r e v i ewed t h e m to l e a r n m o re a b o u t t h e m se lves. D u r i n g t h e i r Decembe r-Ja n u a ry 2 0 0 0 p hotog raph y , p a rt ic i p a nts adopted vario u s app roach es to t h e i r visual researc h , t ak i n g m ost p h ot o g ra p h s w i t h i n the c i t y - ' t h e wo r l d a r o u n d h e re' ( G e e rt z 1 99 6 ) - u n d e rsta n d a b l e b e c a u s e i t w a s w h e re t h ey resi d e d . P hotog rap h s w e re u s u a l l y, b u t not a l ways, m a d e i n p r i vate o r s e m i ­ p rivate spaces, s u c h as t h e i r h o m e s , ya r d s , t h e h o m e a n d yards o f k i n a n d/or f r i e n d s , or m e et i n g roo m s . I f they h a d travel e d , n at i o n a l l y or i nt e rnationa l ly , t h e y i nc l u ded p hotog raphs taken d u r i n g t h e j o u r n e y . Several c a r r i e d t h e c a m e ra m ost of t h e t i m e , a n d p hotog rap h e d act i v i t i e s w h e rever t h ey went. O t h e rs c h o se s p e c i f i c acti v i t i e s to p hotog rap h . S o m e p u t t h e cam e ra i n a v i s i b l e p lace at h o m e , a n d a s k e d fa m i ly a n d f r i e nds take p hotog rap h s w h e never t h e y t h o u g h t activ i t i e s were s i g n i ficant. O n e asked h e r e xt e n d e d f a m i ly t o h e l p b y c h o o s i n g representative situations, a n d tak i n g p hotographs w h i c h i nc l u d e d h e r . S o m e fam i ly m e m be rs became ve ry i nvolved, s u gg e st i n g i ma g e s w h i c h featu red i m po rtant aspects of t h e p a rt i c i p a n t's l if e , s u c h a s "You r c a r , g ra n d m a . Y o u l o v e you r l it t l e c a r . " T h e p a r t i ci pa n t reca l l e d , "An d I d o . I t's m y i nd e p e n d e n c e . " A nother s p e n t an afternoon w i t h a l ess m o b i l e f r i e n d , d ri v i n g aro u n d to photograph m ea n i n g f u l b u i l d i n gs and spaces in t h e c i ty and district. T he s e acted as m ne m o n i c s f o r spec i a l peopl e , m o m e n t s , o r sta g e s , i n h e r l ife . M a n y p hoto g ra p h s w e re l i k e t hose peopl e h ave i n t h e i r f a m i l y a l b u m s ( C halfen 1 987) . They i nc lu d e d c e l e b rations a n d h a p p y m o m e n t s . T h e p a rt i c i p a n t s e x t e n d e d t h i s range as t h e y v i e w e d t h e i r l i ves p u rposef u l ly . S o m e e x p re s s e d h u mo u r v i s u a l l y . O t h e rs reco rded p h otogra p h s w h i c h f e a t u re l e s s o f t e n i n f a m i l y a l b u m s - l ik e a B i b l e , g a r d e n tools a n d produce , a n d p e o p l e s l e e p i n g , s o m et i m e s w i t h pets napp i n g beside t h e m . P h otog ra p h s refl ected d a i l y l if e , a n d death - w i t h g ravestones p h otog raphed a s m n e mo n i c s o f fam i l y m e m b e rs. 36 © Margaret McCosh Fig 6: Gravestones with flowers. M a r g a ret McC p h otog raphed h e r father's g ravesto n e ( l eft) - u n u s u a l i n the fa m i l y a l b u m context in Aotearoa N ew Zealand beca u s e it reca l l ed s a d n ess and l o s s , a n d an often unspoken p ractice, v i s i t i n g t h e cemet e ry . W h i l e such p hotog raphs m i g ht b e s h a re d within t h e fam i l y, I h a d not experienced them being s h a re d beyond the fa m i l y . Marga ret made a special tri p . ( Do y o u g o a n d visit v e ry oft e n o r j u st o n spec i a l . . . ?) S p e c i a l occasions m o r e . . . b ut this day was n't a s p e c i a l occas ion . I was goi n g b ec a u se I n eeded to take t h e p h otos . So I took f l owers , lots of f l owers a n d , I m e a n , I always d o . If I go u p , I g o t o Dad's , I go t o G randdad's a n d I g o to my other g randparents as w e l l . I d o t h e 10t. 4o Marga ret centred t h e g ravestone as best she c o u l d , with i n t h e c o n strai nts of t h e cam e ra , i n d icating h e r fathe r's c e nt ra l i ty in h e r l i f e . M a k i n g a s p e c i a l trip h i g h l i g hted t h e p a rt i c u l a r i m portance of her fat h e r and g ra n dfath e r . T h e p h otog rap h a l s o s h owed h o w d ifficult it was to sel ect o n e item o n l y w h e n u s i n g a d i sposable fixed - l e ns c a m e ra . C o m b i n i n g t h e i nformation g a i n e d from conversations about t h e p a rt i c i pants' p h otog rap h s with earl i e r m aterial d e e p e n e d my knowledge of t h e i r l i ves and p ractices i m m e n s e l y , as i n d i cated abov e . As O l l i ve r - R i c h a rdson observe d , f o l l o w i n g research s h e c o n d u cted i n H awa i ' i , " ( w ) e o p e rate i n a western soci ety w h i c h d i scou rages constant obse rvati o n and fol l ow i n g people abo ut" ( 2 0 0 2 : 3 4 ) . B y gath e ri n g l i f e h i stories t h ro u g h i nterviews with p a rticipa nt-created ' p e rsonal i n ventories' of objects and p h otographs, she was able to p e rc e i ve co m m o n t h e m e s w i t h o u t i n t r u d i n g o n p e o p l e ' s l ives. T h e W han g a n u i p a rticipa nt-g e n e rated p h otog raphs and conversations ac h i eved a s i m i l a r a i m . They revea l e d , e m p h as i zed , a n d/o r confi r m e d aspects of eve ryday l if e , t h e p rese n ce a n d/or use of m aterial obj ects , and e n g a g e m ent in c u l t u ra l p ract ices of belo n g i n g . Most i m p o rt a n t l y , the p a rt i c i p a nts refl e cted on their own l i ves , a n d s e l ected what t h ey r e g a rd e d as i m p o rtant. I noticed a c hange in atm osp h e re when parti c i pants d i scussed t h e i r own 40 At least six of Margaret's ancestors, spanning three generations, were interred in this cemetery. 37 rat h e r t h a n the researc h e r-selected p h otog rap h s , so m et h i n g w h i c h C ol l i e r a n d Col l i e r ( 1 986) m i g h t h a v e p redict e d . W h e n i m ages recorded a ro u n d p e o p l e ' s h o m es were i n c l ud e d for d i scuss i o n , the a t m osp h e re beca m e wa r m e r a n d m o re e m ot i o n a l , e n t h u s iasm i n creased, and t h e d i s c u ss i o n broa d e n e d . C o l l i e r a n d C o l l i e r asserted that such s i t u at i o n s w e re "not an i n t e rv i e w" ( i b i d : 1 02 ) , b u t " m u t u a l c o m m u n ication in which we returned as much as w e w e re g iven . . . (w)e p a rted fe e l i n g f r i ends" ( i b i d ) . I felt s i m i l a r l y . Finding participants As I noted e a r l i e r , l i vi n g in W h a n g a n u i m ea n t I ' k n ew ' the city, and h a d esta b l i s h e d connections. This i n f l u e n c e d t h e w a y I s o u g h t p a rt i c i pa nts. I n stead o f work i n g t h ro u g h a network of i n t ro d uctions, I f i rst a p p roach ed a g ro u p w h e re I h a d recently b e e n g u est speaker. I a n t i c i pated t h at m e m b e rs wo u l d b e l o n g -estab l i s h e d W h a n g a n u i resi d e n ts , l i kely t o h ave d escended f r o m early W h a n g a n u i sett l e rs , a n d be a b l e t o prov i d e i n s i g hts i n to b e l o n g i n g f ro m a 'born a n d b r e d ' p e rs p e ct i ve . The pe rson I contacted rejected m y a p p roac h , causing m e to recog n i s e t h a t , i n some s i t u at i o n s , I re m a i n e d an outs i d e r . S e e k i n g p a rticipants e l s e w h e r e , I reviewed t h e c i t y ' s l i st of 1 2 0 0 c l u bs a n d o rg a n isations (Wangan u i Com m u n i ty D i a ry 2 0 0 0 ) ,4 1 a n d t h e l o c a l n ewsp a p e rs . After a p p roac h i ng a craft g ro u p , I d i scovered I h e ld p ri v i leged k n owl e d g e w h i c h made m e u n c o mf o rta b l e about contin u i n g . I n e xt a p p roached a g ro u p I h a d worked with for seve ral m o n t h s as a co-opted researc h e r . I had not spoken t o them about t h i s researc h , because I was wo r r i e d a b o u t i m posi n g o n f r i e n d s h i p . After t h e f i rst g r o u p d e c l i n e d i n volve m e nt , I rea l i ze d t h at p r i o r contact d i d not a l ways m ean p e o p l e h a d a s e n se of o b l i g at i o n . As a r e s u l t , I t h o u g h t t h e FO H C C42 m e m be rs k n e w me w e l l e n o u g h t o d e c l i n e i f they d i d n o t w a n t to be i n volved. A l l ag ree d , a l t h o u g h g ro u p d y n a m ics m i g h t h ave swayed two, w h o a p p e a red h e s i t a n t . O n e later told m e s h e w a s s u rprised t h at I h a d o n l y a s k e d h e r t o be i nvolve d i n t w o i n t e rviews. T h e oth e r ref used i nvo l v e m e n t i n d i rectly after a n i n it i a l i n t e rv i e w . I read h e r l ack o f response to my requests f o r another i nt e rv i e w as ' s i l e n t ref u s a l ' ( V i sweswaran 1 9 94) . V i sweswaran a rg u ed that wom e n u se d s i l e nce as a f o r m of a g e n c y , exp ress i n g resistance s u bt l y , and that w e n eeded t o read "acts of o m i ssion (as) acts of com m ission" ( i b i d : 4 8 ) . Once I u n d e rstood t h e p a rt i c i p a n t ' s response t h i s way, I realized that s h e had dista nced o u r relati o n s h i p i n a c u l t u r a l l y accepta b l e way. T h i s e n a b l ed us t o m eet i nform a l l y , a n d i nfreq u e n t l y , without e m b a r rass m e nt . F o u r years later, both p a rt i c i p a n ts ag reed to a n ot h e r focused i nterview. T h ro u g h t h e FO H C C , I was i n t ro d u ced to ot h e r p rospective partic i pants, i n c l u d i n g m e m b e rs' k i n , u s u a l l y of a d i ff e r e n t g e n e rati o n . T h e m ot h e r of o n e of t h e m e m bers l ived w i t h h e r d a u g h t e r , son - i n - l a w a n d t h e i r t h re e c h i l d re n , a n d was i n vo l ved i n a n u m b e r of fa m i l y and c o m m ittee activiti e s . T h i s woman fac i l itated m y e n t ry i nto o t h e r g roups, i n c l u d i n g two g ro u p s o f o l d e r wo m e n - t h e C O F43 a n d t h e Live A l o n e s . 44 Other contacts l i n k e d m e w i t h oth e r networks o f wo m e n , i n c l u d i n g t h e W a n g a n u i M u l t i c u ltural W o m e n ' s G ro u p , 45 a rest- h o m e social g ro u p , a n d t h e C a r d iac R e h a b i l itation W a l k i n g G ro u p .46 M e m be rs h i p so m et i m es overlapped a n d 4 1 Whanganui i s reputed anecdotally to have the highest recorded numbers o f c lubs and organizations i n Aotearoa New Zealand. 42 Friends of the Opera House centennial committee. It formed to co-ordinate the Royal Wanganui Opera House centennial celebrations during 1 999-2000 (Robinson 1 999). 43 The Circle of Friends (CoF) evolved from the League of Mothers. This was a national non-denominational group aimed at supporting women, particularly mothers. The League disbanded in 1 993 (Labrum 1 993). The Whanganui 2roup continued as the Circle of Friends. 4 A Presbyterian Church group which Margaret Mary joined after her husband died. 45 The Wanganui Multicultural Women's group was a voluntary support group for i ncoming non-Aotearoa New Zealand women, associated with teaching English to speakers of other languages. 46 The Cardiac Rehabil itation Walking Group was formed in association with a Good Health Wanganui Hospital cardiac education group. Walking group members had usually experienced what is termed a 'cardiac event'. They maintained regular fitness, encouraged through weekly group attendance. 38 was revealed as researc h p rog ressed. T h e networks ofte n i n teg rated research p a rt i c i pants into t h e wide r p o p u lation, h i g h l i g h t i n g a form of 'elective b e l o n g i n g ' ( Savage et a l . 2005) , exte n d i n g t h e research bo u n d a r i e s , a n d i n creas i n g my c ontacts. C o m b i n i n g the research m ethods deepe ned the rese a r c h , a n d confi rmed wo m e n ' s pe rspectives on t h e i r p ractices of b e l o n g i n g in Aotearoa N ew Z e a land . P h ot o - e l i citation com b i n ed w i t h na rrative a n d part i c i pant-obse rvat i o n expanded i n s i g hts i nto everyday l i ves . As an active , p a rt i c i patory m e t h o d , i t em powe red the partici pants and the resea rc h e r , in accordance with fem i n ist p references. Adapting Wang & B u rris's ph oto-nov e l l a a p p roach to t h e Aotearoa N ew Zealand situation provided a way of exte nding t h e g eog rap h i cal a n d relat i o n a l b readth of t h e rese a rc h . P a r t i c i p a nt-ge nerated photo g ra p h s revealed a w i d e ran g e of p ractices a n d c o n s t r u c t i o n s o f b e l o n g i n g . Narrative N a r ratives a n d ord i n a ry conversat ions p rovided usef u l i nformation a n d u n d e rstand i n g s d u ri n g research a n d analys i s . T h e y w e re active p rocesses e n g a g e d in to construct, aff i r m , reaff i r m o r c l a rify con n ecti o n s a n d b e l on g i n g . P e rs o n a l n a r ratives i n d icated h o w p a rtici pants conce ived of t h e i r con nect i o n s , a n d w h at t h e y regarded a s i m porta n t . T h e y conveyed p a rticipants' t h o u g hts a n d words c l e a r l y ( L a u r i e 2 0 00/200 1 ) . They have been used to p ro v i d e people p revi o u s l y s i l e n ce d with a platform f o r b e i n g h e a rd ( G l uc k & Patai 1 99 1 ; Josselson 1 98 7 ; L i e b l i c h , T u va l - Masc h i a c h & Z i l b e r 1 998) . B o n i sc h - B redn i c h ass e rted, "narratives are . . . i m portant for everyday l ife (at all levels) . . . p rovi d ( i n g ) p i c t u r e s of our l ives a n d t h e society around u s i n ways t h at c a n b e neatly framed. B u t ( t h ey) represent j u st o n e s e t of p ictures; o t h e rs a r e stored away . . . s e l dom to e m e r g e in p u b l ic" ( 2 0 02 : 76) . She referred to t h e 'neatly framed' sto r i e s as ' R eady Mades' and t h e ot h e rs as ' l i n e n c u pboard sto ries' ( i b i d ) . The W hanga n u i resea rc h participants were mostly " E n g l i s h , Scotti s h and e v e n I ri s h wo m e n (whose) . . . m i g ra n t experiences have become i n sider stories a n d a p a rt of dom i n a n t Pakeha s e tt l e r narratives" ( F raser & P i c k l e s 2002 : 1 0 ) . As w o m e n l iving in a chang i n g , but st i l l patriarchal society, Pakeha wo m e n have experi e n ced t h e i r own s i l e n c e s . They d o not necess a ri ly e q u at e with t h ose expe r i e n c e d by m i g ra n ts of m i n o rity c u l t u res, As ian a n d Oceanic ( i b i d ) , but that does not m ean t h ey d o not have va l u e , o r that t h ey s h o u ld n o t be t o l d . Treat i n g o rd i n a ry conve rsat i o n s a s n a rrative p rovi d e d a n o t h e r w a y o f d i scove r i n g h ow b e long i n g is p racticed i n d a i l y l ife because it reve a l e d t h e 'ordi nary' ( N orri ck 2 0 00 ) . I have co m b i ned extracts from i nformal conve rsat i o n s with material from struct u red i n t e rviews to d e m o n s t rate how be l o n g i n g was n a r rated i n everyday d iscou rs e . At m y request, the part i c i p a nts consc i o u s l y and d e l i be ra t e l y re/told t h e i r o r i g i n sto ries , e i t h e r a s t h e y h a d e x p e ri e nced the m , as t h e sto r i e s w e re told t o th e m , o r i n c o m b i n ati o n . I am conscious o f S h opes' (2004) assertion t h at t h e p u rposes of an i nt e rv i e w , expressed a n d i m p l i e d , conscious and u n consci o u s , i n f l u enced a n d s h a p e d n a rratives. E v e n so, the p a rtici pants' constructions of , a n d t h e i r w i l l i n g ness to s h a re , n a r ratives, often relayed t h ro u g h several g e n e rations, i nd i cated the val u e i n d i v i d u a l s a n d col l ectives p l aced o n t h e i r own ori g i n a n d a r rival sto r i e s . Te l l i n g t h e m w a s o n e way of n u rtu ring t h e i r belo n g i n g . As i n m u c h researc h , partici p a nts sel ected t h e i r stories, and stru ctured t h e i r n a rratives ( H i n c h m a n & H i nch m a n 1 99 7 : xv i ) , but I too have b e e n s e l ective to e m phasize a s pects of b e h avi o u r . I n m o v i n g f r o m speech t o text, I have fol lowed va r i o u s g u i d e l i n es, and "adopted m a n y of the tec h n i q u e s of h u m a n istic writing . . . ( I eavi n g ) t races of myself t h ro u g h ou t . . . 1 did not make t h e e n c o u n t e r . . . centra l , ( b u t ) did not r e m ov e q u estions I asked or p retend that certain d i scuss i o n s w e re not d i rected specif i c a l l y at m e " (Abu­ L u g hod 1 99 3 ) . In q u oting p a rt i c i pants, I f o l l owed Frisch's g u ide l i n e s , and abandoned "the p retense of l iteral reprod uction . . . (wh i l e being aware t h at) conversation and t a l k 39 have t h e i r o w n struct u re a n d l o g i c" w h i c h d iffe red f ro m t h e written word ( 1 9 9 0 : 8 4 - 8 5 ) . I removed t h e u m s , a h s , e r s a n d o t h e r p a rts of s p e ec h , w h i c h i m pe d e d t h e f l o w for the reade r , a n d m y o w n q uest i o n s a n d com m e nts, u n l es s t h e y s e e m e d i mportant , reveal i n g , o r p rovided a c o ntext . T h ey a re bracketed w i th i n t h e partici pants' c o m m ents. I have avoi d e d r e o rd e ri n g "if i t res u lts i n a n e w m ea n i n g , u n i ntended b y t h e speaker" (Thom pson 2 0 00 ) . I h av e also t r i e d "to c o m m u n icate w i t h ou t d i stort i o n t h e i nformation and i n s i g ht s g iv e n to me so g e n e ro u s l y" ( Me t g e 1 986/ 1 9 89 : 2 0 ) . F o r t h i s reaso n , a g a i n u s i n g b rackets, I h ave i ns e rt e d occas i o n a l p h rases o r w o rd s o f exp la nation to a s s i st u nd e rsta n d i n g o r i n crease c l a ri t y . A l t h o u g h partic i pa n ts somet i m es s p o k e i n a w a y t h at see m e d a c c e n t e d t o t h e Aotearoa N ew Z e a l a n d ea r , I have p re s e nted o u r conve rsati o n s i n sta n d a rd written E n g l i s h to e n a b l e them to be read a n d u n d e rstood c le a r l y . I d i d so after o n e partic i pa n t reacted w i t h e m ba rrass m e n t to t h e w a y I h a d recorded h e r spe e c h . Adopt i n g s ta n d a rd w r i tten E n g l i s h overcame p a rt i c i p a n t se lf-consc i o u s n e s s , p reserved d i g n ity, "an d i m p roved t h e . . . flow" ( i b i d ) . I t a l s o h e l p e d to convey b e l on g i n g , p a rt l y because usi n g this form b l u rred d ifferences w h i c h t h e p a rt i c i p a n ts s e e m e d to be u naware of, or to pay n o atten t i o n t o , i n reg u la r l i f e . O t h e r t h a n t h ese i t e m s , t h e words and p h rasings a re t h e p a rt i c i pants' own . Conclusion I n t h i s c h apter, I have d i s c u s s e d t h e m ethods I u sed t o e x p l o r e b e l on g i n g . They i nc l u d e d p a rt i c i pant-observa t io n , various a p p roac h es t o p hoto-e l i citati o n , record i n g of l if e h i stories a n d conve rsation s , a n d p a rt i c i p a n t e n ga g e m e n t i n p h otog rap h i n g t h e i r own l ives. I c o nt e xt u a l ized m ys e l f as a native a n t h ro p o l o g ist because I e ngaged w i t h wom e n m uc h l i ke m yself w i t h i n m y c om m u n ity of res i d e n c e . The researc h w a s l i m ited b y g e n d e r - t o wom e n ; b y e t h ni city - t o P a ke h a ; a n d b y my p o s i t io n i n g - as educated a n d m id d le-class. I t h e n d i scussed t h e e t h i c s of research and a rg u ed that m a i nt a i n i ng p a rt i c i p a n t a n o n y m i ty was n o t a l ways the most d e s i ra b l e approach to adopt. I n the next chapter I i ntrodu c e the p a rt i c i p a n ts and l ocate t h e m w i t h i n t h e Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d context. S i n c e I h ave b e e n o n e o f m y m aj o r i nf o r m a n t s , a n d have adopted an i nc l usive a p p roach , I i ntrod u c e myself t h e re i n t h e sam e way. 40 Chapter Four Defin ing Selves In my own thinking, I pin no labels on myself at all . . . I 'm an individual, I am and I exist, and they call me Joan . . . that's really the only label I 'll willingly wear. J o a n B Introduction Before descri b i n g , d ef i n i n g a n d d i scussi n g t h e partic i p a n ts' p ractices o f b e l o n g i n g , i t i s necessary to i nt roduce t h e m . D o i n g s o p rovides a g l i m p s e o f e a c h p e rson , a n d e nables t h e i r contextual izat i o n nati o n a l l y a n d i nternat i o n a l l y . T h e w o m e n I worked with w e re si m i l a r t o t h e w o m a n I w a s , a m , and/or l i ke t h e wom a n I c o u l d beco m e ( M eye r h off 1 98 0 ) . The parti c i pants a n d I shared co n n ections to Aotea roa N ew Zea l a n d t h ro u g h eth n i city, o r i g i ns a n d c u l t u r e . Most were born i n Aotearoa N e w Zealan d . A s P a k e h a , t h ey w e re m e m b e rs of the d o m i n a n t c u ltu r e . T h e y g e n e r a l l y l i ved a m i d d l e - c l ass l ifesty l e , esp o u sed m i d d l e-class as p i rati o n s , w e re vario u s l y educat e d , a n d variously s k i l l e d .47 T h ey l ived w i t h i n t h e g e n d e r e d , patriarchal a n d geog r a p h i c a l l y isolated constraints of Aotearoa N ew Zea l a n d soci ety. W h i l e people's h i stories sugg est s i m i l a rities the i r life exp e r i e n c e s r e n d e r t h e m u n i q u e . 48 B e l o w I i ntroduce the participants b y t h e i r g iven n a m es a n d s i g n t h e m off b y t h e i r g i ven , m a r r i e d and/or fa m i l y n a m e s . E a c h is accom pa n i ed b y a p h otog rap h , a q u otation w h i c h each ag reed s u m marised an essential q u a l i ty , and a b rief b iography. These a re d e s i g ned to g i ve readers a g l i m pse i nto part i c i pants' l i v e s , i ns i g hts i nt o their e x p e r i e nces a n d d e c i s ive m o m e nts o r events. T h e i r b ri ef b i o g ra p h ies e n a b l e t h e m to be seen a n d h e a rd m o re c l e a r l y . T h e chapter also e n a b l ed m e to i n dicate t h e i r g e n e ral s i m i larities to t h e Pakeha p o p u l at i o n as a w h o l e . S i n ce t h e re we re m a n y , it seems poss i b l e to s u g g est some broad c o n c l u s i o n s , a l t h o u g h f u rt h e r research wou l d b e req u i r e d to c o n f i r m t h e m . The partic ipants S i xte e n wo m e n , s e lf-se lected except for two, w e re d i rectly i n volved in t h e researc h . W h e n I b e g a n , t h e i r ages r a n g e d f rom the l a t e th i rt i e s to t h e l a t e e i g ht i e s . T h e ag e ra n g e m i g ht have i m pacted on t h e data , beca u s e o f a l t e r i ng health i n o l d e r p a rt i c i p a n ts , and t h e diffe r e n t p o l it ical, econom i c , s o c i a l a n d c u l t u ral e n v i r o n m e n ts t h e y e x p e ri e n ced , with the i r l i ves i nf l u e n ced accord i n g l y . A l l b u t fou r were b o rn i n Aotearoa N ew Zea l a n d . F o u r w e re born , and ra i s e d , i n W h a n g a n u i . The o t h e rs had l i ve d i n W ha n g a n u i from p e riods ra n g i n g from th ree to seventy years. T h e i r c u l t u ra l a n d a n c estral o r i g i n s , e d u c a t i o n a n d c i rc u m stances w e re s i m i la r . They co u l d b e d es c r i b e d as Pake h a . Most h a d B r i t i s h ancestral con necti o n s . School leavi n g age i n c reased with you n g e r parti c i p a n t s , r i s i n g from 1 3 years old f o r o l d est partici pants t o 1 8 years old for the you n g e r o n e s . Most had g a i n ed 47 Before choosing how to describe the participants, I discussed concepts of class with several. One said directly, "I have no problem with being described as middle-class." Others seemed less wil l ing to use the term as a descriptor for others than for themselves. They did not l ike labels being imposed on people and argued that some people would be uncomfortable being described as upper or working class. Some suggested describing the participants as representative of "a broad cross-section of the community". The research involved a small number, with nobody at either end of the spectrum, partly because Wanganui is relatively homogeneous economically. Because participant aspi rations, moral codes, practices, aspirations, and lifestyles suggested 'middle-class' mores, I opted for the middle-class reference to convey a sense of their socio-economic situations, attitudes and aspirations. A magazine poll revealed that Aotearoa New Zealanders believe class exists within the shores, "mostly based on money, but that education, where you live, your ethnicity, occupation and family background also play important roles" (Black 2005 : 1 6) . 48 Basil Avery suggested that "everyone i s remarkable, really" ( 1 998). 41 post-secondary s c h o o l t ra i n i n g o r e d ucation . T h ree h a d e n g a g e d i n u n ive rs i t y s t u d y . M a n y acq u i red s p e c i a l i st ski l l s t h ro u g h vol u n t a ry a c t i v i t i e s o r e m p loym e n t . T h e i r pa rtners were m a l e a n d i nc l u d e d s e l f- e m p l oy e d b u s i nessm e n , f a r m e rs , teac h e r s , a d m i n istrators, m a n a g e rs , a n d p rofessi o na l s . W h i l e s o m e began l ife i n f a m i l i e s w h i c h m i g h t b e d es c r i bed a s ' b l u e c o l l a r' b y occupat i o n , most had , t h ro u g h experience o r e d u c a t i o n , moved t o diff e r e n t occu pa t i o n a l l eve l s . B o n i sc h - B red n i ch asserted that "the m yt h of the 'classl ess s o c i ety' i t s e l f" h a d l o n g b e e n d ebated b y N e w Zealand s c h o l a r s w h o s u g g e sted "two g e ne ra l p h a s e s , o n e before t h e 1 93 0 s a n d t h e oth e r" rec e n t l y , w i t h " a n i n termed i a t e p ha s e w h e r e t h e r e w a s a h i g h d e g re e o f soci a l j ustice a n d a s u bc u lt u re o f e l ite s o c iety" ( 2 0 0 2 : 2 1 4 ) . Some p a rt i c i p a n ts had sta b l e econo m i c a n d domestic s ituatio n s . O t h e rs h a d e x p e ri e n ced f i na n c i a l , and/or o t h e r s t ru g g l es , d u e t o c i rc u m stances g e n e rated b y o t h e rs e . g . g am b l i n g , desert i o n , gove r n m e n t p o l i cy , fa m i ly s i z e , o r r e locatio n . Participants w e re e i t h e r Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d - b o rn a n d raise d , o r s h a re d a B r i t i s h h istorical o r colon ia l backg rou n d . They s ha re d a m i g ra n t expe r i e n c e , e i t h e r i m m ed i ately p e rso n a l , o r ancestra l . O n e p a rt i c i p a n t , w h o e m i g rated, a g e d f i v e , w i t h h e r fam i ly f r o m S o u t h Africa, s h a re d t h e e x p e r i e n c e o f a n c estra l fam i l ia l m ig ra t i o n from n o rt h e r n E u ro p e a n d overa l l , t h e e x p e r i e n c e of a ncestral a n d p e rs o n a l m ig ratio n . A l l p a rt i c i p a n t s h a d b e en , o r we re , i n p a i d e m p l o y m e n t . T h e o l d e r wom e n w e re f rom a g e n e ra t i o n wh e re t h e y were r e q u i re d t o r e s i g n from p a i d w o r k w h e n t h e y married ( Mo n t g o me rie 2 00 1 : 1 7 1 - 1 87 ) . E c on o m ic n ee d a n d/or social c h a n g e s m eant m o s t wom e n p a rticipate d , d u ri n g m a rr i a g e , i n p a i d e m p l oy m e n t , m o s t l y part­ t i m e , cas u a l or p e rmanent. As t h e i r forebears h a d d o n e , they f itted "th e i r e m p l o y m e n t i nto t h e structure o f d o m e s t i c i t y , a n d p a rt i c u l a r l y t h e d e m a n d s of m ot h e rhood" ( i b i d : 1 35). Savage e t a l . ( 2 0 0 5 ) asserted t h at m ot h e r h o o d a n d c h i l d r e a r i n g h a s a r o l e i n the "ac h i eve m e n t of e l ective b e l on g i n g . I t c a n b e c om e Ha m ea n s of . . . attac h i n g women - a n d , i n d i re c t l y , m e n - t o p lace and . . . of s e d i m e n t i n g d i fferent k i n d s of g e ndered c u l t u res o f p la c e" ( i b i d : 54 ) . T h e p a rt i c i p a nts' com m u n i t y con ne c t i o n s i nc l ud e d m y ri a d l i n ks t o a v a r iety o f g ro u p s a n d o rg a n i sation s . T h e se r a n g e d f r o m c h u rc h-based t h ro u g h sports, recreational and l e i s u re to p o l i t i c a l . They e n c o m passed p u rs u i t s l ik e t h eatre , b ri d g e , m a h -jong , c ho r a l s i n g i n g , p rayer g ro u p s , B i b l e S t u dy a n d/or vol u n te e r c om m u n it y work . Othe r i nt e rests reflected g e n e ra l c o m m u n ity i nt e rests s u c h as g a r d en i n g a n d wal k i n g , l e i s u re acti vities h i g h o n N e w Z e a l an d e rs' l ists of i nterest. Those i n v o l ved i n paid e m p l o y m e n t h ad a n a rrower r a n g e o f l e i s u re i n t e rests, d u e t o l es s s p a r e t i m e a n d m o re i nv o l ve m ent i n c h i l d re n 'S act i v i t i e s . T h ey were u s u a l ly i nvo l ve d i n a t least o n e com m u n i t y a c tivity. This echoed the c u l t u ra l ethos t h at u rg e s t h at Aotearoa N e w Zeal a n d e rs t o w o r k hard a n d d e mo nstrate c om m it m e n t . A i /sa h i g h l i g ht e d t h i s w h e n s h e reca l l e d , " M y father was a l wa y s ve ry s t r i ct t h a t we g ive b a c k t o t h e c o m m u n ity what we g et out o f ( i t) , and t h at we n eve r ever l eave a j o b t h at we COU l d n ' t retu rn t o . " A l l w e re a l ive i n 2 0 0 5 . Seve r a l h a d e x p e r i e n c e d m a j o r l if e c h a n g e s . Two , d u e to a g e - r e l a t e d frailty, no l o n g e r l iv e d i n d e p e n d e nt l y b u t h a d r e l ocated to s i n g l e rooms i n rest - h o m es . Th ree h a d relocated f r o m Wang an u i , two f o r e m p l o y m e n t afte r m a rital sepa ratio n s , the t h i rd to be c l o s e r to k i n . A d u lt c h i l d r e n a n d o l d e r t e en s h a d l e f t h o m e f o r m a rriage, e m p loym e n t o r stu d y . N a m es reflect Aotearoa N ew Z e a l a n d c u l t u ra l p ractice , w h e r e wom e n m ostly adopted t h e i r m al e part n e r's fam i l y n a m e u po n marriage. Given names p re c e d e married f a m i l y n a m e a n d o r i g i n a l f a m i l y n a m e . U nt i l t h e 1 970s a n d t h e i m pa c t o f f e m i n i s m , t ak i n g o n e ' s m a l e p a r t n e r's n a m e w a s a n a l m ost u n q u es t i o n e d c u l t u ra l p ractice . I n 2 0 0 0 , i t was beco m i n g m o re c o m m o n f o r wom e n t o reta i n t h e i r o r i g i n a l fam i l y n a m e o n marriage, o r to h y p h e n a t e t h e i r o w n fam i ly n a m e w i t h t h a t o f t h e i r s p o u s e . T h e y o u n g e r p a rt i cipants w e re o n l y j ust y o u n g e n o u g h t o h ave c o n s id e re d d o i n g s o , b u t n o n e h a d . Marital statu s s e e m s to have d i rected w h e re w o m e n r e l ocated d u r i n g t h e i r l ives. Late r , f am i l ia rity w i t h p lace , s i m i l a r i ty t o pos i tive l y 42 e x p e r i e nced places and/o r t h e presence ( o r absence) of k i n a n d com m u n i ty networks, s e e m e d to d i ctate w h e re wom e n e v e n t u a l l y sett l e d . U n l es s o t h e rwise noted , p a rt i c i pa n ts were b o rn in Aotearoa New Zea l an d , R eferences t o p a i d e m p l oy m e n t beg i n w i t h t h e m o s t r e c e n t . P rivate d o m estic w o r k was c o m m o n to a l l . C o m m u n i ty i nvol v e m e nt was c u r r e n t . Even those born in W hangan u i h a d l ived e lsewh ere , for varyi n g l e n g t h s of t i m e , f o r the same reasons as n on-city b o r n p a rt i c i pants - stu d y ; p e rson a l , s p o u sal o r p a r e n t a l workplace e mp loym e n t ; o r t h e desi re to travel a n d work. 43 J i I I Fig 7: J i I I in her preferred chair i n her l iving room. 44 From Timaru we went . . . my husband was very interested in the church and there was a church job going with the Maori Synod . . . he got i t . . . he was secretary of the Maori Synod49 and we were entirely working with Maoris (sic) . And i t was very nice . (That was) . . . in Whakatane. My two aunts, you know, of the big number of ten g i rls, had been teachers with the Maori Synod, in Maori schools , at Mangapohatu which was way in the heart of the Urewera50 . . . and I 'l l never forget going to be welcomed at the marae ,5 1 and my heart was throbbing because that's where my aunts'd been.,,52 ( I t was sort of l ike coming home?) In a way. JiI I Kirk IFanny Gertrude Chapman53 Born 1 9 1 4 , Morrinsvi l le . Two sibl ings. Lived in several provincial centres, Aotearoa New Zealand . Left school aged 1 4 . Trained and worked as a nurse. Widowed 1 99 7 . Four daughters , one d ied aged 42 . Practic ing member, Presbyterian Church . Member, Founders Society, Genealogical Society. Order of St Luke, CoF . Extensive commun ity i nvolvement reduced with age. 49 One of several synods within The Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand (Presbyterian Church 2004). 50 A remote mountainous region in the North Island. S1 Enclosed ground used as meeting place (Reed & Brougham 1 978: 1 97). 52 Her aunts had been welcomed on the same marae, and had lived and worked in the area. 53 Known as Gertie or Chappie as a young woman, she has been called Jill 'for 62 years', since her husband said he was going to call her Jill. 45 Ruth G Fig 8 : Ruth demonstrating sweet, and jam,making. S h e w a s s h o w i n g m e m b e rs o f t h e W a n ga n u i M u l t i c u l t u ral W o m e n's G ro u p h ow t o make f u d g e a n d m a r m a l ad e . As d i d h e r forebea r s , s h e wears an ap ron54 t i e d at t h e waist t o k e e p h e r clot h e s c l e a n w h i l e p re p a r i n g food . 54 McLeod (2005:30) argued that feminists often saw aprons as 'symbols of servitude, but they are also practical . . . easier to wash . . . than a frock" (2005:30). Cf. Okely ( 1 996) for an extended discussion on the symbolism of aprons worn by Gypsy women. 46 So w h a t sort of t h i n g s wou l d you do . . . t h at y o u r m ot h e r a n d yo u r a n cestors m i g h t have d o n e ? ) I s o rt of f o l l ow m y own m o t h e r' s pattern i n coo k i n g . And m y s i ster sa i d , " ( o) h , you sound l i ke a Da n e . " (W h a t d i d s h e m ea n ? ) W e l l , I t h i n k t h ey s p e a k sort o f agg ress i ve l y . . . ( w ) e've j ust written up the h i story of my mum and dad . . . 1 d i d n 't put t h at I was a g g ressive . I p u t t h at I was assertive . . . ( l s b e i n g assertive a g ood t h i n g ? ) Y e s . W e l l , t h at's what she sa i d . S h e s a i d , "We l l , you p u t i n t he re t h at y o u were t h e o n l y o n e of t h e d a u g h ters i n t h e fam i ly t h at w i l l d rive . " S h e s a i d t h a t i f I wanted to do somet h i ng I d i d i t a n d I got it d o n e . That's t r u e about m e . . . . ( n ) ow my moth e r was t h e sa m e . Ruth Elizabeth G edye/Andersen Born 1 9 1 7 , Levi n . N i n e s i b l i ng s . Left school aged 1 4 . B u s i n esswom a n , cookery d e m o nstrato r , h ousem a i d . M a rri e d . Six c h i ld ren . One g ra n d c h i l d d rowned aged f o u r . W idowe d . L i ved metropo l i ta n , p rovi n c i a l a n d r u ra l l o c a t i o n s . P ract i c i n g m e m b e r , Lut h e ran C h u rc h . Active , o n g oi n g , com m u n ity a n d b u s i n ess i nvolve m e n t . 47 Margaret Mary Fig 9 : Margaret Mary arriving for a function at the Opera House. H e r c lot h i n g , a fine w o v e n j e rsey a n d s k i rt , i n d i cates t h at t h e occas i o n i s relat i v e l y c a s ua l , b u t because it is i n a p u b l i c p l ace , n e e d s to b e s m a rt a n d t i d y . B e h i n d h e r , t h e doo rman , J o e , ensu res s h e c l i m bs t h e step s safe l y . 48 I l i ke Wanga n u i . I f e e l at h o m e h e re . I t' s fam i l i a r . I t' s a f r i e n d l y p lace, easy to get a ro u n d , our c l i m ate's n i c e . I t' s n e i t h e r o n e t h i n g nor a n oth e r . Y e s , it h as a l o t g o i n g f o r i t . B u t it's t h e fam i l y rea l l y , a n d the fact t h at I can get arou n d , even t h o u g h I d o n 't d rive . . . ( y ) o u feel secu re . You know i f you we re s i c k that som ebody'd make s u re you got l o o k e d after. I t ' s n ic e to know what the ( g r a n d ) c h i l d re n a re d o i n g . . . you do l i ve t h ro u g h t h e m . W h at t h ey do i s i m po rt a nt . . . 1 d o what I c a n to h e l p P a m e l a55 . . . 1 enjoy St J o h n 's Lad i es' G ro u p . 56 We meet o n c e a m o nt h . We g o o n o u t i n g s a n d we have a g e n e ral g e t together a n d i t ' s n ice . . . ( y) o u ' re see i n g faces t h at you ' re fam i l i a r wit h , because I 've b e l o n g e d to t h a t g ro u p s i nce 1 97 0 . Margaret Mary Watt/Hick B o r n 1 92 0 , Auckland. One s i b l i n g . Raised U n it a ri a n , p ract i c i n g m e m ber P resbyte r i a n C h u rch . Left s c h o o l aged 1 3 . Learned d re ss m a k i n g from moth e r and a u n t s . Tol l room ope rator. L i ved m etropol itan a n d p rov i n c i a l c e n tres . M a r r ie d . Two ch i l d re n . W i dowed 1 99 5 . Lives with d a u g hter and fam i l y . Active com m u n ity i n v o l ve m e n t red u c i n g due t o i l l h e a l t h associated with ag e i n g . Her daughter. 56 CoF. 49 Joan H © Hallett Family collection Fig 10 : Great-nana Joan Hallett and her great-grand-daughter, V iolet Rose, on Joan 's eightieth birthday. F o u r g e n e rations c e l eb rated J o a n 's e i g ht i e t h b i rt hd ay . Joan's a n d V i o l et Rose's p e rs o n a l p resentat i o n e m p h as i s e d t h e i m p o rt a n c e attri b u te d , in Aotearoa N ew Zea l a n d soci ety, to atta i n i n g so m a ny y e a rs . J oa n h a s h ad h e r h a i r 'do n e ' , by m a k i n g a s pecial trip to t h e hai rdresse r . Her c l ot h i n g i s m ad e of d e l icate fabrics w h i c h i n d icate t h a t she wi l l not b e working physica l l y . T h e baby is d ressed in matc h i n g suit a n d cap, i ndicating that her pare nts m a d e a p a rti c u l a r effort to d ress h e r sty l i s h l y f o r the occasion . 50 We rea l l y fe e l as if we ' l l neve r l eave h e re . . . ( w ) h e n we s h ifted ( h e r e ) w e ' d had te n h o u s e s i n o u r fi rst t e n years of m a r r i ed l ife . . . ( w ) e started w i t h N a p ier, went to Hami l to n , t h e n to W e l l i n gton t h e n to Bal cl u t h a a n d t h e n u p h e r e . . . ( i )t's hard goi n g w h e n you m o v e t o a new p l a c e , a s I k n o w , because we've moved to so m a n y p l a ces . . . (w)e fo u n d , that b y g o i n g t o c h u rc h , a n d g etti n g t o know p e o p l e , a n d g o i n g to t h e P a r e n tiTeac h ers, ( w e ) g rad u a l l y ( g ot ) t o k n ow p e o p l e . . . ( i ) t' s s u rp risi n g how h a rd it i s w h e n you s h ift t o a n other p l a c e . You have to w o rk twi c e as h a rd t o g e t to k n ow people . . . . (y)ou're n o t accepted stra i g h t away. I fo u n d t h at I h a d to work twice as h a rd to g et i nt o t h ese d iffe r e n t g roups . Joan Hal lettl Ti nney Born 1 92 0 , Lowe r H u tt . 2 s i b l i n g s . Left school a g e d 1 6 . Office ass istant. Tra i n ed n u rse . Married . F o u r c h i ld re n . Lived m e t ropol itan a n d p rovincial c e n t re s . P ract i c i n g m e m b e r , A n g l i c a n C h u rc h . Active com m u n ity i nvol v e m e n t , c h u rch a n d s ports focus. 5 1 June - -­ • - ,,- ..... . :..:; ....; ">!. � - Fig 1 1 : June (facing) playing mahjong with friends at home. She took classes to learn to p lay m a hj o n g aft e r a r rivi n g in W h a n ga n u i . B e i n g i nvolved i n g ro u p l e i s u re activities i ntroduced h e r to o t h e r p e o p l e a n d e n h a n c e d h e r b e l o n g i n g . 52 ( Movi n g to W ha n g a n u i ) was a b i g ste p , aft e r b e i n g i n H a m i lton for fo rty­ n i n e years. B u t I 've got a so rt of nature that p robab l y h o l d s back on a l o t o f t h i ng s , b u t somet i m es w h e n my b r a i n g ets i nto g e a r a t whatev e r , I c a n 't stop myse l f , yo u see . A n d if I 've m a d e a d ec i s i o n to do someth i n g , I sort of g o o n a n d d o i t . I t' s a stra n g e sort o f fee l i n g . T h e n I decided to b u y a h ouse h e re . . . ( m ) y s o n in H a m i lton s a i d , 'They ' l l m ov e . W h at ' re you g o i n g to do if t h e y m ov e ? " I s a i d , "I c a n always c o m e back to H a m i lto n . " So a l ways at t h e back of my m i n d was that I c a n pack m y b a g a n d go b a c k t o H a m i lt o n . . . ( b ) ut n ow I 'v e b e e n h e re f i v e years a n d I ' m sett l e d h e re a n d I love i t . J u ne Prisci l la Sheppard/Dixon Born 1 923, Atherstone , E ng l a n d . O r p h a n e d arou n d t h e a g e of 1 3. T w o s i bl i n g s . Left school aged 1 4. Worked as w i ndow d resser. A d m i n i st rative assistan t , i nd u s t r i a l s i t e . W a r b r i d e . E m i g rated Aotearoa N ew Zea l a n d , 1 946. L i v e d vi l lages, p rovi n c i a l c i t i e s , E n g l a n d , maj o r and p rov i n c i a l c e n t r e s , Aotearoa N ew Zealan d . T h ree c h i l d re n . W idowed 1 990. R e located W a n ga n u i 1 992. Exten s i ve c om m u n i t y i n v o l ve m e n t alte red from service t o l e i su re with a g e . I 53 Joan G Fig 1 2 : Joan in her sunroom. J oan p repared afternoon t e a before I a rrived a n d s e rved it before w e t a l k e d . Alth o u g h t h e re w a s m o re f o o d t h a n we c o u l d eat, t h e w a r m t h o f J o a n ' s we l co m e was s i g n ified b y the w i d e selection o f attractive ly a rr a n g e d b i s c u i ts a n d cakes. We had a b u s i ness in G re y m o u t h 57 for q u ite a few years . . . We sold t h at . We d i d n 't q u ite know w h at t o d o t h e n . . . ( m ) y h u s b a n d s a i d , we l l , h e'd g o back t o t h e m i ne . . . (t) h e r e was a l ot o f t u n n e l i n g g o i ng on i n those 57 West Coast, South Island, settlement. 54 days . . . t h at was the t i m e of t h e b i g explosion . . . he was the o n l y s u rvi vor out of about 20 people . . . ( i ) t was a terri b l e day . . . ( h ) e wo n ' t forget i t . N o r w i l l I . I was a t w o r k . T h ey ca l l e d m e a n d sa i d , "W h i c h m i n e d o e s yo u r h u s b a n d work a t , J o a n ? " . . . ( h ) e s a i d , " I hate t o t e l l yo u , b u t t h e re ' s b e e n a b i g explosion" . . . 1 s a i d , "Oh, t h at w o n ' t b e t h e m i n e h e's i n . I t ' l l b e s u c h a n d s u c h a m i n e . T h at ' s t h e g a s s y m i n e . " B u t it w a s t h at m i n e . . . s o m e of t h e m , they neve r e v e r g o t t h e m o u t . . . (t) hat was e n o u g h f o r m e . I d i d n 't want to leave t h e Coast 'cause I h a d my p a rents t h e re . S o h e w e n t to C h ri stc h u rch58 a n d he got a job t h e re and we j u st m oved ove r . Joan Gray/Jefferson Born 1 927 ("I say it q u i e t l y . " ) Loft u s , Yorks h i r e , E n g l a n d . E m i g rated w i t h parents to Aotearoa N ew Zealand aged two . No s i b l i n g s . Left school aged 1 6 . M a rri e d . N o c h i l d re n . Off ice a d m i n istrator, cas h i e r , rece p t i o n ist. Lived p rovi n ci a l a n d m etropol i t a n c e n t r e s , Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d . Exte n si v e c o m m u n ity i n v o l ve m e n t . H u sb a n d ' s escape from death i n m i n e acci d e n t led to r e l ocation f rom c h i l d h ood tow n . 58 Aotearoa New Zealand's largest South Island city. 55 Joan B Fig 1 3 : Joan in her garden with her faithful border coll ie, Tui . Native f l a x b e h i n d a n d b e s i d e t h e seat reflect J o a n ' s efforts t o rec reate t h e g a rd e n o f h e r c h i l d h ood, and e n c o u rage t h e b i rd s . 56 I was t h e eldest by t h re e years. So I was pretty m uch on my own a n d I was q u ite happy . . . I ' m sti l l q u it e h a p p y on my o w n . I n fact, i t ' s n ecessary for me i f I ' m g o i n g to do so m e t h i n g a bit c reative t o have a l it t l e p e r i od of i so l at i o n . . . ( i ) t's a l m ost a b rood i n g . . . ( i ) n m y d re a m s . . . one day I w o u l d be an a rt i st or a write r , o r bot h , I could never d ec i d e w h i c h a n d I sti l l can't. I do both and have d o n e both f o r many years . . . 1 we n t . . . t h ro u g h m a n y t i m e s of . . . so rt of i nt e l l ec t u a l i s o l ation . . . o n e n i g h t , confro n t i n g t h is s i t u a t i o n of isolat i o n , 1 j ust asked myself what i s i t that o n e n eeds to do i n isolation . . . 1 t h o u g h t , we l l , w r i t i n g or sc u l pt u r e or art. I g rad u a l l y ca m e t o t h at w h i c h took m e r i g h t back t o my e a r l y y e a rs wh e n those were the t h i n g s I wanted to d o anyway. M y c h i ld h ood d r e a m . I d i d n ' t q u ite real ize i t at t h e time b u t t h at's how i t evolved. 59 Joan Bul locklMorrel l Born W ha n g a n u i "many, m a n y years a g o n ow." Two s i b l i ngs. Left school aged 1 8 . Worked i n fam i ly busines s as office a d m i n i strator a n d accou nts c l e r k . S e lf-e m p l oyed scu l pt o r , p o e t , artist, w ri t e r . Marri e d . T h re e c h i l d re n . D i vorced. R a ised c h i ld re n a l o n e . Ext e n s i v e , active c o m m u n ity i nv o l ve m e n t . 59 Joan has published several books of poetry and stories. Her sculptures grace city parks, and personal and public collections, nationally and internationally. 57 Ruth J Fig 14 : Ruth J pouring tea, after completing a video-taped interview. The cup o n t h e left conta i n s m i lk po u re d before add i n g the tea. T h e f i n e , k n i tted j e rsey R u t h is weari n g , a n d t h e t ray s e t w i t h cloth, c u p s , sa u c e rs , p l ates a n d m i l k j u g , i n d icated c a refu l p re p a rat i o n . T h e ca refu l , conta i n e d sett i n g i s o n e w a y i n w h i c h P a k e h a h o n o u r t h e i r g u ests. 58 I c h a ng e d my n a m e from m y o r i g i n a l n a m e i n 1 979 . . . ( m ) y ( tw i n ) siste r's n a m e was D o reen F l o r e n c e . . . 1 was ( b o r n ) seco n d . ( M u m ) tu r n ed t h at ro u n d a n d c a l l e d m e F l o r e n c e Doreen . . . 1 n ever f e l t t h a t I had my own n a m e . . . 1 chose Ruth . . . R u t h i n the B i b l e was a w o rke r. She . . . went w i t h N ao m i , h e r mother- i n - l a w , a n d . . . s h e g l ea n ed i n t h e f i e l d s a n d sustai n ed h e rself and h e r fa m i l y t h at way. And s h e w a s rewarded f o r that. (Te l l m e w h y . W h at was i t a b o u t R u t h t h at f e l t r i g h t ? ) Because . . . 1 s u ppose a t a n a d u l t a g e I felt that I h a d b e e n ab l e t o susta i n myself a n d m y fam i l y o n ve ry l itt le a n d d o i t w e l l . I f e l t by that stage t hat I h a d d o n e very we l l , that m a n a g i n g on ve ry l it t l e . R uth Florence Jane/Florence Doreen Daly B o r n 1 933, E n g l a n d . Several s i b l i n g s . Left school a g e d 1 4 . W o rked as h o m e h e l p , n a n n y . Learned t o drive a t 1 7 . M a r r i e d a t 1 9 . N i n e c h i l d re n . I m m ig rated t o Aotearoa N ew Z e a l a n d via Austra l i a . D i vo rc e d , remarri e d , w i d owed. Lived m etropol itan a n d prov i n c i a l c e n t r e s , E n g l a nd a n d N ew Zea l a n d . D e e p s p i ritual b e l i ef s . N o c u rrent c h u rc h aff i l iations. Reduci n g c o m m u n ity i nvolveme n t s d u e t o ag e i n g . Tra i n e d a n d q u a l if i e d as n u rse aged 38. R e l ocated W h a n g a n u i 1 997. 59 Diane Fig 1 5 : Diane in her favourite chair in her l iving room. D i a n e's b e loved Cava l i e r Ki n g C h a rl e s s p a n i e l , K h a n , is o n h e r l a p . C l o s e b y a re t h e t e l e p h o n e a n d h e r e l ectro n i c o r g a n . T h e s i l v e r c u p s on t h e h eate r , awarded for success i n c u l t u ral com petit i o n s , reflect Diane's q u iet pride in her f a m i ly ' s achieve m e n t s . I t is acceptable t o d i splay t h e awa rds a t h o m e a s t h i s p rovi d e s a n open i n g f o r d iscussion a b o u t ac h i ev e m e n t i n a n o n - boastf u l way. Many u rban Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d e rs l e t dogs l i ve i nd oo r s . This is d iffe r e n t from the r u ra l attitude w h e re d og s a r e reg arded a s w o r k i n g a n i m a l s . 60 Don was a major i nf l u e nc e . . . . 1 always say he m ad e me t h e w o m a n I am now. He had to b e v e ry patient at times, beca u s e h e was t h i rty when we got m a rried and I (was n ot q u ite) n i n eteen . . . (t) h e ot h e r b i g i nf l u e n ce o n my l ife . . . i s p robably m y t h eatre backg ro u n d . I can g o i nto . . . any type of situation and I n e v e r worry about i t . I j ust se e m to be able to s l ot i nto i t . . . 1 th i n k that has g ot me t h ro u g h t h ese past twe lve years . . . 1 was o n l y 4 8 w h e n I was w i d owed . O h , i t was t h e los s , t h e absolute loss. Y o u t h i n k about i t . . . you l i t e ra l l y f e e l as if you 've bee n c u t i n half. (After) a b o u t t h ree-a n d -a-half y e a rs , I w a s s i t t i n g h e re o n e n i g h t a n d . . . 1 l ooked u p at that p hoto of D o n , that o n e up t h e t o p , a n d I t h o u g h t , " For t h e fi rst t i m e , I ' m sta rting t o l o o k f o rwa rd ag a i n ." Diane M argaret-Rose Moreland/McCabe B o r n 1 94 0 , W e l l i n gton. Two s i b l i n g s . Left school aged 1 6 . S e c retary, adm i n i s t rative assistant, rece ptionist, advert i s i n g sa lesperso n , motel m an ag e m e n t . Marri e d , two c h i l d r e n . W idowed, aged 4 8 . Active co m m u n ity i n vo l v e m e n t . Severe h ealth p ro b l e m s aged 62 led to u n expected early ret i re m e nt . 61 Roselene Fig 16 : Roselene at her kitchen table. We drank m o r n i n g tea from tea c u ps and saucers l i ke t h e one on t h e tab l e . Roselene l a i d t h e c l oth f o r m o r n i n g tea . I t p rotected t h e tab l e from s p i l l ed l i q u i d a n d food c r u m b s . H e r g a rb is casual b u t s m a rt i n d ic a t i n g t h a t , t h o u g h o u r m e e t i n g was i nfor m a l , a n d occu rred i n a p rivate home e n v i ro n m ent, i t was i m p o rtant to b e we l l ­ p resented. R o s e l e n e moved t o t h i s c h a i r f o r t h e p h otograph beca u s e t h e w i n d o w l i g ht was t o o b ri g ht . We moved t h e fe r n , w h i c h c a n b e g l i m ps e d , f r o m b e h i n d h e r. 62 My f i rst h u sba n d h ad a n e rv o u s b reakdown . . . he went on a b e n e f i t a n d . . . 1 got a p a rt-time job . . . 1 e nded u p h a v i n g to g e t a f u l l- t i m e j o b . . . t h e n m y m u m took i l l s o I w e n t b a c k to part-ti m e . . . i n t h e e n d M u m w a s t e rm i n a l l y i l l s o I took t u r n s w i t h m y e l d e r s i ster l oo k i n g after h e r . I gave u p worki n g t h e n for a w h i l e . . . (a)fter that, I got (a j ob) i n a s u pe r m arket o u t i n t h e s u b u rbs . . . t h e n I g o t s h ifted . . . t h at c l os e d dow n . I was m ad e red u nd a n t . So I wal ked the streets i n town look i n g for a j o b a n d got t h e o n e i n t h e shoe s h o p w h e r e I a m now. I 've b e e n t h e re n i n eteen years . . . so I 've b e e n l ucky . . . 1 d o n 't l i ke b e i n g i n a r u t b u t I d o n 't rea l l y l i ke a l o t of c h a n g e so t h i s is why I stick w i t h t h i n g s . Roselene KerrlSturrock Born 1 94 1 , K r u g e n d orp , R a ndfonte i n , South Af rica . Fou r s i b l i n g s . M i g rated to Aotearoa New Zea l a n d in 1 948. Left school aged 1 6 . L i ved p ro v i n c i a l a n d m e tropo l itan c e n tres, Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d . R e ta i l s a l e s ass i stan t , reta i l m a n a g e r , checkout o p e rator . M a r r i e d . Two c h i l d re n . D i vorc e d . R e m arried . Pract i c i ng m e m b e r , Presbyte r i a n C h u rch . Active com m u n ity i nvolve m e nt . 63 Ailsa Fig 17 : Ailsa, chairing a meeting. S h e desc r i b e d mak i n g h e rself availab l e f o r e l ection as a positive act io n . I t ref lected c u ltu r a l m ores e m b e d d ed d u r i n g h e r c h i l d hood , e m p h as i s i n g t h a t com m it m e n t t o o n e ' s com m u n ity w a s n ecessary a n d d e s i ra b l e . 64 My g ra n ddad had been t h e l o n g est serving Bead l e i n t h e C h u rc h of Scot l a n d . . . he was that for fifty-t h re e years. O u r fam i l y t ree's g o n e r i g h t , r i g h t back t o 1 6 0 0-odd . . . so that's h o w I came t o have a strong assoc iation . . . I 'm n a m e d after t h e A i l s a C ra i g l i g ht - h o u s e off t h e west coast of Scotl a n d . Crawford is . . . t h e re ' s a Scottish c u stom t h a t y o u r g ra n d p a re nt's m a i d e n n a m e o r s u r n a m e i s you r m iddle n a m e , a n d t h at ' s carried r i g ht t h ro u g h o u r fa m i ly. ( So you h a v e ve ry stro n g . . . awa r e n ess of your Scott i s h c o n n ecti o n s ? ) O h , extre m e l y stro n g , espec i a l l y o n t h e last day o f t h e yea r. Y o u never leave a n y b i l l unpa i d . I f t h e gas b i l l comes i n t h e m o r n i ng , yo u go a n d p a y i t . You neve r g o i n to t h e N ew Year owi n g a nyth i n g . ( La u g h s . ) I t ' s a b i t of a n u isance, s o m et i m e s . Ailsa Crawford Stewart. Born 1 943, W ha n g a n u i . Two si b l i n g s , twi n s . S i n g l e . No c h i l d re n . Left s c h o o l aged 1 7 . Tra i n ed a n d p racticed as n u rse and m i dwife. Health p rofessi o n a l and ad m i n istrator. P ract i c i n g member, P resbyte rian c h u rc h . Active com m u n ity i n volv e m e n t . Lived major cities, p rovi n c i a l c e n t res, New Zea l a n d , A u st r a l i a , Scot l a n d , S o l o m o n I s l a n d s . E x p e r i e nced red u n dancy a g e d 5 0 . R e l ocated to S o l o m u n I s l a n d s f o r o n e year. Developed own b u s i n ess as h e a l t h p ro v i d e r . M aj o r i l l n ess a g ed 6 0 .60 60 Ailsa retired from council just before the October, 2004, elections. 65 Kathy © Kim Olsen Fig 1 8 : Kathy in her garden. She chose to be photographed with these orchids beside the native tree fern . "It's taken me years to grow them. This is a whole saga of growing where I 've got flowers coming and their heads get whacked off by the boys with the cricket bats." 66 There was no way I wanted to go into the mi l l . . . 1 was real ly q uite determ ined then , as a chi ld, that I was going to be a nurse, and I joined the St John's Ambulance and I d id really wel l with that. . . it was obvious to my mum and dad that I was going to be a nurse . . . 1 can remember making the garage into a hospital and playing doctors and nu rses . . . 1 came out of school with one GCE61 . . . (s)o I got a job as a cadet nurse and went to n ight school and got another GCE.62 You cou ld get in with two. (Laughs. ) I wanted to travel . . . so I went into the army at eighteen . . . 1 was paid for the tra in ing . . . 1 was stationed in Germany and they'd f ly you home for holidays . . . . (w)e were dropped in it. You found you rself . . . being in charge of a ward with sixty patients . . . without backup . . . you didn't complain . You just got on with i t . Kathleen Joyce Olsen/Sutton Born 1 94 7 , Lancashi re , England. Two sibl ings. Left school aged 1 6 . Trained as nurse with Brit ish Army in Germany. Trave l led and worked as nurse in Austral ia. Travel led overland through Asia. Married a New Zealander. Emigrated 1 977. Practiced as general nurse, rest-home nu rse manager, special ist nu rse. Three chi ldren , one d ied aged 1 9 in 2003 . Separated. Attached to Presbyterian and Spiritual ist chu rches. Extensive, work-related , community involvement. 61 General Certificate of Education, an English secondary school qualification. 62 Two GCEs were required for entry into nursing training. 67 Yvonne Yvonne Fig 1 9 : Yvonne in her 'new' office. Yvonne is in her freshly-painted off ice in the centra l business d istrict. She had recently gained a contract as the city's arts festival coord inator. Th is was a s ignif icant because it included money for office rental , and meant she no longer had to work from home. The relocation enabled her to increase her publ ic p rof i le . The poster ( right) advertised the festival whi le the f lowers were a gift congratulating her on the move. Aotearoa New Zealanders send flowers to mark momentous occasions. 68 I left school at 1 5-and-a - h a l f a n d wen t to wo rk as a s e cretary as I ' d a l ways p l a n n e d to . . . t h e T r u s t i nstigated t h e . . . Arts C e n t re . . . 1 got t o atte n d o p e n i n g s a n d exh i b i ti o n s a n d serve t h e s h erry . . . ( S h e s m i l ed . ) a n d (wear) l o n g s k i rts . . . a n d I loved i t . I bel i eve n ow t h a t t h at's w h e re m y a rt i n t e rest beg a n . I t was a b so l u te l y fore i g n to m y fam il y . C o u l d n 't cope . W en t h o m e one n i g h t after a n o p e n i n g a n d s a i d to M u m , " G u ess what l iv e done?" She s a i d , ' W h a t ?" I said , " I 've b o u g h t a p ic t u r e . " ( S h ook h e r h e a d ) . "Yeah . . . 1 sti l l have i t . . . 1 j ust c o m p l et e l y b roke t h e m o u ld . . . 1 d i d t h at f o r f o u r years a n d t h e n I went away. I t was t i m e to move o n b e c a u se a l l m y f r i e n ds w e re g e tt i n g m a r r i e d a n d h avi n g babies a n d d o i n g t h i ngs I h a d n o i n t e n t i o n o f d o i n g . Yvonne M arie Q/Connor Born 1 94 9 , Masterton. Two s i b l i n g s . Left school aged fifteen-a n d - a - h a l f . Conference o rg a n i s e r , festival m a n a g e r , t heatre recep t i o n i s t , s a l e s r e p resentative, secretary/cl e rk/ad m i n i strator. Lived m etropol itan and p rovi n c i a l c e n t re s . Lon g -t e rm partn e r . Two c h i l d re n . R e l ocated s e l f a n d c h i l d re n to W a n g a n u i i n 1 99 2 . C o m p l eted corresp o n d e n c e degree i n theatre a d m i n istration 1 99 8 . Exte n s i ve work-related com m u n ity i nvolvemen t . Fem i ni st focu s . 69 Penny © Jahanara Begum . Fig 20: Penny, with Noushin Hafiz, at a Christmas Party. I met Noushin when she was four months old after her mother joined the Multicu ltu ral Women's Group. We became close fr iends, and rema in in contact since the fam i ly's relocation to another city. Noushin enjoyed copying the adults. She had 'borrowed' her mother's sunglasses to play a game . 70 I seem to have g rown up in an immediate fami ly where women did women things, and men did men things. When I reviewed that impression, I realized that even though the men d id men things, the women often stepped outside the so-cal led feminine roles . . . (m)y g randmother helped on their farms when my grandfather was away at war. . . (s)he helped with mi lking . . . (m)y great-aunts l ived near us. We learned many behaviours from them, qu ietness, and l istening, and Aunty Ruth told wonderfu l stories . . . (t)hey preserved and made jam and jel l ies, and tended flower and vegetable gardens. They taught me to knit , crochet, and sew. They . . . swept the tab le with a silver handled crumb brush and pan . The oddest thing is seeing their furn iture in my cousins' homes - when we, my sibl ings and I , were the ones who saw it so often . Slowly, I began to real ize that the aunts belonged to them , too. Wilma Penelope Robinson/Grove63 Born 1 9 5 1 , Whangare i . Three sibl ings. Left school aged 1 8 . Fi rst completed un iversity study in 1 972 . Journalist. Smal l business operator. Married 1 976. Four chi ldren. Early involvement Angl ican Church; later involvement, Presbyterian Church . Lived internationa l , metropol itan, provincial and rural locations. Active , ongoing community involvement. 63 I have always been known as Penny. 71 Pamela Fig 21 : Pamela, and her older daughter, Karen. Pamela arrived to collect another daughter, just as I had taken some photographs. There was one left so she and Karen agreed to be photographed. Pamela's arm around Karen's shoulder embodied her affection through contact. 72 I d o n ' t k n ow what it w a s that m ad e m e f e e l i t was m y own respon s i b i l ity to l o o k after myself . . . l 've a l ways felt t h at . . . a s a c h i l d I never h a d a n y s e n s e o f h av i ng t o g o without, a l t h o u g h w e d i d n ' t h a ve m a n y extr a s . I s'pose I t h o u g h t i t was u nf a i r that m y m ot h e r h a d to resort to earn i n g a l itt le b it of extra m on ey b e h i n d m y fathe r' s b a c k . . . b u t I was very consci o u s . . . that it was h e r l it t l e b its o f extra . . . that made the d iffe r e n c e . . . the wom e n i n the fam i l y had a l w ays b e e n a b l e to stand o n t h e i r o w n two feet t o s o m e extent. M y g ra n d m ot h e r , M u m ' s m u m , w a s a d ressmaker a n d w h e n m y g ra n d p a r ents m a rr i ed straight after t h e wa r , t h e F i rst W o r l d W a r , I k n ow m y g randfat h e r was i l L . . h e h a d t o work . . . outdoors b e c a u se h e was g a s s e d . . . m y g ra n d m ot h e r . . . h a d l a r g e l y b e e n the i n co m e-earner t h r o u g h h e r d ress m a k i n g . Pamela RichardsonlWatt B o rn 1 954, A u ck l a n d . O n e s i b l i n g . Left school a g e d 1 7 . T ra i ne d o n job as i nformation a na lyst. Lived m etropol i ta n a n d p rovi n c i a l c e n t r e s . D i vorced , r e m a rr i e d , t h re e c h i l d re n . Ea rly i nv o l v e m e n t w i t h A n g l i c a n C h u rc h . Active c om m u n it y i nvolve m e n t r e l ated t o h u s b an d ' s occupat i o n . Mot h e r l i v e s w i t h f a m i l y . 73 Debbie Fig 22: Debbie ushered in 1950s costume at an Opera House film festiva l . Joking, Oebbie raised the doorman's trouser leg to reveal a white sock. This signaled his membership of the Opera House group since he had also dressed in the spir i t of the festival . I nstead of dark socks, more usual with dark trousers, he donned white socks. 74 (Work is) peacefu l . It 's me. It's my own t ime . . . 1 helped out at pr imary school . . . I 'm sti l l doing it, even though the kids have left . . . I help out with PE doing gymnastics and dance . . . ( i )t's voluntary . . . 1 would love a fu l l- t ime job . . . 1 think I ' l l wait t i l l the kids are a bit older . . . (b)ut I st i l l l ike my theatre work, you know . . . it's Amdram64 and the Opera House,65 'n working backstage . . . I 'm on follow spot box,66 because I l ike the l ight ing and technical stuff . . . the colou rs and seeing the effects . . . I 've done a bit of choreography work. I t's fun meeting (the stars) . To say I 'm this far away from Tim Finn67 ( indicates a small space) ( is) oh, cool . . . ( i )t changes noth ing. I t j ust feels good that I 've met them . Deborah Anne London/Spence Born 1 9 5 9 , Wanganui . Four sibl ings. Left school aged 1 7 . Retai l assistant, cafe and bar assistant. Married, th ree chi ldren. Extensive ongoing community involvement. Engaged in tertiary study. Unprovoked physical attack in early working l ife by customer led to lengthy period of recovery and reduced employment options. 64 Wanganui Amateur Operatic and Dramatic Society. 65 Royal Wanganui Opera House - a working Victorian theatre. 66 The follow spot box is a small room in a theatre that houses the large l ights that are manually operated to spotlight performers on the stage. It is large enough to house both the l ights and their operators (Richardson: email 16 Sept, 2004). 67 An Aotearoa New Zealand singer/song-writer (© NZMusic.com 1 997, 1 998-2002). 75 Margaret McC Fig 23: Margaret McC on stage during an Opera House fundraiser. Margaret's costume reflects her wi l l ingness to identify with the group, whi le her presence at the fundraiser indicates her acceptance of deeply embedded cultural mores to commun ity comm itment. 76 I was t h e kid that was p i cked o n . I h a d red , cu rly h a i r . . . a n d freckly s k i n a n d ( w a s ) fa i r . ( I got ca l le d ) G i n g e r n uts . . . 1 w a s q u ite q u i e t a n d we l l b e haved . . . ( La u g h s) . I t h i n k I m a n ag e d . B ut . . . it was t o u g h s o m e t i m es . . . 1 a l ways e njoyed G i rl ' s C o l l eg e . . . 1 s ' pose y o u weren't c o m p e t i n g agai n s t t h e g uys . . . ( a ) l o t of m y friends went t h e re as w e l l . . . t h e re was a g ro u p of u s , about h a lf-a-dozen . . . t h at got round tog e t h e r . . . we were p robably i n the top part of our c l ass. We studied a n d t h a t , a n d d i d n ' t g o t o p a rt i e s a n d s t u f f l i ke t h a t . O u r pare nts w e re q u ite strict . . . 1 did t h e seve n t h form year . . . t h at's when I b e ca m e ( i n t e rested i n ) c o m p u t e rs . . . 1 a lso got a n i n t e rv i e w f o r t h e c o m p u t e r ce n t re (at W a n g a n u i } . . . 1 was t h e o n l y one t h at stayed i n W an g a n u i . . . t hey've . . . t r a i ned m e s i n c e . I 've b e e n fort u n at e i n t h at respect. . . . it's b e e n a good c a re e r i n t h at way. Margaret Gaye McCosh/Moreland Born 1 96 1 , W a n g an u i . O n e b rothe r . L e f t s c h o o l aged 1 7 . Tra i n e d o n job a s com puter o p e rato r/ad m i n i s t rato r . Aged 2 7 when father d i e d s u d d e n l y . D i vorced 2002 . No c h i l d re n . R a i se d P resbyt e ri a n . L i ved W a n g a n u i u n t i l r e l ocation to m etropo l i ta n city in Aotearoa New Z e a l a n d in 2004. Exte n s ive com m u n ity i n vo lvem e nt . 77 Aotearoa New Zealander, Kiwi, Pakeha or European I f o n e wa nted t o f i n d o u t w h e th e r t h e p a rt i ci p a nts d ef i n ed t h emselves a s b e l o n g i n g to a p a rt i c u l a r , b o u n d ed g ro u p t h ro u g h eth n i c i ty , o n e wo u l d n e e d t o ask t h e m , s i nce few d escribed t h e m s e l ves in t h e terms d e m a n d ed by b u rea u c ra c i e s . W i t h i n t h e c o n s t ra i nts o f t h e n a t i o n a l c e n s u s , p e o p l e l i v i n g i n Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d c a n off i ci a l ly c l a i m associat i o n w i t h seve ral e t h n ic i t i e s . T h e c e n s u s u s e s t h e t e r m s , M a o ri , E u ropea n , Pacific P e o p l e s , A s i a n a n d o t h e r ( N Z D e p t of Statistics 2 0 0 5 ) . 68 S pa s m o d i ca l l y , t h e p u b l i c a n d p o l i t i c i a n s d ebate a b o u t how d ifferent e t h n ic g ro u ps w i t h i n t h e n a t i o n s h o u ld desc r i b e t h em s e lves . C l a i m s va ry f ro m "we a re a l l N e w Zea l a n d e rs " ; to p refaci n g c h o i c e s w i th t h e t e r m , N e w Ze a l a n d e r , M a o r i o r P a k e h a ; o r u s i n g t e r m s d rawn f rom t h e M a o r i l a n g u ag e , s u c h as Tan g ata w h e n u a , T a u i w i o r M a n u h i ri 69 . A t e rm w h ich occ u rs f req u e n t l y i n conversat i o n b u t w h i c h d o e s n o t a p p e a r o n t h e c e n s u s form s i s t h e t e rm K i wi . 