Why I'm reclaiming an indigenous name
For many, this act of reclamation is about more than just correcting documents. It's a powerful way to honour whakapapa.
Re: News spoke to Tiaki Kerei (Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāpuhi, Te Rarawa) and Te Rina Triponel Ruka (Ngāpuhi, Te Atiawa, Te Aitanga-a-Hauiti) about what it means to reclaim a name — and the healing and homecoming that can come with it.
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Ruka
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Te Rina Triponel Ruka has made the decision to reclaim 'Ruka,' the whānau name from her grandmother's side, a choice that carries deep personal and intergenerational significance.
'My grandparents are part of the urban migration, you know, sold the idea of leaving their rural areas, their whenua, to move to the big city essentially, to put a roof over our heads and make money.'
Like many Māori families who relocated during the urban drift of the 1950s-1980s, the pursuit of economic stability came at a cost - the severing of ties to whenua, reo, and tikanga.
'And with that came disconnection.'
For Te Rina, taking back her whānau name is a form of reconnection - not only to her grandmother, but to the broader lines of whakapapa that shaped her.
She says reclaiming the whānau name was a way to honour her tupuna and grandmother.
'When we think about reclaiming indigenous names, it's about having that sense of belonging.'
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The many paths of reclamation
Ella Henry (Source: Re: News)
Professor Ella Henry, director of Māori advancement at AUT's business school, says reclaiming an ingoa is part of a larger, layered journey of identity - one that looks different for every individual.
'Being Māori is a journey, it's a journey of reo, whakapapa and sometimes a physical journey home to a marae you weren't born around.'
She acknowledges that the path back to one's ingoa is not always straightforward, nor does it need to be.
'I think there are as many diverse ways of reclaiming our ingoa as there are choosing whether or not to have a moko kauae.'
There's no single 'right' way to reconnect, she says.
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'Some people go home and they do it at home and they consult their kaumatua and kuia and some people don't, and that's all fine.'
Tiaki Kerei
Tiaki Kerei (Source: Re: News)
Tiaki Kerei was born Jackie Grey, named after his late father. But his journey toward his Māori identity led him to embrace his father's Māori name, not just in tribute, but as a way to strengthen and revive his own sense of self.
'Part of a journey in life is to get truer to the essence of who you are.'
In taking on the name Tiaki Kerei, he says he found not just a name, but a form of healing.
'It just occurred to me that my father's ingoa in te reo Tiaki Kerei would be an important step to revitalise myself.
'It helped me get through some rough times, it helped me deal with some mamae (hurt) that was intergenerational and... it's almost like I feel a korowai (cloak) around my shoulders.'
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NZ Herald
16 hours ago
- NZ Herald
New Zealand Wars: Unmarked grave of NZ Cross winner Captain Angus Smith in Ōpōtiki prompts call for memorial
What we do know is that Captain Smith won one of just 23 New Zealand Crosses awarded between 1856 and 1899, at which time New Zealand's top military medal was replaced by the Victoria Cross. These medals went to Māori and Pākehā who served in the New Zealand colonial forces during the New Zealand Wars, making the award one of the rarest military honours in the world. Captain Smith's medal is on display in the National Museum of Scotland. Nicol has lobbied for many years to have the names of war heroes from the East Coast etched on to war memorials and gravestones, his efforts gaining recognition for servicemen from World Wars I and II, Vietnam and Malaysia. 'To me, it is unacceptable that Smith, the first from this area to win the country's highest major military award at the time, does not have a marker on his grave,' he said. 'We have produced more war heroes from this part of the North Island than any other place in New Zealand – including Victoria Cross, George Cross and Distinguished Service Decoration winners. 