Ka kata ngā pūriri: the transformative impact of a whānau-led (re)connection wānanga on intergenerational wellbeing

Locating Ourselves in the kaupapa

The research team is made up of whanaunga (relatives) who whakapapa to Ngā Hapū o Te Ahuahu in the Taiāmai Valley. Dr Jardine is a Senior Lecturer at Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland, where her work bridges ancestral healing with future-focused decolonisation, positioning mātauranga as a source of liberation and renewal. Associate Professor Heke, Director at Ngā Wai a Te Tūī Māori and Indigenous Research Centre (Unitec), explores hauora Māori (holistic health) through movement, story, and nature, reclaiming Indigenous ways of knowing that are grounded in land and lived experience. Dr Reweti is a Senior Lecturer at Massey University, working in Public Health and Hauora Māori to support whānau-led approaches to community wellbeing, with a focus on mana motuhake and the centrality of community knowledge in achieving health equity. Together, their research is a practice of reconnection, reclamation, and renewal, guided by whakapapa and kaupapa Māori approaches anchored in relational accountability to whānau, whenua, and the generations yet to come.

The research team also includes Jacob Forward, a rangatahi and whanaunga who first participated in the whānau wānanga and later took up a research assistant role. Jacob contributed to data collection, analysis, and the development of whānau-led ideas for future wānanga. His involvement reflects the intergenerational intent of the kaupapa and highlights the importance of nurturing research capability within our own whānau, supporting future leaders to carry these connections and stories forward. This positioning of researchers as whānau ensured relational accountability, collective benefit, and cultural integrity at every stage of the process.

Kaupapa Māori and whānau Approach

A kaupapa Māori and whānau-led approach informed the design and delivery of the wānanga, as well as how stories were shared, interpreted, and made accessible to whānau as a taonga for ongoing reflection and learning (Pihama, 2001; Reweti, 2022a, 2022b; L. T. Smith, 2012). This approach acknowledges the inseparability of people, place, and knowledge and affirms that whānau hold the authority, knowledge, and tikanga required to lead their own development. The wānanga described in this article was supported by researchers who were themselves part of the whānau. This ensured alignment with hapū values and aspirations, while also grounding the research in lived relationships and a sense of collective responsibility. The following kaupapa Māori values (L. T. Smith, 2012) shaped our approach:

In essence, this was a process of kaupapa whānau, a living, breathing approach that braided together whakapapa, mātauranga, and collective responsibility (Reweti, 2022a). Through this lens, the wānanga became both a method of reconnection and a means of decolonising knowledge production, restoring relationships not only with land but with each other.

Participants and wānanga Design

The pepeha wānanga took place at Parawhenua Marae over a weekend in summer 2025 (Friday to Sunday), bringing whānau together to walk their pepeha and reconnect with sites of ancestral significance. Invitations were extended through whakapapa networks and word of mouth. Within 2 weeks, registrations reached capacity (55 people), with participants ranging from 1 to 89 years old. Participants included pēpi, tamariki, rangatahi, mātua, and kaumātua. Many participants were returning to Parawhenua Marae after long periods away, while others were visiting these ancestral places for the first time. Most whānau travelled from urban centres outside Te Tai Tokerau, particularly Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland), with others travelling from further afield in Te Ika-a-Māui (the North Island), including Te Matau-a-Māui (Hawke’s Bay) and Te Papaioea (Palmerston North). A small number of participants lived locally within the rohe and contributed historical knowledge of the whenua and ancestral sites visited during the wānanga.

The intention was to create a safe, inclusive space for whānau to experience their pepeha by visiting their maunga, awa, and marae, while engaging with kōrero tuku iho (ancestral stories). The wānanga schedule included site visits, storytelling, karakia, shared meals, and whānau reflection. In the registration process, participants were asked about their expectations. Two weeks before the wānanga, they were sent a schedule and packing list. One week prior, they received guidance on pōhiri (welcoming ceremony or ritual) protocols including dress code, waiata tautoko (a song performed to support, affirm, or acknowledge a speaker or kaupapa), koha (offering or donation), and tikanga specific to the marae. A suggested koha of $10 (to the hapū collective fund) was invited but not required.

Te kohinga kōrero Me te tātari: The Gathering and Analysis of Stories

Verbal consent was obtained during the wānanga to collect stories and reflections for the purposes of documenting the kaupapa and sharing learnings. Participants knew the research team as whanaunga and could opt out of sharing at any time.

