The preferred pattern was thus the small unit. All within each unit were invariably Punjabis; all did the same kind of work; and during the early years all were men.⁵ Throughout the entire period 1912-40 the gangs remained overwhelmingly male. In a few instances married men continued to work as gang members after bringing their wives to New Zealand, sometimes taking them to remote scrub-cutting camps.⁶ This, however, involved obvious difficulties and was seldom attempted. The gangs remained a largely male preserve while those who brought out wives from India tried to find other ways of maintaining their Punjabi contacts in New Zealand. As we have seen, there were exceptions to this rule and some of the exceptions proved to be notably successful in coming to terms with life in New Zealand. The rule nevertheless remained a rule. Most Punjabis preferred to live in close contact with other Punjabis and they adopted a life-style which made this possible. It was a powerful instinct, one which invariably transcended the feuds which sometimes developed.

       This was, of course, a natural process. Gang membership involved a sharing of cooking responsibilities and the presence of Chamars within a gang meant that men from other castes would have to eat food which Chamars had prepared. Although rural Punjab is relatively lax with regard to caste rules it does not ignore them altogether. Some of the caste Punjabis in New Zealand during the pre-1940 period certainly had commensal scruples and while these would not wholly prevent association within a work-group or gang they would inevitably inhibit it. The concentration of Chamars which could be found near Te Awamutu in 1926 was not an accident.⁸

If we focus our attention on the evidence which derives from

 Untouchability is by no means dead in this go-ahead district. In a Sikh village which lay on our road, we were told at first that Chamars were treated like anyone else. But when I asked people individually whether they sprinkled themselves with water when they touched a Chamar, they all said they did; and one or two added that, if the contact were close, they would wash their clothes and bathe. The Sikh with us said that to Sikhs Chamars and sweepers were as untouchable as to Hindus, even when they were Sikhs. In the presence of Jats they must sit on the bare ground and chance contacts with them are followed by lustrations.¹¹

          On this basis it is possible to argue that caste consciousness must obviously have been retained by the Punjabis who migrated to New Zealand prior to World War IT. Up to a point the case is unanswerable, for all freely acknowledge the general obedience to marriage prescription. The tendency of Chamars to form their own groups in New Zealand has also been noted. We must take care, however, not to press the case too far. Chamars may have tended to prefer their own company, and some non-Chamars may have preferred to avoid their kitchens, but exceptions can easily and frequently be found. The same could also be said of the few Brahmans who came to New Zealand, and likewise of the Muslims. An evident tendency towards distinction may be noted, yet never more than a tendency. In the case of Sainis and Mahtons the trend is even weaker,¹⁵ and the solitary Jhir was actually accepted as a leader by the Jats from his own area.¹⁶ Commensal problems certainly persisted, but these were in some measure counter­balanced by examples of personal friendship which crossed Jat/ Chamar lines. The only notice taken of the issue by the prewar Country Section was a 1929 resolution which implicitly acknowle­dged the existence of caste consciousness while insisting that the New Zealand Punjabis' own organisation wanted no part of it. At the Annual General Meeting for 1929 it was unanimously agreed 'that the untouchability issue is an obstacle in the path of the country's progress'.¹⁷

          The conclusion to which one is easily led is that whereas a caste consciousness was certainly retained by New Zealand Punjabis the overt expression of this consciousness was signi­ficantly diminished by New Zealand circumstances. In the New Zealand situation education (and specifically a knowledge of English) could override other considerations, conferring on men of lower caste an authority which they would obviously be denied at home. The smallness of the community would also serve to breach traditional barriers, for loneliness can be a great solvent and   he   who   speaks   Punjabi   possesses   an  appeal which  no

          The same general conclusion also seems to apply to traditions of factionalism and physical violence. Although there have been examples of both in the modern post-war community they seem to have been mitigated by pre-war circumstances. There have certainly been hints of personal conflict, but never explicit and never in reports received from employers. Fighting when it did occur was usually preceded by excessive drinking and was soon settled.

         We have already noted the pressures within New Zealand society which produced the immigration laws of 1899 and 1901. These episodes seem plainly to indicate what a later generation would call racism, an attitude towards Asians which was subseq­uently to reappear in the guise of the White New Zealand League.¹⁸ It is an attitude which has seldom been proclaimed as desirable, but its influence has been sustained and its fundamental purpose has been largely secured. Ever since it was passed the Immigration Restriction Amendment Act of 1920 has remained in force, modified only slightly by changes in departmental policy which were introduced after World War II.

         This attitude has been a regular feature of European society in New Zealand for at least a century and one might expect that relations between Europeans and Punjabis would have been tense if not positively hostile. In practice this was rarely the case. On the whole the relationship between the Punjabi immigrants and the Europeans whom they encountered seems to have been re­laxed and free from unpleasant incidents. Two general reasons may be held to account for this

restricted informal contacts with European society. This was by no means a wholly conscious intention, although it is evident that the Punjabis were well aware of the advantages conferred by an inconspicuous presence. As we have seen, Punjabis chose to work as members of self-contained units in remote districts for reasons which had as much to do with their Punjabi back­ground as their New Zealand circumstances. In deciding to keep their own company for most of the time they were responding to language problems as well as to fears of insult or rejection. The fact that they perceived themselves to be transient sojour­ners doubtless encouraged this policy of self-imposed iso­lation.

