The Strength of the Daughter

When we look at the history of the North, we often focus on the names of the great chiefs who led the battles. But as people born, raised, and living in Taitokerau, we know that the true strength of our people is found in the family lines that keep our spirit alive through generations. Today, we are looking at Hariata Rongo, the visionary daughter of the famous chief Hongi Hika. She lived through times of massive upheaval, war, and change, yet she stood as a pillar of strength. Her life teaches us about continuity, the beautiful truth that no matter how many storms hit our family tree, the life force keeps flowing forward.

Keeping the Flame Alive

Hariata Rongo was not just the daughter of a great leader; she was a powerful leader in her own right. She married the influential chief Hōne Heke, bringing together two incredible family lines of the North. She understood that while a single generation might face wars and political arguments, the real work of a woman is to make sure the family line remains unbroken. She was incredibly practical and filled with foresight. She knew that when a community gets distracted by outside arguments and chaos, it is the quiet strength of the home that keeps the people safe. This ability to protect the family and keep the fire burning mirrors the beautiful pattern of Ihu (Yeshua), who came to give us life, and life in total abundance.

Standing Firm on Truth

When you look closely at the true history of Taitokerau, you quickly realise that our greatest victories didn’t come from staying quiet or backing down to keep the peace. The real turning points for our people always happened right on the grassroots soil of the marae, where bold, unfiltered truth was spoken straight into the face of raw power. Today, we are leaning into the fierce legacy of Moka Te Kainga-mataa, the great Patukeha chief who looked past the smooth talking colonial promises at Waitangi in 1840 and demanded an honest audit of the system before anyone dared to sign a piece of paper.

Channelling the True Signal

Moka stood up in front of Governor Hobson and famously questioned the smooth-talking promises being made. He pointed out the pre-existing land purchases and actions of European settlers that had already left his people squeezed. Moka was not trying to cause conflict, he was practicing the art of dialogue, holding a mirror up to power to see if the actions matched the words. This level of visionary pragmatism is exactly what we need today. It directly matches the model left to us by Ihu (Yeshua's name in the Paipera Tapu), who walked into spaces of intense systemic pressure and always prioritised the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and truth.

The First Footprints

When we look at the map of our lives in Taitokerau, we have to recognise that everything has a starting point. Our journey doesn't begin with modern politics or the arrival of the sailing ships. It goes much deeper, back to the very first splash of an oar in the waters of the Hokianga. Today, we are looking at Nukutawhiti, the ancient navigator who returned to Aotearoa to settle the land. He is the anchor of our western whakapapa, a man who proved that the North was always destined to be a place of discovery and fresh beginnings. (Rahiri is descended from Nukutawhiti on his father’s side, so if you are descended from Rahiri you are also descended from this guy.)
Beyond his feats as a voyager, Nukutawiti laid the foundation for our region's spiritual and intellectual landscape by establishing the first structures of Te Whare Wānanga o Taitokerau. This sacred institution was the ancient house of higher learning, dedicated to preserving the deep cosmic whakapapa and spiritual navigation laws of our people. By anchoring this wānanga in the North, he ensured that future generations would always have access to the ultimate truths of our identity.

The Stand at Waitangi

As we look back at the people who shaped Taitokerau, we often find our greatest lessons in the moments of biggest pressure. Today, we are looking at Tareha, a massive chief of Ngāti Rēhia who stood tall during the debates at Waitangi in 1840. He was a man who did not mince his words. When the colonial system arrived, offering a new way of governance, Tareha stood up as the voice of the land. He didn't look at the glittering promises, he looked straight at the soil, the marae, and the authority that already belonged to our people.

The Power of the Marae

Tareha was famous for his speech where he told the Governor that Māori did not need an outside ruler. He explained that our chiefs were already governors of their own patches, looking after their own whānau and hapū. He was pointing directly to the strength of the marae. The marae is not just a collection of buildings, it is the heart of our community, the place where local action happens, and where the people are looked after. Tareha knew that when we give away our local agency to a top down system, we lose our true strength.

A Mind For Learning

When people talk about the great Ngāpuhi chief Hongi Hika, they usually talk about muskets and battles. History books often paint him as just a fierce warrior who wanted to conquer his enemies. But there was another side to Hongi Hika that people rarely mention. He was an incredibly smart man with a deep hunger for learning. He understood that true power doesn’t come from weapons, it comes from knowledge, literacy, and understanding how the world works.

The Cambridge Journey

In 1820, Hongi Hika made the long journey across the ocean to England. He went there to see the world, but also to bring back tools that could help his people thrive. While he was there, he did something amazing. He went to Cambridge University and worked with a clever professor named Samuel Lee. Together, they spent weeks sitting down and figuring out how to turn the spoken sounds of Te Reo Māori into written words on paper. Hongi Hika was the main architect behind the first Māori grammar book and dictionary. He was a scholar chief, using his brilliant mind to preserve our language for future generations.

