Māori are continually over-represented in Aotearoa’s drowning statistics. Simon Day spoke to University of Otago’s Dr Anne-Marie Jackson about using traditional techniques to help teach water safety and reconnect Māori with their awa.

In te ao Māori water is considered the source of all life. We are descended from the water, and it provides a connection to the past and the future. Water is full of resources and a source of food, but it is also dangerous and can take life away. Tangaroa, the god of the sea, has many faces: he can be calm and gentle one day, and full of anger and vengeance the next.

As the giver of life for Māori, water is also the source of tragedy. Despite forming 15% of the population, Māori consistently represent between 20% and 25% of New Zealand’s drownings. The victims are mainly young men.

Anne-Marie Jackson, University of Otago senior lecturer in Māori physical education and health, and co-director of Māori research platform Te Koronga, is using traditional Māori understandings of the water to help understand and treat this statistical outlier. Her approach is also an opportunity to reconnect a generation of Māori with their waterways, whether moana, awa or roto, and a chance for them to learn about who they are through their unique relationship with the water.

Through karakia, which she calls the Māori life jacket, she and her team are teaching young people about the respect and care they must pay the sea, while reconnecting them to te reo Māori and traditional ritual. By using waka as a tool for teaching water safety and the navigation traditions of their ancestors, Jackson believes young Māori gain a better understanding of the temperaments of Tangaroa in a real environment.

“The broader kaupapa of what we do is strengthening that whakapapa relationship, so they can enjoy it, so they can ‘te ao Māori-ize’, so they can ‘be Māori’ in the water, because that is a very natural part of who we are. A lot of what we do is about strengthening that connection,” Jackson says.  

She’s one member of a broader team of Māori water experts, students and researchers, who have created a community on Facebook, Tangaroa Ara Rau, all about how to stay safe in the water. It provides tips on how to check the depth before you do a manu this summer, guides on how to collect kaimoana safely, and celebrations of our relationship with the water. 

In 2017 there 88 preventable drownings in New Zealand, ten more than in 2016. Jackson wants to expose young people to water in real environments earlier. She wants all New Zealand kids to learn about the reality of swimming in our rivers and lakes, and in the surf and currents at our beaches, and understand the different moods of Tangaroa.

Why are Māori over-represented in drowning statistics?

That’s the big question that we are trying to find out the answers for. At the moment there is a big gap in the data. In our current stats we are over-represented: on average over the last five years 20-25% of all drownings are Māori, and we are only around 15% of the population. We are usually around 16-20 people who drown, per year. But what we don’t know is how many Māori are actually going to the water, and where we are going, and what activities we are doing. The question should be are we over-represented in terms of incidence or not?

Some of the whakaaro is that it’s due to our changing relationship with the water. For example historically how we engaged with the water was on a more frequent basis; our rituals were more intact than they are today. That is the impact of colonisation, that rapid movement from rural into urban areas. That is what some of the literature is saying and certainly some of the interviews we are undertaking highlights that. But the important thing, despite this changing relationship, is that we still have our strong connection to the water.

There are those fundamental questions that all Māori want to know: ko wai koe? (who are you). The literal translation is “what waters are you?” The second question: nō wai koe? Where are you from, or translated as “which waters is it that you descend from”. Culturally those understandings and connections are really important. What we’ve seen is that it’s changed.

What does that change look like?

In terms of population, more Māori are living in an urban context. So living in cities that impacts on what we are doing in the water. Even then there are still gaps in the data. We know where Māori are drowning, but we don’t know what their whakapapa connection to that place is.

Is it a gender issue? You’ll see in the stats big differences between Māori men, our young men and a growing older population too, compared to women. We have one of our young researchers looking at that take. Or is it an issue with socioeconomic status and whether we can afford swimming lessons? Is it because we are going to the water to swim, or to get kai? As my mum says, “you don’t go to the beach to swim, you go to get a feed”. Can you safe-proof yourself by knowing how to swim when collecting kai? We have some crew looking at that.

