Taonga Moriori : Recording and revival

Documenting Moriori in the past

In its efforts to identify, preserve and reassemble both taonga Moriori that remain on Rēkohu and those that are dispersed throughout New Zealand and abroad, Hokotehi is able to draw on as well as challenge a long history of anthropological, archaeological and historical research, which included the collecting, cataloguing and classification of Moriori cultural heritage. In much of the scholarship, Moriori have been persistently misrepresented, yet they kept their own records too. In 1862, Hirawanu Tapu, who was aged 11 years at the time of the 1835 Ngāti Mutunga and Ngāti Tama invasion, ⁵ compiled a list of 1,663 Moriori people who had been alive immediately prior to this event. This was achieved by visiting the surviving elders of the villages on Rēkohu and Rangihaute and painstakingly recalling and recording the names of all those who were killed and eaten, beside whose names two crosses were placed; those who had been killed but not eaten; and those who had died of kongenge or despair, against whose names one cross was placed. These names and a written record of migration stories, karakii (ancient prayers), customs, traditions and rongo (songs) were compiled in a 173-page petition and delivered to Sir George Grey (then Governor of New Zealand) in an effort to document these injustices and to bring the plight of Moriori to the attention of New Zealand administrators. ⁶ The list does not include the names of many of the children who were killed but whose names were not remembered, nor the names of those who had managed to escape to seek refuge in New Zealand or further afield. Tapu’s list concludes with the names of the 101 Moriori still alive in 1862 (Figure 1). Their legacy has been preserved in the list of names on the central post (Ka Pou a Rangitokona) in the Moriori marae (traditional gathering place) Kōpinga (Figure 2), and in this statement of remembrance:

Nga Raumahara – you are not forgotten,

Your sacrifice was not in vain,

Your legacy of Peace and Hope endures still.

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Figure 1.

A group of Moriori from the Chatham Islands, including T Solomon’s father, 1877. Alfred Martin Collection, Canterbury Museum, 19XX.2.481. Reproduced with permission.

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Figure 2.

Ka Pou a Rangitokona. © Maui Solomon.

In advancing its program of revival since the mid 1980s, Hokotehi recognizes and honours Tapu’s work. His efforts as an archivist and petitioner for his people have resulted in an impressive legacy that is now part of the foundation for the recovery of re Moriori (language), karakii (prayers) and rongo (songs), as well as an invaluable historical record of the events that befell his people. ⁷

In contrast to these taonga recorded by Tapu, the legacy of archaeological and ethnographic fieldwork on the island is problematic. Around the turn of the 20th century, ethnologists like Stephenson Percy Smith (Surveyor General for New Zealand) and Henry Devenish Skinner (zoologist, curator at Otago University Museum and later Director of the Otago Museum) began to conduct research on Rēkohu. These men were influential in the ethnographic literature that would emerge on Moriori, much of it deleterious (see, for example, Houghton, 1976; Jefferson, 1955; McFadgen, 1994; Park, 1976; Richards, 1962; Simmons, 1962, 1964, 1965; Skinner, 1919, 1923; Sutton 1977, 1985). Smith, a surveyor employed by New Zealand’s colonial authorities, had diffusionist interests in Polynesian migration and settlement. He worked with the ethnologist Elsdon Best to categorize Moriori as coming from an earlier Melanesian (‘Maruiwi’) migration forced out of Aotearoa/New Zealand, thus claiming a precedent for the colonization of Rēkohu by Ngāti Mutunga and Ngāti Tama, and of Aotearoa/New Zealand by Europeans. Smith was co-editor of the Journal of the Polynesian Society from 1892 to 1922, the periodical of an organization formed principally in response to the pākehā (European) notion that Māori, like Moriori, were a dying race (Byrnes, 2010). Skinner (1923), in his monograph The Morioris of the Chatham Islands, opposed the Maruiwi theory and tried to discredit Best and Smith’s version of Moriori origins, but without much success.