7o T h e w a y p a rt i c i pa nts u s e d t h e te r m , K i w i , s u g g ested t h at i t has b e e n i n u s e , nati o n a l l y a n d i nt e r n a t i o n a l l y , f o r a t l east s i xty years, p ro b a b l y lo n g e r . It m a y offer a u n if y i n g term f o r people who l ive i n Aotearoa N e w Z e a l a n d and h av e c i t i ze n s h i p , regardless o f t h e i r o ri g i n s .7 1 Several p a rt i c ipants u se d both terms, N ew Zea l a n d e r a n d K i w i , to descri b e t h e m s e l ves. O n ly o n e used t h e t e r m Pake h a , s u g g esti n g t h a t i n do m i n a nt Aot e a ro a N e w Z e a l a n d s o c i ety, the q u es t i o n o f personal eth n i c i d e n t i t y rarely occ u rred . P a r t i c i pants were aware of e t h n i c i d e n t it y , b u t t h e i r i n f req u e n t m e n t i o n of i t s u g g e sted t h at t h e y rarely related i t t o t h e m s e l ve s . W h e n I a s k e d D e b b i e a b o u t h e r , " ( E t h n i c origi n ? H ow wou l d y o u describe i t? ) , s h e rep l i e d , " I ' m a K i w i " . J u n e S , a n E n g l i s h w a r b r i d e , refe rred t o 'wealthy K i w i s ' , a l o t of K i w i s" a n d " Kiwis ( b e i n g ) n ot so t a l l as Austral i a ns . " Kathy r e m e m bered a r r i vi n g "at h o m e ( i n E n g l a n d ) with a b a c kpack a n d . . . a K i w i with a b e a rd . " K a t h y a n d J o a n G d ef i n e d E n g l a n d a s ' h o m e ' , J o a n a rg u i n g that s h e f e l t m o re s t ro n g l y a l i g ne d cu l t u ra l l y to t h e l a n d of h e r b i rt h , d e s p i t e havi n g l ived a l l b u t two y e a rs of h e r l ife i n Aotearoa N e w Zeala n d . S h e ' k n ew' s h e b e l o n g e d ' r e a l ly' i n Aotearoa N e w Z e a l a n d . K a t h y s a i d E n g l a n d was h o m e , b u t s h e b e l o n g e d i n Aotea roa N ew Z e a l a n d . " I a m o r i g i n a l l y from E ng l a n d , a n d h ave b e e n l i v i n g h e re f o r t h i rty y e a r s . ( Do e s t h a t m e a n y o u a re E n g l i s h ? ) P robab l y , b u t I h a v e N e w Zea l a n d c it i z e n s h i p , b u t I s u ppose t h a t , i n m y h e a rt o f h ea rts, I a m s t i l l E n g l is h . " After a v i s i t to A u s t r a l i a , Kathy returned t o Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d , s ay i n g t h a t , after 2 8 y e a rs , s h e f e l t l i ke "I a m a Kiwi now . " D i a n e , J u n e a n d R u t h G , t h e latter o f D a n i s h o ri g i n s , u sed t h e term , N ew Z e a l a n d e r . W h e n I asked D i a n e how s h e w o u l d d escri b e h e rself beyo n d t h e b o r d e r s , s h e resp o n d e d , " I ' d s a y v e ry p ro u d l y , I 'm a N e w Z e a l a n d e r " . Beyond t h e s e ref e r e nces, p a r t i c i p ants d i d n ot often u s e e t h n i c l a b e l s f o r t h e m s e l ve s i n c o n ve rsat i o n . T h ey occas i o n a l l y refe rred t o P a k e h a a n d M a o r i p e o p l e g e n e ri c a l ly a s i n " I f i rst got t o s e e h o w M a o r i s ( s i c ) a n d Pakehas ( s i c ) g o t o n so w e l l togeth e r , " o r " I t' s i n t h e Pake h a world too . " J o a n B assert ed , " I p i n n o l a b e l s o n myself at a l l . . . I ' m a n i n d iv i d u a l . I a m a n d I e x i st a n d t h e y c a l l m e J oa n . A n d t hat's r e a l l y t h e o n l y l a b e l I ' l l w i l l i n g l y wea r . " R uth J r ef l e ct e d s i m i l a r ly w h e n s h e s ai d , "I s u ppose real l y I s e e m ys e l f as j ust a p e rson l i k e a nyon e e l s e . B u t I i d e n t ify a s a c h i l d of G od . " S h e i n c l u d e d a p h o t o g r a p h of h e r K i n g J a m e s B i b l e ( Fi g 2 4 ) i n h e r pe rson a l i nv e n t o ry . D o i n g so e m p h a s i ze d the val u e s h e p l aced o n b e l on g i n g to t h e world t h ro u g h G o d . A l t h o ug h o t h e r p a rt i c i p a n ts rarely l ab e l e d t h e m s e lves , R ut h ' s p hotog r a p h d e m o n strated c l e a rl y how s h e l ocated h e rs e l f i n t h e wo r l d . R ut h positi o n ed t h e B i b l e i n t h e c e ntre of t h e i ma g e , e m ph a s i z i n g t h e c e n t ra l i ty of h e r C h r i s t i a n b e li e f s , 68 The census allows people to record themselves as being of more than one ethnicity (NZ Dept of Statistics 2005). 69 Tangata whenua - original inhabitants (people of the land); Tauiwi - foreign race, strange tribe. Sometimes used to describe person who is not Maori; Manuhiri guest (Reed & Brougham 1978). 7°The term is derived from the national emblem, the kiwi, (Http://Www.Kiwirecovery 2002), a flightless, nocturnal native bird, Apteryx spp. (Herbert & Daugherty post-1992). 71 Ct. Bonisch-Brednich 2002 for a discussion of the term from the perspective of German immigrants. 78 despite the d iff icu lties of using disposable cameras for c lose shots. She is included (note the b lu r at the lower edge) . © Ruth Jane Fig 24: Ruth's King James' Bible. With these comments in mind , I use the term , Pakeha, to describe the ethn ic origins of the participants. I noted earl ier that the term, Pakeha, was used in Aotearoa New Zealand by the ind igenous population to describe white i ncomers, and later as a collective term to describe the settlers. The meaning of the term has been debated regularly with some people accepting i t as a description of Aotearoa New Zealanders whose ancestors derive from Brita in and Europe (Belich 1 996, 20 0 1 ; King 1 999) . Others rejected it , a rguing that it was a derogatory term (Ranford 2000; Tanczos 2004) . Tauiwi is another term used to describe incomers, and incorporates any non-ind igenous person (Rudge 1 99 3 ) . I bel ieve the term Pakeha best described the partici pants . I t was a term they would recognise, although they might not use it to refer to themselves. The term , Tauiwi, was recent, not used i n everyday d iscourse, and described a broader spectrum of ethnicit ies than Pakeha. Kiwi a lso impl ied a broader range of New Zealanders than Pakeha. Recent debates have also centred on whether Pakeha is an ethn icity. Ranford ( 2 0 0 0 ) contended that it was not. I suggest that the definit ions of ethn icity and regional identity are so close (Pohl 2 00 1 ) that it is appropriate , in this context at least, to use the term, Pakeha, to describe an evolving ethn icity. In investigating the cont inued impact of colonial relations between the ind igenous Maori and colonial Pakeha settler in Aotearoa New Zealand, Bel l ( 2 0 0 4 ) asserted that however Aotearoa New Zealanders felt about the labels of Maori and Pakeha, because of the colonia l orig ins of the labels, mainta in ing "some d istinction between the tangata whenua of Aotearoa and the New Zealanders who came later , seems crucial to the rejection of colonial ism". She argued that recognising "th e ' Iongue duree' of the i nd igene" (Cl ifford 2000: 1 6 , as cited i n Bel l 2 004 :232 ) requ i red 79 P a k e h a to "assert t h e i r own re l a ti o n s h i p to N e w Zealand ( s i c ) i n a l a n g u a g e t h a t m a rk s , rat h e r t h a n d e n i e s , M a o r i d iffe r e n c e . W h at that l a n g u a g e m i g h t b e re m a i n s a s u bj ect for f ut u r e research" ( 8 e l l 2 0 0 4 : 2 32 ) . Conclusion T h e material above c o n te xt u a li zes t h e p a rt i c i pants i n t h e Aotea roa N e w Zea l a n d context by prov i d i n g a n overview, f o l l owed b y b iog ra p h i c a l i nf o r m a t i o n about each p a rt i c i p a n t , w i t h a p h ot o g r a p h a n d a q uota t i o n . I s u g g ested t h a t , t h o u g h f e w p a rt i c i pants ref erred to t he m se lv e s d i rectly a s P a k e h a , t h i s t e r m s e e m e d to best desc r i b e them in the n at i o n a l context in t e rms of e t h n i c i ty a n d m i g ra ti o n . I n t h e f o l l ow i n g c h apter s , I d i scuss t h e i r practices o f b e l o n g i n g . 80 Chapter Five Origin stories In recounting the past, they kept that early life alive, wea ving it into their present. (Meyerhoff 1 980:34) I ntroduction Storytel l ing has an important role in the construction and practice of belonging. It enables part ic ipants to recognise simi larities and connections as they reveal common and/or shared experiences.72 'Recounting the past' through myths, legends and personal narratives p rovides a means of relay ing temporally separated orig in stories. Each enables an understanding of the past and one's place in the p resent, although myths and legends relate to a more distant past than the narratives of everyday l ife . As I noted in the fi rst chapter, gain ing knowledge of other cultures through their myths and legends can enhance our understanding of those others. Gaining knowledge of our own cu ltu res through our own myths and legends can increase insights into our own cu ltures. Related to but different from one another, myths and legends, and narratives, often serve a simi lar pu rpose. All enable the acknowledgement of the past and can assist people in understanding their connections to the present through clarifying thei r cultural and ancestral origins. In this chapter I fi rst ly discuss the role of myths and legends in developing social understanding, the paral lels between ancient forms of wisdom and personal narrative p ractices, and their l inks to immigrant origin narratives. Secondly, I locate Pakeha orig in narratives with in an international colon ial context, and discuss the i r sim i la rities. Th i rdly, I discuss and analyse the ethnograph ic material perta in ing to participant orig in stories to h igh l ight how the participants related and p racticed belonging. The f inal section discusses some of the cultural 'games' participants p layed using inherited connections. Generating h istory I n te l l ing their stories, participants made connections to the past, and through those , better comprehend themselves and the i r existence in the present. Their behaviours bore out Tonkin 's argument that narratives could "be seen as social actions" ( 1 992 : 97) and Somer's assertion that "(s)ocial l ife is itself 'storied' and (that) . . . narrative ( is) . . . an 'ontological' condition of social l ife" ( 1 994 : 3 8 ) . Beckman strengthened this perspective when he asserted , Origin stories a re fo r the present and the future as much as they are about the past. The way in which we view where and how we began is also essentially t ied to who we are in the present , as well as whom we wi l l become. It is important to have an anchor; but having a rudder is of even greater value. (Beckman 1 9 9 7 , 1 99 8 : 2 ) Learning about one's own culture's origin myths and legends can provide that ' rudder' , and intenSify insights. Maori remind themselves and others of the value of narrative and the impact of orig in stories in using a whakatauki73 which translates as, " look to the past to bu i ld for the future" (Tangaroa, personal communication , 1 1 March, 1 99 5 ) . I n doing so, Maori p rovide themselves with a rudder, d i recting themselves towards recount ing stories of the past , f inding ways to learn from them, which can assist in constructing a desirable future. Pakeha act sim ilarly, using stories to impart wisdom and knowledge of the past to their youth , to create their 72 I n th is thesis common experiences or experiences in common are those which participants have experienced separately from one another, in different places, and/or at different times. Shared experiences are those which �eople have engaged in together. 3 Proverb. wise saying. 8 1 own spaces a n d exp l a i n t h e u ne x p l a i n a b l e . Recal l i n g o u r own a n c estral a n d p e rs o n a l o r i g i n sto r i es see m s to s e rve a s i m i la r p u rpose t o o ri g i n m yt h s beca u se , t h o u g h we seldom have occasi o n to r e a l i z e i t , we l ive w it h i n o u r sto ri es . T h e m aj o r overviews a n d c u l t u ra l m yt h s o f o ri g i n s h a p e o u r world v i e ws a n d d i rectly i m pact ( o n ) h o w we a p p roach l ife's m e a n i n g s , cross-c u l t u ra l i nt e r a ct i o n s , rel at i o n s h i ps t o p e o p l e , t o creat u res, t o t h e e a rt h a n d t h e stars. O u r mora l , econo m i c , psyc h o l o g i c a l a n d social selves constantly b u m p i nt o the i n v i s i b l e but g u id i n g 'wa l ls ' of t h es e stories. ( S e rp e n t i n a 2 0 0 4 : 1 ) A l t h o u g h t h e above q uo ta t i o n refers to m yt h s of t h e d i stant past , p a rt i c i pants' o r i g i n stories, set i n ta n g i b l e h i sto r i c t i m e , s e e m e d to i m pact o n a n d e n ab l e t h e i r u n d e rstand i n g o f t h e i r r e l at i o n s h i p s i n , a n d t o , t h e p resent. T h e i r n a rratives w e r e n o t 'ori g i n stories' i n t h e s e n s e of 'c reati o n m yt h s o r l e g e n d s ' ( R iese 2 0 02 ) , b u t stories reca l l e d by i n d i v i d u a l s a n d c o l l ectives a b o u t a n c estral and p e rson a l m i g ration . As To n k i n asserted, "cog n i t i o n a n d m e m ory a re p a rt l y constituted by social relatio ns a n d . . . a re also constitutive of society. ( W e a re ) all s i m u l ta n e o u s l y b e a re rs a n d m ak e rs of h i st o ry , with d i scursive r e p resentations of past n ess as o n e e l e m e n t i n t h i s generation and reproduction of social life" (To n k i n 1 99 2 : 9 7 , m y e m p h as i s ) . H e r a rg u ment that w e b e a r a n d m a k e h i story, as w e g e n e rate a n d reproduce s o c i a l l if e , para l l e l s I n go l d ' s ( 2 0 0 0 ) a rg u m e n t t h at l ife i s a n active p rocess of reg e n e ration and p ro g e n e rati o n . To n k i n ( 1 992) h i g h l i g ht e d t h e i m p o rtance of s o c i a l i nterac t i o n s , j ust a s I ng o l d h i g h l i g hted e nvi ron m e nta l/h u m a n i nteract i o n s a n d c o n necti o n s . S h e r e m i nd e d u s t h at w h e n te l l i n g o u r o ri g i n stories, with i n a n d beyond t h e fam i ly , we r e i te rated o u r pasts and created o u rse lves i n the p resent. W e learned where w e c a m e f ro m a n d , poss i b l y , w h y we were t h e way we were . Tel l i n g our o r i g i n sto r i e s p ro v i d e s n od a l p o i nts - p l aces/spaces where we c o n n e ct and e x c h a n g e i nformat i o n . I n the p rocess we 'g row' o t h e rs a nd/or o u rs e l ves a n d/ o r a r e 'g rown ' ( I n g o l d 2 0 0 0 ) . Immigrant orig in stories It is l i ke l y that res i d e n ts in c o l o n i ze d l a n d s wi l l recog n i se s i m i la ri t i e s w i t h i n t h e i r own h isto r i e s , particu l a r l y wh e n t h e i r f a m i ly h i sto r i es i n c l u d e m i g ra t i o n sto ries, regard l ess of time o r p lace. H i storical studies s u ggest t h at t h ro u g h o u t t h e ages people have i m m i grated o r r e l ocated f o r s i m i la r reasons - w a r , eco n o m i c s , a s e n s e o f adve n t u re , h o p e f o r a better f u t u r e , o r to b e c l o s e r to k i n . B e l i c h a r g u e d t h a t P a k e h a m i g ra n ts f o r m ed several d is t i n c t stre a m s , e a c h w i t h a d ifferent b a l a n c e . T h e y i m m i g rated f o r t h e reaso n s n oted a b o v e - t o acq u i re l an d , f i g h t w a r s , m ake t h e i r fortu n e s from g o l d or t i m b e r, t o escape p o v e rty at ' h o m e ' , to j o i n relatives, o r f i n d h usbands ( 1 9 9 6 : 278-337 ) . T h e e n s u i n g expe r i e nces were often s i m i la r (Thomas 1 99 3 ) . P a rt i c i p a n ts' na rratives reflected t h e s e p u bl ic l y recorded reasons a n d , despite t e m p o r a l d istance betwee n a ncestral a n d c o n t e m porary a r rivals , t h e reasons rem a i n e d s i m i lar. Boe n i s c h - B red n i c h ( 2002f4 asserted that, i n t h e past decad e o r two, E u ropean m i g ra n t s h a d r e l ocated to Aotearoa New Z e a l a n d for l ifestyle and l e i s u re , some with a view to m o v i n g several t i m es , before f i n a l l y settl i n g . A l th o u g h t h e con c e p t d iffe red s o m ewhat f r o m t h e reasons f o r e a rl i e r m i g rations, t h e i nt e n t i o n s e e m e d t h e s a m e , s i n c e i t was a i m ed a t i m p ro v i n g o n e ' s l if e , a n d c re at i n g a better f u t u re for o n e s e l f a n d , oft e n , o n e ' s k i n . As I d eta i l l a t e r , t h e p a rt i c i p a n ts ' respon ses a lso a nswered so m e o f t h e q u est i o n s rai se d i n Boen i s c h - B re d n ic h 's ( 2 0 0 2 ) Aotea roa N e w Z e a l a n d - b a sed research i n to the e x p e riences of G e rm a n i m m ig ra n ts ove r a n extended p e r i od . S h e a rg u e d t h a t i m m i g ration was c e n t ra l to " N ew Z e a l a n d h i story a n d . . . a v e ry i m p o rtant 74 Also l isted as Bonisch-Brednich and B6nisch-Brednich. 82 p a rt of p e o p l es' identity. I t seems to be c rucial to know w h e re you or yo u r a n c estors c a m e from , to b e a b l e to i d e ntity yo u rs e l f i n N ew Zea l a n d a n d i n yo u r ove rseas a n c e stry" (2002 : 6 5 ) . S h e added , " (m ) i g ration i s part o f an a u to b i o g ra p h y . . . never told as a wh o l e , b u t em e rg e s i n s h ort e n t i t i e s , connected t o st i m u l ation t h a t arises i n conversat i o n " ( i b i d : 6 8 ) . I t w o u l d be wort h w h i l e , s h e ass e rted , to c o n d uct research to d i scover w h et h e r t h e re was "a rese rvo i r of i m m i g ra n t narratives t h at New Zea l a n d e rs as a n ation p refe r to t e l l " ( i b i d : 76 ) , a n d to dete r m i n e the s i l e n c e s . The c h a l l e n g e w o u l d be to d i scove r " n a r ratives of a m o re f u ndamental s i g n i f i ca n c e" ( i b i d ) , p a rt ic u l a rly on t h e t o p i c o f 'W h o c a m e fi rst?' ( i b i d ) . S h e a rg u ed that (t) h e na rratives of the f i rst canoes, the f i rst s h i ps , of ass u r i n g speci a l g ro u ps o f peop l e of t h e r i g h t to b e h e re a n d t o stay h e re is a c r u c i a l s t o r y t h at is t o l d . . . n a rratives a re . . . i m porta n t f o r everyday l i f e . . . b e c a u s e t h e y g i ve a comfort i n g assu rance about o u r e x i s t e n c e . They can provi d e p i ct u res of o u r l i ves and t h e soci ety aro u n d u s i n a way t h at c a n b e neatly f ra m ed ( i b i d ) . Desc r i b i n g these sto r i es a s ' R eady- Mades', t h e stories " N e w Zealan d e rs ( s i c ) l i ke to t e l l about t h e m selves and t h e i r young c o u n t ry" ( i b id ) , Boe n i s c h - B re d n ic h described o t h e r narratives , t h ose " u n l i ke l y t o be t o l d . . . w h i c h m i g h t reveal fa i l u r e , u n eas i n ess a n d m i s h a ps" as b e i n g "stored away i n t h e f a m i l y l i n e n c u pboard , seldom to e m e rge in p u b l i c" ( i b i d ) . H e r com m e nts reite rated the i m po rtance of o rig i n stories i n t h e c u ltura l l e x i c o n o f a n y g ro u p , partly because they g rou n d e d p e o p l e i n t h e i r p re s e n t location a n d t i m e period. As m i g ht be expected , the partic i pa n ts h a d "one t h i n g i n com m o n : t h e long voyage o u t" ( Be l i c h 1 99 6 : 3 1 2 ) , u n s u r p r i s i n g i n a land colon ized before t h e advent of a i rc raft, s u rro u n d ed by wate r , a n d al most 2 0 , 0 0 0 k i l o m etres/ 1 2 , 00 0 m i l es d i stant from m ost people's lands of origin ( V i rtual N ew Zealand 200 4 ) . P a rtici pant ancestors a r rived across a n extensive t i m e period. Arrivals occu rred in t h ree waves - the m i d d l e to late 1 9th c e nt u ry; between 1 9 1 0 a n d 1 9 3 0 ; and after 1 94 5 . T h ese dates repl i c ated h i storical national m i g ration d e m og ra p h i cs ( B e l i c h 1 99 6 ; K i n g 2003/2004) . W h i l e p a rt i c i p a n t stories w e re s i m i l a r t o those d o c u m ented i n p u b l i s h e d textual a n d a u d i o-visual h i stories ( Be l i c h 1 9 9 6 , 200 1 ; K i n g 1 98 8 , 2 0 0 1 , 2003/2004) , such material was often p resented f rom a h i sto rical p e rspective . Others, s u c h as Park ( 1 99 1 ) , p rovided an anth ropolog ical p e rspective , fol lowi n g i n vestigations i nto t h e i m pact o f past social a n d c u l t u ral m o res o n wo m e n ' s p ract i ces a n d attitudes. M a n y wom e n , parti c i p a n t a n d otherwi s e , a r rived i n Aotearoa N e w Zea l a n d , a n d W h ang a n u i , a s a res u l t o f ge ndered r e lation s h i p s , spousal o r p a r e ntal rel ocati o n , freq uently e m p l oy m e nt- related. D e l v i n g beneath the s u rface of m i g ration stories sometimes p rovided o t h e r , deeply person a l , reasons f o r relocation , with d e c i s i o n s taken in con s u ltation w i t h s p o u s e s o r fa m i l i e s . I d i scuss t h e s e i n c o m b i n ation w i t h t h e i r narrat i v es . Tel l ing stories O n e way i n w h i c h part i c i pants e ngaged i n b e l o n g i n g was t h ro u g h t e l l i n g t h e i r o r i g i n sto ries, ancestral a n d p e rso n a l . I n d o i n g so, t h ey e x p l icated a n d reite rated t h e i r connections a n d c l a i m e d be l o n g i n g t o Aotearoa N ew Zeal a n d . I n g o l d asse rted that s p e e c h was a p ract i c e . He a r g u e d t h at a way of s p e a k i n g i s , in itself, a way of l i vi n g in t h e l a n d . . . Iang u ag e c e l e b rates an e m bod i e d knowledge of t h e world that is a l ready s h a re d t h a n ks to people's m ut u a l i nv o l ve m e n t i n t h e tasks of h a b itation . . . knowledge su bsists i n p ractical acti v i t i e s . . . i nc l u d i n g activities of s p e a k i n g . (200 0 : 1 47 ) experienced n a r rative a s a n active p rocess, i n vo l v i n g m e m o ry a n d construct i n g connect i o n s . Narrative co u l d be d es c r i b e d as an oral , a u ra l a n d v i s u a l perfo r m a n c e , l i ke d r a m a ( Bo u r d i e u 1 99 9 ) . W h i l e n a rrative c a n a p p e a r t o p ri v i l e g e 83 d iscourse, by reviewing videotaped oral h istories , interviews and conversations, one begins to understand how much is conveyed bodi ly and performatively. Torso, l imbs, and face move. Listeners demonstrate engagement by leaning forward , or sitting back, crossing and uncrossing arms and legs, changing their expressions and participating vocally or si lent ly, accord ing to the narrative's ebb and f low. I t can be d ifficult to view narrative as embodied and performative because, when viewed on the printed page, it appears static. However, reading is a dynamic process requ ir ing engagement of m ind and body in a s imi lar way to l isten ing and te l l ing . What one reads often generates an emotional response ; simi lar to the response to an oral account ( ibid) . I n recal l ing the d istant and experienced past, part icipants used narrative, conversations, photographs and material objects. Although I asked some participants to tel l me about their ancestral past, others raised it independently. Conversations about ancestors also arose seemingly spontaneously during i nformal gatherings. Wh i le this m ight have related i n part to part icipant awareness of my interest, it also occurred on other occasions when I was present but not i nvolved i n the conversation . Ancestral photographs on walls and in photograph albums reiterated and reminded part ic ipants a t a g lance of thei r origins and the i r commun ities of connection . The images were usual ly of k in , sometimes of fr iends, often geographical ly and/or temporally distant. Fig 25: Diane's sewing room and 'Rogue's Gallery'. Like other part icipants' photographic displays, Diane's included ancestors from her own and her husband's fam i l ies, and recorded momentous personal events. These included Diane wearing her wedding gown on her wedding day, her daughter, Margaret McC, wearing the same gown on her wedding day, and numerous other photographs of Diane's chi ldren , and grandch i ldren. The display enabled Diane to demonstrate clear connections to her past, and provided opportun ities to relate them to fami ly and fr iends. Most other participants had photographs of immediate fami ly members, and often of ancestors, d isplayed i n their homes. They were l ike a virtual community (Lysloff 2 0 0 3 ; Mirzoeff 1 99 8 ) , a visual representation of one's past and current k in connections. Although 40 years 84 ago few households had extensive photo-gal leries, the availab i l ity and affordabi l ity of cameras and f i lm has made th is type of representation more frequent. Diane's husband was a photographer and developed his own prints, one reason why Diane had so many more to d isplay than other women of her generation . Displaying them demonstrated her pride in his ski l ls , and her contin ued regeneration of his memory. I t provided elusive social and cu ltural capita l , through Diane's abi l ity to claim prior belonging, by demonstrating her husband's ski l l , and the i r abil ity to afford a re latively expensive hobby, as well as h ighl ight ing her former wifely position in a society which valued marriage . Just as many partic ipants used photographic d isplays to demonstrate connections, their narratives demonstrated bonds arising through their own or ancestra l , jou rneys. The stories they told , and which I discuss next, are most l i kely the sorts of stories Boenisch-Bredn ich ( 2 0 02 ) suggested exploring, the 'Ready­ Mades'. The stories revealed 'trails' ( I ngold 2 0 0 0 ) of knowledge, highl ight ing the importance of f ind ing or creating connections. Narratives could be separated i nto fou r stages: ancestors and their origi ns; points of departu re and the journey; arrival and relocation ; and settlement. These were l ike the stages others have identif ied and discussed in similar contexts , national ly and in ternational ly (Boenisch-Brednich 2 0 0 2 ; Buijs 1 99 3 ; Phi l l ips 1 98 7 ) . A fifth stage, a noted transnational migrant practice, featu red the ' return home', a practice engaged in by and researched amongst transnational migrants (Baldassar 1 99 7 ; Panourgia 1 99 5 ) . Many Aotearoa New Zealanders , particularly youth, engage in what is termed 'OE', overseas experience. They travel to Britai n and Europe for the experience. Some also make an effort to uncover the i r ' roots' , and, using knowledge transmitted by older generations, visit ancestral s ites and sometimes met distant blood k in . Part icipants revealed their or ig ins in several ways, inc luding replying to d i rect questions about ancestral or personal arriva l ; in casual conversat ion, sometimes travel-related; after my own , or other people's inqu i ries about material objects ; and/or through photo-el icitation . Origins and journeys The phrases participants used in referri ng to ancestral travel ind icated looking ahead as wel l as looking back. Most described the journeys as 'coming from, to or out'. This appl ied whether it was thei r own or ancestral arriva l , and regardless of the decade. With Danish orig ins, Ruth G remembered, "My mum and dad came out to New Zealand i n 1 90 6 . " Margaret Mary's fami ly arrived about the same t ime but from a different country. "My mother's parents came from Eng land. (They) came to New Zealand i n 1 90 8 , I th ink it was. They came out because my grandfather was a l i thographic pri nter. My father's parents' came out i n about 1 9 1 5 . " Joan G 's fami ly arrived later, around 1 930. She remembered "I was born in Loftus, Yorksh i re . . . (my father) d id various th ings. But since we came to New Zealand, he was a coalminer" (my emphasis) . Simi lar constructions began al l the migration stories, whether ancestral or personal . By d i rectly referring to ancestral vi l lages, regions, or countries of orig in , partic ipants reiterated their i nternational connections. These i nc luded Brit ish and Scandinavian , as referred to above, and European locations, referred to obl iquely, as when Ji l l described her great-g randmother as "a l ittle German woman", and Joan G's recol lection that one of her f i rst known ancestors "was a French lady", doubly connected because they had shared g iven and family names. I n this way, participants de l ineated the i r connections to the past, temporal ly, cultura l ly and geograph ical ly . By providing dates for maternal and paternal arrivals, as Margaret 85 Mary d id , part icipants ind icated how, with t ime and through marriage, migration h istories began to be interwoven.75 Ruth G acknowledged her Scandinavian ties when she said, " I 've j ust written a history of my parents for records for the rest of the fam i ly , back in Denmark." She revealed ongoing , d istant connections when she showed me folders and photos of a recent fami ly reun ion. They "came from South Africa, America and England as wel l a s New Zealand ." She expla ined who was i n the photos - "ch i ld ren , grandchi ldren and great-grandchi ldren." Her tel l i ng was a process which fu rther h igh l ighted ancestral trails and extended her belonging through heritage to other locations. Ai lsa's narrative incorporated her parental Scots orig in , her b i rth i n Aotearoa New Zealand and, l ike Joan G, later parental arriva l . " I had the g reat p rivi lege of having Scottish parents who came out from Scotland in 1 933," she said . Her g iven name l i nked her f i rm ly to her ancestral land. " I 'm named after the Ai lsa Craig l ighthouse off the west coast of Scot land." Diane's narrative extended these orig i n areas and concepts i n th ree ways, ind icat ing how m igrant l i nks to distant lands prol iferated, as the nation matured. She had ancestral connections to a l l four countries in the British I sles.76 She added travel via Austral ia, and the bi rth of the fami ly's f i rst Aotearoa New Zealand-born ch i ld . I 've got a good mix of I rish and Scottish there . . . (m)y father was brought out f rom Scotland, a toddler . . . my father's youngest b rother was actual ly born here in New Zealand . . . (m)y mother was born here . . . (h)er mother was born in Austra l ia . . . to Engl ish parents . Her father was of I rish extraction and he had been born i n I reland, but . . . b rought out here as qu ite a smal l chi ld . . . 1 th ink I 've got a l ittle bit of Welsh i n me somewhere too. Her narrative h ighl ighted the alternative paths some Pakeha ancestors fol lowed, travel ing fi rst to other countries, which i nc luded Canada and South Africa. Again , in naming the lands her ancestors o riginated in or traveled through , she extended her connections, and her belonging , not only to other parts of the globe, but also i n describing experiences and travel paths which were fami l iar to other Aotearoa New Zealanders . Participants involved i n more recent m igrations told s im i lar stories of trave l ing f i rst to other lands before eventual m ig ration across the world. During the early 20th centu ry, Joan G's father traveled to Canada, then returned to England, where he married and then imm ig rated to Aotearoa New Zealand. After World War 1 1 , Engl ish-born Ruth J imm ig rated with her husband and ch i ldren, f i rst to Australia , and then sett led in Aotearoa New Zealand . I mportant points of connection were the sai l i ng sh ips that participants or their ancestors had traveled on , the ports they a rrived in , and the p laces where they settled. As Bonisch-Brednich (2002) noted, the earl ier the ships a rrived, the more cu ltural capital people gained. J i l l 's narrative l inked her fami ly's a rrival to the 'fi rst immigrant sh ips' (F lude 200 1 ) . Naming ships which a rrived early, usual ly before 1 865, was an ind i rect way of c la iming cultura l capital (Bourdieu 1 982) , because the fu rther back one's ancestors a rrived, the more 'belong ing ' one could claim . This imp l ies that Maori have the most belonging because they were here f i rst. The f i rst Pakeha arrivals tend to claim more val id belonging than later arrivals because they have been here longer. This seems to be because belonging rests partly on residential longevity, as Cohen indicated even though he argued that " (b)elonging is about more than being born in a place" ( 1 982 :2 1 ) . What he did not say, and perhaps Belich argued that " I t is quite possible that English, Scottish and I rish descent each extend to half or more of today's New Zealanders (2001 :217), He noted earl ier that "The most striking ethnic distinction between the populations of the British Isles and Pakeha New Zealand is the great over-representation of Scots in the latter. Scots made up about 10 per cent of the population of the Brit ish Isles in the mid-nineteenth century, but up to 24 per cent of Pakeha" (1996:315). 76 England, I reland, Scotland, Wales, 86 could not know, was how, in other contexts, including Aotearoa New Zealand , belonging could be enhanced by being born in the land. The further back in time one could claim ancestral b i rth , the more strongly and inherently one perceived one's belonging. This is sometimes to one's advantage, sometimes not (St rathern 1 982) . With a popu lation of only 4 mi l l ion and several generations of sett lement later, it is probably to be expected that many people 'touch' one another, through ancestral arrival on the same sh ip ,77 and through marriage. That more recent arrivals named the ships they sai led on was understandable, since the event formed part of personal experience and memories. They also d iscussed events which occurred during the jou rney, and emotions and events which arose dur ing or after arriva l . Sometimes participants recalled the weather, the i r impressions of the harbour, or the way people looked and/or dressed . Naming cou ld occur spontaneously, as when Joan G corrected my perception that she grew u p in England. Wel l , I didn't actual ly grow up i n Eng land. I came here as a toddler. We came out on a ship called the Corinthic . . . ( i)t took us six weeks to get here . . . (t)hey had . . . something went wrong . . . and there was a delay . . . (a)nd my father was a l ready in New Zealand . . . wait ing for us in Wel l i ngton. He probably thought we'd never arrive. Her reflections were probably derived from stories her parents told her but she incorporated her own recol lections, si nce relocation is a memorable event (Pi l lemer 1 998: 1 -3) , and one-off even ts, such as migration, have a profound impact. P i l lemer argued that most memories drift f rom one's consciousness, but ''for truly momentous events, memory longevity is expected" ( ib id) . They often describe a particu lar "one-moment-in-time-event . . . (with a) focus on the rememberer's personal c ircumstances at the t ime of the event . . . (they) contain specific detai ls . . . . and retain a vivid, l ife- l ike qual ity" ( ibid ) . Recal l ing migration often prompted vivid narratives, provid ing other contextual l i nks to Pakeha women, as Joan G's recal l during a photo-interview demonstrated. I showed her a photograph of me with my daughter, d ressed for her baptism in a fam ily ch risten ing robe (Fig 26) , and asked Joan whether there was anything s im i lar i n her fam ily. 77 Maori claim the deepest belonging because their ancestors arrived by waka (canoe) centuries before pakeha. The latter's claims to the earliest possible Pakeha arrival might indicate thei r recognition that Maori practice belonging through connections to ancestors through waka; and intra·pakeha competitiveness for authentic belonging. 87 © Peter Robinson Fig 26: My daughter, Emily, and me, after her christening in 1 98 1 . The gown my six-week-old daughter wore was made by a paternal great­ g reat-g randmother during the jou rney from England. Several generations have worn the robe at the i r baptism. Using the white handmade robe (symbolic of pu rity and cleanl i ness) , s ignifies the sanctity of the occasion, respect for fam i ly and social p ractices (Christian baptism) , and connects the fam ily material ly to the past , as does this photograph and the fact that it was made. On seeing it , Joan said, No, no. I haven't. I sti l l have qu ite a pretty dress that my father bought for me. I think I may have told you that he came to New Zealand f i rst and Mum and I came later. He met us i n Wel l i ngton and I can sti l l remember h im taking me out and buying th is dress and some socks. I can remember sitt ing on the counter even when he did it . . . it was beautifu l . But my mother said, "Oh?" I th ink she thought it was gross extravagance. I th ink that's why we kept it. . . then it came down to me," Joan laughed. "It was real ly lovely because most people d idn't have very much money in those days and, to . . . splash out on this elaborate dress that you'd g row out of in one year or someth ing , just seemed extravagant. 88 The contrast in her words, the rapid change from denial to providing m inute detai l emphasised the importance of the experience. Her memory of 'sitt ing on the counter' , her mother's horror at the 'g ross extravagance', and the lack of money to spend on an 'elaborate dress' , brought the moment and economic conditions al ive . Joan's next comment showed how memories shared cou ld strengthen, or create connections. She fetched her g lasses, put them on, d rew the photograph close and inspected the gown . Exc itedly and gladly, she remarked that the needlework was l ike sti tch ing she had done with her mother. She talked about making such gowns. They get a long p iece of material and they put a l l the tucks in . They work for three or four yards, and then they cut it . They've cut it one way, and then cut it the other . . . and it looks as if they've done it with faggot ing. Have you ever done faggoting? (No. I 've watched my great aun ts do it. Have you done it?) Yes I have . . . it's very, very effective. ( I t is. I t 's real ly pretty. ) So that's what that looks l ike . That's why I thought I 'd get my glasses and have a look at that. Because I haven't seen anyone else do faggot ing , bar myself and my mother. .. you 're the only person - I 've never seen anyone else do it . It can be very fancy. But mostly my mother used to do it on b louses and so on. I t was usual ly fair ly plain but it's very effective . . . it's very easy to do, too." This excerpt demonstrated how two Aotearoa New Zealanders connected, despite being from different generations, through past and ongoing p ractices. Joan learned hand-sewing f rom her mother, who was of a s imi lar age to my great-aunts. Th is encounter enabled us both to understand shared ski l ls as one source for our mutual connection . The image a lso prompted Joan to reca l l , vivid ly , her arrival i n Aotearoa New Zealand . Other participants shared different memories, which demonstrated simi larly, how connections could be made and/or knowledge expanded. Viewing the same photograph , Ai lsa recal led the Scots habit of embroidering on the gown's hem the names of babies baptised in a part icular robe. Other part icipants combined their recollections of the journey with memories of arrival and landing. Ruth J remembered her trans-Tasman journey, saying, (t)alk ing about arriving in New Zealand (sic) , we came on the Oriental Queen, a Japanese ship from Sydney. I can remember arriving in Auckland and getting off the boat and being in Queen St, and being absolutely amazed at al l these pretty young f resh-faced young g i rls in the i r d i rndl ski rts and everyone seemed to be relaxed and happy. J une S recalled , "The trip itself could have been a nightmare , but. . . I 'd been through lots myself so that d idn't matter . . . to that extent. The sky, everyth ing's so beaut ifu l about. . . coming i nto Wel l ington Harbour . . . we struck a f ine day, too." Only five years old at the t ime, Roselene remembered, ''We had fun . There were parties on board". Whi le naming ships occurred frequently, others, l ike Diane, referred to ships by location or state of repair . She said, "You know the ship that's being restored ( in Picton ) - that's the ship my grandparents came out on." This sort of comment estab l ished material and emotional connections. They demonstrated physical l i nks to an arrival date through h istorical material evidence . They also connected them material ly to others whose ancestors had experienced simi lar hardships, including the long , often unpleasant voyage 'out ' . Diane's comments demonstrated that part icipants valued 'knowing' about their ancestors, and being able to claim 'sol id' belonging through 'touching' the past , physical ly and emotional ly. Material objects in publ ic locations became nodal poin ts, physical locations for gather ing, and a publ ic means of recording events. In Sontag's terms, participants could be described as manufacturing 'col lective' memory through 'collective i nstruction' (2003:85) by "stipu lat ing: that this is important" ( ibid:86). The ship's physical publ ic presence and its restoration affi rmed fami ly narratives by 89 provid ing recogn isable, publ icly-located , physical evidence. Material objects performed in a s imi lar way to photographs , by reminding people that this "is the story about how it happened" ( ib id) . Objects replaced "the pictures that lock the stories i n our m inds" ( ib id) . Attachments Naming occu rred i n other contexts as wel l . In some i nstances, naming indicated personal awareness of ancestral mobi l ity, international ly , nat ional ly and local ly. H istor ic texts record the mobi l ity of Aotearoa New Zealanders , and, as I have indicated, participants' sett ler ancestors and their descendants were geograph ical ly mobi le , often resett l ing hundreds of k i lometers d istant from the i r orig i na l ports of d isembarkation . Their mobi l i ty reflected the movement of the i r B rit ish ancestors where "rural l abourers . . . moved residence qu ite regu larly but normal ly within a radius of no more than 1 0 mi les" (Ph i l l i ps 1 987: 1 9) . The d istances immigrants t raveled and "(t)he longer i nter-regional journeying of the colonial was of a d ifferent order" ( ib id) . Participants referred to the locations where the i r ancestors arrived and/or settled more matter-of-factly than they named ancestral ships, perhaps because the locations sti l l existed but many sh ips d id not . In addit ion, the ocean journey was fraught with danger i n a way that being on the land was not. Naming locations where participants had ancestral connections became another way of c la im ing belonging. Many women revealed connections to national geographical locations d istan t from Whanganu i . They also revealed associations between various ancestral a rrival dates, where ancestors landed and where they had l ived. Knowledge of such locations enabled sett ler descendants to claim belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. J i l l 's ancestors arrived i n Aotearoa New Zealand before 1 850. A member of the te: New Zealand Founders' SocietY,78 J i l l had membership because "(m)y g reat-grandfather, O r C rokum, came to New Zealand in 1 838 . . . (h)e was a doctor i n Otago". Joan H 's fami ly arrived at a s imi lar t ime, and settled in Wel l ington. With del ight, Joan noted a cu rrent l ink, which occurred because "some of my grandchi ldren recently bought a house i n the same street as (the i r earl i est Aotearoa New Zealand ancestors) . They a re l iv ing there now." J i l l a lso referred to the central North I sland, and other South I sland locations l i ke Waitaki , Dunedin and Kurow, where her ancestors had settled , and/or she and her parents had l ived. like most part ic ipants, she and/or her h usband had l ived i n a variety of sett lements. She named Nelson , Timaru, and G isborne. Joan G mentioned Yorkshire, Greymouth, Christchurch , and Dunedin . Diane referred to Westport, the West Coast, and Wel l ington . Margaret Mary demonst rated her own range when she noted, " I 've l ived in a few p laces, Auckland, Taranaki as a smal l ch i ld - New P lymouth - then back to Auckland. For a l i tt le whi le I l i ved i n Kerikeri , i n the Bay of I slands, when Noel a nd I f i rst got married." When part icipants or their ancestors arrived i n Aotearoa New Zealand , some remained at the port of entry to establ ish businesses or obtain employment . Describing journeys beyond the port of disembarkation , part ic ipants recorded ongoing personal and ancestral mobi l ity. Diane's grandparents t raveled further afie ld to take up p re-arranged employment. "My g randfather was sponsored out by the Stockton coalmine . . . i n Westport . " Ruth G remarked, My mum and dad came out to Wel l ington i n 1 906, and went . . . to Palmerston North where there was a Danish society and Lutheran Church .79 From there they went down to a l itt le p lace cal led Buckley, j ust south of Shannon, a l i tt le farming area, and that was where they f i rst 78 "The New Zealand Founders Society was establ ished at Wellington in March 1 939. " with the purpose 01 remembering the immigration and settlement 01 the islands to develop the provinces and nation of New Zealand .. .the Society . . . sought membership from those persons whose ancestors arrived before 1 850 (later extended to 1 865)" (New Zealand Founders Society Inc . 2000). 79 A group 01 Danish migrants had settled in the Manawatu by 1 880 (King 2003:229), 90 l ived and worked . . . (m)y brother says we l ived i n Shannon for some years. I don't recal l that part of it . But I recall going out to a l i ttle p lace called Makarua. Mum and Dad had bought a farm . Other part icipants developed knowledge of places where ancestors settled through personal experience. Diane and J i l l spent their early chi ldhood in the North Island. Both had strong recol l ections of ancestral settle r locations in the South Island for two reasons: f i rstly, it was where ancestors had sett led; and, secondly, they themselves had l ived there for long enough to become fami l iar with k in , their properties, and surrounding areas. Diane h igh l ighted the importance of kin connections in developing personal relat ionships to place when remembered , We l ived in Wel l ington . . . (m)y grandparents . . . I ived down in Westport. . . we went down there when I was th ree because Dad thought we'd be safer down on the coast (during World War 1 1 ) . . . we came back to Wel l ington in 1 945. But my f i rst memories are of the coast and all the cousins , and aunties and uncles. J i l l conveyed a sim i lar sense of mobil ity when she noted that she and her chi ldhood fam i ly were i n several farms . . . three up in the North I sland. We were al l born in the North Island . . . 1 was sti l l at p rimary school when we came back down to Kurow to l ive . . . (w)hen we sh ifted away from Kurow, the main thing was to go back and stay with our grandmother. . . she was qu ite an inf luence on our l ives . . . we had cousins round the corner. We used to go and visit them. These narratives h igh l ighted how kin drew people to places and that their presence made a place memorable. J i l l 's narrative also h igh l ighted how kin call fam i ly back. Her comments suggest that 'people make place', supporting Kahn's contention that "u lt imately places are . . . profoundly emotional territories" ( 1 996: 1 68) , developed through personal relationsh ips. This seems probable because other part icipants rarely mentioned visit ing locations where they had l ived or hol idayed with relatives if none remained. Later generations might name or visit areas, part icularly if ancestors had l ived in a location for a long t ime, and engaged in community development, or material construction . In journeys to ancestral residential or employment sites, people regenerated ancestral trails and generated their own . One fam ily recal led making a p lanned trip to a historic South Island coa lmin ing vil lage where , five generations previously, an ancestor had l ived and worked, designing revolut ionary min ing equ ipment. The trio brought home a chunk of coal - a material connection and physical reminder of the journey. They extended the ancestral story by combin ing their knowledge of a story transm itted by a parent with a del iberate visit. They reinforced the ancestor's importance in the fami ly lexicon by bringing home a material object and present ing it to the elderly k in , who had transmitted the knowledge gained from previous generations. Often we discuss i nscription, but in the situation described above, its opposite occurred before inscription could occur . Through excision and presentat ion, belonging was re iterated, l ink ing the ancestor and descendants, and the descendants with the immediately older generation , the story having been re layed by a parent. The layers of belonging th ickened and intensified through reengagement with place through memory, and action in place. Whi le these actions re lated to a 'journey' and entai led visit ing a site dwel led in by an ancestor, it was not what m ight be described as 'returning home' . It involved i nt ra-border rather than international jou rneying, usual ly requ i red when Aotearoa New Zealanders seek temporal ly distan t ancestral origins. These narratives were notable as much for their content which reflected national and i nternational migrant patterns, as for reveal ing an alteri ng habitus, a change in att i tude towards the past, with pride being shown by acknowledging 9 1 descent from early settlers. The ancestors who survived the hardsh ips of m ig rat ion and sett led successfu l ly in their n ew country showed adaptabi l ity in what was a strange, chal leng ing and unfam i l iar envi ronment. I deta i l aspects of th is pr ide i n the next chapter , in association with construction of heroes and renegades. This a ltering habitus seemed to not only requ i re p ride in ancestral achievements, but to demand that people learned about , and could elaborate on, past connect ions. The narratives h igh l ighted an increasing importance given to the past , and a desi re among Pakeha to know more about their own or ig ins. They had moved from ignoring or l ightly acknowledging their orig ins to desire for deta i led ancestra l knowledge . Perhaps this was because i t enabled people to specify how they belonged, temporal ly, geographical ly and social ly . It also demonstrated that specific benefits could arise from i ntergenerational t ransmission of or ig in stories. These included the abi l ity to establ ish connections in d istant p laces, env i ronmental engagement, extended travel opportun it ies, and deepened intergenerational fam ily connections. Why Aotearoa New Zealand? Most part ic ipants knew why thei r ancestors, parents or spouses had relocated, i ndicat ing transmission of i nformation had occurred for up to six generations. More recent migrants p rovided insights i nto social and economic conditions behind m igration choices. Most often , as I noted above, i t was to i mprove one's own l ife and/or the prospects for one's fami ly ( I p 2002 ; S impson 1 997) . Less apparent in the l iterature were the reasons for choosing part icular destinations. By deta i l ing these , the participants provided i nsights i nto pol it ica l , economic and personal choices. Sometimes, the reasons for immigrat ing to Aotearoa New Zealand were straightforward, such as when ind ividuals appl ied to immigrate to more than one country and went to whichever approved their entry f i rst. Sometimes the decision was precip itated by what was regarded as a fortu itous meet ing . Joan G's father and h is fr iend , John decided they m ight come to New Zealand. When they were in Canada, the lady they boarded with had a s ister i n New Zealand . . . she said , "If you ever decide to go to New Zealand, I ' l l get my sister to nominate you," because you had to have a nomination to be able to come to New Zealand. And so, through going to Canada, he got a nominat ion to come to New Zealand . Joan's narrative provided another reason for reject ing part icu lar destinations, such as when partners vetoed the i r options. My father wanted to go to Alaska because that was start ing to open up and there were various m inerals and so on. " It's going to boom," (he said) . My mother said , " If you go there, you go on your own , " because she d idn ' t want to go to Alaska. Somet imes, migrants dis l iked a particu lar cl imate. My g randfather said Canada was too cold . . . so he came to New Zealand . He went to the King Country f i rst, but it was too cold . . . so he went way up north to the Hokianga, where i t was warmer. I t was sti l l real ly isolated." For some m igrants, the choice was pol it ical as wel l as k in- re lated , an aspect not a lways mentioned in ear ly Aotearoa New Zealand m igration stories, but evident i n refugee narratives globally (Jansen 1 990; Meyerhoff 1 980) . Rose lene's parents emigrated just before South Africa became a repub l ic . My Dad cou ld foresee problems there, and . . . probably, the main reason was that his s ister died. His Mum and his sister were in New Zealand, and he came out here to be with h is Mum . . . and perhaps the l ifestyle, to raise ch i ld ren perhaps. 92 Several partic ipants discussed other motivations for migration, thereby locating m igration in the economic and social , as wel l as pol itical conditions, of ancestral lands. Their own experiences and knowledge assisted in foregrounding the reasons recorded by early settle rs. By speaking their knowledge, the part ic ipants emphasised ancestral intentions, and renewed their meaning, another advantage of engaging in oral narratives. Joan G observed, I can understand people coming to New Zealand . . . you see, some people in Brita in were very hard up. My grandfather used to sink pits for m ines so he was well off. Mum's father was qu ite wel l off , but with e leven chi ldren I don't s'pose it went very far. But they never had to really go without. They al l had to go to work, that sort of th ing , but they were never ever really without. Yorkshire people, Lancash i re people, Scottish people , they did have a hard t ime because there were the haves and the have-nots. And the haves were so very, very wealthy and the other people were very, very poor. I n the early days, I thought, "Fancy coming to New Zealand i n the 1 800s ." There was noth ing here. But then, you see, women and chi ldren were sti l l working in coalmines ( in Brita in) at the close of the century . . . 1 th ink you would th ink , "Anyth ing wou ld be better than that for my kids" . . . and a new world , you know, a new country, and everyone was on an even (platform) . I n those days, everyone was p retty even pegging , when I was a chi ld . Because the wealthy hadn 't s ifted to the top , because they were probably making money, but they hadn't sort of come through . . . (t)hey were doing very wel l , but they weren't much more - they were well off but they weren't extremely wealthy, compared to their neighbour, if you know what I mean. She also h ighl ighted what cou ld be beh ind ind ividual decisions to emigrate , recal l ing that, l ike other m igrants of the same era, before her parents married . . . my father went to Canada, because there was no work, especial ly in the north-east of England. He and his f r iend, they'd go off on the i r b ikes. They just about tou red al l of Yorkshire and they cou ldn't get work. So (they) decided that they would go to Canada . . . they spent two years there. They did a l l k inds of work in Canada just to have a job. This dependency upon others for employment was emphasised by Ruth J , who h ighl ighted ancestral landlessness, saying "My father was a tenant farmer, which means that. . . (t) hey weren't g iven ownership . " This provided an insight i nto why Pakeha, even today, regard land ownership as important.BO As Ruth G argued, I t's ownersh ip , I th i nk. (Of property?) Yes. I think it 's someth ing - it becomes a l i tt le personal thing. I f you were renting a place, you might say, " I th ink I ' l l get out. I 'm sick of rent ing th is ." I t's ownership. You own it and you put a lot of hard work i nto i t to get it how you want it. . . and . . . you become attached to i t . . . it's your property . . . you feel relaxed . . . comfortable. You know you own it . . . you feel as if it's your own personal th ing. Concepts surround ing land ownership and occupancy have caused confl ict in Aotearoa New Zealand si nce European settlement. This occurred partly because Maori regarded land as communal , and ranged across extensive areas regularly, but seasonally, gathering natural products for sustenance and survival . European settlers' concepts about land use d iffered from that of the indigenous foragers, and they appl ied their own constructs to land occupation and use (King 2003) . P utting aside the trickery and treachery involved i n some p urchases ( ib id) , it is perhaps 80 I noted in the introduction that around 68 per cent of Whanganui people own their own homes, compared to around 67 per cent nationally. Cf. Mitchell (1 972) for insights into land ownership amongst Aotearoa New Zealanders, and Land Information (2003) for clarification on Maori land. 93 unsurp ris ing that confl icts arose and cont inued, g ive n the tenuous connections of some Pakeha settlers to property in their homelands, and d ifferent concepts about use and ownersh ip . As wel l as detai l ing the shared concepts that derived from the orig inating cultures and societies , narratives l i ke the ones above clarif ied the conceptual chasm that existed between Pakeha and Maori . They also revealed possible orig ins behi nd the sett lers' desire for secu rity of tenu re and i nd ividual use to the subsequent bewi lderment of the indigenous people with their trad it ion of col lective, communal use. Discovering the past People d iscover their connections to others formal ly and informal ly. In th is sect ion , I d iscuss what happened when people de l iberately told fami ly stories in an extended family/fr iends context, or chatted casual ly . The conversations related part icularly to overseas travel and participants' use of knowledge about ancestral orig ins . The occasions on which the conversations occurred reflected Boenisch­ Bredn ich's contention that "migration is part of an autobiography . . . (wh ich) emerges i n short entit ies, connected to stimu lation that arises in conversation" (2002 :68) . Most stories part icipants related were about ord inary ancestors. They lacked pub l ic h istorical weight or importance but were vital i n e nabl ing an understand ing of personal and i nd ividual history, and assist ing part ic ipants to understand the i r col lective connections. During an impromptu gather ing, Pamela referred to upcoming travel p lans wi th her husband, John . I t was a long-awaited trip to her ancestral homeland , Eng land . Activit ies inc luded "fi nd ing the house where John's great-great-g randfather l ived at 59 Southbridge St , Eppingham." P rovid ing assurance that f inding d istant ancestral sites was possib le , an older guest related her experience. 'We fou nd my father's fam i ly's g raves at Ovington (England) . . . there were three tombstones go ing back a long way. And then the dates stopped . " Her son remembered, "Then you started to f ind (family) names i n the Nelson8 1 cemetery." The older guest and her g randson had visited the cemetery in d ifferent years, and recorded the i r visit i n photographs. S im i larly, ancestral knowledge could be used to establ ish belong i ng in ancestral locations, as the fol lowing account demonstrated. Knowledge and d isclosure enabled a young man residing i n the area where h is ancestors orig inated to make surprising , unantic ipated , valuable connect ions. He was asked, du ri ng a year-long visit to Yorksh i re, England, where h e was from . "New Zealand," he repl ied. "No, but where are you from?" the quest ioner demanded . "Wanganu i , a smal l town i n the North Is land," he rep l ied , puzzled. "No," insisted h is q uest ioner, "before that. Where are your folks from ?" "Some are from England . My g randmother's fam ily came from Ovington , " the young man to ld h im , naming a viI /age a short d istance away. "Oh , so you're from around here then," the questioner stated, p leased to have d iscovered a connection . With in the return context, because the young man was fam i l iar with and cared enough to learn the detai ls of h is ancestral h istory, related by h is g randmother, he was able to present h is credentials. The ancestral connections located him h istorical ly enabl ing his acceptance as 'one of us' . He then s l id more readi ly into the local lexicon . L ike the Aotearoa New Zealanders who brought home the coa l , the young man visited and photographed ancestral locations. On h is retu rn to Aotearoa New Zealand, he la id further tra i ls , and deepened his relat ional connections by sharing photographs and stories with kin . By sharing stories and experiences with k in and friends, participants i ndicated s im i lar experiences and i nterests, engaged with , and provided support for one another. 81 Aotearoa New Zealand. 94 Retracing ancestral trai ls in the manner described above parallels the way I ngold suggested that old people i n ind igenous g roups created memory through revisiting places, describ ing ancestors, and/or recognising traces of their p resence. He argued that 'the growth of knowledge' was a lso 'the production of memory' ( I ngold 2000: 1 48) , cit ing Lye , who noted that "trai ls were routes to remembrance just as they are routes to knowledge" (Lye 1 997: 1 49, as cited in I ngold 2000: 1 48) . I ngold argued that the "progeneration of the futu re is also a regeneration of the past" ( ib id ) . I n a turnaround, participants and others used narrative and embodiment to create a path i nto the past. By doing so, they connected themselves to the past, walked the ancestral trai ls , and regenerated memory. The rhizome thickened and belonging f lou rished through being active ly revealed and l inks made. As wel l as knowing where or to what one be longs, physical ly or relational ly, some participants ind icated that knowledge of, and engagement with, their heritage through place was an important component of their belonging. Like Pam's and the young man's narratives, above, other narratives contained references to specific locations. Again , though perhaps unsurpris ing, the detailed descriptions were notable because of the depth of knowledge and detai l which participants had learned about ancestral locations. They had visited , walked through and photographing ancestral homes, streets and graveyards. After visit ing England, Pamela said, I had a sense of belonging in parts of Eng land, l ike York, because I had grown up with my grandfather. I was i nterested in walking down streets my grandfather had wal ked down . . . when they came out it was a t ime when they couldn't go back or it was very unl ike ly. And the centre of York is sti l l so much as it was when my g randfather left . . . 1 don't feel the same about Paisley. But I only th ink that my father's s ide came from Paisley. And it would have changed more. Travel ing to ancestral sites heightened participants' belong ing to Aotearoa New Zealand and their ancestral lands. The experience deepened their knowledge and enabled them to better locate themselves in the land of their b irth since they understood their orig ins more clearly. Through aff i rming belonging through visiti ng and gain ing fami l iarity with their ancestral realms, their self-esteem, another pert inent feature of belonging (Carnes 1 995, as cited in Bradford et al. 2004:323) was probably boosted . I suggest this si nce people evinced pride i n , and increased their cultural capital through having gained and/or retained knowledge about ancestors. Travel ing was a dynamic process. Young Pakeha making the 'return' journey, usually by air , to Brita in and/or Europe, remains a regular featu re of Aotearoa New Zealand l ife (xtramsn 2004) . I t could be described as a rite of passage for people under 30 years old. For those who also made contact with d istant kin in ancestral p laces and spaces, the journey was more than travel for travel's sake. I t was purposefu l because it combined the experience of travel with discovering the i r origins. Younger participants l ike Yvonne and Debbie did not always elaborate on the i r ancestral history. It may have been a reflection of their age, as younger part icipants, but seems un l ikely since other, s im i larly-aged participants were intensely interested in their heritage. I t was more l ikely due to my not pursuing information about their orig ins. I t may a lso reflect del iberate detachment from the past, and a desire to place oneself more completely in the present , ref lect ing an oft-stated 'Kiwi ' maxim that one should 'j ust get on with things', without th ink ing too hard about them or analyzing them at a l 1 .82 Yvonne recalled that 82 Older Aotearoa New Zealanders regard displays of emotion as self-indulgent. Ct. Nussbaum for a discussion on similar responses (to death) in the United States (2001 : 1 9-88). 95 I discovered when I got my b i rth certif icate for my passport the other day, at the t ime of my b i rth , he (my father) was l isted as a freezing worker . . . 1 never knew that . (To me) he was j ust always a truck driver . . . he eventual ly owned his own business . . . a top-dressing contractor, as in a truck-sort-of-top-dressing contractor. I was qu ite surprised. Later comments indicated that i t was not Yvonne who had del iberately detached from the past, but her k in , who had avoided d isclosure during her ch i ldhood . She eventual ly sought ancestral information herself , learn ing about genealogical processes proactively and d i rectly. The matter-of-fact approach to ancestral h istory which some partic ipants adopted paral le led the pragmatism several part icipants evinced i n d iscussing m igration , the need for relocat ion, and their acceptance of ancestral l ife sty le . Yvonne's comments about her father also h inted at a c la im for cul tura l capi ta l . I n Aotearoa New Zealand self-employed people were accorded status, derived from perceptions that only people with f inancial means could establ ish a business. Regard less of the i ncome people derived from business, merely owning and operat ing a business seemed to provide status, as could education , cultu ral knowledge, sporting prowess or other h ighly developed ski l ls . P§keha were i nterested i n retracing their ancestor's trai ls , as the narratives above ind icated . By sharing stories and experiences with kin and unre lated i ndividuals, participants indicated experiences and orig ins in common. Their actions demonstrated how they bu i l t connections to the past. This enabled them to locate themselves, through their orig ins, in the present. The knowledge explained where they 'came' f rom . By engaging i n practices such as narrative and/or travel , they learned how and why. Sharing such knowledge pub l icly was another way of constructing belonging because people could then recognise two th ings: that their ancestors shared experiences; and that, because their ancestors shared experiences their descendants shared a h istory. Reveal ing such knowledge enabled people to understand col l ective p ractices and the events which led to those practices, such as unemployment, landlessness, and the desire for a better l i fe. In tracing their ancestors and retracing their paths, by viSiting the ancestra l homeland or national locations, they enacted simi lar , paral le l activities i n the present to those their ancestors had performed, tracing s imi lar paths i n reverse. Such knowledge was sometimes used in p laying 'games' to enhance cu l tura l capita l . I d iscuss several aspects of the ' heritage' game next. Using heritage A factor which appeared to i nf luence or be i ncorporated in participants' belonging was engagement in cul tural 'games' connected to personal heritage . Disclosing deta i l about ancestral orig ins was a frequent focus in partic ipants' narratives. Their histories were reflected in social h istories (Oaley 1 992 ; Park 1 99 1 ; Bardsley 2000) . As participants told their stories, I was aff irmed by the range of narratives. They repl icated many told by my fami l ies.83 I did not imagine that these narratives were mine on ly.84 Before I describe games and the rules, I refer b rief ly to related theories. Berne ( 1 964) , Bourd ieu ( 1 984) , and Ortner ( 1 996) al l referred to 'games' as a socia l activity. Games were 'serious' activit ies, not to be taken too seriously, with their own ru les which varied according to cu ltura l context (Bourdieu 1 984:54) . Berne explored 83 I refer to families rather than family to remind myself of my parental family and sibl ings and the i r stories, and of my husband's family and their different stories. Whi le there are confluences and simi larities, there are also differences. Together, the narratives form a massive river that flows on through my chi ldren , joining them to a more extensive h istory than any one carries alone. 