One of the most important things our group does is working alongside a number of Māori community groups. We are looking at a Māori way of promoting water safety. A lot of the mainstream stuff it is about fear: “You have to be safe in the water because the water can be scary, it’s treacherous”. Whereas for Māori, our relationship is very lived and real. You have this love of the water.

At the same time Tangaroa can be full of anger. And that made me think about education, which is another unfortunate statistic where Māori are over-represented – in lower education outcomes. When you have the chance to return to your moana, if you don’t have that education and experience, how can that affect your relationship and confidence with the water?

That is part of the name of Tangaroa Ara Rau (which is the name of our wide team of whānau who are working in this space), to understand the many faces of Tangaroa. Often that initial education is in formal environments – [usually] through schools. But you can be a strong swimmer in the pool, which is primarily where schools teach their swimming lessons, but it is quite different when you are in the environment. The majority of our drownings don’t occur in the pool, they occur in the outdoor environment.

What I mean by a changing relationship with the water is that observation of the outdoors, of our moana, or our awa and our roto, is quite different; you can’t learn that in the pool. You can learn the basic skills in the pool, but it’s quite a different thing when you are in the environment. That’s why the work we do with community groups who are getting their whānau back into their rivers, and into their moana, to strengthen their knowledge and practice and educating them that way. What we do is try to support those communities.

I think of the Tira Hoe that has just finished in Whanganui (the 30th anniversary of the waka journey which traces the Iwi’s connection from the mountain to the sea), the Ngāti Apa Ngā Wairiki awa hīkoi, we have Te Tai Timu Trust, our kaupapa which is in the Hawkes Bay, the whānau of Te Toki Voyaging Trust, Hauteruruku ki Puketeraki, and the Waka Ama Nationals of course. All these pockets of awesome things that are happening that are educating in various ways around water safety. What we try and do is connect all the groups up and offer support where we can. Ultimately each community, whānau, hapū, marae – they each know their body of water better than any outsider. 

Then there is the mahi that Rob Hewitt is doing with Kura Kaupapa and Wharekura as well as running day skippers and boat master courses, and in a very Māori way of going about it.

What does it mean to do something in a “very Māori way”?

What Rob does is interweave all of our traditional knowledge alongside learning about life jacket safety, for example. He will bring in our whakapapa relationships, he will talk about the many faces of Tangaroa, and a strong focus on tikanga. Depending on where you are he will share the different tikanga of those places. We are running these programmes with our students. The idea is we are educating the educators. We run 200 students through our water safety programme, and that’s 200 communities in the future that will have people who understand the water. Rob comes down and supports what we are doing with that focus on that tikanga.

One of the tikanga we talk about is having your ‘Māori life jacket’ on – your karakia. And secondly is having those other forms of safety too. Understanding how to put on a life jacket, why you need it and when you need it, and when you might need a wetsuit. And when you’re in the water, giving some practical tips.

I think of all my cousins who are in the water all summer, as a lot of Māori are, out doing their manus. So what are some practical things you can do to stay safe and still enjoy the water, checking your depth, making sure there are no strainers, having people that are on shore who are watching for if anyone gets in trouble.

Is the Māori life jacket – the karakia – also a way to teach young Māori about the place their water has in their world?

You have the issue with young ones of whether they have a fluency in te reo or not, and around engaging and being comfortable in karakia. A lot of karakia is ritual. If we can influence young ones now, when they are thinking about going out on the water they will have a wee thought in their mind, and they will be putting on their Māori life jacket. And whether that is just “Tangaroa look after me”, or the longer karakia we teach our young ones too, they can form that lived relationship with Tangaroa and our other deities, such as Hinemoana, Kiwa for example (depending on where you are). This is very much the kaupapa that Te Taitimu Trust CEO Zack Makoare talks about too.

A big part is about fun, and being safe at the same time, and by safe I don’t mean in a scared way. Because sometimes health and safety can feel quite restrictive and scary. But what we try to encourage is having that enjoyment when you are in the water, and if you can do it in a safe way that makes it more fun and enjoyable.

