‘E Pā To Hau’: philosophy and theory on dispossession, elimination, grief, trauma and settler colonialism in Aotearoa New Zealand

ABSTRACT This article explores the waiata tangi (lament), commonly known as ‘E Pā To Hau.’ Written by Rangiamoa of Ngāti Apakura after the attrocities committed by British soldiers at Rangiaowhia. It seeks to describe settler colonialism in terms of elimination, greif and dispossession. It argues that the waiata understands these concepts in very deep ways. The research utilises Whakaaro Based Philsophy and method to dissect the waiata for its philosophy and theory. This is done by exploring the literature on waiata, haka, and cultural memory as indigenous text and analysing the famous waiata tangi (lament) by Rangiamoa called ‘E Pā To Hau’ that was written in the aftermath of Rangiaowhia. A background on the events at Rangiaowhia is provided. Theoretically, it outlines the case for refering to ‘settler colonialism’ as ‘invader colonialism’ and the relationship of remembering to resistence. It also supports the call for terming the events at Rangiaowhia a ‘war crime’ as recently discussed in the media.

I belong to and grew up in Tūwharetoa and my grandmother's people are Tainui. I am a mokopuna of Pōtaua Te Wherowhero, the first Māori king. I mention this, not to be boastful, but because I grew up hearing a particular waiata tangi that binds the history of these iwi together. Ngāti Apakura was a sect of the Tainui people, who were forced off their land at Rangiaowhia near Te Awamutu by invading British forces. 1 Rangiamoa eventually composed a waiata tangi about that journey, commonly known as 'E Pā To Hau,' describing the plight and history of this involuntary march. The journey ended at Tokaanu and Ngāti Apakura continue to reside in Tūwharetoa. While being a waiata tangi, it is also sometimes deployed as a modern song of protest against the white possessive government. In this essay, the third part of an exploration into Māori political theory and philosophy contained within haka and waiata, 2 I ask: How can a waiata tangi inform a theory or philosophy of elimination, grief, trauma and settler colonialism?
To pursue this question, I will outline a whakaaro-based philosophy and method analysis to analyse and bring forth Māori philosophy from a waiata tangi. To place this philosophy in both cultural and theoretical context, however, I first explore waiata mōteatea in relation to cultural memory. This will suggest productive avenues of interpretation and theorisation in relation to grief and settler colonialism. A description of whakaaro-based method will be given and then employed to illuminate the philosophy embedded in this mōteatea. The ensuing discussion will pursue and explain the relationship between this philosophy and settler/invader colonialism. By way of conclusion, I suggest that this mōteatea allows us to remember acts of genocide during the invasion of the Waikato region and so also to resist the apathy and active suppression that relegate these acts to a national amnesia. This waiata tangi embodies a deep understanding of elimination, grief, trauma, and dispossession. In this theoretical space, emboldened by the philosophy unearthed with (and as) this act of remembrance, this paper calls readers to question the appropriateness of the concept of 'settler colonialism,' and proposes 'invader colonialism' in its place.

Mātauranga and indigenous knowledge
In Aotearoa New Zealand 'Mātauranga Māori-[is considered] the ūkaipō of knowledge, 3 Dan Hikuroa remarks that 'the world view of a culture determines what they perceive reality to be: what is regarded as actual, probable, possible, or impossible. 4 Mātauranga Māori is the most common term used to describe Māori knowledge as well as the world view that gives rise to it. It incorporates 'the body of knowledge originating from Māori ancestors, including Māori world view and perspectives, Māori creativity and cultural practices'. 5 The Waitangi Tribunal (2011) describes mātauranga as 'the unique Māori way of viewing the world, encompassing both traditional knowledge and culture.' 6 Landcare Research similarly defines it as 'the knowledge, comprehension, or understanding of everything visible and invisible in the cosmos, including current, historical, local, and traditional knowledge; systems of knowledge transfer and storage; and Māori goals, aspirations, and issues.' 7 Marsden presents the Māori world view as Te Ao Mārama, which is the source or foundation of mātauranga. 8 I suggest, then, that mātauranga Māori' refers to: 1) a method for generating knowledge; and 2) to all the knowledge generated according to that method. What is crucial to note here is that mātauranga can challenge the normativeness of settler colonial impositions on Indigenous Peoples.
In the spirit of this claim, Smith et al. elaborate: … mātauranga occupies a different knowledge space from traditional academic disciplines, including their transdisciplinary interstices. This … speaks to a gnawing sense that mayhem is at play, as the academic work around indigenous knowledge mātauranga begins to consolidate and become institutionalised away from its indigenous communities and contexts, where it began and where it still informs identities, ways of living, and being. 9 In a way, therefore, the challenge to the normativeness of settler colonial impositions mātauranga brings depends upon its reiteration and re-enacting as indigenousand not Western academicknowledge. Mika and Southey have recently made an important contribution to this project by accentuating whakaaro-based philosophy as a more open-ended philosophical approach that preserves a 'natural accord with a Māori metaphysics of fluidity and mystery.' 10 The present essay adapts this effort to a speculative analysis of a waiata tangi.
