OPINION:
This week I was visited by a large group of kaumatua (elderly), an upbeat group of 65 years to 80-year-olds. Made up of predominantly women and a couple of very doted-on males, they had been on an outing and excitedly chatted like a bunch of teenagers as they navigated their walking frames and walking sticks to our venue.
They proudly disclosed that they make up the regional kaumatua Olympics team, love dancing, and are hosting a ball, (clearly the idea I have of relaxing as I age is not a done thing). We shared our favourite second-hand shop finds and laughed loudly as they compared their gossip cautioning each other of what happens on tour stays on tour (not sure I would survive their tours). The topics of discussion ranged from grandchildren, recipes and gardening to widows looking for rich younger husbands. It was a buoyant meeting.
Then one kuia (elderly woman) raised how she was looking for accommodation and the mood in the room changed quickly from joy to wretchedness as they slowly shared their living crisis stories. Living in the dark to save power bills, not affording basic vegetables, fruit and meat, and trying to afford expensive rents. Quietly sharing the fear they may not have accommodation to host their precious mokopuna (grandchildren).
Before me were those who had committed years as community volunteers, marae supporters, swimming custodians, Māori wardens. Their future-proofing investment had been about ensuring the welfare of their communities.