Te Tai Uka a Pia

With whakapapa as our starting point, we focussed on capturing kōrero tuku iho that have been passed down in our own whānau, hapū and iwi. We delved into the kōrero tuku iho of Hui te Rangiora, according to our iwi from Te Tauihu, and brought forward the knowledge contained in the Ngāi Tahu kōrero tuku iho of Tamarereti. Our kōrero here is sourced from the whānau of Awarua.  

The kōrero of Hui te Rangiora belongs to all hapū and iwi from Te Tauihu o te Waka a Māui. For this research, we focussed on the kōrero from Te Āwhina marae, where Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa hold mana whenua. Here, Hui te Rangiora features as the tekoteko on the wharenui called Tūrangāpeke, which was opened in 1990.

In this Storymap, we begin by exploring who Hui te Rangiora was and how his legacy is preserved in the place names of the Riuwaka rohe and at the marae.

Then, we explore his legacy, which continues to be shared through waiata and haka. 

We go on to explore the importance of wai māori, through the puna of Riuwaka, where Hui te Rangiora is embodied on the waharoa at the entrance. 

We look at Motu Hui te Rangiora, an island urupā in the Riuwaka rohe, as a case study of how sea level rise is impacting wāhi tapu. 

Finally, we consider how Hui te Rangiora can be a framework for inspiring and driving climate action, including climate adaptation (preparing for the impacts of climate change).

Hui te Rangiora was a high-born chief believed to be from Rarotonga. It is said he set sail for Aotearoa — and perhaps beyond — around 650AD on board the waka Te Ivi o Ātea (the bones of Ātea).

The observations of Hui te Rangiora on this journey are part of Rarotongan oral records, transcribed and translated (with errors) by Pākehā ethnologist Percy Smith in 1897. In the kōrero, Hui te Rangiora observed “rocks that grow out of the sea”, in the space “beyond Rapa,” or the island of Oparo, about 1,700 kilometres southeast of Rarotonga.

In the kōrero, Hui te Rangiora described this place as “Te Tai Uka a Pia”, which Smith translated to “the frozen sea of arrowroot” (uka meaning ice or snow and pia meaning arrowroot, which when scraped looks like snow). 

More recent research by Anderson et al finds that Te Tai Uka a Pia is more likely a reference to “the sea covered with foam, like arrowroot”. This research draws upon Buck’s 1954 findings, in which “tai-uka” is translated from Cook Islands Māori to “foaming ocean”. 

Nonetheless, the kōrero tuku iho of Hui te Rangiora travelling to the ice of the Southern Ocean persists in Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa history. Iwi historian, Rōpata Taylor, recounts how Hui te Rangiora followed the migration of tōhora along the currents of Tahiti Nui, known in Rarotonga as the “eight tentacles of Tahiti Nui”. The currents took him far beyond the southern edge of Te Moana Nui a Kiwa.

It is likely Hui te Rangiora did not set out with the intention of voyaging into the Southern or Antarctic Oceans, and had planned to navigate only to the east coast of Aotearoa, along customary voyaging lines. Instead, the currents took him deep into Te Moana Nui a Kiwa, either to the icebergs or further south (for which he named this region Te Tai Uka a Pia). He then returned along what was possibly the west coast of Te Waipounamu, reaching the top of the South Island, where the waters of the Riuwaka Resurgence run into the sea. At this place, Hui Te Rangiora rested, held cleansing rituals and prepared for the journey home.

For Ngāti Rārua knowledge-holder Rōpata Stephens, there is no doubt that Hui te Rangiora stopped at Riuwaka. He points to the name of the pā at Riuwaka, Hui te Rangiora, to support this. 

The story of Hui te Rangiora as a navigator was documented for the iwi by Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa knowledge holder, Paul Morgan. During the 1980s, the iwi began piecing together a claim about their Whakarewa lands, confiscated by Governor Grey for the Anglican church in 1853. Many hui were held about the claim, and it was during these hui, Morgan says, that kaumātua spoke about Hui te Rangiora. 

