Hīkoi

Blazing sunlight strikes the glassy waters of Piopiotahi and ricochets toward Te Raho-o-Tū (Mitre Peak). The snow-capped mountain rises like a giant caught frozen in waist-deep water.

A boat arrives seeking purchase at the wharf while above small aircraft buzz tourists in and out of this Tahiti of the south. Namunamu (sandflies) gossip as they wait for a bus pulling into the large carpark at Piopiotahi (Milford Sound).

Disembarking is Awarua Rūnanga ūpoko Tā Tipene O’Regan. He leads a joyful clutch of Awarua whānau, who are on a hīkoi – part of a cultural wānanga series to reconnect the rūnanga with areas of cultural significance. Also onboard are hīkoi sponsors Ngāi Tahu Cultural Fund, Meridian Energy and Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu senior environmental advisor Takerei Norton, who works on a cultural heritage mapping project.

Lunch is a picnic with a Bluff twist – a pile of plastic cups sit next to a bucket filled with fat, juicy oysters on a wooden table.

The creation story of Te Waka o Aoraki (the South Island) and Piopiotahi is Tā Tipene’s topic today. His mix of memory and irreverence keeps the crowd alert and entertained.

He chants a tauparapara from the late Matiaha Tiramorehu:

Na Te Ao
Tana Ko Te Ao Tūroa
Tana ko Te Ao Mārama
Na Te Pō
Tana ko te Pō kerekere
Tana ko te Pō uriuri
Tana ko Te Pō taumaua
Tana ko Māku
Ka moe ia Te Mahoranui Atea
Ko Te Raki
Ka moe ia Poharua-o-te pō
Ko Aoraki me Rakamaomao
Tano ko Tawhiri-a-matea
Ko Tū Te Rakiwhanoa
Uira, ki Te Mahaanui
Ki a Maui
Ko Te Ao takata
Tihei Mauriora!

First there is nothing, Tā Tipene elaborates, then darkness and out of this comes Māku (moisture) and Te Mahoranui Atea (the far distant horizon). From their union comes Raki (sky father), who marries Pohara Te Pō. Their first-born child is Aoraki. Later Aoraki becomes distressed by his father’s second marriage to Papatūānuku.

“It’s the old problem: which family is going to get the farm? Those from the first marriage or the ones from the second marriage?” explains Tā Tipene.

So Aoraki prepares his waka and voyages with his whānau and followers across space to the ocean. After a time he misses home and recites a karakia to lift his waka out of the sea and into the heavens.

“But he misses a line in his karaka and kei te whati – he breaks the karakia – and as a consequence his waka is wrecked on an undersea reef. And you know it’s true because you’ve only got to look at our island lying on its side.”

Tā Tipene describes how Te Tau Ihu (Queen Charlotte Sounds) is the broken parts of the carved bow and the stern post of the waka. Motupohue, where Te Rakitauneke is buried, stands above the Te Rau Aroha Marae at Awarua.

“The low side is lying in the water with all the wreckage exposed to the south easterly gales. It’s a right mess,” says Tā Tipene with a slight grin.

Aoraki and his brothers clamber onto the high side of the waka and sit there for so long they turn into stone.

Tū Te Rakiwhanoa, a young relative who is part atua (god), searches for his tipuna and finds the wrecked waka.

Saddened at the sight of Aoraki and the wreckage, Tū Te Rakiwhanoa decides he has to clean up the wreckage, shape the land and make it fit for people.

So he invents breakwaters and peninsulas, the first one being Horomaka (Banks Penninsula). He then rakes all the rubbish off the low side off the Kā Pākihi Whakatekateka o Waitaha (Canterbury Plains) and piles it up out on the coast.

Tū Te Rakiwhanoa enlists atua assistants to place fish around the coast. He stamps his foot and makes Te Waihora (Lake Ellesmere), Whakaraupō (Lyttelton), Koukourarata (Port Levy), and Akaroa. Atua Marokura deposits fish in all these places while Kahukura dresses the land with plants, trees and ferns.

Marokura tries his hand at making a peninsula at Kaikōura, which is also known as Te Tai o Marokura or Te Koha o Marokura.

He and Kahukura travel south and create peninsulas at Moeraki, Huriawa, Muaupoko (at Ōtākou) and finally Tautuku.

They then raise the land with karakia and dry it out on the back of the canoe.

If it hadn’t been for the atua, Tā Tipene tells Awarua Rūnanga, our marae would have been on an island.

While Marokura and Kahukura are working, Tū Te Rakiwhanoa goes up over the Lewis Pass across to Te Tai o Poutini (West Coast). Standing on the top of the Paparoa range he surveys the rubbish and water inside the waka.

“So Tū Te Rakiwhanoa says, ‘If I let that water out of there I can take a pick at the wreckage – do a bit of salvage’. So he puts his tokotoko (staff) in the top of Paparoa and makes a hole, then he gets down into the hole and makes it bigger and bigger until he is right down to his kuha – his thighs.

