IGNORANCE IS NOT BLIS

My upbringing, like most people’s, was influenced by things beyond my knowledge and understanding at the time. Things like the potato famines in Ireland, the land clearances in Scotland, and the Huguenot persecutions in France all contributed to my parents’ frugality, religious leanings, strictness and hatred of injustice. They probably also help explain much of my nature.

It’s not surprising that I wasn’t greatly aware of my European history as a kid. It was all such a long time ago and a very long way away. But it still amazes me to this day how absolutely ignorant I was of New Zealand history. Truly – I had no idea of what had been done in this country until I left school and began holding conversations and reading books of my own choice. I was enraged. Youthful ignorance in the face of the facts is one thing. Deliberate suppression of those facts is quite another. Can you imagine the impact on adult Germans if German schools did not teach that country’s full history?

Yet that is what was done here in New Zealand and still is. Our kids are barely exposed to the reality of how power and resources were taken from Maori by the Crown. There’s little specific mention of the well-researched histories told to the Waitangi Tribunal. Very few broadcasters, publishers, educators, public services and public figures in this country are informed by the facts of our history.

All this means that informed adults in this country are hugely outnumbered by the woefully ignorant. It’s no wonder, then, that most New Zealanders, renowned for our fair-mindedness, can draw the dotted line between what was done to our Irish, Scots and Huguenot ancestors and their fierce resistance to those injustices – yet fidget like someone farted when faced with this country’s history of colonial and contemporary injustices and the indigenous resistance to them.

The prevailing desire of the ignorant is to romanticise these islands as a haven to which our many different cultures came for a new start and to ignore their human history. Is not ignorance, after all, a form of bliss? Sorry folks – until we face, teach, accept and honour the fact that Aotearoa was not, is not and will never be just a pretty piece of geography with no history, there’s no “new” start. Rather, there’s a nagging sense of dis-comfort – even dis-ease.

Anyway, back to my growing years. As kids we had to be in bed early. Even as teens, we were only allowed out alone after dark to go eeling. Any other night event – a dance, the pictures – and we had one or both parents for company. I think they figured if we were doing something useful we couldn’t get up to tutu. Wrong. The stuff they didn’t want us doing at a dance could be done just as easily (probably more easily actually) on a riverbank. Let me tell you – we enjoyed our nights out eeling. Until the night our dad, suspicious of the lack of eels, checked on us then kicked our butts all the way home. It was about then I learned – ignorance never is bliss. Seriously.

Hei konei. Hei kona.

ALARM BELLS RING

DATELINE: 23rd October 2027 : 10:02:24

[Morning Report – Native Radio]

STUDIO: In breaking news, the Regional Anti-Tourism and Cultural Hegemony Team carried out dawn raids across Northland this morning making several arrests under the Tourism Suppression Act. Amongst those detained is well-known activist and suspected tourist operator, L. R. Mist, along with a busload of Chinese nationals.

RATCHET Leader, Howdy Narrow, says there is enough evidence to warrant this morning’s detentions and subsequent closed Court hearings. Our reporter, Patai Ngawari, was at Mr Narrow’s media conference in Auckland.

PN: Team Leader, what evidence have you got of illegal tourism in Northland?
HN: Enough.
PN: The Court hearings for those arrested have been closed to the media. Why is that?
HN: We don’t want the evidence to embarrass anyone.
PN: Does that mean the evidence wouldn’t stand up to public scrutiny?
HN: Nope. It means it’s sensitive and private.
PN: Sensitive and private to whom?
HN: Them and us, of course.
PN: So the closed Court hearings are to protect the alleged tourists?
HN: Absolutely. They have rights too. Next!

STUDIO: Prime Minister, Domina Trix, has confirmed that she was briefed by Mr Narrow months ago on the suspected tourism operations, and says she is satisfied they pose a threat to national security. She spoke to Huakina Waha in Wellington earlier today.

HW: Prime Minister, why are these tourists a threat to our national security?
PM: What basket case are you reporters living in? Our Pacific neighbours have all gone to hell on a banana skin, and you people sit there asking, “ Why?” Let me tell you why pal. Tourism! That’s why! Well – not in my country and not on my watch!

STUDIO: However, co-leader of the Nationalised Labour Party, Daffodil Kee, who also spoke to Huakina in Wellington earlier today, is highly critical of the raids.

