Session 123 summary
Jade comes from the Ngapuhi tribe, which has its own method of making maps, one of which includes many loops connecting different areas. Jade talks about how their tribal areas are rich in meaning, with much tribal knowledge embedded in various cultural forms such as their art, clothing, songs, and prayers. The place where she grew up plays an important role in shaping who she is. She shares images of the house her father built and also shares images of her family, stating that this place is the beginning and end for her. She emphasizes that the reasons behind their actions are for their own people and for the younger generation.
Matakohe Architecture is a kaupapa Māori design studio that Jade started around five years ago. At that time, she had two kaupapa (proper) projects, working with her own family. Her idea for starting this business was to work with her own people and also hire individuals from her community. Currently, they have a team of nine, a skilled group bringing diverse experiences. Of the nine team members, six have proper tribal affiliations, one is from the Philippines, one is of European descent, and another is Māori but from another part of the country.
In 1835, the chiefs of northern tribes gathered to declare He Whakaputanga, asserting tribal sovereignty. Five years later, Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed. One of its articles ensured that chiefs would maintain absolute sovereignty over their lands, villages, and treasures. However, over time, the community lost most of their lands, retaining only about 5% of the original area. In 1975, the Waitangi Tribunal was established, and a few years later, an inquiry was requested to investigate breaches of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The report revealed that the Ngapuhi chiefs intended to retain sovereignty when signing Te Tiriti, but it remained silent on how the Crown legally assumed sovereignty and did not provide a pathway for reclaiming it.
Jade shares an image of “Makite Mai Aotearoa,” a proposal examining whether government arrangements align with Te Tiriti o Waitangi and He Whakaputanga. This proposal, called Matike Mai, was put forward around 2006 by prominent Māori thinkers, including the late Moana Jackson and Mākere Mutu. It explores what a governance arrangement for Aotearoa New Zealand that respects Te Tiriti o Waitangi and He Whakaputanga might look like.
Jade presents models illustrating potential future relationships. She emphasizes the importance of the political context in which they operate, noting that only 4 percent of land in Whangarei and 5.2 percent of land nationwide remains under their control. She discusses two interconnected projects at Pehiaweri, her kāinga (home), where her family seeks to re-establish a thriving community. Despite never having fully left, the family aims to revitalize the area, as they are among the few who still own land there. This project was one of the first Jade initiated with her business and, while many other projects have been completed, this one remains ongoing. Although it lacks the polished visuals of finished projects, it holds the most significance for her. It represents the effort to re-establish their pāpakāingaand strengthen their marae, reflecting the deep connection to their heritage and land.
Glenbervie, also known as Pehiaweri (the real name), is located in Whangarei. On the map, Pehiaweri is about a 10 to 15-minute drive from Riverside in Whangarei, near the base of Parihaka and close to the town centre. On a larger map of New Zealand, Pehiaweri is approximately a two-hour drive from Auckland and is the main urban centre of Te Tai Tokerau in the north. Historically, shortly after 1840, the local people were required to title their land according to the European system. This process was documented in the Papatipu books, written in te reo Māori, which recorded the chiefs’ deliberations on who would be listed as landowners. Traditionally, the land was managed tribally, but the European system allowed a maximum of ten owners, necessitating the selection of the most appropriate rangatira (leader) at that time. In the case of Pehiaweri, the land was titled under the name of Kakeperu, a prominent chief, though it was understood that the land actually came through his wife, Riripeti Hirawani. Initially, the Pehiaweri block comprised 289 acres. At present, the remaining blocks include Pehiaweri B1B, which is 40 acres (16 hectares), and Pehiaweri Marae, which is around seven to eight acres. This historical context is captured in a booklet commemorating the centennial of their church, reflecting the rich heritage and ongoing significance of the land for the community.
An interesting fact about Pehiaweri is that before there were any marae buildings, the church served as the marae. Jade’s auntie Pauline often emphasizes that no one forced their ancestors to join the church; they did so willingly for reasons that resonated with their belief system at the time. The Anglican Church, known as Te Hahi Mihinare, played a significant role in retaining their language, as all services on the Māori side were conducted in te reo Māori. This was particularly important at a time when using their language was discouraged.
The church not only helped preserve their language but also their customs. The booklet, “Te Huritau Mo Te Kotahi Rau Tau O Te Whare Karakia I Pehiaweri”, was produced to commemorate the church’s centennial. Jade’s great-grandfather’s older brother, Wiremu Kake, who lived to be around ninety-eight, was ninety-four when the church turned one hundred.
