Having an Irish mother and a Māori father with some English thrown in, I grew up knowing all my cultural backgrounds and was encouraged to be very proud of them. Like thousands of New Zealanders, I am tangata whenua and tangata Tiriti. However, I grew up Pākehā in the big city.
I had always been comfortable in both Māori and Pakeha worlds; I just was not sure why. I whakapapa to Ngāti Mutunga, Ngāti Maru and Ngāti Raukawa. But walking and talking on a marae was a wee bit above my pay grade.
Morvin invited two members of most of Whanganui's government agencies to the polytechnic for an approximately three-month part-time course in te reo Māori, protocol, history, music, arts, and, well, just a really good time. We all fronted up, two-by-two, at the door of Morvin's Ark.
We were greeted by Morvin and the late Henry Bennett, made to feel at home and then spent weeks in their company, which culminated in a visit to Morvin's home, Kaiwhaiki, for two days.
As one of two policemen on the course, it was an eye-opener for me. I found kōrero challenging due to the impact colonial policing had had on local Māori. My colleague (the late Doug Weal) and I sat there and listened, humbled and sometimes shocked by what we were hearing.
The kuia and kaumatua did not hold back, as is the way on the marae. Both Doug and I had sort of walked in two worlds most of our lives, but as police we were unaware of some of the issues Māori had to deal with in colonial times.
Morvin and Henry exposed us to that in their quiet, humble, educated way. The other course members also got their share, especially the Conservation people and the Probation Service people. It was done in the spirit of aroha, and what was said needed to be said. I had taken my 12-year-old daughter with me, so she received a very early history lesson as well, as far too much ice cream and cakes and lots of aroha.
Doug and I finished the course in a somewhat thoughtful and rueful way. It changed us in some ways - made us aware that there is a lot more to Aotearoa-New Zealand's history, and that much of it is really uncomfortable to be confronted with, especially where the protocol is that you stay, listen, then reply. What do you say? I do not feel any personal guilt, but I am adamant I do not want my beautiful country riven by dissent due to our past.
Morvin taught us our Māori vocabulary, sentence structure, songs, legends, and a whaikorero or two.
Henry taught us the local history from a Māori perspective. They took us around town to places of significance. I still drive along Anzac Pde below Shakespeare Cliff wondering if that old taniwha Tutae-poroporo is sitting in the river watching me. That Irish part of me can be a little superstitious.
Many Pākehā of iwi descent describe a time in their lives when they awaken to their Māori side. For some it is earth-shattering, sobering, surrounded by mystery, and, eventually, wonderfully transformational.
For many others, myself included, it is a realisation that we are part of something; that we will never be the same again; that we now see the world through different eyes. It has nothing to do with skin colour - it is within the person. It was a job that needed doing, but we had never had the opportunity until a certain time arrived in our lives. It puts much into perspective.
So, it's Morvin's fault that my horizons were shifted dramatically 35 years ago. I thank him dearly for that. I have been able to see both sides of the coin a lot more clearly since.
Te aroha
Te whakapono
Me te rangimārie
Tātou tātou e
Te aroha
Te whakapono
Me te rangimārie
Tātou tātou e
