Valedictory Statements

Bula vinaka. Namaste, Mr Assistant Speaker. Thank you very much. Tēnā koe. I am a lucky migrant and am privileged to have received as much as I have from this country for over 50 years. I received an excellent education in New Zealand and married a Kiwi, who has put up with me for 46 years now. She is in the gallery today with our daughter, Indra, our son-in-law, Ronil, and our grandchildren, Shalina and Shaam. Thank you, Prem, for those 46 years. Thank you, Indra, for the grandchildren. Thank you also, Ronil. My son, Pramen, and daughter-in-law, Alini, will be watching in New York. My 96-year-old mother in Vancouver will be watching with the rest of my family. My 90-year-old mother-in-law is watching in Auckland. We are going international today.

Over the years I have been very fortunate to have worked with so many New Zealand families and children, taught many university students, and travelled widely to make a contribution to the international community on New Zealand’s behalf. However, it almost did not happen. When I was being denied a visa, it was the advocacy of a number of prominent west Auckland educationalists and leaders who convinced Immigration New Zealand to change its decision. The main person behind that advocacy was Nigel Langston, the principal of Freyberg Community School in west Auckland, where my wife was a teacher. Nigel has travelled down from Auckland today. I owe you an enormous sense of gratitude, Nigel. I cannot repay that. Thank you. I do know how a constituent feels when an adverse immigration decision is made, and then when it is reversed.

I have trained many of New Zealand’s now prominent social work practitioners, child and family advocates, and policy analysts over the years. I have been entrusted with roles like New Zealand’s Race Relations Conciliator, Human Rights Commissioner, adjudicator in immigration cases, and Chief Families Commissioner. But nothing prepares you for your life as a politician. In the eyes of many I became useless, self-interested, untrustworthy, and “just a bloody politician” overnight. Such is the contempt in which we are held, but that reputation is neither accurate nor deserved. I have the utmost respect for all my parliamentary colleagues across the House. I have never worked with a more hard-working group of individuals dedicated to providing 24/7 for the nation and for their constituents.

Yes, we are ambitious for what we believe in and we argue vigorously for our policies and programmes, but no one should ever underestimate or doubt the dedication to serve and the sheer determination to make a difference as members of Parliament, whatever their colour. I believe the media could do better to portray this more fairly. Instead, politicians are fair game and we dare not even reflexively pick our noses in public, for fear that that might be reported in the wrong way as a negative action.

I have been asked to speak directly to Mrs Macindoe of Hamilton, Tim’s mother, who wants to know why I am always mean towards her son when debating in the House. Tim has been unable to convince her otherwise. Mrs Macindoe, I am speaking to you. I count your son as a friend, and we have travelled together through China and Mongolia with our partners. Tim is a perfect gentleman, and on every occasion outside this House we act as friends and we always inquire about each other’s health. It is the nature of life in this Chamber to debate vigorously when our values lead to different policy prescriptions, but we remain civil, we remain supportive, we remain friends, and I count you as one of them and, through you, everybody else.

My time in Parliament has coincided with the Government’s welfare reform programme and Tim is a strong advocate of that programme. Along with my colleagues I am a strong critic of many parts of that reform agenda. My life’s work with many of these families tells me something different. Tim usually spoke before me in many of those debates and he always left himself open for a full frontal attack. I had to put him right, Mrs Macindoe. My good friend Melissa Lee—I could say the same things to Mrs Lee about Melissa. So this is what you saw, Mrs Macindoe, and other Mrs Macindoes around the country, not the many more occasions when we represent our country well and we do that with pride and we get on well. If anyone else has been offended in this House by my passionate debates, then I apologise. Report that!

My time in Parliament has been taken up by my portfolio responsibilities in ethnic affairs, social development, and immigration, and in my work on the Social Services Committee, where we have enjoyed ourselves with members across the other side of the House. I want to make a few comments about ethnic affairs and immigration. But first I want to acknowledge the current ethnic members of this Parliament: Raymond Huo, Kanwaljit Singh Bakshi, Melissa Lee, and Jian Yang. Although we come from different sides of the House, we collectively understand ethnic issues and the demands of our communities. However, I wonder whether the nature of these demands is fully understood in the various courts of this Parliament.

There are 500,000 members of ethnic communities in New Zealand, and this is our constituency. These communities have come to see ethnic MPs as their link to our formal systems. In addition, they have a not unreasonable expectation that we will be their advocates, their advisers, and their champions. We are required to be present at all their major events and functions, to speak at all of them, and to act like their electorate MPs. So for ethnic MPs the country becomes our electorate, and there is no end to the constituency matters that we have to deal with.

I have already acknowledged the huge demands on all MPs in this House. For ethnic MPs this is something else. Family life for us is even more non-existent. We upset as many of our constituents as we satisfy, by not being able to be at all their major events because we just simply find it impossible to service their needs adequately. This is neither any criticism implied here of ethnic communities, nor any complaints about the demands on us.

But what I want to register is that the standards by which we are judged do not make any allowances for our pattern of work. It is different for our other colleagues and in some ways closer to what Māori and Pasifika MPs experience. The frame that is applied to ethnic MPs is the same as that which is applied to other MPs, and yet the nature of our work is different. We all also come from cultures where promoting yourself is frowned upon and where obligation has a particular meaning.

I have seen a suggestion that all MPs should prepare an individual annual report on what work we have done, as a way of informing our people. This is a sensible idea and could be useful in reaching over the media to inform people more widely. Instead, what is reported is how many press statements we put out, how many Official Information Act requests we lodge, or how many questions for written answer we ask. These have become the measuring stick, never mind the fact that most of them are never published, and that many are binned immediately after they have been received.

Our Parliament is largely monocultural, notwithstanding the fact that there are some concessions to tangata whenua. Pasifika MPs would have similar demands put on them, and their frustrations are probably akin to those of ethnic MPs. It is noteworthy that all the ethnic MPs in this Parliament are backbenchers with fairly low conventional profiles. Those who report on us and judge us are never present where we do the bulk of our work, and all they rely on is what is in the mainstream media or this House. I say this not with any acrimony towards those who make these judgments, but more with a sense of sadness.

In my 6 years, I cannot recall a substantive debate in this Parliament on a significant issue that was particular to ethnic New Zealanders. Here, we ethnic MPs play a mainstream role, which is not why we came into Parliament. I believe it is time for political parties to reflect in the business of the House the importance they place on ethnic communities outside. Other than the celebration of Diwali, Chinese New Year, and Eid with invited members of the public, there is nothing that this Parliament does that reflects our growing ethnic diversity and the political challenges that entails.

If Parliament could consider how that diversity might be reflected in the business of the House, I am certain our ethnic members of Parliament would be able to add greater value to the business of this House, and thereby involve their constituencies in the political life of the nation a lot more directly.

I believe New Zealand has to deal more effectively with our growing diversity. We have an immigration programme that increases our diversity almost daily. We have no long-term plans about how we will grow the population base of our country. The impact of these policies on everyday communities is inexorable, but they are never involved in any discourse about those policies, their impact, or how they might adapt to them. We take diversity to be inherently good, but we do not know its full impact or how to manage it in a positive way.

Diversity is more than food, music, and art. It is about how we live and adjust to our new homes. It is about how New Zealanders adjust to us as well. I believe the time has come for a proper conversation about our growing diversity: how big we want to grow to and how that should be determined, how we manage its implications, and how do we engage with the communities that are affected.

