On the Marae

Last weekend, we were invited to a Marae for the celebration of a 21st birthday.

A marae is a communal center which occupies both a sacred and a social place in Maori cultural life. It is where important events such as weddings, funerals, meetings and welcoming visitors occurs. There is a great deal of custom and ritual associated with the marae and it is where the expression of Maori culture and language is still alive and expressed most freely. A marae consists of a cleared space in front of a central hall or "big house" - wharenui. Before entering into the marae formally, everyone must be called to come. This is done with a ceremony called a porwhiri. So far when I have seen and heard a porwhiri, it has been a woman who calls in Maori song - "Come, Come... Harae mai, Harae mai..." It is quite stirring, this lone voice, high pitched, calling out into the silence.

We went to the Manukau Marae which is a family marae of Ginny Shortland, a teacher at Ahipara Primary school where Ethan and Reuben attend and the mother of one of Reuben's classmates. It was her cousin's son who was turning twenty-one, and the party illustrates the nature of the Maori concept of whanau or extended family. Family is family, no matter if related by marriage on your mother's cousin's father's side. It's family. The invitation also reflects another Maori custom of open and generous hospitality. I met Ginny only for the first time earlier in the day at a very traditionally suburban five year old's birthday party. When she heard about our year long travel, she insisted that we come to the marae to experience a cultural evening and a hangi.

A hangi is a traditional way of cooking in which fires are kindled in great pits dug into the ground. Round river rocks are put in on top of the fires until they are glowing red. Then food wrapped in cabbage leaves, (I think these are leaves from cabbage trees not cabbage the vegetable, but I'm not sure.) is put in baskets and lowered into the pits. Then the whole thing is covered with dirt and left overnight. It is dug up the next day and voila...dinner is served.

So we went to the marae, and the porwhiri which was called for 6:00. We felt very comfortable, because at around 6:45 is when it really started. Steve said he has never lived in a place which runs so much on his time as Northland. He is never late here. We were all welcomed in as a group (about a 100 people were there) and one of the elders said a karakia in Maori, a opening blessing. All Maori gatherings, including my Maori language class, start and end with karakia. They are incredibly spiritual and non-denominational. Then the elder began by welcoming the family and the boy and acknowledging all of the elders and the dead who came before and everyone present and all the guests. He spoke in both Maori and English. Then someone from the audience got up and responded in both Maori and English and acknowledged the family and the birthday boy and all the elders and the dead and the guest and everyone present and the hospitality of the marae and the community. Ginny later told us that anyone could have answered. It is a matter of who feels moved to respond and that multiple people can respond to the greeting which can sometimes make the welcome go on for a very long time.

Then it was time to eat. The spread was in the dining area. This marae was diffent than most in that they had tables set up in the main hall. Ginny said, generally, the main hall is reserved only for more sacred uses, but not in their marae. The food was fabulous. Cooked chicken and pork from the ground, mussels in cream sauce, cold fish stew, roasted kumara. Some of it, I had no idea what it was. There was something that looked like a split, roasted bird, but I was told was some kind of fish head. I sadly admit, I didn't try it. I did get a chance to finally try paua, which is a specialty around here. It is abalone which locals dive for. Supposedly you have to know how to cook it. It was chewy, but good in a cream sauce. It is green. Can't say I am dying to have it again, but glad I tried it.

We stayed and chatted with folks for a while, but left when it got dark as did most of the other families with young kids. After that the party was turning into a young adult disco and we made our way through the darkened gorge road and back home; fuller both in our tummies and in our cultural lives.

Special Appeal for Christchurch

It is very odd to be safe and sound in the far North when absolutely everyone we know in New Zealand is centered in Christchurch and going through such a horrific time. Every single person with whom we've formed bonds of friendship and love right now is stuggling in some way and but for the quirks of fate, it would have been us too. Thankfully, all of our friends are physically safe, though nearly all are grappling a level of displacement, whether outright homelessness because their house is unlivable or serious camping hardship as they are doing with trucked in water and porta-loo's. But the New Zealand government is on top of things and people are resourceful and stalwart. They are going to be okay, if the earth would only stop moving. However, there is one friend and one group of friends that are facing a longer term challenge, and I am trying to see if I can do some small thing to help.




