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Susan Healy: Let's acknowledge the gift
of land that became Auckland
4:00AM Thursday Jun 11, 2009
By Susan Healy
It is right that Brian Rudman recently reminded us of the debt we owe the benefactors to our
city and region. There was, however, one notable omission in the article, which recognised settlers
of European descent. The original, most substantial and ongoing benefactors to the city are the
Ngati Whatua people of Orakei.
It was they who, in 1840, encouraged Governor William Hobson to establish his administration on
the shores of the Waitemata and gave him an initial grant of 1416ha (3500 acres) on which to settle
his people. This area effectively covers the central city of present-day Auckland.
It is important to recognise the magnanimity of Ngati Whatua in granting Governor Hobson and his
people the opportunity to establish a settlement that would flourish socially and economically.
The background to Ngati Whatua's grant to Hobson is given in the Hillary Lecture 2001, available on
the AucklandMuseum's website.
The lecture, Land and Identity in Tamaki: A Ngati Whatua Perspective, was delivered by the late
Sir Hugh Kawharu, former Professor of Anthropology and Maori Studies at the University of Auckland.
It explains the Maori relationship to land, how Maori communities traditionally accommodated
other groups and the intentions of Ngati Whatua in inviting Hobson to have a place on th eir land.
Although Maori were keen traders, they did not regard land as something to be bought and sold.
Sir Hugh says: "Philosophically, at least, it was land that possessed the people. Land was a
medium for building and maintaining relationships."
He gives examples to illustrate this latter point. In the 1830s, Ngati Whatua gave land to
neighbouring tribes to strengthen alliances with them. These gifts were not alienations of land.
They were the granting of a right to use the assigned land while the mana or authority of the
l and remained with the donor group. In Maori terms, it was a "tuku" of the land. In European
terms, one could say that a "tuku" is more like a lease than a sale.
When the receiving group moved away, the land returned to the givers. Also, while the receiving
group was in occupation they would express their appreciation for the gift by showing respect for
and consulting with those who held the mana of the land. Commonly, they gave their benefactors
some share in the benefits they gained from the use the land.
On the other hand, those with the mana of the land had a duty to see that all who resided on their
land were protected. A relationship of mutual benefit was established. The 1830 grants to Ngati
Whatua's neighbours, like the later ones to Hobson, were significant and were known as "tuku
rangatira" - gifts between chiefs. Sir Hugh explains the chiefs in making these "tuku" were acting
as representatives of their people.
He says "such transfer of use rights in land was an effective and proven mechanism for establishing
alliances - a mechanism, however, in which the underlying title remained with the donor group".
In relation to Ngati Whatua, who extended their initial grant to a further 3237ha (8000 acres), it is
not surprising they assumed and have continued to expect they would be involved as partners in setting
directions for the city.
Dr Merata Kawharu outlined in a Herald article how Ngati Whatua have continuously sought to be
involved in the governing boards and councils of the city.
Surely it is time for those of us of settler background to acknowledge Ngati Whatua of Orakei as the
original and substantial benefactors to central Auckland, and welcome their input into the governing
of our city so their intention of establishing a mutually beneficial relationship is fulfilled.
* Susan Healy,a Dominican lay woman, is a Pakeha New Zealander of Irish, English and
Cornish heritage, has a doctorate in Maori Studies from the University of Auckland.
Article first published in the Auckland Herald, 11 June 2009
The following article, while written by Father Henare Tate, is prefaced by two long
quotes by Waihoroi Shortland. It is also interspersed with various other
quotes or explanations, some of which are the explanations to photographs
which it was not possible to insert with this typescript. These may be seen
in the original appearing in NZ Geographic, February 1990.
THE UNSEEN WORLD
BY FATHER HENARE TATE
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
INSIDE THE MAORI DARKROOM
Ko nga poupou o toku whare ko te ha o te wairua Maori, te mana o taku iwi, teo reo
o aku tupuna, me taku turangawaewae. Ko tona tuanui ko te Tiriti o Waitangi
(The corner posts of my house are these: the power of Maori spirituality,
the dignity of my people, the language of my ancestors, and the ground
on which I stand. The roof is the Treaty of Waitangi).
As a Maori, it sometimes amuses me that the basis on which our nation was
founded was a document hurriedly put together in the Bay of Islands 150 years
ago. Variously interpreted by all and sundry, it is perhaps its simplicity which
causes so many to choke and splutter today.
For me, the treaty simply says:
Article One: Yes, we give to the Crown the right to govern.
Article two: The Crown guarantees to protect all my property rights, both real and
abstract, and, in the matter of selling land, reserves exclusively such dealings to itself.