Kaumātua spoke about him as a navigator, one of their ancient forebears who navigated from Hawaiki. They spoke of how Hui te Rangiora was the name for the region where the majority of Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa lived pre-1840. Their current pā site, Whakapaetuara, is a few hundred metres from the mouth of the Riuwaka Awa, but kaumātua spoke of how their elders called the district between the two awa (Motueka and Riuwaka) Hui te Rangiora. At that time it was mainly wetland, a valuable mahinga kai. The old people would row their waka all the way inland to Te Umu Kurī, the land under the hills at the back of the Riuwaka valley. 

The Riuwaka Awa is a wāhi tapu for Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa. Its water is tapu and is considered a tupuna. It holds mana. Māori take careful action not to disrupt this tapu. For instance, no kai can be taken into Te Puna o Riuwaka, and karakia are recited before drinking from the puna. 

Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa people come here for karakia and cleansing rituals. The deeper we travel into the bush alongside the awa, the quieter it gets. There is a shift in the energy of the landscape. There are few artificial sounds, just the gentle crunch of human footsteps rhythmically touching the whenua. The presence of the birds and trees is keenly felt. 

Typically, mana whenua come here on their own and in the early hours of the morning, kia mauri tau – to relax, to ground themselves – and to reconnect with nature. Taylor says it is where whānau can “rebalance their minds and bodies just as Hui te Rangiora laid down [this tikanga] in the first instance.” The waiora, or health, of our people is reliant on tapu waters in our area like Te Puna o Riuwaka. Our spiritual, mental and physical health - and the health of our relationships - is drawn from this puna and others like it across the rohe.

“What’s interesting is the power of water, and that very Māori notion that people shape landscapes, and landscapes shape people, that you are a person of a particular place. It is at the heart of tūrangawaewae, identity and whakapapa” — Rōpata Taylor

Whānau practice tohi at Te Puna o Riuwaka. Taylor explains that tohi is a form of cleansing, in which responsibilities are offered and accepted, either by pakeke or tamariki. Whānau members bring our rangatahi here, as they transition into adulthood. They learn our kōrero tuku iho and how to be good kaitiaki. Whānau speak together about the power of cleansing, and how to “be attuned to the environment, to the water, to the land”, understanding that learning from land and water is, as Taylor says, “the hallmark of wisdom in our culture”. 

The Ngāti Rārua people are descendents of Tainui waka. They are people of the heke and migrated from their homeland of Marokopa (in the Maniapoto region) in the 1820s, joining with Te Ātiawa as they made their way south. From Te Ūpoko o te Ika, they crossed Te Moana o Raukawa (Cook Strait) into Te Tauihu o te Waka a Māui. 

Tainui holds a ngeri which refers to Hui te Rangiora as a place (though some say a person) with needle-like mountains, perhaps stemming from the spine of a taniwha. This ngeri is chanted whenever Tainui set out by waka, to inspire and strengthen them on their journey.

This is Piitotori, performed by Mataia Keepa

Hui te Rangiora is alive and well in the memory of his Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa descendants. The Motueka Mai Tawhiti kapa haka rōpu, made up of tamariki and rangatahi aged five years and up, sing this waiata to remember Hui te Rangiora. 

This is Hui te Rangiora, written and composed by Pohe Stephens. Performed by Motueka Mai Tawhiti kapa.

We held wānanga with the kapa and whānau, to explore our understanding of Hui te Rangiora in relation to the climatic changes underway today in the Southern Ocean and Antarctica. We exchanged dialogue and knowledge about how Hui te Rangiora arrived in Riuwaka, with one young kōtiro able to recall the name of the waka he arrived on.

Our young people sparked with ideas on how to reduce or recover the carbon caught in the atmosphere, a “blanket over the earth,” as we described it in whānau-friendly language. Their ideas included “reducing waste” and “less cows”. 

Tamariki were asked what they thought Hui te Rangiora would do today, if he travelled anew to the Southern Oceans and saw the ice melting. One tamaiti responded that Hui te Rangiora would “put some holes in that blanket”. 

