Rain fell today on the seated crowd, the marquees, the stand of ti-tree behind, and the empty paved forecourt of our new whare, Ngakau Mahaki, in the marae complex called Te Noho Kotahitanga. It gusted in beneath the canopies of canvas, and the umbrellas. Gleaming wet warriors issued a challenge; there was the calling of a woman, of women, and the inching forward of the guests, the manuhiri.
The showers came and went; an orchestra of umbrellas moved in time. We are taught the rain bodes well. The manuhiri huddled as a flock against the gusts, ranked in rows of dark seating partially sheltered by trees, separated from us by the forecourt. There was stillness, and patient listening as speech after speech rolled out over the valley and stream: guests and hosts, hosts and guests in two large gatherings. And we were still, and we listened, and we were solemn. This place and this event had been eight years in the making.
In time, speech and song and solemnity gave way to ripples of laughter. Two gatherings became one in the shared response and the slow filing of manuhiri inching towards Te Noho Kotahitanga, the hongi – the mingling of breath - and the scent of recently carved wood. I understood now the craft and practice of formal welcome: its rhythms, its sensibilities. We were two, and then we were one, in a place where we can meet, listen and learn from each other. Potential hostilities are defused; barriers dissolved, and what was an assembly of separate agendas becomes an entity of shared interests.
The interior is warm, and dimly lit like a cathedral. Peopled by stories, histories, and genealogies, shapes of faceless people press through the walls as if surging forward to rejoin us or drawing us back into the past. We join a throng of souls present and past, pressing forward to the future. I am in a heart space of welcome and inclusion. Pulsing now with the breathing, the footfalls and the heartbeats of all who enter, stirring with the bloodlines and life stories of those who went before, Ngakau Mahaki is living and breathing, nestled among the trees and the rain tonight with the full moon sifting silver over all.
