A lesson learned in Paradise



A LESSON LEARNED IN PARADISE

One of the striking sites as part of Turama - the celebration of All Saints Day in Rarotonga.



I'm typing this blog from a new location. Not work, not my iPad and not from the usual internet cafe I come to vent and express my scattered thoughts.

I found a new internet cafe not far from the airport, complete with air conditioning and fast internet, which are always two key positives to a business of this sort.

But those two factors didn't catch my eye - it's the location.

I'm looking out across the road to a splendour of cleaned gravestones sprinkled with flower necklaces (eis), small solar lights, and freshly picked flowers.  None of the 80-or-so graves have been left out.

The site overlooking the Pacific Ocean looks more like a botanical garden than a resting place for the dead as the visually fragrant spectacular catches the eyes of the curious.   The efforts were a part of Turama, which acknowledges All Saints Day on November 1.

Families gather and pick flowers to string into eis, or bouquets, and place them on the graves of their loved ones as a reminder of their contribution to society.  

It's an event steeped in tradition, with perhaps the most visually striking note happening at night. The freshly adorned graves sparkle at night thanks to the small portable solar lights scattered around each stone.  

The end result is a striking reflection of the night sky, a twinkling of gravestones showcasing the honour of the families who have come after them.

Turama isn't just about honouring those who have passed on before us - it's about acknowledging their contributions and ensuring we take time to really remember them once a year. That's awesome.

--

The weather here in Rarotonga is really starting to pick up now. Cyclone season started on November 1 and runs through until around March-April, so it'll be four-five months of heat, humidity and hammering the air conditioning at work.

For example, on Tuesday October 30 - two days before the start of the cyclone season - the temperature got as high as 36 degrees. On Thursday November 1, it reached 28 degrees before 10am.

As a guy who probably prefers the cool to the heat, it will certainly be an interesting time.

--

Sometimes I forget I live here in the Cooks or that I have done for over four months now. Some days I wake up and feel like I'm on my wya to my first day of work again.

It's a strange feeling and one I haven't completely understood but I don't mind - just got to keep on keeping on and keep tracking on with life here in the Cooks.

--

Finally, a surreal moment.

If you've got Twitter you've probably seen this already, but I thought I'd just share an encounter I had last Saturday after the Titikaveka Titans cricket team (the side I play for) defeated the Muri Creeps.

We were all sitting down and having a beer back at our clubrooms when I sat next to a drunken man. He asked me for my name, and I duly replied.

What followed was nothing short of strange.

He told me he had felt sick because he knew who I was. He had seen my name not from the newspaper, but from my Cook Islands drivers license from the wallet I had dropped in my second week of being in the country.

Alongside the Cooks license was a NZ drivers license, but even that failed to prompt the man that it was probably worth handing in to police.

There was also a sum of money in there that I won't go into, but suffice to say it wasn't just $20.

By this stage I had given up all hope of seeing my wallet again, and subsequently purchased a new NZ drivers license and a Cooks equivalent.

The drunken man revealed he had found the wallet in Tupapa, where I lost it buying bread on the second Sunday of my time here on Raro.

He confessed to keeping it and spending the money in it.

In what was a strange moment, I felt a sense of peace over the whole incident and that, despite me losing my wallet and the items inside of it, it didn't matter.

It reasserted a newfound principle I've found out since I've been living here. Money, while obviously incredibly important, isn't the only thing we should live for. Why should we attach ourselves to it?

Instead of taking the line of "Now I have only x ammount of dollars left," I decided to take a different tack - "What can I do with the x ammount I have now".

I say this in most posts and will continue to say so, I'm very privileged to be here not just to live, but to earn a living. Why should I feel angry about money when I have the chance to make some of that up?

Most importantly, why should it be a hinderence on me when it can be a blessing to others?

I never intended to give the man that money, that wallet and all those things, but who knows what has since come from it. Maybe he sees it as a lucky shot, a chance to buy some alcohol, whatever.

To me it was a useful lesson - don't rely on something that can hinder you.

--

That's it for this week, take care my friends and family and remember, I always love hearing from you and hope you're all keeping safe and well.

Kia manuia,

Matiu

A journey of self-discovery.

 

A journey of self-discovery.

 

Everybody has comfort zones, of that there's virtually no doubt. But how do we ensure the person we think we are doesn't change when those elements of comfort are removed?

A solid charting of personal growth.

--

Coming to Rarotonga was always going to test myself about who I really am. To test who emerges, how I react, when isolated and with no real influences around me.

The last four months have probably been the hardest of my life, but they've also been the most rewarding. It's not everyday where you're able to grow as a person amongst the vanilla-scented flowers and summery breeze.

This period has been about acting on values I've set, of strengthening my Christian walk, of understanding the ethical questions posed.

The last two weeks, in particular, have seen me search for the strength to overcome the yearnings of home - family, friends, fast food and anything else starting with f.

But it's through those times of absence where I'm left to my own devices, to establish a strengthened system of values and desires.

I'm hoping that through putting these values, ethics etc into practice in my time here that I'll return home a man of strong character.

My changing is certainly nowhere completion, but being under construction is certainly more pleasing than an initial floor plan.

--

My Christian walk, in particular, has been a great facet of my development.

A swimming complex in Upper Hutt has what's called a River Ride. It's almost impossible to walk from the exit to the entry as you battle the artificial current created by the pool.

There are two particularly strong points of the current. The first is immediately after entering the 'river', while the second is immediately ahead of the exit area.

I compare the ride to my Christian walk. Starting at the exit, walking against the current is tough, but with some assistance you're able to overcome the first barrier.

Sometimes you can slip and fall back towards the exit, but having a dogged and perseverant heart means you're able to get back up, keep trying and eventually make it out of the ride with help from others.

Where am I at the present stage? I'd like to think I've overcome the first of the two barriers but - similarly to my journey here - I'm still in the early stages.

Regardless, it's immensely satisfying to know I can make it this far - with help, of course.

--

Work has been challenging, as those working in a newsroom can understand, but it's a key part of me being able to grow as a person.

--

I'd like to once again thank those who have been writing, thinking of, praying for and helping me over the last four months, both here in the Cook Islands and afar.

Developing as a person is tough but it's always incredibly refreshing and helpful to know that others are able to help me on that journey of self-discovery.

So thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

--

With all this in mind, I'd like to challenge those of you who read these blogs from time to time.

Does the influence of exterior objects, articles of clothing, strings of melodies, television channels and the company of others help mould what your interior looks like?

Perhaps, but the only real way to create a solid interior is through your own journey of self discovery. It's certainly something to think about.

Meitaki maata e kia manuia,

MW

Running the race

One of the greatest tools man has in his inventory is the ability to serve.

Haven't updated this puppy for a bit, so here goes.

