Mar­ket ex­pands

The Northland Age - - Local News - By Vince Rudolph

Kerik­eri’s Old Pack­house Mar­ket — which has grown from noth­ing to the town’s top weekly at­trac­tion in just three years — will now open on Sun­days start­ing this week­end. The Sun­day mar­ket, which will run from 9am2pm, will have a dif­fer­ent flavour to the es­tab­lished Satur­day mar­ket. To avoid clash­ing with the farm­ers’ mar­ket in town there won’t be pro­duce but there will be an em­pha­sis on vin­tage items, cre­ativ­ity and fun, with a car boot sale, a sec­ond-hand car fair, kids’ en­ter­tain­ment, arts and crafts, lo­cally pro­duced craft beer and wine, and more. The Old Pack­house Mar­ket is at 505 Kerik­eri Rd. My par­ents and si­b­lings — my fam­ily — were a big in­flu­ence grow­ing up.

I’m the youngest of nine kids. My dad’s fa­ther, Ma­tini Ti­hema Rudolph, was a Min­is­ter of the Angli­can Church and a builder. Dad’s mother, “Mama” Erina Weira — I re­mem­ber her al­ways cro­chet­ing to make sure we had warm blan­kets. I was es­pe­cially close to my Mum’s mother, Nana Hinganoho. I used to ques­tion her a lot and she had all the an­swers. She passed at the age of 112, in Pawarenga where she lived with us in the early part of my life.

Whanau, friends, com­mu­nity, hapu, iwi are all the things I love, some­thing em­bed­ded in me by my Nana and that gen­er­a­tion where ev­ery­thing was in karakia and wa­iata. This ad­dresses is­sues where tech­nol­ogy fails. For ex­am­ple, if any­one had those sui­ci­dal thoughts or wor­ries, they would talk to our old peo­ple, and karakia would be­gin.

These days, our kids have those thoughts and for many, karakia isn’t seen as an op­tion any­more. And that’s sad. Our old peo­ple could read things that we can’t or won’t any­more. Even just be­ing around our old peo­ple would be heal­ing. It’s those things that I try to bring to the chil­dren I work with in some way.

Grow­ing up we were taught about mahi kai. As a young boy I would en­joy div­ing and food gath­er­ing. We would gather food for the old peo­ple and drop it to them. Noth­ing would go to waste and there was plenty for ev­ery­one to share.

To know we had fed our nanas and aun­ties, was the most im­por­tant thing, af­ter all they are the back­bone of our com­mu­nity. I’m very proud of our peo­ple as a com­mu­nity, proud to be a part of a big fam­ily in a beau­ti­ful com­mu­nity where we’re looked af­ter and sup­ported.

We have many young ones want­ing to come home and use their skills, their de­grees to give back to our peo­ple. They need en­cour­age­ment, sup­port and op­por­tu­nity. Some peo­ple un­der­es­ti­mate how com­pe­tent our young ones ac­tu­ally are in times of im­por­tance. Like at Te Amo­haere’s tangi, our old peo­ple got tired and the younger ones stepped up and sup­ported each other to make sure TA got the send off she de­served.

Near the end with TA, I got sick. My wife was a ma­chine and my boys were amaz­ing. With both my­self and TA on chemo, my wife played tag team, com­ing to the hos­pi­tal with me then go­ing home to our daugh­ter. When I wasn’t cop­ing TA would just say, “In this house we don’t do ‘aaaaah’, we don’t do ‘oooooos’, oth­er­wise I’m gonna have to give you some ce­ment pills so you can har­den up.” That was our girl.

I re­mem­ber one time when she said, “Come here Dad. I want to talk to you.” She held me and said, “You’ve come a long way, you’ve done well”. This is only one of many beau­ti­ful mo­ments that keeps me mov­ing for­ward and re­mem­ber­ing ev­ery day I get to wake up to, is a beau­ti­ful day that I get to cher­ish.

Vince Rudolph

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