The World is Changing

When we look at our history in Taitokerau, we see moments where the whole world shifted. Our old people did not live in a bubble, they saw huge changes coming across the ocean. Today, we look at Tāmati Waka Nene, a paramount chief of Ngāti Hao from the Hokianga. He was a man who understood that change was inevitable. He did not run away from it, and he did not just fight it. Instead, he chose to become a diplomatic bridge, helping our people navigate a massive global shift.

A Path for Safety

Waka Nene was a very powerful leader and a brave warrior, but he was also a pragmatic thinker. By the time 1840 arrived, he saw that European traders, whalers, and settlers were arriving in large numbers. He realised that without some kind of law and order, there would be chaos on the land. When he spoke at the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, he argued that having a Governor would protect our whānau from lawless outsiders. He chose to look at the big picture, trying to find a safe way for our people to trade and grow in a changing world.

The Peacemaker’s Heart

As we keep walking through the lives of our great ancestors, we come to a man who spent his entire life building bridges. Eruera Maihi Patuone was a paramount chief of the Hokianga and the older brother of Tāmati Waka Nene. He lived a very long life, witnessing the arrival of the first Europeans right through to the late 1800s. While some leaders are remembered mostly for their skill in battle, Patuone is remembered for something even more powerful, his absolute dedication to peace, love, and goodwill to all people.

Weaving the Strands

Patuone was a master at weaving people together. He understood that fighting and division only drain the life out of a community. Whenever there was trouble between different hapū, or between Māori and the new Pākehā settlers, Patuone would step into the middle of the conflict. He did not do this out of weakness. He was a brave warrior, but he chose to use his mana to create safety and harmony. He looked at the world as a place where everyone should have a fair share of the pie, realising that a community can only flourish when there is peace.

The Master Planner

As we journey deeper into the lives of our ancestors, we come to a man of quiet brilliance and incredible foresight. Te Ruki Kawiti, the great chief of Ngāi Hine, is often remembered alongside Hone Heke as a warrior. But Kawiti was much more than a fighter, he was a master planner. He possessed a strategic mind that understood how to protect the people, how to outsmart a bigger enemy, and how to preserve our mana when it was under direct attack.

A Shield for the Whānau

When the colonial government pushed its way into the North, Kawiti did not just rush into battle blindly. He looked at the heavy weapons and the massive resource of the British military, what we recognise as the Babylonian system, and he designed a way to keep his people safe. He invented a brand-new type of fortress at places like Ōhaeawai and Ruapekapeka. He built deep underground bunkers, complex trenches, and thick walls made of puriri logs and flax. He did not build these to conquer others, he built them as a shield to protect the collective well-being of his whānau and hapū.

The Fire Inside

We are continuing our walk through the lives of our great ancestors. Today, we look at Hone Heke Pōkai, a man whose name is known all over the world. When people think of Heke, they often think of an angry warrior chopping down a flagpole. But his story is much deeper than that. He carried what I call a sovereign flame, a bright fire in his heart for true freedom, peace, and the right of our people to look after themselves under the guidance of God.

The Broken Promises

Hone Heke was the very first chief to sign Te Tiriti o Waitangi in 1840. He signed it because he believed it was a sacred covenant that would protect the land and the people. But it did not take long for him to see the truth. The new colonial government began to set up a system that took away local control, restricted trade, and taxed our people unfairly. This is what we call the "Babylonian" system, a heavy setup that wants to control everything from the top down and squeeze out local agency. Heke saw through the political BS and decided he could not sit quietly.

The Meeting of Rivers

When we look at the life of our great ancestor Rāhiri, we are looking at the very foundation of who we are as a people. He was born at Whiria pā, right near Opononi in the Hokianga. His life tells a story about bringing different worlds together. He wasn't just a leader of one small area, he was the bridge between the west coast and the east coast. The House We Live In

Rāhiri represents a beautiful coming together of family lines. His father, Tauramoko, descended from Kupe and Nukutawhiti, the great ocean navigators of the west. His mother, Te Hauangiangi, was the daughter of Puhi, the captain of the Mataatua canoe from the east. Because he carried the blood of both sides, he became the anchor for all of us. There is an old saying in the North that reminds us of this truth: “Mehemea he uri koe no Ngāpuhi, kahore koe i heke ia Rāhiri, he hoiho koe! “ (If you are Ngāpuhi and do not descend from Rāhiri, then you are a horse!) He built the house that shelters all our families today.

A Firm Foundation

To build a house that lasts for hundreds of years, you need a foundation that cannot be shaken. This is a law that comes from the highest place. Ihu (Yeshua's name in the Paipera Tapu) taught us that the strength of any structure depends entirely on what it is built upon. If we build our communities on pride or division, they will wash away when the storms come. But if we build on love, unity, and shared identity, we stand firm.