--

It's been an interesting last seven days. Exhausting, but so worthwhile and so interesting at the same time.

A 5am alarm saw me start my Saturday heading to Meghan Mutrie's hotel to grab the camera she uses for the Crowd Goes Wild in Wellignton, get a bit of practice in then get shooting.

It was hard to see at times, with rain shooting through to my eyes and the rest of my face as I tried desperately to find her on the course.

For the record, Meghan finished with an awesome time of two hours and 38 minutes, becoming the third woman overall to finish the race.

Helping Meghan was an experience I'll never forget. Not just because of the uncompromising rain or the chills that felt eternal for the hours that were to follow.

I got some camera work under my belt and really found out what it's like to film in the worst-case scenario: alone in the cold, wet, wintry conditions.

But more importantly, I was introduced to a world of feel-good stories. Watching several runners cross the finish line, or who knew they were close, was mega inspiring.

Days, weeks and months of training paid off for all of the athletes and I left feeling like I had witnessed something special. Without helping Meghan I know for sure I wouldn't have even bothered to see any of the racing, so there were plenty of benefits for both parties.

--

And then there was Martin Parnell's humongous effort.

Here's a guy who ran around Rarotonga twice the night before the event proper en route to a quest of running 100 kilometres around the island.

Then, on the wet Saturday morning, having run in unforgiving ammounts of rain the night earlier, Parnell was forced to walk 40 kilometres because the blisters on his feet had swelled up from the night before's effort.

Meghan and I waited patiently for him to arrive, anxious of missing him while we were eating lunch.

And then, the moment. When we recognised him through a jacket given to him by an accompanying local walker named Toru Tutai.

Hands in the year, cries of exaltation, a relief that this pain and torture that started in the late hours of Saturday night was all over.

Sixteen hours, 21 minutes, 38 seconds was the total time Parnell spent running and walking around the island. Over two-thirds of a day spent in the gruelling rain, and the sneaky spells of wind.

Yet amongst it all, a heart-warming story that will surely live on, at least in my heart, for many years to come.

--

I'm reaching the stage here now where I know my writing is improving.

Sometimes there's nothing more satisfying then being able to improve your own stuff - add a little zing, tidy up the superfluous fluff and the unnecessary cliches.

It really has already shown that this trip to Rarotonga has been incredibly beneficial within a short space of time.

Not only have I been able to experience some things I know I never would have been able to if I was in New Zealand. I've been able to sit back, look at my writing properly and understand where I need to get better.

Feedback, it's outstanding.

--

Finally, I just want to say thanks, again, to those of you who read the blog and suggest ideas and give some awesome comments.

I have always said that me ending up as a journalist was somewhat of a mismatch given my lack of desire to read growing up.

But here I am.

And I'm still here because it's about trying to showcase the stories of people around the world.

What seperates everyone is their intrinsic ability to learn, perhaps overcome things and hopefully triumph. It's a story. It's something we all have and something I'm inspired by.

Meitaki maata.

Matiu

The joys of home

It's always an interesting intrigue when being apart from people regardless of distance can further enhance ties.

Not that I'm against such a thought. In fact, in my honest opinion it's always a good indication as to perhaps the level of friendship where both parties are actively seeking out how the other is doing.

It's always refreshing and certainly aids what can be a difficult day in Paradise.

Last Monday was one of my favourite days since I've been here in Rarotonga, and in an odd twist it had nothing to do with life here at all.

Instead it was during work when, in a moment of surprise, I received a small package from my sister Desiree and her two beautiful children.

As well as a neat wee photobook from Fay Looney, a touching two-page letter with updates on two nieces I have never met was the perfect antidote to what had been a grinding day at work.

Not only did I get a description on life in Rotorua, but three precious photos of both nieces, Anahera and Layla, that I treasure as much as anything I own here in the Cooks.

--

There are the awesome phone calls home with the parents. Getting to hear how family is going down in Wellington is something I always look forward to (and I know they're always interested as to if 'that room' at my place still stands!)

I'm used to living away from my Wellington-based parents. I did so for about five years while I was at university and then in my first proper job in Auckland.

But having these phone calls almost make me feel like I'm still back down in Waterloo at our house like old times.

--

Even friends coming over and wanting to catch up make me chuffed. Seeing friendly, familiar faces - even after almost three months in the Cooks - make for awesome catchups and further kindling for on-fire friendships.

Having seen so many old friends already (some of whom now permanently live here) it's been an awesome experience and one I hope to share with many of you who are looking to spend some time in Raro soon.

--

Anywho, that's all for this week. A nice short, sharp reminder about the power of friendships and the benefit of hearing each of you.

Here's hoping for a great, fresh new week for us all,

Until next time, kia manuia friends and family.

Matiu Workman

Getting amongst it in the Cooks

Sometimes there's nothing more enjoyable than being involved in sport.


Getting into a ruck with the NZ Parliamentary Rugby Team.
Photo: Matariki Wilson.

Playing, refereeing, writing about it or simply supporting it - there is no better than accomplishing something as a team on the field, pitch, turf or all of the above.

In the Cook Islands, sport is what they live on. From rugby to league, netball to cricket, football to handball (turns out they have their own association that is proving to be popular) and all of the other sports, participation is healthy, competitive and makes for good viewing.

 You do have to blink a few times to realise that the same guy you saw play at halfback on the rugby field could very well be the right back for the local football team, too.

There is certainly enough talent here on the island to have a competitive league. There are several codes that cater for all sportspeople because, well, they have to.

With only 12,000 people on the rock, it's very hard to manage to find a sportsman or woman who focus on one sport. It's mind boggling seeing how many natural athletes there are here, who are the jack of all trades but unfortunately the masters of none, too.

--



Had the ball taken off me haha, Avatiu FC taking on Arorangi
Photo: CIFA Media



I decided to join both cricket and football teams here that I later found out are on opposite sides of the island. Logic slapped me int he face with a stick and said "Think of the petrol costs!"

But in hindsight it has turned out to be one of the better ideas I've had since being here. How else would you be able to get to know more people if you were batting and bowling against some of the people you might be kicking a ball with only two or three days earlier?

And what an experience it has been. Comaraderie, compassion and commitment on both sports fields has seen me get into it more than I thought I would have.

We've all heard about how key sport is to uniting people, and it's no different here in the Cooks. Golden oldies rugby is prime and garners great support. Parliamentarians, veterans and the like all team up and give it their all regardless of ability.

This culminated in the NZ Parliamentary Rugby Team's recent visit to the island. Being 'short of numbers', the tourists called me up and asked if I'd like to lace up my boots. Being coached by former All Black and NZRU Chairman Richard Guy, it was an offer I couldn't refuse.

So I chucked on my boots and gave it my all for a quarter before letting someone else take my spot. Commentator Winston Peters apparently made mention of me which in itself is embarrassing enough to end one's rugby career.

