Debate | Issue 7 | Matariki

EDITOR

Sam Clark

DESIGNER

Charlie Ratahi McFarland

ASSOCIATE EDITOR

Vivien Whyte

FEATURE WRITER

Liam Hansen

LIFESTYLE & CULTURE WRITER

Thomas Giblin

CHIEF NEWS REPORTER

Nic George

NEWS WRITER

Vanessa Elley

SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

Frances Revita

CONTRIBUTORS

Briar Pomana, Sara Moana

Sophie Olsen-Hennessy, Macy Taylor

COVER ART

Emily Wharekura

ADVERTISING

Jesse Jones jesse.jones@autsa.org.nz

PRINTER

Nicholson Print Solutions

DISCLAIMER

Material contained in this publication does not necessarily represent the views or opinions of AUTSA, its advertisers, contributors, Nicholson Print Solutions or its subsidiaries.

This publication is entitled to the full protection given by the Copyright Act 1994 (“the Act”) to the holders of the copyright, being AUT STUDENT ASSOCIATION (“AUTSA”). Reproduction, storage or display of any part of this publication by any process, electronic or otherwise (except for the educational purposes specified in the Act) without express permission is a break of the copyright of the publisher and will be prosecuted accordingly. Inquiries seeking permission to reproduce should be addressed to AUTSA.

Debate is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).

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04

From the Editor

05 06

[News] AUT celebrates Matariki through art

08

[News] Legendary photography exhibition back in Tāmaki

16

Debate Catches Up With: Misty Frequency

Māori Cinema: A New Dawn, with Hiona Henare

20

Mahuika by Sara Moana @saramoana

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Matariki; it’s our responsibility to make a change

Kua haehae ngā hihi o Matariki; The rays of Matariki are spread.

A Grain of Rice

Matariki Whetū Fortune Teller

What Does Matariki Mean To Us?

What's On

Gig Guide

Puzzles

Hoki mai anō, tauira!

The break may be over, but at least there’s a fresh copy of Debate in stands… I hope you all had a chance over the break to relax, party or do whatever’s necessary to blow off some steam and temporarily remove uni from your brain. Because you need to switch off every now and again. In the meantime, we’ve been working behind the scenes to bring you the ‘Matariki’ issue of Debate. Campus has been quiet without you!

I also hope everyone had a chance to celebrate Matariki. It’s a time to reflect, honour those who aren’t with us anymore and spend time with loved ones. It’s also a chance to set some intentions for the year ahead. I was lucky enough to see the whetū in the sky at dawn, which was a first for me.

At Debate, the time since our last issue has given us an opportunity to consider our role as a student magazine. We’ve been reflecting on our journey, where we fit in, which stories we tell and how we represent tauira at AUT. Improving our Te Ao Māori coverage doesn’t happen overnight, let alone in one issue. So, we hope to start with some genuine long-term goals and commitments, to ensure that Debate covers Te Ao Māori in a meaningful way, and makes it a safe place to do so.

As Matariki enters the public sphere in Aotearoa, and becomes more widely celebrated, we should be mindful of how holidays can become commercialised, and stray from their cultural origins. Our writers explore this in more detail throughout this issue, as well as ways to honour Matariki in a dignified way. Looking ahead, for the second half of 2023, we can all reflect on how we can be better treaty partners - there’s a lot we can learn and benefit from.

Now, as we race towards the election, it’s also a good opportunity to question wider capitalist systems, especially in education. The oldest debate (hehe) at university is questioning whether your time here is an education, or a ‘meal ticket’… Keep in mind that back in the day, university was free and students were up in arms when fees were raised to $1,250 a year in 1989 (can you imagine?) It’s looking pretty dire now, as student debt in Aotearoa reaches $16 billion, and universities lay off staff en masse and cut courses. My time at uni began with the closing of the Elam Fine Arts Library, widely considered the best in the southern hemisphere, and in my second year as the editor of Debate, this trend is not slowing down anytime soon. It’s a sad reality that ultimately, universities are run like a business and our education is mostly preparing us to work for the man.

All that aside, you’ve all reached the halfway point of 2023, so ka pai! We’ll see you all in a fortnight. Remember that Debate is powered by your voices, so keep sending your thoughts, writing and art through!

AUT celebrates Matariki through art

By Vanessa Elley (she/her) News Writer

AUT is highlighting students' interpretations of Matariki through visual art this year.

The university’s Office of Māori Advancement is hosting an art competition open to all current students, under the theme: ‘What does Matariki mean to you?’

Selected artworks will also be put on display as part of an exhibition during the week of Matariki.

AUT Māori liaison student advisor Jana Nee says art is a great way to convey people’s unique and personal understandings of Matariki.

“Even within Māoridom, different hapū and iwi have different understandings or different origin stories of Matariki, so we chose art because it’s like a beautiful way to convey their understandings of what Matariki is, not just as a holiday but the constellation itself, the tikanga that goes with Matariki.”

Nee says Matariki is for everyone, and that the organisers wanted to see people’s own experiences through the art they submit.

“The interpretation of what Matariki means to each person is going to be unique and we really just wanted to celebrate that diversity and like how rich the stories are that people have, and their experiences of that time.”

The art competition is just one of the university’s planned events, with a roster of others scheduled across the three different campuses.

These include a kawe aroha (remembrance service) at Ngā Wai o Horotiu Marae on July 13, followed by gardening and planting, mirimiri massage, raranga flax weaving, poi and te rākau, making a wish upon Hiwa-i-te-rangi, the wishing star, and more.

Matariki Observance Day was marked as an official public holiday for the first time last year when the Te Kāhui o Matariki Public Holiday Act 2022 came into effect.

Nee says this is only the second year that AUT has done something larger-scale to celebrate Matariki, but the plans are growing every year.

“I feel like it gets bigger and expands every year so this is like a little bit more than we offered last year, and I can only see it getting bigger.”

Legendary photography exhibition back in Tāmaki

By Nic George (he/him) Chief Reporter

The World Press Photo Exhibition is returning to Auckland this month, following a three-year hiatus due to the pandemic.

The exhibition will showcase the 30 winning images of the World Press Photo competition, in which 3,752 photographers submitted 60,448 photos.

The Auckland Rotary Club is organising the event and Smith & Caughey’s have provided their recently opened fifth floor of their Queen Street store from 22nd July to 20th August.

The profits from ticket sales go to the Rotary Foundation and the Turn Your Life Around youth development trust.

Director of the Rotary Club board Denise Moller said this has typically been their biggest fundraising event of the year.

"We are keen to have the exhibition, not only because it's an amazing exhibition for people to see, but we want to raise as much money as we can for charity."

Moller said they are excited to bring the event back for the loyal followers they have built since they began hosting the event in 2010.

The first day of the show will include a tour from one of the curators from the Netherlands before it opens for the public.

While there is no age restriction at the door, Moller would not recommend bringing children along.

"We actually don't recommend that children under the age of about 14 attend the exhibition because some of them can be quite mind provoking."

However, she says this is an opportunity for university students to better their understanding of the world.

"It's relevant I think for all students, not only to kind of see and understand what's going on in the world, but particularly for those that are doing media studies."

Student tickets will cost $15 per person unless you purchase them as a group of 10 for $120.

