Maria Aroha

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A tui bird sings in the background.

Ko Motupōhue e te maunga,
Ko Te Ara-a-Kiwa te moana
Ko Te Rau Aroha te Marae,
Ko Tahu-pōtiki te tūpuna whare,
Ko Ngāi Tāhu, Kati Māmoe, me Waitaha nga iwi,
Ko Maria Aroha Morgan toku Ingoa.

When you're trying to piece your, your life story, hum, even though I'm like all over the place, it's like, for a split moment, the puzzle was just gone 'tac tact tac' and just formed. It's like, crazy life. Not bad. It's not bad. It's one muddled life. Yeah. That I actually feel like I need to start back at the start, if you know what I mean, and just let it flow.

We hear kids singing waiata in the back.

I've lived and breathed marae-life. I have been here from a very young age. We lived down in the old Māori house down there. So yeah, this has been, life. Yeah. And, it's just, not about textbook - it's purely, you live and breathe it. You know? And, it stuck.

The waiata continues

There were the best moments of my life. I mean, we all talk about our upbringing, our childhood here. And those were the days where our parents were, abusive and... as in, not full-blown abuse, you know, kick up the ass or, you know, twack or... Those were the days. That's where we learnt our life skills. We had to fend for ourselves outside. That was our life. Positives and lots of negatives, along the way.

A tui sings outside.

Something vital, actually: I never spoke until I was eight. Not a word. So I communicated with my mother through the eyes, no talking. And I guess that's why she was the, the dominator. To me that was normal. She was the dictator, you listened. But huge respect, huge respect for my mum, yeah. But I idealised everything she did. Everything. I've always said, one day, I'm going to be just like you.

Her son is playing the guitar and singing, leading a waiata, at her mother's funeral.

I have four children, three boys and a girl. Jordan, who was the oldest, he is 28, Thomas 23, Jamal 19, coming up 20 and Jeniah, my daughter is 18. They all live away from home, but always come back when they want something. Yeah. Very tight family, we stick together and we all come together, when we need.

The waiata ends.

I got pregnant at a very young age. I was 15. It didn't matter that I had four children. My mother was the matriarch. She called the shots. She raised my kids. Yeah. I guess, I don't know what it's like to be a mum with all the power and... because my mom still treated me like I was still that young kid, very young daughter. Full rein, full rein. Yeah. My mom has raised my children. She has always been a matriarch, but I guess that I got to a stage in my life where I took the wrong pathway, I guess, yeah, and learnt, from bad decisions, bad choices. And especially here within the marae, marae life. I forgot those, those values, those beliefs, you know, that she instilled in me. You Figure it out later on in life, yeah, which I have...

A river flows and birds are singing.

I don't think any of us siblings have had a relationship with our dad. Um, but that's not, that's not his fault. Um, that's not our fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault. Um, since my mom got sick, and with her passing for me personally, we've had to form a relationship. Yeah. You know, I've actually rang my family up to say: "You'll never guess what - he's just rang up and said: I appreciate you and thank you, thank you for all you do. And I'm proud of you", it's like "BOOM", you know? But it's good, like, because that is the first time my parents have acknowledged me, after all these years. So this feels like "ugh!", and everyone is like "wow!", but really it's like "nooo!". But that was huge for me. Even though I still think it's a bit creepy, it's like, "that creep!", it's because, it's the first time I've ever heard it, ever. I'm 44, you know. It's massive! <laugh>

Her son sings on the guitar.

People expect a lot, or take things for granted. When they say that someone has a strength in them, they're gonna, they're gonna swoop. Yeah. Not just one person, not just two. And that's fine, you do what you do best, what is instilled in you, the heart, the hub... The disheartening thing is when you are forgotten about. You know? That's why I always acknowledg people behind the scenes. The engine, always, always acknowledge them. It makes me feel better. "She'll do that, she'll do that, she'll do this. That's all right, just leave it to her." Acknowledgement is huge, showing appreciation is huge, to people like me who are forgotten about. That's all good for people to say, "she's just the cook". And I just smile. It's like, it's not just about the cook, not about the food, not just about that. It's how you're made to feel, that manaaki, the aroha. And you got to wrap yourself around everybody, to make them feel a sense of belonging, home. So I do have my moments where, if it wasn't for my mom and my dad, the drive and the heart, there's no way that I would do such a kind hearted, you know, thing for, for people like that.

She plays a recording of her Mum's voice: 'There's not point in knowing, knowing how to do all this mahi if you don't share it and don't teach others...'

I am here because my mother said: this is where I need to be. Because I was never allowed to dream big. So I had to stop even thinking about dreaming big and what I want for myself. Everyone else's is allowed to dream big. Just not this one. Like, she's not going to succeed. Yeah. It's best to leave her over here. So, to see my kid, dream big THAT, yeah, that's satisfying enough for me. Despite my emotions and my feelings, um, I can gladly say, this is why we have the tools we do today; to help us deal with, why my mother treated me the way she did...

Tui birds are singing in the background

One thing, my mom didn't teach me, is that we must take care of ourselves first. If we are going to look after the people, we are number one. Continuously burning myself out is, yeah, crazy. But we have the tools these days to be able to, um, figure that out, to balance, to balance life. I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, but just relax. Most of the time I'm making movies. Um, I create marae movies with the footage I have, the photos I have. And then what I do is I put that out, I share that with the world, actually, because you know, you have to! When our whānau have moved away or, you know, whānau are trying to connect, reconnect. They can go onto our Facebook page and they are kept up with the play as to what has going on here, at Te Rau Aroha. It's like a timeline from way back then to today. And this is all about weaving the people together, pull them in, bring them home. And that's not 'til it's complete that I'll watch it. And it's like, wow! Achieved. Let's look forward to the next week. What's next week gonna bring. Yeah, that's my medicine...

We hear a large group singing waiata in her marae.

I haven't quite reached where I need to be in life in terms of 'who am I', I'm on that journey. Just like any other broken woman I guess, or not just broken. Yeah. I need to fully get to know 'me', my inner, 'me'. I do have strong wāhine around me who are on that same journey, if not a bit more further along. And they push, and they push and they push, you know? In a good way. And, I just gotta do the mahi, on yourself.

Tui birds are singing in the background

I love to talk about Mana Wāhine, Wāhine Toa, but about all these other Wāhine, not me. Because I've never seen myself as part of Wāhine Māori. My mother and my auntie, they are IT for me. That is a prime example of Mana Wāhine. The force, they are the goddesses, they are, why I am here today.

She plays another recording of her Mum's voice:" It's really, really important to nurture, foster,   promote Māori women. We haven't had a great run you know in the past, even now a lot of things that are pitched against us, however, I think as long as we stay positive, we support what each other does. You can just be able to achieve anything".

I believe I'm still that little girl. I haven't actually become that woman yet. Even though people refer to me as that woman. I'm not, I don't think I am. She's coming out. Yeah, just, just not quite, not quite yet. Yeah. This goes through my head. 'Cause to me, oooh, it means, it means a lot actually. I see sadness. I see, um, strength. I see life, everything that has to do with women and their emotions and their, their wairua, their āhua their... yeah, that's very powerful. Yeah...

We hear children singing accompanied by a guitar.

It was a couple of years ago she said to me, "do you remember those very words that you said?" And I was like, what's that? And she said, "one day, I'm going to be just like you, mum", she said, "and look". And I was like, wow! Yes!

The song fades away slowly.