For the record, the NZ team lost 17-10 to a passionate Cook Islands team. Haven't won on that ground in three attempts now.
--

Life here is actually legitimately awesome. It's been a greyish start but now, into my third month, I could certainly see myself getting more and more used to Raro life.

Punctuality and sunburn aside, there are so many fantastic people and I've been lucky to call some of them my friends.

Certainly feel like I'm ready to make my mark - this is the Rarotonga I envisaged when I first came to the rock.

After a period of soul-searching, it's finally here - the Raro life!

--

I'm just getting a couple of pieces of footage for the next vid and if you're interested in anything in particular do feel free to suggest it.

Unless it's my sunburn line - then it'll be an instant rejection.

--

Take care my beloved friends and family. I do always appreciate your support and feedback and hope you enjoy reading of my time here in the Cook Islands. Kia manuia.

Kim Workman: My father

I love Father's Day for two reasons.

The first is to give us young fullas a chance to thank our fatherly figure in our lives for helping to mould us into the people we are today. It doesn't have to be a male - single mothers or whoever also do fantastic jobs, too.

It's also a healthy reminder for me to call my dad, Kim, and let him know how I'm going whether in Auckland, Rarotonga or wherever.

This year there won't be such an opportunity. Dad is currently at a silent retreat, where he'll be technologyless for a week or so (this is from my memory at least). It's almost ironic that the man who talks upfront with people for a living has decided voluntarily to give it all up for a week, and boy I find that inspiring.

So, as a result of me not being able to talk to him about how I'm going, I thought I'd talk to you about my love and adoration for the man I am proud to call my father, Robert Kinsela (Kim) Workman.

--

Born on September 9, 1940, dad has always had a way with the piano. He'd tickle the ivories throughout his life and even played in Christmas parades growing up with a band under the banner of "Kim Workman and the Ambassadors".

What an ambassador dad has become since.

Dad has worked in the area of justice for at least 30 years. Having been recruited as a cop in 1960 alongside another young policeman known as Max Jones, dad focused on working with youth at the local high schools in the Wairarapa area.

Having gone through the system for a number of years, dad became the head of prisions in 1989 and was in the job until 1993.

He has had a career that has brought upon many changes, including working in the Police, the Office of the Ombudsman, the State Services Commission, the Department of Maori Affairs and the Ministry of Health.

Amongst all of these changes, however, one value has remained firm:

People can change.

--

One of the biggest things I admire about my dad is he isn't afraid to go into bat for people who perhaps aren't seen in a positive light.

Gang members, convicted criminals, people we fear or even turn a blind eye to. Whoever they are they are all people to my father, and I respect him thoroughly for that.

And they do too. I distinctly recall dad telling of a time when gang members were invited to a conference, not to scare anybody or force

These people who are excluded from our community are welcomed by my father and, as a result they showed them one of the greatest gestures of respect in the Maori world - the spiritual unity through a hongi.

--

So why is dad staying silent for a week-odd?

He has finally realised that technology has had so much of an influence on his daily life that it was time to almost reboot; to restore the natural wairua [spirit] inside him that had been drained by a new message or an imminent phone call.

He'll be back in no time, and there will come a time when those outstanding emails will be responded to and the missed calls will be addressed.

For now though, it's about getting back to life as it used to be ahead of such a drastic change in technology.

--

Just before I finish I wanted to thank my father on behalf of all of those who recall him throughout their time in his company. Living in Rarotonga I know of at least two people who recall working with him.

One is Max Jones, the young cop who dad started alongside in the Wairarapa and the second is this country's minister of agriculture and health, Nandi Glassie, who dad worked with in Rotorua for a time.

Dad's legacy is one that is everlasting, in my opinion. His work with Rethinking Crime and Punishment has continued to change how a nation thinks about "locking everybody up". It needed somebody to light the fire, and it was my father who held the matches.

For that dad I thank you. Not just as a son, but as a fellow man and friend. Meitaki maata my brother, and I look forward to hearing you tickle those ivories again soon on my return.

Love you dad, happy father's day.

Matiu

Nature into me

"Through falling leaves
I pick my way slowly,
Talking aloud
Eases my my mind,
Sunlight filters through
I fell my head is drifting.
So full of thoughts
I've thought of
What am I gonna do
I need some thoughts that are new"
- 'Nature', the Mutton Birds.

Eight weeks have come and gone here in paradise. Eight weeks of questions around taking one step forward and two steps backward. Eight weeks of a life unrestricted.


And now, after eight weeks in Rarotonga, I think I might have found the antidote to a cloudy mind.

Being Sunday I went to church and this week found myself at the Apostolic Church in Tupapa covering the Olympic team’s attendance.

After the service I went outside and had a look at the landscape, the rugged terrain and gave myself a moment to soak in the sound of leaves caressing each other in the easy breeze.

That was it. It was exactly what I needed.

I didn’t need to find justification through my workload or an over-commitment to several groups of people on the island.

The answer was right in front me. Nature, in all of its beauty and intrigue, was the tonic.

--

I went and had dinner at Trader Jacks tonight. I sat at a bench and looked out over the water as the sun started to set and the recurring theme of nature complementing a well balanced mind re-emerged.

I sat, stared out and read a feature article about the Oglala Lakota people who live in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation from this month’s issue of National Geographic.

What a touching recollection of past tragedies and the subsequent revival of traditional Indian cultures it was. I thoroughly recommend it and thank fellow Cook Islands News journo Rachel Reeves for sharing.

The link for the feature is here: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/08/pine-ridge/fuller-text

After reading it, I took more time to further soak in my surroundings - the beautiful glassy water, the fabulously contrasting peaks towards the middle of the island and the Polynesian twist to well-known songs.

It sure makes for a better place than the Red Hut only a few days earlier.

--

Can I just say how wonderfully appreciative I am of all of you who have commented on the previous post or commented on the link, or got in contact with me to discuss it. Sometimes you forget just how many people are in your corner and I do really want to thank you all for your words of encouragement.

As a result, I'm going to send out some postcards with a little thank you message/update to show my appreciation! Just message me your address either through email (matiuworkman@gmail.com) or my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Matiu-Workman/121748831238664 and I'll send one your way :)

--

Meitaki maata for another week,

MW

Trouble, trouble, toil and stumble

As is par for the course, it's almost fitting that my first wee post on this update comes from (vaguely at least) one of my clearly favourite hobbies: Eating.

--

I ate dinner tonight at a place called the Red Hut. It's a pretty informal sort of place - on the side of the road that almost resembles a shed rather than a restaurant. With no lighting around, I sat at the table provided and ate across the road from a restaurant showcasing their island night - full of glitz, glamour and Raro-infused remixes of cult classics like Shalalalala from the Vengaboys.

