LIFE‘on the hill’ “T

WORDS: CLAUDIA BABIRAT his is called a banjo. Can anyone guess why?” Gary James rotates the shovel so that he’s holding it like a musical instrument. A look of recognition sweeps across the faces of the school kids standing opposite him and a couple of hands shoot up in the air. “Its wide blade meant that miners could shovel a lot of coal in a short amount of time. Who wants to have a go?”

We’re in the Friends of the Hill museum on Denniston Plateau, up a winding road half an hour north of Westport, standing at the entrance of a replica mine. Gary is hosting a school group on camp. It’s a tough crowd – a group of teenage boys –and the topic is history. But everyone’s listening. That’s because Gary has the best stories. In fact, he has all the stories. And he’s passionate about sharing them with people who want to find out more about the place that he’s loved for most of his life. There are a few things a future visitor to Denniston should know. Firstly, yes, there’s a museum. You’ll find it if you continue past the turn-off to the steep railway incline for which Denniston is famous. If you like your heritage with a twist of authentic, in-the-flesh storytelling, you should visit. (“The museum is open on request, and every day between Boxing Day and Waitangi Day,” Gary is quick to add. “Entry is by donation.”)

Secondly, Denniston may look like a ghost town, but it’s not. Many people who once lived here – and more recently their descendants – make the journey to Denniston regularly. Their connections to the once-bustling community remain strong by their being Friends of the Hill.

Thirdly, six people still live in Denniston today. One of them is Gary, another is his wife Sylvia. They live in a former miner’s cottage that they bought 35 years ago for $7000.

“Denniston has always had a reputation for being an extreme and isolated place to live, and a lot of people think we’re crazy,” laughs Sylvia. But, she points out, it’s only a 30-minute drive to the closest shops. They have cell phone reception (“it’s a bit patchy”) and electricity. The only things missing are flush toilets. “The ground is too rocky to dig into.”

There’s no lack of social life.

“We’ve met an incredible number of people who were born and raised here,” says Sylvia. “In its heyday, 1400 people called Denniston home: coal miners and their families. And for many of those who return, it’s like a homecoming.” Some try to find their old house sites or where they worked; others just want to share their stories with someone.

For Gary, these are all precious encounters; he collects stories like some people collect stamps. Born in Westport, he developed a deep personal connection with the area while out roaming the plateau and nearby hills as a youngster. He also has strong family connections to Denniston.

“Growing up, we lived next to my great-grandmother, who used to tell me about her husband who was a travelling shoe salesman. He visited Denniston once a week – on the day when the miners were paid and had some money in their pockets.”

Sylvia lived in Denniston before she met Gary, following the lead of her great-grandmother, who resided on the hill for two years.

“She moved here in 1898, a widow with a child in a mining town full of men. She came here to be a wet nurse for the mine manager’s wife.”

Over time, Gary and Sylvia have created an intricate web of connections between their own stories and those of the people they’ve met. As Gary says, “We’ve become the custodians of Denniston’s stories.” He prefers this title over their more official ones.

“The idea of Friends of the Hill started in 1993 at a gathering in Christchurch of Denniston’s former residents. When we got there, we found that over 500 people had come!”

The organisers, getting older, said the gatherings needed to come home or the events would stop. Gary and Sylvia got the ball rolling before leaving the reunion, and a few months later Friends of the Hill was born. Gary is the group’s chair and Sylvia acts as secretary.

This is where the museum comes in. The Friends needed a base for reunions and a place where people could drop by. The best location, they decided, was the former high school.

Betty Garing, a core member of Friends of the Hill, remembers going to school there.

“It had one classroom, one cooking/science room, and one woodworking room,” says the 82-year-old, whose parents were raised, met and got married on the plateau.

“Growing up, my family moved to Waimangaroa, at the base of the hill, when I was two. We moved back up the hill after my dad got a job as an official in the mine. If you were an official, you had to live at Denniston.”

Betty’s story is the kind that Gary loves.

“It was a strong community with a lot of spirit,” continues Betty. “We had football teams, soccer, hockey, a picture theatre, a few shops, everything we needed. When I left school, I got a job in the mine’s office as a typist and later worked in payroll. I worked at an old mine manager’s house. I was in the big front room, which had a fireplace. It was always warm,” she laughs. “We had no shortage of coal.”