84 A rising interest i n genealogy. oral h istories and family stories, ind icates that many people valued their h i story. 96 the way people constructed their l ives using particu lar means of interacting . He described this as 'transactional analysis' or 'playing games'. As Bourdieu and Ortner did later, Berne argued that many 'games' had historical , cu ltural , soc ia l , and personal sign ificance. Games were sign if icant intergenerationally, and f itted between concepts of 'past imes and int imacy' . They enabled people to learn more about one another and "fi l l (ed) the major part of the more interesting hours of social intercourse" ( ibid : 1 7 1 - 1 72) . He argued that, on a personal leve l , " (p)eople p ick as friends, associates and intimates, other people who play the same games. Hence 'everybody who is anybody' in a g iven social c ircle . . . behaves in a way which may seem quite fore ign to members of a d ifferent social circle" ( ib id) . Those who changed the game , or the way they played, would be outlawed in one group, but welcomed in another ( ib id : 1 72) . Ortner proposed 'serious games' as "a model of practice that embodie(d) agency but (did) not beg in with , or pivot upon, the agent, actor, or individua l . . . (a)t the same t ime there is "agency", that is, actors play with ski l l , i ntention , wit, knowledge, i ntel l igence" ( 1 996 : 1 2) . She emphasized 'seriousness' to add "the idea that power and i nequal ity pervade(d) the games of l ife in mult iple ways", often with very h igh stakes. Games were played solemnly and intensely, and "there (was) never only one game" ( ibid : 1 2- 1 3) . I n heritage narratives and the subsequent games, one of which I deta i l later in this section , particular associations came to the fore. They included relat ionships to historical ly important inte rnational f igures; fi rst Pakeha arrivals, part icu larly those who sailed on Fi rst Ships as noted earl ier ; early pioneers; people who had successful ly battled the odds; and k in who had achieved national and/or international f i rsts. Such claims impl ied inheritance by association and often enabled an increase in cultural capital (Bourdieu 1 982) or honour (Meyerhoff 1 980) . Honour was gained through ancestors being 'up to diversity' , or showing a capacity 'for suffering wel l ' . These were attr ibutes Meyerhoff's elderly United States-based Jewish part icipants exhib ited . She argued that, to be visib le, 'suffering wel l ' had to be translated into publ ic display. Others had to acknowledge one's proper sufferi ng, which her participants were usually unwi l l ing to do ( ib id : 1 46). Un l ike Meyerhoff's partic ipants, the Whanganui participants appeared wi l l ing to acknowledge one another's claims. They gained honour by narrat ing their associations with part icular types of ancestors. They ascribed honour by l isten ing to and acknowledging other people's associations. Their responses suggested the truth of Nussbaum's contention that "emotions l ink us to items that we regard as important for our wel lbeing, but do not fu l ly control" (2001 :43). The part ic ipants bathed in a ref lected glory, which they acknowledged thankfu l ly, almost with relief, rather than boastful ly. Theirs was pride drawn from perceptions of ancestors as worthy folk with the necessary physica l , mora l , mental and emotional attributes to survive and adapt to chal lenges. Such claims demonstrated participant vulnerabi l ity and possible insecurity about the ir rights to cla iming belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. Their responses again ind icated 'col lective orchestration' occurring in the absence of a conductor (Bourdieu 1 982 :72) . Massey's ( 1 992) assertion about the impact of the electronic media upon people's sense of place, identity and locality, effective ly broadening it, may indicate the source of the 'conductor' in the apparent absence of orchestration. I do not know how long Pakeha have p layed 'ancestry and heritage' games. The frequency and intensity seems likely to have increased during the past th ree decades, coincid ing with rising national and political interest in the past (Bel l 1 996) ,85 as Maori, increasingly, publ icly emphasized and attributed value to thei r orig ins (Moeke-Pickering 1 996) . This compared with earl ier decades when 85 Kapferer ( 1 996) noted a similar interest in the past amongst Australian settlers. 97 homogeneity amongst Pakeha,86 and assim i lation of newcomers and tangata whenua was encouraged (King 1 988, 1 999; Ph i l l ips 1 987; S inc la i r 1 986) . Pakeha rete l l ings seemed also to assist " in creat ing a feel ing of safety about having found th is place i n the South Pacif ic" (Boenisch-Brednich 2002:76) . The i r narratives were a p ractice which enabled them to claim belonging . I experienced the 'game' several t imes, as observer and participant. I t occurred i n d i fferent locations private , semi -private and semi-publ ic - and on d i fferent types of occasions - f i rst during a meeting, at least twice during scheduled d iscussions, and often dur ing i nformal conversations. I t was possib le to avoid the 'game', by refusing to acknowledge the signals. I t was a l itt le l ike the chi ldren's game of 'h ide and seek'. I t requi red d isclosing positive aspects of ancestry (the h idden) and f ind ing simi larit ies (seeking) in orig in stories. Seeking affi rm ing connections cont inued u nt i l they were d iscovered. Upon jo int recognit ion of construct ive s imi larit ies, cu ltural capita l , for those i nvolved, increased. Negative aspects were overlooked i n this phase of the game. I d iscuss them i n the fol lowing chapter. The positive phase had at least four d ifferent facets, bearing out Ortner's ( 1 996) assert ion that there was never only one game. The facets were, f i rstly, describ ing connections to international h istoric f igures; secondly, descr ib ing connections to early arriva ls ; th i rdly, discussing imm igrant journeys; and lastly, a variation which involved seeking connections amongst u nrelated people . These 'games' usual ly began with references to p laces. I next describe my i nvolvement in the f i rst facet, and then, briefly, discuss the content of other facets. I f i rst became aware of the game during a CoF meeting when members were i nvited to share aspects of their l ife stories with members. This was perceived as a means 'getting to know' one another more rapidly than through social is ing at afternoon tea t ime . Members spoke of their own l ives, their fam i l ies, arrival i n or connections i n and to Wanganu i and/or the ir ancestral or ig ins. Their brief personal narratives reflected those of the pr imary research part ic ipants . This set the scene for later 'play'. In an interview, Joan G reiterated what she told the meet ing. She had described her connections to Captain James Cook, an Eng l ish-born sea captain , who mapped much of the New Zealand coast l i ne in 1 769 (R ien its & Rien its 1 969) . After a cup of tea, she said, Something I didn't tel l you last t ime . . . 1 am descended from Captai n Cook's father. You know, James Cook who sai led round New Zealand . . . 1 don't know how many ch i ldren he had, but he had James Cook and he had Mary Cook. Captain Cook was apprenticed to Captai n Jefferson . Captain Jefferson had a son , and that son , a Jefferson , married Mary Cook. And I came down through the Jeffersons. I mean, I 'm not the only descendant. They fan out. I t was qu ite i n terest ing." I rep l ied, " I t is interest ing. I th ink i t 's faSCinating because we come down on the Wedgwood87 l i ne . And there's - I th ink it 's a marriage connection - to someone l i ke Charles Darwin . 88 Joan and I exchanged more than mere ancestral i nformation . By indicat ing our connections to h istorical f igures, we located our fami lies and ourselves in i nternational h istory. This enabled us to award one another symbol ic capita l . Although our ancestors were not indigenous, we too revealed connections to ' important' i nternational f igures as k in . We acknowledged and revealed our or igins, emphasising connections to Brit ish historical personages. I n reaching deeply i nto 86 Belich argued that ethnic difference in Aotearoa New Zealand was rigorously controlled through immigration measures, and minimized, concealed or denied to generate a homogenous non-Maori New Zealand identity in the period from the 1 880s to the 1 920s, and continued in the national ethos at least until the mid-20th century i�2001 2 16-21 8) . I nnovative 1 8th century English potter (Ceramics Today 2004). 88 1 8th century British naturalist (Chew 1 996). 98 our pasts and sharing information, we connected in the present. This reiterated our own belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. Our ancestors had sai led the seas together, i nc lud ing those around the land where we dwel led . Our ancestors' f indings were regarded as important in our own historical , educational and cu ltural context, Cook's for map-making , Darwin 's botanical ly (Rien its & Rien its 1 969) . Our course of action, the d isclosu re of heritage and the award ing of cultural capita l , suggested that ancestral exce l lence reflected positively upon each of us. I t also suggested 'collective orchestrat ion' (Bourdieu 1 982) combined with 'col lective instruction' (Sontag 2003) . Applying u nrecognised or unacknowledged external inf luences, we had accepted 'stipulations' about 'what was important' ( ib id:86) and engaged accord ingly in what had been impl ied, that the past and our connections within it were important. These gave us a place to stand h istorical ly, to make claims s imi lar , in a sense, to the Maori concept of turangawaewae89. Another facet of this 'game' i nvolved naming, some of which I d iscussed earl ier in this chapter. This included naming ancestral sites of origi n , the ships they sailed on , ports of disembarkation and sites for sett lement. L inked with these were recol lections of arrival dates, stories of ancestral hardship and surviva l , or honour. Sometimes, the t iniest coincidences were greeted with del ight, such as sharing fam i ly names, ancestors journeying out on the same ship , or travel ing to other lands en route to Aotearoa New Zealand. Such d isclosures enabled people to recognise themselves, and understand the i r own connections to culture and place. Sharing knowledge, by playing this 'game' , enabled people to connect. Doing so enabled some people to recogn ise s imi larit ies, positional ity and diversity, and bond more strongly with others and their commun ities. Conclus ion Partic ipants' narratives and practices revealed an extensive interest in sharing information about the i r Pakeha heritage. Their narratives i ncorporated what might be regarded as the usual aspects of migration and shared experiences. Through naming places, people, ships and international and national locations, participants revealed extensive interpersonal , intergenerational , international and inter-reg ional connections. They revealed four stages in their orig i n narratives, beginn ing with ancestral locations, continu ing through the journey, arriva l , settlement and/or resett lement. These aspects of their narratives highl ighted ancestral mobi l ity. They also ind icated the d isruption caused by departure , and the problems of relocation . Visits to the ancestral homeland' , which had been engaged in for many decades, were incorporated i nto fami ly narratives. Sim i lar attention was also g iven to visit ing ancestral locations in Aotearoa New Zealand. Both processes enhanced settler descendants' understandings of their orig ins and often enabled them to realize how they had come to belong to, and in , Aotearoa New Zealand. By visit ing and engaging with ancestral locations, nationally and international ly participants generated their own trai ls, br inging the past bodi ly, performat ive ly, and sometimes material ly , i nto the present . The i r practices around narrative reflected the Serpentina (2004) contention that stories could provide invisib le , gu id ing wal ls. Sharing stories enabled participants to 'bump' into themselves and one another, revealed their connections and gu ided them into understanding who and why they were, who they are now and who they could become. Perhaps Pakeha were beginn ing to engage in that Maori practice , noted by Tangaroa ( 1 995), and were "looking to the past to bui ld the future ." Maybe they were beginn ing to use their knowledge of the i r personal orig i n stories as 'guiding wal ls' (Serpent ina 2004) , and so clear and create spaces (or not) for themselves i n Aotearoa New Zealand. Maybe Pakeha are p icking up on , and engaging in , a 89 One's ancestral home place where one has an unalienable right to stand. 99 cu ltura l game they have observed Maori p lay ing, and are turn ing it to their own use. Engagement in cu l tura l 'games' enabled Pakeha to reveal their ancestral h istories, discover connections and deepen belonging to people and p laces. These 'games' enabled them to share stories about "how their a rrival and subsequent sett lement (was) appropriate to their sense of themselves" (Savage et a l . 2005:30) , argu ing that th is approach was i nvolved i n 'elective' belong ing . The participants used i t as a way of confirming belonging to the land i n which their ancestors had elected to sett le. Games were serious, but not too serious (Be rne 1 964; Bourdieu 1 984; Ortner 1 996). They enabled participants to make a range of connections to h istorical f igures, waves of m ig ration , national and i nternationa l s i tes, and to claim or ascribe cu ltura l capital . Participant histories and experiences para"el those o f other m ig rant groups, l ike Japanese American women i n Hawai' i (O l l iver-Richardson 2002) . Even though Pakeha were members of a dom inant cu l tural g roup and Japanese Americans members of a m inority, withi n the i r own commun ities, the i r s im i larities provided h istorical connections, and enabled both g roups to share activit ies with other m igrants with a g reater depth of (often unspoken) u nderstand ing . I n the next chapter I d iscuss how d ifferent common experiences and awareness of s imi lar h istorical or ig ins shaped p ractices; enabled the development of shared values; and the construction of 'heroes and renegades'. 1 00 Chapter Six Experiences, Values and Practices The war affected me quite a lot in lots of ways. Ruth G . Introduction In the previous chapter I d iscussed narrative as an active practice, through which part ic ipants' reiterated their belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand via ancestra l , and personal knowledge and connections. In this chapter I d iscuss experiences participants had in common, the revelation of how shared values were acqu i red, and some social practices which enabled the construction of publ ic and private heroes and renegades. Experiences in common, some d iscussed in the previous chapter, incl uded m igrat ion, re location, and ancestral and personal mobi l ity. Other factors p roviding common bonds included gendered social practices, and the impact of dramatic and/or traumatic international events. Shared values included pride in ancestral ach ievements , hard physical labour or were derived from Christian teachings. The ethnographic material I discuss in th is chapter h igh l ights how experiences in common , paral le l in t ime, or equ ivalent in outcome, enabled connections between ind ividuals , and could foster engagement with in col lectives and larger communit ies. The part ic ipant responses also h igh l ighted how common orig ins and experiences could generate shared values and aspirations. As I discussed in the previous chapter, these were sometimes revealed through cultural 'games. Common experiences were not related to specific geographic locations, i . e . 'un ique local it ies' (Edwards 2000:248, as cited in Savage 2005:31 ) . I focus on part icipant responses to war to show how global events could create experiences in common, although not shared d i rectly. These experiences were relevant because they ind icated other practices involved in , although not essential to, belonging . They enabled a comprehending of how one's own , and other people's, belonging developed and what practices were involved . Changes in participant responses over t ime possibly reflected a changing pol itical habitus, a movement from right-wing to left-wing government pol icies, and strong fem in ist political leadership. Common experiences Experiences in common included s im i lar ancestral origins, and a subsequent h istory of migration with its attendant tensions, as discussed in the previous chapter. The impact of large-scale g lobal events, l ike war, created other experiences in common . War impacted heavily on participants, emotional ly, economical ly and physical ly, often resu lting in later bonds based on emotional understanding, personal experience and the need for adaptation to rapidly changing environments. W ithout "enacting wholly d ifferent . . . projects" (Ortner 1 992: 1 2) , participants revealed their own agency through their abi l ity to adapt and to engage in different, unexpected cou rses of act ion. Be low I f i rstly discuss war-t ime experiences which could deepen emotional connections to others ; secondly I indicate how these experiences could lead to the use of personal agency; th irdly, I d iscuss the sources of their shared values; and lastly the way shared values were i nvolved in constructi ng heroes and renegades. During war-time, British-based participants and their peers in Aotearoa New Zealand suffered personal losses, economic hardship and experienced major role adjustments (King 2003/2004; www.h istorylearningsite .co.uk 2004) . Based in England, June, and Ruth J, experienced the d i rect physical impact of war. Their Aotearoa New Zealand peers were impacted by the nation's mi l itary involvement in 1 0 1 Europe and the Pacific (McGibbon and Go ldstone 2000) .90 A ch i ld at the t ime, Ruth J remembered, (w)e were i n the f ir ing l ine . Being i n the Weald of Kent everyth ing came over the top of us. And (was) . . . shot down ove r the top of us . . . so we were used to the Messerschmi tts and th ings com ing down around us . . . my father was i n the Home Guard . . . we were used to seeing captured German p i lots, or a i r c rew . . . (o)ne day we were p laying in the woods . . . we had one of the evacuees with us, and one of our neighbour ing farmers was i n the f ie ld over the back, p lough ing . He had a b i t of land . . . he cou ld p lough . . . so he was reprieved . . . we went down to say hel lo to h im . . . and . . . an aeroplane came up, and he decided to get r id of al l the ammunit ion , so he was shoot ing at Mr Moynihan and us. ( How did that feel? It m ust have been terrifying . ) No. Ch i ldren are f unny th ings, aren't they? We d id as we were told to if that happened. We ran back i nto the woods, and lay on the g round . And the th ing I remember about that the most is that my s ister, who was four at the t ime, lost her Wel l ington boot91 and a penc i l . What she wanted to do, screaming her eyes out , was to go back and get that Wel l ington boot and the penci l . Even though I thought of the event as terr ifying , Ruth rebutted my suggestion . Th is h igh l ighted the importance of clar ify ing partic ipant and researcher responses to avoid m isinterpretation . Her narrative ind icated that she and her s ib l ings either adapted to the changed s ituation , o r accepted matter-of-factly, the c i rcumstances as they l ived them. Life continued for them much as before. They sti l l ' played' i n the woods, talked with ne ighbours , and fol lowed parental i nstruct ions. Ruth's s ister's outrage at the loss of what could be viewed as trif les compared to the possibi l ity of death or injury may have served to embed the event in Ruth's memory (P i l lemer 1 998) , and pointed to a ch i ld's perspective of her wor ld . Her references to the Home Guard, the Germans, p lanes, and other items p rovided usefu l h istorical i nformation about adult and polit ical p ractices dur ing the war. S l ightly older than Ruth J when the war began , June S was an orphan in her m id-teens. A window-dresser, she was so angry when the city she worked i n was bombed, window g lass shattered and her carefu l d isp lays dest royed, that she sought work d irectly related to the war. I j ust felt so bitter against the Germans . . . 1 wanted to do someth ing about it . I wasn't old enough to go into the forces. So I thought , "Wel l , I 'm going to go i nto mun it ions" . . . 1 went through to the Labour Exchange . . . and they got (me) a job in a mun it ions factory . . . by th is t ime, my h usband, I ' d met h im in Nuneaton . . . he was an a i rman in New Zealand, and he'd come to be stationed at the aerodrome near where I l i ved . . . he was shot down over Germany. I d idn't see h im for another two-and-a-half years. Her husband became a pr isoner-of-war , as had k in of some of the Aotearoa New Zealand-born partic ipants . Across the wor ld , i n Aotearoa New Zealand, Ruth G's brothers en l isted. One became a pr isoner-of-war. Ruth recal led her own and her mother's anxiety, j ust as others recal led the anx iety of having k i n on the battlef ie lds, and/or being taken prisoner-ot-war. Her memories were k ind led when she viewed th is photograph (Fig . 27) . 90 About 1 40.000 men and women were dispatched overseas to serve in fighting formations, 1 04,000 in 2NZEF, the rest in the British or New Zealand naval or air forces. In March 1 944, there were just under 70,000 New Zealand personnel serving overseas. Fatal casualties during the conflict numbered 1 1 ,625. Post-war calculations indicated that New Zealand's ratio of killed per mi l l ion of population (at 6684) was the highest in the Commonwealth (with Britain at 5 1 23 and Australia, 3232) (McGibbon 2001 ) . 91 Waterproof rubber footwear. 1 02 It 1 J � "j . J J I I remember the parades. I remember a battal ion com ing down past the place where we were l iv ing . , , 1 knew a lot of the boys that were in there from my school days. (Oh, that must've been hard seeing them go.) Yes. I t was. It was. Then, of course, I had two brothers that went away to the war. One said before he left here , told h is mother, "My army t ime wi l l be very short, because I ' l l become a prisoner as soon as I can. And he was. But he had terrible treatment. . . he was a prisoner of war in Italy. Then he escaped . . . but before that, the authorities had sent word home to my mother to say that he wou ldn't l ive. He's sti l l al ive today. (Why d id they th ink he wou ldn't l ive?) Oh , no food , cholera and a l l sorts . . . and my younger brother was wounded in the Middle East. He was sent home . . . they were sad years . . . my mum said she used to hate the telephone ringing in case it was word about another who died over there. Ruth's narrative reflected the emotional hardship inf l icted by family involvement in war as she recal led her mother's fears and her own worries. Her comment about 'sad years' described the i r responses, d ifferent to June's and Ruth's sister's rage but generated by the same pol itical factors and the cal l to arms. Ruth G a lso h igh l ighted the impact of polit ics upon herself, her fami ly and their l ivel i hood. When her husband was conscripted , Ruth was pregnant. R ightfu l concern about herself and her fami ly's survival led Ruth to assert herself in a way that seemed unusual for a woman in the 1 940s when male and female roles were clear, with men being publ icly accorded dom inance. (The war) affected me qu ite a lot in lots of ways . . . we had a ten-acre farm at Aramoho, and my husband got called up" . I had three chi ldren , and a fourth one was coming along" .we were m i lk ing cows, and I thought, " I ' l l never be able to cope with a baby, and mi lk cows night and 1 03 l . morning, and so on . . . he appl ied for extension of time to stay at home unt i l after my baby was born , and they wouldn't g rant it . . . so I wrote to the Minister of Defence myself, and I asked for he lp . "Could I have someone come and be in the house with me until after my baby was born?" He said he would see what he could do. And the next th ing I know, my husband came home. These narratives provided information about the personal impact of polit ical decisions of war on individuals and fam i l ies. Despite part icipants being separated geographically, the s im i larity of their emotional experiences could enable them to relate to others. As I noted in Chapter Two, since "emotions shaped the landscapes of our mental and social l ives" (Nussbaum 200 1 : 1 ) , emotional understanding of other people's experiences was an important element in faci l itati ng and/or enhancing personal a nd col lective bonds. Part icipants narrated their own and other's anxiety, the i r responses to war, and the methods they adopted for survival during prolonged and traumatic separations. Ruth's and June's narratives indicated how personal agency assisted in overcoming distress or in resolving problems. Changes in habitus, ar is ing from pol itical encouragement aimed at persuading women to engage in 'mascul ine' factory work, probably opened the way for June to change her type and locat ion of employment. Ruth's need to survive combined with the nu rtur ing role expected of women suggested the reasons for her use of personal agency. She had a solut ion i n m ind, but to fulf i l l the fami ly's needs, she had to contravene expectations that she would cope regardless. She went beyond accepted social practice to enable the family's safety whi le continuing to fol low her expectations of fu l f i l l ing a nu rtur ing role , embedded dur ing ch i ldhood. As I argued above, narratives demonstrated that, when making personal decisions, partic ipants sometimes performed in ways which contravened social mores. Their responses to specific situations generated new and d ifferent behaviours , using personal agency to push the boundaries (Bourd ieu 1 982) . External and polit ical experiences, l ike war, which forced immense, sudden and often unforeseen changes, forced partic ipants to move beyond 'the structur ing structures' ( ib id) to f ind new ways to survive . By narrat ing their stories , part icipants revealed s imi lar responses to t raumatic events, and recogn is ing one another's experiences as fami l iar, may have deepened their understandings of self and others. In reveal ing their own agency, part icipants validated Ortner's warning against assuming that women had "no autonomous point of v iew or intentional ity" (Ortner 1 996: 1 2) Many other examples occurred, but space constraints p reclude my detai l ing them here. General ly, narratives revealed that p rivate behaviour did not always ref lect public hegemonic expectations. Several part icipants recal led practices that d ispel led myths that men were always the boss , and held the power when it came to mak ing l ife a ltering decisions. Participants revealed that women and/or ch i ldren were consulted, and heeded , when making pr ivate decisions about important issues. This was apparent particu larly in decisions about relocation. The practices suggested more equal ity in personal relat ionsh ips than has been acknowledged .92 In Aotearoa New Zealand , "an understanding of the Maori or ientation to the world provides signif icant insights i nto a world view that customari ly did not perceive power relations between men and women in terms of gender" (Toml i ns-Jahnke 1 996:57) . Whi le th is might not have inf luenced Pakeha behaviour , I do not reject the possib i l ity that it has. Together, the narratives supported Ortner's assertion that women could be autonomous agents. They also revealed the economic, pol i t ical , social and cultural intertwin ing of women's and men's worlds, and suggested that "mult ip le forms of 92 Cf. Abu-Lughod ( 1 993); Leacock ( 1 986); Weiner (1 976) for extended discussions on women, power and authority. 1 04 power and resistance" (Ortner 1 996) existed i n mid-20th century Aotearoa New Zealand society. Resistances and/or subve rsions were demonstrated in a variety of ways, i nc lud ing part icipants' determi nation to work, regardless of male partner's opin ions; and male refusals to manage farm and fam i ly f inances. By resisting their partner's perceptions of the norm , o r by refusing to accept the status quo, part icipants and the i r partners demonstrated personal agency. Common experiences, shared resistances, and i ndiv idual understandings of p rivate practices p rovided bonds, even when not shared d i rectly . Shared val ues Just as part ic ipants conveyed their awareness of expected behaviour and revealed practices i n common, they conveyed i nformation about the attributes valued in Aotearoa New Zealand society. Part icularly important attribu tes were those which pioneer ancestors needed for survival and success. They inc luded physical strength and adaptabi l ity (Ph i l l ips 1 987) . These values were referred to d i rectly and ind irectly i n narratives of everyday l ife, and i n construct ions of heroes and renegades. Most narratives indicated the orig i n of, and ongoing admiration for specific attributes, such as the Aotearoa New Zealander's respect for hard work, dedication to complet ing tasks, and manual labour (Daley 1 992; Hopkins and Ri ley 1 998; Ph i l l ips 1 987) . J i l l 's doctor "great-grandfather . . . was a jol ly f ine man. He'd walk m iles and m iles." I understood this being to visit patients on remote propert ies, s ignifying a devotion to duty and h is profess ion , as wel l as physical stamina. Ruth's narrative p rovided extensive ins ights i nto this ethos. Her parents orig inated in Denmark. Her narrative reiterated the contemporary cultural values. She learned f irst-hand , through engagement and observation , the value attr ibuted to hard physical labour . "My father was a great farmer . . . and my mother was a marvelous worker , worked hard a l l her l ife." They conveyed the i r values to their daughter, revealed i n her recol lection of dai ly l ife, which a lso demonstrated a gendered d ivision of labour. Nowadays, with the mechanization of the dai ry, people m ight regard m i lk ing cows as a man's job. That m ight relate to gendered att itudes about men being machine operators, a lmost Ortner's nature versus culture a rgument ( 1 974) , referred to dur ing my d iscussion about my research equ ipment. Ruth remembered, I was the fourth ch i ld born, the f i rst daughter and fourth ch i ld . So being the e ldest g i rl , you know, the work was always there. Mi lking . . . 1 mi lked cows from the t ime I was seven . . . 1 l iked i t but . . . when you come from a big fami ly, you don't have any - you don't th ink about things . . . the work is there and you do it, to the best of you r abi l ity . . . and you never thought about. . . 1 hear people say today, "Oh , I 've had to work so hard , so hard." And I thought, "You don't know what hard work is. You have no idea" . . . there was no such th ing as hard work, or, " I can't do i t . I 'm not going to do it." It was done. You had to do it. I was only e leven years old, and my mother, the only t ime I remember, being real ly i l l at home, and I was kept home from school to keep house , for the rest of the ch i ldren, and my father. And I cou ld do i t , p robably not as wel l as what my mother d id , probably 1 wasn 't as economical . . . but it wasn't a problem . I cou ld cook, and I coul d m i l k the cows, and clean the wood and coal range, and wash . There was no such a th ing as washi ng machines i n those days. And you never looked on i t . . . it seemed to be you r duty. That's how I felt about i t . I t was your duty to do i t . . .we just d i d i t . I t had to be done, and i t was done . And at n ight-time when the evening meal was over, and everybody was sitt ing round the tab le , then my father would say, "Haven't you g i rls got anyth ing to do? You can darn the socks, if you haven't anything else to do." We were never al lowed to sit idle, never, at any t ime. 1 05 Ruth cannot be idle even now. I n response to a question about sitt ing id le she said, "No," with a f i rm shake of her head and a laugh . "Def in itely not, Penny." She pul led up her current knitt ing project. (Our mother) taught us absolutely everyth ing we know. She was a jack­ of-all-trades herself. In my story, we didn't have money. We had very l ittle money. We al l say we had no money, but we had a wonderful Christian home. We had parents who gave everyth ing they had to their ch i ldren. We had a l itt le old sewing machine where you had to turn the handle . . . . and I said there wouldn't be anybody in New Zealand that could make clothes out of f lour bags l ike my mother did. She made curtains. She made tea towels. She made sheets. Because (we were) a big family, we'd buy 1 00 pounds of f lour in a b ig l inen bag . . . they were washed and bleached and sewn , and we slept in them . We dressed in them . We used them for tea towels, and there were no sort of cupboards in my early days at home, just shelves, and Mum used to make curtains out of these flour bags, and embroider, l ike, holly knots a l l across the bottom, and th ings l ike that. . . so we were taught absolutely everything that was basic in the house, to cook, to make our own clothes, to knit and to sew - al l those th ings - and I 've never regretted learning that type of th ing . . . I 've also passed that on to my own daughters. A l l . . . fou r . . . they're all dressmakers, or very clever with their hands, and very good cooks too . . . my husband taught the two boys how to do things around - you know, general l i ttle repair jobs, you know, make this, and do that. My husband h imself , wel l , I say, my late husband, he never ever bought anyth ing that he could make. Never ever bought a gate, or h inges, anything l i ke that. He made them al l . He had al l the equipment and he made a l l h i s own . Yes, of course he said they were better than you could buy in the shops. I dare say they were too. Her narrative revealed pride in not merely surviving, but managing wel l . Her mother making curtains for the many shelves h igh l ighted the importance of t id iness and privacy. This was probably a del iberate practice since it enabled fami l ies to store, out of sight, material objects, particularly those used every day, or which were int imate, personal and/or profane , such as cleaning items, underwear and fem in ine necessities.93 Th is contrasted with f ine objects selected for pub l ic d isplay, and through which social and cultural capital was sought and/or attributed. Ruth's awareness of the past, the fami ly's Christian values, the values attributed to, and the acceptance of hard work, resonated i n other narratives. Eng l ish-born Kathy h igh l ighted her acceptance of hard work engrained in her habitus when she recal led trainee army nurses being left i n charge of wards of sixty patients "without backup . . . you didn't complain. You j ust got on with it ." Their comments demonstrated how and why the Protestant work eth ic of Aotearoa New Zealand society might have developed. Whi le it may be rooted in the Christian ethic espoused by early Aotearoa New Zealand society, derived from their Protestant ancestors (Nussbaum 2001 ) and their lands of orig in , Ruth 's narrative ind icated that the need to work hard physical ly arose for several other reasons. These included there being no machines, nor money to buy them if they existed. People sustained themselves largely on what they and their neighbours g rew. Money was l im ited . It was regarded as being better spent on necessities than on items people could produce themselves, or on frivol it ies, l i ke the dress Joan G described her father purchasing . I n Kathy's situation , complain ing would have been pointless. She was a trainee; there was no-one to help her; the patients needed 93 I have had discussions with women about the most 'appropriate' way to hang one's washing on the outdoor l ine . Most argued that underwear, described as 'small' items, should be hung on the inner wires, with large items on the outer wires to conceal them. Others refused to hang underwear outdoors for fear of it being seen. or stolen. 1 06 care; it was part of nursing practice; and she needed the i ncome. These attitudes, and Ailsa's, noted earlier about always giving something back to the commun ity, reflect the 'number eight wire' , 'can do' attitude many Aotearoa New Zealanders sti l l practice, reinforced in television broadcasts and other advertisements. Even those who do not adopt the practice sti l l regard it as an ideal (Bel l 1 996) , a 'distinctive versati l ity' ( Ph i l l ips 1 987:20}.94 Some suggested that it was unattainable, but reported subtle pressures to conform and perform; reveal ing a sense of being 'orchestrated' (Bourdieu 1 982:72) even though they might not have consciously recognised it . The val ues were also reiterated through p laying cultural games, d iscussed in the previous chapter in relation to belonging through ancestral associat ions, and incorporated into tales about heroes and renegades, which I d iscuss next. Heroes and renegades Heroes and renegades feature g lobally in orig in myths and legends, and in personal and national constructions of orig ins and development. Heroes embody the traits we admire, renegades those we despise, or profess to despise, but may secretly adm i re (Hos-McGrane 2000; Murtagh undated) . They reflect our social and cu ltu ral habitus and values. They do the same in our personal origin stories. Just as in myths and legends, our family heroes vary from impoverished to wealthy, handsome to ug ly, weak to strong . Their actions range from courageous to weak, compassionate to cold, generous to greedy. Depending on one's perspective , an individual may be a hero or a renegade, or may t ransform over t ime from renegade to hero, somet imes notorious, rather than g lorious.95 The s imi larities between myth ical and real people arise as we publicly and privately aff i rm acceptable behaviours, condemn less desirable ones, and acknowledge change in social attitudes. This actively enables us to understand the preservation of, and changes in , soc ial attitudes and customs. As with mig ration , some constructions are political ly driven . Others are born of individual experience, often of oppression , or hardship and successful resolution. Part ic ipants never referred to ancestors d i rectly as heroes or renegades but their narratives reflected, d i rectly or obl iquely, upon them , while enabl ing increased comprehension of past and current values. The heroes and renegades in narratives d iffered in detail accord ing to the origins, age and gender of participants , but reflected s imi lar values. Sometimes, what the partic ipants valued was valued by society internationally or national ly, and had been emphasized during publ ic education . This h ints at what Sontag describes as 'collective instruction' (2003:85} .96 Much of what the participants regarded as important, and therefore narrated, is most l i kely what they gained from their antecedents, through oral and/or written practice, through formal education, and more recently, via the mass media. In relay ing information about earl ier values, partic ipants sometimes ind icated the h istorical sources for shared values, many sti l l evident today (Belich 200 1 ; King 2003/2004; Sch ick and Dolan 1 999). The narratives often contained an air of adventure , exhi laration or excitement, derived from ancestral , parental , or personal , wi l l ingness to travel such huge d istances, geographically and emotional ly. 94 "New Zealanders are known for their ingenuity and inventiveness, an ability to fabricate almost anything from l imited resources, from a piece of the legendary 'number 8 wire". It l inks to culture and the 'can do' attitudes many �eople admire (Web Cards 2004: 1 ) . 5 Examples are Australian folk hero, Ned Kelly, regarded as an outlaw by the authorities, revered as a hero by the poor and needy (Hiess Undated), and the legendary Robin Hood, of England and Sherwood Forest fame (The Robin Hood Pages 2004). 96 Sontag argued. "Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as collective memory - part of the same family of spurious notions as collective guilt. But there is collective instruction . . . all memory is individual, unreproducible - it dies with each person. What is called collective memory is not a remembering but a stipulating : that this is important, and this is the story about how it happened" (2003:85-86). 1 07 What the part ic ipants m ight not h ave recogn ised was, that i n recal l i ng the past, and i ncorporat ing their own responses to events (at my request) , they somet imes, u nwitt ingly , c reated a p icture of themselves as heroes and/or renegades. It could be argued that heroes, particu lar ly , and renegades, sometimes, demonstrated subtle or overt forms of resistance and/or agency by overcoming the odds to succeed in a new land, o r by respond ing in u nforeseen ways to cultura l expectations. Equa l ly , i t cou ld be argued that asse rtive practices revealed personal agency, anothe r aspect which, I suspect, is necessary for effective resistance. Heroes were g lorified beings. Renegades were somet imes vi l if ied and often viewed as subversive . The early disclosures about heroes and the guarded, de layed or non-disclosure about renegades indicated the d ivide between positive and negative, and the p robable impact of disclosure on relationsh ips . People f i rst disclosed i nformation that could enhance their position, the i r self-esteem and personal wel l -being. later, and even then, not a lways, they m ight reveal more adverse i nformation . This seemed to be because people gained cultural capital th rough being associated with heroes. Acknowledging fam il i a l associat ions with renegades contained the risk of personal and fam il ia l damage. Th is explained part ic ipants' wi l l i ngness to reveal connect ions to important h istorical and heroic f igures early i n their interviews . If part ic ipants disclosed i nformation about renegades, they did so only when they t rusted me. Developing our relationship to this point requ i red t ime and/or frequent or regu lar contact. Some partic ipants also revealed themselves as renegades, aga in usual ly later. One part ic ipant disclosed non-conformist renegade-type behaviour in her f i rst i nterview, p robably because her active decision to 'completely b reak the mould' had a major impact on her l ife . H igh l ight ing the positive and f ind ing connections enabled people to establ ish bonds through common experiences. Shar ing the renegade stories (privately) often cemented those bonds. This was because such stories often i ndicated i ndiv idual strength in the face of advers ity, i .e . Meyerhoff's ( 1 980) a rgument that suffer ing needed to be acknowledged. The f irst stories which part ic ipants related were l i ke those relayed i n the 'heritage game' I noted i n the p revious chapter. The p rotagonists were c learly regarded as heroes, courageous physica l ly o r emotional ly . They inc luded Br it ish and i nternational ar istocrats, marit ime explorers, p rofessionals, and business people. National ly-based heroes inc luded the f i rst ancestral sett lers; sk i l led m ig rants, male and female; people who laboured physical ly ; widows who supported their ch i ld ren in the absence of Government support ;97 and pol i t ical agitators. They were regarded as 'pionee rs' , either because they were engaged on the 'front iers' of danger and/or change. They b raved f i re on the batt lef ie ld , laboured to b reak i n new land, or chal lenged pub l ic , socia l , cultura l or rel ig ious mores and battled gendered behaviour . Such heroes were a lmost a lways k i n or , if not k in , c lose fami ly fr iends,98 l i ke Ai lsa's aunt , whose achievements were revealed when A i lsa described her family's church connect ions. They revealed admirable traits - long­ term commitment to an organisation , dedicated invo lvement , a stand against oppression, and winn ing a batt le , lead ing to national and i nternational 'fi rsts' . My aunt became the f irst woman elder of the P resbyterian Chu rch i n New Zealand i n 1 95 1 . She was ordained b y P rofessor Geering .99 When she went home to the Genera l Assembly of the C hurc h of Scotl and she was the first woman to speak. After that, there was a secret ba l lot and 9 1 Prior to the passage of the Domestic Purposes Benefit i n 1 973, widows and sole mothers who worked were provided financial assistance by the Government to supplement their wages and support their fami l ies. With the passage of the DP8. the Government set the benefit level sufficiently high that sole mothers were able to stay home to care for their chi ldren without engaging in paid employment (Knutson 1 998). 98 Aotearoa New Zealand's public heroes were often male and included mountaineers, such as Sir Edmund H illary. and All Black rugby team members. This style of hero did not feature in participant narratives. 99 New Zealand's best known and most controversial commentator on theological issues (http ://www.bookcouncil .org.nz/writers/geeringlloyd.html) . 1 08 they then al lowed women elders into the Presbyterian Church in Scotland . It took a Scottish woman to come and be invited and start the g i rls' s ide of Wel l ington Technical College. We were pioneers in our family_ (My emphasis ) . Her statement, "(w)e were pioneers in our fam i ly" , reflected the Pakeha habitus where pride in pioneer ancestors and their ach ievements was frequently recal led, and, as noted above, reiterated in national advertising and publ ic discourse. Pamela's story of her grandfather's actions dur ing World War I typ if ied heroic behaviour, and included romantic elements. She related it with a gentle smi le. He was a Yorkshire man. And . . . a character and . . . Iovely. He must've had a hard t ime, looking back at it. (Why?) Ooh! He was in the trenches during the Fi rst World War and it was horrible . . . he had a . . . it's lovely l ittle story. He had a mate who was k i l led in No-Man's Land, and grandfather crawled out into No-Man's Land to br ing back h is mate's body, and dragged h im back so that he could . . . 1 gather the bodies that were left in No-Man's Land that weren't . . . j ust stayed there . . . when he returned to New Zealand , he brought back his mate's personal effects to g ive to h is fiance who was, of course, my grandmother. He married her about th ree months later. In describing her grandfather and the story as 'lovely' , Pamela implied respect for his actions. He had honoured h is mate by enabl ing his burial , rescu ing h is possessions, and del ivering them personal ly . Aside from romance and courage, G randfather's story combined suffering and honour. Un l ike Meyerhoff's ( 1 980) partic ipants, Pamela acknowledged both . She cou ld only have known about the events through being told . She loved her grandfather, recal l ing him as 'a sweetie' . The source of her stories was her grandmother. I actual ly l ived with my g randmother for a fair bit of my Form 1 1 year . . . 1 must even have done it for part of my Form Three year . . . it was j ust Gran'ma and I . . . it was my job to keep Gran'ma company . . . it meant that she and I had wee chats, were able to talk about some of the th i ngs from the past, and what she could remember, because she'd a rrived in New Zealand as a very smal l chi ld , just after the turn of the century . Pamela's narrative reveals how i ntergenerational transm ission of knowledge assisted in the generation of her belong ing . Her tale reiterated the romantic notions venerated in the British and European fairytales many Aotearoa New Zealand ch i ldren heard or read in the 1 950s and 1 960s. 1 00 In these stories, good overcame evi l . The handsome prince won the hand of the impoverished p rincess or beautiful young woman, and couples ' l ived happi ly ever after'. S imi lar events are related in the romance novels many women read as a pleasurable escape from real i ty. Pamela's story reflected the impact of war on Pakeha women, many of whom sti l l had close kin l iv ing i n B rita in and Europe. Even though it occurred in a d ifferent t ime and place to June's experiences - she met her Aotearoa New Zealand ai rman husband in World War I I England - Pamela's narrative ind icated how intergenerational understandings developed . By sharing the story of loss, honour, survival and a happy ending with her granddaughter, Pamela's grandmother emphasised particular values. In her turn , Pamela relayed it to her own daughters, continu ing to emphasise the same values. In both Pamela's and June's narratives, meetings between women and men resu lted in marriage and relocation for one of the partners , one male, one female. A sense of the fai rytale ' l iving happily ever after' was conveyed to the l isteners through facial expressions and tone of voice. Emotional warmth was expressed vocal ly and with smi les. Other values, l ike constancy, tolerance and dedication were acknowledged through references to the couples spending their l ives together and supporting each other through l ife's 100 The Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen among others. 1 09 associated hardships and rewards. As I noted , revelations about renegades and the darker side of l ife occurred only after trust and intimacy developed . Often , these revelations occurred at the end of interviews, sometimes when the recorder had been switched off. I n my experience th is is not uncommon. People tended to relax at the end of the formal process, and i ntensif ied the conversation, perhaps because they felt safer when not being taped. I n it ial ly, participants h inted at such stories, but rarely p rovided detai l voluntari ly. When they eventual ly d id , they were probably unaware that , in describing such behaviou rs , of others as well as of themselves, they located themselves h istorical ly, and , sometimes, impl icated themselves as heroes and/or renegades. Their practices i ndicated how and why private practices can alter publ ic practice. The most pub l ic renegades seemed to be men, sent to the colon ies to avoid fami ly shame, or who had frittered fam i ly fortunes in the 'home' land. Stories of women who 'shamed' the fam i ly , often through p regnancy outside wedlock, were less l ikely to be told . That they were revealed suggested a change in social habitus. This may have arisen from a combination of factors. These inc luded increased h istorical social knowledge, perhaps a resu lt of i ncreased research into Aotearoa New Zealand 's recent past (Fraser and Pickles 2002; Hastings 2002; Montgomerie 200 1 ) , which expanded col lective knowledge of past attitudes. A change in research and education emphasis, corresponding with a rise in fem inist scholarsh ip , m ight also be a contribut ing factor. This scholarsh ip has raised awareness of female vulnerabi l ity, and h istoric social attitudes. One resu lt could be an increased understanding of and sympathy for, non-conform ing women. More frequent pub l ic d iscussion of women's struggles might also have i nf luenced the revelations. At the end of an interview after I had switched the camera off , Pamela and I began chatting about fam i ly history. She noted that "most of us have a skeleton or two in the family closet." This was un l ike viewing images in most fam ily a lbums which Chalfen describes as being about 'conspicuous success' ( 1 987) . We chuckled, each reflecting on family stories of the not-so-good, or downright fool ish . Later, with fascination and some del ight, we recal led other fami ly and commun ity stories. They were the hushed stories of b lackmai l , theatre ghosts, sexual i nf idel ity and/or abuse , pre-marital pregnancy, suicide, and bigamy. We d iscussed my Victorian-born auntie, who supposedly had an affair with a married man , and the fami ly's uncertainty about whether it was Aunt ie A or Aunt ie B . Pamela recal led a family puzzle about a twice-married relative , who bore a l l her ch i ldren between marriages. We d iscussed stories about the early 20th century local ph i lanth ropist who was al legedly b lackmai led by h is supposed male lover (Charteris 2000) ; spendthrift relatives and gamblers; and pregnant brides, unhappy in their wedding photos, bouquets over the bulge. The stories were myriad but skeleta l . Some narratives p rovided more extensive evidence of social practices which exhi bited partial refusal to conform to publ ic mores and general solutions. Diane recal led 1 950s pre-nuptial practices where one engaged in ' heavy pett ing' but usually avoided sexual intercou rse for fear of pregnancy outside wedlock, with the subsequent personal shame and fami ly rage. Women who became pregnant were 'sent away' , 101 or marched up the ais le to marry the baby's father. (T)here was one of my big group of g i rlfr iends - there would've been twenty to twenty-five of us - who actual ly got into trouble and had a baby without gett ing married, and out of that group there wou ld possib ly have been four or f ive who had to get married . And you got married in those days, dear. You didn't muck around. You went home and you told mother. You risked a storm and then the wedding was on. You sti l l 101 Cf. Auckland Medical Aid Trust (2005) for historical background. 1 1 0 marched up t h e a i s l e in a w h ite frock. Diane's narrat i v e , with its references to 'tro u b l e ' , ' h ad to get m a r r i e d ' , a n d ' r i s k i n g t h e storm ' , ref l ected t h e social stig mas p re g n a n cy o u tside a m a rriage relations h i p a n d i nfant i l l e g i t i macy. D i a n e a l s o i n d icated what act i o n s were t a k e n to reduce the loss i n social capital i . e . fe m a l e confession , f o l l owed by m a r r i a g e ' i n w h ite. T h i s s i g n if i ed p u rity a n d was w o r n i n an effort t o prevent s u g gest i o n s of i m p rope r behaviour, lack of p e rsonal rest ra i n t , a n d an u n d e s i ra b l e o utcom e . I n m a n y oth e r n a rratives, soc i a l l y u naccepta b l e b e h a v i o u rs w e r e h i nted a t , but w e r e n o t d et a i l e d . T h e m ost l i ke l y reasons w e r e t h at t h e actions o f t h ose i nvolved h ad c a u sed h u rt , d i rectly to i ndivi d u a l s because of fa m i ly and com m u n ity responses , and s h a m e d kin an d/or f ri e n d s . Someti m e s , as P a m e l a n oted, the actions of those who c o n t rave n e d social mores could split f a m i l i e s , with m e m b e rs s i d i n g f o r o r a g a i n s t t h e r e n egad e . W h e n part i c i p a n ts described b e h av i o u rs w h i c h cont rave n e d social m ores, it a p peared to be beca u s e t h e res u l ts h a d b e e n l ife-alteri n g , a n d/or were so d e e p ly h u rtf u l t h at t h e y were etched on p e rs o n a l b e i n g . I d i scuss an epi sode l i k e t h i s i n re lation t o n o t belong i n g i n C hapter Seve n . E a r l i e r g e n erat i o n s t h a n D i a n e a n d P a m e l a sti l l ref used t o speak t h e u n speakabl e . D i scussion s about t h e body, especia l l y o f a sexual o r gynecol o g i c a l n a t u r e , w e re frowned u p o n , ig nored or a vo i d e d . Part i c i pant s i l e nces s p o k e vo l u m e s , n o t o n l y a b o u t social m o res a n d e n c u l t u ration . T h ey a l so i n d icated q u i e t e n g ag e m e nt i n s o m e p ractices with t h e necessary i nformation i m pa rted confidential ly a n d p rivate l y . As I noted a bove, revea l i n g i nformation t h at could resu l t i n n e g ative attitu des t o o n eself o r o n e ' s ancestors, req u i red a d eg re e o f t r u st a n d i nt i m acy, u s u a l l y only acq u i red t h ro u g h t i m e . The f o l lowi n g e x c e r p t i n corpo rated k nowled g e , s i l e nces and tacit acknow l e d g e m e nts abo u t contraception and its u s e , d espite t h e w o r d n e v e r be i n g spoke n . 1 02 ( Y o u went f rom t h e r e , with j ust o n e c h i l d , or d i d you h ave m o re c h i l d r e n b y t h e n ? W h e n y o u l e f t . . . ? ) I h a d t h e t h re e o f t h e m . ( A l l at . . . ? ) Y e s . A n d t h e doctor was so worried a b o u t m e h a v i n g t h e m s o q u ickly, h e d e c i d e d h e ' d b e t t e r t e l l m e a b o u t , a h . . . ( S h e looked at me and g ri n n e d , s h y l y . I raised m y eyebrows , c h u c k l e d , asked, "Did h e ?" t h e n nodded . ) Y e s . (That w a s q u ite u n u s u a l , w a s i t ? ) I d o n ' t k n o w . H e was a n i c e m a n . B u t h e f e l t t h at three i n t h ree years w a s a l itt le bit q u ick so . . . but n ot so m e t h i n g to say. I ' m on t h e TV, aren't I ? B y i n d icati n g h e r k n owledge of contraception , a n u n acknowledged and u n spoken p racti c e i n the e a rly 20th c e n t u r/ 03 , a n d h e r acceptance of the docto r's s u g gestion, a g a i n tacitly, the p a rt i c i p a n t revealed p e rson a l agency and resista n c e to t h e contem p o ra ry m o res. I n d o i n g so, s h e showed h e rself and t h e doct o r as renegades, actively resist i n g conte m po rary m o re s . Her refusal to speak the words a l o u d and be recorded, i n stead conveyi n g t h e i nformation i n g l ances, combi n e d h e r past a n d cu rrent h abitus. T h i s ' s i l e n t refusal' s i g n a l led a f o rm o f agency, clearly a n a c t o f com m i ssion rather t h a n om ission (Vi sweswaran 1 994: 48) . I t was acceptable fo r wom e n of h e r g e n e rati o n to d i scuss contraception w i t h a m a rr i ed wo m a n with c h i l d ren i n p r i vate. Record i n g o u r conve rsation w o u l d have meant s h e h ad p u b l i c l y a c k nowledged h e r i nvolvem e n t i n a n u n spoken m ethod . Therefore s h e co u l d n o t s p e a k t h e words . C o ntraception is now p rom oted p u b l i c l y , b u t the p a rt i c i pant c o n t i n u e d h e r past practice by ref u s i n g p u b l ic d i sc l os u re . Today, s h e a n d h e r docto r m i g ht b e r e g a rded a s h e roes. Their reasons f o r transg ress i n g social m o res we re ' p ro p e r' because t h ey w e re i n the best i nt e rests of , on t h e doctor's part, h i s pat i e n t ; a n d , on the p a rtici pant's part, h e rself and h e r fam i ly. By ref u s i n g to speak t h e ' u n s pea k a b l e ' , t h e p a rt i c i pant reta i n ed h e r d ig n ity, a n d cont i n u e d an e m bedded practice . T h i s 1 02 I have removed name and place references in deference to the participant's reticence. 103 Cf. Tolerton ( 1 992). 1 1 1 suggested that the renegades of one generation could transform into heroes for l ater generations, and indicated how, as habitus alters, we m ight recognise and celebrate the courage of our predecessors. Fami ly tragedies, like accidental shootings, drowni ngs, and del iberate actions, like embezzlement or murder, were often buried, but l ived on in observable practices and responses. Parr ( 1 995) noted a similar reticence i n discussing personal tragedies, intolerance, and suffering . I nd icating a photograph (Fig 28) on her sideboard, Ruth G said, Fig 28: Ruth's grandson's photo ( right). "I always keep this l i tt le guy there because he was drowned at 23 months old . . . he's one of my grandsons. I sti l l count h im ." This comment, the constant presence of the toddler's photograph , Margaret McC's photographs of fam i ly graves (Fig 6) , and Oiane's d isclosure of the depths of her sadness after being widowed, suggested that when people died they did not stop belonging . Their belonging was i ntegrated into the l ife of those who remained, and the memories of those who loved them. These practices and participant descriptions supported I ngold's arguments that "speech is . . . the embodiment of feeling' (2000: 1 46) , and that "speaking is . . . a way of l iving" ( ib id) . L ike b irth , "(a)ctual events of . . . death . . . a re merely moments in the progenerative p rocess, points of transition in the c i rcu lation of l ife . . . part icu lar people come and go but the l ife process continues" ( ib id) . Memories of specific individuals were incorporated i nto participant p ractices, reiterated in material objects, speech and the physical , visual and oral paths participants created to access the objects and the memories. Partic ipant practices also ind icated fears that the predisposition towards bad behaviour could be inherited, suggesting an underlying bel ief in genetic transm ission and h igh l ight ing the embedded nature of the genealogical approach . One mother p rivately and f requently urged her businessman son "not to embezzle c l ient funds l i ke your g reat-grandfather did". Not only was theft a forbidden , punishable practice but was worse when the th ief held a position of trust. The mother added a th reat, 1 1 2 reca l l i ng , "(h)e went to prison." This story was rarely mentioned outside the family, suggesting fears that wider disclosure could damage the fami ly's reputation; or worse, tarnish the professional's reputat ion and ru in h is business. Tel l i ng the story when other fami ly members were present reiterated the importance of honesty and i ntegrity to younger people. Ruth G revealed modern triggers for exploring fami ly pasts, again referring to events which were i nfrequently mentioned and h igh l ight ing the impact of the electronic media on habitus. I . . . was l istening to the radio, no I think it was on the television . . . and they were looking for the graves of sti l lborn babies. Wel l , we had one in our fam ily, and I 'm going to f ind out where that sti l lborn baby is buried . . . My younger sister said , 'Who told you that there was a sti l lborn baby?" I said , "My mother told us. I t was between the two - the eldest brother and the next brother." She said , 'Well we don't know anyth ing about it ." I said , 'Wel l , you couldn't have been l istening or Mum didn't te l l you" . . . but I 've always known that. Cr inal l ( 1 998) observed s imi lar d issonances in knowledge surrounding family tragedy. Just as tel l ing 'happy' stories reiterated positive values, tel l ing 'dark' stories reiterated social mores, also establ ish ing the importance of positive values. By provid ing a contrast, such stories also revealed the potential for d isaster if one contravened cultural codes. They were important because they enabled increased social and personal understanding, but d id not necessari ly lead to a r ise i n social or cu ltu ral capital, and could even result in their reduction . Personal redemption might assist i n return ing capital to its orig inal leve l , but was un l ikely to raise it further. Even then , lapses were l ikely to be glossed over, since the narrator would wish to p resent themselves or their ancestors as, 'worthy' . A narrator m ight increase personal cultu ral capital by demonstrating compassion, often generated through education, rel ig ion or publ ic programmes. Pamela and I ag reed that sharing such stories, enabled us to better understand i ndividuals, fami l ies, and the change between h istorical and cu rrent mores. She suggested that our refusal to speak of tragedies h igh l ighted "our attitude of not speaking il l of the dead." In recognis ing this practice, it was possible to understand why we do not speak loudly about the 'secrets'. 'Raking up the past', speaking of tragedies, could reiterate hurt , shame or embarrassment, especial ly if the events occu rred with i n l iving memory. It a lso suggested unspoken fears of contamination . I f heroic ancestral qual it ies could 'rub off ' , so perhaps m ight less desirable traits. These si lences and attitudes accorded with the Pakeha values, admi ration for courage, hard work, honesty, integrity, and above a l l , 'gett ing on with l i fe' , regardless of hardship . Even with heightened publ ic and polit ical awareness, topics such as i ncest, sexual abuse and domestic violence, were rare ly d iscussed, except indi rectly or genera l ly. Perhaps this was because such d iscussions could rouse bad memories and upset those i nvolved. I t m ight also have been regarded as an invasion of emotional privacy. In addition, most people seemed to prefer to move on once their p roblems had been resolved . There was also the d iff iculty of predicting react ions. I t was preferable to not d isclose negative information and avoid judgment and/or a reduction in cultura l capita l . Worse, negative reception could reduce one's belong ing . Non-d isclosure provided some safety, kept belonging i ntact, and could avoid unpredictable damage to intangibles l ike reputation. Part icipants sometimes told stories about themselves which demonstrated personal g rowth through contravening socia l mores. Some identified themselves d i rectly as renegades. Remembering the purchase of her f i rst art work, a painting of a g reen door, Yvonne said , (Art was) not something . . . we had in our house. (We) didn't have pictures on (the) walls. Fam ily photos, yes . . . studio photos . . . 1 (w)ent 1 1 3 home one night after an opening and said to Mum, "Guess what I 've done." She said, 'What?" I said , "I 've bought a pictu re ." (Shakes her head). Yeah . . . 1 just completely b roke the mou ld . . . you d idn't do that. My mother was a dressmaker and used to do wonderful sewing for a l l these lovely people that attended the a rt gal lery and openings and bought a rt. But. . . (w)e didn't . . . 