With this understanding of mātauranga now in place, I must explain the nature of waiata, haka, and cultural memory. This will allow readers to understand the interplay and relation between haka and the continuation of culture. An exploration of my understanding of haka as a form of living and performed indigenous text will then prepare and frame the philosophical and theoretical analysis of 'E Pā To Hau.' Haka, waiata, cultural memory theory and indigenous text The notions of 'collective memory' and 'cultural memory' are highly relevant to this essay, though we should acknowledge, as Green (2007) does, that it is a somewhat controversial and 'open-ended' concept. 11 This is not necessarily a hindrance to whakaaro-based philosophy, but the concept should be specified in its relevance to the matters at hand.
Alon Confino defines collective memory as 'the representation of the past and the making of it into a shared cultural knowledge by successive generations in 'vehicles of memory' such as books, films, museums, commemorations, and others' 12 Such broad definitions generally build on Halbwach's influential work, which scholars have thoroughly qualified, critiqued, and expanded since its debut. 13 The idea of 'collective memory,' as Assmann points out, is itself already a challenge to and an improvement upon previously accepted theories concerning 'racial memory' (e.g. in Jungian psychology), which were too deeply tied to an outmoded and problematic biological determinism. 14 Halbwachs says that memory is what makes it possible for people to live in groups and communities, and that living in groups and communities is what helps people build their memories. 15 In shifting the focus to culture rather than biology as Halbwach did, theories of collective memory began to describe and analyse the survival of 'types' as varieties of 'cultural pseudo-species.' 16 The construction, mobilisation, preservation, and reconfiguration of these types are among the functions of what is now called 'cultural memory,' which recursively informs the collective identity of a group. 17 Assmann who emphasised that while individuals are responsible for remembering, it is the collective that creates a memory for itself through the construction of memorials and the invention of cultural practices that either foster the perpetuation of memory or work to erase it. 18 Memory plays an essential role in the formation of collective identities, such as those adopted by religious, ethnic, and national groups. 19 Whereas theories of collective memory emphasise that memory is formed in a social environment. 20 , theories of cultural memory also take account of the 'remembering individual,' 21 as well as material artefacts or 'objectivised culture' including 'texts, images, rites, buildings, monuments, cities, or even landscapes.' 22 These facilitate what Assmann calls the 'concretion of identity' for specific groups. 23 Such objects, like a mōteatea, can function as memory carriers for people who might have invested cultural memories in them. 24 It is important to underline that this concretion is a dynamic process rather than a static product. Assmann for example, presents six ways in which cultural types can be passed down to future generations. 25 But the process is not dynamic merely with respect to generational transfer; it is also always renegotiated for the needs of the moment. As John Gillis puts it, 'identities and memories are highly selective, inscriptive rather than descriptive, serving particular interests and ideological positions. Just as memory and identity support one another, they also sustain one another, certain ideological positions, social boundaries, and, of course, power' 26 Cultural memory is less objectively 'about' the past than it is used to reactivate a useful past in conversation with the commemorative and material entities that inform group heritage. 27 In any case, cultural memory necessitates a kind of self-reconstruction in that it always incorporates information that may be applied to a real, contemporary scenario. It is necessary to reiterate and concretise memories in a positive way to define the group, as an ongoing statement of 'this is who we are.' These constructions serve as a repository for cultural symbols and information and must be understood through institutionalised heritage because a normative self-image establishes a hierarchy of values and distinctions based on priority. 28 When he makes a difference between communicative and cultural memories, Assmann also seems to be putting collective memories outside of the individual. As the name suggests, communicative memories are shared between people through communication. 29 For example, one person might tell another a joke, or someone from one generation might tell someone from the next about something they did. Communicative memories are similar to 'everyday memories' that only individuals have and not groups. As far as Assmann is concerned, they rarely look further than 100 years into the future. On the other hand, memories of culture can last for hundreds of years. 30 When communicative memories are turned into 'objectivized culture,' or the 'culturally institutionalised heritage of a society,' cultural memories are formed. So, it seems that communicative memories have a home in each person and are passed from one person to another. Cultural memories are 'in the world,' which means that they are kept alive by the figures of memory that keep them alive. Assmann made a distinction between two 'modes' of cultural memories to make this point clear: potential and actual. The National Archives could be thought of as a cultural memory, but only in a possible way. This is because a cultural memory can only affect a modern society when it is real. When a memory is 'related to a real and current event,' it moves into the mode of actuality. 