Jacinda Ardern with the ie tōga, part of the ifoga process, the Samoan tradition of asking for forgiveness. Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images
Jacinda Ardern with the ie tōga, part of the ifoga process, the Samoan tradition of asking for forgiveness. Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images

ĀteaAugust 2, 2021

Dawn raids ceremony explained: Why Jacinda Ardern sat under a woven mat

Jacinda Ardern with the ie tōga, part of the ifoga process, the Samoan tradition of asking for forgiveness. Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images
Jacinda Ardern with the ie tōga, part of the ifoga process, the Samoan tradition of asking for forgiveness. Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images

Apulu Reece Autagavaia was among those who yesterday packed into Auckland Town Hall to witness the formal apology for the dawn raids. He explains the significance of the ifoga custom and what he hopes will follow this landmark event.

Last night, we witnessed the prime minister Jacinda Ardern perform the ifoga, a Sāmoan custom of asking for forgiveness.

Ifo means to bow down or lower oneself. Ifoga is when an offender covers themselves with a Sāmoan fine mat as an atonement for their or their kin’s wrongdoing. The covering occurs in front of the house of the victim. It is then up to the victim and their family or village whether to accept the ifoga. This can take some time, to allow the offender to pause and think about their actions while in the darkness, as well as time for the victim and their family to consider the future impacts of their decision, whether to accept or not. This is a public gesture before the entire village, as witnesses of this act of forgiveness. 

In Sāmoan culture we talk about the “va” which roughly translates to relationships. When there’s an offence committed, that is called “soli le va” or trampling on the relationship. 

While an offence maybe committed by an individual, it reflects on that individual’s family, extended family or village. Therefore, the ifoga is performed by the offender and his family, extended family/village. This is attempting to “teu le va” or mend the relationship.

The Sāmoan fine mat is referred to as many names. One such name is “tasi ae afe” which can mean one act can affect a thousand. This refers to the act of atonement by the offender, which can forgive many others, including the offender’s family, extended family, and village.

Jacinda Ardern remained under the fine mat for at least 10 minutes before it was lifted off again. (Photo: Justin Latif)

Another name for the Sāmoan fine mat is “pulou o le ola” which means being covered to gain life. This refers to the origin of the Sāmoan fine mat, where in one version, girls from the district of Amoa were weaving the very first fine mat. They were abducted and taken to Tonga where they ran into some controversy and were accused of hiding the King of Tonga’s brother. In pleading for their lives, the girls covered themselves in the fine mat they had woven.

Last night’s actions are unheard of by a world leader. Her compassion and humility was beautiful to watch, in particular when you consider Jacinda Ardern was not alive when the dawn raids occurred. This reflects that acts of cruelty have a generational impact. But, also, in Sāmoan culture, it’s never too late to “teu le va”.

And so, last night we heard from Jacinda Ardern attempt to “tausi le va” or nurture the relationship, broken by the dawn raids, with announcements of funding for scholarships and leadership assistance for Pacific nations and communities.

From left, Maungakiekie-Tamaki Local Board’s Nerissa Henry, Takanini MP Dr Anae Neru Leavasa, Otaki MP Terisa Ngobi, Palmerston North MP Tangi Utikere and Ōtara-Papatoetoe Local Board chair Apulu Reece Autagavaia. (Photo: Supplied)

It was deeply moving to see the minister of pacific peoples, Aupito Toesulusulu Tofae Su’a William Sio, in his full Sāmoan attire, namely his tatau (full body male tattoo). Aupito was representing not only the government of the day, but also those in the past: ministers, police and immigration officers directly responsible for the dawn raids. He stood there, staking his to’oto’o (staff) into the stage ground, which was an act of calling for his family and ancestral support – his father was sitting in the front row –and a beautiful act to watch. Aupito also waved and struck his fue (orator’s whisk) in the air, to call upon the ancestors for wisdom and guidance for this momentous occasion. 

Aupito’s stance and physical presence was matched by his eloquent words. He called upon the nations to the north (Tokelau, Kiribati, Hawaii), to the east (Cook Islands, Tahiti, Rapa Nui), to the west (Tuvalu, Fiji, Futuna & Uvea), and then to the south (Tonga, Niue and Aotearoa). He called on the spirits to come and heal our communities, with a focus on strengthening the generations to come. 

