One lonely Saturday morning, Elisa Jane huddled closer to her grandmother's chair. She listened carefully as her grandmother told her stories of her childhood.
The school her grandmother attended required students to speak English. Māori children were forbidden from speaking their language and practicing the culture. Her grandmother was often whipped for speaking Māori.
"My teacher called me to the front of the class one day," she began. "I'd misspelled several words on a spelling test because I knew very little English." Elisa closed her eyes and imagined her grandmother at school.
"What happened, Grandma?" She asked.
"I stood there with my hands behind my back." "He peered at the test paper over his thick glasses."
"What is this!" he shouted. He shoved the paper in my face. I bowed my head.
"Pouri." I said.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
" I- I'm sorry." I said, quickly.
"What did I say about speaking that awful language?"
"I said I'm sorry!"
"Give me your hand."
I put my right arm in front of me. My hand clenched into a fist. He struck my hand.
"Foolish girl!" He griped.
Elisa waited patiently for her grandmother to finish her story. She looked at herself - her skin as brown as her mum, but eyes as green as her dad's.
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Aroha Whenua
General FictionEliza Jane finds herself between two worlds. Being half-Māori she struggles between both sides of her family and her friends. When the NZ government announces that they want to make the Māori language compulsory in primary schools she doesn't unders...