31 Even though Assmann does not talk about people in this passage, cultural memories probably reach the 'mode of actuality' when people become aware of them and make them a part of how the society sees itself now. 32 Texts are the most relevant category of commemorative materiality or objectivised culture in the case of haka and waiata, since they are considered forms of literature or as in the case of mōteateachanted or sung poetry. 33 Simon asserts that: Haka and waiata are a Māori-based expression of memorialisation and commemoration. This is because they share values and meanings derived from shared knowledge, in this case mātauranga. They are used in ceremony and in formal situations and provide a buttressing of cultural messages. They are usually performed by trained specialists who 'cultivate' the mātauranga in its performance, providing a normative self-image of Māori groups and our values. In doing so, they provide cultural symbols and mātauranga that reinforce Māori self-image. Additionally, they have been used to record important events in individual iwi histories, including war and its effects. In effect, haka and waiata are cultural and collective memory in action. 34 Within the universe of Māori cultural memory, Hata comments that mōteatea -'laments' from the early nineteenth centuryare especially important insofar as they 'provide a template with which to analyse the language used, and its relevance in today's environment.'. 35 Ka'ai-Mahuta claims that: In traditional Māori society … [these waiata contain] tribal philosophical doctrine of the time. Therefore, waiata and haka offer an alternative view of the history of Aotearoa New Zealand to those that are based on mainstream Eurocentric history books and archives. Waiata and haka are also important for the survival of the Māori language and culture. In this sense, they are bound to Māori identity. 36 Harlow discusses mātauranga contained within mōteatea and concludes that it is 'a very rich 'literary' tradition, which is a unique and important part of this country's cultural heritage.' 37 Harlow adds that mōteatea are: composed in a language which is highly poetic, using figurative devices of a wide range of types, elliptical, and full of local and historical references which would be intelligible to nineteenth century hearers in the composers' own hapū, but are opaque to hearers/readers who do not share the relevant background knowledge. 38 Thus, a mōteatea or haka can be an archive as a form of collective memory. The text when 'cultivated' and/or 'reinterpreted' makes the ultimate transition to cultural memory as it makes the memory usable in a modern context. This essay demonstrates how this is achieved by providing a Tūwharetoa interpretation of the text as political philosophy. With this understanding of mōteatea as artefacts of cultural memory and uniquely rich vehicles of philosophical insight, I turn to a closer examination of the bourgeoning practice of whakaaro-based philosophy.

Māori philosophy and whakaaro-based philosophy and method
Māori philosophy centres on connections between people, objects, the environment, and the rest of the world. As such, it is a key pillar of identity for Māori people and the acts of writing and reading about Māori philosophy are in themselves politically significant. 39 Time and space are inextricably linked in Māori philosophy; in fact, there are no separate Māori words for space and time. In Māori thought, therefore, past events retain and insist upon their importance to present circumstances, and ancestors might 'collapse the space-time continuum to be co-present with their descendants.' 40 This contrasts with Western philosophy, as Smith argues, which thinks 'in terms of lineal time sequence where events follow one another and become relegated to a remote and distant past which can be studied as an objective 'truth' of history.' 41 Māori philosophy is an essential method of conveying the cultural importance and socio-political reach of this difference in spatiotemporal imagination.
Pre-colonial Māori philosophy texts stem from natural occurrences of 'place,' including for instance ancient iwi settlements. They were understood through the senses and documented in human-made objects and taonga. This aligns with Māori understanding of knowledge, which is not limited to the physical senses but also incorporates information gained through intuition and dreams. 42 These modes of knowledge are premised precisely on spatiotemporal relations that Western philosophy has too often designated 'extraordinary' or even 'impossible.' Māori philosophy is thus one method of expressing the contemporary meaning of being Māori over and against colonising forces. As a style of philosophy, it embodies two major concerns: firstly, 'an 'insider' concern to develop theory, knowledge, and practice from indigenous Māori ontological priorities for contemporary times and, secondly, a concern to illuminate the imperative of decolonisation for 'outsiders.' This latter concern 'may include critiques of Eurocentrism, indigenous-Western knowledge problems, indigenous-settler[/invader] political relations, etc.' 43 We turn from these preliminary reflections on Māori philosophy now to an examination of the notion of 'whakaaro,' which specifies a commonly misunderstood and underemployed mode of Māori reflective and philosophical activity. When broken down, the kupu 'whakaaro' means: Whakaaro: Whaka 'thought' (causative) to become Aro 'to focus upon' 44 Takarirangi Smith defines this concept philosophically as 'to cast attention to,' and illuminates its pre-colonial significance: Pre-colonial evidence in language attributes whakaaro as the activity of the stomach and the entrails (te whakaro o te ngakau). It is the activity which may precede physical action, and involves the anatomical part of the body which is the source of the emotions, feeling, and instinct. The stomach is associated with the ira tangata aspect or earthly component of that which forms the basis of action, but is not the actual process of rational thought. 