Te toka tūmoana
Ka tū, ka tū, ka tū
Ahakoa i āwhātia mai te rangi
Whakapāpakatia i te whitinga o te rā
Te toka tūmoana
Ka tū, ka tū, ka tū
The rock stands in the sea,
Stands, stands, stands,
Although the weather may be stormy
And the rock may be roasted by the sun,
The rock stands in the sea,
Stands, stands, stands
The Hokianga pepeha above is about being tenacious in challenging times.1 This pepeha is a well-known whakataukī and is often shortened to ‘he toka tū moana’ (‘as durable as a rock pounded by the surf’).2 The following pepeha, also from Hokianga, links the natural environment to the quality of perseverance:
Kia pēnā he riri mā tāua
Kia tae ki te keretā
Ki te oneone whero
Let our fighting be thus
That we reach down to the heavy clay
To the red earth
Oneone whero (red clay) is a type of soil that is found beneath a layer of loose soil that sits at the top: it is necessary to dig through the loose soil to reach the oneone whero. In some locations, the red clay is found beneath a layer of black earth. When digging down into black earth the person digging will never know how long it will take to reach the red clay underneath: sometimes it will be one foot, sometimes three.* This acknowledges that often people must persevere despite not knowing when the struggle will end.3
* Another characteristic of the red soil is that while the loose soil at the top crumbles apart, the red soil will not readily crumble; instead it will stick to the spade (M. Kawharu, 2008, p. 78).
Mōroki and Koropeke were two sons of Kākaitāwhiti, who was a founding ancestor of Te Paatu.4 Kākaitāwhiti was the descendant of Kahutianui (the eponymous ancestor of Ngāti Kahu) and Te Parata (captain of the Māmaru).5 Mōroki and Koropeke lived in an area called Ōrūrū, not far from Taipā, south of Tokerau Moana (Doubtless Bay). The name Ōrūrū is linked to the following Te Paatu pepeha:
Ōrūrū karanga pā tahataha
Ōrūrū where one pā calls to another6
This pepeha talks about the geography of the area, the thriving population, and the many pā. The Ōrūrū valley stretches from Maungataniwha to Taipā. Pā were so numerous and so close together that a message could be conveyed from one pā to another by calling to them.7 The proximity of the many pā was not only a reflection of the thriving population; it was a strategic decision that meant that in times of conflict, disseminating a message throughout the whole valley was very easy. Signs of an impending attack could easily be spotted by sentries in the hilltop pā, and the message would be quickly spread from one hilltop to another, using various methods such as lighting fires, or emitting distinctive sounds from instruments that were used to warn others. In a short time, the message would have travelled through the whole area and all of the pā in Ōrūrū would know of the imminent danger. This method was used not only in times of conflict, but also to alert Ōrūrū to important events and hui mate.8
Ōrūrū River runs through the valley. The river was an important source of food, particularly at the river mouth in Taipā (sometimes known as Te Ikateretere or Te Ikatiritiri). It was also important for transport and trade.9 Another reason that the area was so densely populated was that the soil was very fertile, and the hapū grew large, flourishing gardens. This is reflected in the following pepeha:
Ōrūrū kāmehameha
Invaluable [fertile] Ōrūrū
Mōroki and Koropeke were rangatira at a pā called Kauhanga* near Pēria, north of the Maungataniwha ranges. Kauhanga was a heavily fortified pā that was in frequent conflict with other hapū.10 On one occasion, a Ngāpuhi war party was spotted, and news of the approaching warriors was disseminated throughout the pā of Ōrūrū, including Kauhanga. Mōroki, Koropeke, and a contingent of Te Paatu retreated to the pā, where they were able to withstand multiple waves of attack. As it appeared that neither side was gaining ascendancy, Ngāpuhi decided to change their tactic and camp in the rings of gardens at the foot of Kauhanga. Kauhanga – due to the aforementioned fertility of the soil – was encircled by flourishing gardens that were carefully tended and cared for by Te Paatu people.11 Along with their hunting and fishing grounds, their gardens were a primary source of sustenance. Thus, Ngāpuhi reverted to the tactic of siege, whereby they prevented Te Paatu from accessing their hunting grounds, their fishing grounds, their gardens, and their water sources.
