father and ACC

So, do you want the good news or the bad news first …

…. dunno why we say that … theres just news really, neither good nor bad … any who …


Ok, bad it is …

Apparently; according to a rather untimely snail mail letter today, from the almighty ACC … I am up for yet another assessment.

Why you ask?

Well, apparently, again, the last assessment was a pre-assessment assessment. Didn’t know they existed did yah … well, apparently, they do!

…. but do you realise how long it took Me to get ready for the last assessment which y’all said was all I needed to do … and do you realise how long it took to get over the last assessment which y’all said was I all I needed to do?

Thats right … fucking ages!

But since I’ve been waiting, like, 5 or so years for that pre-assessment assessment and then another 6 months for those results … only to be told the assessment that I thought was what i was waiting for all this time is actually only the pre-assessment assessment and that assessment is pending … I could be in for another 5 year wait???

No. Of course not … *she says ultra sarcastically so she neither cries or laughs hysterically at the absurdity of the whole fucking thing … cos all this time, she’s still the one sitting on a cool $35 smack-a-roos a week … yes, thats right … the sum total of … *

Ahhhhhh     …. deep breaths …. deep breaths …

So, onto the good news …

Sure thing …

I spoke with my father.

He apologised … for not listening; for being a shit father; for not ever ever being around; for going on about shit I don’t give a fuck about; for not listening; for not getting to know Me; for not visiting; for not ever ringing; for not listening; …. for barging his way into my life … full of grief and anxiety … and expecting Me to be my sisters replacement … for taking Me for granted … oh … and for not listening!

He finally told Me about his life … his actual life … he answered my questions … and gave Me real answers. He talked about my sister … who she was to him … what she was like … as a person … as a mother. He finally talked about his regrets and his hopes … his failures and his wins … the real ones.

And he finally, finally, asked Me about Me.

So, there we have it … the ups and the downs … the good and the bad … for today.

Now I can sleep … hopefully … because as much as I thought I had kicked insomnias ass … I haven’t been to sleep before 2.30am and slept more than a few hours, for a couple weeks now … and I’m exhausted.

I’ll be fucked if I know how I survived on 3-4 hours sleep for the past 35+ years … oh, thats right … I didn’t.


mauri of me #18

From https://envirowatchrangitikei.wordpress.com:

“NZ has a rocket base that’s received $25 million Govt funding & is financially supported by the world’s largest weapons trader, Lockheed Martin”

In other posts, I’ve recently touched on my Father and Land Issues.

Both of these things are things which have shaped Me.

The land that my Father has been wanting to ‘return’ too, and build on, is next to the land in this article.

This has also been a point of dis-contention between us.

Throughout the generations there have been what the Indigenous have referred to as Kupapa, or supporters of the Colonial Cause. Their infamy has taken on a few forms, but selling off land at a pittance, or defrauding their own people are 2 of their most loathsome traits.

In this day and age, Kupapa still exist.

Their rhetoric however, has been tweaked.

Now they tend to espouse that We are not ‘utilising’ our resources properly; or We should ‘collaborate’ with the Crown, usually in the form of receiving their ‘assistance’ … that assistance usually comes with a clause in the documentation which states (in a nutshell), that if the rates are not maintained; the land is not maintained (to their specifications) etc, then the Land becomes the Crowns. We are advised to form Trusts and borrow from banks, using the Land as collateral.

The Land in question at the moment (in the re-blogged article), is next to this Rocket Base.

The long term environmental impact is unknown.

The long term cultural impact can be predicted really.

Again, We will be shafted.

This angst; this fuckery; this … ‘please listen to some kind of reasoning’, but they don’t … is a huge part of my make up … that churns in the depths of my gutt.

It’s why I Respond.

Rangitikei Enviromental Health Watch

Rocket_Lab_Launch_Complex_1_(Sept_2016) The new rocket launch-pad at Mahia NZ …  Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Rocket Lab is an American aerospace corporation launching out of New Zealand

Did you know that NZ now has a rocket base? This news seems to have flown under the radar for many. I only noticed it myself a month or so ago. The base is actually situated in Mahia on the East Coast of the North Island, however it was originally planned for the South Island at Kaitorete Spit near Christchurch, also near Birdling Flat and the Radar/Haarp Station there. The length of time obtaining consents appears to have been the deciding factor about a change in tack.  Rocket Lab noted one thing that prevented it from launching close to Christchurch which was the need for a cultural impact assessment from the council. A decision was made to locate the launch pad at Mahia instead. A cultural…

View original post 1,019 more words

the season for it …

Man issues, that is.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand all men aren’t ignorami, but appears to me at the moment, there are no holds barred on the amount of ignorance I am experiencing by said Men.

