Watching his children perform kapa haka at school, musician John Bryers Ruddock couldn’t hide his joy. After years of raising them in Hawai’i, he had finally brought them to live in New Zealand – the land of their ancestors, the place his mother called home and the land he had always considered his own.
At first, everything felt right. His tamariki, who had never set foot in New Zealand before, were surrounded by te ao Māori, coming home each day excited to share the haka they’d learned and the
words they’d picked up.
“It was just a beautiful thing for me as a father to witness them like that,” says John, 38.
“But they’re not able to attend school at the moment as they’re technically considered overstayers now.”
A technicality that changes everything
Despite John being a New Zealand citizen, his children, Hōhepa, 12, Peatarangi, nine, and Īhāia, eight, are not recognised as Kiwis. The issue lies in a technicality. John was born in Australia, making him a citizen by descent rather than by birth.
Under New Zealand law, citizenship by descent is not automatically passed to his children, who were also born overseas. It’s a difficult concept to accept for John, who is fiercely proud of the long line of Māori and New Zealanders he descends from. His great-great-great-great grandfather Mohi Tāwhai signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi, his grandfather Ron Bryers was an All Black and his mother, the late Rhonda Bryers, was celebrated as “The Voice of New Zealand”, winning NZ Entertainer of the Year in 1984.
The voice of New Zealand
“She was still touring while she was pregnant and ended up giving birth to me in Australia,” recalls John.
“We came straight back to Aotearoa within the first month of my life. “She’s one of the pioneer female entertainers to come out of New Zealand, and was an ambassador for the country and Māori internationally.”
When he was four, Rhonda took a performing residency in Hawai’i and continued to raise John there. But he never lost his sense of connection to Aotearoa, coming back most years to visit.
“I always grew up proudly Māori,” he insists, adding notable Kiwis, including the late Māori Queen Te Atairangikaahu, actor Temuera Morrison and broadcaster Scotty Morrison all visited his Hawaiian home growing up.
“My mum was president of the New Zealand club, so they all came to our whare.”
Passing Māori pride
John has instilled the same cultural pride in his own kids.
“My children all have Māori names and I’ve always felt like our whakapapa is watching over us,” he says.
In April this year, following the breakdown of a relationship in the US, John returned to Wellington with his tamariki.
“It’s always felt home to me, no matter what,”
says John, who is currently the sole caregiver of his children while custody hearings are ongoing through the Hawai’i family court.
Reconnecting with whānau
“All my whānau live here – I don’t have family in the States. “My kids can’t believe it every time they meet new whānau here. They’re like, ‘Wait, you’re my real aunty, my real cousin, like blood.’”
But he says the New Zealand immigration system has proved to be costly and confusing.
“I just want to get settled and create some structure for my children,” he insists.
“Right now, we’re sitting in limbo.”
Support from allies
After hearing of his plight, former politician turned immigration consultant Tuariki Delamere has been helping John with his children’s citizenship applications. Meanwhile, Hastings law firm Manaia Legal has supported John to lodge a Waitangi Tribunal claim on the basis Māori should have the right to return home to Aotearoa legally.
“There should always be a home for Māori in Aotearoa,” says John.
“My entire lineage is buried in this whenua [land].”
Crown Counsel has responded, offering to see what assistance is possible for his family’s applications, but John has no idea how long the process could take or what the outcome will be. In the meantime, he’s determined to push for wider change so other Māori don’t face the same plight.
Looking ahead with hope
He explains, “The big goal is a government policy change so no Māori have to deal with this again. We’re making pathways for people all around the world.”
With his children out of school, John is unable to work. But he hopes to open a Hawaiian food truck in Wellington one day and continue his reggae music career under the name Junior John. But despite all the uncertainty, his vision for the future is clear.
“The dream would be building a life out here,” he enthuses.
“I want to learn te reo, and see my children learn their culture and keep making memories with family. Ultimately, my goal is for all tamariki to have that chance.”
