TOM MACFARLANE
This is Tom, Zhane and Adam, three equally exquisite humans. I could write about each of them but this is a story about Tom Macfarlane. (pictured left)
Tom carries himself through the world softly. With a kindly guise, a radiant warmth, a soul so gentle I want to tell this story in a whisper. God broke the mould when he built Tom.
We would often laugh about the angels, or perhaps Tangaroa, or whoever, playing their part in our chance meeting. Quite literally the sun came out and the dolphins leapt out of the water. We met on The Good Ship, the R. Tucker Thompson, and within a week Tom joined our team. He brought an abundance of wisdom, tikanga and wit to our sailing family. His rising tide instantly lifted our boat.
In case you don’t know this ship, The Tucker, a gaff-rigged square sail schooner, based in the Bay of Islands Te Tai Tokerau, delivers a youth development programme, and… oh, so much more. This waka, and her crew, change lives at sea. Over the last 40 years this waka has honed a craft, a recipe, an elixir so sweet she shifts the trajectories of all who sail upon her.
Northland youth sail on a 7-day voyage; they learn to sail, they learn history, they learn about the weather and navigation, and they go fishing, swimming, hiking, exploring: all the things you’d expect from an outdoor programme. But what we actually do is create a sense of belonging.
Despite years of data, research and published papers by Otago University psychology researchers to provide evidence, government agencies and funders continued to ask: But what do you actually do? It’s a matter of ingredients and intention. I am not going to reveal the ingredients for the secret sauce here, but I know what they are, and I hold them close, like a treasure. Tom also knew the 11 herbs and spices.
Tom was beyond beautiful with our rangatahi. He was everything they needed: a listener, someone who genuinely cared, a smart, kind young man with a profound ability to connect. He would put them at ease. He could play big brother, a mean game of soccer, and sailor-style guitar and harmonica. He deeply understood the process of their unfolding, their reaching, their potential, especially for our tāne (boys). Tom shone a light so they could see the best parts of themselves. His demeanour, in hushed tones, telling them they were seen. There really is no greater gift.
Tom sees the world differently. He sees things with a unique slant, a clarity that once explained, seems so obvious you wonder why you hadn’t see it before. He has an objectivity that puts others, or the environment, or mana whenua, first. He is selfless. The angle is often grounded in such pure goodness, it’s easy to understand why he saw it before you did. His ideas, clear in his mind, are sometimes communicated with a fluid cadence: slow….fast, rapid, stop …slow ….think …slow ….steady…stop. A rhythm to help you understand, and a style that shows you who he truly is. It is something to behold. Listen carefully. There is gold in his words, and in his way.
Tom is Scottish on the outside and Māori on the inside. His soul is brown, his heart tartan. In a different season of his life, with his feet sown firmly in the dirt of Dunedin, Tom spent time on the Marae, on Waka Hourua and studying Mau Rākau, as he worked towards his Masters at Otago University and a profound understanding of Te Ao Māori. Our organisation would go on to enjoy the fruit of this chapter of his life. Here he listened, and then he taught us. When our rangatahi (youth) joined the ship, whānau (family) would bring them. Our pōwhiri (welcome) included the families and was an important step in the journey. Tom would lead our welcome.
Tom’s whakatau sent chills. His whaikorero called in the Gods. He spoke to the weather, he gathered the spirits to wrap around our special kaupapa (project). It hit you in the heart. His gaze would slowly turn to the heavens, so powerful it would make you feel porous. Quietly loud, if that’s possible. I could see his hands shaking, and mine would shake in solidarity, urging him forward with fellow feeling. His message acknowledged a journey, a transition from land to sea, from whanau to our care, from home to a new place, our waka. Both spiritual and practical, he established trust. Pure Whakawhanaungatanga.
I marvelled at the magic of witnessing someone step into themselves to do something challenging, slightly otherworldly, enchanted, elemental. Beforehand, he would find a quiet moment to muster his strength. He was harnessing courage, which was, after all, what we were asking of our rangatahi. Tom knew the best way to show them how to be brave was to be brave, and that ultimately, courage is contagious.
Every kōrero, Tom acknowledged his teachers, a nod to his kaiako (teachers). He confided in me that he felt a duty to use what he had been taught, embodying the words of the great philosopher, Spiderman: with great power comes great responsibility.
We closed our homemade welcome with our waiata. This song, sung our way, underlined Tom’s sentiment and brought us back to earth.
~
Te aroha
Te whakapono
Me te rangimārie
Tātou tātou e
~
Love
Faith
And peace
Be among us all
I watched Tom step back among our team, spent, relief, a deep breath or two. I knew this drained him and I was always in such awe and so grateful. The families would say their goodbyes to their rangatahi (youth), set the sails, and go to sea. Before every departure I would hug each of my crew closely and whisper the same thing in their ear each time: Call me if you need me.
In his gentle way Tom helped me to understand my Māoritanga. He unlocked a piece of my culture for me; he granted me permission to be Māori in my own way. Perhaps inviting me to step into myself a little more too: what a gracious gift.
When I said wanted to get a Waka Hourua for our rangatahi, Tom believed me, and he believed in me, and so we did, and it was magic. Tom often grabbed the reigns when I couldn’t get the words past the lump in my throat. He spoke for me on marae and when I lobbed up ideas he knocked them out of the park. All of this in the name of our young people: what a privilege.
Tom radiates what it’s like to be comfortable in your own skin. This man influenced with such subtle stealth I began to notice others in our team started to mimic him. Tom wields his sensitivity wisely. He is discerning and gracious with his special gifts, he does not brandish these without care and forethought. Where possible he steps back and lets others have the light. His quietness is true depth.
Tom’s heart is so bold that it will teach you not to judge a book. Oh …and his laugh, infectious, full body, foot shuffling! His softness does not mean he is timid; he has strength, conviction and smarts. Tom has kind eyes. He doesn’t make decisions lightly. He considers things carefully. Tom feels things hard.
Tom is deeply connected to the sea. With generosity in his spirit, he will ply you with good food, good hugs and kind words. He loves the same music as I do and I love him for that. He walks the world lightly with his partner Holly who is equally beautiful. Tom is fun and funny; he is all that is wholesome, calm, humble and gracious.
Tom is directed by an inner compass, a guiding presence that others instinctively follow, in Gaelic traditions this is called Treòir. Māori may call him a Rangatira, respected leader with a special ability to uplift people. I think Tom is a special type of leader, one with quiet influence, driven by his integrity and wisdom, altruistic in his actions and spirit-lead. Us Māori call this mana.