Go north for a while

Acclaimed poet and GP Glenn Colquhoun has some sage words for Act leader David Seymour: taihoa on your Treaty of Waitangi referendum stuff.

Dear David, I've been away walking Te Araroa lately, scratching the belly of the fish, as Hone Tūwhare used to say. It's had me thinking about us all as a people. You have, too, I suppose. I happened to be in Russell the night of the election, caught the Ōpua ferry with Winston Peters the next day. On the way through Kerikeri, I stayed for a night with Kipa and Susie, two of the most blessed souls you're ever likely to meet. Kipa is from Ngāti Rēhia. He told me you whakapapa to there. I envy you for that.

Thirty years ago, I went to live in Te Tii, the home of Ngāti Rēhia in the Bay of Islands. I stayed in an old tin shed by the beach. I rented it for $30 a week from Kipa's brother, John, although everyone called him "The Hood". He lived on a small hill above me with his partner, Kuia. Aunty Rangi lived beside them, with Milton and Erehi. Uncle Buck and Aunty Maraea lived one house over, and Aunty Bloss was in front.

On the beach in front of me lived Tom Kelly and his four daughters. The girls ate my chocolate biscuits while I nailed the corrugated iron into the bottom plate to stop the mice getting into the shed. And then again when I made a shower from roofing battens, polythene and a small water tank.

Soli lived beside me then. And on the other side of him lived Aunty Tiniwa, and Gracie, her daughter. Gracie and I watched Shortland Street together most nights. Afterwards, I would help her with her homework.

In the house beyond that, at the end of the beach, lived Aunty Rongo. She is my most constant ghost nowadays. I live with her chatting on my shoulders.

Uncle Bill and Aunty Kare lived on the other side of the community. I visited them most days. Aunty Kare wanted to baptise me. Uncle Bill wanted someone to tease and to ride shotgun with him through the wild west of his memories.