Mōroki and Koropeke had prepared for this possibility by taking as much food as possible into the pā when the Ngāpuhi war party was initially spotted. Despite this, it soon became obvious that their supplies would eventually run out, as Ngāpuhi had built temporary shelters outside the pā – a clear indication that they were prepared to stay for some time.12 Unbeknownst to Ngāpuhi, Te Paatu had access to a fresh spring that provided them with water; however, it was evident that the lack of food was quickly going to become an issue if not immediately addressed. Acting pre-emptively, Mōroki and Koropeke met with two tohunga, Te Au and Te Aratapu, and together they came up with an idea. Soon a contingent of the hapū were busy weaving a large number of kete, working tirelessly despite the lack of food that was starting to deplete their energy. Another contingent of the hapū filled the kete with soil – an important final touch to complete the guise. As darkness fell, the kete were hung from the palisades of the pā, in clear view of the enemy camping outside.13
As the Ngāpuhi war party woke the next day, they looked up at Kauhanga pā to see a kete hanging from every palisade. One of the warriors laughed, exclaiming that the kete were empty. However, as soon as he finished speaking a large gust of wind blew along the palisades, and rather than blow around in the wind the kete barely moved, weighed down by the plentiful food inside them. By now, the people within the pā were desperate for food and they waited with bated breath to see if the Ngāpuhi war party would be fooled. After what seemed like an eternity, the war party eventually appeared to be gathering their things together, and soon it was clear they were leaving. After a discussion, the war party had agreed that there was little point in trying to starve out a hapū who, despite the days of siege, still had a great abundance of food within their pā.14
With Ngāpuhi disappearing out of sight, Te Paatu waited te hear from their sentries, who watched to see if Ngāpuhi would come back.15 When the sentries reported that the war party had not turned around, the people inside the pā were finally able to leave Kauhanga. Some headed down into the gardens to collect food and others went to the fishing and hunting grounds and, before long, the hapū was busy preparing food to replenish the weak and hungry. Mōroki, Koropeke, and a contingent of the hapū went straight to the temporary shelter that the war party had built during the siege and tore it to the ground. The tearing down of the house was representative of the victory over the Ngāpuhi war party, a victory achieved by guile rather than military superiority.16 According to some, this is how Te Paatu got its name: it refers to the tearing down of the pātū (walls) of the shelter.*
After this, Mōroki organised his own party, which went into Ngāpuhi territory to seek utu. Gardens at a Ngāpuhi pā were raided, and food was taken back to Ōrūrū to make up for the loss of produce from the gardens at Kauhanga pā – thus retaining the mana of Te Paatu.17
* Some of the sources referenced have both Mōroki and his brother Koropeke as being present at Kauhanga pā (F. Keene, 1992, p. 28; D. U. Cloher & M. Penfold, 2002, p. 42), whereas in other retellings only Mōroki is mentioned (P. Tauhara, 2012, p. 13).
* This is one of a number of narratives associated with the origin of the name Te Paatu. Another retelling states that the name Te Paatu references the impenetrable fortifications (pātū) of the many pā in Ōrūrū (P. Tauhara, 2012, p. 13).
Before a large contingent of Ngāti Awa moved to their contemporary lands further south, they had a strong presence in Te Tai Tokerau, mostly around Kaitāia, Ahipara, and Lake Tāngonge.18 The following story is about how one of their rangatira, Kauri, saved his people and preserved his mana.
