There is something to be said about placing yourself in front of a stage designed to amplify sound. The stage at Te Matatini, however, is seriously next level. Enhanced by speakers and capturing every foot stomp, the stage projects the pako of a poi as it slaps on a hand, the chinga-chink of the guitars and the sound of forty performers – those who have been training their voices to project, to harmonise, to trill (or to not trill), to haka! From quiet whispers to the gravelly tones of a mōteatea, from the powerhouse solo performers who rival the divas of the world to the bleh-blehs of protruding tongues in a haka, unless you have sat front of the stage to feel this sound, you have not yet experienced Te Matatini. And I say ‘feel’ the sound quite deliberately. Some kapa are so accomplished at their craft in voice that the sound they produce can physically affect you. It can push you back in your seat like a wave, raise goosebumps on the skin even on the hottest of days, and can draw tears without even understanding te reo. But what is little appreciated is the fact that these performers are producing these amazing sounds all whilst moving. Unlike the magic of choirs around the world, performers at Te Matatini create this amazing audio experience whilst doing gymnastics, squat workouts and choreography without compromising a decibel.
The television broadcast is great and much appreciated, but to feel the sound of Te Matatini from the grass or the stands in front of the stage is truly an experience I encourage all New Zealanders to have at least once in their lifetimes, for the wairua, for the feel, for the sound.
It’s day two of Te Matatini 2023 and you are probably expecting me to start making some calls as to which kapa have lifted the bar enough to ascend to Te Mātangirua, the finals on Saturday. Certainly there are many whānau and team sweepstakes in place doing just that, but I don’t want to colour your experience of Te Matatini through my lens. Yes, I have my favs and certainly, the texts between myself and the whānau would tell you how invested we are in the outcomes for Saturday. But for this piece, I simply want to give you a steer as to some of the amazingness that is Te Matatini and let you revel in the experience of it for yourself.
“Apparel oft proclaims the man” penned Shakespeare in his famous tragedy Hamlet. Today you would know this as ‘clothes maketh the man’ or woman…or person. He tangata te tangata. When thinking of this, I think of the birds of the forest. Each different, each proudly adorned with its own plumage, each feather with its own purpose, its own kaupapa, its own style. At Te Matatini this plays out in two ways. The first and most obvious are kapa that take the stage. Let’s not underestimate the time it takes to design and then fashion the kākahu that adorn our kaihaka, our performers. From the contemporary to the traditional there is massive investment that goes into determining how our performers look on stage.
But I want you to turn your attention away from the stage for a moment and look to the crowd. What amazes me about Te Matatini is how fiercely and proudly Māori our whānau are in what they (we) wear. Yes, we wear a hat to keep the sun off of our heads because it’s hot, but it is the addition of the tīpare, the headband sporting the tāniko design and colours of your home team that catches my eye. It’s the latest garment from our Māori fashionistas being worn with a pair of Chucks that catches my eye. It’s the taonga that hang from our necks, the pounamu hei tiki, the rei puta, the bird carcass hanging from the ear that catches my eye. It is the newest hoodie, team supporter gears if you like, from a particular kapa, that catches my eye. It’s the Tino Rangatiratanga Flag being worn as a scarf that catches my eye. It’s a different coloured mataora or moko kauae, not typically seen before that catches my eye. It’s the nannies from the marae up north all in the same bright yellow pōtae and t-shirt that catches my eye. It’s the blanket wearing men, and combat boot, beret wearing women that catches my eye. It’s the hair, oh the hair. I don’t even know where to begin with the hair. Regardless there is something to be said about being in a food court surrounded by people, laughing, gasbagging, catching up, waiting in line for some deliciousness who are each wearing something that showcases their Māori selves. They wear it proudly. Some wear it flamboyantly, others are more muted. Look for it and you will find it. For me I can think only of that forest, and what it must be like to be surrounded by birds all of different feathers, shapes, sizes, whose difference adds colour and wonder. The majesty of those birds must be celebrated, it must again be normalised. The wonder of our people adorned in who they are, and who draw strength from it is something to be experienced, is something to witness and something that I hope encourages more and more of us to be who we are, wherever we go, wherever we are. We are Māori! Some from down south. Others from the coast. Some from the city. Others from that wee dot of a place way, way up north. Some from down the road. We are Māori. Māori i te Matatini, Māori i te pō, Māori i te ao. So come to Te Matatini and bear witness to Māoridom and our finery, I think it is beautiful indeed.
