They’re back.
There I was, a fortnight ago, strapped into a plane bound for Whangarei, unfolding my Sunday paper and settling in for a leisurely read. And there, on the front page, was a huge shot of Mihingarangi Forbes.
That’s nice, I thought. Must be about The Hui, her new show on TV3. I knew that was coming up after she — and a number of others — had bailed out of Māori TV.
Made to coincide with and celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Māori language petition being presented on the steps of Parliament in 1972, Speak No Māori is a one hour documentary that unpacks the history of te reo Māori in Aotearoa from the days of it being the dominant language between tāngata whenua and the early colonists, it’s gradual decline due to assimilation policies, through to the modern day revitalisation efforts.
When an academic unearths a forgotten history, residents of the small township of Pukekohe, including kaumātua who have never told their personal stories before, confront its deep and dark racist past.
rits abroad can be an asset to Aotearoa - but only if we make an effort to engage with te ao Māori, writes Scottish expat Fran Barclay
Earlier this week, the UK High Commissioner signalled a promising intention to address the barriers facing young Māori and Pasifika who aspire to travel on the UK working holiday scheme. As a Scottish expat in Te Whanganui-a-Tara, I hope that increased...
This is a personal story of Pākehā me. Who didn’t know what I didn’t know,until I began discovering it.
It’s part roadie, with my late, beautiful best friend, Tim.
It’s part eyes opening and ears listening.
It’s part expression of regret and shame and gratitude. And hope. And love. This is my journey to the history of us.
Measures that directly address the racial chasm in the length of Kiwi lives should not be feared, the Māori Health Authority chief executive says.
In part one of RNZ's In Depth investigation of Māori health, Ella Stewart examines the life expectancy gap.
Every two months, ten people sit around a table to talk about the Waikato River. More specifically, “the restoration and protection of the health and wellbeing of the Waikato River for future generations”.
Five of the ten board members of the Waikato River Authority are iwi appointees, selected by Māori from the five iwi that border the river. Five are Crown appointees. There are co-chairs, one from each side.
It has been disheartening but not surprising to hear the criticism and unease being generated by a political few intent on poisoning the public ear on the benefits of Māori co-governance.
ACT leader David Seymour, whose party’s criticism of Māori has been a regular and fertile source of votes for it since its inception in the mid-90s, has railed at the prospect of iwi Māori playing our part in the essential Three Water reforms.
Co-governance is back in the headlines. Glenn McConnell looks at what it means and how it’s already working.
Thursday, May 6, 2010. Speaker Lockwood Smith personally welcomes Kiingi Tūheitia, the Māori King, into Parliament to sit beside him as the House reads the Waikato River Settlement Act.
Grant Whitbourne is the founder and creator of Starting In Te Reo Māori, an online initiative to ensure the long term survival of te reo Māori by helping to eliminate the confusion and overwhelm typically encountered by new language learners. Across Facebook, YouTube and Instagram, the Starting In Te Reo Māori initiative has made an impact on tens of thousands of language learners, right across the globe, and is expected to be the #1 online te reo Māori resource available.
There is a unique sense of horror that accompanies the realisation that the most recent evangelical advocate making his way around New Zealand is a family friend.
Julian Batchelor is currently conducting a nationwide "Stop Co-governance" tour — scheduled to reach Otago and Southland in June and July — of 42 scheduled talks about how "elite Māori" are conspiring to wrest control of New Zealand.
At a recent talk I attended, Claudia Rankine, a Jamaican-born American poet and academic, spoke about how, in many places, “white life is a standard for normal life”. Whiteness is seen as “neutral, nonpartisan, and normal,” she said, and we’re encouraged to think that “white people are The People”.
In contrast, people who aren’t white are either “invisible — or hyper-visible.”
For well over 25 years, Vincent O’Malley, a Pākehā historian, has been uncovering and recounting many of the rich and often discomforting stories about how Māori and Pākehā have got along since they began sharing Aotearoa 200 or so years ago.
His most substantial book has been The Great War for New Zealand, where he explains what went on in the Waikato, especially in the wake of the New Zealand Settlements Act in 1863.
This year, for the first time in the 150-year saga of Parihaka, the government is preparing to apologise for one of New Zealand history’s most deplorable acts: the invasion and sacking of a Māori pacifist community and the imprisonment without trial of its leaders, Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kākahi. Yet for many New Zealanders, the word “Parihaka” still draws a blank. On hearing the story for the first time, they ask: why wasn’t I told?
Around first light on the morning of Sunday 21 February 1864, armed cavalry, followed by foot troops, descended on the village of Rangiaowhia. That the soldiers encountered little organised resistance is hardly surprising, given that Rangiaowhia was not a fighting pā but an open and essentially undefended village. It had been selected as a place of refuge for women, children, and old men.
Ihumātao: believed to be one of the first places where Māori in Tāmaki Makaurau settled, farmed and thrived, has been designated to make way for 480 new homes in a city crippled by a housing crisis.
But the housing development has been protested by the SOUL (Save Our Unique Landscape) group who say the land has historical, cultural and archaeological significance and should be left an open space or returned to mana whenua.
They held onto their land through war and confiscations or fought to get it back, but now they can't build on it. Ella Stewart finds out how red tape and barriers at the bank are stopping Māori building papakāinga.
The dream lives above Ōkahu Bay, on the shores of the Waitematā Harbour. Up the winding hill and through the wooden gates a community lives collectively, Ōrākei Marae at its centre. From the street you can hear nannies chasing after their mokopuna, as well-fed dogs bark at each other.
"You get a group of older Māori, and start talking about their memories of te reo, and soon there won't be a set of dry eyes in the room."
For many, they are dealing with intergenerational "reo trauma" - their parents of the generation of Māori children beaten in schools by their teachers for speaking their native tongue.
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