From Behind the Lines

QUESTION: Why would anyone leave Pawarenga at 7 in the morning, drive 15 hours to Wellington, roam around Upper Hutt until midnight looking for cans of spray paint, go to sleep at 2 a.m. then get up again at 5 a.m., drive to Te Papa, take 2 hours to walk one kilometre to Parliament Buildings, spend 2 hours there, then an hour visiting with whanau before driving 15 hours home again? That’s 48 out of 50 hours on the go.

ANSWER: To join the Hikoi protesting against this government’s Foreshore and Seabed (FSSB) Bill, because that Bill is plain wrong.

A week before it ended we had decided as a family to make a four generational stand with the Hikoi and against the FSSB Bill. So off we went – Gloria, Anahera, Siobhan and Siagogo Herbert, along with Malcolm Peri.

Here’s my uncensored diary of our hikoi.

TUESDAY 14TH MAY 2004:
Driving down we hear that Helen Clark has met with Shrek the sheep that morning but won’t meet with the “haters and wreckers” leading the Hikoi because she “prefers company that is pleasant.” The message behind her words is clear – “There you go Hone, Annette, Ken and the misguided fools following you – even a sheep stands higher on the evolutionary scale than you lot.” What she hopes to achieve is uncertain, but the effect on our little group is that we laugh our trashes off. In meeting the sheep she has signalled her level on the evolutionary scale, not ours. Actually, she sounds angry and frightened.

We talk about what the future holds for Te Rarawa if this Bill goes through, if Labour loses the next election, if Don Brash becomes PM. We talk about the fact that Labour governments will throw away Maori support more quickly than National ones, and how it seems that we make our biggest gains under National rather than Labour governments, even though none of us have ever voted National. What’s that about?

We wonder what Dover is thinking and who he is listening to, because it sure ain’t anyone we’ve talked to recently. A letter signed by all the Taitokerau-based Iwi Authority Chairs is being handed to him at Parliament later that day. There are phone calls all the way down between Gloria and some of the other Iwi Chairs, and rumours fly that there is one Chair who has pulled away from the Taitokerau stance. Who is it? Poor Sonny Tau wears the label briefly until confirmation comes that he is amongst those who have handed Dover the letter and that he has reported that, “Dover looked sick.” How distressing it must be for Dover. I feel sorry for him even though I think he’s wrong. Does he genuinely believe “confiscation” of the foreshore and seabed is justifiable, or is he just a party hack desperately hanging on to his job as long as he can? Maybe a bit of both.

So who is the dissenting Chair? Later we find out it’s Tom Parore of Ngati Whatua. There is doubt that he has his people’s support for this stance, and we hear they want it kept hush-hush. That’s one of the difficulties of Maori politics – it’s impossible to pull the Chair into line AND keep it hush-hush. I ponder – is the wily old ex-Public Servant a Crown dupe, or does he see a better chance for protecting his people’s interests by keeping away from the high profile ‘radical’ face that so infuriates Helen, and by doing a separate deal with the Crown? One thing’s for certain, he has given his life and love to his people, and they know that. So hush-hush they shall remain. At least outside of Maori circles.

We talk about Pawarenga and the things that make it what it is. The Church, the drugs, the whakapapa, the harbour silting up, the Sports Days, the indifference to anything not local, the way the old people are still looked after, the way the children are not always looked after, the teen pregnancies and high offending rates, the dreamers and the scammers, the dreamers who let in the scammers. Does Pawarenga dream collectively anymore? Or is the easy life, as represented by the budding satellite dishes on the humblest homes, separating us from each other more and more?

A call comes in from Ngati Kahu Chair, Margaret Mutu. Each region will only receive 10 minutes to speak on Parliament steps and it has been proposed that Sir Graham Latimer be first up for Muriwhenua. Listening to Gloria’s side of the conversation I say “No!” even though it’s not in my power to deny it and the decision is to be made elsewhere.

We take a call from Shontee saying that 2 full busloads have come out of Panguru. Not surprising when the pouwhenua leading this Hikoi is the same one that lead Whina Cooper’s 1975 Hikoi. In total 9 busloads mai Te Rerenga Wairua ki Hokianga go to Wellington on this day. Later we hear how Charlie Dunn has gone from the Cape to Rotorua with the Hikoi – a week on the road. He spends a few days in Rotorua then decides to go home. But when he gets back to Panguru he finds everyone gone. He rushes out to Kerikeri, hops on the last plane to Auckland then on to Wellington. This Hikoi has been good for the unity of Panguru. Whina should be pleased.