The setting was almost metaphorical from where I am at the moment here in Rarotonga. All of a sudden, after weeks of confidence-building productivitiy and feelings of confidence, today struck. Away from the fun, festival-type atmosphere of Rarotonga I was instead in a dimly lit area on the street. Helpless. Struggling.

It was supposed to be a good day. Following on from good days where I'd run a fair bit of copy and sunk my teeth into a weighty topic, today was all about following up details.

But, for some reason, I emotionally collapsed. By 6pm on Thursday night I was ready to go home, find the darkest corner in my pad and just let it all out.

I still can't explain it, looking back. I got into one of those states where life just doesn't want to cooperate with whatever you want to do. Stress envelopes everything, and stress' endorphins are nothing but frustratioin and melancholy.

While only into my eighth week here in Raro, today's mental shutdown certainly reminded me that, especially in the early stages, there is no such thing as complete peace of mind.

I would hardly call it a fall from comfortability - rather a stumble. It's time like these where a familiar face or a warm hug to come home to is the perfect tonic.

I texted mum when I was down and almost instantly felt a touch better. I guess it's about who you keep closest.

--

The hardest thing about being a journalist is that any idea you had of pleasing all parties is thrown out the door almost from the beginning.

Frankly, I struggle with that. As a people person I'm all about trying to ensure people are happy and unsatisfaction is the bane of my existance.

Now, that only happens from 5pm-8.30am Monday through to Friday and for the weekend. It's tough to digest but like I've said, it's something I've got to get used to.

--

If you had no idea or forgot about it, my first video blog post was uploaded :) Click on it, enjoy it, and let me know if you think I should add anything!

I'v already got ideas for the next few ones but it's always cool to hear what YOU want to see. I get to live here and see this stuff everyday - you don't, and that's the key  to the videos! :)

Music, motoring and more Rarotongan fun

Have you ever come across a song that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, always manages to make you miss home? A song that has no obvious links to where you're from?

I found that song today, and of all the artists in the world it had to be one of the biggest bands in the world: Coldplay.

The song? 'Your love means everything'.

It's a song that, up until a few days ago, had no significant meaning. And then, on a Tuesday night while I was working on a new project, I came across the song.

Then the unthinkable happened. Memories of 'home' surfaced. Memories of friends, family, highlights and lowlights that all made for a three-minute video package.

On reflection it's interesting to see whether there really is a subconscious connection between specific songs and life back home, but at the time it was just plain scary.

A few days have passed and I've realised just how improtant discovering that song was. It wasn't for times when life's high-flying and everything is taking off. Nor is it for times when perhaps work, cricket or anything else here is feeling a little flat.

Rediscovering that song is for the times when hopes of life working out here feel grim, or in times of loneliness, sorrow or times when doubt resurfaces.

It took me two days, but the song wasn't trying to alienate me from life in New Zealand, or showcase what I have left behind.

It was the opposite. It showed me what I have at all times. It showed me people who care and are there to support me. It showed me moments that led to this exciting adventure and times of trial that I've had to overcome in order to get here.

Who would have thought that something so seemingly impersonal in the form of a 3-minute melody with a few words could affect someone in the way that it has done with me.

You just have to sit and be in awe at the power of music sometimes.

--

The generosity of the people here in the Cooks is something I have always admired, but it has truly come to the fore over the last few days after my scooter broke down. Again.

Brian, who owns a cafe here called Cafe Jireh and whose church I attend, invited me to his beautiful place for lunch.

My tyre blew on the way to his place and, having pulled over, I started walking home begrudgingly with this weight between my two forearms.

Enter two papas who put the bike on the back of the ute then got me to sit on it.

None of this fastening the bike carry-on. It was plain and simple "we're going to help you the only way we know how" and it was bloody fantastic.

Brian met me at my place and later let me borrow his own scooter while mine was to get fixed. I'm still very grateful for this offer, which I took up keenly.  His yellow beast (known as the Custard Square - what his cafe is famous for) lasted me two days, however, before it mysteriously died.

While Brian's scooter had gone ka-put, my own tyre scenario was getting increasingly frustrating.
For the second time in three weeks a tyre had gone flat, forcing me to walk to work for a few days, which I didn't mind too much.

On the way to work, which is a 3-4km walk, I had no less than four people asking me if I wanted a ride to work.

Needing the exercise I flatly declined any of their enquiries but was so surprised at, despite having their own places to be, they would pull over after seeing a guy walking to work.

It was a refreshing feeling knowing that there were still a lot of people with awesome intentions here in this beautiful paradise known as Raro.

My cricket team's captain, Hori, came to the rescue and fixed my back tyre. I'm very grateful for his help - shot brother! Really appreciate it for the umpteenth time!


--

Thanks to mum and Youtube I have finally got my video camera working! I've just finished filming and editing my first 5-minute webisode in Rarotonga, but I thought I'd open it to the floor and see what you guys wanted to know about life here.

If you're interested in interviews with locals, let me know. If it's more scenery you want to see, tell me. I'm super keen to get your ideas so that you fully enjoy life here (Don't lie - I know of at least three of you who are trying to live vicariously through me here! ;) )

Anywho, let me know whenever or on this post what you are interested in seeing and I'll endeavor to throw it on this first one. No little sneak previews or bits of detail about the first one - I didn't really think of a general theme when I went out filming so it's pointless trying to explain it! ;)

--

Met a relative for the first time a few days ago. This skux, Nikora Vaetoru, is related to me through my late birthmother Theresa.

I didn't really understand the specific relations thing - we're family, that's enough for me.

It was choice meeting up with him while he was here with some group - even managed to catch the eye of some girls in a church service he went to.

What can I say, must be something to do with my birthmother's side of the family hey?

--

Cricket season is starting soon and I'm bursting with excitement.

Shout out to Ryan for shipping my cricket gear over from New Zealand. Next Saturday is our first warm-up game and captain Hori - who is the Cooks' first international captain - reckons I'm going up the order to complement the master sloggers in the side (of which there are plenty).

Pretty excited to get more into sport here. It's an awesome way to make friends and the guys I ahve already met and trained with are all good lads with chat coming at a premium. Outstanding season ahead, I reckon.

--

Somebody asked me about the Sheraton site in the last post. Lawyer Tim Arnold, who is representing the landowners here in the Cooks, said the Mirage Group in Auckland are still intrested in developing the site and they are in consultation as to what to do next. The Mirage Group are paying rent on the property.

--

That's all for this week's summary :) Hopefully the video will be put up in the next few days. Until then, be safe, meitaki maata and kia manuia!

Matiu

Festivities here and abroad

Pride through success,
Honour through service.

