All in the family
As its members flock from the area in droves, Tῡhoe’s new plan to encourage them back involves a village where everything is shared. It’s the first of about 40 they hope to build. Rod Emmerson visits the first site.
As its members flock away from the area in droves, T¯uhoe's new plan to encourage them back involves a village where everything is shared.
There’s a clever user-friendly tourist map on the counter of my Whakatane motel reception desk, inviting visitors to explore the region as far south as Lake Waikaremoana. It’s wonderfully dotted with cute stylised drawings of happy walkers, cyclists, golfers, kiwis wearing sunglasses. Smack in the middle of the map, is the home of the Ngai Tuhoe iwi, Te Urewera, an area of mostly forested, sparsely populated rugged hill country, much of it in the northern Hawke’s Bay Region and some in the eastern Bay of Plenty.
The rugged Urewera ranges are dotted in drawings of hikers, birdlife, folk on horseback, deer and wild pig wearing sunglasses.
I show the map to Tamati Kruger, chairman of Tuhoe’s governing body, Te Uru Taumatua and of the ranges’ governing body, Te Urewera Board. He’s not seen it before and studies it with great interest. The eyebrows rise and he grins.
“This is great — it brings people to the area.”
I point to the hipster pig in sunglasses, and tell him I’m looking forward to seeing one of these up the valley.
What the map doesn’t show of course is the history beneath it. The spiritual home of the Tuhoe nation is an all-too-familiar narrative. A timeline of upheaval, land confiscation, the collapse and dispersement of people, the erosion of an indigenous religious culture, the loss of language and a litany of broken promises.
The 2007 Urewera raids didn't help much. Seventeen people were arrested for alleged firearms offences. The Independent Police Conduct Authority later found police acted unlawfully detaining occupants at five properties. The Human Rights Commission ruled innocent people had their human rights contravened when they were illegally searched and detained. Then-Prime Minister John Key’s unfortunate Tuhoe cannibalism joke in 2010 didn’t help either. Speaking
at a tourism event in Auckland, he said “I would have been dinner,” if he had dined with Tuhoe, after a dispute over treaty negotiations.
Tariana Turia, while co-leader of the Maori Party, once lamented she felt Tuhoe had been persecuted by the Crown more than any other iwi.
Yet tenacity and pride has enabled those who remain to survive and dogmatically broker their way through a Waitangi Treaty settlement. While many iwi arrived with armloads of claims, Tuhoe arrived with three. Top of the list was the return of Te Urewera, then a passage to their autonomy, and a financial settlement. They received all three, including the $170m settlement. These would eventually be delivered through years of skilled arbitration.
Post the raids, a conga line of Crown officials have made the pilgrimage to Taneatua, Te Urewera’s nearest town to the north. Also known as the Gateway to Te Urewera, its population was 786 in the 2013 Census.
Annette King, former Police Minister, tells the Weekend Herald she was “devastated at the way Tuhoe were treated”.
“I needed to meet and talk to them. Several years passed and finally a meeting was arranged with Tamati Kruger and Tame Iti. I left our korero with a sense of relief and peace.”
Today, Tuhoe have emerged as a united, yet globally scattered people with control of their own destiny. Still healing, but now they have providence. There are now a handful of living monuments to this, with another on its way.
The first was the 2014 Te Urewera Act, the result of its settlement. It expels all preconceived notions and presumptions of sovereignty over the natural world, our national parks and their management, and returns custodial administration to its indigenous peoples through Te Urewera Board. Kruger reveals the act is primarily based on the principles of the Rights of Nature movement, an idea that our ecosystems have rights as much as people, rather than treating nature as property under law.
Considered high-risk at the time, it is seen as a “living, breathing” chronicle, the first of its kind and a potential template for future indigenous negotiations, here and abroad.
Tuhoe has built three major buildings since its settlement. The first, in 2014, was Te Kura Whare in Taneatua which is certified by the International Living Future Institute in its Living Building Challenge, which sets a benchmark for sustainable buildings. At the time, it was just one of 15 in the world (there are now 23) and the first in the world outside of the US. Quite an accomplishment given the meticulous standards set by the institute.
The multi-purpose sprawling complex is predominantly made with local timbers and rammed earth. It generates its own electricity, selling it back into the grid. Warm in winter and cool in summer, it collects rainwater, treats its own greywater and sewerage, and provides kai for the kitchen from the gardens at the back.
With “net-zero energy, water, waste and toxicity” it’s become one with the environment. Complete with an outdoor amphitheatre, libraries and meeting rooms, you’ll also find Colin McCahon’s The Urewera Mural. Commissioned by the Urewera National Park Board and hung in the visitor centre in Aniwaniwa, near Lake Waikaremoana, it was stolen in 1997, before Tuhoe member Tame Iti negotiated its return.
