A man named Wuzerah

Much of the historical information we have available about 19th century Canterbury was written by and about individuals with access to property, resources, money, time, and influence. In this blog post I want to look at an individual who didn’t have access to any of these things and look at two things. Firstly, what was his story? And secondly, how and why was that story told?

The small and unassuming newspaper reference that inspired this blog. Originally, I was going to write on the Cashmere Drains Historic Area, but when you live in a city that was very very proud of its English roots when it came to naming geographic things (I’m looking at you nearly every single street in Central Christchurch), a name like Wuzerah’s Drain stands out. And so, down the rabbit hole I went. Image: Lyttelton Times 11/5/1877: 3.

The man at the centre of this blog was called, or at least referred to in historical sources, as Wuzerah. The name Wuzerah means minister or butler (Drury 2016: 28), indicating his name could have been either a personal name or a work title. Wuzerah, title or name, is spelt in a variety of ways in the primary historical sources, including Wazero, Wizzero and Wiggers (Press 23/3/1941; Press 24/10/1927: 15). Sometimes Wuzerah is referred to with the identifier ‘a Mahomedan’, ‘Moosalman’, or even just as ‘Indian Natives’ or ‘Hindoos’, and the connection between the article and the man is only made clear by reference to his employer (Drury, 2016: 28; Lyttelton Times 9/7/1859: 5; Press 8/10/1869: 3; Star 9/12/1886: 3; Press 11/12/1886: 1). Europeans had a poor grasp on ethnic or religious distinctions of these groups at the time, and these terms are often used to lump together disparate peoples. Wuzerah and his family were Indian, and were possibly Afghan-Pashtun folk, based on the etymology of Wuzerah’s names and the names of his eldest sons, Pero and Mero (Drury, 2016: 28). Wuzerah’s sons took his first name as their last name, which is a traditional Muslim custom.

Wuzerah came to New Zealand, with his wife Mindia and his two eldest sons, under the employ of Cracroft Wilson in 1854. Wuzerah was a member of the Indian workforce that Cracroft Wilson employed in the creation of what is now known as the Cashmere Drains Historic Area,and on his large Cracroft Estate. Most of what we know about Wuzerah is framed in and around his employer, who was a significant and powerful individual within early colonial society in Canterbury (we have another blog on Cracroft Wilson here). Unlike Cracroft Wilson, we don’t have an entry in Te Ara to tell us who Wuzerah was and what his life in early Christchurch was like. Instead, we have to use legal records: court records, coroner’s inquest reports, records of accidents, deaths, and sometimes donations, available to us through historic newspaper records, to try and piece together his story. This often doesn’t build a very detailed or personal view of individual lives, but sometimes enough details are recorded to give an impression of someone’s life.

Wuzerah first appears in historical records by name in 1858, when he charged Goordeen, another Indian man employed by Cracroft Wilson, with larceny (Lyttelton Times 13/03/1858: 4). Drury (2016: 29) notes that Wuzerah was the first Muslim man involved in a court case in New Zealand, indicated by the article reporting that Wuzerah and Goordeen were sworn into the court on an English translation of the Qur’an (spelt ‘Koran’ in the article). Wuzerah brought a case against Goordeen (also spelled Goorden in the same article), another servant of Wilson’s who attempted to steal his purse and Mindia’s necklace while they slept. Wuzerah tied up Goorden and took him to the Magistrate’s Court in Lyttelton on a charge of larceny. A Mr P. Ashton acted as interpreter for both Wuzerah and Goorden, since neither of them spoke English (Lyttelton Times 13/03/1858: 4). The article states that Cracroft Wilson and his overseer Mr Irvine were called on the side of the prisoner Goorden, and that his account differed greatly from Wuzerah’s account under examination. Goorden claimed to have gone to Wuzerah’s house for a light and woke Mindia to ask permission. The charge against Goorden was dismissed, and it was assumed by the court that the charge was laid against Goorden for an old grudge between him and Wuzerah. It must have been some grudge that made Wuzerah capture Goorden, walk him over the Port Hills to Lyttelton, and pursue a charge against him in a court system where he did not speak the official language, with his employer advocating for the accused.

