Give it a go: Te reo is key to a whole new universe
The Ma¯ ori language has been suppressed but now it is a positive way forward for all Kiwis
Tino m¯ıharo ki ahau te¯ nei kaupapa, Te Wiki o te reo Ma¯ori. Turn on the television and the announcers and presenters greet viewers with a mihi. Interview subjects litter their ko¯ rero with words like mahi, wha¯ nau and aroha.
It’s all part of the nationwide drive to normalise te reo into the general community.
The battle for recognition of te reo began in the 1970s, and in 1980 protesters marched to Parliament. But it was not until 1987 that te reo was granted recognition as an official language.
But what about on the streets of Rotorua?
Thanks to the pandemic it’s like a zombie town, with few outsiders. It’s nigh impossible to smile and say “kia ora” when you have to wear a mask and stay 2m apart.
Just in the past few days grieving wha¯ nau followed the Delta protocols to the letter at the tangihanga for their mother. From the time mourners arrived at the waharoa, went into the whare tupuna and had kai, numbers were strictly enforced.
Masks and handwashing were mandatory and there were scanning stations. There were no handshakes, hugs or kisses, just tuke ki te tuke (elbow to elbow).
Instead of everyone sitting down to ha¯ kari after the burial, hot prepacked hangi meals were handed out to mourners in their cars. Only 50 of the kirimate (close family) ate at the marae.
Apart from formal speeches, little te reo was spoken in the meeting house.
When I was growing up at Whakarewarewa in the 1950s and 1960s, use of te reo was widespread but not passed on to the children. I spoke Ma¯ ori as a preschooler but couldn’t communicate with the other kids at school and I was miserable.
My parents kept me home until I learned.
They actively discouraged the use of te reo, saying it was of no use — we needed to speak English to get good jobs. Kids those days did as they were told. No argument.
Neither of our parents had formal schooling past the equivalent of Year 8 and were keen on education.
School was not such a great place. For us, Ma¯ ori wasn’t a subject at primary school and only by correspondence at high school. Except for action songs and haka.
The Pa¯keha¯ teachers mangled our names, making no attempt at correct pronunciation. Most believed we would have only menial jobs. Nothing to aspire to. We accepted that as “normal”. Thankfully that has largely changed. Our mother was the only one of her wha¯ nau who was comfortable in te reo and she credited the time living with her Aunty Moana and Uncle Taame Tunui in Whakata¯ ne for her fluency.
Ma¯ ori was dad’s first language.
So to the present day. We lived kawa and tikanga, which are ingrained in my psyche with manaakitanga and whanaungatanga. Bilingual Rotorua was a good starting point for the reo journey but it needs to spread beyond ko¯ hanga reo, kura kaupapa and academia.
So open up your hearts and minds, and embrace the bold Rotorua Weekender initiative of bilingual pages. This is a positive journey. I promise it won’t be scary — instead it will introduce a whole new universe.
My parents actively discouraged the use of te reo, saying it was of no use — we needed to speak English to get good jobs. Kids those days did as they were told. No argument.