She said they are hoping to capture some added interest from international tourists who may be visiting for the FIFA Women's World Cup.

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Contributing Writers, Illustrators, Designers, Photographers and Artists

Issue 9 | Seasonal Depression

Pitches due: Monday 10th July

Contributor Deadline: Monday 24th July

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Contributor Deadline: Monday 7th August

Issue 11 | Gender

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Contributor Deadline: Monday 29th August

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Personal essays

CATCHES UP WITH:

Misty Frequency

MISTY FREQUENCY

By Liam Hansen (they/them) FEATURE WRITER

There is nobody in the Tāmaki Makaurau drag scene quite like Misty Frequency (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Kāi Tahu and Ngā Rauru). For years, they’ve been doing some of the most stellar and conceptual performances in Aotearoa, weaving Te Ao Māori, takatāpui advocacy, and tino rangatiratanga into their mahi.

From their incredible outfits that consistently stick to a black, white, and red colour scheme, to their performances that reflect their whakapapa and advocacy. They're also their own manager. I sat down with them at Little Turkish Cafe on Karangahape Road - just down the street from many of the venues they frequent, like G.A.Y and Phoenix Cabaret, to chat about their mahi and the kaupapa behind it.

Liam: So, what got you into drag initially? Were you doing art in other spaces?

Misty Frequency:

My first jump into the performance space was with my group ‘Whaea & The Rumble’. Our kaupapa was about celebrating Te Ao Māori and being takatāpui. We did that for a couple of years, but we're kind of on a hiatus as we're doing our own things at the moment. After a few years of not really knowing what I was doing, I was led to drag - I've always loved art and design, fashion and makeup, music - combine them all and then you get drag.

Liam: How would you describe Misty Frequency as a persona?

Misty Frequency: Misty’s definitely an amplified version of myself. I'm socially awkward in and out of drag - but when performing I definitely feel more confident. I'm just doing the things that I've always wanted to do, but not necessarily had the guts to in everyday life.

Liam: When was the first time that you tried it out?

Misty Frequency: I've always had an element of drag in the things I made, even if I wasn't technically doing drag at the time. That was kind of my role in ‘Whaea & The Rumble’ - since the other members are more established musicians, I was coming from a more visual background. We all collaborated on everything, but that was my specialty.

Liam:

What has the response to your work been like so far? Was it easy to start, or was it kind of weird to figure out?

Misty Frequency:

A bit of both - I already had a few close friends in the scene before I started. But like, the way I properly got going was just because I knew one of the owners of a drag bar. He asked who wanted to perform, and I was like, "Me!"

Liam:

Had you been thinking about it before then?

Misty Frequency:

Well, you know, watching RuPaul's Drag Race and The Boulet Brothers' Dragula, I always admired the performances and thought, "Man, I wish I could do that!" And then, well, I realised that I could.

Liam:

What time in your life did you start getting into that scene? Did it coincide with you realising that you were queer or non-binary?

Misty Frequency: I came out as queer when I was at intermediate, and came out as non-binary five years ago, so it kind of came about after all that. I've never really been the clubbing type, so it was rare that I would have interactions with other drag performers. Well, sober interactions, at least.

I grew up with two lesbian mums and quite a few queer people in my whānau, so they were all accepting of me. It kind of came naturally in that sense.

Liam:

Alongside TV, did you grow up with the internet? I found it to be super integral to understanding my queerness - did you feel the same?

Misty Frequency:

Nah, not really. I grew up with two lesbian mums and quite a few queer people in my whānau, so they were all accepting of me. It kind of came naturally in that sense.

Liam:

Did you still struggle with coming into your identity?

Misty Frequency: I was still terrified to come out, even though I had nothing to worry about in hindsight. You know, when you're young and you're still figuring yourself out...

Liam:

You start thinking that when you come out, you’ll be ostracised.

Misty Frequency:

Yeah, exactly. I'm definitely privileged to not go through that with my whānau.

Liam: Going back to drag, how has your mahi developed since you started?

Misty Frequency:

I've never actually thought about where I started and where I'm at now - I've just gotten better at it. I've always been considered an alternative, conceptual performer. This is just developing those skills.

Liam:

Was ‘Whaea & The Rumble’ the first time you did performance art, or was there something earlier?

Misty Frequency:

‘Whaea & The Rumble’ was my first proper performance mahi. I'd done a few spoken word poetry events, but my background is fully in visual arts. Growing up, I was really shy, and undiagnosed. I didn't really know how to immerse myself in things like drama and music. I felt comfortable doing visual arts, because the only people I had to think about were myself and my tutor.

Liam: You mentioned having Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) - do you think that that informs your work at all?

Misty Frequency:

I mean, my kaupapa with any creative endeavour is to celebrate and uplift people like medisenfranchised and neurodivergent people, especially.

Liam:

What’s your routine before you get on stage? How do you usually get in the zone and put together an outfit?

Misty Frequency:

It all depends on how far in advance I know about the show. But I like to get on to organising everything pretty early so it gives me the time to flesh out the performance, to make the outfits, develop the concepts and all that stuff. I make everything that I perform in, so it all depends on the design and how long it's going to take to make. Before performing, it usually takes me about two or three hours to paint my face. I'll also usually have a drink or something, since it helps dial down any sensory overload. I'll just have some music playing, or have something to watch while I'm getting ready. Nine times out of ten, I'm by myself. I just get ready at home, Uber in, perform, and Uber back.

Liam: Do Uber drivers have any response to your outfits?

Misty Frequency:

They've ranged from indifferent to positive. If any have had negative thoughts, they've never voiced them, thankfully. I often get Uber drivers that are really inquisitive. They ask me what I'm doing, what I'm up to and say I look cool. Real nice stuff like that.

Liam: The way you paint your face is very unique among other performers. Does it ever change between performances?

Misty Frequency:

Generally, it's just colour changes. I only ever paint in black, white, and red - the tino rangatiratanga colours. Same colour scheme with the outfits. I'm not going to paint myself black or red, because, you know, I'm not racist. But also, another inspiration might have been the Club Kids of New York City.

I'm a pretty socially anxious person, so most of my inspiration comes from my whakapapa.

Liam: You mentioned the difficulty of being neurodiverse, and dealing with the sensory overload of clubs. Do you find that there's a difference between performing and being in the crowd?

Misty Frequency:

I find it a lot easier performing. Even now, I think the last vogue war, a competitive night between drag performers, that happened was the first time I've gone out at night out of drag in years.

Liam:

Often performers take inspiration from what other people are doing in their space. Do you find it difficult to be missing what others are doing in the drag scene?

Misty Frequency:

No, not really. I don't mean to sound like I've got a big ego, but no one's doing anything like what I'm doing. I guess because I'm not a very big social person, I've made ‘work friend’ relationships with fellow performers, but not enough where I'd be in their presence constantly. I'm a pretty socially anxious person, so most of my inspiration comes from my whakapapa.

Liam:

You've spoken a lot about the influence of tino rangatiratanga and Te Ao Māori on your work. Do you do much research, or does it come naturally from your whakapapa?

Misty Frequency:

On one level, it just comes naturally, because of how I present myself, and the fact that I am a proud Māori person, taking up space and getting onstage. I think it's also things I've grown up with, like going to my mum’s marae, to the point that it's become subconscious. It's hard to put into words. Sometimes I'll pick a waiata Māori. Or the concept of the performance will be something related to my experiences as a Māori or takatāpui person. Same with being neurodivergent. All of my performances are politically based, with different levels of subtlety.

