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Māori Matters—Dreams

Māori believe that when we sleep, our wairua leave our bodies to go on adventures. This is dreaming. My wairua tends to favour dream-time jaunts that occur where lunacy meets the impossible. One night I’ll find myself battling giant worms on mini monster trucks with only fruit as a weapon. However, the next dream might bring me a reunion with my late Nan. These are always tinged with melancholy and a desperate longing to hear her voice again. Some are just a confusing kaleidoscope of colours and feelings. Others dredge up horrors I’ve only read about, distorting real life experiences I’ve actually had. Regardless of their content, dreams have always played an integral part in my life. They’ve acted as a reprieve from the monotony of waking reality, as a portal through which fragments of inspiration slip into real life. Most importantly, they offer a chance, however brief, to see people I miss everyday.

E ai ki a Ngai Māori, i te tangata e moe ana ka wehe te wairua i te tinana, kia haere i tōna haere, koia ko te moemoeā. Ko tōku wairua, he mea tipi haere ki tua o tāwauwau, ki tua o te pae whakaaro. I ētahi wā, ko au tēra e whawhai ana ki ētahi pīki noke, e eke taraka ana, ā, kua kore aku rauemi atu i ētahi huarākau hei kaupare i a rātou. Heoi, i te pō whai muri ka tau mai ko te mamae o te aroha i taku tūtakitanga ki taku kuia. Na enei o ngā huinga a maua ko taku nan ka rangona ko te pouri me te mokemoke ki tōna reo mārire. Ko ētahi moemoeā, kaore ōna hanga, heoi ko ngā tae me ngā kare-ā-roto e huri kōraha noa ana. Ko ētahi, he mea whakamataku, he mea whakarangirua i te ao hurihuri me te ao moemoeā. Ahakoa tōna momo, he nui ngā hua kua puta i aku moemoeā. I ētahi wā, he waka hei kawe atu I au mai I ngā raruraru, I ngā aupēhitanga o te ao hurihuri. I wā kē, he waka kawe i au kia tata ki ōku pae tawhiti. Heoi, ki au, ko ōna tino painga he whakatuwhera i te ao wairua, kia āhei taku kite, taku tūtahi I a rātou mā e moe ana I te moenga roa.

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Ten things I wish my friends knew about being Māori

: 1). I wish my friends knew that when they ask me what “percentage” of Māori I am—half, quarter, or eighth—they make me feel like a human pie chart. I don’t know how people can ask this so nonchalantly, but they do. So I want to let you know: this is a very threatening