Te rourou aroha: Healing through raranga - Chapter 1

MA Zemara Waru-Keelan
Nov 22, 2019
14 min read

Updated: Nov 25, 2019

The following is an excerpt of my Indigenous Masters Thesis

CHAPTER 1: Being Māori

Ko Zemara Te Haeata Waru-Keelan tōku ingoa

I whanau mai au ki Whaingaroa,

I te taha o tōku Māmā:

Ko Hikurangi te maunga

Ko Waiapu te awa

Ko Horouta te waka

Ko Ngāti porou te iwi

I te taha o toku Pāpā:

Ko pureora te maunga

Ko mangapehi te awa

Ko rereahu te marae

Ko tainui te waka

Ko Ngāti maniapoto te iwi.

Identity: Taku Māoritanga

My experience of being Māori does not come from being part of a collective. More from being a minority, as growing up I was often the only Māori in the room. For me, being Māori meant explaining my culture to Tauiwi every day. It meant defending my position and reclaiming the impediment placed on my ancestors and passed on to me. Because being Māori among Māori is one thing, but when I am the only Māori in the room, I am at my most Māori. The contrast of being Māori against a Pākeha backdrop accentuates my Māoritanga (Jackson, 1992).

These differences; the rituals (e.g: tangihanga vs funeral), the language (e.g: te reo vs English), colloquialisms (e.g chur, makachilly, tamafreakies), perceptions, being colonised (us vs them), minoritized (forced to fit into a Pākeha system, government, schooling etc), marginalized (existing on the borders of society), experiencing institutional racism (facing stereotypes, negative media representation), the food, the way we interact (Hall & Du Gay, (Eds.), 2006) – these are particular to being Māori, this is my culture. Furthermore, each of us experience Māoritanga in our own way and as I look back at how my identity has been shaped, it seems I was different among Pākeha but also different among my own (Hodgetts, Drew, Sonn, Stolte, Nikora & Curtis, 2010).

My identity, where I place myself within my environment, how I choose to spend my time and who I spend it with has influenced my skill set, my perception and my practice (Yosso, 2005). This opening chapter will discuss my relationship with my Māoritanga, the ways that I learned how to be Māori and what being Māori means to me. Furthermore, I will explore parts of my life experience that have shaped my skill set, my thought process and bought me to the offering of my taonga tuku iho.

Learning to be Māori

I was not raised on my ancestral whenua. Unlike many of my peers, I have brief memories of returning home for tangihanga at a very young age. The tangi of my Nanny Violet and of my Grandfather Pāora (my Father’s father). I was too young to understand tikanga, I was too young to understand what it meant to be on a paepae, to sleep in a wharenui, to mourn our loved ones for three days, to wear kawakawa and black, to karanga or whaikōrero. However, I knew that I was surrounded by my whānau and that the sound of my Aunties and Nannies cries was heart breaking. Memories of hearing Po atarau as we sat on the paepae around my Grandfather’s casket. Being on a marae for me when I was little meant being together, it meant eating together, singing together, watching my Uncles kill and hang a sheep for the first time. It meant little punnets of butter and slices of fresh rewana bread, jugs of cordial, jolly drinks, trying to snag a space by the best lollies, sleeping or not sleeping through the symphony of collective snores. I know now that when you are little, Māoritanga is unconscious. You are surrounded by events, practices, people and things that signify your membership to a group, and without knowing it, you are being Māori. Apart of the kinship, history, narrative and culture.

I was born in Waikato, I spent my whole life growing up in Wellington City. The capital, we called it Wellyhood. Which makes me an urban Māori, even though I grew up away from my mothers or fathers papakainga, we frequented Pipitea marae, performing and hosting events. I knew that it was important to contribute through hard work, so I have always been a ringawera. This was being Māori to me, hospitality, good food made with love and good music. My Mother a single, career driven, domestic Goddess. The most attentive, loving person I have known. She grew up at the papakainga, she lived and breathed all things Ūkaipo but wanted a different life for me. I remember asking my Mother “Mum, why don’t you wear a moko kauae?”. She replied “I don’t have to wear my whakapapa on my skin to be Māori, I am Māori in the things I practice, the things we do, the things I know, who I am every day, that’s my moko”. Those words still stand for me and that conversation resounded across so many aspects of my life. My Mother taught me the depth and high esteem she held for our people and what it meant to be Māori.

