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ĀteaSeptember 14, 2017

My te reo Māori journey: Shilo Kino

Guest writer
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This Te Wiki o Te Reo we’re sharing the stories of New Zealanders who have challenged themselves to learn te reo Māori. Today: journalist Shilo Kino (Tainui, Ngāpuhi) writes about finding her way home through studying Mandarin.

I was a visitor even though it was ‘my’ marae.

I watched my mother kneel down, mumble something under her breath and kiss my aunty, who had passed away. She motioned me to do the same but it scared me. I had never seen anything like it. My cousins, who I had never met, sung loudly, their voices echoing between the walls of the marae. I didn’t know what they were singing. But I wished I could sing like that.

Fast forward 15 years. I’m at a marae on a university trip with my Pākehā classmates. For most of them, it was a first.

A visitor asked us who in the class were Māori. I raised my hand. So did a few others but she decided to call on me. She looked me directly in the eye and asked me something in te reo. I was dumbstruck.

“Nō hea koe (where are you from)?” I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t know how. The look of disappointment on her face still haunts me.

My world was very much Pākehā-fied. Growing up, I don’t remember doing anything associated with my culture except not being allowed to sit on tables and every few years attending tangi and family reunions at my marae in Te Kuiti. I learned about the Treaty of Waitangi at school and from Google. The only time I thought about my iwi was when I wrote it on a scholarship form. I took on a whole new identity and allowed society to mould me.

My parents are both Māori. My dad hails from Tainui and my mum from Ngāpuhi. Maybe there is a mix of European ancestry in there too, I don’t know. But for the most part, my heritage is predominantly Māori.

My dad pronounces Māori ‘marry’. I think it’s a joke but it’s not so much a joke anymore because that’s how people actually say it.

My grandparents had the Māori language beaten out of them so I can’t blame them or my parents. My mum even tried enrolling me in Te Kōhanga Reo. Truthfully, back then most Māori probably thought it would be better to embrace Pākehā culture than their own culture. Sad, aye?

But hey, even if I struggled with my identity, society definitely knew what I was. I remember going to the dairy as a kid with my white friend. There was a little counter where we could pick the lollies we wanted, put it in a bag ourselves and then go and pay for it. We would tell the shopkeeper how many lollies we had (back when the world was a little more trusting) and then pay. The shopkeeper happily took my white friends money, but when she saw me, she emptied out my entire bag and counted each lolly one by one. It was the longest minute of my life. From that point on, I knew I was Māori.

I learnt Mandarin when I served an 18-month mission in Hong Kong. A crazy language with five tones that nearly caused a breakdown on several occasions. But I learned it and I learned how to converse with others comfortably and teach people about my faith in their native tongue.

Shilo felt “embarrassed” when her Chinese friends found out she was Māori and couldn’t speak her language.

As I learned the Chinese language, something incredible happened. I fell madly in love with the culture. Their customs, traditions, food, everything. It was like their culture became a part of me. Even now that I’m back home, I feel connected with the Chinese people here. More so than my own culture.

Māori is the official language of Aotearoa. My Chinese friends back in Hong Kong thought I was joking when I told them I was Māori, a native of my own country, and unable to speak my own language. They told me it would be like a Chinese person, born in China, with Chinese ancestry, not being able to speak any Chinese.

We all laughed, because we knew that would never happen. But it happened to Māori and it’s sad and ridiculous. And in all honestly, I was a little embarrassed.

The world is noisy and chaotic and it is easy to get lost amongst the crowd. Identity is important. It is about knowing who you are and where you have come from. Everyone needs that. A sense of belonging. It gives us confidence. It changes the perception of ourselves. Instead of the world telling us who we are, we already know.

I know for me, I will make an effort to visit my marae more and I will learn about my whakapapa so I can understand where I come from.

And I will learn the language of my tūpuna.

There are free te reo Māori classes at multiple institutes all over the country. Heck, you can learn from home now. There’s no excuse anymore. Māori need to take control.

And maybe the quest to know and understand my culture won’t ever end. Perhaps it will be a lifelong pursuit before I can truly understand. But I know one thing is clear. I need my language back. Not just for my children and grandchildren, but for the generations that will follow after them. And for a society that has struggled to accept my true identity.

The foundation of Māori culture, the connection to our rich history, of who we are, our relationship back to our people that came before us, has been washed away in a sea of whiteness. I need my language back because it’s what makes me who I am. Although I can speak Mandarin, I’m not Chinese. I’m certainly not Pākehā. I am Māori.

I look forward to the day where there won’t be any backlash for a reporter on a mainstream news channel reading out the weather in te reo Māori.

