“This was the greatest day of my life!” exclaimed my seven-year-old son. Our whānau [family] had just returned to our whare [house] from Ngā Ana Wai (the water caves, the Māori name for Eden Park).
We had witnessed the final of the Women’s Rugby World Cup, where the Black Ferns had beaten the favourites and their arch-rivals, England. The rugby was pulsating, skilful, tough and uplifting. That evening felt like Aotearoa had won more than just the World Cup trophy; we were witnessing change.
Apart from the magnificent game itself, this match and tournament were a huge milestone for seeing Māori culture and worldview deeply embedded in Aotearoa’s national psyche and identity – not an add-on or token acknowledgment, but forming the very heart and forefront of our national game, the way we celebrate and who we are.
The atmosphere at the stadium felt different to other international rugby games I had been to in the past. There was genuine excitement in the air. Perhaps the crowd was feeding off the exuberance of the players and their zest for the game that they had shown all tournament.
I have to admit our small whānau of four created a lot of noise in that 80 minutes. My son’s comment stuck with me as I too had thought deeply about what we took on board on Saturday evening. At a chance meeting with my brother’s whānau before the game, my sister-in-law hurriedly said: “I don’t want to be late – I want to see Pātea Māori Club”. The renowned Māori kapa (group) with the 1987 smash hit Poi E were performing for the crowd during half-time of the bronze match.
As we walked into the stadium, my nieces carried their poi with them. Poi, a small soft pōro or ball at the end of a taura, or plaited rope, have become the symbol of this World Cup. “Wā poi – poi time – everyone!” The ground announcer called, whipping the excited crowd into a frenzy. Where once supporters might have waved flags or blown horns, thousands of poi were twirled at great speed, creating a unified joy among the crowd. Unified at that moment by poi, unified by whanaungatanga [relationships] among the old, white, young, brown and everyone in between.
A broadcaster at the stadium booms over the PA system, greeting everyone in te reo Māori (the Māori language), and my boys smile at me. A group of fans were proudly running up and down the steps of the stand waving Tino Rangatiratanga [Māori sovereignty flags], exuding mana [pride], unashamedly Māori.
As the teams run out on to the field, 42,000 fans go into overdrive. It’s fever pitch. The teams line up and Dame Hinewehi Mohi makes me cry. Hearing our reo Māori anthem being sung in this moment has a surreal effect. As her pitch perfect notes swim around the stadium, waves of emotions move around like the swell of a west coast surf beach.
Earlier in the day I had been at a wānanga [meeting where ideas are shared] at my boy’s kura [school]. I was wrestling with how much or little of the Māori worldview I am instilling in them as they grow up, especially in an urban setting. As our kids grow I want to be able to point to examples of our culture, our language and our people so they see themselves reflected. I wondered: would a rugby game offer anything?
Sitting in the stands that afternoon, my wife pointed out Ruahei Demant, the Black Ferns co-captain, to our boys: “I haere ia ki te kura kaupapa pērā i a kōrua,” she said – she went to Māori language school like you two. Another couple of smiles.
As the teams line up for the pre-game ritual of the haka, there is another wow moment. The wehi [awe] that the women’s team displays is nothing short of electric. I catch the boys chiming in with “tūruki tūruki! paneke paneke!” at the end of the haka.
We’re ready for kick-off now, the main event. But, the lead-up to this point has shown me and our whānau so much more. The value, the leadership, the future of Aotearoa maybe. A society that not only values its first people, but uplifts it and creates space for our culture to flourish.
As the game closes, crowd favourite Ruby Tui is being interviewed on the big screen. “I’m so proud to be a New Zealander right now,” she said, then started to sing. “Tūtira mai ngā iwi,” she sang, launching into the te reo Māori song so many New Zealand children now learn in primary school. The crowd roared back the next line: tātou tātou e: all of us, all of us.
Last Saturday showed glimpses of how the future could look. The next question for Aotearoa is how to capture that wairua – that spirit- and bring it into our everyday lives as a nation.
Te ao Māori thinking and te reo Māori have seamlessly been interwoven in the psyche of us the supporters. Into the wairua or soul of us Māori present. It was indeed the greatest day of the young life of my son, a life he can now see his language and culture being a part of.
Cornell Tukiri (Ngaati Hikairo, Ngaati Whaawhaakia, Kāi Tahu) is a photojournalist and writer based in Tāmaki Makaurau
