The need to know stories....

THEY NEED TO KNOW...

“Our kids (Maori, Pakeha and other) must be fed the stories of their heroes,” Haare Williams who believes in the power of storytelling, grew up on the remote Ohiwa Harbour surrounded by the spoken word and legendary heroes that shaped his early childhood. 

The spoken word represents a certain truth in my life.  I grew up with a love of language.  Grandmother, Wairemana told stories incessantly. I called them ‘Nanny Stories’, which left a big impact on my life and career(s).  So, why are they important for our kids? 

Rimaha and Wairemana lived with the natural laws of nature yet totally at home in Te Ao Maori – the Maori world view.  They lived it. 

Rimaha spent lifetime learning about this connectedness through observation, imitation, enrichment and perspective.  To say that they knew nothing of physics or metaphysics is to misjudge them. They lived by the principles of nature in tandem with a Maori world view.  

“A joyous movement,” Pukepoto school children listen to the story of their taonga Tangone (Kaitaia Lintel) back home from The Auckland Museum 2012



"A joyous movement" Pukepoto School children
listen to the story of their taona Tangone (Kaitaia Lintel)
back home from the Auckland Museum 2012

Rimaha learned and taught how to effectively deal with natural symbols as he sought certain powers to activate them in ancient karakia. I was brought up in a remote valley on large chunks of myths, legends and narratives of recent heroes (whakapapa).

In the language of myth, Maui appears as a trickster hero, the prototype who appears in myths around the world.  As the Greeks alluded to and quoted Homer in literature, art, philosophy and religion and thereby founded their education on him.  Maori would seem to have lived for perhaps longer with the stories of Maui always present. As a formative cultural icon. Maui is therefore our Hercules (heel), Heracles (stripped of immortality), or Prometheus (fire). Maui controls fire, is the founder of the useful arts, invented the useful barbed hooks, fished up the land, founded the strongest kinds of ropes and nets that slowed the sun and so we boast that Maori gave us day-light saving, 

Maui defied the conventions of social cohesion and stepped outside the prescribed boundaries of tikanga. He was potitki and was allowed to be haututu (wilfully naughty, inventive) or be on the wild side a bit. But once he heard of Hine-Nui-Te Po (death), he was avowed to challenge her.  By doing so, he challenges nature therefore dies as a consequence.

A myth or a legend as in the case of Maui is a sacred tale about the past in a non-rational way to justify actions of the present.  Creation stories are about the remote past; unfortunately the words 'myths' and 'legends', in English anyway, have accreted the meaning of mere ‘faerie tales’, or stories without substance.

Stories about ancient and recent heroes are held as Taonga (tribal heirlooms) that move seamlessly between the past and the present. They bring the living and the dead together in a holistic way.  Whakapapa is one way of validating ones access to the world of tribal heroes linking to the genesis of atua (gods), to Ranginui (Sky), Papatuanuku (Earth) and Hine-Nui-Te Po (death).  Our kids need to see these as tools to access and express reverence for nature, land, ancestors, other people and for themselves.

Heroes who dwell in the supernatural world were followed by legendary heroes in Maui, Tawhaki, Rata and Kupe down to heroes who navigated uncharted waters to arrive and settle in different parts of Aotearoa New Zealand as early as the 9C. There is no doubt that New Zealand has a literary heritage like no other on the planet.

And heroes don’t live forever.  But those who live in the pages of ancient and recent history do.  All peoples have gods and goddesses, heroes and cowards, aristocrats and psychopaths, and poets and fools. They appear in every cultural tradition. So where do we start?  Kids – start with your names.  Allow your name to be a part of your story, weave your story around it.  Knowing your story is a statement of rebirth of the ancestors in you.  When you hear these stories, you begin to accept “Hmmm - I’m better than I thought I was."

Our kids need to know that each lash of colonisation left grand-parents and great grand-parents more damaged, more derailed, and happiness more illusory. They lost heavily with the Crown’s expropriation policies; a fiat by successive governments which meant that Maori were left with broken dreams.  Our kids need to know, that is not what the treaty promised. Stories are testimonies, if needed to validate tino rangatiratanga (tribal identity, authority) and mana (chiefly charisma).  Stories can also build belief which builds a strong sense to belong, to learn, to succeed, to grow and to change.  Belief, “... there is nothing I cannot do, I can be a ninja- thoracic-cardio vascular surgeon-poet laureate ...or all of these.  I can change my hard-drive anytime. 