The plans for a marae, created in the early 1980s, have an interesting backstory. Initially, the church functioned independently for many years until the early 1970s when it attempted to sell the land. Jade’s uncle rallied the community, leading to a private act of parliament that returned the land to them. This was especially significant because their ancestors, who had gifted the land for the church, were buried in the urupā (cemetery) there. The first generation buried in the ground, as opposed to the traditional practice of hanging bodies in trees and later interring the bones in caves, was partially or wholly influenced by the church. The church’s to attempt to sell land containing their ancestors’ graves was a major issue for the community. Fortunately, they regained the land, prompting the elders to establish a marae for Pehiaweri.
Some might have seen the beautiful carved meeting houses, but in the north, those are rare. There are a few reasons for this; one reason is that when marae were being erected, funding was available for halls, not marae. Consequently, many halls were built and later converted into marae. Additionally, it is said that some elders decided to stop carving the whare (meeting houses) in the north, though the details are unclear. This decision was likely influenced by colonization and the changes occurring at that time.
To clarify, a marae is the cultural and spiritual heart of a Māori community. The whare nui (large meeting house), also known as whare hui or whare tūpuna, is the physical embodiment of the ancestors and the place where cultural traditions are upheld most significantly. The most important of these traditions are tangihanga, or funerary rites. While many activities occur at the marae, tangihanga is the most critical function. Historically, the marae was the core of the village, surrounded by smaller houses. However, as land was gradually taken away, fewer people lived around the marae. The land became too small to support a village, and zoning laws designated most of the remaining land as rural, allowing only one house per 10 hectares. After World War II, there was a push for Māori to relocate to cities, and many young men were lost in the wars. Consequently, what was once the core of the village grew larger while the surrounding village diminished or ceased to exist in many places. Jade elaborates on the core components of a functioning marae, including the wharehui (ancestral house), wharekai (dining hall with kitchen), and whare iti (ablutions block).
It is also worth noting that traditionally, Māori houses were primarily made from temporary materials like reeds and rushes, with several varieties of native grasses and reeds commonly used. These houses, though sometimes adorned with carvings, were typically constructed entirely from these materials and did not have a long lifespan. When Europeans arrived, Māori began to adopt more hybrid forms of construction. However, European laws eventually legislated against the use of traditional materials, causing the loss of the ability to build in the traditional way. An Italian-descended architect created beautiful plans for redevelopment, but the best features of these designs were never realized. Despite this, the plans remain a source of inspiration for future projects as the community looks to redevelop and honour traditional construction methods. Jade shares a photo of her uncle, who supervised the project at the time. She points out her Uncle, mentioning that the photo was taken during the opening in 1991, although it resembles the site as of 2015. During her master’s thesis in 2015, Jade focused on Pehiaweri Marae and papakāinga. papakāinga she explains, is essentially a contemporary version of the traditional kāinga, or village. It comprises “Papa,” derived from Papatūānuku, the earth mother, and “Kainga,” representing the communal village. This term has gained popularity in the resurgence of Māori culture and resonates with many. While similar projects exist, such as co-housing, the key distinction with papakāinga is its occupancy by individuals with kinship relations to each other and to the land on which the papakāinga sits, often but not exclusively associated with the Marae, with the idea of Marae remains the heart of the village, emphasizing environmental stewardship and the revitalization of cultural traditions. This includes language revitalization efforts, environmental conservation practices, traditional crafts like weaving, communal meals, and the passing down of intergenerational knowledge. Ultimately, papakāinga fosters a closer relationship with the land, the natural environment, and community members.
At that time, several redevelopment options were proposed. The current orientation of them is towards the south and the road which contradicts the cultural traditions. According to Māori cultural traditions, the correct orientation should be towards the north, east, or somewhere in between. The northward orientation aligns with Te Rerenga Wairua, the direction where spirits depart, emphasizing the significance of funerary rites for marae and whare tupuna. Additionally, the eastward orientation symbolizes meeting the rising sun, a common practice for coastal marae. The southward orientation fails to align with these cultural significances and presents thermal discomfort, as it tends to be colder. Moreover, it complicates the traditional welcome process, pōwhiri, requiring an awkward and potentially hazardous journey along the road to reach the marae entrance.
