This poem is a lament. It is a karanga. It is a haka. It is a wero. It brings together the past, present and the future. If it created a puku (gut) reaction (a.k.a an emotional response) I’d be keen to hear about it - whatever it was.
(Prerequisite reading: (Prerequisite reading: Sad Joke in Clinical Psychology ; Sad Joke on a Marae (by Apriana Taylor) and Sad Joke in District Court (by Lisa Cherrington) and Sad Joke in a Mental Health Setting
SAD JOKE IN STATE CARE: “NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND.”
“No child left behind!” the Child Welfare officer’s mantra
for delinquent rangatahi, a ‘real bad egg’, Ricky Baker in the New Zealand film,
Hunt for the Wilderpeople.
It became a slogan used by all in Aotearoa with humorous over tones
On school outings or family trips away, pertaining to our kids.
Our tamariki.
The undertones of the overtones
about the state
of State Care
can no longer be ignored.
As yet another review is conducted about the state
of State Care for the fictional but non-fictional Ricky Bakers of Aotearoa,
and the real dead lives of the Nia Glassie’s and Malachi Subecz ‘s of Aotearoa
And how fucked up it is
Those words cut so deep
When another child dies in a system that is siloed and racist.
What was that? Don’t label you? Don’t over generalise? Sorry, what was that you said?
We are TRYING.
We are trying to address the inequities that exist in Aotearoa. Look how far we have come as a nation? We have four Māori seats in Parliament. We have the Waitangi Tribunal. We have a separate Māori Health Authority. We have Matariki. A Māori celebration public holiday. And the news presenters use te reo Māori way more then ever before. And we even have a news presenter who delivers the 6pm news who has a moko kauae.
But real change takes time. He waka eke noa. We are in this together.
So just to make sure we aren’t getting it quite right in certain areas of our society, let’s have another inquiry and another system review.
Oh, and whilst we are at it,
Let’s have a Mental Health Inquiry too.
The first one in 20 years.
But let’s make sure the Māori voice is lost and squashed.
And let’s threaten the Māori researchers with fines if they speak up.
Oh, and let’s change the name of our State Care to Ministry for Vulnerable Children and their families. And spend lots of money changing our letter heads and sign posts.
Oh, no. That doesn’t sound quite right. Let’s give it a Māori name. Oranga Tamariki. Ministry for Children. And spend some more money on letter heads and signposts.
Oh, and whilst we are at it -
Let’s do another review of the State Care system. Spend some more money. Number 17 to be exact. Just to make sure we know how really fucked up it is.
Just in case you didn’t already know.
Meanwhile our Māori tamariki and mokopuna keep dying under the ‘care and protection’ of white created systems.
Systems created by a government’s to deal with the failings of assimilation and colonisation.
Then when we start to talk about racism and institutional racism and ask, plead, beg, demand to hand the system over to (and the purse strings) so that we can heal our whanau by Māori, for Māori, in our own way.
The finger is pointed back to the whanau who closed ranks and to the Māori caregivers who were the abusers and who killed these kids.
And when we demand and plead again and again and provide evidence-based solutions that will address the inequities and racism that our whanau live in -
White fragility raises its head with tears and accusations of segregation, apartheid and ‘we are all one’ and then cries of ‘but we are trying.’
“Not one more acre” was the chant in the 1975 Land March led by Dame Whina Cooper
“Not one more child” was the declaration in 2019 from iwi regarding Māori children being uplifted by Oranga Tamariki.
"Not one more mokopuna" was the call from the Māori party in 2021 and with that an array of evidence based solutions provided.
Waiting for the government to hand it back to us.
Whilst more reviews are called for. More money spent.
All whilst another mokopuna dies.
Puku churning too. I want to say more but I also, genuinely, feel a bit overwhelmed by it all, panicked even. I listened to the history podcast about the role of the Native Land court in dispossessing Māori of land, which led directly to the poverty and pain you’re writing about, and then I listened to interviews from whānau affected by the floods, and how so many houses should not have been built where they had been built, but as soon as the land was “acquired” the estuaries were drained and built on, or laid with grass for golf courses... etc etc. But the impact on our children, and the struggle for those who work inside that system, as your sad poem reveals... just broke me... yikes... better go do some mediation 😭
A puku reaction here. I work in policy, and I studied it for my PhD. I am always struck by, for every success, the dismal depth of our failures. And the failure of tamariki and rangatahi by our child protection system is the most brutal and unforgiveable. Thank you for writing this.