Data were gathered through:

Analysis was undertaken collaboratively using an inductive thematic approach informed by kaupapa Māori principles. Rather than treating data as material to be extracted from participants, we approached analysis as a process of collective sense-making grounded in whakapapa relationships, relational accountability, and responsibility to whānau. First, each member of the research team independently reviewed fieldnotes, audio-recorded reflections, and online evaluation responses, noting recurrent ideas, emotional expressions, and patterns of meaning across the dataset. Second, the team met regularly over a 2-month period to compare interpretations, cluster related codes, and identify shared areas of significance. Through this process, we developed a set of interpretive themes that captured the wānanga as a collective haerenga: (1) courage and readiness to return, (2) embodied reconnection through walking pepeha on whenua, (3) whakawhanaungatanga and relational restoration, (4) intergenerational and reciprocal learning, and (5) future-oriented cultural resurgence. These themes are explored below through the stages of the wānanga journey: He wero: stepping towards the marae, He haerenga: walking the pepeha, He hononga: building whānau relationships, He akoranga: learning together, and He moemoeā: envisioning the future. These themes were refined through discussion, revisiting the data, and collaborative writing. This iterative process aligned with the principle of titiro (look), whakarongo (listen), kōrero (speak) and ensured the findings remained grounded in lived experience, whānau voice, and collective interpretation.

Throughout the findings, whānau voices are presented through direct quotes. Because this was a small hapū-based wānanga, and many participants were closely connected through whakapapa, we used broad relational identifiers such as kaumātua, mātua, and rangatahi rather than detailed demographic descriptors alongside quotations to protect participant confidentiality. Where possible, these are identified by group and number (e.g., Kaumātua 1, Matua 2, Rangatahi 3) to reflect the diversity of perspectives. Some reflections, however, were shared anonymously (such as through the online evaluation) and are presented without attribution to protect confidentiality, identified as (Whānau, anon).

He wero: Stepping Towards the marae

Before arriving, many whānau carried aspirations alongside uncertainty. For matua, the motivation to participate was often tied to their tamariki. One matua spoke of the “opportunity to bring tamariki to their marae up North for the first time – reconnection to whenua and whānau” (Matua 1). Another emphasised the importance of cultural confidence: “It’s very important for me to learn more not only for myself but for my tamariki as well” (Matua 2). For some, this was their first visit to Parawhenua marae or the maunga o Te Ahuahu – milestones shaped by both nervousness and hope. As one matua described, it was all about “showing my husband where I’m from and introducing it all to our daughter” (Matua 3), while another expressed a desire “to learn more to pass onto my son & to connect with other whānau” (Matua 4). These initial motivations highlight how intergenerational aspirations were embedded in the kaupapa, a desire to reconnect not only for oneself but also for those to come.

Other whānau reflected on whakapapa connections that stretched across generations. One whānau wrote, “I want to reconnect with my whakapapa as this is where my last name comes from . . . it’s very important for me to learn more not only for myself but for my tamariki as well” (Matua 5). Another expressed a desire to reconnect while their kaumātua was still alive: “Whakawhanaungatanga, I’d like to reconnect deeper while my Grandad is still alive” (Rangatahi 1). For some, the connection was profoundly personal and anchored in memory: “I was born on Parawhenua Marae in 1935” (Kaumātua 1). Others simply sought the joy of shared presence, “An opportunity to reconnect with my marae and whānau, and for my extended family to enjoy their first marae experience” (Kaumātua 2).

These initial motivations highlight how intergenerational aspirations were embedded in the kaupapa – a desire to reconnect not only for oneself but also for those to come. The decision to attend was therefore an act of courage, a first step towards restoring identity and place. The courage demonstrated by whānau in stepping onto the marae for the first time, or returning after many years away, is emblematic of the broader challenge faced by many Indigenous peoples dislocated from their homelands and cultural knowledge. These first steps reflect what G. H. Smith (1997) refers to as kaupapa-driven transformation: choosing to resist deficit constructions and instead enact tino rangatiratanga through reconnection. As these reflections show, whānau motivations were grounded in whakapapa and their tamariki, expressing a collective, intergenerational vision. This aligns with Penehira et al. (2014), who argue that whakapapa-based wellbeing frameworks shift the focus from individualised outcomes to collective, long-term regeneration of cultural identity and health.

