Flooded Weekend

Well, what I intended for this week's post to be about was my lovely weekend with friends in Whanganui, but things did not go as planned. Not even close.

As I am well-trained by both of my parents, I will start this post by assuring you that I am fine, everyone I know is fine, and in fact, this natural disaster only resulted in the damage of objects, not people, so don't get too worried.

That being said, it must be noted that I drove from New Plymouth, where it was raining but otherwise fairly safe, to Whanganui, which was soon after declared a State of Emergency. In my defense, I had no way of knowing that anything unusual was going on until I was almost all the way there, when Belinda called and said, "Don't come, they're warning people not to drive because of slips (landslides) and flooding!" Well, at that point I'd driven 1.5 out of the 2 hours to get there, and had seen several landslides already, so I decided to drive the last 1/2 hour rather than turn back. Seemed like a reasonable plan at the time.

I drove slowly and carefully and made it to Whanganui right on time for my lunch date with Belinda in town. My plan for the weekend was:

~ Lunch with Belinda

~ Afternoon Tea with Kirsten

~ Tea (Dinner) at Jan's house with Jan and Brian - see their awesome pictures of their trip to Europe

~ Sleep at Jan's house

~ Go to my friend Jo's Baby Shower

~ Go home after lunch

~ Spend the afternoon with J

Well... halfway through lunch with Belinda, Jan called me and said that the road/bridge to her house was under several feet of water, and that there was no way anyone could get in or out. That put a bit of a kink in my plans, as coincidentally, both Kirsten and Belinda had other things going on, so I couldn't stay with them that night. Also, I was very eager to see Jan's pictures!

While I was on the phone with Jan, Belinda checked the news on her phone and saw that it was heavily recommended that people not drive, as the rain had continued and road conditions were deteriorating. Great, homeless and stranded. Oh well. In an uncharacteristically zen moment, I took a deep breath and accepted this fact, and moved on.

I finished my (quite lovely) lunch with Belinda, then headed over to Kirsten's. She was managing a hotel for the weekend while the owners were away, so she was staying in their house, which is why I couldn't stay with her. However, in true Kirsten fashion, she announced, "I'm sure they won't mind!" She called them up, and five minutes later I was still stranded, but no longer homeless. And not only that, I'd been granted a home with a deliciously warm fireplace. What a difference five minutes and a friend like Kirsten can make!

So... after a comforting call to Jan, who was more worried about rendering me homeless than about herself being cut off from the world, all was well.

Kirsten and I settled down by the fire to drink tea and chat, every so often checking the status of the roads and the flooding. By that evening, many people had been evacuated from their houses, the river was very high, and a lot of people like Jan who lived out in the country were stranded! 

In the midst of all of this, here is my situation. 

A cup of tea, a warm fire, a wonderful friend to talk to, a book to read when she's off doing hotel things, and a computer to keep me updated on the flood. Also, there was a gorgeous grey cat who came by often for cuddles.

Given that we couldn't go anywhere anyway (except down the road to feed the mansion cats), we spent a delightful evening in front of the fire, and then headed to bed. Little did we know, it kept raining all night.

In the morning, we woke up to this. Two things you should notice:

#1 - The back yard should not be full of water.

#2 - The river in the background should not be that close. I should have taken a "before" picture, but trust me, it wasn't that close before.

You will notice a repeated theme in the following pictures; water where it does not belong.

I got some of these pictures from various news sites, as I am not willing to endanger myself or get in the way of relief efforts in order to gawk at flooding.

This is downtown, just a few minutes from where we were.

This is a further-back shot of that area. Yes, that bridge was closed for the day.

This is on the road to Palmerston North, which, unsurprisingly, was also closed. More on roads later.

This is a panorama that Kirsten took of the view from the mansion she's been house sitting, taken a few weeks ago.

This is a panorama of the same view, right after the flood. If you look just to the right of the bridge in the middle, you'll notice that all the ground below that row of trees is now gone.

I took this picture from the mansion. It is of that area just to the right of the bridge, where there used to be land holding up those trees.

This is one of the residential areas that got flooded! This picture makes me so sad for those families!

This is where some trees got carried down in a landslide and fell across the road. It is also the place where Kirsten didn't see them in the dark on Saturday night (on the way back from feeding the mansion cats) and we almost had what would have been a very embarrassing crash. The police officer monitoring the roads was only letting residents through, and after he approved us he said, "Be careful!" We were actually in the midst of laughing at what seemed like unnecessary advise when we almost crashed into the mass of trees. Oops.

This is on the way back from the mansion when we fed the cats in the morning. There used to be an entire hill there, complete with a deck or something that those stairs lead to. Not anymore.

