There is snow on the hilltops, but down here, bumblebees knock at my window and trees are beginning to bud. Just the other day, I saw my first ducklings on campus. Spring is prodding curiously at its restraints, as eager as everyone else for winter to make its way past. But perhaps I’m speaking to you through a biased perspective — I’m notoriously not a fan of winter. The recent snow day paused our busy lives for a moment, providing a glimpse of joy among the otherwise grey days. Snowball fights, sledding down an icy Clyde St, a few cancelled lectures here and there. Skiers took to the highest hills with eagerness and excitement, seeking an at-home skifield. Another something “new’’ among the routine days occurred a few Saturdays ago. I attended a Tiriti o Waitangi workshop run by Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga, and organised by Otago Southland Chinese Association (OSCA). It posed the question of what being Chinese tauiwi means to each of us. We explored solidarity between Māori and Chinese-New Zealanders, as well as the intent behind te Tiriti, and how we can understand it from a non-Pākehā, non-Māori perspective. It’s easy to dismiss te Tiriti. The general attitude goes something along the lines of: “Oh, I learnt about this for years on end in school. A document that was created over 180 years ago, surely there isn’t that much more to be learnt from it’’. In high school and even now in university te Tiriti is viewed from a bilateral, often a Pākehā, perspective, one I found difficult to situate myself into. Shaping the discussion through this different format suddenly made it immensely easier to understand. I was introduced to many scholars who I am ashamed to admit were previously unknown to me, such as Moana Jackson and Margaret Mutu. In hindsight, I hadn’t realised the lack of Māori scholars referenced when previously learning about te Tiriti. I also had never heard about the Doctrine of Discovery. I had thought I was plenty knowledgeable on Aotearoa’s colonial history. Yet all it took was this one day, sitting down and actually paying attention, to make me realise that there remains so much more to learn. It goes to show that if this one session could offer so many more paths of research and interest to go down, the impact of an entire degree is immense. Today, we often forget the privilege of being able to attend university. A degree is naturally expected of each of us in the workforce. But when we take a moment to reflect upon the gravity of what we are doing, its significance is almost overwhelming. We’re seeking an education, and we are able to so easily. We simply just forget its weight. It also highlights the impact that an open, comfortable learning environment can have upon its participants. Many recent immigrants to Aotearoa are apprehensive towards a conversation on te Tiriti, due to a lack of immersive knowledge. All it took was one group’s initiative to begin this conversation. Learning is one of the easiest things to do, once you know where to begin. The workshop also opened up reflections upon the past, our whakapapa and their individual journeys to this land. There is an incomparable amount owed to our ancestors, who took that courageous first step onto foreign land, to face discrimination and alienation. My grandparents, my great-grandparents. I owe them a debt which I am eternally privileged to carry. This history of hardship makes connections between minority communities all the more significant — at both an overarching and a personal level. And so we remember why we’re able to be at this university at all. I think of those who came before and laid the path for us to follow. My mum has often mentioned Ethel Benjamin, the first woman lawyer in New Zealand, who studied here at Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka. Today, I am able to watch my girlfriends plough through their Law readings with a striking, inspiring determination. There is a rich history of firsts, here in Otago, that has shaped its culture and its beauty greatly. As the setting sun begins to linger in the sky, take a moment to explore something a bit new, something a bit daunting. There’s no time like the present. Eleanor Wong is a Dunedin, first-year, University of Otago student. She writes the Between Lectures column for the ODT.
