Chapter 30

When Tui Atua called for papers responding to his essay “Whispers and Vanities”, I had no intention of submitting anything, although I found the title intriguing. But then, an event took place at a dinner party which brought a range of ideas together, some connecting with Tui Atua’s paper. What follows is a reaction to that dinner-party incident and an exploration of the ideas generated by it.

Some months ago, my partner and I attended a dinner party at a close friend’s house in Auckland. There were twelve of us around a large table which just fitted into the dining room. Included in the group were several well-known professors, authors, educators, entrepreneurs, and an eminent Pacific writer, artist and academic. One of the guests was a Pākehā350 historian, famous for having written two comprehensive books on one particular Māori iwi.351 Her work has done much to correct the one-sided account of history fed to New Zealanders for many decades. For that work, she has been lauded and honoured by the New Zealand (NZ) Government and by the iwi concerned.

The discussion turned to talk of dissidents and the rhetoric they employ. The husband of the historian, himself a well-known academic, was reminded of a conference he and our host had attended in Hawai’i, where they had been “subjected to an astonishing and insulting tirade” by an Hawaiian woman. They said that as well as expressing strong political opinions and, no doubt unpalatable historical facts about the colonisation of her country, the woman claimed that Hawaiians did not appreciate the hordes of visitors who descended on their islands each year.352 She told them that as tourists they should go back to where they came from and leave Hawai’i to the Hawaiians.

Our host and his colleague were outraged. They considered the attack totally unwarranted and walked out in protest. I knew immediately they were referring to Haunani-Kay Trask, the famous Hawaiian academic and nationalist. I declared that Haunani-Kay is a good friend of ours and we support her and her cause whole heartedly. Some of those around the table began to berate me, insisting that Pākehā were not responsible for all the bad things that had happened to Hawaiians or Māori. The famous historian turned to me and asked with a pained expression: “We (meaning me) surely could not sanction such attacks, especially on those (meaning her) supportive of indigenous people’s causes”. Europeans, the historian claimed, had not deliberately introduced diseases, and many of the recorded histories were not as violent or unjust as was claimed. A heated argument developed with loud denouncements and tears of frustration, mainly mine. I reminded them that they could never know what it feels like to be colonised and that, as indigenous people, our pain, anger and frustration are beyond anything found in the written records and history books! For non-Māori academics and historians, our past is a matter of research, but for colonised people the past is a constant reminder of humiliation and loss.

At this point, the Pacific writer, hitherto silent, suddenly sprang to his feet and angrily declared that he had been listening to such excuses (b.s.) from Pākehā all his life and that even now, in 2010, nothing had changed. He was hemmed in and could not easily extricate himself from the table. It was an embarrassing moment for everyone, and particularly for our host who quickly followed him into another room in order to placate him. The angry, unexpected interjection by the writer immediately changed the mood at the table. There was a more conciliatory atmosphere and an acknowledgement that there was more to the issue than could possibly be understood or discussed in that context. I felt frustration and anger but also shame, for I had disrespected our host by engaging in this argument although, of course, I still stand by my support of Haunani-Kay Trask. The following day our host rang to apologise, saying he and his wife did not agree with much of what was said and that they understood our position.

The events of that dinner party left me shaken and angry. I was reminded once again of the many times I have been attacked and called upon to explain why Māori continue to complain so loudly and vehemently about loss of land, loss of language, loss of culture; and why we are constantly demanding that land be returned to us. After all, it is often claimed, we are all New Zealanders now. Such attacks often occur in circumstances similar to the one above: at dinner parties, social events, in the classroom. Ironically, and typically, of the twelve people present at that particular dinner party, six were not even born in New Zealand. I asked myself why I should care so much about what was being said and who was saying it. But as I looked around the table I realised why.