Liam:

Do you prefer it to be more subtle, or is it ideal to be as brash and out there as possible?

Misty Frequency:

It kind of depends on where I'm performing. Like, if I'm performing at G.A.Y on Karangahape Road, it's usually a 1:30 AM show, and everyone is already drunk. I could still do something more out there but it'll go over everyone's head.

Liam:

Does that bother you at all?

Misty Frequency:

Sometimes it bothers me, but at the end of the day, it's my job to entertain and I'm getting paid for it. I still love what I'm doing, but sometimes I wish I could do more intentional things. What's good is I'm starting to get back into art exhibition spaces. And performing during the day where there's no alcohol, and people can properly absorb and digest what I'm doing.

Liam: Would you ever try to put that together yourself? I feel like there would definitely be people willing to go to that and take part in it.

Misty Frequency:

I'm actually in the early stages of organising and curating a show where I could do that now. I definitely want to do more mahi like that. If no one's giving me these opportunities, I may as well make them myself.

Liam:

It’s hard to organise and do all that admin on your own, when you'd rather just have the space already exist. But the good thing is that it can inspire someone to do something similar.

Misty Frequency:

Yeah, I have one show that I produce yearly called P.O.P - People of Power, which is an entirely POC drag showcase. I love doing that, but I also hope that I'm inspiring someone else to do something themselves. I don't want to be the only one.

Liam:

Have you heard from anyone that has been inspired by your work?

Misty Frequency:

I don't know. I have recently had someone super similar to me, being neurodivergent, takatāpui, with an artist's background come to me and ask if I could be their chosen mother because they love my kaupapa and they're on a similar kind of buzz. I was like, "Yeah, absolutely".

Liam: Is there a big intersection between your personal life and a drag life?

Misty Frequency:

I think it's hard for me to distinguish between personal and professional stuff. They feed off each other and because I don't work a nine to five and I go to uni, so I've blurred the lines. I prefer that, because my kaupapa is very personal, so it kind of makes sense to have them intertwine with each other. I have my blood whānau, my chosen whānau, and I'm trying to put together a drag whānau. Because I've been in the ballroom scene for quite a few years, I've always wanted to do something like their houses. I think just initiating it is what I struggle with.

Liam:

It’s interesting to convey meaning through drag in your style - You mentioned before how drag is usually focused on entertaining people. In your performances, how do you preserve that, while also giving people a new point of view?

Misty Frequency:

The way I think about it is that I always just try and do me, and then the rest is up to the audience. It's probably because of the ASD, but subtlety isn't really my forte.

Liam: Because of the environment drag takes place in, you're forced to work with the audience in a sense. You mentioned earlier how it can sometimes be hard when the audience is already on the piss when you get up on stage. Do you change the way you perform within those party-like spaces?

Misty Frequency: It's only recently that I started thinking about it. Before, I would just do whatever I wanted, but I guess now I'm starting to be a little bit more conscious about my music choice. I don't tend to perform Top 40 hits, and I realised that a lot of the time that can instantly shorten someone's attention span. I think I did an MGMT song recently, and I got a few positive comments saying that they really loved it. I don't know - I don't want to make myself more palatable per se, but I just want to keep the state of the audience in mind.

I always just try and do me, and then the rest is up to the audience. It's probably because of the ASD, but subtlety isn't really my forte.

Liam: Would you say that you lose yourself in performances, or is it still very conscious?

Misty Frequency:

I think the longer I do it, the less effort it takes. During my first show, I got pretty drunk because I was so nervous. I didn't know how I was gonna go and I was worried about sensory overload and stuff. But now I just go into this zone where I'm performing intuitively. It's like listening to loud music with headphones in - I generally try to go into that state.

I sometimes struggle with the social aspect of it - I guess that's why I like to be a little tipsy at my shows. It dulls it down so it's not such an issue and I can just focus on performing. There's no huge pressure to socialise or anything. For me, it just depends on what mood I'm in, like whether I want to stay out and if I've got friends there - but usually I just like to go home.

Liam:

The real big focus of it is around takatāpui rights and fighting for recognition queer Māori people in Aotearoa. Do you think that that space has improved over recent years?

Misty Frequency:

I'm not sure with drag, because there are still very few takatāpui drag performers, but I guess there has been an improvement in general. Just with social media, people are becoming more aware of mistreatment and injustices.

Liam:

What would you say to a young person keen on getting involved in the drag or performance art scene?

Misty Frequency:

I think there are numerous ways you can start, but one of the best ways in my opinion is just doing drag in your bedroom. Figure out what kind of makeup you like, what outfits you want to wear, and share them on the internet eventually people will take notice, and you can figure out what kind of drag space you want to be in - through clubs, more chill events, or whatever. There’s no right or wrong way though, you just have to make the decision to start. That's what I did with drag, and now I couldn't picture a life where I'm not doing it.

Misty Frequency is on a bit of a break right now, but they're getting ready to ramp themselves back up this August. If you want to catch their conceptual, beautiful performances or just see more of their work, they can be found on social media: @misty_ frequency_ . Or just google them, and click on the links that don’t lead to the Che Fu song.

Māori Cinema: A New Dawn, with Hiona Henare

By Thomas Giblin (he/him) CULTURE & LIFESTYLE WRITER

Whānau Mārama: The New Zealand International Film Festival has once again rolled around. This year, the festival's 54th iteration will see an incredible number of homegrown films grace our screens. The Ngā

Whanaunga Māori Pasifika Shorts finalists represent the best up-andcoming local talent who are set to shine on the international stage.

Curated by Leo Koziol (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Rakaipaaka), Director of the Wairoa Māori Film Festival, and Craig Fasi (Niue), Director of the Pollywood Film Festival, these shorts establish new forms of Indigenous cinematic expression and envision Indigenous futures.

Debate was fortunate to speak with Ngā

Whanaunga Māori Pasifika Shorts finalist Hiona

Henare (Ngāi Tara, Muaūpoko, Ngāti Huia), director of I Am Paradise. Noted by Koziol, her dreamy, escapist fantasy film "contrasts deeply with the reality of lived experiences for many Māori; yet aroha and hope remain and our tamariki keep us strong." This fascinating kōrero peels back the layers on her filmic inspirations, the genesis of I Am Paradise, and the importance of pūrākau.

Also, thanks to our friends at the Whānau

Mārama: New Zealand International Film Festival, we've got 3 double-passes to give away, so keep your eyes peeled to our socials! The festival screens in Tāmaki Makaurau from the 19th of July to the 6th of August, showcasing an incredible collection of films from around the world.

T: What drew you to filmmaking?

H : When I was a kid, I'd get really spooked out by films and music because there was something haunting about it that affected me so deeply. I know now that I was experiencing emotions, new emotions, and the power of story and performance really hit me. I started to like how emotional it made me feel. I remember having these crazy ideas too, like, maybe when I grow up I should make films.

T: Is there a film or filmmaker that has inspired you throughout your career?

H : We watched a lot of Jidaigeki movies and big motion pictures at our house. Dad loved Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson films so I got to watch a lot of those Western and action movies too. I've always been a fan of animation, fantasy and puppetry.

