Jane with her grandson, Paul, and his dog, Diesel.

By Sarah Krieg

Early life


Jane Whippy was born in Kasavu, Vanua Levu, Fiji, on April 5th 1913. Her parents lived on a plantation called Vuni Yasi, which means ‘sandalwood tree’ in Fijian. Her father, James O’Connor Whippy, was a farmer on a sandalwood tree plantation, and her mother was Maraia Bruce. Samuel Whippy, Jane’s grandfather, left each of his sons a portion of land at Kasavu. Jane Whippy was the great granddaughter of David Whippy, who was the American Vice-Consul to Fiji and one of the first white people to colonise Fiji. He was from Nantucket Island in New Jersey, and married Tokasa Levuka, the eldest daughter of one of Fiji’s most powerful chiefs.

Jane Whippy was the eldest daughter of James and Maraia, and had one older brother, Oliver.


The Whippy Family
A family picture taken around 1938. Back: Esther, Sarah, James, Maraia, Oliver, Louisa. Front: Flora, Adeline, Pat, Jane.

the Whippy women
Jane (back left) with her sisters, mother and grandmother.

Author's note

Jane Whippy was my great-grandmother on my mother's side of the family. To me, my mother and my sister, she was always Grandma, so that is how the story will generally refer to her. Grandad was my mother's father, Patrick, and Little Gran was my mother's mother, Ngaire.

Jane travels to Tonga


Grandma’s first international expedition came early in the 1920s, when she was 12 or 13. She was sent to Tonga with Mr Palmer, a missionary, and his family. When Mr Palmer got sick, and returned to Fiji, Grandma was left in Tonga with another missionary family, the Mitchells.

She lived in a girls dormitory on the island, and during her time there learnt to speak Tongan. She was promised that she could go to school in Tonga, but ended up looking after the missionary’s children.

When she was 14, Grandma returned to Fiji. “No one knew I was coming, back then there were no telephones there… Elijah told the family I had come back home. They were so pleased to see me, I remember Sarah was working in the kitchen. She came running out to see me… we were all laughing and crying to see each other after so long, I was so happy to be back home again with my family.”

This initial chapter of Grandma’s life denied her a significant portion of her education– while all of her sisters were far more educated than she was, and this plagued her throughout her life. According to Sarah, Jane’s sister, the only reasons that their parents allowed Jane to go away at such a young age was due to the promise of schooling, and because “those were the colonial days… when Europeans asked, you obeyed”.

Jane and her youngest sister Louisa wear soldiers hats during WWII.

Jane's son


In 1935, at age 22, Grandma went to Suva to give birth to Grandad– Oliver had told Jane to get off the family's land, and for this he was shamed and disowned by their father. When Grandad was still very young, Jane’s father, James, sent some village boys to find her.

They arrived in Suva to search, and spent days looking all over the city to no avail. On their final day of looking, they had canvassed the whole town and were prepared to give up and go home to Vuni Yasi. It was then that they spotted a familiar pair of hands, hanging up nappies out a window. They went and knocked on the door, and Jane answered.

She had been living in Suva since she gave birth to Pat, but the group her on behalf of their father to return to the plantation.

The trip took many days, but they stayed in friendly villages the whole way home. The chiefs of the villages knew who Jane was– the great granddaughter of David Whippy– so she and her companions were treated very well. She told her sisters that Pat’s feet did not touch the ground while they travelled: he was only brought to her when he needed feeding, and he was treated as a prince.

My grandfather was raised on the plantation, and was treated as one of the family– there was only ten years between him and Jane’s youngest sister, Lou. During this time, very little about Grandad’s father was discussed. He had been born out of wedlock, and originally had his father’s surname– he was born Frank Valentine.

Grandad's birth certificate, before his name was changed.

Granddad only started to talk about his father once Grandma died in 2013. Before he passed away, he told one of his cousins about the reason his name was changed from Frank Valentine to Patrick Michael Whippy.

When he was in town one day, on his way home from school, he met an older man and lady. When they asked his name, and he told them it was Frank Valentine, the lady started to cry– they gave him some money and bought him an icecream.