Along with the news of flooding and damage that we got in the morning, we also got the news that ALL of the highways out of Whanganui were closed due to flooding or slips. Whanganui was completely cut off from the rest of the country! Which also meant I was unable to get home. In addition, all three of the bridges across the Whanganui River were closed, so we couldn't even get to most of the city. Luckily for us, we were on the same side of the river as the mansion cats, or they would have been very hungry!

I should mention, with regard to my original plan for the weekend, that the baby shower was also cancelled, due to the mother-to-be actually being stranded in Palmerston North, and multiple guests being stranded in Whanganui East, which was completely cut off in all directions.

I do not want to downplay the tragedy of this damage, or the seriousness of the event, but I do have to admit that the idea of being "stranded" indefinitely by the fire with Kirsten and lots of good food was fairly tantalizing. I can't say that I would have terribly regretted calling a reliever and saying, "Sorry, could you work for me on Monday, I'm stranded in Whanganui and will be forced to sit, eat, and chat all day." Plus, Kirsten was pretty excited to have company during all these adventures, so she was secretly (openly) crossing her fingers for it not to end right away.

Well... it did last for most of the day, but in the afternoon they opened up the road to New Plymouth, so I headed back with mixed feelings of relief and disappointment. 

I drove slowly and carefully, which turned out to be a good thing, because on multiple occasions I rounded a corner and found this in my lane, and had to stop and wait until it was safe to go into the other lane. Fortunately, there weren't too many other cars on the road, so no one minded my slowness and it was easy to find safe times to cross landslide areas.

So ... while I send my sympathy and warm wishes to everyone who faces difficult clean-up after the weekend of flooding ... and while I am still impatient to see Jan's photos ... and while I'm disappointed to have missed the baby shower (which is now rescheduled for a time I can't make it) ...  I had a wonderful weekend being stranded with Kirsten! Sometimes nothing at all goes the way you planned, and it turns out that is just perfect. I am such a planner, it's hard for me to accept that my plans can be ruined, and a few years ago I probably would have spent the whole weekend fuming that I didn't get to do the things I wanted to do, even though the alternative was so pleasant. I am thankful that I can now be healthier and happier because I understand that even things that completely destroy what you thought your plan was can be wonderful.

Marae Visit Part 2: Mihimihi

After the karanga (call), the pōwhiri (welcome ceremony) continues with kōrero (speeches) and often a hongi (sharing of breath by touching noses). After the formal pōwhiri is complete, people often recite their mihimihi. Mihimihi are introductions, which list your important characteristics, including where you are from, who your tūpuna (ancestors) and iwi (tribe) are, your name, etc. Where you are from is described through listing your river, your sea, and your mountain. Please note that this makes more sense in NZ than in Kansas, given that here you can't be more than a few hours from all three of these things. I had to use the Colorado Rockies for my mountain, although that's a stretch. I actually left out the sea entirely, because I figured that it really wasn't reasonable, even if we're willing to stretch it, to say that I come from any sea. (By the way, Kiwis use sea and ocean interchangeably. I suppose that when you live on an island, the difference becomes moot).

Mihimihi are important in te ao Māori (the Māori world) because they help people make connections with each other and to learn a sense of their identity. Much more than in Western culture, your connection to the natural world and your whakapapa (family tree) makes up a large percentage of who you are.

This is my mihimihi, which I have recited several times on marae, as well as at various kindergarten functions. I have translated it into English here, but it is only ever said in Māori. Even many people who don't really speak Māori have done their mihimihi, because it is such a fundamental part of navigating in Māori society.

Tēnā koutou katoa.

Greetings everyone.

Ko Colorado Rockies ngā Maunga tapu.

The Colorado Rockies are my sacred mountains.

Heke iho ki te wai o Big Blue.

I come from the waters of the Big Blue.

Nō Kansas ahau.

I am from Kansas.

Ko George me Peggy Verschelden, Virgil me Marie Denner ōku kaumatua.

George and Peggy Verschelden and Vigril and Marie Denner are my grandparents.

Ko Dean Denner tōku matua.

Dean Denner is my father.

Ko Cia Verschelden tōku whaea.

Cia Verschelden is my mother.

Ko J Mercier tōku hoa rangatira.

J Mercier is my husband.

Ko Emma Mercier tōku ingoa.

My name is Emma Mercier.

Kei te kaiako ahau i te kūra o Puketapu Kindergarten.

I am a teacher at Puketapu Kindergarten.

Nō reira,

Therefore,

Tēnei au e tuku mihi mahana ki a koutou katoa.

This is my warm greeting to all of you.

Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, Mauri ora ki a tātou.
Greetings, greetings, well-being to you all.

