I wrote last week reflecting on our time recently in Vietnam. I promise not to become one of those people who talk about nothing but their travels, but I’ve got to tell you about one of our absolute highlights. This was a visit to the Precious Heritage By Réhahn Gallery in Hoi An. 

We had seen photographs by this French chap at the Women’s Museum on Hà Nội and they were great, but visiting his home base offered so much more.

As part of his incredible photography of the people of Vietnam, he has spent years travelling to record each distinct cultural group (of which there were 54) and photograph them in their traditional costume. 

Some of these costumes were displayed in the museum alongside the relevant photographs. 

I’m sure this guy isn’t eating scraps as the results of his endeavours, but he did make sure we knew of the money going back to some of his subjects so good on him. 

He has done the people and history of his adopted homeland a huge service.

The most moving bit for me though was the written record, which told how some of these cultures are down to a few hundred people, with the young ones not interested in continuing the traditions. These unique cultures are literally dying before our eyes.

When I read of this, heard how some of the unique languages have already died out and viewed the last remaining pieces of traditional clothing; I found myself getting emotional. 

Imagine being amongst the last of these people as those few remaining that you can speak to in your native tongue pass on ahead of you. 

Think what it would be like to hear the language of your parents, grandparents and all those others that came before you only in your dreams. 

I also found myself a bit emotional on Wednesday afternoon this week. 

I had the privilege of being the link man at a showcase of local, mostly primary school talent. 

I was thinking back to the experience in Hoi An as I watched with joy so many of these tamariki singing in Te Reo as they performed Kapa Haka. 

But, they weren’t just singing it; they were living it. 

Māori kids, pakeha kids and many others with different backgrounds were in deep. 

They didn’t seem to be performing but expressing, expressing a big part of what it means to be a kid in Aotearoa New Zealand whether they were Māori or not.

I then attended the DHS Senior Prize-giving. 

Haka was given by fellow pupils to those who had achieved special distinction, especially but not exclusively Māori who had done so.

These haka were powerful, genuine, deeply moving and utterly, uniquely New Zealand.

When I was in Hoi An and looked at the remnants of dying cultures, I did think of our country today. 

There are those who presently seek to wind back the clock, remove the Treaty and get rid of all these confusing street signs. 

Those two situations ran through me as I left the Réhahn Gallery and gave me a sense of unease.

Wednesday dispelled my concerns.

After watching these Central Otago tamariki and rangatahi fully embracing our unique indigenous culture, I realised those trying to stop this part of the progress of our nation will fail in the long-run.

The generation of Aotearoans we share this time with will ensure that, and I am sure will look back one day in years to come and wonder what all the fuss was about.