Yesterday was the partner … and that continues, unspoken about, today. As usual. And I know it’ll pass eventually, when he gets his fix of ‘man-dom’.

And then there is the Father … again.

He has recently returned to the country he’s been residing in for the past 30 odd years. No, I didn’t see him. He left in a tizzy, and thats too bad really.

Well, we spoke the other day.

Another long convoluted ‘discussion’ about ‘the land’.

After reflection re not saying what I actually wanted too … I decided to ‘gently’ (well, as gently as I am capable of) let him know where I stood … again.

He wants to set up a Land Trust, with all owners of the land he intends to build on. Why? Because a. He needs permission to do so. b. The Maori Land Court has ‘advised’ this is what is needed.

Now my Father and I have walked two very different paths in life.

His, in a nutshell, has been to run away from all things Indigenous (Maori); deny all things Indigenous; belittle all things Indigenous. He still believes the Crown (government) has his (and our) best interests at heart and we should believe everything they espouse. There’s reasons for this obviously, but again, thats another post.

My path: As a part Indigenous brown girl; and a non-looking white girl – I’ve had to make peace (still making peace actually) with both sides of my heritage. I have a unique way of doing that, and at the moment, it works for Me. In making peace though, I did a lot of study on Indigenous history and the colonisation of our land, people and culture … What that has meant for Us and where and how we deal with that … ‘moving forward’ (another post for another day).

So, in a nutshell … I don’t do Crown initiatives, or Crown ‘suggestions’ … I definitely don’t follow any format they suggest without researching the living shit out of it first. Because it has always, and I mean always, been to Indigenous detriment, to adhere to their recommendations.

I’ve tried to tell my Father this, on a number of occasions. I’ve also said that if he doesn’t share my beliefs, thats fine … but under no circumstances will I be joining any kind of Trust, Family or Land, and I won’t be a trustee. Why? Because why do We, the Indigenous; the owners of our own land, need to form some type of structure to govern or manoeuvre what we do with that land? Why are only the Indigenous, Us, advised to form a Land Trust to deal with our land?

The short answer, is apparently: Because We can’t get along and can’t organise ourselves.

For Me, this screams all kinds of fuckery. You see, We, the Indigenous, managed to organise ourselves well enough to defeat every colonial onslaught that invaded this country for land and lives. Every single time we defeated them. The colonial assholes ‘won’ in the end by sheer numbers which they’d borrowed from their home country and the other countries they had colonised. As our number depleted, they replenished theirs. Oh, and not to mention, our numbers had depleted horrendously from the diseases they brought with them that we were not immune too. Again, another post, another day.

Anywho … These are reasons I won’t partake in Crown initiatives, and I am also not interested in their money. When the family form this Trust, they will be entitled to rather hefty government ‘grants’. What they haven’t taken into consideration, is that those hefty grants come with hefty ‘fine print’. Usually, again, to the detriment of Us. So while the short term gain of the almighty dollar seems Ok, the long term loss, is not worth it, in my opinion. Also … my question is always: Why do we need their money? Apparently I am being naive. I believe they are being stupid.

My Father doesn’t get any of this. And at this stage of the game, I’m not asking him too. Just to respect that thats how I see it. I’ve also told him that I’ll support him as best I can … but it won’t be how he imagines it.

So, after dropping this little slash large morsel on him – he gets off the phone … And collapses, hits his head and is unconscious.

His wife rang yesterday and says that his blood pressure is low and his heart is playing up again and is back in hospital.


Do I feel sympathy? No.

Do I feel guilt? No.

Am I an awful bitch? Probs.

And this is the result of ‘saying what I mean’. Hmmm.


did i mention my father went back to where he came from?

It was kind of inevitable, and whether he comes back or not, is to be seen.