Learning From Our Past

To understand where we are going in the North, we have to look at the ground we stand on. Our dream of a better life for our kids isn’t something we need to copy from overseas. It is already here, hidden in the stories of our old people. We start this journey by looking at Maikuku. She was a woman of high rank and the granddaughter of the great leader Rāhiri. Her story shows us how different groups of people can come together to build one strong family.

The Power of Quiet

Maikuku lived in a cave at Waitangi, known as Te Ana o Maikuku. Because she was so special and carried a high level of tapu, she stayed in this quiet place. Today, we are always busy and surrounded by noise. We think we have to be loud to be important. But Maikuku reminds us that there is a special kind of strength that grows when we are quiet and still. It is like when Ihu (Yeshua's name in the Paipera Tapu) went away from the crowds to pray. He knew that to lead people, you first have to connect with the Spirit.

Finding Our Way Home

The world can be a very confusing place lately, with so much noise and fighting. It feels like we are losing our way. This series is about tuning out that noise and listening to the wisdom our ancestors left for us. I call this the "Ancestral Signal." It is a way of living that is already in our blood. By looking at our Ngāpuhi tupuna, we aren't just talking about history, we are looking for the map that shows us how to build a better life for our whānau right here in Taitokerau.

Where it all Began

Everything for us starts with Rāhiri. He is the father of Ngāpuhi. He was a great leader because he knew how to bring different groups of people together. He didn't try to make everyone the same, but he showed them how to live as one big family. He understood that if we want the North to be a "shining light" to the world, we first have to make sure our own foundations are strong. This lesson was most clear when he dealt with his two sons, Uenuku-kuare and Kaharau.

A Personal Discovery

Kia ora. Even though I was born and raised right here in Taitokerau, I only had my first pōwhiri onto Te Tii Marae last month. It was a huge privilege to finally stand in that space and learn about the history and the conflict surrounding a very specific carving.

When you walk into the wharenui at Te Tii, your eyes are often drawn to the back wall. Sitting in a place of great honour is a carving of a bald Pākehā man with glasses, holding a Bible. For many, this is a point of debate. Why is a European man in a space usually reserved for Māori ancestors?

The Man Known as Kāruwhā

The man in the carving is the Reverend Henry Williams. Our ancestors called him Kāruwhā (Four Eyes) because of his glasses. He wasn’t just a visitor, he lived among Ngāpuhi for over 40 years. He was a translator, a peacemaker, and a man who navigated the difficult waters between the British Crown and the Rangatira of the North.

Why hasn’t Ngāpuhi settled?

This weekend my whanau travelled down to Tauranga Moana for the interment of our great aunty who passed away at the age of 101 ½, after living a peaceful and frugal 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 Ngapuhi settlement. I did my best to explain, from my perspective, why Ngapuhi 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 whanau, what the government wants in return isn’t ours to give away. It belongs to our mokopuna and their mokopuna and their mokopuna.

Connected Across the Oceans

Is David Seymour acting completely on his own, or is he just a loudspeaker for ideas being broadcast from the other side of the world? Let’s sit down and have a real honest talk about the political shifts happening in Wellington right now. We need to look closely at the ACT Party and see who is actually writing the tune they are playing.

In science, there is a famous concept called "deep entanglement." It describes how two separate things can be so tightly linked that whatever happens to one instantly changes the other, even if they are miles apart. We are seeing this exact type of connection in our politics today. The new laws hitting our shores, like the Treaty Principles Bill, didn't just appear out of nowhere. They have a history and a family tree that stretches far beyond our parliament.

The Money-Over-People Signal

The ideas pushed by the ACT Party aren't just random local thoughts. They are deeply tied to a global network of overseas planning groups and wealthy donors (like the Atlas Network). These groups push a very specific message: making money for the sake of money is the only thing that matters, completely ignoring human needs or the health of the earth.

The Machine vs. The Cloak

Have you ever tried to pull a single thread out of a beautifully woven korowai or woollen jersey? If you have, you know that the whole thing starts to bunch up and resist your pull. This is exactly what we are seeing in the news lately with the tension between Te Pāti Māori leadership and our Te Tai Tokerau MP, Mariameno Kapa-Kingi.

This isn't just a political argument; it is a clash of two different ways of seeing the world.

• The Newtonian Way (The Machine): In the "old-school" way of thinking, the world is like a machine made of separate parts. If a part doesn’t fit the manual, you just swap it out. The Party leadership in Rotorua tried to act this way, treating our MP like a separate piece they could simply remove.

The Quantum Way (The Woven Universe): But the North doesn't work like a machine. We operate on Whanaungatanga, which is actually the original Māori word for Quantum Entanglement. In this world, you can’t describe one person without looking at everyone they are connected to.