A newly elected New Zealand Prime Minister has a radical agenda of racial unity, but his secret plans may be about to come unstuck... An interactive short story multimedia extravaganza.
If you haven't read Melting Pot (Part 1 ) do it now! Click here.
Melting Pot
Part 2
Gisborne, New Zealand, 10:05 pm
Saturday 6 November 2032
Whaka-awe-awe-awe-e (Hi)
Whaka-awe-awe-awe (Au-e)
Mä te ko-tahi-tanga-a, (Hi)
Whaka-awe-awe-awe.
Kotahitanga (Union) by Oceania (watch on youtube)
The MC stepped onto the
stage and waited for the music to fade, a modern Maori pop song with a title, Kotahitanga (Union), about working
together, which the party interpreted as not just for Maori, but all New
Zealanders. The noisy crowd, glasses in hand, faces flushed, excitement
sparkling in their eyes, hushed in breathless expectation. Below the stage TV
camera operators and journalists swung into action, ready for the most
important moment of the evening. The man smiled and opened his arms. “Ladies
and gentlemen, the time has come to enjoy the moment we have all been waiting
for. Without further ado, may I present to you the new Prime Minister of New
Zealand, Dr Sam Matai!”
The crowd erupted in
rapturous applause. From the back of the hall Sam appeared smiling and waved to
the crowd. He wore a dark suit and multi-coloured tie. The buttoned up jacket
strained to contain the broad shoulders and barrel chest of the former rugby
prop. Beside him a tall young woman smiled and waved, her long brown hair
coiled up in an elegant bun above a long flowing dress that accentuated her
slim lanky frame. A large carved greenstone pendant hung at her throat.
Sam Matai stood behind
the lecturn and placed some notes in front of him. He looked around the room,
acknowledging everyone with his eyes. “Thank you, thank you. Thank you New
Zealand and thank you to all our supporters and volunteers throughout the
country. Tonight is your night. Kia ora.
I must also thank my family
for their forbearance in this process. Especially my daughter Pania, who had
been a rock over these past ten or so years.” He gestured to Pania standing at
the side of the stage as she walked across waving to the crowd. Applause broke
out around the room. A vision of Miriama flashed before his eyes. He could see
her smiling face, laughing at him, at life; her black hair tied back, business
like, always getting on with something. Her passing due to cancer had left a
gap that nothing could fill. He blinked several times and fished a handkerchief
out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. Pania leaned in and hugged him with one
arm, still waving with the other then stood to the side and little behind him as
he continued.
“Unity. Kotahitanga. That is what we are about.
Our party was created in a spirit of service to all New Zealanders regardless
of race, colour or social status, to take a long term view for the benefit of
all, and we will continue that ethos.” More claps and cheers burst out around
the hall.
It was philosophy that
had drawn its fair share of critics, some accused him of bias, of favouring
Maori. He had responded with a stunt in a press conference: “There are only two
colours I’m concerned about – green and gold.” – and held up an old club rugby
jersey from his playing days in Gisborne. He later had to admit the quote was
not original but the voters loved it anyway.
“Another of my philosophies has always been
that I do not ask anyone to do what I am not prepared to do myself. Miriama and
I were among those who struggled to conceive due to the build-up of toxins in
our bodies. Like tens of thousands of other New Zealanders we had absorbed the
cocktail of chemicals we have been throwing at our farms and gardens for
decades until they reached such high concentrations that the most natural
processes of bodies could not work anymore. The RSP, the Reproductive Safety
Programme - extracting ovum and sperm, screening for chemical residues and DNA
anomalies; people said it couldn’t be done, it would be too hard, too expensive.
Well we did it and a new generation of healthy New Zealand babies is the result.
Birth defects are way down and many couples that may not have been able to have
families today have happy, healthy children, either their own or via donors.”
“We and the opposition
parties disagree on many things but we also agree on many. We are pleased that
many of our initiatives from the first Unity government were continued. We
disagree with the delays in implementing the 2027 Bangkok climate treaty
actions we signed up five years ago and well move quickly to restart these. The
longer we delay the higher the costs will be.
We will also move to
change the immigration policies. One aspect of this is refugees. We should not
call them illegal immigrants as the previous government did. They are refugees
from war, famine, climate disaster, sea level rise. We are fortunate in having
thousands of miles of ocean to protect us from uncontrolled arrivals. But we
would be remiss, morally bankrupt even, if we turned a blind eye to people in
need, when we bear some responsibility for the state of the world that has
caused these refugees in the first place.”
Sam couldn’t help but
think of the poor UN, overburdened and under-resourced in its role as the global
ambulance at the bottom of the cliff. He had to concede that global unity was
probably a bit too much to ask in the short term. One step at a time, eh? Let’s
clean up our backyard first.
