THE BREAKING POINT

One of my grandsons showed me a meme yesterday referencing the current riots in the USA over yet another killing by a white police officer of a black man.

It depicts a black male with gritted teeth and tears tracking down his cheeks saying, “I can’t believe that happened because the police stereotypes [sic] us as violent thugs.  I’m going to destroy private property and loot expensive TV sets that’ll show them.”

Our following conversation canvassed decades of research and centuries of experience showing that riots of this kind are responses to untenable social conditions. But memes such as the one he had shown me, characterise them as inexplicable and seek to delegitimize the grievances that underlie them. Both these lines of reasoning are shallow and wrong; in fact, they help explain the factors that cause riots in the first place.

Recent police killings of black men in the Twin Cities region — Jamar Clark in 2015 and Philando Castile in 2016 — provoked demonstrations but no sustained accountability; the officers who killed Clark were neither charged with crimes nor fired, and the officer who killed Castile lost his job but was acquitted of criminal charges.

Protests against these outcomes were met with aggression from the state and its sympathizers. A protest camp outside Minneapolis’ 4th police precinct in response to Clark’s death was razed by law enforcement after two weeks of demonstrations and an attempt by white vigilantes to kill its occupants. (Five black men were shot; none died.)

The past several months, meanwhile, have seen American life contract due to the novel coronavirus pandemic; millions of people have lost work, over 100,000 have died, and more people are suddenly struggling to pay bills and rent and feed their families.

Black people are disproportionately represented among the crisis’ victims, both epidemiologically and economically. Its heavy toll on their communities makes starker the longstanding reality of black life in cities like Minneapolis, which is defined by residential segregation and the targeted neglect and over-policing that accompany it.

Yet even as their and other disadvantaged communities suffer outsizedly, the fortunes of the country’s billionaires have ballooned to the tune of a $434 billion wealth increase since March — a gain of 15 percent, according to CNBC.

Enforcing compliance with these inequities, remains the responsibility of armed law enforcement, who’ve enjoyed massive new investments and expanded powers in the bargain.

It’s hard to imagine, without experiencing it, what your personal breaking point is — the point at which the compounding oppressions and indignities expand your understanding of acceptable recourse. 

Most of us will never be driven to this point, but those who are look upon a vista of possibilities that at least bear some hope of changing conditions. Some of these are illegal. Some are destructive. Rarely do they risk matching the depravity to which they are responding.

Here in Aotearoa New Zealand some of us may feel smugly superior to our USA counterparts,  We ought not.  As I said to my grandson, while the social conditions here may seem more tenable, they are not.  When faced with compounding oppressions, indignities and inequities, everyone has their breaking point.

WELL DONE

Overall, we have every reason to be pleased and impressed with how the vast majority of peoples in Te Hiku o Te Ika Muriwhenua responded to the pandemic and how, through sacrifice, service, collaboration and cooperation, we have managed to keep it largely at bay.

There are always the exceptions but, in the main, those exceptions have just highlighted our achievements.

To illustrate, between March 25^th and today, we have recorded 37 deaths spanning all hakapapa strands, ages, genders and callings; people who were either from within or strongly connected to us.   

In all but one of those tangihanga, the tikanga and proceedings were conducted safely and with dignity.  The single instance where things became unsafe occurred during an ‘after party’ and involved non whānau members being wasted idiots.  That single instance of idiocy, which was all too commonplace before the alert levels were established, highlighted how capable we are of conducting ourselves in even the most trying of times.

No reira e ngā tini mate o tēnei wa, kua okioki koutou i ngī ahuatanga o tēnei Ao, kua tae atu koutou ki to koutou tūpuna, ōtira ki a rātou katoa i te Ao Wairua, haere atu ki a rātou ma, haere atu ki te Torona o Ihoa.

Another illustration.  Ngāti Kuri announced last week that access into their lands at Te Rerenga Wairua remained closed until they had completed cleansing processes (both spiritual and physical) as well as deferred maintenance of the facilities there. 

This same iwi, alongside of Te Aupōuri, had from March 25^th until May 14^th manned and maintained 24/7 COVID-19 checkpoints at Ngātaki on State Highway 1 and had controlled entry via that road into their rohe, successfully ensuring that COVID-19 did not enter.

