Marae reporter Leigh-Marama McLachlan
Marae reporter Leigh-Marama McLachlan

ĀteaSeptember 23, 2022

Leigh-Marama McLachlan on reclaiming te reo: ‘It’s my language of love’

Marae reporter Leigh-Marama McLachlan
Marae reporter Leigh-Marama McLachlan

For the Marae senior reporter, te reo Māori has been a journey of overcoming whakamā about her language and culture to fully embrace their unique power

By the time journalist Leigh-Marama McLachlan was born, the only person in her immediate whānau who could speak Māori was her grandmother, Wahi, who had been raised at their marae on the Whanganui River.

“My Nan’s generation had their native language beaten out of them by the state school system, and so to protect her children, our birthright lay entombed in Nan for decades,” says McLachlan.

That lack of te reo represented the first break of the chain of language transmission since McLachlan’s ancestor Turi sailed the Aotea waka onto the shores of Pātea around 1000 years earlier.

Yet, by the will of her ancestors and perhaps the new mokopuna magic that is known to move mountains, when McLachlan arrived on the scene, her kuia was ready to share this taonga. “I must have been born at the right time because Nan had just retired and decided to open a kōhanga reo up the river at Koriniti, and so the seeds of a new dawn were sown.”

After 50 years with no te reo spoken in her family, new language seeds were sprouting as her kuia nurtured her new mokopuna. “I learned everything I knew about te ao Māori from my Nan and I spoke Māori with her all the time growing up. At home we spoke English, everywhere else was English and still pretty much is,” says McLachlan.

Leigh-Marama McLachlan (right) as a child in Whanganui (Photo: supplied)

Still, when it was time to go to school, she entered total immersion education at Te Kura o Kokohuia. Being raised with te reo, while growing up in a kōhanga and kura environment, meant that her Māori worldview allowed to flourish, she says.

“The thing with te reo Māori is that it’s not simply another way to say English words. Learning Māori opens a unique way of viewing the world and everything in it.”

During that period the political climate in Whanganui was charged; in 1995, McLachlan’s iwi occupied Pākaitore for 79 days to reclaim their rights to the whenua. She says the lengthy occupation polarised the community and could sometimes lead to tensions at home.

“My grounding in te reo Māori meant I saw things differently – the injustices, what was pono and tika. There were challenges being the only Māori girl at home. I was, and am, a bit different to the rest of my family,” says McLachlan.

As she grew older, however, the social pressure to conform became stronger. McLachlan enrolled in a mainstream high school, and describes the transition from a kura environment as hugely overwhelming and isolating.

“It became evident really quickly that my cultural values, my reo and my Māori worldview were an anomaly, that there was no real value or place for them there.”

Over the next 10 years she tried hard to fit in and be “normal” – and her te reo abilities deteriorated as a result. “I’m still bitter about it to be honest. With all of that early learning, society still managed to steal my reo from me,” she says.

McLachlan went on to journalism school and then joined RNZ’s Māori news team, Te Manu Kōrihi. Being back in a Māori environment inspired her to rekindle the te reo flame.

She started night classes in her early twenties but says she found them to be awkward and tedious, exacerbated by her own unconventional competency with the language. In Whanganui where the iwi dialect is strong, the ‘h’ sound isn’t pronounced – unlike in “mainstream” te reo. McLachlan says that learning a dialect that wasn’t her own felt unnatural, but she persevered.

Issues like this – plus time constraints, cost, complex spiritual trauma and insecurity – are among the many challenges faced by Māori who are rekindling their reo. It can be even harder for Māori second language learners who are just starting out.

Presenting on RNZ Checkpoint, 2018 (Photo: Screenshot)

Four years ago, McLachlan and her whānau packed up and moved back to Whanganui, to give her sons the opportunity to attend kura kaupapa education on the river.

“Mainstream schools will teach you your ABC’s, sure, but kōhanga reo and kura kaupapa Māori will teach you who you are, giving students a strong sense of identity, which arms you with a sense of confidence and purpose in this world. At least that’s what I think it did for me,” she says.

Raising two sons with partner Joshua Thompson has given her a new motivation for continuing to nurture her reo, she adds.

I don’t want my children to ever get to a point where they don’t think their reo is special. I want to shelter them from the ignorance and racism that still exists and I want them to feel all the power and intellect they possess as young Māori males.”

After replenishing her wairua while working for her iwi at home, she recently took up a role as senior reporter on Marae, TVNZ’s long-running Māori news and current affairs show.

“My new mahi means a lot of my stories are in te reo and that is an epic wero. I’m loving it and I feel like this pressure is the kick up the kumu that I need to level up,” says McLachlan of her Marae role.

These days she only has positive feelings about the language she fought so hard to retain.

“Te reo Māori is my language of love. It’s a source of sustenance for my wairua. It’s the language I revert to in times of intense emotion and in times of grief. The English language truly does not cut it sometimes,” says McLachlan.

She adds that the language is a link to her kuia and world of her tūpuna. “For me, speaking Māori can feel like you’re simultaneously including your ancestors in the conversation. It’s an intentional way to also keep them in the loop and seek guidance.”

In a society where English is overwhelmingly the norm, McLachlan demonstrates what it takes to maintain te reo, and how important it is to draw inspiration from those who paved the way.

“Just like those who took the first steps some 50 years ago with the Māori language petition, and those closer to our homes like my Nan. If it weren’t for their strong will, who knows where we would be today,” she says.

“There’s no doubt whatsoever in my mind that I would not have achieved in life the way I have if it were not for my Nan and my grounding in te reo rangatira. It’s my superpower.”


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