Lessons from my Mother: Embodiment of ancient knowledge

She taught me to be Māori by working the land, digging, replenishing soil, extracting weeds, planting and growing kai, He kai kei aku ringa. This whakatauki was embodied by Mother through her entrepreneurship, her resourcefulness and the breadth and depth of her ancestral knowledge. She is the hardest working person I know, he mahi te atā, e kī ana te wheke – it is the octopus that says sitting is working. This whakatauki alludes to Mothers work ethic. She is terrible at rest, and always fills every minute of her day with productivity. She is unmatched in her hospitality for guests, He tangata takahi manuhiri, he marae puehu – a person who mistreats his guest has a dusty marae. She reflects this whakatauki through her generosity, her grace and strength in the way she takes care of our family. He taonga rongonui te aroha ki te tangata-goodwill towards others is a precious treasure. No matter what the situation, she strives to do the right thing with her own actions. She taught me that I could have anything in life if I worked hard, tama tu, tama ora, tama noho, tama mate. This whakatauki is shown through her lifestyle – A boy who stands lives, a boy who sits dies. It is reflected in her continuous pursuit of better things, of striving for a good life and she wakes up each day to reach those goals.

She taught me that being Māori meant always putting whānau first regardless of the circumstance, the way she has always cared for her mokopuna and I. Waiho i te toipoto, kaua i te toiroa-let us keep close together and not far apart. Possibly her fiercest most strongly kept value. That we should be together as a whānau and live our lives together, pursue goals together. She believes that we should work together as a family to enhance each other’s lives and exist as a whole. She taught me that being Māori was a way of life, that we had to practice the skills handed down by our ancestors and in turn continuing our cultural traditions. She told me that we own nothing, and we could assist in strengthening our people by sharing our knowledge.

She taught me that manaakitanga, awhinatanga, and aroha were epitomal aspects of our culture and that everything needs to carry these values to be honest and true. But beyond that, by taking care of each other and taking care of ourselves, we are protecting our heritage. In my Mother’s house there is no getting drunk, no doing drugs or substances and no smoking cigarettes – her rules that I broke when I was younger, but I appreciate now. This is how we protect our tinana and hinegaro, how we show our pride, it is how we keep our environment safe, clean and stable. I didn’t truly understand this until I had my own children and immediately knew what kind of life I wanted for them. Her teachings and values shaped how I want them to see me, our whānau and themselves. Being Māori, being Ngāti Porou, being a Keelan and a Waru, being a descendant of Papa Karauria Hatarei Keelan – means living my best life. Mum told me that wherever I went I was an extension of her. So, to me being Māori means when I am out in the world, I am her, I am us. Ko au ko koe, ko koe ko au. Because I carry all of those things she taught me, in my mind, in my heart and pumping through my veins, Tangata ako ana i te whare, te turanga ki te marae, tau ana - A person who is taught at home will stand collected on the Marae. This also means that a child who is given proper values at home and cherished within their family, they will be an asset within society and throughout their life (Blackett, 2013). Hence, my Mother taught in words but more so in actions. Her views on whānau gave me a foundation on which to build my life and the lives of my own children.

Akoranga and the arts

I went to a decile 10 primary school where I was the only Māori out of 300 students. I remember 4 other Māori children during the 6 years I spent at Kelburn Normal school (Wellington Central), knowing we were a rarity but not understanding quite yet how it would shape how I saw the world, and how the world would look back at me. Being the only Māori in almost every class, I was always asked to lead waiata. Waiata is an enormous part of my Māori identity. Music and being Māori always go hand in hand.

I was 9 years old when my Mother founded a performing arts, hip hop and RnB youth group called KO AU, under her recording label Waru Records. We toured Aotearoa for 7 years, performing up to 5 days a week and sometimes twice a day. 2 albums, 6 singles all performed in te reo Māori. This is how I learned our language. Through songs that my Mother had written and the hours upon hours of Whaikōrero when we were received at every kura kaupapa and kōhanga reo across Aotearoa. I missed a lot of school but managed to retain the best grades, I got to college and became kaitātaki wahine of our kapa haka roopu. My reo teacher was lazy, and often left in me in charge of the classes. I am far from fluent, but I wasn’t too bad for a city girl who never went to kōhanga herself. I would say I am competent, but te reo is a second language for me. I excelled in Māori, English, Music and Art. But I soon learned about politics, I went from braces, badges and blazers to disillusions, disrupted and disheartened and this drove me out of school in my final year. I chose Mana College; a decile 3 school and it was purely because I hungered for freedom and to be on stage amongst serious kapa haka performers. Majority of the students at Mana College were Māori or Pasifika and when I think back now I was searching for something I didn’t get in my last school. I loved Mana College, the Māori department treated me like a long lost whanaunga, the marae always had food and I was finally getting the kapa haka experience that I had craved. My social life took over, boys got in the way, I partied… a lot and ended up 1 credit off university entrance. For someone who had been teachers pet all her life, I was completely shattered. My Mother was worried sick about who I was turning into. Star pupil turned bad girl was not what she had envisioned for me and I look back now and feel guilty about this period in my life. She had invested so much in me and I had become a rebellious teenager.