Many non-Māori and non-Hawaiian historians and academics have made their careers and built their reputations using the intimate knowledge acquired from befriending tangata whenua. Knighthoods have been conferred on some of them; some have been made honorary Māori, or Hawaiian, or Tahitian; some given Samoan matai titles. Many now consider themselves experts on the people they study and write about, claiming to know more about them than the people themselves. However, Māori and Hawaiians are not subjects, we are not victims, we are not passive participants in someone’s research; neither are we the grateful recipients of work exposing the crimes of a dominant culture. Māori do, of course, acknowledge the work done by historians and academics but it is the responsibility and indeed the duty of the dominant culture to correct what has been wrongly recorded. While the research is welcomed, it is mainly the writers and academics who profit. They are rewarded, they are given grants and scholarships, they acquire kudos and mana, and they build international reputations. But they will always be ‘the other’, on the outside looking in:

What follows is an explanation of mana and how it defines relationships and behaviour. There are three ways of acquiring mana. According to a Polynesian way of thinking, everything and everyone has mana; it is inherent. We are all born with mana, which must be nurtured and respected, in ourselves as well as in others. Showing disrespect to the environment, to the animate and inanimate, to other human beings, is to disrespect oneself. Another way to acquire mana is to inherit it: from parents, from tipuna (grandparents; ancestors). And, it can be earned by working for the community, showing leadership, performing important deeds, fighting for your people.

My father was a rangatira (chief) of Kaitahu, Te Waipounamu (South Island, New Zealand). During World War II he served in the famous 28th Māori Battalion and on his return, devoted his life to helping restore Māori culture, language, history and well-being in Murihiku (Southland). For thirty-three years he served as the elected Murihiku member on the then Ngaitahu (Kaitahu) Māori Trust Board. He helped prepare the iwi’s claim against the Crown, which was finally won in 1997, one year after his death. The core members of that board worked tirelessly to establish Kaitahu and make it one of the most financially and socially successful iwi in the land. All the members of that board earned their mana.

My father once recounted an event in which disrespect was showed to him and others of high status. He was well into his seventies when he and other kaumātua (elders) were invited to parliament to discuss an important issue. They were assembled in a beautiful room but were made to stand for more than an hour, without any seats, without so much as a cup of tea being offered. Those kaumātua would never complain openly and it wasn’t the most terrible thing that happened, but there was a lack of respect. We hold our old people in high esteem because they have lived a long time and because they have mana. The disgust at such treatment was obvious in my father’s face as he told me the story. In Polynesian terms, how you treat your guests – your hospitality and generosity – underpins your status as a rangatira. Today, many years after the event, I still feel the shame those kaumātua must have felt, and the anger. The mana of those old people, our old people, had been trampled on.

The second half of the 20th century produced some remarkable women who have taken it upon themselves to restore the mana of our people. The women discussed below prove that the spirit of their tipuna (ancestors) lives on in them, and in others who refuse to give up the fight. Ka whawhai tonu mātou (Struggle without end). Ake! Ake! Ake! (Forever).

Moana-nui-a-Kiwa (the Pacific Ocean) has produced many generations of women and men who have risen to the challenge of remembering, confronting and continuing the struggle against injustice. As a Māori woman I am part of that struggle. What follows is a close look at how five women, one Hawaiian and four Māori, choose to uphold the mana of their tipuna and fulfil a duty and a promise to them. For those who feel strongly about injustice and who believe they have a responsibility to tipuna, there is no alternative but to fight. Having made a commitment, it is impossible for a committed and passionate advocate to back away. Women such as Donna Awatere, Eva Rickard, Titewhai Harawira and Tariana Turia are for Māori what Haunani-Kay Trask, Mililani Trask and Lilikala Kame’ileihiwa are for Hawaiians. These women are fearless in expressing what is in their hearts and minds.

In our private lives and within the safety of our homes, most of us discuss issues relating to colonisation, racial discrimination and the disrespect shown to our people, and we express our pain and anger openly and freely. In public, however, such expressions and opinions become mere whispers. It is important therefore that we have people who have the courage to give voice to what we truly think and feel.