Wuzerah next appeared in the historical record for a 10-shilling donation to the ‘Indian Relief Fund’, which was established to provide aid to British colonists that were affected by the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857 (Lyttelton Times 8/5/1858; Drury, 2016: 35). He was identified as “a Mahommedan” in the article, which could be read as either a point of interest or an identifier in place of a last name. A search of other newspaper articles in the same years referencing ‘Mahomedan’, ‘Mahometan’ and ‘Mussulman’ show othering and racist narratives where Muslims were framed as a foreign other, and Wuzerah’s identifier here likely continues in this vein. We have another blog on the Sepoy Mutiny, which you can read more of here. Wuzerah’s donation to the Indian Relief Fund is an indication that he disagreed with the revolt, or possibly as an expression of support for his employer, who was in India at the time working with British forces to put down the revolt (Ogilvie, 2009: 235). Wuzerah’s choice to donate to the fund, and to include his name on the donation list can be read as an act of agency. Cracroft Wilson was not known for generous wages, and Wuzerah’s choice to publicly donate money to the fund indicates that he used resources available to him to publicly express his views.

Donation list to the Indian Relief Fund. The Indian Relief Fund was created to support British colonists who suffered under the Sepoy revolt, and Wuzerah’s donation here likely indicates disapproval with the mutiny. Image: Lyttelton Times 8/5/1858: 5.

Wuzerah returned to the courts in 1859 on a charge of larceny issued by his employer (Lyttelton Times 9/7/1859: 5; Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4; Lyttelton Times 7/9/1859: 4). Cracroft Wilson charged Wuzerah with stealing tools and a copper boiler from his estate. Phillip Ashton once again interpreted for Wuzerah, and two other witnesses spoke on his behalf: Gunga Ram and Bhowanee Singh. Cracroft Wilson accused Wuzerah of stealing multiple tools and the copper boiler, and located these items in Wuzerah’s house after it was searched. Wuzerah was recorded as saying the following “The things are all yours, take them and forgive me” (Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4). Phillip Ashton, when asked about this wording explained that this was a figurative form of apology used in India rather than an explicit admission of guilt. Here the Lyttelton Times notes that “several other witnesses were called whose evidence was of a conflicting character” but “The hour at which the report reached us precludes us giving any further details” (Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4).

Both Gunga Ram and Bhowanee Singh testified that the tools were in Wuzerah’s possession before they left India, and that the boiler had been given to Wuzerah by Mrs Wilson more than four years beforehand. Mrs Wilson and others of the estate denied this claim (Lyttelton Times 7/9/1859: 4) The court ruled in Wilson’s favour and found Wuzerah guilty. A small note at the bottom of this report notes that a second charge of larceny was brought against Wuzerah, but “the case was of so trifling a character that we reserve our available space for a more interesting matter”. This indicates that Wilson evidently bought multiple charges against Wuzerah. If it seems a little odd that man as powerful and influential as Cracroft Wilson would bring multiple charges against a man under his employ for supposedly stealing a copper boiler and tools which he used as part of his employment, it is. Regardless of whether Wuzerah was telling the truth, and two witnesses speaking on his behalf definitely support this, Cracroft Wilson had the means and ability to handle this matter internally on his estate. Instead, he dragged Wuzerah through a months long court process, which Cracroft Wilson knew would result in publication of Wuzerah’s name with the offence, and then won the case against Wuzerah. Cracroft Wilson made an example of Wuzerah and punished whatever perceived transgression with institutional power structures.

The Old Stone House was built to house Cracroft Wilson’s Indian workers, and it’s possible Wuzerah lived here at one stage. This photo shows Old Stone House in a neglected state with farm implements outside, Cashmere, Christchurch. Williams, Edgar Richard, 1891-1983: Negatives, lantern slides, stereographs, colour transparencies, monochrome prints, photographic ephemera. Ref: 1/4-097560-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/30634110

The next record of the Wuzerah family is a coroner’s inquest into the death of Pero Wuzerah (Lyttelton Times 5/11/1862: 4). Pero slipped crossing a footbridge over the Heathcote and drowned in the river. The article notes that another boy fell into the river at the same spot within the same week but was rescued by his father. Interestingly, Pero Wuzerah is referred to as “the son of one of the Mahomedan natives of India employed by Cracroft Wilson” whereas the other child is referred to as “a son of Mr Jas. T. Fisher”. This difference in identification between Wuzerah and Mr Fisher is a clear contrast: Wuzerah is referred to as a nameless employee of Cracroft Wilson, whereas Fisher is identified by name and honorific.