During that time, Jade explored alternative options, highlighting the importance of this project. The relevance of this initial thinking persists as the project progresses, demonstrating its ongoing significance. One version aimed to maintain the existing layout while enhancing safety and formalizing the structure. Another version proposed reorienting the whare hoi towards the northeast. Additionally, considerations were given to the positioning of a potential papakāinga. During this process, Jade also designed a papakāinga as her thesis project, consisting of eight homes. A perspective drawing depicted the envisioned environment, featuring a tuna (eel) and healthy watercress. Furthermore, an interior rendering provided a glimpse into the look and feel of the proposed houses.
Moving forward, in 2021, but actually starting at the beginning of the present year, the project commenced after securing the applied funding. The marae had been seeking funding for redevelopment for several years due to significant issues, such as a pool of water on the wharekai, which was a cause for concern.
A co-design workshop was held earlier in the year, inviting whānau to share their aspirations, both tangible and intangible. Children participated, expressing desires ranging from playground equipment to te reo Māori and waiata (songs), highlighting the diverse range of priorities. The workshop employed various exercises to prioritize collective goals, including dot voting and model building. These tools facilitated collaboration in developing a master plan. Jade shares photos from the workshop, emphasizing the familial involvement and the collective progress made.
Initial drawings were created, considering physical constraints such as power lines and existing infrastructure like the sewer line. However, subsequent discussions with Jade’s aunties, key drivers on the committee, revealed the need for additional options. They sought a more comprehensive redevelopment of the marae, with considerations for potentially changing the whare hui as the ancestral house, prompting further exploration of options to ensure community consensus and guidance. So, Jade and the team have generated a few alternative options. The preferred choice resembles the 2015 version but with a longer whare and fewer alterations to the existing structure. This adjustment was made possible by relocating the Vicarage House, providing more space. However, adjustments are still needed, particularly to enlarge the Ātea, or courtyard, at the front, essential for pōhiri ceremonies—a significant aspect of tikanga. Additionally, plans include adding an accessible toilet at the entry and erecting fencing along the perimeter.
The team aims to incorporate carvings into the new house, a rarity in the region. This decision was partly motivated by the desire to create a separate area for whānau pāni during funeral proceedings and to ensure the new structure is conducive to showcasing carvings.
Another option, though not the preferred one, situates the wharekai at the front, which wasn’t deemed culturally appropriate but was explored to evaluate its advantages, such as acting as a noise buffer from the road. Despite being in the master planning stage, progress is ongoing, with hopes of moving to the concept design phase soon.
Transitioning to Pehiaweri B1B Papakāinga, located directly behind the Marae, Jade discusses the strategic plans. A map, crafted by her uncle, who passed away in 2008, dates back to the late 1990s. This map highlights significant areas on their land, providing valuable insight into their heritage and connections, serving as a foundation for future development endeavours. From memory, Jade identifies most, if not all, of these significant locations on the map. However, she acknowledges that it may be challenging for others to locate them without prior knowledge, which she finds to be a culturally enriching aspect of cultural mapping.
Although she could delve into the extensive history of the land, but she shares a concise anecdote. Following the Battle of Ruapekapeka, Te Ruki Kawiti, a renowned general from Ngāti Hine, brought his wounded soldiers to the healing waters of Pehiawari, a site believed to possess healing properties. Unfortunately, not all survived, with some being laid to rest in the surrounding area. Later, Te Ruki Kawiti journeyed to Pukepoto, about two kilometres away, where he imparted his final prophecy before passing away. While Jade refrains from delving into the details of the prophecy, she emphasizes its significance, particularly in relation to Te Tiriti o Waitangi, encouraging further exploration. This historical context has played a pivotal role in informing the planning process, particularly concerning mahinga kai (food-gathering places), waterways, and other culturally significant sites.
Jade presents their plan for the papakāinga. Initially, the focus was on identifying suitable areas for development while minimizing disruption to the existing environment. Recognizing the importance of preserving native trees, particularly under the guidance of their uncle, the design emphasizes minimal tree removal. The papakāinga comprises clusters of six buildings, each accommodating three dwellings. This design stemmed from the desire for a communal living space for up to 20 people, which posed challenges due to building regulations. Consequently, the plan incorporates three separate units: a fully accessible two-bedroom unit, a four/five-bedroom family home with a mezzanine level, and a one-bedroom apartment above a shared garage and laundry area.
