Confessions From the Land of Milk and Honey. - response to Vilsoni Hereniko's The Unfinished Fence

Confessions from the Land of Milk and Honey 
- response to Vilsoni Hereniko's The Unfinished Fence

It was late summer, 1974, and Auckland felt like it had been dropped into a furnace. I recieved a call from the head office telling me I was needed to help with the dawn raids. I had to be down at the station at 5am. A step up from my life working as a traffic warden and finding lost cats. I was finally going to get a bite of the big boy stuff. Muldoon was all over this immigration thing. "Taking a stand",  sending anyone with dark skin back home, getting them out of here. They were over stayers and as far as the government was concerned were taking our jobs and loading up on our social services.

It was still dark as I drove to work. The street lights gave the fog a hazy neon glow. I wound down the window, tasting the ripe breeze, feeling its severe whip against my skin.  Not another car on the road, pushed down hard on the peddle. I felt like a man on a mission. The sonorous vocals of Mick Jagger played through the speakers. "Brown sugar, how come you taste so good' 

When I got to the station one of the senior sergeants was already waiting for me. Ted, a burly man in his early 50’s with a large mustache. I had come across him for time to time in the office. He was well respected but cold to new comers.

“Morning” He said. He had a gruff voice and an overbearing stomach that hung over his belt. “Get in, we’ll grab some coffee on the way.”

I got in his car and we made our first stop was a small bakehouse down the road. They were just setting up, getting the bread out of the oven. We ordered two coffees with milk and gave the waitress a wink.
 "Grab some lunch too" Said Ted. I ordered a chicken roll. 

“What suburb are we going to do today” I asked

“ Epsom.” He said, taking our coffees and ordering a pie and donut. “I found three over stayers last time I went into the area.”

“We going to head there now?” I asked, burning my tongue on the bitter coffee. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s your first day. We’ll start with just questioning people on their lunch break. We’ll check the streets out and look at doing the raid tomorrow.”

“Can you talk me through the questioning procedure” I asked.

“It’s all common sense.” He said. “Ain’t no procedure. Just spot a darkie and ask to see their papers.”

I couldn’t tell if he was acting bent and terse to shock and disarm me or if it was his natural demeanor on the job.

“You drive.” He said, handing me his extensive set of keys. “I’ll do the questioning.”

We cruised down Great South Road on our way to Epsom. There were a lot of people out and about. Children with their mothers. Woman in their sundresses, and students still in the uniforms, no doubt skipping class.

A dark-skinned man was walking down the street. His hair was long and wavy and he wore a knit jersey and some cord pants. Ted told me to slow the car down, so we crept behind him no faster the 7km an hour. He looked over his shoulder and then jerked his head away, he started to fasten his pace. One foot after another. Not looking back. “Oi you.” Ted said. “Got some papers to show me?” The man stopped abruptly

 “Bugger off,” And then he walked right up to our car.

 “I’m a Maori. Show me you fucking papers”

“Don’t talk to an officer like that, I’m doing my job, now show me some papers before you have to get down to the station.”

The man pulled out his license and that was no disputing the validity of it. “Go make yourself useful and stop loitering around on the streets.” Ted said.

He wound up his window. “Bloody Maori’s” He said, “you can’t tell them apart from the PI's. Would deport them too if I had a chance, what are people doing out on the street at this time anyway. Dole scum. My tax dollar's paying for all him to sit on his ass all day.”

“All the islanders were pretty useful about ten years ago when we needed the manual labor’ I said.

“Don’t give me any of that left wing bullshit” He said. “Overstaying is overstaying, it’s against the law, we here to enforce the law. Is that why you signed up to be cop- ain't it” I nodded. “I should bloody well hope so, I’ve had enough of people giving us shit for doing our job. Not so bloody high and mighty when they get mugged and assaulted are they, they need the us then.”

