Photos: Amalia Osborne
It’s been nearly 40 years since Dame Naida Glavish nearly lost her job for answering NZ Post toll calls with “Kia ora”. The workplace dispute was major news as the mother of five fought for her right to greet people in her native language – and in the end, it took the then-Prime Minister Robert Muldoon weighing in on her side to settle the matter.
Now 34 years into a career in health advocy, the Te Whatu Ora [Health New Zealand] Waitematā/Auckland districts chief advisor of tikanga Māori sat down with the Weekly to talk about her impressive life, remembering the unexpected national drama and why she’ll always stand up for what she believes in.
“I was born in the front seat of my father’s Studebaker car. Both my grandmothers lived across the road from each other. One was Ngāti Whātua and Ngāti Hine, and the other one Croatian. I’m as proud of being Croatian as I am to be Māori.
After I was born, my Māori grandmother took me home and raised me on the shores of the Kaipara Harbour. I was certainly a well cared-for child, bouncing between these two grandmothers. Neither of them could speak English, so I grew up with the reo.
I’m mother of two sons and three daughters, a grandmother of 19 mokopuna [grandchildren], a great-grandmother of 43 greats, with my 44th great-grandchild due this December. Nothing happens with any of my mokopuna that I’m not involved with.
About five years ago, one of my moko was in court. When the judge saw me, I said, ‘I called that moko from the sacred womb of his mother and it wasn’t to stand in this courtroom. I’ve come here today to take him home and remind him who he is.’
The judge agreed the best thing was to put him in my care. It’s known by all those moko, wherever they are, that Māmā will be.
When my youngest went to school in 1980, I found a job with NZ Post in Helensville answering toll calls. It was just natural to answer ‘Kia ora’. But when I moved to the post office on Airedale Street in Auckland, a new supervisor insisted, ‘It’s good morning, good afternoon or good evening – not kia ora.
I was renting post office housing at that time, so if I got dismissed, I would have been exited out of our house. I complained to Dr Ranginui Walker, the then-chair of the Auckland District Māori Council, who immediately claimed, ‘That’s racist’.
Next thing, it hit the headlines. My baby came running back from the shop with the Evening Star newspaper. There’s my face right on the front page.
Schools were writing in, Carl Doy composed a musical named Kia Ora in support. Supervisors put me on night shift to free up the lines. People kept ringing up just to talk to the ‘kia ora lady’.
I had to ask for time off to go home for a tangi [funeral]. I was grateful for it and thought I would ease off the stress I was causing.
But as I was driving over the Harbour Bridge back to work, I heard this voice, ‘Nui ake tenei take i a koe’, meaning ‘This is far greater than just you’.
I thought it was the wind blowing in the window, but the voice came back again and I knew it was the voice of my grandmother.
So I said to my supervisor, ‘I want to thank you for the time off. I know you will do what you think you need to do as my supervisor, and I will respect you for that, but you need to respect that I am the mokopuna of a grandmother.’
Then-Prime Minister Rob Muldoon came back from overseas. He said, ‘I’ve been overseas discussing the economics of this country. Then, I come back here and some girl wants to say kia ora. As far as I’m concerned, she can say kia ora. So long as she doesn’t want to say g’day blue’ – and with that, there was sign off.
Afterwards, I became a school teacher but resigned in 1990 when people asked me to go work for the then-Auckland Area Health Board. I always knew from the teachings of my grandmothers that I had a bigger purpose.
When I was offered the damehood in 2018, they asked me if I would accept it. I said, ‘If it’s going to open doors to my people, then throw it at me.’ There is no greater privilege than to be of service to my people.
I look forward to the time when I can retire. My bucket list is to build a library on my marae. Then, I will call my whānau home and give everything I have and everything I know to them. That way I can die empty.
After all, it was my whānau who made the sacrifices to enable me to be me living in my skin. They’re welcome to it all and I will die a happy Māmā.”
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