I first heard Haunani-Kay Trask speak publicly at a conference in the early 1990s. She was articulate, direct, knowledgeable, and there was no mistaking her message, which she delivered with passion and conviction. She reminded the audience, consisting of people from all over the world, of the illegal US-annexation of Hawai’i and how its legitimate sovereign Queen Lili’uokalani was dethroned in 1898 by the US military, missionaries and local businessmen.354 She spoke about the ongoing injustices against her country and her people. Her speech was based on a lifetime of researching Hawai’i’s history. She challenged the audience, daring them to deny the truth of what she was saying. She demanded to know what they were doing in Hawai’i, and invited them to leave on the next plane out of Honolulu taking the following message with them: “If you are thinking of visiting my homeland, please do not. We do not want or need any more tourists, and we certainly do not like them. If you want to help our cause, pass this message on to your friends”.355 She stated emphatically that Hawai’i is not the United States. The cover of her famous collection of essays From a Native Daughter shows Haunani-Kay leading a crowd of protestors and chanting, “I am not an American. I am not an American”. 356 Marching beside her are Mililani Trask (Haunani-Kay’s sister), a high-profile lawyer and activist for Hawaiian rights, and Lilikala Kame’eleihiwa, historian and expert in Hawaiian cultural traditions and in the issues driving the Hawaiian sovereignty movement. These three outstanding women form a formidable Hawaiian triumvirate.

Haunani-Kay continued with the history lesson, reminding those attending the conference that the United States, in order to promote their own political and commercial agendas, imprisoned her Queen, enslaved her people, vilified and smashed the ancient religion, denied the people the right to exist as Hawaiians and even outlawed the hula as being too licentious and provocative. When Hawai’i had its sovereign nation status rescinded, Queen Lili’uokalani was devastated: “No darker cloud can hang over a people than the prospect of being blotted out from the list of nations. No grief can equal that of a sovereign forcibly deprived of her throne”.357

The colonisers – the imperialists – deliberately and systematically worked to obliterate everything Hawaiian. They turned her people into prostitutes, her culture into a tragic comedy, tried to obliterate her language, used the beautiful islands of Hawai’i as practice targets for the US armed forces, built the biggest military base in the world on the burial grounds of her ancestors, destroyed the once-famous, life-sustaining fish ponds of Honolulu in order to build tourist hotels, and exploited the beauty of the islands until nearly all the unique species of flora and fauna are today, endangered. Huanani-Kay reminded the audience that today Hawai’i has hundreds of homeless people, most of whom are Hawaiian, while they, the tourists – those from mainland United States and around the world – are happily ensconced in hotels and luxury beachfront mansions.358

Haunani-Kay is a woman of many parts: beautiful and fearless, both revered and reviled, a scholar and a poet. The following poem is the first in her collection Light in the Crevice Never Seen:

During World War II, Tainui land at Raglan had been loaned to the government for a military airstrip, with the understanding that it would be returned after the war. The land was never returned and instead was turned into a golf course, part of which covered sacred burial sites of the Tainui Awhiro people. In 1978, Eva Rickard was one of seventeen protestors arrested for trespassing on the disputed land.360 Her decade-long battle with the government over the Raglan golf course made national news, which often depicted her as a radical, a trouble maker, a rebel and an extremist. But she never backed down or softened her stance. As a result of this event she became a highly politicised nationalist and founded the Mana Māori Movement and later became an ardent advocate for women’s rights within Maoridom. She called for women to ignore traditional Māori protocol and demanded equal speaking rights on the marae.

I once met Eva Rickard at a hui (meeting; gathering) and gave her a hug, telling her how much I supported and appreciated her battle to have her ancestral land returned. Eva thanked me for my support but said that many of her own people did not agree with what she was doing. They did not like the fact that she was drawing unwelcome attention, although when she did finally win the battle in 1987 and the land was returned, her actions were proudly celebrated. She was victorious in her struggle but, like many before and since, she had to endure and sustain the long battle virtually alone.