“And then he carefully, and I am doing this very carefully because I am conscious of my years,” says Tā Tipene as he starts to move his hips in wide circles, “he starts to māwhera with his thighs, crushing against the land with his thighs and eventually the land breaks and the water floods out, rushes out to the sea.” This is the origin of the Grey River, which has also has the name Kā Māwhera o kā Kuha o Tū Te Rakiwhanoa.

Then Tū Te Rakiwhanoa takes his toki (adze) and carves out the fiords, starting at the bottom of the South Island.

Eventually he gets to Piopiotahi.

“This (Piopiotahi) is regarded as his greatest his work – he cut his teeth on Dusky Sound … had a big hiccup at Hawea and did quite well at Pātea.”

When Tū Te Rakiwhanoa arrives, the atua Hine-nui-te-pō is creating waterfalls and planting lush greenery, including trees that hang off the cliffs.

But there is one problem with the masterpiece she and Tū Te Rakiwhanoa has created, thinks Hine-nui-te-po. When people arrive they will be so captured by the view, so hypnotised by the visual effects, they will neglect their children and their people.

Looking around Hine-nui-te-pō has a point. The natural beauty and scale of the area stuns the senses – mountains appear closer and smaller but as they are approached their enormous size dwarfs even the largest cruise ship.

“So Hine-nui-te-pō found a solution,” says a smiling Tā Tipene. “She went up to a little creek, at the beginning of the Milford Track, and planted a couple of breeding namunamu and that’s the ancestor of the little things that have been hosting you over lunch.”

As if on cue, the audience starts to pat exposed limbs to shoo away buzzing descendants.

The bus takes the rūnanga back to Te Anau to watch Ata whenua, a documentary made by Ngāi Tahu helicopter pilot Kim Hollows. The documentary has been filmed from the Hollows helicopter and reveals the dramatic landscapes of Fiordland.

Afterwards it is time for dinner and rest. Some kaumātua stay in Te Anau and the rest travel to Te Koawa Tūroa o Takitimu at the foot of the Takitimu Maunga. Te Koawa is a rentable Ngāi Tahu property that can host travelling parties and is managed by Invercargill-based Ngā Kete Mātauranga Pounamu Charitable Trust.

In the morning, the rūnanga and guests meet at Pearl Harbour, Te Anau to board the Meridian Boat.

Bubba Thompson, Dean Whaanga and Tā Tipene continue to share their knowledge of the area while the boat cruises past misty maunga.

Most of the whānau scribble in their notepads, while others snap photographs to show others back home. Outside some enjoy the cool air, taking turns to master a long pūkaea, which is used to herald their arrival at West Arm, home of the Manapouri Underground Power Station.

Built in the 1960s, the power station is a marvel of engineering and there is a sense of adventure and tragedy as the rūnanga learn how the station was built and of the lives that were lost there. Eighteen men died during the first phase of construction.

From there the rūnanga travel over the Wilmot Pass. There are wondrous sights along the way including a 600-year-old beech tree and postcard waterfalls.

The bus arrives at Deep Cove to catch a Doubtful Sound ferry. The West Coast has sent its customary welcome of rain and cold, keeping most of the rūnanga inside the ferry for the three-hour journey.

Tā Tipene is at the helm using the public address system to explain significant sites along the way.

The ferry is spacious and comfortable and whānau walk around and check how the hīkoi is progressing. They overhear enthusiastic comments: “truly inspiring”, “appreciate the blend of history and the sheer magnificence of nature”, and “crucial to understand ourselves”.

Passing through Pātea, Tā Tipene tells how Pātea, Hāwera and Taranaki follow a Polynesian naming tradition, appearing together throughout the Pacific region. Pātea is the original name of Doubtful Sound and Mount Hāwera and Taranaki Peak are just behind it. Tā Tipene says the names are all on the island of Raiatea (in French Polynesia), for instance, and you get them in the North Island of New Zealand.

The ferry slows as Tā Tipene points out Mātai Bay, a special area for Ngāi Tahu. A group of kōiwi (human remains) that are hundreds of years old are tucked away, high in the remote points of cliffs. The cleaned and ordered bones of six women face west to the sea.

The women are Polynesian but nothing else is known about them. Questions stir: how did they come to be in there; who were they; and what were their lives like?

Tā Tipene adds another element to the riddle saying although you have to plough through swarms of namunamu to get to the ridge, the ridge itself it is almost completely devoid of namunamu in any weather.

Finally the ferry reaches Te Awa o Tū (The Gut) where ocean and fresh waters jostle. The rain stops but it’s still chilly and many of the rūnanga don warm jackets to venture outside. This is the end of the road, the end of the land. After this, the group will head back to Invercargill and Bluff having made more connections to the whenua, to their Ngāi Tahu roots and to each other.

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