Haare
Williams responds to the question, “Do I have to speak te reo?” He says, “No.
But, like learning another language, it helps to develop important
relationships with people you want to be with”.
To
say, ‘I love words’, is to say, ‘I love people.’ From words and from people you learn and grow. Other people give you words in a delightful
way, so you use words. Words capture the
essence of what another is thinking. He
and She love words too.
From earliest contacts, Pakeha settlers had to
quickly learn te reo for reasons of security, survival and for building firm
foundations with tangata whenua.
By the 1820s and 30s, The Bible translated became a
tool for ‘education’ amongst Maori. The
potency of literacy was seen as some kind of magic. As early as 1832, missionaries estimated that
literacy amongst Maori at around 30 precent was quickly catching up with that
of settlers at 48%. By 1835, our two nations
entered the spirit of a treaty declaration to build a new colony together, one in
which two languages confirmed status and equality.
As
a kid who grew up without English, yet quickly learned to love new sounds and
rhythms. I grew up under the spell of
the spoken word, in the Bible, on the marae, in waiata and whai korero, and in old
Tuhoe manuscripts I read to grandparents Rimaha and Wairemana. I knew that the spoken word was sacred to them
because through it the wisdom of my ancestors is preserved and communicated.
I
learned that words captured the elegance, the beauty and power of thought. That speech is an act of rebirth bringing the
past into the present. Words can calm,
cajole, or they can inflame with wrath.
I learned that words will always carry wit, wisdom and
intelligence.
Throughout
Maoridom the spoken word is held sacred because through it the wisdom of the
ancestors is preserved and communicated; therefore oratory is revered, admired,
to be protected (tapu). An orator’s task
is to catch the elegance, the beauty, the power of thought and make it
objective in our world.
Words are about people – you can’t talk to yourself.
 |
| The Waitangi Tribunal has found that the Crown has breached the principles of the Treaty, and that Te Reo has suffered severe prejudice as a result of the Crown’s actions and omissions. |
I asked a group, “Why are you learning te reo?
“…
It’s the official language of Aotearoa New Zealand.”
“Learning te reo is my way of
redressing some of the cruel treatment te reo has received at the hands of the
education system.”
“… it’s the key that enables me to
reflect on our bicultural heritage and origins.”
“… its a way to be a better informed New
Zealander; knowing who I am as a new settler here and gaining insights into the
history of my new country.”
“… it’s my way to thank people who are
bilingual, which shows us a way to understanding biculturalism and
multiculturalism.”
“… what I wanted to do; I didn’t really
believe that I would get the chance to learn te reo.”
“… it’s to do with respect for te reo,
leadership and setting a model for all staff to follow.”
“… it’s a beautiful language.”
“Learning te reo gives me a sense of the
sacred about our land; ‘tangata whenua – people of the land’.”
“The opportunity to learn te reo
empowers me as a New Zealander living in this unique cultural, natural and
historical setting within a thriving and dynamic society.”
“… it helps me understand things and hopefully
be a better informed New Zealander. I’m
from Canada.”
Sadly, many Pakeha New Zealanders still see Te Reo of no use, language as strictly utilitarian – like a spade or a cash register. They claim that they should learn Japanese, Chinese, French, German or some other language they can do business in.
Are
we missing the opportunity to make coming generations of New Zealanders multilingual
by not using language successfully taught in Kohanga Reo (Te Reo nests)
techniques to teach resurgent Maori to all pupils in primary schools? With the knowledge of two languages New
Zealanders would more readily learn another and other languages. A subsidiary spin off would be a richer
texture of our cultures, with more stories available from Maori sources and an
expanded consciousness with echoes of meaning from a plethora of Maori words
and names.
Education is structurally transforming and
emancipating. Wananga provided second chance education at tertiary level and
provide iwi with an education that met local, cultural and Te Reo interests. It isn’t just
language at risk here, but personal identity.
This cycle of alienation, as we have seen in intergenerational, cultural
deprivation is difficult to break and costly to maintain.
There
is little doubt that New Zealanders possess an important literary heritage in
karakia (ritual chants), tauparapara (watch alarms), waiata (song poetry),
karanga (keening calls), oriori (lullaby), and others whose verbal and
imaginative power, control and rhythmic strength make them formidable rivals
for English prose and verse. The
integration of these notions into the New Zealand poetic tradition means a
considerable enrichment of dual traditions.
What
we are talking about here is unity in difference. I do not ask you abandon your
convictions, nor ideologies, but neither do I have any intention of being
hemmed in by my values. That would result in intellectual impoverishment,
for it would mean rejecting a powerful source of development – the exchange of
everything original and rich that each of us has, as vibrant nation independently
created. Today I see a paradigm shift that is encouraging. A Japanese scholar learning Te Reo once
told me, “To be monolingual is to know only one universe.” There are today about
68,000 non-Maori learning te reo. I commend the
taonga (the jewel of the soul) of Te Reo beyond Maori Language Week.
Kia
kaha, kai toa, kia maia, kia manawanui, kia mataara. (be strong, be a champion, show resolve, stay
the journey, be awake).
So, when you are learning, try something new. Try listening. And speaking.