Our People: Bully Kiel

We visited Bully Kiel with the intention of talking about the cute little pony enterprise he runs at the lakefront.

We left reeling from the slice of recent social history he serves us.

Our regret is that it's impossible to convey in words the drama of his pig-hunting re-enactments or the wonderful sounds of the bush he entrances us with. Regardless, the Bully Kiel story records a unique insight into Rotorua's rural life circa the early 1930s. The ponies and the furore that once accompanied them will feature, but first allow us to share the heritage of this man who grew up in Horohoro in the depths of the Depression.

The 10th child of 13, he was born in the family whare, his father the attending midwife or, as he puts it, "my father birthed me". His dad, Edward Karanema Kiel, had been one of Sir Apirana Ngata's chosen few, plucked from the Hawke's Bay to become a farm cadet on Ngata land "way out west of Rotorua". His parents' marriage had been a "Maori marriage" - the couple promised to each other at an early age. "They never saw each other until my Tainui [Waikato] mum arrived in Mahia. She was horsed from Huntly to Tauranga, shipped from Tauranga to Gisborne then horsed again to Mahia."

Bully marvels that at nearer 80 than 70, he can tell a tale that reeks of such antiquity yet which, in reality, is so relatively recent.

A German whaler's blood flowed on his father's side. "My grandmother was the first white woman in the district to have a moko [facial tattoo]."

Three of his brothers were Maori Battalion B company members. "They all came home... it was wonderful. One was only 14 so he changed his name to William Christian to get in."

Too young to pull off such a stunt himself, Bully became a child of the land. "I've been a horseman all me life. There were a lot of wild horses at Horohoro then ... a lot of pigs, me and me dogs caught a lot of pigs. I'd cut out the liver and reward myself cooking it over a big fire. That's how we survived back in those days."

Schooling held scant appeal (he quit at 13), Rotorua's towny activities did. "We used to come in on our horses, put them in the railway stockyards [where McDonald's now stands] and go to the pictures. The Lyric was the flea house but it had all the good cowboy movies."

If there was sixpence (five cents) left in his pocket Bully would get a feed of fish and chips. Those were generally eaten in Kuirau Park's hot pools. "The first one out of the pictures often left the stockyard gates open, our horses would bolt the 12 miles [19km] home so we'd sit in the pools until it was time to catch the cream lorry back."

The Kiel kids dressed in hand-me-downs, shoes were a rarity.

"We mostly had bare feet .. . we'd jump in cow poo to keep them warm." Bully became good mates with the Horohoro school's cows, hand-milking them before and after class.

Post-school he joined his father fencing. "Horohoro, Waikite Valley, Atiamuri, Ngakuru, a lot of farms were just being broken in."

At 21 he went out on his own, working mostly on Land and Survey and Maori Affairs blocks. By then he'd met his wife-to-be, Dawn, at an Awahou marae basketball fundraising dance. She says she didn't think much of him "but he was persistent". They married when she turned 16. That was 53 years ago.

"He's a good man - we've been good for each other." Their home's within a horseshoe's throw of the marae.

It's at this stage Bully's narrative brings us back to his pony enterprise. It began about 30 years ago when he built a carriage, drawn by his horse Bo-Bo, a pairing that became the focal point of many a wedding.

"Then I got this little pony - then quite a few more. I took them down to the lakefront and the kids loved them, the fun of it. They just took off."

But by the early 1990s the ponies, a cross between the Shetland and Fella Bella breeds, had council staff in a tizz.

They maintained Bully was breaching health and safety regulations and he was evicted.

His dumping coincided with the introduction of a fee-paying Clydesdale-drawn cart, its owners from Levin. Locals went wild, and a number of councillors were equally angry. Then deputy mayor, the late Johnny Lepper, led the charge.

This newspaper noted that a "Meet the [council] candidates" meeting at Ngongotaha turned into a "Support Bully Convention". A protest march was organised but called off at Mr Lepper's urging. Locals' loyalty to Bully was so fierce he feared it could turn ugly.

As many predicted, their hometown hero won the day. After a couple of months the Clydesdales disappeared.

"The council rang and said, 'Go back to the lakefront', no explanation. It was the happiest day of my life. Nearly 20 years later we're still there".

Bully's added a ride-on train and an elephant cart, both of which he's built.

"We are there because we just love the kids. At my age I should be relaxing but I've got to keep going for the kids. Gee, the way their faces light up when I put them on a pony - it's magic."

ERAIA (BULLY) KIEL

Born: Horohoro, 1932 (home birth).

Education: Horohoro school (until 13).

Family: Dawn, wife of 53 years, five children and one whangaied (adopted) child. Many mokopuna (grandchildren).

Work history: Fencing, operating wedding carriage and lakefront pony rides.

Interests: Whanau (family), animals "I've even had pet rats", the kids at the lakefront.

On his name: Is unsure how he got the nickname Bully - "I don't think I was a bully as a kid" - but is proud to be the first of three Eraia Kiels, a son and grandson share the name

Life's regret: "Not learning to speak te reo (Maori). I regret that badly. We weren't allowed to speak it when I was a kid."

Personal philosophy: "Make the most of things - if something goes wrong put a sticking plaster on it and keep going."