From korowai to ka¯kahu

Hei whakanuia i a Mahuru Māori a Te Pupuri Taonga o te Taiao. In celebration of Māori language month, Nelson Provincial Museum’s Kaitiaki Taonga Māori (Māori Taonga Collections Manager) –

Hamuera Manihera – has chosen to share kōrero and mātauranga (stories and knowledge) about his favourite taonga in the museum’s textile collection.

Hamuera Manihera has chosen to focus on Māori textiles, his area of expertise, to highlight the impact of colonisation on the language which has resulted in the oversimplification of many words.

Like many others, he grew up knowing a korowai as being any type of cloak, but since diving deeper into the realm of weaving, he has learnt otherwise.

‘‘For a long time now, the word ‘korowai’ has been used to describe all types of cloaks. However, the word ‘korowai’ actually refers to a specific type of cloak adorned with tassels/ thrums, which are known in Māori as hukahuka.

‘‘If you break the ‘korowai’ name down, you will understand why the name was given to this particular cloak – ‘koro’ derives from the kupu (word) ‘korokoro’ which means ‘loose’. The kupu ‘wai’ refers to water or flowing, which can be seen in the way the hukahuka sit and move on the cloak.’’

One of the most prized korowai in the Nelson Provincial Museum collection was donated by the descendants of Sir Keith Holyoake in 2011, accompanied by its very distinguished provenance. The korowai, which is decorated with kiwi feathers, once belonged to New Zealand Prime Minister Keith Holyoake, who served two terms: for three months in 1957 and then for almost 12 years, from 1960 to 1972.

Te Puea Hērangi (Princess Te Puea) gifted the korowai to Holyoake in 1949. However, in the late 1950s, at the 24th anniversary of the coronation of King Korokı¯, Holyoake attempted to return the gift, laying it at the feet of the King and telling him: ‘‘In accordance with your custom, now that Te Puea is no longer with us, I return the cloak to King Korokı¯ and the Waikato.’’

While the gesture was received, the cloak was not. The King’s daughter, Princess Piki, placed the korowai around Holyoake’s shoulders, indicating that, this time, it was a permanent gift.

Other garments, which feature hukahuka are also known as korowai, including korowai kārure (these tassels are loosely rolled), korowai whakahekeheke (cloak with tassels and feathers) and kahu ngore (instead of tassel decorations, the ngore or pompoms are used) and korowai hihimā (tassels undyed).

However, while there are several different types of korowai, this does not make it a one-sizefits-all name for all cloaks.

While a korowai is a cloak adorned with tassels, Manihera said there were also many other types of kākahu, which is the correct translation of cloak. ‘‘So rather than us just calling them all a korowai, which is wrong, I wanted to highlight the correct reo for these taonga. I figured it was the best way to connect taonga with the month of te reo Māori.’’

Misuse and confusion explained

‘‘The loss of fluent te reo Māori speakers and weaving practitioners has contributed to the misuse of, and confusion about, Māori terminology in current times,’’ Manihera explained. ‘‘Fortunately, the revival of both the reo and weaving is on the increase and the mātauranga (knowledge) surrounding the practices is being shared and utilised, giving mana to the taonga and their ingoa (name). I like the idea of weaving together taonga and te reo.’’

The Nelson Provincial Museum is home to a collection of almost 30 kākahu of all different types and sizes and made with a

variety of traditional and nontraditional materials.

It makes the museum a playground of sorts for Manihera, who received an early childhood tuition in weaving from both his mother and grandmother, and went on to complete a Masters in Indigenous Knowledge at Te Wananga Aotearoa in Hamilton. During his studies, he focused on raranga/whatu (weaving).

‘‘As a child, I was taught to weave with non-traditional materials, so it was my own challenge to learn the natural resources including muka (flax fibre) and natural dyes. My core principle now is cultural revitalisation using sustainable, environmentally friendly sourced materials instead of buying commercial dyes and putting them down the drain. Everything I make will go back into the earth, like it’s always been there.’’