          European informants have testified to this policy. When I visited Patetonga I was told that the 'Hindoo' flax-cutters 'kept out of the way of the Europeans'.¹⁹ This was confirmed by Mr Owen C. Finer, formally of Ohura, who said of his four Punjabi workers: 'They did not mix freely with Pakehas or Maoris.'²⁰ These same informants also indicate the second reason which may be held to account for the general lack of unpleasantness. My Patetonga informants made it convincingly clear that although a few of the local people may have harboured suspicions there was little evidence of actual hostility on the part of the Europeans.²¹ For Nikka Singh of Rasulpur there was positive affection, and Mr Finer had high praise for his four employees. 'They were conscientious workers,' he wrote, 'and very reliable in every aspect of their employment.'²²

          Mr Jim Collins of Te Puke described his two Punjabi milkers in similar terms. Lachman Singh Mahasha, he reports, was 'a splendid workman who believed in enjoying himself.... a good and faithful man.'²³ Bhag Singh of Chak Kalan receives equally warm praise : 'Bhagoo was a most reliable man and Mr Montgo­mery [another employer] thought the world of him as I do myself. He was well liked and respected by everybody.'²⁴

          There are two ways of viewing such comments. The cautious will remind us that testimonials do not always tell the whole story and that an employer's praise may reflect patronising con­descension rather than genuine  respect.   The more generous will

insist that such an approach is unduly cynical. The truth pre­sumably lies somewhere between the two. It must indeed be acknowledged that we are here dealing with hindsight and senti­ment, mellowed by distance and interpreted by impression. None of this, however, need call in question the essential truth of these reports or the authenticity of the sentiments which they express. They are, moreover, confirmed by my Punjabi informants. Mrs. Wachitar Kaur was one who did so when commenting on her own situation It was, she agreed, a lonely life for a Punjabi woman, but at least the neighbours were kind.²⁵

          Relationships between Punjabis and Maoris are much more difficult to evaluate and I do not pretend to have succeeded. Apart from Mr Thomas Ram (the son of Munshi Ram of Dara-pur by his Maori wife) I was unable to locate any Maori infor­mants and comments from Punjabi informants were rare One infor­mant said, 'We don't get too much involved with Maoris.' adding that he would not want his name to be attached to the comment This agrees with the report from Mr. Owen Finer noted above and  suggests that the distance between Punjabis and  Maoris was

even greater than that between Punjabis and Europeans. On the other hand, there is the fact that at least thirteen marriages or de facto liaisons were contracted between Punjabi men and Maori women prior to World War II.²⁶ Moreover, it is difficult to imagine that Punjabis could live in places such as the King Country or Fordell and remain largely isolated from Maoris. A reasonable conjecture seems to be that casual contacts were both frequent and generally friendly, but that they were typically brief and superficial.    It remains, however, conjecture.

          It seems that most Punjabis had little to do with Gujaratis before World War II. This is to be expected, for the two groups were divided by language and (to a considerable extent) by tradition. They typically chose to work in different areas and in different kinds of employment. While the Punjabis continued to cut scrub many of the Gujaratis moved into bottle-collecting, market-gardening and greengrocery retail. Even when they found themselves in common occupations within the same area they seem to have lived essentially separate lives, drawn together only by the shared interest which produced the Indian associations. The one exception to whom frequent reference has been made by Punjabi informant was the well-known Gujarati, Mr J.K. Natali.

          This does not imply that the responses which I received were in any sense hostile towards Gujaratis They indicate that the Gujaratis were perceived as a different people, accepted as fellow-Indians but not as regular companions or work-mates. The situation seems to be little changed today. Representatives of the two communities come together as delegates to meetings of the Central Indian Association and a few friendships between Punjabis and Gujaratis have been reported. The sense of distinction nevertheless remains, its strength indicated by Punjabi insistence on retaining the Country Section as a predominantly Punjabi wing of the larger Indian organisation.

Throughout the period prior to World War II the Punjabi life-style in New Zealand was determined by three major consider-

          Housing, for example, varied from flimsy tents to tiny cottages. Tents were extensively used, partly because they were inexpensive but also because they were portable. Each tent had a fly, but in other respects they were rudimentary with manuka trunks commonly serving as tent-poles. According to one informant the typical two-man tent used in the King Country during the 1930s measured approximately 11x10 feet, with a smaller 6x5 version serving a single man. If possible the tent would be pitched with one end close to a pumice bank.²⁷ Sacks would then be stretched from the tent to the bank in order to provide a roof for a kitchen, and a chimney would be cut cut of the soft pumice.²⁸ Another informant mentioned sharing a 10x8 tent with his two sons while scrub-cutting near Waipukurau after World War II.²⁹ Some tents were large enough to house four men. All were vulnerable to stormy conditions and were occasionally blown down. 

          Beds were provided in tents by placing manuka tops on the ground, sometimes on a layer of manuka sticks. Fern was often laid on the manuka. Next came a palliase made from sacks sewn together and filled with hay or some other available material. (Wool was occasionally used.)   For  coverings  most used quilts 

          Prior to his tent years Karam Singh Basi lived in a one-roomed hut on a farm near Te Awamutu. In New Zealand par­lance a hut of this kind is usually known as a whare (the Maori word for 'house'). When the scrub-cutters moved south to Fordell the whare became the standard form of accommodation although tents were still used and a few of the workers were provided with two-room or three-room cottages.³⁴ Some of the whares were constructed of wood with corrugated-iron roofing; others were made entirely from corrugated iron over a wooden frame. A corrugated-iron chimney might be attached to one end of the whare, or a separate kitchen would be constructed with sheets of corrugated iron. Some had wooden floors, while others rested on the bare ground. Bunks were attached to the walls and in these the bedding described above was used.⁸⁵

          For some scrub-cutters these huts and cottages provided permanent accommodation to which they returned each night. Others used them as a base, camping in tents while working at a distance from the whare. In such cases the tent accommodation tended to be even more rudimentary than the semi-permanent variety. One informant mentioned using an old corrugated-iron tank as a portable kitchen.³⁶ Others made do with a sack whenever it rained, two men holding it over a third who did the actual cooking.

          Cooking the chapatis also presented a problem to the earliest Punjabis as the concave iron tava which is used in the Punjab was not available in New Zealand. Some presumably brought a tava with them from the Punjab (although I have no evidence to support this). Others secured short-term indifferent service from pieces of corrugated iron beaten into roughly appropriate shapes. The difficulty was eventually solved by persuading blacksmiths to adapt discarded discs.³⁸ This was done by plugging the central hole and attaching three short legs to the convex side. This antipodean tava could then be placed over a fire and chapatis duly cooked.³⁹

         Vegetables were commonly supplied by European employers, sometimes in return for agreed periods of Sunday gardening. If this source of supply was not availables vegetables would usually be grown at the camp-site whenever length of tenure and other circumstances made this practicable. The vegetables which were obtained by gift or growing included potatoes, carrots, cabbages, cauliflowers, onions, and turnips. Eggs and fruit might also be received from employers. If neither gifts nor gardening facilities were available vegetables would have to be purchased from a local store. 

