The Ma¯ori words that English misses

There’s much that could be said, if only there were the words. And in te reo Ma¯ori, sometimes there are words to say what reo Pa¯keha¯ just can’t express, writes Thomas Manch. Po¯ he¯ he¯ Manaaki Teina and tuakana Ihi and wehi Rongo

Adifferent kind of idiot, a deeper word for care, a distinction between siblings, or a way to express a truly hair-raising performance. Te reo Ma¯ori has words for them that English lacks.

Stuff sought out two te reo experts to share words unknown to reo Pa¯keha¯: Ma¯ori Language Commission chief executive Ngahiwi Apanui and kaihautu¯ at Te Wa¯nanga o Raukawa, Heitia Raureti.

But first, a word of warning from Raureti. Ma¯ori words are increasingly commonplace in the vernacular of all New Zealanders – certainly a good thing – but there stands to be something lost.

Raureti reflects on the words of Nga¯puhi leader James He¯nare: ‘‘Ko te reo te kaipupuri i te Ma¯oritanga’’, translated as ‘‘the Ma¯ori language is the purveyor of Ma¯ori culture’’.

‘‘I think that’s the danger we get into these days when applying a one-word or two-word interpretation of a Ma¯ori word. You lose the depth of the meaning, and you lose the cultural importance of the word.’’ Everyone knows a po¯he¯he¯, that person who wrongly assumes they know something and wilfully maintains the misunderstanding.

‘‘It’s one of the more humorous words, I love it. Often you’ll hear people say ‘te¯ra¯ po¯he¯he¯ te¯ra¯’, ‘that bloody idiot’,’’ Apanui says.

The word describes both the act of misunderstanding, but also a person who ‘‘just assumed that something was what it was, and away they went’’.

A foolish but confident child would be called a po¯he¯he¯, Apanui says. The easiest definition? ‘‘You’ve got it wrong, you egg.’’ Manaaki has entered into broad usage, understood as: to care, to respect and show generosity.

It is all of those things, Raureti says, but much is lost in this understanding. ‘‘Manaaki itself reflects our values and culture. It’s about recognising that things have mana, and when you express manaakitanga [the application of manaaki] to someone or something, that in itself is an upliftment, an encouragement, an elevation of the mana of a person or thing.

‘‘It’s recognising that person or thing deserves that expression of manaakitanga, that you demonstrate towards them.’’

Broken in two, the word contains both mana, and aki, meaning to encourage. ‘‘It’s a duty as well. It’s about relationships. When you express manaakitanga, it’s the strengthening of a relationship and the expression

. . . actually requires a reciprocation,’’ Raureti says.

‘‘The ongoing nature of relationships is promoted . . . the whole idea of relationships, wha¯nau, hapu¯, they were fundamental to Ma¯ori life, but also to survival.’’ Te reo Ma¯ori makes distinctions between siblings unknown to reo Pa¯keha¯.

In te reo Ma¯ori, there is teina, a younger sibling or relation of the same gender, and tuakana, an older sibling or relation of the same gender.

Both elder and younger siblings share a responsibility to make sure each is doing things appropriately, Raureti says.

‘‘There is in Ma¯ori culture a difference in tuakana and teina in terms of different roles . . . our history and stories tell us that some of the most significant things that were achieved for Ma¯ori were done by te¯ina.

‘‘Maui is the perfect example of that. His deeds surpassed what his elder brothers did.’’

For siblings of the other gender, an age distinction isn’t made, but there is tuahine, sister of a male, and tungane, brother to a female.

Elsewhere in the language, there’s no gender distinction, no ‘‘his’’ or ‘‘hers’’. Apanui says this lack of gender shows traditional Ma¯ori culture was, in a sense, quite progressive.

‘‘The [gender] roles were more complementary . . . The men went off to war because they could die, the women stayed at home, because all you needed was one male to continue the iwi.

‘‘Through the colonisation of New Zealand, one of the things that really impacted on Ma¯ori culture was this idea of a gender inequality, that somehow men were more superior to women.’’ These are words you can expect to hear a lot during Te Matatini – the national kapa haka competition being held in Wellington in February 2019 – used to describe a performer and their effect on the person performed to.

They’re words that better capture the energy of a hairraising performance, beyond that of ‘‘inspiring’’ and the like in reo Pa¯keha¯. ‘‘It’s a combination of something spiritual and something physical,’’ says Apanui.

‘‘The ihi describes the ability of someone. It’s the kind of X-factor the performer has . . . it’s hitting you in the heart and the hair is standing up on the back of your neck and you’re thinking, ‘wow, this is amazing’.

‘‘The wehi describes the impact on someone.’’ Many of us know ‘‘whakarongo’’, as in to listen. But ‘‘rongo’’ doesn’t just mean to listen, Apanui says.

‘‘It’s the word used for all the senses, other than sight. What you hear, touch . . . but it also means smell, and feel. ‘Rongo au te wairua, I felt the spirit’.’’

The encompassing word for sensory experience is distinguished by context: if you’re talking about some steaming kai (food), it’s going to be smell. But of course, you can’t smell something without tasting it.

‘‘Obviously, it doesn’t mean you listened to the food, otherwise you’d probably be on some kind of drug,’’ Apanui adds.