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Sharon Roberston and her whānau live on 10 acres of lush, rolling Taranaki farmland, 30 minutes drive from New Plymouth.
Horses have been part of her life since childhood. In recent years she has transformed her love of these majestic animals into a business that is helping to change lives.
Summer is the time when nature is abundantly full of life and the māra is at its most productive. However, despite the obvious beauty of the bountiful summer māra, what we can’t see in our food is just as important as what we can see.
Microbes (moroiti) inhabit a world beyond our normal eyesight. Research is increasingly finding that moroiti can be just as important to our diet, our physical health, and our mental health as the normal nutritional factors we know are in food. Researchers have found that trillions of microbes live in, on, and around us, collectively making up our microbiome.
And then it dawned on me. Whakapapa. Haare Williams was using this poem to teach whakapapa. The whakapapa of the winds. Like Matiaha in Te Waiatatanga mai o te Atua; it was a different whakapapa but whakapapa all the same. Easily formatted, with a rhythm and simplicity that make it accessible. Hidden in plain sight, told naturally, yet with a sophistication that is just clever. I went back to page one and started again, eyes unglazed, and kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.
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The Ashley-Rakahuri Rivercare Group (ARRG) is a nonprofit organ-isation based in North Canterbury, New Zealand. It is devoted to protecting the unique birds living on the Ashley Rakahuri River. Only 18 per cent of New Zealand’s bird population is not at risk. Pollution, climate change, habitat loss, and other factors pose an increasing threat.
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Mike Pohio is the youngest of four children and was raised on a drystock farm at Ōkere Falls, near Rotorua. His father was a captain in the Māori Battalion during WWII, and while on a two-year role in the Graves Registration Service immediately after the war, met Mike’s English mother in Budapest, where she was working as a secretary in the British Foreign Office.
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It’s hard to believe it is only three months since we published the last issue of TE KARAKA. So much can change in such a short time, as we have witnessed with the passing of a number of whānau and tribal leaders, among them Tahu Pōtiki and Pere Tainui. Over the past year we have had the privilege of featuring stories on both Tahu and Pere – two rangatira with incredible vision and passion for their whānau, hapū, and iwi; and for the revitalisation of cultural practices.
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I know you are supposed to be discreet about your age but it’s a bit late for that now as I move closer towards that gold card than most others around me in the workplace. As a child it seemed to take forever for my birthday to roll around each year, knowing that a present would arrive from my grandmother in the form of a card with 20 cents inside the envelope. Of course once this landed in my lap, I was straight down to the corner dairy to buy a bag of lollies. This event marked another year older.
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Moturau is the correct Māori name for Lake Manapōuri in Te Rua-o-te-Moko (Fiordland). Roto-Ua is an earlier name for the lake, and was given by the Waitaha explorer Rākaihautū when digging the lake with his kō, on account of the persistent rain that troubled his party here. Puhiruru (Rona Island) is the island in the…
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Not a week after Māoridom erupted over the harrowing images of a baby being uplifted from its mother in Napier earlier this year, another baby was killed in his home. This murdered baby was one of six children – the other five had previously been uplifted by Oranga Tamariki. Some rangatira have been quick to criticise the Oranga Tamariki uplifts with cries of “Not one more baby”.
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I was born on the cusp of the second millennium. As a child, the stuffed huia birds at the Canterbury Museum captured my imagination. The idea of “extinction” – something being here and then not – fascinated me. Extinction happened in the past, when people were careless because they did not have the knowledge that we have today … or so I thought as an 8-year-old.
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