Making up for generations of language loss
Thursday, 16 September 2021
OPINION: Like many of my generation, born in the late 70s, te reo Māori is my second language, a direct result of a language transmission skip due to government policy which punished and deterred our great-grandparents or grandparents from speaking te reo Māori in school.
Pēnei me te rahinga o taku reanga i whānau mai i ngā tau tōmuri o te whitu tekau, he mea ako nāku te reo Māori. I pēneitia ai i te korenga o te tuku māori noa iho nei o te reo Māori mai i tētahi whakapaparanga ki tētahi. Koi kore e āhukahukangia te pānga nui o te ture pēhi a te Pākehā i patua ai ō tātau mātua, tīpuna hoki mō te kōrero Māori i roto i ngā kura.
My te reo journey began at intermediate, but my inspiration came at primary school through the fleeting visit of a man of mana, Blackie Tohiariki of Te Kapu, Frasertown, Ngāti Kahungunu ki te Wairoa. Some time later I learned of my whakapapa connection to this man commissioned to teach us the haka.
Ka tīmata ake taku hīkoi ako i te reo i te kura waenga otiia, nō te kura tuatahi kē te orokohanga tōnga iho o te kākano ki roto i a au kia whai au i taku ao Māori otiia, taku reo Māori. Ka rere mai te ‘Kōtuku rerenga tahi’, arā te tangata nei a Blackie Tohiariki ki taku kura tuatahi o Roslyn School, i Te Papai-ō-ea. Nō Te Kapu, Frasertown, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Te Wairoa te tangata nei. Nō muri rawa ka mōhio he matua nōku i roto i taku whakapapa, ka mutu, ka haere mai te rangatira nei ki te whakaako mātau, ngā tama ki te haka.
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The haka was Ka Mate, and our tutor came and went – He kōtuku rerenga tahi – just like the “distinguished guest rarely seen” described in the proverb. With his lesson came pride, I felt pride knowing I was Māori. Although we frequently returned home to our tūrangawaewae, there was never any formal learning. We remained naive to the mana of whaikōrero and all the associated tikanga of tangi.
Ko taua haka rā, ko Ka Mate, ā, tā te whakataukī whakamāhukitanga, ka rere mai te rangatira nei me uaua ka kite, mea ake, kua rere atu anō ai. Nāna ahau i whakakipakipa, i whakarangatira hei Māori. Ahakoa, he rite tā mātau hokihoki ki te kāinga nā taku pāpā, nōhea rawa mātau ngā tamariki i āta whakaakona mai i raro i ngā akoranga ōkawa. Ka noho kūare mātau ngā tamariki ki te mana, te wehi, me te ihi o te whaikōrero me ngā tikanga whānui o te tangihanga.
My bilingual education began in 1991, at the start of the bilingual education movement. While bilingualism suggests a 50/50 mixture, it was at the discretion and ability of the teacher, which meant te reo delivery often amounted to simple classroom instructions. It was through waiata and haka, that my hunger for te ao Māori and te reo Māori grew.
Ka tīmata ake taku ako reorua i te tau 1991, i te orokohanga tīmatatanga ake o ngā kaupapa ako reorua. Tā te reoruatanga whakamāhuki – haurua reo Pākehā, haurua reo Māori otiia ia, kei te āhua o te kaiako hiahia, āheinga hoki. Nā reira, i taua wā rā ko te whānuitanga o taua reoruatanga ko ngā tohutohu tamariki noa iho nei o roto i te akomanga. Heoi anō rā, nā te waiata me te haka i tino hīkaka, i tino whāngai mai nei taku pīkoko ki te ao Māori.
Fast-forward to 2005 when I graduated as a qualified teacher in kura kaupapa Māori, followed by eight years as a specialist te reo Māori subject teacher at Hato Paora College, teaching a mix of second-language learners like myself and kura kaupapa Māori graduates, a valuable experience for me.
Tau rawa ake ki te tau 2005 ka whakapōtae au hei kaiako mō roto i ngā kura kaupapa Māori, heoi anō tāku i whai i te ara o te kaiako reo Māori ki roto i te kura tuarua, ki te Kāreti o Hato Pāora. Ka waru aku tau hei kaiako i konei. He nui aku akomanga, tētahi ko ngā mea kūare tonu, ā, tae ake ki ngā raukura ka puta i te kura kaupapa Māori. Ka whakakoikoi aku niho i konei.