45 Mika and Southey argue that 'responsive thinking'their rendering of whakaaro -'should be valid on its own as a method for research.' 46 They contend that this mode of thought has only rarely been treated as a method unto itself, being instead considered subordinate to mātauranga Māori ('Māori knowledge') and kaupapa Māori ('Māori theoretical response'), which, as Mika and Southey put it, 'are more often concerned with epistemic certainty than they are with speculative philosophy for its own sake.' 47 So, while whakaaro may be treated as one aspect of mātauranga Māori among others, it is here presented and used as a relatively distinct practice with its own aims and merits. In contrast to methods that capitulate more to Western epistemological presuppositions, whakaaro is a reflexive, responsive, and emergent 'non-method implicating the more-than-human entities that push thinking … characterized by a free-flowing style of reflection.' 48 It is a very unorthodox form of research, but beneficial to indigenous researchers and their collaborators insofar as it is uniquely open-ended; it is unpredictable, non-foundational, and it generally results in unprovable work. This also makes it better able to 'provide fuel for another researcher's creative thinking' and to function as meaningful participation in an ongoing conversation. 49 In a personal communication, Southey elaborated that 'the whakaaro 'stuff' isn't given in an obvious frame so it's what you do with it.' 50 Again, this 'it's what you do with it' is quite intentional and responds to the dynamic reality of individual and collective negotiations and mnemonic inscriptions of experience. 51 We saw above that this negotiation of individual and group in terms of memory is better handled by theorists of 'cultural memory' than those of 'collective memory.' In this vein, whakaaro also 'engages with a recapture of a Māori imagination,' 52 exploiting Western/colonial research constraints by 'foregrounding the idea of the researchers [sic] limits as an individual thinker' and positing 'a self that is immersed in the research, thinking with things in the world rather than studying their nature.' 53 There is radical intellectual honesty and integrity here; ideas, concepts, people, and experiencesno longer out 'there,' somewhere else in space or timeare 'thought with' perpetually and dynamically rather than 'thought about' with an arrogant and artificial finality. They are no longer 'subject to the dominant Western request of providing cultural ideas in reductive forms.' 54 Whakaaro-based philosophy by its very nature promotes indigenous ontology and epistemology above Western philosophy, thought, and tradition. 55 This is an ontological disturbance to the settler colonial system. 56 Mika and Southey advise that: 'The whakaaro method will yield different outcomes to more conventional approaches … it is random, untidy and even chaotic … it may therefore not be to everyone's taste, and its openendedness could end up making its most staunch proponents anxious.' 57 This essay will ultimately bring this open-ended 'non-method' of mātauranga to bear on a reading of 'E Pā To Hau,' after first reviewing some of the necessary historical and cultural background of this waiata tangi.

Background of the waiata tangi
This waiata tangi is a celebration of survival. However, within that celebration and that survival there are harrowing narratives. Smith comments: Celebrating survival accentuates not so much our [indigenous peoples'] demise but the degree to which indigenous peoples and communities have successfully retained culture and spiritual values, and authenticity … Events and accounts which focus on the positive are important not just because they speak to our survival, but because they celebrate our resistances at an ordinary human level and they affirm our identities as indigenous women and men. 58 In support of this, Clements writes: The stories of Māori survival are both individual and collective. Told through narratives, song, dance, and visual arts, they are important because they remind people that despite hardships and change, Māoriness as a cultural identity will remain. It also serves to remind future generations of their connection to the past and of the sacrifices made by previous generations that pave the way for their collective future. 59 The waiata 'E Pa To Hau' (see appendix 1) is a lament of the Ngāti Apakura people who lived in Rangiaowhia, near what is present day Te Awamutu. Rangiaowhia was a produce-rich mecca, largely responsible for supplying Auckland with food. It is acknowledged as the vital economic heartland of the Kīngitanga.' 60 Thousands of people from Waikato-Tainui lived there. 61 The Ngāti Apakura were exiled south towards Taupō (approximately 160 kilometres away) during the Waikato Land War of 1846, forced from their homes and stripped of their holdings by British troops despite being unarmed and uninvolved in the war at the time. 62 Rangiamoa of Ngāti Apakura is the most probable composer of 'E Pa To Hau,' which was written to lament the death of her cousin, Te Wano. That said, the composition doubles as a song of mourning for the fate of all her people and an oral record of stolen iwi homelands. 63 Waikato-Tainui iwi sing the lament on several occasions, although it is intended for tangihanga. 64 It is traditional for Waikato Tainui to sing only the first verse. Tūwharetoa are the only iwi that sing the complete waiata. It is also tikanga that when these two iwi come together, if the first verse is sung by Waikato-Tainui, Tūwharetoa will complete the waiata immediately afterwards.