As the mine wound up, so did the community. “There was a gradual drift down the hill.”

In 1961 Betty married Clem, a carpenter for the mines. They bought a house from Denniston (“originally built for the workers who put in the aerial ropeway”), dismantled it into three sections and moved it down the hill to Waimangaroa. She still lives there today, just down the road from her aunt and uncle, who are 96 and 98 years old respectively and the oldest active members of Friends of the Hill.

Dan Moloney remembers the school buildings equally well, but for a different reason.

“We started creating the museum in 1994; it was all done by volunteers. The building in which we built the replica mine had been used as a machinery shop and there was grease all over the floor. It was a big job to clean it all up,” he says.

Dan is a founding member of Friends of the Hill and, at 70, “probably one of the youngest”. Dan’s great-grandparents owned the Crown Hotel at Coalbrookdale, which his grandfather (also Dan) later ran for a short time.

What made Dan senior especially interesting was that between 1900 and 1905 he was seldom without his wooden tripod and camera; his collection is now at the Alexander Turnbull Library. “The photos are very special to me,” says Dan, “because I can still visit those places, although the hotel is no longer there.”

The Friends of the Hill museum now houses many treasures, including family heirlooms that “have come back on the hill”. Gary knows the story behind each one, such as the sewing machine that was used to make shrouds for the departed, whose coffins had to be transported down the hill for burial, and the home perm set that belonged to a widow whose husband had died in a mining accident.

“There was no benefit for solo mothers,” Gary points out. “To survive she made money by doing the hair of the ladies who lived here.”

As well as welcoming the public, the museum hosts specialist interest groups and acts as a venue for events such as last year’s Matariki Festival.

It was even used by the BBC during part of the Lost World series shoot. But its most important function continues to be as a hub for biennial Friends of the Hill reunions.

“One of the biggest changes over the years has been the drop in numbers,” says Gary.

“We started off with about 300 members, many of whom attended reunions. We’re down to about 80.”

Now it’s mainly descendants who return to Denniston. Many come to scatter their parents’ ashes, and Gary and Sylvia regularly provide something they can take away with them.

“They often want to know about where they’ve come from, so we invite them in for a cuppa. We’ve collected all their people’s stories over the years. We can fill in the pieces they’re missing.”

And once in a while Gary and Sylvia are surprised in return. “This year we finally heard from the Mottleys – the first family to live in our house,” says Gary. “We’re hoping to meet them soon. I’ve been waiting for this moment for 27 years.”

Not ones to want the final word, Gary and Sylvia point out that there are many active members of Friends of the Hill throughout the country, all equally enthusiastic about retaining and sharing their history. The local group, they say, keeps a small ember of mining life glowing on the hill.

This story was supplied to Heritage New Zealand magazine courtesy of Tohu Whenua.

1. Buller High School students learn about the history of Denniston, hosted by Friends of the Hill. Image: Jason Blair

2. Sylvia and Gary James.

3. Friends of the Hill members welcome visitors to the museum.

4. Inside the Friends of the Hill Museum. Imagery: Claudia Babirat

5. View from the entrance to the Banbury Mine (1879-90) showing old coal tubs on right side of image. Image: Peter Robertson

Denniston Mine: Tohu Whenua

Denniston Mine is recognised as a Tohu Whenua – one of our nation’s best heritage experiences – and rightly so. It’s an exhilarating feeling when you stand at the edge of Denniston’s famous feature, the incredibly steep railway incline that once provided the only access to the plateau.

Described as the eighth industrial wonder of the world, this is where, for 87 years, wagons brimming with coal (and sometimes the odd sneaky passenger) hurtled 1670 metres down a near-45-degree slope.

Engaging onsite interpretation makes the most of stories collected by the Friends of the Hill from the tough-as-nails residents who called this brutally beautiful place home. These days, several easy tracks weave their way past extensive relics that include the coal wagons, the brakehead (so named because it fed the huge water-fed brakes that slowed the full wagons as they hurtled down the incline), workshop foundations and the Banbury Arch, which carried the coal tramway at Banbury Mine and is believed to have been built by Cornish stonemasons.

