Te pai me te whairawa o Tāmaki
The luxury and wealth of Tāmaki1
Prosperity and wealth were one of the reasons our ancestors migrated to the many islands and archipelagos of Te Moananui a Kiwa. Communities living throughout the islands had sufficient resources to justify building waka and undertaking the immense preparations to send explorers to find new land. Explorers would search for islands that would extend their political and economic realms and tap into the ecological richness of newly discovered islands. Even the smallest of islands were understood as large resource centres with abundant bird and marine life. It is estimated that Te Moananui a Kiwa contained the highest amount of fat and protein per square mile in the world.2 Aotearoa was immediately seen as a place of great abundance, home to such a rich range of fish and birdlife that initial settler populations had little competition for resources.3 The pepeha that begins this chapter celebrates the prosperity of Tāmaki Makaurau, which boasted abundant birdlife in its forests, plentiful fish in its two harbours, and fertile volcanic soil that nurtured flourishing gardens.
As waka hourua arrived in migrations spanning generations, population growth precipitated the wider dispersal of people throughout Aotearoa. Extensive kāinga were established, and vast gardens and plantations were grown4 to provide staple foods in addition to what was sourced from forests, rivers, lakes, and seas.5 Te Tai Tokerau was one of the most densely populated areas, with expansive gardens and horticultural developments growing a range of produce such as kūmara, taro, and uwhi (yams), as well as hue (gourds) that were grown as food and to store water, oils, and preserved food. Trees such as tī pore and tī para were cultivated for their taproot, which was prepared by pounding and steaming.
Karaka trees were often grown close to kāinga, where they were meticulously cared for to ensure an abundance of fruit in season. Karaka berries contain a poisonous alkaloid and require careful preparation before they are safe to eat. Dried karaka berries were an important source of protein and carbohydrate, especially during winter when other such foods were less abundant. For this reason, karaka trees were prized by hapū, and they would compete with other hapū to grow the biggest karaka berries.*
Gardens were located throughout Te Tai Tokerau, particularly in coastal areas of the mainland and on the islands, especially on the east coast (where archaeological evidence of gardens has been found on every island).6 Some of these islands were close to the mainland; others were much further away. On Manawatāwhi (Three Kings Islands), for example, there is archaeological evidence of over 80 hectares of gardens.7 On the mainland, many of the most extensive gardens were grown in the fertile soil around volcanoes. The size of gardens varied, from smaller gardens covering a couple of acres to others of up to fifty acres.8 Vegetable gardens were nutured and produced crops for some years before the site was left fallow to regain its nutrients. Rejuvenating land was a key horticultural practice, and often large areas of land lay fallow. At Pouērua in the Taumārere district there is archaeological evidence of garden areas that cumulatively spanned some 550 ha.9 As well as being functional, gardens were aesthetically beautiful, with plants such as napuka (Hebe speciosa) with bright purple/red flowers and ngutukākā (kākābeak) with clustering red blooms, concentrated around pā and kāinga.10
Pā were built to protect fertile land: ninety-eight per cent of pā in Aotearoa were in areas suited to large-scale horticulture.11 Pā were often positioned in a location that gave local hapū the advantage, usually on a hill or a mountain, sometimes surrounded by a body of water that acted like a moat. Pā were further modified to make them harder to attack. One common practice was to excavate a large amount of earth to make the hillside steeper; the earth was then used to build large maioro (earth walls) and these fortifications were topped with palisades bound together with flax. Other than these common defence mechanisms, each hapū had their own innovative approach to building pā to protect their people, food, and fertile land. The hapū at Te Pane o Mataoho (Māngere mountain in Tāmaki), for example, covered all the paths with shells so that anyone trying to launch a surprise attack could be heard approaching.12
Many of these practices were similar to the traditional knowledge and methods of Polynesian horticulture that had been practised throughout Te Moananui a Kiwa for millennia, adapted and developed to respond to the different conditions in Aotearoa. Growing kūmara in Aotearoa is an example of this. Kūmara grows all year throughout Te Moananui a Kiwa, but in Aotearoa it is seasonal and cannot tolerate damp soil. Kūmara gardens in Aotearoa were often located in volcanic fields where the soil is free-draining, and volcanic stone absorbs the heat from the sun and warms the soil around it. Tonnes of surface rock had to be cleared from the gardens first, to prepare for planting; the rocks were heaped up into stone mounds where kūmara shoots could be nurtured. Rocks were placed around the outside of the mounds, and the soil was mixed with ground-up shell and potash. The temperature inside the mounds was 1–1.5ºC warmer than outside, creating a microclimate that was perfect for planting kūmara shoots. In midsummer when the shoots were ready to plant out, they were removed from the mounds and planted in the main gardens. This extended the kūmara growing season by approximately six weeks. There were many such stone mounds in Tāmaki Makaurau, for example at the base of Ōtuataua volcanic cone on the Ihumātao peninsula.