“There must be a better way to find overstayers than interrogating Maori, they been here a hell of a lot longer than we have”

“ Listen boy.” He said. “were not in the interrogation room now, so save your good cop, bad cop routine for later”  

We drove around Epsom the opulent streets of Epsom,street with lush trees shading big white villas. The streets were quiet apart from the chirp of birds and the chatter from the Epsom and Grammer school playgrounds.The smell of melting tarmac washed through the air “ We have to get them on the lunch break.” Said Ted. “They’re all at work now.”

 We parked up next to playground and ate our food and I decided to not to try and converse with Ted and be meet with more hostility. We got back in his car and he turned up the radio to listen to the cricket. “Burgess is about the worse captain we ever had” He said. “Too right” I said.

We saw a tall dark man wearing white overalls walking down the street. His overalls were splattered with paint, and it was all over the his hands. A white color, as if he had been painting a picket fence.  His skin was as dark as a roasted coffee bean and he had prominent round eyes.

“Here we go” Said Ted

We crept up slowly again Ted wound down his window.

“ We are the po-lice. You un-der-stand”

The man stood staring at him, perhaps too stunned to reply. He body started to become shakey and his checks blushed ever so slightly. He resumed walking.

“Where you going?”

“To the shop” He said, pointing down the road to nothing in particular.

“Your name?”

“Jimi Valiame, I haven’t done nothing wrong” He said, taking out a notebook from his pocket. He stated to walk very fast, His steps were short and fast.  The sweat on his forehead was building.

“Tonga?”

“From Fiji” He looked as though he was going explode. His large white eyes shot red with adrenalin.  

He bolted.  Ran and then turned left onto Arcadia Road. Teddy didn’t rush, “we’ve got him now”, he said and we manoeuvred our car as naturally as a dog rounding up sheep.

We drove down Arcadia and didn’t know which one was his, but then I spotted some paint splattered boots just outside the door that looked just the same as the ones he had been wearing. Teddy got out first and knocked a large burgundy door. I stood behind him. He knocked on the door again but did not hear anything. “Stand back, this door will come down easily”.

He gave it a whooping big boot. Crack. It was knocked off his hinges. We searched around the living room and could see some photos of him and his family back in the islands. There were tapa cloths hanging on the green walls inside. The house had a feminine touch. Fresh picked flowers on the windowsill. A salty fragrance.  I was sure we were in the right one. The living room was decorated with photos and painting. I opened up the bathroom door, and saw his thin silhouette up in the corner of the room.

“Please sir.” He said. “I am just a tourist.”

“Don’t look like a tourist, said Teddy as he entered the room. “Looks like you’ve found yourself a home here”

“We just need to see your papers” I said.

“Papers..papers...” Said Jimi. “yes I will find them now. He went and looked around through documents in the living room. “Who are you living here with?” I asked. His voice began to quivar. “ Just friends” He said. His face ran with hot and sticky sweat. Teddy looked through the photos on the mantel piece and I sat down at the table. Jimi made a run for a door but I bolted out to catch him. I got him before he made it out of the driveway. “We just need to see your papers” I said.

“I’m a tourist” He yelled his voice full of jelly “I haven’t got any papers”

Ted came out. “Put your hands behind your back” He yelled, Jimi obliged, and we cuffed him and put him into the back of the car.

I took the steering wheel again. I looked at him in the rearvision mirror. He held his body so tight I wondered when he would snap. His lips trembled and his eyes were cowered and remorseful. He put his head down and started to say a prayer.” He said. “God have mercy” using his right hand to touch his forehead, his middle, his left shoulder, and then  right. 

“Stop looking at him” said Teddy. “You need to learn not to sympathize with criminals” he said.  “It’s part of the job, it’s not all murders and rapists, it’s not black and white” he said. We got back to the station and Teddy booked him on the first flight back to Fiji. We gave him a phone to tell his family he was coming home, he went off into another room.
"I might book myself a trip too." Said Ted. "Could do with a holiday."

When Jimi came back and saw what almost looked like a smile on his face. His posture had relaxed and he sat quietly and waited to be driven out to the airport. At least he knows he is going home now, and maybe there would be job for him there. But I had never seen Fiji so it felt as distant a lifestyle to me, as the Inuit’s in the North Pole.

