It’s been a big day for me…it has been two years since I’ve had a bath…‘due to my legs being heavily wrapped up…I was told at the beginning ‘they may never heal’ but my Community Nurse Ruth never gave up…she always believed they could heal.

At our local pool I was able to walk without my sticks…I could fall over and get up again…by myself.

Nurse Ruth, I’m not sure if you understand what that means to me.

Tenakoe, my dear friend Sir Michael Fowler… it was real good to receive your letter together with the koha of water colors, done by your hand…we will hang them together with your photo in our whare.

It is now a month since I received your letter…I replied to it straight away but didn’t send it as a few words seemed inadequate to pass on my/our respect to you…for over a decade of major support. It led to Sir Robert Muldoon’s visit and in turn second chance education…still in place today.

Our first Whare, Tane Whaiora is named after you…remember it was opened on the same day as The Michael Fowler Centre…what a day for Wellington!

The Editorial of The Evening Post called it; “Wellingtons Day of the decade.” It may be the only Maori Whare named after a pakeha.

'Whaiora’ is a transliteration of Fowler…it also means ‘pursuit of our full potential’…under tikanga I was not quite correct in making a whare after a pakeha and also when the person is still alive…sometimes it is not good not knowing all the rules. Now I know the rules…the name still stands.

Two weeks ago my whangai daughter, Lyn-Anne lay in Tane Whaiora…I together with our family gathered…we slept with her, giving her a good send off.

Arohanui kia koe, me to whanau…Bruce

At present we are having five or six hui a week…this past winter has seen me often sitting by the dinning room fire watching the different Manuhere…especially the Tamariki having fun.

“Koro, would you like a tea?’

“Ae, I’d love one Moko.’”

“Milk and sugar?”

“A little milk please.”

I love being spoilt…I am never lonely.

The insurance policy called ‘respect’ is kicking in.

Yesterday we buried Lynn-Anne…one of our own. Not by toto…one does not have to be toto to be Family…she was always there for us all…never in a loud way. 

Was I embarrassed when her box couldn’t fit through the door of any of our whare…or what!!

We decided to put her in The Mahau of Tane Whaiora…sort of half in the open…I asked if my chair-bed be bought up…there we were under the stars with her tane Kingi and their babies…singing and telling stories…I was sort-of-dozing when I heard one of my older moko telling how she went to The Queens tangi and took her son…”coz they’d be looking for a new King.”

It’s quite a feat getting up the steps to The Mahau and it seems I’m not the only one with four legs…plus it’s not about getting up…it’s getting back down…still they came paying their respects and half-carried-half-falling their way back down…driven by love they came.

When I saw the wheel-chair with my whanaunga Queenie…paralyzed with a stroke… eyeing up the steps, I said, “Queenie you’re never make it, stay there!” But I caught a glint of to-the-Tangi-or bust in her eyes…she found a couple of strong Mokos and was three quarter carried, one quarter walked her dead legs up the steps…to pay her respects to our girl.

I would have loved to have gone up to Ngaruwahia to the Tangi of Te Arikinui, Atairangikahu…in my condition I would be a burden to my whanau.

When I was nineteen, at the coronation…I was at the back with our whanau hosting the endless crowds…it was all day in the sink doing dishes…I remember the sinks were made up from a folded sheet of galvanized iron, clever.

For quite some time a young woman was sharing my sink…when she was called away one of my aunties said, “Do you know who was your dishes-mate?”

“No.”

“Princess Piki.”

My seventieth…an excuse to get the whanau together. I hopped in quick in case they cooked up a Valentines…I know it’s easier but there’s nothing to compare a proper whanau do…more work but that’s what it’s about getting to know each other.

I asked my sister Babara if we could start with a Kawe Mate…for her to bring a photo of Raewyn…there was a funeral but hardly any of the whanau knew about it.

The bringing of Raewyn on to her marae with putatara…karanga….powhiri was very special…Afterwards my sister Babara and her daughter Brenda were invited to tell us about Raewyn…as we didn’t really know her…they couldn’t…even though she’d passed away almost twenty years ago…the words couldn’t come out…it was special to share that moment.