Where hapū did not have access to volcanic soil, horticultural techniques were developed to modify the soil to make it warmer and better-draining. A common practice to achieve this was adding sand, gravel, or stone to enhance draining. Archaeologists have found evidence of areas where gravel and stone were quarried in many places throughout Aotearoa.13 The extensive knowledge of soil is reflected in the many words in te reo Māori to describe different types of soil: for example, one tuatara is stiff brown soil that is fertile but needs to have sand or gravel worked into it to make it more suitable for growing certain vegetables; and one hanahana is a dark soil that has been mixed with gravel or small stones.14
Kūmara storage practices had to change, too. In Aotearoa, rua (storage pits) were dug deep into the ground with a drainage system at the bottom and a roof over the top to keep kūmara dry and prevent them from rotting.15 At Te Ara Pūeru (Māngere) pā, for example, there were many rua – clear evidence of the wealth of the hapū and the fertility of the surrounding lands.16
Another large-scale horticultural practice was to dig extensive ditches to redistribute water. Ditches were dug throughout Te Tai Tokerau, and were common in places such as Kaitāia, Awanui, and Lake Tāngonge, further north towards Motutangi and the Houhora harbour, east towards Ōrūrū Valley, as well as in Taumatawhana near Te Kao, and around present-day Whangārei and northern Kaipara.17 In most cases ditches drained water out of gardens, such as at Ōrūrū, where water was drained out into Rangaunu harbour and Tokerau Moana (Doubtless Bay). Elsewhere, water was distributed from natural springs through the system of ditches to irrigate the soil.18
The abundance of food produced by a hapū was a measure of their economic, political, and spiritual strength and wellbeing. The mana of rangatira was often gauged by their ability to provide food for their people. This is clearly indicated in whakataukī, pepeha, and waiata that celebrated abundance on the one hand, and lamented scarcity, paucity, and destroyed crops on the other.19 The importance of food and land is clearly indicated in the following Hokianga pepeha:
Te toto o te tangata he kai; te oranga o te tangata he whenua
The blood of the person comes from food; the substance of the person comes from land20
Hapū would strive to grow a surplus of food that was stored in rua or in purpose-built pātaka, elevated from the ground on wooden poles. One interpretation of the following pepeha is that it references the many rua throughout the Ngāpuhi lands – and, thus, Ngāpuhi’s wealth:
Ngāpuhi kōwhao rau
Ngāpuhi with many food storage pits21
As well as sustaining a larger population, a surplus of food allowed hapū to look after manuhiri and be prepared for unexpected events such as hui mate (funerals). It also meant hapū could exchange food along with other goods and services with other hapū. These goods and services were often regionally specific and, in many cases, hapū became renowned and celebrated for the quality of their produce, the high standard of their manufactured goods, or their services. For example, coastal hapū would often exchange seafood and resources from the ocean, and inland hapū might trade berries, preserved birds, and resources from forests. Materials were exchanged either in a raw state or fashioned into items ranging from jewellery to ornately carved waka taua. Services that might be exchanged included tā moko, whakairo, kāinga and garden restoration, and a range of other specialist skills.22
Trade routes were established for the exchange of resources, especially by sea and along the coast, but also by river, through the bush and across ridges. Kaitāia was once a place where trade routes from all four sides merged; hapū and their rangatira would gather there to attend events and to discuss trade and forge economic and political alliances.23 Trading sometimes involved a long journey* and a substantial investment of time and resources.24 Ngare Raumati rangatira Korokoro, for example, travelled by waka as far as Te Waipounamu, sometimes braving snow and hail, to exchange resources with hapū there; the voyage would take approximately four months.25 The highly prized pounamu that was abundant in some parts of Te Waipounamu26 was undoubtedly one of the reasons he journeyed so far south.