         Meat was usually obtained from employers as a part of the Punjabi worker's wages. Mr. Owen Finer reported that he supplied his four Punjabi employees with a sheep weighing approximately fifty pounds every ten days.⁴⁰ The agreed convention on the Fordell farms was evidently a weekly quarter-sheep for each person.⁴¹ Only mutton was accepted from employers. Beef was rigorously avoided, even to the extent of abstaining from fish and chips during town visits because of a well-founded suspicion that they were fried in beef oil.⁴² Wild pigs were, however, hunted and eaten whenever they were available in the vicinity of scrub-cutting camps. I was frequently assured that all Punjabis ate mutton, including the Brahmans. I have to add that this report invariably came from Jats. 

         Vegetables and meat were usually curried and were cooked in whatever utensils might be available. This sometimes meant a cut-down four-gallon kerosene cannister. During the Fordell days the usual method was cooking in dixies over an open fire. The food was then served on tin plates.⁴³ 

         Milk was another item commonly supplied by employers, either freshly milked or in the form of a cow. In the latter case grazing facilities would also be made available and when one cow dried off a replacement was supplied.⁴⁴ If neither fresh milk nor cow was provided canned milk was purchased. Home-made butter might also be supplied, though seldom in the quantities consumed by the Punjabis. Even by New Zealand standards their appetite for butter was evidently impressive. A Patetonga informant recollects her childhood surprise when  observing how frequently

Tea was also a regular part of the Punjabi diet. During the scrub-cutting days it was usually prepared in a billie over an open fire. In the warmer months it was often taken out to the work­place and drunk cold.⁴⁷ One other item which eventually found its ways back into the Punjabi diet was dal (split lentils). During the Fordell days dal could be ordered direct from Patel & Co. in Wellington.⁴⁸

          The work undertaken by most of the Punjabis was exceedingly arduous, demanding both physical strength and considerable stamina. Milking cows was less taxing, but all forms of agricultural development required physical labour of a particularly rigorous kind Flax-cutting was unpleasant work because it involved working in swampy conditions, often in cold weather. Drainage work could also be wet as well as gruelling, and scrub-cutting was obviously a job for the physically fit. Manuka was comparatively easy as it merely had to be cut close to the ground with slashers. Gorse, however, proved to be much more difficult. An early method was to cut the gorse with slashers, stack it, and burn when dry. Meanwhile the roots were grubbed out with a grubbing-spade or mattock. Latter the standard method was evidently to dig out the com­plete plant with a tile-drain spade.⁵⁴ This continued until the 1950s when the introduction of herbicides considerably eased the gorse-cutter's lot. The gorse was cut as before, but the roots could be left in the ground. When after about six months they sprouted new growth the shoots were sprayed with knap­sack kits.⁵⁵ 

         For most of the Punjabis employed in this way scrub-cutting was periodically suspended in order to assist employers with various seasonal tasks. These included various jobs associated with dipping, shearing and docking. They might also be required  to spend time fencing  or stumping.⁵⁶   These,

          European and Maori scrub-cutting gangs were usually working in the same areas as the Punjabis, but I was informed that they seldom stayed on the same job for more than six months. It is also evident that the Punjabis seldom mixed with the members of these other gangs, at least during the 1930s and later. During the 1920s recreation seems to have played a larger part in their lives, particularly for those who cut manuka in the King Country. Each man had his own horse and a common practice was to ride into Taumarunui on a Saturday.⁵⁷ There they would spend some time walking the streets, after which they assembled at an agreed spot with a keg of beer. Liquor could not be legally purchased in the King Country until after World War II and so the standard method was for one member of the group to arrange for a keg to be railed down from Kihikihi or up from Taihape (both of which lay beyond the bounds of the King Country). Depending on the weather the keg would be broached in a convenient paddock near the local football-ground or in one of the stables patronised by the Punjabis. Occasionally a bottle of something stronger would be purchased under the counter from a local shop which purportedly sold only soft drinks. For the most part, however, the Punjabis restricted themselves to beer during this early period ⁵⁸

          This King Country convention was evidently an extension of the earlier Hauraki Plains practice. Mr Ken Hunter of Patetonga mentioned that the Punjabis who lived there during the early 1920s sometimes had parties out in the scrub. He added that he could remember no cases of public drunkeness.⁵⁹ Mr Finer of Taumarunui also mentioned both the Punjabis' fondness for alcohol and their controlled consumption of it.

They had their periodic bursts on the liquor but seemed  to keep clear of brawls of any kind⁶⁰         

The  Saturday  keg  of beer   was often  deposited near the 

Chanan Singh of Gobindur on his farm Wanganui (1956-57).

          This pattern of recreational activity evidently continued in the King Country until the 1950s. For those who had moved southwards during the later 1920s and 1930s, however, life seems to have become harder. This was partly because their location inland from Fordell was more remote than that of the Waikato or King Country workers. Te Awamutu and Taumarunui are both very small towns, but at least they were accessible. Those who lived in the Wanganui area usually found themselves depen­dent on their near neighbours for most of their social intercourse and relaxation.

          Prior to World War II the Punjabi scrub-cutters in the Fordell area could expect to visit Wanganui only once a year. For the remainder of the year they depended upon their employers to bring supplies. After the war they travelled to the town once a month. They retained, however, the custom of an annual gathering in the town. This was held on Christmas Eve with Punjabis coming in from the Makirikiri, Hunter-ville, Maxwell and Waverley districts as well as from Fordell. The custom was to reach Wanganui by bus at approximately 10 a.m. and after shopping to gather at the Rutland Hotel. By 3 p.m. it was all over  as the assembled Punjabis dispersed

          An even grander occasion was the annual meeting of the Country Section, for this usually brought Punjabis from an even wider area to a meeting which was strictly their own. There they could speak without inhibition in their own language and sing the songs which they had learnt back in Doaba. The meeting was ostensibly called to transact business and usually a certain amount was duly discussed. One is nevertheless left with the impression of a gathering oriented more to festive reunion than to business. Meetings were usually held in whatever area seemed to have the principle concentration of Punjabi immigrants. During the late 1920s they were convened in Taumarunui where the association actually rented a house to serve as its head­quarters for three or four years.⁶⁵ In the early 1930s the usual location was Frankton (either the Grand Hotel or the town hall), followed by the move to Fordell later in the 1930s. During this later period the meetings were held in the Fordell hall or (on one occasion) the Marton town hall.⁶⁶ After World War II they moved back to the Waikato where the Gordonton hall became the usual place for meetings. Finally, in 1977, the Te Rapa gurdwara was completed and all such gatherings have ever since been held there.

