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Otago Daily Times
14 hours ago
- General
- Otago Daily Times
Perhaps we should wait a bit before changing road signs
"Kia ora" — and that's about it when I chance my arm with a bit of Māori. I grew up in a small South Island city with little Māori presence, although one house was called "the Māori house" simply because of the family who lived there. In 11 years of schooling, only one Māori boy featured at roll call and the only word we heard much of was "haka". I now realise that at least one other Māori word had enriched my vocabulary although at the time I assumed it was just another old English saying. It was often use by older blokes seeking a break from work and it sounded something like "tie ho". The recent brouhaha (yes, my French is OK) over road signs in Māori in Hawke's Bay reminded me that the word I remembered from boyhood was actually taihoa, a Māori word meaning something like "wait" or "by and by". Without waiting, I dived into the word's history and found it was one of the earliest Māori words to find general acceptance among Pākehā settlers. In those days it was a less than complimentary term among the go-getting newcomers. Of his early days in Auckland Sir John Logan Campbell wrote of "detesting the procrastinating ways of Māori workmen who kept on saying 'Taihoa – wait, all in good time, there's no hurry'." Some of his contemporaries, delving into the language, insisted that taihoa was used rather with regard to debts which were owed by Māori rather that postponing any duties they were expected to carry out. The word could be applied to Pākehā as well. One chief requested in 1857 that the government would allow him to sell land, complaining that the head of the Native Land Purchase Department, Donald McLean, would fob him off with "'taihoa (by and bye)' until he was tired." He then applied to the Governor who also said "taihoa". During the rest of the 19th century taihoa was commonly used by both races and among Pākehā began to be used as something of an insult to Māori, rather along the lines of the deplorable use of "Māori time" to mean "late" or "any old time". One flax mill owner complained, "no dependence whatever can be placed on their promises to do anything within a given time. 'Taihoa' being one of the first words the meaning of which a stranger learns to his cost who may have trusted to their punctuality." Thankfully, in later times, the word was used inoffensively to indicate "wait a bit" and became popular from the 1900s when James Carroll, the native minister, aimed to slow the sale of Māori land and this gave rise to the phrase "the taihoa policy" which can still be applied to politicians slow to honour their promises. Think, "Minister Brown's taihoa policy has delayed building Dunedin's new hospital." Taihoa can be found in many contexts. In 1950 the Northern Advocate, enthusing about a new-found rugby star, 18-year-old Peter Jones, suggested the All Black selectors "taihoa" on account of his youth. In the same year a Whanganui magistrate fined Māori farmers for failing to clear ragwort. "Māoris must deal with noxious weeds just the same as Europeans. The taihoa policy will not help you; it will just involve you in very heavy fines," pronounced the upholder of the law. So, it's fair to say "taihoa" is pretty well established among New Zealand speakers and I'm wondering if it may be a better road sign than "Stop". "Stop" is certainly an effective word, but can it be too effective? Taken literally at a compulsory stop, it would oblige the motorist to stop his vehicle. Motorists behind him would also stop and, because the leading car is given no further instructions, it would remain static until the traffic had backed up for about 10km and the resulting traffic rage would possibly lead to serious injuries. However, "Taihoa" at a compulsory stop would simply suggest "wait a bit". The motorist could wait, checking for traffic from either direction, and then move on, thus avoiding rampant road rage. Thus, at road works "Taihoa" is ideal as it suggest a wait rather than a permanent stoppage. The signs in Māori at the heart of the recent debate used "Haere" instead of "Go". "Haere" certainly has a meaning of moving but many motorists would be confused, thinking it was simply a greeting as in "haere mai". The solution may well lie in a comment from Ernest Corbett, Minister of Māori Affairs in the 1950s, who suggested that the opposite of "taihoa" was a term he heard often in his Taranaki base, "kia tore". "It means get on with it," said Corbett. On reflection, I've decided this is all too messy. Let's just use "Stop" and "Go" but hold the pole in a sort of Māori way. — Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
