This memorial website was created in memory of our loved one, Tahuriwakanui McLeod, 74 years old, born on September 7, 1911, and passed away on June 15, 1986. We will remember him forever.
Posted by Julie Mcleod-Taite on June 15, 2017
31 years you have been gone but our memories of you linger on, you instilled in us the l9ve you had for our Manama tanga to always have faith and to carry that with us always. It feels like yesterday that you've been gone, if love could build a stairway we would all be visiting you and Mum love you always, rest in eternal peace Dad
Posted by Julie Mcleod-Taite on June 15, 2017
31 years you have been gone but our memories of you linger on, you instilled in us the l9ve you had for our Manama tanga to always have faith and to carry that with us always. It feels like yesterday that you've been gone, if love could build a stairway we would all be visiting you and Mum love you always, rest in eternal peace Dad
Posted by Maggie Currie on March 18, 2016
You told me once Dad that you only need a little faith to move a mountain and you were so right. Still love and miss you dad and I hope mum is now with you
Posted by Julie Taite on June 13, 2011
25 years ago on June 15th you left us, I shall never forget your last words to me in regards to our church. "It is not the fact that you turn up to church that counts it is what you carry around inside you".I SHALL NEVER FORGET R.I.P DAD

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Posted by Julie Mcleod-Taite on June 15, 2017
31 years you have been gone but our memories of you linger on, you instilled in us the l9ve you had for our Manama tanga to always have faith and to carry that with us always. It feels like yesterday that you've been gone, if love could build a stairway we would all be visiting you and Mum love you always, rest in eternal peace Dad
Posted by Julie Mcleod-Taite on June 15, 2017
31 years you have been gone but our memories of you linger on, you instilled in us the l9ve you had for our Manama tanga to always have faith and to carry that with us always. It feels like yesterday that you've been gone, if love could build a stairway we would all be visiting you and Mum love you always, rest in eternal peace Dad
Posted by Maggie Currie on March 18, 2016
You told me once Dad that you only need a little faith to move a mountain and you were so right. Still love and miss you dad and I hope mum is now with you
Recent stories
Shared by Nevynna McLeod on June 23, 2021
Aww so so many memories...
I would walk up to Nans and Koro whare and bake cakes. Well one day I took my baking stuff and made a chocolate cake with icing. Koro wanted it straight away and I said 'aw koro, it's still hot', Koro was like motioning me to bring him some cake. I tasted the cake and I was like wtf? wtf is wrong with this icing?  I told koro that there was something wrong with the icing. He proceeded to have the cake and nodded yum, yum. Well bless my koro, the icing was made with Baking Soda lmao
I have many imprints in my mind of Koro. One of my favourite's is when I was sitting on the deck around the back. I saw someone walking down the hill. As the person got closer I realized it was Koro. I jumped up and drove up with Tautara and met Koro and asked if he wanted a ride. He lifted his cane, pointed to the homestead and shook his head, kao kao, kei te pai. So I walked with gentle Koro. He sat on the deck for a couple of hours and had a cuppa and we drove him home back to nan who as always, was making nans fried bread with love.

My memories of my Koro....

Shared by Jan Brown on June 17, 2011

When I think of my Koro and the memories I have, a huge well of emotion engulfs me and I have to fight back the tears. You've been gone for many years now Koro and just the thought of your passing still manages to evoke the feeling within me, of my heart breaking into million pieces.

There are moments in your life at times like this when you wish you could bring someone down from heaven... and spend the day with them just one more time, kiss them goodbye or hear their voice again...I know that is not possible so I will just cherish the memories I have....

Believe it or not whanau but I talk to our Koro all the time. I ask him for guidance and direction when I feel lost. I ask him for strength when I feel weak. I ask him to help take away the pain. I ask him to be with me when I need courage. I ask him to watch over my daughter and make sure she is always safe. I ask him to help me be a better person. And I always ask him to talk to god on behalf of me. I have always felt Koro's presence. He has never let me down.

So this brings me onto the memories I have of Koro when he was with us. The one that stands out strongest is the day I found out my dad had died. I was 8 years old. I remember waking early in the morning and for some reason we all got up at the same time. Us kids that is. We walked into the dining room to find Nana and Koro up with Mum. It was still dark outside but I knew it was morning. They weren't there when we went to bed so I knew something was wrong. Mum was crying as soon as she saw us. Nana and Koro just said your dad has gone away. We had left dad at one time and came to the Mt, but for some reason I knew it wasn't him running off somewhere. That same emotion I'm feeling right now welled up inside me and I couldn't fight back the tears. I knew dad was dead. Our Koro enveloped us with his large imposing arms and said “My Mokos everything will be okay” Both mum and Nana were crying. And in my heart I knew what he said would be true.