Other West Coast sites with Tohu Whenua status include Reefton, Waiuta, Brunner Mine, Hokitika Port, Commercial and Government Centre, and the recently remodelled Te Kopikopiko o te Waka near Te Moeka-o-Tuawe Fox Glacier, which is the first Tohu Whenua story-based landscape site. n

WORDS: NAOMI ARNOLD

It’s hard to believe that up until this year much of Aotearoa New Zealand’s history wasn’t routinely taught in schools. Whether due to a form of cultural cringe in favour of ‘more important’ overseas stories, or convenient cultural amnesia, Māori history and conflicts such as the New Zealand Wars were officially ignored in the curriculum, stifling our understanding of generational trauma, events and politics today.

But from this year, students and parents around the country will gain a new appreciation of Aotearoa New Zealand’s past as a refreshed history curriculum encourages students into local heritage sites for real-life learning. This is known as ‘education outside the classroom’, or EOTC, and offers places where students can connect their local heritage sites with national events – such as the hill above Russell where Hōne Heke chopped down a flagpole and sparked a war.

One catalyst for the new curriculum surfaced in 2014, when students Waimarama Anderson and Leah Bell were standing on a dusty road at Rangiaowhia, a wāhi tapu in Waikato, with the rest of their Ōtorohanga College peers. In 1864 imperial and colonial soldiers had attacked an undefended village and gardens there, burning whānau alive in their homes and the whare karakia and later taking the land.

On that day, kaumātua wept as they told their ancestors’ stories, which also affected the students deeply – as did a visit to another wāhi tapu, the historic battle site of Ōrākau.

Leah, who was 14 at the time, recalls they were learning about similar atrocities occurring in the US during the Civil War but not about what had happened just down the road. She and Waimarama, then 16, organised a petition, which garnered 13,000 signatures, for the Land Wars to be taught in schools, the introduction of a national day of remembrance, and the inclusion of local history in the curriculum.

“Even in the face of these sometimes painful histories, this is a small moment of celebration, as we’re building a generation of informed citizens,” Leah says today.

Leah says EOTC is “of immense importance” in building a shared national understanding – especially about how past events have contributed to centuries of racism and Pākehā privilege in education, health, generational wealth, justice, politics and housing.

“It will help teach students that humanity is not up for debate,” she says. “It can be used as a way of galvanising the next generation to be really informed.

“History is no longer intangible; it has direct implications for today.”

Pauline Cleaver, the Ministry of Education Associate Deputy Secretary for Curriculum, Pathways and Progress, says the new curriculum will not prescribe accounts or versions of histories. Instead students will learn to interpret past decisions and actions by understanding the values of the time.

“Interpretations of the past are contentious – we want ākonga to understand this and develop the skills to think critically about the interpretations they read and hear,” she says.

“The ‘big ideas’ outlined in the curriculum content will be brought to life when ākonga learn the critical histories of local places and peoples. These histories will reflect the make-up of ākonga in the classroom and in doing so will see them have a richer learning experience of the histories of local iwi, hapū and communities.”

Heritage New Zealand Pouhere Taonga welcomes the new curriculum, says Director of Regional Services Pam Bain. A new website and updated technology will offer a range of new resources to take advantage of the change and go with the current suite of podcasts, workshops, displays, websites and apps. The organisation is also contributing to Tohu Whenua –landmarks that tell our stories – a visitor programme and network of heritage sites that is operating in three regions with an ultimate goal of 15.

“I think it’s absolutely fantastic,” Pam says. “The opportunity for everybody in New Zealand, not just the school kids, to have a better understanding of the history of Aotearoa New Zealand is just extraordinary. It’s an opportunity for all of us and can only be good for the country as a whole.”

With the organisation managing more than 40 places, Pam says it will provide a valuable source of local stories with national impacts.

“I don’t think you can beat learning about stories and people in the places where they lived,” she says. “And with taonga still in the place, in the context of where things happened.

“It is different going to a museum to learn about the suffrage petition when you can go to Kate Sheppard House [in Ilam, Christchurch, a Category 1 historic place] and be in the room to learn about that petition where those women were pasting it together.