1 always had n ice long sk i rts and n ice blouses, a l l appropriate to wear to those functions. (She) would send me off . . . ( but) never attend. Her recol lection, including a description of the painting , which she sti l l has, indicated the enorm ity of her action , and how far removed f rom fami ly habitus her actions were. Her mother's ind i rect support was evidenced i n preparation of 'appropriate' cloth ing. Ruth G told three stories about herself, in which she asserted herself i n the face of authority, twice by letter and once face-to-face. She twice wrote to Min isters of the Crown seeking help for the fam i ly. I d iscussed one instance earl ie r with reference to war. The th ird instance d iffered because the situation involved Ruth in face-to-face assertion. We had been d iscussing the garden. She p raised her husband as a wonderfu l gardener. We never bought a th ing in the vegetable l i ne when we came here. On ions and potatoes and everyth ing he grew. (You've got some pretty n ice f lowers out there.) Yes, wel l , we're redoing out there because we've been flooded because of next door . . . (w)e've been under water every t ime it rains . . . (w)e've had water r ight u p to the door here. Ruth pointed to the top of the back steps, and ind icated that the water had risen to her knees. She then related some deal ings with local bu reaucracy, and how she f louted the conventions to correct any m isconceptions they might have about her. She was sti l l annoyed, as her comments ind icated. The stupid man from the counci l - I hope he sees this - he said , "Your trees have got roots." I said , 'Wel l , you' re the second person that's told me, and I 'm amazed . I d idn't know trees had roots. The blockage is not here. It 's over the road . " So Sunday morning they were out there . . . unblocking it. He came back on Tuesday, and said to me , "You threw a bag of frozen corn in the creek, and it went i n , and blocked the top of the . . . " I said, " I 've never wasted a scrap of food in my l ife and I 'm not going to start now." And he said, 'We won't charge you th is t ime but we wi l l next." And I said , "Have a go." The cheek of h im . (Goodness g racious me! ) I just said to h im , "Did you f ind you r way in to my doorstep?" He said , "Yes." 'Wel l ," I said , ''f ind i t out. You j ust f ind your way out. Because," I said , " I pay your wages." So I got a b i t aggressive when I got a bit older, Penny. In this account, Ruth defended her husband , and presented him as a hero, a hard worker and a good p rovider despite h is inju ries. By referring to the hard work involved in growing produce, and her husband's success, at the beginn ing of the story, Ruth set the scene. She ind icated the fami ly's values, and the effort expended to feed them wel l . This provided the background to u nderstanding why she was so ind ignant at the council officer's accusations. She hesitantly presented herself as a renegade, conf l ict ing with her gendered expectations and embedded habitus. Whi le she gained social and cultural capital for her resourcefulness in her earl ier stories, in the th i rd story, fearfu l of loss, she apologised for her behaviour . Saying, " I got a bit aggressive when I got a bit older," Ruth acknowledged that her defiance contravened her embedded understanding of social behaviour . Contravening mores was not desirable , but was more desirable than al lowing anyone to suggest she was a bad cit izen , particular ly g iven the values she reiterated at the beg inn ing . In speaking up for he rself , Ruth 1 1 4 vetoed suggestions that she would behave contrary to the way she was raised , and had practiced throughout her l ife. Her behaviour could also p rovide a model for other, less assertive people, demonstrating how assertiveness could be effective when falsely accused . I n recounting their own stories, participants often enabled their audiences to recognise themselves, strengthened connections through engagement, and knowledge. These practices developed and deepened col lective and individual bonds. After sharing stories, my own sense of belonging, was enhanced. Whi le positive disclosure could enable connections, increase social and cu ltural capital , and enhance belonging, negative disclosures could result in the opposite. R isks included being judged negatively, rejection, reduction in cultura l capita l , hu rt to others, business fai lure and/or reduced belonging. When the negative disclosures were received posit ively, or l isteners recognised personal connections, those involved usually gained a sense of connecting more deeply with individuals and the community. Some part icipants revealed themselves as agents as they related their experiences of contravening social mores . Their narratives revealed personal courage in contravening mores, sometimes supported by kin or professionals, out of concern for their wel l -being. Non-d isclosure was a protective act, particularly when people cou ld not predict reactions, nor count on understanding. Just as positive disclosures could enable continued belonging, so could non-disclosure, provid ing nobody d iscovered and/or d isclosed one's personal 'skeletons' . Conclusion Partic ipant practices revealed t hat belonging could be enhanced by experiences i n common , shared temporal ly or not, and geographically or otherwise. Shared values, l ike hard work, pioneering, and surviva l , derived from experience, education and rel igious engagement deepened bonds, further enhancing belonging. Participants also expanded belonging through relating narratives about fam i ly heroes and renegades. Claim ing positive associations occurred early in people's relationships, whi le reveal ing negative or h idden stories cemented relationships. Belonging was increasingly revealed as layered, ancestral ly, geographically and cultural ly . In the next chapter, as I examine partic ipants' d iscussions about, and responses to, location/place, I d iscuss how l inks to place extended beyond the local, with belonging further enabled through physical and relational kin connections. 1 1 5 Chapter Seven P laces and spaces Then I thought, 'This is where I live. This is where I want to be, where I will bring (my children) up". So it felt like home. Joan B Introduction Where we belong seems to be as important as to whom we belong . Whether our k in and the locations we 'belong' to are near or far, grouped or scattered, p lace features i n belong ing . As I noted i n Chapter Two, scholars understand p lace in a variety of ways, physical and metaphysica l , emotional and sp i ri tua l . I n th is chapter, I discuss how the participants constructed meaningfu l p laces, th rough p ract ice, narrative , i nscript ion and re/creation . I also d iscuss how their responses to p lace d iffered, accord ing to their exper iences, and the importance they attr ibuted to past and present p lace. I consider how the att itudes of 'born and bred' residents and incomers can d iffer , and examine how i nd ividual responses can i mpact on be longing. This speaks partly of e lective be longing (Savage et at . 2005) , but is enriched by other factors, which I i nclude i n discussion. Negative exper iences and negative emotions about places and/or people could lead to feel ings of isolat ion or a sense of not belonging . I discuss some negative aspects i n th is chapter , and others i n C hapter E leven . Cohen ( 1 982) asserted that belong ing entai led more than be ing born i n a place. I t requ i red i nherit ing o r acqu i ring the cu l ture , t radit ions and values of a place, performi ng valued ski l ls and understanding "its idioms and id iosyncrasies" ( ib id: 2 1 ) . Kohn (2002) argued that constructing belong i ng i n a p lace (and community) was active, performative and embodied. It was i nf luenced by factors such as k in connections, longevity of residence, fr iendships, community commitment, employment and dai ly rout ines . She and Cohen both researched relationships to place in geograph ical ly-contained communi ties where incomers deferred to locals. Savage et al . (2005) conducted extensive research in one Brit ish c ity, and contended that there , at least, i ncomers d id "not defer to locals as be ing those with any kind of moral claim on p lace . . . their way of f raming the d istinction between locals and incomers was h ighly congen ial to i ncomers" with local cu l ture be ing viewed as 'narrow' ( ib id :37) . P lace and space Belonging can be revealed through engagement with and connections to people, p laces, and cu ltural knowledge (Cohen 1 982) . Fol lowing I ngold (2000) , Kohn (2002) and Tuan ( 1 974) , I argue that belonging also develops through and is revealed by activit ies in , and engagement with , p lace. Savage et a l . (2005) e laborated an " idea of 'e lective belonging' , which art icu lated senses of spatia l attachment, socia l posit ion , and forms of connectivity to other places. They argued that 'elective' belonging depended on "people's relational sense of place, the i r ab i l i ty to relate to the i r area of residence against other possib le areas . . . so that the meaning of place is . . . judged in terms of i ts relat ional meanings" ( ib id :29) . They a rg ued that, for four sites i n Manchester, E ngland, d ist ingu ish ing "between l ocals and incomers (was) on ly one . . . way of o rganiz ing (people)" ( ib id :3 1 ) . Whi le I explored how part ic ipants c la imed spaces and created p laces for themselves i n the context of ' the wor ld around here' (Geertz 1 973) , I also i nvestigated how the part ic ipants concei ved of thei r worlds, where they were, and what they included. Although i t m ight seem obvious, physical p resence was a def in ing factor, whi le tang ib le personal experience of p laces was important . 1 1 6 Past and present place Early m igrant settlers were often deeply attached to the i r lands of orig ins, as noted in the introduction. Many referred to the British Is les or Europe as 'home' but, by the time of th is research , most Pakeha described Aotearoa New Zealand as ' home'. Some imm igrants felt isolated by b i rth and culture, with the occasional part ic ipant referring to England or Scotland as home. This occurred mostly when they were born in the Brit ish Isles. Some recorded active decisions to belong , l ike Ai lsa's mother, and June, described in the previous chapter. When l iv ing relatives regarded 'home' as being elsewhere, belonging could d iminish or erode . Two participants raised in Aotearoa New Zealand, Whanganui­ born Joan B and Engl ish-born Joan G, recalled feel ings of isolation and/or al ienation . I n a land where most people 'seem the same' , with s imi lar cultura l and ancestral or igins, these recol lections were unexpected . The participants described their sense of not belong ing as rousing feel ings of impermanency, despair and/or lonel iness. Joan G continued to 'feel' Engl ish after l ivi ng over 75 years in Aotearoa New Zealand, maybe because she and her husband were only ch i ldren, with none of their own . They had no-one in New Zealand at a l l . (Do you sti l l have people i n England?) Yes, I sti l l have cousins I stay in touch with in England. A friend came and stayed with me a few years ago. I p layed with her as a smal l ch i ld . We h i t it off j ust l i ke that. She p laced the forefinger and th i rd f inger of her r ight hand c lose together. "Her mum and my mum were friends all their l ives. We'd had the same upbringing, I suppose. We thought more the same than people here. We know each other very welL" She added, Of course, neither of us are New Zealanders. I was born in England, and Alec in Scotland. We've both l ived here al l ou r l ives. Both of us g rew up in isolated places so 'home' was always talked of as 'home', 1 04 and Mum and Dad would always talk of 'aar Betty', 'aar Tom' , 'aar B i l l ' . 1 05 I was qu ite l i ttle and wou ld ask where they were if they were 'our Betty' or 'Tom' or 'B i l l ' . So we were brought up a bit al ienated. Mum and Dad had Eng l ish fr iends. When new people arrived, my mother would always ask, "Are they colonials?" (What did she mean?) Haven't you heard that term? (No.) She meant, 'Were they born in New Zealand?" We used to get it a lot when we were chi ldren because there was lots of imm ig ration then. Our parents (and their friends) used to compare notes and ask each other if they had heard from 'home'. They would go on the bus, mostly the women , and exchange notes. These reflections ind icated that kin had a major role in enabl ing or d isabl ing one's sense of belonging. A ch i ldhood where meaningfu l adults regarded a d istant land as 'home' impacted strongly on Joan G. She seemed to have absorbed and understood the 'fabric' of her Engl ish culture more strongly than the culture of the colony. This, being born in Eng land, her mother's l ife-long friendship, and commun ity habits - exchanging notes on the bus, speaking 'Yorksh i re dialect', - enabled Joan to connect emotional ly and cultural ly with her mother's friend's daughter. Despite extensive community involvement in Wanganu i , 1 06 Joan G continued to feel sl ightly al ienated, never qu ite sure where she belonged. She said , " I don't real ly know where I belong . Oh, I know that I really do, because I have spent my l ife here." She retained l inks to 'home' th rough letters to and from, and visits from cousins and friends, 'connecting' to Engl ish-based kin more strongly than to most 1 04 Yorkshire, England. 1 05 aar - our (The New Geordie D ictionary 1 998). 106 Joan belonged to four community organisations, was president of one, and had been a committee member for several. 1 1 7 other Aotearoa New Zealand residents. Her most constant emotional attachments appeared to be to kin, suggest ing that, for incomers, kin remained important in belonging. This was simi lar to Maori who identify with others through tribal aff i l iation . Joan G's comment about the fr iend who visited and with whom she "hit it off j ust l ike that" supported I ngold's assertion that "(c)ommon involvement in f ie lds of nu rture, rather than any principle of shared descent, creates l ikeness" (2000: 1 48) . Joan and her fr iend probably experienced s im i lar nurture, due to their parents orig inating in the same area and cu ltu re. Although Joan was raised at a geographica l distance, her parents and many of the people around them shared common cultura l backgrounds, and the migrant experience. Even so , Joan emphasized the importance to her of kin connections, suggesting that, in practice, there may be truth in the adage, "blood is th icker than water". Aga in , it is probably not a b io logy wh ich creates the bonds, but the shared h istory and cultural mores that k in have in common. In th is way, perhaps, nu rture enabled and thickened Joan's bonds and her sense of belonging to her Engl ish kin and fr iends. Joan B recal led her sense of isolation and a later posit ive decision to belong. For her grandparents England was 'home' . (a)nd even when the b ig sh ips that came in and used to anchor on the other side of the bar, they were 'home' boats . . . so 'home' was real ly over there107 . . . (t)h is feel ing of isolation I had at least up to . . . 1 th ink , I had it seriously i n my early twenties, so seriously that I fe lt very, very isolated . I d idn't know where to go. I d idn 't know how I belonged. I suffered this very bad feel ing of isolation for about ten years - virtual ly unti l I had my ch i ldren . Then I thought, " This is where I live. This is where I want to be, where I will bring them up. So it felt like home. (My emphasis) . Joan B turned an emotional corner when her ch i ldren were born . Her decision , that "th is is where I l ive . Th is is where I want to be, where I w i l l br ing them up", was active, emphasising Nussbaum's contention that "(e) motions d i rect us to an important component of our wel l -being and reg ister the way th ings are with that important component" (200 1 : 1 35) . She described this as a form of "value­ acknowledging" which can p rovide, " in combination with . . . situational perceptions and bel iefs", the "motivations to act" ( ib id ) . Perhaps because " love p rompts desi res to protect" ( ib id) , Joan was able to choose to belong. Emotional agency enabled her to place herself decisively in 'the wor ld around here' (Geertz 1 996) and "(s)o it felt l ike home". Joan emphasised that her choice made Whanganui 'her' p lace . She elected to belong (Savage et a l . 2005) , and , by raising her ch i ldren and creating a home, she made a commitment and l i nks to the community. S imultaneously, she made the community home for her ch i ldren , and enabled the i r belong ing. Other women recal led s im i lar decisions, aga in active choices, made before, or during the trip to Aotearoa New Zealand. In contrast, Ai lsa had a strongly integrated sense of belonging to Scotland and Aotearoa New Zealand . Discourse and fami ly behaviour enabled her belonging through creation of threads to and from the past to present. Although her parents regarded Scotland as 'home' , in a s imi lar way to Joan B's g randparents, Ai lsa was much more sett led. Like Joan , she knew the wharf , the boats and their movements, int imately. "Our bedroom was g lass the ful l width of the house . . . we were in b unks, and we a lways had a competit ion looking out at the sea, right down to Kapiti I sland . . . we could see the coastal ships coming." Her narrative suggested that where concepts of ' home' were f i rmly i nterwoven i nto concepts of 'being here' , what I describe as 'dual ' belonging could develop. Th is seemed different to that often described by transnational m ig rants (Baldassar 1 997; Jansen 1 990; Meyerhoff 1 980). The d ifference between 'dual belonging' and the yearning described by transnational m ig rants was that 'dual ' 107 England. 1 1 8 belonging lacked heartache, instead implying ease in , and attachment to, two cultures and two locations. This might have reflected cu ltural and/or environmental s imi larities, and/or acceptance of the new. Un l ike transnational m igrants , people with dual belonging did not appear to actively yearn for wherever they were not. Dual belonging had simi larit ies to elective belonging (Savage et al. 2005) because belonging was "not to a fixed community, with the impl ication of c losed boundaries, but (was) more f luid" ( ib id:29) . I t was also un l ike elective belonging to a degree, because, while Ai lsa's biography explained her residential location, it a lso i ndicated embedded belong ing to two different cultures and distant geographical locations. She made frequent references to Scotland as 'home', commenting that she was strongly i nf luenced "by my parents and my brother-i n-law.,, 1 08 She also noted, " I 'm Kiwi born and bred". Her sense of being Scots was developed in her chi ldhood , through the presence of materia l objects, strong parental accents, and language. She noted, 'We a lways had a jam my piece when we came home from schoo l . . . that used to be blackcurrant jam straight onto bread. You never had bread, butter , and jam ." Her feel ings for Scotland had increased during ''four visits home", and were maintained in ongoing actions. These included language, material objects treasured and displayed , and attendance at cultural events. One afternoon when I visited Ai lsa, she showed me a newspaper art ic le. It featured a young woman who had won an award for writing about her fam i ly's treasures (Lawrence 2004:8) . I thought, "That's me," when I saw her displaying the fam ily treasures - Delft - from Hol land. I have in my mother's Scottish chest so many treasures from Scotland , that I thought, "That's it, belonging - to the Scott ish." I 'm the f i rst generation Scots, and I 've got a l l my mother's treasures. I 've got a little brass jel ly pan Gran used to make a wee 1 09 boi l ing of jam, and Robbie BurnsJ 1 1 0 book with a Scottish cover. I 'm a member of the Robbie Burns' Club. (She emphasised the 'r ' , rol l ing it with a Scots burr) . We meet every two months on Sunday afternoon . We have dancing, and someone plays the bagpipes and , maybe , (gives) a precis of a Scottish book. I think I 've been home to Scotland four times, and I worked over there, so I have a sense of belonging to Scotland. Maori people and Island people have a sense of their taonga. 1 1 1 For the rest-home on Sunday I was on cal l . I said to the g i rl , " I ' l l take my cel l-phone and I 'm going to the Robbie Burns' Club" . She asked me what (that) was. I said, "You go to your marae. 1 1 2 I 'm going to mine. " Why do I have a sense of belonging? It's our heritage. I suppose its things too. Her comments indicated a relational understanding of Maori concepts , developed through engagement with Maori , and an abi l ity to compare them through emotions experienced through attending the Robbie Burns' Club. For Maori , the marae p rovides 'a place to stand' . It is their tO rangawaewae. 1 1 3 For Ai lsa, the Robbie Burns' Club provided a simi lar , inclusive, supporting structu re , wi th d i rect, embodied and performative involvement through dancing, l istening to Scots music, reading Scots writ ing and poetry, and eating Scots food l ike shortbread1 14 and haggis. 1 1 5 108 From Scotland. 109 Little, small - a Scots term, frequently used in Aotearoa New Zealand speech, especially among people of Scots descent. 1 10 Scotland's national bard (Robert Burns Country n .d . ) . '" Property, valuables (Reed & Brougham 1 978:229), treasured or precious possessions of sentimental but not necessarily of high economic value (Gilbert 2005: personal communication). 1 12 Maori enclosed ground used as meeting place (Reed & Brougham: 1 97). 1 13 TOranga -'foundation', the ground; ((Reed & Brougham 1 978:240); waewae -feet ( ibid:243); hence tOrangawaewae, a place to stand, meaning specifically. a place where one has an inherited and undeniable right to be. 1 1 4 A crisp, sweet, buttery biscuit. 1 1 5 A savoury pudding made using offal . 1 1 9 Ailsa then handed me several smal l objects , which were on the table when I arrived (Fig . 29) . Fig 29: Ornamental crosses and trinket box. "The crosses are f rom the Iona commun ity. I t 's s imi lar to Quaker Acres. 1 1 6 I t's on an island off the coast where people go with the Church of Scotland for retreats." She picked up the china box, saying , " I wanted to show you th is because my mother looked very s imi lar to the Queen Mother. She was married the same year. I t was bought in Scotland. In her and mum's wedding photos they have the same headgear." Her action in producing the material objects, regular attendance at the Robbie Burns Club, use of Scots id iom , and her narrative, demonstrated the depth of her knowledge of her parental heritage. Combined with her pride in fam i ly ach ievements, these processes revealed her belonging . I t was engendered through common and shared h istories, combined with knowledge and practice of cu ltural codes from two d ifferent lands. Ai lsa also revealed belonging through strong connections to, and knowledge about, places i n both countries, as I d iscuss next. When I went 'home' a few weeks ago to Scotland , I visited the school again that (my mother) taught at. There're photos in the Kirkint i l loch Library , and we're going send more photos 'home' that we've got in her cabin trunk of early 1 900s. I had been 'home' in 1 969 when I went to the World Congress of Nurses . . . (t) hat visit affected me more because I met a lovely lady called Ti l ly (who) told me al l about my mother and father getting engaged. Ai lsa's emotional attachment to Scotland was emphasised th rough references to 'home'. I t had been heightened by learning more in a part icular Scots location about her parents' meeting . As Pamela d id in England, A i lsa was able to visit and 'feel' locations where her parents and g randparents had l ived and worked. Meeting Ti l ly and hearing family stories in the location where they occurred assisted 1 1 6 A Quaker residential community in Whanganui . 1 20 in 'enl iven ing' place (Casey 1 996) for Ai lsa in a way that was different to learn ing about them at a distance. She did not d isregard Aotearoa New Zealand as 'home', but indicated that, even when one was born in a 'place', one could have strong emotional t ies to other 'places'. This was enabled partia l ly through faster, cheaper international travel , and the proliferation of electronic media. Ai lsa's comments and activities h igh l ighted the creation of extended trails ( I ngold 2000) , deepened through intergenerational transm ission of knowledge, her continued engagement in particular cultural practices, and travel between fam i l iar places. Metaphorically, when belonging flourishes, the rhizome flou rishes. By extending her belonging across the world, Ai lsa elongated the rh izomatic tendri ls above the earth, possibly th inn ing her belonging with in one environment as it deepened in the other. More l ikely, by tending belonging through practical engagement, she nurtured it, so that it continued, growing th icker and more profound in both . The interplay of developing knowledge enabled her belonging in both locations, a l ittle l i ke fert i l iz ing the rhizome. Just as increased nourishment of plants can improve thei r qual ity, causing them to flourish so engaging strongly in two cultures in two locations, enhanced Ai lsa's belonging, not to one place, but to both . The knowledge she gained about family in Scotland enabled her to better understand her 'place' i n the world, part icularly in Aotearoa New Zealand. The Scots knowledge embedded in chi ldhood, and which she continued to engage in , enabled her belonging to, and in , Scotland. This could be l ikened to rhizomatic growth where nourishment sometimes changes or enhances g rowth patterns, increases vigour, and alters or en riches leaf and flower colour. Ailsa a lso belonged steadfastly to Whanganu i . In conversations she referred to and d iscussed her publ ic and private associations. She gained her publ ic knowledge through ongoing, embodied, visible community commitments . Other participants revealed simi lar practices, recognis ing, describing and naming places, and connecting them to people and events. Their descriptions of their practices and emotions of attachment h ighl ighted I ngold's (2000) sense of ebb and flow, 'g rowing' and 'being grown as one l ives in the world . Wh i le reviewing researcher-generated photographs, some of which I discuss below, Ailsa revealed an intimate knowledge of local p laces, embedded since b i rth through active envi ronmental engagement, extended and deepened through k in , employment and commun ity involvement. As an elected counci l representative, Ai lsa was instrumental in the redevelopment of the suburb where she grew up. She recal led a happy chi ldhood with intense, repetitive movement through the local area, and her adul t involvement in its upgrade . I d iscuss her responses next. 1 2 1 Fig 30: The North Mole from Castlecliff Beach . We were brought up on here . . . Dad was the harbour master. So this was our playground . Ai lsa ran her f inger over the image (Fig 30). Mm. The coastl ine has changed . . . we used to p lay cricket on the front berm. 1 1 7 And use two rubbish t ins as the wickets . . . a l l the neighbourhood kids would come . . . (e)very weekend Mum used to cart us down to the beach and we'd go through the marram 1 1 8 grass, and we'd pick up l ittle b lack seeds, and put them in a match box . . . (t)he Red Cross made iod ine out of (them) during the war. If you got a whole matchbox fu l l , wel l , you can imagine those l ittle seeds l ike that. (Ai lsa used her f ingers to show how tiny they were. ) I t took us yonks 1 1 9 to get a matchbox. But I suppose we were out in the fresh air . . . 1 1 7 Grassy area in the front of a property. 1 1 8 Ammophila arenaria (Schalienberg 2001 ) . 1 1 9 A long time. 1 22 She knew about the sticky river si lt ( Fig 3 1 ) . Fig 31 : Whanganui River and city from the Durie Hi l l Tower Oh, that's wonderful . That's the river after a flood. You can tel l (from) the si lt . That's why the l ittl e dredger was bui l t . To keep the Port 0' Castlecl iff open . . . Dad designed it in 1 949 . . . ( i ) t lasted forty years and it was only bu i lt to last twenty years . . . ( i )t had the very best of engines . . . (a)nd that's what kept the port open . . . (t) hat is papa rock making that silt. . . it's a very pure si lt . 1 23 She knew what bui ldings had been used for. Fig 32: Whanganui River and the Tasman Sea, from the Durie H il l Tower. And this, (Ai lsa ran her f inger over the image ( Fig 32) pointing to the g rey­ roofed cluster of bui ld ings, lower right) , is Duncan Pol io Hospita l , which is now a rest-home . . . 1 was charge nurse of ch i ld ren 's ward . I used to bring the chi ld ren up, and then they used to come to me to have their orthopaedic surgery , then they'd come back to Duncan Hospita l . 1 20 She recal led why certain actions were taken , including the capping of the Durie H i l l Memorial Tower, the barred metal cover, known affectionately as 'the crayfish pot' . There were two nurses, they both committed su icide from there . . . (a)nd of course, the ai rport (top left) . . . made by wheelbarrow and spade. ( I d idn't know that . ) Oh, yes, during the depression (with ) al l the people out of work . That's how we got an ai rport . We wouldn't've had an ai rport otherwise . . . (a)nd that was - it 's always been known. But one of the good things about this ai rport is that it's been made on sand , and therefore it's rarely c losed . The only t ime it 's closed is if there's a crosswind. (So, is it - that's what prevents it , sand?) Wel l , yes. The water goes through it very qu ickly. I t's l ike a sieve . (Mm . I thought it had to do with the clouds and the way the winds b lew them away.) (Ai lsa laughed . ) Oh, no. No, you never ever hear of that being closed because of flooding. She knew where people l ived and even how they spent the i r days, through her work as a health admin istrator and caregiver (Fig 33) . 120 The buildings were removed in 2003. The land became a residential subdivision. 1 24 Fig 33: Whanganui River and city, looking north-west. We had a lady we look after, just behind there (pointing to the b rown roof) . That's McNamara's (pointing the g reen roof, foreground left) . There's another house there . . . she's got a mi l l ion dollar view right out. . . she's watched the Waimarie (on the river, lower left) 1 2 1 a l l the t ime, from the very beginning and the big crane coming. Ai lsa was a mine of information which she shared wi l l i ng ly. I experienced no sense of exclusion . Rather, I felt included because she explained so much in detai l . By d iscussing the airport, and sharing her knowledge, Ai lsa included me. She extended my belonging because, as an i ncomer , I lacked information . Her knowledge was gained through longevity of residence, and demonstrated deep belonging, simi lar to that experienced by other Whanganui-born and raised participants. I t was l ike the belonging attributed to 'born and breds' (Cohen 1 982 ; Kohn 2002; Strathern 1 982) . I ncomers frequently described the knowledge 'born and breds' revealed as d isconcerting , because it underscored their 'outsiderness' . By del iberately seeking information, and by asking questions, incomers can gain information , and become possessors of knowledge, as I d id while tal king with Ailsa. Reveal ing one's lack of knowledge, as in ' I d idn 't know that' , requ i red trust because not 'knowing' , when others 'know' , can heighten the fee l ing of 'outsiderness' and leave individuals feel ing i nsecure. The wi l l ingness to share i nformation with incomers ind icated acceptance and signal led ascription of belonging. I t was, perhaps, another way of creat ing trai ls , of regeneration and progeneration ( I ngold 2000) . In sharing her memories of the landscape and events, Ai lsa created new trai ls taking me into the past . When I view or visit the ai rport, the runway wi l l no longer be a blank asphalted space. I t wi l l be peopled with shadowy figures, wield ing shovels and trundl ing wheelbarrows. In this way, memory has made place , rather than p lace making memory. It impl ied that belonging was also made through sharing memories and transmitt ing information, as wel l as engag ing d i rectly with the environment. Lye , in her study of the Batek, argued that "trai ls are 121 "PS Waimarie worked the Whanganui River for 50 years until she sank at her berth in Wanganui in 1 952 . . . The Whanganui Riverboat Restoration and Navigation Trust Inc (restored her) and re-registered her as No. 1 in 2000" (Robbins 1 999-2004). 1 25 routes to remembrance just as they are routes to knowledge" ( 1 997: 1 49 , as cited in I ngold 2000: 1 48) . Just as the Batek used the trai ls to recall the i r old people, so photographs provided another means of creating t rai ls . Ai lsa responded by reca l l ing her own memories, and making a t rai l into the past for me. Th is regenerated the past for her and generated i t for me, deepen ing my belonging through the transmission of knowledge. Engl ish-born Ruth J provided a different perspective on heri tage , ind icat ing d ifferences which can occur when one is raised in a long-settled land with evidence of the past al l around. When you're b rought up in history, it is just part of you . You're steeped in it . You feel as if you're part of it . That's a special fee l ing . And if you grow up casual ly learning about Druids and Vikings, 1 22 you see the things you' re a part of , and you belong . I t's al l to do with that and the feel ing that you real ly belong there. I know how Maori people fee l . I f you ' re part of i t , you're almost jealous of i t , and protective. I t be longs to you and not to other people. When I l ived in Cornwal l , 1 23 for the f i rst seven years or so of my married l ife, and I was only young, n ineteen, people called me a foreigner. I d id not belong. I t's real ly interesting , that jealousy fee l ing . They wou ldn 't teach me how to cook Cornish food . I needed to know how to make it for my husband. But they wou ldn ' t teach me. I had to wait for my sister- in- law to come from the Mid lands. 1 24 She'd moved out some years before. I had to wait for her to come and teach me before I learned to cook Cornish food . I know if Maori people feel they are part of the bush - we cal led it forest i n England - I know how they feel. It's as if all the molecules in your body are part of it and they all are connected. I t upsets me immensely (when people say you can't belong) because that's in your own belonging. You can't change that. (My emphasis) Ruth described attachments which occurred when people l ived in part icular locations for centuries (Cohen 1 982 ; Kohn 2002 ; Strathern 1 982) . Her remarks also included a sense of the spir itual , an aspect I d iscuss later. She described how intensely embedded belonging could feel . It paral leled the belonging asserted by indigenous groups international ly, part icularly those d isenfranchised following occupation or colon ization . Her reference to knowing how 'Maori people feel' suggests an embedded and experienced understanding of what it means to 'belong through b i rth' . She expressed her sense of it "as if a l l the molecu les in your body are part of i t and they are all connected". This is remin iscent of Cohen's ( 1 982) concept of belonging i nvolving being part of the 'complicated fabric' of commun ity, and Read's sense of 'deep belonging' (2000) . Ruth's comments i ncorporated embodiment and emotion ; a hol istic and d i rect connection to the world in a l l its aspects, imag inary (Stefano 2002 ) , symbol ic and material (Morley 200 1 ) , physical, metaphysical and spiritual (Read 2000) . Her passion enabled an understanding of why Pakeha people might now feel the r ight to claim belong ing to Aotearoa New Zealand i n the 21 st century. Her reference to 'that jealousy feel ing' h igh l ighted the depth of emotion others have evinced in relation to occupation, activism or changes in their visual envi ronments. I d iscuss this i n the next section . Past s imi larities - environment As Ruth described above , most part ic ipants responded actively to their physical environments. Envi ronmental s imi larit ies, changes to past p laces, and/or destruction also affected belonging. Some participants connected to the past by 1 22 Druids, Celtic priests; Celts, people who dominated much of western and central Europe in the 1 st millennium BC; Vikings, Nordic people who invaded much of Western Europe (http://Www.Angelfire). 123 English county (http://www.comwall-calling.co.ukl. ) . 124 A group of mid-English counties (http://www.picturesofengland.com/mapofengland/regions.html ) . 1 26 recognising s imi larities in present places and/or actively increasing s imi larities between past and current geographical and domestic envi ronments, through inscription . 1 25 Ruth J and June each recognised and recorded aspects of their chi ldhood environment in their photographic inventories, Ruth with a v iew from her front window (Fig 34) . © Ruth Jane Fig 34: View through glass. That . . . was just taken from the front room through the window. I l ike to look out and see the garden and the street. ( I thought the clouds were love ly too. ) I love the c louds. It was the clouds that attracted me and to look out of the window and see the clouds, and the street, of course . . . (t)hey (the clouds) remind me of Kent, 1 26 too. We had them (and) because of the h i l ls and so on . . . ( I ) iving here I see Kent. The skies are like Kent because we were near the sea (on the Downs) . Driving towards Marton 1 27 is l ike on the Downs. I t feels l ike I belong here . Viewing a Weald of Kent website (Travel Publ ishing Ltd 2002), I was struck by the fami l iarity of land and sky-scape i n on- l ine photographs. 125 Cf. Leonard (1 997) for a discussion of re/visioning landscape to repl icate 'home'. 126 English county (Http://Www.Picturesofengland 2001 - 2005). 127 Small town near Wanganui. 1 27 Experiencing what Barthes described as 'punctum' (Barthes 1 98 1 :27) , I felt a 'sti ng' of recognition , Uthat accident which pricks me, but also . . . is poignant to me" ( ib id) . I recognised why Ruth 'felt belonging' . Ind i rectly, I experienced what she had seen and fe l t . I t could only occur because I was fam i l iar with the Marton landscape through travel with in it, and with Whanganui skies. Changing weather patterns seemed to have i ncreased the frequency of some cloud formations so they seemed more l ike Northland skies than when I arrived th i rty years ago. Or perhaps they have become fam i l iar with t ime. A p lum tree in b loom had a s imi lar impact on June ( Fig 35) . June Fig 35: A neighbour's plum tree. Since I 've been here, in this house , I have . . . more thoughts of my grandmother's home in England. I hear the w ind in the p lum tree, and it's the same rust l ing noise. I hear the b i rds, and it's the same b i rds. There's someth ing about Wanganui that real ly is closer to what I knew as a chi ld than al l the t ime in Hamilton. I never had those feel ings in Hami lton. But since I 've been here . . . i n a way it's almost as though I 've come home. It's a strange fee l ing . Wanganui itself is an old town, a historical old town, and it's got a dark past as wel l , and, you see, many places in England had a very dark past. Wars and a l l sorts of th i ngs, terrib le things, happened in England, in Brita in . . . ( i )n a sense , there's the same sort of history here. But, as I said , the nature side of it - so many th ings here - appeal to me. The environmental aspects Ruth and June described resonated with Poulet's argument that, U ( i )f fami l iar p laces are sometimes able to leave us, they are also able to come back to our notice, and . . . retake their or iginal p lace . . . one can see that places behave exactly l i ke past moments , l i ke memories. They go away, they return" (Poulet 1 983: 1 63, translated by and cited in (Bu ijs 1 993:3, my emphasis ) . Margaret McC described how envi ronmental aspects l i ke U ( I ) iv ing on a h i l l i n sight of water (with) so many beautifu l days" enabled her to adjust, ' re lative ly quickly' , to l ife in an unfami l iar, densely populated city . These and other part icipant comments a lso affi rmed the importance of the sensescape in memory and 1 28 belonging ( Feld and Basso 1 996) . Whi le many of us privi lege the visua l , as d id Ruth and Margaret Mce , others l ike June, above, and Roselene, below, recal led the past through non-visual senses. June recalled sounds and smel ls , whi le Roselene's memories of South Africa were triggered by sounds and heat. 1 28 I don't remember a lot in South Africa . . . just l ittle i ncidents . . . a l ittle bit about visiting re latives, and an auntie who had a beach cottage . . . and some friends that had a lovely big ostrich farm . . . 1 have some memories of home, l ike, not being in South Africa, but l istening to music . . . and th ings l i ke , funn i ly enough, chooks cackl ing in summertime . . . ( i )t must be imprinted in my mind. As Ruth J asserted, "Being born in a place strengthens your sense of belonging. You can feel it. You can smell it. You can touch it, even though you are not there." (My emphasis) Whi le these participants were aware of envi ronmental factors which recal led memory, and sometimes created ease, other participants adopted an active approach to environmental reconstruction, recreating aspects of their ch i ldhood homes in cu rrent dwel l ing spaces. I n Joan B's garden (Fig 36) , water tumbled over the water wheel and birds chirped and fluttered through mature trees. Fig 36: The entrance to Joan's property. Joan recal led "the beautifu l , beautiful section we had. I t was . . . incredible . . . with ponds and beautifu l stonework and plenty of room and a pony, all l iv ing in the garden . . . ( i )t seems as though I 've tried to recreate that as wel l , Penny, here, in my sh ift." She added, my father always wanted to be near h is brothers. He was one of six boys and four g i rls, and got on extremely well with h is parents. We shifted to Springvale, and here I 've been ever since. (So you sh ifted here?) Yes . . . 1 l ive on the same section. I bui l t a house around the old 128 Feld ( 1 996) discusses the importance of sounds in constructing landscapes, their contribution to the sensescape, and the landscape's consequent embodiment. 1 29 house and then pu l led the old house down. Joan, Ruth J , and June enjoyed the s im i lar it ies of environment, suggest ing that f ind ing or recreating s imi larit ies, enhanced belonging 'around here' . Conve rsely, Pamela described how removing aspects of a fam il iar landscape cou ld d im inish , even violate, belonging, particu lar ly when 'destruct ion' was del iberate. Say, th inki ng about becom ing part of the visual and emotional environment, I lost my sense of belonging to Auckland . I was l ook ing around last t ime we were up there and i t has changed so much I couldn 't go back to l ive there. I t's not the city I g rew up i n . Auckland , when I was g rowing up , was sti l i a lovely place for ch i ldren . I t was safe . . . (w)e cou ld all go off i n a group and p lay i n Cornwal l Park 1 29 a l l day, and nobody worried about us . . . You wouldn ' t do i t that now. That man who chopped down the tree on One Tree H i l l chopped out part of my belong ing .1 30 He does not seem to real ize that it was part of other people's association with a p lace . . . (t)hat p ine tree was part of the skyl ine . I t was the th ing you saw as soon as you h i t Auckland. As soon as you saw that you were home. The skyl ine is not the same at al l . That h u rt! Karen : Somebody's planted another tree. 13 1 Penny: Wi l l that make a difference? Pamela: I t w i l l probably feel better once the tree g rows up. You r sense of belonging to a p lace is t ied up with fam i l ia rity and memories and who is there. Later I sent her a card ( Fig 37). 1 2 9 A long-established city park. "'0 After chainsaw attacks in 1 994 and 1 999. the pine tree was declared unstable and eventually removed (Http://Www.Aucklandcity). Sir John Logan Campbell , who is buried on the summit, gave the name One Tree Hi l l to Maungakiekie. He was inspired by (a native tree). the sacred Totara (Podocarpus Totara) (Trees for Survival Trust 2005), he saw on his first visit here in 1 840. T e Totara i Ahua was cut down as part of the colonisation of Auckland during the 1 850s and 60s. Campbel l attempted to replace the Totara . . . a single . . . (p)ine survived. The tree was damaged after successive attacks by Maori protestors, and . . . eventually fel led for safety reasons in 2001" \Http://Www.Aucklandcity). 31 Consent was granted in 2002 to plant a grove of nine trees, al l natives (Http://Www.Aucklandcity). 1 30 From an original painting by David Stone Dip L.P. Fig 37: One Tree Hi l l , New Zealand. Her emai led response summarized her emotions. She wrote , Mum and I love your card. It's perfect! One Tree Hi l l as we remember it. I t brings back so many memories. We played a l l a round that h i l l , compl icated al l day hide and seek games, s l id down the h i l l on pieces of cardboard. Went off in the morn ing and didn't come home unti l tea t ime. No one worried in those days about youngsters spending al l day off by themselves. Those were g reat summer holidays. Thanks. Pamela's narrative demonstrated how, 'place' embedded visual ly and emotional ly, through repeated interaction, particularly d i rect engagement. Her expression of 'hurt' indicated emotional connections to a p lace she frequented during ch i ldhood. One Tree Hi l l and its surroundings were so deeply embedded, they formed part of her belonging . Her active engagement was recal led in the al l ­ day games and remembering "(t}hat pine tree (being) part of the skyl ine." I n Casey's terms, place had become "more an event than a thing" ( 1 996 :26) . I t had taken 'on qual it ies of its own' ( ibid) . P lace retained its 'hold' on her, gathered her i n , and held out its abi l ity to draw her back ( ib id :24-25) . Through television b roadcasts, and later , with di rect re-engagement, place re leased its memories and then, "through the activity of remembering, memories (were) forged" ( I ngold 2000: 1 48) As others had done , and conti nued to do, Pamela generated and regenerated her own trails withi n that landscape ( ibid ) . The p rotestor's actions and media coverage assisted in regenerating those trai ls. This led to her generating tra i ls into the past for her daughters, s imi lar to the way Ai lsa had done for me. Both narratives a lso transm itted knowledge about cultural values, difference and change. Ai lsa's ind icated respect for hard, physical labour. Pamela h ighl ighted emotional attachment to a past environment, and the value of understanding different perspectives. In both situations, technology provided the ' route to remembrance (and) knowledge' ( ib id ) . Other Aotearoa New Zealanders responded as Pamela's d id , reveal ing that persona l experiences of 'place' cou ld be intertwined through "the shared experience 1 3 1 of inhabiting particular places and fol lowing part icular paths i n an environment" ( ibid) . Via the media, many Aotearoa New Zealanders responded emotional ly, even though they did not gather 'together' physical ly. Their reactions un ited them, engendering a feel ing of belonging together. Their responses and the resultant col lective un ity confi rmed Pohl 's assertion that "(c)o-presence is not real ly necessary to establ ish that feel ing of togetherness" (2001 : 1 ) . Without denying the val id ity of the p rotestor's action , Pamela's comments underl ined intercu ltural tensions, an increase in indigenous assertiveness, and a chal lenge to Pakeha dominance. I n arguing that the protestor demonstrated disregard for "part of other people's association with a place," she also drew attention to the danger of assuming that belonging was exclusive. The protestor's belonging was generated through ancestry and experiences. His actions demonstrated a disapprobation of colon ia l occupation and its impact. As a Maori , he symbolized the colon ized group, un l ike Pamela, who could be viewed as symbolic of the colonizers . The protestor's actions suggested that his belonging had been assaulted by colonization, the 'destruction' of a 'sacred' Totara , and its replacement with exotic trees. The polarized attitudes of Pakeha and Maori revealed here also underl ine how different perspectives can locate a person as hero or renegade, as discussed in Chapter Five. Those opposed to and hurt by the tree's destruction perceived the activist as a renegade. Those who supported h is actions, as a way of h igh l ighting their frustrations, probably regarded him as a hero . 1 32 Although none of the participants suggested that belonging only was about "being born in a place" (Cohen 1 982) , Pamela's comments revealed how practical , repetitive experiences in the environment of one's b i rthplace enhanced belonging. Other partic ipants revealed a range of emotions about b i rthplace, many indicat ing that b irth increased belonging. Often , others fe lt so attached to a p lace that they regarded it as 'the irs', and, l i ke Pamela, were shocked to learn that others felt equal ly possessive . 'Around here' As d iscussed above, the participants revealed attachment to locations where they had dwel led , studied , been employed, or visited frequently. They also revealed d i rect l inks to the 'local' , past and present. These were conveyed via personal photographic inventories, images of place displayed in their homes, and/or through the detai led information they provided during interviews. Two groups of partic ipants voluntari ly p rovided exceptional ly 'thick' detail (Geertz 1 973) about early chi ldhood p laces. They were those born in , and sti l l , or again, l iv ing in Whanganui ; and those who had immigrated to Aotearoa New Zealand as adults. Most Aotearoa New Zealand-born, non Whanganui-born participants named fewer places in former locations, a lthough their memories of those places were deeply embedded , as general comments indicated. Below, I d iscuss the responses and their content, and how the place references differed. Part icipants born and raised in Whanganui seemed to refer to fewer places national ly , perhaps because they or their ancestors were relatively immobi le . Un l ike non- immigrant incomer participants, Whanganui-born participants' narratives contained minute locational detai ls , often including house numbers, street, property and business names. The details were simi lar to those provided by Eng l ish-born participants. Their local knowledge often overrode the knowledge derived f rom maps (Casey 1 996). Some statements were uttered with an assumption that I would know the places named, whi le others indicated the i r awareness of my later a rriva l , by providing additional deta i l . Ai lsa's description of her early l ife h igh l ights the thickness of belonging. 132 Sluka (2004) discussed a similar anomaly in respect of terrorists, arguing that personal political stance often determined whether a person was regarded as a freedom fighter or terrorist. 1 32 I was born here in Wanganui i n Cairnbrae Maternity Home which is now a backpackers ' on Somme Pde . . . it was during the war. Dad was away at the navy for part of my life . . . 1 was born in the October, and baptised at St Paul's Church on Christmas Day . . . And my l ife was brought up on the wharf of Castlecliff, and also on the Castlecliff Beach, because every day we went to the beach. We l ived in a Harbour Board house, 3 Ashton Terrace. (My emphasis) Debbie's and Margaret McC's accounts mentioned inc luded naming schools they and thei r s ibl ings attended, and the i r own early employment locations, often described in relation to other landmarks. Debbie recal led being employed "( i )n the coffee shop opposite the Grand . . . (Then) I worked at a petrol station, St Johns Motors, pumping gas" (my emphasis) . Diane, who g rew fami l iar with Whanganui before the fam ily relocated , recorded meaningful bu i ld ings and sites i n he r photographic inventory. When incomers could describe places and people in the terms used by longer-term residents, they signaled their own access to community lore and embedding knowledge. This indicated thei r movement along the continuum of belonging (Kohn 2002) . The signals could be subtle as my actions dur ing the discussion with Debbie revealed. As she described various locations, I signaled my knowledge with an 'Mm' . S imi la r aff irmations could occur visually, as happened when I shared a photograph with Diane. We were d iscussing icon ic Whanganui publ ic places and spaces, when I showed her a photograph of a local beach . She interrupted me and led me downstai rs to show me a painting (Fig 38) . © Painting Lynette Vallely Fig 38: Mowhanau Beach, Kai Iwi. We compared the photograph and the painting . The views were f rom almost identical vantage points about the same time . This heightened my sense of belonging to Whanganui , and increased our mutual bonds. The existence of the images, and Diane sharing he rs with me, revealed a shared attachment to the same 1 33 location , even though we had made separate, u nconnected visits. This was perhaps unsurprising g iven the importance of the 'beach' in the Aotearoa New Zealand psyche (Carl in and Jones 1 999) . Engl ish-born participants' narratives were s imi larly l ittered with references to specific places , while the i r homes also contained images of past locations . Kathy remembered, I was born in Lancashire i n a place called Chorley . . . but my mother l ived in the next town, which is a place called Horridge . . . (m)y parents were bakers and confectioners and we had a shop in Horridge. Sutton 's Bakery, it was called. We had the bakery at the end of a long street, Dickenson Street it was called, and it was very much like Coronation Street. And we knew e verybody in the street. (My emphasis) She named five specific locations: the county she was born and g rew up i n ; the town she was born i n ; the adjacent town where her parents l ived; t he fami ly­ owned bakery; and its street locations, reflecting Ai lsa's detai led description of birth, christening and dwel l ing p laces. Narratives also included recollections and descriptions of bui ld i ngs, and detai led description of landscape, activity and events. Kathy's description added another important factor in understanding belonging. Her comment that "we knew everybody in the street" signaled that 'knowing' people was important in belonging to place, because then one was f i rm ly embedded in the fabric of commun ity (Cohen 1 982) . I t a lso conf i rmed that one way people "make sense of their landscape, and develop connections to place" (Basso 1 996:54) 1 33 was through their relationships to people. This confirmed Basso's assertion that "(p) lace-based thoughts commonly lead to thoughts of other things . . . whole networks of associations . . . "( ib id : 55), also borne out by Pamela's reflections about One Tree H i l l . As I noted earl ier, people who l ived in a p lace often . knew i t int imately. They could provide relevant and recogn isable references for thei r l isteners . When Ailsa referred to "Cai rnbrae Maternity Home which is now a backpackers' on Somme Pde" , and Debbie to "a coffee shop opposite the Grand" each assumed that I would be aware of the genera l location of the streets and/or bu i ld ings, because I dwel led and was i nterviewing them i n the same city. Kathy also provided sufficiently detai led ind icators which could have enabled me to f ind particular locations should I visit her chi ldhood environment. There are many possible reasons why some participants p rovided minute detai ls in particu lar locations. For international immigrant part ic ipants, memories of chi ldhood place m ight have been stronger, deeper or more signif icant because they had left those deeply mean ingful locations in teenage or adulthood . . Perhaps 'thick' detai l was important because easy or affordable access was unava i lab le . Those who departed f rom thei r b i rth lands as young chi ldren had engaged in p lace for a shorter period . Roselene's few South African memories and the more detai led Whanganui ch i ldhood memories exh ibited this · contrast. Amongst long-term Whanganui part icipants, part icu larly 'born and breds' , place was layered with ancestral and personal experiences. This was combined with longevity of residence and envi ronmental fami l iarity which enabled them to recal l and remark upon changes. Participants born e lsewhere in Aotearoa New Zealand were often connected to more places than 'born and b reds, ref lecting ancestral , parental or personal mobi l ity . They had strong memories of past locations but the i r comments were more gene ral . Perhaps if participants had been narrat ing their l ives in past locations, or to an interviewer who was fami l iar with them, they m ight have provided more specific detai l . 133 A neglected area o f study (Basso 1 996:54). 1 34 Inscription and action Other practices related to belonging in place included environmental inscript ion, publ ic and private, d ifferent to the excision and inscription I described i n Chapter Six. Objects incorporated into private and publ ic environments revealed local , national and international connections, and included natural and constructed items. I d iscuss next how several participants practiced inscription as they made belonging, and then discuss the use of generic icons in the practice of belonging. Inscription occurred both publ icly, as in city parks and gardens, and privately, as in domestic yards and houses. Like interior inscription , garden inscr iption revealed past and present connections. Some designs and p lantings reflected garden fash ions, but also indicated participant interaction with the physical envi ronment. Several participants embraced it , gathering natural objects during excursions to beaches, rivers, lakes and mountains . They incorporated these found items, l i ke driftwood , shel ls, and rocks, into their gardens, and retained or planted iconic native trees and shrubs, such as ferns, f laxes and the tT or cabbage-tree 1 34 (Leach 1 984) . © June Sheppard Fig 39: Pumice and stones edge June's garden. June gathered pumice 1 35 and stones from local beaches and used them to edge a garden in her rear yard (Fig 39). The pumice from a volcanic area, north of Whanganui had been washed down the river to the coast. I nscribing her personal space with these objects showed June's engagement in the local landscape . I t provided her with a daily reminder of the a rea she dwel led in , and reinforced her awareness of l iving in Aotearoa New Zealand. By b ringing the local , natural envi ronment into private space , she actively created di rect connections to place . The material items recal led a visit to the shore, and rem inded her dai ly of her extended surroundings. 1 34 Ti.kouka (Reed & Brougham 1 978); Cordyline australis (Trees for Survival Trust n .d) . 1 35 A light, frothy volcanic rock which floats (Auckland College of Education 2004). 1 35 Participants also incorporated g ifts and purchased material objects l ike statues, fountains, u rns and planters in their gardens, as in Margaret Mary's photograph below ( Fig 40) . The statue and the l i l ies were g ifts from fami ly members. They reminded Margaret Mary that people loved her, and that she had relationships which existed beyond her dwel l ing space . © Margaret Watt Fig 40: Garden border with statue and Christmas l i l ies. Material objects, weeded borders, and changing seasonal plantings signalled physical labour, c reativity, practical ity, and personal agency. Connections to others were reflected i n material objects and/or plants. Their presence also signa led changes in garden fashions, increased leisure spending, and the g reater avai labi l ity of constructed objects for sale. In 1 950s Aotearoa New Zealand many fam i l ies g rew vegetables and flowers, the former regarded as a femin ine task, the latter a male task. Fewer people g rew thei r own vegetables today although gardening was a major Aotearoa New Zealand leisure pursuit (Leach 1 984) . Orchards and vegetable gardens were no longer domestic essentials since fruit and vegetables can be purchased in supermarkets al l year. Another important aspect of creating and embedding belonging was by planning the garden and engaging in and/or paying for the yard work, particu larly garden maintenance. By g rowing shrubs, flowers, fruit, vegetables and cul inary herbs participants - some with memories of economic hardsh ip , and others i nterested in organic gardening - gained a sense of pride and accompl ishment. They created trai ls through their yards by engaging in active physical labour, gather ing food and/or flowers for fam i ly sustenance and enjoyment, and showing and sharing the resu lts. Having a 'good' garden was a way of gain ing cultural capita l , as in 'everyone knows you always have a good garden' . Sharing provender and walking through the space with friends enhanced connections through shared pleasure, and exchange or g ifts of plants and objects. Many part ic ipants photographed their yards, emphasising f lowering garden beds. Margaret Mary made the garden hers in a way that the house could not be, since she l ived with extended family. She organised or intensive ly tended three or fou r spaces in the yard : flower gardens visible from her seat in the fami ly room, and 1 36 beyond the d in ing room and the herb and vegetable gardens. She and her daughter tended the front flower beds but Margaret took responsibil ity to f ind a person to assist with weeding. "You need a woman. Lynne1 36 and I agreed that men are f ine for taking a chain saw and restoring order. But you need a woman to weed, someone who recognises plants" (my emphasis) . In wanting a woman to maintain her gardens, Margaret manifested embedded habitus, gendered but probably derived from previous unsatisfactory experiences. By h iring an outsider, she p/reserved space for herself and reta ined control over what happened with in it . As the employer, she could d i rect operations, whereas if she asked her daughter, son­ in- law, the nanny, or the ch i ldren to help, it ceased to be space she control led. Ruth J's photographs emphasised the physical labour involved in gardening, reveal ing it as an active p rocess in a way that other images did not. She included photographs of garden produce, footwear for working i n , and tools ready to use (Fig 41 ) . © Ruth Jane Fig 41 : Wheelbarrow and garden tools. She explained, They were just - that was taken because I wanted to show that it isn't j ust the f in ished garden . . . that I love, it 's the working i n the garden as wel l . I l ike to see the f inished garden, but. . . when I 've f in ished doing someth ing , I don't see it the way other people see it . . . 1 see it for the fact that it looks tidy, and that'd be another job to dO . . . 1 l i ke to be there but un l ike many people - my friends say, "Oh, that looks lovely down there by the fishpond . We'd love to have one of those to sit by." But to me you can't sit by it and keep it the way it is. (Mm) . I t has to be worked on . . . 1 enjoy that aspect. . . too. But then, I love to see the plants and th ings growing . . . so I didn't want you to see the garden without the tools . She i nc luded a photograph of flower beds, not because they looked 'pretty' but because they recal led an event. She recal led, " I t was to remind me that Jenn/ 37 1 36 A pseudonym. 1 37 A pseudonym. 1 37 had danced, that was somewhere to dance and she had danced a l l th rough the f lowers." Withi n their domestic spaces participants p racticed belonging through action . By inscrib ing their gardens, and recal l ing events which had occurred withi n these spaces, they created ownersh ip . They had cla imed ownersh ip , and, subsequent ly , belonging, through active engagement. They engaged with the soi l , what g rew above and with in i t , rather than only with the surface, weaving the land ' l i ke a tapestry' from their l ives ( I ngold 2000: 1 50) . They revealed the land "not so m uch a stage . . . or a surface . . . as history congealed" ( ib id) . Part ic ipant practices suggested that "just as kinship is geography, so the l ives of persons and the h istories of the i r relat ionships can be traced i n the textures of the land" ( ib id ) . Thei r photographs demonstrated practice ; the material items left their own marks. And , as Ruth indicated with the photograph which recal led her fr iend dancing between the borders, "place, i n the end, is where h uman events take place. " (Read 2000:23) . Other photographs and comments related to p ubl ic env i ronmental i nscription , sometimes, a t the invitation of the local authority seek ing to emphas ise the city's heri tage, sometimes i nstigated by participants. Beyond g raveyard i nscriptions, one needed certain ski l ls , connections, cu l tura l capital , residential longevity, and occasional ly serend ipity, to be ab le to engage i n pub l ic i nscript ion . Joan B , Ruth G, and Ailsa had suff icient status , derived from b i rth , k in connections, residence, age, ski l l s , and comm itment, to do so . Joan's and Ruth 's i nventories revealed relationships to p lace through pub lic i nscription . 1 38 Ruth included two photographs, one of her standing i n the town square (Fig 42) . © Ruth Gedye Fig 42: R uth G in the town square. She was looking at the Gedye Fami ly plaque. The story she told reiterated the importance of names and extended my understand ing of belonging as she described connections to the past, and events in the present. They had a Gedye fam i ly reunion . . . it's just gone a hundred years since the older generation first came to Wanganui . . . we thought in memory of that . . . we'd put a p laque . . . (t) he re's such a lot of Gedye's and they're al l related. If they've got the name Gedye , they are in the fami ly. (So they're wel l-connected and estab l ished in this area?) Yes they are. Funni ly enough, we had a cal l f rom Austral ia three weeks ago, looking for a Gedye. I t was a Friday night and there was a wedding on the Satu rday morn ing. And she was coming over from Austral ia for the wedding and couldn't come and wanted to ring the people so she rang me . . . it 's amazing what happens, the connections. Another (Fig 43) h ighl ighted her community activities and added community belonging to the layers described above. 1 39 © Ruth Gedye Fig 43: Ruth G creating a palm print for a public sculpture. This is when they had that mu l ticultural peace for all cu l tures. And this g uy had made a monument out of concrete and he wanted people's hands to put in i t . . . 1 said to my daughter . . . " 1 th ink I ' l l go in and do that" . . . 1 went along, and had to press my hand down on this piece of c lay . . . when the whole th ing's f in ished it's going up in f ront of the l ibrary. It wi l l have my name and Westmere/Castlecl iff CW I . 