These exchange networks were all part of firmly established Māori economic systems that were grounded in relationships (of reciprocity) between hapū. The principle of utu or reciprocity27 manifested in a commercial sense in the exchange of goods and services between hapū. These resources were never sold or bought in a transactional manner, nor was bartering part of the economic system. Instead, one hapū (or other social collective) would gift something to another hapū, who would then reciprocate by gifting something back, either immediately or at a later date.28 In some cases, these relationships continued for generations.29
While the exchange of goods and services and other economic agreements were an important part of these inter-hapū relationships, they were never isolated or purely economic transactions. Economic exchanges were one component of a relationship that had a range of social, political, ecological, and spiritual dimensions.30 For example, hapū living around Tangitū mountain* in the Ōtangaroa Forest area had well-established relationships that manifested in many ways. The hapū of the district cared for the Tangitū springs, which were an important source of freshwater for people and for the birds and animals of the forest. The many hapū of the area maintained the environmental wellbeing of the river by introducing kōkopu (a native freshwater fish) into the springs: kōkopu worked in tandem with tuna to clean the water from below, while the spiders cleaned the water from above.31
With the arrival of Pākehā, hapū social organisation and economic systems came into contact with very different systems, such as economic liberalism and capitalism.32 Hapū certainly traded with Pākehā and exchanged and utilised different technologies and methods of production, but most hapū still adhered to Māori economic systems.33 Waipapa was a good example of this: it was a seasonal fishing village on the shores of the Waitematā harbour (at the junction of Beach Road and Stanley Street today); the sheltered bay that used to be in this area was called Te Āhurutanga. Post-contact with Pākehā, the kāinga of Waipapa was used by Ngāti Whātua and Ngāti Pāoa to trade with settlers (mainly from the valley that is now Queen Street). Many iwi (including people from Ngāti Porou and Ngāti Maniapoto) would come to Waipapa to set up stalls and trade produce and goods. Quickly adjusting to the tenets of capitalism, Ngāti Whātua were able to undercut settler entrepreneurs: the production of surplus food was a normal part of their life, and they did not have to pay for labour, as opposed to most settler entrepreneurs, who had to hire workers and whose production costs were therefore higher.34
In the early to mid-nineteenth century, delegations of rangatira were travelling as far as Australia and Britain – partly motivated by the aspiration to forge and enhance relationships with Pākehā. Many rangatira and hapū were establishing their own entrepreneurial ventures and becoming patrons of Pākehā settlements. This time came to be described as a ‘golden age’ for Māori enterprise, with growing influence over domestic and international trade. For example, exports from Aotearoa to New South Wales in the seven years between 1826 and 1833 totalled 531,403 pounds, while imports from New South Wales in the same period totalled 164,083 pounds.35 As missionary George Clarke commented in 1835, many Māori were merchants with an abundance of money and property.36
* Karaka trees are a good example of rich Māori scientific and observational understanding of environment interplay and connectedness. The changing seasons were heralded by changes in the karaka, which were cross-checked against the night sky (and multiple other sources of information). When the karaka began to bloom, this would herald the arrival of the stars Kōpū and Tautoru; and when the berries started to ripen, this was a sign that Rēhua would appear in the sky. These observations had many implications: for example, the appearance of Rēhua and the fruiting karaka meant that the kererū and kiore would be fattening themselves up on karaka berries and would soon be perfect for catching and eating. Karaka trees were also used for navigation across the land as their glossy leaves stood out as markers among the other foliage (D. Kerridge, 2018).
* Archaeological findings have provided further evidence of widespread trade – for example, certain products such as adzes of the same origin that were distributed throughout the country (R. Taonui, 1996, p. 278).
* The water from the streams, rivers, and tributaries in the Ōtangaroa State Forest flows into four harbours – Hokianga, Mangōnui, Whangaroa, and Pēowhairangi – and was regarded as unifying the many hapū of the district. Once the water reaches the four harbours (Hokianga on the west coast and Mangōnui, Whangaroa and Pēowhairangi on the east coast) it flows up to Te Rēinga where it once again meets and intermingles, in the merging of the oceans on Te Taitamatāne (the west coast – the Tasman Sea) and Te Taitamawahine (the east coast – the Pacific). Here the water turns into clouds that drift southwards. When the clouds arrive back at Tangitū they rain down on the land, nurturing the forests and replenishing the springs from which they came. Taro was planted throughout the Tangitū area, and when the heavy rainfall flooded the rivers and tributaries, some of the taro growing close to the water would be taken by the river and become a source of food for hapū living downstream (M. Hēnare, 2003, p. 82).