They need to know what happened to the causalities of war; that the first casualty of war is truth itself. They need to know that truth speaks loudly, as on Sunday 21 February 1864, while the people were in worship at the Rangiaowhia Catholic Church, in Waikato The Forest Rangers of the 65th Regiment led by Colonel George Nixon mounted a bloody attack where riffle fire pinned down the congregation inside the church and set alight. The military had delivered a crushing victory on women, children and elderly. 

There is evidence to show a growing interest amongst our rangatahi, Maori and Pakeha for spiritual awareness, one that isn't bound to any religious dogma nor from any sectarian perspective.  We owe it to all our kids in New Zealand Aotearoa.  To do less is to betray them. I want them to know that Kupe wasn’t put off by unknown waters, Edmund HIllary wasn't deterred by the mountains beyond Everest, nor did John Walker let go of his impossible dream.’

Was not The Word, the Story weapons in the pages of The Bible?  That is power in stories. 

Ihumatao Hikoi

I Te Timatanga                                      (in the beginning)

Ko Te Kore                                             (Only an emptiness)

Ko Te Ahunga                                        (A stirring, movement)

Ko Te Apunga                                        (a desire gathering)

Ko Te Kune Iti                                        (the smallest  filling out)

Ko te Kune rahi                                      (increasing, swelling, thoughts)

Ko Te Po Po Kumao                              (the Night  fading into light)

Ko Te Po Nui                                          (The Great Night)

Ko Te Atatu                                             (The Pre-dawn)

Ko Te Ao                                                 (Tis increasing light)

Ko Te Whitinga mai o Te Ra                   (The burst of day)

Hi aha ha!                                                (Ah tis the world in light)

OTUATAUA – ATUATAUA

“He taonga ngarongaro atu ka whawhai tonuti kia hoki tonu mai ano.”

 “I acknowledge you Te Kawera a Maki for your patience for the sustained work you have put into your claim of this whenua and area over many years.”                          (Chris Findlayson Minister Makaurau Marae 22/02/14)

Last Saturday iwi members of Tainui’s Kawerau-a-Maki heard the Minister, in the presence of King Tuheitia and about 200 tribal members make this declaration on the Ihumatao Marae in Mangere. Sustained work, yes going back into the 1860s and continued in recent decades.  Local tribes got their first chance to put their claims before the Waitangi Tribunal on Ihumatao Marae on 8 October 1986. 

Four years ago, I sat with Mavis Roberts, kuia of Te Ahiwaru, her son Saul and nephew Jim in her humble home under the lengthening shadow of the airport runway expansion.   She looked out her kitchen window across her tiny section, “One day, these fields will come back to us as kaitiaki.” That was in November 2010.  She remembers attending the first Waitangi Tribunal of thirty years ago when her people presented evidence on her marae across the road, Mavis gave her testimonies before The Waitangi Tribunal as did others who have now long gone. Sir Apirana Ngata in the Stout government in 1926 produced a Royal Commission Report.

“The Natives were treated as rebels and war declared against them before they had engaged in rebellion of any kind and in the circumstances they had no alternative but to fight in self defence.  In their eyes, the fight was not against the Queen’s sovereignty, but a struggle for house and home ...”.

                                                           (The Hon Sir William Sim, Royal Commission Report, 1926)

“The struggle for our kids continues”, Mavis Roberts whose home and marae slapped against the airport expansion. For her, and whanau, “This development on ‘our lands’ is not merely a commercial thing, but a monster without a heart; it is a cash till for multinationals to building boxes upon boxes”. For the land is, “He pūmanawa! A heartbeat! Heart of tupuna.” 

Saul tells me, “The old name for those stones is Atuataua – The warriors of the gods. They are kaitiaki since our landing here. Aucklanders turned their backs on this space in the 1960s when sewage ponds were sited next to us here, “Though in a funny sort of way that has protected the area from going the same way as other parts of Auckland.” 

The stone walls are evidence of a once thriving industry built around survival; every stone moved with bare hands. The warmth trapped in mounds provided the hothouses to propagate seeds and seedlings for the seasonal planting. This sublime rural landscape is as old as human habitation possibly as early as the ninth century. The Otuataua Stone Fields is testimony to the resourcefulness of the early inhabitant to use stone-walls to trap the heat in the walls of their houses and stone mounds. In their storage pits the stones provided a way to preserve food stocks such as kumara, taro and in later years, potatoes. Evidence of Pakeha settlement here in the 1800s also abound; reminders of the Ellett, Rennie, Wallace, Mendelssohn, Nixon and Montgomerie families.

