In Muriwhenua, iwi are working hard to maintain a vital connection to Ninety Mile Beach, Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe.

There is a whakataukī where I come from in the Far North: “Ko Herekino tapoko rau, he iwi mākutu”, which roughly translates to “Herekino of a hundred valleys and a tribe skilled in witchcraft”. Prior to the arrival of the British, Te Herekino-a-Taunaha, commonly called Herekino, was known as a place full of very spiritual people. I was told that the main reason our people were so spiritual was because the spirits of the dead passed through our valley on the way to Te Ara Wairua, or the Spirits Trail. It was our job to help guide them through.

My great-great grandfather, Okena Hapakuku, was known as a man of deep spirituality. Many often refer to him as a tohunga. Okena was fully blind and apparently spent almost all of his time reciting karakia, or praying in his whare. I’m told it’s because he was helping to keep the spirits moving along their path, through the valleys of Herekino and towards Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe (Ninety Mile Beach).

A spiritual journey

Many Māori believe that when we die, our spirits journey to the western coast (there is an east coast trail too), and travel north to Te Rerenga Wairua, otherwise known as Cape Reinga. There is a point in the Herekino saddle that passes through our maunga Orowhana (the tallest mountain in Te Hiku) which is referred to as Te Ārai, or the veil. This is said to be the place spirits pause to look back before heading along Te Ara Wairua up to Te Rerenga Wairua, the leaping place of spirits departing to their homeland of Hawaiki.

The decimation of local toheroa populations and ongoing wider environmental degradation of Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe has had a severe impact on the cultural connection locals have with the beach. With such a rich cultural history and important role in the spiritual journey of our departed, local kaumātua are concerned about not only the environmental degradation of Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe, but also a lack of spiritual and cultural connection among younger generations with Te Ara Wairua.

“The reason Kupe created Te Ara Wairua was so that his descendants could return to their home land when they died,” says Te Rarawa kaumātua Haami Piripi. But “the young people don’t refer to Te Ara Wairua any more.”

Te Ara Wairua lies in the area along the coast of Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe, or Ninety Mile Beach. It starts at Ahipara in the south and ends at Te Rerenga Wairua in the north. If you’ve ever been on Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe, you’ll be familiar with the constant southerly breeze carrying tiny grains of sand that sting your legs. I remember being told as a child that the wind was the spirits travelling north along Te Ara Wairua.

“The old name for the beach was Tuarā, which described its function as a backbone. It still is a backbone for us. It allows us to communicate, join together, have wars with each other, share things with each other, marry each other, elope with each other, all sorts of things that human beings do,” Piripi says.

From Ahipara, the spirits go up the beach, passing through several sites of cultural significance to local Māori. Eventually, the spirits exit the beach at a place known as Te Neke, near Kahokawa Beach at the northern end of Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe. Travelling inland, the spirits are said to pause at a spot known as Haumu, a large sand dune where they look back to their loved ones still living and lay a memento onto the ground. If the token is a shell or a piece of pīngao, the person is said to be from a coastal place. If the token is tree leaves, then this person is from the forest.

Keeping the gates open

Eventually, the spirits end up at Te Rerenga Wairua, where there is a kahika (pōhutukawa) tree that survives perched precariously on an otherwise bare rockface, lashed by the salty winds. Unlike other pōhutukawa though, this tree has never been known to flower. A particular branch on the tree hangs downwards before curving up at the end and it is said that this is where the spirits wait for an outgoing tide before plunging into the water below. Underneath the seaweed, there is a cave called Te Pokatorere, which tunnels below where the lighthouse is and surfaces at Te Nuku o Mourea, where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean. When they reach Ohau at Manawatāwhi, the spirits sing their final lament before returning to Hawaiki.

According to Piripi, it’s crucial that rangatahi reestablish a cultural connection to the beach by learning its history. While many of the local youth enjoy riding their motorbikes along the beach and doing doughnuts when nobody’s looking, Piripi says it’s pivotal they begin to understand and appreciate the cultural significance of Te Oneroa-a-Tōhe on a deeper level.

“What we need to do now is reassociate our people with the provenance of the beach and of the history. When we do that, enthusiasm and motivation will emerge from the people and we’ll begin rebuilding something that we’ve lost,” Piripi says.

Despite his concerns, some of what Piripi is talking about is already under way, as more rangatahi emerge from the Māori education system with a deeper appreciation of cultural practices, traditions, and worldviews. Beyond the “kura kids”, there is a growing desire for knowledge and connection across generations of Māori.

Recently, I met a man who, as is common practice in te ao Māori, asked me where I was from. I responded with my hapū Ngāti Kuri, which was met with an impressed whistle and slow shaking of his head. “Ngāti Kuri, right up the top? Big job you fullas have eh bro,” he said. The confused look on my face spurred him into further explanation: “You guys are the gatekeepers for our wairua, nē?” Although my hapū isn’t based at Te Rerenga Wairua, I figured we still played an important role in helping the spirits begin their journey along Te Ara Wairua. “Yeah,” I responded.

While I probably won’t be spending the rest of my days praying in a dark room any time soon, I like to think that I have a healthy connection with my taha wairua, or spiritual side. Like many of the descendants of Muriwhenua, I take pride in being a kaitiaki tuturu of this taonga Māori whakahirahira – the mahi of keeping the spirits moving and the gates to Hawaiki open.

This is Public Interest Journalism funded by NZ On Air.