Currently, our approach to diversity is ad hoc. Our immigration policy and diversity management are not dovetailed into a powerful strategy. We do not involve New Zealanders in its design, and it has unintended consequences. For me, it all starts with understanding our diverse communities, and our ethnic MPs should play a central role in this and thus become an integral part of this Parliament. At the moment, although MPs carry that label and have been placed on party lists for their ethnicity, they do not have any strategic impact on this Parliament and probably not even in some caucuses. Our communities expect more from us, and political parties should think this through in more detail.

My journey through the last 50 years of service and public life has an uncanny symmetry. My experiences with immigration helped me understand the needs of migrants. In the Race Relations Office I kept an eye on our country’s overall interests and those of our ethnic communities while we were diversifying at a rate of knots. As an adjudicator I got to understand the gaps in the immigration system. As an MP I have had my share of immigration cases. Thus when I was given the immigration portfolio I focused on a future-looking policy in which New Zealanders were also involved, because they are the most affected.

In our policy, we will not leave applicants in suspense for long periods, and world-leading settlement programmes would be the order of the day. We have to find a better way of meeting the immigration implications for cultural marriages rather than the current approach to forensic interviewing about the genuineness of their marriage. My life with children and families over many years has got me to question why is it that we are so unsuccessful at devising a system that really places children at the centre of everything we do. Why is it that despite knowing about cases early, we are unable to avoid the disaster that was predicted, but are happy to pick up the pieces? Why is it that we have not managed to change vulnerable communities for more 40 years, in some cases? Why is the real potential of the school site not used to develop them into hubs of our communities? I am pleased that some of these policies I have worked on reflect those sentiments.

I have had an opportunity to participate in one of the most stable democracies in the world. Our systems, structures, and checks and balances—our transparency is the envy of the world. This Parliament has given me the opportunity to assist the little South African kingdom of Lesotho, which has an MMP system like ours bequeathed to it but with little expertise on how to run it effectively. This has led to my appointment a few days ago as a special envoy for the Secretary-General of the Commonwealth to the Kingdom of Lesotho. I very much look forward to that role. The sense of purpose that I came with to Parliament will now transfer to the sense of mission I feel about my next role.

I have a number of people to thank. I want to acknowledge the privilege it has been to be a member of Parliament. I want to say a special thank you to Nina Sudiono-Price, who is a legend in these parts. We have worked together for 6 years and she has not only taken care of my office but also my interests. Nina has a special ability to solve problems, maintain calm, and carry on as normal, and that I have appreciated. Thanks, Nina.

I want to acknowledge all of our executive assistants and thank them for their support over the 6 years. Our parliamentary staff are very special. They ensure all our systems are run well and that MPs are able to do their work efficiently. Our messengers work imperceptibly behind the scenes, and in the Chamber they get to know us well and keep up a healthy banter with us, although I am still waiting for that supply of gin and tonic rather than water. They have promised they will deliver.

To my caucus colleagues, I have enjoyed working with you. I shall watch your fortunes, because they will be mine as well. To you, Mr Speaker, and the Clerk, and your whole team—thanks, and my special appreciation for the recent hosting of the Lesotho delegation. I want to especially acknowledge the superb quality of the work of our Parliamentary Library. They are truly the unsung heroes in this place. To my wife, Prem, my daughter, Indra, and my two little darlings—hi, Shalina; she has gone to sleep, hi, Shaam—and my son-in-law, Ronil, who has scrubbed up well today, my special thanks for your support and patience over 6 years. See, these are the bookends. You have a go at your son-in-law at the front, and you have a go at the back, at the end. That is how we do it. I learnt this from the Pākehā world. I have many friends and family in the gallery. They have travelled a long way. I thank them all for coming, and I thank you all for being here. Nō reira, tēnā koutou katoa.

Waiata

Tēnā koe, Mr Assistant Speaker. Ngā mihi nui, kia koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. I want to first of all acknowledge my buddy Rajen Prasad, and tell him that I have still got the photos from our trip to Taiwan and that I am planning to divulge them before I leave. I also want to acknowledge you, Mr Assistant Speaker Robertson, because you will make your valedictory next week. I am looking forward to that, and it has been a pleasure working with you. I want to acknowledge all members of Parliament whom I have served with, and I do so without rancour or criticism, because, much to my surprise, over nearly 9 years in Parliament, I have found that despite furious debate about political difference, most MPs come here with sincere intent.

Since I was elected in 2005, five of my much-loved whānau have passed away. I mourn them all. Five children have been born in my close family; sadly, all overseas. My kids Aish and Anna have moved to San Francisco, where they are now doing awesome IT things with Netflix and Apple. I am proud of them both but I do wish they were here. Back in 2005 Twitter had not been invented, and nor had iPads and iPhones. Maurice Williamson jumped the queue and got an iPhone early, but it took years for Parliamentary Service to allow Apple to enter the building.

Parliament has been opened up with digital TV and online streaming. I have heard from Parliament viewers over the years, and I have enjoyed their conversations and correspondence, even the man who often wrote to me telling I needed to do something about my hair hanging in my face. As you can see, I did not take his advice—or that of the former MP who told me he had been watching my parts and that it was important to get them straight. It took me a while to figure that one out.

The extraordinary events that shook Parliament and our country to the core in recent years will always be with me—the shattering Christchurch earthquakes, with the shocking and tragic death toll. For many, life continues to be a struggle. The needless loss of 29 men killed at Pike River mine will go down in our history as a disgraceful failure of deregulation. There has been no closure or justice for those families, and that is wrong. I also want to acknowledge the families of the forestry workers who have lost loved ones, and who grieve still, but who have bravely come forward to challenge the awful death and injury toll in that industry. I stand with you. The death of more than one worker and countless injuries in our workplaces every week shames us all but it shames this Parliament the most. It has to stop.

I know that some people think I was born a devil beast - trade unionist, but my apprenticeship to the labour movement and this Parliament was forged in many different experiences and some very tough jobs. I grew up in a family where war and politics cast a long shadow. My grandfather Frederick Frost fought and was injured at the Somme in the First World War. That man started his first job at the age of 12 as a pit boy in a Northumberland mine. So if I am a bit rough around the edges, I think you probably get it now. He was elected the Labour MP for New Plymouth in the wartime Labour Government led by Michael Joseph Savage and then Peter Fraser. My father Verdun Frost was a navigator in World War II and patrolled the Pacific. Like his father he was a declared socialist. My mother, the very staunch and Catholic Patricia Mary Te Rata Mahuta Kerr, came from an ancestry of Irish rebels. She was very stroppy. I was scared of her. Tau Henare descends from that line, so you kind of know what I mean. You cannot help your relatives.

My parents instilled in their two sons and two daughters the hope of a better and fairer life for all in New Zealand. My generation profited from their sacrifice and hard work. Early Labour Governments meant that I, along with John Key, grew up in a State house and benefited from State-funded health and education. That gave me choices that younger people do not have today. I had the freedom and security to be different and to challenge. With my troublemaking heritage, it was inevitable that I would be drawn to the anti-war and nuclear movements and the remote hippy generation of the 1970s. It led me on a journey that was both good and bad.

