The Power of Narrative: SWAP, Whenua, and Whakapapa
Whether you believe the story or not, I know this to be true: when I watch my son face his fears in the Whakatāne skate bowl and do it anyway, I see a miracle in motion.
My life changed irreversibly in 2021. At 5.15am on Tuesday, 7 September, I gave birth to a baby I didn’t even know I was carrying. However, this post isn’t really about that – but if you're curious, you can read that story here.
Since then, people often ask how I didn’t know I was pregnant. Many assume it’s just not possible – that it can’t be true.
But for me, what stands out is how powerful a consistent narrative can be. And how that narrative can shape a life – and a legacy. That, and a little boy who lights up my entire world.
Heoi anō, in an opinion piece published in the Whakatāne Beacon last week, a “retired sawmill worker” S. Searle offered insight into the kaupapa of SWAP – Sawmill Workers Against Poisons. He pointed readers to The Green Chain, a powerful documentary that tells the story far better than I ever could. I urge you to watch it. Learn about the SWAP rōpū, Joe Harawira (or Uncle Joe Joe as he was known to many), and the ongoing fight for justice that echoes Aotearoa’s version of Erin Brockovich.
That story has shaped my life for as long as I can remember. My dad – a former sawmill worker – worked on the green chain and lived with us on Mill Road. He’s told us stories of eating his lunch while sitting on pine logs drenched in PCP, the smell lingering in the air.
Today, he’s the chair of SWAP, stepping into the role after the passing of Uncle Joe Joe. He also works as a kaimahi for the facilitation service. Over the years, he has buried not just Uncle Joe Joe, but many of the men who worked beside him, and sat with him on the rōpū. And their wives. And – more often than you’d expect – their children, and even their mokopuna.
His stories have sustained the narrative of dioxin and PCP exposure – its impact on our people, and our whenua. And the stories of the wāhine, in particular, have stayed with me.
I was diagnosed with PCOS in my 20s, after more than a decade of irregular periods, hirsutism, and other symptoms. PCOS, like most fertility issues, is connected to hormone imbalance. While I’ve learned that lifestyle changes can help, that’s not always enough.
I was fortunate to have my eldest son at 26. But if you read Glenda Monteith-Paul’s 2002 report – He Rangahau o Ngā Kaimahi Mira Kani Rākau: A Survey of Former Sawmill Workers and Their Families to Determine Their Health Status – you’ll see the lasting impacts of PCP and other dioxins on sawmill workers’ wives and tamariki.
In compiling the report, Whaea Glenda developed a questionnaire exploring symptoms among this whānau group. The results included high rates of depression, cancer, thyroid conditions, hysterectomies – and miscarriage rates as high as 38%, including one case of seven miscarriages.
Five days before the birth of my youngest son, Tamarangi, I gave evidence alongside my dad and others representing SWAP at the People’s Inquiry into the impacts and effects of toxic chemicals and poisons on our people, wildlife and environment. You can read our submission if you want to know exactly what we said.
But when it was my turn to speak, I shared what it was like growing up on Mill Road – our house sat lower than the mill, and when it rained, runoff would flood our yard with water tainted by PCP. One of my core memories is of my dad carrying me from the car, which had been parked on roadside, to the house because the water in our yard was so deep.
I also spoke of how fertility challenges marked my own life, and those of my siblings. How I felt incredibly lucky to have had my eldest son, despite continued irregular periods. At that time, I hadn’t had one in months.
It never even occurred to me to take a pregnancy test. Skipping periods was normal for me, even for months at a time.
But five days later, in the middle of Aotearoa’s second COVID lockdown, I gave birth – alone, in my parents’ spare room – to a healthy seven-pound pēpi. A miracle.
Some might say it’s unbelievable. But when the narrative is so deeply entrenched, alternatives don’t even register.
The damage caused by PCP and dioxins hasn’t just impacted the hauora of my father, my mother, our whānau, our iwi, our hāpori, and our whenua. It’s affected our very sense of self – our psyche.
On top of all the other systemic burdens tangata whenua face, these poisons – introduced simply to enhance the value of pine – have left intergenerational scars on our whakapapa.
Tamarangi is a tohu of hope born from this legacy of pain. He reminds me that when we fight for justice – and when we share our stories with honesty and consistency – change is not only possible, it’s inevitable.
Click here to watch the full version of The Green Chain. Or reach out if you want to know more, or if you’re interested in crafting a narrative that creates a legacy.