Such creative ideas suggest that tamariki are well and truly able to engage in climate discussions, and that drawing together kōrero tuku iho with simple modern metaphors is a useful approach. This wānanga helped acquaint tamariki with the idea of climate change through their own cultural narrative of Hui te Rangiora. It highlighted the power of waiata in helping tamariki and rangatahi Māori understand changes to the environment, and be inspired to take action to protect it. 

Pohe Stephens, their kapa haka tutor, reflected on the benefits of using cultural narratives to teach our tamariki about climate change:

“Ka mōhio rātou te hiranga o tēnei mea te ‘climate change’, i roto i te kaitiakitanga i te tirohanga i te kaitiaki o te tana taiao, ki tana ao whānui”  “They [tamariki] know about this thing called ‘climate change’ because it is encompassed implicitly within their worldview and their role as kaitaki within the environment”

As Tangaroa rises, Motu Hui te Rangiora slips further into his grasp. The sea level is expected to rise 0.9m by 2090. Yet even before this motu returns to the depths of Tangaroa and Hinemoana, it will feel the impact of rising sea levels. 

Sarah Forgesson, an archaeologist and heritage expert, is researching how sea-level rise caused by anthropogenic climate change will affect the kōiwi (human remains) on coastal urupā. She says that groundwater is one of the biggest causes of erosion and threat to coastal sites. Archeological sites are secured so long as they are sealed, maintaining their biological and chemical equilibrium, or balance. When salt water infiltrates the groundwater and enters into the kōiwi, this balance is disturbed and degradation occurs. 

“Our tūpuna are really fragile in those places,” - Sarah Forgesson

The kōiwi on Motu Hui te Rangiora may begin breaking down in the next 20 to 30 years, Forgesson says. This is the window of time hapū have to decide on appropriate action. 

Ngāti Rārua and Te Ātiawa must and will draw upon our kōrero tuku iho and tikanga to determine whether to leave our kōiwi to be washed away, or ashore, or whether to move the remains of our tūpuna to another site. 

Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Rārua are currently preparing a climate strategy, in which we will consider the tikanga for adaptation planning for low lying urupā, such as Motu Hui te Rangiora. 

Ngāi Tahu have our own names for the features of the Antarctic region, based on our kōrero tuku iho. 

We know Antarctica as Te Tiri o te Moana, the steep peaks of glistening white. These are an extension of the Southern Alps – Kā Tiritiri o te Moana – which run underneath the ocean and then peak again in Antarctica. 

Ngāi Tahu kaumātua Tā Tīpene O’Regan notes that the “floating white islands of ice” referenced throughout our kōrero are less likely to be Antarctica itself, and more likely to be icebergs that had broken away from Antarctic ice sheets and floated past the coastline of Southland and Stewart Island. 

Ngāi Tahu call the Southern Ocean Te Moana Tāpokopoko a Tāwhaki, the billowy sea of Tāwhaki. This name relates to kōrero tuku iho about Tāwhaki and his wife Hāpai, who disregarded a warning not to make love outside their house. Consequently, Hāpai was abducted by the “bird in the sun” and taken up to the sky. Tāwhaki stood near the edge of the sea, uttering karakia which made the sea surge with intensity, hence Te Moana Tāpokopoko a Tāwhaki. 

All of these places are interconnected as a “whole link of travel” as Awarua kaitautoko mātauranga, Bubba Thompson, describes it. The link begins with Kā Tiritiri o Te Moana, the maunga, and flows down through the rivers (including the Waiau awa) to Te Ara a Kiwa, then underneath Te Moana Tāpokopoko a Tāwhaki, all the way to Te Tiri o te Moana. This knowledge is captured in the Ngāi Tahu kōrero “ki uta, ki tai”, from land to sea, which speaks to our kaitiakitanga of both whenua and moana, and the reciprocity between tangata whenua and the landscape.  