I dropped out of education. I had a range of interesting and boring jobs. I travelled through dangerous countries, and I did some silly things. Some will have read the story of my drug addiction when I was a younger person in the 1970s. Despite treatment and recovery years ago, I reluctantly agreed for my story to be published this year. It is still such a taboo topic, so hard to talk about. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

I blame no one but myself for my mistakes, and I have made plenty. Drug taking was a means of defiance against the establishment and seemed cool at the time. I know that the threat of lawbreaking or addiction did not stop me, and the opprobrium of society made no difference. I want to say that smoking a joint did not lead me to other drugs; criminals selling drugs did. That is why I believe that the war on drugs has been a total failure. That is why I think it is time for this Parliament to treat drug abuse as a health problem, not a criminal offence—and that means properly funded addiction treatment. I also believe it is time for politicians in this House to decriminalise personal marijuana use and take the crooks out of the business. For me, the difference was treatment, a loving partner, and the birth of our quite exceptional son, Aish.

I found inspiration in the union movement, where my rebellious heart could be turned towards something real and meaningful. I owe the labour movement everything. It made room for me in a cause that has never been more important than it is today. I thank my comrades; in particular, my wonderful union—the Service and Food Workers Union Ngā Ringa Tōtā. One of my proudest achievements is to be a life member of a union that seeks to build, not destroy; draws its strength from the real experiences of workers at the hard end of the labour market and society; and gives them the courage to speak out.

When I came to Parliament in 2005, I claimed as my constituents the workers of New Zealand who clean, cook, and care for others. I came with only one ambition, and that was for them to be heard in this House and to make life better for them. In my first term I was part of a Labour Government. We did make a difference for those workers. Hospital cleaners, food service workers, and orderlies gained their first ever national agreement, and the Government funded millions of dollars to increase their pay and improve the wages that had been devastated during the 1990s. School cleaners followed close behind. Aged care workers were funded $1 an hour extra. Protection for vulnerable workers, like the cleaners in this place, was strengthened, as was collective bargaining.

I am not going to claim sole credit for those achievements, but I will admit to quite a lot of badgering of Helen Clark and Michael Cullen. To be fair, those amazing Labour leaders did not need a lot of persuasion to do the right thing. Although I have always considered myself working class, my mother was very class conscious. She used to say to me that we were either upper-middle class or lower-upper class, and there we were living in a State house—bless. Class mattered then. However we describe it today, it still does, because the fundamental hopes of ordinary working people for a decent job on fair pay remain elusive for many.

The 40-hour week, 8-hour day is a joke. Hundreds of thousands of New Zealand workers are now affected by insecure work that is more casual, part-time, temporary, contracted, or fixed term, and there is a growing number of workers outside the protection of employment and minimum wage legislation. During my time in this Parliament I promoted several member’s bills to guarantee basic protections for all New Zealand workers and to deal with the new reality of work in the 21st century.

These protections included a minimum wage for contractors; temporary and labour hire workers receiving the same pay as the places they go to work in; providing child workers under 16 years with protection by requiring them to be employed, not contracted; and ensuring that those laid off through no fault of their own have basic redundancy pay. That is not too much to ask, I would have thought. However, all of these bills were ridiculed, voted down, or discharged by National. I leave these bills as a legacy to an incoming Labour Government, because this is the reality of 21st century work and it needs to be dealt with.

No one will believe it but my grandfather was much more radical than me. He called for compulsory unions for all workers throughout the entire world. I could have written his Address in Reply speech in 1943. He told the House about a view of what he called old Toryism, which was that the more workers got, the more they wanted, and that any agitation for more rights was seen as interference in natural economic laws.

What is really so different today? Work is the foundation of our economy, yet we still often treat workers like commodities who should just be grateful to have a job. We talk a lot about child poverty, yet what about the poverty of their parents, many of whom are working? Risk and uncertainty has been transferred to individual workers, who cannot afford it. The notion of the social wage has been weakened. We blame people when they cannot find jobs, we despise them when they join unions to try to get ahead, and our social safety net is now seen as a form of failure and an opportunity for punishment. This will continue as long as we let it. The old fights, now perhaps rebadged, perhaps no longer couched in the terms of class and socialism, still exist. We just call it the 1 percent versus the rest.

My working experience is probably unique in this House. I worked as an extra in Bollywood films in Bombay, and for the Master of Armouries at the Tower of London—the Royal Armouries in London, would you believe—but I have done some very unsafe and challenging work as well. I do not have a completed tertiary education, except in music. I celebrate our amazing musicians, our extraordinary artists, and the talent that makes us unique in the world. But I was dismayed, when film and video workers dared to call for the recognition and rights that other workers have, how they were pilloried, and still are to this day.

This Parliament cannot be representative if it is peopled only by the privileged. When I chose my Youth MP last year, I did not go for the prominent academic achievers or the prefects. I did not set an essay competition. I chose Peniata Endemann. I asked Peniata because I knew he would never dream of volunteering as a Youth MP. He is smart and intelligent, but he will struggle to pursue a university education because he supports his mum and his sisters by cleaning at night, after school. I chose Peniata and he rocked this Parliament. He rocked the Youth Parliament when he called for a living wage for cleaners like himself and his mother and his sisters.

I hope this Parliament and my party will make room for working people like Peniata. Labour must not get too far from its roots and whom it represents. After all, two of our most celebrated Labour Prime Ministers were a miner and a train driver, and look at their achievements in changing this world. This Parliament must lead the way in becoming a living-wage Parliament. MPs talk in this House about wages and poverty and people, yet the current majority seem content to let many workers in this place earn hardly more than the minimum wage. Surely we, the privileged and well-paid elect, of all people, should set an example.

Some will say a living wage will ruin us. Those in charge of the wealth, and the market worshippers, always do. Their handiwork has resulted in New Zealand being one of the most unequal societies in the world. That is not what my grandfather imagined, and it is not what I want for my country and my children and grandchildren. But there is change afoot. Inequality in this country is causing unease, and the neo-liberal dominance of the last three decades is being questioned in a way that I hope will lead to real change.

I owe thanks to my party and my colleagues. I start with a big shout out to the wonderful people of Labour, North Auckland, for their support, hard work, and dedication. To our leader David Cunliffe, the hopes and dreams of our people are with you to lead a better way for New Zealand, and you have my support. I thank previous leaders Phil Goff, Annette King, David Shearer, and Grant Robertson, who trusted a diehard trade unionist like me to take on the labour portfolio and develop Labour’s policies. I know it gave Phil O’Reilly and Business New Zealand conniptions, but that is no reason not to implement the fundamental changes needed to bring better wages and fairer work for all New Zealanders.

To my special colleagues, both MPs and staff, you know who you are. Thanks for your friendship, solidarity, and laughs in this sometimes lonely place. Gina and Jess, my awesome workers, stick with the cause. The movement needs you. I owe my family much—my sisters, Linda and Joyce, and my simply brilliant kids, Aish and Anna. My deepest love and thanks to the wonderful, loyal, ever-tolerant, and loving John, my life partner—thank you. You inspire me, and you always have. You are going to have to share the music with me now, as well. Those jazz clubs—you are not going on your own any more. To my friends the parliamentary cleaners, and all staff who have made my job in this place just that little bit more bearable, thank you. I will not ever forget you.

I brought to this Parliament the experience of working in manual, low-paid jobs, and the privilege of representing workers on the margins. I brought values to Parliament that I have never denied or turned my back on, and never will. I leave this Parliament content with that. My grandfather returned to work in the Huntly mine when he lost his seat of New Plymouth. I will not be doing that, but I will be returning to the coalface. There is much to be done, and I have never sat back and left the hard struggles to others. I wish you all solidarity. Good night, and good luck.

