Copyright is owned by the Author of the thesis. Permission is given for a copy to be downloaded by an individual for the purpose of research and private study only. The thesis may not be reproduced elsewhere without the permission of the Author. Kanohi ki te Kanohi A Journey towards Repatriation A thesis presented in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Philosophy in Māori Studies at Massey University, Palmerston North, New Zealand. Brenda Tipene-Hook 2011 ii Abstract This thesis explores and examines Ngāti Hine perspectives with respect to taonga. Whilst past research has tended to focus on how museums have responded to international and domestic pressure in terms of their recognition of indigenous rights and cultural awareness, in contrast, the Ngāti Hine experience and the Ngāti Hine response is emphasised. With particular regard to the Ngāti Hine taonga tapu currently housed at the Auckland Museum, this thesis examines hapū-museum relationships from the perspective of Ngāti Hine and investigates and analyses the degree and quality of hapu-museum interaction. An account of the journey, thus far, that Ngāti Hine have made in terms of repatriating their taonga tapu back to within their tribal boundaries and jurisdiction is given. The Ngāti Hine experience is central to the research findings and shows how this journey continues to shape the current perspectives of Ngāti Hine in terms of their response to, and their relationship with, museums. The research consulted with participants drawn from within Ngāti Hine. Research methodology included one-to-one interviews, a focus group discussion, and a review of relevant literature. Appropriate and relevant methodologies for Māori-centred research, and in particular, Action Research methodology, were employed. Due to the nature of the research and the researcher’s personal cultural views and convictions, the Māori research participants were limited to those of Ngāti Hine descent who are known personally to the author. In addition, all interviews, consents, and dissemination of information complied with legislation regarding privacy and included any additional restrictions, or freedoms, stipulated by the participants. The expected timeframe was from November 2004 to January 2006 but was extended to August 2010. Whilst the research data has not been affected, some updates to the research have been made. Envisaged outcomes include the opportunity for Ngāti Hine to share their perspective in an area where they are infrequently consulted and to share their journey through the repatriation process. It is also hoped that this thesis will provide a better understanding of the hapū-museum dynamic and therefore assist in improving iwi/hapū-museum relationships. iii Acknowledgements Ka rere arorangi taku wairua ma runga Tuhoronuku Ka titiro iho ki ngā taumata tapu e rua, ko Motatau, ko Maroti Kei raro, ko te awa a Taikirau, e komirimiri ana i te riu o Motatau Ka huri whakararo ki te tai tapu o Hokianga whakapau karakia I reira, ka tau ki uta ko te waka tapu, ko Ngātokimatawhaorua Ka huri whakarunga ki te rohe o Motatau Ko Hine-ā-maru te tupuna Ko Ngāti Hine te hapū Ko Ngāti Te Tarawa te hono Ko Motatau te marae Ko Manukoroki te wharetūpuna Ko Mihiwira te wharekai Ko Brenda Tipene-Hook ahau Tīhe mauri ora… Ki a koutou o te mauri mate, takoto rā Ki a koutou o te kanohi ora, e mihi ana ahau ki ō koutou mauri Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tatou katoa. This research project has not been an easy one. My two precious taonga mokopuna, Ahuaiti and Waekamānia, arrived at the very beginning of my research, and as the ‘suddenly’ nominated primary care-giver, I was about to find out that toddlers and writing are not the best of friends. I did, however, appreciate the fact that Ahuaiti was enjoying a healthy exposure to taonga at a very impressionable age. One image that will stay with me forever is that of Ahuaiti sitting on the lap of Naida Glavish at the foot of our waka tūpāpaku, which had been removed from display and laid out before Ngāti Hine, during our protest at Auckland Museum. For that moment in time, all of the threads of this thesis were there – our taonga tūpuna lay serenely on the stage; our kaumātua were waving their tokotoko at museum officials; the chairman of our rūnanga/political arm, Tohe Ashby was present; Naida, our Ngāti Hine/Ngāti Whātua kai karanga and descendant of Mate Kairangatira, Kawiti’s historical gift to Ngāti Whātua, sat beside our waka tūpāpaku; the museum staff who had cared for our taonga were there; my whānau and university supporters were there; and in iv the middle of it all, oblivious to the haka, the whaikōrero, and the response from the museum, was the past and the future of Ngāti Hine, Ahuaiti. With all difficulties put to one side, I would like to acknowledge Massey University, and my supervisors, the long suffering, Dr. David Butts, Professor Robert Jahnke and Dr. Huia Jahnke. I would also like to acknowledge the Massey University Albany Library staff and Human Ethics Committee for their support and understanding of bi-cultural research. My gratitude to Massey University for the Masterate Scholarship for Māori Students, and to the Māori Education Trust for the 2003 Ngārimu VC & 28th (Māori) Battalion Memorial Undergraduate Scholarship and the 2004 Ngārimu VC & 28th (Māori) Battalion Memorial Post-graduate Scholarship, is acknowledged. Many people gave me help and encouragement along the way, but special thanks must go to Kura Puke, Mike and Anhela Barnes, Dr. Virginia Warriner, Marlene Ngāpo, Aroha Heremaia, Whāwhai Taki, and in the closing stages, Felicity Ware. When things were not going as smoothly as I would have liked, these were the university colleagues and friends who said, “You can do this!” To Rewi Spraggon, thank you e hoa, this could not have happened without your wairua and your kaha. I have always been warned not to single out individuals because of the risk of missing someone out, but as I am not known for listening to what I have been told – I am indebted to my Ngāti Hine kaumātua advisors, Kevin Prime MBE, Māori Language Commissioner Erima Henare, Himi Mokena Tipene, and Tohe Ashby. I would also like to thank Te Roopu Kaumātua me ngā Kuia o Ngātihine i raro i Te Tiriti o Waitangi and Te Rūnanga o Ngātihine, who both mandated this thesis and this project. In addition, a number of kaumātua and kuia have now passed on and I chose to complete this thesis in recognition of their collective efforts. v I am also deeply grateful to my research participants, and their respective whānau, for so generously sharing their perspectives and their knowledge. To Ngāti Hine, I acknowledge that this thesis is only a small part of our journey. There is much work yet to be done in terms of repatriation, but thank you for the learning curve. This has been a monumental journey for me, and for my immediate whānau. I am aware that there are many more perspectives and kōrero out there, but at the very least, this thesis will allow some of our kōrero to be heard. To my sisters Susan Tipene and Neri Short, who have yet to say no when I need help with technical demons, and my cousin, Anita Jones, for her constant mockery/encouragement, thank you so much. To my daughter Dana, her children Ahuaiti and Waekamānia, my son Damon, his wife Kylie, and my third mokopuna due at the end of this year, you are my taonga tūturu, and the reason for my being. Finally, I dedicate this thesis to the return of our taonga tapu to their resting places within the cradle of Ngāti Hine. vi Table of Contents Abstract ....................................................................................................................... ii Acknowledgements ................................................................................................... iii Table of Contents ...................................................................................................... vi Chapter One: Introduction ......................................................................................... 1 Te Tīmatanga ............................................................................................................ 1 Te Whāriki ................................................................................................................. 3 Te Tinana .................................................................................................................. 4 Te Mutunga ............................................................................................................... 5 Chapter Two: Iwi/Hapū ............................................................................................... 7 Ngāpuhi ..................................................................................................................... 7 Ngāti Hine-ā-Maru ................................................................................................... 12 Te Rohe Whenua o Ngāti Hine ............................................................................ 17 Political Context ................................................................................................... 20 Te Tiriti o Waitangi............................................................................................ 20 Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine ................................................................................. 21 Chapter Three: The Nature of Taonga ..................................................................... 23 Taonga and Repatriation ......................................................................................... 23 International/Indigenous Context ......................................................................... 23 Conventions, Declarations, and Legislation ......................................................... 24 Māori-Museum Relationships............................................................................... 25 Ngāti Hine-Museum Relationship ......................................................................... 30 Taonga: A Definition ................................................................................................ 31 Objects, Artefacts and Treasure .......................................................................... 31 Taonga ................................................................................................................ 32 Taonga Māori ...................................................................................................... 33 Taonga Tapu ....................................................................................................... 37 Chapter Four: Methodology ..................................................................................... 39 Interviews and participants ...................................................................................... 39 Kaupapa Māori Research ........................................................................................ 41 Action Research ...................................................................................................... 42 Focus Group Methodology ...................................................................................... 43 Korero .................................................................................................................. 46 Chapter Five: Kōrero mo ngā waka tūpāpaku ........................................................ 47 Conclusion .............................................................................................................. 50 vii Chapter Six: Te Haerenga Motuhake ....................................................................... 51 Introduction ............................................................................................................. 51 Te Roopu Kaumātua Hui ......................................................................................... 51 Dissension and human nature ................................................................................. 52 Correspondence ...................................................................................................... 53 Protest ..................................................................................................................... 55 Bad Press ............................................................................................................... 57 Museum research ................................................................................................... 58 Where to from here? ............................................................................................... 59 Chapter Seven: Ngā kōrero o Ngāti Hine ................................................................ 60 Introduction ............................................................................................................. 60 Tohe Ashby ............................................................................................................. 60 Kōrero .................................................................................................................. 61 Kene Hine Te Uira Martin ........................................................................................ 68 Kōrero .................................................................................................................. 69 Taipari Munro .......................................................................................................... 81 Kōrero .................................................................................................................. 81 Jim Tipene .............................................................................................................. 89 Kōrero .................................................................................................................. 90 Dana Tipene-Hook .................................................................................................. 93 Kōrero .................................................................................................................. 93 Summary ................................................................................................................. 94 Chapter Eight: Conclusion ....................................................................................... 96 Te Mutunga ............................................................................................................. 96 References ................................................................................................................ 98 Glossary .................................................................................................................. 104 Appendices: ............................................................................................................ 107 Appendix 1: Correspondence between Ngāti Hine and the Auckland War Memorial Museum (in order by date sent). ............................................................................ 107 April 9, 2005: Draft letter to AWMM from NH submitted to Kuia/Kaumātua ........ 107 July 31, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH ............................................................ 109 October 10, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH ..................................................... 111 Letter to AWMM from NH dated November 21, 2005 ......................................... 111 November 21, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH .................................................. 112 List of signatories (included with letter dated November 21, 2005) .................... 113 November 28, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH .................................................. 114 January 19, 2006: Letter from AWMM to NH ..................................................... 115 viii February 8, 2006: Letter from Te Rūnanga ō NH to AWMM .............................. 116 Appendix 2: Letter of Protest ................................................................................. 117 Appendix 3: Media Release from Auckland Museum ............................................. 118 Appendix 4: 1929 Correspondence ....................................................................... 120 October 25, 1929: Letter from Ngati Hine to Auckland Museum ......................... 120 October 12, 1929: Letter from Ngati Hine to Auckland Museum ......................... 121 Translation of October 12, 1929 letter ................................................................ 123 Appendix 5: Ngāti Hine Collection ......................................................................... 124 Bibliography ............................................................................................................ 126 1 Chapter One: Introduction Te Tīmatanga In 2003, I was a science undergraduate in my last year of study for my degree in Health Science, majoring in Māori Health. I was picking up my daughter, who was a doctor at Auckland Hospital, but I was early, and therefore, had a couple of hours to kill. I had actually planned to go to the casino, but ‘something’ made me drive the short distance to the Auckland Museum instead. That was where and when this research journey began. Inexplicably compelled to visit the Auckland War Memorial Museum, I was drawn to a dark corner of the newly revamped Māori collection display area I slipped behind a screen and came face-to-face with the burial chests of my tūpuna. They were arrayed before me, in glass cases. At that stage I still had no idea of the origin of these exquisite taonga but I was swiftly coming to the realisation that they were probably closely connected to me in some way. That assumption was to prove painfully accurate. Before my conscious mind realised what it had encountered, my wairua had already reacted. I stood before my ancestors and I wept. This was not a silent weeping; it was instead a very loud and mournful wail. Disconcerted by my newfound ability to produce such a sound and self-conscious at my inability to make it stop, I fled the museum. However, it has not been as easy to escape the grief, anger, frustration, and sense of helplessness that this traumatic incident has left me with. I also cannot help but feel shame and guilt at not being able to fulfil my responsibilities and obligations, as a member of Ngāti Hine, to ensure that the contents of our burial caves are protected, repatriated, and no longer allowed to be publicly displayed by the Auckland Museum. Although deeply distressing, this incident clearly defined and demonstrated exactly what effect such taonga can have on the descendants of those who once rested within their embrace, and in doing so, laid the basis for this research. Along with the shame and guilt I experienced that day, there was real anger that bordered on rage and a sense of frustration and helplessness that has remained with me since. It turned out that those waka tūpāpaku came from burial caves less than fifteen kilometres from where I was born and raised. Without question, they would have contained the kōiwi of my tupuna. By way of comparison it would be equivalent to having a Māori dig up a Pākehā ancestor, discard her remains, and put her coffin up on the wall of a cultural centre in the Bay of Islands. Imagine the outrage. I wanted to smash those glass cases, and 2 take my tūpuna home allowing them to enrich our existence, our history, and our whenua, from deep within the limestone caves that once protected them. They were never meant to be seen by the living, and I just wanted to apologise to my tūpuna for ever allowing this abuse and humiliation to occur. Instead, I was forced to stand helplessly before them in my shame and guilt, separated from my ‘bones’ by a piece of sterile glass in a setting that was culturally offensive. After that first encounter with our waka tūpāpaku I believe that they had already begun to manipulate the journey that Ngāti Hine would now embark upon. Perhaps, on reflection, I believe my own journey actually began when I was a small child. I had dreamed about waka tūpāpaku long before I even knew what they were. In fact, a life-long recurring dream involved one of the actual waka tūpāpaku on display at the Museum (which I had knick-named the ‘nasty Humpty Dumpty’) and that imagery exploded back into my psyche when I looked into those display cases – there he was, smiling right back at me. Talk about taonga being able to collapse time! Many questions arose as a result of this first encounter with waka tūpāpaku, questions that centred on issues of cultural sensitivity and cultural awareness. I wanted to know why Auckland Museum had chosen to publicly display these particular waka tūpāpaku and whether such a decision was an appropriate one considering the impact it may have on current and future iwi-museum relationships. Furthermore, how was this cultural affront able to continue in light of the pressure being exerted on museums from international human rights groups, international indigenous groups, and tāngata whenua, to ensure that museums are respectful and proactive in the area of indigenous people’s rights? I wanted to explore, the complex and differing cultural definitions of taonga and the implications that arise as a consequence; the historical context within which museums have obtained and managed taonga Māori; how museums in Aotearoa currently operate in regard to ownership, provenance, issues of authority over taonga Māori, iwi participation, consultation, and the management of taonga; and the implications of museum governance particularly in regard to the public display of waka tūpāpaku at Auckland Museum. Originally, the thesis question was aimed at addressing the iwi-museum dynamic and explore whether or not the museum was cognizant of the risks and ramifications of having such taonga tapu on display, and if so, whether they even cared. When Ngāti Hine, en masse, found out that their taonga were on display, and began to be involved in the research, that question instantly became irrelevant and almost insulting. Ngāti Hine was not curious about the reasons behind Auckland Museum’s decision to display our taonga tapu. 3 We were angry, and we wanted to do something about it. From that point on, the thesis question shifted attention from a museum response to a Ngāti Hine response and our strategy, and our perspectives. The thesis now aims to explore and examine the Ngāti Hine experience of the process of repatriation. The thesis question asks what outcomes can be derived from the Ngāti Hine experience of this process. Te Whāriki All artefacts are situated within a context of international, indigenous, social, institutional, cultural, and spiritual factors. Any number of these factors can have an effect on the preservation, protection, and ‘ownership’ status of taonga. Speaking purely from an indigenous position, the wellbeing of a specific taonga, and its descendant community, is critically dependant on where that taonga is physically and/or spiritually located. The contextual background of this research is explored in Chapters One, Two and Three. Chapter One focuses on my first encounter with my tribal taonga tapu at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. The disclosure of this experience will explain the motivation behind this research and examine the questions that arose as a result. It will then outline the structure of the thesis and how it is comprised of the four distinct sections, Te Tīmatanga (Beginning), Te Whāriki (Background), Te Tinana (Body), and Te Mutunga (Conclusion). Chapter Two examines the historical background of Ngāti Hine. It outlines the whakapapa (genealogy), history, and geographical boundaries of Ngāpuhi iwi before introducing the ancestress Hineāmaru and the circumstances surrounding the emergence of the Ngāti Hine hapū. Primary whakapapa links will be discussed along with rohe whenua and rohe tāngata boundaries. Ngāti Hine marae will be listed and geographical landmarks will be described. The chapter will conclude with an overview of both the past and present political realities that govern Ngāti Hine affairs at internal (hapū), tribal (iwi), and external levels. Chapter Three comprises three sections. The first section, ‘Taonga and Repatriation’, will discuss the international context in which indigenous peoples and museums navigate the process of repatriation, and the conventions, declarations, and legislation that impact on cultural heritage property; an overview of the Māori-Museum relationship; and an overview of the Ngāti Hine-Museum relationship. The second section, ‘Taonga: A Definition’ will attempt to provide a definition for taonga in terms of movable cultural heritage property. Made up of 4 four parts, this section will briefly introduce Euro-centric notions of taonga; provide a general definition of taonga; explore the Māori definition of taonga by examining concepts such as tapu, wairua, mauri, kōrero, and by exploring the various roles that taonga play in the lives of iwi, hapū, and whānau; and concludes with a focus on taonga tapu and how these taonga are viewed and managed using a different set of cultural considerations. Te Tinana The main body of the thesis is in the form of a narrative of the research journey which is told in the first person. It will consist of four chapters. Chapter Four explains why the methodology employed in this research was used. An introduction to the methodology utilized in undertaking interviews and choosing participants will be given before outlining the principles of Kaupapa Māori Research and Action Research. In conclusion, an explanation of the Focus Group methodology will be provided along with an outline of the korero attached to that hui. Chapter Five outlines the focus group hui (meeting), where Ngāti Hine kaumātua discussed their perspectives on taonga, the event that motivated this research, and the strategy they put in place in response to that event. The chapter will provide a detailed account of the korero and its outcomes. Outcomes included a strategy aimed to ensure the repatriation of our waka tūpāpaku; the creation of a Ngāti Hine taonga policy; the possible return of other Ngāti Hine taonga; the establishment of a Ngāti Hine whare taonga; and the need for further hui and discussion at the Ngāti Hine Roopu Kaumātua/Kuia forum in order to seek a wider Ngāti Hine mandate. Chapter Six will outline the Ngāti Hine journey (thus far) through the process of the repatriation of our taonga tapu. That process was initiated by the kaumātua who attended the focus group hui at Motatau Marae. Māori tend to disseminate kōrero in the form of narratives. This enables the reader to see the ‘bigger picture’ as it unfolds, and to pick up on the nuances and connections within the narrative. Therefore this chapter will include the events following the first Ngāti Hine hui to address the display of our waka tūpāpaku; the discussions related to our seeking a mandate to follow through with the strategy put in place at the focus group hui; the dissension that occurred; correspondence between Ngāti Hine and the Auckland Museum; the protest held at the Auckland Museum and its outcomes; and the post-protest research conducted at the Museum. Some of the research material related to this process has been edited for reasons of sensitivity and tribal privacy 5 Chapter Seven will give a detailed account of each of the five interviews as they happened. That will be followed by a summary of the findings. This narrative will unfold against the backdrop of both Ngāti Hine and whānau politics and will include the challenges as well as the positive outcomes I and my fellow research participants experienced. The interviews will be recounted as they occurred. A summary follows detailing the outcomes of these interviews. Te Mutunga This last section comprises Chapter Eight that will summarize the research findings, reflect on Ngāti Hine’s experience, and discuss our aspirations, with regard to taonga of Ngāti Hine origin. It considers the collected perspectives of Ngāti Hine in regard to taonga, and, from a position where the emphasis is placed on the Ngāti Hine experience and the Ngāti Hine response to those who currently care for our tribal taonga, it offers an insight into the complexities associated with taonga and repatriation. This insight and analysis will offer assistance to other individuals, whānau, hapū, or iwi who may be pursuing the repatriation of their taonga. This thesis will also offer a means by which the iwi-museum relationship can be enhanced by allowing Ngāti Hine to share their perspective with the museum. Envisaged outcomes for both the museum and Ngāti Hine include a better understanding of the iwi- museum dynamic; improved iwi-museum relationships; improved policy development and implementation; increased cultural awareness and respect; enhanced management, protection, preservation, and repatriation of taonga Māori; and the opportunity to acknowledge and give effect to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. For Ngāti Hine, individual and tribal benefits also include the opportunity to; enhance and extend tribal knowledge regarding Ngāti Hine taonga and museum practice; promote the understanding of tāngata whenua obligations and responsibilities regarding kaitiakitanga (guardianship) and tino rangatiratanga (sovereignty); and protection from any further emotional trauma resulting from the discovery of waka tūpāpaku on display at the Auckland Museum. The researcher will benefit from the opportunity to address the grief, anger, frustration, helplessness, shame, and guilt associated with the incident that initiated this study. 6 The most important outcome of this research is that it has allowed Ngāti Hine the opportunity to share their perspective in an area where they are, too often, infrequently consulted. 7 Chapter Two: Iwi/Hapū Just as pepeha (genealogical maps) position individuals in time and space, this chapter provides an introduction to Ngāti Hine as a people. It will outline the historic, geographic, and political landscapes that have informed Ngāti Hine perspectives of taonga and shaped our relationships with these extraordinarily powerful and transformative artefacts. Ngāpuhi Nuku Tawhiti | Ngaru-nui | Ngaru-roa | Ngaru-paewhenua | Hikuiti | Tauraiherea | Taura-i-te-po | Tauramoko = Te Hauangiangi | Rāhiri (na Tā Himi Henare) According to Ngāti Hine traditions, Nukutawhiti was gifted Ngātokimatawhaorua, the waka (canoe), by his grandfather Kupe who was said to have left Aotearoa and sailed back to Hawaiiki from Te Hokianga-nui-ā-Kupe (later shortened to Hokianga) onboard his waka Matawhaorua. A few years after the old sea-farer and navigator had returned to Hawaiiki, he allowed Matawhaorua to be remodelled, strengthened, and renamed, Ngātokimatawhaorua. Following his grandfather’s directions, Nukutawhiti successfully navigated his way to Aotearoa (Keene, 1992, pp. 51-55; Evans, 1997, pp. 94-100). Opinions vary, but whether he arrived in the Hokianga harbour aboard Mamari, as recorded in the 1885 manuscripts of 8 Hone Mohi Tawhai (Te Māhurehure of Waima) and the 1849 writings of Aperahama Taonui (Te Popoto of Hokianga) as cited in The Pūriri Trees are Laughing: A political history of Ngā Puhi in the inland Bay of Islands (Sissons, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, pp. 51-54) or whether he arrived aboard Ngātokimatawhaorua (Livingstone, 2002, p.6; Evans, 1997, pp. 104-106; Henare, private whakapapa). However, narrative traditions agree that the arrival of Nukutawhiti would eventually lead to the dominance by Ngāpuhi of the northern region of Aotearoa. A few generations after the arrival of Ngātokimatawhaorua, Rāhiri, a descendant of Nukutawhiti, and father of Uenuku and Kaharau, emerged. He is now recognised as the founding ancestor of Ngāpuhi and a frequently used whakataukī (proverb) alludes to the proliferation of his descendants: ‘Mena ehara koe i te whakaheke o Rāhiri, he hoiho koe’ (If you cannot trace your [Ngāpuhi] genealogy back to Rāhiri, then you must be a horse) Whilst Rāhiri remains the unchallenged founding ancestor of Ngāpuhi, there is more than one version of the naming of the tribe. The Ngāpuhi Rūnanga website suggests that an event played out in Hawaiiki, approximately twenty generations before Kupe arrived in Aotearoa, is at the core of the naming of Ngāpuhi. Tau, (http://www.ngapuhi.iwi.nz/index.php ?option=com_content&view=article&id=18&Itemid=39, 2007, para. 2-6) recites the story of Kareroariki, a pregnant chieftainess who demanded, and was given, the heart of a sacrificed, highborn female, to eat. The three names that arose from this event and the subsequent birth of Kareroariki’s child are Puhikaiariki, Puhimoanariki and Puhitaniwharau. Together they “collectively give rise to the plural, ngā, or many-Ngāpuhi” (http://www.ngapuhi .iwi.nz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=18&Ite mid=39, 2007, para. 6). Although Tau admits that it is unusual for a tribe to be named after an event rather than an ancestor, these three names are integral to the history of Ngāpuhi and thus, form the basis of Tau’s assertion. An alternative explanation for the naming of Ngāpuhi is offered in The Pūriri Trees are Laughing: A political history of Ngā Puhi in the inland Bay of Islands, and although it is discredited by Tau as having “no korero or oral tradition to support [it] (http://www.ngapuhi .iwi.nz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=18&Itemid= 39, 2007, para. 7). Sissons, Hongi and Hohepa (1987, p. 54) contend that Rāhiri’s maternal grandfather, Puhi- moana-ariki (see whakapapa below) of Mataatua waka (Ngāti Awa), is the eponymous 9 ancestor of the tribe. Before Ngāpuhi emerged as the dominant tribal force in the North, Ngāti Awa had been defeated by Ngāti Miru, Te Wahineiti, and Ngāti Pou, and were forced to abandon their territory which extended throughout central Northland from “Hokianga to Te Waimate, and north to Whangaroa” (Sissions, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, p.54). Awa | Awanui | Rākei-tapunui | Tamakiterā | Puhi-moana-ariki | Tauramoko = Te Hau [angiangi] | Rāhiri (Sissions, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, p. 55) While some Ngāti Awa moved north and still have representation in tribal groups such as Ngāti Kahu, the majority “migrated down both coasts, where, in Taranaki they are now known as Ātiawa and in the Bay of Plenty as Ngātiawa” (Lee, 1983, p.32). Slowly, by way of warfare and inter-marriage, the descendants of Rāhiri spread out from the Hokianga to overwhelm or subsume most of the ancient tribes of the North. Although Ngāpuhi were “the most powerful northern alliance” (Sissons, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, p.149) those hapū of the southern Bay of Islands and the Māhurehure hapū of Hokianga were not included until the early 1800s when Ngāpuhi finally laid claim to the eastern coastline. This included the Bay of Islands area, which Lee (1983, p.35) suggests was at that stage, still under the control of Ngāti Pou or Ngāti Rehia. There is little doubt that present-day Ngāpuhi are, numerically, the dominant tribal group in the country, with approximately “122,211 members, an increase of roughly 18.7 percent from 2001” http://www.ngapuhi.iwi.nz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=91&Itemid=86 2007, para. 1). The ‘whare tapu’ or sacred house of Ngāpuhi also occupies a large section of 10 the country. The following whakataukī found on the entry page of the Ngāpuhi Rūnanga website lists the boundaries of this extensive area: He mea hanga tōku whare, ko Papatuānuku te paparahi. Ko nga maunga nga poupou, ko Ranginui e titiro iho nei, te tuanui. Pūhanga-tohora titiro ki Te Ramaroa e whakakurupaeake ra i te Hauāuru. Te Ramaroa titiro ki Whīria, te Paiaka o te riri, te kawa o Rāhiri. Whīria titiro ki Panguru, ki Papata, ki te rākau tū papata ki te tai Hauāuru; Panguru, Papata titiro ki Maungataniwha. Maungataniwha titiro ki Tokerau. Tokerau titiro ki Rākaumangamanga. Rākaumangamanga titiro ki Manaia, e tu kohatu mai ra i te akau. Manaia titiro ki Tutamoe. Tutamoe titiro ki Maunganui. Maunganui titiro ki Pūhanga-tohora. Ehara aku maunga i te maunga nekeneke, he maunga tū tonu, tū te Ao tū te Po. Ko te Whare Tapu o Ngāpuhi tenei, tihei mauri ora. (http://www.ngapuhi.iwi.nz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=12&Itemi d=95, 2007, para. 1). Tau extends this area even further when referring to the boundaries of Ngāpuhi Nui Tonu (see whakataukī below) by encompassing Tamaki Makaurau (Auckland) in the south to Cape Reinga in the north. He maintains that the walls of the house of Ngāpuhi are represented by the sub-tribes, Ngāti Whatua in the south, Te Rarawa in the west, Te Aupouri in the north and Ngāti Kahu in the east. Ngāpuhi is at the centre of the house and the mountains are the poupou that hold the ridgepole of the house aloft. Te Whare O Ngāpuhi, Tamaki Makaurau ki Te Rerenga Wairua. Ko nga paatu ko Ngāti Whatua, Te Rarawa, Te Aupouri, Ngāti Kahu, Ngāpuhi ki roto. Ko nga Rarangi Maunga nga Poutokomanawa i hikia te Tahuhu o Te Whare O Ngāpuhi. (http://www.ngapuhi .iwi.nz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=18&Itemid=39, 2007, para. 9). “In Ngāpuhi, there are, or have been, in excess of 150 hapū, some so powerful and influential as to be, in later years, almost iwi themselves” (Lee, 1983, p.31). This has seen Ngāpuhi sometimes described as being a disparate and loosely connected confederation of tribes prone to constant bickering and jostling for land and power. However, opponents have 11 been known to feel the sting of the unity that Ngāpuhi is able to muster in times of need. A famous whakataukī attributed to Rāhiri speaks of the strength of Ngāpuhi hapū that arises out of the obligations and responsibilities of their whakapapa: Ka mimiti te puna i Taumarere, ka toto te puna i Hokianga. Ka toto te puna i Taumarere, ka mimiti te puna i Hokianga. (When the spring at the Bay of Islands dries up, the spring at Hokianga flows. When the spring at the Bay of Islands flows, the spring at Hokianga dries up.) Not only does this whakataukī refer to the communities of Hokianga and Taumarere supporting each other in times of strife it also refers to the ‘pathways of Taniwha’ or underground waterways linking Hokianga and Taumarere (Dept. of Conservation, 1999). The descendants of Uenuku-kūare, Rāhiri’s firstborn son by “Āhuaiti of Ohaewai, and Kaharau, from his Hokianga wife, Whakaruru (Department of Lands and Survey, n.d., p.29) form the two factions of Ngāpuhi. Tradition tells of how Rāhiri used a manuaute (kite) to divide his rohe (territory) between his competing sons. Because the kite landed at Tahuna, near Kaikohe, Rāhiri designated all the land west of Tahuna to Kaharau, and all of the area east of Tahuna, to Uenuku. The whakataukī (above) was offered by Rāhiri as a reminder to his sons that, despite their differences, strength could be found in unification and mutual support. They were also reminded that the fortunes of those living on the Tai Tama-wahine (female/eastern) and Tai Tama-tane (male/western) coastlines of Ngāpuhi are inextricably connected, and that whatever happens to one will affect the other. Northern tribes continue to live by this code of reciprocity and even those who may not be strictly classified as Ngāpuhi still find that they are allied to the tribe by marriage, whakapapa, or simply by the influence that Ngāpuhi exerts in the area. These alliances, and the whakapapa that influences them, appear to underpin every facet and outcome of this research. Whether it be the political alliances formed during protest (inter-tribal, tribal, hapū, or whānau) or the respect accorded to the events and/or kōrero surrounding particular taonga, much of the tikanga and obligations attached to those taonga are somehow linked to the Hokianga- Taumarere relationship and the origins of Ngāti Hine. In fact, as this thesis unfolds and Ngāti Hine’s journey of repatriation is documented, it becomes increasingly evident that the ties that bind Ngāpuhi and its largest hapū have a great deal to do with our tribal taonga. 