Cook Islands Māori, not just words but a way of life

In 1971 my mother was in Wellington hospital having given birth to my youngest sister Susan. My mother was very ill, and she wasn’t expected to live.

I was 10 and living in Aitutaki in the Cook Islands with the old couple next-door - Mama Mareuti and Papa Jim Putoko. Mama Mareuti had elephantiasis in her left leg. This woman had the biggest impact on my life. And as a kid, you know it’s uncool to be around old people but as children we always gathered around her place to play and often have meals.

On our slow Sunday morning walks to church, I was conscious of other kids watching me and pointing, but then she started telling stories as we walked and the leg didn’t matter anymore; I was just looking forward to what the next story would be. She explained all these quotes, and I was only a little kid but they’ve stuck with me ever since. I would say that’s when I got taught things and it’s held me where I am in good stead. Even now when people question me I still go back to that. It’s always in the background of my mind.

My sister and I arrived in New Zealand on 6 May 1971. I was eleven and she was five. Within two weeks, my mother was able to leave her oxygen tent in hospital and, although weak, was allowed home. I believe she was merely heartbroken at not having all her children with her.

I was fluent when I came out, understandably, but my experience at primary school was so frustrating. I could explain to you, I could describe to you what I see and what I feel in my language but I couldn’t find those words in English. It was quite frustrating.

In English, if you’re speaking to someone, you don’t expect them to know about your culture or your history. You can only rely on the words. But In Cook Islands Māori, our shared history and knowledge change what we say and its meaning.

It’s like asking a simple question like ‘How are you?’ The English reply I learned was ‘Fine, thank you’. Whereas in Cook Islands Māori, the reply can depend on where you are and who is asking. So the response can vary from ‘Meitaki’ meaning ‘okay, good, or fine’. Or to an elderly person I might reply ‘Te ora ua nei i te ora a te Atua’ which means ‘surviving by the grace of God’.
Or to someone on Aitutaki, saying ‘aka ua’ meaning ‘Just enough, not too good, not too bad!’

So anyway, I went through primary school and from there I went to Wellington College. They decided I needed remedial English. Maths wasn’t a problem. Figures are figures wherever you go.
I had an English teacher from England well – she had an English accent. That’s who I learnt from.
It was hard feeling comfortable with that language, but eventually I did and shed some
of my Cook Islands language. That was the only way really, you had to.

At the end of the sixth form, like a lot of us at secondary school, you go down to the Government and in my case there was a Māori and Pacific Island recruitment scheme back then. So I started at the Department of Education in January 1978.

My mother didn’t really understand English when it was more complex. But she was eloquent and wonderful to listen to when she spoke in her mother tongue. Mum was my sounding board to the end and the one person I would always talk to and make her laugh in the way our language is able to tease and make fun.

After Mum passed in 2015, my sisters Kaisari, Tutai and Takake are my sounding boards to maintain my Cook Islands Māori.

To order Cook Islands dual-language reading books visit: http://literacyonline.tki.org.nz/Literacy-Online/Planning-for-my-students-needs/Pasifika-dual-language-books