Showing posts with label Brian Tamaki. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brian Tamaki. Show all posts

Friday, May 31, 2019

Hair today


I count myself a fortunate person because I have hair. I have a lot of hair. Many men my age, and younger, do not and it is not always for hereditary reasons. My father lost much of his hair and two of my sons continue to look distinguished despite losing much of theirs. A third son keeps all his hair.
Hair is a wonderful thing, though I am unsure of what useful service it performs. Obviously, it is a throwback to the day when we descended from hairy apes when I guess its purpose was warmth. These days it is aesthetic, but it is also a distinguishing factor, particularly among men. We are still largely a tribal society and if we examine men's hair styles closely, we can see that style distinguishes which tribe they belong to. Here are some examples:
Televangelists
Without a doubt and universally this tribe of parasites have the worse and most distinctive hairstyles of all. Think Benny Hinn, Jimmy Swaggart, Kenneth Copeland and Brian Tamaki. They invariably have an abundance of hair with not one follicle given the freedom of movement; their hair is always swept to the side or the back and is invariably dyed. Do they go to the same hairdresser? You can walk down the street and see that hair coming toward you and say, yes, that’s a televangelist…God help me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2af4gcS-b9Y
Rugby League Players
This tribe tries to out do each other in strange hairstyles. Many sport throwbacks to the 50s when short back and sides were de rigeur and hardly avoided. Others have strange cuts such as man-buns (Kieran Foran) or umbrellas (Kevin Proctor). Others such as Tohu Harris grow their hair long so they look like a Dothraki from Game of Thrones. What all rugby league players seem to have in common though is a complete inability to have a normal haircut like rugby players (Ma’a Nonu apart). They are however less boring.
Rock Stars
Who knows? They are all over the place these days. They don’t even call themselves rock stars any more; they call themselves “artists”. Right—Kanye West? There was a time when the rock star tribe was easily identified by the length of hair and moreover the differing length of hair showed which sub-tribe they belonged to: the longest denoting heavy metal. But these days? Who knows? Then again, who cares?
Donald Trump
Nothing more need be said.

I am growing my hair long. Not because I want to look like a rock star/artist. Not because I want to have the scope to turn it into a piece of art like the league players. And not because I want your money like a televangelist. No, I am doing it because I like it long, because it suits (hides) the shape of my face, and…most of all…because I can. I count myself a fortunate person.

Friday, April 9, 2010

You have to Hannah it to him


A friend of mine once remarked that there are no challenges in life, only opportunities. He is of course a sanctimonious shit. There are challenges in life. There are also problems, issues, contradictions and resilient aggrievements. They collectively add colour and weight to our lives, and in that context they are not opportunities they are enhancements.
Such it is with “bishop” Brian Tamaki.
What would I do without him?
The man is an asset. No one whom I can think of is riper for ridicule.
Unless now it is the editor of New Idea. Dear reader you cannot imagine the joy Fryday experiences at the opportunity to bring the two together in the form of the following article that appeared in the magazine and again on the Xtra website. Upon reading it, I found myself looking at “bishop” Tamaki in a new light and with, I have to say, like Hannah, an adoring gaze.
That was before I vomited.
Read on…