Now, if I were Māori (or possibly other Kiwi), I would also include my marae (sacred place), my iwi (tribe), and my hapu (sub-tribe) in my mihimihi. I would also include my waka (canoe) if I knew it. Many iwi can trace their whakapapa (family tree) back to the waka on which their tūpuna (ancestors) came to NZ, and that is another important way to get to know someone and to make connections. Since I am American, I have none of these things, so my mihimihi is shorter than most.

The first time I recited this, it seemed plenty long enough, and I was pretty nervous that I would forget all of it, but it was also exciting to be orienting myself through this tikanga (practice). You'll notice that you get almost to the end before you even say your name. I have been told that this is because all those other ways to orient yourself around the land and your whakapapa (family tree) are more important than what you call yourself. Which makes sense, especially in a small place like NZ where you're likely to have connections with a fairly large percentage of the population.

Having now recited this enough times that it flows naturally off the tongue, I really love doing it, and feel empowered by my grounding in NZ each time I do so. It's a great feeling.

Marae Visits Part 1: Karanga

This post probably wins the "most delayed" award, as my first marae visit was... let me try to remember... at least eight months ago. What is strange about this is that it was a very exciting event, so you'd think that I'd post about it right away, but I didn't. I find the task slightly daunting, because each time I go to a marae, I learn so much and am so amazed by what I experience, and I don't know which bits are best to go in a post or how to communicate them meaningfully.

I have temporarily solved that problem by selecting only one of the many things I could write about for this post: the karanga.

You may recall from earlier posts (or you may not, as they were ages ago) that a marae is the sacred space of a particular iwi (tribe), although there are many marae for each iwi. The actual marae is a grassy area outside where formal greetings and discussions take place, but the word is commonly also used to describe the surrounding buildings as well. The marae is a very special place, where specific rules of tapu (sacred) and noa (common/safe) must be followed, and many rituals of tikanga (culture/customs) are practiced.

As a newcomer to NZ and to tikanga Māori, it is special for me to be able to go onto a marae and to learn about how things are done there. The first time I went on a marae, it was with my Te Reo Māori (Language) course at Puketapu School, and we went to Muru Raupatu Marae. The second time was a weekend course on the history of Taranaki, which was at Owae Marae. Both times have been amazing and educational.

When a group goes onto the marae for a pōwhiri (welcoming ceremony), the first part that happens is the karanga (ceremonial call). There is a kaikaranga (person who does the karanga) for the tangata whenua (hosts) and the manuhiri (visitors), and they call back and forth to each other across the marae, while the manuhiri walk across it to be welcomed into the building. The kaikaranga is always a woman. "Karanga follow a format which includes addressing and greeting each other and the people they are representing and paying tribute to the dead, especially those who have died recently. The purpose of the occasion is also addressed. Skilled kaikaranga are able to use eloquent language and metaphor to encapsulate important information about the group and the purpose of the visit" (Te Aka Māori Dictionary online).

This link is to a youtube video of a woman singing a karanga. Usually she would not be by herself, as she would be representing the tangata whenua (hosts), so others would be there with her, and she would be alternating parts with the kaikaranga of the manuhiri. You can tell that she is tangata whenua because the first thing she says is "Haere mai" which means "Welcome," whereas the manuhiri (guests) say, "Karanga mai (ra)" which means "Call to us."

You can hear the strong voice she uses; in a pōwhiri, she would be calling across the marae, which you will recall is a large grassy area. You have to be loud to be heard across it, and it is also a proud part of the ceremony, and your voice needs to be strong to communicate your mana (prestige/spiritual power).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyoEGv8AKr4

When a group goes onto a marae, at least one person needs to be responsible for singing the karanga. In my group of teachers and community members, no one volunteered, and then the teacher asked me if I would be willing to do it. I felt nervous about doing it, as I am not only not Māori, but not even a Kiwi. They assured me that it would be fine, and that I could do a simple karanga simply stating who we were, without all the fanciness they usually include. This also was fitting for the occasion, as we were not coming for an important meeting or family occasion, but rather to experience the marae and continue our te reo (language) course.

Anyway, I fearfully but excitedly accepted the role of kaikaranga. I was surprised that some of the Māori ladies in the course didn't offer to do it, especially since some of them had previously been to the marae, but I figured that they had their reasons.

Due to a miscommunication between the teacher and myself, I didn't get as much guidance before the event as I thought I would, and so I ended up standing that the front of my group at the entrance to the marae, holding a little piece of paper hidden in my hand to make sure I didn't forget the words, and feeling about as nervous as I ever remember feeling.

