a couple of weeks ago a friend and i went to see the movie, Boy.
let me just say, i always find it fantastically refreshing to see "home" on the big screen instead of that recognisable, but personally unfamiliar, hollywood guff we usually must watch.
it was hilarious, but heart-breaking. i wondered if those watching it in cinemas overseas would be chortling at the things our audience chortled at - or, if they'd be "awww"-ing in pity? (or..if they'd even be able to understand the accents??!!)
this movie resonated with me, not just because i'm a kiwi but because i grew up in a very small (fantastic!) community on the west coast of new zealand. in the shadow of the Tainui waka's resting place. Specifically Waiharakeke (but then, every corner has it's own name, so maybe i should say Kinohaku or Hauturu, or near-Kawhia).
I went to school with a roll of around 25. and we either wore barefeet, jandals or gumboots. there were 2 teachers – one for the Junior Room, one for the Senior Room. the teachers were a husband and wife team.