Subsequent buildings included Te Kura Whenua at Waikaremoana, opened in 2016, and the $12m Te Tii in Ruatahuna, which opened last year. But where to from here?
I pose this question to Kruger and he laughs. “We have all sorts of crazy ideas”.
IN KEEPING with a comprehensive 40-year economic plan, Tuhoe Te Uru Taumatua is about to embark on the complex journey of housing its people. This was mostly borne out of a crisis within Tuhoe, of which 34,890 people in the 2013 Census were affiliated with.
Kruger says 87 per cent of its people are now vastly dispersed urban dwellers, detached from their spiritual connection to Te Urewera.
Tuhoe wants to reverse that trend and revitalise its iwi. Traverse some of the valley settlements and you soon realise the necessity. But it won’t be to everyone’s liking, particularly those who wish to climb New Zealand’s formidable property ladder.
Being cashed-up doesn’t qualify you access. Socially corrosive vices won’t be tolerated past the front gate. The giant waka Tuhoe is about to push out is a well-researched utopian communal-style eco-village with a net-zero carbon toxicity footprint that challenges conventional housing projects as we know it.
The hunt to create a unique model for Tühoe cast a giant net far and wide, and clocked up hundreds of hours of scrutiny. In February 2018, Tühoe Te Uru Taumatua, subsidiary Tühoe Tribals and hapu Ngati Koura hosted a three-day event, Te Ohu. More than 120 guests from around NZ and overseas, from a variety of backgrounds and specialities, came together. A major takeaway was an introduction to an eco-village concept. The first of about 40 Tühoe hopes to build is due to start construction before the year’s end.
Communal living is nothing new, especially to iwi, and there are some stunning contemporary variations scattered around the globe, especially in Chile and Scandinavian countries that work extremely well. West Auckland’s Earthsong has been running successfully since conception in 1995. Its website boasts “socially and environmentally sustainable living nurturing a flourishing ecosystem, while encouraging a sense of community while safeguarding privacy and autonomy”. These goals align with Tühoe's philosophy, with the foundation for the village not reinforced concrete, but “kindness, health and wellbeing”.
Pawing over the plans with Auckland-based Klein’s lead architect Dan McNelis, he clarifies the difference between the project and Earthsong. There is the advantage of 20 years of advancement in building and eco-technology as well as Tühoe's philosophy for the quality of life for its people. The prototype has its principles embedded in Tuhoe’s philosopy of Mana Motuhake (the right or condition of self-government) and its spiritual connection to the Ureweras.
And like Te Kura Whare, its aim is to meet the vigorous standards of the Living Building Challenge.
McNelis points to the village footprint on the 1.7ha site, explaining it allows for future development. A large car parking area is kept well away from housing. Shared driving will be encouraged, as will the use of electric vehicles. From the carpark you must walk. The aged and mobility-restricted will have the closest dwellings and will use buggies if needed. The path leads to a spacious communal building, where there are shared kitchens and laundries, and a gathering area for whanau. There are ample activity areas for children, accommodation for visitors; it’s a long list. The path then splits and splinters to six blocks with about four dwellings inside each.
Tühoe envisage 23 to 25 northfacing homes for 70 to 75 people across a range of ages. The buildings have configurations of one to four bedrooms catering for a broad range of families. Some may be loft-style, others will be fitted for the aged and mobility-restricted.
Small home kitchens (residents are encouraged to use the communal kitchen) are electric, after all power is solar and free, while gas isn’t carbonneutral. But there are no laundries, dishwashes or baths as they consume far too much water. There are areas for orchards, greywater ponds, recycling, and Tuhoe’s preferred mode of transport, horses.
The buildings have been deliberately designed to detail the story of Te Urewera. The timber, the mist, the night sky, it’s all there. “Children of the Mist,” McNelis says matter-offactly. He’s well versed in Tühoe's history, and his energy and enthusiasm for eco-design has become a passionate craving to deliver an outstanding eco-environment that blends harmoniously with its spiritual connection to the land.
Tühoe hopes the concept will encourage members of their tribe to move back from overseas and other metropolitan centres.
Te Uru Taumatua chief executive Kirsti Luke said at a korero recently, “We are poor, but we are also very rich”. The sentence resonated with centuries of Tuhoetanga (iwi custom) for me. I keep this in mind in all my discussions across a broad range of folk, as I try to nail down an arbitrary pricing structure for a basic home in the village. That talk is often waved off and doesn’t enter conversation. Yet somewhere, money will change hands. McNelis considers this conundrum, and smiles.