The Ōtuataua Stone Fields were secured as a reserve in 1989 by The Manukau City Council, in Sir Barry Curtis’ words; “To honour the history of the land and the people who built their homes and raised the families here over the past 800 years.”

And as for her dream Mavis and whanau want to see lands come back, but the second runway for the airport put stop to that gobbling up remnants of whanau and tribal lands, “Going, going ...  “.  So, what happened, I asked?  What happened is well documented in the evidence put before The Waitangi Tribunal in 1986, “It’s all there.” Saul tells me.

“...there were several Maori villages near Auckland – Mangere, Pukaki, Ihumatao, and others – inhabited by relations of the Waikato tribes. A large proportion of these people were old and infirm. Yet our arrangements for governing native settlements, even close to our own doors were so defensive that instant war broke out (though we had ten thousand men in the field), to allow these people to remain in their homes.  Twenty Maori policemen could have quelled the whole of them even in actual revolt, but the government had not a single Maori policeman on whose obedience they could depend.  It was therefore resolved to drive these poor men and women and their children from their homes and confiscate their lands. There was no difficulty in finding a pretext.  They were Maoris and relatives of Potatau...”.

                                                             (The Hon Sir William Sim, Royal Commission Report, 1926)

In its closing report The Waitangi Tribunal summed up:

 “… its governors and officials acted with ruthless pragmatism that sidelined the treaty and deliberately advantaged settlers over Maori, and its purchases left Te Ahiwaru, Te Aki Tai and Ngati Te Ata in poverty.”  (13 October 1986, Ihumatao Marae)

 “Ka mamae tonu ....  each time I open my back door, I see the shadow of a monster getting bigger and bigger possession without end.”  And so despite a Royal Commission and a tribunal hearing, there is still a long list of lies and betrayals for Mavis and her people.  Will it ever end?  Mavis is optimistic.  “It’s never too late to start again; the heartbeat breathes on in us.”  Tukuroirangi Morgan in reply to minister Findlayson said, 

“...  Minister this is not an end only a start of an enduring relationship as we move forward to work in a unified and collaborative way.  A solemn time for us and a nation.” 
                                    (Tukuroirangi Morgan, Tainui treaty settlements negotiator, Makaurau Marae, Ihumatao, 22/02/14))

Comment:  This kind of state and media hegemony meant that the people of this area, a peaceful people who time and again expressed cooperation with the state, loyalty to Victoria yet in a very short time became wards of the state.  The people of Tainui were are an ingenuous people who gave up land to build schools, churches, offered trade in other words they were excited to build a new nation.  But, as we watch the power struggle between iwi and state, we are today seeing positive and creative leadership in the mould of Tukuroirangi Morgan, Grant Hawke, Sonny Tau, Mark Solomon, Annette Sykes, Iri Tawhiwhirangi, Hanah O’Reagan and others who are paving a way for equality and peace in our blessed nation.  The Maori struggle will always be a peaceful struggle.  It is, as Ranginui Walker writes, “A Struggle Without End”.  You know, when you’re dispossessed of your culture, you become possessed by it – fight for it; maybe die for it as Tainui did at Rangiriri.

As morehu (survivor) Mavis watches helpless and sees her rights trampled underground. Immutable.  Alienating.  If you don’ have it; it becomes a taonga – a treasure to be remembered. The stone walls of Ihumatao have a special cultural space in Auckland. Will they go?  Otuataua can only survive where it is.  

Ae!  AND THAT IS WHY OUR CHILDREN MUST HEAR OUR STORY

Why Celebrate Waitangi

“Waitangi is arguably the most powerful national symbol we have,” says Haare Williams who has seen changes occur during our collective and separate hikoi to and from that holy shrine.” 

“It’s business as usual. Welcome to Waitangi 2014”, a remark by Te Tii Marae elder, Kingi Taurua when, as the governor general walked past, a smart in the crowd yelled, “Cut his head off!” 

The usual suspects were there.  Titewhai Harawira arm linked with John Key and later with David Cunliffe.  No leader was safe without the tempest of Te Tii Marae especially on the 6 February.