1 38 (Why did you choose to put that?) Wel l , I th ink it's because I 'm a member of the CW I , and I th ink they do so much good i n t he country that i s never ever recorded or spoken about and they raise so much money for other organisations. My group that I belong to , we're only 1 2 members, and I th ink we've only got two under 60. The rest are from 60 to 90 . . . (s)o this is connected with volunteer work, pressing, you know, making the hands . . . 1 thought, 'Wel l , I ' l l j ust put the old ladies on the map if I can." By making her print avai lable for inclusion i n a pub l ic monument, Ruth active ly aff i rmed her belong ing . Her narrative incorporated current fami ly relationships, community involvement and national o rganisational networks. By making her print avai lable for publ ic d isplay , she demonstrated deep belong ing , reiterated by her wi l l ingness to record her presence visual ly in a publ ic place. Her actions signal led belonging at many levels, ancestral and cu rrent, private and publ ic . The effort involved in gathering hundreds of prints, coord inat ing contributors, and then e recting the scu lpture, h igh l ighted the collective natu re of community. The contr ibutors deepened their belonging through inscription of a publ ic ly sanctioned and d isp layed permanent object. Th is h ighl ighted another facet of belonging which some participants signal led as important. 138 Country Women's Institute - an organisation designed to help women take an active part in community life (New Zealand Federation of Women's Institutes Inc Undated). 1 40 I n a simi lar way, reflecting d ifferent ski l ls, Joan signal led her belonging (Fig . 44) . Joan Bullock Morrell Fig 44: Joan B, statue, and chi ldren, at Virginia Lake. Four g roups of school chi ldren spent an afternoon l isten ing to Joan retel l ing the story of Tainu i , 1 39 beside Joan's sculpture (centre) . This combination revealed Joan's scu lptu ral ski l ls , acqu i red i nd igenous knowledge, and her community commitment. I n revealing cross-cultural transmission of knowledge via the scu lpture of an ind igenous mythical f igu re, the image emphasised the complexity of belong ing as multi -stranded and mUlti-faceted. Viewing Joan and the chi ldren with the statue revealed a publ ic ly accessible nodal point where age met youth , ski l l met i nexperience, and mythical ind igenous past met Whanganui present. This event p rovided a gent le introduction to indigenous culture, a more d istant past than the post-settlement events being protested at the Auckland reserve which Pamela described. G iven the Maori preference for conducting the i r own research, which I referred to in Chapter Three, Pakeha tel l ing Maori legends in publ ic could be contentious. Joan's practices, described and discussed below, revealed a wi l l ingness on the part of some Pakeha to engage with Maori and the impact of colon ization. Doing so deepened belong ing to the Aotearoa New Zealand whole. When I showed her a photograph of Moutoa Gardens/Pakaitore (Fig 45) , 1 40 Joan revealed an awareness of cross-cu ltural tensions, recognition of the need to reduce them, and an understanding of her own and other people's perspectives. 1 39 Myth suggests the Maori maiden, Tainui, cried so much over a lost love that her tears formed the adjacent Virginia Lake. 140 An inner city park, Moutoa Gardens, known by some Whanganui River Maori as Pakaitore, became a site of Maori resistance in 1 995 (Robinson 1 995). 1 4 1 © Cherry Novis Fig 45: Moutoa Gardens/Pakaitore. Joan remembered, That's a good, old fami l iar. place . . . They had fish in the ponds. (They had a pond before the statue was there? )That's r ight. That was always there. And there was a statue, one of those cast lead ones. A very, very trad itional statue , with lions spouting a bit of water and what not. . . (which) I a lways loved. It g radual ly d isappeared . . . and left this strange upright and the pond around it. The upright just had a trickle of water . That's all that remained of the sculptu re, for years . . . 1 used to look at it, and think, "Fancy that, that's a l l that's left of it" . . . then there was a photograph in the paper, someone compla in ing . . . one of the reporters said , "Surely someone can do better than this" . . . 1 went to bed that n ight. I always have a pad and pencil by my bed. And I woke up in the m iddle of the night and I had this incredib le pictu re in my m ind , so clear. Al l I had to do was do it . . . 1 rang up the Lions . . . 1 went ahead eventual ly and did it . . . left the pipe . . . the p ipe fed the umbrel la that the ch i ldren were under . . . (t)he Lions he lped me with it , the material and heavy l ifting. And that's where it a l l came from . I had woken up with this clear, clear pictu re and I had not even turned the l ight on. I had written across the page from corner to corner a l l scrawly and scr ibbly and I would not have thought another thing about it, except that I saw the paper with the writing on, and I real ized that was a true insight, that was, to do it . So it was real ly just some chi ldren under the umbre l la in this very domestic scene, so I used my three ch i ld ren (a clock ch imed softly) . . . as models, and my own cat and dog . . . the umbrel la, of course, was the protector , the parent or protective th ing, or the law or the courts, because it was cal l ed 'Protection in Adversity'. And what I was trying to say was that the courts are a protective i nstitution , not necessari ly a punish i ng 1 42 one . . . (t)hat is how I had found the courts . . . protective 1 41 . . . 1 was trying to get that message across instead of this interm inable punishing. Un l ike many women in gendered Aotearoa New Zealand society, Joan, as a sculptor with local ancestry, had the ski l ls, socia l and cultural capita l , and personal connections to inscribe publ ic places, through invitation and at her own suggestion . Using her chi ldren and fami ly animals as models, she inscribed her own and the fami ly's belonging more deeply by making it publ ic . The statue and other Pakeha monuments, some damaged or removed during the 1 995 occupation, were embedded in publ ic and personal memory th rough photographs, experience, and action . The statue's destruction and Joan's memories recal led the polarization of emotions national ly during the occupation. The destruction was rendered more poignant for Pakeha because statues commemorating Maori were not damaged. Many Pakeha regarded the damaged statues as their 'taonga' , and were i ncensed, not only because they were destroyed , but because they were targeted. Some Maori regarded them as a symbol of colonial oppression, and were incensed by their presence. Just as Sokefeld warned against using concepts out of context for comparative pu rposes, it is also dangerous to assume that objects wi l l have the same meanings for al l those who view them. I n the context of One Tree H i l l and Moutoa Gardens/ Pakaitore, the d iffering responses highl ighted d ifferent att itudes towards colonization and the varied readings d iffe rent g roups made of the same objects. Pakeha and Maori perspectives were encapsulated in their own "particular cultural c i rcumstances" (Sokefeld 200 1 ) . Their presence impacted on participant belong ing , rem inding them of an ' idyl l ic' past. Their destruction impacted emotional ly in the p resent. The combination of actions, ancestral and recent, Maori and Pakeha created t rails into the past, and generated new trails in the present. They revealed how d ifferent cultures laid different trai ls because of context and posit ional ity . This leads them to respond to their environments and events ' differently from each other. The commotion surrounding occupation and/or destruction , led to possibly altered understandings, enabl ing progeneration of the future ( I ngold 2000) . Icons Whi le the statues described above were not generically iconic, they cou ld become iconic in time. Several participants visited and recorded a variety of generic and specific iconic sites in their photographic inventories. Iconic objects included smal l natural items l ike pumice, d riftwood , shel ls, native flora and fauna, and some introduced an imals l ike the sheep. Sites were l ike those i n most countries, whe re citizens f requently gather, and/or tou rists visit. They i ncluded natu ral features l ike mountains, and beaches, compel l ing views and secluded sites, constructed items and large natural material objects. The images precip itated several understandings. Some extended the research location and visibly extended 'the world around here' (Geertz 1 996), highl ight ing the ongoing mobi l i ty of Aotearoa New Zealanders. Al l reiterated the importance of the landscape and natu ral environment in Aotearoa New Zealand belonging. Engl ish-born Kathy ind icated her recognition and appreciation of Aotearoa New Zealand icons by photographing the cabbage tree and native fe rns in her yard , and contrasting them with exotic f lowers - giant amaryl l is and sprays of pink orchids (Fig 46). 141 Built on a rise, the courthouse is the only building in the block, except for public toilets. The park appears as if i t is the courthouse grounds. 1 43 © Kathy Olsen Fig 46: Kathy's version of summer and Christmas. " I real ly thought that was a lovely shot w ith the water. I j ust love that p icture. I t's got al l these elements. The colour is l ike a ra inbow . . . and i t 's got the cabbage tree and the punga in it too." When experiences were positive, as was Kathy's pleasure in summer and her garden, participants affirmed locations enthusiastical ly and in deta i l . 1 44 Iconic places sometimes provoked intensely personal memories, as could other, ordinary and not-so ordinary, bui ldings. 142 Yvonne visited and was photographed at a site she used to enjoy visit ing in Wel l ington (Fig 47) . © Yvonne O'Connor Fig 47: Yvonne and Zoe on Mt Victoria in Wel l ington. This is me in Wel l ington with Zoe . . . 1 was on my way to Marlborough. And, because we had Zoe, we needed to go somewhere with a bit of green g rass where she could go to the toi let. And the reason we went up to Mt Victoria . . . is that when I l ived there it was a favourite place. So, because we had a camera, and . . . we had Zoe we went up the h i l l . (Why was that a favourite place in Wel l ington?) I t just - it was just somewhere I used to go with a man in my l ife and, just also, when I got a vehicle, I just used to go up there and sit up there, because you could see that wonderfu l view, and it was really clear. By retu rn ing to place, Yvonne reaffi rmed past belonging as Diane did by revisiting and photographing meaningful bu i ld ings and sites, including schools, houses, places of employment and publ ic bu i ldings. Other participant images embodied national concepts about belonging, most l ikely 'col lectively orchestrated' (Sontag) and embedded through engagement, discourse and publ ic communications. Maori aff i rm belonging by returning to ancestral places. Known as ahi ka, 1 43 it entai ls emplacement and maintenance of relationships with one's home place . 1 44 Yvonne's return ing to a favourite place was not truly ahi ka. I t was simply a favourite place, of which she had fond memories, but lacked the extensive connections of temporal ancestral ties to place . Ahi ka is more complex than simply return ing , but other participants ind icated engagement in a simi lar practice . When I return to my fami ly land i n North land, spend time with fami ly, renewing contacts and 142 Diane's photographs were of buildings and outdoor locations with personal meaning. Each was a mnemonic for personal relationships. 143 'Ahi k§' - the burning of fires, a symbol of the maintenance of land-title by using the land in a particular way. W/h/anganui historian Kahukura Taiaroa described ahi k§ as 'keeping the land warm" by the presence of self, kin or ancestors. 1 44 Cf.Tomlins-Jahnke ( 1 996) for a discussion about M§ori women educators who engage in this practice. 1 45 walk the boundaries, I am regenerating place, restoking my internal f i res, and warming the exist ing connections. Other photographs revealed acceptance of national icons. They i ncluded constructed icons such as the national museum , Te Papa 145 , particular natu ral objects, specific sites and generic locations. Mt Ngaruahoe from a bus window. Ji l l 's photograph of Mt Ngaruahoe taken through the bus window (Fig 48) was an example of a specific iconic location . A keen gardener, J i l l attended a national flower show in a metropolitan centre . She travel led with a g roup and p redicted, correctly, that th is might be her last major out-of-town tr ip. Tak ing the photograph through the window with the ref lections, while the bus was moving , ind icated that J i l l treasured the mountain and what it represented. "I couldn't resist it ," she said. The mountain was one of three in the Tongariro National Park, a World Heritage Site (Department of Conservation n .d . ) . The image contains many features incorporated into the Aotearoa New Zealand imaginary - the great outdoors, wilderness, snowy mountains. Although the photograph revealed J i l l 's sense of belonging to this landscape, the reflections are a reminder of J i l l 's othe r connections. These included the bounded natu re of the journey, her conta inment with in the vehic le, the trave l l ing companions who share her interest, and l ive in the same c ity. 145 Te Papa Tongarewa. the Museum of New Zealand (www.govt.nz 2005). 1 46 Ruth's photographs taken du ring a tr ip to the East Coast were generic (Fig 49) , and reflected an aspect of l ife, the beach , which Aotearoa New Zealanders conceive of as a b i rthright (Carl i n and Jones 1 999 : 1 1 ) . Her narrative included descriptions of being honoured by action and accorded status due to age. Like Joan B, Ruth extended the boundaries of belong ing , cu ltu ral ly as wel l as geograph ically, since her narrative refers to Maori fr iends and practices. Ruth Fig 49: An East Coast Beach. The photograph recorded an ideal of Aotearoa New Zealand l ife, depicting summer, blue skies, and the sea, in a secluded settlement, a place to 'get away f rom it a l l ' , relax, and enjoy a way of l i fe remin iscent of an idyl l ic past. I t 's lovely over there. When I go over . . . a Maori fr iend (makes sure) the whole of Tokomaru Bay knows that the eldest lady he knows wil l be in the district. "And you've got to show her respect," he says. "She's wh ite ." (Now, how do they do that, Ruth?) Last t ime we arrived there I went across the road to go to Russell 's place 1 46, and I was just standing watch ing. About two cars a day might go through. But you do sti l l look, j ust to go across . . . 1 was taken by the arm by a young Maori gentleman who walked me across the road . He said , " I ' l l be here when you come back." And he was . . . 1 think that's wonderfu l . . . ( i )t's an amazing area. Nobody locks doors or windows or anyth ing . One wou ld not take from the other . . . (i)t's very fascinati ng , very, very fascinat ing, very interest ing. I t's the peace and tranqui l l i ty of that place . It's a long way away . . . the beds are made when we arrive, black satin sheets and pi l low cases. So beautifu l . "How do I deserve that?" I asked. "Because I was the oldest lady in Tokomaru Bay," they told me. The sheets were a bit sl idey, but I got used to that. Ruth's narrative h igh l ighted ascription of status, due to age, not always acknowledged in publ ic d iscourse where there is a sense that, not only is age not respected, but disregarded and/or disdained. There was also a subtle warn ing 146 As in other Situations, I have removed the friends' names for privacy. Aotearoa New Zealand is a small place so the friends may be identified by people on the East Coast. 1 47 conveyed by Ruth's fr iend to those with in the community. It h igh l ighted fears that because she was white she m ight be treated rudely, g iven the tensions I have referred to which have occurred between Maori and Pakeha. She was Pakeha, old and valued by her fr iends. Therefore, she deserved the respect of others a wel l . Her narrative emphasised how people could be d rawn into a community, nu rtured th rough their relationsh ips, connections establ ished and belonging not on ly encouraged but actively facil itated. Ruth's narrative impl ied ascribed belonging, born of respect for age, and gained through personal relationships and on-site interaction . She also negated the attitudes some Pakeha have about Maori by asserted , "( i )t's an amazing area. Nobody locks doors or windows or anyth ing. One would not take from the other." Such an understanding could arise only through personal experience, c learly described in Ruth's narrative . Conclusion This chapter explored women's practices of belong ing in and to place/s. Mean ingful 'place' existed in many locations, inc luding b i rth place, a reas of ancestral and personal residence , and travel locations. This could be described as a form of extended geograph ical belonging, l inked to kin and experience. The participants engaged with places from a range of positions and in d iverse ways. Their practices included private and pub l ic inscription , recal l ing ancestra l , personal and environmental connections; historical and cultura l knowledge; embodiment, emplacement and active environmental engagement; recognit ion of simi larit ies to other places; recreation of past places; and response to envi ronmental changes. Belonging was p rogressive , and varied according to t ime, effort, connections and vis ib i l ity. Their belonging incorporated local , national and international connections, some d i rect, others imaginary. Some revealed what could be described as dual belonging, a sense of being at ease, or at home, in two cultures in d ifferent lands. Comparing Whanganu i-born participants, i ncomers and their responses to the envi ronment and i ndigenous engagement revealed that there were many layers and many paths to be longing. Participants with ancestral or k in , through b i rth or marriage, had the strongest in it ial connections, indicating that b i rth assisted in belonging. Un l ike Savage et a l . 's (2005) Manchester study, which suggested that 'locals' did not retain "moral possession over p lace" (Savage et a l . 2005 :30) , Whanganui 'born and breds' , sti l l seemed to have a strong ho ld . Th is did not appear del iberate , but ind icated where Whanganui was in terms of p ractices of belong ing . Many of the participants' practices al igned with Tuan's assertion that people were oriented to the p laces where they spent the most t ime , and that even strange places become fami l iar as we spend more time in them ( 1 977: 1 99) . Even so, being fami l iar with, being born in , or electing to belong was not a lways suff ic ient to establ ish belonging. Temporal longevity assisted i n developing attachments, increased one's knowledge and usually deepened belong ing . Having ancestral connections and lengthy residence usually enhanced cultural and social capita l , enabl ing some part icipants to take opportun ities to inscribe the publ ic landscape. ( In addition, education and experience in and about place, through action and engagement extended and deepened belong ing . ) Through environmental and cultural engagement, participants revealed 'home' as a physica l , social and emotional space , a s ite of resistance and personal agency, and "an important locale with in which (to) negotiate their daily l ives" (Giddens 1 984, as cited in Munro and Madigan 1 999: 1 07) . This was evident in part icipant responses to what they perceived as assaults upon the i r belonging. Through the i r responses to, and descriptions of ind igenous occupations, and/or environmental alteration, participants revealed "social and pol it ical processes of place making . . . (where) embodied practices . . . shape(d) identities and enable(d) resistances" (Gupta and Ferguson 1 997:6) . They were forced to confront the impact 1 48 of colon ization as a result of these indigenous actions . They also revealed how indigenous people were engaging in place and enabl ing their own resistances. This combination ind icated an altering pol it ical habitus in Aotearoa New Zealand. As Pakeha people l ive longer in this land, and develop an understanding of, or engage with , Maori practices, they appeared to be establ ishing a deeper level of belonging. Their practices in place l inked them inextricably to the envi ronment through thei r knowledge of other cultures and an awareness of, and continuation of the practices which their ancestors had engaged in , including pride in physical labour, ach ievement and creativity. I continue this discussion in the next chapter, but focus instead on how connections to people in a place can deepen belonging whi le the reactions of 'born and b reds' can enhance or reduce it. 1 49 Chapter Eight Community Engagement It's nice to meet people on your home social level, because you do relate differently. . . it's about giving of ourselves, and accepting and receiving what other people a re like and what they've got to offer. Roselene Introduction Whi le fam il iarity with p lace enables belong ing , and b i rth can enhance i t , interpersonal relationships a re vital i n belonging . I n W hanganu i , the attitudes, concerns and actions of longer-term residents could impact on part ic ipant belonging, positively and negatively. In the previous chapter, I d iscussed how long-term residents and i ncomers engaged with the environment to create a layer of belonging. In this chapter, I describe and discuss how several incomers actively engaged i n Whanganui l ife, and formed 'new kinds of sol idarit ies' ( Savage et al . 2005:53) . I also review what factors cou ld u nsettle or i mpede belong ing . Progressions The you nger a part ic ipant was when they arrived in W hanganu i , the more readi ly their belonging progressed, even when they had no control over the move . They were i nstantly i ntroduced to part icular commun it ies through school attendance. Their subsequent engagement with the environment enabled them to make rapid associations with people and p lace. Some youthful i ncomers reca l led experiencing homesickness, resentment, a nger and/or reSignation about moving . Roselene, whose parents moved for pol it ical reasons and to be c loser to kin, appeared to have accepted the move, perhaps because she was young, not qu ite six years old. Diane was e leven years old when her father relocated for business opportun it ies. "(We) came from Wel l ington . I l ived in the middle of the city. I left a l l my fr iends behind. I th ink I cried every n ig ht for the f i rst month I was here . " After that she made fr iends, and settled down. Pamela's father relocated on promot ion. Aged fifteen, Pamela took longer to sett le . She related the changes she experienced, and the emotional reactions she experienced as a result of relocation. Her narrative also demonstrated how individuals can f i rst feel a l ienated; and then, slowly, develop belong ing , moving along a continuum as they become more fami l iar with people and environmen t (Kohn 2002) . When I arrived i n Wanganu i i n the m iddle of my f i ft h form year . . . 1 had to go . . . to a co-ed schoo l . 147 I was terrified at f i rst because I had had noth ing to do with boys . . . (i)t was also a totally different environment. I m ean, I had to b ike past sheep to get to school . 148 I wondered what on earth I'd struck. I a lso came across a far more sophisticated g roup of kids. They were having parties, They were actual ly dr ink ing alcohol . . . the i r parents were p roviding . I t abso lutely horrif ied me, . . (m)y fifth form year was pretty quiet. Then I jo ined up with - I was a G i rl G uide before I came down . . . Mum got me into Rangers again.149 I met up with a group of kids who weren 't actually drinking . . . that made me a bit more comfortable. It took me a long time to make friends because . . . the kids in Wanganui had all got their friends. They had their own little clique, and it took a long time to sort of feel comfortable . . . 1 made the odd friend, but not really any . . . very close friends, not a group of friends. It wasn 't until the following year 147 Pamela had attended a prestigious state girls' school. 148 She was accustomed to using publ ic transport 149 Guides New Zealand, a member of the World Association of Girl Guides and G irl Scouts (Guides New Zealand 2000) . 1 50 when I joined the library staff at High School that I actually made a group of real friends, a m ixed g roup that actual ly hung out togethe r and did al l sorts of things together. (My emphasis) Adults might anticipate that, at the age of fifteen, making friends would be straightforward. Pamela h ighl ighted the strangeness of being a newcomer. She described a rural environment that contrasted with the city and rode a bicycle instead of on the bus. Whi le this provided new freedoms, because she did not know people, she could not take advantage of having her own transport. The difficu lt ies she experienced in b reaking into social c i rcles were also remarked on by adult incomers. Joan G i l lum inated why this m ight be. She reflected, "If people have been together a long, long time they a l l seem to be in comfortable connections with each other. They think you a re a bit odd." Other income rs also expressed frustration at what they perceived as the entrenched attitudes of those they regarded as locals. There was a perception that Wanganui ' locals' retained "moral possession over place" (Savage et al . 2005: 30) . Joan G elaborated , The friends I've made, the close friends here . . . they're not Wanganui people. I can remember qu ite a few years ago meeting a lady and we used to chat occasionally and she came from the South Island too. And she said , a lady said to her one day, "How are you getting on here?" And she said , "Oh , a bit l ike this, you know, oh, a l l r ight." And this lady said , " I ' l l tel l you something. You 'll make friends, and they'll be good friends. But they won't be Wanganui people." (Why is that, Joan, because that's been my experience pretty much, as wel l? ) I don't know what it is . You only go so far. They won't look at you . They get terribly interested in their feet. They won't look at a stranger very often . . . (d)on't get me wrong. I met some very nice people here . : . ( I t's) just that - and other people have said this too - you can have them to your home numerous t imes, but you don't get invited back. (And you feel, wel l . . . ?) What is it about me? They don't l ike me . . . (y)ou 've got to draw people in . . . (w)e were always taught, not taught . . . (m)y parents did it. And they were complete strangers in the country. (But they showed you how, didn't they?) They must've . . . because I do tend to draw people i n . (My emphasis) Joan recal led her own experiences , and noted discussions with other incomers about Wanganu i 'born and breds' . She argued that people who left home, and returned, changed in the process, becoming more welcoming to outsiders than those who had a lways stayed home. She highl ighted a d ifferent habitus, constructed through contact with other people and other places. Recal l ing her parents' practice of drawing people in, she ind icated that she too had learned about how to inc lude others through observing parental practice. Her narrative revealed that belonging could be processual , because she was "not taught. My parents did it" (my emphasis) . They 'showed' her how. This emphasised how conduct could be transmitted intergenerational ly through example . She also ensured that I understood her comments were reflective , not boastfu l . I expand on aspects of not belonging in Chapter Eleven. Below I discuss other factors which enhanced or enabled belonging. 1 5 1 Generation When Pamela described relocating in Whanganu i , she a lso described the practices young income rs could i nvolve themse lves in to develop relationships. W ith parental support, she d rew on past activities, Guides. Her own enthusiasm led to her involvement in a new activity, the l ibrary. Both measures introduced her to other people and enabled her to develop relationships within different groups. In time , she establ ished her own l i nks, and developed community knowledge and a h istory. She could c la im belonging through education , environmental engagement and knowledge, employment, marrying in , bearing and raising chi ldren , and visible commun ity i nvolvement . These factors extended her relat ionships, enabled a more thorough understanding of Whanganu i , provided int imate envi ronmental knowledge, and introduced her to a range of residents. Knowledge of cu ltural codes most l ikely assisted. Even so, she ventured, "(Whanganui) d idn't real ly feel l ike home unt i l I had my chi ldren ." Like others, her ch i ldren provided the catalyst for choosing active ly to belong. Savage et a l . emphasized the role mothering can play in enabl ing women to 'attach' to a commun ity. They asserted that "mothe ring . . . demands the performance of appropriate activities on the behalf of chi ldren . . . ( it) is . . . a key device invit ing women" to sett le. They argued that this "reinforce(d) the process of e lective belonging itself with its disdain for locals and transients. I ncoming mothers . . . talk(ed) about their chi ldren as a resource in narrating their belong ing to their place of residence" (2005:57) . They argued that respondents described "how having ch i ldren enabled (them) to feel as if (they) belong(ed) to a commun ity" ( ibid) . The networks were transient and frequently dissolved when the ch i ldren moved on ( ib id :59-60) . By insert ing themselves into a nodal point , l ike school or church , the Whanganu i women simi larly extended their contacts, and establ ished other paths to belonging. Their actions .reflected Berne's ( 1 964) concept of f inding social g roups which accept us. None of the Whanganui participants 'disdained' the locals or transients, even though several found it difficult to 'break in ' to existing groups. June's experience of relocating to Whanganu i in her seventies was very positive. This part ly highl ighted the value of agency when making l ife-altering decisions. Several factors promoted her belong ing . Firstly, she had prior knowledge of Whanganui , gained through marrying in - "my husband l ived here as a boy". Secondly, she visited the area with her husband after World War I I and had kept a photographic record of their visit. Thirdly, she renewed contact with h is ch i ldhood friends. Fourthly she had immediate kin l iving in the city. She remarked, Belonging - I have had that feel ing ever s ince I 've come here. I've made friends. People wanted to be friends. We fitted in. I have family here. My son has moved here. He's l iv ing at Castlecl iff. My other son in Tauranga and his wife have a land agent looking. They could end up l iv ing here too. (My emphasis) Other women found s imi lar factors enhanced their belonging , especial ly in 'making friends' . June's positive attitude was probably an intangib le but additional ly helpful factor in ' (p)eople want( ing) to be friends'. She, Joan H and Margaret Mary a lso h igh l ighted the value of neighbourl iness, friendship , g roup membersh ip , and community involvement as factors which enabled them to feel more sett led. Joan H and Ruth G added home ownership into the equation. Since Joan H arrived in Whanganui over 40 years ago, the fami ly had developed relationships, bonds and history through visib le commitment and continued involvement. Her narrative incorporated s imi lar actions to Pamela's. As an adult , she had relocated frequently but had an extensive range of connections avai lable through her husband and her ch i ldren . She described the decision to move from the South Is land as positive , because their extended fami ly l ived in the North I sland. This paral leled the behaviour of young Aotearoa New Zealand-born travelers , who retu rn 'home' to be nearer to kin and friends (Lidgard 1 997) . 1 52 Joan recal led, Well the main thing was . . . al l our parents . . . and all our fami l ies were in the North Island . So we real ly felt qu ite isolated down there . . . (w)e were pleased to get back to the North I sland because it was so much easier to get to our fr iends and our relations in Hawke's Bay. (That sti l l feels l ike home?) It must be the famil iarity, probably . . . I 've got friends there that I visit , and after I 've been there a whi le , I go and see the . . . h i l ls from my other sister's. I t's the small town, I th ink . . . there's only the one long main street, but it's surprising, you know. I can walk up the main street and not see a soul I know, now. And yet, I sti l l l i ke going there . . . (o)nce we'd settled down and Col in had got h is new job . . . we felt as though we had come home . . . we real ly feel as if we' l l never leave here . . . (y)ou know, when we sh ifted , we'd had ten houses in our f i rst ten years of married l ife. Joan and her fami ly a lso engaged in community activities. This was an important move in developing belong i ng . Church g roups, sporting activit ies, and organisations l inked to the chi ldren's education were included. S ince I was married . . . yes, every time we moved that was one of the things we did. Go to church, to try and meet people. It's surprising how hard it is when you shift to another place. You have to work twice as hard to get to know people . . . You 're not accepted straight away. (My emphasis) After her husband changed employers, We never looked back. That's when we felt as though we'd come home, because we bought our own home . . . we were two doors from the Bennetts and the Gray's were over the back. So we were sort of one b ig happy family, and we just fe l t as though we'd come home, just by doing that. ·Mind you , it took the chi ldren a while to sett le down. But I 'd say they were happy in Wanganui . Joan H described join ing other g roups when her daughters were older, extending her community l i nks, and expanding fam i ly belonging. I went to Scottish Country dancing . . . My two girls went too . . . We had that in common . I started golf . . . (t)he chi ldren were sti l l at school then . . . (n)ow I work in the op shop once a month .. . it's a real rag shop. And (we) do meals-on-wheels once a month. Or, if we're called , we do extra, because they are short at the moment, and I 'm treasurer for the Women 's Fel/owship . . . that involves two meetings . . . I'm in a house group. It's sort of a Bible Study House Group . . . Colin and I do the readings at church three times a month . . . and I garden and (play) bowls. I try to walk but I haven 't got time. (My emphasis) Joan's narrative reflected Pamela's and June's. Al l engaged d i rectly in a range of community activit ies, some of necessity, l ike school for Pamela; others for pleasure, l i ke golf for Joan; and to assist the community, l ike delivering meals-on­ wheels. While chi ldren could be a resou rce in "narrating belonging to (a mother's) place of residence" ( ib id:57) , relocating with older chi ld ren did not seem to p rovide the same openings, as Margaret Mary found. She recalled neighbours as crucial in it ial contacts. She described the impact of pol itical encouragement, 1 50 and social acceptance for women working, as factors wh ich had d imin ished neighbour l iness. For her, belonging was g radual . . . (w)hen we fi rst came to Wanganui there were only a 1 50 I n February 2005, the Prime Minister, Helen Clark, announced a programme to encourage women with children to work (Taylor 2005). 1 53 few . . . Iadies we saw on a regu lar basis, ou r neighbours . But one of them came along one day and said, "Would you like to come and have a cup of tea with us next week? I said, "Oh , that wou ld be n ice. I 've gotten my mother with me." "That's a l l r ight," she said . "Bring her." We had our neighbours from across the roads, and both s ides. It was lovely. That's sort of how we got to know them . . . (i)n Auckland, I got to know my neighbours because my children went to school . . . that's how you get to know people, when your children are (primary) school age. You help with galas and things . . . (b)ut (neighbours) don 't seem to visit. . . 1 find ... weJl, fairly recently, I think it's because such a lot of people go to work. For instance, I can walk down Bullock Drive in the daytime, and I don 't see a soul. . . 1 th ink they're a l l work ing , though there must be some elderly people. I k now there's an elderly gent leman down there . I stopped and talked to h im one day . . . ( b )ut you do have to make a n effort to tal k . . . to them. They're fr iendly enough . . . (w)e don 't have such a connected community. (What do you do that makes you sti l l feel a part of the p lace?) I suppose i t's j ust, wel l , because I know people now, and I know where my fr iends are. I don't feel isolated or anyth ing . (My emphasis) Her reflections reiterated Savage et a l . 's (2005) argument that mother ing impacts on belonging , but perhaps only with ch i ldren of a certain age. They a lso noted that the mothering networks were transient , and often d issolved beyond prima ry school leve l . Margaret Mary h igh l ighted how social change cou ld reduce commun ity contact, and how isolation was reduced when one mainta ined ongoing relationshi ps with k in and friends. I n Chapter E leven , I discuss how Margaret Mary sensed her belonging a ltering due to i l l -health. Her later comments about i t be ing d ifficu l t to meet local residents showed how socia l change could impact negatively on older residents. Accustomed to performing belonging in part icu lar ways, when changes occurred older people were forced to f ind new ways to belong . Margaret Mary and her age cohorts solved the p roblem by contin uing to meet social ly , forma l ly and i nformal ly , and through involvement i n commun ity activit ies. Whi le Margaret Mary i ndicated a reduction in neighbourhood interaction , Joan B revealed a possib le adaptat ion . He r invento ry i nc luded several photographs of neighbours sharing a festive meal (Fig 50) . They inc luded members of Whanganui 's mult i-cultura l commun ity. The gather ing indicated that neighbourly sharing might have evolved to accommodate women working and parent ing by schedu l ing the gathering for the even ing rather than du ring the day. 1 54 © Joan Bullock Morrell Fig 50: Sharing a pre-Christmas meal. Doing so enabled them to celebrate the festive season together before fami ly demands took over. The evidence d id not preclude the possib i l ity that s imi lar gatherings may have occurred in ear l ier eras, but indicated that neighbourly engagement conti nued . I t also proved the continued existence of smal l , interactive , neighbourhood col lectives. Changes in employment practices with more householders, particu larly women, engaging in paid employment, appeared to have a flow-on effect, as d iscussed above. Margaret Mary mourned the reduction in community cohesion , partly because of the fee l ings of isolation it engendered. Her comments suggested she no longer rel ied on neighbours for social contact, or support. She emphasized the benefits for older people in joining or maintain ing l i nks with establ ished g roups. Doing so mainta ined belonging, and reduced personal isolation. Margaret Mary's sense of belong ing was also strongly l i nked to k in . She felt l inked to the community through the fam i ly , saying , 'With the g randchi ldren it's nice because, wel l , you're l iving with them, and you l ive the i r l ives in lots of ways, through them." The strength of these bonds was evident in her photographic inventory. Images included her granddaughter's b i rthday 'with the chi ldren' at home; the decorated Christmas tree , her grandson's cardboard box models, and the fami ly 'bottoms up' i n the swimming pool (Fig 51 ) . 1 55 Margaret Fig. 51 : Instal l ing a backyard swimming pool . Instal l ing the swimming pool i nvolved fami ly members, young and old , and some neighbours, but only ch i ld ren . "They put water into it and smoothed i t out. They looked so funny, al l bottoms up. I th ink even the l itt le g i rls from next door were there," Margaret Mary said . Her comment revealed a rather wry Aotearoa New Zealand sense of humour. The photograph demonstrated fami ly involvement i n constructing an item for col lective enjoyment. Their mutual engagement in physical labour enhanced their bonds th rough joint envi ronmental i nscription, and shared ach ievement in completing the task. Ongoing interactions, arising from shari ng the pool with family, friends and neighbours, were l ike ly to fu rther expand belong ing . Participants disclosed other factors which assisted in progressing their belonging. In June's narrative, the d i rect, practical intervention of a formal contact, her real estate agent, opened unexpected doors. Other incomers have noted how simi lar interventions enabled them to develop belonging more rapidly. June recal led, I went along to League of Mothers . . . 1 thought . . . "th rough them , 1 ' 1 \ make contacts and friends." But my land agent. . . this was in February, said, "Do you play bridge ?" I said, "No, but I like cards " . . . (s)he said, "Well, there 's a Bridge Club just round the corner. They've got learners ' lessons coming up in May" . . . in May she rang me again. I thought she went the extra mile . . . 1 went along. I learned to play Bridge . . . l 've made a lot of friends through Bridge . . . 1 play private ly once a week in a g roup . . . 1 sti l l feel Hami lton's my home . . . but now that I 've come to Wanganu i , because I 've known about it for so long, and heard about it. . . (My emphasis) As an older incomer, June's narrative h igh l ighted the importance of continuing engagement in fam i l iar activities. The insider's efforts in aSSist ing June to engage more deeply in the community was an important and valuable factor in deepening June's Whanganui belonging. June's practices contained elements of elective belonging but her belonging was also ascribed and/or accepted. This has been researched in other contexts (Mars 1 999) . Whanganui part icipants also ind icated that i ncomers sometimes had to 1 56 make a conscious effort to accept belonging when it was ascribed, or offered. Ruth J and I were discussing the CoF one day when I said, "I th ink it almost doesn't matter what you do, if you don't have that sense inside yourself of being accepted by the people here." Ruth agreed . That's right . . . and it has to be you that works at it to do it. Nobody can do it for you. Coming into the g roup, I felt l ike an outsider for qu ite (a whi le ) , even when they . . . asked me if I 'd l ike to run as president. I thought well, that's funny really . . . because I don 't belong to this group properly yet. (So what changed it?) I think it was me making . . . the decision that I did belong to the group. (My emphasis) For Ruth , acknowledging and accept ing belonging fol lowed ascription. Like others before her, Ruth then decided she did belong . This does not seem to be l ike elective belonging. Although Ruth chose to relocate to Whanganu i , belonging did not real ly occur unti l she felt herself accepted, and included, by longer-term residents. She then accepted be longing, rather than choosing , earl ier , to belong. Being invited by ' locals' to engage in community activities enhanced June's and Ruth J's belonging. Both invitations occurred in what were relatively publ ic arenas. Another practice which enhanced incomer belonging was being invited into residents' homes. This was ind icated in personal inventories, which included photographs of people working , volunteering, eating, playing or praying together. Several included celebrations l i ke Christmas, chi ldren's and adults' b i rthday parties, regu lar fam ily gatherings, and community activities. Domestic celebrations, such as these , generally requ i re invitations, and pre-plann ing . Participants regarded enterta in ing, or be ing entertained, in private homes as a valuable way of getting to know others better. When long-time res idents, incomers or not, went beyond what was perceived as the accepted habitus, and actively included other incomers in invitations, incomer belong ing was enhanced . Most part icipants emphasised the importance of accepting such invitations. Roselene reiterated the value of making such invitations. I t's only by inviting people into your home that you real ly get to know them, only by being in your house in your own environment. Perhaps you let your guard down . . . 1 th ink it's nice to meet people on your home social level , because you do relate d ifferently. By getting to know people, and getting that sense of belonging, you can fol low up on thi ngs. I think it's al l about giving of ourselves, and accepting and receiving what other people are l ike , and what they've got to offe r. When Margaret Mary celebrated her 80th bi rthday at home, she included CoF members as guests. By doing so, she stepped outside usual Friends' practice. Several participants commented favourably. They had rarely been invited to other members ' homes. When they had invited people to their own homes, they had felt hu rt when no return invitation eventuated. They attributed this absence to resident shyness, and/or to their having so many existing contacts that they had neither need nor time for more. Being invited into a person's home - their personal , private space - signaled a wi l l ingness to reduce personal boundaries, to engage more deeply, and to reveal more than was visible through casual publ ic contacts. I t a lso sign ified caring and concern for others, an embedded aspect of social habitus. The lack of a return invitation suggested a lack of cari ng , just as not accepting an invitation indicated a reluctance to engage further , or develop a relationsh ip. Ruth G confirmed that being invited to special occasions enhanced belonging. Of an invitation to a fr iend's wedd ing , she said , "It makes you feel as if you are belong ing." Kathy remembered, "I started working so I met heaps of people and was invited out and invited them back home. (So that's something that's important too, inviting people back?) Yes." June indicated the value of being invited to join others in external activities because it enabled belonging to continue through maintenance of existing 1 57 relationships. I t could also boost self-esteem. She had expected to have a qu iet 2004 winter. Because I 've had no car, I made no arrangements to play Bridge this winter. But people have asked me to sub, and I 've p layed about eight t imes. We're i n the paper." She showed me the news cl ipping. " I 've played with d ifferent people. (Perhaps we recognise belonging when the local newspaper pri nts our names as successfu l ) . "I hadn't thought of that. I thought I 'd show it to the family so they know I 'm not on the shelf . She chuckled, adding that several invitations were f rom men . Such invitations enhanced belong ing because (b)elonging is a feeling that you are sti l l worthwhi le . I t gives you a boost (when people seek you out) . You don't get depressed . You don't feel , "Oh, nobody loves me." You feel i ncluded. I imagine that if you were on the outer it would be a horrible feeling. I often wonder why I have been accepted because I don't always feel worthwh i le . One half of me is shy. On the other, I ' l l do things, and put myself forward . Exclusion As June indicated above, not belong ing was undesi rable , and could cause unhappiness. Being excluded ind icated a lack of acceptance , and d im inished belonging. Participants identified several practices as exclusionary . Some were specific, others were generic. Actions which d isabled belong ing included not being welcomed, o r being actively and d i rectly excluded, as in 'We're having a party. But you ' re not i nvited ." One of the reasons that this sort of statement hu rt so much was that those uttering it had stepped outside the accepted habitus. Usual ly, a lack of invitation was not expressed d i rectly, but committed through om ission (Visweswaran 1 994). People usually learned of their exclusion after, rather than before, the event. I t was sti l l h u rtfu l , and could lead to extreme reactions. Amanda commented, "You know you belong when you get included. If fr iends leave you out, and don't invite you to things, you don't belong." When I asked Amanda how not belonging could make people fee l , she responded, "Suicidal ." Her mother, sister and I stared a t her, shocked, because speaking l ightly about suicide i s not appropriate. Returning our start led gaze, she emphasized, " I 'm joking," and then described emotions simi lar to those June had mentioned. "(Not belonging makes you feel) unhappy, lonely, m iserable . You th ink , 'What the hel l d id I do wrong?" You feel confused, because you don't know what you d id , that they're not lett ing you in . You wonder why they behave l ike that, when you thought you did belong. " Although other participants described episodes, or moments, of feel ing unwanted or unneeded, these were usually short-l ived . When they persisted, participants described fee l ing al ienated. One explained , I am probably not your best subject. I have never felt I be longed here in Wanganu i , never ever . People said, "It's a very fr iendly place etc . They a re , up to a point. I think it's a two-way th ing. We probably got off on the wrong foot . . . (b)ut maybe this isn't for recording . I turned off the camera and l istened to her story of del iberate exclusion. The insensitivity of the people involved astounded me. I asked, (When you say 'Wanganui people' what do you' mean?) "The 'born and b reds' here . I have been here a long t ime. But in al l that t ime, only one Wanganui person has ever said, "Come with me. We're going to do so and so. Would you l i ke to come?" I have some good fr iends but Wanganui people say, the following day, "I went out with my mates" . But they never ask you . I have got good fr iends but they a re not Wanganui 'born and breds' . Wanganui people cannot branch out. In the street, they don't look at you . They cannot deal with outsiders . I f someth ing d id 1 58 not go into the computer, (she tapped her head ) , when they were young, they cannot deal with outsiders. I th ink I make them feel uncomfortable. Another participant described her experience of rejection, equally hurtfu l . The episode had emphasised the impermanence of community involvement and employment, and roused a feel ing of insecurity. Being part of the commun ity and working as I do . . . even that doesn't feel one hundred per cent safe. I 've just had an experience where I was rejected , so I am never completely confident that I wi l l be kept on. I have experience and expertise but someone might come along with more enthusiasm, so they're (the jobs) are not permanent. These comments ind icated that belonging could be f lu id , and could be impacted upon negatively by d i rect and indi rect actions, collective and individual . Belonging ebbed and flowed not only according to personal, vis ib le, demonstrated commitment to the col lective , but according to the commitment the collective was p repared to make to ind ividuals. The participant experiences h ighl ighted how acceptance or rejection, fr iendl iness and standoffishness, could faci l itate or d isable belonging. They suggested certain practices enabled, and othe rs precluded, belonging. I cont inue this d iscussion in Chapter Eleven , combined with participant reflections about belong ing . Conclusion Part icipant practices discussed in th is chapter reflected Aotearoa New Zealand habitus, a desi re to belong , and the concept that people 'ought' to belong. I have described practices which participants paid heed to, or engaged in , and which they revealed as enhancing and/or enabl ing , or reducing and/or d isabl ing belonging. Factors which assisted belonging, and often caused participants to make decisions about where they would dwel l , related to geographical p roximity of k in ; marrying in , usual ly lead ing to increased connections through spousal relationships; relocating with spouse or parents, and developing a history through education , or longevity of residence, combined with active engagement in community activities; and/or having ch i ldren . Credence was g iven to engagement i n activities which enabled the growth of interpersona l connections. These included paid employment, recreational , leisure and community-oriented activities, with the associated development of personal commun ities of interest. Such involvement enabled the creation , extension , and/or maintenance of contacts. I n t ime, it led to the establ ishment of personal networks. As Savage et a l . (2005) asserted, ch i ldren often provided the incentive for younger women to 'put down roots' . Some participants included property ownership as an important aspect of belonging . Others reiterated the importance of f inding amenable col lectives, and the importance of visit ing several groups to f ind what best suited oneself. Changes in social p ractices a ltered the t iming of but not necessari ly the p ractices which enabled belonging. W ith more women engaging in paid employment , the level and t iming of neighbourhood contacts had a ltered, often reducing, or moving gatherings from day-time to evening. In the suburbs, earl ier habits of join ing ne ighbours casually for morn ing or afternoon tea appeared to have d im in ished. I t was replaced by pre-arranged gatherings of friends. Earl ier customs of attending formal church, rec reational or le isure meetings continued . Women in paid employment, particularly those with chi ld ren l iv ing at home, had less leisure t ime. Their social exchanges more l ikely occurred at work, during office hours, and staff morning and afternoon breaks. These part icipants often maintained contact with former colleagues and friends through emai l , telephone conversations, occasional evening 'catch-ups', or through pre-arranged visits. Paid employment extended participant belonging into a more publ ic arena but appeared to have resulted in reduced belong ing to the residential neighbourhood . For most participants , their 1 59 personal space, and the privacy of home and yard remained important . Not belongi ng was a negative exper ience for several part icipants. Some noted that when personal attempts to engage within g roups were rejected or stymied before they began , belonging became elusive , or d iff icu l t to establ ish. I d iscuss th is aspect in more deta i l Chapter E leven . In the next chapter, I d iscuss codes of conduct and the ways in which knowledge of these can fac i l itate belonging , focusing on a part icular code of hospital ity, that of 'taking tea' . 1 60 Chapter N ine Codes of hospital ity Good news, let's have a cup of tea. Bad news, let's have a cup of tea. Waiting for news, let's ha ve a cup of tea. Kathy Introduction Knowledge of cultural codes is an important factor in enabl ing belonging. Hospital ity is a concept contained in most cu ltures and discussed in d ifferent contexts. Offering and accepting hospital ity demands certain cultural knowledge, including how to behave, dress, converse , and recognise the cu ltural signals. I t often involves p roviding and accepting food, dr ink, comfort and company. One also needs to understand what is being offered beyond food and d rink , and to understand the requ i rements and responses which may vary according to context. This chapter focuses on everyday codes of hospital ity in Aotearoa New Zealand culture focusing on a specific code, 'taking tea' . 1 51 F i rstly, I d iscuss what hospitality means in genera l ; secondly, I provide a brief history about 'taking tea' and its r ise in popularity; and, thirdly, I outl ine the codes and practices around 'taking tea' in Aotearoa New Zealand culture. Hospita l ity Hospital ity is offered in most, if not a l l , cultures and d iscussed i n a variety of contexts (Park 1 99 1 ; Shostak 1 990; Threadgold 2000). It is practiced and experienced at many levels, in private and publ i c , in pairs , groups and collectives. The food and drink offered m ight differ, but general ly codes of hospital ity act l ike 'guiding wal ls' (Serpentina 2004) . They serve functions simi lar to those of orig in narratives, wh ich I discussed in Chapter Five. 'Hospital ity' may be defined simply as "the fr iendly and generous reception and enterta inment of guests or strangers" (D. Thompson 1 995:656) . Although one might be supplying the same sorts of items as one p rovides to those in need, 'need' impl ies "stand( ing) in want of , requ i r( ing ) , e .g . a new coat, a glass of water" ( ib id :9 1 1 ) . Providing what a person needs as opposed to provid ing hospital ity requ i res engagement on a different leve l . Fi l l ing a need can imply p roviding the basics without developing a relationship. Provid ing, and responding to, hospitality usual ly demands meaningful engagement, even if an ongoing relationsh ip is not pursued. Sometimes, codes of hospitality appear as if they are t raditions. They are l inked to the past through h istory, practice, use of material objects, and custom. Codes of hospitality incorporate routines, may occur at specific t imes in part icular spaces and places, and before , during, and after ritual events. They can seem a l ittle l i ke ritua l , if one fol lows Gluckman's ( 1 962) a rgument that ritual was a way of managing social relations. I n industrial society, ritual was less concerned with the sacred than in pre-industrial subsistence societies. Incorporated in a range of social relat ionships, ritual could be viewed on a conti nuum, with re l igious acts at one extreme and social etiquette at the other. (Gluckman 1 962) . Hospital ity provides a way of managing social relationships. I t also offers emotional and physical nourishment, and a means for engaging with others. Behaviour is often proscribed and involves performativity, enactment and embodiment of cultural practices. Knowledgeable engagement in cultural codes p rovides another path to belonging, another twist in the rh izomatic f ib re . Hesitant interaction is welcomed, because it demonstrates a desire to be more intensely i nvolved. This signals a desire to belong. Refusal to engage implies unwi l l i ngness to extend a relationship 151 Although I refer to 'taking tea', similar processes are involved and emotions aroused when people share othe r forms of hospitality, drinks and food. 1 61 and may be read as reject ion. I next p rovide b rief h istorical i nformation about 'tak ing tea' and i ts development as a Brit ish tradit ion , after wh ich I discuss 'tea taking ' and its imp l ications in belonging. Tea h istory Finding h istorical i nformation about 'taki ng tea' was straightforward with extensive mater ia l ava i lab le from nat ional tea boards, museums and l ibraries. 1 52 I n the ethnograph ic context, less d i rect material seemed d irectly ava i lable a l though many ethnographers referred to codes of hospital ity (lavie 1 990 ; Panourgia 1 995; Peters 1 990) . Peters described the importance that Bedou in attributed to 'eat ing together'. They regarded i t as a way of developing strong, ongo ing bonds, and providi ng fe l lowsh ip and p rotection ( ib id : 1 90) . lavie detai led Mzeina hospita l i ty protocols, inc lud ing exchanging 'hugs and k isses- in-the-a i r g reet i ngs' , p rovis ion of food, t imely s i lences and conversation ( 1 990: 1 72- 1 73). Kato explored the 'wel l ­ researched' Japanese tea ceremony as i t pertained to women's empowerment i n modern Japan (2004:preface) . I n the Aotearoa New Zealand context, women's sto ries were the most l i kely to contai n images and references to 'tak ing tea' and p rovid ing food ( Ba rker 2000; Herda 1 990; Reid 1 999) . This probably h igh l ighted the gendering of food preparation i n the domestic context. I t seemed to reinforce Daley's content ion that women and men focus on d ifferent aspects of the same events and report events different ly ( 1 998 ) . A l though I focus on 'tea tak ing ' , hospitality inc luded providing a wide range of food and dr inks , and associated comfort. D ri nks could be hot, cold , alcohol ic or soft. Food inc luded snacks, l ig ht meals and lavish d inners. Extend ing and accepti ng an invitation was an i ndicat ion of wi l l i ngness to become i nvolved. Refusal to offer or accept an i nvitation cou ld be read as a reject ion from either party. Sometimes, not offer ing hospital ity, o r dec l i n i ng i t when offered, was regarded as transgress ing cultura l mores (McNeish 1 994:personal communication) . Although I nd ia claimed to be the largest producer of tea i nternational ly , tea cu l tivation and d rink ing was regarded as or ig inating in China over 4500 years ago. D ri nk ing tea became popular at every socia l level from the Ch inese cou rt to commoners. Eventua l ly, tea drink ing became popu lar elsewhere in Asia and Eu rope (Pett igrew 200 1 ) . In Brita in , whe re most resea rch part ic ipants had connections, "Anna, 7th Duchess of Bedford , i s reputed to have or ig inated the idea of afternoon tea in the early 1 800s . . . to ward off the h unger pangs between l unch and d i nner" (Brit ish Tea Counci l 2004) . It was even the subject of a ch i ldren's n u rsery rhyme (Mother Goose n .d . ) . I n Hong Kong where a m useum is devoted to tea h istory, i t was recorded that H(a}rdent tea enthusiasts often have thei r own special teapots, which (they take to) . . . their tea d ri n ki ng sessions" (Marimari .com 1 999-2002) . Tea d rink ing accessories are marketed in te rnational ly. They inc lude i tems for storing , i nfusing, serving and dr ink ing tea, and a range of novelty i tems ( Downeast Balsam Fir Company 2004) . I n Aotearoa New Zealand du ri ng the m iddle decades of the 20th century, afternoon tea became "an area of pub l ic l ife where some women can excel" (Park 1 99 1 : 1 1 ) . This br ief synopsis indicated that 'tak ing tea' has become i ncreasing ly widespread s ince i ts in troduction over four thousand years ago. I t can i nvolve us ing an extensive variety of objects, sources and p roducts. 'Taking tea' is i ntegrated i nto social act iv it ies, and absorbed into everyday l i fe . W ith tea dr ink ing i ncorporated i nto their ancestor's socia l l i ves, Aotearoa New Zealand settle rs were, l i ke their compatriot m ig rants to other Commonwealth countries, posit ioned to t ransport and cont inue the custom. I t was such a fami l iar dai ly occurrence that few people stopped to th ink about it, although most part ic ipated i n it reg ular ly. 1 52 These included the British Tea Council 2004; Chiew n.d . ; Courtauld & Hunt 1 99 1 ;Teaboard India 2004; TeaConcepts Staff with help from Julia from Russia 1 999-2004. 1 62 'Taki ng tea' has evolved with its own language. Early rura l pioneers 'boi led the b i l ly, 1 53 over an open fire or took a corked bottle of cold mi lkless tea to work; their u rban counterparts 'put the kettle on' over a wood, coal or gas range. People now use electricity to 'boil the jug' . 'Tea taking' occurred in everyday l ife in private and publ ic. Many households began the day with a pot, cup or mug of hot tea, served with or without mi lk , and/or sugar. Although some people preferred dr inks l i ke coffee and chocolate, the processes, p ractices and codes were sim i lar . People accepted offers of tea ( rather than coffee) as a comfort, to celebrate, or to fil l t ime. As Kathy and several other part ic ipants noted, making tea was a frequent practice: "Good news, let's have a cup of tea. Bad news, let's have a cup of tea. Waiting for news, let's have a cup of tea." In social situations, observation ind icated that most people treated tea in a more uti l itarian manner than coffee, hot chocolate or alcohol . They inhaled the aromas of the latter, and savoured hot chocolate , or alcohol on the tongue, sometimes em itt ing sighs of del ight, or rol l i ng the i r eyes to signal enjoyment. Many cafes featured specialty coffees, a change which occurred dur ing the 1 990s. A range of coffees and serving styles were avai lable. Some office workers made forays from their workplace to their favou rite cafes where they bought what they regarded as 'the best coffee in town'. They could be seen return ing to their offices carrying disposable mugs of hot, fresh coffee. Occurrence I uncovered 'tea taking' processes and practices, which reflected the immigrant British and European background of Pakeha women, and evidence of i ntergenerational t ransm ission of the associated codes. The natu re of hospital ity is such that is always provided to, or for, others. Offering hospitality was always active, and occurred between or among people. I t was offered where relationsh ips existed, or when people wanted to develop, encourage, expand or maintain them. Occasions could be formal or i nformal , publ ic or private, business or personal , tenuous or long­ term . Because hospital ity requ i red interaction it could not be provided by oneself to oneself. One could treat oneself in a sim ilar way, setting up a situation so that one could feel pampered. I enjoyed hospita l i ty and engaged in 'tea taking' frequently. As I noted earl ier , this research involved participant-observation and interviewing people in publ ic , semi-publ ic and private domestic environments. Visits generally included an offer of hospital ity. Mostly, we d rank 'tea' together, and nibbled on savory and/or sweet food. 'Taking tea' occurred when I visited people ind ividual ly, in smal l g roups, at business meetings, when mourning, after funerals, and duri ng b irthday ce lebrations. June's comment about Mahjong Club meetings indicated that this form of hospitality was standard . "We pay fifty cents to the club. They've got to pay for the rent etc, and we have a cup of tea and b iscu its." 1 53 Billy' - Australian term for a 'tin or enamel cooking pot with a l id and wire handle for use outdoors" (D.Thompson 1 995: 1 26). 