Matariki and me: Laura O'Connell Rapira on the national celebration she's campaigning to make a public holiday

Friday, 17 July 2020

Laura O'Connell Rapira started a petition to make Matariki a public holiday. Today, as Stuff launches its campaign with the same goal, O’Connell Rapira reflects on her first-ever celebration of the event as a whānau this year.

On a crisp winter morning at Lake Mangamahoe, my whānau gathered under the gaze of our ancestor Taranaki Maunga to send our hopes for the new year to Hiwa-i-te-Rangi.

Hiwa-i-te-Rangi is a star in the Matariki constellation and is connected to prosperity and helping us to carry our aspirations to fruition.

“Deeper connection to our Māori culture and language.”

“Reconnection with my son.”

“To slow down and be present.”

“For my wife to get better.”

Looking to the skies, we sent our dreams to the stars and asked our ancestors for support. We finished with a breathing exercise, waiata, karakia and laughs. For it wouldn’t be a Māori gathering without some lightness and humour too.

My cousin later described her experience of this moment as being able to feel our ancestors crowd around us. She heard them applaud our efforts to mend our connection with this ancient and celestial practice. A connection that colonisation has tried to break, but failed.

The sun came up and we posed for photos to share in the whānau Facebook group. We jumped in our modern-day waka and drove home to break bread, hungry from the mahi we’d done.

Like many Māori, our whānau have been disconnected from our language and culture. With that disconnection comes whakamā, or shame. Shame that we don’t know how to speak our mother tongue despite feeling te reo in our bones.

I could feel some of that whakamā lift off our shoulders and spirits that morning.

The night before, my whānau had gathered at my Pāpā’s house to reflect on the year that has been. As plates of kai were passed around, we each took a turn to share a highlight and life lesson from the year.

“Forgiving my father.”

“Giving myself permission to have fun and be free.”

“Asking for help and admitting I’m vulnerable.”

Young and old. Tāne and wāhine. Tangata tiriti (people here by virtue of the Treaty) and tangata whenua (people of the land), each of us shared generously with open hearts and minds.

In te ao Māori, the word for “teach” and “learn” are the same: “ako”. As we went around the table and each person shared, I felt the wisdom in this come to life. Everyone is a student and everyone is a teacher. We all have lessons to share.

After dinner, we went outside and stood in a circle beneath a cloak of clouds. We took turns to say the names of the people who had passed in the last year to Pōhutukawa, the star in the Matariki cluster that connects us with the dead.

“George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.”

“My childhood dog.”

“My friend who died by suicide.”

Māori have many different views about what happens after death. One is that among the stars is Te Waka-o-Rangi, a canoe with Matariki at the front and Tautoru (Orion’s belt) at the back, captained by a star called Taramainuku.

Every night, Taramainuku casts his net down to Earth to gather the dead and carry them in his waka. When the Matariki constellation rises again the following year, Taramainuku guides our loved ones into the sky to become stars.

As this was our first ever Puanga as a whānau, we made a point to say the names of not just those who passed last year, but to anyone who has passed that wanted to be acknowledged.

Puanga is what we recognise in Taranaki instead of Matariki. All iwi celebrate the Māori new year in June or July, but some struggle to see Matariki clearly from where they are and so look to and recognise the star Puanga instead.

As we stood under the stars, some of us cried as we remembered our loved ones together. When we returned to the whare, we lifted the tapu with a splash of water over our heads.

Water is the greatest cleanser there is.

Finally, we lifted the grief with waiata. We sang songs in reo Maori and reo Pākehā with lyrics lined up on YouTube so that everyone could participate. There is something cathartic about joining our voices as one, even if, like me, you aren’t blessed as a singer.

“I’m so grateful for this experience, I feel so full of love, so connected, grounded, accepted, excited, and inspired. Thank u.”

That was the message another cousin sent to the whānau group chat after our Puanga celebration.

By recognising Matariki and Puanga as a public holiday, I believe we can help every whānau, from every background, to feel the same.