A chance to ‘see our privilege and look after it’
Victoria Campbell dreams of a day when biodiversity is restored, birds are in abundance, and her grandkids can eat kereru as Ma¯ori used to through the winter. She talks to Jody O’Callaghan.
The night sky gives Victoria Campbell reassurance. It is ‘‘absolute natural wonderment and beauty’’, an information source, a calendar. The same one her tı¯puna (ancestors) used.
‘‘That was our original timekeeper,’’ Campbell (Ka¯ i Tahu) says.
Living in O¯ tepoti (Dunedin), a city bathed in light pollution, can be a challenge for the Ma¯ ori astronomer who follows the lunar stellar system.
Instead, she chases the many whetu¯ (stars) at dark sky ‘‘hot spots’’ across Te Waipounamu (South Island).
By the next Matariki, she and her wha¯ nau will have created a dark sky space in one of the best star-gazing spots in the country, to share that passion with others.
As well as building a family home near Twizel, it will become a spot to welcome ha¯ pu to meet and learn about maramataka. No fancy technology is needed, just unimpeded dark skies – and maybe a place to lay their heads between star gazing.
‘‘New Zealanders have forgotten that there is beauty above us . . . it wasn’t until I went somewhere like Mackenzie [district] that I realised what I was not seeing in our dark sky.’’
She ‘‘fell in love with those experiences’’ 10 years ago during a Southland trip with iwi language revival organisation Kotahi Mano Ka¯ ika and her southern relatives for wa¯ naka (lessons) with Rangi
Ma¯ ta¯ mua and cousin He¯ mi Whaanga.
‘‘My interest peaked, and I gravitated to learning more about our astronomical knowledge.’’
Campbell has a bachelor of arts degree in Ma¯ ori studies, a postgraduate teaching diploma and a master’s of indigenous studies.
Most of her astronomical knowledge was gained through wa¯ naka, conferences, and selfteaching, along with a ‘‘lucky checkin with some friendly professors’’ – both university qualified and ‘‘real deal practitioners’’.
Maramataka, the ancient Polynesian lunar calendar, was adapted by Ma¯ ori when they first arrived in Aotearoa 800 to 1000 years ago.
It synchronises the daily activities of people with the natural world (taiao), using cycles and phases instead of counting days, weeks and months.
Particular natural indicators or signs (tohu) have to be present to determine each phase, such as the position of the sun, phase of the moon, stars rising in the morning and the environment.
Ma¯ ori used the stars to understand and interact with their environment – to know when to plant, harvest, hunt, fish, travel, and celebrate.
Indigenous people across the world have connected with the sky in their own ways. But after settlers arrived in Aotearoa, the same astronomical knowledge they so admired in Ma¯ ori became lost as cultural practices were drowned out by colonisation.
Or, as Campbell diplomatically puts it, there was ‘‘lots of adapting’’.
Information and food gathering
In certain positions in the sky, stars are ‘‘like a clock ticking’’, and can be the difference between a successful harvest yield or not.
‘‘What we do know is that indigenous practices have used the star cluster for agricultural work for millennia because it’s cyclical,’’ she says of Matariki.
The wider constellation that iwi identify in the sky is not the same documented Taurus patterns that Western astronomers see, Campbell says.
Maramataka is fluid, and practices differ between wha¯ nau and locations.
In the south, with the weather often ‘‘inclement’’, Ma¯ ori look to Puaka rather than Matariki.
The lone star is brighter and easier to track before the lighter, early morning southern skies impede Matariki, which rises later.
Puaka (also called Rigel) is in the top 10 brightest stars in the sky, seen above Tautoru (Orion’s Belt) in the east.
‘‘I believe that’s why it’s so revered down here, because it’s easier to see.’’
In some takiwa¯ (areas) though, you may have to climb the mountains blocking Puaka and Matariki in order to see them.
In the cold south where Campbell is, Puaka is one of the indications that frosts and other seasonal winter changes are coming.
It means the mutton birders are coming back. It means the tuna heke (eel migration) is under way.
Traditionally, mahika kai (food gathering) practices meant hunters and gatherers would return from being immersed in the environment, armed with information to share with those at home. For example, they’d know if tuna hadn’t made it up the canal, or bird populations were not good this season.
It was crucial information for the season coming. They could then adjust their practices to what the whenua needed to repair or replenish.