I look forward to the day when announcements over the airport, buses and trains, will be in English and Māori. Or the day everyone will make an effort to pronounce our names correctly, so my niece doesn’t have to tell people to just call her ‘Ma’ because her real name, Mahinarangi, is too hard to say.

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When I walk down the street, I hear conversations in English, Chinese and sometimes Korean. I look forward to the day I will hear te reo Māori too.

And I hope fate will grace me another opportunity to meet that visitor again so she can ask me, ‘Nō hea koe?’ I hope I can answer her proudly, knowing deep down who I truly am.

The Society section is sponsored by AUT. As a contemporary university we’re focused on providing exceptional learning experiences, developing impactful research and forging strong industry partnerships. Start your university journey with us today.

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ĀteaSeptember 13, 2017

My te reo Māori journey: Guyon Espiner

Guest writer
guyon

This Te Wiki o Te Reo we’re sharing the stories of New Zealanders who have challenged themselves to learn te reo Māori. Today: RNZ Morning Report host Guyon Espiner writes about fighting the ‘whitelash’.

When I started learning te reo Māori in earnest this year I had one main fear: humiliation. I expected that Pākeha might praise my efforts but I worried Māori speakers might be critical of my floundering attempts.

The reality has been the opposite. I have had nothing but encouragement from Māori. I’ve had huge support from my kaiako and tauira at the wānanga, from language advocates Scotty and Stacey Morrison and from RNZ work colleagues Mihingarangi Forbes and Shannon Haunui-Thompson.

Armed with my tenuous grasp on the language I began to weave it into my radio presenting as co-host of RNZ’s Morning Report. We’ve always done basic greetings in Māori on the show but I wanted to do more and began to extend the greetings and include basic information in Māori – such as the days, dates and temperatures for the main centres.

That was when the backlash came, or perhaps it was a whitelash. I have two screens up while presenting Morning Report – one with the scripts and the programme run down and the other to watch the feedback coming in from texts, email and social media. I get a thrill speaking te reo live on radio. I love the sound of it coming back at me through the headphones and out into the world, mixed up with the very real fear that I might drop this new treasure I’m clutching but can’t fully control.

Then you read the text messages. Now I’m only talking about maybe ten messages from hundreds of thousands of listeners but grouped together straight after I’ve spoken they have quite an impact. “RNZ. Gee. Listen to Guy Esponsa go with his Maori,” wrote one listener from Gisborne, butchering several languages at once. “Dose he come with a grass skirt and dance with a spare too? How long before you have to wear shoe polish on your face?”

Another listener from Rotorua said he had “no interest whatsoever in learning the Maori words for the days of the week or anything else”. He said RNZ was adding more Māori language “to annoy the hell out of its listeners” and concluded I was the worst offender. “As for Guyon Espiner’s 7am greetings, well that is just pompous exhibitionism.”

Another listener – I recognise the phone number and often these people give full names – got in touch every day to tell me I was speaking gibberish, and sounded like a monkey. It’s not something I want to think too hard about.

The emails take a little longer but they come in too – from people agonising about the ‘Maorification’ of the country. When you get an onslaught like that your first reaction isn’t rational. I know that there can be more than 250,000 people listening – so getting maybe a dozen messages a day is nothing right? Logic tells me to ignore them but it doesn’t stop the feelings of humiliation.

But then the encouragement comes in, often from Māori speakers but more broadly too. Sometimes the real language champions – who have actually been doing the hard yards pushing the boundaries for years – come out in support, often on Twitter, and the warmth and confidence flows back.

This pattern continued for a few weeks and then a funny thing happened. The barrage of texts and emails stopped. Oh a few still come in – more recently from Pākeha saying they are learning and want me to slow down so they can pick up the days and the dates. They’re genuine messages sent in good faith.

The moaners might not like it any more than they did but mostly they’ve stopped voicing their complaints. In a small way a new normal has been established. On Morning Report, a ‘mainstream’ news programme, you are going to hear greetings, temperatures, phrases, sentences, questions and place names – in Māori.

I decided to push it a little more. Kei hea te pūtea? I said to Auckland Mayor Phil Goff, asking where the money was coming from for a transport project. Pātai tuatahi ki a koe, I said to National leader Bill English, signalling my first question. E rua, e rua, I nudged Marama Fox, on whether National and Labour were just the same.

I waited for the pushback from the audience but nothing came. Great. They must be ready for more.

The Society section is sponsored by AUT. As a contemporary university we’re focused on providing exceptional learning experiences, developing impactful research and forging strong industry partnerships. Start your university journey with us today.

Ātea