12 Ngāti Hine-ā-Maru Rāhiri = Āhuaiti | Uenuku = Kareariki | Hauhaua = Torongāre | Hineāmaru The great-grand-daughter of Rāhiri, Hineāmaru is remembered as having been a remarkable woman of great mana, courage, resourcefulness, and humility. If mana is measured in terms of whakapapa then it is easy to understand why Hineāmaru is so revered. Estimated to number in excess of 50,000 members, her descendants are numerically the largest hapū (sub-tribe) grouping in Aotearoa and currently make up almost half of Ngāpuhi iwi. It is with good reason that the chorus lines of the tribal waiata ‘Hineāmaru’ refer to the similarity between the ways that kūmara vines and the descendants of this prolific tupuna have spread. Hineāmaru, te tupuna kaiarahi i te hapū o Ngātihine i roto Waiōmio ka puta mai i te koopu o te whenua he kūmara, he tangata. The story of Ngāti Hine begins in Hokianga. It was here that Hineāmaru, the firstborn child of Torongāre and Hauhaua, left her home, just south of Waipoua, in search of a new homeland. Although one well-known narrative (Sissons, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, pp.67-79) claims Torongāre to have been female, according to James Henare of Ngāti Hine, Torongāre was a male of Ngāti Kahu descent (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002). Ngāti Hine historical accounts also differ from the Wiremu narrative which claims that Hineāmaru was born in the Waiōmio valley (Sissons, Hongi & Hohepa, 1987, p.79). Even amongst Ngāti Hine, there is some disagreement as to her birthplace. While some claim she was born in Mangakahia at the group’s camp below Te Tarai o Rāhiri, or even Waiōmio, both Sir James Henare (Henare, personal communication,1980) and Livingstone (2002) maintain that Hineāmaru was born before the whānau left Waimamaku. Henare (1980) claims they 13 departed from their home at a place called Tītīwhāwhānunui on the outskirts of Waipoua while Livingstone asserts that they left from Wai-o-te-Marangai, adding, “ko tenei wahi kei Hokianga ki Te Tai-tama-tane, ki tua atu o nga puke o Waipoua ki Waimamaku [this place is at Hokianga, beyond the hills of Waipoua, at Waimamaku]” (2002, p.7). It is said that due to conflict between Torongāre and his wife’s people, Ngaitamatea, the whānau group were forced to leave their pā (fortified village) in search of fertile lands on which they might settle. Consequently, they ventured south toward the home of their maternal tūpuna, Uenuku- kūare, situated on Hikurangi maunga (mountain). The tales of the journey from Waimamaku to Waiōmio are rich with explanations of how various places were named. For example, Whakatere (to set adrift or set afloat) was named for the way Torongāre and his family were set adrift from their whānau. The term whakatere also strengthens the assertion that the whānau did not leave by choice, but were instead, forced to leave their pā. The group travelled through Pipiwai to Whangarei, where a rock known as Te Nohonga o Torongāre (the seat, or resting place of Torongāre ) is located just south of Whangarei city (Erima Henare, personal communication, November 28, 2005). From there they made their way through Te Waro (a limestone outcrop beside State Highway 1, at Hikurangi) and Whakapara, eventually reaching Papatahora, near Mōtatau, approximately fifteen miles south-west of Waiōmio. By this stage of the journey, Torongāre was ailing and was unable to walk. It is believed that Hauhaua failed to reach the final camp at Papatahora and probably died at Kaikou, not far from her birthplace in the Bay of Islands (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002). Upon the death of Hauhaua, Hineāmaru inherited the leadership, wisdom, and mana of her mother, and consequently, “the large tracts of land she would trek through to reach Taumarere would automatically become hers” (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002, “Hineāmaru” para.5.). This journey and the stories associated with the travels of Hineāmaru and her whānau (family) have long united the various hapū within Ngāti Hine and have also continued to underpin a number of their external relationships. While camped at Papatahora, Hineāmaru led exploratory food gathering and fishing expeditions throughout the Waiōmio valley and was known to have followed the Taumarere River to the abundant pipi (cockles) banks and fishing grounds of Te Haumi in the southern Bay of Islands. It was on one of these expeditions that she set fire to a dead rātā tree and discovered that the exposed earth looked to be fertile. This place was named Paparātā for obvious reasons. Sir James Henare (personal communication, 1980) also refers to the site as Rātāpiko. On her return to Papatahora, Hineāmaru showed the soil to her father and on a following trip through the area she took kūmara seedlings to plant on the cleared spot of land. During her next visit, the following autumn, Hineāmaru was able to dig up enough 14 kūmara tubers to fill ten large food baskets with high quality produce. Torongāre was said to have proclaimed, “E ko! Nana to tāua whenua (My daughter! Behold our land)” (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002, “Hineāmaru” para. 7). Thus, Waiōmio became known as the ‘cradle of Ngāti Hine’ and not far away, hidden amongst the limestone outcrops, were the caves that would serve as their tribal burial grounds. The most well-known of these caves is ‘Te Pouaka o Hineāmaru’ and this name can be translated a number of ways. One translation, ‘the treasure chest of Hineāmaru’, likens the human and funerary remains interred in that cave to the most valuable of taonga belonging to Hineāmaru, or Ngāti Hine. Yet another translation, ‘the burial chest of Hineāmaru’, explains how Ngāti Hine venerates the actual human and funerary remains of our tupuna. A letter to the Auckland Museum, written in 1929 and signed by the descendants of Hineāmaru and her siblings, refer to this torere as ‘Te Pouaka o Torongāre’. This would signal that the burial caves in Waiōmio would have originally served as the resting place for an even wider number of hapū within the Bay of Islands/Northland area. It has also been argued that Torongāre, and even Hineāmaru, were not interred at Waiōmio. The reference to ‘Te Pouaka o Torongāre’ by his descendant whānau representatives would seem to silence these arguments. The fishing grounds visited by Hineāmaru in the southern Bay of Islands were occupied by Ngātitu. Distant relatives of Hineāmaru, Ngātitu were happy to share with the newcomers, and this enduring relationship continues to the present day. Hineāmaru also found her husband, Koperu, from within the ranks of Ngātitu. He lived at Te Wharau on the left shore of the Taumarere inlet. So great was the mana of Hineāmaru at the time of her betrothal that a huge hāngi was lit at Tapahina to cook seventy kits of pipi in her honour (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002). After the family moved from Mōtatau to the fertile Waiōmio valley, Torongāre, who was said to have been carried to Waiōmio on a litter, settled close by at Mohinui, named for the large mohi (whitebait) found in the stream there. According to Erima Henare (personal communication November 28, 2005) Torongāre is buried on an island in the middle of a lake at Okukuru, Waiomio. The limestone caves had been discovered not long after the whānau moved to Waiōmio. According to Sir James Henare (personal communication, 1980) Hineāmaru noticed smoke rising from somewhere in the limestone outcrops. Upon investigation, a woman of Te Uri-o-Hua named Roku, emerged from her home in one of the caves. Roku told the newcomers that she had found refuge in the caves after having been ill- treated by her husband (Erima Henare, personal communication, November 28, 2005).This same cave is currently open to the public and is famous for its glow-worms. Hineāmaru made her home in another ana (cave) nearby, called Otarawa. Upon the death of this 15 beloved ancestress the ana was renamed ‘Te Pouaka o Hineāmaru’ and has since served as the final resting place of the mother of Ngāti Hine. Named after the ana occupied by Hineāmaru, both in life and death, Otarawa is now the name of the Christian cemetery established nearby when Ngāti Hine began to bury their dead rather than inter them in caves. After converting to Christianity, Maihi Paraone Kawiti, son of Te Ruki Kawiti, became the first of Ngāti Hine rangatira (chief) to be buried in Otarawa cemetery and controversy still surrounds the claim that his remains were exhumed and his head stolen. Considered valuable to ‘collectors’ because of his full facial moko (tattoo), Maihi’s head, his mere pounamu (jade cleaver), and a diamond ring said to have originally been given to King Tawhiao (Henare, J., personal communication,1980), were all allegedly taken when Pākehā (said to have been Cookson family members) with the assistance of some Kopa family members, plundered Maihi’s grave. Apart from lights seen during the night, the other evidence appears to have been the discovery of a disturbed grave and candles still dripping wax. There is little doubt that the grave was desecrated but nothing short of an exhumation will ever solve the mystery that surrounds the whereabouts of Maihi’s head. However, it is unlikely that the head was smoked or the moko preserved, as the process of smoking and preserving a head, using rangiora leaves, needs to take place within three weeks of death (Rewi Spraggon, personal communication, 2005) and Maihi’s tangi (funeral) was said to have lasted for more than two months. Therefore, if his head is indeed sitting in a private collection in Austria, as many Ngāti Hine continue to claim, then it is in the form of a skull rather than an upoko tuhituhi (tattooed face). To add to the confusion, there are claims by one of the research interviewees that the mere pounamu is still in Waiōmio and the diamond ring is being cared for by a member of Ngāti Hine. Wherever these funerary taonga and kōiwi (skeletal remains) may be, the uncertainty surrounding such Ngāti Hine taonga continues to embarrass, anger, and sadden the descendants of Hineāmaru. However, it must be acknowledged that the kōrero attached to those taonga continue to enrich Ngāti Hine by ensuring that we continue to research, debate, and adhere to our traditional kaitiaki roles and responsibilities. Although, the kōiwi of numerous Ngāti Hine toa (warriors) and rangatira (leaders) lie in ‘Te Pouaka o Hineāmaru’ with those of their tupuna, Hineāmaru, or in the numerous rock crevices and caves nearby, sadly, many of these remains have been desecrated. Sir James Henare (personal communication, 1980) tells of how he and Te Riri Kawiti were sent to inspect the burial caves. They found the kōiwi in ‘Te Pouaka o Hineāmaru’ undisturbed but unfortunately those of a cave called Tokatu had been tampered with. In 1983, local Waiōmio children were found playing with kōiwi and reports emerged that kōiwi had been disturbed by 16 a Pākehā school teacher and had been strewn outside of the burial caves. This time the sons of the aforementioned two rangatira sent to check the caves, Erima Henare and Te Tawai Kawiti, also found themselves descending into the burial caves to check on their contents. Erima Henare (personal communication, November 28, 2005), took kete (kits) made by Kawa Brown of Mōtatau to gather up the bones, that were lying around in the burial ground area, and he deposited them in the Huripōpō burial cave which had not been desecrated at that time. According to Erima Henare (personal communication, November 28, 2005), this cave is ringed by a ledge of skulls which act as kaitiaki (guardians) of the numerous human remains and taonga interred within. At one stage, guns and uniforms belonging to the European soldiers who fought and died at Ruapekapeka Pa, in 1845, were stored in the ceiling cavity of the whare tūpuna at Te Rapunga Marae. These taonga, along with many other traditional weapons and ornaments, had been earlier transferred to the Waiōmio caves area by Te Riri Kawiti and Sir James Henare, and were found intact by Erima Henare during the 1983 inspection. Not being sure about the integrity and safety of the remains of tūpuna is not something that sits easily with Māori. The uncertainty surrounding Maihi’s remains and funerary taonga continues to cause distress for Ngāti Hine. Conflicting stories regarding the exact whereabouts of Maihi’s head will one day be thoroughly researched. Ngāti Hine will also explore the accounts, which claim the mere pounamu was dropped and still awaits discovery in the Waiōmio valley or that Tawhiao’s diamond ring is actually safe in the hands of Ngāti Hine whānau residing in Wellington. But meanwhile, not only do these stories bring into question the upholding of kaitiaki obligations and responsibilities, but also the mana (prestige), the tapu (sacred), and the tino rangatiratanga of the hapū. For Ngāti Hine, it is imperative that the remains of the ancestress, Hineāmaru, and her descendants are not desecrated. Having Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku publicly displayed in the Auckland War Memorial Museum violates the collective tapu of our people and dishonours the memory and resting place of our ancestress. While the safety of her remains cannot be guaranteed, her memory can. Hineāmaru now occupies a prominent place of honour in the majority of the carved whare tūpuna of the North. In the form of carved pou, she is instantly recognizable by the figure of her firstborn son, Whee, who is depicted under the armpit of his mother rather than between her thighs, which is the usual position of carved offspring. Ngāti Hine tradition has it that Whee was a caesarean delivery and the survival of both mother and child further magnifies the myth-like proportions and resolute character of Whee’s mother. Hineāmaru is remembered most for her great determination to see her whānau settled on their own fertile land and this same 17 land has become the permanent tūrangawaewae (a place to stand) for her countless descendants. Te Rohe Whenua o Ngāti Hine Hikurangi titiro ki Pouerua, Pouerua titiro ki Rakaumangamanga, Rakaumangamanga titiro ki Manaia, Manaia titiro ki Whatitiri, Whatitiri titiro ki Tutamoe, Tutamoe titiro ki Te Tarai-ō - Rāhiri, Te Tarai-ō- Rāhiri titiro ki Hikurangi ki nga kiekie whāwhanui ā Uenuku In 1874 Maihi Paraone Kawiti defined the aforementioned traditional boundaries of Te Porowini o Ngāti Hine (the Province of Ngāti Hine) when reasserting the independence of Ngātihine within their own rohe pōtae. Livingstone includes the link “i te Tarai-o-Rāhiri ka huri ki te hau-a-uru ki a Mōtatau tu te ao tu te po [from the Tarai-o-Rāhiri, turn westward to Mōtatau the perpetual and ever-vigilant mountain]” (2002, p.9). He asserts that Hikurangi and Mōtatau are the principal mountains which form the “whāriki [foundation]” and “pakiaka [root-system]” of Ngāti Hine (Livingstone, 2002, p.9). Livingstone’s use of the word pakiaka in this case is symbolic of the whakapapa, which binds the descendants of Uenuku kūare, firstborn son of Āhuaiti and her husband Rāhiri, the common ancestor of Ngāpuhi. An acknowledged paramount chief of Ngāpuhi, the late Sir James Henare (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002) supports the significance of this area for Ngāti Hine when he affirms that the pā of Uenuku, grandfather of the Ngātihine ancestress, Hineāmaru, was situated on Hikurangi maunga. Himi Mokena Tipene (personal communication, May 12, 2005) adds that Kaikou, the area between Mōtatau and Hikurangi maunga, is integral to the early kōrero and history of Ngāti Hine. Sir James Henare further defines specific boundaries in his writings (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine, 2002): Ko enei etahi o nga whenua nui o te rohe o Ngātihine. Haeremai Opua ki Pouerua; I Pouerua ki Tautoro, te maunga Totoro i Roro Kereru; I reira, Hikurangi; Hikurangi ki Mangakahia; I Mangakahia ka huri mai ki Moengawahine; whakawhiti tonu ki runga i te tihi o Mōtatau, ko Unuwhau; haeremai ki runga i tena kaweka kia tau mai i Hukerenui; ka huri iho ki Akerama; na, ki Taumarere. He rohe tino nui, na te mana o tenei wahine (Na Tā Himi Henare) 18 Ngāti Hine occupation of their whenua (land) has not been seriously challenged during the estimated four hundred years since Hineāmaru travelled the ‘pukepuke rau’ (hundred hills or pā) of her people. Even after the battles fought against the colonial forces at places such as Ruapekapeka pā, the majority of Ngāti Hine land has been retained by Ngāti Hine. This was strengthened when Maihi Kawiti declared that Ngāti Hine lands within the rohe pōtae would never be sold (Ko te Ture mo te Whenua Papatupu: Tau 1874, 1887) and although some Ngāti Hine land has been lost to the Crown and sold to private landowners, Ngāti Hine are far from landless. In later times the boundaries of Ngāti Hine were somewhat diminished when it was agreed that Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine would preside over the five blocks of the Mōtatau Survey District. According to Erima Henare (personal communication, November 28, 2005), his father Sir James Henare asked Kevin Prime, in 1988, to revitalize the Ngāti Hine rūnanga and to refine the area to include only the five Mōtatau Blocks. While Kevin Prime believes Sir James merely wished to focus the revitalisation of the rūnanga from a smaller area before moving out wider, this move has caused some controversy as Ngāti Hine strongholds such as those of Ngāti Manu (Karetu), Te Kapotai (Waikare), Ngāti Hau (Akerama), Te Orewai (Pipiwai) and Ngāti Moerewa (Tautoro) are all situated outside of the defined area and some separation has occurred as a result. However, maps cannot argue with whakapapa and Livingstone (2002, pp. 9-10) lists Matawaia, Pipiwai, Towai, Akerama, Waiōmio, Kawakawa, Karetu, Taumatamākuku, Moerewa, Otiria, Kawiti, Ngapipito, Punakitere, Pākaraka, Ngawha and Tautoro as areas within Ngāti Hine, and Te Ara o Nehera o Ngātihine also includes Karetu and Waikare in its list of “Ngā Hapū o Ngātihine” (Mahinga Mataitai o Ngāti Hine , 2002): Ngātihine – Waiōmio, Ngāti Hau – Akerama, Ngāti Wai – Whangaruru, Te Whanau Whero – Whananaki, Ngāti Korora – Ngunguru, Patu Harakeke – Ruakaka – Takahiwai, Te Parawhau – Whangarei, Pehi A Weri – Glenbervie, Ngātikahu – Toro Ngare – Ngararatunua, Te Uri Roroi – Mangakahia, Te Orewai – Pipiwai, Ngai Tai – Kaikou, Ngāti Mahia – Awarua, Ngāti Moerewa – Tautoro, Kau I Mua – Matawaia, Ngāti Kopaki – Pokapu, Ngāti Te Ara – Orauta, Ngāti Te Tarawa – Mōtatau, Uri Onga Onga – Kawakawa, Ngāti Kura – Rawhiti, Ngāti Kawa – Oromahoe, Kapotai – Waikare, Ngāti Manu – Karetu. Te Ara o Nehera o Ngātihine also lists the following as Ngāti Hine marae: Waiōmio, Otiria, Kawiti, Mohinui, Mōtatau, Tereawatea, Matawaia, Eparaima, Tau Henare, and Akerama. The current Strategic Direction for Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine, 2008-2020, Ngāti 19 Hine: Te Pae Tawhiti, (Armstrong, 2008), adds Te Aroha, Te Rito, Horomanga, and Maungārongo, to the list. Like the kūmara vines planted by Hineāmaru, her descendants extend far beyond the valleys of Kaikou or Waiōmio. Yet, despite the geographical isolation of their whenua, Ngāti Hine continues to be drawn back to the place where kūmara and tāngata (people) are both hardy and abundant. A combination of hilly terrain (clad mostly in native bush), fertile valleys, and large tracts of swampland, Ngāti Hine whenua has been largely retained under Ngāti Hine ownership. This was probably due to the inaccessibility of the area to the majority of settlers who preferred the pristine coastline of the Bay of Islands. Furthermore, land retention has also occurred as a direct result of the tribal edict handed down by Maihi Kawiti forbidding the sale of Ngāti Hine land within their rohe pōtae. Sir James Henare (personal communication, 1980) also speaks of the Ngāti Hine tendency to ‘interbreed’ to ensure tribal lands are not lost to Europeans or other tribal groups. He goes on to point out that his father Taurekareka Henare (MP for Northern Māori) was the first to have married outside of Ngāti Hine and that after that marriage to a woman from Te Aupouri, Ngāti Hine were again told by their kaumātua to revert back to choosing partners from within their own hapū. With Te Tarai o Rāhiri to the west, Pouerua in southern Taiamai, Mōtatau, and Hikurangi maunga standing guard over the Ngāti Hine rohe, the landscape lives up to the pepeha ‘Ngāti Hine Pukepuke Rau’ (Ngāti Hine of the Hundred Hills). This pepeha is also said to refer to the numerous pā and chieftains within Ngāti Hine. Wherever there are hills, one will always find valleys and waterways. Like Waiōmio, there are numerous fertile valleys within the Ngāti Hine rohe pōtae. Consequently, much of the cleared land that once accommodated vast mahinga kai (gardens) has since been turned into dairy farms, and the more inaccessible and less fertile land is now covered in pine forests. There are pockets of Crown land within the Ngāti Hine boundaries and one of these includes 325 hectares of Mōtatau State Forest. Te Awa Tapu o Taumarere is the primary waterway in the region but there are also numerous creeks and streams crisscrossing the landscape. Along with these smaller waterways, the area’s swamplands provide for a rich, but fragile ecosystem that is obviously and increasingly made vulnerable to pollution and non-sustainable development. The depletion of tuna (eel) numbers that once provided a staple food source for local hapū has lately been of serious ecological concern for Ngāti Hine. Lake Owhareiti, at the foot of Pouērua, has also been threatened with lake-weed causing major problems for the Ngāti Hine Trust responsible for its management. Moerewa and Kawakawa are the two major 20 towns in the area. These towns share many of the problems evident in the lower socio- economic areas of Northland but due to the pride and commitment shown by the local people they have recently seen an upturn in both business and reputation. Political Context Ngāti Hine politics have always been complex. The term “Ngāti Hine Pukepuke Rau” has been translated in a number of ways. Pukepuke Rau is said to refer to the hilly terrain of the Ngāti Hine rohe, the ‘hundred’ pā (hapū and hono [sub-hapu] settlements), the resulting ‘hundred’ leaders, or, as some have insinuated, a leaderless sub-tribe of competitive and argumentative elements. Although our people no longer dwell on pā, rohe tāngata (divisions) are made evident not only by whakapapa but also by the marae that individuals bear primary allegiance to. Allegiance and leadership are also affected by numerous internal and external groups, and issues that overlap cultural, historical, geographical, whānau, and political boundaries. Te Tiriti o Waitangi Ngāti Hine see themselves as kaitiaki of Te Tiriti and continue to be heavily involved in both Waitangi Day celebrations and the Waitangi Trust Board. The moko of Te Ruki Kawiti appears at the top of the treaty document but he did not sign on February 6, 1840. Instead, as reported by Erima Henare at a meeting of Te Roopu Kaumātua me ngā Kuia o Ngātihine on April 9, 2005, a diary entry by Williams dated between May 17 and May 20, 1840 tells that Kawiti was taken to the home of Rev. Williams by Te Tirarau to sign the treaty on May 17 or 18, 1840. On February 5th, 1840, Kawiti is recorded to have spoken out against Māori signing Te Tiriti saying, “No, no. Go back, go back. What dost thou want here? We Native men do not wish thee to stay. We do not want to be tied up and trodden down. We are free” (Colenso, http://www.waitangi.com/colenso/colhis1.html, 2001). After being pressured by Ngāti Hine to sign, he placed his moko above the first signatories because his personal mana dictated that he could. Six years later, Kawiti urged his people via the words of his famous tangi, to “Await therefore until the sandfly nips the pages of the book. Then and only then shall you arise and oppose” (Nuttall & Shortland, 2008, p.15). Ngāti Hine have long regarded this as a solemn obligation to oppose breaches of Te Tiriti o Waitangi whenever they arise. 21 Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine In 1867, Maihi Paraone Kawiti, who signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi as Te Kuhunga, was elected as the paramount chief of Ngāpuhi, and was given Hone Heke's mere as a symbol of his ariki (high chief) status. Disillusioned by the constant challenges to his leadership, Maihi returned to Okorihi in 1878, and threw the mere to the ground. He signaled that Ngāti Hine would now ‘go it alone’. This was to also signal the beginning of Ngāti Hine independence and the establishment of the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga. The latter-day rūnanga was re- established in 1988, and at the time of writing, was undergoing major change in response to the wish of kaumātua (elders) and kuia (elder woman) of Ngāti Hine, who instructed Erima Henare, in 1997, to look into having Ngāti Hine recognized as an iwi in order to receive our fair share of Fisheries assets and cash (Armstrong, 2008). Debate continues to rage about the need to reactivate the rūnanga or change its structure to enable it to receive both Fisheries and Waitangi claim entitlements. In recent years, Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine has been in recess due to the dwindling numbers attending meetings and the absence of leadership brought about by Chairman, Pita Paraone’s entry, into Parliament, which left him very little time to commit to the Rūnanga. Other recognised leaders such as Kevin Prime and Erima Henare were also finding it difficult to juggle regional, national, and international work commitments with those of a fully operational rūnanga. Te Roopu Kaumātua me ngā Kuia o Ngāti Hine i raro i te Tiriti o Waitangi was originally set up as an advisory body to the rūnanga but as the rūnanga ‘rested’ this group became the forum where hapū decisions were made and mandates were sought and granted. Meetings were conducted without minutes and although agendas were set, debate appeared to be flexible and consensus was sought by both kaumātua and rangatahi (young adults) in the time-honoured way of the marae. Meetings were being conducted more often than not by the unspoken rules of tikanga Māori. Slowly, the advisory body, supposedly with no real powers, was becoming recognised as the forum for major hapū decisions. It was during this period that the research for this thesis was conducted. While at the local level, this forum was adequately meeting the political needs of Ngāti Hine, uncertainty remained because Te Roopu Kaumātua was a Māori forum and Pākehā prefer to deal with the surety of process that can be found in the constituted, often legislated, board-run, and Pākehā-constituted rūnanga. Governments will not allocate Fisheries assets or Waitangi settlements to the likes of kuia/kaumātua. In addition, rūnanga responsibilities such as Radio Ngāti Hine FM, were being operated by Hauora Whanui, the Ngāti Hine Māori health provider, who was also collecting Ngāti Hine registrations. Lines 22 were becoming blurred between the Roopu Kaumātua, the inactive Rūnanga, and Hauora Whanui. The leadership of these entities as well as various other community groups, marae, and the Ngāti Hine Forestry Trust was also being questioned as they all tended to be run by the same people. As a result of all these factors, the Executive of the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga hopes to establish Memoranda of Understandings with Radio Ngāti Hine FM, the Ngāti Hine Forestry Trust, and the Ngāti Hine Health Trust, to outline these relationships, with “agreed vision, goals and strategies” (Armstrong, 2008, pp. 20-21). Ngāti Hine is currently holding hui to establish a new legal entity that will lead them into the future. They are also currently involved in the hearings of the Ngāpuhi Claim, before the Waitangi Tribunal - a process that began early in 2010. 