Ihumātao II in the making
Property developers in the lifestyle town of Whakatāne plan to build a rest home over an ancient graveyard. To an ordinary person that plan seems, at best, distasteful and, at worst, malicious. Who would send their parents or grandparents to live atop the bones of other people?
Yet MMS GP Ltd, the developer, with resource consent from Whakatāne District Council, intends to proceed anyway. So 240 residential allotments, several roads and an almost 9-hectare rest home will take shape adjacent to one of the oldest known urupā (cemeteries) in the Bay of Plenty: pihi Whanaungakore.
The earliest Polynesian arrivals would often bury their dead near the coast, resting comfortably beneath the pı¯ngao (golden sand sedge) and their sand dunes. Random digging in Kāwhia, a settlement on
Waikato’s west coast, and the final resting place for the Tainui waka, sometimes uncovers centuries-old human remains in the dunes. The diggers usually do their duty, reporting their finds and returning the bones to the care of the local iwi and the earth.
To an ordinary person this seems the right thing to do. If you accidentally uncover a cemetery, return what you found and respectfully move along. But if someone told you beforehand that the area where you plan to dig is a cemetery, and you are likely to uncover remains, would you dig anyway?
I doubt it. Theōordinary person would select another site. Not necessarily out of
fear – no-one is suggesting the ghosts of old will return – but out of basic decency. Yet MMS GP plans to dig and build near the
pihi dunes and over the top of the dry flats that unfold from the dunes inland. Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Awa, the local hapū in Ngāi Taiwhakaea, andō¯theo pihi Whanaungakore trustees – the kaitiaki or guardians of the sacred site – oppose the development.
Whakatāne is famous in te ao Māori as the landing site of Toroa and the Mātaatua waka he captained. The town takes its name from his daughter, Wairaka, whose acts of bravery – ‘‘Me whakatāne au i ahau’’ – saved the waka from destruction on the tides and the reef.
The physical and spiritual remains of their descendants dot the township and region from Pōhaturoa (where the Fedarb copy of the Treaty of Waitangi was signed) to Kaputerangi (one of the most densely populated pā in the country).
Yet very few of these physical and spiritual remains are left intact. European settlers fenced in Pōhaturoa with retail stores. Kaputerangi was, for the better part of the 19th and 20th centuries, a paddock for grazing livestock. Whānau who were living in the parts of town with the best views, the best microclimate and the best access to the coast were uplifted and forced to the other side of the river – the river which the European settlers then promptly redirected.
On Muriwai Drive a former mayor built his red-brick mansion over the area where Toroa kept his gardens. In¯ohope, one of the wealthiest communities in Bay of Plenty, the whānau who had occupied the area for centuries were evicted and their old pā were converted to pastoral lands.
pihi Whanaungakore, then, is one of the few sites of significance and sacredness left more or less intact. The dunes remain home to the pı¯ngao and the sacred bones of many of Ngāti Awa’s most important ancestors. That is worth protecting and Te Rūnanga o ¯Ngatheōtiawa,ngāitaiwhakaeaand pihi Whanaungakore trustees are seeking to do so in the Environment Court, arguing that Heritage New Zealand misdirected itself.
The so-called guardians of New Zealand’s collective heritage failed to refer the matter to the betterqualified Māori Heritage Council for a decision. They even failed to visit the site.
This is an indictment on a heritage body, and the consequences of it are major. If MMS GP goes ahead, will Ngāti Awa lose another site? Yes. If construction proceeds it will diminish the mauri and the sacredness of the urupā.
The people and institutions who support the development are likely to argue that the Māori who oppose it are Nimbys. But that’s a false binary. In the development of New Zealand and its economy, it’s Māori who have sacrificed their lands, waterways and important sites.
In the 19th century, the land was lost from confiscation and dodgy purchasing. In the 20th century it was often taken as compulsory acquisitions in the name of infrastructure development. In the 21st century those sites are often lost as developers and councils attempt to deal with population pressures and a housing deficit.
But why should Māori sacrifice again? If the developers and the council proceed, and court action is lost, pihi Whanaungakore risks becoming the next Ihumātao.