What's the time Mr Seymour?

It's Hīkoi time! Ake Ake Ake.

Mr David Seymour crawling up to the ceiling
The sun don't shine the sun don't shine the sun don't shine at all
Mamma Pappa say you should go to school, I don't know what for
Now that I've grown up and seen the world and all its lies

Song: Southside of Bombay

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"Ake, ake, ake" is a Māori phrase that means “as long as it takes” or “forever and ever”.

We must fight that long. This isn’t just about stopping this bill now; it’s about killing it so that Seymour and his successors do not spend decades fighting for what this bill seeks to accomplish—because that’s his plan.

He knows he won’t win this round, but once the worms are out of the can, he is banking on us being unable to return them. Unless this bill is rejected so conclusively that it is never taken seriously again, Seymour will inch away at popular opinion and claw his way ever more towards this future. If we’re not looking - but we are.

The joy of Jetstar: the flight down was full. People going home after Coldplay at the weekend, and some obviously heading to the hīkoi, adorned with feathers, jewellery and shirts with now familiar phrases and symbols.

Of course, the flight was delayed - an hour later, we boarded a different plane. The pilot on the intercom sounded annoyed, remarking that there had been a broken hinge in the first plane, which, in his words, unbelievably meant we couldn’t fly, and they’d had to tow another aircraft around for the flight.

Later, as the plane banked coming into land, with only the ocean visible to the horizon, I thought of the first arrivals to this land across that empty expanse. What an incredible feat of navigation it was.

Matty and I stayed in a curious little house with a bit of history and a steep set of “death stairs” up to the bedrooms.

Arriving this morning outside parliament, I’d never seen so many people together, other than perhaps a rock concert or an All Blacks game. Truly, this is a remarkable day in the history of Aotearoa.

Soon after, I ran into one of your fellow readers, Marion, and her daughter, who had joined the Hīkoi coming into Wellington from Petone hours before sunrise. We talked about the wonderfully positive atmosphere. Everywhere, people were patient and kind, offering a smile.

There were little ones playing on Trevor Mallard’s slide. I could see the press from the comfort of the Beehive balcony; it must have been a great view.

The Green Party gathered on the steps and took a group photo. There were patched gang members and people who had obviously popped along from work. What really struck me was the number of people carrying photos of family members.

A familiar tune struck up…

Soon afterwards, things felt more serious. There was a calm and then a low guttural welcome. The wind lifted, and the hundreds of flags fluttered angrily. The sound of the chanting and singing rose and was otherworldly, primeval. Well beyond the hearing range of David Seymour.

Poi were beating now as the Haka began to welcome the hīkoi. I’m not ashamed to say there were tears in my eyes, not of sadness but in response to the intensity and the power of the moment, it was pretty overwhelming.

I tried to upload more videos, but the 5g coverage had slowed to a trickle with such an enormous crowd. Or maybe Seymour had his foot on the hose out the back, cackling as he ignored the enormous number of people who were there to see him and tell him what they thought of his disgusting bill.

I noticed a nearby placard reading, “8% of votes, 100% racist.” Soon after, it was announced that the Speaker oft he House had turned the Wi-Fi off. I don’t know how true that was, but it certainly didn’t improve the mood of the crowd toward those inside.

There were speeches, of course; I was envious of those around me nodding because they could understand the words of te Reo. Early on there was Helmut Modlik, who I’ve written about meeting at the Working Group debate he had with Seymour over this bill.

He spoke of great aroha for all those who had brought the hīkoi and thanked Tangata Tiriti for being there shoulder to shoulder—a sentiment echoed by other speakers. He invited us to look around us at the faces beside us and said, “That is the future of Aotearoa.”

Helmut spoke of his German immigrant father being told to drink with Māori, play rugby with them, but don’t marry them. Fortunately, Helmut’s dad didn’t listen. He said it was too late for that sort of thing now: we are all one people. Brought together to tell the truth, to do so respectfully, but to be clear that we’re not going to take this crap any more.

He called on Luxon to curtail the duration of the bill's submission process to cauterise the wound it has created. Between speeches, there were waiata, like this one from Stan Walker:

An announcement went out for a missing child, Lizzie, describing what she was wearing. A short time later, she was found, and the crowd cheered their approval. Occasional fireworks went off, which was bloody stupid, scared the crap out of people, and was the only time during the day when I saw the police moving with intent.

Mostly, the Police smiled and helped. It did make me wonder if Seymour has thought through who tends to be in our police and armed services - because it sure ain’t the people supporting his bill.

Much was spoken about the need for Maori to be liberated from this kind of thinking, and it being no threat to anyone in Aotearoa. “When Tanagata Whenua do well, so does Tanagata Tiriti, and nobody gets left hungry at this marae.”

It is simple, but it spoke volumes about why we were there and what we were opposing. I couldn’t imagine David Seymour saying all would be fed and no one left behind. That is the difference between him and those who think like him and us.

Māori Party co-leader Rawiri Waititi spoke with venom aimed at David Seymour. A loud chant of “kill the bill” erupted, reaching a thunderous roar as he mentioned Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke’s haka being seen worldwide.

Rawiri said we owe it to our mokopuna not to accept this and that we aren’t going anywhere. He spoke well and made good points; one of several impressive orators.

Tamatha Paul, Wellington Central MP for the Greens, spoke about reclaiming the mana of her people through this hīkoi and through Hana in the house. That haka was the moment, she said, when it was clear that a new generation was here and they would not be silent.

There was an inclusion of the mokopuna that people were there for. A young girl, Atareta Milne, spoke with great confidence and presence. She had the crowd enthralled. Another Hana in the making, David. I thought to myself - and they will keep coming and keep coming, and you and your words of division disrespecting this treaty will lose.

Then they brought forward the petition with 203,000 signatures; our MC said he was pretty sure that was more than the number of votes ACT got, to loud laughter.

To end proceedings, Hana spoke, and people cheered at her saying she had been banned from the house but turned up with tens of thousands of people instead.

Her passion was really moving, and the crowd became so loud in support of her that you could hardly hear. She said, “Thank you for not letting me be alone during my 24-hour suspension.” It was a really lovely moment.

From top left Hana, Rawiri, Labour MPs, and Helmut.

I walked down the hill, sat on the grass to rest my sore feet and watched the procession leaving parliament. I won’t forget this day, and I doubt anyone there will. The feeling of determination in the crowd was enormously powerful.

Now I’m sitting and writing this I feel great sadness and anger, too, that David Seymour is doing this in my country. How bloody dare he?

It is a National disgrace that this small man, who has 8% of the vote, has been allowed by Christopher Luxon to do this. To open our beautiful Aotearoa to these racist lies wrapped in a falsehood about freedom.

But he won’t win, not ever. I feel more sure of that today than ever.

Toitū te tiriti! Ake Ake Ake!!

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Take care all of you lovely people - today was a good day. 🙂