At the end of the Day Ted told me we would be going back to the house in the morning to another round up. I wanted to throw the towel in on my whole career when he told me that. But I had spent a few years training to move up and I knew if I did a good job of the dawn raids, all sorts of positions at the top would open up.

“ See you 5 tomorrow” I said. His strode off to his car, his face as angry to be going home as it was to be at work.

________

 “I find it hard to listen to the NZ accent on TV” Janet said, as we sat on the couch, watching an episode of Pukemanu.”

“I’m surprised you’re not used to it by now” I said

“I think that the revival of Maori culture and language is very good for the country” She said. “but I must say I don’t understand Maori’s at all. I can’t see why their parents don’t make them wear shoes, I guess that applies to all you New Zealanders really.”

“We better get married soon” I said. “Everyone is clamping down on Visa’s.” She nodded her head. “We don’t see why you like soccer and insist on talking about class and money.”

“We just have to wait for my parents to get their tickets over here, and then we will be straight down the aisle. You think class is irrelevant over here.” She said. “But it’s not.”

“Send them a letter will you, tell them to come” I said. “Tell them, as soon as possible”

Haute Culture

In relation to the idea expressed by James George that major corporations are modern colonising forces.

Haute Culture

Nike sends deepest regrets that
Samoan tatau (no au tu required) 
was ill-advised and bad taste for their new season
women's leggings.

However,
Sass and Bide's
Aztec head-dresses will be
trending this season
Tagline "the take-over"

Attention all fashionistas,
Urban Outfitters release
Keffiyeh scarves for
"Arabain Nights" campaign
#Palestinianchic #Burkaswag

Festival Season!
Go rave crazy like M.I.A,
Bindis will draw
attention to your eyes and channel
your seventh chakra!

First world problems?
Put them behind you
with Nike's New Shackle Shoes
But don't worry they won't chain you down
introducing Shox for "Springback"

Man in England
Has a Koru tattoo
I asked him if he is hails from down under
No, he said, I just like the look
Rejoice for self expression

Guys like Gauguin

This first stanza of the poem uses very emotive language. The phrase 'the uncivilized ripen like pawpaw are best slightly raw' has sexual connotations and I think Selina Tusitala Marsh may be alluding to the artist Gauguin's fancy of young native women. Made more explicit by the words "prepubescents buds" and "nymphomania"

The next stanza continues with the sarcastic tone, thanking Balboa for naming the seas the south seas which is heralded by history books as a feat and ignores the fact  they were only new seas to foreigners and did not need a name. The mention of 'opposite to all' seems to closely align with Edward Said's ideas of Orientalism. I think the 'inversion of all your laws' is a poignant line. Law and justice seem to be something that colonialists felt that they should oppose on countries who they saw as intellectually inferior. I think they believed their use of logic and law making were far superior.  I am not trying to justify this but I can see how this would come about. Sometimes when I read about human rights overseas, particularly for women, I do think that it would be better for them to have western rights and justice systems.

The third stanza seems to poke fun at the colonizers sense of rational thought. I think the allusion to "Masculine orderly fashion" refers to the fact that rational thinking has historically been seen as a male characteristic.. It seems very outdated in this day in age. I think the divide between rational/irrational is very interesting. Especially as western thought still seems to be seeking 'toward the light'. Knowledge being seen as up most importance. Eastern philosophy tends to be seen as new age. Ideas that can not be scientifically proven tend to be ridiculed. I think this is largely because of the schooling system where a western model of epistemology has been used.

The final stanza refers to 'the new world'. The other, seen as dark, feminine, sexual and irrational in comparison to the north. While I don't agree with this labeling, it doesn't really annoy me because I guess I don't find the dark, exotic stigma insulting, although I think it is limiting.

I really enjoyed this poem and find it really thought provoking.

Identity

I decided to attempt with my own version of poetry in relation to themes of identity, cultural identity and being a half-caste. Also the term 'Other'. I admire and applaud the way Albert Wendt made a stand stating he and his people would not be defined as 'Other.'
In the words of actor Brian Blessed: (ASB commercials)

"Be not so humble, be proud!" ( Blessed would have also bellowed; "Bravo!")