Art school, ninjitsu, piano and flute lessons, swimming, kung fu, ballet, seido karate, maths tutoring, aikido, gymnastics, the best holiday programmes, I grew up privileged. An outstanding feat for a solo mother. When Ko Au was running, we were at practice every day, 6am, dancing, singing, polishing our set, eating porridge with cream, brown sugar and buttered toast with hot milo. The most members we had in the group at one time was 30! When we toured Mum, cooked for all of us, breakfast, lunch and tea. She booked our tour schedule and drove us up and down the country. We did music videos and even taught dance workshops. 7 years of performing and making music. During this time, I learnt how set up and pack down a full P.A (public-address) system, I spent 3 of those years learning how to digitally record and edit music. My passion is singing, my Mother indulged all my dreams. I had a large skill set at a very young age because of my Mother. She always insisted that I go to University.

E tipu, e rea, mō ngā rā o tō ao. Ko te ringa ki ngā rākau a te Pākeha, hei ara mō tō māhunga, ā, ko tō Atua, nāna nei ngā mea katoa.

Grow and branch for the days destined to you, your hands to the tools of the Pākeha for the welfare of your body, your heart to the treasures of your ancestors as adornments for your brow, your spirit to God, who made all things.

–Academic and Ngāti Porou leader, Ta Apirana Ngata, 1966.

In my first year at Victoria University, I had also enrolled into rāranga at Te Wānanga o Aotearoa (Porirua) with Mum. I was on a journey of ancestral knowledge while at the same time discovering myself. I had also received a job at Te Kōhanga reo o Ngaio (ki Poneke) as Kaiawhina, which I loved so much that it could have been my calling. During this time my best friend died of asthma, my boyfriend at the time and I broke up, I was over worked, over stressed, grieving and using substances to cope with everything – I broke under the pressure.

Diagnosis: Bipolar effective disorder

My first psychotic episode was sparked, lit and fanned to a roaring fire. It was the single worst experience of my life. I thought I was alone in the world and I was so far inside myself, my mind, that nobody could reach me. It was terrifying. I was placed in a psychiatric ward where I refused to eat and my condition grew progressively worse. I hated that nobody understood me, I hated the system, I hated that my cultural needs were not being met (were they not?). My mother stayed by my side, every day. I walked out of there at 54 kgs, the thinnest I had ever been. Barely recognizable to anyone who knew me let alone myself. There were rumours among my friends and community and I had to leave my job and university. I was put on medication and made to stay home. The medication was so heavy, that I could barely have a conversation, they call it the zombie mode. I was like that for 2 years, trapped, inside myself… but I could weave. This is when I created my first hieke (rain cape) “Te Pango o te po” (The darkness of the night).

Figure 1. "Te Pango o te Po" -The darkness of the night.

My first hieke. Dyed corn husk, harakeke and jute. 2010

Unknowingly, I had captured the wairua that surrounded me at that time. I had found an avenue to express my innermost feelings. I was capable of creating something physical, formed from what I was experiencing within, something loud yet unspoken, something seen yet subtle, something spiritual yet acceptable. Something that kept me occupied, challenged and it gave me a goal to work towards when everything else had been taken away.

Te wānanga o Aotearoa was a place of refuge. Porirua campus provided a whānau environment, there was manaaki, there was aroha, there was tikanga, there was peace, there was waiata, there was kai. Most of all, my tutors provided themselves every day to me, sometimes coming to my whare to weave with me on the weekends. During this time, I learnt how to do rāranga and what I really experienced was the beauty of being Māori. The way that we take care of each other and the power of our rituals, practices, and the way we use art to help us to heal. I had a care worker who was Māori from a smaller social service, and she solidified my understanding of manaaki and awhina. The support and love I received during this time from my Māori community became a fundamental aspect of the interconnectedness that I have come to cherish.