Article three: In concluding this contact I shall be granted all other rights enjoyed
by the freemen of England.
What puzzles me in 1990 is the groundswell of opinion that the treaty of Waitangi
is but a “snapshot in time.” This, for me, begs the question of who took the picture.
Because what I see through the Maori lens appears to be quite different to what is
portrayed by the Pakeha lens.
The following essays are invitations to come and take a peep in the Maori darkroom
and see some of the processes which went into developing the Maori picture. They do
not presume to show the whole picture, but collectively they form a backdrop to a
Maori perspective of the treaty
- Waihoroi Shortland
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We shake hands. I say, “Kia ora,” you say, “Kia ora,” and unless you’re Maori
or we are in a Maori setting, this is usually followed by a conscious effort on my
part to contain the urge to press noses with you.
For a Maori, the hongi is a physical expression of our meeting on a spiritual level.
My wairua (spiritual self) greets yours.
The hongi is the key to a free flow of emotions based on mutual trust and good will.
The breath of life enters and leaves through the nose. The practice of hongi with
the deceased at a tangi is a physical acknowledgment that the wairua has indeed
departed its mortal coil - the nose being the final part of the body to turn cold.
But, back to you and me, the Maori in me says “Go ahead.” But somehow the
conventions and the times in which we live dictate something else. There is an
uneasiness. I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your hand – your wairua and mine do
not sit comfortably together. We have merely acknowledged each other’s presence.
Even after 150 years we still choose merely to co-exist. Come, feel the warmth
of my nose.
Waihoroi Shortland
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They rang me at quarter to five on the morning the old man [Sir James
Henare, paramount chief of the northern tribes] died.
Afterwards I sat for a while thinking about the old man. Then I rang a friend
at Mitimiti.
“Harold, I can see the mullet jumping in the waves,” I said.
“No, Father, no mullet. The fishing’s bad at the moment.”
“But, Harold, I want some mullet to take to the old man’s tangi.
A koha (gift) from our people.”
“Well, Father, if you want me to go out, I will. But I don’t think there’ll be any
fish for the tangi.”
Harold rang back later that morning. He had ten dozen mullet. I say that was
the old man’s mana.
Mana is not just charisma. It is a force that brings about change; an ability to act
in ways that move people. Mana isn’t something you can set out to earn or
achieve, like “Brownie points.” It comes from a lifetime of experiencing and
addressing the unseen world of tapu.
Tapu means far more to the Maori than just prohibitions (“Don’t touch this,”
“Don’t go there”). Tapu is the spiritual essence of all things. It arises
from the mauri, the life principle of all creation, and constantly points us back
to the source: Io, or God.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THE WHALE is an appropriate symbol for injustice: it may disappear for a while,
but will always surface again, seeking redress.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Trees have tapu, so you don’t cut them down without acknowledging Tane,
the guardian of the forests. Rocks and mountains have tapu: Tongariro, for
instance, is so tapu that some Maori will not even look at it. Fish and birds
have tapu, and it is common practice for fishermen to return the first of
their catch to Tangaroa, guardian of the sea. The highest expression of tapu,
though, is in people.
Te wa, the journey of life, is filled with opportunities to address the tapu of
our fellow-travellers. This is done by acknowledging their dignity as human
beings created by God. At one level, the words “Kia ora!” (literally “have life”)
are just a common greeting; at a deeper level they are an acknowledgement
of the worth of another person. By greeting someone you are addressing their tapu.
A very visible and moving way of experiencing tapu is in the tangi; hence the
importance of these occasions to Maori people. I have ministered for 12 years
in and around my home marae of Motuti, a remote settlement near Panguru,
on the north Hokianga. In just one of those years, I buried 44 people, two thirds
of whom were from towns and cities away from the Hokianga.
Why do the families of such people return to the ‘back of beyond’ in droves
for a tangi? Because it is a way of acknowledging the dignity of the person
who has died and the dignity of their ancestors and the whole whanau. And
by returning to the source of tapu, the family and friends are invigorated and
spiritually replenished.
I liken it to te kawai kumara (the runners of the kumara) coming back to
te putake (the tap root). Cut off from the root, the runner shrivels. It can only
take in food by joining itself to the root.
The process of welcoming visitors on to a marae is another well known. It is a
way of addressing tapu. Visitors [manuhiri] are under tapu in the form of
a prohibition as they approach a marae. They have their own tapu, or dignity,
of course, but in this context they are foreigners, an unknown quantity. Who
can tell whether they are friend or foe?
The kuia calls her greeting. In some situations a warrior issues a fiery challenge
and lays down the wero, dart. The visitors respond according to the protocol
of the marae with korero (speech) and waiata (song), after which the hongi
(embrace) lifts the tapu, erasing the status of ‘manuhiri’ and making the visitors
one with the tangata whenua – the people whose turangawaewae (identity)
is at that marae. The visitors are now hunga kainga (people of the house).