Why are waka such an important part of your programme to enhance that safety and enjoyment?

Obviously waka are on water. We all love sailing and paddling. It is such an important way for how our ancestors travelled but also how we connect with the water. Waka are many things. They are a symbol of our Māori identity, they are a vessel for our mātauranga – our traditional knowledge – and they also connect us more broadly across the Pacific. We have one of our researchers working with Waka Ama New Zealand to see what their aspirations are around water safety. They have 3500 youth paddlers over the week. Our crew has information there to support those clubs and how they may want to incorporate basic things in the water to make it more enjoyable and safe. We support leaders such as Papa Hoturoa Kerr in Te Toki Voyaging Trust and down here the Hauteruruku ki Puketeraki whānau.

As a water safety tool, how is the waka the antithesis of learning to swim in the confines of a pool?

Learning to swim in the pool is good – we live in the far south and being able to swim in our waterways all year round is not practical. You’re getting down to 11, 12 degrees in the water. What the pool does is provide you with a controlled environment. You can do a lot of prep work, especially with young ones or people who are not confident in the water. In the pool the environment is a lot more controlled. So I’m definitely not anti-pool; the pool provides the trainer the wheels.

But there is a difference between learning to swim and learning to survive. It’s about getting the balance of both. It’s about taking the good parts of what we can learn in the pool and adding it to the outdoor environment. 

Depending on the waka you are in, you learn different things, and I’m just a pēpi in the waka world. If you are on an ocean-going canoe you are learning about the currents, and navigation and the winds. Down here [in Dunedin] with the temperature you understand what hypothermia is, and also what time of year to go sailing and swimming.  You are learning stuff about maramataka, so what times of year are the best. And if you are into Waka Ama, whether you are into Waka Ama for the sports side of it, or the cultural side. You can learn about building waka and what that means.

Over time you learn to have a good feel for all the various elements of the water, of our knowledge and understanding of water, and of waka.

You’re taking a distinctly Māori approach to water safety, which means it’s so much more. How important are these multiple outcomes for you and looking at water safety through te ao Māori?

It is so important for us, it is a kaupapa beyond what I do in my work. It is a distinctly Māori way of going about it. We also think it has a lot of things to offer non-Māori. That is certainly what we see in our programmes here in the Physical Education School, but also in the community kaupapa that we support too.

We are only scratching the surface, especially when you start getting into things like our project  on the mātauranga of the water, and the mātauranga of the marine environment. That’s what we get to share with our young ones. We get to retell our stories, whether it’s our Maui stories, our Tangaroa stories, our navigation kōrero, and just say how awesome we are as Māori. That really gets to uplift them too. That’s who the kaupapa is for.

This content is brought to you by the University of Otago – a vibrant contributor to Māori development and the realisation of Māori aspirations, through our Māori Strategic Framework and world-class researchers and teachers.

New Zealand led the world with the recognition of the legal personhood of the Whanganui River and Te Urewera ranges. Otago University professor of law, Jacinta Ruru, says this needs to be the start of a Māori worldview contribution to our legal system and the way we look after our environment.

Professor Jacinta Ruru doesn’t usually encourage reading legislation for pleasure. As one of Professor Ruru’s former students I can testify that most legislation doesn’t make joyous content. But she says there is one exception – Section 3 of Te Urewera Act 2014:

Te Urewera is ancient and enduring, a fortress of nature, alive with history; its scenery is abundant with mystery, adventure, and remote beauty.

Te Urewera is a place of spiritual value, with its own mana and mauri.

Te Urewera has an identity in and of itself, inspiring people to commit to its care.

“It is just so emotional. It is so beautiful the language of the act. The legislation is using that really confidently. There is no translation of mana or mauri,” she says.  

The legislation was the first legal recognition of the environment’s essential place in te ao Māori as an entity unto itself. Section 11 declares, “Te Urewera is a legal entity, and has all the rights, powers, duties, and liabilities of a legal person.”

This granting of legal personhood to a part of the environment was a world first and part of Tūhoe’s innovative Treaty settlement.

