When I was younger, I was curious to know who, when and why my ancestors came to this beautiful country, the country of my birth, Aotearoa New Zealand. So I spent many years researching, documenting, and organizing (re)unions. Not just one twig, but the whole tree! I’d like to share it with you. To highlight their unique experiences, and to express the strong sense of connection I feel from the diversity that is this tree.

In no particular order…

There is a Maori chief, possibly a tohunga, of Ngapuhi/Ngatirangi descent from Ngawha, near Kaikohe. There is an English stonemason who arrived in 1833 and worked on the Kerikeri Stone Store, an uneducated Christian man, an outcast of the British settler elite because he “fraternized with the locals”. Their descendants are buried at St Michael’s Church in Ohaeawai, built by local Maori as a symbol of peace and reconciliation, a tribute to pakeha who had died in battle there. I like it there and visit often.

There is an agricultural labourer from Somerset, whose village raised money for him and his family to emigrate, as an alternative to dying in the workhouse like his parents. He ended up dying instead in an “accident” in Masterton.

There is an Irish Catholic soldier of the 65^th Yorkshire Regiment, who paid for his discharge in 1849, and later drowned in Wellington harbour. The inquest said he was “depressed and homesick for Ireland”. His son went to prison twice for theft, connected with my great-grandmother on his release, and died, aged 48, when she was pregnant with their 14^th child. Much loved, she was an interpreter for the Maori Land Courts in the north, amongst many other jobs she had to make ends meet.

There are saddlers from Bristol, northern Italian immigrants, many of whom fled to Australia to avoid persecution from Austrian authorities, and more English, Irish and Scottish farmers and agricultural labourers, colonized by their own elite.

There are descendants of French aristocracy who fled France for Ireland during the revolution. There are Irish and English convicts who stole food and jewelry, enduring seven years of harsh punishment in Tasmania before being pardoned, marrying each other and moving to Otago. Apparently my great-great-great-grandmother had a bit of a mouth on her and didn’t take things lying down. Good for her!

There was Agnes McLeod, who was killed by a Dunedin tram, and “Mary-Ann, the Mountain” who was 23 stone and ran a pub in Hokitika after her husband died at sea en route from Ireland. There were carpenters from Weston-Super-Mare, who arrived on the first ship into Port Chalmers and loved poetry. Supported, of course, by their many wives and partners who produced and reared the children and kept the home fires burning.

Looking through the tree, there are many mixed marriages (religious and ethnic), an over-representation of senile dementia, a pretty good life expectancy, some evidence of depression and alcoholism in the Irish Catholic female lines and a lot of hard workers who made something of their lives, even if it was tough going.

So who am I?

According to my DNA, I am 42% Irish, a big chunk of English, Scottish, Welsh and north-west Europe (including Italian and French, I imagine), and Maori. I am a single, heterosexual, middle-aged woman.

More importantly, I have deep roots in this country, and I value honesty, integrity, fairness, connection, diversity, fun and learning. I am imperfect. I can be a self-righteous know-it-all, have expectations that are too high, and take life too seriously. Like most people, I have experienced deep pain and great joy, and inherited many traits of those who have gone before.

I am Me!

Who are You?

Tell me your story.

Tell me the joy you have experienced.

Tell me the pain you have endured.

Tell me what you need to thrive.

Tell me what you are committed to.

Tell me what you are willing to take responsibility for.

Tell me how I can support you in that. I’ll tell you if I can.

Walk alongside me, not behind me, not in front of me.

We are Us.

“Our uniqueness, our individuality, and our life experience molds us into fascinating beings. I hope we can embrace that. I pray we may all challenge ourselves to delve into the deepest resources of our hearts to cultivate an atmosphere of understanding, acceptance, tolerance, and compassion. We are all in this life together.”
~ Linda Thompson

Postscript: When we “other” and label others as different from ourselves, it can come from a place of our own unresolved trauma, which is often inter-generational. Exploring our ancestral history can help us understand this and take ownership for the healing required to connect more compassionately, with ourselves and with others.