What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?—We who work for the iwi get passionate about things like human rights, biological diversity and economic sustainability. Important stuff, sure – but not always a priority in the everyday world of our whanau. To stay in touch with that world from which we came, we do things like mahi in the marae kitchen where we’re just another working stiff, and the VIP we rubbed shoulders with yesterday doesn’t give us any special privileges today. Or we’ll ring fence our whanau time and do the kohanga reo papa bit, the rippa rugby nanna gig, me nga mea. It’s sobering and refreshing to get that jolt back to earth that only whanau can give. Here are some examples.
A STORM IN A TEASPOON
I remember having my monthly report back from the Runanga to my marae disappear without a ripple as the aunties paused briefly to let its last echo fade before moving on to the real bizzo. “We had 100 teaspoons when this whare kai opened and now we’ve got none. Na wai he tangata tahae!?”
BUGS IN THE BELFRY
Our mokopuna love bugs. Shiny bugs, fat bugs, round bugs, buggy bugs – it doesn’t matter. They indiscriminately love the lot. In fact when our second oldest mokopuna got kutus he proudly and loudly told complete strangers in public places, “I’ve got bugs in my hair!” While I’d be saying with a sick smile and an inward cringe, “Well … you know they’re an occupational hazard in the north,” for him it was a source of wonderment that they had chosen to make his head their habitat. He didn’t care to worry about whether his biological diversity was being upset.
THE ARM OF THE ANGEL
On ANZAC morning, while our kids raced round and over the monument, three mothers sat under the angel in Kaitaia’s Memorial Park sadly looking at the names of those who left to fight in two World Wars and didn’t come home again. We felt sad. Then one of the kids asked, “Where’s the other arm of the angel?” And it’s true. I’ve sat under that angel since I was a kid and can’t remember – did it ever have two arms? Well, if it did, it doesn’t anymore. How could I not know?
TAKE TIME
A century ago W H Davies wrote the poem, “Leisure.” I can’t say it any better.
A STORM IN A TEASPOON
I remember having my monthly report back from the Runanga to my marae disappear without a ripple as the aunties paused briefly to let its last echo fade before moving on to the real bizzo. “We had 100 teaspoons when this whare kai opened and now we’ve got none. Na wai he tangata tahae!?”
BUGS IN THE BELFRY
Our mokopuna love bugs. Shiny bugs, fat bugs, round bugs, buggy bugs – it doesn’t matter. They indiscriminately love the lot. In fact when our second oldest mokopuna got kutus he proudly and loudly told complete strangers in public places, “I’ve got bugs in my hair!” While I’d be saying with a sick smile and an inward cringe, “Well … you know they’re an occupational hazard in the north,” for him it was a source of wonderment that they had chosen to make his head their habitat. He didn’t care to worry about whether his biological diversity was being upset.
THE ARM OF THE ANGEL
On ANZAC morning, while our kids raced round and over the monument, three mothers sat under the angel in Kaitaia’s Memorial Park sadly looking at the names of those who left to fight in two World Wars and didn’t come home again. We felt sad. Then one of the kids asked, “Where’s the other arm of the angel?” And it’s true. I’ve sat under that angel since I was a kid and can’t remember – did it ever have two arms? Well, if it did, it doesn’t anymore. How could I not know?
TAKE TIME
A century ago W H Davies wrote the poem, “Leisure.” I can’t say it any better.
… A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.
Hei konei. Hei kona.
1 comment:
OMG - "I've got bugs in my hair!" Still shaking with laughter.
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