The details of what exactly took place at Rangiaowhia on 21 February 1864 are the subject of extensive conjecture, confusion, and debate. 65 Historians and military scholars claim one thing, while oral histories and recent iwi research from Waikato-Tainui and revisionist historians disrupt their findings. Military records, for instance, place the dead at 12, 66 while an article in The Sydney Morning Herald from a reporter at Rangiaowhia places the body count at 103 outside one whare alone. 67  Through Bishop Selwyn, an arrangement was reached whereby Rangiaowhia would be a place where non-combatants could take refuge. 69 Many had left the settlement during the invasion prior to the arrival of the colonial troops. 70 but Selwyn advised the British that women and children were still residing in Rangiaowhia and ought not to be harmed. Iwi accounts state that British soldiers nevertheless burnt down a church filled with unarmed Ngāti Apakura, and that despite looking more like a large hut with a cross on both ends than a proper church, the structure was clearly identified as a place of worship. 71 Kaumatua Raureti Te Huia outlines major events in Tainui history and records the tragedy. He comments (Figure 1): Wiremu Tamehana described the attack as kōhuru or murder rather than an act of war. This is amplified in the oral history of Waikato-Tainui, which describes the event with the term 'pāhuatanga' or 'atrocity.' According to iwi historian kaumatua and academic Tom Roa, women were raped and children murdered in the course of this event, even in spite of their non-combatant status and willingness to surrender. 73 Ranginui Walker also posits a direct link between the events at Rangiaowhia and the death of Rev. Volkner in Ōpōtiki in 1865. As the Rangātira of Te Arawa, Kereopa Te Rau's daughters were killed inside the church at Rangiaowhia; from this, he vowed to get utu. 74 (Figures 2 and 3) This eventually led to the execution of Mokomoko. 75 NZ History comments that: The government responded to Völkner's death with harsh military reprisals. His alleged killers were hunted down. A number of local people were arrested, and some executed. In addition, a large area of land was unjustly confiscated from eastern Bay of Plenty tribes. 76 Thus there is a direct effect of the events at Rangiaowhia on Ōpōtiki. This is interesting as it may be considered that the resulting raupatu and actions of the Crown at Rangiaowhia led to raupatu of whenua in the Eastern Bay of Plenty. This sketch of the brutal events Rangiaowhia should now set the stage for a philosophical dissection of the waiata that laments and commemorates it. Greif and sorrow in this context are encapsulated in the line 'Kia tangi atu au i kōnei' [Here I stand crying or weeping]. In its social context, tangi may more accurately indicate mourning. 77 While the composition is not clear as to what the kaitito is mourning, it suggests to the audience that grief and mourning from an indigenous perspective are interlinked with dispossession from land that has led to trauma. Sherwood comments that: Trauma is a normal and predictable response to overwhelming distress resulting from an event which is left untreated or, at worst, ignored. It leads to intergenerational hopelessness and unresolved grief. 78 The two possible objects of mourning here are: 1) those she witnessed being killed; and/ or 2) the confiscation and capture of ancestral land. I note that this is suggested in the opening line, 'E pā to hau he wini raro' [your breath touches me, north wind]. The social definition of 'hau' suggests two philosophical notions for consideration. Hau can be considered a cosmic power and vital essence, part of an 'assembly of life forces.' 79 A second aspect or meaning of hau in the context of this mōteatea is explained by Rangi Mātāmua [Tūhoe] (pers. kōrero 2017) like this: 'When you feel the wind blowing on you, that's actually feeling the power or the essence or the vitality of the environment.' 80 Salmond similarly refers to hau as 'the wind of life activating all human and non-human networks.' 81 The wind signifies movement, a sustainable motion that carries things across the intersection of Te Ao Wairua and Te Ao Mārama. As Te Poihi Campbell (pers. kōrero 2016) explains: 'I see the hau more of engaging with the other side and this side; I see that as the conduit between both worlds … that's the umbilical cord between that realm and this realm [Te Ao Wairua and Te Ao Mārama].' This interpretation is illustrated in the cosmic whakapapa, where hau begat material shape and form. 82 The invocation of the term 'hau' harbours a hidden sophistication here, which surpasses the plain or exoteric meaning of 'wind.' Philosophically, hau is a blowing wind that connects oneself with one's ancestors, and others who have passed on. It may also suggest that the essence of those killed and the ancestors can be felt by the kaitito. The use of the term 'to,' which means 'your,' is also significant in that the linking wind between this and the other world, or the true essence of those past or their ancestral whenua or ūkaipo, is felt by the kaitito. The line can also be considered an embodiment of the elimination of Ngāti Apakura from Rangiaowhia and of what took place there during the invasion of the Waikato and the rohe of Ngāti Apakura. This line of interpretation is supported by broader norms or standards of Māori linguistic practice. Stewart-Harawira writes that 'the genealogical relationship between Māori and the natural world is demonstrated in te reo Māori, the Māori language, manifesting in traditional sayings and proverbs such as 'ko te ūkaipō, te whenua; ko te whenua, te ūkaipō' [my breastmilk is the land; the land is my breastmilk].' 83 With an enaction of dispossession, there is a severing of that relationship between a Māori person or group to their ancestral land, their literal grandmother. The severing of that relationship allowed the settler/invader population to take over and become economically and socially dominant at the expense of the indigenous population. It facilitated the construction of a national identity, the myth of unity, and the pretense of embodying the best race relations in the world. 84 He aroha ki te iwi Ka momotu ki tāwhiti ki Paerau These two lines comment on the kaitito's sorrow or compassion for her people, as noted in the kupu aroha. Iwi, in this case by whakapapa, could also include whenua as in Papa-tūā-nuku, as the first tūpuna and Ngāti Apakura more broadly. This should be understood in the context of the next line where momotu is used, which means 'to sever, separate, snap, break, depart, disappear to.' 85 'Ka' as a particle is used before a verb to indicate to the audience that an event is occurring or a state existing. 86 This line could also be a form of a poroporoaki and an instruction to her relatives on where they should go. In King's exploration of poroproaki, she comments that there are common phrases and words that are used to indicate a place where they departed. King focuses on the phrases 'ki te kapunipuni o wairua' and 'ki (tua o) Paerau.' The former is rendered as 'to the gathering place of the souls,' whereas the latter is 'the meeting place of the dead.' 87 'Ki tāwhiti' means 'somewhere far away.' 88 It should be noted that 'Tāwhiti' or 'Tāhiti' is another name for Hawaiki, the traditional homeland of the Māori. In general, Māori tradition considers this the place to which the dead depart. 89 Ko wai e kite atu?