Donna Awatere began her political life as a founding member of Ngā Tama Toa,361 but it was her 1984 book Maori Sovereignty362 that has had the most powerful impact. When it was published there was a shocked response from Pākehā and Māori alike. Pākehā had never before heard how Māori truly felt and they were bewildered, confused and then angry. Many Māori, like my father, were, as he put it, ‘terrified’. Donna was revealing our innermost thoughts and deep resentment at being a colonised people. My father and many of his generation believed that what Māori thought and felt should not be made public, should never be revealed to Pākehā, who had all the power and authority and could retaliate against us. After all, retribution had been meted out before and Māori had learned over the years to present a polite and docile face in order to survive. Donna’s honesty and anger had no place in the artificially peaceful world that had been carefully fabricated. Remember, during the 1950s and 1960s, New Zealand presented itself as having the best race relations in the world:

Pakeha claimed that New Zealand had the finest race relations in the world, and that the Treaty of Waitangi was the fairest treaty ever made by Europeans with a native race. In 1903 the Bay of Plenty MP William Herries told Parliament that he looked forward to 100 years in the future when “we shall have no Maoris at all but a white race with a dash of the finest coloured race in the world”.363

Maori Sovereignty showed how wrong this perception was. The process of politicising a people had begun and while considered terrifying by some, it was exciting and exhilarating, especially for young Māori. When readers were presented with statements such as: “Every white is an intruder who remains only by dint of force. This country is Maori land”,364 there was an outcry. To many Pākehā the seemingly tame Māori were turning on their ‘protectors’, their ‘benefactors’, their ‘providers’. But Donna was merely giving voice to what so many of us thought and felt. She was also fulfilling the promise made to her tipuna because: “It is easy to feel the humiliation, anger and sense of loss which your tipuna felt. And to take up the kaupapa [policy; approach] they had”.365

Donna Awatere’s Maori Sovereignty forced New Zealand to examine a political structure that was disenfranchising Māori and that had turned us into second-class citizens. With the loss of more and more Māori land, it was recognised that the very life of the people was being drained away. This inspired Whina Cooper’s famous hikoi (protest march).366 Donna also recognised that every law passed, every form of government, every decision made by authorities in education and justice, and the structure of government departments themselves, undermined Māori and took more and more sovereignty away. She presented a totally different scenario: “It is not up to ‘the (white) people’ to allow the Maori the right to redesign this country ‘after the revolution’. It is up to the Maori to allow ‘white people’ this privilege”.367

The idea still persists among many Pākehā that they hold the right and the authority over Māori land and resources. In the staff room of a high school where I once taught, the Deputy Principal, born in England, generously offered me a smoked fish sandwich. He was a keen fisherman and had caught and smoked the fish himself. As he handed me the sandwich he said, “You may as well enjoy. After all, you (Māori) own half the fish in the land”. I immediately responded by saying: “Actually we believe we own all the fish in the land and we have generously allowed you access to the resource”. This was received with shocked silence.

It was while I was teaching at this same school that a loud and passionate argument broke out one morning in the staff room. Out of the blue, a Pākehā teacher, another immigrant from England, asked me why Māori were always ‘going on’ about their land and why they were always ‘demanding’ its return. In response, I asked him why he had come to Aotearoa. No doubt it was because there was no place for him in merry England and because the English had run out of their land and now wanted ours. While knowing there can be no resolution to such arguments, the need and passionate desire to respond is nonetheless strong and the time for whispers is long gone.

Early in her life, Titewhai Harawira of Ngā Puhi took on the Pākehā establishment in the fields of education and health, and to this day she continues to confront issues which impact on her personally and on her Ngā Puhi people in the far north of the North Island of Aotearoa. One incident she gained notoriety for took place in 1998, when she objected to Helen Clark, then Leader of the Opposition, being given speaking rights on the marae when Māori women were denied the same privilege.368 Titewhai’s objection was very public and outspoken and caused Helen to break down and weep publicly. Titewhai had no compunction about confronting Helen Clark; neither did she back down in the face of her own people’s outrage and shame. One of Titewhai’s turangawaewae (place of residence and belonging) is Te Tii, known at Waitangi as the Lower Marae. The year following the incident outlined above, I witnessed a scene on this same marae (open courtyard area) showing the mana wahine (female mana) of Titewhai Harawira.

