Being Welcome on Marae

The difference between being welcomed onto marae, our Maori meeting places, and being welcome on marae is far more than a few simple letters. Let me deal with the technicalities first:

Being welcomed onto marae is a formal event with strict kawa (protocol) to follow and that kawa differs between individual iwi (tribe) and marae. It is a tapu event and the kawa are there to protect all involved. (Tapu is one of the most complex concepts in tikanga Maori and involves the notion of the "sacred," but also of "spiritual restriction" and "implied prohibition." See here if you're interested in learning more. ) The powhiri (welcome) is a process through which manuhiri (visitors) are brought onto the marae and their tapu removed, making them one with the tangata whenua, or local iwi.

For those unaware of the local kawa, it's essential to consult with the tangata whenua before a visit or to arrive with a party of manuhiri who know the kawa. As in any new culture, you're best to keep quiet, observe and learn, so as not to inadvertantly do or say anything that might put people at risk or cause offense.

Being welcome on marae, in contrast, is being welcome at the family home, another role the marae fills for its tangata whenua. It's more of a "make yourself at home" invite, often issued at the back door.

I, though not yet having been to my home marae, have been fortunate to have been both welcomed and welcome on several South Island marae. As a student at Otago Polytechnic, I was privileged to enjoy a weekend on Takutai o te Titi Marae at Colac Bay with other Whakairo (carving/design) students, learning about local tikanga (customs). As a journalist in Dunedin, I was welcome on Otakou Marae (after some initial hesitance) and enjoyed conversations over a cup of tea and taiaha (spear) practice out back. I was also honored to be welcomed to Otakou formally, both as an Otago University Theatre Studies student and later as a journalist.

This past weekend, I was honored again to become welcome at another stunning marae, Wheke, at Rapaki.  I had met one of the carvers involved while in Lyttelton last month and returned to borrow his caravan at the weekend and to enjoy the peace of his garden and the company of his daughter and himself. I'd gone for a walk and admired the whare whakairo (carved house) from outside the gates but, not knowing the local kawa, didn't want to step through. Then, while going past the back gate, I was invited to join the whanau out back for a drink and took the opportunity to ask if I could enter the whare.

Inside, I was blown away by the design, work and artistry of the carvings, woven tukutuku panels and paintings, and humbled by the welcome I received by the kuia - the older women who hold Maori families together and hold us to account at the same time. Several families were staying on marae after the Feb. 22 quake damaged homes (it was in this community that a boulder the size of a car bounded from Tamatea, the mountain above, and through a house), and I was touched to have an Aunty pat my hand as I sat beside her bed and assure me I could stay there anytime.

I had a fabulous feed, helped with dishes, played with feral youngsters, met many more wonderful people and enjoyed camaraderie and song with them. As one does on marae.

Rapaki has stolen my heart in a very brief time, with the deep sense of magic I feel there, the hospitality and acceptance of its residents and the open-hearted generosity of knowledge I have encountered.

Talking Dirty

We’ve been talking some serious shit around the dinner/breakfast table recently.

At the weekend, herself cleaned out under the chookhouse and added it to the compost heap, I cut comfrey (oh, for a scythe) for the next layer. One of my tasks today is to gather cowpats from the top paddock to be added. Everything is a cycle, and good gardens require great compost. It’s all about putting food on the table, and shit from chickens and cows is a boon there.

Whanau members visited for a few days with a health scare that required coming to the big city hospital for a colonoscopy. The daughter, a fae  sprite, was phobic about the bucket toilet out back. She elected to stay and entertain the pups and I yesterday while her parents went to the city and toileting would be needed. We walked the dogs, talked about how dogs  needed to be exercised and toileted, and discussed why she was afraid of the outhouse. She was afraid she would fall in, which is a horrible thought, I tell you. I asked if she had ever fallen in her flush toilet at home (“Of course not, silly!”), explained that the seat here is smaller than on a flush toilet and all was well again with her world. When she needed to go, I offered a peg for her nose if needed and she came back proudly to tell me she didn’t even need to block her nose.

The health scare appears to be just an irritable bowel problem, (blessedly) and the person concerned asked the IB nurse what foods she should avoid or eat. The nurse told her that what she ate was irrelevant. Excuse me?!? A quick Google gave patient reams of information that the medical profession here seems to view as irrelevant. Not a very holistic view of health, and certainly not a promising one for the nurse’s patients. 

