Mai i te kōpae ki te urupa, tātou ako tunu ai.

 

Everytime we want to kōrero difficult topics, oftentimes we’ll find ourselves surrounding a beautiful wooden table, dimly lit by one of those shitty floral touch lamps with a gentle strumming of a guitar somewhere in the background. Fucking oath e kare.

 

The purpose of this space is to discuss difficult topics and throw my opinions out there, because what kind of Kaiwāwāhi Matua would I be if I didn’t thrust my ideas down your throat. Please consider I’ll be talking Kai Tangata, Inter-Iwi politics, cyclical sexual abuse, Kirihou and some other choice ideas so keep an open mind or turn the pages and move away from here.

 

Kai Tangata

 

Earlier this year, I wanted to talk about Kai Tangata (cannibalism) within our food issue; a choice met with confusion and a barrier due to its intense nature and how it could be perceived. But that’s the issue right, the fear of difficult kōrero or how we’re going to possibly lay our stories as told to us by kaumatua or kuia back on the Marae. Stories are being lost and we’re, everyday, straying further from the roots of our people. Growing up, my whānau were disconnected and I wasn’t as exposed to māorisms or kaupapa like some of my fellow kaituhituhi. But stories of Māori eating Māori were rampant, the idea we ate the Moriori people or Ngāpuhi going around and fucking shit up. But a story that has stuck with me is that of Te Whetūmatarau. As I remember it (this is the account of one) is that Ngāpuhi, after the slaughter of Okauwharetoa, turned to Te Whetūmatarau pushing the tangata into their maunga as an attempt to escape slaughter. They endured 9 months, waiting Ngāpuhi out. But within those 9 months, it’s said they had to eat the tamariki, the accounts are numerous but few and far between. The kōrero around Kai Tangata is tapu, but also frustrating as it’s usually the argument point against Māori from Pākehā when we discuss land sovereignty and ownership. “But yous ate the Moriori, so it’s teeeeeeeechnically not your land”, kotiro mai e kare. 

 

What you need to understand is that western values of standards cannot and should not be applied to history that isn’t yours. Colonization took from us the ability to kōrero re the purpose of kai tangata or the implications it has to Te Ao Māori, though all we can do is view it from Te Ao Hurihuri and note the code of practice we now follow. I’m not saying go out and eat your fellow man but there’s more research to be had and we’re ignoring cultural significance as we turn our noses up at the idea of munching man-flesh.

 

Stop being so kirihou

 

Let’s state the obvious here. I look white, obviously, but I identify as Māori (thanks ma and pops for the strong blood). But because of that, I’ve always felt like an outlier. Before you jump my bones about the “woe is me, I’m white-passing” tale, I would rather talk about being kirihou (plastic) and what that can look like for most polynesians. For my experience, it’s coming to Wananga and speaking te Pākehā Māori, listing off simple kupu broken up into English sentences as a means of inserting myself into the kōrero. But the thing is, there’s nothing wrong with that. Conservation of our culture is the point here, so the most basic kupu should be enough. There’s been a sudden rise in Māori appreciation, but with that comes the accessibility and understanding of dialect and identifying with the more obscure parts of being tangata whenua, and some of us are out here gatekeeping kōrero paki.

 

Me pēhea tātou e ako ai?

 

There’s a struggle for information, as we’re told to seek the answers ourselves. Ānō nei e kare! From my perspective, we’ve hit a crossroads as those with the knowledge don’t want to share and those seeking knowledge are afraid of asking. As a Pākehā-Māori man, it’s a privilege to be able to walk undetected and not face the trials that my tūpuna face, or my pops as he navigates the world as a brown-skinned Māori man. I’m not plastic, but more like rubber aye. Malleable and kinda rough to the touch. Tough as fuck as well, don’t forget that.

 

Tales of Cyclical abuse

 

I’ve delved into my own stories, in depth, so rather I’d like to highlight the chaos that is the health system when they ‘try’ to help Māori with sexual abuse and offering help to break the chains of damage. It’s hard to ignore those kids coming to kura, bruises painted up their knees; barely hidden by their dirty, ripped pūweru. Media representation of Māori is littered with imagery of rampant drug use or closed fists falling upon a crying recipient as they attempt to protect their faces from blows upon blows. Nāna anō tōna mate i kimi. The aunties speak hushed within their closed circles of kōrero.

 

Māori face harsher treatment due to the systemic racial prejudice thrust on them by the government allegedly there to support and serve them as tangata whenua. As per a 2020 poll, 1 in 2 Wāhine Māori said they’d faced domestic violence, up a 32% increase from Wāhine Pākeha. In Aotearoa, our Child sexual abuse rates: 1 in 5. Of those children affected by sexual abuse, 66% will be Māori.

 

There’s no conclusion to this trend, nor do I bare some grandeur solution to ending systemic racism and cyclical abuse. But what I do know is there needs to be a push for funding towards mental health support to help end the trends of abuse in Māori but also all those affected by generational trauma. Funding for mental health services has never been more pertinent and those in power, to a lesser extent, are challenging our government in a hope to understand the mistakes of those before us.

 

I think, for me, that being Māori is much akin to having a superpower. There’s some disparaging differences as we struggle to claim and reclaim things that once belonged to us but we’re moving through a resurgence era of pride and mana when we reflect on who we are as Tangata Whenua. Growing up in the late 90’s and Early 00’s, I didn’t see as much pride or wairua for tamariki being brought up. Shit, I even changed my name to navigate easier through the unforgiving world, letting those around me not have the ammunition to fight against me for having a Māori name or Māori parents. That’s so fucking embarrasing bro, us fighting against who we are and undervaluing the power we possess as polynesians. Never underestimate the power of Reo Māori and the strength you wield by being Tangata Whenua, it’s yours to hold with mana.

 

Mai i te kōpae ki te urupa, tātou ako tunu ai.