For Tūhoe, Te Urewera is Te Manawa o te Ika a Māui, the heart of the great fish of Maui, pulled from the sea in defiance of his brothers to become the North Island. The forest’s rugged hills rise from the mist of the North Island. It’s a source of shelter, protection and food for Tūhoe. Essentially it is a deep source of identity for the iwi; Te Urewera is Tūhoe’s ancestor.

Three years later parliament did it again when in March this year the Whanganui River became a legal person. Te Awa Tupua Act acknowledged the decades of protest of Whanganui iwi against the exploitation and degradation of their river, and advocacy for its recognition as their ancestor. So goes the Whanganui saying: “Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au (I am the river and the river is me).”

Ruru celebrates Tūhoe and the Whanganui iwi for really pushing the boundaries of the Crown negotiators to create a legal recognition of the environment that is a world first. It is a disruptive union of a very Western concept – the idea of legal personality has been used for companies to separate their legal obligations from their shareholders and directors – and a Māori view of the world that sees our environment as a living entity with its own stories and history. It is also recognition of Ruru’s pioneering research into the role Māori understanding of the environment could have within the law, and the way that environment is managed.

Ruru grew up deep in the South Island away from her dad’s Raukawa, Ngāti Ranginui and Ngāti Maniapoto home. Living in Glenorchy surrounded by places of huge significance to Ngāi Tahu she was aware those tribal stories existed but they were hidden behind names like Mt Earnslaw, Dart River, Humboldt Ranges, and Mt Aspiring National Park. She never learned the story of how the burning body of Matau the taniwha scored Lake Wakatipu’s trench. She never learned about the hundreds of years of history of that area being at the centre of a whole Māori economy in terms of the pounamu that is found there in those rivers and mountains. Law school was the same.

“That was really absent from my schooling and that was absent from my university study including within the discipline of law. And I really struggled with law in a lot of ways. It is a really hostile discipline for indigenous people, including Māori. It silences our stories and our relationships with the land. It does more than just silence. The law has been a major tool used by the colonialists to take our land, and take away our knowledge,” she says.  

“As part of that growing up I became really aware of the absences around me. It just didn’t feel right at all.”

So after she started teaching at the University of Otago she looked at ways te ao Māori should be recognised by the law. She researched her Masters on how New Zealand’s National Parks could be understood within the framework of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. She came into that study in 1999 a year after the Ngāi Tahu Claims Settlement Act, which included the explicit recognition of the iwi’s engagement with their environment and their storytelling, created a new platform for rights and responsibilities between Ngāi Tahu and the Department of Conservation. It allowed Ruru to have a conversation with her supervisors and point to the legislation and say: “Look, there is a new way. New Zealand is now about reconciliation and we must be thinking about our Treaty in a new way.”

“For my work I really looked into how the Treaty ought to be understood in terms of managing and governing our National Parks. My supervisors and those around me were really willing to see that there is a new change on the horizon for us as a country,” she says.  

Ruru points to research done in the US by law professor Christopher Stone as a reference, who argued the environment deserved and needed legal standing in the 1970s. He wrote the book Should Trees Have Standing, which argued our forests, our oceans, our environment, should have the ability to stand before the courts and have someone speak for and on behalf of nature.

In 2010 Ruru supervised Master’s research by Jamie Morris which explored the potential for legal personality of water in New Zealand. The thesis advocated for legal personality as a tool for governments to use to acknowledge the reciprocal relationships of Māori with the rivers that embody their ancestors. During the research they knew Whanganui iwi were advancing the rights of their river as part of their Treaty settlements, but for a long time Tūhoe held on to the idea of taking back ownership of the National Park. As the National Government became cautious about returning a National Park to Māori ownership, the idea for legal personality was almost an overnight development.

“I think that is incredibly exciting what the legislation has done because it sees a joining of a Western perspective of law – legal personality – but really seeing it from a Māori perspective. Our lands around us have always had personality. And this is probably for the first time our legislation, our laws have really moved beyond the usual as to what we have had, to be disrupted in many ways, and be transformed to embrace a Māori understanding of the worldview around us.”

