While many knew Len Bristowe as a fearless champion of Māoritanga, to his five children, he was a jokester who practised what he preached.
“He was the Dad that came home from work in the evenings and played the guitar and sang just while we’re waiting for dinner,” his only daughter, Ramari, said.
She was outnumbered by her brothers, Mita, Conan, Tom and Hughie, and when her dad took in foster children, “they were all sons as well”.
Two weeks have passed since Bristowe’s death, and his legacy is still being spoken of across all walks of life.
“Obviously, a lot of people didn’t realise he was battling cancer,” Ramari said.
“He kept that very private because he didn’t want it to take attention away from the job at hand.”
High-profile figures and everyday locals have described the Ngāti Hine kaumātua and respected broadcaster as a driving force for te reo and the wellbeing of Māori.
He tirelessly championed Māori culture and language through governance, community leadership, Ngāti Hine FM and television.
“All our lives, he’s always been heavily involved in our Māori communities,” Ramari said.
When Bristowe was out carving better paths for his people, his wife Luana held the fort at home.
But Ramari said they never missed out on their dad.
“He was such a big part of our everyday life.”
The whānau shared many phone calls, visits and meet-ups at Ōtāhuhu’s Vietnam Cafe, where Bristowe enjoyed Vietnamese chicken noodle soup.
“Before we went to Auckland to live, he would look at you sideways if you tried to serve him rice or noodles or anything like that, but it’s a favourite food of his.”
As kids, Bristowe would take his children on trips he called “everyday explorations” rather than holidays, Ramari said.
One trip was to Kerikeri, with the kids unaware of where they were going or why. They arrived at an orchard where Bristowe started picking fruit.
“Because we were young, we used to think, ‘oh Dad, you’re not allowed to eat that, you’re stealing’,” Ramari said.
She and her brother would fret that he’d get caught as he indulged in the fruit and the pūhā growing at the base of the trees.
“He’s munching away on them without a care in the world.”
Through laughter, Bristowe would ask his mortified children if they wanted some of the peaches or oranges.
“Later on, obviously, we realised that he was friends with these orchard owners. He knew them, and so he would just have us on ... he’s a real joker.”
Ramari’s childhood memories of her dad included him diving for seafood to deliver to elderly people in Pipiwai, Motatau, Matawaia and beyond.
“I remember dropping kaimoana off to all the nannies in really remote areas,” she said.
As Ramari grew older, the pair became closer.
“I was a bit of a sounding board for my dad and a bit of a confidante.”
The two shared similar values and understood how they could use their fortunes to help their communities.
Ramari runs a transport business with her husband, hiring many Māori school leavers to help them enter the workforce.
At the time of Bristowe’s death, he was proud of a project reintegrating Ngāwha Prison inmates into the community.
“I’m very much like my Dad in that I have the same understanding that people are people regardless of the titles that you carry and how much money you have in the bank,” Ramari said.
She believed people would be surprised that Bristowe chose to live simply, despite being financially secure.
“Our father lived like a peasant; anything of money value he shared with those who needed it.”
When asked what Bristowe would want his legacy to be, Ramari said he would want Māori to work together, not against each other.
“I can’t imagine life without him,” she said.
- NZ Herald
