Tutira mai ngā iwi

VIlliame was a Solomon Islander boarding at Innes House attending Marlborough Boys College. He was also a pretty handy footy player and we played together in an U16 school team when I brought him home for a Kai after rugby one Saturday. Blenheim back in the 80’s was 98% pakeha. with the 2% Māori there my dads Iwi as well whānau from other small Iwi. Blenheim was white, was rural and was conservative. My mum had never seen anyone that black before.

“Kei whea koe?” (Where are you from?) she asked him inquisitively?

“Mum, Villi’s not Māori - he’s from the Solomons” I replied on his behalf.

Mum not up with her geography and part deaf replies “Are you a Solomon? You from Kaikoura?” (Arohamai whānau Solomon)

“MUM HE’S NOT A MĀORI, Villi’s AN ISLANDER! He’s an international student” I repeated!

Ahhh she says.

My mum had a very unique way of performing Whanaungatanga (making a connection). It was always performed at our kitchen table and always over Kai. My mums limited geography and worldly knowledge saw her trying to make a connection with Villi around his family and while Villi spoke great English he on occasion dropped back to his native ‘pidgin’ which seeing mum struggling to understand saw Villi slow right down and repeat what he had just said but in perfect English. Mum would smile at Villi each time he slowed his korero to repeat what he had said.

I was experiencing whanaungatanga in all its glory witnessing two hearts making the effort to connect.

Talking with him about his family back home saw Villi admitting to being homesick. This was also brought on I discovered by him revealing he had copped some racial abuse in the game we had just played.… Mum didn’t hesitate to ‘counsel’ and wrap him in Aroha - a scenario she had counselled so many times before…..

“Aww e tama (young man) they’re just scared. Scared of your ‘good looks’. Joseph has those same ‘good-looks’ that make pakeha boys feel fearful enough to make fun of them. Pinching his cheek she says they’re just scared their girlfriends might dump them for you boys"

Villi laughed while I looked at mum perplexed saying “I’m not that black”!! By this time Vlli had already downed a plate of whitebait, chips and eggs, my mums go-to post rugby kai.

My mum’s skillet was her stethoscope, her korero and kai her medicine. Villi’s tummy was full, his heart replenished and his Wairua (spirit) restored. I had just bore witness to another Aunty Lou ‘consult’ that I didn’t realise then at 14-15 I was experiencing. I just thought my mum liked all my mates I brought home. Villi and all the other international students joined the school kapa haka roopu that mum led and Villi also joined her lunch-time Te Reo classes. With so few Māori at Marlborough Boys back then our ‘kapa’ roopu (group) had a Fijian, a Kiribati, a Samoan, a Tongan, several Pakeha and of course Villi from the Solomons - not Kaikoura.

They all called her Aunty Lou and she treated them all like they were her nephews.
Aunty Lou’s Kitchen Manaakis many' MANY whānau from all over the world through their SIQ with ‘Kai & Korero’. They are Indian, Arabic, Filipino, Chinese, Iranian, Sri Lankan, Sth African, Ethiopian, Tongan, Fijian, Samoan, Korean and more.

When calling to check a whānau’s delivery address and bubble config details, Aunty Lou’s Manaaki commences with something as simple as saying Good Morning or Hello in their native tongue.

Magandang Umaga!   Good Morning (Tagalog - Filipino)
It’s ….. from Aunty Lou’s Kitchen, we’re going to drop some Kai off to you tomorrow

While we might not be able to see their smile through the phone, we can certainly feel it in their response.