23 Chapter Three: The Nature of Taonga Taonga and Repatriation International/Indigenous Context Increased international contact has not only seen an escalation of problems relating to the complex issue of cultural property but also the emergence of the recognition and appreciation of the relationship between a nation’s possession of its cultural property and the status of its people’s national identity and wellbeing. The majority of cultural heritage stakeholders agree that it is imperative that cultural property be protected and preserved, but how that protection and preservation occurs and who oversees it, are issues fraught with conflict. In addition, the discourse regarding cultural heritage has also raised the importance of the repatriation of human remains and significant cultural heritage of all peoples, especially that which has been inappropriately acquired and/or managed. “Indigenous peoples cannot survive, or exercise their fundamental human rights as distinct nations, societies and peoples, without the ability to conserve, revive, develop and teach the wisdom they have inherited from their ancestors” (Daes, 1997, p.1). Thus, the connection between the recognition and maintenance of the cultural identity of indigenous peoples and the protection, control, and repatriation of indigenous cultural heritage is a critical one. Articles 12 and 13 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples 2007 and Recommendations 2.12-14 of the Mataatua Declaration 1993 (Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, 2000, pp. 33-42) call for the recognition of the rights of cultural recognition, self-determination, and cultural heritage repatriation. It is hardly surprising that the increasingly determined and passionate demands of indigenous peoples for their entitlement to exercise their rights in regard to cultural recognition and self- determination are central to the repatriation debate and the position that museums find themselves in within this discourse. The international community has long signalled its willingness to develop and implement guiding principles and protocols to assist “indigenous populations, nation states, heritage professionals [anthropologists, archaeologists, historians, art historians to name a few], heritage institutions, art dealers and collectors, and artists” (Butts, 2003, Unit 1:13) to preserve, protect, and repatriate cultural heritage. The enactment of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) “offers insights into the complexities of the repatriation process and valuable lessons for museums and tribes” (Merill, Ladd and Ferguson, 1993, p. 523) who must now work within the sphere of NAGPRA legislation. The 24 Nisga’a Treaty settlement, an agreement between the Nisga’a nation and the Canadian Museum of Civilization (and the Royal British Columbia Museum) is also an example of how indigenous communities and heritage institutions have found ways to co-manage cultural heritage material in a culturally respectful manner. The co-operation of nation states and their heritage institutions is particularly critical to the successful repatriation of cultural heritage, and the co-operation, registration, and strict control of art dealers and collectors should continue to be sought as many irreplaceable treasures are often illicitly and illegally traded via these routes. There is still much work to be done in terms of consultation, cultural awareness, and cultural respect between cultural heritage stakeholders but the international trend toward the recognition of the rights of indigenous peoples holds promise. While it is indisputable that the cultural heritage of all peoples, as well as the global sharing of the ideology associated with that heritage, is “vital to the intellectual and spiritual development of humanity” (Prott & O’Keefe, 1989, p.8), the recognition of the right of all cultures to the repatriation and control of their own cultural heritage is equally essential to the well-being of the human race. To this end, it is imperative that the international community, governments, heritage institutions, and indigenous peoples find a way to work together and determine how real progress can be made. Relationships that allow for cooperative engagement and respect for the perspectives of all parties involved will clearly hold the advantage in this increasingly complex world of cultural protection and repatriation. Conventions, Declarations, and Legislation The United Nations has developed a number of international conventions, declarations, and legislation with direct implications for the development, protection, preservation, and repatriation of both moveable and immoveable cultural property. They include the Declaration of Human Rights; the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict (1954); the Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (1970); the Convention Concerning the Protection of World Cultural and Natural Heritage (1972); the Recommendation for the Protection of Movable Cultural Property (1978); and the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (2007) (Butts, 2004, Unit 1:9). Advanced to assist national governments and their museums to develop ways to protect their cultural heritage; recognise people’s rights to control and manage their own cultural property; and provide the means by which any human remains and/or significant cultural property that has been inappropriately acquired can be returned to their descendant communities for culturally appropriate care and management, these United Nations conventions, declarations, and recommendations were developed in response to the agreement that all cultural property is 25 part of “the cultural heritage of all mankind” (UNESCO 1994, Preamble). Therefore, the protection and preservation of our cultural heritage requires “the collective efforts of all nations and peoples” (Phelan, 1998, p.7). Unfortunately, this often voiced cliché that pronounces cultural heritage to be owned, and thus shared, by all of mankind, loses some of its nobility and sincerity when one considers “that cultural artifacts [sic] seem to flow in only one direction” (Eyo,1996, p.346), and that direction is invariably toward the powerful Western world. There are more problems regarding the implementation of these conventions, declarations, and recommendations. They are not retrospective and are not binding in terms of non-signatory nations. Moreover, the “future ability of peoples and countries alike to protect their heritage and assets will further diminish as the multilateral agreements which have been enacted over the past decade are implemented globally (Mead, 1997, p.23) thereby nullifying positive progress. Mead further warns, that “there is every indication that [indigenous peoples] will lose more of [their] heritage in the next two decades than was lost during the immediate postcolonial times of last century” (1997, p. 24). These GATT, APEC, WTO, NAFTA and TRIPS multilateral, free trade agreements and accords may very well result in further huge cultural heritage losses. In addition to ensuring that multilateral agreements do not dilute or invalidate the progress made by international conventions, care must be taken to ensure that national legislation does not prevent adoption and ratification of those same conventions. The Antiquities Act 1975 is a case in point and highlights “the need to provide appropriate recognition of the rights of iwi Māori to control their own cultural heritage” (Butts, 1993, p.169) and the need to reconcile national and international legislation and conventions. In addition, the Wai 262 Treaty of Waitangi Claim Report is due to be released by the Waitangi Tribunal in 2010 and promises to raise heated debate in relation to taonga and the intellectual property attached to the Māori cultural heritage estate. Māori-Museum Relationships Because museums are still often viewed as symbols of colonial oppression they have not only become sites of conflict over the management of cultural heritage but also sites of resistance by indigenous peoples for what they perceive to be the continued mismanagement of indigenous cultural treasures. Julie Cruikshank (1992) describes the theoretical and political context within which museums have long operated, and are now having to deal with increasingly controversial issues such as the repatriation of cultural heritage and the representation of the cultures of ‘others’. She writes: 26 Museums and anthropology are undeniably part of a western philosophical tradition, embedded in a dualism which becomes problematic as a conceptual framework for addressing issues of representation. Entrenched opposition between ‘self/other’, subject/object’, ‘us/them’, inevitably leaves power in the hands of the defining institution (1992, p.6). Historically, that ‘power’ to define and represent the cultural heritage property of others has seen museums deal with a myriad of issues associated with the management of that material without much consultation with indigenous peoples or recognition of their worldviews in regard to their cultural heritage. As a result, contentious questions continue to arise in relation to the rights of ownership and control of cultural property and consequently to the arguments for and against repatriation. Ownership of the past; the right or responsibility to represent, classify, and/or exhibit the culture and/or history of others and if so, on what grounds; the criteria by which ‘illicitly’ or ‘illegally’ traded and/or acquired cultural heritage property should be judged and defined, and by whom; the way in which cultural heritage conflicts should be resolved; and the role, if any, that the international community and/or national and local governments and museums should play in the protection and preservation of indigenous cultural resources are all debatable issues. Such questions tend to highlight the divergent and often incompatible values and world-views of those associated with the protection, preservation, and repatriation of cultural property, but Māori are more than willing to enter that debate, especially when it concerns taonga tapu. Taonga Māori have found their way into private and museum collections around the world via explorers such as James Cook (Kaeppler,1978) and Bellingshausen (Barratt, 1979); missionaries; military and government officials such as Governor Grey (a large number of Māori weapons collected by Grey can be viewed at the Kawau Island Mansion House) and Horatio Robley (1896); travellers such as the notorious Andreas Reischek (King, 1981); and private collectors such as Turnbull, Hocken, Skinner, Drew, Buller, and Hamilton (Butts, 2003, Unit 10:1a-4). All of these collectors played a significant role in the trade of Māori antiquities but many taonga also began their journeys as gifts for visiting dignitaries or were traded by Māori. For example, toi moko (tattooed heads) were frequently traded by Māori in the 1800s and the practice of tattooing slaves both before death and post-mortem has been well documented (Robley, 1896). Article II of Te Tiriti o Waitangi guarantees Māori the continued ‘tino rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa’ (unqualified exercise of their chieftainship over their lands, villages and all their treasures). With regard to the cultural 27 heritage estate of Māori, this statement seems relatively clear, yet the application of its intent has never been straight-forward. The Crown’s past response to the repatriation of kōiwi and toi moko “has been ad-hoc and ‘hands off’/non-committal” (Butts, 2003, Unit 12:20), but present government policy, led by Te Puni Kokiri in conjunction with the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, New Zealand Customs Service, Department of Internal Affairs, and Te Papa Tongarewa, has been more positive in terms of the establishment of a repatriation strategy in partnership with iwi. The present focus is on voluntary and low-key repatriation of provenanced kōiwi, but as the Weekend Herald article by Gregory (1999) outlining the ten year struggle by the descendants of Moetarau and Koukou to have their well-provenanced toi moko returned from the Auckland Museum shows, repatriation can still be a lengthy process. Whilst toi moko were often illicitly acquired by collectors there appears to have been even more inappropriate collecting of kōiwi tāngata (human bones). Reischek proudly documented his own stealth and cunning during his looting of Waikato burial caves in the pursuit of the Kawhia ‘mummies’ and their waka tūpāpaku (King, 1981). Fortunately, because of his well-documented bragging, these kōiwi tāngata have since been repatriated. In an untitled email from Paul Tapsell (Director Māori - Auckland War Memorial Museum) to Professor Norman Palmer (Chairman, Working Group on Human Remains - Department of Culture, Media and Sport, London, U.K.), Tapsell (2003) outlines the way in which New Zealand museums in the late 1800s and early 1900s were known to have traded large numbers of Māori and Chatham Island remains with museums and medical institutions in the United Kingdom. He notes that the museums did so without the permission of the descendant communities and also notes that in many cases these and other funerary taonga had often been inappropriately acquired. In his introduction to 150 Treasures, Stead (2001, pp. 8-19) also discusses the less than desirable way in which Auckland Museum was known to have collected taonga Māori. In the case of waka tūpāpaku, and particularly those in the Auckland Museum collection, Fox (1983) has provided the most comprehensive catalogue of waka tūpāpaku that are known to be held in both private and public collections throughout the world. She has also included details regarding their provenance, and photographic evidence of some of these ‘finds’. Having been shown these caves as a child, I, as instructed, had kept their location absolutely secret. Imagine the shock, then, at finding detailed directions of how to find one of these sacred burial caves in Carved Maori Burial Chests: A Commentary and a Catalogue (Fox, 1983). 28 In recent times, many toi moko and kōiwi tāngata have been returned from museums around the world while others have been repatriated from New Zealand museums back to their respective iwi and hapū. However, the repatriation of those remains and funerary taonga that are known to have been collected under questionable circumstances and have since been gifted or sold to museums, continue to cause controversy. Tapsell claims that “all human remains currently in the custody of AWMM are managed with the respect, dignity and integrity one would expect to be granted to any deceased person” (2003, p.1), but still the Auckland War Memorial Museum chose to exhibit waka tūpāpaku despite the risk of offending Māori, and in particular Ngāti Hine. According to Neich (personal communication, September 14, 2004) and confirmed later by Sir Hugh Kawharu (personal communication, October 26, 2004) this was predominantly a governance decision rather than a curatorial one. Unfortunately, the majority of Ngāti Hine were not even aware of the waka tūpāpaku currently held in museum collections but Te Roroa hapū were aware of their existence. “In 1988, some of the most sacred taonga of Te Roroa, the kōiwi and waka tūpāpaku of their ancestors, were returned to them from the Auckland Institute and Museum for reburial” (Waitangi Tribunal, 2010, para. 3). This happened as a result of the findings of the Te Roroa Report 1992 and according to Roger Neich, Curator of Ethnology at Auckland Museum, the remaining waka tūpāpaku from Waimamaku still held by the Auckland Museum are protected by strict conditions of management, iwi consultation, and access (personal communication, September 14, 2004). Auckland Museum’s Taumata-a-Iwi is legislated to advise the Trust Board on all matters concerning taonga Māori(Auckland War Memorial Museum, 2004),but as Neich (personal communication, September 14, 2004) points out, this governance advisory committee merely has the ‘right’ to advise the Trust Board; is only able to appoint one person to the Board of twelve (at that time, Sir Hugh Kawharu); and does not have tribal representation outside of Ngāti Whatua, Ngāti Paoa, and Tainui. The Ngai Tahu policy regarding kōiwi tāngata recognises that tribal opinions should not to be “compromised by the interests of museums” (Gillies & O’Regan, 1994, para.2) and that final authority and control of kōiwi tāngata within their tribal rohe must be transferred from the museums to the tribe. The tribe acknowledges that whilst they prefer immediate re- burial of kōiwi tāngata they also appreciate the need for continued academic research as long as it is conducted on tribal terms and in wāhi tapu (designated non-public rooms) where appropriate management and research of kōiwi tāngata can be conducted. 29 O’Regan’s report on bicultural developments in New Zealand’s museums recommends cultural awareness training for museum staff; training of kaitiaki Māori; facilitation of Māori appointments; discussions between museums and iwi regarding provenance, collection/identification by type, legal and cultural authority, and management of taonga Māori collections; and the active participation of local Māori groups in matters pertaining to the bicultural development of museums (1997, pp.110-123). Te Tiriti o Waitangi recognition and the exercise of tino rangatiratanga and kaitiakitanga by tāngata whenua are also essential for positive museum-iwi relations. This can be achieved by ensuring that such rights are part of the museum’s constitution and that Māori are active participants in policy development, governance, and co-management of Māori collections. Museums can then engage in the politics of indigenous recognition, classification, and representation and act as contact points where domestic and international bicultural and multicultural developments can be explored. Active relationships which provide Māori with physical and spiritual access to their taonga (assuming taonga are not too fragile for physical interaction) held in museum collections will allow Māori to keep these tūpuna warm for future generations. Certain taonga are considered to be too tapu, too powerful, or too politically contentious to be cared for by individual or tribal kaitiaki, and museums are often the most appropriate alternative to fulfil this role. However this can sometimes be problematic in terms of tribal access. By facilitating the use of these, and other taonga during important tribal celebrations and hui, museums will not only enhance the tapu, mauri, mana, and kōrero of each taonga, tūpuna, and tribal group, but also the tapu, mauri, mana, and kōrero associated with those museums and the countries within which they operate. In this regard, taonga are able to serve a much wider range of purposes in the context of the museum. While “some regard cultural and intellectual property rights as the second wave of colonisation because the principles that underpin western legal perceptions…are seen as a continuation of the ideologies of foreign conquest and domination” (Mead, 1997, p.23), it is through the positive relationships established to co- manage taonga that museums are able to engage, and possibly lead the way, in the politics of indigenous recognition, classification, and representation and to act as a contact point where domestic and international bicultural and multicultural developments can be explored. The extent to which Pākehā are able to accept taonga Māori as a “reflection of their own distinctive identity as citizens of Aotearoa” (Mead, 1986, p.104) should also not be underestimated. Although my interaction with the waka tūpāpaku at the Auckland Museum has generally coloured my opinion of museums that choose to display funerary taonga, I can still 30 acknowledge the important role that museums will continue to play in the present life-story of many of our magnificent taonga. Without the technical expertise and financial resources available to museums in regard to the research, care, appropriate preservation, and rigorous security of taonga, many would not have survived the ravages of time or tribal politics, and Māori would not now have access to the tribal identity and histories that taonga are able to provide. Nor would they be able to share in the celebration of collections such as Te Māori. Mead asserts that the message of Te Māori was that “we have a magnificent heritage and a beautiful future ahead of us” (1986, p.118) and he also speaks of how the world’s recognition of the power and beauty of Māori culture has strengthened our assurance, dignity, and confidence in ourselves as Māori. It would have been a tragedy for Māori to miss the opportunity to hear that message, and museums should celebrate their part in facilitating the Te Maori experience. To summarise, museums need to appreciate that research, care, preservation, security, and possession of taonga, does not equate to ownership, authority, and control. In addition, indigenous peoples, including Māori, must support other cultural heritage stakeholders to see these taonga and their management through culturally aware and culturally respectful eyes. Ngāti Hine-Museum Relationship While Brown (2003,) wrestled with the decision to include images of waka tūpāpaku in her book, Tai Tokerau Whakairo Rākau: Northland Māori Wood Carving she decided to do so only because the images had already been published in earlier works such as Carved Māori Burial Chests: A Commentary and a Catalogue (Fox, 1983). With all respect to Brown, perhaps that example should serve as a warning to all hapū and iwi. If Auckland Museum decided, in its infinite wisdom, to hang Ngāti Hine coffins on their walls, then perhaps others might find it easier to follow their example. Whakapapa and tūpuna are integral to Māori cultural identity (Durie, 2001, p.190), therefore, the repatriation of human remains is not only central to the restoration of Māori mana, but is also indicative of tribal competence in fulfilling the obligations and responsibilities of cultural heritage kaitiakitanga and whānau/hapū capacity for “pupuri taonga” [maintaining treasured possessions] (Durie, 2001, p.201). From the perspective of Ngāti Hine, the Auckland Museum has treated our taonga tapu abominably, and in doing so, has compromised our capacity to care for our taonga. 31 This, has therefore, negatively affected our well-being as a hapū. With only two exceptions, Ngāti Hine who attended hui related to the display of waka tūpāpaku, contributed as interviewees, or spoke to me on a personal level, have condemned the Auckland Museum decision to display our waka tūpāpaku. Kaumātua certainly made their feelings clear on the day Ngāti Hine protested that decision at the Auckland Museum. While this certainly does not bode well in terms of a positive enduring relationship, Ngāti Hine will no doubt continue to engage with all museums, because, whether by design or by default, museums now find themselves playing the role of kaitiaki taonga. How the museums decide to interact with Ngāti Hine will determine how successful they are in ensuring that the taonga in their ‘possession’ are still able to continue to be an important part in our lives. Taonga: A Definition Objects, Artefacts and Treasure Europeans have had a long history of treasure seeking. Whether it be ‘sunken treasure’, ‘buried treasure’, a pirate’s jealously guarded loot, a king’s ransom, the spoils of war, or the ethnographic and scientific artefacts collected during the great periods of exploration and colonisation, treasure is something to be envied, sought, obtained, and ultimately, to be owned. Rationalisation and debate regarding the motivation and intention of early explorers often include mention of enlightenment, scientific research, and scholarship (Salmond, 1997). Whilst learned men, such as Sir Joseph Banks, were often attached to certain expeditions and did carry out scientific research, these men certainly returned to their own countries with the cultural treasures of the lands and people that they visited (Henare, 2005, p. 60). Explorers did not generally set out to view and document the pyramids of Egypt, ‘streets paved with gold’ discovered in the Americas, or ‘curiosities’ and ethnographic artefacts of the indigenous peoples around the world. They intended to take that treasure back to their homelands or make it their own through colonisation. The Enlightenment saw the establishment of societies, such as the Royal Society, and institutions dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and theory. Knowledge equated to power, and theory allowed for the embedding of that power in the fabric of the colonised world (Smith, L.T., 1999). The treasures they collected from around the world would no doubt assist in the accumulation of knowledge that would distinguish members of the grand Empire from the ‘other’ less cultured and educated peoples of the world. But more importantly, these artefacts would ensure some form of imperial ‘ownership’ of these less 32 enlightened cultures. Lumley suggests heritage collection and preservation to be an exercise in nostalgic yearnings for a romanticised past, a way to foment positive change and encourage growth and prosperity, or a “medium for interpreting, representing and communicating history” (2005, p. 15). However, with that in mind, it must be remembered that “the identities that framed the age of the museum, from about 1840 to 1930 were national, imperial and modern” (Pieterse, 2005, p.170) and they viewed taonga in a completely different way from the indigenous peoples and communities from whence those taonga originated. Taonga Ask Māori for their definition of taonga and you will invariably be shown a photograph of a cherished mokopuna (grandchild) or be required to listen patiently as you are enlightened as to the deeds and characteristics of countless whānau members, both living and deceased. Once this aspect of taonga has been satisfactorily exhausted you will then be directed to such diverse treasures as te reo me ōna tikanga; waiata; memories; marae; or geographical and environmental locations such as mountains, rivers, forests, the sea, and of course, their contents. Almost as an afterthought, the subject of tangible and portable cultural heritage such as whakairo, weaving, weaponry, whakaahua (photographs), whakapapa books, and all of the other ornamental and everyday Māori material culture usually found displayed in museums, will be mentioned and discussed. Intertwined with these tangible and intangible taonga will flow a multitude of often indefinable and elusive concepts including mana, tapu, wairua, ihi, mauri, aroha, karakia, kōrero, kaitiakitanga and manaakitanga. Also integral to the Māori psyche and our complex understanding and definition of taonga are our worldviews regarding tatai (recitation of whakapapa), whakapapa, kinship, and collective thought. When taonga tapu is mentioned the Māori face changes. No longer will you see the softened face of the grandparent speaking about their moko, or the fiercely proud face of the kaitiaki of a kahukiwi (kiwi feather cloak). The taonga tapu face will probably display a complex array of emotions from fear and anxiety, to grief, anger and love. Therefore, as the term taonga embraces all of these aforementioned forms and concepts, as well as so much more, it will be difficult to remain within the limited parameters of this thesis when trying to define the concept of taonga. To discuss museum material culture without fully considering the role they played in the lives of those who used them, the role they have yet to play in the lives of their descendant communities, and the complexity of the whāriki upon which these taonga travel, does not allow them to tell their story as it should be told. However, despite the restrictions and the narrow euro-centric view of taonga as 33 portable cultural heritage property, the subject matter will be unapologetically approached from a distinctly Māori perspective. Taonga Māori Ropata Davis, a renowned bone carver, defines taonga as “all that is beloved and of value to Māoritanga” (1994, p.9). Yet while this is a standard and acceptable definition for taonga, it does not adequately explain the flood of emotions that taonga can evoke from deep within the Māori psyche. Perhaps the definition offered in Te Māori: Taonga Māori , Treasures of the Māori (Brake, Simmons & Penfold, 1994) to explain the essence of the taonga that comprised the Te Māori exhibition, is one which better explains the power of taonga to elicit and reveal the vast range and intensity of emotions that Māori experience when interacting with taonga. The definition holds that taonga are: An expression of the deepest recesses of the mind, the spiritual essence, and the heart of the ancient Māori. These masterly pieces are their legacy to us and they speak to us. These treasures speak to us of power, inspiration and the awesome wonder of mankind. They are the faces of the old world; the links of the old world to this world; and the signposts from this world to the world which stands before us (p. 6). This definition better explains the spiritual nature of taonga and their ability to transcend this world and connect us to our forebears, our descendants, and to other planes of existence. Māori do not see taonga as dead relics from the past. They are alive and in fact they are deemed to have a life of their own. They can be benevolent or evil, interactive or indifferent, happy or angry and malevolent, inspirational or simply tired. They often hibernate until ‘required’, then reappear to remind us of our heritage, our obligations, and our potential. There is absolutely no doubt that taonga continue to speak to Māori in the language and ways of their ancestors. Not only do they preserve the traditional artistic styles, methods and materials of our tupuna, Māori believe them to hold the palpable essence of those who fashioned and used them. If taonga are indeed an “expression of the deepest recesses of the mind, the spiritual essence, and the heart of the ancient Māori” (Brake, Simmons & Penfold, 1994, p.6), then it is no wonder that they continue to affect the Māori psyche on the emotional and spiritual levels that they do. I recall the first conversation I had with Rewi Spraggon when embarking on the journey to repatriate our Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku. “So, they’ve been giving your back a bit of a ngaungau too aye?” enquired Rewi (personal communication, Feb 10, 2005). This statement clearly acknowledged Rewi’s belief in the power of these taonga to not only affect humankind, but to choose to affect us. 34 By recounting the occasion of my first encounter with our waka tūpāpaku that were displayed at the Auckland War Memorial Museum (see Introduction) and the emotions associated with the display of such taonga tapu, I have attempted to define taonga by revealing the depth of feeling that many Māori experience in the presence of such artefacts. Because there exists a spiritual connection, taonga will almost always elicit an emotional reaction from Māori. However, in order to adequately understand that connection, or understand the definition of taonga, one must be able to grasp some of the Māori concepts used to describe these artefacts. This can be a difficult undertaking as the meanings of many of these metaphysical concepts do not easily or comprehensively translate from Māori to English, and often, much of the essence of a word is lost in translation. For instance, taonga are frequently described as being tapu. An acceptable but superficial translation of tapu would be sacred. However, the word sacred does not embrace the myriad of nuances and conditions implied in the term tapu. For Māori, “tapu is the power and influence of the gods” (Barlow, 1996, pp.128-129), and as Shirres (1997) explains further, tapu is the “potentiality for power” (p.33). There is always a price to pay for a breach of tapu and that price is often a diminishing of mana. “Where tapu is the potentiality for power, mana is the actual power, the power itself” (Shirres, 1997, p.53). Tapu is therefore the link to the mana, or power, of the atua (gods) and the mana of our tūpuna. This mana is what connects us to our ancestors and to the mana of our whenua. For example, the desecration of waka tūpāpaku violates the collective tapu of Ngāti Hine and in doing so diminishes our all- important connection to our tūpuna, our tribal whenua, and their immeasurable mana. Other important terms often used in connection to taonga include mauri; wairua; ihi, wehi, and wana; and kōrero. Often translated as ‘life force’, like tapu, mauri means so much more to Māori. It is a vibrant force that binds a network of interactive relationships together, and apart. Shirres (1997) differentiates between the mauri ora of living things, which he defines as the power (sourced from the supreme being) that is able to bind the physical and spiritual parts of the human being thereby enabling and sustaining life, and secondly, the mauri “by which all things cohere in nature” (p.116), But there is yet another form of mauri which by karakia (ritual) can be established within inanimate objects such as houses (Barlow, 1996, pp.82-830), or in relation to this discussion, taonga. These objects are then said to hold and protect the essence, or “primal energy” (Marsden, 1992, p.135) of such things as houses, tribal groups, or events. Mauri, mana, and tapu, are therefore intrinsically interconnected, and when spoken of in regard to taonga, the degree to which these qualities are present will determine how esteemed and important they are in the lives of iwi, hapū, and whānau. 35 Wairua is yet another term that is often not fully understood. Briefly, it is the spiritual component of living beings. For Māori the belief in wairua generally accepts that the pre-birth and post-death existence of wairua is indisputable (Barlow, 1996, p.152). Many taonga are said to be “repositories for the wairua of particular ancestors” (Tapsell, 1997, p.331). In a culture where tūpuna, their knowledge, and their possessions are so highly revered, these taonga reinforce our obligations and responsibilities in regard to what Patterson refers to as ancestral contracts (1992, p.82), whilst also reinforcing our personal and emotional connection to the artefacts and to our tribal groups. In addition to the powerful presence of the wairua of tūpuna, taonga are also said to “exude ihi, wehi and wana” (Tapsell, 1997, p.331). The antiquity of many taonga, and the kōrero (life-story) associated with particular artefacts will determine the degree of ihi - vitality and excellence of one’s “physical, spiritual, and psychological attributes” (Barlow, 1996, pp.30-31); wehi - fear, awe, and respect in response to the superior ihi of another person or the power and tapu of the gods or ancestors; and wana - physical response, such as ‘gooseflesh’ or quivering, in the face of something fearsome or awe-inspiring, said to emanate from that particular artefact. I experienced these phenomena when I showed two friends a korowai kiwi that I planned to wear to my first graduation. The korowai was an extremely tapu tribal taonga said to have been worn at the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The unveiling was sudden and unannounced, and the reactions were equally so. Without knowing of the antiquity and mana of the korowai, one friend froze and began to cry while the other stepped forward and lovingly stroked the korowai while she spoke to it. Both of these women were from different tribal areas to my own and neither could be considered to be taputapu. The experience certainly reminded me of the power of taonga to illicit ihi, wehi, and wana. Tapsell (1998) asserts that ihi, wehi, and wana, point to the artistic wonder of the taonga’s creators, protectors, and karakia, and in doing so, “also reinforces the mana of direct descendants” (p.16). Pere, speaks of how sacred taonga have their own spiritual influences and ‘protectors’, so that only the rightful people would dare touch and use them (1982, pp. 20- 21). The spiritual influences alluded to by Pere include the aforementioned concepts of tapu, mana, mauri, ihi, wehi, and wana, whilst the ‘protectors’ include wairua as well as living kaitiaki. The attributes of these kaitiaki (guardians), whose job it is to protect the tapu, mauri, and mana of taonga, will also permeate the layers of kōrero that cloak the particular taonga in their care. Kōrero surrounding taonga can fulfil a number of functions within Māori tribal structures. For many Māori the narratives can provide access to the legacy that is their 36 identity and their unique tribal histories. For instance, no taonga speaks quite so eloquently of Tainui waka as does the mysterious carved bird known as the Korotangi. This awe- inspiring taonga was returned to the people of Tainui at the signing of the tribe’s Waikato raupatu settlement in 1995. The Waikato ariki, Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu referred to the Korotangi “as a symbol of our origins and our future” and added that taonga such as the Korotangi “enrich the spirit because they reflect our dreams and they reveal the genius and artistry of our ancestors” (Te Anga, 1997). Both the antiquity of this taonga and its rich life-story help to ensure the preservation of its tapu and mana, whilst the tapu and mana of Tainui waka also remains vigorous and intact. Moreover, the appearance of the Korotangi at such a momentous occasion as the settlement signing hui enhances the tapu and mana of both the taonga and the tribe. In addition, like other such auspicious occasions as a basis for taonga appearances, the narrative now includes another “fixed point in the tribal network of names, histories and relationships” (Salmond, 1984, p.118). This reinforces whakapapa and world connections whilst providing future narrators with another genealogical reference point within the layers of the taonga’s kōrero (Tapsell, 1997, p.328). Similarly, Mead calls these reference points “anchor points in our genealogies and in our history” (1985, p.13). Tapsell’s use of the life-stories of Murirangaranga (Tutanekai’s flute) and Te Kahumamae o Pareraututu (Pareraututu’s dog-skin cloak of pain) demonstrate the way in which taonga are able to reinforce tribal values, strengthen kin relationships, and stabilize inter-tribal politics, particularly during exchange ceremonies and appearances at tribal hui. His utilization of the trajectories of comets and tui as metaphors to illustrate how particular taonga can weave their way in and out of various tribal histories, or once every century blaze a fiery trail across a single tribal horizon, can assist in the understanding of the complexities, both spiritual and temporal, of the kōrero associated with these artefacts. This includes the role they play in establishing the threads that connect and bind the different realms of Te Ao Māori (Tapsell, 1997). Perhaps museums are merely temporary perches where darting ‘tui’ can rest before proceeding on their remarkable journeys. Witi Ashby (interview with Tohe Ashby May, 2005) tried to explain the act of giving, as a taonga on its own. Similarly “Mauss argued that when a taonga or treasured possession is exchanged, it carries with it hau, ‘the spirit of the gift’, an animate force binding those involved in the transaction – persons and things – into a cycle of reciprocity” (Henare, 2007, p. 47). For Witi, it was not only a cycle of reciprocity but also a cycle of kōrero. In terms of returning the value of the gift to the giver, acknowledging and honouring the obligations accepted along with the kōrero belonging to the gift, adds to the mana of that taonga which is central to the definition of the term taonga. 