It took me 13 years of living in Aotearoa New Zealand before I was willing to say something publicly in te reo Māori — the Māori language.
I went with one of the most common whakataukī, or sayings: "Ha aha te mea nui o te ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata." "What is the most important thing in the world? It is people, it is people, it is people."
A couple years later, I read an article by Khylee Quince about the whakapapa — the history — of this whakataukī, which had originally been said by Meri Ngaroto, a wāhine rangatira (female chief) of Te Aupouri.
I had used it wrong.
I thought it meant that people are important in a kind of cheesy Western corporate way. Our most important asset is our people!
Turns out what Ngaroto actually meant was that the most important thing is people's connection to other people.
"[W]hat she is claiming therefore is the most important thing, through a Māori lens, is not people in the sense of those individuals you see before you, alive and breathing now, but those to whom they are connected – their tūpuna, or ancestors, but also their as yet unseen/unborn descendants."
"In other words, Ngaroto is referring to WHAKAPAPA as the most important thing – the people to whom we are connected – and the idea that we are people through other people, and all that they represent in terms of knowledge and experience."
It was an eye-opener, not just to the story of this whakataukī, but to the fact that whakataukī had stories at all.
The whakataukī was only the visible face. The true meaning lay beneath.
Often one of the first things we learn in Māori is our pepeha: how to share our history and connections. And we often learn it via a formula: this is my mountain, this is my river, this is my family.
When I first learned my pepeha, I included the Hudson River, which I could see from my childhood bedroom, snaking down the west side of Manhattan.
Then I came to understand what pepeha was really about. It wasn't just "Hey I grew up close to this river." It was, "This river is my ancestor. And when I speak here, I'm not just representing myself, I'm representing my ancestors."
That was not my relationship with the Hudson. I took the river out.
The pepeha says that we ourselves are only the visible face of what we represent. And it is impossible to know us without knowing what lies beneath: our places, our people, and everything that led us to this day.
These concepts are why I love learning te reo Māori, and why this language is different to other languages I have learned. The words, and their literal translations, are only the visible face of the language. The true meaning often lies beneath.
I had been ignorant about "he tangata" and pepeha. Then I learned I had also been ignorant to the fragility of the reo itself.
I had not realised that te reo Māori had been actively discriminated against. That it was literally made illegal in schools. That children were beaten for speaking their native tongue.
How people like Hana Te Hemara, Lee Smith, Rawiri Paratene, and Syd Jackson fought to turn the tide. How people like Hana O’Regan, Scotty Morrison, Anton Matthews, Melanie Taite-Pitama continue that fight. How generously they share their knowledge.
I understand the appeal of ending "race-based" policies. I understand the appeal of treating everybody equally.
I also understand the importance of history and context. Of seeing people not just as their visible face but as all they represent, all that lies beneath.
When we elevate te reo Māori, when we elevate tikanga Māori (Māori culture), we all benefit.
My life is richer for having thought deeply about my pepeha. My life is richer for learning that the word "whakapapa" literally means "to make layers": the layers of past and relationship and context that form who we are. My life is richer for having understood that the most important thing in the world is, in fact, people — and our connection to each other.
Noho ora mai rā e hoa mā / stay well my friends,
Kaila
Kaila Colbin, Certified Dare to Lead™ Facilitator
Founder and CEO, Boma