'We should look after every one of them.' A Taranaki Herald description of Angus Smith said he was 'the beau ideal of an old cavalry officer, and personally was a fine-looking man'. Captain Smith's claim to fame is for his part in a bloody clash with Te Kooti's men when he was a young cavalry officer serving as a 'Cornet', the most junior officer rank of the day. He was in command of a unit ambushed on June 7, 1869, at a deserted Māori settlement at Ōpepe, on the shores of Lake Taupō. Colonel St John had set out with an escort of 14 men to select locations for the construction of redoubts and depots. After reaching Ōpepe, the abandoned kāinga of the chief Tahau overlooking Lake Taupō, the colonel decided it was a good location for a fort. St John left his men there and moved on without instructing the men to mount a guard. He said: 'You're as safe here as in the centre of London, safe as a church.' Not expecting any trouble, they piled their rifles and occupied three whare. The men shot some pigeons, killed some wandering sheep and washed their clothes. In the afternoon, they rested with their saddles and equipment stowed in a separate hut. Rain was falling, but one soldier, George Creswell, set off to look for a stray horse and returned later wet through. He took all his clothes off to dry them. Little did they know that an advance guard of Te Kooti's warriors, led by Te Rangi Tahau, was close by as they moved from Poverty Bay to the King Country. The Find a Grave Website says Captain Angus Smith lies in front of these two graves in Ōpōtiki Cemetery. Some say this group had been summoned by a spy among the colonials who had earlier lit mysterious signal fires. In any case, the 14 cavalrymen were suddenly surprised. Three Māori entered the camp armed with rifles. Not one of the troopers was armed, and when they tried to flee, the Māori opened fire. Creswell later said: 'There were a great many shots. I only had time for a hasty glance about me when I realised we were trapped. The place was full of Māori.' Stark naked, he made a run for it, managing to escape along with his comrade George Stevenson. Thinking they were the only two survivors, they made the 55km trek to Fort Galatea. Major John Roberts. The raiders killed nine members of the attachment outright, shooting down several who made a run for the bush. The marauding Māori collected 14 carbines, 14 revolvers, 14 swords, 14 saddles, 13 horses and 280 rounds of ammunition. This kit helped Te Kooti equip his 200 cavalrymen as they made their way to the King Country. A report in the Taranaki Herald said Captain Smith searched for the tracks of Colonel St John, but the rebels caught him on the road. The rebels stripped off his clothes and medals. They tied him to a tree and abandoned him to a slow death from thirst and starvation. Captain Smith remained there four days before managing to release himself, then headed north-south-west towards Fort Galatea. One report says he crawled to a stream and managed to drink on the seventh day, arriving at the fort with frostbite 10 days after the ambush. Did Smith deserve his medal? An account of the incident in the Taranaki Herald describes how the New Zealand Cross was bestowed on Angus Smith for bravery and endurance. Following his remarkable escape, the soldier was also promoted to Captain. The Imperial Government reissued the Crimean and Turkish medals Te Kooti's men stole from him. However, recriminations were swift. While the writer of the Taranaki Herald account gushed that Captain Smith was 'the beau ideal of an old cavalry officer, and personally was a fine-looking man', Captain Smith's fellow NZ Cross recipients saw things differently. The panel that opposed Captain Smith getting the NZ Cross included three who could perhaps be described as 'Land Wars heavyweights'. Major John Roberts, Captain Gilbert Mair and Captain George Preece were awarded their New Zealand Cross medals for bravery in combat. Interestingly, Captains Preece and Mair had considerable expertise in Māori language and culture. Both formed close relationships with Te Arawa, whose warriors they led in many skirmishes with Te Kooti's men. Major Roberts was active in the Taranaki wars under Gustavus von Tempsky, ahead of moving to Poverty Bay to confront Te Kooti, though he eventually handed pursuit of the rebel chief over to Mair and Preece. Captain George Preece. All three made it clear that, in their view, handing a NZ Cross to Captain Smith was a gross misuse of an honour reserved for valour, pointing out that he would normally expect to be court-martialled for dereliction of duty in failing to post sentries. As well as the loss of life in the colonial personnel at Ōpepe, Te Kooti's reward from the massacre was the trove of arms and ammunition he captured there. These were later used during his rampage across the North Island. Historians have argued over this, concluding that while Captain Smith did deserve to be censured, the bulk of the culpability had to lie with Colonel St John, who had