HW: Ms Kee, have you managed to speak to any of the alleged tourists?
DK: Yes. And I can say they very upset to be in this predicament. They say they come here on a goodwill spiritual journey and are just mortified to be accused of tourism.
HW: What will happen to them now?
DK: They not sure. But, for shore, they wanna go home to China as soon as.
HW: Do you believe the raids were justified?
DK: Hell no! They set this country’s Asia-Pacific relations back twenny-five years, AND they endanger our nuclear-free status. China is super pissed off! They even talking about no All Blacks at next Rugby World Cup in Rewi Alley City!"

STUDIO: Meanwhile Native Radio has learned that today’s highest profile detainee, L. R. Mist, will be shipped to a holding cell on White Island tomorrow.

From his own cell on the island, long-time and venerated detainee, Tame Iti, made a statement via his mainland spokesperson. We close this bulletin with Winitana Petera speaking from Tauranga.

WP: Mr Iti has asked me to pass his best wishes and encouragement on to the Chinese cuzzies. He also has this simple message for L. R. Mist – 'Welcome to my world, bro.'” No! No questions!

STUDIO: Hei konei. Hei kona.

Just Spreading the News

PAKEHA POWER

When I started my working life as a trainee nurse in 1974 one of the first things I learned was that it was just as dangerous for a body to be over-hydrated as it was to be dehydrated. I already knew having too little water over a long enough time meant eventual death. But it was news to me that taking in too much water diluted the sodium in a body to dangerously low levels, producing a condition called hyponatremia that, left untreated, would also kill.

This latter is an awfully close analogy for what has happened to the Maori presence in local government since my nursing days. Back then, what is now known as the Far North District, was still made up of Mangonui, Whangaroa, Bay of Islands and Hokianga Counties, as well as Kaitaia and Kaikohe Borough Councils. Maori had a strong presence in each Council, including at least one Mayor and numerous Councillors.

The pivot on which the six bodies eventually turned into one, was the Hokianga, where Maori were an overwhelming majority. Determined to keep the Hokianga identity alive within any larger grouping, people like my parents resisted and roundly rejected the initial amalgamation proposal that wanted to split them and put North Hokianga in the Kaitaia Ward, South Hokianga in the Kaikohe Ward. A revised proposal that created two distinct Hokianga Wards (North and South) able to elect a single Councillor each was finally approved by a slimmish majority.

Elsewhere in the District, the nod had already been given to establish Wards representing North Cape, Doubtless Bay and Whangaroa (with one Councillor each), as well as Kaitaia, Kerikeri, Kawakawa and Kaikohe (with two Councillors each). So, once Hokianga capitulated, the way was cleared for the creation of the Far North District Council with its original nine Wards and thirteen Councillors plus the Mayor.

Since then, the Hokianga has been butchered, nine Wards have been collapsed into three, and Maori representation and participation in decision-making at Council level has bombed. In fact Maori have been so comprehensively washed out of local government throughout the motu that many on both sides (Local Government and Maori) have started to act like we don’t matter to each other. Disaffection and disengagement are very dangerous paths to carry on walking down.

Recognising this, Government finally passed the Local Government Act in 2002, part of which requires Councils to come up with ways and means for the Maori vote to count and the Maori perspective to be represented. The Far North District Council has really struggled to make much headway on this matter, and it probably always will until the Pakeha voters of the district get their heads around two facts. First, Maori are an important part of our body politic, without which we will simply not be healthy. Second, the power to include Maori in local government lies in your hands.

In this last week of postal voting for a Mayor and nine Councillors, keep in mind what has happened to Hokianga and to Maori representation in this District.

Kia tupato. Kia whakaaronui. Kia ora.
Be careful. Be wise. Be well.

OLD HURTS / OLD HABITS

How long does it take to break a habit? What lessons need to be learned before we can say we've conquered it?

I learned early the habit of returning pain for pain. I wasn't born with it - I was taught it. The first hiding I remember I was only 3. The physical shock of it is no longer felt in my nerves and, though it's damage went cell deep, I'm still intact at a sub-cellular level, in my spirit. That's who I really am. That's what allows me to continuously rise above my old habits and hurts.

For the longest time my heart was broken and rebroken every time Dad hit me. I loved him and wanted his approval, but couldn't bring myself to accept his tyranny, no matter how much pain he inflicted. So I learned to read the danger signs and I learned to defend myself when the attacks came. And that readiness to fight defined my life. Verbal, physical, intellectual, spiritual, whatever - I returned violation for violation. People soon learned to leave me alone. Even those who could hurt me bad knew it would come at a cost to them. And no-one ever saw me cry. Never.

That all changed with the advent of the Church in my life. Chev rarely saw or heard much more than a frown or a stern word from me. Determined to break the intergenerational anger and violence, I taught and raised her with a heartfelt gentleness. You can see it in how she is today. I gave and took delight in forgiveness and understood that the past could be healed.