Waitangi Day is a time once more to remind us as a nation of the hikoi we have shared on the road to and from Waitangi; a road sometimes pocked with muddied potholes.  We celebrate how far we have come. Our country has changed more than most realise.  It’s not just about recognition of Maori rights. Maori culture is today beginning to influence mainstream society.   Maori words and phrases are used meaningfully in common discourse. The powhiri to welcome a new start or new staff is now a part of corporate life in New Zealand. 

We have the opportunity to reacquaint ourselves with our nation’s history.  Certainly a time to rejoice that we have endured one hundred and seventy-four years of trial, challenge, and change. 

At the core of our society are two fundamental cultures; Maori and Pakeha who between them are now forging a third culture, one which embraces the principle of two cultures; Maori as the first settlers (Tangata Whenua) and Pakeha as second (Tangata Tiriti), who between them are creating an emerging new ‘New Zealand culture’, in which both tikanga Maori and tikanga Pakeha are respected, accepted, and protected for their separate but complimentary values. This hybrid culture recognizes Maori values and British traditions as embodied in the promise of Te Tiriti o Waitangi-The Treaty of Waitangi but flexible enough to allow later cultures such as Pacifica and other strands as we develop the increasingly rich diversity of a multicultural New Zealand. Now that’s something we can all celebrate.

Today we see signs to celebrate indications for me anyway, that reconciliation and forgiveness can occur and that in the work of the Waitangi Tribunal we can reconcile differences and pave the way for healing wounds, and past recriminations.

A cloudless, blisteringly hot day, Waitangi 6 February 1840. Some five hundred people are gathered before the British resident’s House. Royal Navy ship The Herald riding a swell ….   waka taua too … Hobson is escorted ashore.

Another cloudless, blue, blisteringly hot day, Waitangi 6 1990. The RNZN Ship The Canterbury riding a swell … waka taua … HM Queen Elizabeth II is escorted ashore …

One of the most moving statements about what the Treaty of Waitangi mean for Maori and for New Zealand came out of Waitangi in 1990.  The Anglican Bishop of Aotearoa, Rt Rev Whakahuihui Vercoe made a short speech which was directed at the Queen who was present with government members.  He began with psalm 137, with ‘Waitangi’ replacing ‘Babylon’ of the original:

I te taha o nga wai o Waitangi, noho ana tatau i reira

A, e tangi ana tatau kia mahara ki a Hiro

When he stepped up, the level of protest went up too,“… and so I come to the waters of Waitangi to weep for what could have been a unique document in the history of indigenous people against Pakeha domination and I still have the hope that we can do it.  Let us sit and listen to one another.  Some of us come here to celebrate, some to commemorate, some come to commiserate, but some to remember what (pause) … our tipuna said on this ground: that the treaty was a compact between two people.  But since the signing, I want to remind our partners that you have marginalised us.  You have not honoured the treaty.  We have not honoured each other in the promises made.  Vercoe spoke with utter sincerity, conviction and humanity.  The content of the speech was unexpected.  At the end of the speech there was utter silence, the ultimate tribute by the protestors for Vercoe with varying emotions apparent on those present.  For some it was a reminder to understand the past and to meet the obligations set out in the treaty, while others were aghast that, yet again the ceremony at Waitangi had been politicised, at least as they saw it in the presence of the Queen. At the end of the speech, Te Aupouri kuia Sana Murray stood, clapped and sang everyone joined as one with, “By the waters of Babylon …”

How can we sing the songs of the Lord
while in a foreign land?

If I forget you, Jerusalem
   

We are today forging a richer nation as we continue the Hikoi to and from Waitangi.  Haere mai e hoa ma.

Rumus Thompson-Jackson

Haare Williams describes a chance meeting with a ‘street kaumatua’ as the illuminating shafts of light through the trees that shone across Grafton Gully on Waitangi Day 2014.   

Rumus at Grafton Gully Cemetery

It's Wednesday 13 February, seven days and 174 years on since Hobson witnessed the signing of the treaty at Waitangi.  It's a warm mid-summer, afternoon sun, a time to reflect our nation's history and future.  Yes, it’s that time again to celebrate our past as we place the foundations for a vibrant modern city and  future.

I came here to The Grafton Bridge Cemetery to honour probably the nation's most iconic figure in our short history; "Captain William Hobson, Lieutenant Governor, 1840-1842."  But I wasn't alone because as I turned, I was greeted by a calm and gravelly voice, "Ko Remus ahau - Remus Thompson-Jackson taku ingoa, no Tainui."  Surprised, but not unexpected.