1.    Punjabis  abstained  from sexual relations  during their timein New Zealand (apart from those who  had   their wives with

Phuman Singh Gill of Chirak and Margaret Gill. Wedding photograph 1897.

them). There were no prostitutes in the country areas where the Punjabis worked and when they visited a town they saw women only at a distance. It is rumoured that there was one 'bad boy' who lived 'somewhere in the Otorohanga area', but he was an exception to the rule (if in fact the  story   about him  is correct).

2. Most Punjabis abstained from sexual relations while in New Zealand. The only exceptions (apart from those with wives) were a few who sometimes 'got a Maori woman from the local pa'.
3. Punjabis did not abstain from sexual relations while in New Zealand. It was a normal procedure 'to have a Maori woman from time to time'. This informant added : 'One must have copulation.    It is natural.'

          As we have already seen, some of the immigrants settled the issue by marrying local women or by bringing wives from India or Fiji. Seven Punjabis married European wives prior to 1940 and I have been able to identify thirteen who married Maoris. (Some of the later were acknowledged to be de facto relationships.) Thirty brought wives to New Zealand and two more married the daughters of Punjabis already in the country (one of them the daughter of an early Punjabi/European marriage).⁶⁸ One of the pre-1940 arrivals brought his wife in 1940. Even in 1940, however, the number of Indian or part-Indian wives married to Punjabi husbands was well below this total of thirty-three. There were departures as well as arrivals, particularly during 1939-40.

encountered difficulties as a result of their mixed marriages, but they would presumably have been mild in comparison with the loneliness suffered by Indian wives in New Zealand. The husbands had their work, their male Punjabi companions, and at least some knowledge of English. Most of the wives spoke only Punjabi and many of them were required to live in an isolation relieved only by the company of husband and children. The neighbours may have been kindly, but there would be little they could do to break down the barriers which inevitably surrounded these women.

I meant to mention this fact to you earlier  on,  but was not sure, whether it was relevant  or not,  that among all those  earlier  settlers I have    noticed   a number of cases especially Punjabis where women in  their later  ages  have suffered mental handicap.   I think the reason  may be that they spoke little or no English, were unable to communicate and, being on farms, were isolated. 

          This should not suggest, of course, that the problem produced this unfortunate result for more than a minority of the Punjabi wives. Most of them coped with it satisfactorily. For practically all of them, however, it was a situation involving serious stress. Another of my informants said of his wife; 'She worked well but she was not  really happy  in  New Zealand.'   Even more

than their men the Punjabi women of the pre-19?0 period needed reserves of inner strength if they were to come to terms with  living in New Zealand.

          The wife of the dairy farmer was comparatively fortunate, for her husband remained close to home throughout the day and she herself spent much of it helping him with various tasks. For one wife these included chopping the wood, milking the cows in the evening and making butter ⁶⁹ There was also the prospect of regular visits to the local town, welcome breaks from routine even for the wife who could not help with the shopping because she spoke no English. The problem of isolation remained, but for the wife of a dairy-farmer or a share-milker it was significantly diminished.

of a daughter or the departure of a grown son with his father. The village remained home for most of them. They perceived themselves as transient migrants, as men who would spend years of labour in an alien environment with the prospect of a prosperous return as their reward.

          Punjabis who married European wives did assimilate to a considerable degree, and likewise several of those who took Maori wives. A few of those who brought their wives from India were also distinguished by a growing separation from the Punjabi community and a corresponding accommodation to the European life-style. These men were, however, a small minority of the total prior to World War II and signs of acculturation were even harder to find amongst the women. For the women language, dress and (as far as possible) custom remained Punjabi. Signi­ficant changes were to take place after the war—but that is another story.

A highly educated landowner,  who knows the peasant of the central Punjab better than anyone else of my acquaintance....

thinks that it  is a mistake  to suppose that the  Sikh peasant bothers  much  about religion.    He has discussed  the point with the people in different villages, and all agree that beyond the observance of a few rites,  mainly on special occasions, religion hardly enters  into  his daily  life.    And even  these rites are more the concern of women than of men, and but for the reminder of the family priest, a reminder often prompted
b    self-interest rather than love of his flock, most would pass unobserved. In a village of 278 adult Sikhs, he found that only 11 said their  prayers regularly.   This took  them from ten to twenty minutes a day and was almost  always combined with manual  work,  sometimes  the hardest of its  kind,  such as ploughing,  digging   and  chopping up fodder.      Similarly, women prayed as  they turned the grind-stones  and churned the milk ...The explanation is that the peasant is absorbed in the primary task of earning his living.
   —Sir Malcolm Darling  on the road from  Mahilpur to Garhshankar, 12 December 1928.⁷²

remind ourselves that it concerns the year 1 28, not 1984; and that he is writing about the operative practice of rural Sikh?, not about the normative theories of an urban elite. He has actually neglected to mention a fundamental point, one which might well have persuaded him to strengthen his rather dismissive comment. Sir Malcolm evidently assumes that it would be possible to distinguish Sikh from Hindu in the villages through which he was passing. Many would indeed be easily identified as one or the other, but by no means all.

          Most of the Punjabi immigrants nevertheless regarded themselves as Sikhs and it would obviously be absurd to challenge this identity. The problem in New Zealand, as in the home villages, concerns the line of demarcation separating Sikh from Hindu It is, of course, only a problem for those who want to frame neat categories and draw clear lines. My survey tended to assume this possibility and it accordingly encountered the difficulty which one mast expect in such circumstances. The problem was raised on several occasions, one being my enquiry concerning the three Jats who cane from Atta village. Were Amar Chand, Batana and Nama to be regarded as Sikhs or Hindus ? The usual answer I received was that they should be regarded as both, an answer which was reinforced by some further research concerning their names. It turned out that Nama's real name was Harnam Singh, but that this was seldom if ever used.⁷⁵ Similarly Batana was presumably Batan Singh and it would come as no surprise to learn that Amar Chand was sometimes known as Amar Singh.

as Sikhs. There nevertheless remains an area of uncertainty and the following table should accordingly be treated as an approxi­mation rather than as a precise indicator of religious or communal identity.