Aotearoa / New Zealand is my place of birth
The colour of my skin does not define my worth.
My hair as people have commented is perfectly straight,
The ignorant merely quip; "It's not a Polynesian trait."
I was often teased when younger, that my eyebrows looked like Mal Meninga's,
I took that as a compliment, never allowing negativity to linger.
They're more like Oscar's from Sesame Street, including the semi-permanent frown.
Ignore all the critics, they're not worth your time.
Instead walk as though upon your head, lay a crown.
The colour of your skin is neither a crime or a sin.
Embrace what you were born in.....
whether your skin be brown, red, or yellow like the hues of Autumn, ebony like rare black diamonds or shades of tan, like sandy beaches or the sea foam, soft and white.
As long as your spirit remains free, unshackled,
to soar in glorious flight.

My cultural identity for me is hard to define.
My great grandfather Maximilian originally hailed from Westphalen, Germany.

My great grandmother was Gilbertese.

My grandmother was meant to have had a flag draped over her coffin. She had risked her own life by ensuring Catholic priests safety and provided food for them during the Japanese occupation of the Gilbert Islands during WWII.

My grandfather was a medical practitioner employed by the New Zealand government, he was born in Tokelau and also of Samoan descent.
My father was a proud Samoan, born and raised.
He came to these shores in his youth, for the same reasons the majority of people do; in search of employment and/or educational opportunities for their children and earn money and to have a good life.
He was honest, hard working and paid off the mortgage on his Mt. Eden home. He took responsibility in raising my sister and I and supported his mother too. Like many Pacific Islanders, he wanted to retire to his place of birth.
He passed away unexpectedly, two weeks short of his pre-booked flight.
Mother was an enigma......... of mixed European descent.
I have loved being of mixed ethnicity, a hybrid as someone once said.
In the end, like many others, I saw myself as a Kiwi.





The poems by the various pacific artists are interesting and engaging,
amusing at times, thought provoking, food for debate...

Alas, you are confronted by the ugly reality that is prejudice and hate.
Ignorance and negative stereotyping only adds fuel to the fire,
like when you label a gypsy; a vagabond, a thief and a liar.
I was once yelled at by a racist neighbour, "Go back to your tent!"
He ignorantly assumed I was of Native American descent.
Like the fictional character of 'Archie Bunker' from "All in the Family" (a 70's sitcom)
he happily aired all his racially biased pov's and prejudices (www.youtube.com)
My family thought it was amusing and it is easy to laugh at the incident now,
but at the time, you're tempted to retaliate; "Bring on Batman and Robin... Biff! Bam! Kapow!"
Situations can ignite and get out of hand; when someone chooses to open Hades gate...
to a flood of racial intolerance, bigotry, prejudice, hostility and hate.
The world needs more 'Super Heroes' of the human kind,
So that no one person or group shall feel marginalized or left behind.                  




I enjoyed listening to: 'Brown Brother' by J. S. Iosefo

My Art History test, High Sch.