The next mention of Wuzerah involves yet another court experience for charges issued by Cracroft Wilson. Cracroft Wilson brought charges against Wuzerah for the cost of £38 9s 3d in 1873 (Press 8/5/1873: 3). The reason for this quite hefty charge is indicated in a Star article months later, which recounts a meeting held by Cracroft Wilson for his constituents as the member for the Heathcote District in the House of Representatives (Star 21/10/1873: 2). A tax of £1 per household had been issued for education purposes, which Wuzerah had apparently neglected to pay. Cracroft Wilson, as the advocate for this particular tax, brought charges against Wuzerah for non-payment of this tax. Cracroft Wilson tells his constituents that Wuzerah, identified in this article only as ‘the Mahomedan’, said in Hindostanee [sic] that “he would not pay for nothing and that he would therefore send his boys to school”. The implication for Wuzerah’s statement is that if he had to pay the tax, then he would be sending his sons to school to benefit from that education funding. Cracroft Wilson, known for paying remarkably low wages, publicly charged Wuzerah with a hefty £38 fine for failing to pay an education tax of £1 that he politically championed. This charge by Cracroft Wilson is not only hefty and punitive but used here to make a political statement to reinforce Cracroft Wilson’s political convictions.

Cracroft Wilson was a Member of the House of Representatives and heavily involved in politics. One of his more controversial acts was the 1865 Masters and Servants Bill, designed to provide legislative guidelines  for disputes between masters and servants. Unsurprisingly, given Cracroft Wilson’s wealth and status as well as it being well known that he employed Indian servants, he was heavily critiqued for introducing legislation that would personally benefit him. In this satirical comic the master is likely Cracroft Wilson. Image: Punch in Canterbury (Periodical), 1865. Punch in Canterbury: What may come of the Masters and Servants Bill. Original question. “That a disobedient servant be imprisoned.” Mr Punch’s Amendment. “That a master, if he misconduct himself, shall be liable to hard labour.” Punch in Canterbury, 19 August,1865. Ref: A-315-967. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/22336950

Wuzerah was evidently familiar with the court system following his initial experiences, and brought charges against a William Harges in 1869, and a Lane in 1885 (Press 8/10/1869: 3; Star 7/10/1885: 3). Wuzerah was charged by a J. Sheriff in 1875 and a return charge was issued by Lane in 1885 (Lyttelton Times 18/11/1875: 3; Lyttelton Times 22/10/1885: 3). The only charges named are those to and from Lane, issued by Wuzerah for cartage, and returned by Lane for repairs to a dray (Star 7/10/1885: 3; Lyttelton Times 22/10/1885: 3). For every charge Wuzerah was involved in, brought by him or accused, the court finds in his opponent almost every time, except for the charge brought by J. Sheriff, where Cracroft Wilson speaks in support of Wuzerah. Appearances in court were not unusual in the 19th century, but Wuzerah didn’t speak English very well. Taking people to court in an unfamiliar language is a pretty bold move, especially when the legal system didn’t often rule in his favour.

Wuzerah also went to court for his youngest son Noora. Noora (written as “Noer alias Noorwa”) was charged for putting stones on railway tracks, which could have resulted in a serious accident (Star 24/6/1874: 2). Wuzerah testified before the court that he had already punished the boy, and that he would pay a £20 bond as security to ensure the boy’s good conduct in the future (Star 24/6/1874: 2). There is a ‘recognizance of the peace’ file under the name Wuzeera [Wuzerah] in 1874, possibly for this same bond payment (; Drury, 2016: 32).