RNZ News
2 days ago
- Business
- RNZ News
'I've had a wonderful life': 90 years of Jim Bolger
Jim Bolger in December 2016. Photo: RNZ Jim Bolger, who was the prime minister between 1990 and 1997, turned 90 on Saturday. He reflected on the last nine decades of his life on Sunday Morning - after having celebrated with a "big gathering" of family, friends, and neighbours. On his political career, Bolger said the biggest issue was to get Pākehā to "face up to the reality that we owed Māori". "We took big steps in the economy, and got the economy going, and all the rest, but the country and society is more than the economy," he said. "Māori ... had been badly, badly treated by the early settlers, we owed Māori redress and change. "I put that higher than managing the books, as it were, with the help of others, and of course you're always helped by others, but the Treaty principles and recognition that the early European settlers did not treat Māori fairly, I think was hugely important." Bolger said he did not understand those, such as David Seymour - who had also been sworn in as deputy prime minister on Saturday - who "want to diminish the role of Māori in New Zealand". "They were here first, they were here very much before everybody else, and they have been part of our history from that time on." He said the current prime minister, Christopher Luxon, needed to tell Seymour "to shut up with his anti-Māori rhetoric" - and to thank Winston Peters for what he's doing in foreign affairs - "because I think he's doing that job well". "Winston's a very interesting political figure, there's no question about it. He's certainly left his mark on politics in New Zealand." Bolger said his Irish ancestry helped him engage emotionally and attitudinally with Māori. "I sort of instinctively knew what it was like to be treated as second-class citizens, and Māori were treated as second-class citizens. And some people still want to do that." Bolger grew up in coastal Taranaki, and said he was not taught "a single word" about the invasion of a pacifist settlement at Parihaka, but was taught about War of the Roses in England. Parihaka Pa, circa 1900, with Mount Taranaki - taken by an unidentified photographer. Photo: Union Steam Ship Company of New Zealand / Ref 1/2-056542-F, Alexander Turnbull Library, Reflecting on his life outside of his political career, he could not say what he was most proud of - "I think it'd be foolish to try and select one over another." He began as a farmer - from helping his neighbour to milk cows at nine, to leaving Ōpunake High School at 15 to work on the family dairy farm, and owning his own near Rahotu at 27. He got married and moved to a sheep and beef farm in Te Kūiti two years later. Bolger then joined the National Party and was an MP, the leader of the opposition, and then the prime minister after National won the 1990 general election. He later became New Zealand's Ambassador to the United States, was elected Chancellor of the University of Waikato, and has been the chairman of a number of state-owned enterprises and other organisations. Bolger was awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Silver Jubilee Medal in 1977, the New Zealand 1990 Commemoration Medal, the New Zealand Suffrage Centennial Medal in 1993, and was appointed a Member of the Order of New Zealand in 1998. He also has nine children and 18 grandchildren. "They were all important and very interesting positions to have, and I enjoyed it," Bolger said. "When you get to 90, and reflecting back over my variety of positions I've had across the world, and the countries I've visited, which are without number, there's so many, that it's just been very fortunate. "I've had a wonderful life with a wonderful wife and family, and it's all been good." As for advice he would give to New Zealanders, Bolger said the main thing would be to listen to others. "Don't try and dictate to them, listen to them, see what they're saying, see what their issues are, see what their concerns are, and then you might be able to make a sensible suggestion to help their lives. "And if you approach it from that direction, you know, how can I help this person or that person, then I'm sure you'll be much more satisfied with your life, and hopefully, they will be better off." Sign up for Ngā Pitopito Kōrero , a daily newsletter curated by our editors and delivered straight to your inbox every weekday.
