Embracing Authenticity
Major Christine De Maine’s search for identity was marked by pain, courage and resolve. It led to her embracing her whakapapa (lineage) and her identity as a wahine Māori and how this influences her calling as a Salvation Army officer.
It’s very much a game of two halves when it comes to considering the trajectory Major Christine De Maine’s life has taken. In the first half, as she says, ‘sometimes it was just easier to be Pākehā’. But now, ‘I’ll be Māori every day. That’s just who I am. I don’t care any more,’ she says.
That attitude would have got her into trouble when her journey to officership in Te Ope Whakaora (The Salvation Army) began. ‘When I was a cadet just over 20 years ago, we weren’t even allowed to wear our pounamu with our uniform.’ Today that pounamu is worn as proudly as the tā moko on her arms, the wairua (spirit) in her heart and her whakapapa, which takes her from her home in Te Waipounamu (the South Island) back to her tūrangawaewae (place where one has the right to stand) of Ngāti Rangitihi and the east coast of Te Ika a Maui (the North Island) at Matatā.
Showing up
While she now fully embraces her culture, what has remained constant for Christine (Ngāpuhi, Te Arawa) throughout her 27 years as a soldier, and 20 since she became an officer, is that she keeps showing up.
Showing up for her family, for the Lord, for Te Ope Whakaora, but mostly for the whānau she walks with and helps steer towards a better life.
Through the bad times and the good, Christine’s energy and enthusiasm have become an integral part of Te Ope Whakaora ki Ōtautahi (Christchurch) and she’s a familiar face at the different corps, Bridge, kapa haka practice, Recovery Church, Te Ataarangi (system to learn Māori language) lessons, Family Stores, social and transitional housing and just about anywhere she can connect with whānau Māori.
But while the changes within Christine over more than two decades have been profound, there’s some disappointment that she hasn’t seen equally significant changes within Te Ope Whakaora. ‘I have to remind myself that even though I feel like the change has been slow, we have made some progress,’ she says.
Search for identity
Until a few years ago, and for much of her younger life, Christine hadn’t fully embraced her culture. Having grown up predominantly in te ao Pākehā, she didn’t know much about her whakapapa and often felt whakamā (ashamed) about being Māori. ‘I was in the space of my life where it was just easier to be Pākehā,’ she says.
She’s the daughter of a Māori mother and Pākehā father and grew up in Te Whanganui-a-Tara (Wellington). Her parents separated when she was young, with Christine remaining with her father and being largely brought up by her Pākehā grandparents. ‘They pretty much raised me from the age of five through to when I left home at about 18. They were like my mum and dad, so I mihi to them. They’ve both passed away now.’
She says both her parents battled addiction. ‘My lived experience is having seen addiction on both sides. My dad was a gambler, and I went nearly 10 years without having much to do with my mum because it was just in the too-hard basket,’ she says.
Things began to change for Christine when she was 17 and on a student exchange to Iowa, in the Midwest Bible Belt of the United States. ‘From Breaker Bay, Wellington, to a cornfield in Iowa, it was a massive culture shock.’
While she shared stories of the sun, the beaches and cricket, her hosts talked about ‘this thing called Jesus and the church. It’s kind of where I started my journey of faith,’ she says. ‘I came home and went to Elim in Wellington. Six months later, I gave my heart to the Lord, and I’ve been a Christian ever since.’
Sometimes change happens fast.
Answering the call
Just a year later, she met her husband Nigel and three years later they married. ‘We got married when I was 21 and we’ve been married for 26 years. My husband and I are from two different worlds. I met the Lord and became a Christian when I was 18, whereas my tāne (husband), he’s a generational Salvationist, he’s like fourth-generation Salvation Army.’
She didn’t think much of her first experience at a Salvation Army church service. ‘I was like, your
church is really weird.’
The newlyweds moved to Ōtautahi and became involved with Te Ope Whakaora there. Over time, Christine was encouraged to consider becoming a soldier. ‘I did soldiership classes and was like, maybe I could join this weird church. So in October 1998, I enrolled as a senior soldier of Christchurch City Corps.’
From Ōtautahi, it was back to Te Whanganui-a-Tara and the Wellington City Corps.
Their corps officers at the time, then-Majors Lyndon and Bronwyn Buckingham, encouraged them to consider officership. During a holiday in Queenstown, God showed them the way. The Buckinghams are now world leaders of The Salvation Army: General Lyndon Buckingham is the head of the International Army and Commissioner Bronwyn is world leader of Women’s Ministries.
‘My husband and I entered college together; 2004–2005 was our session.’
Their first 10 years as officers were in multicultural Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland)—where their children Joseph and Eli were born—before they moved to Rangiora, a much more mono-cultural community. ‘I kind of look back at that period and think that it was easier to be Pākehā. We were the corps officers in Rangiora and at that point I didn’t have strong connections with my whānau,’ she says.