As previously mentioned, Wuzerah was part of the workforce employed by Cracroft Wilson to dig the historic drains network that was required to drain large sections of Cashmere (Ogilvie, 2009: 235). An advertisement in the Lyttelton Times called for tenders to deepen the Cashmere River from “Wuzeerah’s Drain to Promontory Bridge (Lyttelton Times 11/05/1877: 3). It Is likely that Wuzerah was part of the Indian workforce employed by Cracroft Wilson to dig this drain network, hence his name associated with a portion of the drain. Mero Wuzerah was injured in a dray accident in 1879 and was treated in Christchurch Hospital (Lyttelton Times 9/9/1879: 4). Mero must have made a full recovery, for he and his father were involved in an incident in 1886 where they were accused of “illegally rescuing cattle” from a ranger to the Halswell Road Board. The charge was dismissed since the ranger didn’t produce identification and neither Wuzerah nor Mero kept the cattle (Star 9/12/1886: 3). A return charge was issued to the ranger for assaulting Wuzerah, but this charge was also dismissed (Star 9/12/1886: 3). It’s not clear whether violence was a common part of Wuzerah’s life based on the information available, but the court ruling against him in charges certainly seemed to be.

Wuzerah spent his later years on a cottage on the corner of Cashmere and Valley Roads, which was provided by Cracroft Wilson’s estate following his death in 1881 (Drury, 2016: 32; Ogilvie, 1978: 132)

Port Hills of Christchurch map with ‘Indians Cottage’ and ‘Old Stone House’ marked with circles. The ‘Indians Cottage’ marked on the map is probably not Wuzerah’s, as his reported house location is shown with a yellow circle. Image: Ogilvie, 1978: 132.

Wuzerah appears to have run a cartage business with a team of bullocks following release from Cracroft Wilson’s employment (Drury, 2016: 32-33; Ogilvie, 2009: 238). Wuzerah apparently favoured two bullocks named ‘Baldy’ and ‘Smuggler’, and James Sutherland recalled that when asked why he always used the same pair he replied “They go quick run it” (Ogilvie, 2009: 238). The Star reported that Wuzerah was one of a team of bullock drivers employed to cart stone into Christchurch for the construction of the Christchurch Cathedral (Star 1/5/1902: 3).

Christchurch Cathedral under construction, late 1879-early 1880. The stone visible in the foreground was locally sourced and transported by bullock teams run by folk like Wuzerah. Ref: 1/2-022786-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/23063747

Wuzerah passed away from heart disease on 30 April 1902, and his death notice was published across New Zealand as far as Auckland, Otago, and Wanganui (Press 2/5/1902: 6; Star 1/5/1902: 3; Auckland Star 2/5/1902: 5; Otago Witness 7/5/1902: 30; Wanganui Herald 2/5/1902: 2). A small memorial to Wuzerah and another Indian servant Kulloo, who died the same year, was installed in Sydenham Cemetery by the Cracroft Wilson Family (Star 22/8/1902: 3; Drury, 2016: 34). The memorial was broken by vandals and restored by the Cracroft Community Centre between 1985 and the early 2000s (Press 2/12/1985: 17; Press 18/7/2009: D9; Drury, 2016: 34).


Wuzerah’s death notice in the Star (Wuzerah’s name is spelt Bezire in this article). Source: Star 1/5/1902: 3.

This blog may have given the impression that Wuzerah was a relatively unknown individual from the 19th century, but that’s not quite true. A quick Google search of his name will return 832 results, and his experiences are cited in nearly every publication on the history of Muslim settlement in New Zealand. Wuzerah’s identity was treated as a point of interest by his contemporaries, evident in the creation of a memorial for both Wuzerah and Kulloo in the Sydenham Cemetery, and the publication of his death notice in newspapers across New Zealand. This focus is continued by the restoration and repairs to Wuzerah and Kulloo’s gravestone in the 1980s by the Cracroft Community Centre (Press 27/11/1985: 59; 4/3/1986: 8). Wuzerah was the subject of academic interest in the 20th and 21st century as the first documented Muslim living in New Zealand (which isn’t quite true either, see Drury, 2016: 17-18 and Singh, 2016: 65-69). There was a renewed media interest in early Muslim experiences in Canterbury following the Christchurch terror attacks in 2019, and Wuzerah’s story was retold to indicate historical experiences of Muslims in Canterbury (you can read a couple of examples here and here).