He haerenga: Walking the pepeha

Whānau not only spoke their pepeha – they walked it. From the moment they stepped onto the marae, they were immersed in a lived experience of place-based learning. Climbing the maunga together and “hearing stories about the whenua” (Whānau, anon) became a transformative act. As one whānau member recalled, “sitting at the top of Te Ahuahu and hearing some of the history and the events that took place there in the nearby area” (Rangatahi 1), which highlighted how ancestral narratives were embedded in the landscape itself.

Others described the physical and emotional power of these moments, reflecting on “the opportunity to walk the maunga and hear the history of the area” (Matua 4) and “the hikoi (a walk, trek, or journey) up our maunga and hearing the kōrero shared up there” (Matua 2). For another participant, the experience was about more than a single event: it was “connection, learning our history, seeing our sites, being at our marae” (Matua 6).

Visiting sites of ancestral significance, sharing kōrero at the feet of their maunga, and participating in collective rituals were central to this embodied approach. As one rangatahi noted,

It’s all good and well to be learning your pepeha . . . on your own, in your own time, but it’s very different to come into that space with others and be immersed in it. It’s quite overwhelming at first, but observing your sense of comfort increasing is a really powerful thing (Rangatahi 2).

These reflections show how learning on ancestral land transforms knowledge into something felt and lived. It was a different way of knowing, a collective haerenga shaped by presence and place. Feeling and seeing the whenua while listening to stories in Taiāmai transformed pepeha from an abstract recitation into a relational, sensory, and emotional experience. Such experiential learning aligns with Indigenous pedagogies that centre land as teacher (Haig-Brown & Dannenmann, 2008; Styres, 2011). Rather than treating place as mere backdrop, Indigenous theory positions land as active, ancestral, and relational (Cloud & Redvers, 2023; Redvers et al., 2023). Through engaging with pepeha on whenua, whānau not only learned about their heritage but also enacted a form of cultural reclamation, embodying L. T. Smith’s (2012) call for decolonising practices grounded in Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and doing.

He hononga: Building whānau Relationships

Whakawhanaungatanga was at the heart of the wānanga. Some connections were rekindled; others were established for the first time. The shared whakapapa line fostered a sense of unity, and the welcoming, relaxed environment encouraged natural, meaningful exchanges. One Kaumātua described the joy of “catching up with whānau I have not seen in some time, also meeting those who I have never met before” (Kaumātua 1). For others, the experience was about new beginnings: “meeting all our cousins I hadn’t met before, making new connections. It was lovely sharing time with our wider whānau, preparing food etc.” (Rangatahi 2).

These moments were made even more meaningful by the presence of close family. As one matua reflected, “experiencing it with my family . . . definitely made me more comfortable doing it with family that I am close with and already know.” Another rangatahi spoke about the power of simply being together:

The aspect which I valued the most was merely being in the space with our whānau. This was my first time visiting Parawhenua and meeting 90% of people there, so it was very special and really quite powerful to simply sit there and bask in the experience. For me it wasn’t about any of the particular events or general happenings, but all the little things, like bumping into someone on the way to wharekai and having a yarn, adding up to create such a holistically valuable experience. (Rangatahi 3)

Others echoed this emphasis on shared presence: “meeting relations, some for the first time, was such a great feeling to reconnect” (Matua 8), “connecting with everyone, hearing people’s stories and their memories of being at Parawhenua” (Matua 5), and “I really enjoyed our weekend together, meeting our extended whānau and hearing their stories” (Matua 4). These expressions illustrate how the wānanga nurtured spaces of cultural safety, belonging, and relational ease.

Importantly, whānau recognised the wānanga as a beginning, not a conclusion. Many expressed hopes for ongoing reconnection and continuity beyond the marae. As one participant put it, “Be nice to go back to the marae and connect more regularly with whānau” (Matua 7). Another, based in Tāmaki, hoped “to get something going up here . . . maybe a gathering of some sort every couple of months” (Rangatahi 3). Others emphasised the need for sustained connection across generations and borders: “It’s really important for our younger generations to feel connected, even those now living overseas” (Kaumātua 2).