To many, Destiny Church leader Brian Tamaki is a money-hungry religious fanatic, robbing his spiritual faithful of their hard-earned cash under the pretence he's working for God. But to his wife Hannah, he's an angel.
This week the pair celebrates their 30th wedding anniversary – a testament to their unwavering love and united beliefs. They're convinced that by doing God's work they can weather any storm. For three months they've faced criticism about the controversial Destiny Church, but Hannah stands by Brian and the enterprise they created 12 years ago.
'I was going to make Brian successful in whatever he put his hand to do. [Creating Destiny Church] is the call of his life and I'm in partnership with him.'
Hannah, 49, gazes adoringly at Brian, 52, who she sees as a generous, kind man who works hard to provide for his family and keeps their relationship strong.
'He was my babysitter,' she says with a laugh, reaching to hold Brian's hand. 'We've known each other since we were 12 but started going out when we were 15.'
First dates were spent driving Brian's Zephyr Mark II through Tokoroa and going to the flicks. Hannah knew she'd always be by Brian's side. She was determined her adult life would be the polar opposite of her childhood.
Broken home
Hannah was raised by her father Basil, a rare situation during the 1960s. Her mother abandoned the family during Hannah's early school years.
'I saw my dad cut up with the way my mum treated him,' says Hannah, who has the title of pastor and manages the church's administration. 'When I made my promise to Brian, "Until death do we part," I meant it. I'm a person of my word – we both are.
'There are times where I'd storm off and be disappointed in Brian, but the reality is, when I examine my heart, I love him. He's my partner for life until we get to heaven.'
Their children, Jasmine, 31, Samuel, 27 and Jamie, 28 – all of whom are involved in the church – stroll into the couple's lavish home at Maraetai, East Auckland, giving Brian and Hannah a hug. As their 10 children run to snatch a cuddle from their grandparents, Hannah looks at Brian, her heart swells and she thanks the Lord.
But their relationship didn't start in the church.
'We had a cream wedding,' Hannah admits. 'We had our first child when we weren't Christians and lived together for a year and a half before we got married.'
At age 18, Hannah fell pregnant with Jasmine. Although Brian missed the birth – he fell asleep at the wheel after milking at his aunt and uncle's dairy farm and crashed his car into a power pole – he supported Hannah and three years later, after converting to Christianity, they married.
'Our conversion was very defining, especially for me,' Brian says. 'Up until that point I would have been a normal Kiwi. I was involved in rugby, pig hunting, I was into everything, being 20 and at the prime of life.'
Hannah and Brian were both raised as Methodists, but Brian's mother Margaret had a strong influence on his religious convictions. She dealt with the stigma of leaving her wealthy family to marry a Maori, who in turn wasn't interested in being a father to their three sons. Every Sunday she would walk her boys three kilometres to church.
'She looked down at these three half-breed brats who were misbehaving a lot,' Brian says. 'Her dedication would have a big mark on my ministry, particularly in the areas of keeping promises, doing the hard yards and resilience. All that started from my mum. She was very strong.'
In the '70s Margaret became a born-again Christian and soon his father converted. After Jasmine was born, Hannah was eager to re-explore her religious roots.
'We realised our lives came from dysfunction,' Hannah says. 'We came together because we love each other. Then God came into our life and sealed our love all the more. He gave us an understanding that we could make a difference.'
Brian adds, 'We weren't in abusive families but we saw it all around us – at the rugby clubs, certain sides of the family with gang affiliations, guys I worked with. When I saw the results of that on some of my cousins from my generation on both sides of my family, there were things that were never dealt with. The succeeding generation had to deal with what was left on the table.
'We were determined to change and make a better future for our kids and our grandchildren. And that came from the Bible. God says from generation to generation the Lord blesses you and that your children will do better.'
But Brian and Hannah have been accused of misinterpreting the Gospel by former parishioners, who say the couple are running
a 'money-making cult' under the guise of God's word. Earlier this month 20 members of the Destiny Church's Brisbane congregation walked out.
They disagreed with the church covenant where members were encouraged to buy a $300 signet ring, stop buying coffee and give up Sky TV so they could develop Destiny School.
Hannah might be forgiven for feeling upset by these claims, but instead she says they've made them more convinced than ever they are on the right track.
'I'm not going to be ashamed of working hard and getting somewhere,' she says defiantly. 'Millions of dollars haven't gone missing from the church.'
Money matters
Brian and Hannah say their assets have come from 'hard work, clean living' and building up a 'nest egg' established before the church. Brian says his $500,000 boat has been upgraded over the years after he bought his first vessel 15 years ago. Their $1.5 million home, with expansive sea views and a pool, is a result of buying their first house in their early 20s following an inheritance from Hannah's father.
They deny their annual joint salary is $1.1 million, and Brian says he's never received $12,000 for a speaker fee. They won't say what they do earn, except to confirm their total annual income is 'under $500,000', including all offerings and koha.
'It's not anyone's business,' Brian says, scoffing at reports that he receives personal tithes from his pastors or expects gifts. However, he explains that koha or presents are 'not uncommon amongst Maori and Pacific people [the cultural background of many of his worshipers]'.
'Destiny has a wonderful culture of giving amongst members and, on occasions, towards me,' Brian says.
They say their salary is from running Destiny's 10 churches and Destiny School, providing oversight for pastoral care and working on sermons for TV broadcasts and church services.
'We're really fortunate if we spend four nights in our own bed a week,' Hannah says.
Brian adds, 'It's CEO status, because of the expanse of ministries. A lot of preachers of this size [church] will come in and go and not touch the general core of the people. I'll walk slowly through the crowd after service.'
In the face of such strong adversity, the pair turns to each other for unconditional love and support. They relish their private time with children and friends, who often dine in their home.
And although the church focuses on traditional patriarchal Christian values, the Tamakis' marriage is like any modern-day family. Both work full-time and share chores, including cooking. They live with their granddaughter Eden, who they whangaied [Maori for fostering or adopting] two years ago; Jade, a Christchurch pastor's daughter who attends Destiny School; and their two Pomeranian dogs, Mercedes and Lulu.
Hannah frequently returns home around 7pm. 'I do the housework late in the night and early in the morning, but if Brian gets home from the gym, he'll always put a load of washing on and chuck it in the dryer. But he'll never make the bed,' she adds with a laugh.
Nights are spent studying the Bible or watching TV. Brian enjoys documentaries on the National Geographic and Documentary Channels.
There's one rule when they head to bed. 'When we get to the bedroom door, all business is off. There's no church talk,' Brian says. 'That's how we tune out.'
Hannah adds, 'We'll pray together, read our Bibles, but we don't talk business because we're together 24/7. We're both really passionate about what we do, so it's hard sometimes.'
Long, happy marriages take work, and the Tamakis believe the success of their union is not only because they've stuck to their vows, but also because they work hard to keep the romance alive.
'After the last time I went away Brian lit candles. Then the [grand]children came so that was the end of that,' Hannah says, laughing.
Brian will often surprise her with her favourite red roses and they try to get time alone.
'We make sure our marriage is kept enriched by trying to slip a night away during the week,' Brian reveals.
For their 25th anniversary the couple splashed out on a trip on the luxury cruise ship Queen Mary II but their 30th will be low key. They've planned a getaway to the Coromandel followed by a few days with new Brisbane church pastors, Phil and Patty Kingi.
'We haven't set any goals for this one,' Hannah says.
'Thirty years together is a milestone and to think all your children have grown up, now we have our grandchildren, it's fantastic.'
Judgment Day – The Church
Twelve years ago the couple moved to Auckland, and with 20 members from Lake City Church Rotorua, launched Destiny Church based
on a Pentecostal worship style.
Conservative with a literalist interpretation of Biblical teachings, worshipers focus on traditional family values and believe same-sex marriage is not Biblically sanctioned. Those who drink, smoke, gamble, use pornography or have premarital sex 'would be helped to heal'.
Members are encouraged to tithe 10 per cent of their earnings, and give 'offerings' above that. The church has a strong multicultural following with many Maori and Pacific Islanders. Men swear allegiance to Brian under a 'covenant', which he says seeks to build Destiny's vision.
'The way I preach the word of God has an appeal to people that say, "I can sense where he comes from." If they're coming from a life of crime, drugs, broken homes, gangs – which a lot have – you know why they've come. They see our marriage, my children and our 10 grandchildren all in the same church, that we live our lives well. It's not excessive.'
The church adheres to prosperity theologies and the Tamakis believe God has provided their wealth.
'Why would you want to be part of a church where you think it's going to take you back and you're going to lose? What I see [around me] is a blessing from God,' Brian explains. 'I want people to know we don't have to hide from the world that clean living is going to have these results.'
From the initial 20 who joined in 1998, this number has grown to 6000 here and in Australia. Almost 200 children of parishioners attend Auckland-based Destiny School, which caters for pre-schoolers through to high school. There are 400 on the waiting list. Primary school students pay $55 a week and high-school students pay $120.
'In five years we'll have 1400 church members in the school. That's how fast it's growing,' Brian says.
Growing the school is their passion and they say the institution focuses equally on academia and character building.
'We want our students to be educated the best they can academically but we also have a character curriculum so they learn how to respect people and one another,' Hannah explains. 'They learn about truth, entrepreneurial skills, money and the importance
of a good work ethic.'