They share their hosts’ hospitality, protection and mana.
In traditional Maori terms, ignoring the principles of tapu is the same as declaring
spiritual suicide. Yet a society that favours material over spiritual values has
systematically violated and belittled these beliefs, labeling them superstitions and
relics of paganism, and declaring them to be of no importance in the modern world.
The reality is this: a failure to address tapu is a failure to grow. Your mana remains
stunted, moments of achievement slip through your fingers and your life
journey becomes frustrating. Not only that, if you fail to respond to the challenge
of te wa to address tapu, you are not just depriving yourself of mana, you inhibit
the growth of others. Life is a team sport; if you drop the ball you let the whole
side down.
The relationship between mana and tapu can be compared to the workings of an
artesian well. The water source deep underground is like tapu; the gushing of
water up through the bore and on to a thirsty land is like mana. Failure to
address tapu drives the water back down the bore, and the land dries up.
There are three ways of addressing tapu: through tika (justice) pono (integrity or
faithfulness to tika) and aroha (love). By continually striving to act with tika, pono,
and aroha in day-to-day life, tapu flourishes and mana radiates outward like the
ripples of a stone dropped into a pond.
Consider the laws of tapu as they relate to food. In Maori tradition the preparation
and consumption of food must be kept separate from any object that has to do
with the body, such as a bed, a toilet, etc. Even to sit on a kitchen table where
food is prepared would violate tapu. Yet these values are largely lost on younger
Maori who have grown up with the prevailing Pakeha culture which makes no
distinction.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
WOMEN have the role of initiators on ceremonial occasions, for they are the breakers
of tapu. They represent Papatuanuku, Mother Earth, and often carry green leaves to
signify this fact. The singer is delivering a waiata to the paddlers of her tribal waka
as they prepare to enter the water on Waitangi Day.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I have been involved in two instances where the tapu relating to new life and the
body has been dramatically violated by association with food. Both related to the
practice of Maori mothers asking to retain the afterbirth for later burial (an
important ritual which fixes a person’s roots to his tribal area). In both cases the
placenta had been put in a household deep-freeze full of food until the mother
came out of hospital.
It would be no exaggeration to say that, in terms of tapu, all hell broke loose! A
family member became violently ill in one case and the mother became
uncontrollably hysterical in the other. In both cases I insisted that the afterbirth
and all the food be immediately buried, and as soon as this was done the physical
problems ceased.
Nowhere has the erosion of tapu been more devastating than in the loss of the
Maori language. Language is tapu because it expresses the very soul of a person.
Without te reo, tapu is stifled Without te reo, the karakia (prayers) that fertilize
and enrich every aspect of life, from the cradle to the grave, are impotent.
Within Maoridom there are prayers for birth, prayers for betrothal, prayers
for carving canoes, prayers for baiting a hook, prayers for planting, weeding, reaping,
chopping and a thousand other activities.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
RANGIMARIE Rose Pere, a teacher and healer from Gisborne, describes wairua, spirit,
and wai (water) and rua (two) – the two waters, “For me, this depicts spirituality.
The whole of life in influenced by two waters, the spiritual and the physical.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
If tapu is the water source, and mana the gushing of the well, then te reo is the
bore which allows mana its expression. The quenching of language is a severe
violation of tapu; it blocks the puna waiora, springs of life.
Violations of tapu demand to be re-addressed through tika, pono, and aroha. But
an essential part of healing and reconciliation is encounter – preferably in person, or
at least through the iwi (tribe). This is because violation of tapu is not solely an
individual matter; it affects the whanau and the iwi.
Here is one reason why some Maori are seeking an alternative justice system, one
that involves the extended family and tribe, and one which gives scope for
encounter. Without acknowledgment and encounter, injustice will never be truly
resolved. Like a whale, it will disappear for a time, only to surface again seeking
the pure oxygen of tika, pono and aroha.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THE HONGI is the highest act of respect for another person. It represents sharing of the
breath of life – the life principle of creation.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A hundred and fifty years ago the Treaty of Waitangi provided Pakeha with the
opportunity to become tangata whenua, and to share the mana of the Maori. Like
visitors to a marae, the newcomers were seen as manuhiri. The treaty was a vehicle
by which the designation of manuhiri could be lifted. However, though the document
was signed, the treaty was not implemented. Tika and pono were violated,
and aroha fled.
I believe that Pakeha have not enjoyed the mana of tangata whenua because of treaty
violations. The result is a generation of New Zealanders that is still looking fir
its roots and hungering for a deeper relationship with the land.