Pacific Island youth need encouragement to go into the world and have aspirations and make what they may have deemed impossible possible. During my school years, I was good at English and Art and through High School I did well in History and Art History though it helps to be passionate in the subjects you're studying and enjoy what you're learning, maintain your focus and not get distracted. Youth need the right kind of motivation. To have good role models and mentoring to help them succeed. I did and that makes a big difference. I admired Joshua's speech, his confidence, poise, his voice and eloquence. However, I had some mixed feelings regarding aspects of his spoken word poem. Had he been my son, I would not have allowed him to walk out the door without a few amendments. I felt some of what he had to say would have been more relevant a few decades ago because I feel at this point in time, many Pacific Islanders have succeeded in many avenues of life; through education, the arts, sports, using God-given talents, acquiring their own business and/ or their first home and so on. Youth need Pacific Island role models like Joshua to inspire them and defy the demographics. I've grown up in a Pacific Island household and though we had the traditional Pacific Island ornamental items in our home, I was raised as a kiwi, the island language my grandmother had taught me to speak in was discarded in favour of English for school. This was a mistake because your language is a major part of your identity, your culture and ancestry. I have grown up with plenty of Pacific Island role models who have succeeded in different avenues of life. My first after school employer was Tongan. He owned a grocery store, a restaurant, a racehorse, his own home and a sports car (he had started out as a bus driver). My son's primary school principle was Samoan as well as a fellow doctor who worked at the doctor's surgery. As for people who work in factories, cleaning and so on, they work damned hard, often in thankless jobs. I live across from a hotel and every night the Pacific Island cleaner is there working through the night. Often the parents work different shifts to make ends meet. I used to work days and my ex husband worked nights. We both worked full time and looked after our baby. I did the majority of household duties. I would get home from work, and he would be leaving for work. When he would return home from work, I'd just be going to sleep. Even with two jobs we were just surviving. Blame at times should be directed at the government to raise minimum wage. People are relegated to a substandard quality of life. Existing is NOT living! Minimum wage does not reflect the high cost of living, especially in Auckland. I challenge members of parliament to have a trial period of living on a minimum wage. They receive their annual raise before Christmas, estimated at 2%. While they look foreword to "Deck the halls with boughs of holly....",. for others, poverty dictates the same bleak outlook, no festive fare or presents under the tree. With higher levels of stress at this time of year, It'll be more like "Deck the wife......"
(no reference intended to any particular race, just families that are financially disadvantaged and/or suffer especially during Christmas). Financial issues are an underlying major contributing factor. I visited a young family. The husband's employed full time, receiving $380.00 (after tax) and even with FTC and top up, they struggle financially due to high rents, petrol prices, power, water and so on. The woman's father gives money from his own pocket (he earns minimum wage) and he suffers because he doesn't have enough for himself. The same man, extracted his own tooth because he couldn't afford dental costs. People share medications because they can't afford doctor and prescription charges. Minimum wage confines people to a life of poverty, frustration, tension and despair. It's POVERTY Mr. Key. Many of the societal issues that exist today are directly poverty related. For a child's birthday, I had to buy shoes instead of a toy. To quote one mother; "What is the point of this shit existence?" I sympathize and wonder is she right? People deserve a living wage, a quality of life for themselves and their children. A sense of hope for the future. As for people on benefits, there was a recent documentary "New Zealand and the Economy," that aired on T.V. It had stated tax evasion equaled 1 billion, despite this, only 50 percent per year are prosecuted with a 20 percent chance of receiving a jail term. Benefit fraud though greatly less, had a higher percent of prosecution with a 60 percent chance of receiving a jail term. At times, the timing of news regarding people on benefits seems suspect. For example: at one point, there were three major ongoing news stories; reduced fishing quotas, the Fonterra scandal and another news piece that had been dominating the news for some time, then a news item was aired regarding people on benefits. It was a convenient and timely distraction, taking the heat off from the governments involvement in other issues and gave them breathing space. It seems white collar crime does pay. For example; in 1992, executive chairman of Equiticorp, Allan Hawkins was accused of embezzlement, $88 million from investors, yet only sentenced to six years. Bridgecorp chairman Bruce Nelson Davidson was sentenced to nine months home detention, 200 hours community work and only ordered to pay 500.000 reparation. The investors had lost 49 million.

  

          

                                                                            

It is vital to have a sense of one's own cultural identity to enable a person to have a sense of belonging and a connection to their ancestral roots.  


I once had a Chinese flatmate who at one point, lost her cultural identity. She recounted her childhood story. She and several children had been abandoned in/outside a village in China (due to some superstition). She was later on adopted by a pastor and family in NZ (she believed he'd done it purely for publicity and had retained newspaper clippings of the event). It would have been a traumatic time, abandoned by her family then removed from her place of birth, culture and her people then have to adapt to a new life, family, country and culture. She was given an English name and confided she had never felt loved by her adoptive family. At one point, she had tried to wash her brown skin white, to fit in with her new family. Many years later, she had a beautiful half-caste daughter, whom she had given both a Chinese and English name.