I didn't take any pictures that day, so I resorted to finding this one online. We started out right under that archway, and then I sang the karanga as we walked toward the tangata whenua, who were standing into front of the white building.

This is the karanga I sang.

Karanga

(to reply to host karanga)

Karanga mai ra, karanga mai ra, karanga mai ra.       

Call to us, call to us, call to us.

Karanga mai ra ki a matou Te Hua o Puketapu e. 
Call to us, the seeds (people) of Puketapu (School/Kindergarten).

Karanga mai ra, karanga mai ra, karanga mai ra. 
Call to us, call to us, call to us.

(sung after the hosts’ 2nd karanga)

Tenei matou Te Hua o Puketapu e karanga nei. 
This is us, the seeds (people) of Puketapu calling back.

Karanga mai, karanga mai, karanga mai. 
Call us, call us, call us.

As you can tell, it is very simple and straightforward, but it didn't feel that way when I had to sing it out in that high-pitched melody like the woman in the video, and make sure that it was plenty loud enough. I was shaking by the end of it, but everyone said that I didn't look as terrified as I felt, so that's good at least.

I had some interesting conversations as a result of singing this karanga. After the ceremony was over, several pākehā (non-Māori Kiwi) women came up to me and said that they respected that I had done that, because they would always be way too scared to do it. They then continued on to say that they thought it was deeply rude and inconsiderate of the Māori ladies present not to do it, and to thereby force someone like me to take up that responsibility. I said that I didn't mind because it was a good experience for me, which is true, but I wondered about their comments.

Just a few minutes later, one of the Māori ladies there came up to me and told me that I'd done a good job. She then explained that in the tikanga (cultural practice) of her whānau (family), that only the kuia (oldest female) can do the karanga. She said that it would be deeply disrespectful and hurtful to her mother and grandmother for her to do a karanga while they were still alive. She said she felt bad sitting by while I did it, but that it was important to her to respect her family. Of course I assured her that I thought that was wonderful and didn't mind doing the karanga anyway, but I could tell that she felt some tension about it.

The sad thing about all of this is that the pākehā women went home feeling that the Māori women were inconsiderate (when in fact it was quite the opposite) and the Māori women went home feeling that they offended someone either way, when if both side had actually understood the way the other was feeling, everyone would have seen that no one needed to be upset. How many instances of cultures coming together are characterized by that kind of unnecessary negative emotion? It's sad, especially when the two cultures have actually been co-existing and often combining for many years, as is the case here. It often seems that everyone understands each other well here, and then events like this remind us that that is not always true.

Not to worry, though. The fact that a group of white pākehā women (almost exclusively) who teach in NZ took time from their busy lives to take a te reo (language) course and to attend a pōwhiri on a marae means that things are getting better. We are learning, and it seems that the most important thing we all need to learn is that other people's way might be different without being wrong.

I feel privilege to have been able to do a karanga, and am glad that I tried it even though I was scared. It was very inspiring and humbling to be part of the ceremony in that way.

Canadian Wedding in NZ

This weekend, our dear, dear friends Matt and Kathy got married. In Canada. We desperately wanted to be there with them, and thanks to the miracle of Skype, we pretty much were! Their Saturday afternoon wedding was early Sunday morning our time, so we rolled out of bed, got all fancied up (from the waist up) and plopped down to Skype into their beautiful wedding.

Here we are, looking suitably wedding-esque, I think. Now due to the glory of video chat, what you can't tell is that I still had on my pyjama bottoms, while J was wearing old jeans, and we were both sporting warm, fuzzy slippers. Yay!

We got to watch the beautiful bride walk down the aisle. What a dress, eh? Amazing! That's her son, Jake, who is also a friend of ours, although I don't remember him being so tall and grown-up!

See that lovely lady on the left holding an iPad? Well, it's hard to tell, but J and I are IN that iPad!! We could see and hear everything, and it was amazing! Kathy even gave us a little wave on her way down the aisle! We were so thrilled!

A huge, heartfelt thanks to Yvonne for being our technical expert and Skyping buddy. What a gift you gave us!

Signing the marriage certificate. What a beautiful couple. 

(If you look back at the picture of J and I at the top, you can see that this is the part where that picture was taken, because this is where they are in the little picture at the bottom.)

The radiant bride. This picture will always make me smile.

Matt and Kathy, we are so happy for you! Thanks for letting us be a part of your special day, and for being such wonderful people in our lives.

Also, I cannot expound on the wonders of Skype enough. I feel so lucky to live in a time when I can choose to move across the world from those I love, and while it is often difficult and occasionally heartbreaking, I do not have to sacrifice relationships the way I once would have. I am thankful for that every day, and most especially on this day.