Te Wetewetetanga
Kei whea aku hoa i mua rā, These next two lines reinforce the preceding one by asking the question 'Ko wai e kite atu?' Generally, this mōteatea has been translated to imply 'where are they now?' Isolated from the rest of the work, however, the line can be read as 'Who has seen them?,' where the 'them' in question is left unspecified. It could refer to relatives from Ngāti Apakura who have passed on or, in a fashion more pertinent to the context of settler colonialism, dispossession, and elimination from their whenua at Rangiaowhia, it could be taken to mean 'Who saw it?' with reference to the atrocities committed by British soldiers during the land wars and, more specifically, at Rangiaowhia. This assertion would be supported by the following line.
Firstly, the kupu 'hoa' is usually said to mean 'friend,' but given the context of the Waikato war it can be taken also to mean 'ally.' The line thus asks: 'where are my friends/allies?' Moreover, 'i mua ra' implies the past. Mua as a location is taken to mean the past, the former, the time before; when combined with the particle rā, it is used to denote distance from the present. While grammatically it does denote potential comment on dispossession, another meaning for the use of this particle can also be taken to mean 'yonder,' in terms of time and space where the kaitito is away from the whenua ukaipo of Ngāti Apakura. This is a grammatical indicator of what actually happened to Ngāti Apakura and other Waikato iwi. It eliminates them and their identity and presence on the land and suggests that they are now wandering, cast away from where they actually belong. Again, it is really a matter of dispossession. 'Tōnuitanga' indicates plentifulness. Rangiaowhia was renowned as the centre of Waikato iwi food production. 90 'I' locates this plentifulness in the past, which is interesting because this would signal that the future and present are fruitless, barren, wanting, scarce, or meagre. The following line, if read for its philosophical meaning, would indicate that this came or happened to me -'ka haramai tēnei'with the result that we are separated from normality, as indicated by 'ka tauwehe.' 'Raungaiti' in this context means 'reduced'; however, it could possibly indicate spatial confinement. This indicates that separation reduces Ngāti Apakura in numbers, but it is also a commentary on the kaitito's feelings, communicating a resignation to her circumstances. A sign of acceptance. The last line here translates to 'the rain upon my eyelashes.' However, the 'rain' in this case can be taken to mean both tears and a form of depression and sorrow. The metaphor of rain has an interesting parallel in Te Orokohanga. When the primordial parents -Ranginui, the sky father, and Papatuanuku, the earth motherwere separated by their son, Tāne Mahuta, it was Ranginui that cried and continues to cry for his beloved. Ultimately, these lines address loss. This is reinforced by the first line, 'e ua te ua e tāheke,' or, 'the rain rains or flows like a waterfall,' which tells us that the loss is overwhelming and unbearable, likened to a deep depression.