The orator Chief Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe, and others on board a German warship being taken to exile in Saipan.

Injustice is ... 

Samoans tried regaining their independence by creating the Mau a Pule movement in 1908. They held peaceful protests, led by the orator Chief Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe. He and other Mau a Pule Chiefs, along with their wives and children were banished to live in Saipan, Mariana Islands in 1909. Sadly many of them died while still in exile. Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe died on 14th December 1915 without ever seeing his beloved Samoa again. The injustice is they only participated in peaceful protests, first against German colonialism and mistreatment and later against New Zealand. Being exiled, deprived them of being with their extended families, friends and their homeland. Pacific Islanders are very family orientated and have a deep and abiding attachment for their homeland. Looking at photographs of the people aboard the ship and seeing the resignation on their faces...evokes feelings of sadness, anger and disgust... that one race can invade another's land and abuse the civil rights of another.







A young girl lay,
on a cold August night.
So silent and still 
Alone, except for a guardian angel,
a silent witness to her soul's departing flight
Within the hearts of her aiga,

Agnes Ali'iva'a 

she will always remain.
Cherished.

Forever. 
An iridescent flame.

Injustice is ... 

A young girl was found dead at Keith Hay park. The media referred to her as; "The girl in the ditch". The media should have made an effort to be more mindful. It is devastating to lose a child under any circumstances."The girl in Keith Hay park" would have been sufficient. How would they have liked it had she been their daughter. Though she was half naked with her track pants inside out, only one sock on and no shoes, police closed the case, concluding accidental drowning. They were negligent in their duty. When a child is missing or has died in suspicious circumstances, no stone should be left unturned....as in the case of Madeleine McCann. When discovered by a passer by, she was lying face down in a ditch with shallow water. She may have fallen from a nearby ridge and become unconscious. There should have been an investigation into whether she may have been a victim of a sexual assault. Marks and abrasions were found on several parts of her face and body. A person associated with the case said they may have been caused by her jumping from a vehicle. After her body was turned over for photographs, it was mistakenly assumed she was a twenty year old due to her physical maturity. Perhaps had they directed their gaze more towards her face, they would have realised she was just a young girl not quite a teen. No twelve year old girl could pass for a twenty year old, even with make up. Her clothes had been disposed of and not kept for evidence. The case was reopened four years later due to public pressure and the minister of Labour the Hon. Phil Goff.  

I loved: "The Turtle and the Shark"
a beautiful love story. I loved the use of the tapa cloth in the animation:
   



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydDi9iuKbhM


I admired the poignant poem:  'Filemu Samoa!'  by  Ole Maiava          






Below is a short narrative using 'Cinderella,' to illustrate and address various themes in connection with the pacific: colonization, incidents involving injustice, majority versus minority...a power play when the oppressed are pawns in a monopoly game with the colonizers holding the dice and making up their own rules. Included are certain historical events. I use humour, though by no means do I intend it to lessen or devalue issues that were/are still relevant to this day and the historical significance of tragic events.

The character of Cinderella is representative of someone disadvantaged, oppressed, marginalized. The character has similar qualities to Pacific Islanders I have grown up with; being humble, quiet spoken, hard-working and loyal.


Once upon a 'Pacific Standard' time...

There once was a young woman, I shall name her Cinderella,
I do not mean a fa'afafine (a fella).
She lived in a tranquil, untainted paradise... far from cities, pollution and crowds.
Like her own people, she was immersed in her own identity, her culture and ancestry,
of which she was passionate and proud.
The 'Fa'a Samoa' was a part of their traditional way of life.
To be humble and live a simple existence, without too much strife.
They had their seafaring skills, fishing skills and many a plantation.
Then over a period of several years...they came... without an extended invitation,
Lo and behold, the stepmother and the ugly step-sister's... from more than one nation.
Britain the Great (mother-of-all bullies)... in tow with her military force,
Germany too bringing discourse,
New Zealand; shame on you, for the killing of Afioga Tama-Aiga Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III
and the thousands of lives lost with the Spanish Flu.
USA like the great bird of prey, decided to nest and therefore did stay.
France, abandoned her interest in Samoa, thank the Lord for deliverance!
Samoa had no need for her French language, French bread or wine and her damned nuclear stance!