From the 19th century to the present day, Wuzerah’s legacy is drawn solely from his identity as the first Muslim settler to live in New Zealand. Readers of the newspaper clippings and snippets of his life might get a sense that he had a hard life in Canterbury as the first Muslim settler, as one of very few Indian employees to stay on following the completion of his indenture period. Wuzerah was treated unfairly by his employer, he was mistreated by the legal system, newspapers spelt his name wrong constantly, even in his death notice. But these mentions of Wuzerah during and after his lifetime were utilised by newspapers, community groups, media outlets and other platforms (this blog included) because he is known as the first Muslim to settle in New Zealand, rather than any choices he made or actions he took of his own volition. Potentially the only record available that indicates Wuzerah’s personal views or choices is the donation record to the Indian Relief Fund in 1858, which either indicated support for his employer in India, or disapproval of the Sepoy Revolt. Other people have made choices about Wuzerah’s story and have created a significant legacy around his identity. Cracroft Wilson chose to make an example of Wuzerah during his lifetime to reinforce his status as a landowner and as a politician, and Wuzerah’s story continued to be used as an example of early Muslim experiences long after his death. Cracroft Wilson had the opportunity and choices to create his own legacy in the colonisation of Canterbury, which is embedded in almost every aspect of the history of Christchurch. If Wuzerah had choice and opportunity available to him, perhaps he would have chosen to present his legacy differently.

Photograph of Wuzerah and Kulloo’s restored grave. Image: Alistair McGowan, 2023. 

Neda Bawden

References

Drury, A. M. 2016. Once Were Mahometans: Muslims in the South Island of New Zealand, mid-19th to late 20th century, with special reference to Canterbury. Masters Thesis, University of Waikato.

Ogilvie, G. 1978. The Port Hills of Christchurch. Wellington, Sydney, London: A. H. & A. W. Reed.

Ogilvie, G. 2009. The Port Hills of Christchurch. Christchurch. N.Z.: Philips & King.

Singh, H. 2016. From Guru Nanak to New Zealand: Mobility in the Sikh Tradition

A Disturbing Discovery

Disclaimer: the topics discussed in this blog post include descriptions of murder, torture and rape. Reader discretion is advised.

 

It was around a year ago that Underground Overground Archaeology again hit the mainstream news, this time with stories about our excavations at the site of the new Court Theatre (a few of those stories here, here, and here). While it’s great when media outlets publish stories about the archaeological work that we do, there are definitely pros and cons to the pieces. The main pro is, of course, that a much wider range of people get to hear about the archaeological work that we do in Christchurch, rather than just those that follow us on social media or keep up with this blog. The cons are that because the journalists that are reporting the stories aren’t archaeologists and often have word or time limits to keep to, their stories can be quite brief and often focus in on the stereotype that the only thing us archaeologists are interested in is ‘treasure’. Now, don’t get me wrong, us archaeologists are the first to get excited when we find a rare or unusual artefact, but we’re not pirates. For us, the real ‘treasure’ is the stories that the artefacts tell us about the lives of people of the past, rather than the artefacts themselves. Working out those stories comes long after excavation is finished and only happens once we have gone through all of the information we’ve collected, the notes on the features that we took when we excavated them, the results of the artefact analysis, and the information that we can draw from the historical record, and see what these three information sources, along with anything else we might have access to, can tell us. A lot of the time when we’re getting mainstream media interest, it’s at the time of the archaeological excavation, meaning that we haven’t yet worked out all the interesting stories as we are only at the start of figuring them out. That was very much the case when we were being interviewed about the Court Theatre site, where one of the ‘treasures’ that the journalists were most interested in was a clay pipe. A year later, we are now at a point where we’ve done most of the artefact analysis and we can actually start to narrow down some of those stories that the artefacts from the site are able to tell us.

A classic example of the use of ‘treasure’ by the mainstream media. While they’re not wrong, it does perpetuate the stereotype of archaeologists as Indiana Jones type figures, which is very much not the case. Image: Otago Daily Times.

The clay pipe in question is probably the most violent and confronting artefact that we’ve had come out of an archaeological site in Christchurch, at least in recent years. The pipe was elaborately moulded and depicted a man, wearing a turban and Indian style dress, holding a sword above his shoulder, ready to strike. Next to him is a woman lying with one arm raised, her chest bare and her dress pooled at her waist. A baby lies at her feet. A woman is shown fleeing on the side of the bowl. Stamped on the stem of the pipe was “NA NA SAIB” and “DELHI”.