There is really only one thing to speak about today. The weather bomb has become something that Auckland has experienced a few times over the last month. Auckland experienced two months’ worth of rain in 24 hours on day three of Te Matatini. Now, for an outdoor event like Te Matatini you might think that may deter spectators from coming along, preferring instead the comfort of a couch and the live broadcast. But for those unindoctrinated in the ao Māori, one phrase you must become familiar with is “hāti as”. Hāti describes someone with passion, commitment, tenacity and grit. Like the whānau that lined up at the gates of Ngā Ana Wai/Mt Eden Stadium at 3am to secure the front of stage seats. But on day three it is best used for those whānau that locked down in front of the stage to support their own performing in what can only be described as out the gate rain.
I liked a phrase that one Stuff article used to describe the weather yesterday. They said “Tāwhirimātea flexed”, and oh yes, he did indeed flex. But e hoa mā, our whānau flexed right back. From someone that got to enjoy day three from the shelter of a sponsor’s tent, I was in a very privileged (and dry) position. I looked out at the crowd that were camped in front of the stage, some with umbrellas, lots without, some with rain jackets, some without, lots with shoes, some without. The old and young held the line in the downpour – determined to stay and support the kapa they were there to see. They held the line. I have nothing but admiration for our people and hope that you get to witness Māoridom holding a line in a tempest. Flexing against the elements. Hāti as!
So it’s the final day of Te Matatini, where 12 kapa have been selected from the 45 that stood to compete in Te Mātangirua which will determine the ultimate champion for 2023. I won’t share what criteria the judges are testing or what skill sets need to be on point to help differentiate the winners from the others. As a backseat judge from way back, my top group very rarely ascends to the mantle of winner of Te Matatini, so I don’t know how useful my advice would be in this space. But I want you to take a look at the stage. You see 40 performers. What you cannot see is the countless supports and whānau. The roadies and support crew wrap around the performers to look after the kids, to keep the home fires lit, to cook on the weekends, to mend uniforms and organise gear. They make the poi, they do the shopping, they manage logistics, they fundraise. There are the reserves that didn’t make the performance team and those that have clean off all the red paint from the clothes after dress rehearsal. All of these people contribute to the success of a kapa taking the stage at Te Matatini. Ehara taku toa, i te toa takitini. It truly takes a village. Back to the stage let’s look at the 40 performers. Look along the ranks. Front row women, second row women. Front row men, back row men. What do you notice? What I see is diversity at its best. A sport for everyone. I see nannies full of grace and charm (and probably a sharp tongue too) standing with their team. I see rangatahi, just 14 years old, cracking it in the second row and masterfully controlling their enthusiasm and energy. I see big men and big women, I see small men and small women and everyone in between – all on the same team and each with their own presence and style adding to the overall dynamic of the kapa. I see mums on stage with their girls, and uncles on stage with their nephews. I see famous faces. I see those that prefer the back. I see gender diversity. I see other. What you need to understand is that kapa haka is indeed a sport that the whole whānau can take part in and that’s what makes it so special, and so magical. Kapa haka at its finest can look so representative of the faces of our communities. It is truly inclusive and in that it is powerful. Aheiha! To all the teams that stood – ka kore e mutu ngā mihi. To the winners of today – ko koutou kei runga. I look forward to us doing it all over again in Taranaki 2025. Nau mai e te iwi, kia rongo hoki koutou i ngā painga, i ngā kaha o te mahi kapa haka, o Te Matatini.