They had all fought for control; Samoa, her islands, resources and people,
Cinderella didn't need her Godmother, her faith was higher than a steeple.  
They tried enforcing their laws and authority, preaching Christianity while lashing out with brutality.
The colonisers deemed themselves as superior,
Treating Samoans, as though they were inferior.
They tried promoting their systems of justice, values and beliefs,
Samoa was steadfast, with her own customs, social systems, including their Matais (Chiefs).
Alleluia! She regained her Independence, depression was replaced with elation and great jubilation!
As for the English stepmother and the ugly step-sister's bar one,
there was only one thing that needed to be done,
Castration!

The Dawn Raids:
The dawn raids unfairly targeted Pacific Islanders. Richard Prebble a Labour MP at the time, was astounded and perplexed to have had two policemen knock on his front door. His wife was Fijian.The dawn raids were instigated when the economy spiralled downwards. Island families were traumatized. Richard Prebble stated that Islanders were used as an easy scapegoat. By 1975 the National party under Muldoon started a racial campaign using a racist cartoon portraying Islanders as immigrants taking New Zealanders jobs and houses and causing problems. Police were made to focus on looking for Pacific Island over-stayers. Pat Booth former editor of 'The Auckland Star' stated if the islanders were found to be legitimate, police looked for other excuses to arrest them; One man was arrested for having two combs in his pocket which he had found. Police were targeting anyone with brown skin. 1970's -1980's statistics showed the majority of over-stayers were from Europe and America but were not targeted the same way. Two thirds of over-stayers were European, yet two thirds of Pacific Islanders were prosecuted. Helen Clark said the dawn raids were shameful and picked on individuals who were not European. It would be interesting if National started a dawn raid on people involved in tax evasion. 1 billion in unpaid taxes. I guess police would have problems getting through their gates and the latest in hi tech security. Guilty parties could always run off to their helipad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZviIkSxjV0k

"Brotown"
I never allowed my son to watch Brotown. I want to RAISE him up not bring him down. Programmes like 'Brotown' and the 'Semisis' perpetuate the ignorant, biased racial stereotyping that is demeaning to all people of the Pacific. I want my son to grow up and be proud of his cultural identity and the Pacific Island blood that courses through his veins.





Photographic images have been retrieved from:
https://www.google.co.nz/imghp?hl=en&tab=wi

Artwork is my own.

Identity – in response to Grace Taylor’s Spoken word.

At two years old

My grand-father’s tombstone went up

Leonard Peters died in 1991

We washed out hands and feet in the ocean

Of the Matapouri coast

And I asked my mother if “Poppy was still sleeping?”

Years later, I discovered that was not his real name at all

Leonard- for a Maori- How could I have been so naive.

I still carry a white-ified last name, chosen by my ever adaptable

Poppy.

My laconic but loving father

Does not speak of Maori culture,

Or a Maori tongue, Says you don’t have to Hongi

and “don’t eat anything except potatoes and bread at the Marae

So you don’t get sick”

in terms of blood quantum
I have always considered myself predominantly white
but with brown skin, brown eyes and wavy brown hair

I know I am seen as "Other"

Sent to boarding school in Auckland

At age 12, I was one of the only brown students in my year

Always a lover of words,  I slowly ascended to be top of Latin.

Now I feel  a visceral shame that it was not

Te Reo Maori,

My father, a practical lawyer envisioning that I may wear court dress and wig,  thought
"Latin will be more useful"

Latin, the base of other romantic languages.

Offering a thorough understanding of syntax and grammar

I soon found the word useful to be dependent on intentions

Identity

I avoid making statement on it

Because I cannot say I relate it more to my 

Maori heritage

or Scottish heritage 

It slips to the back of my mind,

Like my warrant of fitness, like thank you letters I have forgotten to write.

It breathes only in the shadow of my subconscious