Waiata

Honourable members, I call on the Hon Dr Pita Sharples to make his valedictory statement.

Karakia

Kai ngā mana, kai ngā reo, kai Te Whare, e ōku hoa o Te Whare Pāremata, tēnā koutou. Ki a Ngāti Kahungunu, mōhio ana au kei konei koutou i hara mai ā-pahi, nā koutou au i whakatōkia ki roto nei nā reira, tangohia ahau kia hoki au ki te kāinga, ā, tēnā koutou katoa. He rau aku whakaaro i tēnei wā.

[To the powers, voices, the House, and my fellow colleagues of the House of Representatives, greetings to you. Ngāti Kahungunu, I know you are present and came on a bus, you planted me here, and so remove and take me home. My thanks to you all. At this point in time I have a hundred thoughts.]

I am really full of different thoughts today—pretty mixed—as I think back over the last 9 years of my life. You know the history of us: foreshore and seabed, the hīkoi, Tariana did not know where she sat, crossed the floor and made history—that was really brilliant—and then we had a whole lot of hui up and down the country and we formed the Māori Party, and we came. In our first election we won four of the Māori seats, Tariana, myself, and—where is he; what is your name again? And Te Ururoa, and Hone somebody—Hone Harawira.

So we were very vocal over 3 years. We sat on the cross benches over here and we threw stones at everything that Labour put up. We got a lot of following from outside. People said: “Yeah, you’re doing a good job in there.” We did not win anything, we did not do anything, but we just made a lot of noise and we got a lot of press. And that got us an extra seat at the next election. So then Rahui—kia ora, Rahui—joined us, and then there were five.

Then we had a major row and then there were four and the Mana Party as a result of that. So that is what happened—that split. Also, he and others mounted a campaign about being in Government with National and they invited us in, we went back, had 30 hui up and down the country, and every hui said: “Yes, go into Government. Give it a burst.” So we did. I would like to acknowledge John Key and the whole structure of the National Party that explained why they would like to go with us. There were good reasons, and an opportunity for us to have a chance at the table. We were honoured by that. Thank you very much, and we joined up with you.

Over the next period we got a lot of goodies for our people both in terms of passing bills but also in terms of pūtea—money—to allow projects to go ahead and so on. It was a really good experience, though, for us to do that. But the reality is our popularity slipped right down with the conflict between Mana and the Māori Party. But also there was a campaign against us being with National. It was painted as the bad guy by this Māori lobby, in particular. So at the last election, although National did all right, with Māori Labour did all right. I think that was the backlash on us being in that Government.

So what do you say to that, you know? I just tell you straight that I go up and down the country talking to my people and I say to you—and I say it again now—that Parliament is a Westminster system. It is all about the vote. If you are able to secure the vote, you are able to secure change and progress for you and your party. It is not just how loud you protest outside or the issues you bring up; this is about sitting at the table. You have got to be at the table. That is why parties go to extraordinary lengths to try to do deals and be at the table and so on, and that is great—that is the system. But just know that that is the system.

I really feel strongly that there should be a programme introduced in schools. This is what we did with Te Reo Māori. It was slipping away—gone burger. Then, suddenly, we brought in kōhanga reo and started teaching the little ones. Now they are reading the news in Māori. Now they are working for companies. Now they have got their own companies, kōrero Māori ana. And it works. So what about if we had some lessons in schools about our system of government: what it is, what you do there, how you make laws and you get rewards and things for your people? So that is my big thing at this time. I really feel our people are so far away from understanding that. The fact that they do not vote is testimony to that too. You ask them “You voting?”. “Nah, not really, what for?”.

So, people, I would like to say thank you to a whole lot of people at the outset, so you get that one going. To my tribe Ngāti Kahungunu—I know many of you are here, kaumātua and stuff—Hoani Waititi Marae, Manutaki, Te Whare Tu Taua, kura, all these organisations, thank you for coming and being here on my last speaking day. It is a great day because I have had three speeches already and one question, and I did not have to correct any records. It is embarrassing coming back and “Oh, point of order.”—but I am an expert at that anyway.

So, Tāmaki Makaurau, you have got to be the best committee in the world. You have done good by me. We have won every election we have gone for, and we are going to win one for Rangi there—he is sitting up there—this time. You are a great, great committee—all our branches and, of course, the voters of Tāmaki Makaurau, which is most of Auckland City there, or the natives in there, anyway.

I had an A-team who doorknocked, and they doorknocked just about every weekend on our first election. They went out, it rained and they got wet, and then they went out again, it rained, and they got wet, and they went out, every weekend. Every weekend they had a karakia and then they went out, and I want you to know that the baby of the group was aged 65, and there was a whole group of them. They were dedicated, because they said: “At last, our time has come. We have a Māori party.”

And, you know, that was inspiration for us to bring our Māori kaupapa in here. Do you know that every time you put a bill up to us, we put it down here and we say—this is a good criterion, and our team has to go through this—“Kotahitanga: does it unite us and does it unite New Zealand? Manaakitanga: is this a caring bill? Will people be hurt by this bill?”. With every single bill, whether it is about crossing the road or whether it is about a new building law or a new security law or whatever, we put it through that test. We have stuck to our kaupapa and voted accordingly. So I just wanted you to know that. We go by that kaupapa, and I know that most Māori in here would like to do that, too. So maybe there is something there that the big parties can think about—to understand that these are real tikanga and not just made-up rules to go by stuff.

So thank you, Tāmaki Makaurau. Our current president, is up here—kia ora, Naida, thank you for being here, lifelong friend. Vice-presidents, Ken and Donna, thank you. Past presidents, Pem Bird and Whatarangi Winiata—amazing man, a really amazing man. He was great on the tāngas. He had a tānga for everything. And, of course, our past MPs, Rahui and—what is his name? Oh, Hone. That is right—Hone. [Interruption] No, do not laugh. He sent a message and he said I am cool. How is that? I wonder what he said to his wife.

Anyway, what an adventure we have had. It has been a great adventure being together. I really did not know Tariana personally until all this stuff happened, and then suddenly we were joined at the hip for 9 years. And if you are joined at the hip with Tariana, it is quite an experience. [Interruption] Why are you laughing? OK, I thought I had better check that out—OK.

So, National Party, I have got some things to say about you, but let us just move down the list a bit. To the parliamentary precincts staff, thank you very much. We cannot operate without you guys. The VIP car drivers—I really have to thank you, and so do you, Tariana, because you and I and the Prime Minister always have the highest expenses on the cars. You know, with those cars and the odd flight, I can do four cities and five meetings in 1 day, so it really, really works. I mean, if you have got a portfolio like mine, where you have got to get out with the people, it really helps, so do not stop that one.

The cleaners—thank you. The messengers and staff around Parliament, who make this place tick over and who look after all MPs, are really, really good. My electorate staff, my staff here, and my personal staff and private secretaries—awesome. I have had nothing but good staff. They are really, really good. So Veronica, Martin, Kymberly back there, and my big team here—I will not name you all tonight, but there are so jolly many of you that I must say that I really appreciate you all. You have made my life here very easy.

So Te Puni Kōkiri, you get the rough end of the deal many times, and everybody seems to have a sort of love-hate relationship with you. Do not stop working—you are doing a great job. You do stuff, you clean up after everybody, and you hold the mana for us. When things Māori go wrong in this place, you are asked to fix it and so on, and there are some beautiful people in there—thank you. I would like to acknowledge Leith and Michelle, the leaders, and others in that department.

