It was essential those who would carry this knowledge, and responsibility later in life, were identified early. There was much to learn.
Mauriora was a family man. He loved to cook and he liked eating with people who enjoyed and appreciated his cooking.
Often on a Saturday morning, Theo would head off early to the market to get his puha or watercress. He always wanted to go to Mauriora's for breakfast. I would ask him to be more considerate. I don't appreciate visitors at 7am, relations or not.
That wouldn't worry Theo. They'll still be in bed, I would say. "That's all right, I'll make my own breakfast." He never did, of course. Mauriora would take care of that.
Theo and Mauriora were both betting people. They would go off to the TAB and happily spend a couple of hours together. Spoilt only, I suspect, when I showed up.
On two occasions I was privileged to have Mauriora accompany me when I took up a new position. He spoke on my behalf, about my whakapapa and the skills I would bring to the job. He said things about me that I had forgotten and hadn't quite appreciated until then. I was touched by his words and realised why he was valued and held in such high regard.
He went about his work in a quiet, unassuming way but always observing.
Whenever the family had a significant gathering, we wanted Mauriora to be there. It wouldn't be a family affair with him missing. But he would always try to escape early. Where's Mauriora? Everyone would ask. "He was here a moment ago." Theo would whisper to me "Off to the RSA, I bet. Lucky bugger."
From time to time, Mauriora would ring wanting my help.
He was asked to carry out a piece of work, usually translation, and wanted to know what he should charge. I would explain what the going Wellington rate was and that is the hourly rate he should charge.
I could tell he felt uncomfortable with my suggested rate.
I explained that he should not undervalue his expertise. When I later asked him how he got on, I knew instantly that not only did he have a problem with the hourly rate, he hadn't even submitted an invoice.
A few months later, another call. I would repeat what I had already explained, knowing full well it would go nowhere.
It just wasn't Mauriora to charge for his knowledge and expertise.
From all over the country they have been coming to Wahiao in the last few days. The big names of Maoridom. From influential and august organisations. The tributes have been flowing for a man who was greatly admired and respected.
I will remember Mauriora for his kindness and friendship.
As the gentle man who would sit at the kitchen table enjoying a boil-up with Theo. They would speak the language they loved, laughing at their own silly jokes.
Sometimes out would come the guitar and, as if from nowhere, a bottle of whisky would appear.
Mauriora left us far too early.
Moe mai e kare moe mai.
-Merepeka lives in Rotorua. She writes, speaks and broadcasts to thwart the spread of political correctness.