So he spent just over a month in the country and I didn’t see him once. This is also not an unusual thing.

The positives? … Well, I’m still figuring that one out.

I certainly got to ‘know’ him a bit more, strongly enough. Not through face to face methods, but though the screen; again. He pretty much, could of stayed in Australia for that.

Apparently he’s used to getting his way.

How have I come to know this?

He hints. Makes little (and large) suggestions.

Unfortunately, I don’t do hints. Or suggestions. I do up front, straight up questions and answers. So do my kids.

Just before he left the country – again – he rang me to say he was ready to be picked up. Like – Now. 6pm one evening … even though I don’t drive; I’ve told him repeatedly that we need at least 24 hours notice (because I don’t drive and the partner has a bad back … ); and just because it’s freaking courteous to give someone (like me especially) a fucking heads up.

Well the answer to his demand, was a resounding … No. But we can come on Monday. So the following day, after he’d been denied, he rang to say he was going home.

Surprise surprise. And See Yah.

Not that shit don’t work on Me mate.


We conversed yesterday … well if you can call him talking and Me listening and getting pissed off, conversing; then yeah, thats what it was.

I’ve talked about this issue before: Father. And have said that we don’t know one another. In fact we may as well be called acquaintances who share the same blood / blood lines.

My father is in the country now, and has been for the past month or so. He wants to build a house on his mothers land.

Theres a few lengthy processes to go through for this to happen, and thats another post really. Suffice to say, I don’t agree with the impediments that the Crown have put in place over the past 150+ years, for Indigenous to build on their own land. It isn’t a straight forward deal.

Anyway, thats what he’s trying to do.

a. Not all of the land he’s intending to build on has even been succeeded in the Land Court yet. – Lengthy process Number 1.

b. His reasons are loosely based, well actually rooted in (but I’m unsure whether he’s actually grasped this or not), making peace with himself, his shit life and finding somewhere to belong.

I understand this. I don’t think he does really – or doesn’t want too? His father was a cruel man to him and his siblings. His mother sent him away when he was about 11, to his sister and her husband, only to find out the the husband was nearly as cruel as his own father. Our family trace their roots / lineage, through my fathers father. This is also a colonised why of doing things. The beef is, my father doesn’t really want anything to do with his father, or his land or any of the places he called ‘home’. I haven’t pointed out to my father yet, that while he thinks his mother protected him (to a certain extent she did), her form of protection included ostracising him from the family. She didn’t leave the husband. But I also understand for that era, leaving an abusive partner was nearly impossible.

So, back to the beef at hand.

My father is staying with his nephew and trying to sort land issues and get a house built on land he doesn’t actually own yet. Oh, btw, he’s also has heart problems and diabetes and a few other ailments he’s deeply in denial about. But who am I to point out the obvious?

I am his daughter. The eldest daughter by his loins. And then there are my 2 sisters. The blood related sister, is dead. The other is my fathers wifes daughter. She’s older than me. And as far as I knew, my father raised her on and off over the years as she went back and forth from her mother to her grandmother.

So, this conversation, my father asks me if I mind if he whangai’s (non-legal adoption recently recognised in the Maori Land Court) my elder sister.

My reply was short and simple, as usual: “I thought you already had”.

He then went on to explain my sisters horrendous life and his wifes horrendous life and how horrible her mother was and No he hadn’t technically adopted my sister … but would have if the grandmother hadn’t interfered. And how touched my sister was by this gesture and how she’d cried.

His point, was that my sister would be entitled to the Maori Land he has.

No shit sherlock.

My head started aching at this point. And there were many other moments – but it became glaringly obvious that his blind spots are massive.

Hello – Hello I’m here!!

Ignored for most of my life by him and his family, I’ve tried to keep a tentative connection there. But all of a sudden … well after my younger sisters death, I’m now the go-to leftover. But not to listen to … but to listen.

My younger sister, and the older, if truth be told – have gone about their lives and pretty much done what my father wants them to do. Well, at least, thats what they’ve told him. In reality, they’ve both lived lies and paid rather large consequences for those lies. Ones dead, the other needs to go back to rehab.

And here I am, listening to his bullshit, thinking – Am I just doing what they did?

