What I have done is buy presents. In a whānau our size, there’s always somebody. Birthdays, twenty-firsts, new babies, weddings, housewarmings, and a Christmas list that would frighten most people. Fifty years of it, for sisters, nieces, cousins, aunties and the women who cook with me at the marae. So this isn’t a review. It’s a woman who has wrapped a great many things, saying which one was worth it.
The one I’m writing about is called the Ngaio, a quilted laundry baskets from Eleanor & James, a small boutique over in Coromandel that makes everyday things a little nicer for women our age. I first saw it at my niece Kiri’s housewarming, and when Eleanor & James later asked if they could share my letter, I said yes, on one condition: that I could be completely honest in it.
It was Kiri’s first house, a little weatherboard place in Mangapapa, and the whole whānau squeezed into the lounge with a plate each. The presents were the usual pile. A candle. A pot plant. A cheese board. A bottle of bubbles. Two sets of tea towels. Then Kiri pulled the paper off one great soft parcel and stood up a basket covered in fat white sheep under a swirling night sky, with a big yellow moon. Kiri grew up on her dad’s sheep station up the Waipaoa valley. She put her hand on her heart and didn’t say anything for a good while. It had come from my cousin Pare in Wairoa, who, I’m told, gives the present everybody talks about, every single time. Read on.