The power of knowing who you are
Vini Olsen-Reeder shares his ‘‘out-of-body experience’’ with reporter Brad Flahive as part of the One in Five Million project.
As he read aloud the words of his whakapapa, it unlocked such strong emotions it conjured an ‘‘out-of-body experience’’ reassuring him he was home.
Vini Olsen-Reeder was terrified the day he stepped onto his family marae for the first time, but the experience stirred feelings that gave him a serene clarity of what the occasion meant.
‘‘It was really scary going to this place that wasn’t yet my home, but I really wanted it to be,’’ said Olsen-Reeder.
‘‘My uncle took my sister and I in there, he recited our whakapapa, our genealogy, and that was the first time I felt a strong link to that place. I knew then, and it was a massive turning point for me.’’
As Olsen-Reeder, 27, recalls that day seven years ago at Ro¯mai Marae, in Tauranga, the emotions return to his eyes as if he is going through it all again.
‘‘It was half terrifying, and half like an out-of-body moment when you finally feel that sense of belonging to your people.
‘‘[Recently] our iwi opened a papaka¯inga, which is a small settlement of six houses on the marae for our kauma¯tua, for our older generation. I love giving back like that. My nana is living in one of them so when I go there I feel yep, that’s home.’’
Olsen-Reeder’s awakening started a journey that has led him to discover his culture, and unlock a passion for language, which has become his career - lecturing te reo
"[Recently] our iwi opened a papaka¯inga, which is a small settlement of six houses on the marae for our kauma¯tua, for our older generation. I love giving back like that. My nana is living in one of them so when I go there I feel yep, that's home."
Vini Olsen-Reeder
Ma¯ori at Wellington’s Victoria University.
‘‘It became apparent pretty quick you can’t learn the language without learning the culture,’’ he said, sitting beneath the tukutuku panelling of Te Herenga Waka Marae at Wellington’s Victoria University.
The marae, nestled in the university’s campus, is named ‘‘the hitching post of canoes’’ and is his home away from home.
It’s the place where OlsenReeder turned from student to teacher, and where he now guides others to reach that magic moment when te reo rolls off the tongue without a thought.
‘‘The really big buzz for me is when they go from knowing a lot, but not necessarily able to get it out off the cuff, to when they’re rattling off anything they want to say,’’ he said.
Before realising his roots in Tauranga, Olsen-Reeder grew up in Whanganui with his mother’s side of the family.
‘‘In a little community called Gonville, I went to Gonville Primary,’’ he said.
‘‘I remember running water down the driveway to make puddles for my bike, grazing my legs when I fell off it. My childhood in Whanganui was quite cool.’’
He considers himself fortunate to have grown up outside and not concerned with electronic devices, but he has no memory of te reo in his early life.
‘‘I don’t remember us doing any waiata or karakia, or anything.
‘‘My dad is now trying to learn more and more, so he can eventually pass on the language he has to my future kids - he was awesome at teaching us pronunciation.’’
Olsen-Reeder is now settled in the capital city, looking to buy a house while he stays with friends to save on rent.
Like a lot of Kiwis he wasn’t always so sure what he wanted to do with his life. ‘‘I just knew I wanted to go to university,’’ he said.
‘‘I started studying music but just found it wasn’t for me, but I picked up te reo and just absolutely fell in love with it. I’m so lucky to be employed for te reo, and by te reo.’’
Not that it was easy. He started with trepidation and worried about making mistakes.
‘‘I thought I was the only Ma¯ori who couldn’t speak te reo, but sitting with them and learning here [at the university marae] - I quickly learnt there are heaps of people just like me, and that’s OK.’’
As he prepared for Ma¯ori Language Week, he was excited about the direction te reo is heading - away from being a treasure left on the museum shelf, as his mentor Professor Rawinia Higgins might say.
‘‘Taonga can be things we use all of the time that are functional, that are pragmatic, that we mess and play around with.
‘‘The real value of te reo and the way we can show it’s a taonga, is by using it and by treating it as something we want to have around us all the time.
‘‘We see its value in the way that we use it and how much we use it, and not worry that we never get a word wrong or a sentence wrong and make a mistake. That’s the sentiment that’s around at the moment, some people feel if you can’t get it right then don’t do it all.
‘‘We have had so much government policy and mainstream policy that has disaffected our language, that actually if you can speak Ma¯ori now it’s a real privilege to carry. It’s not something that comes easily, you really have to work hard for it.’’
At the end of the year, he will be the first Victoria student to graduate with a PhD in te reo Ma¯ori, for his research into bilingualism as a theoretical approach to revitalisation, and the ways in which a bilingualism approach could remove some of the anxieties surrounding Ma¯ori language use among Ma¯ori speakers.
His excitement and drive for te reo Ma¯ori is as strong as his willingness to impart his wisdom onto others.
‘‘Moving into teaching means most of my job is about giving people back their identity they didn’t have as a kid.
‘‘I feel lucky. I get to pay my bills by doing something that is so important and rewarding.’’