I've been looking for an angle into this blog for about an hour, and I just can't seem to find one. Maybe it's the lack of beer. Who knows?
In a flurry of, "crap... that's a definite beer gut..." I gave up the amber fluid except for weekends and social occasions, and bought a packet of herbal tea. I already regret it. Herbal tea is delightful and all, but... beeeeer...
Originally I was on the verge of a little rant about Treaty politics and the need to recognise that Māori do have a distinct place within New Zealand. If you're the sort of person who just plain doesn't like Māori, or thinks that Māori culture has no inherent value, then it's highly likely that you oppose recognition of Māori distinctiveness.
But, frankly, I'm just not up to it today. I think I pretty much said it all there. No value? No Māori.
Regardless, it still gives me the shits that people continue to question the place of Māori in New Zealand. No, 'shits' is the wrong word. It exasperates me.
Let's put this one in context. I'm not the biggest fan of Ranginui Walker. Back in 96 I went to ask his advice about an issue I was struggling with, and he pretty much just looked at me like a big cracker, gave me nothing, and shooed me out the door. That said, I'm beginning to understand his concerns about recent entrants to New Zealand.
One thing I thought a little 'radical' back then was his concern that immigrants, South Africans if I remember correctly, would not value Māori, and agitate against hard fought gains. It saddens me to continue to see evidence of this happening.
I've struggled with this idea for years, and my predisposition towards always thinking the best of people has made me want to think that time will bring people closer to the New Zealand I grew up in. A New Zealand where biculturalism wasn't a lip service paid by bureaucrats, but was the simple act of knowing who you're speaking to, and knowing who deserves respect.
By way of example, in the house I grew up in, visitors were paramount, and it's a value I practice to this day. Visitors to my home get the food from my plate. They get the most comfortable bed I can offer them, even if that means I sleep on the couch, or worse, the floor. They stay till they wear out their welcome. They have fresh towels in the morning, and I switch off the lights at night. The art of hospitality is a virtue all too poorly practiced in some quarters of New Zealand, and all too rarely.
Crap.
I'm in the middle of the rant I said I wasn't going to have... is giving up a having a quiet beer a bit like giving up smoking? All 'bear with sore head' behaviour?
Anyhow, to make a long story short I'm just plain fucking sick of it.
I'm sick of white people one generation removed from a horde of Coronation Street watchers whinging "but I'm indigenous". Just keep believing that one, it won't make you any less white, but bloody good on you.
I'm sick of recent immigrants trying to stake their claim to belonging by sticking it to Māori. That competition for the bottom rung of the ladder bullshit has got to stop.
I'm sick of well meaning white liberals trying to force a misconceived, half-arsed version of indigenous culture down the throats of Taranaki rednecks. People, those dickheads are never going to learn. Let's just concrete over parts of Wanganui and start again.
I'm sick of petit bourgeois Māori screaming 'racism' every time someone questions some dodgy bastard using 'Treaty rights' as an excuse to feather their own nest. A crook is a goddamn crook.
I'm sick of white people living in white enclaves in the whitest cities bitching that 'there are no real Māori'. Go spend a weekend in Ruatoria, asshole. Hell, go spend a weekend in the freaking Upper Hutt to get you started.
I'm sick of racist snobs using smart talk to justify their want for assimilation. Prof. Jeremy Waldron, that means you. Piss off back to Columbia University and goddamn well stay there. You are officially New Zealand's own Germaine Greer. And a word to the wise, I've seen first year students at two Melbourne Universities taking your arguments to pieces with ease.
Look, I was in Otaki visiting relatives no more than a month ago, and sat in a room where the only person who couldn't kōrero was yours truly. Ever felt like an idiot? Try having three year olds looking confused (and slightly bemused) when you can't understand their miniature vocabulary.
Meanwhile I hear hypocrites singing Po Karekare Ana, and mimicking the Waikato haka, whenever they step outside the country, only to have them scream 'One Nation' every time the subject of a distinct Māori society is brought up at home.
Those three year olds are one small part of the future of New Zealand, and you'll take their culture, but try to deflate the tools they'll use to drag that culture back from the brink of extinction?!
AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!
fuck..... anyone have the number for AA?