More systematic recording and archaeological fieldwork commenced in the 1950s with the work of Christina Jefferson (1955) on rākau momori (carvings into living trees, also known as dendroglyphs), and continued in the 1960s with the work of David Simmons (1962, 1964, 1965) and Rhys Richards (1962). In the 1970s and 1980s, survey work based at Otago University started on the islands. None of this work was carried out with Moriori involvement, let alone with any thought about participatory research. With the exception of Doug Sutton’s later writing (1985) in which he, like Skinner before him, challenged the Best–Smith Moriori origin myth, archaeological work on Rēkohu tended to reinforce erroneous theories on settlement and adaptation that presented Moriori as unsettled fisher-gatherers, largely because fieldwork was focused on the study of salient surface evidence, such as coastal middens and burials. It could also be said that the emphasis on these particular aspects of the archaeological record directed the research priorities – the result being a self-perpetuating methodology where the ends justified the means. Sutton however also attempted to refute the notion, popularized by observers after 1835, that the Moriori rejection of warfare was cowardly and that Moriori were a ‘timid race’ (see for example, Hunt, 1866: 34). He argued that the way of life that developed on Rēkohu constituted a skilful adaptation to the environment and defined Moriori culture as one that used natural resources effectively (Blank, 2007; Sutton, 1985).

Collecting Moriori

Even before outside scholars began arriving on Rēkohu, the islands were being plundered by amateur collectors. The irresistible urge to collect and remove specimens, samples, knowledge and treasures from Rēkohu began in the early 1800s, and has continued ever since. In the late 1860s, people like William Baucke (a school teacher on the main island and a fluent speaker of Moriori), Alexander Shand (the first magistrate and collector of customs duties) and Henry Hammersley Travers (botanist and ornithologist) removed human remains from burial sites. Their collecting activities, like those of their successors, focused on kōimi (the bones of ancestors), hundreds of which were taken from the islands. Theft of taonga (including both artefacts and human remains) was often audacious. Collectors openly discussed and wrote about their activities, sometimes seeking payment for their work. As Travers (1868: 175) wrote in a letter to his father:

… although I found the remains of numerous skeletons in the woods on Pitt’s island, I was unable to get one in good condition; I have, however, brought several authentic skulls, which will probably be interesting for ethnographical purposes.

These actions were boldly carried out because they weren’t considered to be unlawful or even inappropriate. For many collectors and their agents, the removal of Moriori remains was justified under the banner of protecting the remnants of what they saw as a dwindling culture. The effects of disease, killing and invasion on the Moriori population had indeed been cataclysmic, and the mythology of a ‘dying race’ became both inspiration and justification for these acts. Body parts of ancestors were sometimes removed simply for financial gain: an account from the 1830s records that a surgeon from the whaling ship Harriet was observed at Waitangi beach, ‘with an assistant, a small hammer and a bag, knocking the teeth out of numerous skulls laying about the beach, belonging to the original islanders’. The teeth were apparently to be sold for use as dentures (Richards, 1982).

Moriori, like their Polynesian cousins throughout the Pacific, buried their dead with taonga such as necklaces, adzes and other symbols of importance to assist them during their journey in the afterlife. These taonga were also plundered and there are significant collections in museums throughout Europe and the United States. As Solomon (2005) has argued, the theft of kōimi, and associated adzes, necklaces, bone pendants and other taonga from urupā (burial places) was a misappropriation of tangible cultural property.