Ngāi Tahu connections to Antarctica persist today and our whakapapa is embodied in two tukutuku panels and a large pouwhenua, Te Kaiwhakatere o Te Raki, standing at Scott Base. Ngāi Tahu were invited to prepare the pou, which was unveiled in 2013. The pou was installed to “maintain our mana moana” over the sub-Antarctic and “reflect our tribal status and history deep South”, in the words of one Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu employee. 

In 2019, two Ngāi Tahu carvers – Poutama Hetaraka and James York (a Murihiku-raised, life-long mutton-birder) – installed a pare above the entrance to Scott Base and whakawae, carved uprights, either side of the door. York described the carvings as a “wero” to political leaders to address climate change, seeing first-hand how the foreshore near his whare in Oraka (Colac Bay) is increasingly eroded by rising sea levels. 

Ngāi Tahu have a long association with the Southern Ocean, and some surrounding sub-Antarctic islands south of Motupōhue and Rakiura. Ngāi Tahu ancestors gave names to these islands which were recorded by Herries Beattie in his book, Our Southernmost Maoris (1954) and are detailed in the map below. 

Our whānau of Motupōhue continue to remember and interpret this ancestral knowledge. At a wānanga in 2019, Hana O’Regan, Manuariki Tini, Steph Blair, Evelyn Cooke, Estelle Leask, Mali Morgan and myself wrote a waiata mōteatea, Taku Taurapa, which was composed by Manuariki Tini. This mōteatea is now heard during pōwhiri at Awarua. 

The waiata encourages listeners to imagine being on a waka, leaving Rakiura and heading towards Awarua. Looking over your shoulder, you can see Hananui te mauka. Then looking North, the stars guide your path across the ocean. You are greeted by the beauty of Te Taurapa, Motūpohue, and as you come into Awarua Bay you see our marae, Tahu Pōtiki, who guides you to safety, to the landing place, Kahuariki. The waiata recalls the aho ratarata, the incandescent Southern Lights, Tahunui i te raki. These are also known as the ropes of Māui’s waka, tied to Te Puka (Rakiura) from Te Taurapa (Motupōhue). The landscapes, seascapes, markers and stars are all beacons of navigation home for current fishermen and our mahinga kai whānau.

Tamarereti inspires us as whānau to think more deeply about our connection to the Southern Ocean and Antarctica. He is the whakapapa link between Ngāi Tahu and the Southern Oceans and so is a natural catalyst for change in relation to te taiao. The whakataukī “Ka mua, ka muri”, which translates as “walking into the past to the future”, encapsulates how kōrero tuku iho are the starting point for present decisions, including around climate action. That is to say, Ngāi Tahu look first to where we have come from, how our tīpuna behaved and what they achieved, and use this to determine how to move forward. 

There is much value in maintaining Tamarereti’s legacy. This kōrero creates a conduit for understanding the climate impacts that are observed most keenly in the Southern Ocean and Antarctica. 

The whakataukī, He puka te ika, i rāoa ai a Tamarereti, serves as a cautionary lesson. It can be applied to our relationship with te taiao. While the actions of whānau, hapū and iwi may seem insignificant compared to the actions of big polluters, the choices we make – what we consume, how we nurture and protect our whenua – impacts the health of the land that sustains us. 

Through learning the kōrero tuku iho of Tamarereti, tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke alike are transported to the Southern Ocean region. They smell the ice; they feel the fresh, cold breeze. They think about the strength of the winds and the wide open water with no land in sight. The “curiosity” of Tamarereti is one of his most notable traits for Ngāi Tahu people of Motupōhue. We model ourselves on his character, and challenge ourselves to remain curious. We teach tamariki about Tamarereti to encourage them to continue his legacy of exploration and to grow their desire to learn more about the unknown – including the still-unknown change underway in Antarctica and the Southern Ocean. Tamariki connect with his curiosity, courage, strength and bravery. 

According to those we spoke with, Tamarereti is a starting point for discussion about climate change. First and foremost, this kōrero whakapapa embeds whānau whānui in the changing landscape. From here, knowing we descend from these land and seascapes and that our tīpuna sailed the Southern Oceans, which are now subject to human-induced climate change, whānau are empowered to act. 