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Now playing: Tony Joe White - Always The Song
via FoxyTunes

Friday, December 18, 2009

Shut the Closet

Salivating at the prospect of Christmas and the attendant break, are you? I am. It has been a harsh year for many, me included, what with the economy, employment uncertainty and the return of the Backstreet Boys. In addition I have this year played a tutu-wearing fairy, a gay hairdresser and, most recently, a character whose propensity is to get into another man’s trousers. I have also with my wife bought a new house, which is good in most respects but does add to my already over-burdened vocabulary the phrase “household chores” and commits me to a life in servitude to the National Bank. I have written little of significance in 2009 and with the departure of George W. Bush and Helen Clark, Fryday has struggled. Thank God for Brian Tamaki, though God has little to do with Tamaki. On the positive side I have bought that house, my resilient wife still tolerates me, Lagavuhlin still distils and imminent puppies insist. Life after all is good and destined to get better.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Naked Opaque


You have no doubt heard someone described as having penetrating eyes. It seems a favourite phrase of trash novels and women’s magazines. I am yet to meet anyone with truly penetrating eyes. The closest is Helen Clark, whose eyes are so cold they have the penetrative effect of ice cream on sensitive teeth. But that’s not quite the same as the novelists’ declaratory intent. Some people are also, we are told, gifted with the ability to see right through us. We are on more sure ground here—I for one am easy to see through I am told. Anyone can do it, which makes it particularly difficult for me in my profession as a spin-doctor and is probably why I may occasionally go a little over the top on the enigmatic bit; which is all a facade—you see through that, don’t you? But there are some among us who are less penetrating than grating and the reason is: they are so superficial as to be transparent. One such is Rodney Hide—naked ambition without the brains to pull it off. Another is Hone Harawira—on the make and out for the take. “Bishop” Brian Tamaki is an obvious example and no amount of protestations to the contrary will convince me that he is anything but a two-bit opportunist. His henchman, Richard Lewis, is worse but somehow more honest in his deviousness. And it is that honesty that can, somewhat paradoxically, make someone more opaque. Take John Key—I think Mr Key is basically honest (still) so it is hard to work out why he is doing the job he is now doing and what his ambitions are. George W. Bush is another. Bush, despite all that was written about him, is basically honest—he doesn’t have the skill or the intellect to be anything but. The more we saw through him, the more we were forced to ask what the f**k is he all about? You get the point? Naked opaque. Perhaps it is the profession I am in but the honest among us make me uncomfortable. Go away.

A Life in the Shadows

  I like to live in the shadows; I never like to be the centre of attention. If there’s a spotlight, I’m the one checking where the nearest ...