“You look at the young people in this district, you go into the schools, and the strength of Māori language as part of who we are is palpable. I genuinely believe that in 20 years time we’ll be asking ourselves what all the fuss was about.” — Tim Cadogan, who’s in his third term as mayor of Central Otago.
In an electorate that’s almost as white as the Lammerlaw Range in winter, not all of Mayor Tim Cadogan’s constituents share his enthusiasm for incorporating te reo Māori in to public life. He’s not changing course, though. Mark Derby reports.
At first sight, Central Otago seems an unlikely place to hear te reo Māori used in everyday life. Even in pre-European days, the Māori population of this area was small, seasonal and migratory, forming only temporary settlements while travelling between the coasts. Today, its Māori population is still one of the lowest in the country, and there is not a single marae in the whole district.
The region’s mayor, Tim Cadogan, is a true son of the South. He was born and raised in Balclutha, educated at Otago University, and has lived in Central Otago for the past 30 years. “One great-grandfather is buried in the Alexandra cemetery, and another is in the Naseby cemetery,” says Tim. “So I’ve got bones in the ground here.”
As far as he knows, Tim is one hundred percent Pākehā. He’s also a dedicated advocate of the Māori language and often begins his public addresses with a mihi, his pepeha, and as much whaikōrero as he can manage.
“I still have very limited te reo. I’m a hundred miles away from being fluent, but I love picking up a little here and there. It’s an ongoing process. I don’t ever expect to be really competent in the language, but I’ve found it so rewarding to use what little I do understand.”
Tim readily admits he’s a late starter at incorporating te ao Māori into his own life.
“Growing up in Balclutha, my exposure to Māori was extraordinarily limited. Later, when I became mayor, I quite quickly realised that I needed to do something about that. I’ve always thought it was a beautiful language to listen to, and I remember seeing the late Dave Cull, who was the mayor of Dunedin, getting up at an event and speaking beautifully and eloquently in te reo. And I knew that was something I should be able to do as mayor.”
However, when Tim first took office as mayor, learning Mandarin Chinese seemed a bigger priority. “The Chinese and Taiwanese buy a lot of our fruit, and they provide a lot of tourism.”
When the local paper reported that the new mayor had taken the unusual step of acquiring some basic-level Chinese language, one reader responded approvingly, but asked whether he also had plans to learn the language which is unique to this country. That pricked Tim’s conscience, but not enough to make him take up te reo lessons.
What finally tipped the scale was a trip he made to China with his wife Linda.
“We flew from Christchurch to Guanzhou Airport, and there I noticed that the flight information screen showed our flight as ‘Ōtautahi/Christchurch’. At that stage, I couldn’t have told you what the Māori name was for Christchurch, but here I was in China and they were educating me. I thought: ‘This is wrong — this has to stop.’”
Classes in te reo were arranged for any council staff who wanted them, and many, plus Tim himself, took up this opportunity.
The use of te reo in public settings, he discovered, could make normally humdrum events unforgettable.
“When you become mayor, one of the great privileges is doing citizenship ceremonies — officially making residents into Kiwis. My first ceremony had no iwi influence whatsoever, but one of the people who became a Kiwi that day was an Englishwoman who had already developed very strong links with our local iwi.
“After she read her affirmation, three or four people in the audience stood up and sang a waiata for her. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. Even though I didn’t know the meaning of the words they were singing, it got to me at a visceral level.
“I looked around the audience, made up of people from all around the world, and there was literally not a dry eye in the house, including my own. I realised that we were doing a massive disservice to our new Aotearoa citizens by not having tangata whenua in the room.”
Things have changed since that moving occasion in 2017. Now, says Tim, “our citizenship ceremonies are heavily influenced by local iwi. We are called into the room by elders. The CEO will formally greet everybody, mostly in te reo — and my last two CEOs were of Māori descent. On maybe half a dozen occasions, people have chosen to give their oath or affirmation in te reo. It’s just magnificent and has made the ceremony far more meaningful for everybody.”
Inevitably, in an electorate that’s almost as white as the Lammerlaw Range in winter, not all of Tim’s constituents share his enthusiasm for incorporating te reo Māori in public life. He’s had plenty of pushback, but he insists it doesn’t bother him.
“The other day a couple of guys, who let’s just say hold views different to mine, were giving me the evils in a cafe as I walked through. So I said: ‘Kia ora, kei te pēhea kōrua?’ I think it’s safe to say they weren’t happy with me.”
Some politicians might be looking anxiously to their re-election prospects in this situation. Not Mayor Tim.
“When I was first elected mayor, I made a promise to my wife and myself that I wasn’t going to do a single thing to get re-elected. If you start playing that game, you just water yourself down. It’s important in this role to take on board differing views and differing perspectives, but then you have to come to your conclusions and stand by them.”
This insouciant attitude towards the anti-Māori element in his electorate seems to be working for Tim. He’s now serving his third term as Central Otago’s mayor.
He’s also not especially worried at the nationwide hostility currently directed towards the use of te reo Māori in everyday life. “I think it’s a dead cat bounce.” In other words, it’s a declining trend that makes a small uptick before it disappears completely.
“You look at the young people in this district, you go into the schools, and the strength of Māori language as part of who we are is palpable. That’s not going to change. I genuinely believe that in 20 years time we’ll be asking ourselves what all the fuss was about.
“I think I have a responsibility as a leader of this community to do this, but that’s not the biggest motivation for me. I just think it’s the right thing to do at a personal level, and when I stop being mayor, I’ll still do it.”
Tim grew up in Balclutha and graduated with a law degree from Otago University in 1991. He fell into radio when he couldn’t get a job as a lawyer, and spent 12 years in broadcasting and copywriting. He was a solo father of two children for eight years, and spent almost a year on the DPB, before remarrying. He now has a blended family with four children, and has one mokopuna who’s almost nine. Tim finally entered the legal profession in 2004, and became mayor of Central Otago in 2016.
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