beautiful monsters

This land...

A friend gave me a copy of the National Radio “Ideas” programme for Maori Language Week, which featured interviews with three non-Maori people who have learned te reo Maori. One of them was Zoë, a 21 year old who works for Maori Television.

Zoë, like the other interviewees, spoke about what she had gained, and about how some concepts, some view points, are impossible to understand or access without the language. But she also talked about how, sometimes, it’s been a hard journey.

“I’ve had other experiences… and I know other non-Maori students have had exactly the same experiences, where, once we’ve got involved in sort of extra curricular activities through the university, they have been humiliated, and bullied, and picked on, by senior staff members… it was really really hard, it really, it really sort of pushed me away from the language and the culture, because, just because of how hurt I was… I got to a point where I thought, I don’t want to have anything more to do with this...”

I cried listening to her speaking, as I realised that my own experiences were not just a few isolated occurrences, but part of something bigger.

There’s so much fear going around in this country. And so many people reacting, without taking the time to listen and understand. And it’s definitely a two-way thing. Some of us are angry because we think we’re not going to be able to get to our favourite beach, others of us are upset because we think that our language and culture is going to be taken over, the same way the land has been... We’re all going to need to take a deep breath, sit down, and give each other a chance to explain where we’re coming from.

Sandra Paterson writes that “A bond with the land has nothing to do with the colour of your skin or on what kind of boat your ancestors arrived or how long ago. It is something inside your soul, which no one else can measure.”

So true. And I think that this bond with the land, and the feeling that it is not recognised, is one of the contributing factors underlying the fear that many New Zealanders feel. My family have been born here for generations. My ancestors bones are buried here, their ashes scattered to the four winds of this land. I can trace my ancestors back to the Black Isle in Scotland, just as others can trace their ancestry back to Hawaiiki. But if I was dumped in Scotland tomorrow, I wouldn’t have any family to call. I wouldn’t know my way around. I would be in a land of strange mountains, strange rivers, strange stars.

Ranginui Walker’s open letter hurt me deeply. “I have been here a thousand years. You arrived only yesterday”, he wrote. Actually, my tipuna, Thomas Urquart McKenzie, arrived in January 1840. Time enough to develop a very strong sense of belonging. Time enough that when some suggest I should “go back to where I came from”, I feel a very real sense of panic. Where the hell would I go? (I wish I could find the cartoon I remember seeing some time ago, which said “If we all got into our boats and went back to where we came from, the Rift Valley in Africa is going to get very crowded…”)

To be fair, it is a small minority of people who are making comments like this. When I joined the hikoi to parliament in May I was made to feel incredibly welcome. It was an amazing experience, one I will never forget.

I have been rereading my post from Waitangi Day last year, and I still truly believe what I wrote then.

The woman who runs the Mad Genius nights is totally amazing, and last night she said something that I thought was incredibly powerful. She talked about us striving towards tino rangatiratanga... for everyone, Maori and Pakeha. And I was struck by the truth of this statement. I think people are often afraid of the idea of Maori self-determination, because they think that they will lose something. I don’t believe this is true... if we see tino rangatiratanga as something we have to fight over, as something only one of us can have, then we will continue to experience anger, and guilt, and injustice, and we will all experience loss. But if we see tino rangatiratanga as something we can all strive towards, if we learn to respect and support each other, then we will all benefit.

Te marangai ka rere nei i Ranginui, ka morimoria te kiri o ia tae, ia tae, ia tae. Te hihi ka whiti nei i Tama-nui-te-rā, ka whakamāramatia ngā karu o ia mata, ia mata, ia mata. Te hau ora, ka pupuhi nei i ngā raureka a Tānemahuta, ka whakakīa te pūkahukahu o ia tangata, ia tangata, ia tangata. Te kai ka tāpae i Papatūānuku, ka whāngaia ngā puku o ia iwi, ia iwi, ia iwi. Ka tangohia e Hine-nui-te-pō tātau tātau katoa.

The rain that falls from Ranginui caresses the skin of every colour. The rays of sunlight that shine from Tama-nui-te-rā bring light to the eyes of every face. The wind of life that flows from the forests of Tānemahuta fills the lungs of every person. The gifts of food from Papatūānuku nourish every race. And one day, Hine-nui-te-pō will accept us all.

Ko tēnei te mihi aroha ki a koutou katoa.

Posted by Fionnaigh at August 17, 2004 11:39 AM