He Taonga Koutou - You Are Taonga

Te Wherowhero and Pukekawa, Te Toi o Tamaki, Te Noho Kotahitanga, Tamaki Paenga Hira and later Te Ana o te Huinga o Tangaroa – by engaging with public space as we have done over the past four weeks, we learn as much about ourselves and our space through te reo. These names and events teach us a lot about the meaning of taonga. We learn to belong, succeed, grow and change. By growth through the essence of taonga, you become a kaitiaki or the guardian of something Maori call taonga. 

Taonga shaped my tribal landscape - no story was complete without taonga’ in waiata (song poems), mere (a weapon), whakaaturanga (paintings), or korowai (cloak). Taonga opened door-ways to my tribal landscape through which I came to experience ancestral imaginings of time and surrounding space.  

Taonga are infused with mana (personal charisma), ihi (power, possibility, potentiality), wehi (fearful, reverence), wairua (living spirit).


He taonga tuku iho

Taonga are time travelers.  In our time such taonga do not just represent ancestors - they become the ancestor ... and I the taonga. Taonga reached their fullest expression when performed by elders in marae-like contexts especially during life crises like tangihanga. 

 

For those who work in museums, myself included, know what Taonga mean. But what is probably missing is the taonga and stories that are so intimately connected, be it in a waiata (song poems), a mere (weapon), whakaaturanga (paintings, photos) or korowai (cloak). The mere sight of taonga opens doorways to ancetral imaginings of time, place, and people in another space. I was a privileged kid in that I didn’t start school until I was eight, but in that time I was able to interalise so much of the te ao Maori (the Maori world view) that Wairemana and Rimaha passed on. They, like me went through a time of dislocation and upheavels in a changing world. Many of their generation preferred to bury taonga, hide them underground or in cardboard boxes under a bed. 

'Pakeha' institutions as plunderers of taonga, thankfully that's now changing.

Maori have held a deep seated distrust of museums, art galleries and libraries as ‘Pakeha’ institutions that ‘stole’ taonga. Thankfully that’s changing.   Roy Clare, Auckland Museum Director gave us this taonga, he says “… give our young two things to enable them to take on the world; the ability to read and a chance to meet their ancestral taonga here”.  Taonga loans, returns, and repatriation have eased some of the tensions over the Kaitiakitanga (guardianship) of taonga.

Colonisation almost killed the heart of taonga – the treaty of Waitangi nevertheless represents a negotiated boundary by which Maori invited British access across their threshold into their homelands as respected manuhiri (guests) and extend manaakitanga (generosity and hospitality).  This agreed partnership was to form a nation of Niu Tireni (New Zealand) in the form of four Articles the first Maori recognition of the Crown’s right to govern (Kawanatanga), the second the Crown’s promise to recognize and uphold the chief’s tino rangatiratanga (authority) over their whenua (estates), marae communities (kainga) and taonga katoa (all ancestrally important objects, items or things).  Then the third promised Maori the full rights and privileges of British citizenship.  A fourth gave protection to their spiritual values.  With the promise of the treaty Maori entered the spirit of building a new colony.  At the time, there were over 500 Maori for every Pakeha living in Aotearoa.  They were betrayed by the British and the fall out has cut deep.  Colonisation did not, for my part kill the heart of taonga.



“…you might have to die for this your taonga from us,” I was the cherished
son of my grandparents Rimaha and Wairemana our home a whare raupo.

Before my grandmother, Wairemana died she took me to Hiwarau, a summit mountain overlooking the Ohiwa Harbour and the ancient lands of Tuhoe most of it gone under confiscations, I was twelve but remember her words, “ … one day you will become a doctor, a lawyer or a teacher; one day you might have to fight for this land, you might have to die for this taonga.”
 
 Taonga opened the window for me to understanding what it really means to serve your tribe, to serve future generations, sometimes even at the cost of your own life.  Are today’s descendants prepared to die for the ancestors, their kin or those yet to be born?