spinofflive
Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

ĀteaDecember 3, 2020

What we can learn from the stories of Kauri, Tohorā and Tiwaiwaka

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Once plentiful, Kauri and Tohorā now face the threat of extinction. To save them we need to listen to the message of Tiwaiwaka, writes Donna Kerridge.

We’ve heard it all before: New Zealand was a nation dependent upon whaling and logging for its economic survival and today we depend on farming, fishing, gas and oil exploitation and the repeal of the Resource Management Act. The answer to the challenge of our economic survival is to take better care of Papatūānuku and to take no more than we reasonably need to in order to survive and be well. No more and no less.

Twenty million years ago, the ancestors of Kauri (Agatha australis) and Tohorā (Southern right whale, Eubalaena australis) lived side by side on the land as brothers. They were inseparable. Tohorā began to feel a yearning for the ocean and would visit as often as he could. One day Tohorā went to his beloved tuakana and asked him to come live in the ocean with him. Kauri, not wanting to leave the land, gave Tohorā his blessing as they exchanged parting gifts. Tohorā exchanged skin with Kauri, complete with scales so that he could grow tall and majestic above the tree canopy, free from the encumbrance of their many epiphytic siblings and in readiness for the day when Kauri would join him on the ocean waves. Tohorā’s skin was now smooth except for large callosities in place of the scales he had given to Kauri. Kauri in turn gave Tohorā his oil, so that he might have extra warmth as he traversed the oceans currents. Tohorā now had twice as much as blubber as his cousins the sperm and humpback whales. Kauri kept for himself only enough sticky resin to heal his skin, should he need to shed any of his newly acquired scales. After the departure of his brother, Kauri occupied the many mountainous ridges along the length of Aotearoa so as to catch a glimpse of Tohorā at play in the ocean on his visits to Aotearoa. Tohorā came home every year to see his brother, hugging the coastline and breaching the waves so that he might catch a glimpse of him growing high on the hills.

Over time, Kauri became cold without his oil and slowly began to dwell only in the warmer, upper reaches of his homeland. Tohorā found love with others of his kind but would never venture beyond the southern reaches of the equator in order to stay close to his brother. For generations, Tohorā has continued to return each year to his paternal homeland looking for sight of his brother.

Now, 20 million years on, Kauri and Tohorā have both fallen victim to an illness that has overpowered their youngest siblings, the people.

With the onset of the industrial revolution, people were becoming increasingly unwell. People began to lose touch with their roots, their connections to the natural world as they moved off the land, into cities. As a result of demands for a better life, greater wealth and access to more of the worlds resources, both Kauri and Tohorā became sought after commodities – goldmines of the forest and sea. Kauri for his valuable timber and Tohorā for his overabundance of oil. At the time, both our largest exporters and the government proclaimed that continued logging and whaling were essential for New Zealand’s economic survival. 

Kauri and Tohorā were harvested in the thousands and sent to offshore lands, almost to the point of extinction. 

As a result of this 150-year frenzy, 96% of both Kauri and Tohorā populations were decimated. Trees that were standing at the time of Christ were being felled without a second thought and the world population of Southern right whales was reduced to less than 40 in number.

At the end of this same period, many people found themselves almost deaf to the sounds of Papatūāku’s voice, blind to the signs she put before them almost daily and ignorant of their social responsibilities to ensure the health and wellbeing of the ecosystems that sustain us all. These are the consequences of detachment from our natural world. 

Enter Tiwaiwaka, the tiny fantail bird that first challenged Kupe on his arrival to Aotearoa – the small but fearless warrior, messenger and protector who challenges the motives of those that enter the realms of Tāne Mahuta.

Tiwaiwaka is more restless today than ever, as she senses the growing urgency to deliver her message. She brings with her a message of hope. She is here to remind us that by steering our waka toward the higher path of caring for Papatūānuku and away from the people’s trajectory of self-destruction, there is hope, if only we can see that caring for the whenua is our greatest priority and privilege.

Photo: Into Darkness

The exploitation of our brother Kauri began at the hand of the people and is now exacerbated by the tree destroying pathogen, Phytophthora agathidicida, which severs its access to nutrients and water. We are incubating a similar fate for ourselves if we do not heed the message from Tiwaiwaka. We must wake up and accept that our survival is dependent on the survival of all species around us and the care we give to our Mother Earth. 

The survival of Kauri will require more than an antidote to Phytophthora. We must move faster than the increasing motion of evolution if we are to change our current trajectory. Nothing has greater priority than the restoration of mauri, ours and that of Papatūānuku. Sustaining economic empires that serve a few will not save us.

Kauri suffers not only from the challenges presented by Phytophthora, but predation from introduced animal life, destruction of habitat, air and water born pollutants and accelerated climate change. The plight of our Kauri is a tohu that unless action is taken now, on all levels to restore our natural world as much as is humanly possible, the cascade of environmental destruction and species annihilation will hasten and we will not be immune to its breaking point. 

Like us, Kauri does not exist in isolation – he is only as strong as those around him and the environment that supports him. In order to heal Kauri we must unite to heal their environment first and foremost. 