Another phone call from Cat on the Kaitaia bus. Can we stop somewhere and buy some material for a Te Rarawa banner? I’m reminded of a night in 1995 when we’d similarly left it to the last minute to prepare a protest banner. Why do we do that to ourselves? Is it a Te Rarawa trait? Manukau City’s Spotlight sells us metres of fluorescent yellow nylon and thick interfacing, scissors, thread, pins, measuring tape and carpet knife. I wonder if they wonder, “What are these Maori buying this stuff for?” Do they guess or even care?

We stop in Taupo for a feed and in Waiouru for petrol. Siobhan has bought cardboard and paints and made up some posters for our back and side windows. “TIAKINA TE TAKUTAIMOANA.” “MAI TE RERENGA WAIRUA KI PONEKE – TE RARAWA SUPPORTS THE HIKOI.” People toot or stop to talk to us. “Where are you from?” “What time did you leave?” Where are you staying?” “Pai te haere.” Thumbs up and on we go.

A text comes in from Cat with a suggestion for the banner wording – “IT’S THEFT FORESHORE.” Gloria is not comfortable with it. Malcolm interviews her – “Why not?” Their korero wanders off on to other subjects and they never answer the question. I text Cat with an exaggeration – “Taihoa. They’re debating it.” Later Gloria tells me to text Cat – “Whoever has the passion to stay up all night and do the banner, can decide what to put on it.” Makes sense to us all.

Malcolm tells us of a short-cut to Upper Hutt from Waikanae. It’s dark as hell when we reach it. “Akatarawa Forest Rd” says the sign. It should have read “Sealed Goat Track.” 20 kms of one-way winding road climbing through forest. The sky is rarely seen and we catch only glimpses of city lights miles below in otherwise invisible valleys. It must be a spectacular drive during the day. The van handles it with ease. I drive it with un-ease.

We hit Upper Hutt, find Moonshine Rd, hunt out the college marae and unload. Cat grabs the banner-makings. We wander into one of two wharemoe, kiss Aunty Roma, Sister Jon, Whaea Pare, Cousin Mere, Aunty Wiki and aunty and aunty and aunty. Mostly women on this bus too it seems. Then off to eat a reheated dinner, find some mattresses and some space, make up our beds and sit down to shoot the breeze with cousin Dave, Tiwai and a bunch of the locals.

An aunty comes in asking if anyone has warfarin tablets because she’s left hers behind. Cat comes over and asks for the spray paint. So here I am driving around Wellington with Siobhan and Uira looking for spray paint and an all-night chemist. Neither exists at this time of night – morning actually. Thankfully aunty has found her pills when I troop back into the marae, and the banner-makers are cool. They’ve made the template – the spraying can wait till the morning. Blessed sleep.

WEDNESDAY 15TH MAY 2004:
Not enough sleep. Siagogo has handled the trip well, but we have a sneaking suspicion he won’t handle being woken up at 5 a.m. He sleeps through the shift from marae to van, the drive into the city and the transfer to his pram as the crowds build around him.

We park in Te Papa’s public car-park where the attendant has agreed to charge us all after the Hikoi. Cat and I are pinning the banner & template together in the confines of the van to avoid the howling gales. Malcolm suggests we move to the covered pavement of the Museum so we can spread everything out flat. It’s a good idea. Two young guys help us with the pinning by standing on the edges. Because neither of us has any spray-painting experience we ask if they’ll do it for us, but they reckon we can do it, and they’re right. Cat puts on plastic bag gloves and stretches the template to flatten it in critical places while I spray. Two things happen. At first the paint floats on top of the nylon so that Cat has to use her finger to spread it. Then as the paint sinks into the nylon it begins to stain the pavement beneath. It seems there may be a permanent mark left showing that Te Rarawa was here. Maybe that’s why the young guys declined the spray-painting honours. Isn’t defacing public property a crime? We begin lifting the nylon as we paint, hoping to cut down on the stain left behind. Oops! Maybe they'll blame Te Arawa. Crowds gather round us like we are some kind of performance artists.

My back is aching and I’m glad to escape to The Warehouse across the road to buy broom handles for banner-poles. It’s only 8 a.m. and bunches of us have to wait another half hour for the doors to open. It seems even the 'Whare Whero' is not tempted into opening earlier to make a few extra bucks off those with last minute protest shopping needs.

Back at Te Papa the crowds are huge and happy. We hook up with the rest of Te Rarawa (Panguru katoa) and Taitokerau. Our banner looks very .... bright! ”TE RARAWA PAST – PRESENT – FUTURE FORESHORE.”

We line up behind it and pass the time in conversations with complete strangers, practice the chants (someone could have made a mint by selling chant sheets) and whanaungatanga galore until the 10.30a.m. start. Well, more like start, stop, start, stop, start. By 11 a.m. though we’re moving smoothly.

“TAHI, RUA, TORU, WHA! HELEN IS A HO-HA! RIMA, ONO, WHITU, WARU! HELEN IS A RARURARU!”

“ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR! MAORI OWN THE FORESHORE! FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT! DON’T YOU BLOODY CONFISCATE?”

At 11.30 a.m. Siagogo wakes up to find his mother gone – she’s off photo snapping up and down the two kilometres of Hikoi. He decides his Nanna and his Grandma are no substitutes for his mum and out-screams everyone. He slams his feet into the ground like brakes, making it impossible to push his pram. I tilt it back onto two wheels and get about four steps before his furious kicking frees him. He falls out onto the road, 20 kgs of angry, red-eyed, hupe-nosed Samoan-Maori 3 year old. I text Siobhan that I’m pulling out until he’s settled down.

He wants the toilet so I call into a nearby McDonalds. There’s a sign saying “TOILETS CLOSED FOR REBUILDING.” There are no signs or sounds of any rebuilding going on. But the Hikoi is moving so slowly we still have time to find a public toilet, have some lunch and a run around and play, before we rejoin. It’s moved about 200 metres and Siagogo is now happy to walk a bit, be carried a bit, hop in the pram for a bit. At one point I put him on my shoulders and he bugs out. “Nook at dat nanna! Nook at dat!” I don’t know exactly what it is he sees in the melange of colours, sounds, smells and sights everywhere.

“COME WALK WITH ME MY PAKEHA BROTHER,” reads one banner. And some do. One just throws her hands in the air and steps into the slow flow. Many standing on the pavement are watching for old friends or whanau before joining. Others are content to watch. A very few walk by with eyes averted, faces pinched. Otherwise the atmosphere is gentle, the pace unhurried.

We meet my cousin Roma, her daughter Te Whaea, and new husband – Sukronen I think. That’s how it sounds anyway. They feed us home-made sandwiches.

We pass a stall-holder selling hot nuts. “NUTTY PAKEHA” says his sign. He’s doing a roaring trade.

Hikoi Marshalls wearing fluorescent jackets guide us on an S-shaped route that’s supposed to cut down on disruption to Wellington’s normal traffic. Later we hear the disruption was huge and prolonged right out to the Hutt Valley. At every turn, police stand in clumps. They look interested but relaxed.

Bridget Allen (ex-Hauora Hokianga CEO, now with the Ministry of Health) joins us. I ask how come she, a Public Servant, is there? Specially when they’ve been discouraged from doing so. She says the discouragement was not a ban and in the end individuals had the right to choose. We talk about Te Puni Kokiri staff who have been point-blank banned by their CEO, Leith Comer, from joining the Hikoi. So the Maori CEO of the Ministry of Maori Affairs has not allowed his staff any choice. What is that about?

Loudspeakers keep us in touch with what’s going on and we hear that only those at the front of the Hikoi will receive and witness Te Atiawa’s powhiri into Parliament grounds. Ah well. Before entering the grounds, Marshalls separate iwi into distinct groupings. Unfortunately a group of Rangitane High School students are right up our backside and, because their banner is held higher than ours, Te Rarawa is missed by Annette Sykes who is announcing each grouping in her own special way. “COME ON RANGITANE,” she shouts, “GIVE US A WAIATA!” They don’t and we don’t. Ah well again.

We swing through the gates into Parliament Grounds. For the first time I get an impression of the crowd size – big! Our roopu moves onto an embankment way below and off to one side of Parliament steps, but close to the Beehive where we can see shadowy heads behind the darkened glass all the way up to the top floor.

The sun is now blazing, the wind has dropped and I’ve shed my windbreaker. A man holding a camera sees my blazer logo and calls, “Te Rarawa!” I stop and he gives me the thumbs up. I ask him if he is a Murray or a Proctor because he looks vaguely like Erana Waru from Whangape. But he smiles and shakes his head. “No,” he says, “Te Rarawa. That’s where Hands Across the Beach was.” Then he sweeps the hand-held camera over the crowd and winks. I think he means he senses the joined hands here as well.

Down where we are we can’t see or hear what’s happening on Parliament steps, but we do have a running commentary of sorts coming from Annette Sykes on loudspeaker. Siobhan and I take Siagogo off up towards Parliament steps to try and catch what’s happening up there and to get away from Annette’s voice. I admire the lady but have heard it all before. I also think she needs vocal lessons.

Later we hear that the Maori MPs came out on to the steps. The wahine (Tariana, Georgina Beyer, Georgina Te Heuheu and Nanaia) spoke and were well-received, the men (Parekura, Dover, John, Mita and Mahara) stood mute and were jeered, spat at and rejected. Being Maori can be a bastard.

We count the people. 100 x 100 = 10,000 x 2 = 20,000. That’s our best-guess. At least 20,000. Certainly no less. But there is nothing much going on up here now that the MPs have gone back inside. Only an old speaker from Hauraki saying old things. Later Malcolm tells us that Rima Edwards has spoken flawlessly for Muriwhenua followed by Margaret Mutu. He seems to feel the same kind of admiration for my mate Margaret as I feel for Annette. I reflect on how subjective each of us is as an audience. Ah well and ah well again. More remarkable than the speaking abilities of either though is the fact that they are both on the same side.