The central unit serves as a communal space, featuring a large living room, outdoor dining area, and additional living space on the mezzanine level. This layout allows for flexible living arrangements, accommodating extended family without overcrowding issues commonly faced in conventional housing. Various architectural drawings and perspectives illustrate the design’s layout and interior spaces, demonstrating its suitability for Māori cultural dynamics and the practical needs of whānau living. Jade concludes by highlighting the significance of these initiatives and their potential to address housing challenges while fostering community cohesion.
Jade presents a collection of resources on pāpākāinga design, predominantly focusing on Kaupapa Māori urban design. Some of these resources are contributions from Jade, while others are curated as valuable references. They also highlight Indigenous design and planning books, maintaining a reading list that they update regularly and are willing to share. Included is a podcast series, produced five years ago, which remains relevant and well-received. Although challenging to produce due to logistical and financial constraints, Jade reflects positively on the experience of creating 24 episodes in one season.
In addition to their podcast endeavours, Jade shares insights into their written works. They authored a book titled “Rebuilding the Kainga” in 2019, offering a thought-provoking exploration of the socio-economic implications of rebuilding Kāinga as the primary social and economic unit. While not solely about architecture, it delves into economic theory and historical analysis, proving valuable for policymakers and readers interested in alternative societal frameworks.
Lastly, Jade mentions an upcoming book co-authored with Jeremy, scheduled for release in September. Titled “Rewi,” it focuses on the life and work of Rewi Thompson, a highly influential architect within Māori and New Zealand architectural circles. Outside of the architecture realm, Rewi Thompson is not widely recognized, but Jade sees this upcoming book as an opportunity to celebrate his contributions, both professionally and personally. With an extensive archive of drawings left behind by Thompson, Jade anticipates curating an exhibition showcasing his work alongside the book’s launch in late September.
Beyond her architectural practice, Jade is deeply invested in two pursuits. Firstly, they are dedicated to developing an architectural vocabulary in te reo Māori. Currently, they are compiling a glossary of architectural terms, with approximately 600 words already catalogued. They highlight the importance of collaboration (wānanga) between architectural practitioners and te reo speakers to refine and authorize translations. Their ultimate goal is to create a comprehensive dictionary and a practical phrase book to facilitate communication in te reo Māori within architectural contexts. Drawing inspiration from similar projects in law and science, Jade seeks to structure their resources effectively to ensure accessibility and usability within the architectural community.
In addition to their work as a lecturer at AUT, Jade has been teaching in the mainstream program, an experience they find enriching. However, their primary ambition in this role is to establish a fully immersive architecture program in te reo Māori. The aim is to launch the program in the master’s level, not the next year, but the year after. This initiative is relatively unprecedented, as there are currently no taught programs specifically in te reo Māori within the discipline of architecture. While there are degrees and studies available in Māori language or culture, a disciplinary-specific degree in te reo Māori would be ground-breaking.
Jade envisions this endeavour as a means to revive the tradition of whare wānanga, or houses of learning, which historically played a vital role in Māori education. While this concept is not unique, Jade is excited about the prospect of implementing it in a discipline-specific context, focusing on cultural traditions and language within an urban setting.
About the Speaker
Jade Kake
Jade Kake was born on Bundjalung Country and received her training in architecture at the University of Queensland and UNITEC Institute of Technology in Auckland. Of Māori and Dutch descent, her tribal affiliations are Ngāpuhi, Te Whakatōhea and Te Arawa. She leads a small team at Matakohe Architecture and Urbanism, a Whangārei-based design studio which she founded in mid-2018. Matakohe works with Māori organisations to progress their multi-residential, community and commercial projects, and with mana whenua (local tribal) groups to express their values, aspirations and narratives in the design of civic, commercial and education projects within their rohe (tribal area). In 2018, she hosted and produced Indigenous Urbanism, a podcast about the spaces we inhabit, and the community drivers and practitioners who are shaping these environments and decolonising through design. She has written for a variety of housing and architecture magazines and contributed chapters to several books on architecture and urbanism.
Matakohe Architecture + Urbanism
Matakohe Architecture + Urbanism is a kaupapa Māori design studio based in Te Tai Tokerau. Its approach is design-focussed and community-led. As designers, the studio believes that their role is that of skilled facilitator and interpreter rather than an artist or author, and draws upon their technical, social and cultural expertise to empower people to take a pivotal role in the design of their own communities. The designers at the studio see themselves as instigators, facilitators and connectors.
