Kiri Atawhai Dewes - Memoirs of my life

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank Maori Broadcasting, for the borrowing of my words from their 2009 documentary of my life story. I thank Jane Crisp for the use of her image for my cover.

Te Horo

In my adopted family of eighteen, I was not familiar with them all because some had grown up and left home to make their own way in life. When I look back, I know without a doubt how lucky I was that they wanted to keep me. I believe that everything that happens to us on our earth walk is meant to be, and is all part of our journey. We all called our dad Pop and our mum was Mum (and even though she was in fact my Aunt, I happily called her Mum). They treated us all the same and we never wanted for anything.

Mum was a great gardener, growing flowers and vegetables. Her favourite flowers were standard roses, freesias, violets, daphne and gladioli. Our flower and our vegetable gardens were her pride and joy. I dont know how she kept up with everything. She was always making jam, preserving fruit, making pickles and relishes and preserving eggs. Meat and seafood were preserved by dropping them in fat. When she wasnt doing this she was in the garden weeding, getting vegetables for our meals or cooking and sewing for us all. Our larder was always full of preserves, pickles, jams and chutneys.

All the worlds ugliness can be forgotten in an instant in the beauty of nature.

Finding your tribe. We all have the desire to find our tribe. A community of those that we feel comfortable with and nurture our journey. We need to establish a unique persona and have an intense desire for acceptance. Our tribe members are those who accept us as we are without reservation and gladly accompany us on our journey of evolution. With them we feel free to be our imperfect selves, to engage freely in activities we enjoy and express our vulnerabilities by relying on our tribe for support. Their reassurance helps us in our development.

Mum was also active in the community, doing her bit for the schools we attended. She was also a member and traveling delegate for the Tairawhiti Womens Welfare League, which took her away from home sometimes. I dreaded those times. I knew it was a break for her but home wasnt the same without her.

Once a month the Welfare League used to meet and they had competitions. Mum had entries in every competition, and did very well, collecting first prizes with her jams, sewing, needlework and crochet. Her crocheted work was displayed in many exhibitions. I entered some of my sewing and plants in the junior section and was always proud when I won prizes. In her early days, she was a school teacher in Hukarere Girls College in Hawkes Bay, along with my birth mother. They both taught there.

The Rose

You appeared a tiny node
Upon your mothers arm
Swelling gently swelling
Safe within your husky haven
Slowly creeping peering through
Are your tender petals
In close embrace
Sweetly caressing
Gracefully unfolding
In the warm rays of the sun
Pretty pink is your garment
With borders blushing red
You are strong
Youre in full bloom
Your fragrance fills the air
You are, oh, so beautiful
Welcome to this world

I believe l witnessed the birth, the development and blossoming of a rose. In 2015, this poem took me to a Symposium in Washington, USA.

Mum also spun wool from the fleeces of our sheep, especially the black fleece. I used to sit at her feet and pull the wool while she sat at her spinning wheel peddling and rolling the wool through her fingers to form a fairly thick thread and, as it passed, it was wound onto a large bobbin. When there was enough on the bobbin, Mum would replace this one with another bobbin and keep spinning. I would then roll the wool off the full bobbin into a ball and place it in a basket. This was the procedure until we had spun enough for Mum to work with. She knitted all our cardigans and jumpers.

My sister Sue could spin wool too and she helped Mum knit for the family. I remember Mum knitted me fair-isle cardigans, jumpers, pixie hoods, berets, scarves and balaclavas. They arent seen too often these days. Today it is far easier to buy these items as a lot of mothers work and they dont have the time to sit and knit. Mum taught me how to knit, crochet, use a sewing machine and do needlework.

Your influence is stronger than you know. Your decisions will show up in your children, and in your community.
The next generation is watching you,
and so let us show them how it is done.

Go out all day looking fabulous and I see no one I know. Go out for five minutes looking like crap and all of a sudden its a damn reunion.

I love my excursions into the natural gardens, where the voice of the Great Creator is heard in the twittering of birds, the rippling of mighty waters, and the delightful, sweet breathing of flowers.

Mum insisted that I learn even though I was not interested. Now when I look back I realise how essential these skills were. How fortunate I was that she had the patience to teach me. I was more interested in going outdoors to play or go eeling in the creek or riding the horse, but now I am so grateful that I learnt so much from her because of her insistence.

Kiri was born with a caul that covered her entire face (a caul is a net-like membrane that dries off and dissipates in time.) The stories go that sailors carry one for good luck and protection. They would purchase them for a lot of money.

As long as you keep waking up in the morning, it is evident that the Creator is not through with you.

Pop had a stroke and was paralysed down his right side. He could still talk but lost the use of his right hand and leg. His left leg was amputated just below the knee, and so he wore an artificial leg fitted in a boot. His socks were also specially made and from the age of ten it was my job to dress and undress him every day. I didnt mind this at all because I loved him dearly. He was my protector and always had the time to listen to whatever I had to say.

We lived out of town and every day he would ring for cigarettes and two bobs worth of McIntoshs toffees for me. I always made sure he remembered and would say, Pop, dont forget my lollies. He was my hero. Whenever he needed me, he would whistle and I would know because it was a special whistle. He could still walk with the aid of a walking stick. When I was being naughty, Mum would try to catch me. I would run as fast as I could and sit or squat between his knees and he would keep her at bay with his walking stick.