Table 11
Religious identity of adult male Punjabi immigrants

          The category 'Ad Dharm and other Chamars' is also an unsatisfactory one. The fact that some of the New Zealand Chamars actively supported the Ad Dharm movement does not necessarily mean that all should be thus classified. On the other hand, it would be equally unsatisfactory to enter them as Hindus-It is a complex situation which defies clear analysis. The nature of the problem is indicated by the fact that at least one of the Chamars identified by informants as an Ad Dharmi is also said to have been an adherent of the Kuka sect of Sikhs.⁷⁶ It is further complicated by the claim made by some of present generation of Chamars that those who once identified as Ad Dharmi should properly be classified as Ravidasi Sikhs.

          As one would expect from this varied spectrum the formal observance of religious practces amongst those who regarded themselves as Sikhs ranged from the reasonably punctilious to; total neglect. An attempt to determine how many of the pre-1940 immigrants had maintained the Sikh kes (the uncut hair and beard) had to be abandoned as impracticable, for many of them had varied in their observance. It is, however, evident that a substantial majority of those who can be firmy identified as Sikhs eventually shaved their beards and cut their hair. Many did so shortly after arriving in the country; other retained the kes for a number of years before dispensing with it.

          The removal of a kes is an act with consequences which cannot be concealed and was freely reported by all my informants. The question of smoking typically produced a more hesitant response. This, I assume, was partly because those who smoked often did so surreptitiously, and partly because in rural Jat society smoking is usually treated as a more serious breach of the rahit than trimming or removing the kes.⁷⁹ There is no doubt that several of the Sikhs did smoke, though I have no means of determining even an approximate number. A part of the evidence appears in the accounts produced by the Patetonga store-keeper.⁸⁰ Most of the instances which I encountered, however, were reported by European informants.

The opening of the Te Rapa Gurdwara,  28 May 1977.

circumstances so very different from the Punjab. It was, for example, a real test of loyalty for a man to rise before dawn, bathe, and perform nam simaran.⁸¹ The scrub-cutter's camp during a New Zealand winter involved early-morning rigours more forbidding than those of a Punjab village. For the most part, however, the New Zealand situation replicated the home village, with the devout few striving to uphold the essential rahit while the majority found other things to do.

          Most of those who did observe the minimum daily observance evidently possessed a gutka. The gutka is a Sikh breviary which sets out the scriptural passages appointed for special occasions, most of them taken from the Adi Granth.⁸⁴ Complete copies of of the Adi Granth were exceedingly rare in New Zealand prior to World War II. Phuman Singh Gill possessed one⁸⁵ and Phuman Singh of Rurki had another sent out for his daugh:er's marriage in 1932 ⁸⁶ These seem to have been the only pre-war copies in the country and even today they are still comparatively rare. The pre-war scarcity is not surprising. The bulky volume would have been very difficult to transport and store with customary reverence, and very few of the immigrants could read its archaic language. Two of them had been trained as granthis in India (Genda Singh of Gobindpur and Rattan Singh of Mander;⁸⁷    Apart  from these  two  men  there would have been

few, if any, who could  adequately read  anything  other than the prescribed nit-nem passages incorporated in the gutka.

At the commencement of their employment Inder Singh [Randhawa] asked if be could come up and see me kill the sheep which he duly did. When I had killed the sheep he remarked, 'Very good, Mr Finer' I replied, 'What do you mean Inder ?' 'Just one stroke,' be said. I asked where did you get that idea from. He replied, 'In our Bible.' I remarked that that was strange because it was in my Bible too. From what he told me they would not eat meat if more than one stroke was used in the killing.⁸⁹

a convention  which overrides  prior emmity and family feuds however bitter they may be.

I raised the matter of possible burials prior to the setting up of a crematorium in Hamilton with the local funeral director, Les Byars, who has spent most of his life in the district. He said that in the early 1930s he remembers that they had the responsibility of laying out the body and also having to arrange a supply of timber for the funeral pyre for any Sikh funeral. The body would be brought to the cemetery, placed on the pyre and cremated. The ashes were then collected by the relatives of the deceased and scattered on the Wanganui River.⁹³

          There is very little which can be said concerning belief and custom amongst the few Punjabi immigrants identifiable as Hindus Even within this small minority there were some whose inclinations suggest a Sikh rather than a Hindu identity, raising once again the problem involved in any attempt to demarcate the two.⁹⁴ The fact that three of the pre-1940 immigrants evidently regarded themselves as adherents of the Arya Samaj tells us nothing about their preferred identity, for both left India at a time when many Sikhs  were still   well   disposed  towards the

movement. One of the three (Lachman Singh Mahasha of Bara Nangal) was indubitably a Sikh and another (Indar Singh Mahasha) has been described as one of the 'Sikh Hindus'.⁹⁵

1 Int. 19. I.

² Int. 40. 2.

³ Ints.20. 3,23.1,26.1.

⁴  One informant named the following as gang leaders during the 1930s and 1940s : Banta Ram Singh of Kharodi, Bachint Singh of Kharodi, Manga Singh of Jaso Mazara, Rattan Singh Nagra of Jabowal, Gurbachan Singh Basi of Bundala, and Genda Singh of Gobindpur. Int. 7. Another prominent gang leader during this period was Indar Singh of Randhawa Masandan.

⁵ Bruce LaBrack has reported the same pattern in the case of Sikhs working in California during the same period, the only difference being that the American gangs tended to be slightly larger. The immigrants investigated by LaBrack also came from eastern Doaba.   'Occupational specialization

among rural California Sikhs : the interplay of culture  and   economies'. AMERASIA 9.2 (1982), pp. 34-37.

⁶  I have encountered two instances of wives actually living in a scrub-cutting camp. Mr. Sangoo Ram Sund reported that when he joined a gang cutting scrub for a Mr. Ballantyne of Pongoroa (Hawkes Bay) in 1926 Gina Singh of Sultanpur, who was also a member of the gang, had his wife with him.Int. 52.2. Mr. Joala Singh Belling of Raipur Dabba informed me that he had his wife with him while he was cutting scrub on the Fernie brothers' property west of Taihape in 1936. Int. 17.

