Its Tribal – A recollection and my perception of Te Marae

 

My apologies to my avid readers. My Grandson came to visit so I was a little distracted for three weeks.

 

As children we spent a lot of our time at the Marae for both formal and recreational purposes (weddings, funerals, birthdays and holidays). It was a gathering place for one and all. Your emotional baggage was dumped out front so you could enter the Wharenui,  free from the burdens of your daily grind and open to it’s energy. Tikanga Maori applied within these walls but ultimately it was still a place to rest and catch-up, with conversations dragging on into the early hours of the morning.

I remember mum and the aunties cackling on in Maori and English – depending on how damning the subject matter was. I remember the smell of cigarette wafting over the sleeping masses  and the endless chorus from partially obstructed airways in harmony with the occasional breaking of wind at variable intensity. I remember sleeping soundly amidst all the kerfuffle. It is a different story when we were all grown up with families of our own (too long away from home).

 

During the Powhiri (Welcoming Ceremony) when the everyone moved into the Wharenui, us children would be corralled to the back of the meeting house where we were to remain until the formal speeches were complete. This was especially frustrating because the whaikorero seemed to go on for ever and every speech was followed by a waiata (song). All the while, we could see the kids playing through the single open door  on the other side of the grumpy old men with really big Tokotoko (ceremonial walking stick). So, rather than sit there for what seemed an eternity;

1. We could sneak off as we entered the Wharenui – but usually we would be collared before we got too far and would cop a whack afterward.
   
2. We could run the gauntlet of grumpy old men with their Tokotoko – and cop a whack from any one if not all of said Tokotoko, and another from Mum or Dad for disrespecting the proceedings.
3. You could exit during the change of speakers where a very small window would appear. Timing was critical in these instances otherwise ….. yep, the whack!

It seemed we had an inherent responsibility to at least try to escape but often the time taken to build the courage exceeded that of the process. No matter, there was always next time.

Another lasting impression I have of the Marae was the sense of well being within its confines. I felt free to participate without judgement. If you fell there was always an extended hand to help you up, or a friendly word of encouragement and if all else failed, a little repartee to help you get over it. The formalities were a solemn affair but at its conclusion, there was always laughter. The excitement among the young ones was as genuine as the empathy among the oldies. No matter the occasion, we had a knack for lightening the mood – something I have never experienced outside of our culture.

 

Those of my generation would see this as the norm but sadly, it was far less common in our children’s early years and completely foreign to our grandchildren. As much as I would like my children to embrace their culture, the decision is theirs. The life style they live and provide for their children dictates the terms. If they want to learn about Tikanga Maori, they will – however, the prominent culture is that which is practiced within the family setting. Our children had Italian and Maori. My son’s family will have Dutch, Maori and Italian. My daughter (#1) with Australian, Italian and Maori. My daughter (#2) has yet to be determined but from what I have seen of today’s teenage mentality, I wouldn’t hazard a guess.

 

As we grew up around the Marae we were always learning whether we realised it or not. Within that environment there was never an urgency to learn, just an expectation to know. So I payed attention. I said nothing – offered no opinion. I just observed, took note of the mistakes, the successes and committed the lessons to memory for consideration during quiet times. All that I missed was detail. Many years ago I asked Dad why he never taught us Te Reo Maori. He said ” If you want to learn, you will”. I considered that a bit of a cop-out but have since, realised the implications of that statement.

After 18 years in Australia, my wife and I had strong need to return home. We jokingly referred to it as a calling to the amusement of friends and family – but I have to say, I was suddenly inundated with thoughts of home, Mum and Dad who had both passed by this time. Both my in-laws and the family members who remained in New Zealand.  Not being one to ignore my intuition, my wife, daughter and I returned to NZ in 2005. It took almost three years to settle in. We turned to our culture for enlightenment because we were finally able to. We started Te Reo Maori  lessons but were impeded by work commitments and family emergencies, (another benefit of moving home – family politics, he-ha!). There have been momentous events in our lives since our return. These will be explained at a later date.

Sadly, a consequence of “progress” was the tendency for whole families to drift away from their Marae in pursuit of a better lifestyle or just chasing the lights. I don’t begrudge people for looking after their own. I did it myself for years but it is not without a price.  I know now what I have given up  to make my own way in this world but I have no regrets.  As selfish as it may seem, I did what needed to be done for my family first.

 

I often think of the issues we as a society constantly battle with especially our young people with low self esteem, depression and suicidal tendencies etc etc.  It has been my experience that the support mechanism within the Marae structure is such that you always have someone to prompt you in the right direction.  Keep you moving – no stopping for fear that you may sink.  Provide options, establish trust, legitimize. Just saying.

So what are you thinking. If you have any questions please put them out there. I know I am a little old school and that won’t change much. I find old school less chaotic, peaceful, which suits my thoughtful nature.

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Our Whanau Urupa – Motutawa

Smiling does not always mean you are completely happy, sometimes it means you want to avoid sadness.