Aupito used the Sāmoan phrase, “E pala ma’a, ae lē pala upu” which means rocks and boulders will crumble, but words and promises last forever. This was accompanied with the Sāmoan custom of “ta’i le sua” which is the highest form of gifting in Sāmoan culture. The promises made by Jacinda Ardern were written on scrolls and gifted to the Pacific communities to show that words matter. Our cultures are oral cultures, and these words will be passed on from generation to generation. Aupito pulled out the important parts of this custom to show how genuine the government was in the gifting, while acknowledging racism still exists today. 

These are unprecedented actions, which Pacific communities respect and show gratitude for. 

The Auckland Town Hall was full for the dawn raid apology. Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images

Speaking personally, I have so many emotions running through me that it will take a while to fully comprehend the impact of this apology. But I am humbled to have sat in that hall with my parents, and to witness this apology with them, knowing they lived through that era.

My mother has talked about how at the time of the dawn raids there was a chill that came over the Pacific community. No-one would go out in public. They stayed away from the shops. They wouldn’t socialise in public. There were hushed short conversations with passers-by, then straight home. There was real fear in people’s eyes as authorities were empowered to stop anyone who didn’t look white. During that time our family home in Grey Lynn was also raided, in that cold freezing dawn.

And so Sunday was the start of the re-warming of the cooled relationship which hung over our communities. I’m hopeful that under this government it could get hot enough for an amnesty for overstayers. The beautiful thing about “tausi le va” is that our relationships can grow and expand, so perhaps it could expand into a future amnesty? Let’s wait and see. 

For now, your ifoga has been accepted.

Malo lava fa’afetai

Apulu Reece Autagavaia is chair of the Ōtara-Papatoetoe Local Board and a Sāmoan community leader in Auckland.

Keep going!
Claimants to the Waitangi Tribunal’s Wai 2700 – Mana Wāhine inquir at Terenga Parāoa marae in Whangārei (Photo: supplied, Additional design: Tina Tiller)
Claimants to the Waitangi Tribunal’s Wai 2700 – Mana Wāhine inquir at Terenga Parāoa marae in Whangārei (Photo: supplied, Additional design: Tina Tiller)

ĀteaAugust 2, 2021

The Mana Wāhine inquiry isn’t over yet

Claimants to the Waitangi Tribunal’s Wai 2700 – Mana Wāhine inquir at Terenga Parāoa marae in Whangārei (Photo: supplied, Additional design: Tina Tiller)
Claimants to the Waitangi Tribunal’s Wai 2700 – Mana Wāhine inquir at Terenga Parāoa marae in Whangārei (Photo: supplied, Additional design: Tina Tiller)

Claimants to the Mana Wāhine inquiry tell Liam Rātana how the Waitangi Tribunal can start to address the damage done to Māori women by colonisation.

I descend from a wāhine toa. She was a fearless leader of our people and held great mana in the area I’m from. Growing up, I was told that she never lost a battle and defended her pā with such might that travelling parties would avoid the area completely.

“Māori women went to war, they debated issues, they stood up for what was right,” says political reporter Rukuwai Allen (Ngāpuhi, Tauranga Moana). “They would do anything they could to ensure the sacredness of the next generation was protected.

“The Māori perspective is that there’s no hierarchy that determines that because of someone’s genital parts, they have more mana or more standing in our Māori society,” says Allen of the pre-colonial attitude to gender.

Alongside a number of other wāhine, Allen recently gave evidence at Terenga Parāoa marae in Whangārei before the Waitangi Tribunal, as part of the Wai 2700 – Mana Wāhine inquiry. As one of the “kaupapa inquiries” which deal with issues of national significance rather than those of one iwi or hapū, Mana Wāhine currently hearing outstanding claims which allege prejudice to wāhine Māori as a result of breaches of Te Tiriti o Waitangi by the Crown. Two tūāpapa (contextual hearings) were held in February of this year, one this month, and another three will be completed by March 2022. The claims extend across many areas, including policy, practice, acts and omissions, both historical and contemporary.

