Christmas in Pipiwai

by Julia Taylor Neville

Having arrived in New Zealand the early part of January 1966, we were eagerly awaiting our assignment. Finally the day came when we were told that we would be laboring in Pipiwai, a tiny area way out in the bush, twenty-five miles from the nearest paved road, little realizing what that would mean.

Since we had to ride 125 miles to visit our new home-to-be, we left early Sunday morning from Auckland, headquarters of the mission.

No one who has never been there can conceive of how beautiful the hilly country is. Fern, exotic plants, and trees and the native fern-tree abound and I remarked that this surely must be like the original Garden of Eden.

On our way we encountered car trouble. After every effort to find out what was wrong and to find any help other wise, President Barnes asked us to get back into the car and said that we should have a word or prayer. Joe told the Lord that if He wanted us to get to Pipiwai, we needed His help. As soon as the prayer was finished, he stepped on the starter and to our relief the engine started right up. Later, we were informed that the mechanic who had repaired the car told President Barnes that he could not understand how the car moved let alone took us 250 miles to finish our trip.

With much anticipation and some apprehension, we drove up to the little chapel. It was filled to capacity with smiling Maoris who had come to see the new missionary couple for whom many had been fasting and praying as the branch had been having problems.

But that was eleven moths ago. Now we know all the members not only by their legal names, but also by their pet or “chosen” ones.

After we found out that the whole community, both members and non-members, had combined to build the chapel in twenty-nine working days, including felling the trees, sawing them into lumber, and putting everything together, we were really impressed with the strength and faith of these wonderful people.

In this chapel we had many beautiful and faith promoting experiences combined with some frustrating ones.

Here it was December first, Christmas was coming, our first in the mission field. It was hard to believe, as we were half way around the world “down under” and besides it was summer time, no atmosphere for the holidays.

Know that the Maoris tired to follow all the instructions received for Zion, I assumed the program in the “Instructor” would no doubt be used. In due time, we were told to start planning. The feeling for Christmas was catching on.

Then the cast for the program was to be chosen. Using the obvious, Mary Winiata just had to be the Mary as she had ne new baby the thirteenth, who by permission was name Joseph after “Elder Neville.”

Besides it was a miracle itself. Mary was being treated with cobalt for cancer during her pregnancy and was not expected to live, but with faith and administration by her husband, she had recovered and was able to rejoin the Maori Culture dancing and singing group from Pipiwai shortly after its birth. Who but Sonny, her husband should be Joseph: the rest of the cast consisted of volunteers.

Costumes were a problem but not for long. Crooks and striped blanket for the shepherds, fancy dresses were found from the members, and with the addition of sashes and gold foil decorated crowns, for the wise men; an old white sheet for a robe and my large long filmy white scarf suggestive of the realms for the angel bringing “good tidings of great joy”. Mary managed a blue robe and headdress and Joseph a striped robe and dark headdress.

“What about a Christmas tree?” I asked. They had never had one before and had never thought about such a thing. To me not to have one was unthinkable. Sonny Winiata was a favorite in the community and was always full of ideas. He drove the rickety old school bus and picked up the students all along the valley. As pine trees were plentiful along his route. I asked him if he would cut one down for me and bring it down to the chapel. Always obliging and eager to help, he soon announced that there was one waiting for me at the church. There it was large and bare.
“How can we make it stand up?” I thought. As if he had read my thoughts, Sonny said, “Mary has a large crock at home. If we put the tree in it and pile rocks around the base, it will stand straight and we can pour water in it to keep it green.” It was a different stand but effective.
Not realizing what problems might result by starting from scratch to decorate a tree, I started thinking. Buying anything seemed impossible as money was scarce and the city far away.

Among the many delightful things in New Zealand are the extra delicious strawberries. They were then in season and sold in aluminum boxes about the same size as ours. Noticing the boxes shining as the light caught them, I wondered how they could be used to help decorate the Christmas tree. Experimenting with a pair of scissors, I found that long shimmering streamers could be made by cutting narrow strips round and round the box ending in the center of the bottom. Also stars, bells and other shapes could be designed from the smooth square bottoms.
In Te Horo Branch was a lovely Maori school teacher by the name of Sue Lynd. She managed, through much sacrifice to go to school and be trained to teach. She and the head master or principle comprised the faculty in the small Maori school.

Possessing creative ability and initiative, and being wonderfully willing to help, the project of trimming the tree began.

During their art period, Sue had the children help cut out pretty paper Japanese lanterns according to the old fashioned style used when I was a child. They were hung on the branches. Next strawberry boxes were collected and countless silver trimmings were cut out. Then cut from cleverly folded white stiff paper were stars making striking contrast with the dark green of the tree.

Rummaging though the confused merchandise of the all purpose general store, post office and gas station in which we live. I discovered some colored rubber balloons. Why couldn’t they be used for colored balls? Indeed they were. Now it was finished and how beautiful it was. The parents and children gather round from up and down the valley to admire the tree.
Sue thought the small foyer should also be decorated. So the children and their parents were asked to lend their prettiest treasured Christmas card to string in rows on the walls.
Built across from the front of our little chapel, was a platform stand on which was a small podium, a row of chairs and a piano, the only “luxury” in the building. This was to be the stage for a great presentation.

At last the anticipated day arrived. Fresh flowers grown by the members were arranged across the front of the stand. At the side glistened the Christmas tree. Christmas music played as the congregation was arriving. The beautifully told story of the nativity was then unfolded.
Mary on the arm of Joseph, slowly walking up the aisle and with him took her place on the platform, following were the shepherds with their crooks, the angel with her message of good tidings of great joy, the wise men with their gifts and finally the baby was tenderly placed in the arms of Mary.

Tears were in my eyes and also in the eyes of the rest of the audience. Why was this so touching?

Certainly not for its professional excellence.

The Christmas tree which had seemed so important was forgotten, but the power and the impact of the spirit of Jesus Christ on that Sunday morning as His birth was so reverently portrayed by those humble Maori saints can never be forgotten.