MONDAY
“Crybaby,” I said to the barista.
Things had got off to a bad start as soon I entered the cafe.
“Kia ora,” I said.
“What can I get you?”
The secret diary of Green MP Elizabeth Kerekere - Steve Braunias
Subscribe to listen
Access to Herald Premium articles require a Premium subscription. Subscribe now to listen.
Already a subscriber? Sign in here
Listening to articles is free for open-access content—explore other articles or learn more about text-to-speech.
Elizabeth Kerekere in her wonderful purple robes.
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
I snorted derisively. What I want is not what I get. That’s the way it works in the Green Party. I did them a great favour when I was elected to Parliament as a list MP in October 2020. I gave them something they were seriously lacking: mana.
“What can I get you?”
When I was appointed the party’s Deputy Musterer, or Whip, it was on the understanding that I would knock some sense into the party, tell it in no uncertain terms how to shape up, and generally make them feel miserable about themselves.
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
“Excuse me? Would you like a coffee?”
I would like respect. That’s all. Respect for my position as whip, respect for my active role as the Greens spokesperson for portfolios including health, heritage, and rainbow communities, and respect for the wonderful purple robes that I wear as a symbol of my seriousness.
The barista took a step sideways, looked at the person in line behind me, and said, “I can take your order. What can I get for you?”
I took a step closer and said to the barista, “Racist.”
“What?”
" You ignored me. You looked right past me as if I weren’t there. That’s racist.”
She looked like she was going to burst into tears. Well, that’s when I had to tell her what she has in common with Chloe Swarbrick.
TUESDAY
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
“Racist,” I said to James Shaw from a great height. He was sitting down and I was standing up. That tells you everything you need to know about the abuse of power in the Green Party.
“Elizabeth, please,” he said.
“Crybaby,” I told him.
His co-leader, Marama Davidson, walked in. You’d think she would understand my position as a politician of colour and do everything in her power to support me in my mission to bring harmony to the Greens by taking away their will to live.
She said, “Is there a problem?”
Shaw said, “Elizabeth is unhappy that I’ve said I’m too busy to go get her something.”
Marama said to me, “What would you like, Elizabeth?”
I said, “Coffee. I want him to get me coffee at the cafe downstairs. I don’t like it in there. They don’t make me feel welcome.”
She looked at me for a few seconds, then turned and left the room without saying a word.
WEDNESDAY
I still can’t believe Marama didn’t leave yesterday to get me a coffee. I waited in their office for hours.
THURSDAY
All day long I watched from a great height as Green staffers scurried here and there. They looked so puny, like ants. They huddled in corners and whispered, saying this bad thing about me and that bad thing about me, avoiding me in the corridors, avoiding me in the elevators, and avoiding me when I stood on their desks, which not only gave me a height advantage but was a statement that I am working to Green kaupapa.
“That’s not Green kaupapa,” one of them finally piped up.
“It is,” I said, “if I say it is.”
They had no answer to that.
FRIDAY
TGIF. So good to get away from Parliament. It’s not the real world. People in there get bent out of shape and they exaggerate things to suit their agenda and they hate it when someone wants to rock the boat.
They don’t get it.
They just don’t get it.