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 told me of his whakapapa to Kukutai, a noble whanau of his Waiuku and Te Awhitu homelands, a descendant therefore of the thirty-two, the only signatories of the English version at Waiuku. A rare distinction.

In Auckland, the treaty was signed in five (or six) places, the first on 4 March 1840 at Karaka Bay along the shoreline between Tamaki River and Howick (Maraetai).  The last at Waiuku (near the Waikato Heads) on 11 April 1840 by thirty-two rangatira of Ngati Paoa, Ngati Maru, Ngati Tipa, Ngati Pou and Ngati Tamatera (possibly Ngai Tai and Ngati Te Ata) and countersigned by Captain Nia and missionaries Henry Williams and William Fairburn.

We were both meant to be here.  His face was engraved by layered narratives from the streets that he has walked and by his own admission, himself a street kid at seventy something.  His wiry beard framed a face that spoke with wit, a poetic vision and empathy.

He spoke on decorously, "Heke knew what these tauiwi (strangers) wanted; Land.  Heke and other rangatira wanted protection of their lands.  But they were spurred on by the spirit of building a new colony.  Te Apihai Te Kawau of Ngati Whatua wanted the same by giving a huge koha of land to build a city and the start of a new settlement."

"Don't forget." I said, "No I won't."

"Maori were sailors, whalers, boat builders, farmers, traders and business people.  You should know they beat them at their own game." He then took a long breath.

This is a waahi tapu, e hoa.  It needs tenderness and aroha.  It lacks that human touch."

"Pakeha people, they don't care for their mate (dead); nor about their tupuna (ancestors), and they talk without stop about love for te tai ao (the environment).  No!  We, Maori are the ones who suffered the cost of environmental damage; we're still paying the price.  Ae! Ko te tangata te utu mo te hara o te tangata."

"Ko to ratau atua ko te moni ke." Money.  That's the Pakeha god.  Just look at this place. It's nothing more than a toilet."

He spoke. I tried to edge a word.  He, as I was deeply shocked by the stressful look of Hobson's resting place in a forgotten nothingness.  A man revered then and now by Maori as a rangatira.

The site is littered with rubbish, some damaged headstones, a veritable rubbish dump, and unkempt trees hidden away so that the city without eyes, ears and or a heart cannot see.  His voice rises and falls, sometimes into a whisper.

"This 'Mighty-Big-Super-City Council', will it be the most liveable in the world.  What about the residents of this holy waahi tapu."

We were there for probably an hour, maybe more.  It seemed like an eternity.  Yet a crisp flash of wisdom from this luminary who has walked his city.  Before I left, he nudged me to recite a karakia and asked for “Whakaaria Mai” (Amazing Grace) for Hobson, this waahi tapu, for our youth and for the indifference of a city for those who rest here.

We embraced in a hongi, and as we parted I said, "Thank you your amazing grace." He nodded and smiled.

I looked back to wave and catch is eye, but he was sitting beside Hobson in an animated expressiveness and quite likely apologising for the sins and omissions of the great city he founded.  Again I saw a poet who did not lack nuance or faith in his words.  He struck me as angry, yes but rich, feisty and compassionate.  Hobson's remains lie here in a forgotten nothingness, where then is the noble patrimony of our church, state, local and communities leaders. 

I know I met a poet who sees a city desperate for happiness, a kind epiphany in his eyes and words denouncing an "... uncaring city."  Is this retribution for having the vision and courage to build Auckland?  No!  Remus Thompson-Jackson was a lonely voice for hope. We share William Hobson’s hope.

" He iwi kotahi tatau; we are one people."

  (Hobson Waitangi 6 February 1840)

Hei kona mai.  

OUR PLACE AND STORY

UNDER EVERY ROCK  A STORY

He aha te hau e wawara mai

He raki nana i a mai te pupu-tarakihi ki uta 

I tu ai te pou whakairo ki Waitemata

What is this wind that disturbs me tis The North Wind

That brings good and bad to Waitemata

Ah, my vision

(Titahi's prophesy)

  

Ngati Whatua kaumatua Te Puna Danny Tumahai once told us, "... protect the past by preserving the best of the present to guide the future."

Centuries old stories abound everywhere we look; on the summits of mountains, waterways and headlands, and under every rock along and in the habour, each weaving a tapestry that hold meaning.

