Whenu(a), Atua: Returning to Hine-te-iwaiwa through the maternal language of whatu

Dr Hinekura Smith (Te Rarawa, Nga Puhi)

1974 words

Approx 10 mins to read

E Whatu, whatu mai, whatu mai 
Ko te aho tupuna e whatu mai nei i a tatou 
Mai i te rangi ki te whenu-a 
Mai i te whenu-a ki te rangi 
Tihei Whatuora! 


Oh Whatu, twine us, bind us 
With that ancestress aho that brings us together 
That which connects us between sky and land 
Between land and sky 
Behold the the oranga of Whatu! 

 

The language of resonates with feminine and maternal knowledge. This ancestress knowledge is tangibly and intangibly embedded in its fibres, in similar ways the DNA of the is embedded into each of a as it is rolled down her leg - a DNA of knowledge and that will one day lay against the skin of another reminding that of who they are, where they come from, and that with their against their skin, they are never alone.  While the art of is not the sole domain of women – there are several fine male – this chapter takes a Mana Wāhine (Penehira, 2011; Pihama, 2001) view of whatu as an embodied art form that emerges from handed down inter-generationally through our matrilineal “foremothers” (Malcolm-Buchanan, Te Awekotuku, & Nikora, 2012, p. 52). Whatu terminology is a rich source of  and maternal knowledge, shaped by the from which we were created, the placental that we nurture our babies with before they enter the world, and the we fight for, and seek to protect, for our future .  

For many hundreds of years, the practice of and the it produces has played a key role in lives. Māori cosmogony connects with the art of , to the cycles of the moon, the feminine body, and to childbirth. This holds traditional teachings such as using to tie off a newborn’s umbilical cord. While some of this knowledge was colonially fractured and fragmented, the very language of continues to resonate deeply with the feminine and maternal body – as long as we use that language.  


I am a Te Rarawa, Nga Puhi woman, mother of daughters, of , teacher, , k and toi Māori scholar. These intertwined identities form the pattern of this chapter as one aho-identity comes to the fore held firmly in place by other multiple identities at the back – unseen but still informing my theory, practice and intention. This chapter provokes thought on our collective responsibility to revitalize the maternal language of with the same passion, dedication and that we commit to our toi practice. Consider what is lost when the terms ‘ ’ and ’ are replaced by the terms ‘strands’ and ‘threads? Or when the term is used to incorrectly describe all types of ? How do we connect to the deeply maternal language of absent of its that connects us to and ?  

Connecting to the whenua-maternal origins of whatu

Whatu falls under the auspices of the female goddess of (Simmonds, 2014; Te Kanawa, 2008; Te Kanawa & Turi-Tiakitai, 2011; Te Rito, 2006). While much is written about the male gods in Māori cosmogony, far less was recorded about the role of their female counterparts (Mikaere, 2004). One source on traditional Māori parenting practices names as the sister of the demi-god (Jenkins & Mountain Harte, 2011); in another she is the daughter of Tane-nui-ā-rangi and Hine-rauāmoa, goddess of light and enlightenment (Te Kanawa & Turi-Tiakitai, 2011). Those literature sources that do speak of tell of a goddess that embodies and celebrates all aspects of the feminine including, weaving, childbirth and menstruation (Murphy, 2013; Simmonds, 2014; Yates-Smith 1998).  


Despite the importance of to the Māori feminine, there is little historical information or literature on this auspicious . This is an unfortunate and common occurrence in a colonised history that reifies and relegates the contribution of to brief historical references (Murphy, 2013; Simmonds, 2014; Te Awekotuku, 1991). Māori ‘myths and legends’ – particularly in children’s literature – reveal masculine imagery of heroic male figures such as and , juxtaposed against Māori female characters such as as the wizened old crone, or the ‘vengeful’ (Mikaere, 2004). When we reclaim our from colonial storying that rendered their knowledge invisible (Te Awekotuku 1991; 2003), we are restor(y)ing and reaffirming our connection to a powerful of knowledge.  

 
Māori creative scholars Ngahuia Te Awekotuku (2003), Aroha Yates-Smith (1998), Rose Pere (1991), Te Raina Ferris (2009) and Robyn Kahukiwa (1995) have undertaken critical work to centre Māori knowledge, More recently, Mana Wāhine scholarship from Ngāhuia Murphy (2013), Donna Campbell (2019) and Naomi Simmonds (2014) reclaim the crucial role of and Māori maternities. These , like those in this exhibition - are simultaneously academics, proponents, researchers, artists and activists all working in complex and multiple Mana Wāhine ways.

 
The resilient aho threads of – from to the monthly rhythms of menses, childbirth and the rhythmic waxing and waning of the moon – remind Māori of the sacred nature of our bodies. Through , as the givers of life, reflect the unique genealogical relationship that we have to the whenua, to from whom all living things descend (Murphy, 2013). Māori are the that bind together and and keep these threads vital and healthy for our continued physical, spiritual and cultural survival (Smith, 2020). 