Nana and Koro are strong believers in our Ratana church, and whakamoimeti was a regular occurrence for us growing up. I never understood the words because I don't speak Maori but it was how you said it Koro that made it feel right. I knew deep down that what you were saying would always bring us great blessings from Ihoa. It was comforting and you could always feel the love emanating from you.

Our dad passing left a massive hole in our lives when we were kids. It's like you knew what we needed and you just stepped in and took on the role of fatherly figure to us all. You were the strength my mum needed to do all that she did for us. It can't have been easy for her bringing up 4 kids on her own, one of which was a baby. But I always remember you and Nana were there for her and us. I thank you both so much for that.

I remember begging you to take us floundering with you. You always took the boys and I thought I was missing out and thought I was more than capable of doing what the boys could do. You had your doubts because we were silly little girls with huge expectations of excitement, adventure, but we were just wanting to make your proud of us. So you caved in and off we trotted.

I don't remember the names of places because I was so young. I think I would have been around 10 years of age by then. We came by the river side to enter into the estuary around the back. Why you had to take us through the damn eel invested river I will never know. However I think there was an ulterior motive to that Koro, one which included scaring the hell out of us. It only half worked sorry to say. I could barely contain my excitement at being able to go floundering with you. My sister Kate was with us too. We had the lantern which you carried, some spears, and a sack for all the flounder we planned on catching. As we waded through the river dumbo here wore her jandals because she didn't want to get her feet dirty. That was the first of my growling for the night. Take those blinking jandals off you said. We rolled our pants right up to our thighs and in we went. Eww the mud squelched between my toes and felt disgusting.

I can't remember it being cold but I sure as hell remember the feeling of big fat disgusting slimy eels slithering through my legs. I cringed and then I screamed. Again I coped another growling to shut up. I tried jumping on you to get away from the eels and coped another growling. If you want to come floundering you need to stand on your own two feet. So I did and with steely determination I got through that river full of eels to the shallows of the estuary. Then came the finding of the flounders. Well no one told me that they wiggle under your feet. And again out comes a mighty scream of fear. And again I cop another growling to shut up and spear it. You taught us that we needed to be very quiet so that we didn't scare the flounders off. That as we walked along they would be trapped under our feet and we need to hold them there under our weight before spearing them. Well the next flounder that I trod on, I bit my tongue so hard I think it bled but I didn't want to scream, scare it off, and let you down again. I whacked my spear down and nearly speared my foot. Got that flounder though and screamed out with joy to you. To again cop another growling to shut up and put it in the bag. I was so over excited that none of the growling had any affect on me. I was with you and I thought I was making you proud of me, that's all that mattered at the time.

We caught heaps of flounder that night but you reckoned we could have gotten more if us girls walked faster and kept quiet. When we got home to Nana's we pulled out our catch and washed them. Nana fried them up for us, and they were the best tasting flounder I had ever had. I remember bragging to Nana about which ones I caught. Of course I had no idea because they all looked the same. I can't ever remember going out with you again. I think we were more trouble than we were worth. Floundering with you is one of my all time favourite memories.

I remember you taking us all down to the chook pen to get some chickens. It was just to the front of the old house and we were in the paddock closest the wharenui. I'm pretty sure we were going to be eating them for tea that night. I don't think you chose to take us. We were like little shadows that followed you everywhere. You had your axe to chop the chook s heads off. I remember Mickey and Rodney coming down for a nosey. They were toddlers then and very cheeky. They were right up next to the chopping block eagerly waiting to see what was going to happen next.

I was watching as you raised your axe and with an almighty whack came down on the chopping block chopping the head off a chicken. The head fell one way and you let the chicken go. I watched as it raced off like a mad headless chook after Mickey and Rodney. The tears of laughter at watching those two clowns think the chickens were chasing them was priceless. Sorry Mickey and Rodney but it was too funny not to laugh. I remember seeing the fear in their eyes as they raced off screaming “the chickens gonna get me”. If you saw the chicken running along with no head, blood spouting from it's neck darting left and right after the boys you too would be wetting yourself laughing. And then the chicken would just drop to the ground dead. Of course Mickey and Rodney suddenly became very brave and went up to check it out. Until Koro grabbed another chicken and chopped it's head off too. The same thing happened again. Off Mickey and Rodney, the brave chicken warriors raced. It was like the chickens were possessed and wanted to scare the living daylights out of them. I believe the chickens succeeded, but only until they dropped to the ground dead. The boys would dart one way and then the other and for some reason the chicken followed them.

