Kōrero

The Ahipoutu Collective

This is a whānau. It’s a kahui (community). It’s a lifestyle. It’s the place where tūpuna would light fires to guide the whānau home.

This is a whānau. It’s a kahui (community). It’s a lifestyle. It’s the place where tūpuna would light fires to guide the whānau home.

The sun beams down especially bright in Matapihi on this late Autumn afternoon.

It’s a welcoming, sprawling papakāinga (ancestral land), where whānau – both by biological and spiritual connection  – gather and learn.

Eight tamariki have prepared, served, eaten and cleaned up their nachos, and are now rolling down the grassy hills to burn off energy. One kaiako (teacher) is enjoying the sun while tapping away on her laptop, another is putting up paint-splattered trestle tables ready for the next activity, and Stu McDonald, fondly known around here as matua, is finishing lunch in the tā moko studio.

He puts his dishes in the sink before joining the class in the sun.

“Some people ask, ‘What is this? Is it a gang? Is it a club, what is it?’,” he laughs. “It’s a whānau. It’s a kahui (community). It’s a lifestyle… It’s the place our tūpuna would light fires to guide whānau home.”

This is the Ahipoutu Collective, the brainchild of Stu (Ngā Rauru, Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Pūkenga, Ngāti Rehua) — and his whānau.

The kaupapa is to ‘reindigenise living, learning and healing spaces through toi Māori’.

Stu McDonald (Ngā Rauru, Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Pūkenga, Ngāti Rehua).

“This all started when we lost Kereopa. I had to come home and stop travelling the world. I had to change my life to deal with the grief. He inspired all this.”

They offer three main services: traditional Māori art, tā moko, and art and wellbeing classes for both children and adults — all based here at Matapihi, overlooking the Rangataua Harbour.

“Tamariki come here and we enhance who they are meant to be.”

Ahipoutu is mostly based at Stu’s whānau home that he shares with his wife and children, his parents and all the “boomerang grandkids”. His late son Kereopa, who he and his wife lost to bone cancer in 2015, is also laid to rest here, proudly watching over his pāpā.

“This all started when we lost Kereopa. I had to come home and stop travelling the world. I had to change my life to deal with the grief. He inspired all this.”

Today, a small group of Year 6 students from Arataki School are here as part of a 12-week mahi toi education programme.

The tamariki are collaborating on a towering mural, around three metres high, that depicts the Māori story of three whales – a mother, father, and calf – who transformed into ‘Ngā Maunga Tohorā’.

Legend has it that a mother whale and her calf became trapped in the shallow waters of Rangataua Bay. Called by the waves of Omanu and Pāpāmoa, they swam toward the sea but grew exhausted. They stopped to drink from a magical stream at Karīkarī, which turned them into stone, forever trapped in the harbour.

The mother became Mangatawa, gazing toward the sea, and the calf became Hikurangi.

The father followed their path, drank from the same spring, and was transformed into the hill known as Kopukairoa.

Stu, and a group of rangatahi artists who are part of the collective, have their work on prominent display across the region. There’s the 40-metre long mural in the Bayfair motorway tunnel, the towering pou representing tūpuna wāhine welcoming drivers into Tauranga on State Highway 29A and, Stu’s favourite, the one in Mount Maunganui Intermediate School that he helped carve and paint when he was a student himself.

“We could have just done it [painted the mural],” Stu says.

“But we want the kids to get involved and take ownership. We want them to have this to look back at and say, ‘We done that!’ I still feel proud looking at mine.”

Arataki School kaiako, Tatai Kerr-Tuapuki, says she and the kids “love coming here”.

“This is a good space for them both mentally and physically. They obviously get a lot from the Māori-led kaupapa. From day one to now, the change is amazing.”

She’s proudly watching her students engage fully in the work at hand. One boy is helping his friend put on a mask before they begin spray painting, a girl is hunched over her personal canvas, while others are back rolling down hills waiting for paint to dry before adding another coat of blue hues to the whale’s body.

