‘I don’t even like politics’
At home with Hannah Tamaki
Looming over Hannah Tamaki’s dining table is a bare-chested boy holding at his side, like a rugby ball, a decapitated head. The Graham Hoete painting was a birthday gift to Hannah’s husband, Brian. The head is Goliath’s and the young warrior is David.
It’s the background to an interview prompted by Hannah Tamaki’s bid to make it into Parliament as leader of the Vision New Zealand party.
Attracting headlines has been easy — Tamaki sacked a campaign manager after he encouraged TV host Kanoa Lloyd to “show NZ what voluntary euthanasia looks like”, after Lloyd criticised Tamaki’s views as homophobic and xenophobic — but clearing the 5 per cent threshold or winning the Waiariki seat is another matter.
“People might think I’m delusional, but I’m hopeful,” says Tamaki, mother to three, grandmother to 10 and greatgrandmother to two. “Maybe the nation needs that mother’s touch.”
She and Brian bought their brick four-bedroom, three-bathroom Drury home three years ago. Just outside Auckland’s sprawl, it’s elevated and sits on a couple of acres, with the lounge and decking looking west across a spa, pool and city beyond.
Personal touches include an antler chandelier above the outdoor fireplace (Hannah will sometimes accompany Brian on hunting trips) and a large cross attached to an outer wall.
They downsized to live here as a couple, but that hasn’t quite worked out. The household of eight includes Brian’s parents, and their granddaughter’s young family.
“We live in a bit of a tribal home. And there’s one dog, one cat, five hunting dogs down the bottom [of the property], two pigs, three canaries and five chickens.
“When we got [the property] the media said it was a resort. Most people have a pool but because we had a pool, we bought a resort. So, you know, welcome. There’s lots of gardening and animals; that’s my resort.” Hannah has steadily built up the gardens, often working past dark. Those green fingers came from her late father, Basil, who raised four kids after their mother left when Hannah was 6.
“We had a quarter acre section and practically the whole back lawn was a big vegetable garden, and in the front he had terraced the section and put in flower gardens. My favourite flower is the peony, because he grew those.”
Basil would jump the fence to work as a foreman at Tokoroa’s Egmont Box factory, calling home to check Hannah’s older sister was getting everyone ready for school. It was the 1960s and other kids would ask her where her mother was.
She dropped out at 15 and worked at the local supermarket’s delicatessen, soon becoming manager, before eventually leaving with Brian to work on a Te Awamutu dairy farm. They had their first child, Jasmine, a few days before she turned 18.
They would later marry and eventually form Destiny Church. Shortly after the launch of what became Vision NZ last year, Brian led an event where he apologised to the gay community for any hurt caused by his past statements, which have included linking same-sex marriage to natural disasters. Some in the LGBTQ community questioned the timing of the move.
Vision NZ isn’t only a party for the religious, Hannah says. Seeing how well her father treated workmates, including those from Pacific communities, had meant “all of my family are very embracing of all people. When you’ve not felt good, or when people have tried to make you not feel good, you realise that in life there are enough tough things, why would you make some else’s life a lot tougher?”
How does that square with divisive Vision NZ policy, such as “an immediate stop to all further mosques, temples and other foreign buildings of worship being erected in our country”?
“Well, that’s because we’ve got enough mosques in New Zealand at the moment. And I’m saying, look, ‘Let’s taihoa, let’s stop bringing immigrants in until we look after our own.’
“Why am I being discriminated against because I’m living the faith of our forefathers? They died for God. For a King and Queen and the flag and our country. And that is my point. But I’ve got Muslim friends, you know, and they’re like, ‘I understand what you’re saying, Hannah’.”
Another friend is HeadQuarters bar owner Leo Molloy. The Tamakis and friends dined at the Viaduct venue on the Sunday before the Covid-19 restrictions, to mark 40 years of marriage.
The venue for election night will be in Rotorua which, along with Tauranga, Whakatane and Taupo, is part of the Waiariki electorate held by Labour’s Tamati Coffey, and previously then Maori Party coleader Te Ururoa Flavell.
She’s an underdog, but won’t use one time-honoured weapon to help slay Goliath 2020.
“I don’t even like politics, to be honest. I like people. I want to be me my whole time, I don’t want to turn into that person that’s unintegral and kisses a baby just because it’s a good photo op.”