Manihera said he felt lucky to be around the taonga at the museum. ‘‘There’s so much to learn from them and about the resources used to make them.’’

Some of those resources include muka/whitau which is the fibre extracted from phormium tenax, which is commonly called harakeke or flax. As well there are different kupu for the different colours: paru (iron rich mud) is used to dye fibres black, tānekaha is used to obtain a red colour, from the bark of the tānekaha tree, and raurēkau is a yellow/gold dye obtained from the bark of the raurēkau tree.

Then there are the words for the techniques used in weaving and the patterns created: whenu and aho refers to the warp and weft threads that make up the body of a woven garment and tāniko is the word for the intricately woven geometric patterns used in the borders of some kākahu. Embracing them all is the kaupapa, or foundation/base of a kākahu.

From pake to kahu kurı

Today, kākahu are often worn on special occasions – including weddings, funerals, and at other important ceremonies – but some types of cloaks were once considered ‘‘everyday wear’’. Take the pāke (also known as hieke) for example, which are two words for raincape. Given their practical use – they were designed to protect people from the elements – they were more common.

‘‘Generally of a rougher texture, these types of cloaks were made from undressed fibres from plants such as tōı¯ (mountain cabbage tree), kiekie (Freycinetia banksia), ti kouka (cabbage tree), neinei (Dracophyllum) and harakeke,’’ said Manihera.

‘‘The pākē or hieke were faster to weave then other kākahu.’’

Another more common garment was the piupiu, which resembles a waistcoat but is also used as a skirt, and was often described as a ‘‘grass skirt’’, or kilt by early ethnologists. Several of Manihera’s ancestors, accompanying his great-greatgrandmother Rawinia Ngamiro, have been photographed wearing piupiu over the top of European clothing [see accompanying image].

Then there is the kahu huruhuru, which is the name for a feathered cloak, with the kupu deriving from

‘‘It will be with me until the hands can’t weave any more but then hopefully the eyes can enjoy.’’

kahu (which means garment, cloak) and huruhuru (feather/hair).

A kahu huruhuru is a cloak adorned in feathers from native bird species, as well as many introduced bird species. Sometimes, depending on the bird’s species used, a cloak would be referred to as a kahu kākāpō, kahu weka, or kahu kiwi, which indicates that it is a cloak adorned in a specific species of manu.

One of the kahu huruhuru in the collection was donated by Nelson Boys College in 2008. It features kākāpō, kākā, kererū and heihei (chicken) feathers. It is one of about eight cloaks in the world that contain kākāpō feathers.

There is also a kaitaka in the collection, which comes with an unusual – although also unfortunate – provenance. This highly prized cloak made of muka features woollen adornments known as paheke, but it has two arm holes cut into it.

In a previous life it was gifted to a Pākeha family whose children played with it and cut circles into the kāhahu as one would cut circles into a large white sheet to play ghost. Unlike many other kaitaka, this one doesn’t have any tāniko. Yet, while kaitaka usually don’t have any adornments other than tāniko, this one features looped threads of coloured wool.

Perhaps the rarest of all the cloaks in the museum’s collection is an example of the kahu kurı¯, or dog skin cloak, which was a highly prized garment worn by rangatira (high ranking tribal chiefs).

‘‘As the name goes, kahu kurı¯ were made from the finest pelts of kurı¯ (dogs), which were sewn into the muka kaupapa of a cloak once the weaving was complete or, in some instances, tassels of dog fur (generally taken from the tail) known as awe, were added,’’ said Manihera.

While the use of dog pelts is a practice relegated to the past, Manihera’s passion for weaving is likely to be a lifelong one: ‘‘It will be with me until the hands can’t weave any more but then hopefully the eyes can enjoy.’’

Article prepared by Nelson Provincial Museum curators, with additional reporting and editing by Kerry Sunderland.