‘Pied Piper’ excelled in life despite tough times
The death of long-serving teacher, social worker and all round ‘‘good guy’’ William Viliamu left huge shoes to fill.
At nearly two metres tall, the basketballer often slouched, with a guitar slung over his shoulder and Air Jordan’s on his feet. He had and cheeky smile that revealed gaps where teeth once were and could make anyone laugh.
A tooth fund he set up for veneers only ever amounted to $7.20.
When the father-of-four stepped on stage to haka, he demanded respect in hair-raising performances. After years dedicated to taiaha training and as a senior member of kapa haka group Nga Manu a Tanehe, he was a master performer.
Viliamu, 41, died while diving in Kaikoura on May 14. He is survived by his ‘‘soulmate’’ Rena Viliamu, children Mahalia, Nikorima, Maia and Teoti and grandson Theodore.
The legacy of the ‘‘Pied Piper’’ who was always surrounded by children and never wanted to grow up. ’’Willie V from Never Neverland’’ would live on in primary and secondary schools across the city.
Rena Viliamu, who met her husband when the couple were teenagers, said her husband’s life was not easy.
The Wanganui College student was separated from his three brothers, Aaron, Kapeli and Rosae. He trickled through the foster system.
Even in hard times, he was the kind of guy who made things happen, she said.
‘‘He was the biggest goof I’d ever seen. He’s lift his knees and the whole table would lift up and the computer would fall … I always thought, ‘I don’t know how you don’t know you can’t fit under there’.’’
Money was tight and everything was shared so there was never much left in the kitty, but Viliamu never minded.
‘‘One day, we were so broke [Wira] went into town and did some busking. He made 300 bucks singing The Wiggles and having a bit of a party in town with all these kids,’’ she said.
He used the money to buy wood and meticulously carved a 21st key as a present for a family friend.
He ‘‘wasn’t qualified in anything, and qualified in everything’’, she said. He discovered carving after he reunited with an ex-inmate he taught as a numeracy, literacy and Te Reo Maori teacher at Christchurch Men’s Prison.
Viliamu mastered the trade quickly. He was often seen with a chisel in hand, crafting a new project. Even on holiday, the tools would be crammed into a jampacked trailer alongside a boom box, tent, diving gear and ‘‘a lamb to throw on the barbecue for dinner’’.
‘‘He was never one to hold all his skills to himself, he was always looking for people to share them with
‘‘A lot of boys would come over and want to carve, and because he was so good he could carve a key in a day.
‘‘Everyone thought they would just jump the learning and do the same, but he’d never knock them down, he’d just say ‘all right, if you can’.’’
He carved a 21st key for Rena’s birthday. He sneaked out every night to chip away on the project.
‘‘It took him a week, but he organised a surprise birthday party and I came in, and there was the key. There’s heaps floating around. He never got paid for it, I could of been so rich but he just got paid with beers.’’
Viliamu recently registered as a teacher, and spent time at Te Pa o Rakaihautu as an advocate of Te Ao Maori.
He would graduate next Thursday with a Bachelor of Maori Performing Arts. He had completed a degree and post graduate diploma in teaching. A friend will attend the ceremony on his behalf.
A 5500-strong crowd gathered at the teacher’s funeral. Hundreds of his past students performed a haka.
"One day, we were so broke [Wira] went into town and did some busking. He made 300 bucks singing The Wiggles." Rena Viliamu