Day Three

Day Three:

The first real personal sadness of Lockdown.

 A dear friend has just passed away; her death unrelated to C-19. 

The Government rules on tangihanga mean I cannot attend to honour a lady for whom I had the greatest respect and love. 

 One of our local funeral homes, Haven Falls Poutama Tangihanga, lobbied, with other funeral directors, for a more merciful approach than just one person allowed with the casket. 

The Ministry, understanding this is a heartbreaking time made worse by death,  revised the guidelines just a little.

Haven Falls posted: “The Whanau (family) within our Loved ones bubble WILL be able to come to the funeral home for karakia (prayers), mihi (speeches) and poroporoaki (farewell) AND the same Whanau members WILL be able to attend the burial or cremation.”

The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from the Ministry of Health.

On a wider scale, it is hard to comprehend that so many have died and been denied their traditions of farewell to loved ones. 

As if sickness and death were not sadness enough, the ritual of life's ending are what comforts the families left behind.  They give peace and the sure and certain knowledsge they have done all necessary actions to make sure their departed are honoured.   

In te ao Maori (Maori culture), tangihanga (traditionas surrounding death)  and kawe mate (memorial) are deeply important rituals and to be denied these will be as sharp a pain as the loss itself.

When I was growing up in Yorkshire, the elders always sat with the body for 3 days. No one was left alone.    

This too is what happens in te ao Maori - but not at the moment.  The pain of knowing that your grandmother, son, auntie, wife or baby is lying alone somewhere, is excruciating. 

No reira e hoa ma, kia kaha.  


Ki nga mate taonga- Hoki ki nga maatua tupuna kua wehe, haere, haere, hoki atu.

To our precious loved ones who have gone - go with our affection and remembrance to the next world.