The Spinoff
4 days ago
- Politics
- The Spinoff
The migrant dream? My mum's pay equity claim was cancelled and I got a tax cut
Lisa Meto Fox's mum has worked for 20 years as a school administrator. Her most viable retirement plan is her daughter. I am a product of the migrant dream. The day of my graduation from law school, my mother wept tears of joy. We had made it. Her sacrifice, determination and courage had been worthwhile. I now find myself in the bizarre situation where I've received a tax cut thanks to this government's policies, while my mother's pay equity claim has been extinguished. I don't think this is the way the migrant dream is realised. Equal pay for jobs of equal value is the concept pay equity is built on. Something I think most people in New Zealand are on board with. Growing up, the example I often heard to illustrate this point was nursing (female dominated) and policing (male dominated). Nurses were traditionally paid less than police officers. Despite, in many people's minds, both being critical roles in society and of equal value. Why? Traditionally nursing was seen as 'women's work', while policing was seen as 'men's work'. The undervaluing of work predominately performed by women comes from a time when men earned enough to support a family and if women worked outside the home, their options were generally limited to being a nurse or a teacher. If they got married when they were training to be a nurse, they had to leave their training. Being a nurse or a teacher was a good thing because it could make you a better mother. Or so the logic went and now this legacy is baked into our value of work. Pay equity claims are a way of unpicking this structural undervaluing of women's work. Similarly to gender, successive government policies and a cultural attitude (what some would call 'structural racism') about the 'place' of non-white migrants and Māori has meant the embedded undervaluing of work which Pacific and other non-white migrants tend to do. In other words, ethnicity has a compounding effect with gender. With Pacific women, on average, being paid the least in the country. Research shows that the majority of the Pacific pay gap cannot be explained. Pacific people migrated here in numbers starting in the 1960s. The New Zealand government encouraged migration from the Pacific Islands, as they needed workers to bolster the manufacturing industry and to do the jobs Pākehā wouldn't. Not to say there weren't Pākehā in these jobs, because there were, my father included – just not enough. My maternal grandmother, one of my namesakes, came to New Zealand on two occasions, in the mid 1970s, and worked in factories to save up and build our family home which still stands strong and proud in our village in Samoa. In 1984, at age 22, my mother (Tului Fox) and some of her siblings migrated to Aotearoa for a better life both for the family they left in Samoa and the families they would create. At first, Mum and her siblings worked in manufacturing. In 1987, Mum undertook an 18-month secretarial course,, which enabled her to start her career in administration, and her first admin job was in the typing pool at what was then Housing New Zealand. Since 1992, Mum has worked in school administration at Mount Roskill Grammar, at first in the photocopy room. Since then she's worked her way up through various administrative roles and for the past 20 years has been the principal's PA. For a number of years, working full time in school administration didn't provide enough income to make ends meet. Mum had to take on a second job, teaching night classes. Like any good Samoan, Mum helped three of her sisters get roles at the same school. Myself and a number of my cousins attended the school too. One of the 33 pay equity claims that was extinguished by the coalition government was for school administrators. Last year, someone commented on a piece I wrote that my mum is the 'Pacific matriarch' of Mount Roskill Grammar. As is well recorded, particularly in education, many Pacific staff take on duties in addition to their core role, to serve their community – tautua (service) is a core value of Samoan culture. Mum lives the value of tautua by taking on additional responsibilities, such as helping to establish the school's first ever Pasefika Advisory Group (which advises the senior leadership team and board on how to increase Pasefika students' academic achievement), increasing Pasefika representation on the board by encouraging Pasefika parents