The story starts with two brothers, Kauri and Kerepeti (or Ruakerepeti).19 Both brothers lived in and around Rangaunu and Kaitāia. They were keen gardeners, and grew mainly taro. Despite Kerepeti’s efforts, Kauri’s taro flourished and were bigger and better. This was because Kauri had access to the rich peat flats to plant his vegetables in. Kerepeti, seething with jealousy, decided to sabotage his brother’s gardens. He consulted a tohunga and came up with a plan. He and some of his people dug large canals that channelled the water from the Kaitāia River into Lake Tāngonge. The water that surged into the lake caused it to overflow and flood into Kauri’s gardens. Kauri and his people quickly attempted to dig drains to allow the water to flow out of the garden,20 but they struck sandstone, making any digging impossible. The following whakatauākī relates to this event:*
E Kauri e! Kua whati ngā toki
Waiho rā kia whati ana, e whati ana ki ngā mahi rau a tama a Tāwake
Oh Kauri! The adzes are broken
Let them break, they are broken in the many tasks of the son of Tāwake21
With their crops destroyed and Kauri’s status as rangatira impacted by not being able to provide food for his people, Kauri resolved that he and his people would find a new place to settle. Initially they settled in Taipā, where they built a pā called Whakaruapuna. However, tension grew between them and some of the local hapū, and for the second time Kauri and his people were forced to leave.22 A number of waka from allied hapū escorted Kauri and his people to Nukutaurua (Albert Reef) north of the Mangonui harbour entrance.23 It was at this point that black clouds filled the skies, and strong winds began to rock their waka.* Some of Kauri’s people urged their rangatira to turn around.† That is when Kauri said the words that have since become a well-known whakatauākī:
Taka te rāngai maomao i Nukutaurua, e kore e huri
Once a shoal of blue maomao has passed Nukutaurua, it does not turn back24
The people on board the waka travelled south from Nukutaurua for many days and nights. Finally, they arrived in Tauranga, where Kauri and his people settled and merged with local hapū. They built another pā, again called Whakaruapuna.25 The tenacity required by Kauri and his hapū to find a new home are celebrated qualities for Ngāti Awa, reflected in their pepeha:
Te toki e kore e tangatanga i te rā
The adze [whose fastenings] cannot be loosened by the sun26
This pepeha refers to the tightly bound fastenings on the handle of a toki. This serves as a metaphor for a hapū who demonstrate solidarity and resilience.27 Kauri and his hapū settled in the Tauranga area where many still reside to the present day. Their origin in the north is the reason why Ngāti Awa have strong whakapapa links to many northern hapū.28
* There are a number of variations of this story. In one version, Kauri is more on the periphery of the story. In this version, the rangatira Tamateaurehaea was in conflict with other northern hapū, who were building pā in Whangapē, Rangaunu, Herekino, Ahipara, Hukatere, and Rangiaohia, surrounding Tamateaurehaea’s land. Tamateaurehaea was Takitimu through his father Rongokako, and Kurahaupō through his mother Muriwhenua, and in some whakapapa was the father of the eponymous ancestor Kahungunu (W. Huata, n.d.; D. U. Cloher & M. Penfold, 2002, p. 1). As a last act of defiance, Tamateaurehaea attempts to dig a channel either to the sea or to the Kaitāia River to flood the land, but his axes break (T. H. Mitiria, 1972, pp. 57–58). The other version is similar, but says that as Kerepeti dug his channel, Tamateaurehaea and Kauri dug theirs, again out to the west coast, to let the sea in and submerge the district. In both of these versions, Tamateaurehaea and Kauri’s axes break, providing another explanation for this whakatauākī (M. Kapa, 1924, pp. 223–24). In another version it was Kerepeti’s gardens that flourished and Kauri who tried to sabotage his brother’s gardens (M. Kawharu, 2008, p. 147).
* Some retellings say that Tamateaurehaea was also on board the waka (M. Kapa, 1924, pp. 223–24; H. M. Mead & N. Groves, 2001, p. 114) and that the whakatauākī above was in fact said by him (Mead & Groves, p. 114).
† Another interpretation of this whakatauāki is that Kauri was speaking to his Ngāti Kahu relations (whom Ngāti Awa had married with). Ngāti Kahu urged Ngāti Awa to remain with them, but he had made his mind up to migrate south (M. Mutu et al., 2017, n.p.).