Image: C. Watson

The clay pipe is depicting an event known as the Bibighar massacre, which took place within the 1857 Indian Rebellion. This rebellion happened when sepoys, or Indian soldiers, mutinied against the East India Company. The East India Company had had a presence in India since the early 17th century, and by the 19th century was effectively responsible for the government of India and was employing sepoys within their army. The reasons behind the mutiny were complicated but were mainly a result of an accumulation of grievances, mostly around the structure of the army and treatment of the sepoys, and the treatment of landowners and high-status individuals by the British. Sepoys in Meerut and Delhi mutinied against the British officers in May of 1857, with the rebel sepoys taking control of Delhi. News of the mutinies spread, with sepoys in some regions also rebelling, while in other regions sepoys fought for the British. In June of 1857, the sepoys under the leadership of the British General Wheeler at Cawnpore (Kanpur) mutinied. This led to the Siege of Cawnpore, where General Wheeler, the British soldiers, and their families, were trapped by the rebel sepoys in an entrenchment for three weeks with little water or food. The siege came to an end on the 27th of June when Nana Saib, an Indian nobleman who was a prominent leader in the rebellion, offered safe passage to Wheeler and the British to the nearby river where they could board boats and leave Cawnpore. Wheeler trusted Nana, as prior to the rebellion he had been an ally to the East India Company. However, upon reaching the riverbank and beginning to board the boats, the Indian sepoys opened fire on the British, resulting in many casualties. The 120 women and children that survived the massacre were re-captured and taken as captives. They were taken to a local house, Bibighar, with a group of another 80 women and children captured from another town later also taken to the house. On July 15, this group of women and children were massacred in a brutal killing.

Sir Joseph Noel Paton painted In Memoriam in 1858 in honour of the victims of the Bibighar massacre. We suspect that this painting was one of the source works that inspired the design of the pipe, particularly the positioning of the central woman and child.

The Chamber of Blood’ is a tinted lithograph by Vincent Brooks after Lieutenant C W Crump, Madras Artillery, No. 2. It was part of the series ‘A Pictorial Record of the Cawnpore Massacre’ published by Henry Graves and Co., London, in 1858.

A memorial to the women and children killed in the massacre was erected by the British. The memorial is built over the well in which the women and children’s bodies were thrown.Image: S. Bourne.

Many reasons have been suggested for why the women and children were killed. Some historians have suggested that they were killed in the hope that it would stop East India Company forces from approaching Cawnpore. Others have suggested that it was to stop information from being leaked to the British if Cawnpore fell, or to undermine Nana Saib’s relationship with the British, or that it was simply an act of revenge for British murders of Indian civilians. Following the massacre at Bibighar, British soldiers retook Cawnpore and took the sepoys as prisoners. The British forced the sepoys to lick the blood that stained the walls and floors of the Bibighar as punishment. They were then hung, or ‘blew from the cannon’, a method of execution where the victim is tied to the mouth of a cannon, which is then fired. This method was used by the British in India as it destroyed the body and prevented Hindu and Muslim funerary rites from being carried out on the victim.  By the end of 1857, the British had largely regained control, with the final rebels defeated in June of 1858. The acts that took place as part of the Indian Mutiny included atrocious acts of violence by both sides. The rebellion resulted in the dissolution of the East India Company by the Government of India Act 1858, with the governing of India transferred to the British Crown.

Going back to the clay pipe that we found at the Court Theatre site, from an example in the Amsterdam Pipe Museum we know that the pipe was manufactured by French pipe manufacturers L. Fiolet. Louis Fiolet was a French pipe manufacturer based as St. Omer. Fiolet took over his grandfather’s business in 1834, adopting the usage of the ‘L. Fiolet’ mark at this time. Around 1885 Fiolet went into partnership with his son-in-law, George Audebert, as Fiolet and Audebert. Fiolet died in 1892 and the firm operated as Audebert Fiolet from 1893 onwards. Fiolet pipes are said to be second only to Gambier pipes in quality, and the company was one of the most prominent French pipe manufacturers in the 19th century, having a base in France and a shop in London (Hammond, 1987). While we can’t include a picture of the example from the Amsterdam Pipe Museum due to copyright, you can view it by clicking on the hyperlink. The Amsterdam Pipe Museum example shows that the pipe was coloured, with the Indian attacker’s skin coloured brown, and the British woman and the baby’s skin painted pink. Presumably our pipe was also painted, but that decoration  has weathered off our pipe due to it being buried in the ground for over 150 years.