My advice, unlock that wealth of information by working with place names across Tamaki Makaurau-Auckland.  It isn't surprising that Aucklanders know little or are indifferent to the richness that can be readily grasped around the isthmus.  For a start, names are like pneumonic reminders that recall precise details of family and tribal whakapapa (genealogical histories).  They are like road signs that show us where we have been and where we are going.  

There is so much value in the work of local iwi of Ngati Whatua, Tainui and Ngati Paoa to reclaim and preserve old names that  could easily have become obsolete through lack of usage or understanding.  Auckland possesses a rich heritage that can easily be untapped.  To do less is to betray generations to come.  Te Reo is slowly regaining a former life, so I therefore commend place names as a starting point for the learner.  These names are not vestiges of the past but each throbs with the vibrancy of a heart.

This knowledge would open up another world for Aucklanders if they could hear and know about Te Pane-o-Horowai (St Helliers), Mataaho (volcano deity), Te Hororoa (Pt Britomart), or Te Ara Whakatekateka a Ruarangi (Meola Reef), now how about the green-eyed fish of Poutini that came to Waitemata, names that echo of our origins.

Kupe was our earliest known ocean going navigator who left many names that defined our coast-line that became critical signs for the navigators who followed in his wake.  Kupe took back with him the prized greenstone.  This important find was quickly identified as Poutini the spiritual home of pounamu along the Arahura River.  Maps came later, much later with Abel Tasman, James Cook and Marion du Fresne.

Early waka sailors followed the stars, whales and birds yes, but they also followed 'sign posts' along the coastline, mountains and rivers adding their own narratives to an overlay of stories. Sailings to Aotearoa were no mere accident.  These were planned over generations of aggregated knowledge, skills, experience and sheer guts and intuition; prodigious journeys of the mind, spirit and body.

This week Aucklanders were welcomed aboard The Sarah Gifford, a restored flat-bottom scow for a trip around Waitemata to experience something of the richness of Maori place names and the Maori language.

A short welcome, a karakia, mihi and a waiata, then the two names our city: Tamaki Makaurau (place of many lovers) and Auckland (Lord Auckland).  Two stories that resonated with manuhiri (guests) were,  'Patupaearehe and The Harbour Bridge', and the other, 'Mataaho-the fiery keeper of volcanoes'.       

What our guests experienced during two sailings was the richness of both languages, English and Maori in stories so redolent with episodes of our city's ancient and recent past.  

Names therefore carry knowledge and power in the spoken word.  The speaker (male or female) used the mana of a living taonga (heirloom).  The spoken word is held sacred because through it the wisdom of the ancestors is presented and communicated and made objective in our world.  A single word or name is there for the transfer of knowledge. 

Tamaki Makaurau, Nga Tapuwae, Ihumatao, Te Pane-o-Horowai, Te Hororoa, Rangitoto, Toangaroa, Pukekawa, Motu Tapu and so on around a glistening harbour to Te Ara Whakatekateka-a-Ruarangi.   

Our guests had fun spotting and matching names to the landscape and by weaving these lyrical and poetic names around their tongues and having a laugh doing it together.

Maori Language Week when it closed on Sunday should not stop there.  I commend the taonga of language to you.  Haere mai ki Tamaki Makaurau.

A nation that understands and accepts its holiness, is a nation blessed.

Haare Williams 9 July 2013

White Lies Tuakiri Huna

Speaking te reo was a prerequisite for early settlers here for reasons of survival and security. And as well to establish rapport with tangata whenua laying the foundations for trade and commerce as Maori quickly adapted into the spirit of building the new colony.  Speaking English came quickly to tangata whenua and in the 1820s and 1830s Church mission schools flourished with translations of The Bible. But by the 1930s, instruction in schools was solely in English with te reo banished (almost) to extinction as a colonial relic.

Here again in the start of another Te Wiki o Te Reo, we celebrate through Maori Language Week a taonga (national treasure) and what better way to kick start it with the movie ‘White Lies’.  This movie does that.  If nothing else - te reo is given the power it deserves in snapshots of Ringatu karakia, waiata tawhito (ancient songs), conversational English and Maori which flow regally together owing as much to the skill of Whirimako Black who brings the richness of her lines and character into a natural blend of languages together with a balance of wit and humour. This congruency, I am sure sat well with a responsive audience.  A celebration too through Ringatu, the church founded by Te Kooti and the easy-to-read subtitles.