 

In all but a handful of cases during that time, the responses to their kaitiakitanga were positive and supportive.  Notably, the handful of instances in which they were challenged all involved non-iwi members being self-entitled idiots claiming a right without any concomitant sense of responsibility or ability to delay the gratification of their claimed entitlement.  Happily, in only one of those instances did a kaitiaki respond with exasperation to them. 

Well done Ngāti Kuri.  We look forward to joining you next Friday 29^th May when you reopen access into that auspicious place.  

And well done to all the rest of our hakapapa strands, ages, genders, callings and people who proved that we understand and can work alongside each other in even the most inauspicious of times.

IWI PANDEMIC RESPONSE UPDATE

All the iwi authorities in Te Taitokerau are working hard to make sure our whānau and hapū are OK during this COVID-19 era.  I can only report from Ngāti Kahu, but I do so humbly, knowing we are indebted to our neighbouring iwi for standing up at very short notice, via Te Kahu o Taonui (the Taitokerau Iwi Chairs Forum), a credible and effective delivery model to the points of need amongst all our peoples.

On 30th March, Ngāti Kahu launched our freephone needs assessment number on 0800 8394273 for all iwi members living in Aotearoa who were seeking kai support during the COVID-19 lockdown.

Initially, our model of delivery was completely responsive; i.e. we only delivered to those who called us directly with a request for help. However, in spite of extensive public notification of the services, the demand was initially way below our supply, so we moved to a fully proactive delivery model to everyone on our lists.

As anticipated, the demand climbed hugely over the weeks and we now have over 200 whānau on our iwi lists alone. Therefore, following discussions with our Marae Delegates, we moved to a mixed proactive / responsive delivery model in which everyone who calls the 0800 number gets an initial kai pack.

After that, whanau with Kaumatua kuia get a fortnightly pack one week, while whanau with pre-existing conditions and wahine hapū get a fortnightly pack the other week. These are the high risk groups who need to remain at home during Alert Levels 4 and 3.

Everyone else requiring further assistance must EITHER call the 0800 number themselves to update their needs assessment OR, if they can’t do that themselves for any reason, have a third party do it for them.  Any weekly surplus of consumables, like fresh fruit and veges, is distributed to whānau with high risk members as above.

We will review this model on 12th May when the Prime Minister announces whether or not the country will move to Alert Level 2, and what date that will happen.

To ensure the most effective use of our resources, whānau will only be added to our delivery list when they have completed the needs assessment process via the 0800 number.

Whanau with any health needs should contact either their own medical service or call Te Hiku Hauora on 0800 8084024.  We are deeply grateful to Hauora for instigating outreach clinics that increase the opportunities for our isolated and vulnerable whānau to receive health services while reducing the amount of time they need to be outside their bubbles getting those services.

Via our own and our partners’ systems, we are delivering kai packs, hygiene packs, water, energy, medicines, personal shopping, health checks, vaccines, COVID-19 testing, advice and advocacy, tangi support, accommodation support.

In the next few weeks we will add firewood to the supplies we deliver.

To maintain health and safety rules and reduce the risks of any contamination in the delivery process, our volunteers deliver to point of need; i.e. kai packs and other supplies go directly to people who need them in their homes.

We understand that larger iwi, like Ngapuhi, are delivering to more than 1,000 whānau a week.  In fact, as at last week, Te Kahu o Taonui members had collectively made almost 10,000 deliveries throughout the region.

Initially, Te Rūnanga-ā-Iwi o Ngāti Kahu held daily zoom hui for all our Marae and our partners.  Now, we have moved to twice weekly z-hui which will be held at 2pm every Thursday and Sunday moving forward.

We are also conducting surveys and gathering data from across our iwi to sharpen our focus and approach to recovery. This will become an increasingly important agenda item for us moving forward.  It has been wonderful to see the unity across, within and between whānau, hapū and iwi during this national emergency; that kotahitanga will be critical in moving forward.

We are all only human but we are all doing our best. Thank you for all you are doing out there. Mā te Atua e manaaki e tiaki ki a tātou katoa i ngā wā katoa.

IWI PANDEMIC RESPONSE

We’ve kept a close eye on the COVID19 pandemic and believe that, while there is no reason to panic, there is every reason to plan a response to it. 