I now teach at Awatapu College in Palmerston North, a move into mainstream where te reo Māori was in desperate need of attention, with most junior students arriving in year 9 with little to no experience with te reo. Perhaps a reflection of that is the stark reality that few students are choosing te reo Māori as an option upon entry to my college, highlighting the importance of earlier intervention at primary and intermediate.
I ēnei rā tonu nei kei te Kura Tuarua o Awatapu ahau e mahi ana, he kura auraki tonu, ā, e kite ana i te tino korenga o te reo i te takiwā auraki. Ko te tino tokomaha o ngā ākonga tau iwa ka tae mai me te kore reo, ētahi ake rānei he wheakotanga ruarua noa iho nei, mehemea merekara he kōrero Māori otiia, me tino merekara.
Making te reo Māori compulsory is a long-term solution but, like the proverbial cart before the horse, more qualified and capable teachers are needed to cater for demand before any mandate is made. If we are ever to become a truly bilingual, bicultural treaty partner-capable country, we need buy-in from Māori and non-Māori alike along with the educators to instruct and teach within the New Zealand school system.
Ko te whakature i te reo Māori i ngā kura hei pae matara otiia, me rite tonu mō taua wā rā kei riro ko te kāta kei mua kē e haere ana i te hoiho. Ko te whai kia tokomaha ake ngā kaiako whai tohu otiia ia, pakari ana te reo Māori e ea ai te hiahia nui e tipu haere nei. Kia kīia he tino whenua reorua, he whenua manaaki i te Tiriti o Waitanga, me aro mai ai te Māori otiia, ngā iwi katoa o Aotearoa. Waihoki me rahi ngā kaiako pakari te reo, pakari te whakaako ki roto i ngā kura puta noa.
Te reo Māori will never die, but it will also never flourish without a greater population to speak it, which may require a mandate across the education system, from early childhood, primary school and on, right through the secondary school years. And that mandate must extend further, into Government departments, some of which use te reo Māori in their reporting, while others are yet to do so.
E kore te reo Māori e mate, ahakoa ngā whakamataku a ētahi e kī pērā ana otiia, ki a au nōhea rawa te reo e tino whanake i roto i te tini, nā reira pea me whakature kia ākona ki roto i ngā kōhanga reo Pākehā, kura tuatahi, tuarua atu. Me pērā hoki ki ngā tari Kāwanatanga, ā, ahakoa ētahi kua tīmata kē noa atu, ētahi ake kei muri kē e ngāoki haere ana.
Te reo Māori is a window into Māori culture and tikanga, which can only enhance tangata whenua relationships, not to mention the many advantages of knowing two languages.
He matapihi te reo Māori ki te ao Māori me āna tikanga, i konā ka noho ngātahi pai ake ai tētahi i tētahi, waihoki ko ngā hua o te mōhiotia ki ngā reo e rua, neke atu rānei.
At my school open night just before the latest lockdown, I offered an analogy to the whānau and year 8 students in attendance: “If I lived in Japan my entire life but still could not speak Japanese, I must be living under a rock.”
I tō mātau pō huaki kura, ka whakatakohia e au taku wero ki ngā whānau me ngā ākonga e whakaaro nei ko Awatapu hei kura tuarua mō rātau, ka mea: “Mēnā rā ka noho au ki Hapani mate noa otiia, ka kore tonu au e āhei ki te kōrero Hapani, ko te pōuriuri taku kāinga noho.”
Granted, it’s a very different context with Japanese heard from all corners in Japan, but nevertheless, the choice would be mine, as it is yours.
Zeb Tamihana Nicklin is a descendant of Ngā Tokorima a Hinemanuhiri (Te Wairoa), Pāhauwera (Mōhaka, Raupunga), Ruapani of Waikaremoana, Tūhoe and Tāmanuhiri. Zeb has been teaching te reo Māori for 17 years. He is also a licensed translator under the Māori Language Commission and an award-winning short story writer in te reo Māori with Huia Publishers.
He uri a Zeb nō Ngā Tokorima a Hinemanuhiri, a Pāhauwera, a Ruapani o Waikaremoana, a Tūhoe me Tāmanuhiri ki Muriwai. Ka 17 tau a Zeb e whakaako ana i te reo Māori. He kaiwhakamāori i raro i te mana o Te Taurawhiri i te reo Māori, ā, kaituhi pakiwaitara anō hoki, mō Huia Tā Pukapuka.