Te Whare Pōrā

is said to have gained her knowledge of weaving in Te Whare Pōrā (Pere, 2006; Te Rito, 2006) a ritual space where initiation into the teachings of and took place. Te Whare Pōrā, as a ‘house’ of learning the knowledge and skills of , suggests a physical structure. While one historical reference (Buck, 1949) describes Te Whare Pōrā as a built structure, others suggest that entering Te Whare Pōrā was to enter into a certain consciousness, a “state of being” (Puketapu-Hetet, 2000, p. 24) or optimal readiness to receive and retain new knowledge - “when one is dedicated to pursuing the knowledge of weaving in its totality, then one is in Te Whare Pōrā” (Puketapu-Hetet, 2000, p. 24).  


Modern living presents challenges to of the modern-day Te Whare Pōrā as we contend with a different kind of ‘busy’ living than our ancestresses (Smith, 2017). What was once an essential skill to create clothing and valuable possessions for trade and gifting, is now seen by some as ‘arts and crafts’ and commercialised for the modern marketplace. Whereas creativity was once fostered in a collective language rich environment, urbanisation and de-culturation have isolated from the practices and language of Te Whare Pōrā. Thankfully the Māori maternal elements of that keep our toi practice grounded to the are embedded in its terminology.  


The maternal language of exists within its fibres. , a contraction of the term whenua, are the many strands or vertical warp threads that make up the body of a (Smith, 2017), and can be described dualistically as both placenta and land – one is the essential connector that sustains the child within the mother’s womb while the other continues to nurture the child once they are born (Maihi, 2011). Present in other indigenous cultures, for example the Navajo (Lamphere, 2007) and Oiwi Hawai’i (Green & Beckwith, 2009), paying special attention to the umbilical cord and placental afterbirth is a traditional Māori birthing practice that remains vibrant. A baby’s (placenta) is returned to the (land) as a means of connecting that child to . The ritual act of burying reinforces a Māori connection to the land as – quite literally as people of the land.  

Aho tapu – sacred threads

The term aho has multiple meanings. Aho is one name for the middle section of the umbilical cord that sustains our babies in utero, physically connecting baby to its mother who supplies all the nutrients and oxygen required to grow. The term aho also refers to those ‘strands’ that are twined together in or , to form the body of the . is defined as line, genealogy and cord, the umbilical cord which connects the baby to its mother (Williams, 1997).  


Aho are understood as vital connectors to the past and the future. These connecting threads act as “tangible and substantive links between ancestors or tīpuna and their living descendants” (Henare, 2005, p. 121) and the means through which the enables ancestral energy to ‘live on’ in the present. This abstract idea moves from ‘metaphorical’ connectors to tangible instantiations of ancestral efficacy or those threads that bind and connect us to our past and will continue into the future. 


The are vital elements of the without which creating would not be possible. If the that connects the mother to the baby is not strong and healthy the wellbeing of the child is at risk. Similarly, if the of the are not strong or are poorly twined, the may not hold together and could eventually fall apart. Like the of a , the aho from the mother to the child must be healthy and strong to ensure survival. The word evokes ideas of linking generations of or ancestral lineage layer upon layer with a continuous and unbroken thread (Henare, 2005; Salmond, 1991).  


The term or is another term rich with maternal language. A or is one Māori name for the amniotic sac or foetal membrane that envelops the unborn child (Henare, 2005; MacAulay & Te Waru-Rewiri, 1996). The whare kahu was a temporary shelter constructed in some tribal areas for giving birth (Best, 1929) and adds to the rich idea of the , or whare kahu, as both birthing house and a place of protective nurturing. Ngāhuia Murphy (2013) says that the birthing houses of her Tuhoe iwi were called whare kahu and acted as dedicated, protective spaces that “shielded the imminent mother as her body opened up to act as a doorway between the worlds” (p. 119). Henare confirms the connection between the word and noting the whare kahu – literally translates as ‘foetus house’ – and kahu referring to the amniotic sac surrounding the foetus (Henare, 2005, p. 218). Consider for a moment that, as mothers, we quite literally ‘cloak’ our children in a protective (kā)kahu before they are born, and this protective and nurturing continues to be metaphorically woven and influenced by us, as mothers, once our children enter the world. 


Historically, kākahu or woven textiles surrounded children from the moment they entered the world. Elsdon Best (1929) recounts examples of basic woven kākahu being laid between the legs of the birthing mother to receive the child while more finely adorned garments were used to wrap the newborn child when presented to their people. Kākahu were often gifted to the newborn, depending on the child’s lineage, to enhance the mana of the child and of the people from whom it was gifted, in this way strengthening relationships and connections. 


The whenua-maternal-atua language of whatu reminds us that our children are embraced within a protective (kā)kahu before they enter the physical world and as mothers and kaiwhatu we hold those aho lovingly in our hands, aho that connect back to the past knowledge and beauty of our Hine te iwaiwa, Papatuanuku and other tupuna wahine in our whakapapa. As we weave back we also weave forward in to the future as we continue to re-weave and reclaim elements of Te Whare Pora frayed but never severed by colonisation including a renewed commitment to revitalise the reo and knowledge of Te Whare Pora. In this essay I argue that revitalising our toi practice absent of its reo is to only do half the job and leave us all with the perpetual wero (challenge) of how we individually and collectively honour the reo (terminology) embedded in each of our toi practices. Tihei Whatuora!  

