Why am I bothering...

Why am I bothering to learn te reo Māori?

An English immigrant to New Zealand asked me this question. Married to an African-American, she's no racist - unlike some others who have asked me the same question. 

I only gave her the political, no-doubt-naive part of my answer, which is:

Aotearoa/New Zealand is in a unique position for race relations. It's far from perfect, but in general Māori (the brown people) & Pakeha (the pink people) get on pretty much OK. You don't need to study a lot of history to realise that things could have gone a lot worse. Most other nations with a multiracial history have a far more bloody record - and can expect more of the same. However, you don't have to study the health, education and economic indicators deeply to realise that Māori are not as well off as Pakeha. This is a shared challenge, an issue for all of us. All of us want it better, even if we don't agree on the way to achieve it.

So, we have a rocky start, quite a lot of forbearance, some problems, and a lot of willingness for things to go well. I truly believe that we have a chance to be a place where different kinds of people really can live in harmony. Not by pretending we are all the same, but by understanding, admiring and relishing those differences.  Language, and the cultural understanding that goes along with it, seems like a key part of this. I want to be a real part of building that future. Happily I have an interest in language, and received an invitation to a supportive opportunity to learn.

Then there's the spiritual answer.

Te Reo Māori is the language of the soul of this land. All the beautiful special places were first named in te reo. Mimiwhangata. Aoraki. Rakiura. Waitaki. Walk among puriri, kauri, totara in the company of piwakawaka, hihi, riroriro. Even the palest Pakeha has some idea what a taonga is.

The words have been coming to me all my life, one by one. Given, shared by the native speakers. It feels like the time for me to become an adult and learn to put them together, to speak my heart in the language of my home

Ngā mihinui

The Quilts of Abundance

Late in 2010, my friend Veronicah was the recipient of 17 - count 'em 17 - banana boxes of mixed fabrics from a deceased estate. After much sorting and appropriate donation, she made up a box each for some quilting buddies. Sharing the love!

I'm a lucky possessor of one of these Boxes of Abundance. It holds a fairly random mixture of approximately shirt-weight cottonish fabrics from (I think) the middle 1980's. Not exactly what I would normally choose to work with.

My - self-imposed - challenge is using it to make quilts for my big patchwork group's community quilt donation programme. This has been far more enjoyable than expected.

1. Free fabric is much easier to cut!
2. Funny combinations work when they have to
3. I'm not doing it alone - all the other people who have passed this fabric along are sharing in the eventual gift

I'll document these quilts on their own page.  What is your challenge?

Pharmaceutical Comforter

It all started at St Joseph's Primary School. Back then "fundraising" was known as "collecting for the Missions". What we collected was tinfoil. I doubt any of my class knew what the Missions were doing, or how our tinfoil would help, but we religiously collected each bottletop (remember them!).

Fastforward at least 30 years to me looking at my foil medication packets. No way can I treat them like rubbish. They represent the best strategy yet in managing my disordered mind... and they're tinfoil! And look, they're layered, with air in the middle. In a grid format. Kinda like a quilt really. So, the inevitable quilt project begins

This one has to be functional, of course. Blister packs are a bit stiff and scratchy to make a quilt that is nice to sleep under. After a few samples I decide on a simple half-square triangle block embellished with a packet.

It's very boring in the middle phase of making and embellishing all the blocks. Now that is done I'm enjoying playing with different layouts. Here's my favourite so far



More about the making of Pharmaceutical Comforter

Could be the Last Baby Quilt

Max arrived recently. His big sister has one of my quilts, so he gets one too. I make them fairly quickly out of whatever is at hand, and take particular pleasure in giving them a complementary pieced backing made from my stash of flannel samples. Max's is a triumph of the scrap ethic, made completely from the left-overs from another quilter's project.

I've said it before: this is my last baby quilt.

Why? there are bound to be more babies, some with a family precedent of a quilt from Auntie Sarah, and all needing quilts. I have more than enough fabric, and get a lot of pleasure out of being able to bring a special gift.

I have to stop, because snuggling in behind that fuzzy feel-good factor they are thieves.

The baby quilts steal my most precious, scarce resources: time, willpower, focus. I do good work on them, but not my best work. I offer that work up to the least critical audience imaginable. I romanticise the beauty of the motherhood I don't participate in. I choose to make a pretty baby quilt rather than struggle with the challenge of creating the weird wonderful unique images that rarely get past the sketchbook.

I make the baby quilts as cuddle rugs to comfort my own fear of inadequacy, of failure, of success. Knowing this, how can I make another?