Since then, it’s either Moutoa Gardens or Pākaitore, depending on your viewpoint, interest and knowledge of our local history.
Over the years there have been celebrations at the gardens regularly. I sit in our kitchen or lounge and can hear the speeches, haka and singing. Only a bit over a mile away as the crow flies.
It is very moving and very Whanganui. It shows the partnership between the original Treaty partners is still very relevant and healthy.
I was reading the paper at the table one morning a week or so ago, struggling with the puzzles, and could not help but hear the speaker at Pākaitore on the quiet late summer day. The thing was, I was translating it in my head. It was a beautiful kōrero.
I’m better at listening to and understanding the languages I’ve studied than speaking them. A lack of confidence and lack of practice probably.
Anyway, the day was full of speeches and music, a very pleasant backdrop to things in my little world.
Sadly, few go to Pākaitore for celebrations, mostly Māori. I’ve made the effort a couple of times out of respect and the interesting history of the site. I was made very welcome.
It has become part of the fibre of our town. It’s at least accepted but, sadly, mostly just ignored by Pākehā and, to be frank, some Māori too.
We all have lives to live; work to do, places to go. It’s not a racist thing for most, it just does not fit into their thinking that going down to the gardens could be a good time and a chance to reflect on our earlier times as a place.
After 28 years, Pākaitore is just part of us now, part of our Whanganui history. But for many people, it is more than that. For many, it’s a celebration of what was done in 1995, the notice local iwi engendered nationally and internationally. It was emotional, tragic, confronting and disruptive at different times.
It was a bit grim at times, like all these things can be, but life goes on. We picked ourselves up as a community, brushed ourselves off and got on with things.
The occupation made its point. Many of us listened and learned. Many of us began thinking about what Whanganui looks like through the eyes of Māori, not through my blue eyes. I did not visit the gardens at the time, busy in a new job. Should I have? Probably.
Looking back, things were not that clear-cut. Many people at the occupation were well-known in town, highly respected and popular. A few others had unhealthy agendas but thankfully were contained by the more sensible minds running things. It ended well, not as some thought and feared.
Over time any friendships strained hopefully recovered. We all carried on talking to each other, hopefully more than talking at or past each other.
You see, we all have to live here, thrive, get on and understand each other. Enjoy each other’s company, respect and try to understand our differences. Those differences are usually not that far apart when there is communication and respect. We are all just people.
Pākaitore reminds me of that, of the time when some perhaps were not feeling either understood or listened to. Feeling displaced in their own place.
It is a blessing in a society like ours that people do have the freedom to say “taihoa, wait, listen to me, I have something to say and you must listen”.
It might be confronting to see and listen to but that’s a freedom we are very fortunate to enjoy. The alternative to that way of thinking could be quite frightening.
So when you are sitting somewhere, usually a bit high up, in town and you hear the sound of te reo and music wafting by, take a moment to think about why celebrations are held.
What was the history that led to the 1995 occupation?
Did we, as a community, learn from it and begin to accept each other more? I hope so.