It’s a motto a lot of people I know will have come across on a daily basis.
--
At my old stomping ground, Taita College, there’s a sign with the TC crest and surrounded by the phrase near the entrance of the school as well as near the office building.

While not thinking much of it at the time, it’s almost fitting that I am now trying to adapt it to everything I do, including over herei n Raro.

The stories people tell – be it their fascinating background, a decision that changed their lives or something else – having pride through success and establishing honour through service is something I’m applying to work here.
--
I swear I have met at least 60% of the Cook Islanders here on the island already after just five weeks here!

It’s crazy – in a good way – seeing people within the week and getting to meet them in a non-professional context. Places like the Punanga Nui market is fantastic for stuff like that, as is the local bar - yeow!
--
This week the Constitution celebrations are in full swing. This place goes off annually with people from islands across the Cooks coming and showcasing their cultures.

For a lot of these guys it’s not just about coming and doing some dancing, singing and sampling the local cuisine.

People like Mitiaro elder Kahukura Kaiui see it as a chance to reconnect and showcase everything the Cook Islands has to offer.

“It’s so that all the islands can get together and show our cultures to everybody. Those who don’t know other styles to get to see all of our different styles.”

It’s been a damp affair so far – the float parade on Friday went ahead despite a fair bit of rain! – but the smiles and determination from the participants to carry was outstanding.
--
As always, for @nokoroa, the club rugby wrap. News out is that the Takuvaine Reds have won two in a row, beating Tupapa in the weekend. Arorangi Cowboys lost to Avatiu Eels and the Ngatangiia Dragons got up over the Titikaveka Bulls!
--
I’m thinking of sussing a flatwarming in the next couple of weeks (it’s been three weeks that i’ve been here now) and the only people who aren’t invited are Mr Huntsman Spider who I had the distinct dishonour of meeting on my second night here, and Mr Mouse who I see every night after work at home.

Geckos are more than welcome.
--
As always, keen on feedback and/or suggestions for what you want to know or find out :)

Meitaki maata,
MW

The Wednesday Feature: George Maggie

From Bible-smoker to a preaching politician -
George Maggie's transformation couldn't
be greater. Photo Credit: CI News. 

It’s the story known widely throughout Rarotonga, but almost nowhere else.

The story is one of intrigue, sadness and the ability to turn everything around.
This is the remarkable story of George Maggie.

--

The year 1960 brought around many memorable moments, some fond, some bad. The Flintstones was screened on television for the first time, Hugh Hefner opened his first Playboy club in Chicago and some boxer by the name of Cassius Clay was only just breaking into the spotlight.

It was also the year George ‘Maggie’ Angene was born.

Having lived with 60-year-old mama Maggie Brown from day one, the young boy knew in the deepest of his hearts that she was his mother. It took 12 years for the young man to find out the truth, before finding out about his six siblings – three brothers and three sisters – who all worked in New Zealand to support him and his non-working grandmother.

“When I got older that’s when I called her one name – Dad and mum.”

Maggie went to school at six-years-old and didn’t learn a thing. Instead he helped his grandmother bottle some home-brewed magic, and was also involved tasting the concoction to ensure the taste was correct.

Needing to make friends at school, Maggie got into various sports at school – karate, taekwondo, weightlifting, boxing and even did bodybuilding for a time – all to prove himself.

“Between 14 and 15 I started to drink and show off – I used to get cheeky and all that. I thought, ‘I’m strong, let’s start to see if this works’.

“I damaged a lot of people,” Maggie said, illustrating an element of pride more commonly found in his younger days.

--

The 1970s were a time of strict enforcement from the police in the Cook Islands. A curfew of eight-o-clock at night was issued to all children to ensure they weren’t out creating mischief.

Maggie didn’t miss the memo, he simply threw it in the bin. While other children were inside, no doubt having family time with mum and dad, Maggie roamed the streets.

Maggie’s maiden pilgrimage to prison came when he was just 15. The legal system of the time did not allow minors under the age of 16 to enter prison, but in an effort to avoid any further dealings with Maggie, they threw him in jail.

It was at the Arorangi Prison where he began to roll pages of the Bible to use as cigarette papers and start to get a grip on what it was like to live in-and-out of jail.

It looked as if sport would be his avenue, his way out of jail. His physical prowess as a result of the many sports he trained in saw 19-year-old halfback represent the Cook Islands.

But it wasn’t to be and his check-ins at the local prison continued.

--
Further hope for settling down was fuelled when, after living with his girlfriend for three years previously, Maggie welcomed a set of twins to the world.

“When the firstborns were born I was a heavy drinker. I had no hope, no steady job, no income to feed the kids.

“I would break in and get food. I would bef people to get food for the boys.”

Maggie’s life spiralled out of control. He would wake up at 2am and start drinking and finish at 11pm at night while looking for ways to get food or money, legally or illegally.

“I thought about killing myself through drinking, not through hanging or crashing.”

The evil genie in the bottle would not grant him his last wish, instead living through more torture and the torment of not being able to be the father his kids wanted. By 1984, the break-ins – and prison terms - became more frequent as he struggled to put food on the table for his family.

--
It was eight years later when two events would transform his life forever. The year was 1992 when Maggie’s thoughts and perspectives began to change.

“My head was starting to know what’s happening in life around the corruption of the government, so I thought about something.

“I went on the radio and said that the government needs to change or I would burn down the government building. The secretary of justice said ‘Oh, he’s only joking,’ but I wasn’t joking.”

It was Mother’s Day 1982 and after the usual prison stints, Maggie and a friend wandered down to the court house, his friend unaware of what would happen next.

“I told my friend just to wait for me while I got some papers in the justice department. I heaped the paper on a table, lit the fire and then just walked out.”

That fearlessness that had become second nature to Maggie remained as he confidently strolled out aware of what would be happening to the building in an hour’s time.

“Some people are saying the reason why I did it was to burn my criminal record. I told them if it was my criminal record then I would have had to have burned down the police department, law firms, prison, probation and the justice departments.
“It’s not because of my criminal record - it was just because of the corruption of the government in those days.”
--

Maggie was sentenced to prison for 13 years for arson, and he knew something had to change instantly. He woke up on June 18 and said his first prayer asking for one more chance.
“God, if you’re there, can you please help me because I’m scared I’m going to die in prison,” he pleaded.
“I feel sorry for my wife, my kids, can you give me one more chance to straighten up my life.”
Usual help for a Bible initially fell on deaf ears from prison wardens – they knew of his initial use and weren’t ready to supply – but he convinced the warden this was no joke.
At 32-years-old, Maggie learned to read for the first time from one of the other inmates. He also began to write as a result of things he learned from the Bible. Everything – even building – was studied by the Bible.