Rāranga helped me to heal

In my third year I created a contemporary korowai from mop string and dyed emu feathers – which I named “Te uenuku harikoa”. Yet again, without knowing, I had symbolised the colour returning to my life. It took me an entire year to complete, capturing my hardest journey and its victory. That victory was hopeful, that victory had promise, that victory was my heritage coming from behind me and pushing me forward to new adventures, new people, new places and new experiences.

Te Uenuku harikoa, is the joyous and thankful rainbow. I have written many songs, poems, raps, and made paintings, sketches, jewellery, print making, pottery, sewing and dance…. but out of everything that I have ever created thus far “Te Uenuku harikoa” is by far the most complex, time consuming piece I have created. It was a labour of love and respect. I was not always a weaver, but weaving told me so much about myself and became the fabric of my knowing, revealing my place in te ao Māori.

I eventually returned to my studies at Waikato University in 2014. The people of Tainui amaze me with the way they have used their resources to invest in the future of the Iwi. Both in the form of Māori holistic wealth and modern capitalism. I went back to Anthropology which came very naturally to me. Growing up in a multicultural society as an indigenous person was a weapon in my studies that I was ready to wield. Because of my experience in the system as a mental health patient, I wanted to study psychology too (my father also did his undergraduate studies in psychology, so it was almost fate).

I had noble reasons for studying psychology, I wanted more Māori cultural appropriation in our healthcare. I had selfish reasons too, I had been emotionally scarred, spiritually disrupted and horrified with some of the conduct that faced me during my most vulnerable time. Psychology was my way of reclaiming my power, my dignity. I meet with my doctors now and no longer struggle with my position. I can meet at their eye level, I can use their terminology and I understand the processes and reasons why such dynamics, mechanisms, medications and therapies are necessary.

Mental health is a journey, we all take it. Everybody at some time in their life, experiences stresses that impact their quality of life. It is a constant balancing act, where some of us have been given weightier objects to juggle than others. I was forced to get it right when my Son came. Being a Mother means I can not drop the ball. My children depend on me for stability because I am their foundation. I have learned so much in my life, from my Mother, from my culture, education, mistakes and from my privileges. Art is the tool I use to feel all my most extreme passions in the safest way possible. Culture is the vehicle that guides and facilitates practices. My Māoritanga is my backbone, it gives me insurmountable strength to lean on my whānau.

Model of Understanding: Te rourou aroha

Nau te rourou, naku te rourou, ka ora ai the iwi. With your food basket and my food basket we will all be well. By using the resources of the past, the future and of our community – we can all benefit. I chose to use this whakatauki because it applies perfectly to my kaupapa. A kaupapa of wellbeing. I use aroha in the title, because it is my belief that when things are done with love – it is tika (righteous) and pono (true). When we talk about aroha, we ensure other aspects of kaupapa Māori interaction are taking place as well. Aroha is inclusive of manaaki (support), awhina (embrace), tautoko (respect). When I culminate all of what I have to offer, it can also be explained in the form of my Māori model of understanding:

Tuatea: (the basket of ancestral knowledge. (Moorfield, 2003).

Manaaki: support, guidance, friendship, whanaungatanga, experience, networking.

The way that I show support, kindness, care is something that I have learned from my Mother and been taught from our culture. To me, Manaaki and the many ways it can be shown, is Māoritanga in its truest form.

Aronui: (the basket of aroha and the arts. (Moorfield,2003)

Art. A creative outlet. A form of expression that is safe, without judgement.

I am an artist, art is my true passion. I appreciate and dabble in every medium that I have access to. Music and raranga are my specialties.

Hauora: (health and wellbeing)

Emphasis on health, well-being, encouragement to take care of ones self because when we look after ourselves, we look after each other and when we look after each other, we look after ourselves.

We all need encouragement to take care of ourselves. It is enjoyable to have others who have similar goals and will benefit from reciprocal support.

Mātauranga:

Education. I am able to provide the tools that a person needs to understand the importance of mental health.

Anthropology has given me the tools to understand people, no matter how different they may be from myself. Psychology has given me knowledge, power and confidence that I am able to share with others.