Whakawhanaungatanga is both the method and the outcome of this kaupapa. As Reweti et al. (2023) note, Indigenous health is relational, grounded in connections to people, land, and spirit. For many whānau, building and restoring relationships during the wānanga facilitated a sense of cultural belonging and collective wellbeing. These findings echo the work of Lincoln (2023), who describes the emotional healing that occurs when disconnection is replaced with relational safety and collective memory. The emphasis on informal and intergenerational connection also aligns with Indigenous theories of resurgence (Simpson, 2016), where rebuilding kinship networks is central to resisting colonial fragmentation.

He akoranga: Learning Together

The learning that occurred was lived, shared, and gentle. The principle of ako was interwoven throughout the wānanga, as whānau embraced tuakana–teina (teacher–student) roles with openness and humility. Some arrived with expansive knowledge; others brought a willingness to learn and a respect for the kaupapa. One participant reflected on the journey of reconnecting: “Connecting to the marae, learning our pepeha, I suspect I have the wrong one,” revealing both vulnerability and commitment to the learning process. For others, the wānanga marked a moment of collective discovery: “Having my whānau willingly reconnect with our whakapapa and wāhi ngākau, as well as learning further into our history and whakapapa lines” (Whānau, anon). The act of learning together, anchored in whakapapa and place, strengthened whanaungatanga and affirmed cultural identity. This collective orientation to learning was reflected again at the end of the wānanga, when “everyone had an opportunity to share their reflections about the weekend” (Matua 7), reinforcing the value placed on all voices.

Whānau also expressed a clear desire to continue learning about te ao Māori in ways that were gentle, inclusive, and responsive to different stages of the journey. One participant shared, “I think learning te reo and knowing more about certain tikanga would help me feel more comfortable on my marae” (Matua 8). Others highlighted kaupapa that could sustain momentum, such as “initiatives that support connection to the taiao [natural environment] and the oranga [wellbeing] of our taiao”(Matua 6) or “revitalisation of our kōrero, hītori, whakapapa hoki” (Whānau, anon).

The tuakana–teina model observed during the wānanga exemplifies ako, a cornerstone of Māori pedagogy. Knowledge was shared, tested, and explored not through didactic teaching but through reciprocal, experiential learning. This mirrors kaupapa Māori educational theory, which values the learner as both a contributor to and recipient of knowledge (Hutchings & Lee, 2016). The openness to learn and unlearn within whānau groups created a culturally affirming environment where identity could be reclaimed without fear of judgement. This aligns with principles of transformative Indigenous education: centering collective cultural knowledge, embracing fluidity in roles, and restoring confidence in cultural participation (Pihama, 2001).

He moemoeā: Envisioning the Future

The wānanga did more than reconnect whānau to each other and to their whenua, it rekindled a collective vision for the future. Whānau shared aspirations for ongoing wānanga, expanded learning opportunities, and the restoration of hapū-specific knowledge systems. One matua reflected, “I think learning te reo and knowing more about certain tikanga would help me feel more comfortable on my marae,” pointing to the desire for confidence through cultural literacy. Others envisioned kaupapa that nurture both people and place, including “initiatives that support connection to the taiao and the oranga of our taiao,” and learning grounded in Ngāpuhi-specific knowledge: “Kaupapa or initiatives that support learning about the tikanga of Ngā Puhi, kōrero tuku iho, mahi taiao/kaitiakitanga [guardianship of whenua], Matariki, and mahi toi.”

Some looked ahead to practical opportunities to strengthen cultural practice: “Would love any hands-on activities to learn traditional practices e.g. rongoā/mirimiri/weaving” (Matua 1). Others highlighted the need for ongoing whānau engagement through regular hui: “Further wānanga would be great so that this whānau can get a better understanding of Parawhenua and our hapū” (Kaumātua 3). The simple call to “keep running wānanga like these” (Whānau, anon) summed up the strong collective appetite for continuity.

These reflections signal that the wānanga was not an isolated event but the beginning of a wider process of cultural resurgence. Envisioning future opportunities for cultural learning and reconnection reflects what Whyte (2018) refers to as Indigenous futurisms: forward-looking visions rooted in ancestral knowledge and collective wellbeing. These moemoeā (dreams or visions) embody mana motuhake in action: reclaiming time, space, and identity through whānau-led initiatives. This reinforces kaupapa Māori theory’s emphasis on collective dreaming, intergenerational responsibility, and locally grounded solutions as critical to long-term wellbeing (Pihama, 2010; G. H. Smith, 1997).