The first line here relates to banishment. 'Pae' is a variable word, meaning 'to be stranded or cast ashore on this land,' but in the immediate context it is also meant to convey 'bound,' in the sense of being stuck on the land. 'Te whenua' is important to this analysis because it tells us that where they are, they are not mana whenua. They are strangers to the area. It further signifies the act of dispossession from one's ukaipo. Grey  Here we are upon the cliffs at Taupō. The use of the Karangahape cliffs is interesting as a literary device. These cliffs were used in times of strife as a place of refuge. People used to hide in the caves higher up. The ropes to access these caves were hauled up to prevent access from the lake below. On many occasions, waka were sunk below the cliffs to prevent the enemy from overtaking them or to deny ease of access to the caves. This is reinforced by the choice of the word 'toka' rather than a kupu of more direct translation like 'aropari.' Toka can be seen in context as something that is firm, solid, and tangible; it denotes safety. 'Aropari' in some contexts may denote some form of danger, hence it has been avoided. 92 'Stranded on the shore at Waihi' would be a direct translation of 'Ka paea ki te one ki Waihi.' However, in this setting it reiterates the commentary on dispossession found in 'Te pae ki te whenua.' The difference here is that a place of significance is given in Waihi; this is the traditional kainga of the Arikitanga in Tūwharetoa. Naming the place of refuge in contrast to the place of dispossession marks a shift towards an attitude of resignation; they are now stuck in Tūwharetoa because they have no alternative after their eviction from Rangiaowhia by colonial troops. It marks the difference between verse one and verse two. Verse one is about dispossession and the effects of being evicted, including cultural elimination from the whenua. Verse two focuses more on grief and adapting to circumstance.
'Whare kōiwi' is very interesting as a follow-up to 'ki taku matua nui,' which is a reference to te mana tangata of the former ariki, an acknowledgement of ancestral connection, but also where the power in the area liesin an indigenous person and leader. 'Whare kōiwi' reenforces this, as to have koiwi interred on whenua, particularly a maunga tūpuna, one must have mana. These are key indicators of where the power to the area lies in contrast to the invaded Waikato. The mention of Tongariro is important as it ties that mana and whakapapa between the mana whenua, being Tūwharetoa and Tainui waka, with the ancestral stories of Ngātoroirangi, the source of mana whenua for Tūwharetoa.

E moea iho nei
Hoki mai e roto ki te puia Nui, ki Tokaanu, Ki te wai tuku kiri o te iwi E aroha nei au, ī 'Moea' in the context of this first line can be taken to mean 'slept' or 'died,' whereas 'iho' means 'beneath.' This is important as it follows the notion of 'whare kōiwi' and maunga 'Tongariro.' It is these that both slept and died; note again a form of resignation to circumstances. If 'moea' is read as 'died,' it means that their arrival within the iwi of Tūwharetoa is the death of their identity as Ngāti Apakuraa form of eliminationand the realisation of the settler colonial ideal of removing indigenous mana from the land at Rangiaowhia.
It could be taken for granted that 'Ki te wai tuku kiri o te iwi' means 'to the healing waters of my people.' However, there is a deeper meaning to this line. It is a declaration of whakapapa and that part of Rangimoa's whakapapa is Tūwharetoa. It is a line that continues to reinforce the links between the iwi of Tainui and Te Arawa waka through Ngātoroirangi. It was Ngātoroirangi who brought those waters to Te Ika a Maui, in establishing the mana for his uri to reside around Ngā Pae Maunga. In a more literal philosophical aspect, it is a line that gives thanks and refuge.

Discussion
It is clear to the author that the first verse of the mōteatea focuses on the acts of dispossession and elimination at Rangiaowhia. It is reflective of the past on those that have gone. By contrast, the second verse concerns acceptance of their banishment by the British and of their new home in Tūwharetoa; this includes the processing of grief. The second verse is future-driven; it speaks towards adaptation in the wake of the violent power of the settler/invader and the system they constructed. It is about finding ways to come to settle with the settler colonial future, an existence wherein the indigenous person or group is not in control of their destiny.
One of the more interesting things highlighted by this waiata tangi is that it confirms a form of figurative genocide. 93 Death did take place at Rangiaowhia when the British invaded an undefended Māori settlement that was not a pā. But what also took place was the death of an indigenous identity and of the power of the land, in the forms of mana whenua and mana motuhake. In the Waikato, this is particularly evident in the modern view that the region is the home of the dairy industry. This figurative aspect of the waiata tangi extends to underline how we treat the environment. This is a form of genocide for the earth, now seen by the settler/invader as a mere commodity, to be used and mistreated for whatever purpose so long as I, the 'owner' have a permit in the form of a resource consent. 94 We see the results in terms of climate change in the indigenous Pacific.