Corrections officials—always good. That is because, as I used to say, I have been in and out of prisons all my life. But I have been working in prisons all my life, so it is really easy working with them. Education people—I had a few drinks last night for anyone who sort of works for me, and education came en masse because they have been great. Tātaiako—I said: “You know, we need this thing about culturally understanding your Māori student.”, and they wrote it. They got it written and produced. Māori history in schools—it is now there. You never knew about Te Whatu i apiti or Te Kikiri o Te Rangi, but you knew about Sir Walter Raleigh and you knew about one or two of those other people—the Magna Carta and all that stuff. You see, you are not related to Sir Walter Raleigh. I am related to Te Whatu i apiti. I am related to Te Kikiri o Te Rangi, and he did far more than Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Francis Drake. And yet you do not know him, and that is not fair. You should know him and share in our history before Cook, and then we can enjoy each other and where we come from and where we are going. So I really respect my education officials, who have done heaps of stuff for me.

The iwi leaders and community leaders—it has been great working with you. We have all met each other over the years, and they change and so on, but I really enjoy working with you, iwi leaders, and I will continue to do that. Then there are the committees that I have set up, which you have been on. Te Paepae Motuhake, thank you very much to Tāmati Reedy and your team. Constitutional review, thank you very much—some heavies on that one. Māori Economic Taskforce—some of them are here tonight. Te Puni Kōkiri refocus group—there are many committees, and I would like to thank you all.

I would really like to thank my family. I am like, here and I am not here. “Shall we go somewhere tomorrow night?”. “Oh, I have got to go to Wellington.” “Again?”. I said: “That’s where my job is.”, and this is how it goes. Well, now they will probably say: “Aren’t you going to Wellington?”.

I am really happy that we were able to effect some things. The things I have enjoyed were the United Nations’ Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. One of my first tasks I decided as a Minister in 2009-10 was to negotiate New Zealand’s support for the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, knowing that New Zealand, Australia, USA, and Canada were not involved in that at the time I went with New Zealand and presented it, chanted my way up, did the Māori thing that we do. I finished it, they all cheered, and my New Zealand team was just going to sing our waiata, and the Hawaiians jumped up, and the Sami jumped up, and the whole place erupted in different cultural dances. So they were really pleased. The next thing I knew, the President sent down Senator Price from the White House group to start negotiating what they were going to do. Canada called us to a meeting and said they were going to do something, so it was really good that we were able to trigger that off.

We have got a wall in the United Nations. It is all shabby, but it is rimu—it is a beautiful wall but it is really, really paru. So we asked whether we could bring some tukutuku and stuff in here, and they said no, we have got too many. So I said: “Well, we’ll do our wall up.” So we had some beautiful tukutuku panels made—really lots of them, and they have been measured to suit there, and I am looking forward to joining Toi Māori Aotearoa and Te Puni Kōkiri taking those over and presenting them in the near future, so that is going to be good.

Māori language strategy—we had the Māori Language (Te Reo Māori) Bill today. It has been passed to go to select committee, so that is good. I was pleased to hear Nanaia say that this is not to be to be a political football. It is not. I did not cover all the things in my speech today, but those things can be answered, so please find out from your leader, or I am happy to meet with you and talk about that and so on.

Our Māori economic strategy has grown into He Kai Kei Aku Ringa, a department now shared between the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment and Te Puni Kōkiri. We foster Māori trade overseas and economic development in New Zealand of all kinds—small to medium enterprises and so on. We started the review of the Māori economy. It was said to be $16.4 billion and now we found out actually it is $37 billion; it is more likely $40 billion now. So we are worth a bit, and we have done many excursions into Asia and to China to build up those relationships and sales.

The Auckland super-city—thank you, Government, for that. Although we lost the fight, we had a march, eh, Willie? We had a march up Queen Street and we had meeting after meeting honouring the royal commission, which wanted three designated seats for Māori because they do not normally make the committee, and that was going to be a big super-city. We needed them on there. Rodney was not in favour of that. Rodney was in charge of the whole thing—we could not just exchange him, he threw his toys all the way out of the cot, and so we lost that one and we did not have any after many arguments. God, he does not listen. Because of that, we went to another meeting to decide what the Māori advisory committee should do. We piped up and said: “Ah, it should be statutory.”

It was passed, and now it is doing such a good job, and I hope that that is a model other cities will use—to have a stand-alone, statutory Māori committee with its own budget that can sit alongside at the top meetings and so on.

Well, you think you know your Prime Minister. I am going to just give you the real Prime Minister. You are a strong, forceful leader, albeit with a strange sense of humour. I do not know how you are going to get on at Waitangi pōwhiri without me to look after you. Do you know the whole of New Zealand watches the Waitangi Day TV report just to see what happens to you at the pōwhiri? There was “nanny-gate”. The “nanny-gate” pōwhiri held up the whole proceedings for an hour while Titewhai with her daughter, Hinewhare, in tow, conducted a public dispute with another nanny about who would escort the Prime Minister on to the marae. Many of you were there on this occasion. Naida dived into the scrum trying to sort it out and there they were, waiting, waiting. Finally the Prime Minister arrived but they were not ready, so they had another fight. I was worried about my wife getting knocked over because she had a crook leg at the time. Suddenly I see her in the middle of the scrum, arms going flat out like this. I said: “Oh, my God! They are both her aunties. What is going to happen?”. And so on. So I was worried about her. “Nek minnit” there she was right in the middle of the scrum. Anyway, I think they all had a piece of you that day, Prime Minister. You are a warrior.

Then there was the “lock-up - gate” pōwhiri where we were lured into the wharenui and we were told the door would be locked and we would not be allowed to leave until you agreed to their local requests. We eventually got out of there. And then there was “speech-gate” pōwhiri. While I spoke, there was complete silence on the marae. Either they were mesmerized by my wisdom or they could not care less and were just waiting for you. Anyway, as soon as you stood, your old friends, the brothers, began drowning you out on their megaphones from behind. In order to be heard, you walked on to the marae and the noise followed you and got louder and louder. You walked further and further and you almost sat down on the other side. You were right there on the other side. I thought: “Hmm, I am sure that is not a rule on the marae.” Yep, so that is OK.

The last pōwhiri was “fish-gate”. Some disgruntled ex-fan of yours, Prime Minister, decided to share his lunch with you. He tossed a whole fish at us. But the pōwhiri of pōwhiris was “tussle-gate”. To explain, Hone’s nephew’s security just came in and decided to have a piece of the Prime Minister, and they just dived into us. Security was everywhere. I got pushed backwards with a post behind me, and over I went. Next minute, there were feet all around my head. I was looking up and they were all looking after the Prime Minister and tramping on me—I was just lying there, shoes against my head while I was lying there trying to get up. Then they finally pulled the bros off and, unaided, I staggered to my feet—your most loyal Minister. As I said on the day on Breakfast, I would have taken a bullet that day.

Minister English—Tariana and I have a loving relationship with the Deputy Prime Minister, Bill English. We love both him and his cupboards full of money. Minister English made an unreasonable assumption about us. He said we came to our meetings armed with psychological tactics to relieve him of some of his pūtea, his money. He said Tariana attacks first, leads the charge, and bombards him with statistics and surveys about Māori communities’ needs. She goes on and on until he feels guilty or afraid, and after some time, out comes the cheque book. Just take a note of that formula. Then, he says, I follow on with my magnetic charm, making him feel relaxed and comfortable and asking how his wife and children are. His sore back—is it getting better? I compliment his aroha ki te iwi Māori, and—boom—out comes the cheque book with a signature. Well, that is his story. I do not think it quite goes like that, but thank you for all the assistance you have given our projects that we have put before you.