Allen says colonisation has done “a really good job” of putting a Pākehā lens on the way we view mātauranga Māori and te ao Māori. “That Pākehā lens often puts men higher than women, a lens that puts emphasis on the patriarchy.”

Reporter Rukuwai Allen, Treaty consultant Ripeka Evans, and AUT associate professor Ella Henry (photos supplied)

The genesis of the kaupapa inquiry was a claim called the Wai 381 Māori Women’s claim, lodged nearly 30 years ago. One of the original claimants, Ripeka Evans (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Kahu, Te Aupouri, Ngāti Porou) says she lodged it alongside Donna Awatere, Papaarangi Reid and past presidents of the Māori Women’s Welfare League in 1993. “It is a claim that alleges a breach of all three Treaty articles.”

All people possess mana. We are alive and therefore we have a mauri, or a life force, within us. As a child, I was taught that in te ao Māori, the people have the power, and not just the people with a penis.

Christianity and colonialism brought with them the ideology that men, for some reason, were superior to women. The idea of patriarchy was promoted throughout religious and colonial institutions. In British common law, upon marriage, a woman’s legal rights and obligations were subsumed by those of her husband. Effectively, she lost her mana in the eyes of the law.

“Traditional Māori culture was founded on what’s called a duo-theistic cosmology,” AUT University associate professor Ella Henry (Ngāti Kahu ki Whāngaroa, Ngāti Kurī, Te Rārawa) tells me. “In other words, there were two gods. There was Papatūānuku, the earth mother, and Ranginui, the sky father, and these two were in a complementary relationship. Both were equally important in the survival and creation of mankind… The karanga has equal status to the whaikōrero.”

Henry’s master’s research in the early 1990s coincided with the original claim, and looked at the status given to Māori women prior to colonisation. “My thesis was focusing on Māori women and leadership, so I tried to interview a number of women who were claimants,” Henry says. “That’s really how I got involved in finding out about the claim. I wanted to find out what kind of leadership roles Māori women enjoyed in the 20th century and compare that with data I could find about Māori women in a traditional pre-colonial society. Not surprisingly, I found there were some significant differences.”

During stage one of the hearings, claimants and the tribunal are undertaking an exploration of the tikanga of mana wāhine and the pre-colonial understanding of wāhine in te ao Māori, to provide a tūāpapa for the inquiry.

According to Evans, the second stage of the hearings are scheduled to begin at the end of 2022. This stage will focus on the consequences of the breaches of the Treaty, including the intergenerational effects of colonisation and the negative socioeconomic impacts on Māori women.

Stage three will be looking at remedies for the breaches and their consequences. All the wāhine I spoke to shared the sentiment that there is no sum of money nor redress that could ever truly make up for what Māori women have had to endure. However, they did agree that there are steps the Crown can take towards acknowledging what they have done and at least attempting to rectify the problems they have caused.

“I do think that there are a number of things that can be done to address this grievance,” says Henry. “Providing adequate resources to tell the truth about the history of Māori society [is one example], because I think there are a lot of particularly younger urban Māori who have lost contact with these ancient stories of the mana of women; allocation of funding to support Māori women to become leaders in our community as we were prior to the Treaty; more Māori women representing our people on high level boards and entities.

“We’ve seen over the last 30 plus years a range of settlements that whilst the government has not been legally bound to address these issues, they are certainly morally bound to. Successive governments have actually acknowledged that moral requirement.”

Adds Evans: “For starters we’d be looking for an apology, that would not be a light-hearted apology.

“I mean, how do you apologise for 181 years of colonisation and systemic racism? We would want to look at a quantum. We would like to look at what governance looks like. We want remedies around systemic racism and legislation in terms of commissions.”

Says Allen: “Honouring Te Tiriti doesn’t mean we can invite Māori to the table, it means we’re all at the table. It’s not a consultation, it’s about a 50/50 partnership.”

She acknowledges the many wāhine that have gone before, who started the mahi they now continue in their honour. “I hope that those wāhine who have long done that for this claim and many claims before, know that we see them, what they’ve done, and we appreciate that.”