In the words of environmental advocate Rob McGowan: “Rangatiratanga is not about power and authority; it’s about humility and courage. Humility enables us to see that, if we are to meet the challenges of our time, we need to work together. Courage is what is needed to take the lead in bringing the people together to achieve that”.


Frame is a series of short, standalone documentaries produced by Wrestler for The Spinoff. Watch more here.

Made with support from NZ On Air.

Keep going!
A render of the concept designs of the Mahitahi Trust housing development in Ōtara. (Photo: TOA Architects)
A render of the concept designs of the Mahitahi Trust housing development in Ōtara. (Photo: TOA Architects)

ĀteaDecember 3, 2020

No more token tack-ons: Building mana into Auckland design

A render of the concept designs of the Mahitahi Trust housing development in Ōtara. (Photo: TOA Architects)
A render of the concept designs of the Mahitahi Trust housing development in Ōtara. (Photo: TOA Architects)

Tāmaki Makaurau is a city under construction, but are Māori and Pasifika architects and designers being given the opportunities they deserve?

It seems everywhere you go in Auckland right now, there’s a new development of some sort. Whether it’s a new bridge, playground, some public housing or a refreshed streetscape, almost all these projects include some cultural designs, patterns or art. 

But are these visually prominent pieces the work of local Māori and Pacific artists and designers or are these elements just tokenistic add-ons by any Tom, Dick or Harriet? 

Ōtara-Papatoetoe Local Board chair Lotu Fuli says her board wants to see local artists and architects used – but it’s not as easy as it sounds. 

“When our kids can see themselves in the designs around them, that makes them feel visible and valued – and as a Pacific person, I know how it feels when that happens,” she says.  

“But it’s a constant battle from the governance end – to ensure local businesses get on that procurement list. There’s also been some examples of cultural appropriation where projects have used Māori or Pacific design, without actually working with a mana whenua or local designer – but that’s what we’re working towards. And it needs to go beyond just consulting with Māori or Pasifika artists and actually work with businesses owned by the Māori and Pacific architects.”

However she’s pleased to have advocated for Ōtara-based architect Waikare Komene to secure work on Panuku’s Transform Manukau project. 

“Waikare was given a small job to design street art along Putney Way in Manukau – that’s a good example of where we really had to push. But now Panuku is using him a lot more.”

South Auckland-based architects Waikare Komene, left, and Tuputau Lelaulu (Photos: Justin Latif)

The architects

Despite securing a few contracts, Komene, who is Māori, shares Fuli’s frustration. He also runs the Papatoetoe Food Hub and such has been the popularity of this community café focused on affordable, healthy kai, the prime minister herself popped in for a visit while on the campaign trail in South Auckland. Komene says being given the opportunity by council to turn a under-utilised netball court and clubrooms into a café has been great, but he would also like more opportunities to showcase his abilities as an architect.

“We’re on the council’s supplier list and we’ve ticked the boxes but it’s been so difficult getting jobs, so that’s why we’ve got into events, planning, community engagement and consultation. We’re doing a bit of everything. I’d love to be [designing] projects in our backyard of Ōtara. But instead I’ve noticed the firms that get these contracts are outsiders. I’m a born and bred Otarian, but my voice doesn’t feel like it’s valid.”

Before launching out on his own as an architect, he worked at a large firm in the city, but left after feeling like his talents weren’t valued.

“When I first started this [architectural] journey, I was at a Pākehā-led firm,” he says. “Over time I felt I was just a number, and they only pushed my number when it was appropriate for them. When people visited our offices, they’d get me to do the welcome. Or sometimes they wanted to use us to win the big Pasifika/Māori design projects, but as soon as they’d win the contract we would become an afterthought and I realised I was just their token Māori card.”

He says architects and designers shouldn’t just use Māori or Pacific patterns as on overlay on existing projects.

“You can’t just draw a pattern on your piece of paper and call it Pacific or Māori culture. It’s a lot deeper than that. You have to ask what that pattern means. A lot of these new buildings with cultural designs are just tack-ons. They build the building and then they just tack on Māori stuff, call it a Māori name and then ask Māori to welcome people in. They don’t give us the mana to drive the whole design to create the mana behind it.”

Māngere-resident Tuputau Lelaulu, who is of Samoan descent, is another architect frustrated by the lack of opportunities for Māori and Pacific architects. Through his business MAU Studios, in partnership with Unitec’s architecture school, he’s hoping to ensure more young people like himself enter the industry. 

“There’s a large wave of Māori and Pasifika designers, particularly around architecture, who are finding it very difficult to find work, and one of the growing issues which feeds the under-representation is the uncomfortability Māori and Pacific architecture students feel at university and the low retention rates. This is why I took on a role at Unitec to look at retention, to explore pastoral care and how it can employ strategies within the school to embed mātauranga Māori and Pacific values into how it teaches.”