known Te Kooti intended to march to Taupō. Though Captain Smith's medal was primarily for endurance rather than valour, none of his critics accused him of being a coward. Ahead of the fateful incident at Ōpepe, Captain Smith, who died in 1902, saw combat at Maukau, Te Ranga and Waireka. Before coming to New Zealand, he had served with the 93rd (Sutherland Highlanders) Regiment in the Crimean War. These soldiers were legendary. At the Battle of Balaclava in 1854, they formed the famous 'Thin Red Line', repelling a Russian cavalry charge with a formation of soldiers just two-deep, instead of the required four-deep formation. Captain Gilbert Mair. Colonel St John's career seemed to have survived his terrible advice to the soldiers at Ōpepe, because he turns up in a later newspaper report being praised by the writer for his fairness in overseeing balloting of land to soldiers after the wars. Years later in Ōpōtiki, George Creswell was talking to Māori who said: 'We could have got you that day George, when you were looking for your horse, but we didn't want to alarm your camp.'
Newsroom
a day ago
- Newsroom
Book of the Week: When white liberalism gets fed up with the oppressed
Racism is a topic we talk about a lot in our house. Covid brought two extra mouths to our dinner table. Holly, whose whakapapa includes Ngāti Raukawa ki te Tonga, then 19, joined us because science has yet to find a way to keep two 19 year olds in love apart, no matter how serious the pandemic. And Tanaka, then 12, joined because of my friendship with her mother. Tanaka was born here and has a Zimbabwean mother and a New Zealand father. As she says of her experiences as a Black girl in Aotearoa, 'The circle of people who connect with my personal cultural experience is very small, yet very kind and always welcoming. But being a Black person in Aotearoa is tough. Living as a Black person, I've been set apart from other children my age, marked as different.' Our family was fortunate to be able to welcome these lovely rangitahi, who brought with them stories and histories quite different from our own – stories and histories defined by the experience of racism in Aotearoa New Zealand. Tanaka explains, 'Every school, shop and community I walked into has treated me as a Black person. Stares and sly comments from older and whiter strangers asking about my roots, teachers questioning my academic abilities. That has been my experience of Aotearoa.' As an American from Tennessee, welcoming a Black New Zealander and a Māori teen into my home was a delight and chance to grow our whānau and deepen our connections with others here in our chosen home. But it also meant we needed to expand our vocabulary and our understanding of what life here was like for the young people who joined our family. And being young people, they too needed to learn the words to talk about their experiences and how those experiences are shaped by larger structures, history, and forces that were operating long before they were even born. In Tanaka's words, 'Feeling alone in my culture is something I struggled with from a very young age. I didn't know how to learn about what I was experiencing. I knew it affected others, but didn't know much more than that. I did know being Black was dangerous. For a long time I thought the fear I felt walking down the street was in my head. But I saw other Black, Pacifica and Māori girls having the same experiences. It wasn't until later that I came to understand that we were experiencing something systemic. It was racism. And it left me feeling excluded and angry.' Racism hurts and it kills. An animating force for so much of our politics, racism and love of money combine to immiserate far too many here in Aotearoa and around the world, even as we still struggle to find words and stories to talk about it. A new collection of essays, Oceans Between Us: Pacific Peoples and Racism in Aotearoa offers a dissection of racism and is just the kind of book whānau like mine need. Its editor, Serena Naepi, writes, 'Racism. There, we said it. You can let your shoulders drop now that you know we will say the word and not sidestep it to protect people's comfort. Or, you can raise your shoulders in preparation for tension as you realise that this book will not talk about unconscious bias or other terms that enable us to excuse ourselves from our own complicity in, inaction on, or upholding of racist structures.' Thirteen Pacific scholars weave together a truth about how structural racial oppression organises our society and how we can do the work of remaking it. The book combines hard facts with glimpses of the human toll behind those facts, and allows an understanding