“Context is everything.”

Some historic sites will see a fresh influx of visitors, and some are developing new offerings to enhance the curriculum. At our nation’s birthplace, the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, Education Manager Monika Kern sees the value of education outside the classroom every day. The team has been working with the curriculum draft since 2021, after winning a Ministry of Education contract to create resources for teachers.

Recently Monika was also seconded to Te Pū Tiaki Mana Taonga, the Association of Educators Beyond the Classroom, helping more than 300 culture and heritage workers across the country to upskill in a 15-month programme funded by the Ministry for Culture and Heritage. She says the sector now seems well prepared for the curriculum change.

“Gone are the days when a student put a signature on a burnt bit of paper and that was their treaty learning. Some teachers did a marvellous job, but some didn’t really know how to approach it,” she says.

“The curriculum now guides teachers. They describe it as ‘the learning that cannot be left to chance’, which I really like.”

What’s the best way to get students hooked on heritage? She says that it’s always evolving. At Waitangi, staff begin by listening to what a teacher wants to get out of a visit, then create a co-designed lesson plan. When the class arrives, they are flexible.

“We see if the students’ eyes glaze over; it might mean we change something. They can’t go away with stuff they could have looked up online; they need critical engagement – why did that happen, why was that acceptable, would it still be acceptable today?”

It’s not just about shepherding students through a museum or having them watch a re-enactment of a historical scene. Most sessions also have a practical or creative component that should be fun as well as educational.

“We are learning all the time too; we always learn from our students,” she says. “I don’t think there has been a single visit where I haven’t had a new insight.”

Another place where history comes alive for students is the Heritage New Zealand Pouhere Taongamanaged Kerikeri Mission Station, say Property Lead Liz Bigwood and Visitor Services Coordinator Kellee Rei-Harris (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Toa, Ngāti Pākehā).

They point out that it’s one thing to hear that Ngāpuhi chief Hongi Hika allowed the Mission Station to be built on tribal land near Kororipo Pā; it’s quite another to go to the place and see the pā site looking over it, offering a strong sense of that relationship.

Under the new curriculum children will be introduced gradually to historical events, issues and their modern-day aftermaths. As Kellee says, “The good, the bad and the ugly.” Each year will build complexity on the one before.

Liz believes the authenticity of a Tohu Whenua like the Mission Station makes it a powerful place of learning.

“It’s the real fabric, the real people were here, real things happened; we can’t conjure up the people, but you can stand in a place and populate it in your imagination.”

Kellee says the power of the pā site is still evident in what has physically gone too.

“Even though there are no longer structures on Kororipo Pā, like whare, pātaka or Hongi’s European house, you can see the hill, the remnants. You’ve got all the terraces indented into the fabric of it. You can see where the kāinga attached to Kororipo used to be. These are really important things we can point out to the rangatahi.”

In New Plymouth, a new building, Te Whare Hononga or The House That Binds, is under construction at the Taranaki Cathedral Church of St Mary, one of New Zealand’s earliest stone churches and a Category 1 historic place. It will be a purpose-built place for education, for mana whenua Ngāti Te Whiti to tell their stories alongside those of St Mary’s.

Cathedral Dean Jay Ruka (Te Ātiawa, Ngāti Mutunga) says it’s “well overdue” to have the bold, modern Māori space alongside St Mary’s.

“St Mary’s is a historical colonial site and everything about it screams that,” he says. “This is the fruit of generations of Māori clergy predominantly, but also Pākehā leaders. Where the manifestation of doing something about that colonial history has come about in a real, tangible and practical way.”

He says it’s a very popular place for school groups, and the main target is to get as many young people as possible learning there.

“St Mary’s already gets groups from all around the country coming here anytime. Now we have this purpose-built space that helps people to understand the history even better. It’s awesome to begin to balance out the kōrero.” ākonga: students hapū: sub-tribe kāinga: village kaumātua: elders kōrero: conversation mana whenua: those with tribal authority over land or territory pātaka: food storehouse rangatahi: youth taonga: treasures wāhi tapu: site of sacred significance whare karakia: church/es