I’ve ended up making some lifelong friends through these chats, and they give me great stories to write about in this column.
A few weeks ago, I was decked out in an All Blacks jersey at a pub watching a Six Nations game when this young guy came up to me and said, “You’re from New Zealand? My favourite band is from there!”
I said: “No way, it must be Crowded House!” (showing my age, eh?)
But he said: “I haven’t heard of them, but I’m talking about probably the biggest New Zealand band in Europe at the moment”.
To be honest, I had no idea who he meant until he shouted, “Alien Weaponry! We love them!”.
He went on to share that he attended a festival with more than 70,000 people where everyone was doing the haka and learning some Māori language.
It’s funny how the All Blacks jersey is recognised the world over and can spark a connection like that.
Here’s the kicker, folks: if you don’t know Alien Weaponry, they’re a thrash metal band with a hardcore edge.
A lot of their songs are written in Te Reo Māori, and they draw massive crowds in Europe. It’s pretty cool to see New Zealand music making waves like that. And “waves” is an apt term to use, as their album Tangaroa was a huge seller in this part of the world.
Led by the incredibly energetic de Jong brothers, the lads from Waipū, south of Whangārei, have become some of the most effective advocates for te reo, and it’s inspiring to see how they’re promoting our language and culture on such a big stage.
I don’t think we’ve had a band that has had as much of an impact up here, particularly with the use of our language, since Moana and the Tribe who used to regularly tour Europe.
Another story I’d like to share is about how I met two lads from Castleford, England.
We had a great conversation and found we had lots in common—loving families, great kids, but also a growing concern about how our kids are likely to be priced out of the housing market.
About five minutes into the conversation, one of the guys told me how his father was a diehard Castleford league fan and that his favourite player had been a Kiwi called Tawera Nikau.
I told them that I knew Tawera well, and at that point, I could see that they were doubting me. It was about 10.30pm at night, so 10.30am in New Zealand. Long story short, I called Tawera, who was gracious enough to spend 10 minutes sharing stories about his playing days in England with these two gents.
Nothing beats travelling with whānau and friends, but solo travelling has its upsides. What I have found is that no matter where you travel in the world, a friendly conversation goes a long way. And you never know what unexpected connections you’ll uncover with people, no matter how far from home you are.
You see, we may be living in a world that seems fractured almost beyond repair, and you can call me a dreamer, but I firmly believe that there’s a lot more in this world that unites us than divides us.
And hey, if 70,000 Europeans can have the time of their lives listening to Te Reo delivered by a thrash metal band from Northland, then there’s still room for embracing both what makes us different and what makes us the same.