Minister Finlayson—we received our ministerial portfolios in November and December 2008. That Christmas summer holidays, Minister Finlayson was out amongst the iwi of New Zealand, making initial contacts—before Christmas, before dinner. We had just got appointed, and he was out doing settlements and assessments over Treaty settlement issues. He probably had Christmas breakfast at Ruātoki, lunch at Mōhaka, and Christmas pudding in the Hokianga. Your relationship with iwi is always rangatira ki te rangatira, and you lead and inspire your field teams with the same dignity, and me and Tariana as well. Thank you, Minister, and thank you also for your Māori affairs work on freeing up the Māori land for production. I am waiting.

Hekia—she comes from that tribe where kāhore te kūmara e kōrero mō tōna ake reka [the sweet potato does not boast about its sweetness] does not apply. In fact, it is almost compulsory in that tribe to talk about yourself. But she is the only Minister to karanga and pōwhiri me into her meetings that we have every week, singing “Haere mai rā …” or some Ngati Porou song that has about eight verses or something. As a Minister, Hekia is strong. She has inherited enormous projects like fronting for the Novopay debacle, the schools earthquake recovery in Christchurch, Te Kōhanga Reo National Trust difficulties, and a large education portfolio generally. I think she is “mean, Māori mean” and is a great example of tū Māori mai. Kia ora.

And just the last one—I would like to acknowledge Nick Smith. Tēnā koe, Nick. Te noho koe ki a au i ēnei tau kia pahure ake. [Thank you Nick. You remained with me through these past years.] Thank you for your friendship and for educating me on climate change—how you sell nothing for something, or is it something for nothing? I do not know whether I have got that one worked out properly. Anyway, you always made time to explain stuff for me, particularly in the information communications technology world.

Ki ngā mema Pāremata i mahitahi i ahau, tēnā koutou. [To those members of Parliament who worked with me, thank you.] Everybody and the Speakers in this House, thank you very much.

Tari and Te Ururoa—I would like to acknowledge my companion MPs, Tariana and Te Ururoa. For a decade we have worked together and lived together, creating a Māori presence in the House, in our committees, and in our ministerial and leadership roles. One day Tari and I were having a scrap in caucus, and she was getting really vocal, and I was sort of being cool, you know, like that. We both looked at our president, Whatarangi. “Whatarangi?” And he goes “Ah, yes. Tariana is showing rangatiratanga. She’s leading out and being strong about her project. Pita—he’s showing manaakitanga, caring and so on.”, like this. We are looking at each other—so? Then he goes “What we really need here is kotahitanga.” Because that is the kaupapa, we had to accept it. So we got on.

We have had a good relationship, eh, my bro. Where is he? At the back, taking my seat. He is the only MP who goes out on the road with two right shoes. We get to the whare and he goes “Take your shoes off.” “No, they said leave them on.” “No, take them off.”—because he had two right shoes. Sorry for that. We have followed the advice of the late colonel Sir James Hēnare, who said to the Māori Battalion when they arrived back from the war: “Go home to your marae. Go home to your mountain. Go home to your river. Go home to your land. Go home to your whanau. Ēngari, i ngā wā katoa. tū Māori mai. [But remain a Māori at all times.] But at all times, tū Māori mai—remember.” That applies to anyone, not just Māori. Be strong, be yourself, and carry on and change the world.

So thank you very much. I have gone over time, but it has been a real honour to work with these two and to live with these two over the time. I would just like to abuse the system. I have got a lot of mokopuna. They are all here—downstairs, I guess—but I have got one great mokopuna. He is 1 now, and his name is Kanohi Tuhanga, and I want to speak to him now. E moko, in 30 years you can become the new co-leader of the Māori Party. You will have more than 20 Māori caucus members and be deciding which ones should be in the House of Representatives—in Parliament—and which ones should be in the Upper Treaty Senate, which, 30 years ago, began with our constitutional review. Moko, in 30 years’ time you will be dealing with a superministry called Whānau Ora. In my time, they had separate ministries—social development, education, employment, and so on. Moko, in 30 years’ time you will be dealing with the chief executive officers of Māori statutory boards all around the country. In my time we had to have a hīkoi, we had to have lots of hui, a scrap in Cabinet to get the first one up and running in Auckland. In 30 years’ time you will be dealing with a Minister for the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Negotiations. Yes, that is right—that is the one who replaced the Minister for Treaty of Waitangi Negotiations after all the settlements were completed. In my time, when we got the declarations signed they said it would not mean anything—oh, by the way, that is what they said about the Treaty as well. Moko, in 30 years’ time you will be dealing with all the Whare Ōranga Ake units that have been created. Back in my time they were called prisons and did not provide any rehabilitation programmes. Oh yes, moko, keep up with your English language, because in 30 years’ time Te Reo Māori will be the official language of New Zealand, spoken by all. And so, mokopuna, grow strong; you have much to do. Tēnā tātou.

Waiata

Haka

Waiata

Tēnā koe, te Kaiw’akawā o tēnei W’are.

💬 Mr SPEAKER: Tēnā koe.

Rere kau Te Awa Nui mai i Te Kāhui Maunga ki Tangaroa, ko au Te Awa, ko Te Awa ko au.

[The great river flows from the mountains to the sea, I am the river and the river is me.]

There is nowhere that I feel more at peace than in the still tranquillity of the W’anganui River, Te Awa Tupua, our lifeblood, our tribal heartbeat, the sacred umbilical cord that unites us from the mountain to the sea. Every year our iwi come together to connect as one through the journey that we call the Tira Hoe Waka. In many ways the last 18 years in this place have been like that same journey that we take: a journey of hope, hope for a better future for our mokopuna. Our hīkoi always starts in the spirit of those who watch over us. Today I remember those who paved the way before me, to restore our right to see Te Tiriti o Waitangi as the first relationship agreement between tangata w’enua and with the Government representing the Crown. I am proud to have upheld the Treaty of Waitangi, the kaupapa and tikanga of our people, in all that I have done in this environment.

My tūpuna have walked before me. They have walked beside me, and my mokopuna will carry those philosophies on as we build nationhood in this country that we all love. I am genealogically linked to Ngā Wairiki / Ngāti Apa, Te Awa Tupua o W’anganui, Ngā Rauru Kītahi, and Ngāti Tūw’aretoa. It is to these people whom I will return when I leave here at the end of my parliamentary term—those who have grounded me, those who have reminded me of my place, and yet have loved me despite.

I was raised by my grandmother Hoki Waewae, my aunt Mihiterina and Tariuha Manawaroa Te Aweawe, my precious dad, who was my dad although he was not my father. When I was 8, I became a whāngai to my wonderful aunts at Pūtiki. My Auntie Wai and Auntie Paeroa had huge expectations of me. I was brought up to believe that doing what was right was more important than doing what was popular. They instilled discipline and strong w’ānau values in me—to love unconditionally and to be the best at whatever I did.

When I came to Parliament with Labour in 1996 I followed in the footsteps of w’ānau: Tokouru Rātana, Matiu Rātana, and Iriaka Rātana. They came here to honour the kawenata their papa had with Michael Joseph Savage of the Labour Party. Today I ask as an uri of their iwi: what happened to that kawenata? When will the mōrehu and the iwi of our country see the outcomes that Tahupōtiki Wīremu Rātana sought for us all yet have never been honoured?