“Money is not a priority here”. Any profit comes from the quality of life for its people, he says. They’re not a corporate iwi with many financial interests, and they will always deviate and challenge conventional thinking, hence everything to do with this project (and others) is respectfully flipped on its head. Paul Jones, Tuhoe’s housing strategy advisor and a policy director for the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment in Wellington, takes this further, recognising homes in the village are valuable.
“Taking responsibility means that first and foremost, people pay for their house, rather than expect or depend on someone else to pay for them. However, the iwi will ensure that finance is not a prohibitive factor for those who want to live in the village. Individual circumstances will be considered and Tuhoe will support and enable those who need assistance.
“We’re also looking at opportunities for people to provide labour, themselves and/or their wider whanau, as a contribution towards construction costs.”
I WALK the village site on Morrison Rd, on the eastern outskirts of Taneatua, with Jones, who is on a part-time secondment to Tuhoe, and Shelley Rangihika, co-ordinator for the Tuhoe medical centre. We are 13km due south of Whakatane, and the faint whiff of White Island that welcomes you on the coast is absent.
The paddock has seen better days, but there is definite karma here and you can sense it in the conversation. This was once confiscated land, and the site of the Taneatua railway station. The only trace now, is the
monolithic concrete slab railway platform that juts out of the middle of the treeless surrounds. They have a perfect 3D rendering of the project in their minds’ eye. Pointing and waving, they paint a detailed picture across the landscape. They claim one of all the neighbouring properties is against the project. Rangihika rolls her eyes and mentions they’re not Tuhoe. But this doesn’t faze their enthusiasm.
There are some heady challenges to this prototype. Foremost, the earthquake fault line beneath and its rural location adds a good 20 per cent to construction costs, so houses are fairly modest in size and the village must provide the necessities to live within its means. Everything within the grounds has purpose, so there is no wastage. And you won’t see any of these homes advertised in real estate windows. Whanau, not individuals, will own the house they live in, and this will pass on to future generations.
The land is ancestral land and held in perpetuity for “the common wealth of all Tuhoe”. Furthermore, there is no cost to homeowners for use of the land, as this forms part of the iwi’s contribution to the village. Only people with a collective commitment to the principles of Mana Motuhake and Tuhoetanga, while maintaining the village philosophy of sustaining its net-zero: carbon footprint, will be among its residents.
How you select, or who qualifies to set sail on this ark is still being mulled over. So is the charter by which the village will live. Communal living isn’t exactly on everyone’s bucket list, but what this offers is a unique opportunity to opt out of a traditional housing market and return with your whanau to the comfort of flax roots living. It’s well documented that being snugwarm and dry in congenial surrounds and part of a community that has your back, means your quality of life and wellbeing improves substantially.
As for your health, the old Taneatua pub, just minutes away, once a source of aggravation, is now a source of healing, being one of four medical centres in the Ureweras. Disputes among residents — depending on their nature — are resolved by village kaumatua or moved on to Te Kura Whare or one of four tribals for resolution. The Maori Land Court will have no jurisdiction here.
What does the Whakatane District Council make of all this? Foremost, they are very quick to tell you they’re weight is behind all Tuhoe projects.
However, this is on ancestral tribal land, will collect and treat its own water and sewage, provides its own power and recycles everything. Apart from the road to Taneatua, it has zero impact on the Whakatane district, so should they even pay rates?
Council’s general manager of strategy and economic development, Julie Gardyne admits “it challenges the council’s rating philosophy where (eco) villages are built where there is existing infrastructure”.
“However we are very keen to find a solution that recognises and supports the aspiration of Tuhoe. We have done some work looking at rating from similar-types of developments, e.g. Earthsong in Auckland, and intend to workshop the rates approach with the team from Te Uru Taumatua in the near future.”
Greens co-leader James Shaw, whose family is from nearby Opotiki, has a very keen eye on the project.
“The Living Building standard that they pioneered in Aotearoa is eyewateringly high, but we should aspire to build all new homes to that standard, or close to it. Their attention to community values in the design, not just of the individual homes, but of the overall plan, is an inspiration”.
The last word on this prototype eco-village comes from the former Prime Minister at the time of the Urewera raids, Helen Clark.
She congratulates Tuhoe “on taking a leadership role on sustainable housing”.
“We need many actions like these worldwide in order to ensure sustainable development and a good legacy for future generations.”
Clearly, the carex-lined pathway to autonomy has been lit and now there is genuine momentum.
Back at Te Kura Whare, I gaze at the striking timber arch that dominates its northern face. A symbolic reference to that moment where the sun reaches its zenith. It’s on their flag. It’s the first thing that greets you on arrival in Taneatua, and the last thing you see before you leave.
I didn’t get to see the hipster pig in sunglasses up the valley, but I did get to see a lot of smiley faces. The sun has dawned on a new era for Tuhoe.