My Brother , the Champion.

  I spent my first few years as a child living in Ireland. There was always this story that made my mother laugh to melting point about how one summer we went down south to Skibereen, close to Cork. Where they held the annual Long Boat race of Skibereen, She would tell, often unable to finish for the laughter that overcame her, of everyone from the village and beyond gathering on the beach and the men climbing into their long boats with hand slapping and shoulder punching, and these boats being pushed out to sea and the oars going in and out of the waves and everyone waving until they were specks and then everyone shambled off to the pub or wherever, and no one bothering to wait for their return. Assuming , presumably, that they would row back and be bought a pint. It was a lesson in the event being bigger than the prize. 

Today I watched my brother for the first time compete in his newly adopted sport of Wakaama. Originally from Hawaii and Samoa, it is a canoe with an outrigger and two, four or six people sit down with a paddle and go for their lives into the waves.

It was a bit like Skibereen. I watched them clamber in, I watched them paddle away, I saw them become specks and I was hopeful I would see them again.

setting out from the shore

There is a whole community around Waka. It is a native force that has been shared with others. But today the Māori presence was strong. They paddled because it was in their blood. My brother and others paddle because it is sport that challenges them.

it is the Nationals. This year they are taking place in Waitangi. In the Northlands of the North Island of New Zealand. It is where the Māori were recognized as the rightful people of the land and it was given the name of Aoteara. It is where the Peace Treaty was signed. And for the last few days it has been where Māori and their guests have paddled their way through the waves to try and win honors.

Stephen . Number 5. 

The races can take hours. if we were in Ireland, all the spectators would be well into their second pint. For me I did a little dance as they paddled away, I went up to the Treaty house and had a guided tour and a Māori cultural show and then came back down to the cliff overlooking the sea where below me these long boats were going from small specs to just specs in the water below me…except that my brother, position 5 in the boat, was wearing a bright turquoise hat. “ isn’t that him?“ my friend Cynthia said. I looked without the help of binoculars and number 5 in this tiny boat that was cutting though the water certainly had a brighter head then the rest of them. 

watching from the treaty grounds

Two and and a half hours of punching a paddle into the water and they were still going. I went down to the dock in time to see them pull in. Their legs so cramped they had trouble standing, their faces covered in dried salt water, their clothes drenched.

The easy headline is my brother is a champion. He got a bronze medal in the 2022 Wakaama nationals in his class. He and his five paddling friends kept it up for two hours and fifty-five minutes. Three of them were women. Most of them were over 60.

This year Waitangi. maybe next year, Skibereen.

I have to tell you I am so proud. I would be standing on that beach waiting for him to paddle back in till the sun went down and the beer went flat