T: How do Māori values and practices inform your filmmaking sensibilities?

H: It's hard to pin down my exact sensibility recipe, but I'd have to say my personal life experience and having good commonsense is what informs my sensibilities first and foremost. Of course, Māori values are helpful for keeping a production team and kaupapa interconnected but if we're talking more along the lines of intuition and matakite - I'm definitely working with magic.

T: What was the genesis of I Am Paradise?

H : I knew I wanted to tell a story about a young mum trying to live her best life despite social, racial and economic hardship. Also, as a solo mum and a filmmaker, I knew I had a responsibility to use this film to interrogate social norms and challenge the perception of young Māori mothers.

T: What was your working relationship with Rickylee Russell-Waipuka ( Boy, Vegas, Beyond the Veil ) like?

H : Rickylee is truly an exceptional actor. I'd cast her again in a heartbeat, and she has that old-school marae mentality about her too, you know? She'll be the last person to bed and the first one up making scrambled eggs and coffee for everybody. I live for this sort of behaviour.

T: Could you speak about the importance of whanaungatanga during the production process and on set?

H : I forget who came up with the kōrero about how a Māori production should operate seamlessly, like how whānau operate the marae seamlessly. That's whanaungatanga right there. We mahi together, and everything gets done.

T: What inspired the dreamy and escapist fantasy elements of I Am Paradise?

H : I can be a little dangerous and impulsive during post-production, I think. If I spot a place in my edit where I can add something fantastical to liven things up, that's what I'll do. I'm an opportunist. I'm always looking for a place to add more magic.

T: Could you speak about the importance of Māori using the medium of cinema to tell their own stories?

H : I really believe we should place more importance on Māōri learning how to make cinema rather than Māori using cinema to tell a story? Thing is, we're Māori so pūrākau comes naturally to us, right? But the art of making cinema and knowing technically how to construct a film is a whole different set of skills. Worst-case scenario, the filmmaker gets stuck in their script development stage, and the only way out of this conundrum is to accept to use a script format that isn't Māori. It happens all the time, and all our films end up looking the same because we didn't put any effort into learning the technology or the potential of the technology we need to make our films.

T: What does the future of Māori and Indigenous filmmaking look like in Aotearoa?

H : I have a feeling that if a mid-career Māori or Pasifika female filmmaker hasn't had their feature film greenlit by 2025, they'll be waiting in line for New Zealand Film Commission funding with filmmakers that aren't even from Aotearoa. That's what the future looks like to me.

Stills from I Am Paradise, supplied.

Matariki, it’s our responsibility to make a change

Words & Illustrations by Macy Taylor (she/her) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Matariki is more than just another public holiday, and it shouldn’t be treated like one. As we begin to celebrate Matariki as a country, we are presented with a dilemma. Many say that Matariki must be profitable, but that would completely go against the cultural origins of the holiday. After all, the Māori new year isn’t about buying the latest tech, going out with the boys, or booking a nice restaurant.

Matariki should be about reflection and celebrating the new year, right? Sadly, Labour spoke a lot about its economic benefits when faced with opposition from National. They said it could boost the economy by $310.4-496.1 million, especially for the struggling hospitality industry. Then, Associate Minister of Culture and Heritage Kiritapu Allan said "What do we do when we have a day off? We go out and we spend money.” Which is true. A 2008 study by the central bank of Malaysia concluded that GDP increased by 0.34% ‘per extra holiday’.

Astronomer Dr Rangi Mātāmua (Tūhoe) says he’s worried about seeing ‘the Matariki possum’ join the ranks of the Easter Bunny and Santa, a symbol for the commercialisation of Matariki, like many holidays we celebrate today. They used to have deeper cultural meaning, but have instead been lost to consumerism.¹

Concerns about this holiday becoming diminished are linked to Waitangi, which until now was the closest thing we had to a celebration of Māori culture. Waitangi is surrounded in controversy due to how different groups view Te Tiriti, and Matariki shouldn’t suffer the same fate. Already, Matariki is being disrespected. Last year, councils let off fireworks, ignoring the requests of local iwi.²

So, what can we do to avoid Matariki becoming the Kiwi Thanksgiving? We should stop thinking about money, and respect tangata whenua and the origins of Aotearoa. Take the time to go see loved ones and the people that have made you who you are. Look out for those who may be alone, and invite them over for a home-cooked meal. Take the opportunity to learn some mātauranga Māori, whether that’s online, at a historical location, art installation, or local marae.

We have to be mindful of people who are using Matariki to drive sales. Let’s treat this new year as something worthy of honour and respect, instead of another day off to get coffee and run some errands. Don’t fall into the trap of treating Matariki like every other holiday. It’s sacred and special, and deserves to be treated as such.

1 The Spinoff, 2022. ‘The Easter Bunny and the Matariki Possum’. 2 Stuff, 2022. ‘Councils ignore Māori advice’

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This mentoring program is to support students from the MENA cohort, helping them to achieve their academic endeavors by creating a safe and supportive community.

We are focusing on seven potential goals as follows:

1. Learning and academic development

2. Building a better culture

3. leadership development

4. Employee onboarding

5 Diversity and inclusion

6. Engagement

7. Communication

If you are from the below countries, please join us.

1. Afghanistan

2. Algeria

3. Bahrain

4. Djibouti

5. Egypt

6. Iran

7. Iraq

8. Jordan

9. Kuwait

10. Lebanon

11. Libya

12. Mauritania

13. Morocco

14. Oman

15. Pakistan

16. Palestine

17. Qatar

18. Saudi Arabia

19. Somalia

20. Sudan

21. Syria

22. Tunisia

23. Turkey

24. United Arab Emirates

25. Yemen

If you are interested in joining the community, please contact: nabil.sabra@aut.ac.nz

Matariki; The rays of Matariki are spread.

By Briar Pomana (Ngāti Kahungunu, Rongomaiwahine, Ngāti Rakaipaaka) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

I imagine Matariki as a gap-toothed, foul-mouthed Nanny that sits on her deck with a pipe filled with a natural substance and an endless steaming cup of tea. She’s wearing hand-knitted slippers, made with leftover brown and neon orange wool from the back of the crafts cupboard. Her hands are wrinkled and covered in tattooed dots from her school-girl days that are illegible amongst the drapery of loose skin. Matariki has many mokopuna that lean up against her, grabbing onto her long skirt with affection as they play peek-a-boo with one another. She laughs heartily at their jokes and scolds with great conviction when they run through her humble home with muddy feet.

In the morning, Matariki sits on a creaky rocking chair out on her deck. From her porch she can see beyond where the ocean foams and breaks, to where the valley touches the sky above the treeline. She is attuned to the intricacies of her slice of paradise and is as much a part of its cycle as the sun. Before evening she would have already collected the eggs from her precious hens whom she warmly refers to as ‘the girls’ and filled her basket with peculiar barbell radishes, rather raunchy looking carrots and more silverbeet than humanly ingestible, freshly washed and ready to be cooked or pickled.

In saying all of this, I can’t necessarily subscribe to the idea that the whetū that make up the cluster of Matariki have designated genders. The binary doesn’t make much sense to me in this context, and I’m seeing this narrative often as Matariki enters the public sphere and opinion. But, if I had to personify Matariki, the star that is the closest to Earth, a chain smoking, hunter-gatherer kuia is a warm image.