When he got home, he told his mother. She was very upset, and immediately went to change his name. As far as we know, the people he met were his grandparents– James Valentine’s parents.

Patrick’s father’s identity was one of Grandma’s most closely guarded secrets. The family have speculated that he was a white sailor, but little else is known about who he was, where he was from or how they met.

Grandma moved to work as a domestic assistant at the American Embassy in Suva during Grandad’s youth. While she worked there, he was afforded an educational opportunity she had never been– he attended high school at Suva Boys Grammar, the most prestigious school in Fiji.

This education allowed him to be accepted into Longburn College in Palmerston North, New Zealand, where he studied accounting. He moved there in 1952; Grandma followed him in 1954 and lived in the town for the rest of her life.


Legal certificate of name change from Frank Valentine to Patrick Michael Whippy.

Jane Whippy's migration map

Jane's move to New Zealand


Moving to Palmerston North marked a turning point in her life– though she was by no means affluent, migrating allowed her to start a fresh chapter of her life where she was no longer known for her mistakes as a young woman.

Grandma’s experiences with white people led to a tumultuous relationship with them, particularly when my grandfather married a white Kiwi woman. Not only did she have a poor relationship with Grandad’s father, she carried the psychological scars of her abduction by a white man into life in New Zealand. As a result, Grandma was always wary around white people, or "pakeha" as they are called in Maori– and according to my mother, that meant she "despised" Little Gran.

Community and church life


A large part of Grandma’s story, and one part of her that did not change no matter where she lived, was her religion.

Grandma was a devout Christian for the majority of her life. She was a Seventh-Day Adventist, and was an active member of the church community in Fiji, as well as in Palmerston North. Moving to New Zealand, while still speaking Fijian and Tongan, meant that Grandma made a lot of acquaintances in the church and the town itself.

Grandma went to the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Palmerston North almost every Saturday for nearly sixty years. Unless she was out of town, she attended every service.

Hers was a familiar face in the church, and this garnered her many friends and acquaintances– my mother, Michelle, recounted Grandma's involvement in the community, her life and Grandma's funeral.


Grandma, Sarah, Little Gran, Nanna and Poppa at church in 1996.

One of my mother's favourite stories about Grandma came from her funeral. Dad, myself and my older sister had flown in from Melbourne at about 2am on the day of the service; mum had been in Palmerston for three days, organising the service with her brother. We were all extremely tired, and very jet lagged.

The weather on the day of the funeral was shocking; it was blowing a gale, and raining with occasional hail. "We were burying her at Kelvin Grove," my mother recounted. "Kelvin Grove is very exposed to the elements, and it was very windy. A gust of wind caught her coffin as we were about to lower her into the ground, and nearly blew it off the mounting, that's how strong the wind was. I guess that was just one of her last hurrahs."

Despite the fact that we were at a funeral, the four of us had a private giggle about the situation– because that was exactly the kind of thing that Grandma would have laughed at.

Grandma's bible


Grandma owned this Bible for approximately 60 years. She kept many photos and other memories inside it- these images show that she had a picture of her sister, Sarah inside, as well as a Christmas present tag from Toni, Jo and Sean (three of her great-grandchildren).

Her Bible also held a recipe for oatmeal patties, and a newspaper clipping from Palmerston's newspaper announcing the engagement of her granddaughter, Michelle, in April 1989. It contained many bookmarks, annotated pages, and even a photo of a kangaroo from one of her many visits to Australia.




Jane Whippy passed away in October 2014, at the age of 101. “I think Grandma taught a lot of people around her just to get on with life; get on with what you’re given,” my mother said. “It doesn’t always have to be good, and her life was not good to start with, but just get on, make a life, make it as good as you can, and she did. She had some of the worst experiences, yet she took the good out of them and used them to become a very compassionate person and a very feisty woman.”

“It wasn’t a verbal instruction, she showed us how to do that. It was the way that she lived– she lived a very simple life, but a very full life.”


Thanks to Michelle and Michael Krieg, Frances Robertson, Paul Whippy and Carletta MacDonald for their photos and their memories.