37 Mana taonga is largely defined by the whakapapa of people connected to that taonga. It is the key principle that underpins Māori participation at Te Papa Tongarewa. “Mana taonga gives iwi the right to care for taonga, to speak about them, and to determine their use by the museum” (Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, 2005, p.1) Te Papa’s definition of mana taonga has been criticised by Tapsell (1998) for being a tool of appropriation whereby kaitiakitanga of taonga is transferred from Māori hands to those of the Nation’s museums. Many Māori agree, where mana taonga refers to the mana achieved through repatriation to Māori, or for the capacity of taonga to act autonomously. Much like the waka tūpāpaku at Auckland Museum there is a belief among whānau and hapu associated with these taonga that they will choose who they talk to and when. Pierre Lyndon (personal communication, Feb 22, 2005) told how he had worn a taonga to a tangi that had belonged to his recently deceased grandmother. On seeing the taonga, an old kuia began to weep and talk to the taonga, all the while caressing and kissing it. Pierre tells of how the kuia finally looked up at him, and said, “oh, and how’ you too, boy?” The taonga and the kuia had interacted like old friends. Taonga Tapu According to Patterson, “the importance of the ancestors in Māori thought is almost beyond the comprehension of many Pakeha” (1992, p.80. This is because tūpuna are central to the Māori world view. As already recounted, when I first laid eyes on them, these waka tūpāpaku, or ‘faces of the old world’ caused a flood of intense emotions. No doubt those emotions were stirred by the cultural imprinting of my childhood. I fondly recall my old kuia and kaumātua referring to our relatives, both living and dead, as ‘bones’. “Come and kiss your bones” they would say when relatives arrived. I also clearly remember an aunt of mine objecting to a non-whānau group who were attempting to carry their deceased friend (our whānau member) into our wāhi tapu without waiting for the karanga of the hunga kainga. “Oh no they don’t!” she said. Marching staunchly to take her place by the grave and gesturing toward the multitude of gravestones in our family cemetery, she added, “Not while my bones are all here watching me!” Like my aunt, much of my personal and cultural identity is defined in terms of my whakapapa or ‘bones’. We need to fulfil our obligation to afford our dead ‘bones’ the respect they deserve. Those waka tūpāpaku are symbolic, yet also physical, representations of that whakapapa and therefore, of our tūpuna. The first day I ‘discovered’ our waka tūpāpaku in the Auckland Museum I felt my Ngāti Hine tupuna watching. Despite the fact that these waka tūpāpaku no longer hold the bones of my ancestors, they were still imbued with the “untouchable quality that is the main element” (Marsden, 1992, p.119) of tapu. I experienced 38 sorrow because the tapu associated with the waka tūpāpaku has been violated and because of this I mourned not only for the rangatira (leaders) whose kōiwi once lay in these caskets, but also for my people and all that they have suffered, and continue to suffer, at the hands of the colonisers. Seeing those carved images took me back to all of the hui mate that I had attended and the grief experienced with each passing was once again relived. Salmond talks about the alchemy of taonga and their ability to collapse time and “give men absolute access to their ancestors” (1984, p. 120) and I have definitely felt that power. The anger I felt was because these taonga “were never intended to be seen after they were deposited in burial caves” (Brown, 2003, p.15) and the fact that they have not yet been returned to their proper resting places, infuriates me still. I would agree with the assertion that taonga are links between the old world and the present, and from this world to the next. I agree too, that they speak to us. It must be remembered that in the Maori and indigenous world, this phenomena is not uncommon. It is a phenomenon that has been experienced by non-Maori who have worked with taonga (O’Biso, 1999). The waka tūpāpaku in the Auckland Museum pleaded with me; they were, and are still, bewildered and angry and they do not understand why they are still there – but then again, neither do I. Without exception, from the focus group hui to the five research participants, all of those questioned indicated that taonga tapu were in a ‘league of their own’ and that because of the potent funerary tapu attached to these taonga they needed to be addressed first, in conversation, in research, and in terms of repatriation. In fact, it became difficult to talk about taonga in general, while the ‘big white elephant’ sat in the room. In other words, the people wanted to talk about waka tūpāpaku first and foremost rather than taonga in general. Taonga tapu illicit a sombreness and deep reverence not always experienced with other taonga and they are often seen to be indicators of the ‘health’ and wellbeing of a tribe. Salmond refers to the psychological effects of such phenomena not explained within the western context (1984, p.120). Burial caves were kept secret from other tribal groups, and later, from Pākehā, because of the psychological damage that could be inflicted on a tribe by the desecration of its wāhi tapu and their contents. Ngāti Hine knows that sting of shame and pouri. 39 Chapter Four: Methodology The parameters of this research include insider research where I am the researcher and also an integral member of the researched collective. In addition, the research is Māori- centric and hapū-centric. With these parameters in mind, the principles of Kaupapa Māori research needed to be central to the methodology and in order to accommodate the research agenda within a Maori and hapu centred approach Action Research was employed. Action research that is guided by kaupapa Māori principles is the obvious choice of methodology that is entrenched in tribal research. As a member of Ngāti Hine who is researching our perspectives regarding the emotive subject of taonga, the research becomes our research, our outcomes, and our analysis. Action research allows me the luxury of being unapologetic about my personal and emotional stake in the subject matter; it allowed me the freedom to participate, influence, and even drive, the research. Because, the research journey and the repatriation journey are so intertwined on this multi-layered whāriki of reality, I have decided to narrate the journey as it occurred, with my own analysis and perspective inserted along the way. From the focus group hui to the interviews carried out with the five Ngāti Hine research participants, it was obviously the most appropriate methodology for research participants. Whilst ethical processes were discussed before all research discussions commenced, and focus group confidentiality agreements and participant consent forms were read out and offered up to be signed, every single participant refused to sign these forms on the grounds that they were insulting to the researcher and the relationship they shared with the researcher and the subject matter or kōrero. Consent was given verbally and recorded on audio and video tape. Interviews and participants I chose to interview participants of Ngāti Hine descent who were known personally to me. This allowed me access to the participants who trusted my ethicality. As a result of these relationships, the kōrero flowed freely during the interviews. However in order to protect sensitive tribal knowledge and intellectual property, this also meant that a large part of the material was edited. Information such as the details of burial sites of tribal taonga outside of the Waiōmio area, the exact contents of specific burial caves, and what taonga are in the possession of certain Ngāti Hine whānau were generally excluded. 40 Some sensitive information was also edited to ensure that this research did not cause unnecessary harm both at a tribal and individual level. Therefore, as an active participant in this research and as a trusted whānau and hapū member, I have chosen to censor and edit all conversations carried out with the research participants. Whilst some interviews continued for hours, others were of a much shorter duration depending on the venues and the limited time available to the research participants. All interviews were conducted between April and June, 2005. The interview data is not divided into titled segments as is normal for thesis material; therefore, the kōrero of each participant is presented as it was recorded. All speech marks refer to the interviewee unless otherwise indicated. Each interview account will consist of an introduction to the research participant and will be followed by the kōrero. Like any tribal community, Ngāti Hine boasts a diverse population. However, with particular regard to this thesis, only five Ngāti Hine research participants were chosen. It was therefore imperative to cover a multiplicity of demographics using this small sample of participants. Four of the five participants are fluent in te reo, while one has some understanding and is learning to speak Māori. All are involved with their respective marae. Both genders are represented, as are academic backgrounds, socio-economic cohorts and age groups. Three are kuia and kaumātua, while one is middle-aged and another is representative of the younger generation. The majority of participants are well-known Ngāti Hine historians. All have conducted lectures across a broad spectrum of subjects, either at tertiary level, kura, or as part of tribal wānanga. All participants are, or have been, actively involved in tribal politics and some have been directly involved with the repatriation of tribal taonga. Whilst all those interviewed have multi-tribal and inter-tribal experience, some could be classified as ahi ka, some as urban-based, and some, like taonga, often move in and out of their different cultural contexts. All the participants are whānau and as is typical of such familial relationships oral consent was provided, but more often than not, written consent was actively denied as it was seen to be insulting. Furthermore, due to that ease of whānau-esque conversation, a large amount of the kōrero recorded contained information that should remain protected and private to Ngāti Hine. All the participants agreed to the use of their names rather than pseudonyms. The importance of this decision for this thesis is that it lends credibility and authenticity to the research. The research participants are; Tohe Ashby (with Witi Ashby) – Ahi ka, historian, Chair of the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga, environmentalist 41 Kene Martin – Ngāti Hine historian, member of the Kawiti whānau, educator. Taipari Munro – Experience with repatriation, historian, academic, Jim Tipene – Educator, well-versed in Ngāti Hine history, whakapapa, and politics, Dr. Dana Tipene-Hook – Medical doctor, academic, young urban-based Ngāti Hine Kaupapa Māori Research Smith (1999) writes of the struggle of indigenous peoples in terms of allowing ‘others’ to research our histories, to retell our stories, and then to classify our oral histories as ‘traditions’ somehow unworthy of valid scholarship. Not only are our oral accounts contested because they do not fit into a Western view of scientific research, our own research methodologies and Māori researchers are suspected of being less than rigorous. Instead of practising detachment from the research subject, the Māori researcher’s rigour is questioned because they tend to involve themselves with their subject matter. We expose ourselves to intellectual ridicule and disrespect by unapologetically speaking and writing about our personal and often emotional connection to our research. Furthermore, we willingly break the research rule of all rules and admit to actively influencing research participants and outcomes. As Māori researchers we are left with little choice. Kaupapa Māori research is based on the premise that research should recognise the validity and legitimacy of the Māori worldview, our tikanga, philosophy, language, and culture. It is also about seeking social justice and positive benefits for those being researched (Smith, 1991). Central to those benefits is the Māori concept of tino- rangatiratanga and the Māori quest for cultural autonomy (Smith, 1990). Kaupapa Māori research should not need to be compared to Euro-centric principles of research, but instead, should be seen as an alternative that is far more appropriate for Māori who are using their own frameworks to seek their own solutions. An ethical code of conduct or set of principles expected to be followed when Māori research is being conducted, is offered in Linda Smith’s, Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples (1999). This set of seven principles includes: • Aroha ki te tangata (a respect for people). • Kanohi kitea (the seen face, that is present yourself to people face to face). • Titiro, whakarongo ... kōrero (look, listen ... speak) • Maanaki ki te tangata (share and host people, be generous). • Kia tupato (be cautious). 42 • Kaua e takahia te mana o te tangata (do not trample over the mana of people). • Kaua e mahaki (don’t flaunt your knowledge). (1999, p.120) Action Research “Until lions write books, history will always glorify the hunter” [Levins Morales, 1998, Title Page]. This South African proverb was used by Levins Morales to illustrate the absence of neutrality in storytelling. History is merely an account told by someone who has been shaped by the cultural parameters of their upbringing and driven by the needs of their current status and environment. More often than not, history is about power and oppression. The colonizer will often use history to introduce themselves as the ‘enlightened’ ones who herald the end of the dark, murky, and usually indigenous past. They are the intellectuals who emerge and even initiate the valid, recorded, and therefore relevant, era of history. But as Levins Morales points out (1998, p.8), this is exactly what oppression sets out to teach us. For example, before we knew it, and despite our moteatea and oral traditions numbering voyaging waka in the hundreds (Evans,1997), through the colonising processes incorporated in school curriculum, many Māori became complicit in believing and teaching historic narratives such as the seven waka ‘great migration’ story. I recall being confused and a little miffed that Ngātokimatawhaorua had not been listed alongside the illustrious seven, but who was I to contradict the intellectuals, of that ‘higher order’, that deemed this narrative to be our history. After all, they had thoroughly researched and documented our past and were now kind enough to enlighten us by redefining our history. I have employed action research as a methodology that takes Ngāti Hine out of the paradigm of colonized thought and puts us squarely into our own indigenous space. The methodology allows the research cohort, Ngāti Hine, to seek solutions to an identified problem by using their own collective strategies. Therefore Ngāti Hine disengaged from the Auckland Museum in terms of a museum-iwi relationship or iwi-museum relationship, and instead, embarked on a solution that involved the museum but did not require its reasoning or its direct assistance. The focus is to transform the researched into co-researchers with co-learning as a key aspect of the process. There is no attempt by me as the primary researcher to remain objective and in fact I acknowledge my bias. O’Brien states: 43 Known by many other names, including participatory research, collaborative inquiry, emancipatory research, action learning, and contextural action research, simply put, action research is ‘learning by doing’. A group of people identifies a problem, does something to resolve it, sees how successful their efforts were, and, if not satisfied, tries again. (1998, para.3). The cyclical pattern of action research involves planning, acting, observing and reflecting, before the next cycle begins. O’Brien expands this to diagnosing a problem, considering alternate courses of action, selecting a strategy, evaluating the consequences of that action, learning from the process, and starting the cycle again (O’Brien, 1998, Figure 2). This allows the whole process to be dictated by the assumptions and worldviews of the research cohort, who are seen as co-researchers. Similarly, it allows for a multiplicity of strategies, actions, interpretations, and on reflection, outcomes. This framework of plurality works well for tribal structures that tend to throw a multitude of factors and perspectives on the table and then by the end of a hui the people have arrived at a single strategy that is wholly flexible should the need arise. The resultant research report is then seen as being supportive of ongoing collaboration, rather than being the definitive solution. In the case of this research, the whole process will not only benefit Ngāti Hine, but could also serve as a specific learning example for other tribes who are conducting similar research. Focus Group Methodology As part of my methodology I chose to hold a focus group hui to examine the wider Ngāti Hine perspectives of taonga. After speaking with one of my kaumātua advisors, Kevin Prime, we decided it would be better to hold the hui at one of our smaller, more intimate, whānau marae. Waimahae Reserve, the Prime whānau Marae, in Motatau, was deemed the most suitable, and Kevin advised me to restrict the hui participants to approximately ten or so kaumātua. He advised that he would contact suitable participants from the kuia/kaumātua forum that Kevin chaired. Te Roopu Kaumātua me ngā kuia o Ngātihine i raro i Te Tiriti o Waitangi was initially set up as an advisory group to Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine. But as the rūnanga was in recess, the advisory group now served as a Ngāti Hine decision-making body in place of the rūnanga. I began preparations for a small hui as per Kaupapa Māori research principle four, but to my horror I received the following email on Feb 7, 2005: 44 z Not only had the venue been changed to a larger marae, but the potential numbers of participants had increased to the width and breadth of Ngāti Hine (as it later turned out, a tangi occurred on the same day which kept the numbers more reasonable). The opening words of the email, ‘E te iwi o Ngāti Hine ...’ produced shock enough because the words were an invitation to the whole tribe to attend which could number anything up to 50,000 people, but in addition, our proposed discussion regarding Ngāti Hine and taonga in general, had been put aside for a discussion about the ‘issues pertaining to our waka tūpāpaku which are currently held at the Auckland Museum’. Moreover, the hui aimed to have the introduction, discussion, and decision ‘over by lunchtime’. So considerations about such ethical imperatives in the research as ‘signed consent’ became a challenge. In terms of a kaupapa Maori methodology, this demonstrates that sometimes the kaupapa is bigger than the research itself. It also shows the nature of hapu-centric research where exclusion is not possible or contemplated based on whakapapa, and when kaupapa that is in the interests of the entire tribe is at stake. He PanuiE te iwi o Ngatihine tena ra koutou katoa Tena ra koutou e noho mai na i te wa kainga.Tena ano hoki o tatou Aitua maha kua taka atu ki tua o te arai. Kua tangihia ratou, kua mihia, kua poroporoakitia, na reira me kua ea. Ko tenei te karanga, ko tenei te powhiri kia huihui mai tatou ki te Marae o Manukoroki i Motatau ki te whiriwhiri i nga ahuatanga e pa ana ki o tatou waka tūpāpaku i te whare taonga i Tamakimakaurau. E aru ake nei te paeroa o te ra. To the People of Ngatihine greetings to you all. Greetings also to our many relatives who have passed on. They have been wept for, greeted and farewelled, let that suffice. This is to advise that a hui will be held at the Manukoroki meeting house at the Motatau Marae to discuss issues pertaining to our waka tūpāpaku which are currently held at the Auckland Museum Agenda: 26 February 2005, 10:00am at Motatau Marae Karakia Prayer Mihi Greeting Whakamarama Introduction Whiriwhiringa Discussion Whakataunga Decision Kai: 1:00pm Lunch: 1:00pm Ka wehe Dispersal Kia ora, Kevin Prime 45 Below is a list of questions I had emailed to Kevin Prime and had originally intended to ask the small group of participants at Waimahae Marae. They included: The Ngāti Hine definition of taonga? Does it include things like whakapapa books, waiata, whānau korowai, weaponry, marae carvings, flora/fauna etc? Do we want to categorise and/or prioritise tapu things like waka tūpāpaku and kōiwi separately? What instructions, if any, have our tūpuna given us re taonga (e.g. I can remember the oldies talking about Tau Henare asking that we refrain from burying things with their owners because we were running out of taonga)? What memories do people have of Ngāti Hine taonga (e.g. I can recall a story about an old [battle?] conch at Opahi)? Should this info be widely available? Kaitiakitanga? Should kaitiakitanga remain a whānau thing or should it be a hapū/iwi responsibility and what are our ideas regarding this? Do Ngāti Hine think we have an obligation/responsibility in terms of preservation, protection, and repatriation of our taonga, and if so, what are our intentions? Do we want to establish a Ngāti Hine taonga catalogue and/or a Ngāti Hine cultural centre (Otiria?)? Are people aware of the legislation governing taonga and what are their thoughts about such legislation? (I can give a brief outline of current legislation) Intellectual property rights? Museum interaction What kind of tribal (recent hui at Whangarei) interaction has occurred? What kind of individual interaction has occurred? Waka tūpāpaku How did the museums acquire them? Why are they displaying them? Can Ngāti Hine get them returned and if so, how? What do we do with them if we get them back? All of these questions were answered in some form or another at the hui, however, they were, interestingly, answered in precisely the reverse order. As with all participants, the hui had, collectively, decided that taonga tapu were to be dealt with first. Action research dictates that the cohort should identify a problem and Ngāti Hine had collectively identified the problem the instant they found out that Auckland Museum was displaying our taonga tapu. The problem identified by the hui was that the display of waka tūpāpaku was a violation of tapu that has caused Ngāti Hine to suffer a diminishing of our mana, a diminishing of our kaitiakitanga responsibilities and obligations, and a diminishing of our tino 46 rangatiratanga status. We see it to be a mockery of biculturalism and a threat to a positive iwi-museum relationship. Korero Te reo was used in the delivery of the majority of kōrero. At any one time, approximately eighteen to twenty persons were in attendance in Manukoroki, our whare tupuna. Among kaumātua/kuia in attendance were Kevin Prime, Hirini Henare, Kopa Tipene, Wi Waiōmio, Marshall and Paki Thompson, Hare Waiōmio, Tohe Ashby, Winiata Tipene, and May Tipene. The hui was recorded both in audio and video. Furthermore, a TVNZ reporter Hirini Henare was also in attendance both as a reporter/camera man for Te Karere and as a Ngāti Hine kaitiaki taonga (Hirini is one of the current kaitiaki of burial caves in Pipiwai). The presence of the TVNZ camera was beyond my control as the researcher however, Ngāti Hine elders agreed to parts of the hui being filmed for public viewing. In fact parts of the hui were screened on national television a few days later. 47 Chapter Five: Kōrero mo ngā waka tūpāpaku At the Focus Group Hui held at Motatau Marae, the first topic of discussion was waka tūpāpaku. The kaumātua voiced their collective disbelief that the museum was displaying these taonga at all and asked me for a full account of my first encounter with them. I obliged and not a single person questioned the validity of the spiritual aspects of that encounter. In fact, they shared similar experiences related to taonga tapu and empathised with me that I had had to shoulder that burden alone. I shared images from the Fox (1983) Catalogue and showed which waka tūpāpaku I was referring to. I also outlined how the taonga had found their way into the museum’s collection and spoke in defence of the curatorial staff and how they were not comfortable about the displaying of such taonga. The arguments of scholarly access were shared and the use of these waka tūpāpaku as examples of carving styles for Pine Taiapa’s carvers was discussed. Interestingly, Pine and his cohort had produced the carvings, for the Waitangi whare tūpuna, in the very whare that our hui was now being conducted. They had stayed in Motatau for two years and had used timber from the Motatau valley. I also shared with them that whilst our waka tūpāpaku no longer held the bones of our tūpuna, we had to question where those kōiwi were now located. The kaumātua spoke about their wish to repatriate all waka tūpāpaku held at Auckland Museum, including the Kawiti Collection and the four that I had identified as being of Ngāti Hine origin. A discussion ensued about the other five waka tūpāpaku that were on display with the Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku. It was made absolutely clear that we had no right to speak for the taonga of other tribal groups but that there were obligations of consultation, in respect of Hokianga taonga. This was because of the familial connection between the carvers of the Waimamaku and Waiōmio waka tūpāpaku. At this point, hui coordinator Kevin Prime introduced my questions. In response to the questions regarding our definition of taonga the hui came up with the conclusion that taonga does include things like whakapapa books, waiata, whānau korowai, weaponry, marae carvings, flora/fauna, and everything else in the Māori estate. One interesting view was that taonga were “things that need to be cared for” rather than things we need to care for. Interestingly, the participants were critical of artefacts not made of indigenous material. The reference to “peihana and heihei feather korowai” set the hui into raucous laughter. With regard to taonga tapu there was unanimous agreement that these taonga were to be dealt with first and separately. With regard to instructions from tūpuna, the edict of Tau Henare 48 was recalled before the kōrero returned to taonga tapu, waka tūpāpaku, and the Waiōmio burial caves. Past desecration of the caves was discussed, and I shared that this was not surprising as printed directions were given of how to find certain caves. A common lament heard on the tapes is “ae marika”. Speaking of the decision made to deposit the Kawiti Collection with the Auckland Museum, a discussion regarding the thinking of those times, unfolded, with references to the need for changing attitudes to tapu that encompasses positive sanctions rather than those that are heavily imbued in the negative consequences of transgressing tapu. At this point, Marshall Thompson, a very frail kaumātua, spoke of his reason for attending the hui. He wished for the return of the Otiria tuna pou, now in the possession of the Auckland Museum. He had no wish to see the artefact preserved but instead wished for its return not only to Ngāti Hine, but also to the Taumarere River, to continue the kaupapa for which it was created – a pou rahui. There was unanimous support for his korero. Kōrero emerged about a number of tribal taonga and this korero will remain with Ngāti Hine. Responses in regard to our responsibilities of kaitiakitanga included a lengthy discussion about plans for a cultural centre which have already begun. There was talk of two mokomokai identified as coming from Ngāpuhi and Ngāti Hine, that were waiting to be repatriated. This talk ended with how that repatriation would occur. I related to the hui, difficulties I had recently experienced connected to a korowai in my possession and how someone had tried to come to uplift it. I asked the hui if there were guidelines for the use of these sorts of tribal taonga and was told that my whakapapa would dictate what was right or wrong in regard to that particular taonga and that the taonga would let me know who it wanted to be with and what it wanted me to do. We discussed the creation of a taonga policy for Ngāti Hine taonga tapu. The Ngai Tahu Kōiwi Tangata Policy was used as an example. The hui raised questions about how Auckland Museum acquired the waka tūpāpaku. I gave all the information I had acquired to date and the idea of creating a tribal taonga catalogue was put forward. I also suggested we conduct further research in the Museum’s archives. This prompted an outlining of current legislation relating to taonga which the majority of kaumātua had no idea about. There was consensus that no-one in the whare had 49 been consulted about putting the waka tūpāpaku on display and that this was surprising considering these kaumātua represented a number of central Ngāti Hine marae and whānau. As mentioned in Chapter Three, historically the power to define, represent and present cultural heritage property of others by institutions such as museums highlights the divergent and often incompatible values and world views of those associated with that cultural property. But Maori are more than willing to enter that debate as the Motatau hui demonstrates. A discussion also unfolded regarding what would happen to our waka tūpāpaku once they were repatriated. That discussion will remain with Ngāti Hine until the time is right to disclose it. A strategy began to evolve around how Ngāti Hine could ensure the return of our waka tūpāpaku. It was decided that we would use our whakapapa connections to put pressure on the Taumata-a-Iwi and Sir Hugh Kawharu in order to make the process of repatriation a little smoother. The hui explored the whakapapa connections of Sir Hugh to the north and when I informed the hui of the tribal representation on the Taumata-a Iwi, the korero immediately turned to the whakapapa connections of Ngāti Hine and Tainui. The primary connection was Hineāmaru’s sister Rongopātūtaonga. Tawhiao’s wife descended from this line and both Koroki and Te Puea were known to visit the north to rekindle those ties. Kevin was to make enquiries regarding this part of the strategy. In the mean time the hui directed me to draw up policy regarding taonga tapu, and to draft a letter to the board requesting the repatriation of our waka tūpāpaku. These would be presented to the next kuia/kaumātua hui for further discussion and consensus. I asked those present if anyone wanted the waka tūpāpaku to stay where they were and there was a resounding “no”. I asked if they thought the rest of Ngāti Hine would agree and Kevin pointed out that the invitation to attend the hui was widely distributed. When I asked if our autonomy outweighed the academic considerations, such as scholarly access, I was reminded that the decision was ours to make regardless of what others may think. Indicating the whare around us, one kaumātua said, in te reo, “they said women shouldn’t carve and here we sit in a whare tūpuna carved by our women!” Briefly, the conversation returned to general taonga. The following observations were made: the Sir James Henare Research Centre was a taonga and deserved better care; more research needed to be conducted, particularly at the museum; korero should be made available to more people to ensure it isn’t lost; a central repository should be established to prevent further loss of taonga such as whakapapa books, whakaahua, and waiata; knowledge can be lost because we overprotect it; and tribal intellectual property needs to be addressed. 