There were a large number of people already on the marae. Titewhai was outside the gate surrounded by her family and supporters. She was waiting to be called on in the traditional way. The wait was long and nobody seemed to know what to do, for normally she would not be called on to her own marae. Finally, a lone warrior sprang forth offering a challenge to her and her group. There was no reaction from Titewhai who stood calmly and quietly just outside the gate. For a second time, a challenge was put down before her. Again, there was no reaction. Finally, there was a karanga (a call performed in chant) from the women on the paepae (bench) calling Titewhai on. Titewhai responded with her own karanga as she and her ope (group; party) slowly and with great dignity moved on to the marae and into the whare. It was the karanga of the women that broke the deadlock and to which Titewhai responded. This dramatic scene demonstrated Titewhai’s authority and deep cultural knowledge. She understood that public recognition was needed to endorse her right to be on that marae. Without a word being spoken, she was given that acknowledgement and accepted it, but only when the women called her on. Her mana grew enormously as a result in spite of the controversy over the Helen Clark incident.

In 1995 the local Māori of Whanganui, Ngāti Awa, established a camp in the Moutoa Gardens in the heart of the city. They claimed the gardens were on illegally taken land and they were also protesting against a large power company taking water from the Whanganui River. Many people came from around the country to support the protestors and the occupation was widely reported in the media.369 During Ngāti Awa’s seventy-nine-day occupation of the gardens, Tariana Turia, as the local MP and Associate Māori Affairs Minister for the Labour Party, demonstrated her skills as a leader and negotiator. She eventually helped find a solution beneficial to both parties.

In 2000 Tariana again made headlines, when she declared that what had happened to Māori during the colonial invasion and subsequent land wars was tantamount to a Māori holocaust.370 She claimed that the psychological damage done to the psyche of generations of Māori had resulted in the high incidence of family and social violence. The use of the word ‘holocaust’ in this context caused an outcry and she was warned by Prime Minister Helen Clark to keep her Māori holocaust opinions to herself.371 She was labelled dangerous and racist.

When debate about ownership of the foreshore and seabed broke out in 2003, however, Tariana realised that Māori aspirations and needs would never be acknowledged or supported by the traditional political parties. In 2004, she broke away from the Labour Party and together with Pita Sharples co-founded the Māori Party. The breakaway from one of the major political parties and the founding of a new Māori Party was a watershed moment for New Zealand and for Māori. The Māori Party is now a highly influential force in New Zealand politics.

To end on a somewhat lighter note: one morning on National Radio I heard a story which demonstrates an attitude many of us have developed in order to overcome prejudice and discrimination and, at times, our own lack of confidence. Dame Malvina Major was being interviewed. She was recalling some of her experiences of being in London with a very young Kiri Te Kanawa, who was still studying and learning her craft. 372 Kiri had entered an international singing competition and had heard that an English singer was going to take first place over her. In her somewhat disrespectful and tom-boyish way, and with a mouthful of chewing gum, Dame Malvina tells that she heard Kiri disdainfully declare: “I don’t care. Anyway, a hundred years ago my ancestors were eating her ancestors!”

Although my response is personal, I feel connected to the many women and men of Oceania who fight against injustice. Our tipuna began the struggle against colonialism many years ago and it is our responsibility to continue. Our religions, values, history and connectedness remain as important today as they were prior to contact with Europeans and it is at our peril that we forget our past and where we come from.

There are many more stories about the women of Oceania who take up the taiaha (a long wooden weapon) to fight for the rights of their people. I am limited here to only a few. The women I have discussed are fulfilling the promise made to tipuna to fight forever for justice and for the right to exist as a free and sovereign people. I give thanks to those women who continue to fight for justice. Their spirit embodies many of the ideas expressed in Tui Atua’s paper, which encourages us to look with renewed respect at our past and to draw on the knowledge and wisdom gathered over many generations by our tipuna. I believe that we, as people of Oceania, have a responsibility to our tipuna and to future generations to fight for justice. I give the last word to my friend Haunani-Kay Trask, the woman who had so offended those at the dinner party and who speaks for the many women of Oceania trying to make positive changes for their people:

