I have lost my entire family to cancer and kidney failure, a son to a car crash, and now I am recovering from my own battle with cancer. Throughout this journey I have met some incredible people and received some amazing support.
I was born in 1977 and raised on the east coast with Te Whānau-ā-Apanui (Māori iwi). I lived with my parents and brother in the school house because my father was a principal and my mother was a sign language teacher.
I didn’t enjoy school because I couldn’t read, write or spell. I was only going to eat my lunch and play rugby. I never fit in either; I was whiter than everyone else and the only one with coloured eyes, freckles and straight hair. I stood out like a sore thumb.
At home though, life was wonderful. My parents were my idols. If I wasn’t outside with Dad, I would be in the kitchen cooking and cleaning with my Mum. They taught me everything I know.
Every weekend Dad and I would go up the river on horses, camp at our favourite spot, and go pig hunting. He taught me how to garden too, which ignited a life-long passion. Dad was a kumara grower and would sell his kumara to turners and growers in Tauranga. The kumara was a gift passed down from our tupuna, and then passed on to me.
In my eyes, my father was famous. He was an actor, a kapa haka leader, and had travelled all over the world. Before I was born he was teaching in America, and before that in India. He was an amazing man with so much wisdom and knowledge.
Together we continued to grow kumara. Dad showed me how to grow it – You have to awhi it like a pepi! Our gardens got bigger and bigger and I was doing a lot of kumara growing mahi. At one point we had 75 fish bins full of kumara in our shed. We would often give bins away at birthdays and tangi.
I left school at 14. I was so excited – no more pen and paper! My Uncle, who was in forestry cutting down pine trees with a chainsaw, asked if I wanted to work with him and I jumped at the chance. I actually thought it was the only job in the world because where we lived there weren’t many other options. I stayed in forestry for the next 37 years.
My mother was a wonderful woman. She would always make sure my lunch was made for mahi, and would have something prepared for me when I got home.
She was from the Chatham Islands and we would go and visit every school holidays. I always said that one day I would live there because I loved it and I fitted in.
In 1994 my mother was diagnosed with bowel cancer.
I was about 16 at the time and I started noticing a lot of whānau coming in and out of our whare. I didn’t know what it meant. A day or two later I arrived home from mahi and went to the school for a shower. While I was in the shower one of my cousins raced over and yelled to me Mum is calling you, come quick!
I quickly got dressed and raced home to find my brother and cousin sitting on Mum’s bed. I was too late. By the time I arrived she had peacefully passed away. She was just 52-years-old. I knew she had been unwell but I had no idea what cancer was. I honestly thought she would be OK and get better.
My Dad, brother and I stayed in the school house for another year until my father retired and we moved to another house 10 minutes down the road. We never went back to the Chatham Islands after Mum was gone.
My father remarried and moved to England with his new wife. She is a wonderful woman. Her name is Barbara Ewing and she is an author and an actress. They lived in England for 12 years. When they returned home I remember putting on a huge celebration at our marae and another wedding.
While they were living in England, I went there for my 21st birthday. Their home was amazing. It was right in the middle of London, 75 stairs up (no elevator!). There were gargoyles around the windows and on the roof Dad had built beautiful gardens. The view was amazing – you could see the Queen’s Palace and the biggest toy store in the world!
In 1997 I was back home in New Zealand, and I decided to head south. I had seen England, but I hadn’t seen my own country. I went to Rotorua Airport and flew to Christchurch where I met up with a cousin and together we moved to Invercargill. I was running drugs at the time. I met a woman and she got pregnant but I was too scared to tell my father so I left. I moved to the Chatham Island and I stayed there for the next three years.
Eventually I came back to Invercargill and met my daughter. Her mother and I decided to work things out and we stayed together for the next 18 years. During that time we had three more children. My kids are now 28, 25, 21, and my youngest would have been 19 now.
In 2012 my father was diagnosed with cancer of the hip bones. He was 75-years-old and he passed away at his office. He wouldn’t stop working. I miss him so much. In 2018, my brother also passed away after being diagnosed with kidney failure.
When my partner and I parted ways I moved back up North and she stayed down here. My two youngest sons moved up North to live with me. I loved it! I taught them everything my Dad had taught me from diving to gardening, hunting, kapa haka and rugby.
The only thing I couldn’t help them with was their school education and eventually they moved back to Invercargill to carry out their final years of school.
Some time later my son messaged and asked if I would come to Invercargill for his birthday and I was on the next plane here. That was two years ago now! While here I met a woman and we fell in love.