of how racism defines the experiences of Pacific Islanders in Aotearoa. There are essays on history, economics, climate, health and other issues. Writing on migration policy, Evalesi Tu'inukuafe details the unfairness of the Recognised Seasonal Employer scheme, which appears designed, intentionally or not, to entrap Pacific Islanders in exploitative labour relationships. Generously sharing his own family history of migration and solidarity during the era of the Dawn Raids, Tu'inukuafe uses storytelling to elaborate on what might otherwise feel dry and abstract. He tells us of his own whānau, 'My uncle Karl and aunty Naima helped many students, family members, and friends during the Dawn Raids, risking not only their own their safety, but also the safety of their three children so that others could have a chance to start a new life in New Zealand.' Barbara-Luhia Graham focuses on Section 127 of the Sentencing Act 2002. With searing clarity, she details the life of 'Fetu', a fictional stand-in, bringing readers into the life of a young Pacifica man entangled in the criminal justice system. 'Fetu's story of suffering,' she writes, 'starts before he was born, with the colonial powers' expansion in the Pacific Islands from the late 1700s'. From here we follow Fetu and his whānau as they struggle against systems that put barriers and challenges in front of them at every turn. Intertwined with explanations about how Pacific Islanders fare under New Zealand's immigration and criminal justice systems, she leaves it to readers to choose a future for Fetu, a literary choice that invites readers to think carefully and offers brilliant opportunities for classroom use in both secondary and tertiary settings. In his essay on health, Caleb Marsters makes a compelling case for a full transformation in our health systems and asks where the responsibility for that change should lie. He writes, 'I fear that the drain of structural racism becomes twofold for Pacific communities, in that the same communities impacted by these structural disparities will also bear the brunt of attempting to solve these issues … What we have to do, if we are to get real about addressing structural racism, is to ensure that resources and opportunities, or the social determinants of health, are shared in an equitable way so that Pacific and other marginalised communities are able to live in a country that values their cultures, worldviews, and ways of knowing and being just as much as European Pākekā cultures, worldviews, and ways of knowing and being.' At a time when privatisation and service cuts are dominating our political imaginations, Marsters offers a refreshing alternative vision. Chelsea Naepi brings in the voice of youth and a focus on the future in the concluding chapter. She calls out the current Government for their dismantling of policies that served to move us closer to a world less based in racism, policies that benefited everyone including Smokefree Aotearoa and Fair Pay Agreements. Naepi writes with the full power and urgency of youth, crafting a vision of an Aotearoa where the values of 'love, empathy (mafana or aroha), relationality (fakatauiaga or whakawhanaungatanga), and reciprocity (fakatautonu or utu),' are used as 'tools' to realise a positive vision for Aotearoa's future. At the same time she calls out white liberalism: 'The removal of these policies confirms that movements of anti-racism and equality can quickly come to a halt once White liberalism becomes fed up with the demands of the oppressed.' There is always a risk with a book like this that those not from Pacific communities will overlook it and consider it not for them. But this book is for all of us in Aotearoa. I discussed it with Tanaka and she said, 'I know this book can change people. Going into reading this with an open mind and an open heart can help to bring about a transformation in our understanding of racism in Aotearoa. I found solace and support in the stories shared. Books like this are a vital part of the journey towards an Aotearoa where all people are welcomed.' The political winds of the moment are blowing us backwards in frightening ways. To right our collective ship, we need the voices and wisdom of the contributors to this book – and we need scholars like these to help us all to find the courage to talk about racism and to help our rangitahi learn the words and the facts they need to name the old evil. The fight is all of ours and, as this book reminds us, the moment to redouble our efforts is now. Oceans Between Us: Pacific Peoples and Racism in Aotearoa edited by Sereana Naepi (Auckland University Press, $39.99) is available in bookstores nationwide.