The Mystification of Matariki

When I was 16, my school went to a guest lecture that Dr Rangi Mātāmua was hosting at Eastern Institute of Technology. The best way I can describe Dr Rangi to the uninitiated (if you still don’t know who Dr Rangi is, you’re living under a rock), he is the godfather of modern Matariki as we know it. I won’t dive too deeply into his lifetime portfolio of work, but Dr Rangi left a long-lasting impression on me. At that time, Matariki was mostly celebrated by Māori and more extensively by whānau that were fortunate enough to inherit this knowledge.

We are now in our second year of Matariki as a public holiday. So more than ever, Matariki will be celebrated by brands, by councils and by communities throughout Aotearoa. Lewis Road Creamery has recently come under fire for releasing a limited Matariki-inspired milk flavour. What does milk have to do with Matariki? Apparently a whole lot. I fear that Matariki is in jeopardy of whimsical holiday quaintness, that in the years to come we’ll see movies of children embracing the ‘spirit of Matariki’ through family-friendly animated films. Only for the characters in the flick to realise Matariki is all about cherishing those you love and believing in magic.

Magic and fairytales are often prescribed to what we as Māori know as, pūrakau, kōrero tuku iho and whakapapa; esoteric stories, passed-down knowledge and genealogy. My depiction of Matariki is not entirely informed by any of the above. Matariki as a whetū is used as an umbrella name for the entire cluster and is often referred to as the mother of all the stars. My understanding is this is because of Matariki's strong ties to the natural environment and all living things. Cue the assigned gender roles.

Other stars in the cluster have a much more defined domain, such as Ururangi who indicates the winds and Tupuānuku who reflects the upcoming harvest of earthgrown things. I’ve found that like Matariki, the depictions of these whetū are rather whimsical and god-like. Ururangi is often a large burly man, similarly to how Tāwhirimātea, our atua of winds, is represented, whereas Tupuānuku is a mother-earth-type figure like Papatūānuku. These are all valid and I don’t want to dismiss these characteristics. I do not claim to be an expert and I understand how inspiring and comforting it can be to see the whetū in this manner. But this year, I’m much more interested in how the kāhui whetū (star cluster) show up in each of us. How we embody our environments and how we are similar to these reflective prisms of light we look to and seek guidance from. What if this Matariki we understood the stars as we do our grandmothers, our siblings, our friends, loved ones? We are all reflective prisms of light.

Illustrations by Charlie Ratahi McFarland (Ng āpuhi) (she/her)

Hiwa-i-te-rangi

When you wish upon a star, Hiwa-i-te-rangi will guide you. Wishing, goal setting, manifesting, whatever you choose to call it, Hiwa-i-te-rangi is responsible for it. Hiwa-i-te-rangi is a whetū that is strongly associated with the future and regenerative practice. It is mostly depicted as a young woman with sparkly motifs and surrounded by whimsicality, but I imagine Hiwa as a young takatāpui artist with piercings and tā moko covering their body. Fingers laced with rings of chrome and white gold, they have the most impressive collection of perfumes and oils kept in various vials and jars in an old oak cupboard. Hiwa understands the cosmic alignment of dreams, well-versed in travelling through time as a hitchhiker of hope. The first to pick up a tea towel in whoever's kitchen they find themselves in. Hiwa is a person that lives in communities built from our imaginations and where we all weaponise our brilliance.

Ururangi

Ururangi is a special whetū, it is one that we can physically feel. It is connected to what we know to whip violently through alleyways and flutter gracefully across the ocean and land. Ururangi is the whetū of the winds. In Te Ao Māori, wind, as a force of nature, holds great cultural significance and I suspect the same for indigenous cultures around the world. In many illustrations, Ururangi is depicted as a burly man with a great beard and I can assume, reminiscent of Tāwhirimātea, our atua of wind. I quite like the idea that Ururangi is this bearlike person just because of their sheer strength and the damage that they’re capable of. But also because some of the biggest, strongest men I know are as sweet as they come. There’s something in the whakapapa of a giant Māori man that immediately ensures he is the cuddliest, plushest squishmallow of a person. I think of my childhood friend who was as tall as a house and smoked like a chimney. This is Ururangi for me. Someone that goes for ‘walks’ at family gatherings only to return just in time for when the food is being plated up. The smokers pae out the back of the marae who are as philosophical as the ones leaping about inside the whare. It only feels right that Ururangi should be a stoner with the biggest lungs in all the land.

Pōhutukawa

Pōhutukawa is the whetū that represents those who have passed on, commonly depicted as an older woman, with long tousled hair and adorned with a pare kawakawa or pōuhutukawa flower. Similarly to Matariki, this whetū feels quite maternal and maybe this is because of our connection with Hine-nui-te-pō, the atua who guides us in Rarohenga, the underworld, that we tend to overtly feminise Pōhutukawa. But what if Pōhutukawa was a baby? The total opposite side of the spectrum. A bub that coos and is sent off into giggling blubbers on sight of those that have passed. One that despises tummy time and has toes that look like baby potatoes. What if Pōhutukawa was likened to a tubby little pep that has tight curly fluff and mile long lashes that seem to drip raindrops when they cry? When my Papa passed away, my family were huddled in a small, cold hospital room in Gisborne. It is said that when Papa had moved on from this lifetime, our nephew started cracking up and his parents could do nothing to stop him. This little baby, less than a year old, was able to single-handedly lift the tapu from a room full of whānau pani. They tend to do this in times of grief and loss. Babies are like spring, they remind us that things must die to give way to new life - just like Pōhutukawa.

Waipun-ā-rangi

When the rain is falling so quickly that it feels like the water could be pooling in the sky, that is an indication of Waipunarangi, the whetū that is connected to rain, mist and floods. At the moment, Waipunarangi is a beautiful woman with sharp features that remind me of Katara the waterbender from Avatar: The Last Airbender. In my head, Waipunarangi is my cousin Paige. An irarere muso who is never far from their guitar or a body of water. Waipunarangi has pounamu eyes and a misty complexion. They play pūoro at beaches trapped in suburbia and have Troy Kingi on vinyl. Headstrong but also incredibly in tune with the spiritual world, water to them is ritualistic and cleansing. They often keep a water bottle in the car for unexpected times of whakanoa. When provoked, Waipunarangi breaks generational curses for the fun of it. Whenever they go somewhere new, they take a dip in the nearest body of water out of respect for the elders past and present. Waipunarangi to me is not to be taken lightly; if they wanted to, they could bring armageddon onto the world, but for now, they rest and play their song.

Waitī

Water flowing and riverbeds flourishing are good signs in relation to this whetū. Waitī is connected to our awa, our streams and freshwater. I usually identify myself as a glorified river rat because of our small town’s relationship with our awa and all I can see when I imagine Waitī personified is us neighbourhood riff-raffs that would be down at the river everyday. Whether we were bombing off the bridge, tying makeshift swings from tree branches or harvesting watercress, it felt like we were always kneedeep in trouble. It isn’t uncommon in small towns to see this type of scene. School uniforms hanging from oddly bent trees, muddied tracks cut by nothing other than the pounding of bare feet, and river weed that looks like pubes were par for the course. Waitī is one of us. They catch eels with no more than a hunk of last night’s steak and a bit of twine. Their bombs are the biggest and they know where the foot holes are when it’s time to go home for tea. Waitī would rather die than see their awa become just another junkyard. Nothing can replace the pull it has on a river rat.