Then I got married and, ever since, I've struggled to hang on to the peace of the gospel in my heart. As my husband has battled an illness he thought he'd overcome years before, I've similarly descended into dark places I thought I'd left behind.

This morning I felt like I was losing the struggle, that I was pointlessly repeating the cycle I'd lived with my father. Then it came to me that there are lessons I hadn't learnt, hadn't even encountered really, in my daughter experience. Lessons that only my wife experience with Doug can teach me. Some are old, many are new. All of them are blowing me away.

I'm learning that when we married I truly did become one with him and it's been a shock to the system. E.g. It might be Doug's Black Dog, but I know the bite of its teeth too. They feel like my father's fists. Another example - it was my blood brother who suicided but Doug knew the pain of it as intimately as I did. We are one.

Next lesson - I'm learning that I have to take personal responsibility for my own shit and simply observe his. I really struggle with this one. (Yes Doug - I know, you know. And yes - I'm not good at it yet. But I will learn baby. I will learn to not confuse my responsibilities as your wife with your responsibilities as my husband.)

I could go on discovering lessons for hours. I don't have the time here and now. Suffice to say that I'm learning that I still have some lessons to learn before I can truly say that I've broken the habit of being hurt and hurting back.

God help me.

MY HUSBAND'S HEROES

One of our family’s favourite heroes is ex-All Black, John Kirwan. We’ve never met him, but John’s public acknowledgement of his depression has been life-saving for us. Another favourite of ours is the actor Owen Wilson – movie star, good-looking, young, talented … and just diagnosed with depression after a suicide attempt last month. The Black Dog has bitten another sufferer.

It was Winston Churchill (another of my husband’s heroes) who invented the nickname, "Black Dog," to describe his depression. As is true with all metaphors, it speaks volumes. It implies both familiarity and an attempt at mastery. It says, while that dog may bite every now and then, he's still only a dog. He can be cajoled sometimes and locked up other times.

Yes. My husband also lives with that Black Dog, as do Drew Barrymore, Billy Joel, Harrison Ford, and now Owen Wilson, to name but a few. All of them are highly intelligent and creative people who happen to suffer from recurrent depression. Their illness often acts as a spur. Aware of how low they can sink, they propel themselves, when well, into activity and achievements that the rest of us can only regard with awe.

In his book, Churchill's Black Dog, Kafkas's Mice & Other Phenomena of the Human Mind, Anthony Storr talks about the way the demons of the mentally ill can become angels for the rest of us, since they impel their sufferers to rise above themselves – taking those of us who live with and love them along on their peculiar and soaring rides.

Storr takes the approach that a "depressive nature" and feeling unloved go hand in hand. Often they take compensatory steps, i.e., "If I can't be loved, I'll find a way to be admired." Another name for this is ambition. Churchill's was apparently legendary and laden with fantasy – which, oddly enough, may have been exactly what was needed in that particular time, place, and circumstance.

Another bit of fall-out from feeling unloved is hostility, and Storr suggests that never has any depressive had such a wonderful opportunity for venting his hostility as did Churchill. He had an enemy worthy of the word, an unambiguous tyrant whose destruction occupied him fully and invigorated him totally year in and year out. It makes me wonder – if all depressives could battle obvious and external wickedness in this way, would they cease being depressed?

Some time ago, my husband posted these words on his blog at http://idiggraves.blogspot.com/
“People do not handle the insane very well. Support workers in doctor's offices don't look you in the eye when they talk to you. Pharmacy staff lecture you publicly about taking the cocktail of medications that keep you going. Family members resent the constant attention you require and begin to compete for attention with their own drama. Work associates avoid you, or bother you with questions like, ‘How are you today?’ Of course you lie and say, ‘Capital. Any better and I couldn't stand it!’ The insane have become the pariah's of our culture. We have closed down mental institutions to save money. We medicate the poop out of nuts and hope for the best.”

When my husband is unwell, we do often meet with misunderstanding – even hostility or fear. It comes when people, who are totally ignorant of the Black Dog’s fangs sunk deep into his psyche, think he’s being over the top and react to his behaviour in ways that feed the illness. We don’t blame them. When we can, we tell them about it.

That’s why my husband’s heroes are people who live with the Black Dog and talk openly and honestly about the mongrel. Heroes, like John Kirwan, who increase everyone’s understanding and acceptance of mental illness. Heroes, like Doug Graves, who make it possible for this column to be written.

Hei konei. Hei kona.