1 63 This was reiterated on occasions l i ke rest-home games afternoons (Fig 52) . F ig 52: Rest-home residents 'taking tea' . Rest-home residents enjoyed conversation over 'tea' and store-bought b iscu its during an afternoon spent p laying board and card games. Purchased, instead of home-baked, biscu its probably signal led an increase in their commercial avai labi l i ty, cost effectiveness, and t ime constraints on kitchen staff. Serving them on a plate, rather than from a packet, i ndicated the cont inuation of past custom. This showed that staff were aware of the rules of conduct su rrounding the serving of 'tea' . Knowing the rules enabled people to engage in cultural codes and assisted belonging. In what fol lows, I discuss three 'tea tak ing' occasions in deta i l , d rawing paral le ls , and describing differences from other occu rrences. The f i rst involves a formal invitation , extended to me as an acquaintance. It arose from my request to interview a participant. Most interviews conducted in p rivate homes involved s im i lar actions and routines. Simi lar processes took place between fr iends and relat ives, although the formal ity was p robably reduced. The second discussion reflects on 'taking tea' i n a semi-publ ic arena, wh i le the th i rd deta i ls the p ractices and processes surrounding 'tea taking' during periods of mourn ing . Th is inc luded domestic and publ ic spaces. I also d iscuss what 'taking tea' sign ifies and achieves in regard to belonging. The events were recorded from an outsider's perspective , but drawn f rom my research experience. The absence of photographs during mourn ing periods emphasized the frequent S i lencing of grief amongst pakeha. l 54 Each event provided insights into practices of hospita l ity, and revealed the incorporation of past practices and some changes. 154 Videos of funerals were being made more frequently. When a family requested i t . a funeral di rector might arrange for the funeral service to be filmed. Sometimes a family friend would do so. In a funeral I videoed I did not film grief directly. I concentrated on the ritual and only filmed individuals who were directly involved in the service. 1 64 Hospital ity at home The occupant of the house is expecting a visitor. She is not ent irely sure what form the visit wi l l take but, as the Host, 1 55 she wants to be p repared. The action occurs 'backstage' in the kitchen, and 'front stage' , in the adjacent d in ing room and lounge. Before the visitor arrived she ensures the house is c lean and tidy. She m ight vacuum or sweep the floor, dust the shelves, p lump up the cushions and place f resh flowers in a vase. Depending on the season, these m ight be a tiny posy of winter flowers, or a larger vase of more pro l if ic summer f lowers. Next she prepares a tray, probably removing it from a shelf or the cupboard where it is stored. She might choose a pretty tray cloth f rom the fragranced drawer in the d resser where she keeps special items. She wil l have i roned the cloths before putting them away, but checks to ensure sure they are flat and smooth. If not she wi l l re- i ron one, smoothing it with the heat. Placing the cloth on the tray, Host selects two cups, two saucers and two side plates from an adjacent cupboard. Fig 53: Tray prepared for morn ing 'tea' with a visitor. Setti ng the tray (Fig 53) with this c luster of material items denotes the special nature of the occasion, and possibly a l itt le nervousness on the host's part. The setting i nd icates that she knows the rules of hospitality, and how to honour her guests . Doing so probably enables the continuation of the host's self-esteem , and ensures that guest does not judge her as lacking in cu ltural knowledge, and therefore attr ibutes her with less cultural capita l . The i roned lace tray-cloth, the matching f ine qual ity tea-set, with its styl ish cups, saucers, side p lates, and teaspoons, the folded paper serviettes, m i lk jug and sugar bowl are accessories to the practice. The plate of home-baked cakes denotes further effort, particularly because store-bought items are frequently served in sim i lar situations . The absence of a plate beneath the left-hand cup signals that Host does not intend eating, further emphasising the effort being made to provide hospital ity. If she were alone, Host 1 55 I refer to the 'occupant of the house', Host, and Guest to define the participants' roles. 1 65 might only have a cup of hot l iqu id but, because she has invited a guest, she provides a snack. On her own , she wou ld probably use a uti l i tarian cup or a mug . For a guest, she chooses to use good cups. They w i l l not the most uti l itarian. They m ight be the best. They are more l ikely to be in-between. For a b i rthday party she m ight use the finest china she has, a risky practice because f ine china is del icate . Decorated porcelain cups with f loral sprays and a fine gold r im would be usual among older women; particu larly those over seventy. Fig 54: Home baked goods, clockwise from front left, su ltana biscuits, fruit cake, Maori kisses, 156 and Russian sl ice. 157 The plate, (Fig 54, front left) is an example of this style of china. Younger women might combine the t raditional or old-style china with something more modern but of equal qual ity. The other two plates also typ ified the china many women used for formal , private, 'tea'. Except for the stainless steel dish (front right) , the p lates are probably between f ifty and seventy years old. Each item was sl iced into s ingle servings. They were not fragi le , hot or l ikely to crumble , and could be eaten without using cutlery . Afte r placing the items neatly on the tray, wi th the plates beneath the i r matching cups and saucers, cups upright ready for f i l l ing , Host retu rns to the cupboard for a matching mi lk jug and sugar bowl . She does not know whether Guest wi l l take sugar or m ilk so f i l ls both. She places a teaspoon on each saucer, and another beside the sugar bowl . This indicates that the spoon has not been used before. I t s ignals that Host is a person who cares for her home and her reputation. A sugar-encrusted spoon in the sugar bowl would ind icate carelessness or lack of attention to detai l . It could also suggest lack of household hygiene. Next she takes down her 'good' teapot. Normal ly, she would d rop a teabag into a mug or cup, use her usual china or metal teapot. Today she chooses a 156 I felt awkward when I learned what these biscuits were called, although no-one else indicated discomfort. I t sugg ested a lack of cultural awareness o f indigene i n this section o f Pakeha society. 157 I was not discomforted by the name, Russian slice, as it seemed to indicate the origin of the cake. 1 66 porcelain pot. Once, it would probably have been British-made. Now it might be designed in one country and manufactu red in another, possibly South-East Asia. For a b i rthday party, or a large gathering, Host m ight use a s i lver tea service, complete with hot-water pot. For only two people that would be 'over the top' - extreme. Host takes p leasure in the fine china, sunl ight g l inting on the golden knob of the l id . She r inses away barely noticeable specks of dust, and i nspects the spout for stains. None are visible, so she dries the pot with a soft cloth or tea-towel . She places it gently on the bench, 1 58 beside the electric jug. Retu rning to the cupboard, Host chooses a plate for the food she wi l l serve. She selects a small plate, s ince this is morning 'tea'. Her guest is l ikely to have eaten breakfast recently and wi l l not want much to eat. I t would be impol ite to provide noth ing , but could cause her guest embarrassment if she provided too much choice. She treads a f ine l ine between generosity and overprovis ion . I f it were afternoon 'tea' , she might choose to serve more items. Afternoon 'tea' is usually served several hours after lunch, and several hours before the evening mea l , so people are l ikely to be hungrier. From a cupboard she removes two plastic sealed boxes and a l idded tin, the former usual in 20th centu ry New Zealand, the latter a rel ic of her past. Possessing and using th is indicates that she is not young; whi le the former ind icates the era the action occurs in . Removing the l ids, Host l ifts a packet of savory biscu its from one, home­ baked, sweet biscu its from another, and a store-bought cake from the third. From the refr igerator she takes butter or margarine, a savory spread, relish or pickle, and a smal l packet of mi ld cheese. From an adjacent drawer she removes a small stain less steel bread-and-butter knife. She smoothes butter and savory spread on fou r crackers, sl ices and places cheese on four others, and a rranges them al l on the plate. This is enough. Should Guest want only savory items there wi l l be enough to offer savory items twice. Decid ing that the p late is too smal l to accommodate sweet items as wel l , Host l ifts a match ing p late from the cupboard . She positions four biscuits on one side, and small s l ices of cake on the other . I n an informal s ituation , or where the guests are close kin or f riends, savoury and sweet items might be served on the same plate, or even from the t in or box. The tray is large enough to contain both plates and the other china. Host covers the prepared tray with a f ine mesh lace-edged cloth , also stored in the d in ing room dresser. It m ight be hand-painted , possibly a fami ly heirloom, inhe rited from a mother, grandmother, aunt ie , or other female relative. I t is l ikely to be c ream or white , and wil l protect the food from insects. If the items being served were creamy or l ikely to stain the food cover, Host m ight use a store-bought stiffened cover, h igh enough to clear the items and wide enough to cover a large plate . I f she were taking 'a plate' to a meeting, she might cover the food with p lastic wrap , a paper napkin or a clean tea towel . Next she f i l ls the e lectric jug with water from the kitchen tap. Glancing at the clock on the electric stove, she notes that Guest is due any m inute. She returns the jug to the bench and presses the small knob at the back to turn it on and heat the water. She leans against the bench, gazing out of the window into the sunshine sparkl ing on the plants. Noises emanate from the jug as the element in its base begins to heat the water. Host steps into the lounge to see whether her visitor has arrived. She looks d iscreetly through the window to the street. Her visitor has j ust parked her car in the concrete driveway. Host returns to the kitchen for a last look at the tray, and pours hot water into the teapot. This warms it up , so that when the tea and hot water are added, the tea wi l l stay hot for longer. Host knows that if she does not do so, the teapot wil l absorb some of the heat and the tea wi l l be less f lavoursome. The visitor knocks on the f ront door and waits for Host to open i t . She does 158 Bench surfaces include formica, stainless steel , slate, wood, or laminate. Some homes heat water electrically, others prefer gas. 1 67 not know her wel l , and this is her f i rst visit. I t would be inappropriate , or even rude, to open the door herself, or approach by way of the back door . I f Host was a close fr iend, she m ight knock and enter, or wal k around to the back door. Again she should knock, but cou ld open it, put her head inside and cal l out a g reeting to let Host know she had arrived . Host m ight then hurry to the door, cal l ing her to 'come i n . ' S ince these two are recently acquainted, Host opens the front door. "Good morning," she greets her guest. "Good morning," Guest responds. "Come on i n ," Host invites Guest. "Let me take your coat." Guest hands Host her coat. " I ' l l hang it in the bedroom. Don't forget it, wi l l you?" she cautions. She leads Guest into the lounge and d i rects her to a seat. They chat briefly, probably about the weather or Host's garden . 'Would you l ike a cup of tea, or coffee?" Host asks. " I 'd l ike tea," Guest responds. I f Host offered only one i tem, Guest cou ld pol itely suggest an alternative, perhaps hot water, to provide Host with an option, and avoid embarrassment. Other guests might ask for coffee. In that case, Host m ight use i nstant coffee . On special occasions, or during the even ing , she might prepare f i ltered or percolated coffee. In this situat ion, she might not want to take the time required. She neither knows Guest wel l enough to leave her sitt ing on her own, nor to invite her backstage to the kitchen. Host returns to the kitchen, and switches the jug on. She carries the prepared tray into the lounge and p laces it on a low table . Perching on the edge of a chair , she chats with Guest whi le the jug boi ls. In a few minutes she returns to the kitchen where she empties the hot water from the teapot. She takes the tea-caddy, t in or packet from the bench , and spoons three teaspoonfuls of tea into the pot. She has been taught to use one spoonfu l for each person 'taking tea' and add one 'for the pot' . Some people would find this too strong, and would reduce the number of spoonfuls. Host pours the freshly boi led water over the tea leaves. She could use teabags , but prefers the flavour of leaf tea. Measuring the tea involves effort, but when provid ing hospital ity one understands that making an effort is part of the process. Host places the l id on the teapot and sl ides a tea-cos/ 59 over it, leaving the spout and handle p rotrud ing . Host carries the pot careful ly into the lounge. She places it on the tray. " I ' l l let it d raw for a moment," she says. "Do you take mi lk?" she asks Guest who nods in assent. "Yes, thank you ," she rep l ies. Host pours a small quantity, perhaps two teaspoonfu ls , of mi lk into one cup. She replaces the jug and puts a hand on the teapot handle . She might turn it three t imes, gent ly ' to mix the leaves and water' together. She l ifts the pot and pours a smal l quantity i nto Guest's cup. Others would add the milk last depending on what they had been taught, or their taste p reference. 1 59 Made of wool or woven fabric, sometimes padded, the cosy keeps the heat from escaping as rapidly. 1 68 Fig 55: Ruth J pouring tea. " Is that strong enough?" Host asks. Guest nods. "Yes, thank you ," she rep l ies, remembering her good manners and using formal , courteous language and a moderate tone. Host completes pouring the tea, places the teapot on the tray and passes the f i l led cup, with saucer and plate beneath to Guest. "Use the table beside you ," she suggests. She then offers Guest sugar. Guest decl ines and Host then pours her own tea, f i rst placing a teaspoon in the cup. She does not add mi lk . " I prefer mine black," she says, breaking what could be an uncomfortable si lence, s ince these women have spent l ittle t ime together. Host does not add that she has learned that fine porcelain could break when f i l led d irectly with fresh hot tea. Nor does she d isclose that she has placed the teaspoon in the cup to absorb the heat . The latter is a practice an older relative, most l ikely her mother or an aunt, wi l l have taught her. Guest waits for Host to pick up her cup before she picks up her own . Her mother taught her the protocol of wait ing for the Host's s ignal before beginning. " I f you were at the Palace, you'd wait for the Queen to p ick up her spoon or fork before starting yourself," her mother m ight have cautioned to d rive the point home. The comment was probably relayed by an older relative. I t ref lects the British connection 1 69 and indicates past and current habitus. Host l ifts up the sugar bowl and teaspoon , and places a spoonful of sugar i n her cup . She replaces the spoon in the sugar bowl , and l ifts the spoon from her saucer to st ir the sugar into her tea. I t wou ld be i nappropriate to st ir the sugar into the tea with the spoon from the bowl . The sugar would dampen and sta in when the used spoon was rep laced. The pair s ip their tea. Host offers Guest a biscu it . Guest, correctly, selects a savory one. When offered a second item, Guest selects a sweet one, compl imenting Host on her home-baking. Host also selects f i rst a savory i tem, then a sweet one . Guest decl ines a third item . They have been taught that i t is appropriate to accept the offer of drink and food, taking f i rst a savory , and then a sweet, item, and to decl ine any further offerings. It is part of the 'tea' r itual , and each understands the process. 160 The visit m ight take an hour or more , depending on whether the visit is social or business-related ( l i ke interviewing) . Guest i ndicates that she must go by saying so di rectly, or by standing and asking for her coat . Host fetches the garment, Guest thanks Host for her hospitality , and takes her coat. Host p recedes guest to the door, opens it, and ushers her out. They thank one another, Host for the visit , Guest for the hospitality. Guest moves towards the car, smi l ing and chatt ing. Once Guest is seated in the vehic le , Host waves. Guest retu rns the wave, or toots the horn softly, perhaps twice, s ince, in Aotearoa New Zealand, i t is supposed to be used only as a warning signal . If Host does not escort Guest to the door, or hurries inside instead of waving unt i l the vehicle departs, Guest may feel hurt . By standing and waving , Host signals that the visit was successfu l . I t is a mark of courtesy, signals that Host valued the exchange, that the pai r connected, and enjoyed their t ime. I f Host did not escort Guest to the door, it could be perceived as rudeness. It m ight seem that she does not care enough for Guest to farewel l her. It imp l ies that Host has better th ings to do than 'waste' more t ime. It could leave Guest with a feel ing of u nf in ished business, if she has to 'see herself out'. Even if the pair is wel l-known to one another, Host is l ikely to escort Guest to the door and wave 'goodbye' . She m ight stand inside the door if it is very cold, or rain ing . A considerate Guest would u rge her not to 'stand out in the cold' but to 'go back inside . ' Host can then choose what to do because she has permission to depart f rom the expected, although not always implemented, behaviour. During the occasion , both have engaged in a 'game' (Berne 1 964) , and p layed it 'seriously' (Ortner 1 996), using cu lture's 'guiding wal ls ' (Serpentina 2004) to learn more about one another. They have enacted the practice Berne observed of f i l l ing "the major part of the more interesting hours of social intercourse" ( 1 964: 1 7 1 - 1 72 ) . I t has its own ru les and rhythms. Just as the Geertzian cockfight ( 1 973) has underlying meaning, so does 'taking tea'. I t enables part icipants to gauge one another personal ly, social ly and cultural ly. I t enables them to d isplay prior cultural knowledge and deepen their connections. Taking 'tea' was embedded in Aotearoa New Zealand culture. I t occurred, i n private , as described above, and in publ ic . Some arenas were blu rred, neither completely private nor ful ly publ ic . This i ndeterminacy often related to gatherings in pr ivate homes. Engagement required p rior knowledge, sometimes an introduction from an exist ing member, and perhaps a specific invitation. Such events included social occasions l ike the Live Alones, b i rthday celebrations l i ke Margaret Mary's 80th b i rthday, aspects of mourn ing , and smal l meetings of groups l ike the FOHCC. W ithin the publ ic domain were local government meetings, and gatherings i n publ ic ly accessible locations, such as funerals, church services, after sport functions, and 160 I have observed situations where guests decline the first offer of hospitality, but who are startled when their hosts do not press them unti l they accept. 1 70 fund-raising events. I n these arenas, certain protocols also appl ied. The p rocesses which occurred in the domestic were magnified because the numbers were larger and/or the meeti ngs fol lowed formal processes. Structures were s imi lar, as were the purposes and outcomes of 'taking tea' . The fol lowing material , drawn mostly from my experience of CoFs' meetings, provided insights into how larger social occasions were staged and managed. Col lective hospital ity Three women enter the kitchen , a small room at the rear of the bowling club hal l . When the meeting formalities end, they wi l l serve hot d rinks through the open servery. These wil l accompany the food members have contributed. Afte r casual greetings including smi les and nods, the trio prepares the kitchen. They tackle a variety of tasks, assigned tacitly, because long experience and frequent involvement means each knows what to do. One checks the Zip , a wall-mounted water-heater to ensure it contains enough water. She turns it on. I t wil l turn off automatica l ly with a protracted, pierc ing whistle . Her companions arrange cups and saucers on the servery bench. The servery separates the backstage/kitchen (Goffman 1 959) from publ ic areas. It often acts as a boundary between members and guests , or insiders and outsiders. Varying in date and style, f rom 1 920s to 1 980s, the crockery i ncludes f ine, bone china, afternoon teacups and saucers, and larger, cream-coloured breakfast cups, rimmed in gold or green. The women arrange the saucers in neat rows, two or three cups wide, and eight or ten cups long . They p lace the cups upright on matching saucers, and teaspoons inside another cup, handles protruding. Not everyone wil l want sugar; spoons sl ip and rattle and can be a nu isance. At a more formal gathering, a teaspoon might be placed on each saucer. Fig 56: Cups on a servery, ready for afternoon tea. Cups arranged in rows (Fig 56) are a fami l iar sight in many publ ic locations where large numbers of people need to be served, or to serve themselves, qu ickly. The i nd istinct f igure (right) demonstrates Aotearoa New Zealanders' d iff idence about 1 7 1 publ ic acknowledgement. This relates to assisti ng behind the scenes, and being photog raphed. Preparation continues as one woman removes mi lk from the refrigerator, twists the blue plastic top from a white, soft plastic bott le, and pours whole 1 6 1 m i lk into a medium-sized jug . Another woman tips fat-reduced mi l k from a s im ilar, yel low­ capped bottle into a smaller jug . The th ird adds sugar to the sugar bowl , taking it from a glass jar with screw-top l id. This is a practical means of transporting sugar, and keeping it fresh. One woman removes the l ids from battered old a lumin ium teapots, checks that they are clean , and drops a handful of teabags into one of them. The other teapot is for hold hot water. This wil l be used to d i lute strong tea, or to add to instant coffee or chocolate powder. I n other publ ic situat ions, beverage flavourings m ight be placed in open containers, adjacent to the cups. People choose their own and add the hot water themselves. Fig 57: Final preparations. As members arrive, they place food on the table allocated (Fig 57) . One woman carries s ide plates from the kitchen to the table where others arrange food. They ensure sweet and savoury items are wel l -spread . L ike the domestic tray, the table is often d raped with a white cloth or covered i n paper. 1 62 Pi les of paper tab le napkins often l ie near the plates. A posy of flowers sometimes adds a welcom ing touch. The food remains covered with plastic wrap, fabric cloth or in sealed 161 Homogenized mi lk , containing cream. 162 Often from the end of a roll of newsprint. 1 72 containers unti l tea-t ime, usual ly around 3 p .m . The covers are removed and some items sl iced j ust before eating. Afternoon tea food usually includes items l ike those p ictu red . They range from savory items l ike asparagus rol ls (centre - circular, white dish ) , and sandwiches ( left rear) , and sweet items like pikelets, brandy snaps and chocolate biscu its. The contributions reflect signif icant effort and expense. They provide nourishment and social sustenance. Their preparation often creates an opportunity for happy anticipation of the ensuing event. The publ ic natu re of the occasion is ref lected in the use of disposable food containers and/or replaceable dishes. People then need not worry about having to find their dish , wash it and carry it home. After the formal business and the speaker's presentation are over, members are invited to take 'tea' . The kitchen volunteers leave the meeting room a few minutes beforehand, usual ly when the p resident ind icates verbal ly, or with a glance, that it is time to complete the preparations. The women f i l l the teapots with hot water, and put them on the bench near the teacups. They take their places behind the servery ready to pour the drinks. One places smal l portions of coffee powder into some cups. Another pours a l ittle mi lk into others. Hot water is added to the coffee powder, and tea poured i nto the cups containing the m i lk. Members add their own sugar using the spoon in the sugar bowl . They sti r it with a spoon taken from the pre-f i l led cup. Some put the used spoon on their saucer. Others place it on a saucer designated for the pu rpose . Fig 58: CoF members chat before enjoying afternoon tea. Members put their hot d rinks on tables near their chairs (Fig 58) , and make a separate trip to select their food. At CoF it was acceptable to select several items, savory and sweet, to 'save making a second trip' . Selecting several items at once was practical , because many members were older and fra i l . They often took a long time to walk to and from the food table. Their accepted practice ensured t ime to eat, d rink and chat. They sat for safety, and because it was companionable. Taking more than one item at a t ime would be frowned on in 'polite' company, or where designated people moved about offering food . 'Good' manners 1 73 then d ictate taking and eating one item at a t ime , partly to ensure everyone has enough to eat. At CoF, members were aware of their group practice. 'We bring three or four items on a p late , enough for ourselves and one other," Margaret Mary said , when I asked her what to bring . She added, "Most people usually provide more than that." Members paid a small fee, f i fty cents or one dol lar, for a take-home selection of left-over items. The money was banked for room rent and/or group trips. Groups l ike the CoF provided informal and unofficial mechanisms for surviva l . Members remarked, " I ' l l eat plenty now and I won't need to eat tonight"; or " I won't need dinner tonight. I ' l l just have some soup , or maybe cheese and crackers". These comments enabled me, an outsider, to understand why they were contravening social mores. In some groups, l ike Live Alones, participants only took one item at a time. Usually, the host offered food to the guests. A surv ival tactic revealed du ring those gatherings included d iscussions about how to extend the budget. Again focused on food, they exchanged sources for obtain ing, and/or recipes for making , tasty low-cost meals. The top ic was approached ind i rectly, p refaced with remarks about recent d iscoveries, such as, " I found a lovely recipe for lasagna the other day. I t made enough for two meals so I froze one"; or, " I found a good packet m ix the other day. It could be enough for three meals." Then , in a sl ightly apologetic tone , "I on ly used it for two, it was so n ice ." The apologetic tone ind icated d iff idence about i nd icating greed, by eating more than was necessary, and extravagance by not making the food last longer. I t suggested adherence to Protestant principles of hard work and wel l -honed coping ski l ls . Although the discussions about food could be perceived as gendered , female, domestic d iscussions, their underlying purpose was to assist in surviva l . They were a subtle tactic, which ind i rectly acknowledged each othe r's needs (Scheper-Hughes 1 992) . After eating , members place used cups and plates on the servery. One o r two more able-bodied members assist b y clearing the food table, and wip ing away crumbs. The kitchen volunteers resume thei r duties, washing, d rying and putt ing away the d ishes. In a formal domestic situation , such as a monthly afternoon tea, or a b i rthday party, the host would ci rculate, removing used crockery to tea-wagon or kitchen. Some guests help by p lacing used items on the wagon or table. C lose fr iends might be a l lowed backstage, ( ind icating greater belonging) . More often the host wi l l protest, decl ine offers of help, and clear the d ishes herself. My nephew showed a h ighly developed awareness of my fami ly's social protocols during afternoon tea for a large g roup i nvited to my natal home. Whi le carrying a plate of food from kitchen to serving table , I stumbled. Several items fel l to the floor. My mother and brother rushed to my aid and offered to clean up . Accepting their offer, I cont inued on my way. Later, my nephew remarked that i t was ' rather rude' of me not to clean up. "Most people," he said, "would say, "Oh, no. I ' l l do it myself ." But you just kept going." H is comments emphasised my fami ly's cultural expectations were, that i f you make a mess, even when it is a m istake, you clean it up; and that, while it was customary to offer help , it was less usual to accept the offer. Routines The occasions described above were more formal than many, but as I noted earl ier, the processes involved were s imi lar. On i nformal occasions, food m ight not be served at al l , or served accompanied by a paper serviette or towel rathe r than a p late. Neighbours or close fr iends might sit in the k itchen , or outdoors, i n a warm sheltered place. Wherever and whenever the processes occurred they contained routine elements. I closely observed the p reparation when visit ing a participant at her home. I observed, "Roselene made tea i n a pot. She poured mi lk and tea into cups and saucers at the bench . She asked if I took sugar, then placed our dr inks on the table. From a cupboard, she removed a p late of fruit cake and offered me a s l ice". This was less formal than the situations described above. Another day I made 1 74 an unplanned call on Pamela. I had become a 'backdoor visitor ' . This meant I was known wel l enough that I did not need an invitation to visit, nor r ing the front door bel l , and wait to be invited in . I could walk into the more private rear yard , knock on the door, open it, and enter. I noted, "When I a rrived, John asked if I wanted a cup of tea. He was working at the informal d in ing table , instal l ing a new motherboard and programmes on their son's computer . Pam 'put the jug on' and made and poured the tea. Whi le we drank it , we chatted. In this informal situation no-one felt the need to apolog ize for the way for things were. This indicated acceptance and that I was trusted not to criticize the use of l iving space as a temporary construction space. Discussing codes of hospital ity later, participants concluded that they were usual ly more relaxed and less formal than thirty or forty years ago. The formal ity seemed to depend on participants' ages, the extent of the relationship with their guests, the formality or solemnity of the occasion, and the numbers being catered for. One woman remembered her. g randmother's formal afternoon teas, saying , When my g randmother served tea, i t was always at 3 .05 PM . . . ( i )f we were going over for tea, it was often a scramble. We'd be hu rrying to get there on t ime. My grandmother would serve it herself . She had a cloth on the table, and the teapot and cups set out in front of her. There was mi lk , cream and lemon. She poured the tea, and then asked if you wanted sugar. She added it, and passed you the cup and saucer, with the teaspoon on the side . I f you were fami ly, you had regu lar sugar. 1 63 Visitors were offered sugar lumps . . . served with tongs. You stirred the sugar in with the teaspoon . I f you were family, and you arrived late , say at 3.20 PM, you m ight miss out on afternoon tea altogether. Kathy reflected on the changes to a more casual mode, inf luenced partly by the production of tea bags instead of leaf tea. She used teabags. Sometimes I make the tea d i rect into mugs, sometimes into a pot . I t depends on who's coming, and what t ime of day. I l i ke tea in the pot in the morning, and then, the rest of the day, if i t 's just me on my own, I just have a tea bag in a cup . . . if I 've got invited v isitors, I tend to make the tea in a pot, but friends who are popping in general ly get a bag in the cup. I nvit ing people means I am more formal , because if I am making tea in the teapot, I would put it onto a tray, and make it in the teapot, and have n ice cups. When the vicar came to see me - that was an invitation, so I made the tea in the teapot. I set up the tray before he arr ived, and poured the tea in the lounge. I served food - savoury, you know, cream crackers with s l ices of tomato on them. I put the spoon i n the sugar bowl and carried t he tray in . I n the swing of things, and understanding what I was seeking, Kathy added , with a g rin , " . . . and low fat mi lk in a jug ." We talked about how Aotearoa New Zealanders did not usual ly offer visitors lemon. I f i t was an American visitor , perhaps I 'd have offered them lemon. I f it was someone who just dropped in, they'd get an Arcoroc mug. I 'd put the mi lk in and the sugar. I 'd probably just yel l out, did they want sugar . . . (m)y mum sti l l has a beautifu l si lver service which she would set up for posh people. (What's a posh person?) " In Lancashi re," Kathy thought for a whi le, "we had an aunty who was posh . She had a d ifferent accent and she l ived in a semi-detached house. (Was she a sister- in­ law?) Yes. We reflected on the more formal treatment of this part icular aunt, and concluded that it may also have had something to do with her not being blood kin . Yvonne's narrative combined aspects of the descriptions above but extended 1 63 Granulated. 1 75 concepts of hospital ity into the publ ic arena. The pract ices she revealed d iffered from those described earl ier. They ind icated changes which have arisen with the rise of cate culture , even in the p rovinces. In today's cu lture, ( if you are at home) you ask people whether they want tea or coffee, and sugar. You put it in yourself . . . ( i ) f you don't know them wel l , you would i nvite them to a cafe. And now I have two protective big dogs at home, so people have to l ike dogs if they visit. We concluded that with more cafes avai lable, in working l ife people met in cafes more often than in their homes. I t enabled meetings without making extra journeys, and without having to engage in domestic hospita l ity p ractices, including making one's homes welcom ing. S imi lar practices occurred in the workplace, as another person noted. When I 'm out on a job and they offer me a hot d rink , I a lways ask for coffee with mi lk and two sugars. That's because I l i ke to put the m i l k in f i rst, in tea. In businesses, they mostly use teabags straight into the mug, then put the mi lk in . As with narrative , simi lar reticence was observable i n codes of hospital i ty . I n narrative, people f i rst revealed information which they gauged m ight enhance thei r standing. Once trust and intimacy were establ ished, some let their guard down and told the darker stories, those of the 'fami ly l i nen cupboard' (Boenisch-Brednich 2002:76) . With hospital ity, the same cont inuum was apparent in terms of acquaintancesh ip , and growing friendship. I n the same way as acquaintances usually on ly narrated the positive to begin with , so they constructed boundaries for 'taking tea'. The less people were acquainted, the more numerous the boundaries. These l im ited the private spaces guests could enter. Containment, l i ke serving the 'tea' on a tray signaled other boundaries, as did tak ing the coat and returning it later. I n later interviews I conducted, the tray was often dispensed with , the dr inks p repared with both of us in the kitchen, and food not always offered. June noted a change i n habits one day when she offered me a selection of store-bought sweet b iscuits. She apologized for having no " home baking," adding , "I don't bake these days . " Her apology probably related to her age since she had l ived through an era where afternoon tea was "an area of publ ic l ife where some women can excel" ( Park 1 991 : 1 1 ) . June and I stood and drank our tea in her kitchen, ind icating an increased level of ease. Mourning In this section I cont inue with the d iscussion about 'taking tea' , th is time withi n the mourning process. I incorporate aspects o f embodiment apparent in everyday practice, but which are heightened dur ing periods of mourning. With in the hospital ity r itual certain g reetings occur, verbal , performative, and/or embodied. Verbal greetings, sti l l heard occasional ly, may involve a formal , "How do you do?" The expected response is "Very wel l , thank you . How do you do?" When people greet one now they usual ly say "How are you?" They expect no more than a cu rsory , "Fine, thanks" or " I 'm well" rather than a l itany of a i lments. The handshake cont inues as a greeting, most often amongst men. Women m ight shake hands i n formal or business situations. People who know one another wel l , or who haven't seen one another for some time, m ight kiss the cheek, or hug one another ( Fig 59) . 1 76 Fig 59: Ruth G and a friend hug each other. The range of actions signif ied d ifferent depths of emotion, and levels of belonging. When Ruth G and a fr iend greeted one another, they embodied their affection by hugging one another. Female and male partners wi l l often greet or farewel l one another with a kiss and a l ight touch. After a longer separation, they wi l l p robably engage in a ful l body hug . At events such as funerals, physical embodiment of emotion and the physical expression of comfort was more noticeable than in everyday exchanges. These performative practices assisted in intensifying, or affi rming bonds, just as 'taking tea' d id . Both were signif icant components of the Aotearoa New Zealand mourning practice because they offered comfort. The p rocesses involved in 'taking tea' provided d isplacement activity for upset people, and enabled them to move through the cou rse of grieving by engaging in fam i l iar p ractices. The hugs enabled them to offer the comfort of touch to the bereaved. From the moment news of bereavement breaks unt i l the post-funeral meal , people fol low pre-experienced paths and codes. The bereaved fami ly can expect a stream of visitors, particularly when the person who d ied was young or wel l-known. Friends and relatives cal l to offer comfort to the deceased's relatives. They might bring food , dr ink and flowers, operating on s im ilar assumptions to the Greeks, who assume that the bereaved wi l l be too d istressed to care for themselves. Instead, others adopt a nurturing role (Panourgia 1 995: 1 1 6) . In Aotearoa New Zealand, the provision of sustenance enabled the bereaved to focus on their grief, and make funeral arrangements without mundane d istractions. Again , whether one walks in , or waits at the door, depends on the depth of relationsh ips. Those who come and go are engaged in hospitality, according to several factors. These include the above­ mentioned closeness, their comm itments, the t ime of day, personal energy levels and emotions. As noted, physical comfort was frequently extended . Whether people kissed, hugged, shook hands or patted shoulders and arms, depended several factors. They included one's relationship to the bereaved, age, gender, and upbringing. Young people appeared more wi l l ing to exchange hugs and show emotion than 1 77 many of their elders, part icularly men. As noted earl ier , Aotearoa New Zealanders were often reticent about reveal ing emotions, so these physical demonstrations were h igh ly valued. They signaled the intensity of emotions evoked by death and dying . Their embodied responses i ndicated their awareness that, in death , "l ife had suddenly a large rip or tear in it , a gaping hole" (Nussbaum 200 1 :39) . Margaret McC recalled her p leasure at being greeted with hugs when attending a fam i ly funera l . Someone i n my former in- laws' fam i ly d ied. I came up to a funera l - I suppose that is anothe r sense of belonging - because (my ex- in-Iaws) let me know. They said, "Wi l l you be com ing up to the funera l . I thought about it and said , "No." Then I said , "Yes." When I arrived, Euan's 1 64 sisters al l gave me big hugs and my in-laws two. There were two ex­ husbands there as wel l , and the nephew who was 1 2 , he came racing across the driveway cal l ing "Auntie Marg, Auntie Marg," and gave me a b ig hug . . . it was evident that I was sti l l very much part of the fam i ly . The evidence was apparent i n the hugs and the shouted g reet ing . Physical touching was reserved for people of whom one was fond. Despite her d ivorce, her former i n- laws remained fond, including her in their embrace , physically and emotionally. Duri ng the mourning period , 'taking tea' occurred frequently, as those i nvolved moved in and out of a variety of l im inal spaces (Turner 1 967) . It appeared in the gu ise of hospita lity but fulf i l led other functions as wel l . I t gave mourners something to do, by preparing, partaking, or tidying up afterwards. It could p rovide essential sustenance to long-distance travelers , and those emotional ly, or physical ly, exhausted by funeral preparations, and the stream of visitors. Late in the day, a soft or alcoholic dr ink m ight be offered i nstead of 'tea' . This was sometimes used for medicinal pu rposes, l ike treating shock when news of the death was received . Cal lers usual ly accepted this hospital ity, recogn izing it as part of the mourning process. Those who decl ine wi l l usually d iscover at least a hot tea or coffee thrust into their hand, or placed beside them , with a question , ''You don't take sugar, do you , just m i lk?" Recipients m ight ask for sugar, but rarely refuse the dr ink . They drink it, or d ispose of i t qu ietly, perhaps crossing boundaries and enter ing the kitchen to do so. In grief, the kitchen often becomes a focal point, and even acquaintances may enter it . They m ight be perceived as performing a usefu l task, assisting i n keeping the house clean and tidy. This was appreciated in the context of the increased act ivity that surrounds death and dying. During the pre-funeral period , tea making and tea-tak ing, and tidying p rovided people with warming activit ies, and distractions which enable them to mark t ime, note its passage, f i l l hours usefu l ly and support one another. Although making and pouring tea was often regarded as a femin ine task, i t appeared to become less gendered during bereavement. Divisions were sti l l evident, but men and women could be seen working in the kitchen, sometimes s ing ly , somet imes together. I t remained rare to see young men in th is space. They were more l i ke ly to be involved in more strenuous activities, or 'hanging around' , talk ing among themselves. The kitchen may take on aspects of a community or commercial kitchen. Quantities of water boi l f requently. Mugs and cups are arrayed on the bench top , with tea towels beneath them to catch spi l ls . Teabags are evident in an open container or box, with the sugar to one side. Teaspoons l ie on the bench, or in their drawer. Mi lk is stored in the refrigerator. Every so often , someone voluntari ly wanders around, col lecting used cups and g lasses, washing them by hand or stacking them in the dishwasher. This ensures enough clean crockery and a task for those who need time out in a qu iet, functional space . Roles rotate as d ifferent 164 A pseudonym. 1 78 people take t ime out or are waited on, with others taking over. The atmosphere alters when the funeral service is over, but another round of hospital ity ensues. Un l ike the 'teas' in the fam ily home, the post-farewel l food and drink could be commercial ly prepared, and the function hosted in a funeral parlour. Alternatively, it might be prepared by a fundraising church group, and served in the adjacent hal l . While this can be costly, it reduces the physical and organ izational burden on the bereaved. Preparations are simi lar , with seating, food and drink avai lable. 'Tea' is offered as a way of thanking the mourners , and nourish ing them before the return home. Maori and Pacific Islanders cultures offer s imi lar hospital ity. The atmosphere l ightens as the mourners gather for this last 'meal ' . Their conversations reveal that they are looking ahead . They chat about futu re events, sports matches, cultural outings, and/or catch up on fami ly news, community gossip and people's plans. It is a chance to spend time with fr iends or infrequently seen relatives, as Margaret McC described earl ier. This event, 'tea' , provides a sense of closure to the day and s ignifies the end of the publ ic mourning period. Conclusion The processes described above are typical of publ ic and private engagements, funeral teas and domestic b irthday parties. At b i rthday parties the atmosphere was festive , with a birthday cake, cards and g ifts presented to the celebrant, candles l it and 'Happy Bi rthday' sung. At a funeral , the atmosphere was solemn, sad or, if the person had been suffering , perhaps rel ieved . As I noted, people greeted one another more intimately than was usual, with hugs and kisses as wel l as handshakes . They expressed their joy or sorrow, and then turned to talk to others who were present. 'Taking tea' served simi lar functions despite i ts location , the numbers present, the occasion, and the relationsh ips of part icipants. Knowing how to engage in cultural practices can aff i rm belonging . Through engagement, celebrants and mourners a l ike develop, thicken, deepen or lengthen the strands in their tra i ls of belonging . As I argued earl ier , knowledge of and engagement in cu ltural codes l ike 'taking tea' enabled Aotearoa New Zealanders to incorporate aspects of their past into dai ly l i fe, enjoy the present and look to their future. I d iscussed 'taking tea' in the private home, in semi-publ ic spaces and as an aspect of the mourning process. 'Taking tea' was an everyday practice , incorporated into codes of hospital ity. The consumpt ion of food and drink was an essential aspect. People engaged in a variety of locations, at d ifferent levels . Doing so was important and valued. I t provided part ic ipants with ways of connecting , and reconnecting within private and publ ic spaces. They maintained and extended belonging through shared experiences, physical and emotional , and by exchanging i nformation. Participant practices revealed that 'taking tea' was embedded in the Pakeha past, carried across the oceans by their British ancestors. Their use of h istorica l material objects , l i ke crockery and cutlery, provision of sustenance using ancient recipes, and engagement in visible cu ltural practices showed that 'taking tea' i n Aotearoa New Zealand was an ongoing and embedded code of hospital ity. Part icipants discussed some of the changes which had occurred surrounding hospital ity and 'taking tea' in Aotearoa New Zealand in the past fifty years. These included a reduction in formal ity, although most had retained knowledge of, and engaged i n , more formal p ractices. Participants noted a rise in numbers of people 'taking tea' in cafes. This had reduced the number of ' in home' visits, although the latter were sti l l valued. In both private and publ ic spaces boundaries were apparent, de l ineating not just consumption but relational boundaries. Style of presentation depended on the relationship of participants. Some participants signaled that with the advent of television , in ternal domestic boundaries had altered. People often took 1 79 meals whi le watching television, rather than in a space designated for eati ng . Regard less of location , occasion or numbers present, 'taking tea' provided opportunities to intensify interpersonal relationships, while observing cultural practices. I nc lusions and exclusions could signal s imi larities and/or d ifferences. The boundaries altered according to occasion and intimacy of relationships. By taking 'tea' , one made t ime and emotional space for oneself and others, provid ing support in g rief, and celebrating success. The level of emotion engendered and experienced varied depending on the occasion, but shari ng food and d rink regu larly enhanced relationships, engendered warmth, and provided a specified process and a contained t ime for doing so. The invitation to 'take tea' offered more than sustenance. I t provided rel ief from the daily grind (Cosman 1 98 1 ) , and offered 'recreation , reward, hope and order' through fr iendship shared. The invitation , and its acceptance , indicated a wi l l ingness to engage in a manner not extended to al lcomers. The t ime spent 'taking tea' often enabled part ic ipants to retu rn to the world 'restored' (Grainger 1 974). At the same t ime, 'taking tea' enabled people to express and aff irm boundaries symbolical ly. They often heightened their "awareness of and sensitivity to their community" ( ib id :99) . Whi le gaining cultural knowledge might seem straightforward to cu ltural insiders, it could seem d ifficult, even impossible, to understand for cultural outsiders. 'Taking tea' was rarely a purely p ragmatic event, but as complex to outsiders as the Japanese tea ceremony. Chi ldren absorb cultural practices as if by osmosis, but adults have either to question or observe cultural insiders before they engage (Herda 1 990) . 'Taking tea' as revealed by the partic ipants in the context of offering hospital i ty was no different. Knowledge was often gained by observation and i nvolvement. In the next chapter, I d iscuss the transmission of knowledge, particu larly in relation to 'taking tea' . 1 80 I ntroduction Chapter Ten Intergenerational transmission I like teaching the younger ones what I know. Ruth G Practices of belonging are transmitted through observation , engagement and narrative, among other th ings, as indicated in previous chapters. People learn by observation and engagement whi le chi ldren absorb cu ltural practices as if by osmosis, noted in the previous chapter. I recal l my great-aunts involvi ng me, as a ten-year-old ch i ld , in their preparations for 'taking tea' . I n the same way as ancestral information was transmitted inter- and intra-generational ly through sharing stories, so it was re layed in practice , another form of 'guid ing walls' (Serpentina 2004) . What I learned from my aunts was embedded , although malleable. I carry the knowledge with me into private and publ ic , ind ividual and group, and happy and sad occasions. The practices a round 'taking tea' which I learned from my aunts, and as they were revealed by the participants, were very sim i lar. This reflected our common pasts, and shared cultural experiences. I nviting people to take 'tea', that is, to partake of hospital ity, created temporal and spatial nodes, and paths towards belonging. Engag ing in 'tea taking' practices could intensify relationships and belonging, to people, places and cultu res. Understanding the associated processes and practices could enhance or enable belonging. The lack of knowledge, or the refusal to respond in cultural ly practiced ways, could d im in ish connections, and reduce or disable belonging. People adopted d ifferent roles in different contexts depending on whether they were host or guest. They assumed d ifferent degrees of authority, and del ineated boundaries through their actions (such as those noted in the previous chapter - taking the guest's coat, inviting her to sit , excluding her from the kitchen; accepting the invitation of a seat 'front stage' , knocking before entering, using the front door) . These processes enabled 'the construction of re lationsh ips' (Bel l 1 997:82) in a way that was understood cu ltu ral ly. They also provided a way of enabl ing development and balance i n relationships. I noted in the p revious chapter that several factors were important. They i ncl uded knowing how to behave, dress, converse, and recognise cu ltural signals. The requirements and responses d iffered accord ing to cultural and social contexts. I n this chapter I f i rstly d iscuss the importance of personal presentation in d ifferent social contexts. Secondly I discuss cu ltural codes of presentation contained with in the practice of 'taking tea' . I n association with this, I d iscuss the intergenerational transm ission of knowledge. Transm itt ing and gaining knowledge is progressive, begun in chi ldhood , and continued into old age. This enables an understanding of how novices gain 'the perceptual sensit ivity' of the knowledgeable hand ( I ngold 2000: 1 47) . Lastly, I show how this can be revealed, whether the surroundings are congenial or otherwise. Personal presentation Personal p resentation was a valuable indicator of cu ltural insiderness and wi l l ingness to conform to the social habitus, particularly when appearing i n publ ic. Dressing su itably for particular occasions indicated embedded cultu ral knowledge. Personal attention to detai l could ind icate cu ltural capital and social status. Depending on the occasion, garments, hai rstyle and accessories varied. What one wore depended on the time of day, and the occasion. I t was further di rected by one's relationship with the people being visited . I nformal , impromptu or casual visits requ i red less preparation than formal , pre-arranged visits. Visits to kin , close friends 1 8 1 and neighbours often fal l into the former category, whi le pre-arranged celebrations , visits to acquaintances, business meetings and funerals requ i red a d ifferent, more formal style of presentation. When informal ly visiti ng neighbours or close fr iends during the day, weekday or weekend, it was acceptable to wear working clothes, even if one had been performing household chores or yard work. Casual exchanges i n the area of one's residential dwel l ing m ight lead to an invitation to drop everything and 'take tea' , or to 'come in ' for a chat. One might wash one's hands, t idy one's hair , or remove one's work boots. Beyond this, neighbours expected l ittle formal ity. Boundaries were observed, with 'tea' often being taken outdoors (in f ine weather) , or in the kitchen - an acknowledgement of the casual natu re of the invitation , the relationship, and the activities the partic ipants had been engaged i n . Th is was the reverse o f the 'tea taking' described in the previous chapter, where guests remained 'front stage' i n the publ ic rooms. Neighbours often remained 'back stage' , rarely crossing the boundaries between interior and exterior spaces. This signaled that boundaries could provide advantages (Barth 2000:27-30) , by keep ing others out and removing or reducing the need to p resent oneself and one's home in the best possible l ight. I t a lso highl ighted the ambiguity of relationships with ne ighbours (Perin 1 988:26) . I n contrast, the formal , or pre-arranged, visit requ i red careful attention to personal presentation. As I ind icated in the previous chapter, women paid carefu l attention to the presentation of their homes when 'taking tea'. They also paid carefu l attention to their personal appearance. I f i nvited to another person's home, or when they were expecting visitors, they donned make-up, jewel lery and smart, casual c lothes. Social occasions l ike b irthdays demanded festive, colourfu l cloth ing , s ign ifying fun and laughter. Other events, such as business meetings, requ i red women to wear tailored suits or dresses, rather than trousers, and f lora l , embroidered or plain , wel l-cut blouses in soft fabrics. Adding items of personal s ignificance, such as gold or s i lver jewel lery, pearls or p recious stones, s ignaled the importance of an occasion and a desire to honour the person celebrating . Dressing su itably increased one's cultura l capital and status, further i ncorporating one into a group. More women wore trousers frequently than i n the m id-late decades of the 20th century but there were sti l l occasions where women were expected to wear skirts. One example was when the Brit ish Queen expressed displeasure after the Aotearoa New Zealand Prime M in ister arrived at a state d inner , spurning cultural mores by wearing trousers (Brown 2002) . Funerals often demanded the wearing of black. This signif ied the darkness of loss and the depth of grief . To attend regular church services many women wore skirts rather than trousers, perhaps denoti ng respect for more trad itional customs, or reflect ing the relative formal ity and publ ic nature of a church service. 1 82 Fig 60: Chatting at an 80th birthday afternoon 'tea' . These women ( Fig 60) and their hosts 'knew' the ru les of Pakeha culture. Enjoying afternoon tea during Margaret Mary's 80th b i rthday, they made l ive ly conversation. Fine china cups and saucers ind icated the special natu re of the festivit ies . Side tables enabled those attending to participate without awkwardly juggl ing cups and plates. The close proximity of the fu rniture suggested many people were present. Their attire reflected the celebratory natu re of the occasion. The oldest woman present appeared to be wearing more casual cloth ing. This probably related to her age and comfort. The others wore 'good' cloth ing, probably not their 'best', i . e . not of the qual ity or value they might choose to wear to a wedding. This cloth ing m ight be described as 'second best' . I t is good qual ity, the blouses tai lored of f ine cloth, and the other garments well-cut. They are made using less serviceable c loth than one would wear for physical labour l i ke gardening or house-cleaning. Al l but one wore colou red garments . Three wore skirts , although women often wore trousers at home. Women i n this age g roup (over sixty-f ive) frequently wore a d ress, or skirt and blouse, with a tai lored jacket in publ ic . Some added jewel lery in the form of necklaces, earri ngs, brooches and bracelets. The woman in red (second left) wore a fine gold chain . This style of personal presentation was also apparent during a CoF meeting , when the members celebrated a 1 00th birthday. Living for 1 00 years was a g reat achievement since most people d ied a decade or two before reach ing that age. Those attending made an effort to present themselves 'wel l ' . They dressed in 'good' clothes, some going f i rst to the hairdresser, and adding f in ishing touches of jewel lery (earrings) , and/or soft scarves. Within the hal l , tables were joined together and covered with matching cloths. People could then s it and eat a round a communal table, bonded through group membersh ip , and the i r common purpose. Coordinated china, rarer, more expensive and more e laborate food than usual, daint ier, r icher cakes, and the presence of a birthday cake i ndicated the effort people had made and emphasized the importance of the occasion. 1 83 'Dressing' food During the extended l uncheon/afternoon tea meeting , other cultural p ractices became visible. Whi le such celebrations requ i red carefu l attention to d ress, they also requ i red careful attention to food and its p resentation. One large cake, baked to share with many people , often featured at celebrations such as birthdays, weddings, ch ristenings and Christmas. Whi le many people made fruit cakes, 165 often fol lowing old, fam i ly recipes, younger people were tending to choose what were regarded as 'non-traditional ' cakes, such as chocolate or van i l la . One member baked a Christmas cake (Fig 6 1 ) for the C i rcle, using her grandmother's recipe, most l ikely Brit ish in orig in . The cake was decorated with blanched almonds, artificial hol ly, and plastic lettering bearing the words, Merry Christmas. Fig 61 : A Christmas cake. 165 The celebration fruit cake was an Aotearoa New Zealand tradition, probably reflecting the past. Made using dried fruits, butter and eggs, it was a substantial cake, and kept wel l , potentially spreading out the duration of the occasion. 1 84 Fig 62: Thelma's birthday cake. 'Dressing' a cake was sometimes part of the pleasure of preparing for a celebration. The cakes (Figs 6 1 , 62) ind icated how carefu l ly a cake m ight be decorated (dressed). The b i rthday cake recorded the celebrant's name, Thelma, and her achievement, reaching 1 00 years of age. In its 'party dress', the cake featured a combination of traditional and non-trad it ional decoration. The 'trad itional ' aspect was reflected in the piped letters, numbers and rosettes bordering the cake. Pink symbol ized femin in ity in Aotearoa New Zealand culture, a lthough some people resist wearing the colour because they fear i t suggests passivity. Fresh borage flowers, daisies and pansies added a festive, non-traditional a i r. " I just collected the flowers from my garden , " Ruth J said. Sometimes, b i rthday candles were placed on the cake, even when there were a large number. On this occasion , the candles were placed on a separate tray, reflecti ng a recent trend, regarded as more hygienic. Their exclusion from the cake enabled it to be decorated and cut more easi ly, before shari ng with the g roup . Although the Chr istmas cake was less ornate , it was 'dressed' with equal care. The regular arrangements of almonds, placed on the batter before baking, indicate forethought. Preparing a birthday cake, l ighting its candles, s inging 'Happy Birthday' to celebrants whi le they 'blow out' the candles, and then clapping their age were usual practices observed at birthday celebrations. Singing the birthday song, blowing out the candles, cutting the cake, and the ce lebrant making an unspoken wish , signaled the moment of transition from one year to the next. 1 85 Practice absorbed Fig 63: Joan G offering Thelma the fi rst sl ice of cake. When the cake was cut, the f i rst s l ice was offered to the celebrant, then to those present. It was later d istributed to others who could not attend. Joan (F ig 63) continued the practice by offering it to Thelma first. Sharing the cake with many people, present and absent, engendered a fee l ing of 'commun itas' (Turner 1 982 ) , b inding the group together, and extending the c i rc le. Distribution of the cake signaled that the party was nearly over, and people could soon leave. 1 86 The rest-home residents below (Fig 64) attended a dance performance before tea was served. A small gir l offered food to elderly guests dur ing a g roup afternoon tea. Although she held the plate with two hands to ensure she did not d rop i t or spi l l the biscuits, her manner was sim i lar to that of the older woman above (Fig 63) . Both were engaged in a s im i lar practice, offer ing sustenance on one level , and much more on others - love , care, friendship, effort, t ime, courtesy and respect. Because there was always someone to d i rect and encourage them, ch i ldren could engage in cultural practices with min imal anxiety, Older people sometimes praised their efforts, emphasizi ng the value of the task, and the i r role in it. Fig 64: Learning by doing - offering guests biscuits. By attending meetings with s ignificant adults , young people absorbed cultural mores. Whi le the ch i ld above was school-aged, younger chi ldren too learned from observation and involvement. Toddlers attending a meeting with their mothers observed cu ltural practice at morn ing 'tea' , as they 'played' at the tea wagon (Fig 65) . 1 87 Fig 65: Toddlers absorb cultural practice. Noushin Hafiz ( right) and Alex Anderson investigated the tea trol ley, watched by Noushin 's mother , Jahanara, during a Mult icultural Women's Group meet ing . The g i rls absorbed cu ltu ral practice by observation and serious 'play' (Ortner 1 996) , whi le Jahanara ensured their safety. They became fam i l iar with concepts of sharing , m ing l ing and conversing, with the material items used, and the need to wai t to be served, or to serve oneself when with a g roup. They might also have become aware of the danger of hot items, g iven Jahanara's c lose watch as they 'played' below the tea-pots. Cups were p laced on both t iers of the tro l ley, and food on a separate table . The presence and contents of the three tea-pots revealed d ifferent personal and cultu ral preferences. Although shiny and new, the alumin ium pot was typical of community group tea-pots. One pottery tea-pot was made local ly and pu rchased with a gift of fam i ly money fol lowing the sudden death of the group's former coordinator. I t embodied her memory. The g roup remembered her regu larly, s i nce the tea-pot was used at each meeting . The l iqu ids served inc luded Japanese green tea, English tea, and hot water for instant coffee. Provid ing d ifferent teas acknowledged the diverse cultural orig ins and preferences of members. Transporting mi lk and sugar from another site could be messy, and with m in imal on­ premise faci l it ies, it was practical to serve m i l k from its store-bought container and sugar from a storage jar. This approach a lso signaled the impermanence of the meeting space, and the wi l l ingness of members to forego socia l conventions for ease. Members volunteered for the morning tea roster. They took it in turns to provide the food, serve drinks and wash dishes afterwards. Morn ing tea provided members with a space within the meeting to social ize and expand the i r relationships. They p racticed their Engl ish sk i l ls , learned more about one another, and exchanged information about cultural p ractices, including food. Chi ld ren observed that food was offered from the plate rathe r than in the hand. They saw it being offered it to guests f i rst. They observed that people selected only one iter@ at a t ime, and ate it careful ly , standing or sitting , perhaps using with a paper serviette to catch crumbs. 1 88 Fig 66: Supper backstage for orchestra and crew. The image (Fig 66) of orchestra and crew taking supper backstage in the Royal Wanganui Opera House highl ighted the embeddedness of aspects of 'taking tea' . The bleak surroundings contrasted with the formality of the occasion, apparent in the formal garb of visit ing orchestra members. Although the area was unf in ished, uncarpeted and was being used for storage, c lean , white c loths covered the supper tables. Food was served on plates, and chairs were avai lable for seati ng. The juxtaposition of formal with informal, and the careful p resentation of the food in the unfi nished bui lding h ighl ighted how deeply embedded the code of hospital ity was in Pakeha habitus. The contrasts emphasised the importance of engaging in existing cultural codes to maintain se lf-respect, and retain cultural capita l . In this i nstance, the importance went beyond individual capita l . It extended to the Opera House itself , and possibly reflected on the city as whole. Orchestra members came from out of town, and would probably report to other outsiders about the qual ity of their experience. I t was therefore even more important to provide excel lent hospital ity , accord ing to cultural standards, to maintain the faci l i ty's reputation and encourage others to accept invitations to perform in the city. 1 89 © Gedye Family Fig 67: Transmitting knowledge. Ruth G h igh l ighted how the process could be taken back a step , in th is photograph from her personal inventory (Fig 67) . She is teaching her great­ granddaughter how to f i l l brandy snaps 1 66 with cream using an ic ing p ip ing bag. As wel l transm itting practical ski l ls , work ing with her granddaughter and making th is photograph, created an opportun ity to display Ruth's cultural capita l . I l ike teaching the younger ones what I know. Maybe it's not the right thing or the right way to do it, maybe that's not the right way to f i l l brandy snaps but it's better than using a teaspoon. I f I teach her she can do much better. Othe r young women gained simi lar cultura l information through attending events with their e lders. Karen had attended CoF meetings with her g randmother , Margaret Mary, and made and served tea to her mother's business guests. She had learned about the social and p ractical aspects of tak ing 'tea' , which cups to choose, where they were kept, and how to handle them so that they d id not break. Like Ruth's granddaughter, and the other smal l g i rls pictu red ( Figs 64, 65) she also learned by active engagement under adult supervision. She helped to prepare party food for her grandmother's b i rthday. She worked with Debbie who was a long-time family fr iend (Fig . 