Tongan architect Andrew Tu’inukuafe is Warren & Mahoney’s Auckland studio principal and head of the interiors team, and was also a Designers Institute of New Zealand award judge. As someone with 27 years’ experience, he sympathises with his younger colleagues and has a lot of respect for what Komene has tried to do with his work.

“I know from experience that it’s pretty tough for Māori and Pacific designers to come in and thrive in this environment. It can be quite a foreign environment. But with the government’s increased focus on achieving wider outcomes, there will be a greater opportunity for Māori and Pacific practitioners to demonstrate their value. There’s still not enough Māori and Pacific in the design profession but we are a Pacific nation, within the Pacific, and while we may have turned our back on Māori and Pacific culture for years, there’s a growing sense that we’re now looking for ways to express it.”

Tu’inukuafe cites the work of Auckland Council’s Māori design leader Phil Wihongi as a good example of how to ensure Māori design is done in a way that honours where the ideas originate from. 

A render of what Quay St will look like once complete (Photo: Auckland Council)

Auckland Council’s ‘brave’ move

Wihongi has led Auckland Council to launch a refreshed Māori Design Hub, which aims to ensure mana whenua are appropriately engaged with by private and public developers to bring Māori design thinking to the shaping of built environments. Wihongi says the hub is essentially a resource for developers to understand what good practice looks like when working with Māori on a project.

“The Māori Design Hub brings fresh Māori design thinking, resources and exemplars that place Māori design and identity at the heart of Auckland,” says Wihongi.

The transformation of the waterfront area around Quay Street, due to be completed by mid-next year, is being touted as one of the leading examples of how to integrate Māori design thinking into a project.

Auckland councillor Chris Darby, chair of the planning committee, is encouraged by the emphasis given to Māori design in these key city centre projects.

“I’m thrilled that Māori design has been front and centre in the development of our new downtown public space, Te Wānanga, and Quay Street,” says Darby. “A thriving Māori identity is Auckland’s point of difference in the world. It’s crucial we work with mana whenua kanohi ki te kanohi [face to face] to reflect our unique identity in our design processes and finished projects.”

Wihongi says it’s pleasing to have mana whenua groups, architects and the council collaborating as they have on this project, but the next step is to involve mana whenua at every step of the decision-making process. He believes by involving mana whenua from the beginning of a project right through to decisions around which firms are contracted to do the build, and which businesses provide the ongoing maintenance, would have a transformative impact.

“You can get some great outcomes in that design space, but if you’re serious about identity and wellbeing, you need to consider the whole picture, so mana whenua need to be a part of the shaping of the idea … and procurement can also be a really powerful tool to make change in terms of getting opportunities for Māori businesses.”

Auckland Council’s Māori design leader Phil Wihongi and TOA’s Nick Dalton (Photo: Justin Latif)

Part of the Māori Design Hub’s resources includes design solutions on urban Māori housing, and council partnered with Tāmaki Makaurau Office Architecture Limited (TOA) to create the Kāinga Hou housing concepts. The concepts show how higher-density Māori housing can make better use of land as Auckland continues to intensify.

Nick Dalton (Te Arawa), the founder and director of TOA, says the concept plans don’t just look aesthetically pleasing, but by being underpinned by Māori values, the housing will ensure better outcomes for the residents. 

“Normally when you start to design a housing development, it’s a conversation around ‘how do the cars get around the site?’ But then they are a concrete jungle – super dangerous for kids – and the whole thing is taken up by a car park. Instead, this project has Māori values underpinning it, like manaakitanga, kaitiakitanga – it’s good for everyone. And it’s not underpinned by a car park.”

The hope is that social housing developers would see the value in using these concept plans, and Dalton says they have already implemented it at a development in Ōtara.

“We’ve worked with Mahitahi Trust on a small social housing project. It consists of two waka made up of 20 units around a central courtyard. Normally when you start to design it’s a conversation around how big, how much, but instead we got to really think about Māori design values, for a project on Māori land, and it was quite a revelation in many ways. I showed 600 architects in Australia and their jaws were on the ground – they were shocked it was for a social housing project. 

“This is quite a brave avenue to go down as it’s not standard practice. So while it’s sad that it’s seen as being brave to go with Māori design, the tide is changing in a really beautiful way, and there are a lot more people calling for proper engagement and higher-level design.”

Rau Hoskins is a director of the designTribe architectural practice specialising in kaupapa Māori design. Hoskins has lectured in Māori architecture at Unitec’s School of Architecture since 1990. He’s optimistic about the opportunities for Māori and Pacific architects if initiatives like council’s Māori Design Hub can be built on. 

“The big firms will always get the big jobs, but compared to where things were 10 years ago, the industry is going in a good direction as you have mana whenua getting seats at the table, and it’s their artists who are involved right from the start in the process. Projects like the CRL and Commercial Bay are good examples of this.”

And Komene reiterates why going local is always the best option. 

“If you give us an opportunity we’re going to do it better than anyone else, because we’re born and bred and know this community better than anyone else. We don’t clock out at 5pm, we’re constantly thinking about it, because we want to leave our mark as architects and create something for our community that can make a difference.”