“Another example of not
asking people to do anything I haven't done myself: At the Age of forty I was
diagnosed with the onset of type 2 diabetes. I was a doctor. I thought I was
fit. I was still playing rugby. I knew I ate and drank a bit much but still
thought of myself as healthy. But I was not. Just as thousands of New Zealanders
are not. In managing my diet and lifestyle to avoid the need for medication I realised
that if I could do that, others could do it too. I got on the Tairawhiti District
Health Board and we started a preventative health programme. It cut millions from
our budget and made lives better. Twelve years ago when we became the
government we did the same at throughout the country. We tackled the soil contamination
issues and will continue to do so. We tackled the economic problems caused by
global financial crises and the US, Europe and China going through disruptions.
“Twelve years ago we
were given lemons and we made Lemon and Paeroa! And we will continue to implement
sensible, necessary policies. We will not let outmoded assumptions and
ideologies stop us changing people’s lives for the better.”
Parker flicked off the
TV in the hospital waiting room with a scowl. Sam Matai. Lying, meddling,
hypocrite. He made a decision. He waved away his aide and sought out a duty
nurse to ask for directions, barely containing his rage. Finally he stormed
into the office of the doctor in charge. “I want DNA tests done on my baby. I
want to know if it’s mine, if it’s my wife’s and what ethnicity it is. And I
want the answer now.”
The doctor looked up in
surprise. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible. The DNA laboratory doesn’t operate
on the weekend.”
“It does now. This is
matter of national importance. Do as I ask or when I become Prime Minister
again I’ll cut off any public funding for this hospital so fast that when you
try to leave the building the lift will lose power before you reach the ground
floor.”
The doctor sat in
silence, mouth half open, then recovered. He nodded and reached for his phone.
“I’ll see what I can do”
Back in the ward Parker
paced up and down the hallway, fists clenched. His heart pounded uncontrollably,
torn between the wife’s happiness at the beautiful brown skinned baby in her
arms after all this time, struggle and grief over miscarriages; and anger
toward Sam Matai that demanded an outlet.
On stage Sam shrugged
and raised his hands, palms up. “For those of you who say I'm not ready to lead
a government, I say this: chairing a cabinet meeting can't be as bad a Health
Board funding scrap, or running a Marae committee for that matter.
I have a strong team and
I want to congratulate them all on their efforts in this campaign. We will be
meeting tomorrow to name a cabinet and getting down to work next week. We still
have much to do.” Applause erupted again and people stood up throughout the room
clapping and cheering.
Sam couldn’t remember
exactly when he’d had the idea. Probably a few months after Miriama’s death. He
had toured the special medical facility converted to run the RSP programme.
Looking at the hundreds of frozen vials and tubes he wondered how they managed
to make sure the right people got the right ones. Then it occurred to him, what
would happen if the tubes were deliberately mixed, if, for an entire generation,
every baby in the country was born of mixed race? Maybe all the arguments would
just disappear and he would achieve his dream of a nation without racial hatred
or distrust, where everyone was as one, where there were no more lines drawn
between peoples. That was the meaning of kotahitanga.
True unity.
Only ten people in the
entire country knew what he had set in motion. It had remained secret and it
had worked. Already in just twelve years nearly half a million babies had been
born under the programme. A united New Zealand was coming into being.
The applause continued.
He grinned and soaked up the adulation. The hard work would begin again
tomorrow. A line of men, their shirts discarded, formed up on stage behind him and
launched into a haka. Sam retreated to the side of the stage to watch.
Parker strode back to
the door of his wife’s hospital room. The doctor had cut the cord and nurses
had washed the baby and wrapped him. He looked in the window at Fiona feeding the
baby. Her face was beatific, like Mary gazing at the baby Jesus in some
religious painting, the unparalleled love between a mother and her child. He
stood still, watching, thinking, weighing the options. Fiona raised her head and
saw him. She smiled a serene smile that bathed his whole body in her joy. He unclenched
his fists, smiled back at her and pushed open the door.
The nurse in the duty
office picked up the phone. Pania’s phone buzzed. She walked away from the
stage and answered the call. She nodded abruptly, said ‘Thanks’ and switched
off the phone. As the haka ended she stood beside Sam, looped one arm through
his and waved and smiled. She whispered in his ear. “Nathaniel Parker just had
a brown baby and he’s demanded the hospital do DNA tests. He’ll have the
results tomorrow.”
Sam Matai’s bushy black eyebrows
jiggled. Then his smile returned as supporters crushed around him to shake his
hand. “Things could get very interesting.” he said out of the side of his mouth.
“They say a week is a
long time in politics. It might all blow over quickly.” said Pania lightly,
shaking the hands of well-wishers.
Sam grunted and gave her
a wry smile. “It seems a weekend could be quite long enough.”
Pania grinned at him.
Her greenstone pendant glowed in the bright lights and her pale blue eyes
sparkled.
********
More cool New Zealand pop music (in Maori) Poi E by the Patea Maori Club.
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