Whaikorero

The World of Maori Oratory

Poia Rewi

• Publisher: Auckland University Press
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781775582403
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Australian & Oceanian History
• Index: History

Based on in-depth research and interviews with 30 tribal elders, this guidebook to whaikorero—or New Zealand's traditional Maori oratory—is the first introduction to this fundamental art form. Assessing whaikorero's origin, history, structure, language, and style of delivery, this volume features a range of speech samples in Maori with English translations and captures the wisdom and experience of the Maori tribal groups, including Ngai Tuhoe, Ngati Awa, Te Arawa, and Waikato-Maniapoto. Informative and noteworthy, this bilingual examination will interest both modern practitioners of whaikorero and Maori culture aficionados.

Chapter One

Introduction

This book, Whaikōrero: The World of Māori Oratory, explores the complexity of Māori oratory, both past and present. While whaikōrero continues to be a central element in Māori gatherings and culture, there is a notable absence in the literature of an analysis of its depth, its delivery, and its cultural and social context. What makes whaikōrero more than merely a theatrical speech is the origin and function of the various components, the rites associated with the selection and qualification of its exponents, and the way it is delivered. This book is an investigation into not only the art of oratory itself, but also related cultural aspects. It delves into the underlying philosophies inherent in whaikōrero that impact on, and are influenced by, the culture, etiquette and belief system of the Māori world.

It was my interest in learning about the Māori people in general as well as the tribes with which I have affiliations that provided me with the motivation and passion to find out more about Māori culture and lore. I believe that this passion, this interest, was imbued in me as I traversed the Bay of Plenty, Gisborne and bordering areas as a small boy with the grandfather I knew and loved, Sonny White. We would attend Ringatū days in the Mātaatua area where I recall sleeping at the feet of elders. The last thing I would hear at night were Ringatū prayers, and the first thing to enter my ears in the morning were Ringatū prayers again. Although what was going on at the time was not always apparent to me, I think the teaching began there. Perhaps the spiritual elders, with all their knowledge, humility and compassion, thought that their mokopuna, me, might be worth cultivating. I believe they consciously, or subconsciously, opened the corridors of learning to me, and from there I was drip-fed knowledge selectively chosen that was appropriate to the various stages of my maturity. I think that they saw this knowledge as invaluable for my future survival, and perhaps more importantly, for the preservation of tribal information for future generations beyond me.

‘One of the fundamental notions of Māori society is the respect for elders whose wisdom embodies the past’, says Reilly,1 and it is with this thought in mind that I will be forever grateful to all of my kuia and koroua who have added to the tukutuku of Māori knowledge that has fashioned me. I sincerely hope that the knowledge they have passed on as the living breath of their words will continue to enhance the sovereignty, independence and honour that will become part of each and every Māori generation hereafter, ‘hei pūtiki kōrero whakawhiti ki tēnā reanga, ki tēnā whakapaparanga’.

The Search for Knowledge

In order for research on Māori to be conducted in an appropriate manner, it needs first to be unbiased. Durie expressed his view that researchers –

… must come to a better understanding of Māori society if they are to measure past conflict and conduct in cultural context. To understand that society they must look inside its thought concepts, philosophy and underlying values and avoid interpretations from an outward appearance. They must consider the social structure not just in terms of how it looks but with regard for the likely reasons for it. It will be important to consider the poetry, songs, legends, proverbs, idiom and forms of speech-making.2

If we align Durie’s expectations with the study of whaikōrero, we become aware of the diverse factors that are associated with speech-making, including cultural context, values and meaning. Whaikōrero is more than mere discourse. One of the purposes of this book is to examine the multifaceted nature of whaikōrero – as ritual, as history, as tikanga – which is often overlooked by the very people to whom it belongs.

Where does one search for knowledge about the world of Māori oratory? Much of the literature on whaikōrero gives a similar account, almost as if one author has regurgitated the writings of another: there is little newly introduced information and the approaches bear a close resemblance to each other. What also astounds me is the lack of data on whaikōrero recorded by ethnographers such as Elsdon Best and John White. Why was this the case when people such as Best and Grey wrote volumes of material on Māori history, Māori lore, Māori belief systems, Māori genealogy? I am inclined to presume that it is because in the nineteenth century whaikōrero was a thriving practice with a relatively large number of practitioners. Because it did not face the possibility of extinction, ethnographers felt less compulsion to write about it.

Sir Peter Buck mentions Western scholars’ scepticism about the ability of uncivilised peoples to transmit information orally.3 Despite this scepticism, I view oral information as an integral component of this research, especially in light of the fact that the majority of written literature on whaikōrero is repetitive. I would like to believe that the intricacies and subtle differences that give colour to this account of whaikōrero come from the oral informants themselves. Conducting interviews, for me, was also a way of reinstating the validity of oral transmission and recognising the power of its mnemonic capacity, especially in the face of sceptics who are reliant on the written word and do not or cannot accept the dynamism of orality. Cox, amongst others, points to the functions and centrality of oral traditions within Māori culture:4

It is important to remember that oral tradition has not ceased just because a more ‘acceptable’ alternative is available. Māori continue to store, maintain, and transmit historical details orally. For Māori, this information is vital to the social, economic, and political well-being of groups, and is consequently a dynamic resource. The same events in which many ancestral figures have played a part are retold through waiata (songs), whakatauaki (proverbial expressions), whakapapa (genealogical tables), and whaikorero (formal speeches).5

Facing the paucity of material in the written record, I decided that oral interviews were the most effective means of eliciting quality information. I conducted 31 interviews over the period 1995–2003. The majority of interviews were formally structured. Five respondents chose to divulge the knowledge they had on the subject of whaikōrero less formally by way of ‘loose chats’, rather than following the more standard ‘question and response’ format. Two elders died just before I was about to interview them, and this prompted me to prioritise the interviewing process. The venue where the interviews were conducted was determined by the informants: they decided on the location where they felt most comfortable, whether it was in the privacy of their own homes, the marae, my home, a hospital, a workplace or at a university.

