Chasing Māori mana on a road less travelled

---

The company car, a lamb and mint pie and a bottle of L&P (world famous in New Zealand). I was ready for a road trip.

For a seasoned Kiwi sports writer in the city of Gisborne, my task would have been the short straw, the long shift. For an Irish rugby fanatic and junior reporter, it turned into something else... a journey into the mystic heart of Māori culture. A day that still floats into my wandering mind some four years later. The start of my love affair with Aotearoa.

My task was to report on a rugby match between Ngāti Porou East Coast and Thames Valley.

Today, Ngāti Porou rugby is one of the most preserved symbols of Māori mana (a supernatural force) in New Zealand.

Whakarua Park is right in the middle of the tiny rural settlement of Ruatoria, well hidden from tourists in the valleys under Mount Hikurangi - a Māori representation of strength, holding tapu (sacred) status.

I set myself a target of perfecting the pronunciation of each Māori named settlement en route to the ground. Tatapouri eased me in. I passed Wainui, the burial site for 59 sperm whales who perished in 1970.

Next up was Whangara – a picture perfect setting for the iconic 2002 drama movie, Whale Rider. My only comfort stop was at a coffee shop in the quaint coastal town of Tologa Bay. I was still a couple of hours away from Ruatoria, but already I felt an unexplainable sense of aura around this rugby team. A blue flag flew on every telegraph pole. My barista produced the perfect flat white. “Are you French?” she asked.

“Na, I’m Irish.”

I looked out the window and saw a man riding his horse past the door. He was wearing a cowboy hat and waving a flag. Just another day in Tologa Bay.

“Awww, Brian O’Driscoll,” she continued. “Chur! Do you know your fellas still haven’t beaten the All Blacks!”

Ouch!

But for a few scattered settlements, the rest of my journey was dominated by rugged beauty, an untouched rolling land, but for the concrete road in front of me.

At Tokomaru Bay I turned inland for Te Puia Springs, where locals bathe in natural waters they say has healing powers.

In Ruatoria, I saw Hikurangi towering behind the stadium. The home town haka had the crowd in raptures.

Four years later, and I can’t remember the score that day. I know the Coast won, I think. Everything else about my journey though is crystal clear. The power of that haka, the earthly taste of the post-match hangi, the names on the road signs and the warmth of the people. For the first time, I felt like a son of Aotearoa.

---

Photos

Mount Hikurangi

Tologa Bay

East Coast haka

Whangara