Ko Hikurangi te Maunga - Making the Saying Meaningful

Ko Hikurangi te maunga 

Ko Waiapu te awa

Ko Ngāti Porou te iwi

A Whare Tapa Whā of Pēpeha – Many Sides of a Saying

I’ve said the words dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Reciting the famous Ngāti Porou tribal saying (pepehā) connects me, as a Ngāti Porou descendant, to my iwi (tribe). And the pēpeha connects our iwi to two massive features in the East Cape landscape – Mount Hikurangi and the Waiapu River. When we recite pēpeha in social gatherings we’re telling others where we belong. We’re situating ourselves in relation to others, when they cite their pēpeha. It’s like building an oral map.

Given how much I’ve named and claimed bragging rights to my Māori ancestry over the (probably 20) years, you’d think there’d be a deep-seated physical and emotional connection there. That these words might be an invitation to something deeper. A story I could tell you about my encounters with te awa Waiapu, or te maunga Hikurangi. The pēpeha a kind of gateway to my storied connection to the land and how it made me feel, enfolding me in its embrace. 

If you thought these things, you’d be right to expect them. And yet you’d be wrong. Hikurangi and Waiapu were not close to me, personally. While I have made many trips to Ruatoria (the nearest town) I’d never touched the waters of the waiapu or the rocky slopes of Mt Hikurangi. I’d swum at Tokomaru Bay, washed dishes and slept at Te Ariuru marae, visited the site of Nukutaimemeha; but not the most sacred and revered landscape icons of our people. 

I was in my mid-40’s when I actually travelled along the Waiapu river, and climbed to the top of Hikurangi maunga. 

This was not for lack of desire or planning. The whānau have talked about walking to the summit of Hikurangi for years. It was on the cards in 2018, but the weather took the ball and played its own game. We planned more deliberately in early 2020, during a visit to Tokomaru Bay for my uncle’s 60th birthday. 

My pēpeha is the pēpeha of my ancestors. But it is a shared boast. As such, it’s one I can claim as my own, regardless of whether it tells my personal story. As one person, I’m just part of a whole, a collective story. Yes, this beautiful visit to Hikurangi maunga has now linked me, my nephew and my husband physically and emotionally to the maunga. But even if the stars had not lined up, me and my nephew still have the shared connection passed on through my whakapapa. This gives us spiritual ties to the maunga. 

Those historical ties run deep. The hapū (subtribes) of Ngāti Porou have uri (descendants) all over the world, let alone Aotearoa-Te Wai Pounamu. The pēpeha allows us to claim a spiritual, ancestral connection to the birthplace of Ngāti Porou peoples, whether we’re in Pōneke (Wellington) or Poihākena (Sydney). But we can and should claim intellectual ties to the maunga and the awa also. 

What I mean by intellectual ties is to hear or read the stories of our peoples’ encounters with Hikurangi. Know them. Be able to retell them. Claim them as our own. Visit, and make new stories. Visit, and reflect on the old stories. Claim and share the memories of our ancestors. These memories are a tapestry and they’re ours. They’re a map, overlaying a powerful landscape. Here's a link to Walton Walker's awesome kōrero for the maunga. 

It’s an amazing thing to visit your ancestral maunga. But many of us never actually will. And that’s kei te pai. The pēpeha is yours regardless of what personal, physical experience you bring to the ‘whare tapa wha’ of pēpeha. Claim that spiritual connection. And, like me, listen and look into the stories of our tūpuna. Connect intellectually, historically and emotionally. 

University of Otago on pēpeha