to join, being a member of the lead team which tracks Pasefika student achievement and connects teachers with students learning needs. Also she is the secretary to the School Board and has a constant stream of students (many Pacific) and parents who seek her out for guidance, advice, a listening ear or to be an advocate. She helps to manage the Samoan group and gives a lot of cultural advice to colleagues. I'm surely not the only person receiving a tax cut who finds it ethically reprehensible that it came from contingencies for low waged workers' pay equity claims. I can hear some people saying well give the tax cut back which I'd gladly do. But that's not the point. To state the obvious – the power of the state is far greater than individual acts. On average, Pacific women earn 25% less than Pākehā men – often referred to as the 'Pacific pay gap'. Successful pay equity claims often result in a 30% wage uplift. If the school administrators pay equity claim was successful it would have gone a long way to reducing the Pacific Pay Gap for mum and her Pacific colleagues. Over a working life, $488,310 is how much less the average Pacific woman makes compared to the average Pākehā man. Mum is nearing retirement, I can't help but think what $488,310 more would have meant for her later years and for us as a family. Mum said she was 'very disappointed' that her pay equity claim was extinguished. 'I know what it was like not having enough money to look after your family and not knowing if there's going to be enough to get by for a whole week. While I'm very close to the end of my career, now our pay equity claim has been extinguished, I worry about the effect that will have on young women and the generations to come. Will they feel the desperation that I felt? Having to decide whether to feed my kids? Pay the rent? Or heat the house?' The unions have shared that none of the 33 claims that were active are likely to succeed under the new legislation. Meaning my mum and hundreds of thousands of people's mothers and daughters won't get the financial recognition to match the contribution their roles make to society. Despite this, Mum will continue to be the 'Pacific matriarch' of Mount Roskill Grammar. When she retires, she will leave behind a legacy of hundreds of students who were comforted by her presence, knowing that someone who looked like their mothers and aunties was in their corner. As for the migrant dream, many of my aiga, like so many others, have moved to Australia because, as one of my cousins put it, everything is cheaper, and we get paid more. Apparently, it's a no-brainer. And my mum's retirement? As is the case for many migrant parents, one of Mum's primary retirement plans is me.
The Spinoff
4 days ago
- Lifestyle
- The Spinoff
The cost of being: A rural professional who gets most of their food for ‘free'
As part of our series exploring how New Zealanders live and our relationship with money, a rural professional unpacks the costs and benefits of living on a farm. Want to be part of The Cost of Being? Fill out the questionnaire here. Gender: Female. Age: 27. Ethnicity: Pākehā/Māori. Role: Rural professional. Salary/income/assets: $75k per year salary, I've got $70k split across savings, term deposits, and investment schemes. My living location is: Rural. Rent/mortgage per week: Nothing – it's just my husband and I for now, the house comes with his job (working on a farm). Technically he gets a rent allowance so a bit of tax does come out of his paycheque for it. Student loan or other debt payments per week: Nothing – all paid off! Typical weekly food costs Groceries: It fluctuates – we don't have a proper supermarket nearby so might spend $60-80 for the two of us at the local shop each week but we'll go to town every few months and spend closer to $300 at the supermarket. Our living situation means we don't have to buy meat, milk or eggs, and I (try to…) grow most of our veges. Eating out: Town days often end up being an exhausting 16-hour round trip so we'll end up eating our way around. Might spend $200-300 for the two of us if we end up catching up with people and eating both lunch and dinner out. Takeaways: $50 every couple months. Workday lunches: Usually I eat at home or take lunch, will spend $15 once a month or so if I'm traveling for work. Cafe coffees/snacks: Nothing. Other food costs: Most of our meat is either from the farm or hunted so that's 'free', but we also have our own milking sheep, and I keep poultry for meat