Life was great! I was so happy. Then, about six months after I arrived back in Invercargill, I went for a dive. I would often dive, I loved it, especially in the South were there was just an abundance of kai moana. But something felt wrong. My breathing was strange, my energy was low and my body didn’t feel right.
The following morning I discovered a lump the size of a tennis ball on the side of my neck. After some testing at the hospital it was discovered I had head and neck cancer, which had started between my eyes, travelled down my cheeks and ended in a lump on my neck.
I had the lump removed and while I was recovering the thought crossed my mind that I had no support around me apart from my kids and partner – I knew no one else, I didn't even have a doctor.
Then I met the Ngā Kete Cancer Support Kaimahi, and I was blown away. They supported me with everything I needed to do and walked alongside me throughout my cancer journey. Their support was amazing – I’ve never had support like that before.
I started chemotherapy and radiation in Dunedin – every week day for four months. At the time I weighed 116kg and, aside from the cancer, I was in my prime. I was the strongest and biggest I had ever been, and I was proud of my body.
My partner and I would arrive home every Friday for the weekend. All I can remember was sleeping over those weekends. I lost my taste buds, I stopped eating and my weight started dropping but I knew I would pull through.
Every Friday when we would return home my youngest son, O Maruhuatau Otuwhare Tawhai, would come over and help us unload the car. One week he came running up the driveway, put his arms around me and said Dad! I love you! He was giving me the biggest hug I think he had ever given me and to this day, I always think about that because he had never done that before.
One week later, we were heading home and I called him just as we were driving past the Eastern Cemetery to let him know we were almost home. He told me he was at my house and was just shooting to the shop with his mates and that he would come back soon.
When he didn’t arrive I thought it was odd but we unloaded the car ourselves and I phoned my son’s girlfriend to find out where he was. She thought he was at my house. She, along with my other son, went out to find him.
Around 10pm that night my daughter, who was living in Auckland, phoned me. She said, Dad, don’t be scared. I said what’s up? And that’s when she told me my son had been involved in a car crash. “Maruhuata has been in an accident. He’s dead Dad.” I just screamed and screamed and ripped the hoses through my nose, down my throat, from my body.
The following day I found out my son had been killed along with three other young men from Bluff in a car crash on Queens Drive. I was sick. I couldn’t do anything. I had to go back to Dunedin on the Sunday for treatment because if I missed any I would have to start again.
My body was destroyed. My head was destroyed. I couldn’t understand what was going on and because of all of the treatment I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t grieve.
That was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. I lost a child while having cancer and fighting for my own life at the same time.
All the whānau came down to pick up my son and take him home. When I finished treatment for the week I went to the Marae to see my boy. Everyone had to clear the room because COVID was only just happening and I couldn’t afford to catch it.
I spent some hours with my boy and then I would go back to Dunedin. We did this every day, driving backwards and forwards so I could be with him. Sometimes I would just sit in the car and look at the marae, watching the people go in and out.
At his tangi I had to keep my distance. I couldn’t hug my whānau. Once I saw him go down, I walked away. My whole family were looking at me but not touching me or hearing what I had to say. When we were leaving the urupā, I went to the marae and gave a mihi to all the cooks that put the kai on for my son. It’s all I could do.
I went back to Dunedin and straight away, I caught COVID. I had to isolate in a room for three weeks by myself, and I can’t even put into words what that was like.
I was never able to grieve for my boy during the rest of that year, but as soon as I was in recovery, the grief set in. I missed him and I cried for him. How could I have stopped this? What if I didn’t ring him that day? I shouldn’t have asked him to come around. He would still be alive if I wasn’t sick. I blamed myself for a long time. If it wasn’t for my partner and the Cancer Kaiarahi Service I would never have got through it.
The Cancer Kaimahi would visit me and they were incredibly supportive during my grief and recovery. While I was grieving, they mentioned a support group they were thinking of starting. I remember when I first arrived at the Cancer Support Group I was the only male and I realised it wasn’t just for Maori, it was for everyone. I was able to open up to the group and I strongly believe the group saved me. I was able to kōrero about my feelings. I’ve been going for almost two years now and it’s growing. I’d like to see it grow even more.
I’ve been given the all-clear now. Sometimes my mouth still goes dry and I hate that I am so skinny but I am eating now and hopefully will start gaining weight again. It’s been one year since I finished treatment.
I hope to once again grow kumara. I now have tā moko all over my body that is kumara and kumara vines. I waited 30 years to get that tā moko, and I am so proud of it.
I often think about all of those that I have lost throughout my life, but I am grateful for what I still have. I appreciate the little things in life and I am looking forward to a cancer-free future.
