He suffered horrific child abuse – it won’t be repeated with his kids
From a hideously violent childhood to an ‘‘inevitable’’ jail term, the trajectory of Rue-Jade Morgan’s life seemed set until he embraced his Ma¯ori culture. The Ka¯i Tahu man shares his story for Stuff’s special project Aotearoa In 20. By Esther Ashby-Cov
Ihave forgiven my mum. Those memories of her lying there black and blue, bleeding, a pulp – that is why she could not protect me. She was an alcoholic, drug addict and a beaten woman.
Iwas brought up in Dunedin with my little sister and cousins, we were children of the Southern Mongrel Mob. I had an older brother wha¯ngaied [adopted] to my grandparents. I did not see my dad for 10 years.
I had my own magic beer bottle filledwith shandy; 4-yearolds still get drunk. Women and children were not heard, it was all about the males. Violence was everywhere.
We had a coffee table and I would gather the tamariki under it with a blanket so they could not see the violence but they could still hear it. So I had them sing nursery rhymes. Our nursery rhymes were advertising jingles. When there was a lull, we would run to the kitchenwhere it was safer.
We were told to punish ourselves to the adults’ standard so CYFs [Child, Youth and Family, now Oranga Tamariki] would not take us away as the adults were not touching us. I was hidden from social workers.
We had to slap ourselves. I did not cry, so Iwas told to do it properly by headbutting the corner of the wall. I blacked out.
Someone said ‘f... one of the kids has killed themselves’.
They did not take me to the doctor or hospital. They stopped the bleeding with newspaper. I felt loved.
The head trauma affectedmy speech. Iwas about 5.
Mum’s boyfriend made me sit in the corner with the dogs. I had a big collar. I did not have a dog bowl, I had a green cat bowl.
I was not allowed to use my hands to eat. I had to eat like a dog. I had to bark to get attention from the adults. I learnt dog behaviour; every noise gets the heart racing. It seemed like months, it may have been weeks.
There was a guy at the window pouring petrol on the windowsills, there was a wrecking crew with baseball bats and cops up the road watching. He was trying to spark the matches but it did not work because the rain diluted it.
They were trying to drive us out of town.
There was no justice – just us, was how we were brought up.
I did not believe it was safe or good to be Ma¯ori. My mother and her siblings were punished for speaking Ma¯ori at school.
The first instance of family violence was when they brought a note home from school asking my grandfather to punish them for speaking Ma¯ori. He told me: Be a lawyer, a soldier, for f... sake don’t be a Ma¯ori. It is all about providing food to the table.
We were playing in a phone box and accidentally broke the glass. We scarpered, we did not know who to tell or how to fix it.
Someone rang the police and said two kidswere vandalising the phone booth. I asked the sergeantwho attended how I could become a cop.
The sergeant snorted at me in derision. He said: ‘You will never be a cop. We know your family, they are a bunch of gangsters.’ He must have seen my hurt feeling and said: ‘Besides, the police have height restrictions.’
When Iwas about 6, mymum did a robbery andwent to jail, so I lived with my grandfather’s sister. There was not much food for me – the adopted cousin – so I was relegated to the smallest plate. When wha¯nau did not eat their chicken bones, Iwould say Iwould throw it out and I would eat them. I still eat the ends of the bones.
When Iwas 8, my mother decided to escape the Mongrel Mob and took us to Christchurch. She was strong enough to leave. I still thought the only option open to me was gang life and criminal activity.
Iwas so brainwashed I thought that was the only pathway to feed my family.
AWhite Power beat up my bro’s little brother, so we robbed them and stole their drugs.
I found a Browning 9mm pistol in the back of one car. It was owned by another gang. We got caught on our way to steal from another drug dealer. My dad came to visit when I was on remand, Iwas 19. In front of the officers, he asked me if Iwanted to be punched over now or later. He thought he was showing love by being hard.
I thought Iwas going to get 50 years. I thought my life was over. I was sentenced to six years for a series of aggravated robberies.
The main wound to my heart was turning around and seeing mymumsobbing. Because of my family connections, Iwas looked after in jail. It was a family reunion. The worst part in jail was the inability to provide for family and being apart from family but the Corrections officers treated me like a human being. Imade a living inside.
I bought dope from dealers, cut it up and sold it. It is all relational, like any business.
I had three years to go and because Iwas amodel inmate, I got a transfer from Paparoa to Rolleston prison because they said there was aMa¯ori programme there.
When I got there, there was no Ma¯ori programme, so we created our own. Engaging with my culture saved me. The safest place was at the feet of my grandmother. We would go there sometimes and I would listen to the stories of our tribe. That was what Iwanted to return to.
I served four years and had two years of supervision. I was 23 when I came out. I count the day Iwas caught as a blessing. Iwas released in 1999. I deliveredmarae-based cultural programmes for community probation in Christchurch. I present the Otago Polytechnic course Te Hokai Manea Tipuna (the glowing footsteps of our ancestors) at the Otago Corrections Facility in Milton.
It is based on kaupapaMa¯ori values.
I have two sons, aged 11 and 6. When wha¯nau say they are beautiful, my soul sings.
It makes me think who the f... could do that violence to children, a soul that never did anything.
Iwant to see them develop, grow and flourish. I am going to be there for them to finish sobbing, not relegate them to a corner like a dog or beat the s... out of them because they wanted to say something. If they see how I treat their mothers, they will treat their loved ones that way as well.
I have made it a priority to notmake violence part of our life. I believe I amthe change I want it to be. I am not anti-gang, I amanti-crime and anti-creating victims in whatever sense.
Look at the historic snapshot of when Ma¯ori gangs were created which are completely different to outlaw biker clubs andmodern street gangs. My question is: Do we have the right interpretation of what constitutes a gang in thisworld of black/brown lives matter?
Iwould like to see more funding for more kaupapa Ma¯ori, centring around personal development such as toolbox or parenting programmes and modernised violence prevention programmes that are able to capture awhole of family strategy, empowering communities to be more adequately resourced, sustainable and ultimately more resilient.
As told to Esther Ashby-Coventry for Aotearoa In 20, a Stuff project.