In addition to smaller, portable items, the collecting of large taonga such as the distinctive Moriori rākau momori ⁸ (Figure 3) and rock carvings was also widespread. At various points during the late 1880s, 1920s and 1960s, whole trees were cut down and removed from the archipelago, instead of simply being recorded in drawings or photographs. Five tree trunks, purchased from a schoolteacher on the island, are now in the British Museum, ⁹ while others reside in Canterbury, Auckland, and Otago museums in New Zealand. ¹⁰ The carvings are complex and diverse portrayals of ancestors and events – many of them memorials for departed loved ones. The belief was that, by carving the image into the bark, the spirit of the departed would be infused into the tree, which then acted as a kind of portal to the spiritual homeland. These places are very tapu (sacred) and are used for inspiration, communication, meditation and reflection. Given the great spiritual significance of the trees and carvings, Moriori today feel that these ancestral taonga, like their kōimi, should be returned to their rightful resting place on Rēkohu. The trees have the same significance as burial areas and should be treated as such.

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Figure 3.

Rākau Momori at Hāpūpu. © Hokotehi Moriori Trust.

Legacy of peace and reclaiming Moriori identity

The events of the last 170 years have been traumatic for Moriori. It would be understandable if Moriori had been overwhelmed by the apparent hopelessness of it all. However, the descendants of those who survived have proved to be very resilient and they are now working hard to ensure that their ancestors did not die in vain. Today there are over 1,000 people who are officially registered as Moriori, though it is estimated that as many as 8,000 may have connections to Moriori ka rāpuna (ancestors). Unfortunately, due to the historical alienation from ancestral lands, most live away from Rēkohu, while those remaining on the islands (like indigenous peoples in many other colonized nations) face the daily challenges of being a minority in their own lands. The relationship between Moriori and Ngāti Mutunga on Rēkohu today continues to be a difficult one especially since Moriori began reclaiming their identity and culture 30 years ago on the islands. In May 2011, two rākau momori were attacked – one with a machete and the other shot at with a gun – both in the carved head, which for Moriori (like Māori) is the most tapu part of the body. Another incident in recent years involved the desecration of another wāhi tapu (sacred place) known as Nunuku’s Cave. However, recent endeavours have been made to bridge the divide between the two imi/iwi (tribes) by working together on initiatives such as joint fisheries management plans and other projects. Moriori believe that a truth and reconciliation process is needed in order for the tragedies and ghosts of the past to be laid to rest and for all the diverse peoples of the islands to build a more peaceful and prosperous future together.

The revival that began with the television documentary in 1980 gained momentum with the erection of a statue to Tommy Solomon in 1986 (now one of the most frequently visited places for tourists on the islands) (Figure 4). The movement gathered further impetus when historian Michael King agreed to work with Moriori to write a book on our history. The critically acclaimed Moriori: A People Rediscovered (2000[1989]) was one of the first examples of truly collaborative work with Moriori and ensured Michael’s memory has a special place in Kōpinga Marae. In 1988, a Treaty of Waitangi claim was filed, which was reported on in 2001. ¹¹ The report upheld Moriori claims, recognising us as tchakat henu tuturu, or the true tangata whenua of Rēkohu. To date, no settlement on the claims has been reached; negotiations began in 2004 but were abandoned in 2008 by the government due to other political priorities – yet another example, if one is needed, of governmental neglect of these islands and their people.

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Figure 4.

Tame Horomona-Rehe’s Statue at Manukau. © Maui Solomon.

Following the claim, the imperative to foster Moriori identity and culture continued with the 1997 construction of the first modern Moriori marae or gathering place, Kōpinga (which means a grove of kōpi trees, ¹² so named because they were places where the ancestors gathered) (Figure 5). The marae was opened in January 2005 in a celebration that saw the largest gathering on the island in over 160 years. It has become the home base for Moriori to meet on the island as well as a centre of teaching and learning for the wider community. It will also be the base for the establishment of a Peace Centre on Rēkohu in the coming decade.

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Figure 5.

Koōpinga Marae. © Maui Solomon.

