What is this thing, kotahitanga? Growing up under the Kīngitanga umbrella

Friday, 30 August 2024

As a Māori person from the Far North growing up in Waikato, Joel Maxwell recalls the embrace of the Kīngitanga and the legacy of Kīngi Tūheitia.

My thoughts go out to my friends back in Waikato who woke up to the news that Kīngi Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII - the Māori King, their king - has died.

They are part of a multitude, from around the world, who learned of his passing.

These moments touch all kinds of people - people who see him as a symbol of tradition, people who see him as a leader, people who see him as an embodiment of a kaupapa; the wider community who understand this was a person at the centre of a moment in history; and people who know him as a person at the centre of a whānau, a friend, someone they love.

Everybody lost something different, someone different.

I’m of Te Rarawa, an iwi from the Far North, Te Hiku o te Ika, so you could say being raised in Waikato made me a guest of the Kīngitanga through its hapū and whānau, on their whenua, and it was a life that brought only prosperity.

The Kīngitanga is, of course, its people and they have only ever helped me.

It was there, I made childhood school visits to Tūrangawaewae Marae, marvelling at the beauty of the tukutuku, the carvings, the whare, listening to the kōrero about the place and its history being generously shared to a bunch of kids from a country school.

It was there I made friends and connections amongst the hapū in Cambridge back in the 80s and 90s. The best time and place to be growing up.

Back then, King Tūheitia’s mother, Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu, was beloved across Aotearoa for her work uniting not just Māori but Māori and Pākehā, all tauiwi.

So much has happened since I sat under the blasting midsummer heat one time on Maungatautari Marae as part of the large group going on to the pōwhiri with the Queen.

It was an honour to be part of the ope (to be honest it was just luck - I’d turned up at the same time as them), but basking in the honour made me slow-witted. The smart people had immediately scattered to the shaded areas against walls, under trees and I was left sitting nearly alone baking under the sun.

This was the Queen’s pōhiri so there were a lot of speakers on the paepae. As hours passed, I cursed my slowness - I think I tried to shelter under a shrub that cast a finger-width of shade across my knees as I sat down on the grass and listened to the whaikōrero, even though I didn’t understand them. Nevertheless, I bloody loved it.

The Lady, as she is known, died in 2006 after 40 years as Queen. King Tūheitia ascended and I have still found myself benefiting from the generosity of the hapū, iwi from that rohe.

It was through Te Wānanga o Raukawa that I learned the language that I’d heard for decades but never understood. Ngāti Raukawa ki te Tonga, who were part of establishing the wānanga in Ōtaki, of course came from Waikato in the late 19th century.

So It was my good fortune, whether I realised it or not, to grow up and then continue to grow as a person under the umbrella of the Kīngitanga.

The Kingitanga started in 1858 with the first king, Pōtatau Te Wherowhero, aiming to unify Māori - bring kotahitanga - across the country in a time when land and power were at stake.

Almost two centuries later, they’re still at stake, and it was this ongoing struggle in 2024 that might have been the defining moment in Tūheitia’s reign.

This year he was instrumental in bringing together Māori and tauiwi from across the country in hui, thought, and action, and it makes me sad for my friends and myself that he won’t be here for the next big gathering.

I never felt like an outsider in the Kīngitanga, even though I was, in truth, a manuhiri, and that perhaps is the greatest sign of kotahitanga.

He aha tēnei mea, te kotahitanga? He maha ngā tikanga ōna, pea.

He karanga ki ngā iwi katoa o te whenua kia mahi ngātahi i mua i ngā āhuatanga o te wā e werohia nei te tangata Māori.

He momo aroha pea, ki ngā whakatipuranga hou e heke iho nei.

Ā, he tautoko pea i a ngāi tātou hoki, kia whakatutuki ai ngā wawata i whakatakotoria e ngā tūpuna.

Heoi anō, ahakoa ngā tini āhuatanga o tērā kupu, kāore e kore i whakatinanatia e Kīngi Tūheitia tōnā tino ngākau, ōna tino whainga. Nā reira, ka tangi te ngākau mō tana wehenga.

What is this thing, kotahitanga? Perhaps it has many meanings. It’s a call to our iwi to work together before the many challenges to Māori at this time. It’s a kind of love, perhaps, for the generations to come. It’s support for us too, maybe, to achieve the wishes of our ancestors. However, regardless of the many aspects of that word, there’s no doubt that Kīngi Tūheitia embodied its true heart, and its true goals. And so my heart cries for his loss.