Loud and Proud -- Te Karaka ki te Raki unveiled

Caine Tauwhare and his partner Toni Rowe listen to speeches during the dawn ceremony.

Nā Ila Couch 

IT’S 6.25AM AND A CAR SLOWS DOWN BESIDE ME ON KORORA TAHI ROAD. “Do you want a lift?” Rāpaki kaumātua Herewini and Dave Banks know where I’m going, and I agree I’m not going to make it on time. “It’s more than a five-minute walk to Pony Point,” says Dave, typically gruff but always cheerful, “More like half an hour.”

Within minutes we arrive at Ōtūherekio, the point overlooking Te Whakaraupō between Motu-kouati-rahi/Cass Bay and Rāpaki. Under a korowai of grey cloud, we join a group of about 50: police, members of the Cass Bay and Lyttelton communities, and friends and whānau of Rāpaki, to unveil a new pou whakairo.

The pou replaces Te Kōauau o Tāne Whakapiripiri, vandalised beyond repair in November 2021. Among those gathered is kaiwhakairo Caine Tauwhare, who recalls a sunny day in 2012 when Te Kōauau o Tāne Whakapiripiri was unveiled. He shares a decades-old story he was told about a long-held dream of seeing carvings on the whenua around the peninsula.

“The story goes that around 40 or 50 years ago a ope from Rāpaki went up north. On returning and having their debrief, one of the moko sitting on Aunty Sissy’s (Waikura McGregor) knee asked why there weren’t carvings here like the ones they had seen up north. That planted the seed for Aunty Sissy and, as I’m told, became a dream that Aunty Dawn Kottier continued, to have a place to teach carving, and for carvings to be on the whenua.”

The Whakaraupō Carving Centre, a non-profit Charitable Trust, was established in 2010 by whānau members of Te Hapū o Ngāti Wheke, and by 2012 Caine was running two six-monthly classes with 10–12 young people. The first two commissioned pieces produced through the centre were Hinehouroko at Ohinehau/Sutton Reserve and Kōauau o Tāne Whakapiripiri at Ōtūherekio.

Tamariki on a weekend stay at Rāpaki Marae gather under Te Karaka ki te Raki on the day of its unveiling.

An experimental pou, Kōauau o Tāne Whakapiripiri, had a flute-like function built into it, designed to make sound with an easterly wind. The community took care of the pou, planting the surrounding area. Caine says he enjoyed seeing pictures on social media of people interacting and hugging the carving, which was mounted at ground level. He was shocked when the pou was desecrated over a weekend in November 2021.

The community now in celebration, after the desecration of Te Koauau o Tane Whakapiripiri in 2021.

Rev. Maui Stewart blessing Te Karaka ki te Raki located at Ōtūherekio, once the original place of karanga for those coming onto the marae at Rāpaki.

News of the destruction was covered by local and national press and Caine, a father of five and now a pōua, was asked to make sense of what had happened. He also had to explain what he called a “cowardly act” to his tamariki.

“I don’t think I said this to the kids, but I figured the person had possible mental issues. People go through things and have problems at times, so I told my kids if they were ever struggling with things to find somebody to talk to. That’s the best thing really.” Three years on, Caine says it’s been quite an emotional and challenging journey to create a new pou, but it presented an opportunity to build on the kaupapa of the first pou.

“My understanding of this place, Ōtūherekio, is that back in the day it was the first place for karaka coming onto the marae. The first pou reflected the gathering of people. The new pou, Te Karaka ki te Raki, speaks to the karaka, the call, so this is probably how it was supposed to be.

“We have had a chance to do it again and the things that have come out of this experience are resilience and not backing down.”

With the ceremony about to begin, we take our cue from Rev. Maui Stewart and move together towards Te Karaka ki te Raki, which towers above us on an elevated Corten steel plinth. Amongst the rōpū are tamariki, some wrapped in blankets, tired but attentive during karakia and speeches. They have spent the night together at their marae at Rāpaki and this is part of their experience as kāika kids.

Tuakana Kamalani Tukariri and Materia Hutana have been guiding them through the unveiling experience. Materia shares the significance of the day for herself and the tamariki.

Ka ketekete te kākā
Ka koekoe te tūī
Ka kūkū te kererū
Ara te taki o kā manu
I rere haere kā manu o te kōhaka, kā kāika kids ki te puke o Ōtūherekio.
I whai te karaka o te pou i tū ai, ko Karaka ki te Raki tērā. He wheako hou
ki ētahi, he mahi noa ki ētahi atu. E tū ai te pou hei maumarahataka o
ō mātou tikaka, ō mātou reo e taki mai nei ki te kāika. Ahakoa te hika
o Tane whakapiripiri, kua ea tāna mahi, i piringia mātou hei kāhui,
kia kōtahi ai i tēnei kahere. Kia taki tahi kia tū tahi.

Having the next generation witness the unveiling of the new pou is something that brings Caine joy. “It’s awesome to see the kids. I have aspirations that there will be more pou around the place and that our young people of further generations will get that opportunity to talk about it. For me, pou whakairo, it’s a language. Carving is a language. It’s our written language.

“It’s largely been said we handed things on orally, but it’s the carvings that keep the kōrero in check. I’m not so keen on writing things down because it becomes my interpretation, whereas if we can learn what the symbols mean, everybody can tell their story. “Knowledge of the symbols will keep the story in check or keep it pono. That’s my intention. Hopefully, people can come and learn how to read the whakairo.”

In the speech he gives during the unveiling, Caine talks about the kororā, a tiny but tenacious penguin that braves the ocean but returns to Whakaraupō to breed. It’s a message that resonates with me having just recently returned home to live on our papakāinga. “Although kororā prefer isolation, it’s always good to know where home is. Home is a safe warm place and upon the kororā returning home it likes to celebrate and be free to sing its song. For the kororā that stays longer, it has a responsibility to maintain a safe, welcoming, caring space.”

On the walk back home to Rāpaki I turn to look at the pou from a distance. Kōauau o Tāne Whakapiripiri was a pou that many people had the privilege to touch; Te Karaka ki te Raki is a pou raised high and can be seen from afar.

As Caine says, “This pou is prominent whereas the first pou was more humble and meek. That time is over. Now’s the time to be loud and proud.”