Hokotehi’s most recent achievements have been to develop relationships with Peace Trusts and the New Zealand National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies at Otago University. A deed of gift has been signed with the New Zealand Government for a fund to foster Moriori identity, culture, language and heritage, and the revival has been enhanced by an exhibition touring New Zealand museums and galleries, called Moriori – People of the Land, and the release of a special edition set of school Journals published by the Ministry of Education and written in conjunction with Hokotehi that focuses on correcting past inaccuracies about Moriori in the New Zealand education curriculum. The journals were blessed at Kōpinga Marae in March 2011.

In Hokotehi’s work alongside other indigenous communities struggling to revive culture and identity (especially those that have few or no fluent native language speakers alive), it has recognized common strands. These include:

We have talked here about the comparative silence of Moriori voices in heritage records. In response to this, Hokotehi’s recording work is now centred on the words, names and memories of our elders. Naming and knowledge of place is known to be strongly connected to retention of guardianship roles and duties – ‘a sense of place’. Despite problems caused by poor or inappropriate research in the past, Hokotehi has also consciously adopted an approach in line with its core values of ‘sharing, unity and listening’, which has resulted in digitization initiatives in an emphasis on digital reciprocity and a desire to work with like-minded research partners, such as the Traditional Knowledge Revival Pathways (TKRP) originators in Australia (see below), the Intergenerational Native Digital Story-telling project in the Southwestern United States (http://nativedigitalstorytelling.blogspot.com/) and Footprints of the Ancestors, a Hopi initiative (http://www4.nau.edu/footprints/), as well as the Intellectual Property Issues in Cultural Heritage (IPinCH) case study research program (IPinCH, http://www.sfu.ca/ipinch/) and the Reciprocal Research Network, both based in Canada. ¹³ The notion of sharing may seem in conflict with the idea of asserting control, but we have found that the principles of generosity of spirit and sharing of knowledge are enhancing Hokotehi’s ability to hold on to the mana or ethos of what it means to be Moriori.

Moriori cultural database work

In 2005, Hokotehi resolved to undertake a comprehensive cultural database project that involves re-recording archaeological evidence in a way that combines elder knowledge and experience, oral traditions and recollections of past land-use and events. Beginning with a field trial in 2006, this work has focused on cultural landscapes, and aims to define Moriori settlement in Moriori terms, reflecting our deep attachment to and affection for the islands. None of this happened spontaneously. The fieldwork and subsequent research design involved trial, error and adjustment. When Hokotehi started to combine traditional knowledge with instinct and improved archaeological methodology, it was found that we had the right mix that could honour the precedent set by our ancestors in their support of Hirawanu Tapu’s research.

The Hokotehi fieldwork is responsive to environmental indicators including landscape change brought about by ecological processes, such as erosion. Hokotehi recording uses a method that prompts the description of a range of aspects of a heritage landscape according to the following questions:

Interviewee responses to these questions are filmed and film-clips are processed using the TKRP software, which enables tagging of key words in the digital record so that data can be sorted, transcribed and translated. If, in the description of a place, the speaker talks about ancestral events and then moves to information about traditional practices such as fishing, the film-clip can be cross-referenced to all subjects mentioned. The outcome is an on-site record that captures the immediacy and relevance of the interviews. Often this is information that may not otherwise have been captured in a paper-based assessment.

The purposes of the cultural landscape database are threefold. Firstly, it provides a framework for recording Moriori places and events. Secondly, it provides a platform for informing the revival of culture and identity. Lastly, it is part of a cultural redress package as part of the Treaty negotiations with the New Zealand government.

Archaeology of landscape

Hokotehi’s digitization strategy was stimulated in part by the distinct lack of reference to the indigenous culture and traditional knowledge in previous heritage recording on Rēkohu. In the 1960s and 1970s archaeological surveys of surface evidence recorded over 700 ‘sites’, including middens, burials, tree and rock carvings, and artefact locations, now incorporated into the New Zealand Archaeological Association (NZAA) register. This selection reflected a lack of engagement with local people since it focused on emergency recording of surviving physical evidence at the expense of culturally important landscapes.