The answer is in the tapu of the treaty. Address the tapu that has been violated, and
mana will be set free to be the mantle under which all may become tangata whenua.
Only then will Hobson’s hopeful words become reality: “He iwi tahi tatou.” Now we
are one people.
[Photographs accompanying this article are omitted in this copying with apologies.
They may be seen in the original of this article which is taken from
NZ Geographic, February 1990]
Some thoughts about preaching
As we continue to reflect on our Dominican founding 800 years ago we find that the
context for the original preaching of Dominic and Bishop Diego included public
disputations having the character of theological debates. At the same time, they
engaged in revivalist preaching both inside and outside church buildings. We know
of historical examples of incidents in which such disputations and missions of preaching
occurred. The work of evangelization that inspired the foundation of the Order was not
normatively homiletic preaching during Eucharist, but catechetical preaching in any
contexts where adult faith formation could take place.
What then does our history show us about the Dominican charism of preaching?
We see three elements:
(a) The Dominican preaching charism is a faithful and compassionate response to an
uncatechized (or poorly catechized) world.
(b) It is a broad weaving together of words and contexts: study, proclamation, teaching
and earnest conversation, on the one hand, and books, churches, universities, and multiple
other social contexts, on the other.
(c) The charism is also a title for members of the Order--not only ordained, but all members
to participate in the broad structures of a highly diversified apostolic existence.
So what is the role of women in the ‘holy preaching’?
Times have certainly changed since Dominic’s day; but here are some important signs of our
own times:
(a) In many parts of the world, not only are women the clear majority of churchgoers, but the
majority of ecclesial ministers as well.
(b) In mission countries, it is still largely non-ordained catechists who are responsible for faith
formation and community organization for the majority of Catholics in parishes and mission
churches.
(c) In North America, northern Europe, Australia and New Zealand, Central and South America,
and elsewhere, where no presbyters are available to serve in many parishes as residential pastors,
the majority of those who become local parish leaders in the absence of a priest are lay (and largely
women).
(d) In most parts of the world, the responsibility for catechetical formation falls upon the laity,
prominently to women who are not religious.
Some questions for us as Dominican family to ponder in light of the above signs of the times :
• How do we reinterpret what it means to preach “for the salvation of souls” in our present day
conditions ?
• In what ways is collaborative preaching by women and men, lay and ordained, essential to the
Church’s witness to the Gospel ?
• How does profession in the Order of Preachers provide a title for preaching as a participation
in the essential mission of the Order ?
Some thoughts about preaching
As we continue to reflect on our Dominican founding 800 years ago we find that the context for
the original preaching of Dominic and Bishop Diego included public disputations having the
character of theological debates. At the same time, they engaged in revivalist preaching both inside
and outside church buildings. We know of historical examples of incidents in which such disputations
and missions of preaching occurred. The work of evangelization that inspired the foundation of the
Order was not normatively homiletic preaching during Eucharist, but catechetical preaching in any
contexts where adult faith formation could take place.
What then does our history show us about the Dominican charism of preaching?
We see three elements:
(a) The Dominican preaching charism is a faithful and compassionate response to an uncatechized
(or poorly catechized) world.
(b) It is a broad weaving together of words and contexts: study, proclamation, teaching and earnest
conversation, on the one hand, and books, churches, universities, and multiple other social contexts,
on the other.
(c) The charism is also a title for members of the Order--not only ordained, but all members--to
participate in the broad structures of a highly diversified apostolic existence.
So what is the role of women in the ‘holy preaching’?
Times have certainly changed since Dominic’s day; but here are some important signs of our own times:
(a) In many parts of the world, not only are women the clear majority of churchgoers, but the majority
of ecclesial ministers as well.
(b) In mission countries, it is still largely non-ordained catechists who are responsible for faith formation
and community organization for the majority of Catholics in parishes and mission churches.
(c) In North America, northern Europe, Australia and New Zealand, Central and South America, and
elsewhere, where no presbyters are available to serve in many parishes as residential pastors, the majority
of those who become local parish leaders in the absence of a priest are lay (and largely women).
(d) In most parts of the world, the responsibility for catechetical formation falls upon the laity,
prominently to women who are not religious.
Some questions for us as Dominican family to ponder in light of the above signs of the times :
• How do we reinterpret what it means to preach “for the salvation of souls” in our present day
conditions ?
• In what ways is collaborative preaching by women and men, lay and ordained, essential to the
Church’s witness to the Gospel ?
• How does profession in the Order of Preachers provide a title for preaching as a participation in
the essential mission of the Order ?
-summaries taken from a submission by Paul Philibert, Mary O'Driscall et al.