“I want these kids to leave school better than when they began. I hope this gives them something they cherish. They’ll remember Stu as their kaiako who led them.”

The 10 and 11-year-olds aren’t just learning how to paint, they’re getting out of the day-to-day and into a ‘flow state’, where they can truly engage and learn from what’s around them.

Psychologists refer to the ‘flow state’ as a powerful condition of deep focus that can significantly enhance learning and creativity. A normal classroom usually isn’t the right environment for this. Ahipoutu is set up exclusively for it.

Numerous studies have shown that starting school later can lead to improved attendance, higher academic performance and better sleep. So while the kids arrive at 9am, structured activities don’t start until 11am.

For those first two hours Stu and ringatoi kaiako (art teacher) Picasso Amouta (Cass), build connections with the kids and lead physical or wellbeing activities.

As part of a 12-week mahi toi education programme, tamariki from Arataki School are collaborating on a 3m-high mural depicting the Māori story of three whales.

Arataki School students Manaia Brown and Wena-Mei Jones getting ready to help paint the mural.

“I want kids to come here and have the best day they’ve ever had. A happy kid’s a learning kid,” Stu adds.

One of his  favourites is the ‘ninja walk’ that he learnt from a Gaza-based teacher who was visiting Aotearoa. You balance a half-filled bottle of water on your head and walk. To succeed, you have to be present in the moment.

“The first week, the kids can’t do it. By the end of the programme, they’re going up and over obstacles, they’re really in that flow state,” he says.

Stu has lived many lives in his 48 years. To others he’s a first-class educator, experienced carver, tohunga tā moko (expert tā moko artist) and multi-media artist.

“I would say I’m just a nanny’s boy trying to do what she did. Ya know?”

“This is a good space for them both mentally and physically. They obviously get a lot from the Māori-led kaupapa. From day one to now, the change is amazing.”

He comes from a line of strong wāhine. His nanny, the late Rangiwhakaehu Walker, was a champion of te reo Māori, starting the first kōhanga reo in Tauranga Moana in the early 1980s. His māmā, Matemoana McDonald, is a councillor at Bay of Plenty Regional Council and Senior Treaty Advisor.

Continuing their legacy, Stu and the Ahipoutu Collective have recently partnered with Tauranga Women’s Refuge to open a new te ao Māori-led space in Hangarau (Bethlehem). It’s a space where tāne can re-find themselves and is the first of its kind in the region. The Māori name is “Whakamoeariki” which roughly translates to “Where the high ranking Gods are laid to rest”.

“We’re all born ariki, of high ranking lineage,” Stu explains. “But some parts of these men that they’re displaying, they aren’t the ariki gene, and we want to put that to rest. This is a place where we can teach these men how to activate that gene.”

The grounds feature a modern four-bedroom home for tāne to live in and children to visit, a large backyard with rākau (trees) to sit under, and a marae-inspired art studio where the Ahipoutu Collective will teach the tāne life skills through the vehicle of art. Rob Herewini, kaihāpai (helper or handyman) of the collective and Stu’s ‘best bro’, is helping to build the art studio and says Stu has his own gravitational pull.

“He just sits there and all of a sudden there’s a whole table of people wanting to know who he is and what he does. People just gravitate to him. It might be the tā moko,” Rob says.

The Ahipoutu Collective tīma: Grayson Walker, Stu McDonald, Areena Smith and Cass Amouta.

Stu’s face of moko tells the story of his life, his whakapapa and the tūpuna that came before him. He recalls a kōrero he had with his nanny, asking if he could get his matatuhua (full facial tattoo).

“E moko, people will look at you differently after this,” she said to him, “and you have to show them who you are inside”.

Her only stipulation in getting moko matatuhua was to keep smiling, “No matter how they look at you”.

And that big, welcoming smile is inspiring generations.

“I’m just adding to what my nanny, my mum and dad have done before me, and I hope these kids can add to it after me.”

ahipoutucollective.co.nz
@theahipoutucollective

Words by Rebecca Lee
Photography by Adrienne Pitts