Kahungunuōrongotea is celebrated for his diligence and work ethic. He was born in Ōrongotea (present-day Kaitāia)†at a pā called Tirotiro (also known as Tinotino).37 Kahungunu (as he is usually referred to)‡ was a man of industry rather than a warrior, much more interested in gardening, hunting, and fishing than war. From a young age, he was involved in nearly every aspect of the economic wellbeing of his hapū. He would lead parties to hunt, fish, and gather seafood, and he had an intimate knowledge of the best places to look and the best season to go. He was an expert at managing cultivations, and paid special attention to methods of irrigation and drainage. His compelling work ethic influenced all of those around him. He also had an ability to assemble large groups of people to realise his ambitious projects and operations. One of his best-known skills was turning dilapidated kāinga and their struggling cultivations into ones of order and prosperity; he has been credited with building some of the greatest pā in Te Tai Tokerau.38 He left behind a legacy that has been described as a ‘spectacular career’.39 His reputation as a man of industry is reflected in the following pepeha:
Ko Kahungunu he tangata ahuwhenua, mōhio ki te whakahaere i ngā mahi o uta, me o te tai
Kahungunu is an industrious man who knows how to manage works both inland and on the coast40
As his reputation grew, so did the requests for his services. One request came from Ngāti Awa,§ who wanted to dig a canal from Awanui to Kaitāia. Kaitāia and the places around it were famous for being a rich source of various foods. Those who occupied the area were sustained by the numerous birds that lived in forests around Takahue and the unlimited supply of fish – including the highly prized kapetā (school shark) – in the Rangaunu harbour. They collected toheroa from Te Oneroa a Tōhē and caught eels from Lake Tāngonge in specially designed canals. To supplement these foods there were flourishing cultivations that grew all the way from the Awanui river mouth, down towards Kaitāia, and eastwards towards Pāmapūria.
Ngāti Awa’s request for Kahungunu’s services came after they had been driven north into a less fertile piece of land around Rangaunu. Eager to regain footing in the abundant lands of Kaitāia, their idea was to dig a canal that could carry a fleet of waka taua on the high tide, transporting their war parties into Kaitāia. After they had re-established themselves in Kaitāia, they planned to use the canal to travel from Kaitāia to Awanui. Kahungunu was not so interested in the wider political and economic intentions, but he was inspired by the challenge of the project – a true test for his engineering skills – so he agreed to Ngāti Awa’s proposal. Soon he had a group of people working on widening the existing waterways and digging completely new ones. The canals were dug without problem for some time, until one of the workers struck a whole tree submerged in the swamplands, which was as hard as rock and impossible to break through. Kahungunu changed the direction of the canal but, after some time, they hit another rock-like tree and were again forced to take a new path through the landscape. Eventually it was obvious that to dig a direct canal from Awanui to Kaitāia was – if not impossible – too time-consuming, especially with the constant presence and pressure of the hapū that had driven Ngāti Awa northwards in the first place. With reluctance, Ngāti Awa and Kahungunu himself accepted that the project had to be abandoned.41
Some retellings argue that the frustration associated with the failed project was the main reason Kahungunu left Kaitāia;42 others say that that as he grew older, he felt the pull of both travel and exploration that would continue to influence him throughout his life. Travelling was in Kahungunu’s whakapapa: his female and his male ancestors had traversed the ocean and the land. His father Tamateaurehaea (or Tamateaureihaea) is celebrated for having circumnavigated Aotearoa, an achievement reflected in his other names, Tamateapōkaiwhenua and Tamateapōkaimoana (Tamatea who circumnavigated the land, Tamatea who circumnavigated the ocean). Kahungunu’s travels began with a journey from Kaitāia to Tauranga, before continuing down the east coast towards present-day Ngāti Kahungunu lands. The journey was filled with exciting and challenging events, but probably the best-known part of Kahungunu’s travels is that at nearly every stop, he would get married and have children. His industry was undoubtedly one of the main reasons why he was such an attractive prospect for many women and their hapū – and he probably carried on his work of kāinga and cultivation restoration in the places where he stopped. Kahungunu himself was an advocate for marrying people of diligence and a good work ethic; and this is reflected in his whakatauākī:
Tāne i te mahi kai, moea; tāne i te noho-whare, kurua te takataka
Wahine i te ringaringa, waewae kakama moea; wahine i te ngutungutu, whakarerea atu
The man who cultivates foods, marry him; the man who sits about the house, thump his head
The woman who is nimble with her fingers and feet, marry her; the woman who is nimble with her lips, leave her to herself
Kahungunu’s industry and diligence were undoubtedly paired with the fact that he was tall, well-built, handsome, and charming (traits that are celebrated by his Ngāti Kahungunu descendants, although his Te Tai Tokerau descendants might contend that they came from his northern side!). Kahungunu’s good looks are celebrated in the following pepeha:
Ngā tukemata o Kahungunu
The eyebrows of Kahungunu
This pepeha alludes to the fact that Kahungunu only had to glance at women and they would fall in love with him.43
Along with his charm and good looks, Kahungunu is reported to have had another ‘advantage’ over other men. When Kahungunu came to Whareongaonga (south of present-day Gisborne) he met his fifth – or sixth – wife, Hinepūariari.* After they married, people came together to celebrate the event. A number of women were sitting and chatting, and one asked Hinepūariari how the marriage was ‘going’ – which all the women present knew was a euphemism, sending them into fits of laughter. Hinepūariari, unflustered and quick-witted, replied with the now famous words:
Kāore hoki tērā te hanga o taku tāne, kāhore e rūpeke mai ana, takoto noa mai te nuinga i waho
The remarkable thing is that the treasure of my husband could not be admitted and the major part was obliged to remain outside
These words travelled far and wide, and one day arrived to Rongomaiwahine who lived south of Whareongaonga in Te Māhia Mai Tawhiti (Māhia Peninsula). Rongomaiwahine was an ariki tapairu, a woman of very high rank who descended from Ruawharo (tohunga of the Tākitimu) and Popoto (captain of the Kurahaupō). One day, soon after Kahungunu and Hinepūariari’s marriage, Rongomaiwahine had a friend over and the friend recounted Hinepūariari’s words to Rongomaiwahine. Rongomaiwahine replied with this equally famous counter to Hinepūariari’s words:
Nā te mea anō rā he kōpua pāpaku, mehemea e taka mai ana ki te kōpua hōhonu o Rapa e tūwhera atu nei, pokopoko ana ki roto44
It is because it is a shallow pool; if it had fallen into the deep pool of Rapa now opening towards him, it would have been lost from sight†
Although he had settled in his pā and had also married Hinepūariari’s sister Kahukurawaiaraia, Rongomaiwahine’s words came to Kahungunu, along with news of her fame, status, and beauty. He prepared to head south again towards Te Māhia Mai Tawhiti. When he arrived, he found that Rongomaiwahine had married Tamatakutai, who was a skilled carver. Kahungunu was not deterred by the presence of Rongomaiwahine’s new husband and quickly set about convincing her and her hapū that the ability to gather food (along with his many other abilities) was the most valuable taonga:
Te whānau e! He mahi kai te taonga. Tātou ka piki ki te ngāherehere ki te kari āruhe mā tātou
O relatives! Obtaining food is the most desirable accomplishment. Let us ascend to the forest to dig fernroot for us all
Once Kahungunu and his people (who had accompanied him on his travels) had dug a vast amount of fernroot, they used akaturihanga (a forest vine) to bind it all together into a large bundle. Despite offers of help, it was part of Kahungunu’s wider theatrics that he alone carried the huge bundle of fernroot back towards the cliff edge that stood over the kāinga below, where it teetered on the edge. He then snapped the binds and pushed the large bundle off the edge. The fernroot quickly gained momentum, cascading down the hill like a landslide, and soon the ground of the kāinga was covered in the products of Kahungunu’s labour; the people could barely find a spot to stand on and had to clear a pathway outside the doors to their houses.