I would like to express deep gratitude to all of them for making themselves available to my research. The majority of these elders were familiar with me or my family, but there were some who were unknown to me, and I to them. They agreed to share their knowledge, their memories, and even their kai, with me. I must confess that there were times when I felt like a secret forager for information, becoming privy to knowledge that I thought may have been rightfully destined for their own children or grandchildren, or people from their immediate tribe or subtribe. It was indeed a privilege to have these people talk with me, and I will probably spend the rest of my life finding a way to reciprocate. Where words fail to acknowledge such people fully, I must be content, at this point in time, with the moral gratitude that will forever sit close to my heart for all that they have shared.

Most of the people interviewed were chosen because they were renowned as quality practitioners of whaikōrero, well known throughout their tribal boundaries, or recognised as great orators because of the memorable whaikōrero they had delivered. As a consequence, their fame had spread throughout the country. Some of the respondents were referred to me as people with knowledge about whaikōrero. All of these kuia and koroua of the 1990s embodied a link with highly skilled orators they would have witnessed who would, in turn, have been educated by elders schooled in wānanga, the special schools of learning of the early twentieth century.

I made initial contact with informants via telephone, and once I had arrived for the interviews they were asked whether they agreed to have the interview tape-recorded. Two male respondents declined to be recorded. Bearing in mind the fact that whaikōrero is a male-dominated area of responsibility on most marae, most of the people interviewed were male. However, I also interviewed kuia, and the approach with them was slightly different. They tended to be more informal, and talked about any area of whaikōrero they wished to discuss. I sensed some reluctance by two of the kuia to talk about whaikōrero, probably because it is generally accepted that whaikōrero is a male role in most tribes. There were others who were not approached who, upon hearing that I was researching whaikōrero, volunteered information or views they had in regard to the practice. Most informants agreed to divulge their knowledge with the understanding that I safeguard it. It is from this understanding that I recorded the discussions and completed transcription of the dialogue. I still have the records in my possession. Transcribed segments from the interviews have been incorporated in this work. The year that the discussion took place has been provided, and brief biographies of the informants can be viewed in the bibliography section.

Perhaps this is an opportune time to express my one regret in regard to the interview process. Eleven of the informants died before their contribution to this work went to print, and I sincerely apologise for my tardiness in completing the writing. Perhaps if I had been more conscientious and less procrastinating, they would have seen the fruits of their information. Their comments, nonetheless, are central to the text, and I am grateful to them, along with all of the informants, for their contributions, their trust and their openness.

Hohepa Kereopa, an expert on Māori medicine, once provided a hint on procuring leaves for the preparation of medicine. It is preferable, he said, to refrain from gathering the leaves off one single tree or plant. The inadvertent effect of gathering leaves from one tree, he went on, means that the person who has gathered the leaves has empowered that one tree to be the sole healer. Because Māori believe that trees have a living form, similar to that of people, this gives that one tree, or plant, exceptional mana, that is, it raises the status and authority of that tree which may then become the target of jealousy and envy. This then gives root to animosity. What Hohepa proposes is that the leaves from different trees are gathered so that many trees, as opposed to one, will then have the power to heal, thereby minimising the likelihood of one tree becoming superior to others. This ensures that the mana is shared. In forming this text, information has been acquired from a range of sources including people now dead or alive, published and unpublished literature, public and private documents, and the internet. Like the trees with their remedial properties, the collective of elders who were interviewed gives authority to the knowledge I have brought together, and the means by which this knowledge of Māori cultural practices and whaikōrero can be transmitted over generations..

Royal is critical of people who research and publish work on Māori culture and history and consequently ‘have attempted to create a common version of tribal traditions, thereby undermining tribal diversity and ultimately tribal authority’.6 It is my hope that the main focus of this text falls sharply on whaikōrero in the areas of its core values and principles, its intricacies and nuances, its diversity and variability. By allowing difference, complexity and context, and by examining both oral and written literature, it is my hope that I will be able to paint a worthwhile insight into tribal and individual uniqueness and specificity, as well as to reveal comparative differences and similarities. Perhaps this will encourage a shift from ‘standardising’ the way whaikōrero is delivered.

The tribal affiliations of the informants include Tūhoe (Ngāi Tūhoe), Kahungunu (Ngāti Kahungunu), Te Arawa, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Awa, Waikato–Maniapoto, Te Whakatōhea, Ngā Puhi and Ngāti Whare; the majority being from the Tūhoe tribe. The general belief, when I began, was that Tūhoe have managed to evade the assimilation process, in comparison with other tribes, and therefore orators from Tūhoe were referred to me as knowledgeable in the arena of whaikōrero. I am not totally sure why the other tribes were represented, but I am compelled to believe that the participation of informants from outside of my immediate tribal affiliations is the work of my taha Māori, my Māori side, and that it is likely that I have genealogical ties to those tribes. Two of the kuia who were interviewed are from Ngāti Porou. Another kuia lived in Te Tairāwhiti and has connections to Ngāti Kahungunu. Yet another is from Tūho...