REFLECTIVE INSIGHT #027 - RUA KĒNANA - BUILDING THE HEAVENLY PĀ AT MAUNGAPŌHATU

THE SACRED MOUNTAIN

In the misty, rugged heart of the Urewera, there is a story of hope and heartache that every one of us should hold close. It’s the story of Rua Kēnana Hepetipa and the community he built at Maungapōhatu. Following the guidance of the Spirit and the prophecies of Te Kooti, Rua led his people—the Iharaira—away from the distractions of the world to build a "City of God" right on the slopes of the sacred mountain.

For Rua, this wasn’t just about religion; it was about protecting the mana of his people. He saw how the system was designed to keep Māori as "static subjects"—labourers on their own land—and he decided to flip the script. He envisioned a place where faith and work were one, where the community looked after its own, and where the future was decided by the people, not a distant bureaucracy.

ARCHITECTURE OF HOPE

The centrepiece of this vision was Hiona—a circular, two-story meeting house that looked like nothing else in Aotearoa. Rua broke away from traditional designs to create something that symbolised a "closed loop" of energy and focus. It was decorated with symbols of clubs and diamonds, repurposing the tools of the Pākehā world to serve a divine purpose.

This "Economic Pā" was more than just a village; it was a powerhouse of self-sufficiency. Rua established a community savings bank, issued passbooks, and organised massive land-clearing projects to grow high-value crops like cocksfoot grass. They weren’t just surviving; they were thriving by managing their "household" for the well-being of everyone, rather than just chasing abstract profit.

THE COLONIAL GAZE

But the system rarely lets a "shining light" burn too bright without trying to douse it. The colonial government saw Maungapōhatu as a threat—a "sovereign singularity" where their rules didn’t apply. In 1916, under the guise of liquor charges and sedition, 70 armed police raided the peaceful settlement. It was a dark day that resulted in the death of Rua’s son, Toko, and the dismantling of a beautiful experiment in autonomy.

Even though the state tried to collapse their reality, the spirit of Maungapōhatu lives on. It serves as a wero to us today: that we don’t have to wait for the system to "fix the soil" for us18. Like Rua, we can prioritise equity over mere growth and realise that our true strength is found in how we care for our whānau and our whenua.

FIXING THE SOIL

Today, we look back at Rua Kēnana not just as a figure of history, but as a pioneer of the society we are still trying to build—one that is spiritually grounded and economically sovereign. The "Slow-Cooking Oven" of prophecy is still at work, and the lessons of the mountain remind us that peace and abundance are possible when we take up the mantle of leadership ourselves.

Let’s honour that legacy by prioritising our local communities and protecting the environment that sustains us. The journey to Te Whenua Taurikura—the thriving land—starts with the same courage Rua showed: the courage to stand up and build something better.

How can we build "Economic Pās" in our own backyard? Let’s start the kōrero about how we can support our local whānau businesses and iwi initiatives to keep our resources right here in the North.