When I was a kid, one of my favourite books was Washday at the Pa. Even today, when I do my sheets and big weekly wash, everyone who knows me knows that I am having Washday at
I love washday at the Pa. When my kids were little, so did they. When bed time came around, it was easy to get them to scurry off to bed without a grizzle? The pillowcases freshly ironed, the sheets tightly tucked and crease free and the sleep that followed was restful and sound.
When the book was banned, I was shocked.
I had grown up with Maori kids who lived in houses like the one in the book, and they always seemed to be laughing and happy. I knew Pakeha kids who slept on potato sacks and lived in muddy fields ? and they were mostly cheerful and bright.
Yet Washday at the Pa was banned. After complaints, the then Minister for Education announced:
?The objections mainly refer to the family?s living conditions, which are said to be untypical. They were not intended to be regarded as completely typical? However, it is clear that the publication has given offence, and I have therefore decided that it be withdrawn from the schools?
The author of the book, Ans Westra commented:
When the book was withdrawn from schools in 1964, I managed to steal a copy. Unfortunately, I got an attack of guilt and returned it the next day. Sometimes, I regret having been brought up so well, because I missed that book so much. Fortunately, I had the gift of a memory library and was able to re-read it and re-visit it as often as I chose. Unfortunately, I have never held it in my hands again.
The books were boxed up and returned to Wellington.
Any avid reader will know what the ‘feel’ of a book is like. It is like holding hands with a much-loved friend and embarking on an adventure together. I have read books on a kindle and on an
Washday at
I have read the negative criticism of this piece of New Zealand rural Maori history and find it hard to understand. I knew families like the
We got cut, we got bruised, we fell out of trees and we sometimes got sick. We owned air rifles, which we loaded with uncooked grains of rice for our war. That way, no one could pretend that they hadn?t been shot when the welt on their leg clearly showed that they had. I had a .22 as did my friends. None of us turned into psychotic killers. In fact, guns hold no fascination for me because I grew up with them.
The censorship of 1964 involved banning a book because it seemed to portray rural Maori families in a negative manner. But did it?
It was factual. It was real.
If in 2019, a book was to be banned for not being a typical representation of Kiwi family life, I wonder how many books about Mummy and Mummy, Daddy and Daddy and I am a boy-girl would be withdrawn from publication? Probably not one.
Washday at
Meanwhile, I am off to do a Washday at
And bugger the lot of them.