Food cart helps to ‘feel and taste’ te reo
Phillipa Hakopa says she was once like a potato – brown on the outside, white on the inside. Until her tu¯ puna called to her.
The Southland woman has been on a journey for the past decade – a journey of healing, reconnecting with her Ma¯ ori culture and whakapapa, and immersing herself in studying te reo Ma¯ ori.
She lives and breathes Te ao Ma¯ ori (The Ma¯ ori world). But it wasn’t always that way.
Hakopa was born in Huntly and spent her early years growing up on a marae at Awanui but moved to Invercargill in 1978, when she was about 16.
‘‘I lived here for 33 years, most of that time like a potato – brown on the outside, white on the in. I just had issues about being Ma¯ ori. I lost my identity and was disconnected from things Ma¯ ori.’’
About 2000, she felt a ‘‘pull’’ to embark on a pathway of healing.
‘‘I went away and did some healing and fell in love with who I was – Ma¯ ori. I fell in love with our language and started to immerse myself in it. When I did all that, Phillipa emerged – this beautiful wahine.’’
A call from her tu¯ puna (ancestors) in 2006 took her back home to learn, embrace and reconnect to her Waikato Tainui, Nga¯ ti Tu¯ wharetoa and Nga¯ ti Kahungunu iwi.
‘‘It was kind of scary because I never grew up in that environment where it was just Ma¯ ori.
‘‘The whole culture up north is different to here [Southland] but I had this pull so I went home to find my whakapapa, and be among my people.’’
The experience affected her emotionally and spiritually. The journey took her to Waikato University, where she enrolled in Te Tohu Paetahi programme and graduated with a degree in Ma¯ ori and Pacific development, majoring in te reo Ma¯ ori.
While working as a teacher at Te Wa¯ nanga o Aotearoa, she realised she had no idea how to teach te reo Ma¯ ori so completed a post-graduate diploma in applied linguistics second language teaching.
It was during this study, teaching international students English, that she picked up the ‘‘fundamental principles’’ of teaching a second language.
She later applied them to teaching te reo, then created and developed her own programme – Te Horopaki i te reo Ma¯ ori (The Ma¯ ori Language in Context) – alongside her supervisors, Dr Di Johnson and Professor Winifred Crombie.
‘‘It is a different way of teaching. Mine is concentrated on speaking ability whereas a lot of other programmes teaching te reo are assessment driven . . . mine is more [a] communicative language teaching approach. It is not a onesize-fits-all programme; it is tailored for individuals or groups.’’
The success of her programme led to her returning to Southland in 2016, responding to a call from the community.
‘‘I would fly in and out every month and the following year I had a big waiting list, so decided to base myself here.’’
She never had a desire to move back to Invercargill but now felt privileged to walk alongside her wha¯ nau, hapu¯ and Nga¯ i Tahu, Ka¯ ti Ma¯ moe Waitaha iwi, she says.
‘‘The whole reason for me to come home was to grow and develop te reo Ma¯ ori down here in Murihiku. I have been home for three years now.’’
The desire to spread te reo and ‘‘normalise’’ the language was the genesis behind her latest venture, a food cart in Riverton: Te kai a te rangatira (the food of chiefs).
Its menu includes traditional Ma¯ ori cuisine and favourites like mussel fritters, cream pa¯ ua (when available), fry bread as well as Phillipa Hakopa – pictured above right with niece Kalle-Ann Hakopa – in her Te kai a te rangatira coffee and food cart, outside Te Hikoi museum in Riverton. Phillipa encourages and helps people to speak Ma¯ ori when ordering their coffee. coffee, cakes and biscuits.
Hakopa based the idea on a coffee stand called Chokolate Fish she established in 2012 at the Nga¯ ruawa¯ hia markets in Waikato to provide a space for people wanting to communicate in te reo Ma¯ ori.
She created it particularly for her students who complained about having nowhere to practise and expand on their language outside the classroom.
‘‘The whole idea is to normalise te reo Ma¯ ori. I am there to help them, encourage them, get them to feel and taste te reo on their tongue.
‘‘I am like a pop-up teacher. Regardless of whether you are a student wanting tutorials or a visitor to town – haere mai, come to the cart and I will help you.’’
Te Hikoi Museum and Visitor Information Centre operations manager Karyn Owen says te reo Ma¯ ori has been incorporated into the museum experience and she supports Hakopa with her idea.
‘‘We tell a lot of stories around the bi-cultural history of Riverton so it is really nice once people have been through the museum they can come out here and have an extension of that experience through food.’’
Hakopa says the seaside Southland township is starting to embrace her vision but while people are hungry to learn the language, te reo Ma¯ ori is on ‘‘death’s doorstep’’.
The language continues to be undervalued and teachers of te reo Ma¯ ori are ‘‘like hen’s teeth’’.
‘‘If you haven’t got a language, you haven’t got a culture . . . We have an obligation to ensure the survival and maintenance of our language and customs for generations to come.’’
Hakopa also helped facilitate Te Ahu o te reo Ma¯ ori – an initiative created by the Ministry of Education and many stalwarts of te reo Ma¯ ori to ensure kaiako (teachers) and tu¯ muaki (principals) of schools around the country are equipped with the tools to transmit te reo Maori to tamariki mokopuna (children).
‘‘It is our children’s right, not a privilege, for them to learn their language.’’