Despite this spectacular show, Kahungunu was not done. That afternoon he climbed to the top of one of the cliffs and watched the shags diving down into the ocean. As they dived, he held his breath and counted, testing his lung capacity against theirs. When the birds resurfaced Kahungunu found that he had plenty of oxygen left, and could easily outlast them. He returned to the kāinga and that night a kāwhiu was prepared (a basket for collecting seafood that can be closed when swimming back to shore), and a long rope was attached to it. The next morning Kahungunu set off for the ocean, accompanied by most of the hapū who, after the landslide of fernroot, were eager to see what his next feat would be. When they arrived at the water’s edge, Kahungunu set his sights on a spot some way out to sea where the distinctive movement of waves and ripples indicated that there was a rock submerged just below the surface. He exclaimed to the people that he would swim alone to the rock with the kāwhiu and that when he pulled on the rope it could be hauled back in. He strode into the ocean and swam out to the rock and began diving down into the depths, emerging with pāua that he placed in the kāwhiu. Soon it was full, and Kahungunu gave a tug on the rope. Rongomaiwahine’s hapū hauled it in and opened it up to see fresh pāua piled up to the rim. Deeply impressed with Kahungunu’s ability to collect so many pāua by himself in such a short amount of time, they turned back to the rock, expecting to see him swimming back. To their surprise, however, he was still diving down into the ocean, re-emerging from time to time – although the rock was too far away to make out what he was doing. Perplexed, but with a building sense of anticipation, the hapū sat on the beach and waited.
Eventually they saw Kahungunu dive down into the sea, and they traced the ripples as he swam underwater all the way back to shore. When he emerged from the water the people saw what he had been doing, and immediately fell about laughing. Not satisfied with the already copious amount of pāua in the kāwhiu, Kahungunu had carried on diving for pāua that he had stuck onto himself! He emerged from the ocean with pāua stuck all over his body, striking a rather ridiculous figure. Kahungunu, laughing along with the people, strode up the beach and pulled the pāua off himself and put them into another basket; this one, too, he filled to the rim. As with the fernroot, Kahungunu’s theatrics, combined with his ability to collect large amounts of food, deeply impressed the hapū. One person exclaimed:
E! Te hunaonga mā tātou. Tēnā ko tēnei tangata, he whakairo anahe tāna e mōhio ai, ko te mahi kai mō tōna puku, tē pahure, tē aha!45
Ah! This is the son-in-law for us! As for this other man he knows nothing but carving, and as for food for his stomach, he can do nothing!46
Following on from this, Kahungunu resolved the problem of Rongomaiwahine’s current husband, Tamatakutai, while the two men were surfing in a shared waka – an old practice called whakaheke ngaru.* Kahungunu laughed at Tamatakutai’s idea of a big wave, and ventured further and further out to sea, catching ever bigger waves. Finally, a great breaker rose up and the waka flew along the crest and Kahungunu withdrew the steering paddle; this caused the waka to be flooded, and Tamatakutai – who reputedly was not a good swimmer (which some might say should be a prerequisite for going surfing) – was drowned. The hapū held no inquest into Tamatakutai’s death – some storytellers cite the ancient proverb, ‘all’s fair in love and war’ as an explanation.
Kahungunu and Rongomaiwahine were married in one of the most important unions of the East Coast. Both became eponymous ancestors: some people today identify as Ngāti Kahungunu,* others as Ngāti Rongomai wahine, and some as both.47
* In many whakapapa lines, Tamateaarikinuimaitawhiti (captain of the Tākitimu) and Te Kura had Rongokako. Te Kura was the aunt of Tōhē. Rongokako married Muriwhenua (daughter of Pōhurihanganui of the waka Kurahaupō and Maieke of Te Ngake) and they had Tamateaurehaea (also known as Tamateapōkaiwhenuapōkaimoana, and Tamateakapowairua). Tamateaurehaea married Iwipūpū, and they had Kahungunuōrongotea (M. Mutu et al., 2017, p. 137; W. Huata, n.d., n.p.; R. Taonui, 2005). Kahungunu’s grandmother Muriwhenua had moved from Kapowairua to Karikari, where she married Rongokako, and the family stayed in this area with Kahungunu himself born in Kaitāia (M. Whaanga, 2017; H. Petrie, 2006, p. 17).
† In other retellings he was born at a kāinga adjacent to Te Hāpua called Te Poroporo (W. Norman, 1996, p. 72).
‡ A Te Tai Tokerau name for Kahungunu is Kahuhunuhunu.
§ Some sources say that Kahungunu had whakapapa connections to Ngāti Awa (Petrie, 2006, p. 17).