The limitations of carrying out archaeological work that is separate from local indigenous knowledge became apparent when the Moriori cultural survey work started in 2006. NZAA recording forms ask for information about evidence such as grid points, dates of recording, descriptions and guides to re-location. They do not enquire about cultural values and heritage landscapes, or the relationships amongst these collections of evidence. Even though large and complex middens had been recorded on Rēkohu with obvious stratigraphic signs of lengthy and habitual use, no questions were asked about where and how these people lived. Instead, assumptions were made that Moriori were transitory, unsettled occupants, with a dependence on harvest from the sea and coast, and a lack of horticultural traditions.

Evidence being recorded by Hokotehi has begun to challenge some of these assumptions. Until they launched the field trial, archaeological work had concentrated on the northern and eastern coasts, which possess easily identifiable and accessible coastal middens. The evidential bias in the previous surveys painted a picture of unsettled occupation, and even lack of attachment to landscape, whereas the Hokotehi survey demonstrated more settled occupation, with evidence of large buildings and a close association with nearby middens, kōpi groves and food and tool production areas. As part of this challenge to record differently, Hokotehi’s work also needed to unravel the knots of recent ‘scientific’ thinking about Moriori traditional culture.

Heritage landscapes are places ‘where human relationships with the natural environment over time define their essential character. The emphasis is on human history, continuity of cultural traditions, and social values and aspirations’ (Mitchell and Buggey, 2000: 35). Landscapes like these on Rēkohu have been defined over centuries of affection for place and knowledge of ecological processes. These kinds of connections are now recognized in the landscape approach to archaeology, which validates and adds weight to interpretation of evidence, especially when physical evidence has been modified. The landscape approach tries to understand relationships between areas of evidence and, in some cases, the landscape itself constitutes the cultural object. This is particularly so for prominent features such as mountains and hills but also for places imbued with associated qualities, such as the ability to generate feelings of peace and comfort and, consequently, enable healing or renewal of spirit. Some of these aspects of place can only be understood through an indigenous lens: through knowledge of the land and the way it has been and is lived in, cared for and understood. Around this core of indigenous knowledge the landscape approach being used on Rēkohu brings in landowner and land-user knowledge, oral history and memory, associative knowledge, and archival data and maps.

When archaeological practice separates the physical from the intangible, the result is an impoverished record – and often a misread one. The gaps in the NZAA-style record have left a wounded space where the associated stories and values of place should sit. The record is a mono-lingual, mono-cultural statement. Because Moriori voices and views are silent in these records, some places have been misread. The outcome of this is a kind of cultural illiteracy. If traditional knowledge has not informed the interpretation, it is possible, even likely, that signs of settlement may be illegible to the archaeological eye.

The Traditional Knowledge Revival Pathways (TKRP) system (www.tkrp.com.au) was developed precisely to counter the damaging effects of this kind of research. This project, initiated in 2001 by Kuku Thaypan Aboriginal elders in Northern Queensland, Australia, is designed to facilitate the preservation of traditional knowledge and its application in cooperative land management. Vital principles of TKRP and of the emerging Hokotehi recording process are threefold:

The field trial started by looking at specific research problems, such as lack of Moriori input and the bias towards evidential recording in localized areas, and shaped solutions for developing a recording model. This method is recursive, in that the research design is constantly refreshed through the development of collective memory as more work and more research are carried out. Following this system, overlays of original names and traditional uses are the first layers in the heritage fabric.

