By 1862 there was discontent in the Maori villages of the Waikato. The young men were bored.
They were discarding the ancient Maori rituals which, based on necessity, were carefully designed to keep everyone busy, realizing his own essential place in the life of the community.
A group of young Maori men were carrying bundles of flax down the track from the pa to the canoes tied to a tall kahiakatea tree on the sand of the Komakorau Stream. The old chief came down.
"Whatever are you doing?" he asked.
"We are going to take this flax to Auckland to sell to the Pakeha," answered one of the boys.
The chief looked at the stuff in the canoe.
"But this is rubbish," he said, "It wasn't cut with the proper ceremonies. It isn't dressed properly. It's rubbish!" he repeated.