After yesterdays convo, I’d say yes. Not for lack of trying – but I couldn’t get a fucking word in … and when I did – He didn’t listen.

And today, I wonder: Do I really have some kind of fear deep down that if I actually barrel him up and tell him what I want to say … I won’t see or hear from him again?

As usual.

Now thats something I’ve told my own kids not to do – Not to be something they’re not – Not to shut their mouths when they need to say something – Just for the sake of Peace.


mauri of me #9

As you know, my relationship with my father, has been … tentative … estranged … different. But it is what it is …

I’m grateful for life … and have to thank him for a certain portion of that.

It’s hard to know what to say about it him, because I don’t know him that well. I am pleased, that at 45, I get the chance to get to know him just a little bit more.

I know his life was pretty shit … he endured some hard times and inflicted some equally hard times on others.

Out of everything … I hope he finds some peace. Just like Me … I hope he finds some contentment within himself.

Haumi e – hui e – taiki e …

me and him

me and him

the father convo update …

So the phone conversation / video call, that was scheduled with my father, and that I had been ‘deep breathing’ for … happened.

I’m glad I’d cleared my head and got most of what was bugging me out into the blog-osphere … it definitely helped!

As we started out, I could feel my heckles rising lol … doesn’t take much these days though. Instead of reacting I sort of, stepped back from the screen so I could observe my fathers entire manner … not just what was coming out of his mouth.

He seemed calmer. More certain.

He’s finally booked his ticket and lands in NZ on Monday.

I asked him why he was coming back … why he was really coming back:

And I finally got the truth.

Yes: He’s aware time is ticking … and he has regrets … but more than that, he has things to make peace with. Not just Me … but his family and the things he went through.

I knew a little bit about this … but my father talked about being beaten as a kid … severely … being chained to the front verandah because his asthma was annoying his drunk father … being so beaten and broken, he couldn’t go to school and his mother made excuses for him.

Finally his mother, my grandmother, sent him away to live with his sister and her partner. The partner beat my father as well. My father was 14 when he left that home and started living rough and working wherever and whenever he could.

Eventually the system caught up with him and his was put into a ‘boys home’; where he was beaten again.

Not surprisingly, when my father left that place and could … he drank.

And drank.

20-30 years later; and he is slowly remembering things; events places, people.

Part of coming ‘home’ is to find the place his mother was raised. To make peace with the dark part of him that he’s ignored for so long.

Now that explanation … I understood perfectly.

And strangely enough, our conversation took a completely different turn. He calmed completely and looked pretty content.

And I felt some type of empathy or sympathy for him.

I get what he’s doing now. And I can completely dig that … however it comes out as he processes what he needs to with his family, is bound to get ugly … but its necessary.

Strange how shit turns out.

But I am a seeker and finder of truth. In the truth I can find intent; and vice versa. And in all of this I can make peace with a large chunk of myself that I thought would never get seen too 😉

pre-phone call debrief …

Yes … I will be ringing father later on today.

It’s been a hard one to shake off, and all I feel now is anger. Not debilitating anger … more, ‘who the fuck are you?’ anger. It’s quite empowering.

The partner is over me talking about it … but that’s too bad 😉 I’ve listened too many of his rants on pointless shit for many years … I told to suck it up and pretend he’s listening lol. He did.

He seems to think I don’t want to hurt my fathers feelings, and after initially being slightly offended, I had to concur.

Whats interesting, is it’s a new thing for Me. Which I’ve said before … but I’m used to cutting shit off … not necessarily ‘letting it go’, but cutting it off without a second thought … like de-friending or un-following 😉

And it took a shitload of time to get to that place … I had cling-ons for years … which I slowly but surely weeded out.

My father had never really been on the radar. Not in terms of ‘getting to know a niggah’ anyways.

I had to sort through my feelings about him without him being present. I don’t know him. I neither like him or dislike. He is no more or less than the lady at the dairy that sells me smokes on a Wednesday morning.

That has changed since my sister died. It seemed more pertinent to establish some sort of connection with him … or get to know him at least … or let him remain in my life at the least, least.

How this is supposed to look? I dunno!

But today I’m going to take the proverbial bull by the horns and try to get a few things clear. It’ll be like wadding through a muddy pond, but I’ll give it a go.