Reassembling taonga Moriori

In addition to reclaiming language and cultural identity and recording heritage landscapes, over the last few decades Moriori have been making efforts to reclaim ownership and control over their physically dispersed taonga. These efforts have included purchasing artefacts at auction and from private collectors, and seeking protection of sacred places on private land. More recently it has involved purchasing their own lands back again. Land adjacent to one of the largest groves of kōpi trees on Rēkohu at the J.M. Barker National Historic Reserve is now back in Moriori ownership. The positive events highlighted here are significant milestones in the process of reaffirming Moriori identity, but it is important that the struggle to get this far is not forgotten, and to recognize that it continues. Until recently, the focus on collecting was on tangible taonga (such as human remains, artefacts, tree trunks and carvings); today it is increasingly on the taking and use of intangible knowledge associated with our landscapes and taonga. For Moriori, these treasures are not simply inanimate things. They are imbued with the knowledge of those who created them, those for whom they were created, and the associated events and knowledge of those who used or cared for them. They were always associated with the observance of rituals and karakii as protective rites. The intellectual and cultural property associated with these taonga is possibly better described as a set of obligations rather than a set of rights; these obligations even extend to the way that taonga are stored and displayed.

Over the last two years, Hokotehi has been running Keke Tura identity workshops for our members, focusing on youth engagement (Figure 6). The workshops have covered recording and registration of taonga (resulting in a new exhibition space being created at Kōpinga Marae); digital recording of taonga and images; conservation techniques for images and taonga (fibre, wood, stone); making short films, and traditional practices associated with song, oral recording and manaakitanga (hospitality). All aspects of these workshops have been recorded by participants using the TKRP system in a ‘learning by doing’ construct.

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Figure 6.

Timiriki with a rākau momori, Hāpūpu. © Susan Thorpe.

In January 2010, a new digital recording project commenced. In a collaborative project involving Hokotehi, DOC, and the University of Otago, the rākau momori carvings on the island were recorded using hand-held digital laser scanning. The result is a spectacular record of all surviving carvings to a level of detail that shows the underside of the bark as well as the carved side (Figure 7). Hokotehi regards these digital records as taonga. They are exact replicas of ka rāpuna and are therefore treated with great reverence. The scans are permanent records of carvings and trees that will one day die and disappear, but they are also teaching tools and will play a vital part in the revival of the tree carving tradition, unique to Moriori.

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Figure 7.

Digital scan of rākau momori at Haāpūpu. © Hokotehi Moriori Trust.

Looking forward

The shift in thinking that Hokotehi has instigated through its series of taonga recording projects is assertively indigenous and yet deeply respectful of collective histories, whilst enabling Moriori to define the management priorities for their own taonga. It is an evolved approach that aims to be inclusive and encouraging of sharing – strong, traditional Moriori values. Hokotehi’s next steps involve the development of a comprehensive database of taonga Moriori in overseas collections and the construction of a new whare taonga (museum and research centre) adjacent to Kōpinga Marae. Like the TKRP system, the first taonga database will involve core Moriori values of sharing and unity. The proposal involves the establishment of an intranet system that will also involve partnerships with participating institutions – a curator/kaitiaki connection and a form of digital reciprocity. In return for providing access to collection records, Hokotehi will provide information on provenance, taonga uses and ancestral data (where available). The database will be a members-only guide to taonga Moriori around the world, including human remains.

Increasingly, museums are converting accession and acquisition records to electronic forms and even making these available on public internet sites (see Newell, 2012, this issue). At the same time, indigenous communities are developing relationships with museums for sharing information and carrying out research, sometimes with a view to future repatriations. As noted at the start of this article, the many taonga Moriori removed from the islands include examples of older art forms that are no longer here or even close to New Zealand.

Hokotehi’s second future project will see a comprehensive research facility developed on Rēkohu, incorporating a dedicated space in which taonga may be stored and cared for. Opportunities for Moriori to take care of, study, or be inspired by their taonga will be increased. This is critical to Hokotehi’s ongoing work and research because we recognize, alongside the benefits of the kinds of digital research tools and resources discussed here, the importance of our taonga’s physical presence. Access to these treasures, both digital and physical, is central to the maintenance of rangatiratanga Moriori (Moriori authority), crucial for a people misrepresented and undermined for so long, but now recognized as a dynamic, living culture.