To Chester, Nathan, Jonathan, and Ian, those of you who are part of my electorate too, I want to mihi to you all and to say to you how proud I have been to walk alongside you, and for your friendship, and I have so appreciated that. There are others who have watched over me too and I will for ever cherish the memories that I carry with me.

My cousin the late Sir Archie Taiaroa supported me all the way through my political career, and I would call him for his wise counsel. Archie stood with me when I resigned from the Labour Government at Rātana, and I will never forget that. When I was thinking of leaving, he talked to me about the experience of Matiu Rata, whom he himself had encouraged to leave, not realising at the time that our people would forget his sacrifice and not vote for him. Archie worried that the same thing would happen to me—that our people would forget. I was able to reassure him that I would always be political whether I was here or outside of Parliament, that in the end I had to live with myself, and there is no greater challenge than to be true to one’s own self. I think about my cousin Rangitihi Tahupārae, who worked for many years here at Parliament, the most distinguished and eloquent orator in either language. He taught me to love all that we are and to walk with pride in the knowledge of our w’akapapa.

The late Dr Irihāpeti Ramsden, a wonderful friend and w’anaunga, was another one who when I found myself in trouble here, which seemed to happen a bit, would always appear in the public gallery—so beautiful, so gracious, and so principled. And my beloved friend-in-arms Parekura—I miss him so much. Whenever I think of Parekura, I think of how important he has been to my family. My baby, my mokopuna whom I have raised, Piata, who would have given anything to be Ngati Porou, used to come home from school and say to me “Māmā, can I just say that I am?”, because she wanted Parekura to be her real pāpā. I have carried those people who have shaped me into the person I have become, and I will love them and my extended w’ānau for ever. Because of them our tira has a strong foundation.

Today is my chance to acknowledge all those who helped to keep our waka afloat to ensure that our tira moves forward. So I stand to honour so many amazing people in this complex, who give so much and so freely. The security teams, the VIP drivers, the messengers, the library staff, and the travel team—all of these people constantly go out of their way to make our lives easier. The cleaners who restore order in our offices and on our floor, the Bellamy’s team, the Clerk of the House, our interpreters, the conscientious team in the Cabinet Office, Parliamentary Service, and Ministerial Services, your sacrifices were many and your dedication has been appreciated. On the many sides of this W’are are those whom I have served alongside of, whether at the Cabinet table or in a select committee, or being held to account at question time or in political panels—all of you who work so hard for what you believe in.

I would not have come to Parliament if it was not for the endorsement of the Rt Hon Helen Clark and the Hon Maryan Street, and I will never forget that it was your trust in me and your advocacy that got me here. I will always remember that. There were other people in Labour whom I value working with, many of you. I will not name you all, but there were some whom I learnt so much from. I think of Tim Barnett and that when I used to go to caucus, I could never get a paper through until Tim took it off me and worked on it for me. Annette King was an amazing Minister and taught me so much. I want to mihi to you today, Annette. And Darren Hughes—that amazing young man Darren Hughes—who I thought would one day be the leader of the Labour Party and who, in fact, would end up being the Prime Minister of New Zealand. I miss him so much; he was a great young man, a beautiful young man.

I mihi to my colleagues who were foundation members of the Māori Party, because you have shaped a new horizon for this country. You have imbued this Chamber with the beauty and force of Te Reo Māori, you have established cultural competency as a norm, and you have ensured that nobody gets left behind. We are stronger because of your influence, bolder because of your integrity.

Dr Pita Sharples—I hate following him in speeches! I said Mr Nice Guy, but I should have said “Mr Funny Guy”. He is always Mr Nice Guy. He is never one to look for the problems. He is always positively focused. Te Ururoa, the steady hand on the rudder steering us on the right course, the general manager of everything, the ideal member of Parliament who understands process so well, a great leader. Hone Harawira, my great friend who has also been my great foe. How do you really love the essence of someone and yet be so frustrated by them at the same time? Rahui Katene, the hardest-working paddler in our waka—always willing, always there. I was so sad because you deserved to win. You put in the hard yards. You were just so great.

I have an all-encompassing love for our founding president, Matua Whatarangi Winiata. When we were having arguments in the caucus—not only with Pete would I argue, but often get into stoushes with Hone. Matua would look at us and I would say to him: “Matua, what do you think?”. He would say: “Yes, I am just trying to work out which kaupapa is operating here today.” I want to thank Pem Bird and Naida Glavish, who have been two incredible leaders, for the vital role that you have played not only in our first 10 years but in getting us to where we are today. I want to say thank you to Heta Hingston for gifting us our very first constitution. As much as we have often struggled to keep to the rules, we have tried so hard.

I am indebted to the people of Te Tai Hauāuru for your generosity and support to both me and my w’ānau. You have worked tirelessly. I mihi to you all because you believed in the kaupapa of our tūpuna and saw the vision of the Māori Party. There are many others who have helped along the way of our journey.

I mihi to Rob Cooper and Sister Makareta Tawaroa, who politicised me—probably much to everybody else’s dismay. I mihi to Professor Sir Mason Durie for your exceptional leadership, to Nancy, to Doug, to Merepeka, to Suzanne, the various departmental heads who comprised the original governance group that set out W’ānau Ora and set us on the right path. I have valued the enormous support that I have received as a Minister from officials of various agencies who have provided me with support and advice. I know that I have not been an easy Minister for you to serve. I can acknowledge that, as I am sure officials and others across this House will say so also.

How can I ever put into words the love that I have for our parliamentary staff, who have been exceptional, working always beyond the call of duty, with one or two of them working almost through the night? I have expected you all to put the people you serve before your agencies and your careers. I know that that has been a huge sacrifice.

And, of course, my w’ānau. A wall plaque was given to me by Pati Umaga, somebody whom I just so love. He gave it to me, and it read: “W’ānau: we may not have it all together, but together we have it all.” I believe this implicitly. Every journey along our river inevitably faces the churning waters of the rapids, the turmoil and the chaos of the reporepo that we find ourselves swirling within. In this place I have felt profoundly the pain of the entrenched inequities too many Māori and Pasifika families face in terms of the lack of equitable access to health, education, housing, employment, and economic opportunity. I have at times been devastated by the institutional racism that continues to limit our potential as a people. We should never be silent on the things that matter—the barriers that block our ability to be the best that we can be—and we must never be afraid to talk about anything that we know to be true and that we know to be right. It is only when we let fear take over and when we do not speak up that we let people down.

I recall being really nervous when I accepted the role of Minister for Disability Issues. I felt so inadequate to fulfil this position and I realised very quickly that my job was to listen carefully to the many voices and to translate that into actions with support from the excellent officials and people in the sector. The disability sector has had an enormous influence on me, with their brave audacity to tell their own tale: “Nothing about us without us.” They asked me to have the confidence and the trust to believe that we can do whatever it takes, to believe in our abilities, not our disabilities, and the words continue to reverberate in my heart and mind. I will always be indebted to the disability communities for their ability to lead with so much dignity and inspiration.

