Why hasn’t Ngāpuhi settled?

This weekend my whānau travelled down to Tauranga Moana for the burial of our great aunty who passed away at the age of 101 ½, after living a peaceful and simple life and giving most of her money away to the needy overseas. I carpooled with my sister and niece. On the way home as we were coming over the Brynderwyns, enjoying that majestic view that welcomes us home, the conversation turned to the Ngāpuhi settlement. I did my best to explain, from my perspective, why Ngāpuhi hasn’t settled.

One of the things with explaining something to a 9-year-old (even a very smart one) is that simplicity has a way of rising to the surface. In the simplest terms, even though the $500–800 million potentially on offer would be handy for our whānau right now, what the government wants in return isn’t ours to give away. It belongs to our mokopuna and their mokopuna and their mokopuna.

So what’s the alternative? Find the money somewhere else.

Taitokerau’s “Leaky Bucket” Economy

For too long, our people in the North have been told to wait at the table for crumbs from the Crown to survive. But the truth is, the current system is a draining machine designed to pull out our timber, our talent, and our time, and export it to offshore funds. This system acts as a leaky bucket where our resources are stripped away, leaving us with the constant struggle of low-wage poverty and split-up communities.

Standing in Two Worlds 

For a long time, many of us in Taitokerau have felt like we had to leave our Māori identity at the door when we walked into a church. Whether it was a little wooden building like St Michael’s Anglican Church in Ngawha, where I attended recently with my reo class, or a larger whare karakia, the message from the past was often the same: you have to choose. You were told you could either follow the ways of your ancestors or follow the faith, but you couldn't do both.

This "either/or" way of thinking was a tool used to control us. It tried to tell us that our ancient knowledge and our faith were at war. But that is an old, broken explanation designed to keep us small.

The Power of "Both/And" 

Our ancestors didn't see the world as a series of boxes. They understood a reality where everything is connected, a Woven Universe. When the message of faith arrived, they didn't see it as a foreign invader. They saw it as a long-lost cousin that spoke the same language of love and connection.

The theft of the signal

Kia ora e te whānau. Grab a seat here on the porch. Today we need to talk about a very specific kind of theft. It was not just a theft of land or resources, it was a theft of the signal. For generations here in Taitokerau, we have been living with a version of faith that feels a bit "off," like a radio station with too much static.

This happened because, back in the 1800s, the political forces of the British Crown did something very clever and very cruel. They took the message of Ihu (Yeshua’s name in the Paipera Tapu), which is all about connection and love, and they put a colonial mask over it. They used the Cross to hide the Crown’s hunger for power. This was not an accident, it was a deliberate strategy to separate us from everything that makes us strong.

The when and the why

This distortion started long before the ships arrived in Aotearoa. It began in the 15th century with something called the Doctrine of Discovery. These were laws made by powerful leaders in Europe who decided that any land not owned by "Christians" was essentially empty and ready to be taken.