In Waitaki, a track and transfer kaupapa (principle) means wha¯ nau collect tuna and transport them around the dam, so their life cycle is not disrupted.
There is even a channel especially for tuna, Campbell says.
‘‘As kaitiaki, we have to look after them to ensure our future generations continue a practice that’s part of our identity.’’
There are other parts of Ma¯ ori identity and connection to Matariki that Campbell has ‘‘lofty goals’’ to resurrect.
When native trees were thriving and wetlands were flourishing, Matariki was traditionally associated with bird hunting. Kereru were harvested, cooked, and preserved in their fat for the season ahead. But forestry and deforestation has destroyed access to the kai that Ma¯ ori life revolved around for survival.
Campbell dreams of a day when the biodiversity is restored and birds are in abundance again.
‘‘I would love for my grandchildren to be able to eat kereru again.’’
Matariki marked the time when food houses were full, when wha¯ nau gathered and shared kai while swapping stories and making plans, or resolutions for the new year ahead.
Spiritual connection
Ma¯ ori astronomer Rangi Ma¯ ta¯ mua wrote about how Ma¯ ori star lore is a blend of both astronomy and astrology.
‘‘While there is undoubtedly robust science within the Ma¯ ori study of the night sky, the spiritual component has always been of equal importance,’’ he wrote in his book Matariki: The Star of the Year.
There would be times when celestial bodies intertwined with Ma¯ ori spirituality, like a planet seen near the crescent moon might indicate an enemy would attack, or a large lunar halo warned that an important person was close to death.
Campbell believes the reason Matariki and Puaka are a time for remembrance and reflection could stem from when their tipuna coming back from mahi may have suffered casualties or missed deaths at home.
‘‘It’s a good practice to be able to reflect and remember. It just makes sense for me.’’
Some wha¯ nau and hapu¯ have upheld and maintained this connection, and many have been working to resurface that knowledge more widely, she says.
More wha¯ nau are celebrating Matariki and following maramataka today.
Campbell hopes having Matariki on the Gregorian calendar means people will come to appreciate not only the sky, but also the whenua (land).
Reconnecting with our ‘Pacific Ocean-ness’
Campbell wants people to think about light pollution, noise pollution, and rubbish pollution.
She and Ma¯ ta¯ mua have already spoken out against fireworks to ensure the Ma¯ ori New Year is not commercialised and its true meaning lost.
Matariki is ‘‘intrinsically linked to our environment’’, she says.
It’s an opportunity to reconnect with what Campbell calls ‘‘our te moana nui a kiwa taka, our special connection and Pacific Ocean-ness’’.
‘‘We live on a beautiful island, or islands, located in the Pacific. Our maramataka is Pacific-specific.’’
There are benefits and advantages to living in Aotearoa, and ‘‘water is a big thing’’, she says.
‘‘Water is life and, for me, it’s our most valuable commodity in the world. This is an opportunity for all New Zealand to start to see our privilege and look after it.’’
One of the nation’s other big privileges is its amazing dark skies. Campbell hopes others will start advocating to protect them from artificial light pollution.
‘‘It’s around good lighting practices, like having shielded lights, getting rid of blue light . . . blue is bad.’’
Many migratory species are disrupted by light pollution. Some birds become disoriented and fly into lampposts and buildings.
Wha¯ nau
‘‘New Zealanders have forgotten that there is beauty above us . . .’’
Campbell has spent a decade working within her takiwa¯ on the Matariki and Puaka kaupapa, supporting community initiatives and conducting public talks and wa¯ naka.
She feels privileged to be involved in tribal learnings with the nation’s most knowledgeable.
‘‘Ma¯ ori astronomy is my passion.’’
Her wha¯ nau bought lakeside land near Twizel in Te Manahuna (Mackenzie) – ‘‘the ultimate work from home job’’ – so others have an opportunity to engage and learn too.
Overconsumption of energy and stacked living ‘‘feels really unnatural’’ to Campbell. She wants to do everything she can to protect the integrity of nature – whenua and the stars.
Not only is it a culturally significant place, under Aoraki, it ‘‘can offer us the ability to practice what we want to preach’’.
She, her husband, and two boys, 15 and 12, are excited to build there and hope to be in by summer, whether full-time or seasonally.
‘‘Nothing gives me more joy than being with my wha¯ nau and looking at the stars.
‘‘That’s my special place.’’