* In different retellings, Kahungunu has a different number of wives. The story above follows the retelling of Wī Te Tau Huata (Ngāti Kahungunu), which says that he had eight wives; other traditions say there were nine (M. Whaanga, 2017).
† These rather poetic translations were written by Tiaki Hikawera Mitiria in 1972. More literal translations can be found, but we are sure that readers get the idea.
* Whakaheke ngaru was immensely popular, especially in the summer: surfers would bodysurf; use a two- or three-person waka; or they might use a kōpapa (similar to a bodyboard) or pōhā (inflated bags of kelp to assist with buoyancy) (R. Calman, 2013).
* Although both iwi are descended from the same union, some have chosen the latter collective identity as they perceive Rongomaiwahine as of superior lineage to Kahungunu (M. Whaanga, 2017).
Rāwiri Taiwhanga was born in 1774 and died a hundred years later, in 1874, having lived through some of the most important events of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He was a military leader and was involved in many battles, particularly between 1818 and 1825 when the number of Ngāpuhi expeditions increased. He is particularly well known for his bravery: he rescued Ngāpuhi rangatira Moka Te Kāingamatā at the height of battle with Ngāti Whātua at Te Ika a Ranganui in 1825.48
As well as his status as military leader, Taiwhanga is renowned for his industrious nature and his enterprise. He worked as a foreman for Reverend John Butler at the Kerikeri mission station in 1821. While there, he became interested in horticultural techniques such as breaking in the land, burning off, planting crops, reaping, mowing, and threshing.49 Taiwhanga further developed his farming skills while living in Port Jackson (Sydney) with the missionary Samuel Marsden between 1822 and 1824. Back in Aotearoa, he worked as a sawyer at the Paihia mission station; and he established a garden where he put his horticultural skills to good use, with an acre of wheat, various fruit trees including peaches and flourishing grapevines, and a range of vegetables such as potatoes, pumpkins, peas, parsnips, onions, shallots, corn, and cucumber. His wife Mata Rawa (from Te Arawa) had a laundry business. The couple built themselves a European-style house in 1829.50
About five years later, Taiwhanga left the Paihia mission station and went on to develop his own farm in east Kaikohekohe. He built a plough, bought tools and stock over the ensuing year, and by 1835, the farm was thriving and he was producing up to eight pounds of butter per week.51 He sold his produce to a merchant in Pēowhairangi for between one shilling and two shillings and sixpence per pound of butter. These transactions are thought to be the first regular sale of dairy products, making Taiwhanga the first commercial dairy farmer in Aotearoa.52
Taiwhanga was a strong proponent of children learning to read and write. As well as the day-to-day running of his farm, he also taught at a local school. He himself had been involved in setting up the school, and he had written to Marsden in 1825 to request nails to build it.* By the early 1840s, Taiwhanga had diversified: he kept his dairy herd, but also bought a flock of sheep.53
* This letter is of significance as it is one of the first known letters to refer to Māori as a collective, rather than distinct hapū. Indeed, Taiwhanga used the words ‘tangata Maori’ to refer to a collective Māori identity, which was new (at least in writing). Māori had previously not identified as Māori, but as belonging to certain whānau, hapū, and – to an extent – iwi. Although hapū were understood as distinct social groupings, it is clear that Taiwhanga also saw hapū as a group distinct from what he termed ‘nga Pakeha’. Furthermore, Taiwhanga wrote about ‘nga tangata katoa o tenei kainga o Nu Tireni’ (original text) in his letter, referring to people in Aotearoa as a collective. This indicates that people such as Taiwhanga were thinking about the political, social, and economic implications that would impact their whole nation, as well as their own hapū and iwi (M. Hēnare, 2003, pp. 139–40).
