FROM THE EDITOR

In the early 80s, my big sister worked at the Gisborne Herald. She was very young, untrained, Pakeha. She was sent to the East Cape once a week, to fill a broadsheet page with Maori news. (In her words: “Now, how f***ed up is that?”)

She says: “The first day I drove into Ruatoria, I met an elderly woman. It was 10 in the morning, had to be back by 5 and had to have enough stories to fill the page. She said, ‘Come into the hall,’ and beckoned me. It was the beginning of kohanga reo. I was like, ‘Who are these kids, what’s going on?’ She just went, ‘Shhhhh — just be quiet and wait and watch.’ She was very still. I sat and waited while toddlers played on the floor, being spoken to in te reo by all these women. After two hours, she sat down and told me enough stories to fill a whole page. I went back every week after that. She would make me wait every time for about two hours. But I learnt to shut up and wait. On her clock, not mine. After about two months, she introduced me to two or three people who became my best sources for stories every week. Just awesome people — strong news stories. But she taught me a lot — you wait on my time.”

When high-powered businesswoman Theresa Gattung met high-powered Maori leader Agnes Naera (Ngapuhi), it didn’t go well, at first. Gattung tells Joanna Wane this week that she had ideas to share and she talked and talked. She swaggered in like, a friend later suggested, a “white businessman”. Their mahi, Global Women, is about women working with women, to help them thrive in business. It’s also a story about the absolute privilege of learning. No matter how old we are — being open to that. Always. Using our ears more, our mouths less. Not being grasping of power, or the microphone. Having, as my sister says, porous boundaries.

Ma te wa