In formulating our response, we took into account researched advice on the timeline of the virus, its contagiousness and severity, its mortality rate and risk factors, its likely effects on our iwi specifically and society in general, the vectors of community transmission, how long it can survive on surfaces, false comparisons with the flu, the importance of ‘flattening the curve’ of its growth, the importance of social distancing, the possible failure of our healthcare system and possible anti-viral treatments, the timeline for a vaccine, the importance of pandemic preparedness and the gradations of personal responsibility.

If you have not already done so, Te Runanga-a-Iwi o Ngati Kahu urge our whānau, hapū and marae to plan and put in place tikanga to cover the following matters:

1.       RISK IDENTIFICATION: eg. hui and hosting manuhiri, hongi and handshaking, kai prep and serving, etc.

2.       RISK REDUCTION: eg. holding online hui where possible and postponing or cancelling all but the most essential gatherings, being extra vigilant around hygiene, etc.

3.       SICK WHANAU: eg. getting them tested and treated while limiting their contact with others, etc.

4.       SELF-ISOLATION: eg. doing online shopping (or organising proxy shoppers), setting delivery/pickup protocols, contacting schools and employers, etc.

5.       KAITIAKITANGA: eg. checking on and where needed providing for our most vulnerable - the chronically ill, kaumatua and kuia, etc.

6.       STORES AND SUPPLIES: eg. storing water, stocking up on food and medicines (enough for 14 days), stocking up on hygiene and cleaning supplies, etc.

This week, we urge you to sit with your whanau or roopu and make a plan because, while we must always hope for the best, we must also plan for the worst.

Our own whanau plan has two stages.  We are currently in stage one which involves:

1.       No longer hugging, giving hongi or shaking hands with anyone outside of our home

2.       No longer attending non-essential hui or public gatherings of any kind

3.       Only making essential trips to work, shop or attend a critical service

4.       Carrying and using soap or hand sanitiser after any contact with outside people / things

Stage 2 will kick in when the first case of COVID north of Mangamuka is diagnosed and will include:

1.       Ordering our groceries online and only one of us going to pick them up

2.       Wearing surgical masks and gloves if we must go out in public

3.       Thoroughly washing all purchased vegetables and fruit and wiping all packaged/canned goods with a bleach solution

4.       Closing our workplace and working from home

5.       Discouraging visitors or at least limiting visits to those who are taking similar precautions to ourselves

6.       Completely isolating if it gets really bad – our diet may be a bit boring but it will be adequate.

HOPING FOR THE BEST - PLANNING FOR THE WORST

SHOULD MAORI WOMEN SPEAK AT WAITANGI?

Last month, Mere Mangu, the Chair of Te Rūnanga-a-Iwi o Ngāpuhi, spoke at Waitangi during the pōhiri for various parliamentary political leaders and traumatised several traditionalists on the taumata, as well some who weren’t even present. 

A week later, the question was posed by Dr Rawiri Taonui, “Should Māori women speak at Waitangi?” 

As a descendant of wahine me tane toa (strong women and men) who spoke beautifully in two or more languages (both on and off the marae), it is sad that this question still has to be asked.  But I am grateful to Rawiri for asking it.  It provokes thought and progress on the issue and enlarges the space in which to define, unpack and understand when, why and how this so-called ‘tradition’ of a male only taumata came to be.

In the 1980’s my generation of Muriwhenua wahine toa  were privileged to be taught and mentored by kuia who had experienced and analysed many things, including that ‘tradition’.

One of the most influential of those kuia was Kahurangi Mira Szaszy.  Wise in both western ways and tikanga Māori, we loved being in her reserved presence and being able to ask her stuff without fear of rebuff.

One day, one of my mates asked her, “Why can’t wahine Māori speak on the taumata?”

The ensuing group kōrero was lengthy and considered and I can’t reproduce it verbatim here, but one part I recall exactly.  Mira said, “It was a Victorian assumption that Māori women could not speak because Pākehā women were not allowed to by their men.”

She was then asked who made and gave power to that ‘Victorian assumption’ over us?  Her reply, “Initially, Pākehā men, and then, as their status in their own land diminished, so too did Māori men.”

Wow!  I remember light spreading over the hearts and minds of the wahine there.  And with it came remembrances of wahine in our own whānau, hapū and iwi who had always spoken without fear or favour on the taumata and elsewhere.  Also, memories of the taumata being wherever the speaker was, not located in a specific place or bench.  That ‘tradition’ came only in my lifetime and, in many places, is being reversed.  But most importantly, realisation came that the ‘tradition’ of a men only taumata was not ours, had no basis in logic or tikanga and did not bind us.

