Tyla Harrison-Hunt, of Ngai Tahu, and Saba Khan-Hunt, Pakistani, with daughter Anayah Noor, two.
Aotearoa is full of couples from different countries, creating children who will be our multicultural future. Paul Little discovers how Kiwi families are keeping their cultural traditions alive.
‘We concentrate on the things that are similar in our cultures’
Tyla Harrison-Hunt (Ngāi Tahu) had Muslim friends when he and Saba Kahn-Hunt met, so her Pakistani culture was already familiar to him and one he felt comfortable with.
"Me being from Pakistan, and him being from New Zealand, it wasn't something that happens a lot," says Saba, 32. "That was a really big decision - having to introduce that to my parents. We needed to be really solid and on the same page. So there were lots of conversations about that, and how we were going to raise our kids."
Tyla, 31, a consultant, converted to Islam eight years ago.
"I think it definitely helped," says Saba, a dental hygenist. "However, he comes from a really strong culture, and that's something that we haven't thrown to the side just because Tyla's converted to Islam. We concentrate on the things that are similar in our cultures."
Even something as small as the no-shoes-in-the-house rule: "It symbolises something bigger than just that small action. It indicates a level of respect."
Children are the ultimate test of how much two cultures can respect each other.
"There were some big discussions about how to make sure no one missed out," says Tyla. "It was mainly around parenting style, but again, that comes back to cultural norms. My family has a very relaxed style of parenting. Saba was raised very differently."
Their 2-year-old daughter Anayah Noor goes to a Muslim school at the moment but the couple intend to send her to a kohanga reo or te reo Māori school in future.
"If there's something in our culture that we don't agree on together, then we're not going to do it until we agree," says Saba. "For example, in Islam, we remove the hair that the child is born with within seven days. Tyla wasn't comfortable with that and we agreed not to do it until he was... My parents understood." Eventually they compromised and Anayah Noor got a 0.5 cut.
She is being raised multilingually, with her young vocabulary made up of English, Pashto (the Pakistani language) and te reo Māori words. "I think her intelligence has really skyrocketed being able to speak three languages. And we're really blessed to have that," says Tyla.
The Christchurch mosque attack is an extreme example of what can happen when cultures fail to connect. Saba's uncle, Naeem Rashid, and his son, Talha Naeem were both killed in the attack.
How will they explain such an event to Anayah Noor?
"I said to my cousin, 'How do you feel going back in the mosque, after your dad and your brother died?' " says Saba. "He said, 'I don't want that to stop me from having that connection to the mosque.' I hope I get there one day, because at the moment I feel really nervous taking Anayah Noor there. But I want her to have happy times there like I did. I also want her to know how brave her uncle and her cousin were."
'I love the fact that our kids are going to be better than us'
Jason and Tate Tiatia have been together since high school, which means they have faced many of life's challenges together. Samoan was Jason's first language, while Tate's was English. Her parents were of the generation discouraged from speaking te reo Māori. She learnt the language at high school. Their children are being raised to speak Samoan, te reo Māori and English.
Language was a significant factor for the pair early on. "I wasn't as confident, as a second language learner," says Tate, 43 (Ngāti Kahungunu). "Jason could use his language with his friends, his parents and the wider community. I was outside of that. But then I continued on my journey as well."
Jason's professional rugby career took the pair to Europe which helped cement their own cultural identities.
"We travelled the world and experienced different cultures within our culture," says Jason, 43, recently named lead adviser Pacific engagement at the Ministry of Education. Understanding that in Italy you spoke Italian and in France you spoke French led him to the view that in Aotearoa you would speak te reo Māori.
The pair are prodigious planners and did not go into starting a bicultural family lightly.
"We did actually have to have a hui with ourselves," says Tate, Kaiārahi lead people and capability at Ara Institute of Canterbury. "We've had to plan things. And we've had to review and reflect, but we haven't wavered."
Naturally, their own backgrounds shaped their views considerably. Jason grew up an only child which meant he spent more time with his parents. "Hanging out with older people, some of the wisdom was around me quite early: the knowledge, the language, the richness of the culture. I want the same for my kids."