Samuel Marsden and the first waves of missionaries indicated that they wanted to establish mission sites in Te Tai Tokerau in the early nineteenth century. Hongi Hika of Ngāpuhi knew that securing patronage of the mission sites would ensure that they had influence and control over trading in the area. He quickly formulated a plan to ensure that the missionaries settled under the protection of his hapū. In 1814, Hika travelled on board the Active to Sydney, where he studied at Marsden’s home in Parramatta, along with his nephew Ruatara from Ngāpuhi and Korokoro from Ngare Raumati. One of the important justifications for the trip was to strengthen his relationship with the missionaries, and to invite Marsden to establish a mission station at Rangihoua Bay.54
There are two versions of events that occur from this point. The first is that it was Ruatara who convinced the missionaries to establish their site under his protection at Rangihoua pā. However, Ruatara fell ill in February 1815 and died soon after, in March. Hika took on the responsibility of the mission station’s patronage that Ruatara had secured.55 The second version of events is that it was Hika who signed the arrangement with Marsden on behalf of Te Uri o Kanae, of Te Hikutū.56 Regardless of whether Hika or Ruatara had more influence over Marsden’s decision, it is clear that both Ruatara and Hika wanted the mission station to be established in Rangihoua Bay. In line with their wishes, by the end of 1814 the missionaries established the first mission station in Aotearoa – the Hohi (or Oihi) mission, in Rangihoua Bay. After Ruatara’s death, Hika spent at least some of his time living at Rangihoua pā. From the pā he monitored the daily activities of the missionaries and the settlers. Hika and Ruatara also intentionally chose a site for the mission station that was barren. This way, they knew it would be difficult for the mission to become independent,57 so they would be reliant on Hika’s hapū to provide a steady flow of trade.
Hika aimed to strengthen his control of trade by establishing another mission station on his land. He enticed the missionaries by offering them any land they wanted. As soon as Marsden expressed interest in a particular area in Kerikeri, Hika acted quickly: he had the land cleared and made ready for Marsden.58 As a result, the second mission station in Kerikeri was also under Hika’s patronage. It seems that the emphasis Hika placed on forming positive relationships with representatives in Sydney and missionaries in Aotearoa continued throughout his patronage. Along with the effective and consistent protection that Hika provided,59 missionaries and their families commented that he was kind and respectful in his relations with them,60 and gracious towards those who settled on his lands.61
Securing these two important mission stations opened up trade for Hika and his hapū that was so substantial that some estimate that Ngāpuhi hapū were trading enough goods and produce to sustain almost the whole populations of Port Jackson and Port Phillip (Melbourne).62 Hika was the primary stakeholder in trade in Pēowhairangi,63 trading timber, flax, minerals, potatoes, wheat, and livestock such as pigs.64 The settlers also brought with them different means of production65 – another reason why Hika had wanted to have Pākehā living among his hapū. For example, a blacksmith soon established a forge near his Rangihoua pā.66 The effect of this trade had immense political benefits for Hika and his hapū, and gave them an advantage over their rivals to the south and north.67
Hika and his fellow Ngāpuhi rangatira Waikato (of Te Hikutū) travelled to England in 1820 to form relationships and discuss important issues, including trade and enterprise. They were treated as high-level ambassadors and met with every member of the British cabinet, senior officials such as the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and King George IV, who famously addressed Hika as ‘Mr King Hongi’.68 The agenda of the meeting they had with King George IV covered more than trade alone; the political relationships between hapū and the British were discussed at length. Two important political documents, He Whakaputanga (The Declaration of Independence) and Te Tiriti, were heavily influenced by this meeting. Hika and Waikato also strengthened the economic relationships between Ngāpuhi hapū and the monarchy; they discussed who Pākehā could trade with, and what goods and services both sides wanted to trade.69 They talked about bringing skilled British people to Aotearoa to help with the development of land that Hika promised would be ready for them. Hika talked about having a hundred settlers emigrate to Aotearoa to cultivate the land, a party of diggers to search for iron, skilled tradesmen such as blacksmiths and carpenters, and preachers (who, he said, would need to learn te reo Māori). Hika added that he was eager to bring soldiers and officers to establish a presence of British authority to control the new settlements and regulate the conduct of the British settlers.70
It was during this trip that Hika bought muskets. This was to completely change warfare in Aotearoa and have a dramatic impact on the political power and influence of many Ngāpuhi hapū. Hapū had already been trading for muskets in Aotearoa, many of them coming from whaling ships, but Hika was keen to get to the source of supplies.71 While there were theories that Hika acquired the muskets in Port Jackson – exchanging them for items he had acquired on his trip72 – more recent evidence suggests that he had met with Frenchman Charles de Thierry in Cambridge and had negotiated the sale of between three and five hundred muskets in return for land in Aotearoa. The muskets were shipped to Port Jackson, and Hika collected them on his way back to Aotearoa.73