You just walked up, picked up the dead chickens and took them back to the house as if there was nothing unusual about headless chook s chasing your mokos. Rodney and Mickey just strutted along behind you puffing their chests out like they were real chicken warriors. I personally thought they were real chicken shits. Their sudden sense of bravery was certainly evident and added to our amusement that day. What's funny is we always followed you around like you were the piped piper. Everything just seemed to be alright when ever we were with you. I felt like nothing could ever harm us. Not even those mad headless chickens.

I remember when you had your stroke. Everyone was so sad and none of us kids were allowed to come to the hospital to see you. I so desperately wanted to go see that you were okay. You didn't want us there because you didn't want us to see you like that. I remember when they brought you home. We were to be quiet and told not to stress you out in case you had another stroke. I waited in eager anticipation just to see you and to make sure you were okay.

You looked worn out Koro, really tired, but I still recognised you. One side of your face drooped and you needed help walking. I remember you not being able to speak English. You could only talk to us in Maori. Not much use to me because I had no idea how to speak it let along understand it. I could see your frustration when you told us to do anything; and we'd just stare at you wishing so desperately that we could understand your words. Your frustration would subside and I could see the love in your eyes. You could see the tears well up in your eyes at your not being able to communicate with us mokos any more.

They would bring you out to the couch and there you'd sit most of the day looking out to the Mt or watching Maori T.V. I remember Uncle Taru coming to visit and you'd sit out on the verandah chatting away in Maori. I never understood a single word but hearing your voice was always soothing to me. I miss your voice. You use to come to life when you'd speak to the Uncles in Maori. I use to sit there and listen to you for as long as possible. I'd watch the animation in your face and you'd laugh at something that was said. I yearned so much to be able to understand what you were saying. So I would stare right at you when you were talking, I wouldn't talk I'd just listen and try to work out what it was you wanted. It was quite amazing really because I often guessed what it was by the expression on your face.

You suffered a lot with gout in your legs. I remember Nana rubbing tiger balm into them all the time. They looked so bruised and swollen. I wished so much that I could take your pain away. I often believed I was able to do that just be focusing in on your pain and saying for it to go away. I now realise that it was more than likely the tiger balm helping you out rather than my asking for the to pain to stop. It's quite funny when you look back at what you feel you were capable of as a child. I strongly believed I was helping and it made me feel more connected to you.

Another memory I have is the day you were sitting outside with a bucket of kina. Of course I had to be near you because I was your shadow. You offered me some and I nearly spewed. The smell was horrid. You had put the kina into a bucket of water for a couple of days. Supposedly they become sweeter when you do that. All I knew is that they become stinker and that was enough to put me off. You busted them open and would just munch them down. I was mesmerised watching you devour kina after kina. They would drip down your mouth and you'd just slurp them up. It never disgusted me watching you eat Maori kai. I really wanted to try them but my nose got in the way.

You often took us to get titiko's. Showed us how to eat those too. I loved racing along at low tide collecting all the titikos. We'd take them back to Nana and she's boil them up for us to eat. We'd grab a safety pin and into we'd go. I never got the chance to go white baiting with you. Probably due to my terrible floundering skills. You'd always bring home kai moana and we'd all have a feast. Of course Nana would always have a massive loaf of the best rewana bread on the planet for us to eat with our kai. Or she'd have a batch of the best fried bread on the planet. Either way the food always tasted better at Nana's house.

There was one time we'd all headed around the back. This time you were using nets to catch the flounder. You'd just come in on the dingy after dropping the nets in. I asked could Hine and I go for a ride in the boat. I thought you'd heard me and I thought I heard you say yes. Anyway off Hine and I went in the boat over the to batch. I remember looking back at the shore and saw you waving out to us. I waved back because I thought you were waving out to me, and we kept rowing. When we came back you had all gone. I thought that was strange because you'd never left me behind before.

We walked all the way back up to the house. When I walked in you were so angry with me. I had never seen you so angry and I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong. This was the first and only time I was scared of you. You yelled at me in Maori and when I just stared at you dumb founded you spoke in English. Why did you take the boat? We needed it to pull the nets in. I told you that I thought you'd said it was okay for us to go for a ride in the boat. You said yes I said you could but not for 2 hours. Your anger subsided as rapidly as it had escalated. I felt like I'd really let you down this time and it was a feeling I couldn't bare. I ran from the house crying. Not once had you ever hit me. I'm sure there were plenty of times I needed a good boot up the butt but you never even looked like you were going to hit me. You rarely raised your voice so when you did you knew you'd done the wrong thing. To me you were like a gentle giant. Very imposing but always in a loving way.