References: 

Best, E. (1929). Maori customs pertaining to birth and baptism. The Journal of the Polynesian Society, 38(4(152)), 241-269. 

Buck, P. H. (1949). The coming of the Māori (2nd ed.). Wellington New Zealand: Māori Purposes Fund Board; Whitcombe & Tombs. 

Campbell, D. (2019). Ngā kura a Hineteiwaiwa: The embodiment of Mana Wahine in Māori fibre arts (Thesis, Doctor of Philosophy (PhD)). The University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand. Retrieved from https://hdl.handle.net/10289/12583 

Green, L., & Beckwith. M. (2009). Hawaiian customs and beliefs relating to birth and infancy. American Anthropologist, 26(2), 230-246. 

Henare, A. (2005). Nga aho tipuna (ancestral threads): Māori cloaks from New Zealand. In S. Kuchler & D. Miller (Eds.), Clothing as material culture; New York, Berg Publications (pp. 121–138). 

Jenkins, K., & Mountain Harte, H. (2011). Traditional Māori parenting: An historical review of literature of traditional Māori child rearing practices in pre-European times. Auckland, NZ: Te Kahui Mana Ririki. 

Lamphere, L. (2007). Weaving women’s lives: Three generations in a Navajo family. New Mexico, USA: The University of New Mexico. 

Maihi, T. T. R. (2011). Ngā aho: Threads that join. In A. Tamarapa (Ed.), Whatu Kākahu: Māori cloaks (pp. 33-43). Wellington, New Zealand: Te Papa Press. 

Malcolm-Buchanan, V., Awekotuku, N. T., & Nikora, L. W. (2012). Cloaked in life and death. MAI Journal, 1(1), pp. 50-60. 

Mikaere, A. (2003). The balance destroyed: The consequences for Māori women of the colonisation of tikanga Māori. Auckland NZ: International Research Institute for Māori and Indigenous Education. 

Murphy, N. (2013). Te awa atua: Menstruation in the pre-colonial Māori world. Ngāruawahia, New Zealand: He Puna Manawa. 

Penehira, M. (2011). Mouri , Mouri moko, Mouri ora! – Moko as a wellbeing strategy. PhD edn. Hamilton, New Zealand: University of Waikato.  

Pere, R. T. (2006). A celebration of Māori sacred and spiritual wisdom. In Indigenous peoples' wisdom and power: Affirming our knowledge through narratives (pp. 143-160). Aldershot, England: Ashgate Publishing. 

Pihama, L. (2001). Tihei Mauri ora. Honouring our voices: Mana wāhine as a kaupapa Māori theoretical framework. Auckland, New Zealand: The University of Auckland. 

Puketapu-Hetet, E. (2000). Māori weaving. Auckland, New Zealand: Pearson Education. 

Salmond, A. (1991). Two worlds: First meetings between Māori and Europeans, 1642-1772. Auckland: Viking. 

Simmonds, N. B. (2014). te turuturu Hine-te-iwaiwa: Mana wahine geographies of birth in Aotearoa New Zealand (Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Philosophy in Geography). Hamilton, New Zealand: The University of Waikato. 

Smith, H.J; Whatuora: Whatu kākahu and living as Māori women; PhD thesis; The University of Auckland; 2017 https://researchspace.auckland.ac.nz/handle/2292/36334 

Smith, H. (2020). “Cloaked in our aspirations”: Māori mothers and grandmothers weaving stories from their past for the future. Journal of Indigenous Wellbeing, 5(1), 79-89. 

Te Awekotuku, N. (1991b). Mana wāhine Māori: Selected writings on Māori women's art, culture and politics. Auckland, New Zealand: New Women’s Press.  

Te Awekotuku, N. (2003). Ruahine: Mythic women. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia. 

Te Kanawa, K. (2008). Mai i te ao kohatu. Weaving: An art form derived from mātauranga Māori as a gift from the ancestors. Te Kaharoa, 1, 138-151. 

Te Kanawa, K., & Turi-Tiakitai, J. (2011). Te mana o te kākahu. In A. Tamarapa (Ed.), Whatu kākahu (pp. 19-32). Wellington, New Zealand: Te Papa Press. 

Te Rito, J. (2006). From the margins of te Whare Pora: Embracing traditions of innovation in Māori textile legacies, Matauranga Taketake Traditional Knowledge Conference, Indicators of Well-being: Perspectives, Practices and Solutions. 

Williams, H. W. (1997). Dictionary of the Māori language (7th ed). Wellington, New Zealand: G. P. Publications. 

Yates-Smith, A. (1998). Hine, e hine!: Rediscovering the feminine in Māori spirituality. (Unpublished doctoral thesis). University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand.  

Kahu piu by Paula Rigby

He Aa I Uta, He Aa I Tai: Weaving the Elements

Exhibition

Past Exhibition

New work by members of Te Roopu Raranga Whatu o Aotearoa

Drawing inspiration from our relationship with air, earth, fire, water and spirit, this large-scale exhibition celebrates the legacy of weaving through traditional and contemporary handcrafted works.