It is with some concern and, indeed, much trepidatory nervousness that I express my complete worry at the amount of Mayoree language being spoken in New Zealand. I hear it all over the radio and television day after day after day.
I’m no racist, but when Guyon or whoever starts their morning hello with six or seven words from a language I don’t understand, I’m going to say something. If you are going to welcome me to your radio show and try to get me to listen then you should say stuff in a language I understand. If I don’t understand, then I can’t engage. If I can’t engage, then I need to get my press people to issue blatantly racist press releases in the hopes people will talk to me and listen to my old white man ideas.
Sure Mayoree have been in New Zealand for hundreds of years and their language was pretty much the national language until James Cook turned up with all his amazing technology, disease and colonial suppression. They’ve done so well since then.
Look. I am old and I am white. I’m threatened by anything that’s not old and white. All this use of Te Reyo is new and fresh sounding. All the kids are using it. It threatens my white man-ness. I mean… I can’t really speak Te Reyo but I sometimes like to use it. I use the word farnow all the time. It works just so much better than family. It means so much more. So I use farnow all the time. But I don’t want other people using any of the other words. It’s too confusing to both my manhood and my whitehood.
Right… if you’ll excuse me I’m off to my house in Orakei to enjoy a Wairarapa chardonnay with some roasted kumara while we look out on the beautiful Rangitoto in the Hauraki Gulf.
Kind regards,
Donald Brash (doctor)