and eggs – we'd spend $100/month on animal feed and $100/year for vege garden stuff. Getting our food this way probably isn't any cheaper than buying it, especially factoring in the massive amount of time we spend at it. Plus, there are other costs like our electricity bill being a bit higher due to running a giant freezer. But we enjoy it, and it gives us access to quality food in an area where options are very limited. Savings: $500/fortnight goes into my investment account automatically, and I transfer lump sums into my savings account when I remember every couple of months. No particular goals at the moment – kids I guess…? I worry about money: Never. Three words to describe my financial situation: Secure, comfortable, low-cost. My biggest edible indulgence would be: Whittakers. In a typical week my alcohol expenditure would be: Nothing – some health issues have taken all the fun out of alcohol for me. Which is a good thing I guess? In a typical week my transport expenditure would be: I've got a work vehicle and don't go out much under my own steam so most weeks, it's nothing. Town trips are a full $120 tank of fuel. What's public transport? I estimate in the past year the ballpark amount I spent on my personal clothing (including sleepwear and underwear) was: $250, most of that being the jersey (see below) – work pays for my weekday clothing. My most expensive clothing in the past year was: $120 for a NZ wooly jersey that I wore nonstop all last winter. I bought it at the end of the previous winter… Just like I buy my shorts at the end of summer. My last pair of shoes cost: $340 for a pair of hunting/tramping boots. My grooming/beauty expenditure in a year is about: $200 – I don't wear makeup and I'm stingy so my shampoo lasts forever, but I spend a lot of time outdoors so invest in good sunscreen and moisturiser. My exercise expenditure in a year is about: My exercise is all hunting and tramping, so a new set of boots every couple years, maybe some fuel if I'm going further afield, that's about it. My last Friday night cost: Nothing – cooked some steaks and played board games with friends. Most regrettable purchase in the last 12 months was: One advantage of living so far from town is you are forced to really think through purchases before you get there. Yes, online shopping, but rural shipping is a killer and I'm too tight fisted to justify it. So no regrettable purchases! Most indulgent purchase (that I don't regret) in the last 12 months was: A big tunnelhouse – we bought the frame second hand and a new plastic cover for it, all up we spent about $1,000 on it. (Plus a lot of time faffing about but I don't even regret that). One area where I'm a bit of a tightwad is: Anything that I haven't sat on and thought about for several months. Five words to describe my financial personality would be: Just like my grandparents (almost). I grew up in a house where money was: Not the only form of wealth. We didn't have a lot of money (I still have foot problems from too-small school shoes because I felt guilty about complaining) but growing up on family land we hunted/grew/fished our kai and had acres of space to play around on. It was a safe haven for many cousins and strays which probably didn't help the financial situation. The last time my Eftpos card was declined was: About six months ago, but it was a card/machine glitch not a money problem – I had enough cash to cover and it worked fine in the next shop. In five years, in financial terms, I see myself: It all depends on the kiddie question… But I feel very well off and secure now, and have no reason to believe I won't still be comfortable in five years, whatever happens! Describe your financial low: A few times at uni, my student allowance would come through a couple days late and in order to not miss the rent payment I couldn't afford food. It would happen to the other flatmates on the allowance too so we'd all be hard up at once. We got by nicking crops out of the university fields on more than one occasion. Never stole any sheep as I have heard rumours of others doing though. I would love to have more money for: I have more than enough and feel guilty for what I have already, especially with what's going on in NZ and around the world at the moment. But I wish my parents would actually let me give them some. I give money away to: Anyone selling raffle tickets outside the shop (usually kids fundraising for camps or the rescue chopper guys), food banks, international aid efforts.