I’m simplistic … not stupid … but simplistic.

And I need to know his intent.

Now, as a pts(d) peep, intent, or the gutt feeling of intent, is all I have ever worked with. This has meant that if I feel there is a hidden agenda and it feels unsafe then I ‘flee motherfucker flee’. I’ve come to realise that this a perfectly respectable way of dealing with shit when it’s coming at you left right and centre. And trusting my gutt instinct has never really seen me wrong.

However, I am now equipped with a few more skills and a little more patience … believe it or not.

So even though my gutt says, ‘cut him off’, I am going to enquire as to his intent before I make my final decision.

I have a fishy feeling that he is just a little fucked up and doesn’t really know what he’s doing and is reacting and acting as he thinks is expected of him.

What he doesn’t realise about me though; because he doesn’t know me at all … is that I don’t believe in expectations. I’m a realist.

It’s going to be an interesting conversation indeed …

Considering I only had crappy moccona coffee this morning and not my usual freshly ground coffee beans … it could be a little more challenging!

okey dokey – heres the deal

After so much rumination my jaw is sore from chewing on this bitchy cud!

Heres the options that came to mind prior to last nights conversation with my daughter … oh ye who is wise beyond her years …

  • Ditch father
  • After unleashing fermented hell fire and brimstone on his ass

-As you can see, I’m minimalistic in my approach.

Now this is a stance I take with racist slash sexist cunts … who won’t or can’t engage in an educational dialogue so each party can come to thy par-tay … and listen and learn. This is not a one sided process; it takes two … bay-bee.

Because of what I do, ‘activism; feminism’; and how I respond, I do realise I’m not your average acti-fem 😉 I’m probably more tolerant than most. But I have learnt over time, that there comes a time in a conversation on these topics, that the little angel on one of your shoulders, tends to start jabbing you in the neck with its harpsichord, hollering – ‘Bitch please … you know they got their pointy whites on and be cross burning this lovely evening ay? … Give It Up!’ … and the horned dude on the other shoulder is just nodding in agreement … ‘what she said!’.

Yeah, thats usually the point at which I exit the conversation / friendship / acquaintance-ship etc.

And My Father hit that phase about 5 minutes into our last conversation.

So, do I roll with the usual schedule and kick his ass to the curb? I mean, whats gonna happen? He gonna ignore me for another 30 odd years??? Pfft.

Enter … my goddess daughter 🙂

She laughed and listened … then spoke.

“Yah know ma, sounds a bit like the conversation I had with my father (sperm donor), … ”

Pause for explanation: My girls have different biological fathers; the father to my second girl, I was married to, and he adopted my 1st girl … so is technically the father of both girls 🙂 My girl has tried to maintain some kind of relationship with her biological father though … tried.

Back to conversation:

“… he told me I should ‘make’ my kids talk to him on the phone even if they don’t want to …”

Ok … like thats ever gonna happen I said … but still couldn’t quite see where her analogy was taking me …

“My father doesn’t know me, if he did he wouldn’t ever ask me to go against my principles. And your father is doing the same thing. Not only has he criticised who you are, he believes he has some right to have a say in who and what you are. And he is delusional if he thinks you will go against your principles.”

Ahhhhh …. beautiful girl 🙂

Me: “So what did you do my girl? How did you deal with it? Because I’ll be fucked if I know what to do with someone who is genetically connected to me but knows sweet fuck all about me. I know what to do with other people … with strangers … but this fucker? I am clueless on how to be respectful but still be Me.”

And she says:

“You are already being respectful Mum … you didn’t swear at him or let rip like you would’ve on someone else … and you’ve taken quite a while to process so you won’t just react.”

True dat.

“Maybe you just need to work out where your limit is with him and don’t let him go any further than that. And just continue being You.”

Awww, I love my girl.

So there it is, Part 2 of my decision.

On all subjects that come up that are directly offensive, I’ll tell him. Not discuss it with view to educating him … just tell him … ‘I find that offensive and I’m not talking about that with you’.

I’ll continue to try to find … ‘common ground’ … with him, and spend what time we have left, hopefully, enjoying some sort of relationship with him.

But I will continue to be Me. All of Me.

No apologies. No explanations.

