Our pou tangata Pio Terei remembers his adoptive mother who taught him respect and loyalty – and the love language of food.
Love, loyalty and boil-ups
Pio, tell us about your mum:
I was adopted out as a baby and raised by my grand-auntie, so she was a lot older than most of the mums of the other kids at school. What I remember most about her though is that she was a constant. She was always there. This was back in those luxurious times when Dad could earn enough money as a truck-driver that Mum stayed at home.
We had a humble whare cause we didn’t have a lot of money, but it was always clean, always warm, and there was always something cooking. She wasn’t the flashest cook but I miss her cooking because it was the love ingredient in her cooking that made it good.
She wasn’t the flashest cook but I miss her cooking because it was the love ingredient in her cooking that made it good.
What are some of the special things you learned from your mum?
Mum tried to teach me grace (laughs). Growing up in West Auckland we were pretty tough kids anyway. But she always taught us to respect people and to treat them kindly. My mother had a really kind heart. In te reo Māori we call it ngāwari, which means a soft heart. She was a strong woman, don’t get me wrong, but she was kind.
In te reo Māori we call it ngāwari, which means a soft heart.
Mum was quite a religious person so she was big on values. One thing I never do on Good Friday is eat meat, and that’s because my mum was religious about it. I’m usually heading up north on Good Friday and even to this day I make sure I know all of the service stations along the way that have a vegetarian pie – cause I can’t even have a bacon and egg pie, ya know?! So it’s my little salute to mum to honour her and her beliefs.
What are some of the things you cherish most from your upbringing?
Two of the biggest things were loyalty to whānau and the ability to tell the truth, even if you’ve stuffed up big time. I grew up in the 60s where I had no problem with talking to my mum and dad about the truth. Stealing peaches from the neighbour or blowing up their letterbox at Guy Fawkes with a mighty cannon - we’d just get a firm talking-to. Hands were never raised on us. My parents had too much mana.
I loved them for that and I grew to know exactly who I was.
Both my mum and dad were really big on giving me connection to my marae, to my birth mother’s marae. I loved them for that and I grew to know exactly who I was.
