My full name is John Hepa Makimou Paitai. I was raised in Ahipara by my Aunty Meremere Paitai-Petricevich and grandparents Jack / Tirionu (Mangaia and Rarotonga) and Edith Paitai. My birth mother, Rangirangi Paitai-Paratene, passed away when I was seven, and so we came home from the city. My grandparents and aunty became the centre of my universe. That’s where the core values and lessons of my life stem from — the unconditional love and whanaungatanga they showed, not only to me and my three sisters Freda, Daniella and Fiona, but to our wider whānau.
On our marae, I observed elders who gave substance to the dying words of our paramount chief Poroa: “Kia ū ki te whakapono, me aroha tētahi ki tētahi” — “Hold fast to your faith and love one another.” The importance of being humble, respectful, and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you was ingrained in us from childhood. Above all, we learned the significance of wairua — the very essence of who I am emanates from my wairua connection to te taiao.
I tatai to all five iwi of Te Hiku o Te Ika. I am grounded here through my tūpuna, my maunga, awa, moana, marae, wāhi tapu, waka, whānau, hapū, and iwi who lie in those sacred places from Whangape to Kapowairua, from Ahipara to Whatuwhiwhi. It has always been my destiny as the only son and grandson in the Paitai whānau to return one day to be the keeper of the home fires.
I was lucky to have grown up in a time when elders — steeped in traditional knowledge and practices — were still around. My interactions with them shaped me. Families didn’t have much; some were as poor as church mice, but you could eat off the floor of their house. I remember one aunty who had a dirt floor, yet it was spotless. She would fill a steel basin with embers from the fire to keep us warm at night and keep mosquitoes away. Those memories stay with me, especially waking up reeking of smoke.
Growing up outdoors gave me the grounding that kept me fit and healthy for the world out there. Nowadays, I love walking barefoot along the beach and in the surf to recharge and ground myself.
I went to Kaitaia College and thirty years later returned there as Deputy Principal. The late William Tailby and I had shared the same form class, Trigg 5, and played together in the First XV. After crossing paths with him during a principals’ course in Auckland, I began considering returning north. Around that time my stepfather Sonny Petricevich passed, and I’d promised my mother that if the right job came up, I’d come home.
Blow me down, a Deputy Principal vacancy was advertised. I applied, was shortlisted, and following my interview, was offered the position. At my pōwhiri I felt blessed — I knew I was in the right place at the right time. I wanted to make a difference at the school that had given me the skills and confidence to forge my way in the world.
Coming home to the North with my wife, Mareea, who has been my rock and soulmate, was a full-circle moment. I had spent time in her hometown of Waitara in Taranaki; now it was her turn to come to mine. Those years at Kaitaia College were special. Elsie Matich provided gender balance and experience to our leadership team. Together we made a difference and shared many hilarious and serious moments, always working as a team.
As an educator, I learned that change is constant. If you’re a teacher who can’t accept change as the norm, you’re in the wrong job. Adaptability is a life skill our students must learn.
The institution of the marae I experienced in my formative years is vastly different from what my mokopuna experience today. Although the marae remains central for transmitting traditional knowledge, it’s challenged by rapid social change. The urbanisation of Māori in the 1950s began decades of separation from the sanctity of the marae, and the digital age has magnified those challenges.
Thankfully, there’s a renaissance happening — led by kaumātua, kuia, and young educated Māori. Wānanga of te reo, tikanga, and hītori are reconnecting our youth to what I call the University of the Marae. It’s incumbent upon trustees to embrace our youth, who are the digital natives among us, and create opportunities for passing on knowledge within the sacred walls of our whare tupuna.
I believe there is no substitute for experience. In retirement I serve as chairman of our marae, urupā, Parengarenga, Ahipara, Peria, Māori Anglican Pariha, and as trustee, committee member, kaumātua, and kai karakia on local, regional and national organisations — not because I have to, but because I choose to. At the end of this year, I will step down as the Māori representative on Waipapa Taumata Rau, the Auckland University Council, a role I’ve held since retiring five years ago. Having served as a Primary and Secondary Principal, it’s been rewarding contributing to the administration of our leading university.
Nowadays I keep active by mowing the church, marae and family lawns. I’m a keen fisherman and a member of the Ahipara Big Game Fishing Club. I loved scuba diving and was the hunter-gatherer for our whānau. Today, I skipper the boat and follow my son-in-law Raymon’s bubbles while he gathers kai from Tangaroa. I played rugby, coached and refereed to Senior A level — now I’m an avid spectator of all sports.
Not many people know about my years as a leathered-up bikie. I rode with the Ulysses Club, whose motto is “Grow old disgracefully.” Much to Mum’s delight, I retired myself from the bikes, never having had an accident in over twenty years of riding. I’ve also driven coaches for years — it never felt like work. Touring, sharing the history and beauty of the Far North was pure joy. Recently I’ve been reacquainting myself with my guitar and ukulele for relaxation. When I shed some responsibilities, I’d like to write about my grandfather (Mita Paratene), who served in the Pioneer Māori Battalion, surviving Gallipoli, the Somme and Passchendaele, returning to Ahipara with an English Rose — my grandmother Edith Waite.
As a pāpā, koro, and husband, I’ve learnt not to try and please everyone. Life can be cruel, but it can also be incredible. Most importantly, whānau is everything. I gain much satisfaction from supporting our three children and 11 mokopuna to reach for the stars — it makes me incredibly proud to see them achieve.
Looking back, if I could speak to my younger self, I’d say: “Look after your health, have heaps of fun, travel the world and do the things you’ve always wanted to do,” — because there’s nothing worse than looking back and saying, “I wish I had done that.”