50 Kaumātua shared that they had thoroughly enjoyed sharing korero about taonga. Outcomes were listed and discussed before we dispersed. Conclusion This hui set the tone for the research journey. It showed I was indeed a research participant and that I would have minimal control over where this journey would take us. I/we learned that the research had a life of its own. My quiet little focus group hui began with “E te iwi o Ngāti Hine...” and my lovely little discussion about taonga turned into a hui aimed at having an introduction, discussion, and decision (over by lunchtime) regarding the waka tūpāpaku on display. The Te Karere truck pulling into the car park was also not something I had envisaged during the ethical approval stage of this research. The focus group hui had identified the Action research problem before the hui had commenced, but after discussion, the group refined the problem as the display of waka tūpāpaku was a violation of tapu that has caused Ngāti Hine to suffer a diminishing of our mana, a diminishing of our kaitiakitanga responsibilities and obligations, and a diminishing of our tino rangatiratanga status. The display was judged to be a mockery of biculturalism and a threat to a positive iwi-museum relationship. Having unanimously decided on the problem, the hui set out to fix that problem and came up with a strategy to do so. Whakapapa connections to tribal groups represented on the Taumata-a-Iwi, and to the Auckland Museum’s Māori board member, Sir Hugh Kawharu were discussed and it was decided that these relationships would be used to smooth the way for the repatriation of our taonga tapu. Membership on the Taumata-a-Iwi Board was discussed and it was decided that despite the fact the tribal representation on that board had been legislated, we should look into securing Ngāti Hine representation. The hui asserted that, for future considerations, “we” must have a say over our taonga wherever those taonga may be. It was also decided that this ‘take’ needed wider discussion and involvement by Ngāti Hine and that we would present, what was now a kuia/kaumātua initiative, to the next hui of Te Roopu Kuia /Kaumātua o Ngāti Hine. Other outcomes also included the creation of a Ngāti Hine taonga policy, further research into the Auckland Museum archives, and the draft of a letter we would be sending to the Auckland Museum. It was expected that I could complete these tasks in my spare time. Fortunately, the establishment of a Ngāti Hine whare taonga was left in the capable hands of Hirini Henare who had already done some work in that area. 51 Chapter Six: Te Haerenga Motuhake Introduction Immediately after the Motatau marae hui described in Chapter Five, I was contacted by Rewi Spraggon, who had previously worked for Auckland Museum and had been involved with the Te Māori exhibition. Rewi is of Ngāti Hine descent and during our first conversation he made his opinion on our waka tūpāpaku very clear. I thought I should make my intentions known before I accepted his offer to help. I told Rewi that should we succeed in repatriating our taonga tapu, my preference was that they be deposited back in the burial caves, to rot, as they were meant to have done. He replied, “at ------ last!” We then discussed how we would proceed, and decided that our partnership should consist of Brenda, the researcher, and Rewi, the front-man. I would collect, collate, and write the material for the upcoming hui presentation and he would present the bulk of it. Rewi is a fluent speaker of te reo and it was decided that communication at hui should be, predominantly, conducted in Māori. I understand te reo but my delivery is halting. Rewi is also competent in karakia and ritual, so it was decided that he should fulfil those roles as well. Te Roopu Kaumātua Hui The first hui with Te Roopu Kaumātua, held at Te Rapunga Marae, Waiōmio, on April 9, 2005, went well. We presented the facts as we knew them, introducing the four waka tūpāpaku that were on display and also mentioned the Kawiti Collection which was on deposit to the museum but could be repatriated any time of Ngāti Hine’s choosing. We focussed on the waka tūpāpaku on display and circulated handouts so that people would know which waka tūpāpaku we were asking Auckland Museum to take down. We shared that some of the provenance stated that they had contained kōiwi at some point and that Rewi and I fully intended to research where those kōiwi were now located. We also stated that we intended to research the acquisition of the waka tūpāpaku by the Auckland Museum. As far as we knew, two of them were purchased by the museum from Mr. E Spencer in 1913 or 1918, and the other two were presented by Vernon Reed in 1923 (Brown, 2003). These were said to have been sold to the Reed family by local Māori. We assured the hui that the ones on display were not among the ones deposited in the Museum by Ngāti Hine rangatira in 1929, after much deliberation, and after a Mr. Graham had already removed them from the Tokapiko cave. 52 Ngāti Hine were shocked and very angry at these revelations. Several kaumātua stood to speak to the issues. All of the issues that were raised at the focus group hui were debated anew; such as the right of the Museum to display our taonga, how our relationship with the Museum was now at an all-time low, why the Taumata-a-Iwi was consenting to their display, what would happen to the waka tūpāpaku if we were successful in repatriating them, and why there had been no consultation with Ngāti Hine in the first instance. Of interest, the Te Rapunga whare was full to capacity, and not a single person had been consulted about the display of Ngāti Hine Waka tūpāpaku at Auckland Museum, or knew of someone who had been consulted. This is particularly interesting when the consultation would have had to have taken place between 1999 and 2001. We also discussed the proposed taonga policy, the proposed whare taonga, and the need for further research. We produced our first draft of the letter we intended to send to the Museum asking that the waka would be removed from display. We collectively decided that Ngāti Hine would need to be ‘on the same page’ in terms of any future arrangements regarding the waka tūpāpaku, before we sought the full repatriation of our taonga. For that reason, we decided, that for now, it would be wise to limit the focus to having them removed from public display. Once the hui had reached a consensus that the waka tūpāpaku needed to be removed from display, a wider strategy was put in place. Our letter was critiqued by the hui, with directions that it be ‘toned down’ a little. For example, I was instructed to take out the word ‘demand’ and replace it with ‘seek’. I personally disagreed and shared that I felt the museum should have known better than to display them in the first place and that they should feel the anger of Ngāti Hine and know that we meant business. However, hui are hui, I was out-voted and the letter would now be rewritten (see appendix i ) Kevin Prime offered to speak to Sir Hugh Kawharu and members of the Taumata to seek their advice and see if something could be arranged, quietly. The hui decided that Kevin would be allowed two weeks to ‘museum-whisper’ and if nothing came of it, I was to post the toned-down letter. Rewi and I were also given a full mandate to progress the case, speak on behalf of Ngāti Hine in the matter, and research the question of Ngāti Hine consent to display our waka tūpāpaku. Dissension and human nature Unfortunately, things went awry at this point, and I am still not completely sure why. Shortly after the hui, from April 15 to April 22, 2005, a flurry of emails were exchanged with only some of them distributed on the Ngāti Hine networks. It appears there was a lot of misunderstanding and blurring of the facts. There also appeared to be some personal 53 undermining and misrepresentation going on at the same time. In addition, Dover Samuels MP had involved himself after viewing the Te Karere television clip and a concerned Kevin Prime sent me the following excerpt in an email: It appeared that the process was stalled as a result of communications between the MP for Taitokerau and the Associate Minister for Arts, Culture and Heritage, the Director of Auckland Museum and a kaumātua advisor. This left little alternative but to send the first letter to the Museum, as we had been instructed and mandated by Ngāti Hine to do. In regard to the aforementioned internal politics, a letter dated 24 June, 2005 was sent to the Associate Minister for Arts Culture & Heritage, Judith Tizard, from Dr Rodney Wilson (Auckland Museum Director) that refers to the Hon. Dover Samuel’s letter to the Minister of Arts Culture & Heritage on April 14, 20051. The director’s letter refutes the fact that Ngāti Hine was not consulted regarding the display of waka tūpāpaku and it names the person who told the Auckland Museum that he had consulted with Ngāti Hine “...and that there was unanimous support for the exhibiting of the waka kōiwi” (Letter from Rodney Wilson to Judith Tizard). This was obviously not the case as, to this day, not a single member of Ngāti Hine recalls any such consultation, and that includes all of the esteemed kaumātua and recognised leaders of Ngāti Hine who signed mandates, attended hui, and supported the protest, held at the Museum. However, it did explain much. I believe the politics were driven by the need to keep that person’s name hidden from Ngāti Hine – it did not work. As some have since suggested, human nature is no match for taonga tapu and the kaupapa was far more important. Correspondence Throughout that difficult time, support was growing and was not diminished by the internal politics. Members of Ngāti Hine contacted us directly, to check the progress of the 1 Retrieved, Auckland Museum Archives, 2006, This issue has already got well beyond what I would prefer in that I have a copy of a letter dated 14 April written to the Prime Minister from Dover Samuels and I quote in part, "The people of Ngatihine find this objectionable and a desecration of their tupuna. This type of ignorant and irresponsible behaviour to Māori custom and practices is an obscenity not only to Ngatihine but to all Māori tribes of NZ and the Māori nation..." (Prime, personal email, April 22, 2005) 54 kaupapa questioning why our letter to the Museum had not been sent. On April 29, 2005, I sent Kevin Prime the revised letter for the Museum which he checked. It was presented back to the kaumātua hui at Te Rapunga Marae, on July 23, 2005, where we were instructed, emphatically, to send the letter to the Auckland Museum. All of the correspondence between Ngāti Hine and the Museum has been attached (see Appendix 1) to this thesis. The correspondence illustrates the attitude of the Museum towards the mandated representatives, the use of stalling tactics, the back door politics, and the continued public display of waka tūpāpaku despite correspondence from both Te Roopu Kaumātua and finally the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga. The duration of this correspondence also shows the consequences of the softly, softly, approach that were learned by the co- researchers. (Note; The abbreviation AWMM will be used for Auckland War Memorial Museum and NH for Ngāti Hine) April 9, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH submitted to Kuia/Kaumātua for approval. Asks that the four waka tūpāpaku with a Ngāti Hine association #6404, #6405, #5660, and #6208 be taken down from public display. Asks that Rewi and Brenda be given access to Museum records. Hui ask that letter be shortened and ‘toned down’. July 31, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH is revised and sent after hui dated July 23, 2005. October 10, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH asks for written confirmation of support from recognised NH elders in order to allow Rewi and Brenda access to Museum files. Confirms NH association to four waka tūpāpaku listed in NH letters. No apology is given for two and a half month delay between letters. November 21, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH reiterates NH position regarding display of NH waka tūpāpaku and asks [louder] for a response. Attached is the list of signatories who signed at the Kaumātua hui held at Waiōmio on October 15, 2005. NB: Tohe Ashby (Re- established NH Rūnanga Chair) and Pita Tipene (NH Rūnanga Secretary) are signatories. [Erima Henare did not attend the meeting but added his signature the next day.] November 28, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH acknowledges correspondence and informs NH that we are to be considered at the December meeting of the Taumata-a-Iwi. Oddly, and despite NH written mandate naming Rewi and Brenda as NH representatives in this matter, Paul Tapsell informs NH that all correspondence has also been sent to “Ngāti Hine Waka Tūpāpaku Trustees Kevin Prime and Pita Paraone” [?] January 19, 2006: Letter from AWMM to NH informing NH that due to the importance of the matter, it has been referred from their meeting on December 19, 2005 to February 2006. 55 February 8, 2006: Letter from Te Rūnanga ō NH informing the AWMM that Te Roopu Kaumātua had initiated contact with the AWMM because that was the forum where matters of lore were discussed. Letter informs AWMM that the Rūnanga supports Rewi and Brenda’s mandate, agrees with and supports the kaupapa, and lists our Trustees of NH – none of which are Kevin Prime or Pita Paraone. Protest The continual stalling tactics and lack of action in terms of removing the waka tūpāpaku from display was frustrating Ngāti Hine. Rewi Spraggon and I had kept regular contact throughout the process and we decided to have lunch and discuss the matter. The irony was not lost on me when, in an old colonial building in Henderson, Auckland, that housed the cafe restaurant we were enjoying lunch in, Rewi suddenly announced “F--- it! I’ve had enough. Let’s protest.” We decided we would rally the troops, and call for a protest at the Auckland Museum, four days later. A number of museum staff had kept Rewi and I informed of the ‘machinations’ going on behind the Museum doors. Ngāti Hine kaumātua managed to keep the protest confidential up to the last day to avoid alerting any detractors who might derail the planned protest. The response was immediate and the phones ran hot. I am amazed and indebted to the kaumātua whose support for the kaupapa never wavered. Despite a direct attempt by one individual to have me call off the protest, Ngāti Hine kaumātua and supporters arrived from the North to take our protest directly to the Museum. We were aware that a hurried meeting of staff, Taumata-a Iwi members, and some detractors to the kaupapa, had been called and we were kept informed about the decisions that were made at that meeting. For example, Rewi was informed by Paul Tapsell that the waka tūpāpaku would be removed from display the day before Ngāti Hine were due to arrive. Despite, the fact that we had only asked for the removal of the four specific waka tūpāpaku, the museum had decided to remove all nine funerary artefacts from display. The day of the protest was one I shall never forget. It was certainly a mixture of the old world and the new. Television cameras recorded the arrival of Ngāti Hine and our entry into the Museum. Well known Ngati Whatua kuia, Naida Glavish, performed the karanga and I remember thinking how perfect she was for that role. A descendant of both Ngāti Hine and Ngāti Whatua, she epitomised our ancestral ties and shared history. Our group walked in wearing taua (wreath worn in times of grief) because the kaumātua wished the protest to be treated as a hui tangi. We were accompanied by a thunderous haka performed by Rewi and the other males in our party. Having been pushed to the front of the party, I recall a comical moment when a Japanese man jumped out of our way with his camera swinging wildly from his neck. Obviously, it was business as usual for the museum as startled visitors roamed 56 around unaware of the event unfolding before them. We went straight to the empty display cases and the kaumātua stopped to karakia the space. We were then led into a private area in the Museum where our waka tūpāpaku were laid out on a stage before us. Curatorial staff sat to the right, close to the waka tūpāpaku and some were crying. Mats were arranged on the floor, presumably, for our women to sit on. It is not customary for Ngāpuhi women to sit on the floor so, we filed past the mats. The kaumātua, who had already decided who would speak, let loose. They were magnificent in their oratory and their anger. When the whaikōrero was completed, Rewi motioned for me to read the final letter to those assembled. This was greeted with protests from the Museum kaumātua; not because of the content of the letter but because I was a woman and women do not speak in the ceremonial part of proceedings. I remember thinking, ‘tell that to my aunties!’ My paternal aunties were known to stand on our marae and wave their tokotoko around as they railed at whatever had upset them. As pointed out by the focus group hui, Mōtatau women worked on the carvings of our whare tūpuna, Manukoroki. But instead I allowed them to close formal proceedings and remarked, “Our waka tūpāpaku have waited almost a century, what’s another five minutes.” I read our final letter to the Museum (see Appendix 2) on behalf of Te Roopu Kaumātua me ngā Kuia o Ngāti Hine i raro i te Tiriti o Waitangi and Te Rūnanga o Ngātihine. I finished by reading the following excerpt; “Finally, Ngāti Hine asks that you publicly and formally apologise for not dealing to this matter in a more expedient and culturally sensitive manner. Our people and our ancestors are here; tell them that you are sorry.” The Chair of the Museum Trust Board stood and apologised. Unbelievably, he told of how he had not known anything about the matter until the day before the protest. Despite all correspondence being posted directly to the Trust Board it had apparently been censored or intercepted en route. It was cathartic for Ngāti Hine to have the opportunity to eyeball Museum officials and it felt good to put the politics to bed. We were assured that Rewi and I would be assisted by the curatorial staff to search the archival material and that the waka tūpāpaku would remain removed from display. There was some reference to a future discussion between all parties when the time was right but these arrangements were left hanging. Despite, the contrite words and the goodwill demonstrated by the majority of curatorial, managerial, and governance staff of the Auckland Museum, there was still controversy as a result of bad press. 57 Bad Press In the days preceding the protest and the days following it, newspaper articles appeared that were not overly supportive of the outcome of the protest hui. On the day before the protest, the Museum sent out a media release (see Appendix 3) claiming that they had, already, on the advice of the Taumata, decided to take the waka tūpāpaku off display, and that the intended protest merely hastened their removal. The release went on to say that alternative views had emerged in regard to the burial chests and that the Museum was removing the taonga from display until all parties had met and discussed the issues. We felt that our mandate was again being questioned. The day after the protest happened, The Northern Advocate reported that the Museum did not believe the group had the mandate to have the display “axed” (Harris and de Graaf, 2005, p.3). When Paul Tapsell was contacted regarding the article, he said that he was upset to hear that he had been misquoted by the paper. He assured me that he would contact the newspaper for correction purposes. In response to the bad press, we sent the following statement to The Northern Advocate: Auckland Museum Protest Auckland Museum Maori director Paul Tapsell assured us that he was misquoted as having said that “the museum did not believe the group had the mandate to ask for the display to be axed” (Advocate, February 10). Furthermore, Mr. Tapsell was referring to the Te Maori exhibition, when speaking of Sir James Henare, and not to those waka tūpāpaku that have been, until recently, on display at Auckland Museum. Paul Tapsell has assured us that he will be writing to the Northern Advocate to correct and clarify the Museum’s position. The group of Ngāti Hine kaumātua and tribal members who last week protested at the public display of Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku (burial chests) had the full mandate of both the Roopu Kaumātua me ngā Kuia o Ngāti Hine and Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine. The museum has in its possession a list of kaumātua signatories reaffirming the mandate given to Rewi Spraggon and Brenda Tipene-Hook. Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine has also written to Mr. Tapsell confirming the above representatives and the Chair of the Rūnanga also attended the protest. The protest group included a number of prominent kaumātua who spoke on behalf of Ngāti Hine - Te Raumoa Kawiti, Pat Ruka, Jim Tipene, Watini Kawiti, and Boss Tipene. Rewi Spraggon then spoke and Brenda Tipene-Hook presented a letter to the museum reiterating the pain and disappointment felt by Ngāti Hine at the desecration of their taonga tapu, the 58 need for dialogue concerning present and future arrangements, and again, clarified mandate. Museum officials then apologised to Ngāti Hine. We would like to make it crystal clear that we have never presumed to speak for those waka tūpāpaku not of Ngāti Hine origin. It was the museum that decided to remove all of the chests from display rather than just those belonging to Ngāti Hine. Brenda Tipene-Hook and Rewi Spraggon Museum research I have eight lizards tattooed on various parts of my body. They have been my kaitiaki for some time now and it came as no surprise that they assisted me in my research. The research at the museum unearthed a great deal of material. There are two waka tūpāpaku folders in the museum archives. One is marked Ngāti Hine and the other, Waimamaku. Evidence regarding the depositing of the Kawiti Collection was very scarce in the small archival folder marked Ngāti Hine. However I found myself transfixed by the image of the lizard burial chest on the top of the Waimamaku folder. I picked up the lizard image and underneath it, I found all the evidence (see Appendix 4) I needed and more. I found the aforementioned letter, from Auckland Museum Director Rodney Wilson to Associate Minister for Arts, Culture and Heritage, Hon Judith Tizard. This letter names the person who told the Museum that Ngāti Hine consent had been secured to display our taonga tapu. A letter dated October 25, 1929, from Te Riri Kawiti to the Auckland Museum, setting out the reasons why Ngāti Hine had decided to deposit the Kawiti Collection with the Museum. The letter explained the difficulty Te Riri Kawiti had in obtaining signatures of Ngāti Hine kaumātua to consent to the deposit. A letter dated October 12, 1929, (and its translation) described how the Rūnanga had deliberated and come to a decision to deposit the Kawiti Collection on long-term loan with the Museum. The last document lists eight trustees and a statement that Ngāti Hine considers these signatories to be the representatives of the children of Torongare. Rewi Spraggon’s great-grandfather is the second on that list and my great-grandfather is the third. Not only had we secured the mandate of Te Roopu Kaumātua and the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga, we now had the written mandate of our tūpuna. All of this evidence has now been disseminated to Ngāti Hine via subsequent Rūnanga hui. These letters show that it was not an easy decision for Ngāti Hine to deposit the Kawiti Collection with the Museum in 1929. Further archival research has shown that this was also the case for other tribal groups. 59 Archival research also supplied evidence of the unsuccessful behind-the-scenes political manoeuvring, undermining, and dishonesty. This was very disappointing but in the end the kaupapa far outweighed these futile attempts to cover up the false claim that the decision to display our taonga tapu had been mandated by Ngāti Hine or that it had been widely consulted. Where to from here? Some years have elapsed since Ngāti Hine felt it necessary to formally protest the Auckland Museum for the continued display of our waka tūpāpaku. In the interim years our people have not only reflected on the events surrounding the protest but have also discussed, in depth, the future of Ngāti Hine taonga in general. Central to that discussion has been the future direction of the relationship between Ngāti Hine and the Auckland Museum. But paramount in the hearts and minds of our people has been the desire to complete the repatriation process of those of our waka tūpāpaku still in the possession and care of the Museum. We are pleased that the Museum Trust Board and Taumata-a-Iwi saw fit to finally remove our waka tūpāpaku from display and we respectfully acknowledge the curatorial staff that have cared for our taonga tapu. However, when the time is right Ngāti Hine will formally request the return of the Ngāti Hine collection deposited on long-term loan to the Museum, as well as the four Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku removed from display and identified as #5660, #6208, #6404 and #6405. To this end I have prepared a formal request for the repatriation of the four listed waka tūpāpaku and the Kawiti collection, also known as the Ngāti Hine Collection #4254. That collection consists of twenty-six waka tūpāpaku, parts of waka tūpāpaku, or lids thereof, along with a small number of other items (see Appendix 5) that were deposited on long-term loan with the Auckland War Memorial Museum. Although the images of our waka tūpāpaku are powerful ones, they will not be included in this thesis. 60 Chapter Seven: Ngā kōrero o Ngāti Hine Introduction As outlined in Chapter Four, I have chosen to share these interviews as they unfolded, thereby allowing the reader a sense of the chaotic, sometimes frantic, but also measured thinking of the research participants. These ‘blow by blow’ accounts allow the opportunity to understand that what appears to be disordered thinking can actually indicate the complexity and interconnectedness of the Māori world. Tohe Ashby At the time of his interview Tohe was in his late forties, was the chair of Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Hine and was heavily involved with Ngāti Hine youth via his day job with Hauora Whanui (formerly Hauora Ngāti Hine). He resides with his wife and children in Motatau, and as is usually the case for ahi ka, Tohe is constantly depended upon to be the kaitiaki of any numbers of issues impacting on Ngāti Hine. He sits on the board of the Motatau School, the Motatau Kohanga Reo, the Motatau Marae committee, and environmental groups such as Te Roopu Mataitai Mahinga O Ngāti Hine. He is also involved in wider hapū groups such as the Ngāti Hine Forestry Trust and the national Māori Warden movement. In addition, he works tirelessly, and sometimes to the detriment of his own health, as a local historian, often acting as a keynote speaker for local wānanga and visiting groups to the area. Somewhere in this chaotic mix of work in health, youth, justice, environmental, educational, and politics, Tohe is a Ngāti-te-tarawa kaumātua who often ‘holds the fort’ by officiating at hui tangi both on the paepae and in the kauta. Finally, he is, most importantly, a family man, and it was at his home that the interview for this thesis was conducted. I was fortunate that his brother Witi also joined in and contributed much to the conversation, often filling in the gaps when Tohe was called outside by visiting wānanga students to help sort out a native tree planting exercise being conducting from the garage or fielding phone calls regarding the inter-tribal harvesting of a beached whale. It was a privilege to be afforded an afternoon with these generous men to discuss taonga, and particularly, Ngāti Hine taonga. Armed with my research questions and consent forms I sat down for my first interview. It quickly became apparent that our kōrero had a mind of its own – it would be an unstructured interview and like the focus group hui, I was to become participant, researcher (vainly trying to keep the kōrero focussed on specific questions), and observer, all in one and often all at the same time. It was fortunate that I had shared a childhood with both of these men as the kōrero flowed both in English and te reo Māori with ‘knowing’ looks, head nods, 61 and meaningful shoulder shrugs that could only be understood and interpreted by another whānau member. ‘Aye’ and ‘you know’ were words and phrases often loaded with much innuendo. In addition, whenever the kōrero shifted to taonga tapu it was also undoubtedly the face of shared experience that I was privy to. Watery eyes reflecting anger, pain and shame cannot be experienced or deciphered by reading the transcripts of taped conversations and it is close to impossible to direct interviews when this type of taonga kōrero is unfolding before you. Therefore, the following account will be an explanation, a translation, and an interpretation of what was said, whilst adhering closely to the actual kōrero. Kōrero Asked to define taonga, Witi spoke about taonga being made up of separate components, with one component having a historical aspect (examples such as korowai, carving and weaponry were given) and another component being the “power it’s been gifted.” He referred to that power as one that is “gifted from the heart” explaining that the taonga could be a korowai or half a cow. I prompted the brothers further by asking for comment regarding the initial rejection by kaumātua (at the focus group hui) to exclude items crafted from non-indigenous materials, such as the much ridiculed chicken-feather korowai, as somehow not having true ‘taonga status.’ Witi called it a “fine line” and Tohe added that it was “debatable” as livestock would be classed as taonga by a farmer and that in the “old days” such prized livestock were even more highly valued by Māori. Tohe maintained that the level of value attributed to certain taonga in terms of trade and gifting by using the example of King Tawhiao gifting “one of his own princesses, he taonga, to Maihi”. In 1885, a peace pact between Ngāti Hine and the Waikato Kingitanga was sealed when King Tawhiao visited Maihi Kawiti, leaving behind his niece Heningarino as a gift. Tohe explained that Heningarino was indeed a taonga of the first order as Tawhiao would have had to search his heart to part with his own niece. I referred to Jim Tipene’s assertion that people are taonga. Tohe agreed and when questioned, added that the deceased are also still taonga. It was at this point that all talk of taonga shifted to that of taonga tapu. Whenever the subject turned to the realm of taonga tapu, or more specifically, to waka tūpāpaku, the verbal and non-verbal responses of Tohe and Witi seemed to be layered in complexity. Both brothers would become visibly agitated, shifting forward on the edges of their chairs but with heads often bowed in reverence to the material. They would display anxiety and stress by intermittently clasping and unclasping their hands yet their bodies often revealed anger and defiance. Referring to the dead, Tohe explained, “They’re still taonga [and] they’re our treasures.” He immediately launched into his concept of ‘taonga 62 tuku iho’ being connected to DNA. He illustrated this point by referring to the word mokopuna translated as the literal reflections and DNA of our tupuna – moko being a face or facial tattoo and puna being the spring of water or font from which they emerge. Look into the pool and you will see yourself staring back. Taonga are handed down just as DNA is handed down from our tupuna. Look into the pool and you will also see your taonga there. It became evident that Tohe does not easily differentiate between waka tūpāpaku (burial chests) and tūpāpaku (corpse/corpses) when referring to the contents of our burial caves. Stating emphatically, “they are still our taongas and we won’t let anyone desecrate our taongas, like our tūpāpaku.” Tohe maintains that these funerary artefacts were hidden because they were not meant to be seen or touched. Furthermore, he contends that they were fashioned specifically for certain tupuna not only reflecting the life and work of that tupuna but also the artist’s energy and pride in workmanship as well as any relationship there may have been between the tupuna and the artist. Because of the ‘gifting’ of emotion, knowledge, personal energy, and DNA, Tohe says he classes waka tūpāpaku as taonga. He summarises his belief that the DNA /essence of the deceased and that of the artist becomes a “part of that actual waka tūpāpaku” binding all three “as one.” Tohe continues to share his knowledge regarding the Waiōmio caves and surrounds, with Witi nodding his agreement throughout the kōrero. Tohe shared his belief that Waiōmio cave burials were governed by a form of caste system where certain caves were reserved for rangatira, whilst others were set aside for the sick, for children, or specifically for kuia and kaumātua. He claimed that the kōiwi lying out in the open and strewn around the caves actually belonged to Ngāti Hine taurekareka (slaves) and were meant to be left there for that reason. Tohe said despite that kōrero, he called a hui to discuss cleaning the area up, predominantly to protect the living from falling ill from the effect of the tapu of these kōiwi. He told of skulls being used as candle holders, young boys “who have gone there and tutu’d” (the word tutu insinuates desecration driven by curiosity rather than greed or evil) and of the ransacking of burial caves by a Pākehā teacher who allegedly collected kōiwi then stored them in his attic. The teacher is said to have become “porangi” (mentally disturbed) as a result. Tohe contends that there is a definite link between desecration of the burial caves and illness and accidents affecting the children in the Waiōmio area. The conversation then briefly touched on the subject of Maihi Kawiti’s head and the possible consequences for the Ngāti Hine whānau that were said to have helped Pākehā to exhume and steal it. Tohe introduced the concept of required consultation with “the direct line” of whakapapa when explaining his need to consult with Te Raumoa Kawiti before collecting the kōiwi, strewn around the caves, for burial. 63 At this point in the interview I attempted to return to the first question - a definition of taonga. Tohe reiterated that “anything pertaining to Māori” could be classed as taonga, and he again used the term “heart taonga” to illustrate the required human association with taonga. Tohe’s brother Witi explained that taonga may only be significant to specific individuals or whānau because the process of gifting taonga reflects back on the person or persons who are giving. Therefore, the item becomes a taonga not only to the person receiving it but also to the person giving it, thereby emphasising the gifting process as also being central to the definition of taonga. I suggested that an example may be that of the kōrero attached to our Motatau Marae wharekai, Mihiwira, named after their great- grandmother who worked tirelessly for the marae and her community. Her name is the transliteration of ‘Miss (Mihi) Wheeler (Wira)’ an English woman said to be have been responsible for raising funds, through her church mission, to enable homeless Māori to return to Aotearoa. No longer needed as crew, these Ngāpuhi men were abandoned by their ship’s captains once the ships had docked in London. The men were left on the streets of the great city without any means to live. On their return to Northland the men and their descendants showed their gratitude by commemorating Miss Wheeler by naming their children, and consequently our buildings after her. Miss Wheeler’s story is recorded in St Michael's Church which was built on the site of the Battle of Ohaeawai. In this case, the taonga and kōrero attached to the name and deeds of an English woman, who never came to New Zealand, yet ended up symbolising the generosity and hospitality of the people of Motatau Marae was more relevant to Tohe’s whānau. Their DNA connection to Mihiwira and an obligation for that whānau to keep the kōrero ‘alive’ were reasons for this. Witi agreed, reiterating “mena ngaro tena kōrero, ko ngaro tena taonga (should that story be lost, then the taonga will also be lost).” Asked how Tohe and Witi thought present-day Ngāti Hine incorporate taonga into their lives and whether Ngāti Hine taonga were seen as cultural and/or historical reminders, political tools, or status symbols, the tone of the kōrero seemed to shift and become ‘heavier.’ Tohe spoke of the secrecy surrounding Ngāti Hine taonga, suggesting that such secrecy is a long practised strategy employed by Ngāti Hine as a method of protecting and retaining both land and taonga. He cites the example of the Ngāti Hine rohe potae ‘law’ (limiting the influence of outsiders and forbidding land sales) established by Maihi Kawiti and the edict to marry within the hapū in order to retain land. The latter strategy is still spoken of and ‘unofficially’ practised and has been successful. Tohe also spoke of the kaitiaki appointed by Maihi as ‘gate keepers’ responsible for all cultural and economic matters occurring within their specific areas. Tohe told of how “a lot of taonga were handed down” to, and within, certain families and how certain taonga can be transferred from one family to 64 another. He cited the example of Maihi Kawiti’s kahu kiwi and how it has moved around a number of Ngāti Hine whānau, signalling the different changes of leadership. Tohe also touched on whether it was appropriate that the korowai of Kaka Porowini, another recognised Ngāti Hine rangatira, was currently housed in the Whangarei Museum. When asked about his feelings regarding museums Tohe made it very clear that he knew of numerous taonga being cared for within the local community and that he preferred taonga to remain in the hands and homes of Ngāti Hine. To emphasize his point he told the story of Kawiti’s bible and how a number of deaths occurred when the bible “fell into the wrong hands.” He suggests we need to be aware, adding, “It’s making sure the right people are holding the right things.” The ‘tone’ of the kōrero during our interview remained serious and subdued, with references to the very tapu nature of Okaroro (a site within Motatau) in terms of its supportive role in the battle of Ruapekapeka and how taonga are still located there. I remember my father using binoculars to show the cave entrances and particularly the tapu ‘funerary’ trees in the area known to local children as the off-limits ‘tapu bush’. The brother’s kōrero included various sites within Ngāti Hine where the mauri stones of different tribal waka are said to reside; the symbiotic relationships between certain whānau and the taonga that they care for; the heavy toll exacted on those who should not have certain taonga in their possession; and how the Roopu Kaumātua o Ngāti Hine was established as an advisory group when a korowai symbolising Ngāti Hine leadership proved too ‘heavy’ for anyone of that time to carry. Tohe intimated that the korowai was now ‘hibernating’ (giving taonga the ability to think and act for themselves) until someone with the correct DNA and worthiness emerges to wear it. Revisiting a point he had touched on earlier in the interview, Tohe also spoke of the historic kaitiaki obligations of our Mataroria whakapapa (a tupuna shared by the author and the Ashby brothers) in caring for the Kawiti whānau. It is of interest that we are also direct descendants of Te Ruki Kawiti and yet it appears that Tohe believes that our kaitiaki responsibilities far outweigh our chiefly lineage from Kawiti. He explained that because of this sense of obligation he sought Te Raumoa Kawiti’s agreement prior to collecting and burying the kōiwi strewn around the burial caves. Never too far from any kōrero about taonga, the conversation returned to waka tūpāpaku. When discussing his reaction to taonga held in museums, Tohe shared his disapproval of such arrangements and spoke about the first time he encountered the waka tūpāpaku in Auckland Museum. He told of how “that thing hit me – you know ... that thing you went through ... I looked and saw where it came from – that even made it worse.” Similar to my experience, Tohe had reacted to these extraordinary taonga before he even knew of their origins. The consequences of his encounter have also been, at times, far from positive. He shared the pouri and the anger at seeing one waka tūpāpaku (#5660) that could easily 65 have belonged to Hineāmaru and I told him of the guilt I had experienced. He shared the experience he had when visiting the Whangarei museum and seeing the kōiwi of our tūpuna in the storerooms downstairs – “and I could feel ... cos I get really heavy when I come across a lot of that stuff ... my shoulders and I just wanted to get out of there.” In light of such negative experiences, I asked Tohe if he thought we should continue to visit our taonga, to keep them ‘alive.’ He replied that, if for no other reason, we were allowing our taonga the opportunity to speak to us directly, “telling us ... take us back.” We discussed what ‘back’ might mean and Tohe indicated that a cultural centre would not be appropriate for taonga tapu. He stressed that we should “either bury them or take them back to the cave.” A discussion regarding the safety of these options included the extreme security measure, used on at least two other burial cave sites, where dynamite was used to close off cave entrances to prevent any further desecration. One of those sites is said to have been the burial cave of Hauhaua, the mother of Hineāmaru, and the other contained muskets belonging to Hongi Hika. I have chosen not to divulge the location of these particular caves except to say they are not in Waiōmio. Tohe thought the muskets were not tapu as they had not yet been used by Hongi, and therefore he would probably not have destroyed them. Again, the conversation returned to the waka tūpāpaku in Auckland Museum. When prompted to share his views regarding the establishment of a Ngāti Hine cultural centre, what taonga might be housed there, what security measures might be required, and what restrictions might need to be enforced, Tohe was adamant that such a centre would never be appropriate to house waka tūpāpaku. He again recalled his abhorrence and disgust at what he found and experienced at the Auckland Museum and spoke of the mournful pleas of his tupuna, “it’s like a funeral ... they want to shift ... they want to move ... hence the reason they won’t let you go.” He spoke of the cultural disrespect he felt was shown to the waka tūpāpaku on display and to their descendants. In light of his assertion that all taonga are tapu, Tohe feels they should all be treated as such, with facilities close at hand for visitors to “horoi” (ceremonial washing of hands/body to remove tapu); the reciting of karakia before and after contact with taonga; restricted access to exclude ‘tourism’; and, where possible, full disclosure and provenance of each taonga. This would provide information to those who should not be in close proximity to certain taonga and allow them to seek ‘protection’ if warranted – again, insinuating the power and autonomy residing within certain taonga. Tohe spoke of his dismay at having, “Pākehās taking us through ...and telling us history” at Te Papa – “that’s the worst thing to see, a 66 Pākehā doing a kōrero on Māori taonga.” He feels it is more respectful if guides were of the same line (shared DNA) as the taonga for which they speak. Tohe touched on the encoded messages carved onto the waka tūpāpaku (messages not meant for the living), of their power, and the appropriateness of sharing that potentially destructive knowledge and power. He spoke of his Aunty Mihi who remained adamantly opposed to tar-sealing the road into Motatau because it provides easier access for outsiders to not only gather our history but to disseminate it with their own skewed interpretation, thereby polluting or even destroying our kōrero. When I commented on how I was glad that he had always seemed ready to share resources and kōrero with me, Tohe replied, “I share it to the people that I think it needs to go.” He added that he could recall a particular researcher who claimed, when she was researching Ngāti Hine, that “there was nothing around” – that was because, claimed Tohe, “everybody had clammed up, nobody wanted to share it.” We shared our memories of those who we felt had too readily shared our kōrero with outsiders and those who refused to share the smallest mite. Tohe also shared his disapproval of others who have commercialised our history and landmarks and how he had confronted one with the simplest of questions, “Did you ask?” Attached to what Tohe asserts is the exploitation of Ngāti Hine history, resources, and taonga, the concept of kaitiakitanga re-emerged in our kōrero regarding the ‘Waiōmio Collection.’ He lamented Ngāti Hine “battling all these years with the Pākehā and all a sudden giving our taongas to them to look after ... means we can’t look after our own taonga.” Whilst understanding the reasons our tūpuna deposited this collection in the Auckland Museum, and despite the arguments put forward regarding scholarly access, Tohe believes it is now time “to bring them home.” With particular regard to scholarly access and the recorded use of the examples of Ngāti Hine carving found on the waka tūpāpaku, Tohe believes that it may have been fortuitous but that “everyone carries their own moko”. In this case, Tohe refers to moko as an inherent and individual style or stamp of recognition), and there is no need to “duplicate other peoples moko.” This argument holds, in part, that the duplication of traditional carving styles actually hampers the creative talent of next- generation artists, restricts the evolution of a particular carving style, and renders true master carvers, redundant. A discussion about various Ngāti Hine and particularly Motatau taonga and kōrero unfolded. Tohe spoke about the politics that occurred around a previous attempt to open a cultural centre in Otiria and the proposed sites for a new research centre/cultural centre for Ngāti Hine. Some of the proposals favoured incorporating a wider area, that might perhaps 67 service Ngāpuhi. Whilst Tohe acknowledges and respects our connection to Hokianga, particularly in terms of waka tūpāpaku, he warns that current politics would create a nightmare impossible to navigate through. He believes that any centre would have to be located in central Ngāti Hine, but we both acknowledged that security may be problematic to say the least. In addition to the location of any centre, problems would certainly surface with regard to any taonga that might reside there. A discussion then ensued about various taonga and collections of taonga including those excavated during the archaeological dig carried out on Pouerua in 1982; those at the Waitangi treaty grounds (some of which were deposited by Mereana Tipene, my grandmother and sister of Tau Henare, and have never been heard of since); those supposedly “just cobwebbed” in a building somewhere at the Ngāti Hine Forestry quarters; and taonga, known to Tohe, that originated from Ruapekapeka Pa. Tohe also argues for the return of the kōiwi that affected him so powerfully in the storage area of Whangarei Museum, suggesting that for now they should at least be cared for in a “wāhi tapu” environment. The conversation suddenly returned to the topic of taonga in the hands of whānau within Motatau. I asked Tohe for comment regarding these kaitiaki and how he thought whānau chose specific people to fulfil that role. He replied that the process was a combination of the correct whakapapa, recognition of an individual’s integrity and interest in the care of a particular taonga, and the willingness of taonga to stay with that person. I asked for comment regarding whether or not there might be a place in a tribal cultural centre for taonga not generally thought of as museum pieces such as whakapapa books or old whānau photos. He believes in the affirmative, by referring to the many different ways taonga have disappeared. Tohe spoke about the practice of keeping old photos in papakainga where many are simply taken off the walls. Some taonga being given to certain individuals who show promise in a certain field (such as carving) and whose whānau elect not to return them on the death of that person. Tohe’s own grandfather’s whakapapa books were loaned out then passed through numerous hands until no-one could remember who had them. He spoke of how Ngāti Hine were traditionally buried with their taonga, until Tau Henare declared a stop to the practice because Ngāti Hine were fast becoming impoverished in terms of actual taonga in their possession. After some personal observations regarding cloaks and sabres known to be in the care of Ngāti Hine individuals, the interview ended with the same question with which it began which was to define taonga. However, this time it was Tohe who reflected on what exactly constitutes taonga status. 68 Kene Hine Te Uira Martin At the time of her interview Kene was part of an occupation protesting the closure of the ninety-five year old Orauta School. Refusing to hand the school over to the Ministry of Education, Kene, along with a small group of parents renamed their school, Te Kura Kaupapa Māori o Te Mara o Hineāmaru Ki Orauta, where she continued to teach the children on the site. After a lengthy legal battle that saw education officials being barred from the property and parents being fined for not sending their children to a registered school, the group finally lost their fight for autonomy. It was in the occupied school that Kene kindly allowed me to interview her. This interview continued into the night and it was clearly evident that Kene has retained a wealth of information regarding Ngāti Hine taonga. She is the archetypal Ngāti Hine woman. Small in stature, softly spoken, with a kind and generous nature, she is everything I would imagine Hineāmaru to have been. However, her middle name, Te Uira (one translation is lightning), hints at another facet of this Ngāti Hine taonga. She possesses possibly the most important of Hineāmaru traits – a steely determination combined with the fearless strength to stand up for what she believes in. This staunch woman is no pushover. Her grandfather, Peeni Wynyard, was a brother to my paternal grandmother, Mereana Henare, and on my maternal side, I descend from Maihi Paraone Kawiti, Kene’s great grandfather. A well-known historian and biographer, Kene provided Te Ruki, Maihi, and Te Riri Kawiti’s biographies for The Dictionary of New Zealand Biography. Volume 1 and Volume 2. She is a committed educationalist, author of numerous children’s books, researcher, and environmentalist. She is very active in Ngāti Hine politics and is a member of the Kawiti family. Kene grew up at the foot of the Waiōmio cave system and is well versed in the history of that area. It was mainly for that reason that I asked Kene to contribute to this work. Having learned from my first interview, I allowed the kōrero with Kene to go wherever it chose to go, and it would not be until page seven of a thirty-six page transcript, that the first question on my list was asked. As was the case with my first interviewee, Kene alternated effortlessly between English and te reo and this seemed to cloak the entire conversation with an intimacy that transcended the fact that a number of padlocks had to be opened to allow me entrance into the school grounds and that the interview was being conducted in a tiny school office stacked high with legal documents. She appeared tired but remained absolutely gracious and generous throughout our kōrero. I am absolutely honoured that Kene chose to share so much of her intimate knowledge of Ngāti Hine and 69 Kawiti history and respecting her trust, I have chosen to edit much of the interview details regarding certain taonga and their whereabouts. Kōrero Our conversation about taonga tapu began with a reference to comments from a kaumātua who attended the focus group hui. The kaumātua had voiced his wish that the Otiria tuna pou-rahui (housed in Auckland Museum) be returned to Ngāti Hine where it could be put back into the river to carry out the kaupapa for which it was created, namely to mark a Ngāti Hine resource boundary and protect our awa. Kene disagreed with this idea. She preferred that a replica be carved for placement in the river and that the original tuna pou be preserved and housed in a secure facility within Ngāti Hine. She referred to different levels of tapu that designated the tuna pou as tapu, but not on the same level of tapu as waka tūpāpaku. She said, “as long as we know there’s one in there, you know, protecting all the awa, and it’s in Ngāti Hine’s name – that’s the tapu part for us.” Kene pointed out that the tuna pou would act to deter and keep trespassers out and stop them from harvesting our eels. Kene related how the occupation of the school building had started, how it was unfolding, and the pressure and stress affecting members of their protest group. For example the name change from Orauta School to Te Kura Kaupapa Māori o Te Maara o Hineāmaru ki Orauta, had ignited the “territorial” nature of some Ngāti Hine who questioned her right to use such a name. Kene explained that the name was chosen to show how the school could be a garden in the metaphorical sense where Ngāti Hine children could grow. She spoke of Ministry visits; of having to write and hand coloured the book illustrations for the children due to the Ministry of Education cutting off all resources; of having to scrounge for simple things like toothbrushes for the children (resources that were formerly sourced from Hauora groups). She maintained that the situation was a continuation of colonisation and that their group were not fearful as they were tired of jumping whenever, and referring to the coloniser, “they crack the whip.” Kene defines a taonga as something priceless or precious. She maintains that not all taonga should be displayed. An example she gave is of a Kawiti taonga she “wouldn’t want to expose to the world” as being “that Queen Victoria’s hand, Te Rongomau’s seal.” This ivory seal said to have been made in the shape of Queen Victoria's hand, was given to Maihi by Governor Gore Browne to symbolise the peace pact made between Māori and Pākehā (Martin, 1994, p. 45). Kene stressed several times the need for taonga to be kept under strict security because even at the Waitangi Treaty grounds, where Rongomau is currently 70 housed, taonga can disappear. She told of a “soldier’s urn” found by her father and brother- in-law when they were “clearing some ground above the cave” in Waiōmio. This taonga was taken to Waitangi because Te Tawai feared it may be taken or “hocked off”. He asked that it be cared for by the Waitangi Treaty Grounds Trust, only to have it disappear from under lock and key. Kene prefers to know the history of a particular taonga, “why it is a taonga and why it has to be looked after and why it has to be treasured.” This need to know came in handy when people came calling to collect a mere left in her possession on the death of her father, Te Tawai Kawiti. When Kene’s grandfather, Te Riri Kawiti married Marara Mahanga, of Ngāti Hine and Ngāti Korora descent, “a whariki [symbolic foundation] for the marriage” saw Te Riri exchange a Ngāti Hine mere for one of Ngāti Korora origin. “The Ngāti Hine mere went to Ngāti Korora for safe keeping and the Ngāti Korora mere came to Ngāti Hine for safe keeping.” However according to Kene, Ngāti Hine failed to look after the mere they received from Ngāti Korora. Kene claims that someone “took it away to hide it, to make it really secure, and it disappeared.” Meanwhile, the Ngāti Hine mere “went to the Mahanga people” where it was handed down through a few generations, “until the last kaumātua from Ngāti Korora was ailing in Whangarei hospital.” This kaumātua contacted Kene’s father who visited him in hospital where, “he [the kaumātua] handed over the Ngāti Hine mere” asking that Te Tawai keep the mere secure until the missing Ngāti Korora taonga returned. The pressure of having people coming to collect and claim the mere from her possession led Kene to hunt through her father’s writings for the taonga’s provenance. “I came across this book - thank you Dad - and there was the history of that particular mere - the exchange - and Dad had said don’t ever let it go until you get the other one back, and so, we hold it.” This kōrero can only enrich the status of this particular taonga as it awaits the return of its companion mere. Kene related another kōrero recorded by Te Tawai about the history of the peace pact made between Ngāti Whatua and Ngāti Hine. Before the 1925 battle of Te Ika-a-ranga- nui, where Ngāti Whatua were crushed by Ngāpuhi under Hongi Hika’s vengeful leadership, it is said that Kawiti, who had whakapapa connections to Ngāti Whatua, gave safe haven to a number of the tribe by taking them ‘hostage’. After learning of the ‘hostages,’ Hongi Hika travelled to Orauta to demand that Kawiti hand them over as they were his rightful ‘taonga’ by way of conquest. Kawiti declined and Kene spoke of how he drew an imaginary “line in the sand” telling Hongi, “you step over this line and I’m gonna sack you out of Taiamai.” Kene asserts that “Hongi Hika backed off and went back to Whangaroa.” Once Kawiti 71 realised Hongi was not going to return and carry out his threat to invade Ngāti Hine territory, Kawiti knew it was safe to return his whanaunga to Ngāti Whatua. For added security, Kawiti also sent his nephew, one of his principal warriors, Mate Kairangatira, as a maungarongo for Ngāti Hine. The peace pact between Ngāti Hine and Ngāti Whatua was cemented by this taonga and Ngāti Whatua were so grateful that according to Kene, Mate Kairangatira was gifted ten wives (known as tuku wahine tuku whenua) “and commenced at once to populate Ngāti Hine.” He was also gifted land by Ngāti Whatua at Puatahi and Kakaraea. “The name Puatahi was bestowed as ‘kia Puatahi ai a Ngāti Hine ki roto i a Ngāti Whatua’. May the ‘blossoming of Ngāti Hine be within Ngāti Whatua’ to continue to seal this whanaungatanga forever” (http://www.naumaiplace.com/site/puatahi/home/page/1106/pm-history/). The descendants of Mate maintain that this age old tradition of ‘tuku wahine, tuku whenua’ reminds them that they “...remain today the Kaitiaki of that great gift (tuku whenua, tuku wahine) the treasure of land and woman, given by Ngāti Whatua to the iramutu (nephew) of Chief Kawiti from Ngāti Hine after the battle of Te Ika a Ranganui” (http://www.naumaiplace.com/site/puatahi/home/page/1106/pm-history/). These multiple taonga (Mate, Puatahi and Kakaraea land, and the kōrero and deeds surrounding the outlined events) have seen almost two centuries of inter-tribal whanaungatanga being honoured and nurtured. According to Kene, the various taonga attached to these events, increased in value on the death of Mate and the return of Mate’s body to Ngāti Hine. His kōiwi were returned wrapped in a whariki, “and on top of that whariki was these three mere.” Two of the mere were part of the exchange that occurred at the time of Te Riri and Marara’s marriage “and the third one, I don’t know where that one went” explained Kene, but “they all came from that maungarongo.” Yet another taonga has disappeared and awaits the right moment to reappear and enrich the fabric of Ngāti Hine. The focus of the kōrero about Mate’s tupapaku shifted to taonga tapu. Voicing her real fears regarding the future of such taonga, Kene maintained that, “his kōiwi was confined to Hineāmaru’s pouaka [and] it always worries me, to me they’re taonga too, Hineāmaru’s taonga, and as such they’ve got to be protected.” She described an incident about eight years earlier when the Kawiti family were approached by developers with a proposal to make “millions” by selling the Waiōmio caves, their papakainga and marae complex to the “rich people in Auckland.” At the hui called by developers to discuss the proposal in the hope of gaining agreement from the whānau, Kene and her brothers made it very clear where they stood. Showing clear contempt that someone had even suggested such a thing, Kene continued, “You know what we said don’t you - you can’t do that! I just swore at them!” The 72 proposal was to set up a huge tourist venture which would see trains transporting tourists to and from the caves. Unfortunately Kene and her whānau learned that other Ngāti Hine had already signalled their interest in selling their adjoining land. Kene spoke to the would-be developer saying, “I just said you can’t do that – anyway for goodness sake Hineāmaru’s kōiwi are lying up there [and] you’ll disturb them - all our tupuna up there in those torere, oh, the whole place will be disturbed.” She explained that as kaitiaki they could not possibly allow such a thing to happen, “we’re caretakers, we’re here to look after that place and make sure nobody comes in here.” Fortunately for Ngāti Hine the Kawiti whānau used the hui to discuss how they could ensure the security of the caves because, as Kene pointed out, circumstances and values change and future generations might see “greedy whānau members” emerge who “might get together and say hey let’s sell this place.” She voiced her fears that many of the younger generations were marrying Pākehā and were being raised elsewhere. She felt that many of them were losing their Māori values, their connection to the land, and therefore the kaitiakitanga responsibilities that were attached to that connection. Without going into detail, Kene told of how her whānau had decided that “before any of us pass on” they would ensure “that no one should do that” (sell Kawiti land), “cos it’s all taonga, precious taonga.” At this point, a discussion unfolded regarding Kene’s perspective on the finer details of what the concept of taonga might mean. When asked to comment about items crafted from non-indigenous materials, Kene contributed the following, “it has to be native, course it has, anything native, to me that’s taonga, anything.” When given the example of the beautiful work by Rangi Kipa, a well known Māori artist who manufactures hei-tiki out of corian (a man-made solid material created by Du Pont and most frequently used in the manufacture of kitchen countertops) Kene remained adamant that even though something may be created by a Māori artist, unless indigenous material is used, it is not a taonga. Interestingly, Kene had earlier classed the soldier’s urn as a taonga - an item made, by non-Māori. Asked if there would be a difference if the material was indigenous but the artist was non-Māori, Kene reiterated, “it’s the original material, that I know.” She went on to describe her reaction to some beautiful, machine-made bone carvings offered to her by a Pākehā artist. She said they were so perfect that “they just didn’t appeal to [her], they had to have something about them, you know, made in the old way.” Kene also shared her belief that only certain people can wear greenstone taonga and she is not one of them. She recalled how her “ganny Pae ... used to lean over me when I was little and kiss me and I used to see these dangling greenstone - I was terrified of them ... I used to have nightmares.” Despite this, Kene still marvelled at how well her ganny wore her greenstone. 73 The discussion about greenstone led to another of Kene’s memories. She told of a school trip where a number of Ngāti Hine travelled to the South Island. Kene stayed behind and found a book about greenstone of the Arahura River. She recalled “if the greenstones gonna come to you it will come”. Of the busload of Ngāti Hine who visited Arahura “only six of them unearthed a greenstone, the rest of the crew never got any.” She remembered, with fondness, that on their return, one little girl, “Runana’s mokopuna, she came running up to me and she gave me a little bit, and I treasure it you know, cos ... she remembered me - aw it was lovely.” Kene’s kōrero revealed her belief that taonga need to be connected with people and that taonga cannot be taonga in isolation. This connection may only be with specific people and that ill can befall anyone who is wrongly in possession of taonga. The kōrero also suggests that it is the taonga itself that causes the harm. Kene appeared somewhat embarrassed to disclose that she experiences ‘things’ of a spiritual nature and came across as being apologetic for even talking about such things, an attitude I have witnessed on many occasions. Perhaps it is a fear of being ridiculed or misunderstood, but Kene spoke hesitantly as she shared her story. “I’m a very... I’ve had a lot of things happening with taonga, anyway. “ One particular taonga kept in one of the whare tūpuna in Waiōmio, was brought to Kene’s mother by a Māori man and his daughter. They were accompanied by a tohunga who told Kene’s mother about the events that had led them to Waiōmio. Knowing her daughter’s affinity for things paranormal, Kene’s mother summoned her home to take a ‘look’ at the taonga. Kene spoke of the reaction when her mother tried to hand the taonga to her, “I said oooh don’t do that mum.” Her mother then told her the recent history of the taonga. The girl, a secondary school student, had fallen in love with the taonga, bought it, immediately began wearing it, and fell ill. Her father took her to see a number of Auckland doctors who were unable to help. He then decided to take her to a tohunga who instantly heard the taonga cry out. The tohunga told the girl that she had something in her possession that she should not have. She initially denied it but finally owned up to having bought the taonga which she then handed to him. She was told “this taonga is crying to go back to a place called Waiōmio - there’s a little kuia down there and this taonga has got to go back to her - I’m gonna take it back and you gonna come with me and your father is gonna come with me.” The tohunga told Kene’s mother that the taonga had come “from the toreres”. Kene claimed, “you know - Pākehās had been raiding the torere at Waiōmio and taken them and sold them in shops” and it had been the girl’s misfortune to have been the one to have found one of them. Kene asked her mother to hand her the taonga and she recalls that it felt ‘good’. Afraid to go into 74 the torere, she decided instead to hang the taonga, which her mother called a kuru pounamu (greenstone ear pendant), behind a portrait of Te Ruki Kawiti. On one occasion the taonga went missing but mysteriously turned up behind the photograph of Kawiti’s son Maihi. Kene says she shares this story with various groups and children on school visits to the marae, and “you know it’s still hanging up there today.” As Kene explained, teacher’s have disturbed the burial caves, storing kōiwi in the attic at their home, and ‘paying’ for it in a metaphysical sense where there is a price to pay for transgression of tapu. For example, as far as Kene knew this desecration began during the 1930’s and 1940’s, and there has been a tradition of Pākehā principals desecrating the Waiōmio burial caves. She said “the principals were all tutu and the tapu affected them, all of them.” Kene listed the following consequences said to have befallen these unfortunate cave robbers; “some died, one his wife went mad, one was gonna shoot his wife but he ended up in a mental ward - they were all tutus.” She was adamant that these men had experienced these consequences as a direct result of having disturbed burial torere, adding that their families were not immune either as “the tutu affected their wives or their children or themselves.” Kene’s father would often predict the end result whenever he suspected the school principals were up to no good. When prompted for comment regarding different levels of taonga, Kene replied by telling the story of the pare that once hung on Kawiti’s doorway at the whare wānanga that preceded Te Rapunga (the whare tupuna on State Highway 1 at Waiōmio). This whare was named Ahuareka and served as a meeting place where both Ngāti Hine and inter-tribal hui were held. Kene intimated that the pare was a more powerful taonga due to the kōrero that occurred inside Ahuareka and due to all those tupuna who had walked under it as they entered Ahuareka. For example, it was there that Whareumu came to seek help from Kawiti to avenge a tupuna of Ngāti Manu who was killed at Moremonui. Kawiti was thatching the roof of Ahuareka when Whareumu arrived with a pig. Kawiti killed the pig and the acceptance of portions of the meat by Ngāti Hine whānau signalled they had agreed to join Hongi Hika’s taua poised to attack, among others, Ngāti Whatua at Te Ika-a-ranga-nui. Kene commented on the concept of ‘psychic’ safety and how she teaches her children that they should not touch or keep taonga that does not belong to them, “cos they’re carrying the wairua of the wearer, yeah, I explain that to the children -the wairua of the wearer - and that wairua ... you don’t want to be carrying somebody else’s wairua on you, for goodness sake.” This concept was likened to the waka tūpāpaku and how each waka tūpāpaku still carries the wairua of the kōiwi that they once contained. 