My Account
Kereama Nathan of Stanmore Bay left school with no qualifications to speak of and although he has not let this hold him back in life, he has come to believe that education holds the key to a positive future for young people. As well as encouraging youth to make the most of educational opportunities, Kereama went back to school himself 10 years ago and became a teacher, taking the full immersion Maori route to gain his honours degree. He spoke to Terry Moore about helping others to paddle their own waka.
I grew up in Tokoroa and moved to the Hibiscus Coast with my wife Trish 26 years ago. My children Danyelle, James, Awatea and Shaina have all grown up in this community. I worked in the Kinleith Mill before it was privatised. A few of us could see the writing on the wall once privatisation was on the cards, and we all moved – most of my brothers and sisters moved to Australia and we headed up here. After I left school I worked in dairy farming for awhile, then in the bush tree felling, before getting a job in the mills. You kick yourself as you get older because without an education you have to do things the hard way. I struggled because the only skills I had were as a labourer, which really limited my options. It soon became clear to me how important education is, and that’s why I am pushing my children to make learning a priority. My father wanted me to stay at school, he begged me to do that, but I wanted to go down what I saw as ‘the fast route’ into work.
I grew up in a poor family. My father was a builder with his own company but he was a chronic asthmatic and so he and mum had to raise five of us on a sickness benefit for much of the time. He would find part time work when he was well enough and we kids all worked as well. My parents taught us about sharing, kindness and community. Although we didn’t have a lot, our house was always open to everyone. One packet of Twisties or a peanut slab could be made to go 15 ways and no matter how little we had, we never starved – because you can have a garden or go to the sea for food. I was taught all these things – there are a lot of things you don’t need to get from a shop. It was also innate in our family to know who you were and where you are from. Most of the things I remember growing up were all around family, and the marae, which was where I would hear the Maori language. My parents were from the era when you were not allowed to speak Maori but we took it in school, although it was different from the way my father spoke. The language evolved so that fluent speakers who grew up with the language struggled because it had changed so much.
Since moving to the Coast, I stayed in the building industry, most recently in sales and accounts management roles, to put food on the table – I reckon I have sawdust in my veins, because my father was in the trade. I “retired” from that about three years ago so I could put more time into volunteer work at Te Herenga Waka as well as teaching Te Reo part time at Whangaparaoa College and Northtec. I’m only 47, so there is a big financial price to pay, but it’s one I’m content with. I always said I’d retire poor, so I’ve achieved one of my goals. About 10 years ago I decided to do tertiary study myself, because I felt like a hypocrite preaching the value of education when I had so little. I put myself through business courses while I worked full time to support my family. I got my Bachelors in Full Immersion teaching, did Honours at Victoria University and I am starting on my Masters. I specifically chose a Maori pathway because it should be just as recognised as other educational avenues. I want to show the young people that it has value and that if this old guy can do it, so can they.
Te Herenga Waka o Orewa began more than 25 years ago. There was a kapa haka group in Orewa called Nga iwi o te Putorino (te Putorino is the nose flute). There weren’t many Maori families living locally at that time – you could go for months without seeing another Maori person – so when this kapa haka formed, we joined it. It grew into Te Herenga Waka. We used to meet in Puriri Park, where Kensington Park is now, in a community hall to practice. The group was led by Emma Whangapirita, who was the postmistress in Orewa, and Pat Hohepa who worked for Social Welfare. One of the group’s aspirations, right from the start, was to establish a community marae. This is because it is difficult for Maori families living in urban society to go back to the home places and, with a growing number working on the Coast, it seemed a sensible thing to establish here. When I was first involved with Te Herenga Waka, in the early 1980s, I was young and pretty gung-ho – I wanted us to just go out and get ourselves a marae. The older, wiser heads decided that wasn’t the way to go, and I bowed out yet stayed in the background as a supporter while bringing up my family. My wife and I fought to establish Maori language in the local schools and were instrumental in putting the first itinerant Maori teacher into Whangaparaoa, Stanmore and Red Beach Primary schools.
Te Herenga Waka o Orewa got a lease on the property in Foundry Rd, Silverdale around the end of 2007. The committee was a new one by then, but the same vision of a community marae was going strong. We had other opportunities to get land from the Council, but they all came to nothing. John Law helped us get the lease on Ministry of Education land, which used to be Silverdale Primary school. At the end of 2008 I was asked to help by Bob Helmbright, who was chair at the time. I was also involved as chair of the Sharks Sports Trust, working to establish the clubrooms that are now up and running. For me that was about providing facilities that local youth desperately needed. The focus at Te Herenga Waka is also on youth. Youth are our passion, whether my wife and I are working on things informally at home, or in community initiatives.
When we moved to this site, it was very run down. It was the typical story of a cash strapped committee trying to plug a dam with their finger. Part of the problem was not having someone here during the working day – as a result of which all the copper spouting was stolen from the buildings. That’s where my role came in: it really needed a full time person. The first thing I noticed was that the place was empty and Bob asked me how I could make this into a marae. I said ‘you have to get the people back – without them, there is no reason to have a marae’. So we started there. Because everyone volunteers, it is an uphill battle, but I brought my family here and led from the front and we brought the people back. We established community days, like Waitangi Day, educational initiatives like the courses run by Northtec, and cultural workshops. Te Herenga Waka’s philosophy has always been pan-tribal; the name means ‘the mooring place of the waka’ and that’s not just a Maori waka, it’s for anyone living in this community. To a lot of Western society, marae are taboo, filled with strange rituals and customs. The knowledge we can share here takes away the fear and misunderstanding. We are a uniquely Maori but inclusive presence, contributing to the community by working in consultation with Council, schools and anyone who seeks our help. We do blessings for local buildings and so on and are happy to contribute in this way. We have as many pakeha as Maori in our language classes and everyone that comes here is respectful and that’s the beauty of it. We have also provided a pathway for young people into further education or work, by running Government schemes such as Community Max.
There are a lot more Maori families on the Coast now, but our struggle to establish a marae continues today. After more than 25 years we are not much further down the track. We need Council’s support to progress the marae but we have been swallowed by a monster and South Auckland seems to be Auckland Council’s focus for things Maori. People see this as a high decile zone, that doesn’t need money and support but that is just not the case, as anyone involved in education here knows. Maori always top those negative statistics in NZ’s education system and while I cannot help the whole of NZ, I can help the ones around me. It’s not just the schools that need to play their part in improving those statistics – it must be a community effort on all levels.