In 1999, the man who had burned down the courthouse, the man whose gang-leader persona had him feared among many and the outlaw who would smoke cigarettes using pages fromt he Bible, was released from prison.
Reformed, he set about working and helping the people from as early as he could. He helped at churches, with community groups and ended up in the Cook Islands Party (CIP) committee.
His biggest job was looking for a candidate for the Tupapa area in the 2010 election. Having met with 10 people who declined the offer, three pastors on one day – 16 Novermber 2008 - convinced the man himself to run.
Those same 10 people who had declined the offer only weeks earlier came up against him. “I told them, ‘it’s too late – people want me, Tupapa are going to elect me’.
He won the seat with a very good majority and continues to hold that position to this day. Maggie still hasn’t met his birthnmother or father and isn’t really too fussed about it.
While a member of the CIP, he remains very independent and for the people. In fact, he has a phrase he once said to his colleagues in parliament.
“No matter where you go today, I can go there. Where I come from, you can’t get there.”
--

The power to change, the greatest power of them all.

Ramblings and updates from the Cook Islands

 


The three Rarotonga-based Cook Islands athletes (centre left-right) are:
 Patricia Taea, Patrick Tuara and Luisa Peters.

No matter where you are in the world there are always heaps of interesting stories to tell.

It’s almost intrinsic to every single country on Earth – where there are people, there are some fascinating insights, anecdotes or little moments of magic that deserve to be told and appreciated worldwide.

It’s the reason for a new segment of the blog I’m starting on Wednesday (local time) called the Wednesday Feature.

I have already met some fascinating people in my four weeks here and I’ve decided to share their stories with you, the people in the world of the web, to become just as fascinated with them as me.

Until Thursday (NZT) you’ll just have to make do with the weekly update – of which there is plenty this week.

--

 

It has been an unusually busy Sunday here in the office. While approximately 90 percent of workers have Sunday off to go to church, a smattering of people are here in the office to complete Monday’s paper.

Proofreaders, printers, the stand-in editor and myself are in the office at present in a usual rush to get Monday’s edition ready to go.

This is no ordinary week for myself, though.

The editor, John Woods and chief reporter/sports editor Matariki Wilson are in Tahiti and have been since Thursday attending the Te Aito, a massive vaka race encompassing different types of canoes.

Take waka ama, make it a national sport and get other countries from the Pacific together, and you have Te Aito o Tahiti.

 

Their covering of Te Aito is a pretty exciting prospect for myself. Not because there is more room in the office to put my equipment or anything of that nature.

It means I have been given the duty of covering the sports section of the paper, and after three days of working in this new area it is beginning to dawn just how much work goes into our sports section.

While there has been a bit of feedback in times past about the coverage of sports – we even had a letter to the editor about it – the amount of work done by a single reporter to cover all sports action is pretty phenomenal.

 

The village chief, known as a kau-maiti, gives his blessings
to chef de mission George George Williamson and the rest
of Team CI.

It's a challenge and it’s one that I am so far enjoying. The feeling of getting a whole section of a page to fill is pretty cool but not one I think I could do for years and years to come. To those who do it, here’s to you guys!

That in itself has been a useful exercise to see if I ever would want to venture into the area of sports editing. It’s something I was curious about at times but those thoughts of curiosity have been shut more firmly than the Parramatta Eels’ boardroom door.

--
The Olympics are something most athletes dream about. Billions of people watching either in real life or in real time give the respective sports and countries a great profile. Speaking of which, here are a few things about some of the athletes representing the Cook Islands.

Young sprinter Patrick Tuara isn't going to be one who challenges Usain Bolt for the 100m title. His personal best is 12 seconds, one he hopes to overhaul in London. The most striking thing about Patrick is his commitment to the sport. At 17, Tuara still goes to high school and juggles competition and other sport around it.

Patricia Taea is very much the same. The 17-year-old still attends school - Tereora College, like Tuara - and did so until leaving for London on Monday morning (CIT). They're two of what really is a young team and like Tuara, Taea will compete in the 100m sprint.

Luisa Peters is a gem. A netballer at heart, Peters was encouraged to get into weightlifting by her grandmother, Rosie Blake (who is also the secretary general of the national Olympic body, CISNOC). Sacrificing hopes of a career in the New Zealand Police Force, the 19-year-old is instead off to London to compete in the women's clean and jerk competition.

--

As for other matters, I think I’ve finally gotten used to mokos (geckos) scurrying around the house, but a warning: if you’re not used to them or you don’t like them, you’re not going to have much sleep.

Making a heap of friends here at the moment in a whole range of areas. From the printing room to the NZ High Commission, the people here have been fantastic and the ease of friendships here is something that really stands out to me.

Getting more and more amped about cricket season, which is starting up sooner than I thought. Get the new light blue/dark blue uniform soon. Thanks to captain Glenn ‘Hori’ Miller for hooking it up brother!

Aight, that’s probably enough for now but if you ever want to know about anything here in the Islands, please don’t be afraid to ask. But for now, I’m off to go and meet some friends down at Trader Jacks.

Meitaki maata and kia manuia,

Matiu Workman

A traditional warrior stands next to a taunga (village priest), who
invites George George Williamson (chef de mission, Team CI)
into the sacred marae.





 

Boom.

And just like that, it hit home.

--

After 21 days on this beautiful island, fuelled often by the countless minutes of soul searching and questionable song choices on local radio station 88FM, I think life in Rarotonga is starting to sink in.

It certainly feels like I've been here a lot longer - I think that's a good thing - and I'm sure as the time continues to roll on more confidence and local knowledge will help get me through.

The local cuisine here is spectacular. Raw fish, known as 'ika mata', is raw fish marinated in coconut cream and lemon juice. The acidity of the citrus gets right into the fish and gives it the most outstanding taste. Get into it if you have it available wherever you are :)

The people here in the country are awesome. Have had nothing but a positive experience with people here. And given the size of the place - approx. 12,000 is the last estimate I heard - the fact everyone's nice and interconnected only bodes well for the future I reckon.

Workmates are all pretty classic. Had a pretty good time here in the newsroom meeting, greeting and in some cases eating with these folks and I'm hoping it continues to grow and grow while I'm here.

I make no mistake of my outspoken adoration for my family ha. Miss them all like bonkers and keep in contact with them at least two-to-three times a week. You can call me anything you want, I don't care, whanau is whanau and that's the main thing.

Had some pretty naff weather this weekend. While Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights have all been pretty wet, Saturday was especially fantastic: Heavy, heavy rain and more thunder and lightning than you could poke a fork at.

Managed to catch up with a few wonderful visitors. Hung with Lydia from Yahoo.co.nz, who I went to journo school with, and my vicar from St James in Lower Hutt, Peter Benge, and his wonderful family.

Those sorts of catch ups are pretty gold - there's nothing really like seeing familiar faces in a new environment. Thanks to you fullas for making the time to see me, really appreciate it!

