Dad met Mum in Fiji. He was there on an airforce posting. They met briefly at some waterfalls and I guess he could see her lovely innocent soul. They dated. But, going out with Mum wasnt going to be easy. She had been brought up by her grandmother, under the old ways. One brother, older and six younger sisters, Mum had to be the perfect role model.

After his first tour to Fiji, he returned to Christchurch. Following a period of long distance letters and engagement, he soon returned to Fiji to marry his sweetheart.

Dad brought Mum to the cold grey winter of Christchurch to settle down. What a shock that must have been…from the warm shores of the pacific, dancing, parties, a potential career in broadcasting, wonderful food with an abundance of fruit and other island treats. And now, here she was, in a brick house in the suburbs. Christchurch; frosts, coal fires, overcooked vegetables, different customs, traditions, in-laws and dependence.

Fortunately, I was born. Unfortunately, I was a girl. My nana, I recently found out, refused to visit Mum or Dad at hospital until they got over the fact that I was a girl. My name had to be changed. I cried, I refused to eat food and I got bronchitis.
Lucky mum.

But I remember good times. I remember being around two and the airforce sent us for a second posting to Fiji. Later when Dad was in the States for 6 months, Mum and I went to stay there again. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. She had militantly brought up my mother - a fierce matriarch but the apple of my eye.

When we returned to NZ we were stationed at an airbase in Auckland called Whenuapai. Life there was great. I had two younger sisters. They came almost four years after, I'd had Mum and Dad to myself. They were fifteen months apart and seemed to cause a change in the household. I must say they were cute, but always in my stuff and nine year olds had no time for this!!

Saturdays were for getting the chores done. Sundays were our family day. When we were young wed go to church, Dad sometimes came along but we loved it when hed stay home and bake the bread. I remember walking to the corner of our street after church and then racing, to get home first, as I smelt his latest creation wafting out of the oven. Mum would get a huge picnic lunch together and we'd charge off, with our Irish Setter, to a sunny beach along Auckland's beautiful shores. We would meet up with friends and play for hours in the surf and often not get home till really late.

We had a sheltered life on the airbase. All the airforce kids, hung out together. We were protected by round the clock security, all the amenities you could ask for; tennis courts, squash courts, swimming pools, movie theatre. I heard, the people who lived outside the base, had to lock their doors.

Occasionally, Aunties, who had all relocated to Fiji, or as far away as possible, would come and visit us. They were brown and they had children that were brown. They seemed nice and I quite liked them. I noticed they were warm and friendly.

Eventually, the day came when we moved off the airbase. I remember being very scared about staying overnight in the house my Dad built. But soon I was used to it. We had a big backyard and there were acres of farmland behind us. I regularly disappeared for hours, on adventures with my sisters or with friends. Often we'd return wet and muddy, or screaming, 'cause irate bees were chasing us.

When it came to high school. I was given the choice of where I would like to go. I decided, on a Catholic girls' school, rather than the local mixed high school. That choice had mixed blessings. I felt quite different in the Catholic culture. I had been brought up and confirmed Anglican. The Catholic culture seemed to place itself in a different league. Here, I realised, I was Anglican, small and brown.

The change in religion showed me other differences. I remember, one other brownish girl and a French girl in my 3rd form class. We were the different ones. I felt, a bit on the back foot, a lot of the time. I crammed hard to prove a point. I felt insignificant if I didn't stay in the top three. I didn't want to merge and be the normal forgotten, but I didn't like being different either.

At 15, I rebelled, like almost everyone does. Mum had spent 10 years, often three times a week, driving me across town, to ballet lessons. I was doing quite well, but gave it up. The typical teenage chaos followed. Boys, smoking, drinking, intense friendships, showing off, one-upmanship with teachers. I remember growing insular and separate from others. Not really relating to anyone, reading books other kids didn't seem interested in. Dad was offered a transfer to Christchurch, I was the only one alongside Dad, that was happy to go. Two beat three, (my two younger sisters and Mum.)

At 17, on the last day of school, I met my husband to be. I thought he was an angel. He had a caring for nature and animals and a totally different way of looking at things. He was lovely. He wore sandshoes that were dyed green, with a hole in the toe and I knew I would be safe with him. We got married when I was 20, and I hoped Id done the right thing.

Two years later, I had Jordan. A beautiful blonde ET. The birth was amazing but motherhood freaked me out. Thank god, my mother came down to help me. I had gone through three doctors to ensure I had a homebirth but I knew nothing of the mechanics of caring for a child. Nor was I aware of the commitment a child demanded.

Once I tuned into the new existence, my son and I had a lovely life together. My relationship, however, was not in the same space. They say, children make kinks in the relationship, bigger. Well I don't think that's fair on children, but it did work out that way.

Two years later, I had another beautiful boy, Julian. This time I was ready for it. I wasn't worried about his breath stopping at any minute. I just loved and trusted. And realized that my boys were the most important thing in my life.

Not long before my second sons 1st birthday, I was separated. Suddenly, I was on my own for the first time in my life, and I had two little boys looking to me for their existence. I left for Auckland. Home to Mum and Dad.

Auckland, was a time of intense learning: some stress, some healing, and trying to find myself. I had grown away from my faith and sometimes it felt like I had no points of reference.
When Julian went to school, I went to work. Finally, at 29, I was independent. What a road to get there.

The government department that employed me was family friendly and had a Maori network. Some of my co-workers asked me if I wanted to join the network. I wondered why. Then re-remembered I was brown and to most, that meant you were Maori. I joined this group because my Dad has a 16th Maori and I always felt a cultural gap in my life. I had the skin but nothing to show for it.

Mum and Dad were fiercely independent. We didn't spend a lot of time with our extended families. We were typical kiwis. I didn't do culture group, learn the language or even eat much of the food.
Joining the network, made me feel, I was part of something more.

As the boys got older, they found it hard being separated from their father. My oldest son wanted to live with his dad. I couldn't bear that. My sons made my life whole. I wasnt ready to give up being a mother. But I couldnt stop my son. I didnt feel I had that right. Boys need a male role model.

Fortunately, work relocated me. I had a job and I made sure I lived somewhere perfect. I found a place by the sea, so that in the mornings I could walk across the road with my tea or coffee and ponder life. It wasn't so bad, in fact, I found I was happier here, than anywhere else, funny how life deals you these hands.

I guess Dads can give boys, something, mothers can't. So I got to know me, again. Not the person, that had two boys, was a solo mum, or had a broken marriage but me. I bought a home in the city and started to do things I wanted. It was weird and a real treat. So different from the rest of my life, it seemed.

I love my work. I generally study part-time. I exercise. I have a home I love, two teenage boys to belong to and a relationship.

And Maria in her wisdom, came along. She knew there was more to me. Did I want to join a group of other women, who were interested in learning about their culture? Women, who, like me had been estranged from it, or, who wanted to learn more about where they came from. Of course I did.
And here I am.