To create a truly collective iwi and hapū response to climate change, whānau kōrero and kōrero tuku iho must frame decision-making. Whakapapa kōrero is the starting point for all iwi and hapū decision-making. Data gathering about the environment, through records of mahinga kai for example, or biophysical research about climate change, should begin with the kōrero tuku iho and whakapapa kōrero that shapes Ngāi Tahu relationships with our whenua and moana – ki uta, ki tai. 

Current scientific approaches to studying the change underway in the Southern Ocean and Antarctica generally take a reductionist approach. Biophysical changes in the atmosphere, ocean, sea ice and flora and fauna are too often considered in isolation from each other and not within the broader human, social and cultural context of these places. 

Climate change is unsettling our long-established relationships with our taiao, our whakapapa, our place-based kōrero tuku iho, and therefore our culture. Our spirituality is suffering also threatening our lifeways. In this light, it is possible to view climate change as a further manifestation of colonisation and ongoing subjection of Māori and other indigenous peoples.

We hold a history of experiences, insights, resilience and ongoing cultural renewal: that alone demonstrates capacity for continual adaptation as we collectively adapt to improving the health of both humans and the environment. 

Understanding how climate change impacts on culture, and reinforcing cultural knowledge of our land and seascapes, is climate research, and a form of climate action, and supports whānau to begin climate adaptation. 

Mahinga kai is inseparable from climate engagement, climate action and climate adaptation. Steps to strengthen or even reclaim Māori gardening and food gathering practices, no matter how small, are significant because they give practical effect to rangatiratanga. In fact, food security is one of the strongest expressions of rangatiratanga.

For non-Māori, investing in and better understanding mātauranga Māori can expand their range of responses, and improve the quality and impact of their research - especially in collaboration with or under the leadership of “in-place” Māori kin-groups. 

We encourage a renewed relationship with te taiao, and with our inherent atuatanga and wairuatanga, within climate research and beyond. For Māori, this might be strengthening connection with ancestral waters, undertaking karakia at wāhi tapu, recommitting to growing kai or directly feeling the whenua or moana beneath us. For non-Māori, it might be understanding that these practices are enablers of, and not barriers to more effective and socially-equitable research. Simply put, our uncertain but shared future requires shared efforts. 

Kei ō mātou ringaringa, tō mātou apōpō.

Tēnā koutou i ō koutou mātauranga me te pūmahara nui whakaharaharai takohatia mai rā, nāna kua mauri ora anō a onamata mō ngā kaupapa anamata

Technical support

Story Map: Meriana Johnsen. Videography and photography: Kingi Gilbert and Ignite Studios; Moana Johnsen; Meriana Johnsen

Whānau of Awarua Rūnanga and Te Rau Aroha marae, Bluff; Whānau and the marae committee of Te Awhina marae, Motueka; Motueka Mai Tawhiti Kapa Haka Group; Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Rārua; Ngāti Rārua Ātiawa Iwi Trust

Michael Stevens, Tā Tīpene O’Regan, Hana Morgan, Bubba Thompson, Maurice Manawatu, Te Maire Tau, Michael Skerrett, David Higgins, Gerard O’Regan, Corey Bragg, Hana O'Regan, Manuariki Tini, Steph Blair, Estelle Leask, Evelyn Cooke, Mali Morgan, Ken McAnergney

Rāhui Papa, Pohe Stephens, Ropata Taylor, Ropata Stephens, Paul Morgan, Rore and Lynne Stafford, Dr Timote Vaioleti & Lora Vaioleti, Mataia Keepa, Eruera Keepa, Kura Stafford, Tom Roa, Hoturoa Kerr, Sarah Forgesson, Turi McFarlane, John Mitchell, Te Kāhautu Maxwell, Apirana Daymond, Ray Harlow.

Colleagues from the Deep South Challenge: Alexandra Keeble, Nadine-Anne Hura, Naomi Simmonds; Darren King, Shaun Awatere, Ruia Aperahama (Te Kāhui Māori); Director, Mike Williams; Manager, Anne-Marie Rowe

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