Many Te Aupōuri hapū were formerly known as Ngāti Ruanui,* named after the eponymous ancestor Ruanui, who arrived on Māmari at the same time as Nukutawhiti arrived on Ngātokimatawhaorua.29 During the second half of the eighteenth century, Ngāti Ruanui were an influential hapū who lived in northern Hokianga and further north, alongside Ngāti Houpure (who later became Te Rarawakaiwhare, or Te Rarawa).30 Whēru, a prominent rangatira of Ngāti Ruanui, was known as a rangatira who espoused peace in nearly all situations. Despite this, Ngāti Ruanui’s pā stood on desirable, heavily contested land, and they periodically had to defend their fertile land from opposing hapū. His peaceful nature is reflected in the following pepeha:
Ko Whēru te rangimārie
Whēru the peacemaker31
One hapū who wanted to entice Ngāti Ruanui into war was Ngāi Tūmamao, under the leadership of Te Painga. Te Painga established a plan that he was sure would lead to war between his hapū and Ngāti Ruanui. He sneaked into Mākora pā in southern Whangapē after dark, and found Whēru’s sister Kupe sleeping in one of the houses. Knowing that only a drastic action would finally bait Whēru into war, Te Painga killed Kupe and stole off into the night. Unfortunately for Te Painga, an old man called Kereta who lived at Mākora had witnessed the murder, and he rushed across to Whēru’s pā to inform him. Not only did he tell Whēru, but he also told Te Ikanui (also known as Te Ikanui Te Toa),† who was Whēru and Kupe’s younger brother, and known for being a brave warrior. Te Ikanui wasted no time: he ran to cut off Te Painga, armed only with a tao (a type of spear). He intercepted Te Painga and thrust the tao through his chest, killing him – and avenging the death of his sister. Some of Te Painga’s Ngāi Tūmamao people became known as Te Taomauī (‘mauī’ meaning ‘left’), as the tao was thrust into Te Painga’s left breast.32
This series of events prompted Ngāi Tūmamao and Ngāti Tautahi to besiege Mākora pā, with Ngāti Tautahi under the leadership of Te Hōtete (Hongi Hika’s father). In order to protect Mākora pā, Whēru and Te Ikanui chose to concentrate their forces there. Enduring raid after raid, the brothers felt that the best plan was to escape northwards with their hapū. However, Mākora was surrounded by the forces of enemy hapū. Furthermore, the two rangatira knew that their enemies were sure to pursue them northwards if they saw them escape. Whēru and Te Ikanui came up with a plan that they hoped would allow their hapū to escape their enemies unseen and unscathed.33
The first phase of the plan was to collect all of the leaves and brushwood they could. They used this plant material to cover the ground of the Mākora pā in a highly combustible cloak. The war parties of Ngāi Tūmamao and Ngāti Tautahi could see great activity happening in the pā, but the layer of leaves and brushwood was hidden from outside view by the pā’s large palisades. The next day Whēru and Te Ikanui assembled their hapū and told them the time had come to escape. The order was given and, at multiple spots throughout the pā, the leaves and brushwood were set alight. The fire roared into action and before long was leaping up the houses and licking at the palisades.
Accompanying the flames was thick, billowing smoke. The smoke was so dense that it soon covered the entirety of the pā. Wasting no time, Ngāti Ruanui used the cover of the smoke to steal out of Mākora and descend to their waka that waited nearby on the Whangapē harbour. Meanwhile, a number of warriors from Ngāi Tūmamao and Ngāti Tautahi rushed towards the pā, attempting to beat off the flames and the smoke to try and see where Ngāti Ruanui had gone. However, the smoke was so thick that they could barely see a metre in front of them, let alone see the Ngāti Ruanui waka paddling off in the waters of the Whangapē.
Ngāti Ruanui did not stop paddling until their waka finally rounded a bend that took them out of sight of Mākora. There they paused, and the whole hapū gazed at the billowing smoke and roaring flames, now well and truly out of control. They watched as the ash fell all around them, dropping into Whangapē, turning its water from blue to black.
From that day forward the hapū became known as Te Aupōuri. This is a name that has two meanings: ‘au’ means both current and smoke, and ‘pōuri’ means dark. Thus, the name Te Aupōuri refers both to the waters of Whangapē that were blackened by the ash and to the billowing smokescreen that shielded them from the eyes of the enemy scouts.34
* Other narratives say that Te Aupōuri were known as Ngāti Te Awa by now. This name recognises the hapū as the descendants of the eponymous female ancestor Te Awa, from Muriwhenua. Te Awa and Moretekorohunga (of Ngāti Ruanui) had Kupe, Whēru, Te Ikanui, Te Kakati, and Te Uruhāpainga (W. Norman, 1996, p. 57; Te Aupōuri and The Crown, 2012, p. 9; Crown Forestry Rental Trust, n.d., p. 16).
† Te Ikanui has such status that many Te Aupōuri do not refer to fish as ‘ika’, but instead as ‘ngohi’. This is because they do not want to use the same word for a food source as the name of one of their most esteemed ancestors (M. Stafford, 2013).