Ake ake Amine 😉

fathers and shit …

I learnt a hard lesson a little while ago, about keeping my list of ‘gripes’, or stuff that’s bugging me; to a minimum. If I don’t, I pay for it dearly later on down the track.

Theres a few things that bug me generally. Those things, are the ‘isms. Racism. Sexism. And generally speaking, these can look different to different peeps, but for me, they’re about being underestimated, degraded and/or violated because of another’s perception of skin colour and gender. Thats the short version.

In amongst it all, the biggest thing for me is my perception relating to ‘the right to choose’. Thats HUGE. If you take away my right to choose or try to control me in any way shape or form … there is usually hell to pay!

Where is all this fancy dialogue taking me?

To my father.

Yes, the dude that now has more to do with me in the last few months (since my sister’s death), than he’s had to do with me in my en-tire life. I thought I was doing Oh Kay – whilst finding it a little annoying, I have been trying to be ‘respectful’, if that’s even a justifiable thing .. i dunno really .. but with the thought in mind, that he is my father/sperm donor/whatever … we’re related .. by blood … anyway .. you get what i mean, i hope.

I wanted to give the whole ‘relationship’ thing the benefit of the doubt … give it time … remain calm … centred … and hopefully open-minded.

Our ‘discussions’ on video calling have consisted of a brief intro – ‘how yah doing’ – sort of thing followed closely by him going on about his land here (he has lived most of my life – and his – in Australia, but has land back here) … and building a house on it … like … asap. It’s about the only thing we have ‘in common’ … the ‘wanting too build’ part anyways.

I’ve listened to him going on about this for the last few months; tried to make small talk relating to houses to build, finances etc … I know abit about this sort of shit … because it interests me. It occurs to me one day though, that he’s not on the same page as me, at all.

After a little digging … and checking in with my mama, I’ve come to the conclusion that father is trying to ‘make up’ for all his fuck ups and since he’s just lost a daughter and is feeling the ‘mortal coil’ unravel, due to ill-health … he thinks building a house on some land, where he can live till he ditches life and where we can all go ‘if we have nowhere to go’ … will make everything better in his world.

Amen. Guilt subsides.


a. I don’t do guilt trips so haven’t actively pursued the ‘your a bastard’ routine in the hopes to get some kind of time and attention from him.

b. I had to clarify with a male … that this is a male thing. Because I don’t really get it. Maybe similar to a mama leaving tea in the oven for her kids?? I dunno … but I don’t get it … and I don’t think he realises … I’m nearly 40 fucking 5!

I needed him 20, 30 years ago.

We’re done. It’s gone … it’s too late.

I’m here for some kind of adult catch up / not make up – relationship. Lets move on.

Anyways … with this in mind … you can imagine my rather shocked state when father rings yesterday, and after brief ‘intros’, launches into a tirade of:

  • i dont want you to protest
  • dont protest on Facebook or anywhere else
  • keep your opinions to yourself
  • don’t make trouble for us

Oh, and there was more … pretty much showing him up as an ignorant racist, against his own people!

Pause again.

It felt like I was in the twilight zone … and still does a little.

But summed up … I realised, he doesn’t know me, not one little bit! There is no-way, no-how, He or anyone can order me to Not do something!! Let alone, not knowing the reasons i ‘respond’ or even caring about the causes I respond too!


As I tried to politely tell him to get fucked he continued with his tirade and told me I was stubborn and needed to find something, or someone to ‘bow’ too … it’d do me good apparently.

So, lets add ‘sexist’ to his shining achievements!


It would seem that my sister was compliant … that she didn’t rock the boat with either my father or her mother … she didn’t disagree or disappoint them.

Unfortunately for him, I am not my sister.

At all.

He was a little taken aback by my bluntness with him, but little did he realise that I was being ‘restrained’!

I’ve talked to my mama and I’ll vent on my blog; process and shit for a few days, maybe weeks … until I can find some peace in it all.

This is an unfinished rant … and definitely a disjointed sort of post … but its something I’m still processing …

you see, to carry on a relationship with this person is going to take some strength … and some knowledge, that I don’t possess right now. This is the sort of person I wouldn’t ring back; visit or waste my breath on.

But he’s my father.