However, there was empathy for those of our men who still held to that ‘tradition’ at that time.  Because we understood that they too were victims of this ‘Victorian assumption.”  For myself, I was willing to wait and let it die with them.  But it hasn’t.  And that is why the question is still being asked.

This is my reply. 

It is clear that being on the taumata requires certain qualities, none of which are gender specific.  E.g. It does not require male gonads to welcome, farewell, stitch, mend, inform, guide and protect the people while they are on the Marae, and to do it all i te reo Maori (in the Māori language). 

While I am not personally matatau i te reo, all of my uri are, including a number of brilliant kohine (girls) and wahine.  In my opinion, if we haven’t already done so, it’s way past time for my whānau, hapū and iwi to knock the male only taumata ‘tradition’ on the head once and for all and bury it without a marker.

Should Māori women speak at Waitangi?  Of course!  And not only at Waitangi, but also on the marae, the taumata, anywhere and everywhere they are qualified to speak. 

TALKING WITH OUR WAI

The brewing brouhaha and blame shifting going on between various governing agencies over the shortage of water available to whānau living in Kaitāia, and elsewhere around the motu, has got me wondering: if the water could talk, what would it say to us? and if it could hear, what would we say to it?

So, I went down to the water closest to me here in Kaitāia and here is what it told me.

On my surface lie otaota (weeds) that do not have hakapapa (genealogical links) to this whenua (land).  As they flourish, die and rot they entangle he para (other rubbish and litter) thrown into me – plastic, paper, food and a shopping trolley that used to glitter but is now flaking rust. 

My view of Ranginui (the Sky Parent) is clouded by all these and other parakino (pollutants) coming from upstream.  Over the years I have received avalanches of slipped whenua, been coated by sewage spills, and have had farm and factory runoff, truck washes and stormwater emptied into me; I have even held the dead and the discarded.

I have had karakia and waerea intoned over me, pipes and drains inserted into my banks and rāhui laid on me.  I have seen my tangata whenua (people of this land) marginalised by foreign powers and prevented from exercising their kaitiakitanga (care) of me and their whaunangatanga (relationship) with me.

Each winter, every drop of water that drains from Maungataniwha, Raetea and all the awa between, passes through me.  But, with each passing summer, I have become more and more dirty and diminished.  Aue!  I am tired.  When shall I rest and be cleaned? 

In response, this is what we have to say to our wai.  Ko wai mātou?  (Who are we?)  Ko wai mātou.  (We are water.)  We are here still and, although we have yet to fully recover from our own long marginalisation, we are increasingly carrying out our kaitiakitanga and whanaungatanga with you. So, hold on, help is at hand.

It is true that hapū and iwi Māori are still doing the mahi of kaitiakitanga of their wai.  In the case of Kaitāia, the kaitiaki of Ngāi Tohianga at Ōturu Marae are working hard with everyone, including those foreign authorities that still like to think they have some power and authority over our wai.  

They are wrong about that, but they will have a role to play under the correct power and authority of the mana whenua.

In the meantime, we will continue to talk with our wai.

THE PRICE IS PAID

Last Wednesday, our roopu of kuia, mokopuna and rangatahi arose, readied ourselves and made our way to Waitangi in time to join the throngs who came to open the 28 Māori Battalion Museum which is built opposite the ‘treaty house’ there.

In the stygian darkness, Wahoroi Shortland of Ngāti Hine prepared us for the ritual to come, beginning at 5am with the drawn out urgency of the pūtatara, continuing through the rhythmic revelation of the waerea, and culminating in our thrice repeated responses to two questions, “Ko wai te ingoa o tēnei pou?” (what is the name of this pou?) and “Ko wai te ingoa o tēnei whare?” (what is the name of this house?).

Then, as we began the long, slow hikoi past the pou and into the whare, one of my mokopuna became suddenly nauseous.  So, we moved out of the throng and took seats beneath the flagpole to allow him to recover in the warm womb of darkness.

Sitting there, I pondered what had happened and wondered why.  

I thought about how the Battalion’s four Companies had been organised along hakapapa lines and had nicknames reflective of them and / or their rohe. 