I went along with a colleague and friend Karena from The Voyager Museum and tread the red-carpet for the premier of ‘White Lies’.  I noted her occasional sniff and sob and the raising of her hand (Ringatu) for moments in praise of God.  It was, for us a rare chance to meet the players and Author Witi Ihimaera (DCNZ, QSM) with his Gisborne family along with Tuhoe supporters.

This is a story that resonated with me around the Tuhoe struggle for survival.  It opened with a prelude in karakia, mihi, and a brief comment by Ihimaera.

 

Powerhouse acting by three women; Whirimako Black in her debut role as Paraiti will arguably put her up as one of our premier screen actors; gentle, warm, compelling and humane.  Maraea is played by Rachel House also brilliant who, with Rebecca, played by Antonia Prebble is a wealthy young wife with a secret; three very different portrayals that bring a sharp contrast to the screen. Paraiiti is a natural winner.  

The other winner is Alun Bolinger (NZOM) cinematographer who brings this movie together in breathtaking scenes that take us into quintessential Urewera in its spiritual overlay of people ancestors, and land set against a misty landscape merging seamlessly with Ihi, (challenging and spine tingling), wehi (awesomeness, inspiring), wana (artistry, beauty,  rhythm to behold, inner glow), and mana (authority from the ancestors).

“I suffered from a respiratory sickness and the medicine of Te Urewera cured me of that the inspiration came from her,” Ihimaera told us before the start of the movie.

This is a portrayal of a head-on clash of beliefs, deception, and ultimate salvation.                         

A modest kuia living in Te Teko who, in real life played out episodes as a nurse, mid-wife, life-giver, sometimes on horseback with a dog; Putiputi O’Brien is a living legend.  As well, I recall vividly stories from my grandmother Wairemana (granddaughter of Tutakangahau of Te Urewera) telling in graphic detail of the devastation of her Tuhoe people who like other iwi were caught up in a time of dislocation and upheavels in a changing world.  As a child, I heard of torched buildings, the destruction of crops and fruit trees, guns smashed, and left only with old horses.  Police Commissioner, John Cullen with ninety-nine fully armed and mounted police on Sunday 2 April 1916, crushed a peaceful village with violence with the deaths of two men; Toko Kenana and, Te Maipi.  Wairemana told me, she and her whanau moved out of their cherished kainga forced out by poverty through the pandemic and tortuous blitzes inflicted upon them by Crown authority.  I commend this movie to you all.  Says Karena,

“You must see this movie! It has everything; beautiful cinematography; stunning acting; a potent, powerful story.  The subtitles are more than just helping you to understand what is being said. They make a statement about a comprehensive effort to destroy a culture and people through outlawing their language.”  (Karen Walters)

 

Against this backdrop, you may recall that *The Tohunga Suppression Act of 1907 outlawed any practice of Maori medicine. This story also explores deep seated dilemmas in New Zealand; questions of identity, societal attitudes, the roles of women, and as well the tensions between western and traditional practices that still exist. The third winner is te reo.

Ihimaera opened the movie with a mihi to an expectant audience and ended to a spontaneous applause, many dabbing away tears and sitting through to the end of the credits roll.

Director Dana Rothberg, Writer John Barnett, Camera Alun Bollinger.

Haare Williams 26 June 2013

* An Act of Parliament intended to stop people using traditional healing practices which had a spiritual or supernatural element.  It was repealed in 1985.  Rua Kenana, of Tuhoe was the target of this Act.

Te Reo Survives in a Holstile Place

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.

 Our cultures are intimately interwoven with language into our landscape.  Our schools curricular, the media, government institutions are not merely acknowledging te reo, but using it meaningfully. There are many cultural crossovers in language and life styles. Maori idioms are being translated into English and used sensitively.  Maori words are used increasingly in common discourse.  Some words sit easily with Pakeha ideas, others add a different dimension in discourse; and yet there are ideas which may be better in dealing with some of the ills in our society such as dealing with dying, death, grief and healing.  But, relative judgement is unimportant compared to a willingness to acknowledge and accept difference. 

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.

 My point is that young New Zealanders would be able to learn those languages with more enthusiasm and facility were they given the opportunity to grow up working comfortably in English and Maori.  There has existed a kind of linguistic imperialism in New Zealand.  This is much more dangerous that economic domination because our Te Reo is our soul.

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.