This was around the time that Mum had gone to Australia to check it out. We stayed behind with you and Nana. It was so good to have that time with you both. I'm not sure if you appreciated it as much as I did. I remember the day we were leaving to come to Australia. I was around 12 years old then and it was like my whole world was coming to an end. I don't think I really knew that it may be the last time I saw some of my family again. And it was the last time I saw you. You had been sitting out on the verandah just staring out to Mauao. I could see you fighting back the tears. We hugged and kissed everyone goodbye. I remember some of the cousins came to say goodbye to us. Nana was crying and you just sat there not really saying a thing. I knew your heart was breaking. You didn't need to say the words. I only needed to look into your eyes to know how you felt. Back then I didn't realise it was going to be the last time I ever saw you. If only I knew I would have grabbed hold of you Koro and never let you go. To this day I still miss you with all my heart and soul. I know that we will eventually meet again and I know that the reunion will far outweigh any pain I have felt about loosing you in this lifetime. Don't get me wrong, I have loved my life in Australia and know that this was a good move for our family; but there is one thing that always brings a tear to my eyes and that's knowing that I wasn't there to say a final goodbye to you.

I remember mum returning home with Mickey to come see you after one of your strokes. You told her do not come home again, even if it's for my funeral. Never come home for a funeral he'd said. Those words have been embedded in my head all these years. That must have been so hard for my mum not to be there. But she listened to you Koro and we all said our goodbyes over here. To all the whanau back home who are reading this. Never for a minute think that we do not care or do not want to say goodbye and pay our final respects. I won't return home for a funeral because my Koro told my mum never to do so. I look back over the time I spent with my Koro and he was often telling me to listen to him. Quite often I never did because my ears were painted on. This is the one time I can follow through with his final instructions. See Koro I can listen ..........

Til we meet again arohanui my Koro.

PS: Oh and can you take me white baiting please because I missed out down here and another session of floundering would be awesome. I promise not to scream, to walk faster and to be very very quiet............. Love you always Koro your mokos xx Jan and Peata xx






The three years Dad lived with stroke

Shared by Julie Taite on June 15, 2011

I can remember the day you had a stroke and us the family were so devastated, when I went to the hospital to visit you, you were struggling to speak and I just held your hand. When you came home I visited you every week, your speech was slurred, about three months after your stroke I came up to Mangatawa to see you and you were still the same, so I decided to help Kam clean the house when we spotted a huge cockroach near the fridge, Kam and I moved the fridge we were determined to get that cockroach and we were not giving up, as we were desperately trying to find this elusive cockroach and Kam was holding the fridge where you were pointing to and me looking underneath we heard you say "there" and Kam dropped the fridge in fright, because you actually spoke after three months, I suppose it was because you became frustrated at Kam and I because we couldnt figure out where you were pointing and that damn cockroach brought your speech back but we were so happy that you spoke. I can remember Uncle Taru and George visiting you all the time I was there even though you couldnt answer, it was during one of those days that they spoke about the cancer in the family I heard Uncle say quite clearly that he thinks it came from Hikurangis side and explained why. I saw you become very agitated and nodding your head and George agreed also, I then knew the answer about our family sickness even though it was not mentioned again iot was 1983. Finally 6months after your stroke you did a complete opposite you spoke Maori cause you forgot the English language and if anyone of us wanted to speak to you we had to learn Maori how frustrating that was to us. It also made me take up the Reo through the Rakau system and advance my knowlege in the Reo. That was also the year we were at your wish to go to Maori Minister Peter Tapsell to regain the 'Rifle Range' back and so Whetu, Kaupapa, Rangi, Tahi, George, Wai, Rau and I headed off to Wellington and was successful in our quest we came home and told you, I had never seen you so happy. Nat nepias 21st birthday was due and we decded to have a big bash and combine our Rifle Range retun success at the same time, poor Nat, we had taken over her night, you were so excited at the prospect you and Mum arrived at the party first. I remember seeing you work hard to get the Rifle Range back especially after Uncle Bill Ohia as Chairman of the Tauranga Moana Trust Board urged you and Rangi to seek its return and nothing pleased you more than that we had succeeded. You always said things happen for a reason, how true, your stroke made me learn my taha Maori and find out where my priorities lie. Your families 42 year fight to regain the Rifle Range and us the rangatahi getting it back in 10 minutes flat with your help and prayers thanks Dad for the inspirations