The Spinoff
6 days ago
- Politics
- The Spinoff
The how-to-run-for-council course aiming to get more diversity into local politics
In the lead-up to the local elections, a new programme aims to diversify the pool of potential candidates and educate them on how to run more effective campaigns. Shanti Mathias reports. Local government has a representation problem: the candidates who run tend to be older, Pākehā homeowners who don't necessarily reflect the communities they are responsible for. It's something that Jenny Sahng, one of the co-founders of Climate Club Aotearoa, and Patrick Rooney, from the advocacy group The Future is Rail, have seen a lot. 'If you're outside the main centres, it's mostly the same demographics getting elected,' says Sahng. Rooney and Sahng were involved with the Vote Climate initiative at the last local elections in 2022, helping people find candidates with climate policies in their area using scorecards. But there was a problem. 'In some places, there were just one or two candidates standing, and lots of them were talking about things that local government doesn't do,' Rooney says. 'So rather than saying who to vote for, we thought we could put our energy into developing candidates.' Glow stands for Governance for Local Wellbeing ('the name didn't take heaps of workshopping… we like that image of a beacon in the darkness,' says Rooney.) It's a 12-week incubator course, mostly consisting of online workshops with chances for networking and receiving support from other candidates. It started at the beginning of May, and will continue until the local elections in October. Candidates are expected to commit two to four hours a week to attend the workshops; the programme is free but there's an option to pay for people who can afford it. Anyone can sign up, whether they've actually committed to run or are considering it and want to learn more. They have sessions on developing policy, running a campaign and empowering women to participate in local elections. The aim is to make it easier for someone interested in politics and representing their community to go from 'having an idea' to 'actually enrolling as a candidate'. 'We've had a good range of candidates sign up – not just in Auckland and Wellington, but from Timaru, Tasman, Dunedin, Hawke's Bay,' Sahng says. 'The thing is that in local government literally anyone under the age of 50 is in the minority.' The programme is supported by people like former Auckland councillor Pippa Coom and former Wellington Regional councillor Roger Blakeley, as well as Sahng, Rooney and some of the other members of the Climate Club team. 'As a woman of colour and a queer person with a visible disability, I had a lot of concerns about running,' says Anjana Iyer, a Glow participant based in New Lynn, Auckland. She appreciated a recent session with current elected members talking about their experiences. 'I've got a much better grasp of the realities of making change in local government,' she says. 'A lot of the online content feels very utopian, which feels limiting in some ways, but I have a better understanding of what changes and policies you can do.' While not affiliated with any party, Glow asks candidates to commit to supporting a set of principles, including climate action, public transport, sustainable and accessible housing, supporting Māori wards and community-owned renewable energy. 'We're not running a platform, the solution to different local issues is different in different communities,' says Rooney. The lean is definitely progressive, but candidates can run their campaigns, and develop particular policies, as they see fit. Operating on a limited budget, part of the programme is to help candidates have better knowledge of how local government works, and run effective campaigns. One example is the 'blurbs' – a photo and brief biographical statement of candidates with some of their policies in a booklet that is distributed with the postal voting pack. Some candidates don't send photos; others write blurbs that are hard to follow or irrelevant to what local government is responsible for. 'The blurbs are free real estate going to thousands of voters,' Rooney points out. Candidates in Glow can get advice on writing punchy blurbs to make the most of their opportunity to communicate. 'There's a lack of knowledge about what local government does,' Rooney says. With a low barrier to entry, some local government candidates make bold promises to change curriculums or the healthcare system, both of which are very much in the realm of central government. Others might not be clear that a regional council, rather than a city council, is largely responsible for public transport, or the role that councils play in water management. Part of the programme is education: what levers can local government pull? What are the processes of councils and community boards that people can engage in? Even though local government operates on a smaller scale, with smaller budgets, than much of what central government does, Sahng says it's still a good place to make changes. 'There's so many practical things that people see and engage with that [local government] is responsible for – cycleways, community projects, electricity projects… It really sets the scene for building the kind of community and society we want to live in.' Could programmes like Glow make a difference to the abysmal voting rates in local government? 'It's a bit of a chicken and egg [scenario] – if there's no one who represents your interests to vote for, why would you vote? Having more candidates should, in theory, increase voter turnout,' Rooney says. There are lots of other factors that impact low turnout, including the postal voting system disadvantaging people who move more often. Sahng and Rooney don't have any definitive plans to continue Glow past the local elections this year. 'We don't have any success metrics,' Sahng says. After all, the programme has never been tried before. But the hope is that candidates will form organic connections, support networks of other people interested in changing their cities for the better; little seeds planted all over the country. Ideally, some of the participants will get elected. 'We're thinking long term,' Sahng says. 'If you want to run in 2028, standing in 2025 is the best preparation you can get.'