Waitā

Because we’re surrounded by it, the ocean plays a massive role in the identity of people who live in Aotearoa. Iwi that come from seaside rohe have songs and chants filled with delicacies of what comes from the great deep. The ocean and the stars is how Māori came to these lands and it is this whetū that informs us of the state of our salty waters. Waitā is associated with the masculine as Tangaroa often is, but there are some who believe Tangaroa possesses more feminine traits and would alternatively send mihi to Hinemoana, another atua of the sea. The last few years during Matariki, I have participated in the audio experience Mauri Tau by Scotty Cotter and Silo Theatre. In the experience, listeners are encouraged to go for walks and collect tokens both physical and spiritual on their journey that align with the stars in the Matariki cluster. The entire operation is incredibly transformational and creatively inspiring. In the part of the audio journey where Waitā is mentioned, it is through a character that is a surfer, advising listeners to connect with the ocean and commit to caring for it as much as they play in it. Because of this, I can’t see any other characterisation of this whetū. I imagine someone with washboard abs and could easily dive into a scene of Blue Crush. They have a shell anklet that was given to them by a best mate and they drive a van with bumper stickers. Waitā always smells like salt and sunscreen, and their van is rarely clean. After every surf they challenge themselves to pick up at least five pieces of rubbish, which they often exceed. Waitā is the type of person to help someone change their tyre on the side of the road and also pick up struggling swimmers from rips. The ocean is their playground and they ensure to make it so they never have to get off the roundabout.

Tupu-ā-nuku

Tupuānuku is the whetū that indicates the harvest and food grown on the earth. During Matariki, if you see it shining brightly it means the crops will be abundant in the coming seasons. Tupuānuku is associated with maternity and has depictions similar to Papatūānuku, a-mother-earth-type-beat. But, what if Tupuānuku was a beekeeping, kūmara digging koro in his utopia of a backyard garden? Tupuānuku’s house is filled with things he’s grown. He’s a weaver and storyteller of times when every valley was filled with bird song and fruit. He’s the quiet type of grandfather that puts his head down and does the work. His fingernails always have dirt under them and his closet is filled with cargos and sun hats. When his mokopuna arrive back home from the city, he greets them with mandarins and kamokamo relish. The local marae wouldn’t know what they’d do without him. Anything that needs to be done, Tupuānuku will happily chip away at. You’ll often find him on his knees deep in soil, or mowing his neighbour’s lawns. When the harvest is plentiful, Tupuānuku is his happiest and he can’t help telling everyone about it; at the dairy, at the gas station or even down at the river when he’s had a hard day out in the sun. He knows his whenua intimately and what he grows, he shares.

Tupu-ā-rangi

Connected to kai and life in the treelines, Tupuārangi is high maintenance. I feel like she’d be the queen bee at high school. Someone that could turn the waterworks on whenever they were feeling their crown being threatened, whether by friend or foe. Naturally, she is the lead of the school's theatre production and has the talent to go further. In a few years she’ll make an appearance on Shortland Street as the new head of the DHB. By day she is top of the hospital and by night she is the Ferndale femme fatale for her character's sneaky murder rampage. Outside of work, Tupuārangi, like most retired meangirls, is a spiritualist who often collects rain water in mason jars and uses it in rituals. She loves to make lists and buys too many notebooks to which she will never fill. Her preference is a natural wine from Farro or Glengarry. When she goes home to her people, her feet never leave the ground and her Redbands don’t have a lick of mud. Tupuārangi will often impress her lovers by whistling to the kererū and tuī that live outside her window at her Ponsonby villa. When she’s in her garden harvesting from her pomegranate tree, she often finds their feathers to which she keeps and wears to gallery exhibitions and theatre shows in the city. Tupuārangi is that girl.

A Grain of Rice

By Sophie Olsen-Hennessy CONTRIBUTING WRITER

A year ago I had a medical abortion. It was a pivotal moment in my young life, an experience that was both mentally and physically painful. Over the past year I have talked to many different people and noticed how little they knew about abortions, just like myself before this experience. So, I thought I would share my perspective a year on, to hopefully give people some insight to such a polarising topic, especially after Roe v Wade has been overturned by the US Supreme Court.

I found out that I was pregnant at around the one month mark. From “Doctor Google” I worked out that my foetus was around the size of a grain of rice, or a pomegranate seed. I had my medical abortion at two months. The month of waiting from finding out I was pregnant to actually being in the clinic making my final decision was filled with multiple scans, lots of crying and self reflection.

The myriad of scans determine how far along you are, so you know what form of abortion you’re eligible for, and to make sure you’re not ectopic (meaning the fertilised egg is forming in your fallopian tube, or outside the main cavity of the uterus). Everyone’s experiences are incredibly different, from the circumstance in which they got pregnant, the support systems they have, to the accessibility to healthcare. Although my experience was not a breeze by any means, I was very fortunate to have the accessibility to very gentle and compassionate healthcare, and the unwavering care from my immediate family.

Once I was scheduled into the Epsom Day Unit I had a scan, where I saw my foetus’ heartbeat for the first time. I was then scheduled into a counselling session that I chose to partake in as a part of the service they provide. I then had my first pill, which you take at the clinic. This pill (Mifepristone) is used to terminate the pregnancy and cut off the blood supply and nutrients that get directed to the foetus. This was quite a jarring experience because of how quick and painless it was for something that ultimately is quite traumatic for the body.

The next day was the second part of the medical abortion that I was extremely nervous for. At around 1pm I took 4 Misoprostol pills that I had to let sit and absorb in my cheeks for up to an hour to allow the medication to properly enter my bloodstream. This pill works to soften the cervix and bring on contractions that ultimately force a miscarriage. An hour or two after I took this medication I was throwing up and passing out from the pain.

For someone who has been having periods for the past 13 years I thought I would be prepared in some sense for the pain of the contractions, but I was proven wrong. When I woke up I spent the next few hours making multiple trips to the bathroom to push out blood clots.

Unfortunately I had complications with my abortion. Abortion aftercare involves getting multiple blood tests to make sure your hCG levels are dropping. hCG, or human chorionic gonadotropin, is a hormone produced during pregnancy. Mine wasn't dropping fast enough and I was still experiencing heavy bleeding. So after a trip to my GP and another scan I was told to go straight to the Auckland Hospital’s Women’s Assessment Unit because I was prone to get sepsis. Part of the membrane of the foetus was still attached to my uterus wall which meant I was still supplying a blood flow to it. The plan from my doctors was for me to get a D and C, which is where they scrape the uterus wall to get rid of any ‘leftovers’.

Thankfully, after spending the night in hospital with antibiotics being injected into me every 6 hours or so I was fine to go home the next day. The phantom pain continued for a few months after. I have talked to lots of people in my life since then, especially women, because I feel like it isn’t something that is taught in school or later education, unless you are specifically studying medicine or women’s health.

I thought maybe by spreading awareness it can let men and women know a little bit about why safe sex is truly so important. People have abortions everyday and

I’m so thankful I was living in a country where I was able to get this procedure. I can’t imagine what young women in the States are currently going through where they can’t get free, safe, and local healthcare surrounding abortions.