⁷  The 28 listed as Chamars in tables 2 and 3 should properly be divided into two categories. Chamars and Julahas who become Sikhs and adopt the Khalsa style are called Ramdasias. Only one of the male Punjabi migrants to New Zealand strictly fits the description. This was Banta Singh of Bundala who arrived in 1920 and was joined by his wife, Wachittar Kaur, in 1934. It can be claimed, however, that Dr. Baldev Singh Share and his wife also belonged to this category. Dr. Share had ceased to maintain the outward appearance of a Khalsa Sikh and a rigorous view would maintain that he was, once again an ordinary Chamar. He was, however, the son of an unuusally distinguished Khalsa Sikh (Giani Dit Singh of Singh Sabha fame) and his antecedents were plainly Ramdasia. See Appendix 2. It is possible that Sunder Singh of Boparai should also be regarded as a Ramdasia, although I have been informed that he identified as an Ad Dharmi. For a note on the Ramdasia Sikhs see W.H. McLeod, The Evolution of the Sikh Community (Oxford 1976), pp. 102-3.

⁸  See p. 90. Four of the early Chamar immigrants who belonged to this group regarded themselves as dharam bhara, or members of a common brotherhood. These were Babu Ram Powar, Nikka Ram Shinmar (both from Khera), Sundar Ram Shinmar (Haphowal), and Labhu Ram Sund (Raipur Dabba).   Int. 19.1.

⁹  The classic work on Punjabi castes is Sir Denzil Ibbetson's Punjab Castes, originally a chapter in the Report on the Panjab Census of 1881 which was subsequently published as a separate work (Lahore 1916, repr.   Delhi 1974).

The army recruiter Captain A.H. Bingley also supplied detailed descriptions of several castes (notably the Jats) in Sikhs (Simla, 1899). Kessinger's Vilayatpur is invaluable on caste as on so much else. See also : W.H. McLeod, op. cit., chap. 5 'Caste in the Sikh Panth'; and Harjinder Singh, Authority and Influence in Two Sikh Villages (New Delhi, 1976).

¹⁰  In recent years the issue has centred on claim by Chamar families in New Zealand that the regular gurpurabs at the Te Rapa gurdwara (the only gurdwara in New Zealand) should include an annual celebration in honour of Sant Ravidas. For Punjabi Chamars (particularly Doabis) devotion to Ravidas has become a major feature in [defining a distinctive Chamar identity. This development has been a part of the attempt made by some Chamars to break

away from a social system which relegated them to outcaste status. It is particularly associated with the Ad Dharm movement of the 1920s and 1930s. See below note 12.

¹¹ ML. Darling, Rusticus Loquitur (London, 1930), pp. 165-66.

¹² The movement has been well described and analysed by Mark Juergensmeyer in Religion as Social Vision : the movement against untouchability in 20th-century Punjab (Berkeley, 1982).

¹³ Ibi_d, p. 59.

¹⁴ Ones such view condemns the continued use of the term 'Chamar' and were it possible to avoid the word in this study I should certainly have done so. Given a choice several of the Chamars living in New Zealand tody would prefer to be called Ad Dharmis. I was compelled to reject this option because whereas the word Chamar is widely understood Ad Dharmi is still little known. It should be stressed that when terms such as 'Chamar' are used by historians and sociologists they carry no pejorative connotations whatso­ever.

¹⁵ One does, however, encounter some evidence of embarrassment when discussing the Mahtons. This obviously reflects an awareness of their disputed claim to Rajput status. The controversy is an old one, noticed by the British when they first began taking an interest in Punjab castes. The 1881 Census originally identified them as Mahtams and Ibbetson, the chief enumerator, described them as 'of exceedingly low caste, being almost outcaste' (Panjab Castes, p. 203). This was soon challenged by those who were aware of the claims to Rajput origins. Punjab Notes and Queries, vol. I, no. 12 (September 1884), note 1034, pp. 138-39; and vol. III, no. 32 (May 1886), note 588, p. 135. The reason for their decline from Rajput status was said to be that they had taken up agriculture (including vegetables) and accepted widow remarriage. The British observers tended thereafter to suspend judge­ment on the origins issue while insisting that the thrifty, industrious Mahtons were a much better citizenry than the acknowledged Rajputs. See for example Sir Malcolm Darling, The Punjab Peasant, p. 49, and Rusticus Loquitur, pp. 30-31.

A recent article which restates the case for Rajput ancestry is Bakhshish Singh Nijjar's 'Mahton Rajputs of Jullandhur Doab', Proeedings of the Punjab History Conference 1972 (Patiala, 1971 sic), pp. 282-94. See also RSJD, pp. 79-80; J A.L. Montgomery, Final Report of Revised Settlement, Hoshiarpur District, 1879-84 (Calcutta, 1885), p. 55; R. Humphreys, Final Report of the Second Revised Settlement 1910-1914 of the Hoshiarpur District (Lahore, 1915), p. 8; Hotu Singh, Final Report of the Second Revised Settlement 1913-1917 of the Julluandur District (Lahore, 1917), p. 7.

¹⁶ Binta Ram Singh from Kharodi (near Mahilpur) commanded consider­able respect within the Punjabi community as a whole and was evidently regarded as leader by those who came from Garhshankar tahsil.

¹⁷ Country Section minutes (Gurmukhi) for 8th'9th June 1929. Hocken Library photo-copy.

¹⁸ See pp. 86-87. For another example see The Press (Christchurch) 9/7(20, p. 6. This describers how a gang of seven Indian scrub-cutters were forced to leave the small town of Carterton in the Wairarapa district by a crowd of Europeans.

¹⁹  Ints. 16, 38.

²⁰  Letter 4/11/77.   'Pakeha' is the Maori word for 'European'.

²¹  Ints. 16, 33. Mr. Hunter specifically mentioned as an exception to the general rule the local cartoonist Alf Moodie whose drawing of a 'Hindoo' camp appears in W. H. McLeod, A List of Punjabi Immigrant in New Zealand (Hamilton, 1984), p, 45.

²² Letter 4/11/77. ²³ Letter 17/3/78.

