I have a photo taken in Nice in 1936, depicting my great grandma, my grandma and Aunt Didi, my dad’s sister. I have carried this image of those three French women with me on occasions. It is a reminder of the French fraction of my heritage.
Before making my last trip to New Zealand, I had been reading up on ‘Kiwi’ words and phrases in a book kindly sent by a journalist, who had read of my interest in his country’s lingo. Many of the words were of Maori origin, a sign of the way the original culture is a part of New Zealand life today. I noticed different words for Family and for Wider Family. I wondered whether the trio in my photograph would be called family, or wider family, being as a great grandmother was present. In the Dance and Drama College in Wellington, I was invited to a traditional welcoming ceremony. A Powhiri. I was to be welcomed, along with a Canadian theatre company, called The Wardrobe. It was explained to me that this welcome would be managed by someone with some authority in the community, who would invite us to speak. We were then to greet, each of the welcoming committee, who would stand in line behind the welcomer. One was to give to each of them the Maori ‘Hongi’ – the sharing, nose to nose, of breath and eye contact. The intimacy of welcome.
The students were gathered in the hall and I and the other guests, were beckoned. We sat, as the students performed the ritual Haka. A young man stepped forward and spoke in a language I assumed to be Maori. I was informed that he was the welcoming dignitary, the son of a Cook Island chief. As had been explained to me, the guests were then expected to respond.
I stood up and performed a poem, then the Canadians elected one of their number to make a speech. We were all then signalled to greet each of those in the line. With one after another, I shared breath and eye contact. At the end of the line, I turned, expecting to find the Canadians close behind me. But I had misunderstood the instruction: you did the Hongi, you then had a bit of chat. My own version was referred to as ‘speed Hongi-ing’.
After the ceremony I spoke with the Chief’s son. He asked about my background. I mentioned my French roots and showed him the photograph of my three French relations. I asked him if these would be referred to as Family or Wider Family. He asked me if they were gone. I said that they were. He told me that they were my ancestors, My Tupuna. They are always with me. He explained that the word Tupuna is derived from Tu – stand, and Puna – stream. Our ancestors stand behind us, as we face our future which approaches in the stream of life. I might have asked how a deceased mother, manages to stand behind a number of her children at the same time, in a variety of locations, but I didn’t. I didn’t need to, for the idea transcended rationale and was sustained by its beauty.
Feel free to give the river some tiddlers