A Company, drawn from Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi and other northern iwi were Ngā Keri Kāpia (the Gum Diggers).  B Company, centred on Te Arawa and the Mataatua tribes, were Ngā Ruku Kapa (the Penny Divers).  C Company drawn from the the Tairawhiti/East Coast region were Ngā Kaupoi (the Cowboys) and D Company, which covered the whole of the South Island and the remainder of the North Island were the Foreign Legion or Ngāti Walkabout.

I thought about how the location of the museum was based on Sir Apirana Ngata’s famous 1940 speech at Waitangi where he said Māori serving in World War 2 was “the price of citizenship”.  And I thought about how there had not been unanimous support from the descendants of the Battalion’s other Companies for it to be located in Waitangi.

Then I thought about the men of our whānau who had served.  Two brothers, Arani Pirika Herepete (A Company) and Timoti Herepete (B Company), two cousins Rawiri Te Paa (A Company) and Robert Kara Rollo (B Company).  I thought about how they all came home alive but changed and how not one of them lived beyond 50.  Maringi noa nga roimata and as my tears fell in the darkness, I understood. 

For the next few hours, I told my mokopuna about each of their tūpuna.  Then the sun came up, and as we surveyed the crowds still thronging through the doors we quietly left. 

While Te Rau Aroha (the name of the museum) contains mementos and artefacts of our tūpuna and their compatriots, their essence is contained within us, their uri.  And when we return, to properly honour them all I hope my mokopuna will understand that not only has the price of their and our citizenship been paid, it should never have been charged.

THE WHITE WORRIER

In December 2009, the New Zealand Parliament recognised the tino rangatiratanga (sovereignty) flag as the national Māori flag and announced its decision to hoist it alongside the New Zealand flag on all government buildings on Waitangi Day.

This decision, described at the time as a symbolic recognition of partnership and unity between Māori and the Crown, proved polarising.  While some saw it as a mere token gesture to Māori, others saw it as yet another step towards Māori separatism.

Sandra Koster, a Pākehā resident of the small South Island town of Timaru was amongst the latter when she ripped up a Māori flag in protest, arguing that Māori aspirations for greater self-determination posed a threat to the nation and to present and future generations of Pākehā.

Calls for separate institutions in particular led Koster to feel “really quite frightened for my grandchildren because I can see us becoming just like South Africa”. Koster stressed that her actions were not racist and were justified by her desire for “harmony” between Māori and Pākehā in order to re-make Aotearoa/New Zealand “a wonderful, beautiful country to live in”. 

In her 2011 thesis, “Being Pākehā: White Settler Narratives of Politics, Identity, and Belonging in Aotearoa/New Zealand”, Jennifer Terruhn opened with this story as an example of the growing public unease amongst some of the white settler majority of Pākehā about ‘the self-determinative politics of aboriginality’ and, more specifically, the ‘persistent presence’ of indigeneity.‘

In Aotearoa/New Zealand, that unease is reflected in phrases such as ‘Treaty fatigue’ and what conservative politician Don Brash referred to in his incendiary Nationhood speech as the “Treaty grievance industry.”

These phrases match a growing sense of resentment amongst white majorities internationally over the rights claimed by indigenous, ethnic and immigrant minorities.   As Wulf D. Hund and Alana Lentin noted in their 2014 study on international racism, “in just a few decades following the generalised, if at times begrudging, acceptance that racism is unjust, we have hit ‘racism fatigue’.”  

Here in Aotearoa/New Zealand, the critical whiteness theories and theories of settler colonialism which framed Terruhn’s study of Pākehā identities and imaginaries, indicate that the resentment of some Pākehā often aligns with attempts to “recuperate, reconstitute and restore white identities and the supremacy of whiteness in post-apartheid, post-industrial, post-imperial, post-Civil Rights societies.”

In his 2003 analysis of ‘paranoid nationalism’, Ghassan Hage coined the figure of the ‘white worrier’ to identify how white Australians, particularly males, marginalized by the inequalities of economic rationalism and globalization, had displaced their anxieties onto even weaker ‘others’ – Aboriginals and migrants, particularly refugees.

Throughout this year, I will occasionally revisit this phenomenon of the resentful ‘white worrier’; not to ridicule it (it is a genuine condition) nor to reverse it (only those with it can do anything about it), but, rather, to understand why it exists and why it cannot stop the persistence of indigeneity.

And with that thought, I wish us all a safe and serene Waitangi week 2020,