²⁴  Ibid. Lachman Singh and Bhag Singh both died in Te Puke. Mr. Collins paid for headstones to be placed over their graves in the local cemetery.

²⁵  Int. 44.   Mr. Wachittar Kaur is the widow of Banta Singh of Bundala.

²⁶  See W. H. McLeod, op. cit. D. 45. (forthcoming). One of these marriages/liaisons is said to have been with a daughter of Rua the Prophet. Sheru Ram, a Chamar from Sunar Kalan, is said to have spent his latter years living near Whakatane with one of Rua's daughters.   Int. 23.2.

²⁷  Much of the King Country consists of volcanic deposit.

²⁸  Int. 28 1. ²⁹ Int. 6.1.

³⁰ Ints. 28.1. 35.

³¹  Int. 16.

³²  Ibid.

³³ Int. 20.1.

³⁴ Tents were the standard accommodation for those who cut scrub on the Fernie brothers' property west of Taihape.

³⁵ Ints. 7, 20.1, 31,32.

³⁶ Int. 7.

³⁷ Details concerning food and cooking were derived from ints. 7, 14.1, 19.2, 28.1, 29.1, 31, and 35; also from a letter from Mr. K.R. Powar 10/3/76.

³⁸ In New Zealand ploughed fields are disced prior to harrowing and sowing. Concave steel discs are mounted vertically in sets under metal frames and towed across the ploughed furrows to slice and break them down.

³⁹ For a crude drawing of the adapted tava see the Alf Moody cartoon,in W.H. McLeod, op. cit. p. 45.

⁴⁰  Letter 4/11/77.

⁴¹  Int. 7.

⁴²   Int. 14.3.

⁴³  Int. 7. Although 'dixie' is a corruption of degchi the actual utensil is different from the standard Punjabi version. A dixie is a large, heavy, oval-shaped pot made of iron and equipped with a handle for suspending it over an open fire.

⁴⁴  Ints. 7, 31.

⁴⁵  Int. 38.

⁴⁶  Letter 4/11/77.   A 48-lb box is the equivalent of almost 22 kg.

⁴⁷  Int. 7.

⁴⁸  Ibid.

⁴⁹  Gifts from employers also included used clothing. ⁵⁰ See p. 82.

⁵¹ Int. 20. 1. ⁵² Int. 42.

⁵³  Int. 19. 1.

⁵⁴  Int. 31.

⁵⁵  Int. 7.

⁵⁶  Digging out the stumps of trees after forest has bean burnt or cut.

⁵⁷ Horses were a regular feature of the Punjabi way of life until recent years. They were used for riding out to the work-place from a base camp, and for seeking new employment when that became necessary. A few Punjabis also kept dogs. Two of the Punjabis (both of them shop-keepers in Rotorua) took up horse-racing in New Zealand. Fakiria Manak (Jack Manak) owned and trained the Cornwall Cup winner Prince Chat, a horse which is said to have earned £10, 00 in stake money. Other race-horses from his stable included Prince Hiwai, Lord Gilpin, Dark, Maid of Hardwich and New Dilli. Gulzar Khan produced both race-horses and (from amongst his sons) jockeys.

⁵⁸ The informants who communicated this information wish to remain anonymous The shop which is said to have supplied the surreptitious bottles appears in a photo of Taumarunui taken in c. 1914 which is featured in the Taumarunui magazine Roll Back the Years I. 12 (March 1981), p. 92. It is now the West End Dairy.

⁵⁹ Int. 16.

⁶⁰  Letter 4/11/77.

⁶¹  Mehar Din Akhtar and Harbans Singh Pahilwan both played rugby in Taumarunui. A more recent player (now a rugby administrator) is Mr- Gurdial (Guru) Singh, son of Phuman Singh of Rurki.

⁶²  Harbans Singh Pahilwan, son of Kahan Singh of Raipur Dabba, twice beat the celebrated New Zealand wrestler Lofty Blomfied and in 1936 he defeated George Walker of Canada to become the British Empire heavyweight champion. He returned to India after this victory and added the Indian title his list of successes in 1938. Harbans Singh first arrived in New Zealand as a boy in 1922. He attended the Manunui school for several years, developing there   into  a  star  rugby  player.   Having heard of how the British were

oppressing India he struck regular blows for Indian freedom by beating European boys who used the same path to school. He was encouraged to move from wayside assault to amateur wrestling, and so to his distinguished career as a professional. His own particular hold was his much-feared 'Indian death-lock.' Harbans Singh subsequently wrote an illustrated manual entitled Body Building and Modern Wrestling Secrets (n, p., n.d.). He now lives in Raipur Dabba where I interviewed him with his father on 29/10/78. ⁶³ Int. 7.

⁶⁴  Ibid.

⁶⁵  The key was held by Mehar Din Akhtar who lived in Taumarunui. Karam Singh Basi, letter 15/8/79.

⁶⁶ Ibid.

⁶⁷  The names of informants have been witheld in the case of this item and for most of those which follow in the remainder of this section. This has been done because of the sensitive issues involved.

⁶⁸  See W. H. McLeod, A List of Punjabi Immigrants in New Zealand-Hamilton, 1984), pp. 28-29.

⁶⁹  Int. 31.

⁷⁰  Roger and Catherine Ballard, 'The Sikhs', in James L. Watson (ed), Between Two Cultures (Oxford, 1977), p. 33.

⁷¹  At the 1929 annual general meeting of the Country Section resolutions were passed commending those who had boycotted the Simon Commission and re probating those who had cooperated with it. In 1931, at a meeting held on 26/9/31 it was agreed that the sum of £ 100 should be used to aid those who had suffered losses during the fight for independence. Hocken Library photo-copy. The following immigrants have been named as Ghadr supporters : Khushi Ram Brahman of Rurki, Mela Ram of Meghowal, and the brothers Harbans Singh and Milkhi Singh 'Bola' of Karnana. Harbans Singh is said to have been jailed by the British for his political activities. A few others read the Ghadr newspaper. Note also the attachment of the New Zealand Chamars to Mangoo Ram's Ad Dharm movement. See pp. 110-11. The only evidence I have encountered of post-independence political activity is an undated cutting from a Punjabi newspaper collection. This report names 'Amar Singh Newzealand' as one who with 'many other Punjabi Sikhs of New Zealand' has recognised the self-seeking treachery of Master Tara Singh'.   The reference is presumably to Amar Singh of Shakohpur.