A gentle tap on my shoulder and there’s Pahia Turia. I used to work with this gentle-soul on Kia Piki Te Ora O Nga Taitamariki. Now in his early 30s, he came to Pawarenga as a 12 year old with his mum and dad during the Trusts and Co-ops era. Another connection – he went to Te Aute with Uncle Frank’s youngest son, Victor. I tell him – ”Give our love to mummy.” Huge posters of Tariana loom throughout the Hikoi. They remind me of an American political rally – or an Iranian one. In any event they signal the inevitable – Tariana will either lead a new Maori party, or such a party will coalesce around her until she leads it. I look at the posters and wish us all well.

At 3 p.m. we hear rumours that cars are being towed from Te Papa’s car-park, so we leave the Hikoi feeling we’ve contributed what we can, and head back to the van as a light drizzle starts.

A call comes in from my nephew Conan who’s living and studying in Wellington. He’s walking to meet us. Ten minutes later he’s there and it’s lovely to see this young man who is as much my son as Bo’s and Chrissy’s. Siobhan is on the phone to another Wellington-based friend. They arrange to meet and go off towards Victoria St. I shortcut through to Te Papa fearing the van might be towed. The drizzle is now a steady rain and I’m worried about Gloria. I have her coat and Siobhan has her cell phone. At least the van is still where I left it.

Malcolm arrives a half hour later. Siobhan, Conan and Siagogo are right behind him. Gloria calls on Lloyd Popata’s phone. She’s with the Ngati Kahu roopu at the Wellington train station. We drive up there and wait for her. There’s Tuku Morgan looking older than me, and overweight. There goes Marion Brown and Jill Minogue from Te Kao. Here comes Gloria.

Conan is hungry for us to stay with him for the night. We are a slice of home in far-away Wellington. Our hearts ache for him. We want to stay, but can’t. We compromise with a visit. He lives way off in Petone, but it’s a great hour we spend there, eating his food and fruit, talking about the this and the that, debriefing our Hikoi experience with him. We promise to stay with him next time we’re down. I promise to send him a Parengarenga application form. Then we have to leave. He seems satisfied. We most certainly are.

He points us back towards the city with instructions to make the crossover at the Porirua off-ramp. I never spot it and we end up back in the City anyway. But that’s OK because it gives us the chance to gas up and tune in to the live broadcast from Parliament. Then we point ourselves northwards listening to a Parliament which is trying hard not to listen to us.

FRIDAY 16TH MAY 2004:
15 hours later we drive into Pawarenga having taken part in a piece of history. If it all goes badly our uri will know that we fought it with everything we had.

Later that day, while we’re sleeping, the Foreshore and Seabed Bill passes its first reading, 65 votes for – 55 against.

POSTSCRIPT:
The time has come the Walrus said to put rubber on the road in terms of the nuts and bolts of our submissions to the FSSB Bill.

Now that the Bill has passed its 1st reading (2 more to go) the process is:
1. It goes to the Select Committee on Fisheries & Other Sea-related Legislation.
2. Submissions closed on 12th July.
3. Select Committee hearings will be held up until the committee reports back to Parliament on November 5th (Guy Fawkes Day!)

The members of that Committee are Larry Baldock, Russell Fairbrother (Chair), Phil Heatley, Nanaia Mahuta, Mahara Okeroa, Hon Dover Samuels, Hon Ken Shirley, Hon Georgina Te Heuheu (Deputy Chairperson), and Metiria Turei

I’ve watched what's happening politically in and out of parliament. I’ve seen how much leverage Tainui has now that Nanaia is pivotal to propping up this govt. I’ve seen that we don't have any hope of a pivot in Dover, but we do have our Treaty and our Whole of Government negotiations going on. So these negotiations must be our pivot.

In no particular order this is what I reckon needs to be done now:

SUBSTANCE VS STYLE: We've spent a lot on big gestures in the first half of this year. Time now to just get on with acting as "owners / kaitiaki". Focus your energies forward. Erect your pouwhenua, then slingshot the energy that takes and makes into your hapu plans, and get out and clean up your beaches and roadsides regularly.

INFORMATION OUT / DIRECTION IN: Use the media to circulate analyses of all Bills and their implications for our various plans and dreams. Get our views and opinions punched home to government.

DIRECT LINE TO PARLIAMENT: Every time our leaders are in Wellington, they should meet with at least one MP from both government and opposition benches to discuss something of mutual interest.

UNTIL our own leaders call on us for further direct action, there's plenty of work to be done at home.