The pair say when their children (daughters Amaleila, 15, and Amanika, 9, and son Amasio, 13) go into other environments they are very conscious of differences. "They might tell us that their friends didn't sit down and invite their elders or grandparents to the table for a meal," says Jason. "In our world, we would always say. 'Ō e fai le valaau: Hey, go invite them to the table to eat'."
"We have tried to immerse them in these different environments, school and community and whatnot," says Tate. "But also, we spent a good six months in Samoa, several years back. It was a game-changer as well, because even though we have the [Samoan] support here, and everything was strong, we just went that next level deeper. It was another thing we planned for about five years and made that intentional."
Decisions about education were also made with a bicultural focus as priority. "Two days in a bilingual Māori unit, two days of Samoan and one day with me," says Tate.
Jason describes the benefits he sees for their children: "I love the fact that our kids are going to be better than us. But also, they're going to have a different perspective. They say. 'Well, what sort of job can I get from it, Dad?' I'm like, 'Not just translation. You have a different concept of things, you have different ideas. Your values will come to the forefront. People will see you for you.'"
Spanish the language of authority
"I'm a walking souvenir," says Billy Perez, recalling how he met Kiwi wife Katy in the Dominican Republic, when she was travelling in Latin America. She had been drawn there by her love of bachata music and a desire to learn to dance it where it originated.
Her six-month stay turned into two years. They moved back here in 2017 and have stayed, partly to give life here a go and partly because of hurricane fears back in the republic.
It's not certain that they will stay. "I think about going back every day," says Katy, "probably more than he does. That is definitely the goal. We really want the kids to perfect their Spanish and know the other half of themselves."
The Dominican influence is hardly strong in New Zealand culture, so Katy and Billy have to work extra hard to make his heritage part of the lives of their children, Marley, 3 and Zephyr, 1.
Food is a big bicultural marker. "When we can get plantains, it's like absolute celebrations because it's so rare to find them," says Katy, a stay-at-home mum. "And we celebrate Dominican Independence Day, which is the 27th of February."
Billy, who works as a painter, has found a group of Dominicans and brought them all together. There's 13 of them now, many with children around the same age. The group cook Dominican food, play Dominican music and dance together.
"Dancing is a huge part of Dominican culture," says Katy, 35. "People dance in the street and at the beach all day long. Everyone's dancing."
Billy, 35, speaks only Spanish to their children and has done so since they were born. Like many children brought up multilingually the youngsters make up their own mind about what language they speak and when.
"We're noticing they both always respond in English," says Katy. "That's one of the reasons we want to go back - when we put them in kindergarten, they'll have no choice."
Their bilingual Dominican friends have noticed the same trend in their children.
"We speak to them in Spanish but they answer in English," says Katy. "If I'm alone with them, which is a lot of the time, if I really need them to listen to me, I speak Spanish and they will stop and do what I say." It is as if their language has been decolonised, so that Spanish, not English, is the language of authority.
They went back for a four-month visit when Marley was 5 months old, but haven't made a visit since Zephyr was born.
Multi-generational contact is a big part of anyone's cultural identity. Until the couple can afford the expensive trip back to the Dominican Republic, there is regular grandparent contact online.
"We don't feel far apart, even when we are so far away," says Katy. "It's quite normal for Billy's mum to be with us while we're cooking and eating breakfast."
So, although they miss the music, fresh fruit and low cost of living back in the republic, the two can easily identify the benefits that have come from the bicultural life.
"It's richness of knowledge," explains Billy. "Because the one kid becomes like another person, with two hearts. They can be part of two rich cultures."
There are several ways families can celebrate their shared cultures, most of them centred around day-to-day life rather than elaborate rituals. Here's a summary of advice about where to put the effort:
FOOD Mealtimes bring people together, and specific dishes trigger positive memories and associations.
FIND LIKE MINDS Share the joy by hooking up with other bicultural whānau.
COMMUNITY GROUPS If a family is geographically separated from both cultures, look for groups that identify with them.
MOVIES, BOOK Enjoy age-appropriate arts from each culture.
TRADITIONS Every culture has its own, from hair-cutting to Easter egg hunts.