⁷² Rusticus Loquitur, pp. 34-35.

⁷³ For a brief note on the amrit ceremony see PDR.

⁷⁴ The problem was always an acute one for census enumerators, particularly before Sikh consciousness was raised by the Akali campaigns of the period following World War I.

⁷⁵ Int. 40.3.

⁷⁶ For a description of the Kuka or Namdhari sect see W.H. McLeod. 'The Kukas : a millenarian sect of the Punjab', in G.A. Wood and P.S.O' Connor (eds.). W.P: Morrel: a Tribute (Dunedin, 1973), pp. 85-104. The sect evidently had a following in Raipur Dabba. One of the Jat Sikh immigrants from this village is said to have been a Kuka and to have tied his turban in the distinctive Kuka style.

" Those who retained the kes throughout their stay in New Zealand included Maghar Singh of Safuwala, Kahan Singh and Dalip Singh of Raipur Dabba, Arjan Singh of Mahilpur, Banta Singh of Bundala, and Indar Singh Randhawa. Int. 23.2 Phuman Singh of Rurki was one who retained his kes for many years. Int. 44. Very few of the Punjabis in New Zealand today retain it.

⁷⁸  Int.   16.   For Phuman Singh Gill's reason see Appendix 2. p.  169 According to Mr Hunter Harnam Singh and Mihan Singh would only touch live cows.   If they discovered a dead cow while cleaning a drain it had to be removed by someone else.

⁷⁹  This is an impression for which I can offer no firm evidence. It is based on opinions which! have heard expressed in conversations during the course of several years. For a self-consciously orthodox Sikh there would be nothing to choose between the two Both would be regarded as equally heinous.

⁸⁰  See p. 120.

⁸¹  For the meaning of rahit and the devotional discipline of nam simaran see PDR.

⁸²  Int. 7    For Japji Sahib and Rahiras see PDR.

⁸¹ The British settlement officers who worked in eastern Doaba late in the nineteenth century commented on the general neglect of formal religious, observances.   RSJD, pp. 50-51.   J.A.L.   Montgomery, p. 35.

⁸⁴ PDR. p

⁸⁵ Int. 33.1, When he became a Theophist in later life Phuman Singh kept copies of both the Adi Granth and the Bible open in a room set aside for prayer.   Ibid.

⁸⁶ Int. 26.1.

⁸⁷  Ints. 7.20.2. Rattan Singh served as a granthi in Singapore before moving on to New Zealand in 1920. No akhand Path seems to have been conducted in New Zealand before World War II. It has been claimed that some visiting Punjabi sailors conducted the first akhand path in Otahuhu in January 1977. The first authenticated performance was conducted immedi­ately prior to the opening of the Te Rapa gurdwara on 28 May 1977.

⁸⁸  PDR.

⁸⁹  Letter 4/11/77. The'stroke' to which Mr Finer refers is a stroke of the knife used to cut the sheep's throat.   His letter continues :

I must say that I enjoyed their complete confidence and they would

always accept an invitation to the homestead for a meal, well knowing that we would respect their wishes and not have anything in the food line that had come in contact with anything from the beef carcass On the Finer table there were always a plentiful supply of pikelets and I must say that they principally made their meal from them. On some occasions I had a meal  with them and they always served me first and

waited until I had finished before they commenced their meal......

On one occasion I asked them why they wore the little thin bracelets on their wrists. They told me that on taking their religious vows befere they were consserated to the title of Singh, the bangle was sealed on their wrist to remind them that should ever they put out their hand to steal they would be reminded of their vow never to steal. This unusually interesting letter indicates, among other things, that Indar Singh Randhawa at least had probably received the Khalsa initiation.

⁹⁰  On 25 November 1932 Surain Singh of Sultanpur was married by Sikh rites to Kartari, daughter of Phuman Singh of Rurki. In 1928 Santa Singh of Jandiala had married Madge, daughter of Phuman Singh Gill, in a Liberal Catholic Church.   See Appendix 2, p. 167.

⁹¹  The following burials of pre-1940 Sikh immigrants have been reported : Mohar Singh of Marnaian Khurd, d. 11/12/18 in Waikato Hospital.    Buried Hamilton East.

Hakim Singh of Karnana, d.   26/8/26.   Buried in Rotorua Cemetery.

Munsha Singh of Sujon, d.   /1/28.   Buried in Rotorua Cemetery.

Basant Singh of Bundala, killed in train accident 26/1/30.   Buried in Paeroa

Cemetery.

Harnam Singh Nagra of Jabowal, d.  5/7/45 in Thames Hospital.   Buried in

Totara Cemetery, Thames.

Lachhman Singh of Bara Nangal, d. 31/10/45.   Buried in Te Puke  Cemetery.

Saman Kaur, wife of Mangal   Singh of   Herian,  d.    14/9/52,   buried in

Otorohanga cemetery.

Bhag Singh of Chak Kalan, d 22/12/57.   Buried in Te Puke Cemetry.

Juali, wife of Phuman Singh of Rurki, d 24/10/60.

George Mohammed   Sayed   (Mohammed  Ishaq),   d.  9/2/71.      Buried    in

Wharerangi Lawn Cemetery, Napier, 11/2/71.

Phuman Singh Gill, who died in 1924, was cremated in Wellington.

⁹²  Ints. 14.1, 52.1. ⁹³ Letter 21/8/76.

⁹⁴ Mr. Milkhi Ram Fermah mentioned that he possesses a gutka. Int. 23.2. Ever since the Te Rapa gurdwara was opened in 1977 it has been regularly attended by Punjabis whom one might otherwise identify as Hindus. This, of course, adds to the complexity of the issue by raising the question of whether gurdwara attendance should be perceived primarily as religious or ethnic identity.

⁹⁵  The third Punjabi was Arya Samaj connections was Tara Chand of Karnana. His connections with the Sikh community were also very strong.

⁹⁶  Int. 29.2.

⁹⁷ Daniel Kapoor letter 25/10/77.

⁹⁸  M.A. Farooqi letter 7/9/77.

⁹⁹  Int. 14.1, 28.1.