Photos: Hagen Hopkins
As Māori Language Commissioner Rawinia Higgins sits down with her mother Te Ripowai and daughter Kuratapirirangi – the three generations of wāhine speaking warmly in te reo Māori – you’d never know that growing up, she sat there in confusion when people spoke the language around her.
Raised with English as her first language, young Rawinia would sit at the feet of her native-speaker mum, uncles and aunties with awe, and a deep desire to be included as they rapidly conversed in te reo.
“I felt fascinated by what they were saying,” recalls Rawinia. “Conversations always sounded juicy, and seeemed interesting with lots of emotion and laughing. I was really curious to understand it all.”
At 11 years old, she came up with a plan to move from Wellington to her mother’s homeland in Rūātoki. There, she would live with a great-aunty and attend the local bilingual school.
Her parents agreed and despite the sharp shock of adjusting to education almost entirely in another language, Rawinia persisted and thrived, sparking a lifelong commitment to revitalising te reo.
At 16, she returned home to her parents, believing a career in administration and secretarial work was next.
But her whānau knew she was destined for something else. So despite her resistance, Rawinia’s uncle, modern-day language expert Sir Pou Temara, enrolled her in the Diploma of Māori at Victoria University of Wellington, where he was a lecturer.
“I hid in his office on the first day, trying not to go,” she admits. “But I will always be grateful to my Uncle Pou and my parents for forcing me to do it. It kicked off my career in university and continued my pursuit of te reo.”
Now 51, Rawinia is the chair and commissioner for Te Taura Whiri i te Reo Māori [The Māori Language Commission], the deputy vice chancellor Māori of Victoria University, a member of the Waitangi Tribunal and sits on the board on the Reserve Bank of New Zealand, to name just a few of her positions.
She credits her devoted Pākehā father Daniel as one of her major life influences.
As a pioneering teacher of the Te Ataarangi language movement, her mum Te Ripowai travelled a lot for work. So, often Daniel was the primary caregiver, raising Rawinia and her brother Raniera.
“My dad didn’t have the language, but he was the reo champion in our home. Then he repeated this opportunity for his mokopuna [grandchild].”
In 1997, Rawinia’s brother and niece died in a car crash. At the time, she was living in Dunedin, teaching at the university and studying for her Masters while raising her young daughter Kuratapirirangi alone.
“If I’m being honest, we probably weren’t coping with that mamae [pain], so we decided as a whānau to leave my daughter with Mum and Dad. They would whāngai [Māori form of adoption] her while I went back to Dunedin to finish my qualifications.”
Remembering her earlier childhood, Kuratapirirangi, now 28, gratefully echoes her mum’s sentiments about the family’s humble patriarch.
“He is the backbone of our whānau and has advocated for quality te reo Māori education since I was young.”
Rawinia continues, “I say all the time, it takes one generation to lose a language and three generations to restore. If you’re generation one, you might not see it flourish until your moko [grandchildren] are born. Regardless, you can still support it now, be it small or large.”
Rawinia returned to Wellington to raise her daughter full-time when Kuratapirirangi was 12. She proudly says her biggest accomplishment is that of being a mother.
“The thing that makes me most happy is watching my daughter and the way she has grown up,” she enthuses. “She’s the conduit and glue between all of us as a whānau.”
And after a lifetime committed to her culture, the joy of speaking te reo Māori with her mother and daughter will never wear off.
“It makes me think that 11-year-old Rawinia, who really put herself out there, has kind of clocked it.”
Te Ripowai, 74, describes speaking in her mother tongue with her descendants as a “profound and deeply enriching experience”.
Kuratapirirangi adds, “I recognise that ultimately it is a privilege that not many of our people have been afforded and was once considered a rarity. It is exciting to see that the tide is changing. The efforts of those before me have been finally manifested.”
Looking to the future, Rawinia knows exactly where she wants to be.
“My biggest aspiration in life is to be a grandparent,” she smiles. “As much as my daughter often rolls her eyes at me, knowing now what I didn’t know as a solo young mother, my desire is to now continue the marathon race of language revitalisation and to consciously make an immersive experience for my future mokoupna.”
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