Even though it was painful and traumatic, I’m so immensely thankful to the Aotearoa healthcare system that provided me with so much care, even post-procedure. Please make sure you use protection and practise safe sex, because that was truly not worth going through. But also be thankful we live in a part of the world where women's health care is taken seriously. Everyone that cared for me at EDU, Auckland Hospital’s Women’s Assessment Unit and my GP, gave me the best care I could have hoped for.

I understand it can be a difficult life decision to make, whether to bring new life into the world. I knew that personally it wasn’t the right time. And from that decision I have been able to find a life partner, move countries, and make plans that might not have been conceivable if I had a young child right now.

I’m not too sure what the point of sharing this was. Maybe more to give people an insight into what it’s really like for women, and the physical toll it takes on us (we are so fucking strong), and also how lucky we are compared to other parts of the world, where women have to go through more troublesome pregnancies, and they deserve all our compassion and where possible the fight for their freedom to choose. There is always more to be said, it is a constant debate, especially from what I’ve seen on social media, which can be a scary place to get information.

Ultimately it is my decision to choose the course of my life and the decision for the grain of rice that had taken up residence in my body for a short two months. I always looked at it like the foetus was still just an extension of me, with no soul yet. It was just getting ready for the potential of life and consciousness. But when I am ready, later in life, I can’t wait to meet the little soul that’s first in line.

RE O WEEK

Mon 17 July

Chill Zone

AUTSA Office/Balcony City, North & South Campus 10am-3pm

Come along to relax and chill out.

Mini Campus Kai City - Hikuwai Plaza North - AS Level 1 South - ME109 From 12pm

Grab some pre-packed Kai, AUTSA’s shout! First in, first served!

$10 Paint & Sip (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 2pm-4pm

Relax after class by joining us for a Paint & Sip session - $10 for a blank or printed canvas!

Pub Quiz (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 6pm-8pm

Make a team & come along to our pub quiz, and see if you win a prize!

Tue 18 July

Chill Zone AUTSA Office/Balcony City, North & South Campus 10am-1pm

Come along to relax and chill out.

Mini Clubs Expo AS Level 1 11:30am-1:30pm

Come along and check out some of our range of clubs and communities you can join!

Classic Photobooth AS Level 1 11:30am - 1:30pm Campus Kai AS Courtyard 12pm-1pm Free kai, AUTSA’s shout!

Play Up&Play Sports AS Courtyard 11:30am - 1:30pm

Join us for some social sports between classses!

Pool Competition (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 2pm-4pm

Register at the bar to join our pool competition!

Movie Night (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 6pm-8pm

Check the @Vesbarautsa instagram for movie options!

Wed 19 July

Chill Zone AUTSA Office/Balcony City, North & South Campus 10am-1pm

Come along to relax and chill out.

Matariki ki Manukau Behind ME101, 10am-12pm

Join in on a planting the mara here on campus. Take a seedling to grow at home.

Matariki ki Manukau - Raranga Putiputi ME101, 11am-1pm

Learn how to weave a Putiputi (flower)

Matariki ki Manukau - Te whare moemoe ME101, 11am-1pm

Share your dreams & wishes with Hiwa-i-te-rangi.

Club’s & Communities Expo Sports Courts 11:30am - 1:30pm

Check out our range of clubs and communities! With DJ Dubhead spinning live tunes.

Campus Kai Outside ME101 12pm-1pm

Free kai inspired by the recent celebration of Matariki! Plus a photobooth and social sports at the sports courts.

Anything But A Cup (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 2pm-4pm

Drink your favourite beverage from a choice of fun buckets, milk bottles, boot, shoe etc!

Thu

20 July

Chill Zone

AUTSA Office/Balcony City, North & South Campus 10am-1pm

Come along to relax and chill out.

Club’s & Communities Expo

Te Ahuru Recreation Centre Level 1-3, 10am-2pm

Come along and check out our range of clubs and communities you can join!

Photobooth

Te Ahuru Recreation Centre Level 1-3, 10am-2pm

Snap some memories with our free photobooth.

Campus Kai

Te Ahuru Recreation Centre Level 1-3, 10am-2pm

Come grab some kai, AUTSA’s shout!

Fri 21 July

Chill Zone

AUTSA Office/Balcony City, North & South Campus 10am-1pm

Come along to relax and chill out.

Paint & Sip

WC202 Student Lounge 3pm-5pm

Paint a coffee mug or vase over some hot or soft drinks! Hosted by the Student Representative Council.

Mini Hikuwai Sessions (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 6pm-late

Come along for an epic night with local acts, live DJs, drink specials, and more!

Red Bull F1 Simulator WQ - Te Ahuru, Scissors Rm 11:30am-2pm

Pick Up&Play Sports

Te Ahuru Recreation Centre Level 1-3, 10am-2pm

Join us for some social sports between classses!

Mechanical Bull (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 2pm-6pm

Ride for a prize!

Red Bull Boat Race (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 6pm-8pm

Register your team at the bar for a boat race!

Karaoke Night (R18) Vesbar, R18 event 6pm-8pm

17 21 July autsa.org.nz

Join our popular Karaoke Night, hosted by Noize Kontrol.

What Does Matariki Mean To Us?

By Vivien Whyte (she/her) ASSOCIATE EDITOR

July 14th marked the second time Matariki was celebrated as an official public holiday in Aotearoa. For many Pākehā and tauiwi (nonindigenous/settlers) communities, this puts Matariki at the forefront of their minds for the very first time, opening a kōrero about what Matariki means for Aotearoa. Reflecting on this, I asked some of my tauiwi peers what Matariki means to them, and how it interweaves with their identity and a greater national identity.

For Eda, the day is going to be set aside for connecting, learning and taking the time to reset. She’s planning on going to the Hautapu at Orakei and then the Auckland Art Gallery, which is putting on a line-up of free events. The rest of the day is going to be set aside for reflection and refreshing - whether it’s cleaning her house, doing some journaling, reading or learning some more te reo. Darynn will be heading along to Takaparawhau (Bastion Point) to join the Umu Kohukohu Whetū, hosted by Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei. He’ll also be hosting something small with friends and whānau. If the weather holds up, he may head up Maungarei (Mt Wellington) to see Matariki. For Serena, she’ll be spending Matariki reflecting, journaling, and hosting spaces for family and friends to come together to enjoy the holiday. She also finds it important to spend time learning more about Matariki, the stars and what it all means. As part of this, she plans to focus on her wellbeing through being with nature, spending time in silence, reading a book, having discussions and celebrating both the things that have happened and the things that will come. “Figuring out what to let go, and who you want to become.”

What does Matariki mean to you as tauiwi?

All three reflect on the fact that this is a truly special public holiday. Far from being commercial or religious, Matariki invites us to slow down, connect with whānau and friends, to remember those souls who have passed to the beyond and to celebrate. Eda emphasises the personal resonance of this holiday: “While it’s quite difficult to define what that means, it’s very easy to relate to on an individual level, in terms of the fact that everyone has a relationship with the environment and a relationship with loved ones.” Reflecting on the broader picture, Darynn says, “In some way, it's sad that it only became a national celebration last year. Like Ahorangi Rangi Mātāmua would say, one of the biggest forms of colonisation is time. So, as a time of reflection too, as tauiwi, it makes me turn my mind to the bigger story of what happened on this whenua (land).”