What links these women leaders together, apart from their extraordinary talents, is an identification with our ancestral value of caring for the people and the land. This political/cultural assertion serves the nation not only as an opposing force to colonialism but as a Native re-enactment of the reality that Hawai’i is our mother and we are her children. Our family responsibility, then, requires us to behave according to tradition. We must protect and preserve our family that we may survive as inheritors of the lands of Hawai’i.373

349 Mana whakatipu refers to “acquired leadership”, where “power and status [is] accrued through one’s leadership talents”. Mana is said to result “from a strength of character and force of will, and the means a leader has to enforce those wishes”. Sourced from online Māori dictionary athttp://www.maoridictionary.co.nz/word/3451.

350 Pākehā is a term used to describe the European settlers of Aotearoa New Zealand and their descendants.

351 Māori is a term used to describe the indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand. Iwi refers to an extended kinship group or tribe.

352 During the first ten years of the 21st century, tourist numbers to Hawai’i fluctuated between five and nine million a year. In 2011, 7,299,047 tourists visited the islands. The local population in Hawai’i in 2008 was less than one million and of that number only 8.9 percent were native Hawaiian. See http://www.hawaiitourismauthority.org and http://www.ohadatabook.com/go_chap01.11.html for further data and statistics.

353 Kepelino (19th century Hawaiian historian) cited in Trask, H-K. (1999). From a Native Daughter. Honolulu, Hawaii: University of Hawai’i Press, p.113.

354 The key historical event that enabled an Hawaiian statehood was the US-sponsored overthrow of Queen Liliuokalani in 1893 and the subsequent annexation of Hawai’i as a US territory in 1898. Queen Liliuokalani took the throne in 1891, unaware that she would be the last monarch of the Hawaiian Kingdom. Retrieved from http://www.hawaiiforvisitors.com/about/annexation.htm.

355 Trask (1999), p.146.

356 Ibid, pp. 98–99.

357 Queen of Hawai’i Lili’uokalani, cited in Silva, N. (2004). Aloha betrayed: Hawaiian resistance to American colonialism. Durham, North Carolina, U.S.A.: Duke University Press, p.164.

358 See Trask (1999), pp.136ff.

359 Trask, H-K. (1994). A People Lost. In Light in the Crevice Never Seen (p.3). Corvallis, Oregon: Calyx Books.

360 See http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/te-ture-maori-and-legislation/5/1.

361 Ngā Tamatoa (The Warriors) was a Māori activist group that operated from the early 1970s until 1979. It fought for Māori rights, land and culture as well as confronting injustices perpetuated by the NZ Government, particularly violations of the Treaty of Waitangi. Ngā Tamatoa emerged out of a conference at the University of Auckland organised by academic and historian Ranginui Walker. The group consisted of mainly urban and university educated Māori who took offence at the continuing confiscation of land and the degradation of the Māori language. The group took inspiration from liberation and indigenous movements across the world, including the Black Panthers, Aboriginal Australians and independence movements in the Pacific islands.

362 Awatere, D. (1984). Maori Sovereignty. Auckland, New Zealand: Broadsheet Magazine Ltd.

363 Cited in King, M. (2004). The Penguin History of New Zealand. Auckland, New Zealand: Penguin, p. 441.

364 Awatere (1984), p. 35.

366 Keenan, D. (Ed.). (2012). Huia Histories of Māori. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia, p.239.

367 Awatere (1984), p.50.

368 Keenan (2012), p.250. See also http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/HL0001/S00045.htm.

370 The full speech in which Turiana Turia uses the term ‘Māori holocaust’ can be read in The New Zealand Herald, Thursday, 21 August, 2000. Retrieved from http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=149643.

371 Young, A. “Warning to Turia: keep‘holocaust’ opinions to yourself”. The New Zealand Herald, Thursday, 31 August, 2000. Retrieved from http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=149637.

372 Dame Malvina Major studied singing under Sister Mary Leo, as did Dame Kiri Te Kawana. Like Kiri, Dame Malvina Major is an internationally acknowledged diva.