Hey @nukuroa, for the record the Avatiu Eels beat Tupapa this weekend. There the rugby wrap up for you.

Finally, I'd just like to emphasise something that has been on my mind for a bit now.

I was having a discussion with a friend of mine who said I was very lucky to be living in Paradise and getting paid for it. While I don't deny that at all - the drive into work is all I need to know how fortunate I am to be working here - to simply say that this has all come down to luck is a bit far-fetched, I reckon.

This whole decision to travel to a country I had never been to before and where I knew nobody wasn't simply 'luck'. It was about more than that, of rekindling a personal fire and to learn, discover and realise just how beautiful the world is.

While there was an element of luck in there being a job available in Rarotonga, of all places, it's about creating your own luck and ensuring you get the most out of your own luck.

Getting a great job is luck, but leaving behind friends, family, extended family and a comfortable life for the unknown

It's all a bit too much to call luck, isn't it?

--

And just like that, it hit home. Life in Rarotonga. Let's do this.

New flat, new scooter, new scary encounters

This post, in theory, shouldn't have been written.

Not through a lack of desire or passion or motivation - more that I shouldn't be in the office today.

But putting in extra hours on days off is almost becoming a specialty of mine. Things like understanding projects here in the islands and getting a few quick fillers in the can early mean every hour at work is time well spent, in my opinion.

Before I decide to check-in to Overworkers Anonymous, I thought I'd give you a little update since my last post.

When we last spoke I was at the Central Motel in downtown Avarua accompanied by a few wasps and a couple of geckos. Well, I have since moved to an A-frame 'chalet' as part of a village of budget accomadation called Tiare Village. Feel free to Google Image them :P It's the A-Frame one.

We'll get to the use of the word 'chalet' in a minute, but first onto more improtant matters.

I now have a scooter to zip me around town! This place is filled with them so finding one wasn't necessarily the issue. The main problem was ensuring I didn't get as raw a deal as my workmate, Calida. While they paid approx $250 less than I did, their bike chain has since snapped, making the bike about as useful as the world's largest paperweight.

Thankfully I haven't encountered any bike-breaking scenarios yet and here's to a long future with the bike.

I'd love to send photos and videos through, but my camera is still unable to be used because of a lack of the right SD card here in the Cook Islands. Still waiting for the card to be shipped here so at the moment there are no photos to speak of :/

Back to the chalet. It's pretty awesome but is almost made for shorter people than myself (and I'm no giant). Two of the three rooms are rather small but one manages to fit two single foam mattresses. The master bedroom is pretty cool and gets a good view of the airport and neighbouring houses :)

There was one issue that gave me a minor heart attack. AFter Googling Cook Islands centipedes I woke up this morning to go to town and at my front door was a massive spider. This wasn't a 2mm one or a 2cm one - this was almost the size of my palm. Google Huntsman Spider. Yuck. Anyway he gapped it and I don't know where he went. There'll be a health update in the next post for sure.

As for work, there are still days where there are struggles and mental questioning, but they're a lot less frequent than at the start of my time here. I'm slowly getting into the swing of things (rather slowly to be fair - island time) and am working on getting to know the island well enough to be your tiki tour guide if needed!

Missing all family and friends back home. One thing I've found a bit hard is making new friends. While I did sort of expect this to happen (it's your classic new school syndrome) it's just a bit annoying and a bit demoralising haha - if you have Raro friends, help me out!

Finally, I've signed up to my first sports team, the Titikaveka Titans! They're the defending cricket champs here on the island and I was rapt for them to be keen on having a hit with them, so if anyone's keen to ship over my cricket gear I'd be mega happy! Ha.

From here it's getting into a proper routine with groceries and signing up to the gym. From there, I'll be moving onwards and upwards!

Talk soon guys, would love to hear any feedback or ideas for future posts haha!

Kia manuia,

Matiu Workman

Week one in the can!

Well, what a first week it has been here at the Cook Islands News.


Fuelled by doubt and emotion in the opening three days, these last two have definitely been a lot easier for me – I think I’ve now got the hang of the newsroom and the intense environment that comes from any newsroom.

It really has been a remarkable turnround. Monday and Tuesday were so difficult that a bit of Wednesday was spent searching for flights home to Wellington!

Regardless, the last two days have filled me with enough smiles for me to realise it could be working out after all.

The other journalists are great and all hard-working. Went and had a couple of bubbly brews with a couple of them on Thursday night and it was just good to see a social side to them as well.

You’re all probably wondering what Raro looks like such is my lack of photos, but never fear! From next week I’ll be doing mini videos weekly to show you all what it’s like to be a journo in Rarotonga rather than just the cheesy blog posts!

It has been an interesting week here in Rarotonga. The new secretaries for the ministries were announced – with four new HOMs (that’s the term for Heads of Ministries). I had the privilege of interviewing the new Secretary for the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Transport, two relatively low receivers of government funding.

I went to the first guy – Dr Matairangi Purea – and interviewed him at his house. We just sat on the deck, chewed the fat for an hour and just got into minor details. Here’s a snippet:

MW: Oh, I see in this CV here that you play soccer?
DMP: Oh yes! I used to play in the international team when I was at the University of Queensland (in the 80s)
MW: Oh choice – what position did you play?
DMP: Halfback.
MW: Aye? Halfback?
DMP: Yeah, halfback – number 4! (Meaning right back haha)
We continued to spin yarns and as he was talking I (rather rude in hindsight) looked over at the work vehicle that said Cook Islands News on the side, then looked at the mountain range in front of me on a clear blue sunny day and realised: This is my job.

Moments like that are frequent, now. Clouded by self-doubt in the first few days, I’ve since been able to really get my head around certain rounds I’m doing (agriculture, infrastructure and the ports) which makes me feel a lot more confident.

Chief reporter here is Matariki Wilson. She’s a character – she can be tough at times but always very fair and a good laugh outside the office. I know I'll get on with her very well. Like she says, “there’s a time and a place to work.”

The motel I’m staying at for the first two weeks is the Central Motel. Located not far from the local courthouse she’s a funny place run by an Englishman named Malcolm. Great guy, to be fair.

Haven’t really done too much discovering so far here in the tropics. There have been some nice nights out but they’re expensive after a while.

One of the big positives is my new drivers license! I’m officially allowed to drive scooters and cars here on the island. Some strange observations – nobody wears seatbelts and/or helmets here. While I guess they only go 50km/h max around here the fact there have been three scooter deaths in two weeks (alcohol related number: 2) you would have thought you’d HAVE to have one. Nope.

Editor is John Woords and as I suspected, a firm but fair boss. Haven’t really had much to do with him outside of work but sounds like he’s a good man so I will stick to that story.

Next mission for me is finding a scooter and a flat. Now that I want to actually stay here it’s probably not the worst idea? And on that note, I better head home for a feed.

