Colonisation changed tangihanga through instituting western burial practices, but sustainable Māori burials of old are making a comeback.

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Picture an urupā neighboured on one side by an ancestral awa and on the other by a papakainga. You enter through a waharoa adorned with wonderful whakairo – don’t forget to wash your hands upon exiting, with the assorted water bottles hidden in the long grass. Graves range from nameless concrete slabs to lowkey plaques, stone obelisks, cement tombs and everything inbetween. That image describes the urupā of my people Ngaati Te Ata Waiohua at Tahuna in Manukau. 

Urupā allow reconnection with those whose wairua have transcended our mortal realm. I’ve seen whanaunga at our urupa having a dance, drink and kōrero next to the kōiwi of their relatives. For me, it is a place to seek guidance and wisdom. But how my whānau members returned to our whenua was a disagreement between us and the marae kaitiaki. 

Our whānau rest on the lower slopes of our urupā beside the boundary fence. The urupā is quickly filling up, and several of my relatives wished to be cremated to share one grave. The kaitiaki wanted their physical remains to return home, not their ashes. Many Māori frown upon cremation because it’s polluting and stops the dead from returning to Papatūānuku as part of the cycle of life, death and rebirth.

However, professor Hinematau McNeill (Ngāti Moko, Tapuika) explains that, historically, cremation was practised, albeit on rare occasions. Alongside Robert Pouwhare (Ngāti Haka, Tūhoe) and Hannah Buckley, McNeill leads a Marsden research project about decolonising Māori burials – with her hapū Ngāti Moko the case study. A journal article the trio authored found that “in the modern death space, our relationship with Papatūānuku is severely compromised”. McNeill says, “tangi have adopted environmentally irresponsible western practices”, like metal or lacquered wood coffins and chemically embalming tūpāpaku, both of which pollute groundwater and soil. 

But urupā tautaiao (sustainable burials) from back in the rā (past) didn’t compromise Papatūānuku. The trio’s article outlines urupā tautaiao “had little, to no, environmental impact” since its natural approach accelerated decomposition. Not only do urupā tautaiao allow tangata whenua to uphold kaitiaki obligations to te taiao, but it also returns us to the ancestral embrace of Papatūānuku upon death. 

Urupā tautaiao isn’t just sustainably burying the dead – there are different examples of natural “burials” from diverse rōpū across the motu. The decolonising burials project discovered historical examples of cremation, decomposing bodies hanging from trees, salt preservation in lagoons, corpses left in caves, tūpāpaku placed inside tree cavities and even left in the sea for eels to eat. They also discovered evidence of standing burials, which could be a solution for space-scarce urupā that struggle to accommodate new bodies – some older urupā don’t have space to receive the tūpāpaku of those who wish to be buried with their tūpuna. 

McNeill explains that one reason for the lack of space in urupā is because raupatu (land theft) compressed Māori estates. The Crown stole about 95% of McNeill’s people’s whenua, “totally alienating us from many wahi tapu” where koiwi of their tūpuna rest. Similarly, the overwhelming majority of the land of my iwi was stolen, including 43,850 acres in just one day in 1864. Today some of our stolen sacred burial sites inside sand dunes are deteriorating from iron-sand mining. Because of raupatu, the historical death and destruction of the 19th-century Land Wars impact how Māori treat our deceased in the present.

Although colonisation dramatically impacted what Māori do with our dead, projects like McNeill’s are catalysts for change. McNeill challenged her hapū about what kaitiakitanga means, suggesting practical applications – like burials honouring Papatūānuku – are as critical as ideology. She admits this mahi is a work in progress that won’t happen overnight, but within her hapū and iwi some “tentacles have gone out that shift mindsets” regarding kaitiakitanga and burials. Elsewhere, urupā tautaiao is catching on. Auckland’s Waikumete cemetery has an urupā tautaiao next to their conventional cemetery. 

Reclaiming urupā tautaiao is as much about honouring Papatūānuku as it is about rehabilitating mātauranga. The journal article explains, “The land carries tribal knowledge that is sacred. Separating the people from their land also separated them from the knowledge that lies across the land”. How Māori treat te taiao – where much of our knowledge originates – reflects our understanding of mātauranga and wānanga. Do we adhere to polluting tauiwi practices or reinvigorate the sustainable tikanga our tūpuna gifted us? Oftentimes, ahikā, rural communities – like our marae kaitiaki who opposed my family’s cremation wishes – hold that ancient knowledge. Those ahika are typically kaumātua who rangatahi are keen to learn from, Kathleen Frewen (Te-Whānau-ā-Apanui, Whakatōhea) explains. 

Frewen examines rangatahi perspectives for the decolonising burials project, saying, “for rangatahi Māori, our job is to – beside our elders – reimagine and readapt kaitiakitanga” outside of the normal understanding of the tikanga. As she rocks her pēpē in her arms, Frewen explains that many young tangata whenua support urupā tautaiao to ensure this knowledge is passed onto tamariki and mokopuna. But in the face of the climate crisis, rangatahi also want to “encourage living harmoniously with the environment instead of being the master of it”. The cost of living crisis is also a consideration, as rangatahi have told Frewen how much cheaper urupā tautaiao are than the increasingly expensive Western burials.

But Frewen says this kaupapa all comes back to reconnecting with te taiao and returning to the ancestral embrace of Papatūānuku upon death. “We all whakapapa to Papatūānuku; she is our mum, and Ranginui is our dad. We’re here as custodians to uphold the mauri of te taiao.

 “Life comes from death – our bodies should return to Papatūānuku.”  

This is Public Interest Journalism funded through NZ On Air.