Eda and Serena both draw similarities between Matariki and other cultures who celebrate celestial movements. For Eda, “Being on the whenua here, it makes sense to observe the celestial and environmental changes and their influences on the land and people. After all, that's what Matariki came from - the observation of the stars and what that means in terms of harvest and energy.” Eda explains that since the maramataka (lunar movements/calendar) has an influence on the land, it inherently has an influence on the people. She says, “I think any living thing in Aotearoa is influenced by the rise of Matariki. I’d like to learn more about Matariki as a window into Te Ao Māori, as well as understanding myself on a physical and spiritual plane.” For Serena the holiday evokes a feeling of nostalgia. Seeing the stars, acknowledging the astrological calendar, and tikanga are all things that remind her of Diwali. This connection has the potential to act like a bridge of solidarity and connection between all cultures, offering both reason and heart to how we, as migrants, might find a sense of place and belonging in Aotearoa. Serena stresses the beauty and humanity in being able to show pride in our own cultures, while being able to celebrate and honour Matariki. Eda echoes this. “Matariki helps us all understand how Te Ao Māori is beneficial for all of us, and for understanding our identity as non-Māori in Aotearoa.”

Why do you think it’s important that Matariki is something we all get involved in?

Celebrating Matariki as a public holiday comes with a risk of seeing it as an isolated event - similar to the way we see Christmas, Gregorian New Years or Easter. As simply a day off, time for sales, or themed parties. Eda reflects that “As a nation, we’re still figuring out how to collectively celebrate or observe Matariki.” Quite apart from any capitalistic or commercial holiday tendencies, she emphasises the need to strip it back to what Matariki is really about.

Darynn underscores these risks of tokenising Matariki on paper, which, sadly, goes hand in hand with recolonising this time. “We can and should respect this time by getting involved, looking to mana whenua, and recognising the differences across the motu of how Matariki is celebrated, or Puanga (which some iwi observe). To leave behind tokenism and celebrate with respect brings us closer to what Professor of Tikanga, Tā Pou Temara, said last year - "This is when we came of age".

Building on this, Serena emphasises how low the bar really is when getting involved with Matariki through celebrating, appreciation, reflection and learning. She emphasises that we have a responsibility, as tauiwi, to proactively explore, embrace and uplift Te Ao Māori. By embracing the true essence of Matariki, we can avoid tokenism. We can open connections for everyone living in Aotearoa and contribute to a flourishing future.

What has your journey been with learning about Matariki and how does that relate to reflections on your place in Aotearoa as a whole?

Learning about Matariki has been part of a wider journey for Eda, Darynn and Serena, going hand-in-hand with a deeper understanding of both Te Ao Māori and profound reflections on their identities and place in Aotearoa as a whole. Eda reflects on growing up in an environment that’s very monocultural and Eurocentric. “Stepping out of that makes you realise how ignorant you’ve been and complicit with white supremacy. Naturally, that comes with guilt and I think that’s okay; many Tauiwi people will feel guilt.” Eda says that in this process, she found a lot of beauty in Te Ao Māori, as well as existential lessons around our relationship to the universe. She says, “I can definitely relate it back to my culture - of collectivism and something bigger than right now and the individual - and it’s prompted me to look into my own whakapapa.”

For Darynn, his learning about Aotearoa began at university. “I only properly learnt about Te Tiriti then, and importantly, the historical and political context that existed before, during and continues today. I owe a lot of my journey to Ahorangi Maria Bargh, who also took me to my first protest. I also became involved with Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga. Much of this shaped my learning, before learning Te Reo, and then about Matariki.” These political and historical contexts have been an essential part of his understanding of Matariki and Aotearoa. He says, “It enriches this time when I reflect about how I, as tauiwi, connect to this land and remember those who have gone, and to dream about the future.”

For Serena, learning about Te Ao Māori has played a significant role in understanding herself as Tangata Tiriti and recognising the power and purpose of her own culture and mātauranga. Through understanding herself as Tangata Tiriti she acknowledges the privilege of being in Aotearoa and the importance of actively participating in Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

As a nation, we are on the cusp of a future in which every kid growing up in Aotearoa will engage with, build an understanding of, and celebrate Matariki. But we also have this opportunity right now - we should all build a relationship with Matariki in a truly special way. Matariki means something different to everyone across Aotearoa, but it also opens up opportunities to explore what it means to truly celebrate ourselves, Te Ao Māori and our connection with each other. This is an invitation for us to reflect, learn, celebrate, connect and explore.

THEATRE Basmati Bitch

Q Theatre

11 July - 30 July

$30

In the neonlit streets of futurist Aotearoa, an ex-MMA fighter discovers you can't ever really escape the past. Co-produced by Auckland Theatre Company and SquareSums&Co in association with Oriental Maidens, Basmati Bitch promises to be a wild ride!

MATARIKI Matariki in Tāmaki Makaurau

July

Check out the kaleidoscope of events happening throughout July in celebration of Matariki. Including performances, art installations, workshops and community get togethers. Check out the “Matariki Festival” website for more info!

FILM FESTIVAL Whānau Mārama

19 July - 6 August

Walk don’t run! It’s the New Zealand International Film Festival (NZIFF). NZIFF brings together the best of global cinema, right here in Tāmaki Mākaurau. The films, which hail from 39 different countries, feature Cannes Film Festival winners, documentaries, shorts, retrospectives, films for kids, animation, and the ‘incredibly strange’.

ART EXHIBITION

Lisa Reihana: He Wai Ngunguru, Nomads of the Sea

Wairau Māori Art Gallery [Whangārei]

14 July - 5 November

$25

Lisa Reihana’s installation interweaves fact and fiction to explore the complex social dynamics of 19th century New Zealand. Delving into the challenges of cultural leadership, spiritual traditions and gender values in 19th-century New Zealand.

AKL - TĀMAKI MAKAURAU

Sudan Archives

G G i u d g i e

TĀMAKI MAKAURAU - AKL

Where? The Powerstation

When? Thursday, July 20th Cost? $70

Community Garden Presents: Tayhana - w/ Creamy Mami and ET No Home

Where? Neck of the Woods When? Friday, July 21st Cost? $35

Elemental Jazz: Clear Path Ensemble and Arjuna Oakes + DJs

Where? Neck of the Woods

When? Saturday, July 22nd Cost? $25

Fort Lane Live - ft Marlin's Dreaming, Bbyfacekilla, Flamingo Pier and Church & AP

Where? Fort Lane, Downtown

When? Saturday, July 22nd Cost? $80 first release

Jen Cloher

Fazerdaze

Where? Mt Albert Memorial Hall

Where? Whammy Bar

When? Saturday, July 29th Cost? $30

When? Thursday, August 3rd Cost? $40

JULY + AUGUST 2023

12/07/2023, 23:58 Word Search Puzzle | Discovery

Puzzlemaker is a pu and print customized own word lists.

This is your Word Search!

WORDFIND

Misty

Takatāpui

Tiriti

Mātauranga

Whetū

Milk

Pomegranate

Paradise

Neurodiverse

Matamua

Tupuānuku