In my time here I have challenged officials that we must not be fixated by a focus on deficits, looking at everything that is wrong. It is so much better to look for the potential in people to change. It is in our attitudes, our ability to think differently, that the key to transformation lies. In this regard I mihi to those peoples of the Pacific who let me share their journey, Nga Vaka o Kāiga Tapu—one of the most revolutionary frameworks that I have ever known. I thank the people of Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa, who have been so generous in sharing their vision with me—people like Peseta Betty Sio, Tino Pereira, Judge Ida Malosi, Yvonne Crichton-Hill, and many others.

I acknowledge, too, the leadership of the Pacific advisory group and the Māori reference group for your proactive work on family violence. I mihi to Judge Peter Boshier and to Judge Paul von Dadelszen for your leadership and trust in people-led solutions. If ever it is possible to form a really strong relationship with a community, it must be the one that is being established for me in the Chathams. Their resilience, their absolute belief in themselves—probably to the detriment of their own growth, as they were overlooked by funders—has been totally inspiring, and I thank them for their manaakitanga towards me and towards Chris also.

Even the steadiest waka can be overturned, and it was that way for me in the early months of 2004 as we reeled to the decisions made in haste around the foreshore and seabed. In those moments of despair I have always gone to our river, to our awa, to reclaim a sense of being—the blessing of the water that heals—and in that quiet space I find the answers that lie within me. And so it was for our w’anau, hapū, and iwi as we considered how we would respond to the denial of due process and access to justice, the belittling of our status as tangata w’enua, which will always be for ever recorded as a modern-day Treaty breach. The advent of the foreshore and seabed legislation created the tensions that led to me leaving Labour and in the same breath gave birth to our indigenous political movement, the Māori Party. I am not sorry today that that happened and that I left.

I have the utmost respect for Georgina Beyer, who sacrificed her political aspirations to stand alongside of me at Rātana. Ten years on, those days are still vividly written in my mind as a milestone moment in the story of our nation. Through the anguish and the pain as the people came together in solidarity, we knew that we were part of an incredible juncture in our history as we witnessed a powerful uprising of the spirit. It was the most evocative moment of my life—to feel the will of the people, the calling of our tūpuna to reclaim the essence of who we are, and to stand up for what we knew was right. It was self-determination in action. As I think of that sea of flags and placards that filled the foreground of Parliament, I am reminded of the image that we see at home every summer when our collective fleet of waka glide into Pūtiki, an amazing expression of pride, of strength, of power, and of peace. The Tira Hoe Waka is a journey of rediscovery, in which we literally fall in love with ourselves again.

In many ways, for me so too is the Māori Party. Put simply, this is the dream of W’ānau Ora—to know ourselves, our strengths, and our challenges, and to plot our futures. We cannot talk rangatiratanga and not be self-determining. We know the call from Pūao-te-ata-tū, Matua Whāngai, kōhanga reo, kura kaupapa, kura-ā-iwi, w’are wānanga, local-level solutions, direct resourcing, even closing the gaps, He Korowai Oranga, and Māori and Pasifika health and social services. They are all models where the people have put forward a framework for tomorrow. We stand on the shoulders of the past to look forward to a greater future.

I want to take this opportunity to mihi to somebody in the House for whom I have huge respect and regard, and that is Hekia. Tēnā koe ki te Minita. I have absolutely loved your passionate belief that all of our children have a right to succeed in education. Second-best is not part of your vocabulary, and only excellence will do. You know that we are preparing the next leaders of this nation. I believe totally in what you are doing and I want to say that today in this House.

One of the most exhilarating experiences of my life was to travel throughout the country, meeting with Māori and Pasifika communities about a w’ānau way forward. Often the halls were crowded to full capacity—600 people crammed together, standing room only. It was a buzz and I will always remember it. W’anau Ora resonated with them because they understood completely what collective responsibility and obligation was and how it needed to be restored to those who had been affected by the many losses that they had suffered. They did not ask what the Government could do for them. They asked instead that we trust them to develop their own solutions, to take them forward, and to trust that they knew better than anyone in the huge bureaucracies that we have here in Wellington.

This hīkoi that we have been on, then, is a hīkoi for all time. What we have represented with the growth of the Māori Party is the possibility of a strong and independent Māori voice, for ever able to sit in Parliament. We were not content to sit on the sidelines and to watch from afar as the lives of our people waited in the queue for the time to be right. We have never been about the rhetoric of the right or the left, and I am so grateful to those members of the press gallery who actually got that, who have asked searching questions and been prepared to reflect our philosophies, rather than regurgitating their own. We are driven by kaupapa and what unites us rather than what divides us.

Being in the Māori Party has been the greatest opportunity to sing our songs and to tell our stories. We have had the freedom to focus on what is right for tangata w’enua and would also be right for our brothers and sisters from Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa, and we knew it would be right for this country. It is the first time in our history and of the world that an indigenous political party has been truly part of Government in a coalition arrangement. It has been exciting, liberating, invigorating, inspiring, and occasionally challenging.

I have so enjoyed the respectful, honest, and upfront relationship with John Key and Bill English, a relationship that has allowed both of us to be direct, acknowledging our different constituencies and agreeing to disagree. It has been a relationship that is based on mutual cooperation, and we are pleased with what we have achieved. We are also proud of what we have managed to change or stop, and we are not going to talk about the disappointments. I have been driven by a determination, passion, and desire, and, as Bill English would say, a stubborn resolve to make a difference. I always wanted to be in relationship where what we had to say mattered, to be part of the solution, and not limited to picking the problems apart. Although we were unable to achieve all the aspirations of our people, I know that we have made a difference in the lives of whānau, whatever their circumstances, and in that respect I leave with a feeling of peace, that we have always tried to do our best and to do what it is that is right for them.

I cannot leave this House without recognising a real friend, Chris Finlayson. Chris is the greatest Treaty settlements Minister that we have ever had in this country. In our iwi we have had the longest litigation in the history of this country over our river. It is just around the corner, and I want to say thank you to you so much for working so hard alongside our w’ānau, hapū, and iwi of W’anganui.

I have tried to live up to the legacy and the expectation from so many of our iwi leaders who have sacrificed so much to let the stories of our w’ānau, hapū, and iwi resound, not just in books of history but in the throbbing heartbeat of a nation that knows. I come then to a turning point in my journey, as I prepare to steer our waka homewards. I say to you all, to be led by the people you serve, it is the greatest opportunity that any of you could ever have hoped for. I have been humbled by the trust that has been placed in me, and there are so many people who have helped me throughout my lifetime—too many to name individually—but I want you all to know that I can be for ever thankful for the influence that you have had on my thinking. Your lessons will continue to inspire me, and your advice and your challenges will no doubt occupy my mind. But now it is time to return home, to give back to those who place their trust in me, to rest a while, to be with my darling George, who has put up with me for 51 years—it has got to be a record—and with my great children, and my 26 grandchildren and 26 great-grandchildren. I had to say that, Pete, because you only have one! I was trying to work out how I could beat him at something.

And then on Saturday I will start thinking about my next project for transformation. To everyone who has given me the strength and the support to promote possibility and belief for every w’ānau to grow, I thank you. Your vision, our vision, will be evident in the nation that we create together tomorrow. To the three W’ānau Ora commissioning agencies, I want to mihi to you all for the great opportunity and the great direction that I know you will take us in. E te iwi, kia piri, kia tata whakamaua kia tīna (tīna), hui e (tāiki e)! Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa

[O people, close up, fasten on to it firmly (it is) gather together (it is done)! So accolades and acknowledgments to you collectively and to us all.]

Waiata

Haka

The House adjourned at 6.27 p.m.