But despite the groundbreaking legal recognition of the Whanganui River and Te Urewera, the National Government moved to limit the expansion of legal personhood. Then Attorney General Christopher Finlayson was quite clear the legal personality concept ought not to travel around the country, and should not be replicated across other environmental areas in New Zealand.

Ruru saw this as a disappointing restriction on iwi ability to seek legal recognition of their significant environmental tūpuna, but also another failure to engage with a Māori worldview in our approach to the environmental management of New Zealand.  

“If we want the best environmental outcomes and solutions for our country going forward, and we have some big issues confronting us, we need to be looking to Māori communities to help the solutions that we are going to devise,” says Ruru.

With the European arrival in Aotearoa two conflicting perspectives of the role of land in society came together, and like the vast majority of colonial experiences, the indigenous one was usurped. In the colonial writing about New Zealand’s environment the European relationship with the land was one of fear of our mountains, and condemnation of the place as a wasteland, as land not being utilised. The Pākehā view was to see the land as having a utilitarian use and in New Zealand that meant farming. Even today in our appreciation for New Zealand’s beauty it’s one measured by its tourism value.

“The experience we have here is similar across the world, especially those that have a similar colonisation experience, there was a real marginalisation of indigenous knowledge. And that stems back to the first encounters and the establishment of nation states.  There was a real disregard and belittling of indigenous knowledge, and as a country today we haven’t moved on significantly to appreciate and understand the depth of knowledge indigenous communities have,” says Ruru.

And this is a huge mistake. We can’t ignore the deep understanding that indigenous people have of the land, and the knowledge Māori have for caring for the environment. 

“If we take a moment and look at some of the vision that iwi around the country are doing it is incredibly powerful. This is often under the realm of iwi management plans. We are coming into the third generation of these plans. Māori have always been doing this, but in recent decades Māori have been writing up future vision for the environment. Māori have been doing a lot of work for a long time,” says Ruru.   

It’s an approach Ruru believes needs to be much more broadly recognised by the law and its practitioners. In 2007 when I was one of Ruru’s small class for LAWS461 “Law and Indigenous Peoples,” where we learned about the how the legal system had been used to suppress indigenous people in Australia, Canada, the US and New Zealand. We also learned how it could become a powerful tool for indigenous people. But most of my classmates in law school believed the role of Māori and the legal system didn’t extend beyond a cursory glance of the Treaty of Waitangi. Now Ruru is trying to emphasise to her students they can’t think of law in a monocultural way anymore – you shouldn’t graduate with a law degree in New Zealand without an appreciation for New Zealand history and for Māori contemporary law.  

And she believes legal personhood is the vehicle that will allow New Zealand to embrace a Māori world view, and Māori expertise, in the way we approach the environmental challenges facing our country, and our planet.

“The notion of legal personhood jolts us from complacency as a country and reminds us that Māori have cared for and know well these lands for hundreds of years,” she says.

Te Urewera Act was written while listening closely to Tūhoe’s stories about the land. Its Pākehā authors were in constant communications with the iwi to make sure its language and concepts were right. It recognised the existential significance of Te Urewera to Tūhoe, it recognises a partnership in the environmental management of the land, and it sees a Māori worldview as one with a valuable contribution to make to New Zealand’s legal system.

“What is so powerful to legal personhood is it starts from a position that really honours the Māori worldview, but it hasn’t cut off Western science, or Western knowledge of how to care for a place,” says Ruru.

Legal personhood is also the beginning of a true recognition of Te Tiriti o Waitangi’s role as the blueprint for New Zealand as a country. A guide for finding solutions to hard problems together as a country.

“I don’t think it is right for us as a country to say one value system is better, but being respectful to both knowledge systems to really see what it means to be Aotearoa New Zealand, to see what it means to be of this place here.”

This content is brought to you by the University of Otago – a vibrant contributor to Māori development and the realisation of Māori aspirations, through our Māori Strategic Framework and world-class researchers and teachers.