Haare Williams a strange but inspirational chance
meeting at The Grafton Bridge Cemetery
with a ‘street kaumatua’ as a ‘light and breath into what Auckland can be.
It’s Wednesday one year ago on 13 February,
seven days and 174 years on since Hobson witnessed the signing of the treaty at
Waitangi. I still have a tingling
feeling meeting ...
Remus
Thompson-Jackson Kukutai
It’s a warm mid-summer’s day and I have come to
The Grafton Bridge Cemetery to honour probably New Zealand’s most iconic
historical figure ‘Captain William Hobson
Lieutenant Governor, 1840-1842’. I
hadn’t realised that someone had joined me until a gravelly voice spoke, his diction
as crisp as the fresh light.
“Kia ora.
Ko Remus ahau; Remus Thompson-Jackson Kukutai”. Surprised but not suspended. Hmmm, Remus I thought now there’s a heroic
name for a literary hero. Was not the
city of Rome founded by the twin brothers Remus and Romulus in 758BC?.
We shared a short karakia with Hobson, then
silence. When he opened his eyes and
mouth I was immediately drawn to the poet in him. He regaled me with his whakapapa to Kukutai,
a noble whanau of his Waiuku and Te Awhitu kin, a descendent therefore of the
thirty-two chiefs being the only
signatories of the treaty in te reo Pakeha (English language).
We were meant to be there that day. His face was layered by the whips and scorns of
the streets of Auckland and he, by his own admission a Street Kid. “I’ve been on these streets for the best part
of my life,” he admitted. His face told
me he must be a good seventy-plus. His eyes expressed wit, empathy and a poetic nuance.
He spoke on decorously, “The strangers knew
what they wanted: land.
Maori wanted to protect their lands.
Heke knew what tauiwi (the strangers) wanted. Heke quickly withdrew his moral support for
the newcomers’ “Lust for more land.”
But, spurred on by the spirit of building a new nation, Apihai Te Kawau
of Ngati Whatua wanted the same by making a ta koha (loan) of 3000 acres of
prime tribal lands to build the new capital.
In Auckland, the treaty was signed on five
sites, the first on 4 March 1840 at Karaka Bay along the shoreline between
Tamaki River and Maraetai. The last at
Waiuku (near the Waikato Heads) on 11 April 1840 by thirty-two chiefs of Ngati
Paoa, Ngati Maru, Ngati Tipa, Ngati Pou and Ngati Tamatera (maybe Ngai Tai and
Ngati Te Ata) and countersigned by Captain Joseph Nias and missionaries Henry
Williams and William Fairburn.
“Don't
ever forget! Tell them.” As I tried to get a word edgewise, I said, “Ok,
I will.”
“Maori
were successful sailors, boat builders, navigators, carpenters, traders,
soldiers, farmers and business people; we beat them at their own game. Their science was the sky above and the earth
below.” He took a long breath. “This is a waahi tapu that need tenderness and
the human touch.”
“Pakeha; they don't care for their mate (dead);
nor about their tupuna (ancestors). They talk with passion about te tai ao (the
environment). Nonsense! We, Maori are
the ones who carry the cost of any environmental damage and we’re still paying
the price.”
“Ko te
moni ke te atua te atua o Te Pakeha.
This holy place is nothing more than an open toilet.” (he used a more
graphic expletive to describe the condition of this ‘holy’ place).
He spoke on ponderously. I tried to get another word. He as I was, deeply shocked by the stressed
look of Hobson’s resting place in a forgotten wilderness.
"Look
at this, a Waahi Tapu, and what do you see (long pause), “... shit and litter. And broken memorials, a rubbish dump, unkempt
trees, around it a city without eyes, ears or a heart. “
We were there for probably an hour, maybe more.
Yet, gemstones fell from the
lips of this luminary who has walked each pavement across the city he loves. Before I left, he nudged me to recite a karakia
and asked for ‘Whakaaria Mai,’ (Amazing Grace) for Hobson, for this waahi tapu,
for rangatahi who find solace under the bridge and for a city for its
indifference for those who reside here.
We embraced in a long hongi as we parted, I
said, “Thank you your amazing grace,” He bowed with a smile. I asked for and he gave me his address at 140
Hobson Street. I assured him that I’d
pick him up for lunch.
I looked back to wave and catch his eye but he
was already in an animated conversation, quite likely apologising to Hobson for
the sins and omissions of the great city he founded. Again I saw the poet who did not lack nuance or
faith in his words. He struck me as
angry, yes, but rich, feisty and compassionate.
Hobson deserves more than this.
Where then is the noble patrimony of state, civic, church and marae
elders. Any sign of that is not visible. Ngati Whatua alone on the 6th of
February each year comes here at dawn to honour Hobson – and may I add Remus. No
credit points to Auckland Council and the mighty super city
plan which he renamed, “the most unliveable City in the world - if you’re Maori
or poor that is.”
As
I left, I took away with me the rare images of a face sculpted by the whips and scorns of time with the shadows of tall oak trees and the lengthening
stretches of sunlight that burnished a trail across forgotten head stones. His words cutting deep, “Hobson was a good
man. A good man, e hoa!”
When I boarded my bus, I knew that I’d met a
poet who sees a city desperate for happiness, a kind of epiphany in his sudden
appearance with poetic words denouncing an “... uncaring city. Is this retribution for having the vision
and courage to build Auckland? “No!” he
assured me. His is not a lone voice in his remonstrations for hope.
Since that day, I
have tried to connect with him at 140 Hobson Street. No one there.
I have checked with whanau at Whatapaka Marae on the Manukau. They know of no-one by that name. Was he just a part of my vivid
imagination? A spectral vision or did I
meet an angel? Just suppose I actually met the reincarnation of the Roman hero,
Remus?
I
know one thing, I’d met a poet who lacked neither nuance nor ambiguity; he
struck me as rich in imagery, emotion, insight and an amazing grace. Remus
Thompson-Jackson Kukutai. Extra-ordinary!
We shared Hobson’s hope for a new nation as he
recounted Hobson’s words.
“He iwi kotahi tatau. We are one people.”
(William Hobson 6 February 1840)
Hei kona mai.
Haare Williams
Papakura 5 February 2016