Aforementioned bucket toilet is precisely that, a bucket that gets emptied into a hole and covered with dirt. It’s not a pleasant task and one I’ve managed to avoid every time but one, but when I had to do it, I ladied up and did so. It means you deal with the fact that human animals, if they’re fortunate, consume food and liquid and it gets expelled. Most people in the world don’t have flush toilets and how they deal with their waste is, in my mind, a better indicator of civilization than the size of their cities. In Jakarta, many thousands of people live on the edge of reservoirs and waterways and use the water to bathe, toilet and wash clothes. (Check out http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/waterworries ) A new house is being built where I am that has to have a flush toilet included, but I'm confident the bucket will be here to greet me when I next visit.

There’s a conversation that’s been going on in Aotearoa of late about “freedom” camping and the fact that many campers defecate wherever they are and leave it. There’s a carpark at the bottom of the hill for a beautiful track and often, when himself takes the dogs for a walk, there is human excrement and toilet tissue strewn there. It incenses me that anyone would come all the way here to one of the most beautiful spots in the world and treat it as their toilet. The mindset to do that must view it as not their home, as I doubt they shit in their own front yards, but isn’t Papatuanuku, the earth mother, the only home we have?

In Christchurch at present, there is a severe toilet problem and it’s not being handled well. Thousands of chemical toilets have arrived from as far away as the U.S. but no provisions have been made for emptying them and people are trying to empty them into Portaloos. Thanks for sending them folks, and thank you everyone else who has come to the aid of Christchurch BUT many people are simply using chemical toilets, which add chemicals but leave waste PLUS chemicals to be disposed of, which creates its own health issues..

The Otago Daily Times yesterday had this quote: 

“I live near a woman in her 70s who broke down crying, too embarrassed to go to the toilet in a bucket.”

I’m sorry lady, toughen up. (And while we're talking dirty, ladies, find a pleasant place to squat, the bucket is for solid matter - my favorite here has a view worth millions and an inquisitive pup to hold away, Take your tissues away with you, or use mallow leaves which are soft and silky.) 

I understand that the toilet problem is just one more straw added to the many that Christchurch has suffered since September and I don’t deny or attempt to belittle the magnitude of the trauma that all are experiencing. And, aware as I am of NOT being part of the immediate community, I'll quote Joe Bennett, a brilliant Lyttleton writer who experienced the quake and the recovery first-hand. In his most recent column, he wrote about how whanau and tribe responded. The entire column is worth reading (can't find a link sorry), but two sentences summed it up for me:

“On the second day power was restored. We were then better off than most people in the world.”

To paraphrase  him (kia ora Joe, great party you guys and the Navy put on last week), if we have a bucket and a spade, we’re better off than most people in the world.

For inspiration, http://www.showusyourlongdrop.co.nz/

Maori Gods

Unfortunately for me, I was not raised in tikanga Maori (the culture) or Te Reo Maori (the language). Fortunately for me, I have wonderful friends and whanaungatanga (extended family) who were, and who gift me the taonga (treasure) of their knowledge.

One such is my sis, Mars, who I first heard of when I returned to Jeju Island and another beautiful wahine, Marama, asked if I lived near her. "I don't know Mars," I answered. An hour or so later, my phone rang.

"Kia ora, this is Mars," I heard, "I hear you need a motorcycle."

It turned out Mars lived a few blocks from where I was camping (thanks Sherrin, your heart has always been in the right place) and had a bike she didn't know how to ride. I looked after it for the year I was back on the Island, and Mars and I recognized each other as sisters.

When I arrived in Christchurch the day after the quake, P told me he had been unable to sleep the previous night because of the violent aftershocks. I asked Mars for a karakia (prayer) to soothe Papatuanuku, the Earth Mother. This was her response:

Kia Ora Sis

Ruaumoko is the atua of earthquakes. Here is a karakia for you.

E te atua Ruaumoko, kua oho koe i te koopuu whenua o to matou whaea Papatuanuku, kua ruu te whenua. Hoki atu ki te moe, e moe, e moe kia pai ai te ao hurihuri.

E Rauamoko, you have awakened in the womb of our mother Papatuanuku and have shaken the land, return to rest, rest, rest so the changing world above can be well.

Hope that suits, just made it up for you. Thinking of you and your friends in Chch and hope you are all managing okay.

Big Maori hugs from Jeju
Mars

I googled Rauamoko, learned a lot, and posted the karakia as my facebook status. Rauamoko rested that night, as did we.

How do I best say thank you in te reo, e kare? (my treasured friend)