I don't know how much I really shared in my blogs and emails about the place in Christchurch and Sumner that is most special to our family. There is a wonderfully quirky and outrageous woman named Lisa Hadfield who owns and runs the Sumner Riding School. It is located on the Sumnervale Reserve tucked in the back of the town at the hollow of the cliffs (at least where the cliffs met when I left. They may have moved some since then.) It is a beautiful spot with rising green hills covered in waving tufts of grass leading into high gorse. The horses roam on the hills, or on the flat paddock in front of the two barns, not flash, but serviceable. There are about twenty horses and ponies, many only hip to shoulder high so that they are just the right size for the littlest riders. A couple are rescued ponies, taken in not because they can be ridden, but because they needed a home. Lisa has groups of kids who ride at the paddock, many who have started with her in the Tuesday morning toddler group. They now are in their early teens, ride in shows and help to run the place.



Ethan rode at Lisa's school at least one day a week, and more frequently during holidays. Reuben went to Tuesday toddler road rides. Sam rode with all the teenage girls a couple of weeks during the holidays. For me, Lisa was extra special. She not only reminded me that I was once a 12 year old who knew how to ride a horse, she also was my friend and the paddock was a place of comfort those few monthss when nothing else seemed to be going right in town. All the boys spent our last few days in Sumner at the paddock full-time while school was in, but they were not and we were packing our trailer.



The truly beautiful thing about Lisa and her paddock is that the kids don't come for their lessons and leave. They come to be with the horses, work and learn about life. The kids show up at 3:30 after school and stay till 6:30 or 7:00 until the work is done. On holidays and weekends they show up at 10:00 and stay till 5:00. They learn to love and more importantly, care for the horses from picking stones out of hooves, feeding hay, grooming, to picking up s__t in the paddock. Riding is only a small part of the responsibility of taking care of horses. And Lisa is not easy on them. She demands that they think and use the brains they were given. As a parent, it is a delight to see - and it is all for a $25 fee.



But now, Sumner is a "ghost town." Many of the houses have been evacuated because the cliffs are unstable. Others are simply destroyed. It will be weeks before the schools can reopen and so families have moved their children away to other towns. Riding is very low on peoples priorities as can be understood. But horses still eat hay and drink water. So I am trying to do something small for this group of friends, the four legged variety. Lisa is recieving help, but it is going to be a long haul for her and her horses.



If you are interested in helping out the school with the expense of upkeep, please email me: suzannenemeroff@gmail.com and we'll figure out the best way to get some extra support to Lisa and the horses.



On behalf of Merc, Spud, Rose, Phantom, Danny, Star, Luke, Daniel, Tilly, Smokey, Travis, Dotty, Eve, Smokey, Gamel, Thomas, Toffee, Louie and Barney, thank you.

Update from Paradise

Me and Star on 90 Mile Beach

The view from our back porch in the new house in Ahipara.

Finally our life is exactly the kind of adventure I was hoping for. Laid back, beautiful, warm, with nothing much in a small town but little things to explore. I have been horse back riding, surfing, gardening. I am taking a Maori language course. and I got roped into doing a half triathelon with a Maori health group in a month - 350 m swim, 10 km bike and 4.5 km walk/run. A bunch of people are going camping the night before then doing the triathelon. Everyone is out of shape and the point is to finish. As long as I don't die, it'll be great. I already can ride 30 km easy and walk lots farther. Its the swimming and doing it altogether that might be tough.

A couple of days ago I took a surf lesson yesterday with Steve. He can already surf, but after six months of boogie boarding, I decided to try it. I suck. But at the end of two hours, I did stand up and ride a couple of waves. It is hard though, but fun.

In other news, Sam made the senior cricket tournament team on the strength of his batting. His is totally psyched. He is in high school here so is with guys up to 18 and is so tiny compared to them. They are going to Whangerei for two days in a couple of weeks. Reuben has started soccer and Ethan is starting rugby in two weeks (the skinny little kid is going to get flattened.)

The only tiny bit of bitter sweetness is that Sam will be a Bar Mitzvah in five days and we are the only Jews we know. We are not doing anything formal to mark the occasion. We will do something later when we return to Portland, but he is growing up in so many fabulous ways. He is truly on his way to becoming a man.

Anyway, that's the news from Northland.