Embracing identity
That all changed with the death of an uncle in 2017.
‘I went home for his tangi, and that was probably the beginning of reconnecting with my whānau—my brothers and my cousins and my aunties and my uncles. My journey of pushing back into being Māori, of decolonising my brain, and to learn more about what it means for me really started in 2017, and it’s just kind of grown since then.’
Almost by design, the very next year The Salvation Army began appointing kaimahi (workers) to Māori Ministry and she was offered—and accepted—the part-time role of Māori Ministry divisional secretary for Te Waipounamu.
‘It was the first time The Salvation Army had appointed more than just one person to be in Māori Ministry. Hana (Seddon) had been pretty much the single one for a few years and I just kind of sat on the fringes.’
But two years into the role, Covid-19 took its considerable toll, seeing Christine returning to her tūrangawaewae to consider her calling. ‘I remember sitting in the urupā (cemetery) at Matatā and I remember clearly God saying to me “it’s time to step into it full time”.’
She was able to give up her officership in Rangiora and dedicate herself to understanding and growing her new role.
‘It was really to whakamana (empower) and to bring some cultural competency to our officers and our hāhi (church), because we didn’t have much of anything. We don’t have that many Māori officers, and in our hāhi we have an even smaller number of Māori,’ she says.
‘They’re not coming in the doors of our church, they’re coming in the doors of our Community Ministries, of our Family Stores. They’re coming in the door of our Bridge or they’re coming in the doors of Addington (drug and alcohol centre). So I just started to invite myself into those spaces.’
She found valuable mentors in Whaea (respected older Māori woman) Cathy Nalder, who continues to inspire her, and the late Dame Aroha Reriti-Crofts, who helped her understand the unique kawa (protocol) and tikanga (correct procedure) of Kai Tahu (Ngāi Tahu), ‘because I want to be honouring of that’.
And while Ōtautahi sits on Kai Tahu whenua (land), around 80 to 90 percent of the whānau she works with whakapapa back to the North Island. ‘They’ve moved down here for various reasons: whānau, drugs, change of lifestyle, needing to have a fresh start. They’re looking for a place to belong and that’s what we create in this space, it’s beautiful.’
Landing right
Over the years, Christine has started various initiatives, including waiata (singing) groups, karakia (prayer) sessions and wānanga (knowledge sharing), but was often a lone Māori voice. ‘Those first few years were really lonely and some of them were really hard because some of our soldiers and our corps were like, there shouldn’t even be an appointment. I’ve heard it all so, you know, I’ve persevered through some of this stuff.
‘I lament over some of the things in The Salvation Army that are not quite right, but then there are certain parts of the Army which they’re so honouring in that space.’
The Māori Ministry has faced its own challenges and Christine has always supported the kaupapa (platform). ‘I was around when we had a couple of reiterations of the Rūnanga (council), and I was a part of the external review that happened in Māori Ministry and part of the group to support that kaupapa,’ she says.
‘We’ve always struggled in Māori Ministry and The Salvation Army. We just can’t seem to land right. But then we have managed to make some big steps forward and I need to just rejoice in that.’
And she rejoices in the fact she is no longer the lone Māori voice, with Lloyd Manukau, in particular, providing great support after graduating from Bridge and becoming a chaplain. ‘There were days it was just me and Lloyd showing up with the rakuraku (guitar).
‘With Lloyd, I take great delight that he is now one of our kaimahi. He had a real desire to serve the Lord and now he is.’
More recently, other wāhine (women)—including pou arahi (leadership support) and Rūnanga member Dr Gina Colvin and mission officer Lieutenant Tammy Mohi—have bolstered the number of Māori in the region, providing further support for Christine’s mission.
‘All of a sudden it was like, we have people! I’m sitting there thinking it’s not just me any more. Collectively, we support each other because we all bring our unique gifts and strengths and we’re better together than individually.’
But she’s pretty good on her own, and while there’s been some change, there’s more to do.
Supporting the future
‘I hope I have managed to further The Salvation Army to embrace te ao Māori, and that will benefit my sister Tammy and Lieutenant Rose (Hotene) and the ones who are on the journey of officership, and those who are navigating being Māori, being in The Salvation Army and being Christian.‘
There’s a tension there, she says. ‘How do we hold the mana of being Māori and the mana of being in Christ, and hold them together? Some things weave beautifully and some things don’t. People are navigating, they’re struggling, they’re grappling with what this means.’
And for those people, Christine will keep showing up.
‘It’s that whanaungatanga (connections), which is really important, and the manaakitanga (hospitality). Just to make them feel they’re welcome in our whare (meeting house), being with our whānau and seeing them grow. Doing life with them, it’s incredibly satisfying.
‘To be able to be a part of someone’s journey, it’s a privilege. So when I see whānau who click over a day,
or 30 days or three years or five years of sobriety, I rejoice in that.’
