When my wife Christine and I returned to the Bay after 40+ years working in Asia, Australia and the Middle East, it felt like Dylan’s “Rolling Stone” finding its own way home.
A descent at sunset on the motorway from Bethlehem, Motuopae Island and the mud flats open up, with them something inside as well. A few emotions later I voice it aloud, “This is home”. Like most who face the mellower years, there is less one has to do yet more that wants doing.
Our many chores and tasks can now defer to dreams long nurtured for this moment. One is to learn Te Reo Māori, the language moving from regress to progress, that speaks of a culture that enriches us all, a worldview promising a stronger glue for the challenging years ahead. But how? Where? Finding Te Wānanga O Aotearoa was like a gift, unexpected and better than hoped for.
Off we went our ‘Ka’s and ‘wha’s fusing with our ringa’s and tanga’s in a chaos of short syllables until we realised we needed something more. Out for a cruise on my motorbike, I found it, a place to blend our faith with our commitment and our hearts with our home. Crossing the Maungatapu causeway it caught my eye. A tiny weatherboard building, red tin roof shining, standing as Kaitiaki over Rangataua bay. Another piece of the puzzle we increasingly call home.
motorbike.
Our first time at a Sunday service was a discovery, not so much of content or ritual but of belonging, of authentic presence, of fitting like a comfortable chair. Looking over a view that reminds us the secrets for our future lie hidden most likely in our past.
Most Sundays it is rua reo or bilingual and the service alternates between English and Māori each language side by side in the prayer book.
Third Sunday of the Month is Te Reo Service, i.e. no English and it’s time to open up our hearts and thoughts that little bit more. Time to submit once again to the wrench of minds wrestling with a language not yet my own. Warm greetings mid-service cheer us on as phrases take shape and their meanings merge into view.
It’s hard to say what I like most about our times at All Saints: the warm welcome, the uncluttered service, the spectacular outlook, the broader mindset two languages can bring, or the morning tea that would have done communities proud 40 years ago.
Perhaps it’s the lot? Each element in turn as well as the whole package in all. I only know that each time I crank my cruiser motorbike into life and click it in gear, I feel grateful for this little outpost, this lighthouse of hope for future generations and for now I say ‘Kia Kaha’ to us all.
By Tom Martin, President, Tauranga Writers
“I write for Bay Waka because it gives a voice to the people and places we might easily overlook in our busyness.”