68) . 166 A rolled, sweet, cream-filled confection. 1 90 Fig 68: Preparing chocolate eclairs. Debbie (rear) f i l led the chocolate eclairs with cream and passed them to Karen to arrange. By doing so, Karen learned about the behind-the-scenes aspects of hospital i ty. She developed ski l ls in p reparing and arranging party food, learned what sort of food was enjoyed, and that i t was served on f ine qual ity ch ina. She and Debbie wore aprons to protect their 'good' clothes, worn in honour of the occasion. Working together often engendered a feel ing of un ity. I t was also l ikely to increase Karen's conf idence through practical social knowledge. She probably learned that much more was exchanged during the practice how to prepare food. Sharing activities l i ke these provided spaces for exchange of intimacies which enabled people to 'get to know' each other better. Sharing the activity enabled them to develop a h istory through shared experience. Karen might also have learned that developing competence could incur praise thereby inducing emotions of pleasure and pride. Although much of the food pictu red in the photographs above was home­ made, it does not convey a clear impression of a change in Aotearoa New Zealand women's behaviou r in the past ten to fifteen years. W ith store-bought goods now commonplace, home baking is usually reserved for special occasions , as I noted with June's comment that she no longer 'baked' . That food continued to serve as a function of hospitality suggested that it m ight sti l l be intimately bound to the adult female identity in Pakeha ideology (Banda & Herda 1 988) , but adapted to suit late 1 9 1 twentieth century expectations and time constraints. In a departure f rom 'taking tea', but in the context of t ransmitting knowledge through p ractice , other ski l ls were revealed i n photographs . As noted earl ier , Ruth G asserted it was important to teach sk i l ls to younger people. She taught her ch i ldren , g randchi ldren and great-grandchi ld ren to read and/or cook and/or sew. Her photographic inventory contained f ive images involving ch i ldren in these activit ies, h igh l ighting the importance the fam i ly attributed to these practices and emphasising them visual ly (Fig 69) . © Gedye Family Fig 69: Ruth G and a great-granddaughter discussing qu i lt ing. Ruth reflected, That's Tanita and I teach her sewing . I 'm just doing a l ittle patchwork, Amish patchwork, and we were looking at it . She said , "You haven't got the squares right, Nanna." And I d idn't . So she's showing me where I have to put the squares to get them right. . . she loves embroidery, she loves knitting. These . . . ch i ldren are very fortunate because their own grandmother is a g reat sewer, and sews, and crochets, and embroiders . . . she's taught that l ittle e leven-year-old . . . how to use the sewing machine. She can do patchwork on the sewing machine as good as an adult. So when she comes here we talk about it - sewing, patchwork and cross-stitch . (What a wonderfu l g ift?) Wel l , I th ink we're fortunate to have the chi ldren to do it with . (That's true too, a g ift each way. ) They love doing it . They go to schoo l , this one's at intermediate , Tanita, she's a clever g i rl . . . they say to her, 'Where do you get a l l you r knowledge from?" "All ou r grandmothers" , she says. They say, 'Wel l , how many grandmothe rs have you got?" She says, 'Wel l , I 've got two g randmothers, and two great-grandmothers, and they a l l help us sew. Margaret Mary recal led her own experience of gain ing practical ski l ls . my grandparents . . . (t)hey're the ones that started me knitting , sewing , anyth ing l ike that, us ing the crochet hook . . . (m)y grandmother was a 1 92 lace-maker . . . her daughters, my mother particularly, was very interested in d ressmaking. She taught me . . . as well as my grandmother and my aunt. From them you learn , wel l , lots of things real ly. But you're using your hands. Pamela's the same. She sews. She's trying to teach Karen . (And I am teaching the g i rls) knitt ing. What does your father ca l l them? Womanly pastimes. While one might infer that Karen's father was being disrespectful by referring to domestic crafts as 'womanly past imes' , Margaret Mary and Karen appeared m i ld ly amused. Her father's use of the term seemed to un ite the women in the family. This suggested that engagement in shared practice created a gendered, ski l led space of belonging which he could not enter. Their expressions suggested they enjoyed his recognition of their un ity, and that he admired their ski l ls and commitment. Margaret Mary's and Ruth G's comments demonstrated how ski l ls/activit ies m ight be embodied and transferred inter-generationally. Some were integrated into, or reflected in 'taking tea ' . Others practices were embodied and/or performed, and assisted in engendering belonging. Although space constraints preclude my delving deeply into the ways in which younger women created spaces l i ke those described above, personal experience and observation ind icated some changes. Those who had the fewest leisure opportun ities, due to other demands on their t ime, included younger women juggl ing fami l ies, households, paid employment and/or study. Personal experience revealed that working women had fewer time available to take time out with friends. As with the Mancunian women whose mothering activities engaged them in school commun ities (Savage et al 2005), the younger part ic ipants and other women engaged casual ly in a variety of spaces. These included the sidel ines of their chi ldren's recreational spaces, such as the sports f ie ld, occasional weekend 'tea' , or schedul ing lunch or 'tea' during the day. Meeting younger participants in cates was one way in which they overcame the di lemma of managing their t ime effectively within these constraints. Others mainta ined contact by e lectronic means including emai l and telephone. It is an area which would benefit from further study. Conclusion I n this chapter I have discussed the transmission of cultural practices, particu larly those related to hospital ity, using narratives and photographs to clarify actions and processes. I showed that cultural practices embed from an early age through observation , instruction and d i rect engagement. As gir ls grow, older women teach and demonstrate cultural practices, supporting younger women as they engage in the practices themselves. Transm ission could be a subtle and not-so­ subtle process. Sometimes instruction was direct as when young women were activel y shown how to perform certain actions, including the preparation of food and drink. Other practices were more subtle, i ncluding the knowledge of which material items should be used on any particu lar occasion, what to wear and how to comport oneself. Some of the practices Pakeha women engaged in related to their British and European origins. These were apparent in their use of material objects, food served and personal presentation . Some of the practices were evolving, impacted partly by political changes, such as women engaging in paid employment, and partly by the location, Aotearoa New Zealand . 1 93 Chapter Eleven Talking d irectly You have to connect in some way to have a sense of belonging. Ruth G I ntroduction Anthropolog ists understand belonging in a variety of ways. They have asserted that it is f lu id , multip le , mutable and layered . Previously, belong ing , l ike identity, was perceived as bounded, but more recently, the boundaries have been described as f lu id . Belonging i nvolved physical and metaphysical t ies, tang ib le objects and intangib le emotions. I t requi red connections between ind ividuals and collectives. Researchers suggested it was derived f rom a variety of sources. These i ncluded kinsh ip , inter-relationships, shared knowledge, language, re l ig ion and/or ski l ls and cultura l understanding. For some, it was positional . For others, i t was subjective . Sometimes, it was both. Belonging has been variously described as personal , elective , ascribed, and/or accepted. Some scholars a rgued that belonging was deeply embedded and long-last ing, born of knowledge gained as if by osmosis. But, as Ruth G stated (above) , al l belonging involves connections - to people, p laces or spaces. I n the p receding chapters, I d iscussed various practices of belonging. I began from the perspective of ancestry and heritage, revealed and p racticed through narratives. I cont inued by exploring the impact of common experiences and shared values. I then reflected on the relationships to place, past and p resent. This included inscript ion, emplacement and active engagement. I explored partic ipant p ractices of cultural codes, focused on hospital ity , and the intergenerational t ransm ission of knowledge. In this chapter, I discuss what belonging meant to the part icipants. They d isclosed and reflected on their own practices. In structu red conversations, they relayed their awareness of their practices, many of which had enabled them to engage in , connect to, and become intertwined within a variety of communit ies. Somet imes this was related to, and, at other t imes, was regard less of , b i rth or k inship . Cohen ( 1 982) suggested that belonging was not just about b i rth . The participants suggested that b i rth could enhance belong ing but t hat belonging cou ld also be independent of b i rth . Th is underscored the concept of elective belonging (Savage et a l . 2005) . People who were not connected to a place through b i rth engaged i n various practices, many described in previous chapters , to enable the i r belong ing . Some participants revealed what I termed 'dual' belong ing . Th is ind icated an accepted and comfortable belonging to two cultures in two diffe rent lands. I t could also indicate belonging to one culture but different places i n the same land. The participants revealed patterns of belonging , often reflecting movement along a continuum (Kohn 2002) , as they engendered belonging th rough active practices. As the cont inuum lengthened, thickened, or deepened, the i r t ies became web- l ike (Geertz 1 973) . Belonging was often f lu id . Combining Deleuze and Guatarri 's ( 1 987) conception of the l ife-world as a rhizome, with a range of levels and layers, vertical and horizonta l , and I ngold's (2000) extension of the concept, with the suggestion that 'becoming' ebbed and flowed , incorporated the concepts of continuum and web. 1 94 'Home' and belonging When d iscussing belonging , I noted that it was important to consider the meaning of home. Belonging was often conflated with identity , and discussed in conjunction with d iscussions about home. Home could be one's physical dwel l ing place, one's natal home, and/or a "vi rtua l or rhetorical space . . . an idea - or . . . a fantasy - of that . . . place where . . . 'everybody knows your name' " (Morley 200 1 :425) . Some l i terature suggested that home was where people elected to belong (Savage et a l . 2005) . Others conceived of the site of belonging as one's ch i ldhood home, or natal land (Baldassar 1 997; Battagl ia 1 986) . Some participants concurred with this concept, but others disagreed. I asked participants di rectly what 'home' meant to them , where it was, and whether it had to be the same as where they felt they 'belonged'. For those born and bred in W hanganui , home was Whanganu i and where they belonged. For incomers, 'home' could be where they were born and raised , but belonging was diffe rent. Joan H said , "Your belonging in the p lace you weren 't brought up is a different sort of belong ing - it's an independent belonging, away from the fam i ly home. It 's d ifferent . You make it yourself' (my emphasis) . Joan B perceived belonging as changing "with maturity, I th ink . We realize the world is our home. I t's very comfortable whe re we've made our homes and our gardens - things we have invested ourselves id' (my emphasis) . Kathy had developed a sense of belonging to Wanganui and Aotearoa New Zealand, even though 'home' remained in Manchester in Lancashire. (Why?) Because that's where I was born. (You have l ived i n New Zealand for th i rty years. Is that a lso home?) No. It's different because I wasn 't brought up here so my early chi ldhood was in England. (What sort of feel ings do you have when you th ink of Eng land?) Warm f luffies." She laughed. 'When I am in England I have warm f l uffies for New Zealand. (Let's talk now about your sense of belong ing . ) I have more of a sense of belonging here because I am part of the community and I have worked here, brought children up here and buried a child here. (Does that, those th ings, do they t ie you or j ust connect you?) They connect me. I don't feel tied. (My emphasis) These comments showed that people cou ld conceive of home, and belonging, as d ifferent, with one's natal home remain ing 'home', and 'belonging' being enabled by other factors, some of which I explore be low. Joan B described belonging as alte ring with maturity. This concurred with Joan H's suggestion that adult belonging d iffered f rom one's ch i ldhood concepts and feel i ngs. Joan's reflections asserted the importance of t ime and col lective involvement in an individual 's movement a long the continuum of belong ing. Kathy confirmed the signif icance of their suggestions, indicati ng that age, experience, and re lationsh ips, were part of the process of engendering belong ing. I t was not only e lective. I t was constructed through contacts, commitments, engagement in commun ity activities and events, and employment. I t involved the development of personal h istory with people in places. Kathy's comments emphasised that l ife processes which occur in particu lar locations were enabl ing rather than binding. Several part ic ipants indicated attachment to more than one location . This usual ly included one's chi ldhood dwel l ing place . A few ind icated a lack of attachment to ch i ldhood locations, perhaps arising from their attitude to l i fe, their own and other people's personalit ies, the i r age, and/or chi ldhood experience. Yvonne revealed no sense of belonging to her b i rthplace, perhaps because her aspirations d iffered from those of her age cohort, and her younger sister . " I got out of Masterton because a l l my f riends were getting married. I didn't want to do that." Her mother's presence was the one factor which d rew Yvonne back. She had earl ier encouraged Yvonne to explore l ife further afie ld . "(We had) been told for our entire l ives, "Don't do what I d id . Go out and see the world . . . don't get married. Don't have 1 95 chi ldren young . . . (a)nd perhaps I was l istening." Other participants knew people who claimed belonging through b i rth . Such people regarded being born in a p lace as important i n belong ing . I t was a factor which endowed, or through which they c la imed, cultural capita l . Several others ind icated , as I discuss later, that some residents regarded ancestral settlement and bi rth as provid ing them with greate r c la ims to belonging in particu lar locations than incomers. What we belong to Because I had telephoned the participants to arrange the interviews and d iscussed the focus, al l had ref lected, before our meetings, on what belonging meant to them . Yvonne said she had "given it a lot of thought in the past twenty-fou r hours" whi le Joan mused, "It's surprising how you take th ings for g ranted unt i l you have to describe it ." Several remarked that their comments were 'the i r take' on belonging. Yvonne emphasised that her comments reflected 'my belong ing ' . Ruth J said, "This may not be right, but th is is how I feel ." The participants generally described themselves as belong ing to k in , fr iends, a c ity, i ts institutions, and particular places with in and beyond the city. Some revealed belonging to other lands, but remained connected to Aotearoa New Zealand. Others ind icated belong ing to the world in general , and/or incorporated a sense of the metaphysical , as Ruth J described in Chapter Seven . Several described belonging in the context of personal ownership, as well as through group aff i l iat ion. None referred d i rectly to national belonging or to a common language as a l ink in the current era. There are several possibi l it ies for these lacuna: f i rstly , part icipants were members o f the predominant culture , spoke the most often used, Engl ish language , and therefore assumed a national un ity; secondly, the envi ronment was so fam i l iar no-one thought to raise the concepts; th i rd ly , part icipants might have focused on 'the world around here' (Geertz 1 996) ; and , fou rthly, g lobal communications can create extended commun it ies , external to national physical boundaries. Perhaps the emphasis on national belonging had become less dominant in polit ica l , and subsequently, in ind ividual , ideology. But part icipants were aware, as I d iscuss later, of d iff icult ies experienced when ancestor migrants lacked a common language. Of belong ing they said, Margaret Mary: " You belong to a family - to the community - to individual friends and groups. " Ruth G: "I belong to a family . . . 1f you ha ve a house you belong to a house and the house belongs to you." Margaret McC: " There 's belonging to something, or something belonging to me. So belonging can be both . . . (When I bought my new house) , i t was qu ite n ice having my own th ings around me, and remembering what I had." Roselene: "Hmm. Belonging. In its broadest sense, it's a feeling of pride, of belonging to a city, a community, an institution, a family and has a sense of security. There's always the fellowship that comes with belonging . You've got to join institutions, c lubs etc. You've got to get out into the community to get that sense of belonging, to feel part of it. (My emphasis) These descriptions of where and what we belong to a re akin to Cohen's ( 1 982) argument, that belonging inc luded a sense of be ing incorporated i nto the community's social fabric through a variety of means, i nc lud ing genealogy, k insh ip , social , envi ronmental and cultural knowledge, and language i . e . fam i ly , institut ions, community and ownership . Margaret McC's pleasure in "having my own th ings around me" , is a noted transnational sett lement practice (Thomas 1 997), a way of constructing home away f rom home. I t seems to enable belonging, as one re/creates a sense of one's former self in place. Th is may deepen one's sense of 1 96 security, wh ich Roselene argued was an aspect of belonging. By incorporating aspects of past selves in new locations, people enabled their engagement, perhaps because there was a fam i l iar space to return to. Margaret ind icated that material objects with in her home l inked her to her past, and enabled her to entwine it with her evolving self in a new location. Roselene and Joan's comments about fel lowship and friendsh ip h inted at the existence of "nebulous th reads . . . the subterranean level of meaning . . . not readi ly accessible to the cultural outsider" (Cohen 1 982:2 1 ) . Join ing ' institutions, clubs etc' , the p roduction of 'fel lowship ' , the membership of 'a city, a community, an institution' suggested spaces of connection . Pamela's younger daughter, Amanda extended the concept when she argued that belonging meant (b)eing part of something, a fam i ly, an organisation, fr iends, anyth ing. I t's l ike the human triangle ." She left the room to look up her ' rel ig ious education' notes. After conf i rm ing her thoughts, she said , "To be ful ly human, you have to be loved by someone and to be able to communicate with other people, your parents, friends, even the cat. (My emphasis) Amanda's argument, drawn f rom her church school education , that belong ing meant "being part of something . . . to be loved , and to be able to commun icate with other people" was echoed by other part icipants. It suggested that belonging was active. One did not simply 'belong' by being born within a family. Rather , the habitus of Pakeha women at l east, d ictated that agents were responsible for developing their own belonging by connecting and commun icat ing. Shared language was one way of doing so. Although, as I noted above, none referred to language as an aspect of current belong ing , several h igh l ighted its importance in the past. They recalled how language could be inclusive or exclusionary. Ruth G remembered, Mum used to say, 'When you came straight f rom Denmark and can't speak a word of Eng l ish, you felt as though you (were) in a big pit ." There was no way out, unti l she went to Palmerston North and the Danish Church (where they spoke Danish) , and could help her with Engl ish. So, with the friendship, the longing and the lonel iness went, to a certain extent. These comments indicated that it was not j ust shari ng a language , Danish, that enabled Ruth's mother to develop belonging. I t was gain ing f luency in the language spoken in the land she had emigrated to, Engl ish , whi le being supported by others who spoke her fi rst language, which made the d iffe rence. Ai lsa and Joan G h igh l ighted two other aspects of language. I have not seen either raised in the context of immigrants of British origin in Aotearoa New Zealand. Migrants of non­ Brit ish orig in have i nd icated diff icult ies in being understood. Ailsa recal led, "My mother and my father were so broad that we used to interpret for our Maori fr iends." On the West Coast where "the re was lots of immigration", Joan G recal led , Some of them had awfu l dialects. They didn't realize they were so broad. But people also didn't realize how they changed. There was one lady who was a Geordie. 1 67 She chewed and coughed and spat out her words. She went for a trip to England. She returned soon after. "They taark aafu l , " she said , "Aar Garge or aar Wi l l iam" . And she had the broadest dia lect we ever heard. 1 68 Shared culture and language were not essential to belonging, as Kathy ind icated . I 've l ived i n other places where I have been part of the community. I n Germany, I fe lt really a t home there even though we were part of the 167 Geordie n . & adj. Brit. colloq. n . 1 a native of Tyneside. 2 the dialect spoken on Tyneside. adj. of or relating to T�neside, its people, or its dialect (D . Thompson 1 995:567) 16 'taark aaful' - talk awful (D. Thompson 1 995:567). 1 97 occupying m i l itary force. And I had a lovely t ime i n Kings CrosS. 1 69 I l ived i n a flat opposite the wayside chape l . I t was a lovely place. The people were real ly fr iendly. There was a l itt le del i 1 70 next door. I used to have chats with them and people who knew me, and I could wal k around and feel very safe. Cultural d ifferences cou ld impact on one's sense of belong ing , whi le extreme cu l tural u nfami l iarity could engender a sense of not belong ing , as Kathy also noted. I 've felt that (sense of not belonging) in countries that I have traveled through which have been cultural ly d ifferent . . . 1 knew I d id not belong i n Madras. I t was stink ing hot, people everywhere you looked , a nd bodies in the street. I thought, "Oh , get me out of here." Kathy's want ing to 'get out' was a personal reaction to p lace and situation . People and places d i ffer, and what for one person feels u nfami l iar , arousing a desire to flee, feels fami l iar or comfortable to others. This suggested belonging was d ifferent for d ifferent people , and was p robably l inked to personal experience, u pbr inging and/or their age and stage in l ife . A 'feeling' Understanding and being able to speak a common language was an important factor i n belonging because it assisted imm ig rants i n develop ing the necessary connections and feel ings of safety, as what was strange became fami l iar (Tuan 1 977) . Part ly , belonging was a fee l ing of comfort, safety and security, sometimes inc luding a sense of permanency and/or connection with the spi ritual as wel l as the physical world. Pam : "Belonging is where you feel comfortable, at home." Debbie: "It feels good. It makes me feel good." Ailsa: "Belonging - is comfort." Joan B : "Comfortable, wel l rounded, wel l balanced - a person who's not i n confl ict . So belonging is real ly a feel ing , something I have within me. You take yourself to wherever you go . . . Belonging means we feel safe, and secu re wherever we are. We're part of humanity. Our words, actions and thoughts are important no matter how trivial they feel to us. Joan: "(Belong ing) gives a feeling of stability, and satisfaction, as a housewife, and once again, of friendship. Roselene: "Hmmm . Belonging - in its b roadest sense, it's a feel ing of pride . . . and has a sense of security. There's a lways the fel lowsh ip that comes with belonging." Kathy: "It's a feeling of being in a place where everybody knows your name, you know." She laughed. (How has that happened for you?) I t's because living and workin g here I 've met so many people that I know a l ot of people . And I have fr iendships and relationships with al l of these people." (My emphasis) These comments reflect Morley's conception of home as a 'space of belonging' , and Stefano's argument that "Being at home may have m ore to do with how people get along with each other . . . so that feeli ng inc luded and accounted for becomes a means of def in ing a sense of belonging" (2002:38, my emphasis ) . Participants described belonging i n terms of safety, security, comfort, being comfortable, an internal sense, being connected, engender ing fel lowsh ip , pr ide and positive feel i ngs. Many of these words describe emotions, which assert the rea l ity of Nussbaum's contention that "emotions shape the landscape of ou r menta l and ' �9 I n Sydney, Australia, known . . as the drugs and red l ights capital (Sydney.au.com). 1 ,0 Delicatessen. 1 98 social l i ves" (200 1 : 1 ) . Whi le several participants used the word , comfortable , implying "free from discomfort, at ease" (D . Thompson 1 995:264) , Ai lsa used the word , comfort . This impl ied not on ly "a state of physical wel l-being" or "things that make life easy and pleasant" but also of "consolation ; relief in aff l iction" ( ibid ) . I am not suggesting that Ai lsa needed to be or feel 'consoled' but that her use of the term suggested people experienced ' rel ief ' in belonging, and in recogn ising it . Acceptance I ntegral to belonging was a sense of being accepted, of accepting others, yourself , and your lot', and being known and trusted . Being accepted implied tolerance, trust and i nclusion. Belonging could also imply frustration , anguish, and the loss of personal space and spontaneity. The corol lary was not belonging. This was accompanied by a lack of acceptance, and a sense of being excluded or rejected . People who felt excluded described feel ing unworthy, undervalued and not needed . Their responses h igh l ighted the claim that one good reason for belonging to groups was self-esteem (Carnes 1 995, as cited in Bradford et a l . 2004:323) , a factor which d im in ished or disappeared when people felt they d id not belong. Karen described belonging as " (b)eing accepted. I t is defin itely where you feel accepted" (my emphasis) . Ruth G asserted, " You 've got to accept people for what they are and usually you find they accept you bacJe' (my emphasis) . Ruth J enlarged on th is , when she recal led her f i rst contact in Wanganu i , du ring a visit. Kyl ie 1 71 welcomed me, valued me, and accepted me, as if I had come into her shop not as a visitor or a tou rist . . . (she) was happy to see me as a person . . . that wi l l stick with me forever. Acceptance is a most important th ing . . . (b)elonging is about accepting yourself and who and what you are, and about knowing yourself, and the good and bad things about yourself. It is accepting that that's okay. (My emphasis) Ruth G argued, You have got to accept what comes your way. I think your life is planned. You have a destiny. If you want to make it so that you belong to your community you can do it. But, if you have an attitude that you don 't wan t to belong, then it 's very poor. (My emphasis) This suggested that concepts about belonging were embedded in Pakeha women's habitus. The comments indicated the need for, and expectations of active engagement. Belonging requ i red effort, and choosing not to belong was seen as anti -social . This was reflected in other attitudes about acceptable behaviou r. One version related to respect and disrespect for property. Roselene recal led a boy seen breaking windows near her church . She said, It is important to have that sense of belonging otherwise people just feel isolated. I t 's those young vandals who feel isolated . . . (t) hey want to be accepted. When they behave as they do, people don't accept them . . . (s)ometimes it's (vandal ism) a g roup th ing, and bravado. (My emphasis) Reflect ing further, she agreed that although some behaviour isolated people from the mainstream, behaviour was sometimes designed to gain entry into a desi red group . This cohered with Berne's argument that " 'everybody who is anybody' in a g iven social c i rcle . . . behaves in the same way, which may seem qu ite foreign to members of a different social c i rc le" ( 1 964: 1 72) . Those who change the game or the way they p lay wi l l be outlawed in one group , but will be welcomed in another social g roup ( ib id) . I n the situation Roselene described, other factors were probably i nvolved, but space precludes further d iscussion . Ruth G's and Roselene's comments introduced the notion that belong ing could 1 71 A pseudonym. 1 99 be accepted , refused, or rejected i n the context of one group , yet not others. Pam reflected, We can accept belonging. We can also reject belonging. I t's possible to make a positive decision about it , that you are going to have your home here. It is possible, especial ly for people who come f rom another p lace , or they can decide they won't belong . . . We can choose to belong or not. (My emphasis) Margaret McC h ighl ighted another aspect to how belong ing could feel . "Mixed . . . ft depends on what's happening at the time. I f th ings a re going wel l you feel good , and if things are not going well you feel (might feel bad or} . . . frustrated about belonging " (my emphasis) . A woman whose friends acknowledged she rarely became angry, Margaret described problems after she relocated to another city. I nearly chucked in Guides a year ago. I got f rustrated . . . 1 felt I wasn't being valued. I went to a meeting and . . . went home feel ing angry . . . 1 was going to chuck taking the un i t . I had a qu iet chat to a senior colleague. I told her that I knew they m ightn 't value my ski l ls and not be asking me t' do things because they didn't know my capabi l i t ies. She added, I have found it inte rest ing moving to Wel l ington. People had always said. . . it was hard to break into groups in Wanganui. Going to Wellington, I have found the same thing. You m ight belong to Guides, but it very hard to break in . I th ink that's what happened in the d istrict. I sat quietly, when I began attending a new Gu ide g roup. I wanted to see how it functioned before I said anyth ing . She elaborated , explain ing that her 20-plus year involvement in guid ing meant she understood the guiding movement national ly , and wore the un iform . which signif ied belonging. Even so, strangers d id not recognise her competence or knowledge, because they had no p rior personal connections. This suggested that belonging and its companion. acceptance, meant insiders needed to learn about incomers before accepting or including them wi l l ing ly in g roup activit ies. It also suggested that acceptance involved trust, and that, unt i l one was trusted, one was less able to develop or deepen belonging. Margaret's comments suggested another usefu l practice, the value o f observing and developing understanding before speaking or act ing. Ruth J also remarked on the usefulness of such behaviour. She ind icated that people could absorb the culture and mores of the i r communities and cul tures by qu ietly watching. This could enable an understand ing of the people, p laces and cu ltu res. I t was a subtle way of gain ing knowledge but requ i red t ime. She said , As I have l ived here, 1 72 I have gradually learned that you have to be quietly living in a place without putting yourself outwards . . . (y}ou absorb people, and you learn who they are . . . (t}hey have to start accepting you, and when people start getting to know you they can like you, and learn that there are aspects of you they don 't like. But that doesn 't matter (to me) because I like myself. (My emphasis) Ruth G ind icated that there was another aspect to enhancing belong ing , and other reasons for standing back and letting th ings be, part icularly when relationships changed. Sometimes, instead of emphasising connections, those with long-term, wel l-developed bonds needed to stand back . This could enable incomers to develop belonging with in the col lective. When my son moved out and got married after 45 years of l iv ing with me - they decided to marry, and i t was qu ite right - my daughter-in-law said to me, you have no idea how i t feels (now) because I belong to you . 1 72 Aotearoa New Zealand. 200 She has three adult ch i ld ren . One has leukemia. I know about her fam i ly and she feels she belongs (to our fam i ly) . (What have you done to make her feel she belongs?) We live our own lives. I don 't interfere. Lindsay and I have been partners in business. H is wife accepted me as her mother- in-law, and another grandma to her chi ldren . (My emphasis) Ruth ind icated a wi l l i ngness to detach whi le being support ive, saying, "We live our own l ives. I don't interfere." Not interfering provided spaces which enabled the fami l ies to make contact when they chose , rather than being pressured to do so. These practices indicated respect from , and for, those involved. They were able to d raw closer because there was no pressu re upon them. Experienc ing ancestral origins Participants agreed that shared culture enabled people to gain a sense of belonging more quickly. This seemed reasonable given that sharing culture usual ly means sharing language and understanding cultural codes. This usual ly indicated that negotiating the envi ronment was relatively straightforward, even when it was geographical ly unfami l iar. Partic i pants and acquaintances recal led visits to ancestral homelands. For some, it felt ' l i ke home' . Pamela sensed that in York where she entered streets where her g randfather had walked and worked. This suggested that belonging could arise from a combination of col lective instruction and embodiment. Another traveler to England recal led, " (t )he people seemed so fami l iar I felt I was looking at ne ighbours and acquaintances. " This suggested recognit ion of the physical characteristics of shared ancestral gene pools. 1 73 I recal led being in southern Scotland and experiencing a strange sensation of homecoming, of fami l iarity of people, sky, land and seascape. It impl ied embodiment of memory of physical places and people. One might argue that we absorb visual memories from material objects within our fami ly homes, and that related fami ly narratives p rovided a sense of connection to such places. The sensations seemed more deeply embedded than such an argument rendered possible. I t was more like a 'heartfelt ease' , which contrasted with my experience in London . I knew my g reat-aunts had played around Westminster Abbey, and could envisage them there, but d id not have the same sensations. Perhaps my ancestors settled in a place geographical ly s imi lar to Scotland , and the landscape seemed ' l ike home', with wide open spaces, fresh air , and fewer people than further south , perhaps not. I suggest my experience resonated with I ngold's argument, that "remembering . . . belongs . . . in the active and creative involvement of real people in a real world" (2000:205) . People who traveled to places of ancestral orig in recognised that there they can claim the i r past, through narrative and presence. At most, they may connect with kin , al ive or dead. At least, they probably sense more strong ly who they a re , and 'speak' and show, through visiting ancestral locations, the i r past connections to 'local ' residents. Recognis ing belonging Part ic ipants also discussed ways of recognising belonging, in themselves and others. I have al ready discussed the importance of receiving and accepting invitations to events, and into homes, as an indicator of deeper inclusion, and the corol lary , active or si lent refusal of inclusion , as a disabl ing factor. Another way of recognising belonging involved being able to laugh at yourself , with others, and accept humorous, wel l- intended personal comments. Pamela said, "It's being yourself, and nobody minds. I t's not a problem if you put your foot in i t . ( Fami ly or friends) m ight laugh at you but it becomes a joke, or else they just forget it." Amanda argued, "They mightn't let you forget it." "That's right," agreed Pamela. "But it becomes a joke." Teasing me one day about being forgetfu l , she shook her head, 1 73 Note Belich's argument that over half the population may be of English, Scottish and I rish descent (2001 : 2 1 7). 201 patted my shoulder, and laughed, "Oh , W ilma. You're just hopeless, must be losing your marbles." I gr inned and agreed , not m inding particu larly that she had used my f i rst g iven name. Although I am not particular ly fond of it , I accepted her using i t i n t he context described above. This showed how acceptance, often involving long-term connections, al lowed people to make mistakes, have them accepted or joked about, and be forg iven or forgotten. Amanda's assertion that "(t) hey mightn't let you forget it" , and Pamela reiterating that ' i t becomes a joke' , suggested that a younger person m ight react more strongly to being joked with or about. An older person might be more relaxed , laugh at themselves, recogn ize the laughter as k indly, and see it as allowing for their own and other people's idiosyncrasies, and/or errors. Pamela also reminded her daughter that i t was possible to accept laughter at oneself when it was meant k indly i .e. the laughter was 'with' you . Her interaction with me showed how our connection had deepened . Time, shared activities and reveal ing our ' l inen cupboard' stories to one another h ad reduced the boundaries between us and cemented our fr iendsh ip . We were relaxed enough to engage in and enjoy a jok ing relat ionsh ip , wh ich also demonstrated awareness of the other's emotions, and a gently expressed concern . Her pat to the shoulder signified caring , and removed any sting . I t ind icated a close relationship s ince touching others physically was an infrequent aspect of Pakeha habitus, as noted in Chapter N ine. As I have just described, i ncreasing connections often enabled the reduction of particular barriers and behaviou ral boundaries. Ruth J emphasised that the barr iers were often contained with in . We need to do it (the belong ing and connecting wi th others) through understanding, because we can put wal ls between ourselves and people we are among. We don't have to accept that wal l . We don't have to feel rejected and misunderstood, or as if we don 't belong, because we do belong in the world. We can do it ourselves. (My emphasis) She h igh l ighted the abi l ity to resist excl.usion , f i rstly by recognising when people tr ied to do so, and secondly, by taking action to be re- included. Belong ing was individual and communal because i t was also about accepting yourself and who and what you are, and about knowing you rself, and the good and bad things about yourself. I t is accept ing that that's okay . . . You have to grow up enough to disclose 'the dirt' on yourself. We all have our secrets. (But belonging?) I think my feeling of belonging here has really been through acceptance. (My emphasis) Roselene and June aff i rmed this argument independently, adding that a fee l ing of being needed, wanted and sought after , regardless of age , was important. Roselene asserted, No matter what your age is, you want to feel accepted , and needed and usefu l . That's part of belonging . . . (o)ld people shouldn't be put down . We al l have value and can contribute something. When older people are feel ing they have to be i nvolved , they also have to make an effort as well as be accepted. We have to break down barriers in ourselves. (My emphasis) Ruth J indicated that whi le being excluded cou ld be resolved, resolution and re-integration requ i red positive action . She discussed th is in relation to the veneration of people . . . thought to be, somehow, perhaps of better f inancial standing and educational standing" and rejection of " . . . people (thought) to be of a much lower standing (or having) some kind of mental d isorder. They're put down, and degraded, and avoided, and talked about. Being seen associating led to Ruth being 202 ostracized . People shouted at me. Stepping outside (of the accepted social and cultural mores) l ed to my being rejected. It was very hurtfu l . I resolved it by r inging people and asking what I had done to upset them . . . how could I put i t right . . . I . . . d isclosed that I was aware of gossip . So belonging (to one group), and rejecting others, can mean a fear of difference. Gossip doesn't have to be dangerous. Part of ou r belonging is to be able to sort out the prob lems. (My emphasis) This involved tak ing action towards re- inclusion, after acceptance changed to rejection . This arose because Ruth practiced a different approach from the col lective towards people with a d isabil ity. I ronically, her acceptance of one g roup led to her rejection by another. Th is suggested that the col lective feared contam ination, and/or loss of social and cultu ral capital in the same way as when people hesitated to disclose the i r ' l inen cupboard' stories (Boenisch-Brednich 2002: 76) , again for fear of negative judgments, rejection or contamination. Margaret McC's account of her reception , d iscussed i n Chapter N ine , provided insights into how acceptance, inclusion and withdrawal could be enacted . Her account incorporated embodiment and emplacement. I d iscuss other aspects of her account here, since they indicated that not belonging could also be embodied . Margaret had described being hugged by several former in-laws, being greeted exuberantly by a 1 2-year-old nephew. Her former husband Euan . . . gave me a hug, noth ing sexual , just a comfort ing hug . . . 1 felt sorry for ( h is) new wife. There might have been big hugs (for her) earl ier in the week, I don't know . . . (s)he stood behind (her husband) or cuddled the i r baby, or sat with her mother, as if she d idn't belong. Margaret observed the processes which demonstrated her own belonging , performed and embodied in the hugs, the nephew's shouted welcome and h is rush to g reet her. The new wife's resistance to Margaret's belonging was expressed i n he r hanging back i n a group where people knew each other wel l , and acknowledged one another fondly, verbally and physical ly . Her actions embodied her sense of insecurity, and her relatively short-term i nvolvement with the fam i ly. Standing behind her husband , cuddl ing the i r new baby, and sitting with her mother ind icated that she felt she belonged only with blood k in and her husband . Her youth , the baby's recent b i rth and the relatively short time she had known her husband's fam i ly, might have impacted on her ab i l ity to m ingle . These factors indicated why her t ies to consanguineal k in appeared stronger than to affinal k in . The events indicated that when an incomer assumes a sign ificant position in a fam ily, even with a ch i ld to cement the relationship, belonging i .e . connections, shared history and acceptance, sti l l needed time to develop. Margaret's observations were sim i lar to those which Kohn (2002) made with regard to the performativity and embodiment of belonging, detai led in Chapter Two. Mostly, "(t) hey are also very qu ietly and subtly enacted and embodied by people in the everyday . . . invisible to the very people that they def ine" ( ib id : 1 45) . Margaret's observations ind icated that people do become aware - perhaps after absences - of their place in the collective. They also indicated that belong ing, developed and deepened through shared experience, h istorical knowledge and frequent engagement, as Margaret's was during twenty years of marriage, could be embedded deeply, and that it was not lost. I t was revived and maintained through contact during this deeply emotional event . Attending the funeral enabled mourners to recognise their mutual attachment to the deceased. They reaffi rmed their connections to one another by g rieving together, recal l ing their past h istory, and later eating, d rinking and talk ing together. Margaret's experience, the actions observed and performed, and the connections regenerated, recal led Fontaine's assertion that "(t)he image of shared blood or common physical substance a re only two among many ways of representing relatedness" (2002:5307-531 1 ) . The family behaviour suggested that, 203 d e s p i te t h e major d i sj u nction of s e p a ra t i o n a n d d i vorce, t h e c o n n e c t io n s fo rmed were so stron g t h at the bonds rem a i n e d . B e lo n g i n g w a s e nacted l ess freq u e nt l y b u t rem a i n ed d e e p l y e m b e d d e d . M a rgaret's e x - h u s b a nd 's fam i ly cont i n u e d t o r e g a rd t he i r r e l a t io n s h i ps w i t h M a rg aret and o t h e r f o r m e r i n - l aws - t h e two ex- h u s b a n d s p resent at t h e f u n e r a l - a s l i k e those w h i c h were " i n t e rn a l t o a fam i l y ( a n d t h e ) e mo t i o n a l b o n d s , p e r m a n e n t t i es that reflect i d e a l s of s h a r i n g a n d a l t r u i s m " ( i b i d ) . E m b ra c i n g t h e i r f o r m e r i n - l aws e m ot i o n a l l y and p hysical ly h i g h l i g ht e d K e l \ e r h a\s' asserti o n t h a t , w i t h t h e r i s e i n divorce rate s , a n d i n creas i n g recom po s i t i o n of fam i l i e s , "th e k i n s h i p t i e l ooks i n c reas i n g l y l i ke a n etwork" w i t h weak bonds and n o i m p o rtant focal p o i n t , rat h e r t h a n " l i ke a g r o u p c oncentric a l l y iocused o n f orebears a n d e nd owed w i t h a s t r o n g c o l lective c o n s c i o u s n e ss" (2002 : 5 343-5347 ) . 1 74 Nam ing People a lso recog nised t h at t h e y b e l o n g e d , or that oth e rs b e l o n g ed by b e i n g n a m e d . D e b b i e , Kathy and A m a n d a d es c r i b e d o n e aspect of t h e i r b e l o n g i n g as b e i n g k n ow n , u s u a l l y by n a m e . Kath y d e s c r i b e d it as "a fe e l i ng of b e i n g in a p la c e w h e re everybody k nows your n a m e . Y o u k n ow . . . ( S o a s e n s e of b e l o n g i n g b o i l s down to b e i n g k n ow n , and k n o w i n g peop l e , f e el i ng s a f e a n d s e c u re ? ) Y e s , b u t it 's real l y a b o u t m a k i n g connect i o n s , " u n kn o wi n g l y reite rat i n g M o r l ey ' s assertion t h at " h o m e . . is a n i d e a . . . of that u l t i m at e l y heimlich p la c e w h e r e . . :eve ry b o d y knows yo u r n a m e ' " (2 0 0 1 : 42 5 ) . Debbie a r g u e d that d eve l o p i n g b e l o n g i n g was a n a c t i ve a n d p u b l ic l y v i s i b l e p ractice. L i k e M a rgaret's exp e r i e n c e at t h e f u n e ral , b e l on g i n g was p e rformed and e m b o died in everyday actio n s . I think you make your own belonging whether you are from out of town, or not. W a n g a n u i 's m y h o m e a n d I l ove i t . I t's n ot too b i g . P e o p l e accept m e . ( How d o you k n ow you a re acce p t e d ? ) P e o p l e s m i l e . T h e y wave . T h e y say ' h e y ' . T h ey a c k n o w l e d g e you. M y k i d s say, " Y o u k now j u st about everybody i n W a n ga n u i . " I say I d o too . T h ey ( m y k i d s ) c a n 't wal k d o w n the street w i t h m e a n d n o t have som e bo d y s a y h e l l o to m e . I t's come about t h ro u g h ( m y c o n n e c t i o n s to) t h eatre, m y f a m i l y , t h r o u g h t h e k i d s . If you want to belong you make the most of it by joining clubs and meeting people and not being afraid to say hello to somebody you don 't know. (My e m phasis) D u ri n g o u r conversati o n at a street-side cafe, I o b s e rv e d several aff i r m atio n s . At l east two people g reeted Debbie, c o n f i r m i n g h e r obse rvati o n s . G re e t i n g s i nc l u d e d a nod, a n d a s m i l e , o r a wave. T h ey w e r e q u i c k a n d s i le n t , a c k n owle d g i ng h e r a n d t h a t s h e was b usy. I f s h e h a d b e e n o n h e r o wn , t h e y m ig h t have v e rb a l ized t h e i r g reeti n g , o r sto p p e d t o chat. I obse rved s i m i l a r d a i l y aff i r m a t io n s for oth e rs . O f te n , the aff i rm a t i o n occu rred i n w h a t s e e m s to b e a Pac i f i c f o r m - a g lance , a t i l t o f t h e c h i n , a n od w h i c h i s n ot q u i t e a n o d , eyes l oo k i n g u pwards s l i g ht l y a n d e y e brows r a i s e d a l it tl e . T h e m o ve m e nts took a mome n t . N o t hi n g was spoken b u t p e o p l e w e re a c k n ow l e d g e m e nt A n ot h e r n o n - i n t e r rupting g e st u re of a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t i nv o l v e d a s ub t l e wave . T h e e lb o w w a s u s u a l l y a t waist l e ve l , h a n d ext e n d ed n e a r t h e h i p o r j ust b e l o w t h e s h o u l d e r , a n d f ingers rai s e d w i t h m i n i m a l m ot i o n o f t h e w r i s t . E y e b rows m ig ht a l so be raise d . Creat ing and mainta in ing belonging I n t h i s section , I d iscuss t h e p,a rt i c i pa n ts' p e rspectives o n creat i n g , m a i nt a i n i n g , a n d d i m i n i s h i n g b e l o n g i n g . T h ese i nc l u de d p r ivate a n d p u b l ic b e h av i o u r , a n d i nvolved g iv i n g a n d/or receiv i n g , p a rt i c i pat i n g a n d/ o r w i t h d ra w i n g . I n d i v i d u a l p ractices i n co rpo rated s h a re d conversat i o n s , t e l e p h o n i n g o n e a n o t h e r , 174 Cf . Stacey 1990 for further discussion. 204 g iving g ifts, sharing t ime, caring for one another, and inviting relatives and friends to celebrate fami ly occasions. Events beyond one's control , l i ke death , relocation or i l l ­ health impacted on belonging , often negatively, sometimes positive ly. Margaret McC described above how she was physical ly and verbal ly included in a family funeral by 'ex-in- Iaws' . The experience aff irmed her place in the hearts and history of her former in- laws. She also described how remain ing in touch with former fr iends was important. She maintained belonging through frequent reconnection. We stay in touch , and we stay with each other. I f I am coming back to Wanganui , I try to see some of them. When I brought Mum up when Ron was in hospita l , I cal led Jeannie and asked if she had time for a fifteen-minute cup of tea . . . 1 shot round there . . . and we caught up. And I was saying I was looking for a bed when I was here in November. My g i rlfr iend offered me a bed . When I was leaving that t ime, she invited me up for tonight (for a ten-year old's bi rthday party) . . . so Jeann ie and Awh ina I stay in touch with , and Sus ie , and my ex- in-Iaws, and a very few others . . . if I had not caught up (for a whi le) I try to touch base. There are emai ls but Susie's not very good at that, so we get on the phone . . . Awhina is at work, so I catch up with her there. So I suppose commun ication is a way to stay in touch with fr iends . . . (w)ith groups, it is by partic ipating , because if you don't participate �ou don't feel as much part of it, so you don't feel you belong as much . 1 7 June described the strangeness of recogn ising her connection to younger generations of family through use of a relational term, 'auntie' . She said this impacted strongly for several reasons. When you have g rown up as I have with my family dying at an early age - my parents - I never real ly belonged to anybody. But I feel by corresponding with my sisters in England, and the i r ch i ldren, . and another one there with a new baby . . . I 'm a g reat-great-aunt . . . 1 have married and with a family, I developed a sense of belonging . . . my nephew in Hami lton calls me Auntie June. I t is an unusual fee l ing because i t (rem inds me) of a new generation (and that I have fam ily and I belong) . Events such as death connected part ic ipants to places, col lectives and communit ies. Margaret McC's g ravestone photographs ind icated this, as d id Kathy's comment that, " I have more of a sense of belonging here because I have . . . bu ried a chi ld here." Whi le deaths of k in connected them more deeply to Whanganu i , they did not perceive these as tying them to the location forever. G ifts and thanks Offering and/or provid ing practical help and material g ifts was another way of deepening belong ing as did sharing posit ive and negative events, writing letters, making telephone cal ls, and, with the increase in technology, emai l ing people. June gifted plants and food, as a thank you for transport to meetings. Ruth baked love i nto biscu its she sent to fami ly . "Every now and then I do a whole lot of baking, p i le it up and send it down. They a re always del ighted," she said. Her daughter- in-law telephoned her thanks. The thanks enhanced their relationship because the daughter-in-law acknowledged Ruth's efforts and love . Dur ing the cal l , they exchanged information about fam ily activit ies. This increased their knowledge and maintained their relationship . Their practices conformed to social habitus and the expectation that thanks wil l be extended. This is viewed as an active courtesy Whi le some part ic ipants described belonging as a commitment, Ruth G described it as a p ractice, a sharing of emotions, positive and negative , actions that 175 The names are pseudonyms. 205 i nd icated caring. Of her own fam ily and fr iends, she said , " I th ink it's because we s hare each other's joys and p roblems so i t makes a t ighter belonging. I th ink you have to work together to have that feel ing of belong ing and security." Her use of the word, t ighter , suggested degrees of belonging with c loseness enhanced through t ime, level and frequency of effort and contacts, and how and when car ing was expressed. Friends, caregivers and neighbours who acted s im i lar ly extended people's connections, i ntegrating them more extensively i nto commun ity l ife . It also made people fee! valued and noticed. P ractices o f ' love and caring ' inc luded p rovid ing services, making meals, spending t ime and/or talk ing together, invit ing people to attend fam ily celebrations, or being avai lable regardless of situation or t ime . June reflected that when she was i l l "people had telephoned, de l ive red meals and visited to see how I was. That made me feel I t ru ly belonged. " I fe l t s imi lar ly when Roselene remembered, after th ree years , that I preferred my tea with m i l k. Rudge (2005: personal communication) reca l led a fr iend "who, when newly marr ied and wishing to impress, kept a l ist on the back of a kitchen cupboard with info about how her fr iends had their coffee. Thinking she had remembered certa in ly impressed me!" In these s ituations, ' remembering' made the fr iends fee l valued , reinforced the i r bonds, boosted their self-esteem and , i n do ing so , enhanced the i r belonging . Ruth described these tangib le and i ntangib le expressions of loving and caring as more valuable than money could ever buy . . . 1 don't think you can ever be lonely if you have that fee l ing of belonging with fami ly and fr iends . . . ( i )f you d idn't belong you wou ld get grumpy and locked up i n you rself . You'd th ink everybody was against you and that nobody cared. Diminished belonging Knowing that others cared about you was a factor in augment ing belonging and reducing isolation . Such knowledge coul d also reverse , for a short t ime at least, a sense of d imin ish ing be longing a roused through relocation . As I descr ibed i n Chapter E ight, some participants recal led diff icult ies i n developing belong ing i n certain locations and/or s ituations. Negative reactions f rom i ns iders cou l d l eave them feel i ng excluded and therefore, rejected. This resu lted in feel i ng devalued , and, possib ly, worthless. Th is cou ld resu lt in tu rn , to fee l ings of i solat ion o r al ienation . Fuhrmann argued that "(e)steem . . . is related to the sense of be long ing , and not to race or ethn ic i ty per se" ( 1 990:340, as c ited i n Bradford et a! . 2004:3 1 5) . A s people aged, o r their personal c i rcumstances changed, belonging could d im in ish . I noted above that expressions of love and care assisted i n belong ing . S im i la r practices could resu lt in reducing or decreasing the loss o f belonging , especia l l y when people experienced isolation and reduced belonging, due to changes in the i r c i rcumstances. Margaret Mary's photographic i nventory p rovided insights i nto the ove rlapp ing nature of interC ity networks . She revealed actions wh ich showed how caring for others could assist i n reduc ing i so lation i n the short-term . She attended a Christmas gathering in 'sort-of relat ive'S house. I t was a lso the former home of one of her fr iends. She took several photographs of the renovations. 206 © Margaret Watt Fig 70: House interior, Christmas Day, 2000. The new purchasers had made several modif ications (Fig 70) . Margaret Mary said , "I took these photos to show J i l l . It was at (her former) house . . . (s)he heard it was changed and told me to take a good look. So I took these photos." By taking and sharing the photographs, Margaret Mary temporari ly reduced J i l l 's sense of isolation, the rh izomatic th inn ing which had occu rred through a l ifestyle change. I t p rovided a visual path for J i l l into this former node of her l ife. By p roviding a way for J i l l to 'visit' her former home, through the photographs, Margaret Mary enhanced their fr iendship . She tended to J i l l 's emotional comfort, and might have momentari ly reduced her sense of isolation. Alternatively, viewing the photographs might have emphasised J i l l 's loss. The photographs and comments revealed how networks developed and g rew. They also indicated how connections could be sustained through nurturing practices, which many Pakeha women regarded as important. Pamela acknowledged that part ic ipants who had negative experiences in Whanganui were not alone. As discussed earl ier, she found making f riends d iff icult when she arrived aged f ifteen. She elaborated on possible reasons for exclusionary behaviou r after I had told her about an acquaintance. The acquaintance had tr ied to recall the name of a person who had died recently. She said : " If you were Wanganui , you'd know the name". Pam winced because the statement impl ied that I hadn't been in Whanganui for long enough (th i rty years) to know, let alone, recall the name. Age was the acquaintance's excuse. Pam reflected, There is a c i rcle, who th ink they are Wanganui . They have an over­ inf lated opinion of themselves for varying reasons. Usual ly, their fam i ly has been here for a long time. They think they are ' It ' . Other people mightn't be ' I t' because they d idn 't go to school here, or have money, or l ive in the wrong a rea, or have moved here. The def in it ion of ' i t' can vary depending on a range of th ings, usually social-economic . This reflected Bourdieu's concept of cultural capita l , in th is instance, c la imed by some Wanganui residents through b i rth , residence, education and/or income. I ncomers' experiences suggested that, wh i le such claims might not be pecul iar to 207 W h a n g a n u i , a p p a re nt i n s i d e rs c l a i m ed a s u p e r i o r b e l o n g i ng t h ro u g h b i rt h a n d o n g o i n g resi d e n c e . M a rgaret M c C desc r i b e d t h e m as ' s o rt of toffee-nose d ' . S o m e p eo p l e d i s d a i n e d t h e attitu d e , w h i l e o t h e rs actively avo i d e d b e i n g associated w i t h i t . Margaret McC's fam i l y l ived o n S t J o h n ' s H i l l . S h e recal l e d , " F o r so m e . . . S t J o h n 's H i l l w a s k nown as S n ob ' s Rock . . . ( p ) e o p l e'd say, " A r e you o n S n o b ' s R o c k ? " " N a h , n a h .,, 1 76 ( L a u g h s ) " D o n ' t l i ve i n t h e t o w n b o u n d a ry .,, 1 77 S h e h i g h l i g hted t h e b o u n da r i es p e o p l e d rew f o r t h e m se l ves , t o avo i d i n c l u s io n i n b e h a v i o u rs t h e y p e r c e ived a s u nd e s i ra b l e . S h e a l i g n e d h e rself w i t h p e o p l e w h o we re n ot 'snob s ' . B e l on g i n g c o u l d a l s o d i m i n i s h t h ro u g h relocati o n a n d s u bseq u e n t r e d u c e d co n tact, as M a rga ret McC d e s c r i b e d afte r m ov i n g from W ha n ga n u i . M a rg a r e t M a r y a n d o t h e r o l d e r p a rt i c i pants i n d i cated t h at i l l - h ea l t h a n d t h e d i s ab i l it i e s o f a g e i n g i m p acted o n t h e i r a b i l i ty t o m a i n t a i n t h e p rocesses i m portant i n b e l o n g i n g , w i t h f r a i l t y l ea d i n g to d i m i n i s h e d b e l on g i ng t h ro u g h d i s e n g ag e m e n t . ( T o m a i nt a i n b e l o n g i n g ) you sho u ld attend ( g ro u ps) b u t I ' m d ro p p i n g m y g ro u p s because I c a n ' t g et t h e r e e a s i l y e n o u g h a n d I d o n 't l i k e a s k i n g o t h e r p e o p l e to t a k e m y w a l k e r . . . (W h y d o n ' t you l i k e aski n g t h e m t o t a k e t h e w a l k e r ? ) " I t takes u p t o o m u ch s p a ce i n t h e c a r a n d w i t h t h e c h u rc h lad i e s , M y ra u s u a l l y takes m e a n d a c o u p l e o f o t h e rs a n d I c o u l d n 't a s k t h e m to s h a re the c a r w i t h a wa l ke r . ( H ow d o e s t h at m ak e you f e e l ? ) I t ' s d isap p o i n t i n g b u t I c a n ' t h e l p i t . I c o u l d k e e p atte n d i n g t h e m e e t i n g s i f I d i d n ' t have to rely o n oth e rs , a n d if I cou l d wa l k better . . . 1 t e n d to g e t backac h e sitting i n o r d i n a ry c h a i rs f o r t o o l o n g . . . t w o h o u rs o r m o re . . . w h e n peo p l e c a n 't atten d m ee t i n g s t h e y s l i p b a c k . . . ( b ) ut y o u d o n ' t w a n t to h e a r m y t ro u b l e s . ( Y e s , I d o , b e c a u se i t h e l p s m e t o u n d e rsta n d h o w b e l o n g i n g c a n d e c rease ) . T h e A g e C o n c e r n L a d y w a n t e d m e to go t o t h e i r m e et i n g s . I c o u l d n 't d o t h a t because I have t o h a v e t h e toi l et h a n d y . I ' m a l ways d as h i n g i n a n d o u t . I c a n ' t s e e p ro p e r l y e i t h e r . ( S o i t ' s a b o u t p e rs o n a l d i g n i ty t o o ? ) Y e s . ( A n d m a k i n g c h a n g e s t o somet h i n g diff e r e n t c a n be awkwa rd too? ) Y e s . I f e e l m y l a c k o f eyes i g h t i s very f ru strati n g because I c a n ' t r e a d f o r v e ry l o n g a n d d o t h i n gs I u s u a l l y d o . I t ' s j ust o n e o t h e r p rob l e m . . . I ' m start i n g t o f e e l I d o n ' t b e l o n g i n t h e s a m e w a y because I c a n 't g e t o u t to t h i n g s . S o I ' m fee l i n g a b i t isolated . W h e n you ca n ' t d o t h i n g s oth e rs a re d o i n g , i t g e ts t i reso m e . (What c a n p e o p l e do to h e l p you f e e l m ore c o n n ecte d ? ) Talki n g about t h i n g s i s a g reat h e l p . I f P a m e l a a n d J o h n a n d t h e k i d s t a l k t o m e about t h i n g s i t m a k e s y o u f e e l t h a t you ' re sti l l p a rt o f t h e worl d . Dec reas i n g m o b i l it y , re l i a n c e o n o t h e r s , ret i c e n c e a b o u t i nconven i e n c i n g oth e rs , p hysi c a l p r o b l e m s l i k e back-ach e , a n d a desi r e t o reta i n h e r p e rsonal d i g n i t y , red u c ed Margaret M a ry's a b i l i ty t o atten d m e et i n g s r e g u l a rl y . T h i s i m p i n g e d o n h e r s e n s e of b e l o n g i n g beca u s e , w i t h o u t reg u l a r contact, exc h a n g e o f i nf o r m a ti o n , s h a red meals a n d activi t i e s , s h e f e l t i so l a t e d . H e r c o m m e nts e m p h a s i s e d t h e o p p osite o f R u t h G 's com m en t s a b o u t d e g rees o f b e l o n g i n g . R u t h refe rred t o 't ig h t' b e l o n g i n g . Marga ret M a ry's referred to it ' sl i p p i n g away ' , i n d i c at i n g a reducti o n . T h i s s u g g ested t h a t m a i ntai n i n g b e l o n g i n g req u i red o n g o i n g active e n g ag e m e nt . R e m a i n i n g aware o f , a n d b e i n g i nvo lved i n , fam i l y a c t i v i t i e s e na b l ed h e r t o c o nt i n u e fee l i ng con nected t o t h e w o r l d o f fam i ly a n d b e yo n d , a n d t o m a i n ta i n statu s a n d b e l o n g i n g . P hysical d i sa b i l it i e s , fai l i n g eyesi g h t a n d h e a r i n g p a rt i c u la r l y , a n d h e r awaren ess t h a t t h e re were m a n y oth e rs l i ke h e r , d ictated t h at a rest- h o m e wo u l d n o t off e r t h e s a m e i n c l usive fee l i n g a s l iv i n g i n t h e fam i ly h o m e d i d . I t w a s n o t o n l y t h at "(t) h ey d o n ' t k n ow yo u r fa m i l y a n d you d o n ' t k now t h e i rs" , w h i c h t h e p e o p l e i n t h e 1 76 No. No. 177 Although the property was accessed by driving through the suburb of 8t John's Hi l l , it was located i n the adjacent county. 208 regular community circles of contact do. It was also that, without being able to hear or see wel l , the effort involved in understanding others with disabi l it ies seemed overwhelm ing. Margaret Mary was aware that making new contacts would be exhausting , and probably superficial . I f people were not able to engage in regular activities, such as attending meetings, church or visit ing fr iends, the i r belonging d iminished . Margaret Mary's increasing f rai lty, and her fear of burdening the family, reduced her sense of personal security and comfort, and heightened her sense of isolation, despite having l ived in the community for over th irty years. 