Otago Daily Times
a day ago
- Otago Daily Times
Panels reflect ORC building's new name
A feature panel is now secured to the side of the Otago Regional Council's new premises, reflecting the building's new name — Aonui. PHOTOS: GERARD O'BRIEN Two feature panels being installed on the side of the Otago Regional Council building this week hold clues to the name of the new premises. The Maclaggan St building, owned by Port Otago and leased by the ORC, is to be called Aonui — a prestigious name that encapsulates Kāi Tahu identity throughout time. Te Rūnanga o Ōtākou ūpoko Edward Ellison said the name had "great mana and significance" in both te ao Māori and in Kāi Tahu tradition, and had the endorsement of mana whenua from across the region. "Given ORC's important role in achieving the sustainable use and management of our environment, and their commitment to partnering with mana whenua, we are delighted to share such a prestigious name for their building." Mr Ellison said Aonui related to the pursuit of knowledge in the natural world, and it was the son of Rehua in the celestial world — also known as Antares in Western astronomy. The waka Āraiteuru, which is synonymous with the Otago coast, had a crew member named Aonui, who sought fresh water and found it at Mata au (Clutha River), and is remembered by the tall basaltic pillar named Aonui (Cooks Head) just north of the Tokomairaro River on the Āraiteuru coastline. The name and panel designs were provided by mana whenua cultural experts Dr Megan Pōtiki, Paulette Tamati-Elliffe and Mr Ellison. The pūhoro patterns on the panels were created by Kāi Tahu artist Ephraim Russell, under the guidance of Aukaha's Mana Ahurea design team, and depict the rivers and streams that run through Dunedin — in particular, the awa Toitū that flows down MacLaggan St. Kāi Tahu shares a deep, cultural connection to fresh water, recognising its vital role in traditions, practices and its symbiotic relationship with the land. Fresh water holds importance as a taoka (precious resource), influencing traditional practices of mahika kai, and fostering a sense of respect, reciprocity and kaitiakitaka (stewardship). The location of the build is significant to mana whenua, with the Toitū awa (stream) next to the site of the building, as well as the location of the old Māori hostel nearby. Otago Regional Council chairwoman Gretchen Robertson said Aonui reflected the council's dedication to mana whenua and to the environment. "We are delighted that mana whenua have endorsed this prestigious name that is solidified in the Otago landscape and pulls together all aspects of the environment, from freshwater to salt water and to air. "It really highlights the importance council places on our relationship with mana whenua and our joint environmental priorities and aspirations." Other councillors' opinions were mixed. Cr Gary Kelliher denounced the whole $54.5million building as a "burden" on ratepayers. "This building continues to be a huge blight on the ratepayers and a huge cost to everyone except iwi, who get paid for their involvement and now get a mythical name that doesn't really resonate with the wider Otago community." Cr Tim Mepham described Cr Kelliher's comment as "a redneck rant". "Accepting the name Aonui, given by Ngai Tahu for the new building, reflects not only the maturing of relationship between Ngai Tahu and the council, but a growing acceptance within New Zealand that Maori and Pakeha are working together to create a positive future that will distinguish this country from the rest of the Western world." Cr Kelliher also criticised the decision to use synthetic carpet in the building instead of more environmentally friendly wool carpet, which he said was "one of the biggest kicks in the guts" for Otago farmers. "This building will burden Otago for generations, and is a prime example of why major changes are needed in regional government." Cr Michael Laws described the new headquarters as an official "up yours" to every ratepayer in the region. "It's a building in search of an empire." Cr Alexa Forbes and Cr Mepham said those who were concerned about the rates should have a close look at the funding mechanisms for the building — the sale of existing property, an existing building fund and what would normally be paid in rent. "The actual impact on ratepayers is minor," Cr Forbes said. Cr Kate Wilson, Cr Alan Somerville and Cr Forbes said they were all happy with the new name.