Thanks for reading, hopefully those videos will start coming up from next weekend!

Matiu

Initial thoughts on life abroad..

After four weeks of chattering fingernails, scratching my head, and questioning the decision, I have finally arrived in Rarotonga :)

Having only finished up at Sportal NZ on Sunday morning at an unpleasant 2.30am, there hasn't really been enough time for me to realise just what I have got myself into.

Needless to say, the many hours I'm sure to spend strolling the streets, soaking up all of the sun, sand and beautiful sounds of the Pacific will ensure that what I've done is the right thing.

It's funny, really. People called me brave for venturing out of my comfort zone, for 'stepping into the unknown'. The fact of the matter is sometimes you need a little adventure in life, a little reminder of how decent things are back home, wherever that may be.

And it hasn't taken me long to realise how well I had it in Auckland.

Wasps. I'm not usually a fan of anything that has the potential to introduce me to a new level of pain and the Rarotongan wasps are no different. In fact, they almost look like the overweight uncles of their Kiwi counterparts which has me nervously thinking about my imminent sleep.

I managed to track down my editor at the Cook Islands News - John Woods - at Auckland International Airport. A wonderful man, he introduced me to his family before we all went and waited at the Koru Lounge.

The flight was fantastic - 21 Jump Street was fantastic by the way - and we arrived ahead of schedule. Weary, I got off the plane only for immigration to ask me for a proof of purchase or warranty for my computer, which I brought over. Seeing as I didn't have such thing - it's four years old so the warranty has since become void - I had to unpack the computer - as well as the clothing inside the box that couldn't fit in my bag - as directed.

It was my first drama, all after an hour of being in Raro. 

Still, from there it was a smooth sailing, complete with two fragrant leis that are acting as my air freshener at this stage. 

It's all still a bit surreal. Part of me feels like I'm back in Tahiti, when I went on exchange there in 2004. Yet another part senses this really is the start of a whole new adventure.

It will take a while for the whole experience to sink in, no doubt, but for now there's no time to settle in and chill out for a few days - I start tomorrow morning.

From one rush to another, but so far I'm doing well.

My first poem :)

I have never really written a poem before. Haven't really had the desire to be honest, but I felt it fitting for a city that has given me so much,

So here it is:


An Ode to My Home

The lights are dark and gloomy,
But these Wellington hues consume me and my naivety,


The rock has eroded; the sands in my Kiwi hourglass on the Kapiti Coast have neared their end,
Pictures of sand-decorated dances, walks and self-fulfilling prophecies
Are memories relived by nature’s melancholic chant,
Wintry, whistling wind,


Lights sprinkle across the district, people succumbing
To demands and actions from the technological attention-seeker,
Pre-pubescent children line stations waiting for attention from buses,
Ensuring lipstick doesn’t fall too far from their trotters,


A man whose roots have been severed at the hands of the Super City,
Friends come and go oft like handshakes not known for more than pleasure,
While Port Nicholson beacons hold strong the light that guides the erring ship,
Able to ensure comfort is at hand when called upon,


This city draped in scarlet-tinted yellow is a place I am thankful for,
A kowhai tree grew strong under the midsummer gazes, the sub-antarctic embraces
That put the region in a frost-induced deep sleep,
A Kiwi hourglass nears its end, and Rarotonga's cry emerges,


Awoken, no time to slumber,
The time for a curious traveller to explore the world has begun,
A prodigal son ready to distribute the wealth of his toil is to return,
Legacy forthcoming,


Farewell, Wellington.

18 months on: What is sports journalism to me?

You'll have to forgive me for the latest gap between posts, but there's been a lot of thinking as of late about it.

I met a nice chap, Greg Bruce, who wrote about sports journalists in the latest issue of the North and South magazine.

In it he describes the true atmosphere of the cauldron that is the press box at a cricket Test. He describes his feelings towards it all and, through me, discovers it isn't where he wanted to be at all as a reporter.

It got me to thinking about November 2010 - a month that changed my life to this very day.

Perhaps I'm not too different to the guy who wrote the article after all.

---

Sitting in the press box laughing away and reminiscing on old times,
Being able to chew the fat and shoot the breeze with some of the biggest sports stars in the country,
Going to games, soaking up the atmosphere and getting paid for it,
Living the dream job.

It wasn't the official job description but it was my perspective on becoming what I had wanted to do since I was a teenager as the days counted down before I became a sports journalist in the backend of 2010.

Almost 18 months on, I've learned a fair chunk within the industry. What once was a green, bright-eyed, bushy tailed young man fresh out of AUT University has turned into a browny tinge like unattended paddocks in the middle of autumn.

While a considerable ammount of it has been archived in the trivial side of sports (Player to score the most FIFA World Cup goals, the New Zealand women's football team's highest ranking etc), other parts have almost certainly affected what my perspective was on the job a year and a half ago.

From my experiences, friends are hard to gain in this area but when they're made they stay solid.

Having said that, I've found one of the hardest things to do in the industry is to make a lot of friends. Those who know me know this isn't like me and I myself wonder to this day why that is. Whether it's my naive nature, a shyness that's often mistaken for arrogance or ignorance, or something more is beyond me.

The journalists I have befriended - and more importantly have befriended me - are people I know and trust. These guys - and girls - are the ones I'm so grateful for.

There's an unerring feeling of judgement when around great hordes of journalists in this area. Whether it is a self-generating thought or the idea of protecting their turf, the loneliness that presents itself is ironically the opposite of what I had imagined upon accepting the job.

I guess the final thought I have when looking back over 18 months is that sports journalism has become that - a job. A labour of love yes, but oft a chore.

Going to sports matches with a computer isn't the hardest part. Sitting amongst those who chat with pals and acquaintances, who spin yarns of matches past and throw a few chuckles in often at the other's expense isn't the worst bit either.

Instead it's the loss of something I once treasured - sport.

That passion I once held dear - the sports news always got a look in throughout my teenage years - has since become a mental workplace. Turning up to Westpac Stadium to report on Australia and South Africa doing battle for a place in the Rugby World Cup semi-finals is something I should have listed in my highlights reel.

But it isn't.

Instead it's the World Cup final, where I didn't work, that brought me the most joy.

There was no mental knuckling down. There wasn't any issues about deadlines or getting pictures cut for the story. It was pure emotion and the freedom to enjoy myself at a sports match.

--

Despite these seemingly long whinges about my job, I still love it.

The people you meet, the stories you hear about players who would most likely have never got where they were without a chance - they fuel my fire.

The fuel the weekly scripts of blockbuster heroics on the sports field, of the tales of the newest kid on the scene providing hope for a confidence-shot outfit.

They're the stories of warriors, of battlers, of sportsmen.

And they're my stories.