178 Commitment Participants argued that belonging was a commitment, interactive and ongoing. They knew from experience and d iscourse that i ncomers wanted to develop belonging. Roselene recal led talk ing to a lady at the Citizen's Advice Bureau . She said they had lots of inqui ries from immigrants who wanted to f ind out where they could go to do things and feel part of the community. They were seeking to get a sense of belonging. She and others recal led making efforts as incomers to engage in community activities by talking to their neighbours, join ing church and/or sports or other i nterest groups, becoming involved in work-place activities, and social izing with col leagues after hours. I t worked for them, and they encouraged the practice in others. Joan remembered, I t didn't take us long to sett le down . But you have to try twice as hard as other people you come in contact with . They don't seem to make you welcome . . . . 1 often wonder if I 've been or seemed l i ke that to new people . . . . (i}f I see a new person at church I go up and speak to them because I know what it's l i ke to be lonely. Our own experience has helped us to recognise that feel ing in others. . Kathy described the processes and practices involved i n belong ing . Her comments h ighl ighted the effort requ i red, the slow osmosis through time, and the sense of belonging developing . It's almost l ike a penny d rops. That's something that cl icks into p lace and you belong to it. . . ( i }t 's not something you' re real ly aware of, but you real ize you know people you see in the street. They know you . They know you're going to have a baby. You get to know other people, other mums, and before you know it , you're part of the community. Kathy's comments resonated with those of Manchester residents whose chi ldren provided the connections for 'elective' belonging (Savage et al . 2005) . "This p rocess generates detached social networks, rather than close social t ies with neighbours ( ib id:54) . Elective belonging m ight not indicate such deep involvement as Kathy experienced. She had married in , l ived in a suburb noted for its 'community ambience', and recognised her belonging as " l ike a penny drops . . . something that cl icks into place". This was perhaps a feel i ng akin to 'punctum' (Barthes 1 981 :27) . Roselene also emphasised that welcoming people, being friendly, and accepting them as they were, was vital , particularly when incomers appeared d ifferent. I t was not always easy to continue doing so, and sometimes, people's best intentions did not accord with thei r practice. Ruth G and Roselene argued that being non-judgmental was important. (We can include others) by extending the hand of fr iendship and accepting people ( incomers) as they are , if we're not j udgmental at a l l . I f i t is d ifficult to extend the hand of fr iendship to some people , that's the judgment in ourselves. We have to accept people as they are, and not 178 Soon after this interview, Margaret Mary's health deteriorated. She settled into a rest-home she found congenial. 209 try to change them . If we can't accept them because, as you said , we can't l ike everybody, we probably let them sl ide, but perhaps we shouldn't. Belonging is also a comm itment and p robably a lot of us don't give that commitment. But there's also self-acceptance and you have to know who you are. Ruth G argued that non-judgment and acceptance appl ied cross-cultural ly . You've got to accept people for what they are and usual ly you f ind they accept you back . I am not racist, because I was brought up to bel ieve that people were people, and you belong to each other, whether you know it or not. We have two Zimbabwean that come to our church. They're as black as the Ace of Spades. 1 79 One of the women said she fe l t g reat (com ing to our church ) . She told me , "I didn't know how I would be accepted because of my colour." I said , "You belong to us." She said , "That's important." So to help people towards that belonging we have to show them consideration , and accept their culture , because if you have a cu lture , l ike Maori culture , you' l l never get away f rom it. It's born and bred into you . Although participants argued that shared ethnicity was not important for developing belonging, they indicated d i rectly and ind i rectly that understanding d ifferent cultures could be val uable. This enabled al l those involved to develop personal ly , and to understand themselves and others. Joan B commented, I think it helps to know and understand the other guy because, it seems to me, even in a racia l aspect, to know of another language or culture only increases understanding. That's how I 've found it. By our own efforts we can assist others to develop a sense of belonging, by our own examples, perhaps more than efforts. (Can you g ive me an example to clarify what you mean?)" She thought for a moment. "I went out to a course once. I thought I would learn Maori as a language. I thought, fancy l iving in New Zealand a l l this t ime . . . we used words as kids but didn't real ize they were Maori . Part of i t1 80 was to go to the Kai Iwi 18 1 marae . It was my f i rst official cultura l visit. We had Maori kids as fr iends, and we stayed at their homes. At the marae, one of the chants we had to learn was about the moon . I p racticed as I d rove out. I t was qu ite a big th ing to get a babysitter, and leave my ch i ldren . I hadn't been away from them for ages. I wasn't used to sleeping with others. I didn't even have a bed partner . And here we were sleeping in this g reat hall - I forget its name - with al l these other people on mattresses, warts and a l l , and as I settled down in my place at the top end - under a window ­ the V IPs and old lad ies were at the other end near the entrance. And the windows were just l itt le windows . . . the moon shone through one of these little sl it windows. I wondered how the moon could f ind that window and shine through that little sl i t onto me. It reiterated the chant. I t seemed to say, "You're in the right place and you' re okay" . . . 1 felt the most wonderfu l sense of security. Instead of struggl ing on my own at home, I had th is wonderfu l , wonderfu l sense with al l these people - I had a sense of a l l these people, and we were one big fami ly. I thought, "This is what Maori get f rom this, and that was a big step in me understanding that culture, or some of their cu lture. You might say that it's belong ing to the nth degree, you know. 179 A term used infrequently to describe people whose skin colour is very dark, somewhat disconcerting in the current social climate. Ruth used it to describe more clearly why acceptance was so valued by the incomers. _ A Maori language course. 181 A rural settlement near Wanganui. 2 1 0 I remember talking to Henry Bennett 1 82 about it and my feel ings and Henry saying, 'Well , that would be you r marae, Joan . Other participants also included a spiritual aspect in their belonging . This connected to them to the world in genera l , the natural world , and an i ntangib le , invisible rea lm. Ruth J (above) referred to th is when she d iscussed the p rotests by Maori and others, l i ke the Cornish , and their refusal to d isclose information. "They are trying to say that you don't belong here, and don't try to take anything from us, (especial ly) what's spiritual . They are saying, 'We feel insecure. We're afraid of being robbed (of things which we value)" . She argued that people knew when they belonged to the world in general . We can tell when people accept us, and also when we accept ourselves. That's an ongoing thing. I t brings up the question of God and who God is. To me God isn't a person . This can be said at d ifferent levels. God is everywhere, and around us, in the sun, moon, sky, clouds and so on. It seems while we are here, we belong. I know I belong here. If the army came and said you don't belong . . . if they said nothing belongs to you , I wouldn't agree . . . everyth ing does belong to us whi le we are here . It 's that sense that integrates us into the world . I t is a lmost infin ite, the completeness of you and the universe. We are integrated. If I wasn't here , the world wouldn't be whole , and so that's where acceptance comes in. You can't belong, if you do not accept that every person is important in the un iverse, and that each one is as important as you are. That's a recent d iscovery of m ine. Belonging is . . . There are subtle d ifferences i n participants' concepts of belonging. Blended, they p rovide a sense of what belonging feels l ike . In this chapter, I discussed the participants' perceptions of and their concepts about , belonging. ' They included practices l ike sharing of t ime, labour, meals and food, joys and sorrows, and g ift giving. Participants described what they belonged to, including fami ly, fr iends, organisations, and the collective community. They conveyed the emotions involved in belonging and not belonging, and described how they and others developed, maintained and enhanced belonging. They described how belong ing contracted through relocation, ageing, il l health and/or disabi l it ies. They argued that not belonging could arise through active , personal and col lective practices, producing negative emotions such as feelings of exclusion , isolat ion, loneliness and al ienation. Belonging incorporated simi larity and difference, posit ionality and subjectivity. Using these mechanisms, participants indicated that there were degrees of belonging. They argued that belonging i ncorporated individual needs for commitment to people, places and spaces, and that, with maturity, belonging could change. Older participants indicated their belonging to the world in general , as wel l as to particular places, spaces and people. They i ncorporated the metaphysica l , spiritual and imaginary into their belonging, and perceived, viewed and described belonging as a practice. Whi le cultural commonality often enabled belonging to develop more quickly, those who were d ifferent also developed belonging, particularly when they made an effort to be included in community activities, and events. Participants understood and described belonging as an emotional engagement to people, place, space and the world . They understood belonging as a practice, embodied through personal emplacement and as something which could be engaged in, accepted, rejected , deepened, or which receded. I t could change as l i fe p rogressed, and/or location a ltered . They were not necessari ly aware of thei r practices as related to belonging . They shared a sense of what belonging meant, how it was enacted, how it could be 1 82 A kaumatua, wise adviser, now deceased. 2 1 1 extended or reduced, and how it made them and/or othe rs fee l . The participants' actions, practices and ref lections suggested they sensed belonging as multiple, layered and f ibrous; intersectional , relational and posit ional ; variable according to ci rcumstance , geographical location and t ime. Perhaps most importantly, the participants conveyed a sense that belonging was not u ltimately personal, as Read (2000) argued, but collective and embedded, part of Pakeha women's habitus. Belong ing entai led responsibi l ity, personal and col lective, and could be f rustrating when involvement in fami ly or community affairs was not progressing as partic ipants perceived it should . Participants' assertions and practices h igh l ighted Bourdieu's concept of habitus, with the i r actions creating them as active agents, capable of making their own belonging, but with cultural structures influencing them. Belonging was a commitment people were expected to make. Not making an effort to belong contravened social mores with those who avoided or rejected belonging being regarded as neglectfu l , lazy, or anti-social . The participants highl ighted that belonging ebbed and flowed according to t ime, effort, commitment, location and health . Because of this, Ingold's concept of the rhizome provided a metaphor for understanding belonging. It was entwined in the world , with no apparent beginn ing or end . I t thickened and th inned, ebbed and flowed, expanded and narrowed, for each individual . I n this way, belonging could be regarded as persona l . But because belonging requ i red engagement and connections, and could not exist without the collective , or the environment, it was communal . When participants actively reflected on belonging, they reviewed thei r practices, and recogn ised how they belonged . Doing so might have strengthened thei r sense of belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand as descendants of migrant settlers, or as settlers themselves. They recognised connections to .place as wel l as people. In most instances, their social contacts enabled belong ing more strongly than attachment to places, or particular physical or geographical environments. Most partic ipants regarded themselves as belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand as a whole rather than just to Whanganu i , even those who regarded Whanganui as 'home' . Participants a lso practiced belonging to Whanganui . Home was sometimes thei r birthplace, but the i r belonging became where they dwel led , and invested time and energy, and developed connections. This suggested that for some belonging was elective, for others it was dual, and for some, it related to b i rth . Their constructions of, and engagement with, belonging, were influenced by personal and ancestral mobil ity, and the Aotearoa New Zealand imaginary . In the final chapter, I suggest how the concepts the participants and I explored together might be melded to form a theory of belonging. 2 1 2 Chapter Twelve Conclusion Rapua te huarahi whanui hei ara whakapiri, I nga iwi e rua i runga i te whakaro kotahi. Seek the broad highway that will unite the two people towards a common goal. (Rangipo Metekingi 1 962, recal led by his son , Manu Metekingi 2004) I ntroduction Motivated by a personal interest in the way Pakeha women constructed belonging in post-colonial Aotearoa New Zealand, and recognition that other sett ler m igrants in post-colonial nations were discussing their belonging , my pr ima ry research goal was discover how women rega rded belonging. The research was conducted against the background of a colonial society in change. The indigenous minority was voicing its belonging, and its concerns about the impact of colonization . The catalyst was my own sense of d islocation despite long-term residence in Whanganu i . I wanted also to understand why, after over 1 60 years of white m igrant settlement in Aotearoa New Zealand, Pakeha migrants were argu ing about, and claiming , belonging. I wondered whether Pakeha women's experiences and responses repl icated those in other lands. Over an extended period, I investigated i ntensively how some Pakeha women constructed belonging in a small p rovincial city. I used a range of methods to explore their practices as I engaged actively with them. Towards belonging The Whanganu i research participants ind icated that their attachments to Aotearoa New Zealand derived f rom personal , fami l ia l and ancestral mobi l ity, an understanding of thei r migrant heritage , and of what it meant to be descended from mostly British settlers. They revealed belonging through : active practices in everyday l ife; shared and common experiences; place attachment through inscription; envi ronmental engagement and emotion ; and belonging to commun it ies, collectives and individuals through embodiment, performativity and narrative; knowledge of and engagement in, cultural codes of conduct; and the i ntergenerational transm ission of knowledge . Their practices often revealed juxtapositions of thei r British/European heritage with Aotearoa New Zealand experiences. They revealed how their belonging was generated in the South Pacific land settled f i rst by Maori , and later, by Pakeha. Many described themselves as 'Kiwi' , or 'Aotearoa New Zealanders' rather than claim ing local or regional identity. Some cont inued to regard themselves as Engl ish, and perceived England as home. Despite this, they described themselves as belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. Some a rgued that chi ldhood and adult belonging were d ifferent, the latter created by oneself, the former experienced through chi ldhood fam i l ia l connections. The participants seemed to be beginning to experience belong ing as Cohen described it. They seemed to be becoming "an integral piece of the marvelously compl icated fabric which constitutes the community" ( 1 982 :21 ) . I nd ividual ly and collectively, they claimed belonging to a range of geographical locations , icons, p ractices, and kin. This suggested tendri ls or layers of belonging impacted by those factors I referred to above, such as heritage, ancestral settlement, and personal mobi l ity; and, additional ly , cultural codes, national pol itical practices and global communications. Partic ipants might not yet be recipients of a "proudly distinctive and consciously preserved cu lture" ( ib id) . They had transported aspects of their 2 1 3 ancestral culture, and transm itted, intra-generational ly and i nter-generational ly, some of the 'traditions and values' d rawn f rom their pasts. They were not a lways aware of being 'performer(s) of . . . hal lowed ski l ls' ( ib id) but they were 'expert(s) in its idioms and idiosyncrasies' ( ib id) as ind icated through their practices of and knowledge of cultural codes, h igh l ighted in practices of hospital ity. The i r " depth of. . . belonging (was) revealed in the forms of social organization and association in the community" ( ibid) , although not always through "a part icular kinship g roup or neighbourhood" ( ib id) . Kinship was perceived as important, and connections with in the community were regarded as vital to belonging . Un l ike Cohen's participants who appeared to dwell geographical ly near one another, the Whanganui part icipants' k in were scattered the length and breadth of Aotearoa New Zealand. Their neighbourhoods were less l ike the communit ies of Cohen's island research, and more l ike those described in Savage et a l . 's (2005) Mancunian research . Whi le the Whanganu i part icipants exh ibited a degree of elective belonging to their dwel l ing places, they also claimed belonging to k in and places nationally and international ly. They seemed to construct their belonging relational ly, and positionally. They saw themselves as being connected to Aotearoa New Zealand as a whole. Part ic ipants regarded themselves as "recognisable member(s) of the community (of Aotearoa New Zealand) as a whole and of its cultural panoply" (Cohen 1 985:2 1 ) . Some were attached to part icular p laces th rough memory, residential longevity, inscription and/or engagement with in the landscape, private and publ ic. They located their or ig ins with in and beyond Aotearoa New Zealand's shores. Through this, I began to understand that they were not indigenous in the way that Maori Aotearoa New Zealanders were. This d id not p reclude their sense of belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. This study showed some Pakeha women had begun to develop a deeper belonging to Aotearoa New Zealand. In most instances, it did not paral lel that recorded in their ancestral communities nor of the Maor i . The research demonstrated that, for these Pakeha women, belonging had developed to the point where they practiced and claimed belonging, not on ly because "we have nowhere to go and do not wish to go" (Read 2000:2) , but because th is was where they fel t they belonged and where they wanted to stay. I t had become 'home' in most respects - environmental ly, cultural ly, personal ly collectively, emotionally, spiritual ly and/or metaphysical ly. Participants c la imed belonging to mult ip le locations, th rough ancestral and personal connections, but experienced personal p lace attachment to fewer locations. L ike Bel l (2004) , I agree that only by exploring their own orig ins can Pakeha gain a g reater understanding of what it means to belong in the world, in Aotearoa New Zealand, and to 'the world a round here' . By doing so, they might recognise and/or broaden the i r knowledge of Maori concepts of belonging, and the d ifferences between the i r own , and Maori , concepts . Heightened understanding might lead to their recognising the contributions of Maori to Aotearoa New Zealand l ife, and a subsequent reduction in the denial of the val id ity of Maori claims. Bel l argued that it might be better for Pakeha to accept "that al ienation/estrangement defines p recisely who they are. (This) would mean acknowledging estrangement from their European 'orig ins' and acceptance of the losses that entai ls. This p rocess of geographical and cultural estrangement m ight offer a point of departure for reconstructing the Pakeha relationship to place in New Zealand (sic)" ( ib id:235) . The Pakeha participants i n the Whanganui context were moving along a continuum of experience. I n this respect, they were beginning the journey towards the 'broad h ighway' Rangipo Metekingi referred to in the whakatauki noted at the beginn ing of th is chapter, a process which m ight u lt imately assist in reconstructing Pakeha relationships within the land. The change was reflected in their heightened knowledge of their own origins, and their wi l l ingness to claim them publicly. Moving from the assimi lationist attitudes of the 1 950s could herald a r ise in the awareness 2 14 of the role of colonization in Aotearoa New Zealand, its effect on Maori , and its g rowing impact on Pakeha, as Maori h ighl ight its import for themselves. As in other cultures, Pakeha women in Whanganui developed and maintained belonging through intergenerational transmission of knowledge about their origins, cul ture and p laces through narrative, personal experience, embodiment and action . The process had become more publ ic in the past th ree decades, as Pakeha began to comprehend the value of embracing thei r orig ins, and of recogn izing how they a rrived in this place at this t ime. Thei r sense of dislocation became evident as they d iscussed their heritage, puzzled over Maori concepts of belonging, and acknowledged thei r connections to Aotearoa New Zealand th rough people, heritage , material objects, iconic constructions, and places. I began this dissertation with a Maori proverb which argued that only by reviewing the past can we bui ld the future, and followed with a quotation from Cohen ( 1 985) , arguing that belonging requi red more than being 'born in place' . The research suggested that some Pakeha have begun to review the i r past in an effort to f ind the i r p lace and the i r belonging . Through a range of practices, they were developing, and expressing deepen ing belonging. They were constructing their own 'folk' h istories, discovering their frames of reference, and expressing the i r attachments through kin and t ime to place. This activity signaled deepening awareness among Pakeha of belonging , and recognition that it was not possib le to belong without acknowledging Maori belonging. Their practices and their c la ims suggested concern about their 'place' in Aotearoa New Zealand, particularly since it had been chal lenged by Maori . Where that 'place' is , is becoming clearer, but how it wi l l f inal ly be resolved is not. Ol l iver-Richardson asserted that (w)h i le considering 'a sense of belonging' may not be su itable for a l l studies of ethnicity, i t may be relevant in situations which are Pacific I sland-based, or l ike Hawai ' i , communities in which d ifferent ethn ic g roups co-exist wh i le subscribing to an 'umbrel la' , pan-ethnic identity (2002: ) . I nc lusion is l ikely to be as signif icant in Aotearoa New Zealand as for Hawai i . concur with Ol l iver-Richardson's argument that U(a)s cultures, people and ethnicities become more f lu id , the parameters and markers of 'belonging' and inclusion wi l l be as sign ificant as the borders of 'exclusion . . . t t ( ib id) . This is un l ike ly to occur unt i l Pakeha have establ ished and recognized their own practices of belonging. They were l ikely to need to acknowledge, as Bel l suggested, that the i r 'al ienation/estrangement' def ined who they were . By recognizing thei r own p ractices, Pakeha cou ld strengthen their belonging in Aotearoa New Zealand and with in the world . Doing so could enable them to move forward. They wou ld have less need to assert themselves by acknowledging the barriers constructed by the i r ancestors, and recognizing and accepting the need to heed the Maori voice, i f those barriers were to d imin ish . In the Maori sense, "Nga moe moe a ki tua/Nga ara ki naianei/ Nga tupuwae ki mu". Pakeha could also use "The visions of yesterday (as) today's pathways (to create) tomorrow's stepping stone" (Metekingi 1 962 , reca l led by Metekingi 2004) . Metaphors Drawing on active research , I argued that belonging was a complex combination of individual and collective actions, p ractices, cultural codes and personal and collective phi losophies. Belonging appeared to be mult iple, mutable , f lu id , and layered, personal and col lective, positive and negative, embedded and e lective , proscribed, ascribed accepted and/or rejected. It appeared to arise f rom , and occur as an expression of , habitus. I t could be impacted on , and a ltered by personal agency, pol itical processes, and g lobal events . It was enhanced by knowledge of common experiences and shared practices, and altered with maturity. Part ic ipant belonging combined a sense of 'belonging together' with 2 1 5 emotional attachment to people and places, past and present. This arose through engagement with in cultures, places and people. Jackson ( 1 995)'s description of being "at home in the world", suggested ease, but d id not necessari ly equate with or contain a sense of belonging. Brubaker and Cooper suggested incorporating the Weberian term , Zusammengehorigkeifsgefilhl, into d iscussions about belonging . This notion described "a feel ing of belonging together' but, it was argued, probably depended partly "on the degrees and forms of commonal ity and connectedness(and) . . . other factors, such as part icular events, the i r encoding in compel l ing publ ic narratives, prevai l ing d iscu rsive frames and so on" (2000:20) . The term incorporated much of the participants' understanding of belonging . Extending Bourdieu's ( 1 982) concept of practice with I ngold's (2000) metaphor of the rhizome highl ighted the importance of individual agency, and its interplay with the social habitus, as well as the environment. I t made space for change. Overlaying Kohn's (2002) continuum with the concept of the web, enabled us to partly understand how rhizomatic tendri ls can be thickened, suggests the stickiness of habitus, and through that, a way of explain ing personal resistance to change. Applying Geertz's ( 1 973) concepts of 'thick' and 'th in ' to belonging, provided another way of understanding how a rh izome could develop thicker or thinner, longer or shorter, tenuous or deeply embedded strands. I t a lso provided a way of indicating that whi le belong ing was layered, horizontal ly and vertical ly, layers could vary in th ickness, emphasising the participant descriptions about degrees of belonging. Doing so also provided a means of describing how belonging m ight shrivel without commitment, just as a rh izome, or parts of it , shriveled and d ied, without the right conditions for nurture . Retu rn ing to Deleuze and Guattari's ( 1 987) original d iscussion of the rhizome assisted in clarifying and extending the metaphor. They a rgued that "(a) rhizome as a subterranean stem is absolutely d ifferent from roots and radicles . . . ( t )he rhizome itself assumes very diverse forms, from ramified surface extension in al l di rections to concretion into bulbs and tubers" . It had "no beg inn ing or end ; it is always in the middle . . . coming and going rather than start ing and f inishing . . . " ( ib id :6-7). I f one adopts the metaphor, and appl ied to i t a degree of botanical accu racy, one discovers the abil ity for expansion. Playing seriously (Ortner 1 996) with the rhizomatic concept enables one to extend the manifestations of belonging, and to argue that it exists above the surface as wel l as in the subterranean world . Just as a rhizome 'assumes very d iverse forms' (Deleuze & Guattari 1 987:6) so, it seems, does belonging, revealed through p ractice. A rhizome is not static, and nor is belonging . Whether one envisages it as a "ramified surface extension . . . bulb or tuber" ( ibid) , a rhizome p roduces roots, leaves, flowers and seeds. It can be propagated by division or seed. I t can be replanted in d ifferent soils and environments. I n each situation a rhizome is l ikely to manifest itself sl ightly d ifferently, depending on c l imate, soi l , location and nurture. A rhizome tended by a gardener might flou rish. Over-tended or neglected, it m ight wither and d ie . But , just as people who die leave traces of l ife in memory and material objects, so a rhizome leaves its own traces, continu ing to f low into and add to the world as it decays. There is no predict ing how, or even whether, it wi l l survive unt i l the gardener learns what conditions i t needs to f lourish . I t may flourish on an apparently d ry hi l lside, in a swamp, or in wel l-tended g round, leafing , flowering and seeding in profusion . Each seed can produce a d ifferent form of the adult plant, throwing d ifferent colou rs, or smaller or larger varieties. Rhizomes can be transported across the world, and planted in d ifferent lands, or contained in a pot, or plastic bag with sawdust, and f requently relocated . I n the same way, belonging evolves accord ing to location, environment, ancestry, and a host of other factors. Rhizomes m ight not g row exactly as they g rew in the i r 2 1 6 orig inating land . They might produce smal ler or larger leaves or different coloured f lowers. They produce bu lbs which can be removed, d ivided and replanted , generating their own col lectives f rom individual plantings. The gaps left in the ancestral p lots also f i l l with t ime. The upl ifted rhizome, potted or replanted, and tended or neglected according to individual preference, continues its existence, or withers and dies. It is worth emphasising Deleuze and Guattari 's assertion he re, that the form of a rh izome varies ''from ram ified surface extension in a l l d i rections to concretion into bulbs and tubers". With "no beginning or end; it is always in the m iddle . . . coming and going rather than start ing and f inishing . . . " ( 1 987:6-7). Th is comprehensive understanding of the rhizome provides a metaphor for understanding that belonging can alter with environmental , relational and positional changes. It also enables us to comprehend how, in a changing world, with the rise in virtual communities, and personal wishes to offload material possessions, how individuals might create belonging to others in d iverse locations. Such belonging bespeaks metaphysical and imaginary to a g reater degree than physical belonging but is , in the becoming of those who engage in this way, equal ly val id. Moving the metaphor in this di rection suggests combining Ingold's (2000) relational concept with a genealogical concept, since rhizomes also reproduce through seed. I suggest that doing so does not weaken Ingold's concept, but enables a combination of perspectives. The combination enables an understanding that belonging requ i res nourishment in the same way as a rh izome . Just as a rhizome manifests itself in many forms, so belonging can appear in many forms and involve a range of practices. That a rhizome can manifest as subterranean stem, tuber or bulb , suggests that belonging can be simi lar. I t can be conta ined or expansive, reveal itself in degrees, or hol istically. I t can occur at d ifferent levels, and be revealed as deeper or shal lower, weaker or stronger, thicker or thinner, longer or shorter, depending on environment. A healthy belonging suggests healthy connections just as a flourishing rh izome, complete with leaves, arid cyclical f lower production suggests desi rable g rowing conditions. A dying rhizome suggests the ebbing of life but not the cessation of being . The ebbing of belonging suggests a reduction of connections and less abi l ity maintain belonging. Like l ife, belonging can sl ip away. Like l ife , it can be regenerated, sometimes briefly, before a part icular individual is engaged in a d iffe rent form of regeneration . S imi larly, belonging can be regenerated by attention and commitment. Just as Maori practice ahi ka to keep the home fi res burn ing , so must Pakeha ensure commitment and continued p ractice to enable belonging. For, j ust as nourish ing a rh izome encourages it to flourish , so engaging in the p rocesses of belonging enables belonging to flourish . And if, as Ingold's terms, we 'grow' and 'are g rown' , we also 'g row' our own belonging by engaging in fam i l iar practices and adapting to changes. We also 'grow' other people's belonging, and in return , they 'g row' ours . Like the successful gardener whose attention reaps benefits, by tending ourselves and others, we engage more strongly, and so encourage our own belonging. One could argue that some manifestations of belong ing are more l ike rampant garden escapees i .e . where an occupying or colonizing g roup overruns the ind igenous group. Then , it is not unti l the ind igenous group regains its strength that alterations to incomer belonging can occur. Then , the interactions between the g roups, and the understandings which can occur , enable altered perspectives of individual and col lective 'place'. Again , in this situation, belonging can be seen to be faci l i tated by knowledge and experience, to 'grow' and 'be grown' , but in a d ifferent manifestation. Belonging , l i ke identity, could be a useful cross-cultural concept, but on ly by recognising, as Sokefeld (2001 ) warned , that individuals, collectives, and cultu res may sense and experience belonging d iffe rently, even though they construct it through simi lar practices. Whi le belonging may contribute to identity, and has long been interwoven with concepts about identity, the Whanganui research suggested 2 1 7 that belonging was about more than knowing who you were . It was also about knowing where you were and had been, to whom and to what you belonged, and how you were connected social ly, cultura l ly, physical ly and spiritually. Pakeha habitus demanded engagement in the world . Contributions By interweaving women's narratives with visual renditions of their l ives, this d issertation makes an ethnographic contribution to studies of the construction of belonging, in a colonial , non- indigenous, sett ler context. It provides an analysis of active practices of belonging in Aotearoa New Zealand at the turn of the 2 1 sI centu ry. I t does so through researching, describing and discussing Pakeha women's articu lations of their connections to the past, their sense of place and everyday cultural practices. I t examines the reasons behind Pakeha claims for deepening belonging and investigates how this has occurred . I t partly f i l ls the lacuna Boesnich­ Bode (2002) identified in her paper and thesis on migration of German people to Aotearoa New Zealand. The research examined the practices of belonging among non-indigenous settlers. I t can be included within a developing body of research on sett ler belonging, explored in Austral ia (Read 2000; Strang 1 997) and Aotearoa New Zealand (Bel l 2004; Boenisch-Brednich 2002; Dominy 200 1 ) . I nternational ly, it can be located with in other research investigating belonging more di rectly than p reviously (Kohn 2002 ; Read 2000; Savage et al. 2005). I t did so by di rectly investigating Pakeha women's constructions of belonging through action, daily l ife , observation , and narrative. Whi le i t p rovides di rections towards understanding belonging, and a metaphor for doing so, I have identified lacuna with in the research , bu t did not e laborate on them due to space and t ime constraints. I reiterate these next. Directions This research was l im ited to Pakeha women's constructions of belonging within a p rovincial Aotearoa New Zealand centre. I t focused on the practices, concepts, narratives, codes of conduct, and visual depictions, of a group of olde r women . Lacuna identified and described briefly i n the thesis included the ways i n wh ich young people, female and male, p racticed belonging; and how women who were engaged in paid employment whi le maintaining a household and fami ly created spaces for themselves. These could form the foci of futu re research , as could other topics such as the impact of pol itical actions and/or international events on belonging; issues of ind ividual interpersonal relationships and resistance; the changing relationships of women and work; male, Maori and metropolitan constructions of belonging. The research demonstrated an absence of Maori/Pakeha interrelationships at a personal and collective level within this small g roup, but an awareness of the d i lemma of a nation , sti l l impacted by colon ization. Another possibi l ity for future research could investigate how and where Maori and Pakeha connect, and the impl ications of this for furthering understanding, and the development of mult iple belonging. I t would also be interesting to explore constructions of dual belonging, and to learn where and how these occurred and were facil itated. One could explore the question of whether they d isappear as ancestral sett lement recedes temporally. Other research could extend the gender, age, and ethnic foci to incorporate male, Maori, youth and d ifferent ethnic perspectives, within and beyond the shores of Aotearoa New Zealand . I t could also explore whether practices of belonging d iffer, according to cultu ral constructs and expectations, by investigating and comparing strongly individualistic societies with strongly communal societies. 2 1 8 Perspectives and practices might be a l igned more closely than m ight intial ly be anticipated , for, as Ruth G argued, "( i )f you want to make i t so that you belong to you r community you can do it. But, if you have an attitude that you don't want to belong, then it's very poor", whi le Ruth J asserted, belonging is "as if a l l the molecu les in your body are part of it , and they a l l are connected." 2 1 9 Appendix 1 ( I nformation sheets and consent forms for research participants) Creating the present using the past: How do women in Wanganui use the past to create the present? Researcher: Penny Robinson P O Box 84 Wanganui Tel 06 3450845 email : Robinson.Assoc @ xtra.co.nz Supervisor: Or Keith Ridler SST7, Massey University, Palmerston North Tel 06 3569099 email : k.r idler @ massey.ac.nz I am a New Zealand born doctoral student attending Massey University at Palmerston North and studying Visual Anth ropology. I have an interest in women , community and belonging, and associated with that, the idea of identity and home. My proposal aims to investigate how women in th is reg ional New Zealand community use their past to create their present. I am contact ing you to invite you to be involved in my study. The study wil l be carried out in accordance with the Ethics Code and Procedures of the New Zealand Association of Social Anthropologists. My proposed research means looking at the way women, in particu lar, use and experience spaces, events and their l ives and inscribe them with meaning. That means their meeting spaces, publ ic spaces, gardens, bui ld ings and interior decoration . I t also means what aspects of their past they use today, th ings l ike wearing particular clothes, or cooking part icular foods, or entertain ing or gathering together in part icular places or special ways. I t can also mean ways they recal l the past, and show that in their behaviour, their dress, their dai ly activit ies, and in publ ic events. It can be as simple as real izing that one of the reasons you knit , sew or crochet is because your grandmother or great auntie taught you and you have found i t a useful or p leasant skil l to be involved in , or as complex as feel ing an aff in ity for a place because the fami ly has been there for decades, or even centuries. I wou ld be g lad i f you would agree to be involved in my research. 220 You would be agreeing to me • Attending some of you r meetings as an observer • Doing many of the things you do at those meetings i .e . stitching, washing dishes, l istening • Taking notes about those meetings and what people do • With your agreement, photograph ing or videoing some of those meetings. • Visiting you at home • Photograph ing or videoing aspects of your home, garden, publ ic and domestic spaces • Attending some other activities you a re involved in • Talking with me about you r l ife and recording a personal narrative • Sharing aspects of you r l ife with me , part icularly your involvement in the community and with in you r fami l ies. • Talking with me, somet imes one to one, sometimes in small groups • Being photographed or video-taped at agreed moments. • Depending on the topic we are discussing the time involved wi l l be vary. It could be several hours over several months, or a few hours over a shorter t ime. Because I have not done research of th is natu re before I am not able to be precise. When the research is completed it wi l l be written up as a thesis. • I wil l g ive you a copy of you r personal narrative. You wi l l be able to amend this. • I wi l l show you the photographs and video tapes I make i nvolving you , and make those avai lable for copying. • I wi l l show you al l text quotes and especially photos and videos before publ ication. • You may opt out of the research at any t ime, or specify text or images you do not want included in the thesis. Thank you for you r time and consideration Yours sincerely, Penny Robinson 221 Massey University, Palmerston North, Doctoral Research Researcher: Penny Robinson Research topic: How do women in Wanganui use the past to create the present? I have read the I nformation Sheet and have had the details of the study explained to me. My questions have been answered to my satisfaction, and I understand that I may ask further questions at any t ime. I agree to provide information to the researcher on the understanding that my name wi l l not be used without my permission . (This information wi l l be used only for th is research and for publ ications arising f rom this research project ) . I agree/do not agree to the interview(s) being audio taped. I agree/do not agree to the interview(s) being video taped. I agree/do not agree to activit ies being video taped. I agree/do not agree to being photographed. I also understand that I have the right to ask for the audio/video tape to be turned off at any t ime dur ing the interview. I understand that I have the right to veto the publ ication of any personal ly identifying material . I understand that , whi le the research is confidential to the researcher, a doctoral thesis is a publ ic document and wi l l be available to others through the un iversity l ibrary . I understand that, because of the nature of th is project, I may be identif iable in photog raphs or f i lm. I understand that the researcher p lans to use sti l l photographs and video images in the final presentation. Any identif iable references must be agreed to by me before publ ication . I understand that I may opt out of the study at this stage. I understand I have the r ight to decl ine to answer any part icular questions. I understand the researcher wil l show me al l text quotes relating to me, and especially photos and videos before publ ication. I understand I have the right to withdraw from the study at any t ime. I understand that I may specify any text or images I do not want included in the thesis. I agree to participate in this study under the conditions set out in the I nformation Sheet. Signed: Participant: Date: Signed: Researcher Date: 222 Appendix 2 (ASAANZ Code of Eth ics) (for original layout cfhttp ://asaanz.rsnz.org/codeofethics .html) Association of Social Anthropologists of Aotearoa New Zealand Code of Eth ics One of the four objectives of the Association is "to su pport the ethical cond uct of social anthropology". The Association of Social Anthropolo gists of AotearoalNew Zealand adopted a code of ethics whose ful l title is " Principles of Professional Responsi b i l ity and Eth ical Conduct ". This code was prepared by the Ethics Comm ittee of the Associat ion and i s based, i n a modified form, o n the American Anth ropological Association's " Principles of P rofessional Responsibi l ity of" ( 1 976). Another document of relevance to the activities of Anthropologists in N ew Zealand is the Maataatua Declarat ion. "P rinciples of P rofessional R esponsibi l ity and Ethical Conduct" P repared by the Ethics Committee of the Association of Social Anth ropolog ists of AotearoalNew Zealand (formerly New Zealand Association of Social A nthropologists). Adopted at the AGM of the Association, 28 August 1 987 Prologue The relationship between eth ics, and research is one of the m ost impo rtant p roblems faced by anthropolog ists. The demand for accou ntabi l ity and ethical responsibi l ity in research is valid and has become irresistible, as i nstances to the contrary have resu lted in impaired research opport u n ities, infringement on the autonomy of peoples studied, and in some i nstances harm to research participants. The following P rinciples of Professional Responsibi lity and Ethical Conduct set forth the major eth ical issues confronting New Zealand anthropologists in their work. I t should be borne in m i n d that the issue of professional ethics, and the pri nc iples that fol low, have been the focus of considerable debate and d isagreement. The ethical proble m s faced by anth ropolog ists have changed over time and have become more d ifficu lt to resolve, and there is now, nor is there ever l ikely to be, any definitive agreement concern i n g either the nature of these problems or their solut ions. W ith this i n mind, this set of " P rinciples of P rofessional R esponsibi lity" is intended to be a working document, amenable to revision after d iscussion at any AG M of the Association . Ethical p rinci ples are vital for anthropologists because important ethical issues f requently arise in their work. This set of principles is i ntended to heighten awaren ess of the ethical issues that face anth ropologists, and to offer them workable g u idel i nes to help resolve these issues. It encourages anthropologists t o educate themselves i n this area, and to exercise their own good judgement. It is also intended to provide protection for anthropolog ists who come under p ress u re to act in ways contrary to their professional ethics . It is recog n ized that ethical responsibil it ies sometimes confl ict with one another, and the followi ng principles are presented with full recognition of the social and c u lt u ra l p luralism of 223 host societies and the consequent p l u ra l ity of values, i nterests, and d emands in those societies. N o n etheless, it is imperative that anthropologists be knowledgeable about ethical issues, be concerned about the welfare of research participants and about the f utu re uses of the knowledge they acq u ire, and accept personal responsibi l ity for their decisions and actions. W here these imperatives can not be met, anthropologists wou ld be wel l -advised not to p u rs u e the particular work in q uestio n . T h e following p rinciples are deemed f u ndamental t o the anthropologist's responsible, ethical purs u it of the p rofession. 1 . Responsibi l ity to Research Participants: I n their work, anthropolog ists' paramount responsibi l ity is to their research participants. When there i s a conflict of i nterest, these ind ividuals must come f irst. Anth ropolog ists m ust do everything in their power to protect their physical, social , and psyc holog ical welfare and to honou r their d ignity and privacy. a. W here research involves the acqu isition of material and information transferred on the assu m ption of trust between persons, i t is axiomatic that the rig hts, interests, a nd sensitivities of those persons m ust be safeguarded . b. The aims of the investigation should be communicated as well as possible to research participants. c. If at al l possible, the approval of the host popu lation or g ro u p studied should be sought before any research is actually beg u n . d. Every effort should b e exerted to cooperate with members of the host society in the planning and execution of research p rojects. e. W hi l e there is always an implied ass u m ption of trust between researchers and research participants, every effort should be made to reach an explicit agreement to this effect. f . Research participants have a right to remain anonymous. This right should be respected both where it has been p romised explicitly and where no clear u n d e rsta n d i ng to the contrary has been reached. These strictures apply to the col lection of data by m eans of cameras, tape recorders, and other data-gath e ri n g devices, as wel l as data col lected in face-to-face interviews or in participant-observati o n . R esearch participants should u nderstand the capacities of such devices; they should be free t reject them if they wish; and if they accept them, the resu lts obtained should be consonant with their r ight to welfare, d ig nity, and p rivacy. Despite every effort being made to p reserve anonymity it s h o u ld be made clear to research participants that such anonym ity may be compromised u n i ntentionally. g. There is an obligation to reflect on t h e forseeable repercussions of research a n d publ ication o n t h e general popu lation being studied. h . The anticipated consequences of research should be comm u nicated as f u l ly as possible to the individuals and g roups l i kely to b e affected . i. There should be no exploitat ion of research participants for personal gain. Fair return should be given them for all services. j. In accordance with the Association's general position on the clandestine and secret research, n o reports should be provided to sponsors that are not also avai lable to the general p u blic and, where practicable, to the popu lation stu d ied. 224 2. Responsibi lity to the Wider Society: Anthropolog ists are also responsible to the publ ic- all presumed consumers of their professional efforts. To them they owe a commitment to candou r and to truth i n the d issemi nation of their research results and i n the statement of their opinions as a student of h u m an ity. a. Anthropolog ists should not com m u nicate thei r f indings secretly to some and withhold them from others . b . Anthropologists shou ld not knowingly falsify or colou r t h e i r f indings. c. I n providing opinions, anthropolog ists are responsible not only for their content but also in expla i n i n g both these opinions and their bases. d. As people who devote their professional lives to understanding h u manity, anthropologists bear a positive responsibi l ity to speak out pu bl icly, both i n d ividually and col lectively, on what they know and what they bel ieve as a result of their professional expertise gained in the study of human beings. That is, they bear a professional responsi bi lity to contribute to an "adequ ate definition of reality" upon which publ ic opinion and publ ic policy may be based. However, anthropologists shou ld not be p resent themselves as spokespersons for people who h ave not g iven them their consent to act i n such a capacity, and they should advocate the right of research partici pants to be heard d i rectly i n contexts where their lives may be affected. e. I n publ ic d iscou rse, anth ropolog ists should be honest about their qual ifications and cognisant of the l imitations of anth ropological expertise. f . Anthropologists should be aware that, in requ i ring students to do field research p u rely as a train ing exercise, they may be making an u nfai r imposition o n research participants. U nless there is some potential benefit for the research participants, and not j ust for the students involved , such exercises should be avoided. 3. Responsibi l ity to the Discipline and Col leagues: Anthropolog ists bear responsibi lity for the good reputation of the discip l i ne and its practit ioners . a. Anthropologists should u ndertake no secret research o r any research whose results cannot be freely derived and publ icly reported. b. Anthropolog ists should avoid even the appearance of engaging in clandestine research, by f u l ly and freely d isclosing the aims and sponsorship of all researc h . c. Anthropologists shou ld attempt to maintain such a level of i ntegrity a n d rapport i n t h e field, by the i r behaviou r and example, they wil l not jeopardise future research there . The responsibi l ity is not to analyse and report so as to offend no one, but to conduct research in a way consistent with a com m itment to honesty, open inquiry, clear communication of sponsors h i p and research aims, and concern for the welfare a nd privacy of research participants. d. Anthropolog ists shou ld not present as their own work, either in speaking or writ ing, materials d i rectly taken from other sou rces. 225 e. When anthropologists participate in actions related to h ir ing, retention and advancement, they should ensure that no exclusionary practices be perpetuated against colleagues o n the basis of sex, sexual preference, marital status, colou r, social class, rel ig ion, ethnic background, national orig i n , or other non-academic attributes. ( Exception is made for recog nized programmes of affirmative action). They should, f u rthermore, refrain from transmitt ing and resist the use of information i rrelevant to professional performance in s u c h personnel actions. f . Anthropologists bear a responsibi l ity to their d iscipl ine, colleagues, students, and the p u b l ic at large to work to mainta i n academic f reedom and independence in their work ( i nclud i n g both research a n d teaching ) . 4. Responsibil ity to Students: In relation with students anthropologists should be candid, fair, nonexploitative, a n d committed to t h e i r welfare a n d academic progress. Honesty is the essential q ual ity o f a good teacher, neutral ity is not. Beyond honest teach ing, anthropolog ists as teachers have ethical responsibi l ities in selection , instruction i n ethics, career counsel l i ng, academic s u pe rvis ion, evaluation, com pensation , and placement. a. Anth ropologists should select students i n such a way as to p reclude discrimination on the basis of sex, eth nic g roup, social class , age, and other categories of people i nd istinguishable by their intellectual potential. b . Ant h ropolog ists should alert students to the ethical p roblems of research and d isco u rage them from participating in projects employi ng q u estionable ethical standards. This should include p roviding them with information and d iscussions to protect them from u nethical pressu res and enticements emanating from possible sponsors , as well as helping to f ind acceptable alternatives. c. Anthropologists should conscientiously s upervise, e ncourage, and support students i n their anthropological and other academic e ndeavors. d. Anthropolog ists should i nform students of what is expected from them i n their cou rse of study; be fair i n the evaluation of their performance; and com m u n icate eval uations to the students concerned . e. Anth ropolog ists should real istical ly counsel students regarding career opportu nities. f . Ant h ropologists should acknowledge i n print the student assistance used in their own publ ications; g ive appropriate credit ( including coauthorship) when student research is used in publicat ion; encourage and assist i n publ ication of worthy student papers; and compensate students j u stly for the use of their t ime, energy, and intell igence i n research and teac h i n g . g . Anth ropolog ists should energetical ly assist students i n securing legitimate research support and the necessary permission to pursue research . h . Anthropologists should energetically assist students i n securing professional emplo ym e nt upon com pletion of their studies . 226 5. Responsibil ity to Sponsors, Funding Agencies, and Employers: In their relations with sponsors, funding agencies, and employers, anthropologists should be honest about their qualifications, capabi l it ies, and aims. They thus face the obl igation , prior to e ntering any commitment for research, to reflect sincerely u pon the p u rposes of their sponsors i n terms of their past behaviour. Anthropolog ists should be especially careful not to promise or imply acceptance of conditions contrary to their professional ethics or competing commitments. This requires that t hey req u i re of sponsors full d isclosu re of the sources of funds, personnel , aims of the i nstitut ion and the research project, and d isposition of research res u lts. Anthropolog ists must retain the right to make all ethical decisions in their work. They should enter i nto no secret ag reements with sponsors regard i n g research, resu lts or reports. 6. Responsibilities to One's Own Governments: In relation with their own and host governments, research ant h ropologists should be h onest and candid. They s hould demand ass u rance that they wil l not be req u i red to compromise their professional responsibil ities and ethics as a condition of their perm ission to purs u e the researc h . Specifically, no secret research, secret reports, or secret debriefings of any k ind should be ag reed to or given. If these matters are clearly understood in advance, serious complications and m isunderstandings can generally be avoided. Epi logue A major theme u nderlying the Association's adoption of these p ri nci ples is the idea that anth ropologists who are knowledgeable about, concerned with , and sensitive to issues of eth ics and responsibi l ity are the best safeguard against abuse of o u r science. These principles emphasise both final decisions and the p rocess by which they are made. Eth ical decisions are made by people who are educated about ethical issues and principles, careful ly consider alternatives, exercise judgement, and accept responsibi l ity for their c hoices. These principles are ded icated to aiding anthropologists i n making ethical decisions. I n the final analysis, anthropological research is a human undertaki n g , dependent u po n choices f o r which the individual bears eth ical as wel l a s scientific responsibi lity. That responsibi l ity is a h u man, not s uperhu man one. To err is human, to forgive hu mane. These p rinciples of professional responsibi l ity and ethical conduct provide g u idelines which can m i n i m ise the occasions upon which there is a n eed to forgive. W hen anthropologists, by their actions, jeopardise research participants, professional colleag u es , students or others, or if they otherwise betray their professional commitments, their col leag ues may legitimately i n q u i re i nto the propriety of those actions. The ann ual AG M of the Association p rovides the obvious forum for discussion of eth ical issues. Fi nal ly, the Association of Social Anth ropolog ists of AotearoalN ew Zealand also positively aff irms o u r commitment to act vigorously in defense and support of anthropolog ists who come under p ressure to act i n ways that transgress these principles o f professional responsibi l ity a n d ethical conduct. 227 Appendix 3 NOHANZ Code of Conduct (for orig inal layout see http ://www.oralh istory.org .nzlCode. htm) N O H A N Z National Oral H istory Association of N ew Zealand Te Kete Korero-a-Waha 0 Te Motu Code of Eth ical and Techn ical P ract ice This Code exists to promote ethical, professional and technical standards in the collection, preservation and use of sound and video oral history material Arch ives, sponsors and organisers of oral h istory projects have the following responsibi l ities: • To inform i nterviewers and people i nterviewed of the importance of this Code for the successful creation and use of o ral history material • To select i nterviewers on the basis of professional competence and interviewi n g ski l l , endeavouri n g to ass ign appropriate interviewers to people interviewed • To see that records of the creation and processing of each interview are kept • To ensure that each interview is properly indexed and catalogued • To ensure that preservation conditions for record i ngs and accompanying material are of the h i ghest possible standard • To ensure that placement of and access to recordings and accompanyi ng material comply with a sig ned or recorded agreement with the person i nterviewed • To ens u re that people interviewed are i nformed of issues such as copyri g ht, ownership, privacy leg islation , and how the i nterview and accompanying material may be used • To make the existence of available interviews known through publ ic information channels • To guard agai nst possible social i nj u ry to, or exploitation of people i nterviewed Interviewers have the following responsibil ities: • To inform the person i nterviewed of the purposes and procedu res of oral h istory i n general and of the particu lar project in which they are i nvolved • To inform the person i nterviewed of issues such as copyright, ownership, privacy legislat ion, and how the material and accompanying material may be used • To develop sufficient skil ls and knowledge in i nterviewing and equ i pment operation, e . g . through reading and training, t o ensure a result o f t h e highest possible standard • To use eq uipment that will prod uce record ings of the hig hest possible standard • To encourage informative dialogue based o n thorough research • To conduct interviews with i ntegrity • To conduct interviews with an awareness of c u ltural or ind ividual sensibi l it ies • To treat every interview as a confidential conversation, the contents of which are available only as determined by written or recorded agreement with the person interviewed • To place each recording and all accom panying material i n an archive to be available for research, subject to any conditions placed o n it by the person interviewed 228 - to i nform the person interviewed of where the material wil l be held • To respect al l ag reements made with the person i nterviewed ORIGINS The N ational Oral H istory Association of New Zealand (NOHANZ) Te Kete Korero-a-Waha 0 e Motu was established as a result of the first national oral h istory seminar organised in April 1 986. OBJECTIVES • to promote the p ractice and methods of oral h istory • to promote standards in oral h istory interviewing tech niques, and in recording and p reservation methods. • to act as a resou rce of information and to advise on practical and tec h n ical problems involved i n making oral h istory record ings. • to act as a co-ordi nator of o ral history activities thro u g hout New Zeala n d . • to produce a n ann ual oral history jou rnal a n d reg ular newsletters • to promote reg ular oral history meetin gs, talks, semi nars, workshops and demonstrations. • to encou rage the establishment of NOHANZ b ranches t h roug hout New Zealan d . • t o improve access to oral history collections h eld i n l i b raries, archives a n d museums. National O ral H istory Association of New Zealand Te Kete Korero-a-Waha 0 Te Motu P.O. Box 381 9 W EL L I N GTON 2001 229 Appendix 4 (Copy of letter seeking permission to a rch ive videotaped oral h istories, conversations and photographs.) 1 0 Ju ly 2003 P O Box 84 Wanganu i 06 3450845 06 3453371 Dear Thank you for participat ing so fu l ly, wi l l ingly and cheerful ly in the research project I conducted with you in Wanganu i du ring the year 2000. I am progressing with the writ ing up of the thesis and hope to use many of the photographs we took. I am taking this opportun ity to contact you to seek permission for two th ings. • The f i rst is to ask if you would be wi l l ing to al low the recorded materia l , photographs and our conversations to be placed in the Whanganu i Regional Museum so that future generations can benefit from our mutual efforts . The museum has f irm guidel ines about access to the fi les, and honours and respects any wishes you might have about the way the material is used, and who may view it. They also consider a timeframe before it may be seen if people ind icate a preference. • The second is that I have photographs wh ich include you , and in some instances, members of you r extended commun ity . I would l ike to use the images you made, and some that I took, in the thesis . The thesis wi l l be read and considered by my supervisors , my examiners and, I hope, placed in the Massey Un iversity L ibrary . There it would be available for use by other researchers for their own research . I wi l l contact you to d iscuss you r preferences and then , i f you agree , use images that you indicate are appropriate, in the thesis. This study had been long and slow, but throughout I have been upl ifted by your input and support and am very grateful to you for your patience and efforts . Best regards Penny Robinson 230 Appendix Five (Guidel ine for information to be included in l ife history interviews) Biographical details - self , k in etc Chi ldhood and early memories Education - self , stages Employment Marriage or otherwise Polit ics possibly Religion Hea lth Identity - perceptions This location - perceptions Being an incomer Being an insider 23 1 Appendix Six (Outl ine for investigating participants' concepts of belonging) These questions assisted in developing an understanding of the participants' concepts about belonging, its emotional content, and how they practiced and sensed belong ing in everyday l i fe. (NB: These questions were a loose guidel ine. Some questions were asked only if the partic ipants indicated that such items were incorporated in their belonging , i .e. feel ings) . • What do you think belonging is? • How does belonging feel? • Where do you feel belonging? • Where do you feel you belong? • What he lps you feel you belong? • How do we know when we belong? in or to a place? Or to/with people? • Is a sense of belonging important? • How do we develop a sense of belonging? What happens? • Have you ever felt that you d id not belong - in a place/with or to people? • How does not belonging make you fee l? • What affects your sense of belonging/positively/negatively? • How can other people gain belonging? • Can we help others/can others help us gain a sense of belonging? • Can we accept/reject o r deny others belonging? • Does belonging change? If so, how? • I n terms of belonging , does it make a d ifference to share culture, say, or ethn icity, or language? 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