75 Kene asked me for an account of my experience of waka tūpāpaku at the museum. As I told the story she empathised with total understanding. She commented that she wished she had been there to ‘lighten the load’, to share the burden I endured through this entire experience because of our shared whakapapa connections. Kene continued to ask questions about my experience with the waka tūpāpaku suggesting that perhaps my tangi at my first encounter had not actually been about me per se, but a response by my tūpuna “it’s your old people from that time - they tangi, they tangi to them, because they knew what was in those waka.” She sympathised with those who might unknowingly encounter these taonga, “it can’t be good for visitors.” I agreed with her and told her that some people have called it a dialogue between me and the taonga. I told Kene, “there’s no dialogue - I’m not saying anything - they’re doing the talking”, to which Kene replied, “that’s beautiful - I’m glad it’s come to you - it’s beautiful and it’s really aroha cos I tangi, I really tangi, because of what they mean to the old people and if I did [cry] it’ll be the nanny’s from my time doing it.” Continuing our ‘debrief’ regarding the waka tūpāpaku at the museum, I told Kene that there were at least two that are definitely from Waiōmio, but probably four. “There’s four of them, yeah” she agreed, and likening them to the kuru pounamu previously discussed, “they’re tangi’ing to you to take them home.” The provenance attached to the waka tūpāpaku claims they were presented to the museum by the Reed and Spencer families. At that time Reed claimed that taonga around the Kawakawa area, “such as the waka tūpāpaku, were ‘being freely sold’” (Brown, 2003 p.148). Kene adamantly refuted this, stressing, “ea, those things! - too mataku – rubbish! - they pinched them - yeah they pinched them!” By way of illustration, she shared a story that her father had told her – “Dad tells about one Pākehā going down to the torere, but he got caught down there.” Apparently, a Pākehā from Kawakawa, had gone to the caves alone. On lowering himself into the torere, he found himself trapped when the rope slipped. His relatives, knowing that he had intended to ‘visit’ the caves, contacted Kene’s father the next morning when he did not return home. Kene’s father asked if they knew exactly where he could be as they had “been there before, so they took him to exactly where ... and they found him down in the hole, and he’d gone mad, e aue ana (crying pitifully) – taipo, Māori taipo (goblin) ... ko porangi ke (gone mad) ... take that!” Kene shared her own experience with Auckland Museum. While she was attending Ardmore Teacher’s Training College she said “we took one science day off and we went to the museum in Auckland. Imagine, imagine me walking in with all these students” and then, “smack bang into [an upoko tuhituhi], aw, I wanted to tangi, but I couldn’t, I know how you felt ... and I stood there and looked and I just went ... but i couldn’t ... and it was sitting on a shelf in a glass case, aw, I was so aroha.” Clearly upset, Kene continued to tell me about 76 how she had come across an upoko tuhituhi at Auckland Museum. “Who the hell did this to our people? ... and I walked away, I left it, I couldn’t handle it, I walked out the museum” she said, as she shook her bowed head. Kene was bewildered, “how could they do that to our tupuna? - put them on display? She felt similarly affected by the Egyptian mummy, on the same trip. She also shared her sense of guilt at “yeah, not doing anything about it.” Together we thumbed through Carved Maori Burial Chests: A Commentary and a Catalogue by Aileen Fox. Kene shuddered at the sight of a 1929 photograph (p. 67) showing waka tūpāpaku lined up outside of Tokapiko cave, and another photograph with the skulls of our tūpuna strewn around inside the cave, evidence of it having been disturbed. Seeing Plate 27 (Fox,1983 p.69), the waka tūpāpaku that many suspect could be that of Hineāmaru, Kene was incredulous, “I can’t believe we’re not doing more, you know, getting them out of there, or off display for starters.” I explained that my objective was exactly that, to get them off display, until the kaumātua figure out what they are going to do with them. Commenting on tribal responses and responsibilities regarding their own taonga, Kene shared memories of her paternal grandparent’s home in Waiōmio. She told of how she, and her two cousins, would always sleep in the same spooky room whenever they stayed with them. There was no electrical power in the house at that time so lanterns were used to light the way for mokopuna to go to bed. Kene remembered the eerie atmosphere created by the lantern light. The huge wardrobe in one corner affected the light which would play on the korowai, piupiu, mere, and other taonga, stacked high on top. Kene would sleep with a blanket over her head until one of her cousins told her, “don’t let the old man catch you with the blanket on your head, cos if he does he’ll make you sleep in that room by yourself.” Asked if she knew the whereabouts of those taonga Kene replied that her younger brother Eddie, now deceased, had told her that when he was around ten or eleven years old, he had helped their grandfather, Te Riri, to secrete the taonga into a small hollow somewhere in the caves. Being small enough, her brother was made to climb into the hollow and his grandfather then passed the taonga to him, one by one, to be deposited into the space. The old “boxes of books, and those shots, you know, cartridge belts” were also deposited in the caves. Sometime after the death of their grandfather, two of her brothers returned to the site. She told of how “they grabbed their ladder and they took off back to the house” in a very agitated state. They told their grandmother that they had encountered, “big rats in there.” I feared that Kene was about to tell me that the taonga had been eaten by these rats but instead she simply said, “kaitiaki”. She claimed that her grandfather, “must’ve left kaitiaki up there, and they up there, big, big 77 rats, and these are eighteen year old boys, they said they never seen rats that size, big ones in this hole, where the taonga were.” I asked Kene if she preferred those taonga to be out amongst the people. She replied “you know what Ngāti Hine is like, they’re always fighting over taonga.” Kene suggested that perhaps it was a good thing that Ngāti Hine taonga were invisible in the community, or secreted away, as we tended to be so competitive. She then went on to explain about “another batch of taonga” that had been threatened by development. Kene then instructed, “you can’t tell the Pākehā though, they might go and fish em out.” Respecting her direction, I will only say that certain Ngāti Hine were fully aware that there were taonga at that particular site. They tried everything to stop the development on environmental grounds and they too chose not to reveal the existence or exact whereabouts of the taonga. On being told, at the final hui with associated government bodies, that they had failed to stop the developers, they were distraught. Kene described how the developer walked into their hui and announced that he had changed his mind and did not wish to “carry on with his kaupapa.” Ngāti Hine were so overjoyed, “we started to sing our waiata.” Later the developer revealed he had encountered a formidable ‘kaitiaki’ at the development site which had left him in no doubt that despite having obtained the official and legal ‘green light’ to go ahead with his plans, he had no choice but to back down. The taonga remain safe but Kene warns that Ngāti Hine must remain vigilant as “there’ll always be another Pākehā trying to do something to that [place]” and that we need to protect those taonga. According to Kene the carvings from Ahuareka were wrapped up and secreted when the whare was dismantled. While she did not personally know of their exact whereabouts she was confident that someone else, within Ngāti Hine, would. So while I was more than a little uncomfortable to learn of the whereabouts of certain taonga, I realised that I was now one of the people entrusted to do all I could to protect them whenever the need arose. Interestingly, Kene’s grandfather had deposited the pare from Ahuareka with the museum, and her father, Te Tawai, fearing that Ngāti Hine might go to the museum to claim it, had brought it back to Waiōmio. In light of this revelation, I asked Kene how she felt about seeking the return of the waka tūpāpaku known as the Ngāti Hine collection (sometimes called the Kawiti collection) knowing that her grandfather had been one of those who had deposited them with the Auckland Museum. Kene related that some time ago the Kawiti whānau had heard that a “contingent was going to Auckland to uplift them, so some of the family members went down and asked ... not to touch them, leave them there, they’re alright 78 there, they’re safe, don’t let that group [take them].” According to Kene, the ‘contingent’ had planned to build a museum to house and possibly display the taonga – she also intimated that the group were not from Waiōmio. Kene was clear that she was now in full favour of seeking the return of the collection saying, ”get them back ... they want to come out of there, they should be brought out of there, they should be brought back.” Kene also added that in order to prevent a repeat of their desecration in the caves, she preferred that they be buried in Otarawa cemetery. We shared stories of how my whānau had been to Hineāmaru’s pouaka to explore the burial cave area and how Kene had accidently entered the cave when chasing a family pet. She recalled how Te Riri calmed her down by telling her she had nothing to fear if she had not touched anything. No-one collected watercress or did any eeling below that area of the Te Paki stream which flows through the kōiwi in the caves. Kene described a korowai made for Te Riri using white kiwi feathers. Cared for by different families that korowai has currently disappeared from sight. She also told the story of how her father had saved a child from being buried alive. This incident happened during the era of the great flu, when hasty burials became a necessity due to the many deaths. She said, “Dad noticed that the girl, she was still alive, her eyeballs were rolling under the lids, so they pulled her out and revived her, and she lived to be a grandmother.” Realising she was jumping from one kōrero to another, Kene mused, “I don’t know how I rambled onto that one.” Still, that did not stop her from launching straight into another seemingly unrelated narrative about Wairere (the cemetery opposite Te Rapunga on State Highway 1) and “that purepo, that cannon gun” sitting amongst the graves. She talked about the “oka rakau” (oak tree) planted on the site in 1864, on the same day that Maihi’s whare, Marama-Tautini, was opened. Kene classed that tree as a taonga tapu. As children, they could play on its branches but because of its tapu nature they “weren’t allowed under the tree cos that’s where they used to lie the tūpāpaku.” Slowly the threads connecting all three kōrero emerged. According to Kene, there was a well below Marama-Tautini that was fed from Wairere (now situated across a busy road). The well was blocked off when Maihi died, “cos when he died that’s when the cemetery came into use.” Part of the Te Paki stream that flowed through the limestone burial caves became tapu, so too did the water running through Wairere when a new Christian cemetery was established there. Maihi was buried at Wairere but his grave was disturbed and he was moved to Otarawa, the cemetery next to the caves. Kene’s aunt, Ngaone, who wove the white korowai for Te Riri, had lost her husband during 79 the flu epidemic. Apart from Maihi, Ngaone’s husband was the first person to be interred at Wairere, along with their daughter, who happened to be the little girl saved from burial by Kene’s father. Kene related the story of King Tawhiao’s visit to Maihi Kawiti in 1885. Tawhiao called a hui to ask that “Maihi be his General [so that] Ngāpuhi [would] accept him [Tawhiao] as their king.” To avenge the insult of suggesting he play a lesser role to his status as a chief in his own rohe, Maihi hosted Tawhiao overnight and slept in an upstairs bedroom and was therefore located above Tawhiao. Tawhiao was bitterly angered by this obvious slight, that is placement of a chiefly, therefore tapu person above that of another chief of the same status. So Maihi tried to make amends by telling Tawhiao that it should be enough that they were both ariki in their own respective territories. Maihi also plied Tawhiao with numerous taonga, including, “these korowai, you know, taiaha, patu, greenstone, plus the diamond ring.” Kene did not know the origin of the diamond ring but continued the narrative saying that because Tawhiao “was still highly insulted ... he threw the ring into the sea” where it was swallowed by a fish. The fish was eventually caught, the diamond ring found, and it was returned to Maihi. Kene discussed Maihi’s grave being disturbed and his remains tampered with because in addition to Maihi’s missing head, his finger was also removed in order to access the diamond ring. According to Kene the original land owner upon which Orauta School now stood, was in fact, Maihi, and that this allowed her to feel comfortable there. Asked how comfortable she would be to see our taonga, such as the Rongomau seal or our waka tūpāpaku, in a museum, Kene replied that she would not be affected so much at seeing the Rongomau seal there, “cos to me it’s really Pākehā [and] it’s not scary”, but that the waka tūpāpaku would be totally different. Kene explained she felt this way because “they once sat up there in that burial place and they once held taonga in them - yeah yeah, and the wairua” adding, “they’re not dead, they’re very much alive those old people, all round that area is scary.” Regarding her perspective of museums, we talked about our role as kaitiaki and the safety aspects concerning Ngāti Hine children unknowingly coming into contact with taonga tapu. Commenting on what affect that may have on these children, Kene said, “let alone the kids, it’s kuia and kaumātua” that we need to protect. Asked if she would agree to have Ngāti 80 Hine taonga housed in a whare taonga of our own, Kene agreed that it was not a place to have taonga tapu such as waka tūpāpaku, but that she would be happy about items such as taiaha, korowai, and greenstone taonga to be cared for in such a place. More kōrero emerged with regard to where the waka tūpāpaku might go after their return. Kene maintained her father had considered dynamiting the cave entrances after he had to collect and re-inter kōiwi that Kene claimed had been thrown around “higgledy piggledy all over the place” by Pākehā. Kene conceded that in terms of whakapapa books, it was not Pākehā, but actually Ngāti Hine individuals and whānau who “raided” and looted much of her families written history. She spoke of how trusting she had been to loan items to Ngāti Hine individuals who consequently failed to return books. Turning to the kōrero regarding scholarly access and the use of waka tūpāpaku as examples of Ngāti Hine carving, Kene commented that Kawiti’s carvings were not in fact Ngāti Hine but may actually have been carved in the style of Te Arawa. She explained that Kawiti, “on one of his forages down the line, on one of their war party travels, he captured this Arawa carver ... named Kapatohu[?].” Kene explained that this Te Arawa kaiwhakairo “ did that pare, that carving on that pare is that Arawa slave’s ... [and] no doubt he would have done the carvings for that marae too.” I asked if perhaps all the esoteric knowledge encoded in our carvings might be that of Te Arawa and Kene agreed. Interestingly, Kene maintained the carver was buried in Waiōmio. We spoke of how the carver of our waka tūpāpaku was from Hokianga and how using his skills was a means of rebinding and strengthening Ngāti Hine ties to Hokianga. I suggested that perhaps the waka tūpāpaku were orchestrating yet another rebinding of those ties. Kene recalled the words of Kawiti’s takuate and how he wished that the uri of Kaharau and Uenuku of the Hokianga might work side by side. I asked Kene to share comment on her perspective on kaitiakitanga and how we have failed to fulfil that role in terms of the care of our waka tūpāpaku. I spoke of some of the political fallout that had occurred as a consequence of our protest at the museum and how some had suggested that it was okay to leave the waka tūpāpaku there because they had been deposited by her grandfather. Kene replied that Te Riri “only... asked the museum to take them at the time... because those Pākehās were raiding them ... he didn’t say forever.” 81 Taipari Munro Taipari lists his hapū affiliations as Te Parawhau, Te Waiariki, and Ngāti Korora, but I remember fondly of how my Aunty Heeni Jones would affectionately cuff his ear and remind him of his Ngāti Hine lineage. An articulate and learned man, Taipari is an astute educationalist and was the Head of Māori Studies at Northland Polytech at the time of his interview. He is currently the Advisor Māori for North Tec, the largest tertiary provider in Northland. He is also a renowned historian, particularly of the Whangarei area, and is often called upon to speak on any number of diverse topics ranging from Matariki, weaving, and kiore Māori to Māori electorate engagement. He uses his local knowledge to help him with his involvement with Terenga Paraoa Tours, a tourist venture that introduces visitors to the history of the Whangarei area. He is also heavily involved in the heritage sector, holding an advisory position at the Whangarei Museum, and occasionally lecturing there. I chose Taipari as a research participant primarily because of his experience with repatriation and also because of his extensive work in the field of heritage and cultural studies. The interview with Taipari was conducted in his office at the polytech and the author is extremely grateful for his comprehensive and generous responses, especially considering that the interview occurred during working hours. Again, kōrero unfolded in both English and Māori, and also included conversations that required editing due to its sensitive nature. Kōrero Discussing Ngāti Hine’s first letter to Auckland Museum demanding our waka tūpāpaku be taken off public display, I showed Taipari the draft letter, which had been read out at a hui of the kuia and kaumātua at Waiōmio. The initial reaction at that hui had been mixed although the hui unanimously agreed with the kaupapa. Some people were surprised at what they called the confrontational tone of the letter. I thought I had actually taken a ‘softly softly’ approach and was genuinely surprised by the reaction. Taipari asked if people had thought “that the Māori was being too hard on the Pākehā”. Some people thought the letter should be toned down, shortened, and should be a little ‘nicer’. Taipari volunteered that he didn’t “know if nicer is really what it should be” because from his experience “working with Pākehā...that they prefer that you’re direct [and] that you’re not sort of beating around the bush.” Some of the tribal politics that emerged after the hui tended to undermine the kaupapa. Taipari advised that the kaupapa was more important than the internal politics, and that “our people are pretty good at hijacking things.” I explained that my methodology allowed me to move in and out of the research but that I was finding myself totally entangled at times. Taipari intimated that it might have been academically easier to research using Pākehā methodology but that he firmly believed that things were unfolding exactly as they 82 were meant to and that I was “meant to do this, you know, I don’t believe it’s come up like this for nothing.” At this point I told Taipari about my experience at Auckland Museum, how it evolved, and filled him in on the waka tūpāpaku on display. When I showed him photographs of the four contested waka tūpāpaku he exclaimed, “oh for goodness sake, oh that one’s on display?” As mentioned during Kene’s interview I told Taipari how Vernon Reed’s family claimed that Māori were “happily” selling our waka tūpāpaku. Taipari suggested that they were probably more likely to have been “secretly selling them as opposed to happily selling them.” He shared that the same thing had happened in Whangarei and that this type of behaviour did not need to be widespread to do damage. After a lengthy discussion relating to the four Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku on display, Taipari commented, “oh gosh girl, you have got a big take in front of you.” He continued, saying, “it’s about the arrogance of those people, you know, and sort of like you’re saying in your letter there, you know, they may never understand, you know, the depth of our feeling.” I spoke of how some people couldn’t get around the idea that I wasn’t that interested in what the museum had to say, because I was pretty much over listening to what I believed was their arrogant rhetoric, and that I preferred to hear what our people thought. Taipari suggested that “they feel that they own all of that” and that they are upset at being excluded from the conversation. Taipari spoke of how he had experienced similar attitudes “when we were talking with the museum about bringing those tūpunas heads home.” He shared that the process of repatriating the heads of Moetarau and Koukou had taken ten years to complete, despite there being no doubt about the origin of the heads. Taipari said that he knew “those tupuna were ready to come home” yet their group had to fight against the resistance emanating “not so much from the museum itself, but from the world of science and from the bigger museum world.” Arguments regarding scholarly access were even raised by foreigners and Taipari expressed his anger that “even right to the very end they wanted to photograph them.” He talked about how Dalvanius Prime had been against the burial of the mokomokai but that “whether they were going to bury them or whatever they were going to do with them, surely at the end of the day the decision had to be theirs.” Taipari asserts that its “the same with Ngāti Hine - whatever happens to those things, surely the decision is for Ngāti Hine to make.” He told of how “it was bad enough to get that sort of resistance from the bigger museum world and from the world of science, let alone from our own.” Taipari told of how he and Dalvanius got together to talk things over, and that he explained to Dalvanius that he “felt that he was coming at us in the same way as how those Pākehā were coming aye.” One of the things that really surprised Taipari about the whole process was that his uncles from 83 “Poroti thought that they were still there” and that it was only because Te Warena Taua was appointed to the position of assistant ethnologist that he was able to notify Taipari of the mokomokai in storage at the museum. In addition, Taipari told of how Te Warena’s whakapapa ties “to Ngāti Hine [and] to the Kawiti family” had prompted him to call. According to Taipari, when Te Warena first gave him the names of the mokomokai, his kaumātua told him “they’re in the cave at Poroti.” He had to tell them that they were actually in the Auckland Museum and Taipari told of how his kaumātua “really cried, you know, when they saw them.” Asked if he ever regretted “putting them away”, Taipari replied that he didn’t and nor did he care about the ‘scholarly access’ point of view, saying, “from the Māori perspective, point of view, I didn’t.” He added that his objective was to get them home and to allow “the people themselves to decide what should happen to them.” While they waited for the completion of their repatriation protest, Taipari told of how a kaumātua would “go to the museum just so he could have karakia and so that he could talk to them” and explain what was being done to ensure their return. On the kaumātua’s death, the task was picked up by others who would do the same thing. Taipari went on to share the beauty of the process of transporting the upoko tuhituhi back to Poroti, and of how paranormal activity occurred throughout their journey back to the Whatitiri caves, where they had originally been stolen. He noted that the final resting place was not discussed publicly and the final leg of the journey was only made by small group of people. He did not see the final burial as being part of his role, but rather, that his role was to just get them back to Poroti. He reflected on how the “whole take had given [them] the occasion to be able to have a look at their history” and exploring the fact that many ‘collectors’ were assisted by complicit Māori, Taipari spoke about William McKenzie Fraser, a one-time curator of Whangarei Museum. Fraser, according to Taipari, had accumulated numerous Māori artefacts by befriending local Māori. He would “bring lollies for the mokopuna ... take the kaumātua all the way from Pataua and bring them to town” and, as Taipari observed, this sort of pampering attention would “of course [mean] the tūpuna are gonna like you.” Eventually, “on a picnic” somewhere, someone would point out places of interest, and Fraser would return “in the night and just ransack the place.” Taipari told of how Fraser’s collection included “the tūpāpaku of this woman that was taken out of the caves, holding onto her child, he had that” and “he had the tūpāpaku that was given to him by one of our relations from out Mangakahia.” Shuddering at the thought, Taipari added that, “that’s the one we hear the most dreadful stories ... of that koroheke Pākehā having that dried up, desiccated corpse in his office.” Apparently, Fraser would use one of his corpses to scare visitors by sitting it at his desk or in the cleaner’s cupboard. 84 I shared with Taipari that after being granted access to the burial cave area by the Kawiti family (as part of a whānau wānanga), we were told explicitly that all the tapu sites and kōrero were to remain strictly secret. I was then amazed to discover in Carved Maori Burial Chests: A Commentary and a Catalogue, (p. 7) exact directions to one of the Ngāti Hine burial caves. Taipari suggested that perhaps our tūpuna (including Te Riri) revealed these secret locations to Pākehā, simply because they believed the established thinking of that time – “that we were dying out, or that our culture was dying out and those chiefs of those time were the last of a dying breed” and that our taonga and our tapu traditions were a “thing of the past.” I told Taipari about the initial mixed responses to the repatriation of the waka tūpāpaku, of how one person believed that “if a Ngāti Hine rangatira thought it was good to put them there, who are we to take them out and take them back?” and how, in contrast, Erima Henare had suggested that perhaps the waka tūpāpaku collection had “served its purpose” (being an example for Pine Taiapa and his carvers to duplicate) and that we were now more than capable of looking after them. I shared that for me it was more about the “diminishing of mana and kaitiakitanga - how are we gonna look after ourselves if we can’t even look after those mea.” Taipari agreed, saying “yes you’re right... it may very well have been okay for those times but it’s not okay for now, you know, it’s not okay now” and added, that “at the very, very least, you know, that we have some sort of say into what’s held at the museum there, you know what i mean, as to what they do with them.” Taipari asked if I was aware if any consultation had occurred with Ngāti Hine or at least with the Māori advisory board, Te Taumata-a-Iwi, and I replied in the negative. I explained that I had decided not to speak ‘officially’ with the museum until the repatriation process was underway and that I was still angry at their initial responses. I shared that I had talked unofficially with some of the curatorial staff who had informed me that the ‘issue’ was a governance one and that they were not comfortable with the decision to display our waka tūpāpaku. A discussion about the tribal representation of the Taumata-a-Iwi unfolded with Taipari expressing that he thought “Ngāti Paoa or Ngāti Whatua or any of those can’t be seen to be speaking on behalf of those things, of those taonga.” I told Taipari that it was really difficult to make sense of who had authorised the display from the Ngāti Hine end and who had done so from the museum end. Similarly, it was just as difficult to sort out who was currently pushing for their continued display. A reference to a conference that I had attended, Huakina Nga Tatau - Opening the Doors: The Changing Face of Museums in New Zealand, prompted an exploration of the word ‘tatau’ meaning ‘doorway for the dead’ and lead to further kōrero about the name Motatau, which is where I come from. Taipari said he believed that “Motatau is certainly to do with the, umm, te tatau ki te po” (doorway to the world of the dead) and that he recalled 85 hearing “those kaumātua up there talk, you know, [that] Ngāti Hine don’t have to go all the way to Te Reinga cos they just need to go up to Motatau [maunga] and they’re there.” I shared with Taipari that I had found it difficult sitting through the conference listening to all the talk of the wonderful biculturalism practised in the museum sector, when in fact; Ngāti Hine was experiencing the exact opposite. I told him that all I could think of was “yeah that’s great - open the door for the dead people to get out of here!” Taipari agreed, saying “yes that’s right, to get out of bondage.” I told Taipari that when it was time for the question/answer section, I could no longer hold back, and that I had asked Paul Tapsell, “with all this biculturalism I’ve been listening to over the last two days, how does the museum get to the point where they think it’s morally and ethically sound to put waka tūpāpaku up on the walls?” I told Taipari that I recalled Paul’s body language more than any answer he may have given, and that I remembered that “his head dropped.” Taipari asked about what we had uncovered so far, and I told him whilst we hadn’t found much at all, the curatorial staff were talking about “odd things” happening in connection to the waka tūpāpaku. On one occasion when Rewi had called a certain curator with regard to a specific catalogue number relating to the Ngāti Hine collection, the curator’s finger happened to be on the very number he was requesting. This prompted Taipari to talk about Ani Walsh (now deceased) and her involvement in initiating “the case to have those kōiwi returned to Waimamaku and over here to Whangarei and up to Te Kao and Matangirau and those places.” He told of how she had done a considerable amount of research including the listing of taonga originating from Waiōmio. He asked about Kawiti’s pare and his portrait, and I assured him that, as far as I knew, they were safe in the hands of the Kawiti whānau. We discussed how previous research conducted for the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga had also gone missing when the Rūnanga had gone into recess and this led to further discussion about the internal politics that unfolded immediately after the Motatau focus group hui. I told Taipari how MP Dover Samuels had somehow become involved and that things had turned “into a bloomin’ circus.” We laughed when I commented on how I hadn’t asked Taipari a single question yet. To remedy that situation I asked Taipari to define taonga and to comment on how non- indigenous materials and non-indigenous artists might affect his definition. He answered that, in the broadest sense, a taonga Māori would be one that has been intentionally made, by a Māori, for someone, “so even the cloak with the rooster feathers on it, I would still claim to be taonga because of the intent for which it has been made and because it has been made by that Māori person.” He expanded by adding that he thought a taonga was defined by its value to Māori, “what it’s been made for, the purpose that it’s been used for, the kōrero 86 behind it, the history behind it [and] to me a taonga will eventually gather kōrero, you know.” Prompted, he agreed that he was talking about a connection to people and to tūpuna via “the karakia by the craftsperson to make it in the first place [and] the karakia they say when they’ve finished it.” Shown my corian tiki made by Rangi Kipa, Taipari said he would class the piece as taonga, because of all the links it had to tūpuna via the artist’s traditional knowledge, karakia, and intent, and the capacity it now possessed to collect kōrero. I spoke about the likening of taonga to comets and tui, about how taonga travelled through families or how they emerged, now and then, to mark significant events in tribal history, and of how certain kōrero attached to taonga, have kept our traditions and history alive. Taipari suggested again, that perhaps the thinking of previous generations in terms of Māori perpetuity had resulted in the loss of much kōrero and therefore taonga. I asked him to comment on the idea Tohe put forward about Ngāti Te Tarawa having kaitiaki responsibilities in terms of the Kawiti whānau and taonga. Taipari expressed his interest, spoke about how he thought the leadership role in Ngāti Hine appeared to be “suspended” in time, and commented that it was not unusual for certain families to carry such roles. Taipari returned to the definition of taonga and introduced the word ‘manatunga’. He defined manatunga as “a keepsake” that is passed down “and as it moves through, it’s gaining its history [and] its mana is increasing. He explained that, as opposed to how we now tend to hold onto our taonga until we pass them down to the next generation, manatunga were taonga passed ‘around’ to help it collect kōrero, “you know, you may very well look for an occasion for which you can pass this particular item on, you know, at the wedding or at the tangi.” I suggested that a piece of royal tapa I had inherited from my mother might be a manatunga. The piece had been made by tongan, Queen Salote and it had found its way to my whānau via one of the Queen’s royal attendants, who had married my Pākehā grandfather. I marvelled that a tongan taonga had come to us via our Pākehā line. “so the tapa must be a manatunga that passed through, down the family” said Taipari, before shifting the conversation back to taonga Māori. We discussed a tribal taonga, a korowai, that my daughter and I had both worn at our graduations. I told of how the irony was not lost on me, when I realised our graduation parade was happening in the middle of Takapuna, on the North Shore of Auckland. The irony was that on my Henare side, I descend from Colonel Robert Henry Wynyard, and on one of Tau Henare’s visits to see our Pākehā whānau (who lived in Devonport, then named Takapuna) his wife, Hera, contracted the flu. The virus decimated the Motatau population 87 and a new cemetery was established to accommodate the many burials. That cemetery was named Takapuna because, for us, that is where the virus originated. Perhaps even more ironic, was the fact that the korowai I was wearing belonged to Maihi Kawiti, son of Te Ruki Kawiti, who fought Colonel Wynyard at the battle of Ruapekapeka. As with most taonga Māori, the attached threads of kōrero have been woven into a wonderful whariki on which the taonga can now rest. We discussed other taonga and kōrero before returning to that ‘big white elephant in the room’ – the waka tūpāpaku. I told Taipari that people have commented on the relationship I have with the waka tūpāpaku, saying it’s as if “I’m talking to these things” to which I have replied, “well no, I don’t, I daren’t say anything to them, they talk to me and it’s like ... I’m sort of just doing what they tell me.” I asked Taipari how he would react to such an experience and he said that he was sure that such things only happened to certain people who have a wairua connection to a particular taonga. He shared, “I would be concerned if I knew beforehand that there were waka tūpāpaku there, simply because knowing what they were associated with.” I spoke of how Ngāti Hine were not really interested in the contents of the Museum, until they learned about what was there, and then they tended to become really angry. Taipari then offered what he called a “political analysis” of the situation, raising a number of reasons for some of the reactions to our first draft of the letter to the Museum. He suggested ones background and upbringing, whether or not people worked in “very strong Pākehā organisations,” and even religious convictions, would play a huge role in how people reacted. I spoke of how surprised I was at being labelled a ‘radical’ and how I didn’t think there was anything “radical about wanting waka tūpāpaku home.” Taipari suggested that it might be “because of your strength, of how you bring the take” or possibly even the fact that I was a “wahine.” I explained that I thought the latter might have become an issue, and for that reason, Rewi and I had agreed that since he was a fluent speaker of te reo, he would take on the role of performing whaikōrero and karakia. I also spoke about how Rewi’s museum background and Pākehā networks had proved invaluable. Taipari commented that he thought Rewi and I were a well-balanced duo and that this fact should prevent the surfacing of some of the negative misconceptions about academics coming out of universities to pillage and loot our culture. He also suggested that Ngāti Hine tend to be complacent and that this was possibly an endemic flaw in our people. He added, that we tend to not want “to disturb the waters, and you know, we should be satisfied and happy with what we’ve got and that we would just be opening Pandora’s Box.” 88 With regard to establishing a whare taonga of our own, Taipari foresaw a number of challenging issues such as, agreement on a site, having skilled people to operate such a whare, adequate security, and all the issues that might arise around taonga tapu. I told Taipari about the old kaumātua at our focus group hui who wanted the tuna pou “back and in the river, he didn’t want it back and in a whare taonga, he wanted it back in the river because he was thinking about the integrity of the taonga [and] cos that’s what it’s supposed to do [so] if it rots, it’s supposed to rot.” Taipari agreed, saying “that’s right, and this is the other thing that Pākehā find it difficult to come to terms with.” He asserted that Pākehā, in “their arrogance, try to make things last forever, they even try to make humans last forever.” Taipari said that in terms of taonga, he appreciated “the care that they take when handling those things, but I also would want them to appreciate where we’re coming from, you know, where for us, everything has the inevitable death.” Speaking about the burial caves, Taipari agreed that he thought the waka tūpāpaku should go back to Waiōmio, to enrich Ngāti Hine from within, and that the caves were more appropriate because they were situated on Māori land and in sight (their sight) of their descendant communities. I asked him whether he thought that perhaps we had failed in our role as kaitiaki, and he replied that, perhaps we had. Asked about whether he thought we should go to the museum to ‘awhi’ our taonga and keep them company he replied in the affirmative, adding that he thought we should do it “in bulk.” Taipari also advised that visiting the waka tūpāpaku would remind us of the kaupapa, adding that he was not sure what would have happened had they not continued to visit the heads of Moetarau and Koukou. He acknowledged that no-one would have known who these tūpuna were except that someone had “written that information and attached it to them, cos they actually had tags, yeah, they had tags, you know like those ones they used to put on a suitcase, and umm, and then they had the kōrero written on the tag.” I observed that there was no evidence of any provenance or kōrero attached to individual items in the Fraser Collection at Whangarei Museum and Taipari alleged that it was simply because they had been stolen. Taipari told of how it was fortunate that he had been told about a vanity bag, full of brightly coloured perfume bottles that had been deposited in the burial caves at Whatitiri. Apparently, a