At the time of our interviews a year ago, while we had worked out that the pipe was inspired by the Indian Mutiny, and we knew that it was made by L. Fiolet, we didn’t know the details of the Bibighar massacre that inspired the pipe. Having read the account of that massacre, it shines a new light on the brutality of the pipe. At the time of our interview, we made reference to how the pipe speaks to the globalised nature of the 19th century, the pipe being a French made pipe, inspired by Indian historical events, found in New Zealand. But it’s only now that we have done the more detailed research, that a more nuanced view appears.

The first reports of the Siege of Cawnpore and the massacre of British civilians were embellished by shocking tales of rape, torture and mutilation. Nana Saib, with his role in the munity and the massacre, became known as the ‘Tiger of Cawnpore’. Nana was the face of the massacre for the British public, and as a result of that became a pop culture villain who was referenced in tales about savagery and resistance to British authority within the empire. Plays, ballads, stories and paintings were quickly produced, with the sentiment of ‘remember Cawnpore’ an underlying message (Wallace, 2015). It is highly likely that Fiolet, with their presence in London and their targeting of the British market, were influenced by the popular culture of the period to produce the pipe, with the smoking pipe just one of several pop culture artefacts depicting the events of the mutiny and massacre. The depictions of Nana and the massacre in popular culture acted as propaganda, which was used by the British to generate public support for the British response to the rebellion, as well as justification for some of the atrocities carried out by British soldiers.

The design of the smoking pipe highlights the British view of the mutiny, and of Nana Saib as the ‘Tiger of Cawnpore’. The Indian sepoy’s skin is coloured brown, he is wearing a turban and Indian dress, and is armed with an Indian style sword, all clear indicators of his race and position. The woman is bare breasted, her clothes pooling at her waist and her hair loose. Her skin is painted pink, a clear reference to her ethnicity as British, and her half-nakedness both symbolises her vulnerability and gives connotations of rape. The baby at her feet is also painted pink and is naked, emphasising its vulnerability. The scene of the pipe depicts the atrocity of the Bibighar massacre and the most horrific of the actions by the Indians at the Siege of Cawnpore and is clearly designed for the British narrative of the events. The choice to depict women and children as the primary victims of the mutiny, rather than the largely male-dominated East India Company and military power structures the sepoys were rebelling against, was a deliberate one, and can be seen as the weaponization of white femininity in defence of the (patriarchal, European) imperial power structures at play in India at the time. Of course, historical events are often filled with contesting views. If the pipe manufacturer had been influenced by the Indian sepoy perspective on the Siege of Cawnpore, then the pipe might show the sepoys attacking the British, or the British forcing the sepoys to lick blood off the walls of the Bibighar, or tying them to cannons to execute them. In the 21st century we can’t ignore the power imbalances created by colonialism and the impossible standards that disempowered people were held to, where there was never a correct means of resistance. But we can acknowledge this and acknowledge that the British also committed atrocities, while still viewing what was done to the British women and children as a horrific act.

For the Victorian British and the perspective that was created through depictions of the mutiny in popular culture, Nana was the embodiment of the nightmare of British imperialism and empire building. He represented “the latent treachery of all subject races, the rejection of British Progress, the destruction of the sacred family unit” (Wallace, 2015: 611). The rubbish pit in which our smoking pipe was found dates to the 1860s, around the year 1866. In 1860s New Zealand, the New Zealand Wars were being fought in Taranaki and Waikato. By understanding the history of the events that the pipe depicts, and the image of Nana Saib in Victorian popular culture as the Tiger of Cawnpore, one has to wonder if the pipe’s presence in Christchurch was intended as a warning to British colonists living in the city, a reminder of what the local population can do when oppressed. The pipe is more than an example of the global trade connections that existed in the 19th century, it’s a symbol of British imperialism and the consequences of that. And understanding that history, and the relevance of that history to our current day society, is the true treasure that archaeology can uncover.

Clara Watson

References

Hammond, P., 1987. The London Commercial Agents of French Clay Pipe Manufacturers Fiolet and Audebert Fiolet. Society for Clay Pipe Research Newsletter. 15: 16-21.

Wallace, B., 2015. Nana Sahib in British Culture and Memory. The Historical Journal. 58 (2): 589-613.