Pākehā trader had married a local Māori woman, and “Tirarau and them gave all the land out at Maungatapere” for the couple. While the husband was away overseas on a business trip, his Māori wife died giving birth to their last child and was interred in the burial caves. On his return, the grieving husband took the gifts intended for his beloved wife and placed them with her in the caves. Taipari told of finding the bag on one of his trips to Auckland when trying to secure the repatriation of the upoko tuhituhi, he recounted how “this 89 vanity bag came out of all of that, and I said oh, you know, that it was found in a cave at Whangarei, so because we thought, oh gosh, every cave can’t have a vanity bag in it with the bright coloured perfume bottles.” The vanity bag was returned with the upoko tuhituhi. It is interesting that this non-Māori item, made by a non-Māori, and given by a non-Māori, had achieved the taonga tapu status that made it worthy of being returned with the first upoko tuhituhi to ever be repatriated to their descendant community. In light of this story I asked Taipari if he thought we should be less secretive about taonga tapu and their related kōrero and he replied that he thought we should, if only to prevent the loss of the taonga kōrero. At this point, I shared my dilemma, relating to some cassette tapes in my possession, of my grandmother singing Ngāti Hine moteatea. I had thought about digitally copying the tapes in order to preserve them but when I had approached my aunt (now deceased) about it, she was adamant that I should not have them copied, saying “oh no you don’t, don’t take any of that kind of stuff to any of those kind of people, they’ll tahae (steal) it.” I told Taipari that I was now left with eroding tapes but that perhaps they were like the waka tūpāpaku and the tuna pou, simply destined to rot. Taipari thought that I should reconsider and ‘talk’ to the tūpuna so they could see that there was no ill intent. He thought it may be important that I should look at ways of controlling the taping process so that I could still save the tapes for our mokopuna. We talked about how certain things like whakapapa and tribal kōrero were freely available over the internet, and how we felt the information had lost some of its mana and tapu. Taipari spoke about how are mokopuna who have access to their whakapapa over the internet are actually becoming detached from it, because “on the marae the wairua is present aye, you know what I mean, and like you say, you’re feeling it and you’re a part of it.” In contrast, Taipari maintains that electronic transmission of such material goes against the first Māori principle of engagement, as Māori, “we need to talk kanohi ki te kanohi.” Our conversation ended with Taipari telling me, “I trust implicitly what you’re doing, and I mean, it’s within our interests, you know what I mean” and I did. Jim Tipene A respected kaumātua and whaikōrero exponent for his whānau, hapū, and iwi, Himi Mokena, was also an opinionated, stubborn, and sometimes arrogant man. Now deceased, Jim was also known to reveal a gentle caring nature and at the heart of his being was a desire to serve his whānau and his people. His knowledge of Ngāti Hine and Ngāpuhi traditions , whakapapa, and history, was second to none, and he was also well-respected by other tribal groups, having worked with a number of inter-tribal educational providers based throughout the country. A keen participant and supporter of kapa haka, the revitalisation of 90 the Māori language, and Māori academic achievement, Jim lectured at various tertiary, intermediate and primary educational institutions whilst also continuing to pursue his own personal studies. His interview was conducted in his office, at Te Wānanga o Aotearoa in Whangarei. Just as the research participants who preceded him waved the written consent forms away, so too did Jim. He indicated that our shared whakapapa would ensure that any ethical considerations would be treated with respect and that he trusted my judgement. The interview was cut short by one of the countless demands for his attention, but not before he had clearly articulated his opinions regarding his Ngāti Hine perspective on taonga tapu. His responses were given in both English and Māori, but whenever the discussion turned to taonga tapu, Jim chose to speak, predominantly, in Māori. As with previous interviews, the same patterns emerged with regard to adhering to my questionnaire – it became more of a flexible guide, or whariki, upon which the kōrero was laid. A political animal, Jim was more interested in the process rather than the kōrero surrounding particular taonga. For that reason, much of the kōrero has had to be censored and edited. I would always stop in to spend time with Jim, Wahine, and their whānau, so it was a little strange to now be sitting across from him, in a stuffy office, discussing such an intimate subject. A colourful character, he will not hesitate to let you know what he thinks. Jimmy Morgan was the first person I would call if a loved one passed away. He was my first cousin, he was my friend and supporter, and I will continue to miss him dearly. Kōrero Before I could even get my first question in, Jimmy began to question me on the process of repatriation that Ngāti Hine had initiated at the focus group hui. I explained that I was a little unsure of how to proceed since the emergence of certain internal hapū politics, regarding the repatriation of waka tūpāpaku, had charged the atmosphere. At this point of the repatriation process Ngāti Hine had agreed to allow Kevin Prime (then ‘chair’ of Te Roopu Kaumātua) two weeks to talk to Sir Hugh Kawharu and ‘the Pākehā’ to see if things could be settled swiftly and quietly. Failing a positive outcome, the kaumātua /kuia hui had directed that the first letter to the Auckland Museum be sent. I told Jimmy that Kevin had suggested a ‘softly, softly’ approach might work in the first instance and that it might be “better to raise ones eyebrows rather than to raise the roof.” Jimmy replied, that possibly, this was the reason our waka tūpāpaku were still on display. “Bit too much eyebrow raising, I think,” said Jimmy, with a smirk. I also explained to Jimmy that somehow Dover Samuels MP had become involved with the proceedings and was raising our issue at a governmental 91 level by writing to the Associate Minister for Arts, Culture and Heritage on April 14, 2005. This had possibly come about as a result of a television segment on the Te Karere Māori news program, filmed at the focus group hui. I told Jimmy that I was extremely confused about the whole situation. Without getting into too much detail, a key supporter of the kaupapa was suddenly ‘backtracking’ and had implied that Rewi and I had exaggerated the situation by claiming there were kōiwi in the waka tūpāpaku on display. I adamantly refuted this and showed Jim the first draft letter intended for the Museum, which stated very clearly, “despite the fact that they no longer hold the bones of our ancestors, those waka tūpāpaku ...” (see appendix i). I also explained that most of the waka tūpāpaku were standing upright, without lids, and that it would be impossible for them to be holding kōiwi. This person had recommended that since there were no kōiwi, then there was no reason for the waka tūpāpaku to be removed from display. This sentiment had been aired in a number of emails privy to the majority of kuia/kaumātua, but none of them had contacted us or publicly agreed with this stance. Jimmy advised that as the Roopu Kaumātua had mandated that the first letter be sent two weeks after the ‘museum whisperers’ had failed to convince the Museum to remove the waka tūpāpaku from display, that we should forward the letter. He said he suspected, “something’s not quite right here,” and indicated that there were other agendas afoot. He was later proved to be correct. We discussed the situation further, including the unanimous endorsement by the kaumātua /kuia to forward the letter, albeit, a slightly toned down version, and Jimmy added, “Well, that’s it then, no-one’s got the right to halt the process.” We discussed the debate that occurred at the Roopu Kaumātua hui, regarding what would happen to the waka tūpāpaku, should they be returned. I told of how certain kaumātua wanted them to be deposited back into the caves, how some, for security reasons, wanted them buried in the vicinity of the caves, and how some wanted them buried in Otarawa Cemetery. I voiced my concerns about the latter suggestion on the grounds that “those things are not Christian, and that cemetery is – somehow that feels wrong, but I guess it’s not up to me aye, it’s up to the kuia/kaumātua.” I shared my preference that they be deposited back into the burial caves and Jimmy agreed saying, “it’s better, back to the place where they got them out of.” We discussed a number of topics, already debated by the previous research participants, including dynamiting the cave entrances, Waiōmio teachers desecrating some of the caves, and the long repatriation process experienced by those repatriating the upoko tuhituhi of Moetarau and Koukou, with similar sentiments emerging. Our conversation returned to the outcomes of the Kuia/kaumātua hui, and much of the discussion, including the names of individuals, will remain private – Ngāti Hine knows 92 who they are. We discussed what various people had said, including responses to the odd emails that had circulated. I told Jimmy that one kaumātua, in response to the ‘exaggeration’ claims, had said, “was I at a different meeting, cos I didn’t hear you fullas say that?!” Jimmy then reiterated, “what a bloody mess! - that letter should go.” Discussing the files that were lost when the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga was in recess, Jimmy commented, “see, no wonder the Pākehā have still got our stuff, we lose our stuff, and then sit around raising our eyebrows!” I reminded Jimmy that when I had first asked him if he would be willing to be interviewed for this research, that he had agreed to do so but had warned me that he was not that interested in taonga. Jimmy laughed, explaining, “it’s not that I don’t think they’re not important, it’s just that I’ve had much involvement with them.” He added that, now he did know what was going on, he needed to do something about it, and that the “Ngāti Hine Rūnanga should be out of recess and dealing to business.” Interestingly, the Rūnanga was brought out of recess as a result of this conversation and I have often wondered if, perhaps, that was the reason the waka tūpāpaku showed themselves when they did, for much has been accomplished since the Rūnanga was revived. Jimmy indicated that I should show him the images in Carved Maori Burial Chests: A Commentary and a Catalogue by Aileen Fox. He cringed at the photographs of our waka tūpāpaku both in and outside of the burial caves, and shook his head in disbelief. While he continued to make disparaging remarks about a variety of people and subjects, a number of key perspectives emerged from the kōrero including; that certain taonga represented tribal leadership (korowai, tokotoko), that certain taonga acted as reminders of tribal history (the Kawiti collection of waka tūpāpaku having to be deposited with the museum because of the looting occurring during that era), that the connection between whakapapa and taonga is of paramount importance in deciding who should care for respective taonga, and that Ngāti Hine was responsible for all of their taonga tapu. Kōrero continued regarding the waka tūpāpaku and how the carver of the Ngāti Hine waka tūpāpaku was brought specifically to Waiōmio to rekindle our ties with Hokianga. With that in mind, the kuia/kaumātua had directed that while Ngāti Hine could not, and would not, speak for any other tribe’s taonga, we had a historical obligation to hui with Hokianga people, because of our whakapapa ties and because their waka tūpāpaku were on display with those of Ngāti Hine. Jimmy shared his knowledge of other tribal groups and whakapapa 93 and said he thought it was imperative that we talk to the Hokianga people should we secure the return of our waka tūpāpaku. We had a lengthy conversation about our, shared whakapapa (our fathers were brothers), our Ngāti Hine boundaries and hapū groups, Ngāti Hine history, and Motatau history. We also spent far too much time discussing Ngāti Hine politics. We ended the interview with Jimmy naming two kaumātua he planned to contact in order to discuss strategies to assist us to repatriate our taonga tapu. Dana Tipene-Hook Currently, working as a consultant radiologist at Taranaki Base Hospital, at the time of her interview, Dana had not long given birth to my first mokopuna and was working long hours at Auckland Hospital. A recognised ‘gifted child’ Dana had been an academic overachiever, in the Pākehā world, from an early age. In her Māori world, she returned regularly to Motatau, where she has been active in her support of Motatau Marae, was involved with Hoani Waititi Marae, where she attended weekly taiaha training, and was a member of the Māori Womens’ Welfare League. Frequently pressed for time, Dana’s responses are direct, concise, and relevant, reflecting the fact that this young, working, mother does not have time to waste. This was the only interview where the questionnaire was religiously adhered to and will be recorded in the question – answer format. Kōrero Q: How would you define taonga? A: Taonga can be tangible or intangible. Examples of tangible taonga might include people, korowai, items of personal adornment, weaponry, whakapapa books, carvings, pa, marae, and geographic locations of tribal significance to name but a few. Intangible taonga might include shared memories, shared experiences, and tribal stories, waiata, karakia, rituals, and recited whakapapa. In terms of levels of taonga, there is no disputing the fact that taonga tapu are unique in that they have a greater propensity to cause harm if disrespected. While ‘normal’ taonga may possess malevolent capacity if abused, that of taonga tapu, for me, seems to resonate from a more sinister and potent realm. Examples of taonga tapu include wāhi tapu, waka tūpāpaku, and funerary and mortuary artefacts. 94 Q: What would you consider to be our responsibilities, as a hapū, in terms of preservation, protection, and repatriation of our taonga tuku iho? A: Ultimately, Ngāti Hine are responsible for our taonga. Whether or not Ngāti Hine shares those taonga with tauiwi or other tribes and hapū must be a Ngāti Hine decision. The continued display of our waka tūpāpaku has safety implications not only for Ngāti Hine, but also for ‘others’. The capacity for psychic harm is immeasurable and we cannot begin to know how the exposure to such taonga will affect te ira tangata (the human aspect), let alone the wairua of those exposed to such tapu. Ownership cannot be debated – taonga own people, and not the other way around. Repatriation of taonga tapu should be immediate and should not be institutionally contested. Q: How would you describe the Ngāti Hine-museum dynamic? A: One-sided. My personal experience of museums has been a negative one – who are these people? Q: Please comment on the proposal that Ngāti Hine establish their own whare taonga or cultural centre. A: Cultural centres can provide an excellent tribal focus point for educational and research opportunities, therefore I am in favour of the proposal. However, I would have issues about taonga tapu being held in any tribal cultural centre – that would not be appropriate. Q: You have experienced the repatriation process from close quarters. Please comment. A: As is the case with all contentious issues, repatriation can reveal the best and worst behaviours in individuals, groups and institutions. The patronising, ‘hedgehog’ behaviour of Auckland Museum was unsurprising, the internal politics of Ngāti Hine were also to be expected, but the individuals who tried to undermine you and the process, took me by surprise. I assumed the kaupapa to have been too important to allow such behaviour to emerge. However, I am absolutely proud of Ngāti Hine and our decision to pursue the repatriation of our taonga. Summary All research participants agreed with each other on the wider definition of taonga. They shared many of the same stories, told me stories I had never heard before, and were generous with their time, knowledge, and perspectives on taonga. 95 They agreed that the word taonga encompasses the entire Māori estate but that taonga tapu should be placed in a separate category, with top priority status. They differed on the finer points of taonga, such as whether the material or artist’s ethnicity might matter, and were often contradictory within their own korero. For instance, Kene stated that taonga must be made from indigenous material and later classed a soldier’s urn as taonga. They agreed that taonga have to be connected to people but that they do not belong, in terms of ownership, to those people. Ownership of taonga should not be debated in the Māori world but because our taonga have found their way into other cultural frameworks, ownership needs to be applied in those worlds. They all agreed that Ngāti Hine have obligations in terms of kaitiakitanga whether the taonga are tribal or whānau taonga. Ngāti Hine should speak for Ngāti Hine taonga, but the rights of kaitiakitanga must acknowledge whānau in the first instance, unless that taonga has been entrusted to the tribal group. It was also agreed that our tribal capacity to appropriately care for our taonga reflects the overall ‘health’ of Ngāti Hine. Taonga are symbolic, yet real representations of our tūpuna. Hence, the term taonga tuku iho, which describes the capacity for taonga to act as two-way conduits between people, tribal groups, and dimensions, is apt. These channels can act as pathways along which the emotions, obligations, and kōrero of our tūpuna can travel. Similarly, our emotions, obligations, and kōrero can travel back. Just as they are able to collapse time, these artefacts can act as anchors and signposts to certain points or events in time. Korero also touched on the spiritual or shadow aspect of DNA and how that aspect dictates our kaitiakitanga responsibilities. In terms of waka tūpāpaku, what might have been necessary and/or appropriate in 1929 may not be necessary and/or appropriate now. All waka tūpāpaku must be repatriated to Waiōmio. All participants agreed that whare taonga, whether Pākehā or Māori are not an appropriate place to keep waka tūpāpaku. Taonga, and particularly taonga tapu, are able to communicate to us directly and are able to speak for themselves. 96 Chapter Eight: Conclusion Te Mutunga The experience that motivated this thesis is as raw as the day it happened but now there is less personal and collective guilt attached to it. Ngāti Hine collectively identified a problem - the displaying of our waka tūpāpaku in the Auckland Museum. Together we put a strategy in place to solve that problem - discussion, whakapapa networking, and the ‘softly, softly’ approach of letter writing and reasoning. Upon reflection, we decided that was not working, so we tried another strategy - direct protest. We have been successful in getting our waka tūpāpaku removed from display and for that, we are grateful to everyone concerned. All research participants agreed on the wider definition of taonga encompassing the entire Māori estate and that taonga tapu should be placed in a separate category, with top priority status. They agreed that taonga need people to care for them and we need taonga to stay connected to our ancestors. Along with this symbiotic relationship come all the responsibilities and obligations of kaitiakitanga. The research participants shared many of the same stories and through those stories they shared their perspectives on taonga. All believe taonga to be symbolic, yet real representations of our tūpuna. Hence, the term taonga tuku iho, which describes the capacity for taonga to act as two-way conduits between people, tribal groups, and dimensions. These channels can act as pathways along which the emotions, obligations, and kōrero of our tūpuna can travel. Similarly, our emotions, obligations, and kōrero can travel back. Just as they are able to collapse time, these artefacts can act as anchors and signposts to certain points or events in time. Ngāti Hine were opposed to the display of our waka tūpāpaku and will seek to have them repatriated when the time is right. All participants agreed that whare taonga, whether Pākehā or Māori are not an appropriate place to keep waka tūpāpaku. All participants believe that taonga have mauri, mana, tapu, and a spiritual dimension which allows them to speak directly to their descendant communities. Taonga are able to speak for themselves through us. The completion of this thesis and the opportunity it allowed Ngāti Hine, to speak for, and to, their taonga has been immeasurable. It will provide a better understanding of the iwi- museum dynamic and thereby demonstrate ways to improve iwi-museum relationships and policy development and implementation in this arena. It will help to increase cultural awareness and respect, enhanced management, protection, preservation, and repatriation of 97 taonga Māori, and allow us all the opportunity to acknowledge and give effect to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. It has taught Ngāti Hine to be careful about how tribal mandate is managed and to keep tabs on who is claiming to represent us. It was disappointing that an institution such as the Auckland Museum failed to accept the mandate as outlined in correspondence from the Kuia/Kaumātua and the Ngāti Hine Rūnanga. To have the Museum request a further list of signatures of ‘recognised leaders’ before access to their records was permitted, was demeaning to our kaumātua, yet when it was supplied, even this list was questioned. The correspondence between Ngāti Hine and the Museum showed an absolute lack of respect for our collective decisions when the Museum inserted their own appointed Ngāti Hine ‘waka tūpāpaku trustees’ into their letters. This was done despite all of the mandate evidence supplied by Ngāti Hine. Perhaps, institutions such as the Auckland Museum should make sure that, in future, protective measures are put in place so that this does not happen again. Surely it should be obvious that officially authorised tribal correspondence should be afforded greater weighting than anecdotal and unsubstantiated conversations over dinner. I have entitled this thesis Kanohi ki te Kanohi, and while it may be a little bit of a cliché, perhaps my perspective on it won’t be. To be able to eyeball the Museum officials responsible for that display and tell them face to face that we were angry, was great. 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Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 104 Glossary ae marika good gracious ahi ka tribal members who keep the home fires, or occupation rights, alight ana cave Aotearoa New Zealand ariki chief atua god e hoa friend haka ceremonial dance hāngi earth oven, feast hapū sub-tribe hau breath or wind, also, spectral breath or wind heihei chicken, hen hui meeting hui mate funeral hunga kainga local people, home people ihi power, essential force iwi people kaha strength kōiwi bones kōrero discourse kahukiwi kiwi feather cloak kai karanga ceremonial caller kaitiaki guardian kaitiakitanga guardianship karakia incantation, prayer karanga call of welcome kaumātua elder kaupapa foundation, purpose kūmara sweet potato mana authority manaakitanga showing respect or kindness Māori indigenous people, normal, usual Māoritanga pertaining to Maori marae ceremonial meeting place, courtyard, 105 maunga mountain mauri life force mere weapon mihi greet moko tattoo mokopuna grandchildren moteatea lament mutunga finish Pākehā European peihana pheasant pipi shellfish pounamu greenstone pouri sadness, grief pupuri taonga act of retaining and maintaining sacred treasures rahui ban or restriction in place for a specific reason rangatira leader raupatu confiscation rohe potae tribal area rohe tangata people domain rohe whenua land area roopu group rūnanga tribal council Tā Sir taniwha monster, caretaker tāngata whenua people of the land tāngata people tangi wail taonga treasure taonga tapu sacred treasure, in this case, funerary taonga tapu sacred taputapu an attitude of strict adherence to things tapu tatai geneaology, in a direct line taua wreath of leaves worn to signify grief te the toi moko preserved heads tokotoko walking stick, sometimes ceremonially symbolic torere cave, burial cave 106 tikanga tribal custom tīmatanga beginning tinana body tino rangatiratanga self determination tūpuna ancestors tūrangawaewae standing place tūturu true upoko tuhituhi tattooed head waiata song wairua spirit wāhi tapu sacred place waka canoe waka tūpāpaku burial bone chests whaikōrero oratory whakairo carving whakaahua photographs whakapapa genealogy, familial connections whakataukī customary saying whare house whare taonga house of treasures, museum whare tapu sacred house whare tūpuna ancestor house whāriki mat, foundation whenua earth, placenta 107 Appendices: Appendix 1: Correspondence between Ngāti Hine and the Auckland War Memorial Museum (in order by date sent). April 9, 2005: Draft letter to AWMM from NH submitted to Kuia/Kaumātua Hikurangi titiro ki Pouerua, Pouerua titiro ki Rakaumangamanga, Rakaumangamanga titiro ki Manaia, Manaia titiro ki Whatitiri, Whatitiri titiro ki Tutamoe, Tutamoe titiro ki te Tarai o Rahiri, Te Tarai o Rahiri titiro ki Hikurangi ki nga Kiekie whawhanui a Uenuku. Descendants of the ancestress Hineamaru, Ngatihine are numerically the largest hapu in Aotearoa. In 1874 Maihi Paraone Kawiti defined the aforementioned boundaries of Te Porowini o Ngati Hine and reasserted the independence and rangatiratanga of Ngatihine within their own rohe potae. At the meeting of Te Roopu Kaumatua me nga Kuia o Ngatihine i raro i Te Tiriti o Waitangi, held at Te Rapunga Marae, Waiomio, on 9 April 2005, Ngatihine again declared their inherent right under Article II of Te Tiriti o Waitangi to “te tino Rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa” (unqualified exercise of their chieftainship over their lands, villages and all their treasures [Kawharu, I.H.]), particularly in regard to the cultural heritage estate that originates from within these same tribal boundaries. Therefore, in accordance with Te Tiriti o Waitangi; the 1993 Mataatua Declaration recommendation [2.12] that “all human remains and burial objects of Indigenous Peoples held by museums and other institutions must be returned to their traditional areas in a culturally appropriate manner”; Articles 12 and 13 of the Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples 1993; and the development of greater cultural awareness and respect for tangata whenua, mana taonga, and bi-cultural heritage management, Te Roopu Kaumatua o Ngatihine demands the immediate cessation of the public and culturally inappropriate display of all Ngatihine funerary artifacts currently housed in the Auckland War Memorial Museum. The culturally offensive decision to publicly display wakatūpāpaku taken from burial caves in the Bay of Islands/Waiomio area is intensely abhorrent to Ngatihine and it is with a sense of bewilderment and profound disappointment in the governance body of your museum that we find ourselves having to make such demands. Auckland Museum’s lack of cultural sensitivity and cultural awareness in regard to the public display of our wakatūpāpaku defies comprehension. Ngatihine cultural identity is defined in 108 terms of our whakapapa and those wakatūpāpaku are symbolic, yet also physical, representations of that whakapapa. Despite the fact that they no longer hold the bones of our ancestors, those wakatūpāpaku are still imbued with the untouchable quality that is the primary element of tapu. When we look at them, we see flesh and faces rather than just interesting carved wooden artefacts, and we are angered and aggrieved at the continued violation of the tapu associated with our wakatūpāpaku and the disrespect afforded to the tūpuna whose koiwi once lay in these funerary caskets. They were never intended to be seen after they entered our burial caves and consequently, in addition to our grief and anger, the fact that they are now on public display also causes us shame and guilt at not being able to fulfil the responsibilities and obligations, in terms of our Ngatihine kaitiakitanga, to ensure that the contents of our burial caves are no longer allowed to be violated by the Auckland Museum. Furthermore, there will always a price to pay for such a breach of tapu and that price is often a diminishing of mana. Since tapu is our link to the mana of the atua, tūpuna, and whenua, the desecration of our wakatūpāpaku violates the collective tapu of Ngatihine and in doing so diminishes our all-important connection to our tūpuna, our tribal whenua, and their immeasurable mana. Despite the unlikelihood that you will ever understand the depth of your contravention of this tapu, there will be a price to pay. However, your co-operation in this matter can only help to repair the fragile relationship that now exists between us. Ngatihine would never desecrate the graves of your grandparents, discard their bodies, and put their coffins on public display in a Ngatihine cultural centre. Please allow our tupuna the same respect and dignity. You must also appreciate that research, care, preservation, security, and possession of our taonga, should never equate to ownership, authority, and control. 109 July 31, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH To the Members of the Auckland Museum Trust Board, Hikurangi titiro ki Pouerua, Pouerua titiro ki Rākaumangamanga, Rākaumangamanga titiro ki Manaia, Manaia titiro ki Whatitiri, Whatitiri titiro ki Tutamoe, Tutamoe titiro ki te Tarai o Rahiri, Te Tarai o Rahiri titiro ki Hikurangi ki nga Kiekie whawhanui a Uenuku. In 1874 Maihi Paraone Kawiti defined the aforementioned boundaries of Te Porowini o Ngati Hine and reasserted the independence and rangatiratanga of Ngatihine within their own rohe potae. At meetings of Te Roopu Kaumatua me nga Kuia o Ngatihine i raro i Te Tiriti o Waitangi, held at Te Rapunga Marae, Waiomio, on April 9 and July 23, 2005, Ngatihine again declared their inherent right under Article II of Te Tiriti o Waitangi to “te tino Rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa”, and did so with particular reference to the cultural heritage estate that originates from within these same tribal boundaries. In accordance with Te Tiriti o Waitangi; the 1993 Mataatua Declaration; the Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples 1993; and the development of greater cultural awareness and respect for tangata whenua, mana taonga, and bi-cultural heritage management, Te Roopu Kaumatua o Ngatihine seeks an end to the public and culturally inappropriate display of all Ngatihine funerary artifacts currently housed in the Auckland War Memorial Museum. We are particularly concerned about the displaying of wakatūpāpaku from burial caves in the Bay of Islands/Waiomio area. Ngatihine cultural identity is defined in terms of our whakapapa and those wakatūpāpaku are symbolic, yet also physical, representations of that whakapapa. Despite the fact that they no longer hold the bones of our ancestors, those wakatūpāpaku are still imbued with tapu. The public display of our wakatūpāpaku violates the tapu associated with the tūpuna whose koiwi once lay in these funerary caskets, and therefore, the collective tapu of Ngātihine. Their display causes us sadness and also brings into question our ability to fulfil our responsibilities and obligations, in terms of Ngatihine kaitiakitanga. Ngatihine would not think to desecrate the graves of your grandparents, discard their bones, and put their coffins on public display in a Ngatihine cultural centre. Please allow our tupuna the same respect and dignity. You must also appreciate that research, care, preservation, security, and possession of our taonga, should never equate to ownership, authority, and control. We therefore also request that our delegated representatives, Brenda Tipene-Hook and Rewi Spraggon, be permitted access to your records in order to research the provenance of 110 taonga currently held by your museum and identify those of Ngatihine origin. On the satisfactory completion of this task, Ngatihine proposes a meeting be held between ourselves and both the Auckland War Memorial Museum Trust Board and Taumata-a-Iwi with a view to discussing the future of our taonga. Your co-operation in this matter can only help to build a positive relationship between Ngatihine and the Auckland Museum. We await your response. Yours sincerely, Rewi Spraggon and Brenda Tipene (On behalf of Te Roopu Kaumatua me nga Kuia o Ngatihine i raro i Te Tiriti o Waitangi) cc: Taumata-a-Iwi Secretary 111 October 10, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH Letter to AWMM from NH dated November 21, 2005 112 November 21, 2005: Letter to AWMM from NH 113 List of signatories (included with letter dated November 21, 2005) 114 November 28, 2005: Letter from AWMM to NH 115 January 19, 2006: Letter from AWMM to NH 116 February 8, 2006: Letter from Te Rūnanga ō NH to AWMM Te Runanga o Ngati Hine PO Box 36, Kawakawa, Bay of Islands. Ph: 09 4041551 ptipene@ihug.co.nz Wednesday, February 8, 2006 Auckland Museum The Domain Private Bag 92018 Auckland Nga wakatupapaku o Ngati Hine Tena koe e te rangatira, Nga mihi ki a koe, ki a koutou ra hoki i runga ano i nga mate kua ngaro i te tirohanga kanohi, takoto mai ra e nga mate, takoto, takoto, moe mai ra. Te Runanga o Ngati Hine met recently for its monthly meeting and discussed the issue of Ngati Hine waka tupapaku that the Museum has in its possession. This issue had initially been raised at Te Roopu Kaumatua o Ngati Hine meetings late last year in that it is that forum that issues of lore are generally dealt with. At those meetings Brenda Tipene and Rewi Spraggon were authorized to deal with the said issue on behalf of that forum. Te Runanga o Ngati Hine has endorsed that decision with both Brenda and Rewi being asked to ensure that our concerns are communicated to the museum and that the wakatupapaku are taken down from Public display as soon as practicably possible. This letter supports any communication they may have had with you in that we humbly ask that the wakatupapaku are taken down from display which will then allow some constructive dialogue to resolve where these taonga should rightfully lie. This letter also serves to inform you that the meeting resolved that the Trustees of Ngati Hine who can speak about the said taonga are Te Raumoa Kawiti, Watene Kawiti, Hare Waiomio and Bosie Peihopa who are prominent kaumatua of Ngati Hine. I hope that this clarifies any unresolved issues around this matter. Please do not hesitate to contact me in the first instance should you have any queries. Kia tau te rangimarie. Pita Tipene (Secretary) 117 Appendix 2: Letter of Protest 118 Appendix 3: Media Release from Auckland Museum 119 120 Appendix 4: 1929 Correspondence October 25, 1929: Letter from Ngati Hine to Auckland Museum 121 October 12, 1929: Letter from Ngati Hine to Auckland Museum 122 123 Translation of October 12, 1929 letter 124 Appendix 5: Ngāti Hine Collection 125 126 Bibliography Butts, D. (2003). Maori and museums: the politics of indigenous recognition: a thesis presented in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Museum Studies. 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