The journey away from Rangiaowhia documented in this waiata tangi is a form of embodied settler colonialism. It records the issues of wellbeing to this sect of Ngāti Apakura. This waiata tangi is politically important, as within the literature there is a general apathy due to purposeful forgetting by the education system in Aotearoa New Zealand. 'E Pā to Hau' allows us to challenge this historical amnesia in Aotearoa New Zealand. It allows indigenous knowledge holders and researchers to challenge the settler colonial trope that Aotearoa New Zealand was 'peacefully settled.' 95 This is a favourite trope of alt/far-right commentators who believe that Aotearoa New Zealand was not invaded at all. 96 Such commentators (see e.g. the hard core at Tross Publishing house who reject Waitangi Tribunal findings and sound research outright) adopt an 'anti-Treatyist' and 'anti-Scholarship' point of view and support their views with an alternate interpretation of the nation's past. They claim to have unearthed the true or concealed history of Māori and Pākehā ties. 97 In a sense, this denial of reality is not at all surprising. As Mills (2015) reminds us, ' … a reconstructed and racially sanitized past is crucial for the pre-emptive blocking of the question of the dependence of current white wealth and privilege, both nationally and globally, on the historic racial exploitation of the labour, land, and techno-cultural contributions of people of color.' 98 Within indigenous experience and scholarship there is increasing awareness of similar experiences across different settler colonial contexts. Most relevant for 'E Pā to Hau' perhaps is the Cherokee eviction known as the Trail of Tears. 99 'E Pā to Hau' is a topic that has not been well documented. Much has been written on the invasion of the Waikato, but not the material and symbolic aftereffects on the people. What this mōteatea documents is Aotearoa New Zealand's version of the Trail of Tears. However, given enforced settler colonial amnesia, which affirms the idea of 'He Taonga Te Wareware,' 100 it is easy to see the source of the aforementioned 'anti-Treatyist' and 'anti-Scholarship' ideas: pure ignorance. Their existence, however, is a real cause for concern. As Simon points out, '[the] white supremacist phenomenon of publishing rhetoric and misinformation that seeks to misdirect the national political and social conversation … . [They are] highly dismissive of people who engage in debate on issues that are important to Māori [and History]. ' 101 This has been highlighted more recently by the denial of events at Rangiaowhia by those associated with Tross publishing. 102 It demonstrates the political and ethical dangers involved in the dynamic and contentious practices of remembering, particularly in relation to Rangiaowhia. 103 These denials by settler/invaders are termed by Tuck and Yang as 'evasions.' 104 Settler/invader colonialism, according to try to reconcile settler guilt and complicity, and rescue settler futurity. 105 Such moves to retain power by these settler/invaders is known as 'settler moves to innocence.' In contrast to the Tross publishing 'anti-treatyist' and 'anti-scholarship.' New Zealand as a whole have developed a greater understanding of the country's colonial injustice history in recent years. This realisation has prompted a lot of scrutiny of history classes, with a focus on New Zealand's high autonomy curriculum and its ability to expose all students to 'difficult' historical topics. 106 Waimarama Anderson (17) and Leah Bell (16) of Otorohanga College brought a national petition to the New Zealand Parliament on December 8th, 2015. Thirteen thousand people signed it. 107 In particular, it aimed to have the New Zealand Land Wars added as a required study area (or topic) in schools across the country. The Ministry of Education applauded the students' initiative, but it argued that 'making the topic compulsory would be contrary to the spirit and underlying principles of the curriculum.' 108 Deborah Britzman defined 'difficult knowledge' as introspective reflection on how one is attached to and implicated in information construction. 109 Learning from shameful, uncomfortable, or angry past events is difficult. 110 Scholars teaching difficult histories theorise about resistance to difficult knowledge and propose ways to productively work through difficult emotions and trauma to change society. 111 112 Bell and Russell note that 'a national curriculum that honours 'the many paths our ancestors walked' that needs an orientation to societal history that facilitates new rememberings in ways that help students navigate the unsettling of the status quo and offer possibilities for a societal future.' 113 The Labour government has decided to roll out this new history curriculum in 2023. 114 MacDonald and Kidman argue that full staff professional development to engage with a place-based or land education curriculum developed and implemented with mana whenua would be a genuine and non-token approach to Aotearoa New Zealand's histories curriculum. In the Waikato, teachers are gathering with iwi, hapū, and other local history experts to practice more meaningful partnership, including by engaging with colonial histories that schools have ignored. Uncanny paedagogies can challenge settler memory and forgetting at sites of colonial violence and transform Māori iwi memories. Engaging the uncanny means acknowledging that settler colonialism is an intellectual and embodied experience that can be remade by guiding students through emotional, ontological, and physical spaces and temporalities to restore more deeply relational attachment and belonging to the whenua. 115 In response to the gaps in research and to address concerns outlined by Bell and Russel and MacDonald & Kidman 116 The Royal Society of New Zealand funded a significant research project, 'He Taonga Te Wareware' led by Prof. Joanne Kidman and historian Dr. Vincent O'Malley. 117 This project was designed to assist with and address issues with the inclusion of 'difficult histories' in the new history curriculum. 118 This mōteatea is clearly rooted in mātauranga and, as such, contains deep thought; however, as Harlow points out, the language is an ornate, non-literal form of Te Reo. Unpacking that thought helps us to understand the social phenomena surrounding the eviction of Waikato-Tainui iwi like Ngāti Apakura from their land. As such, the waiata tangi 'E Pā To Hau' contains a lot of language describing grief in its relationship to trauma, pain, and depression resulting from settler colonialism and land dispossession. The mōteatea provides an understanding from Te Ao Māori that land is a tūpuna. Dispossession causes heavy rain like a waterfall that is compared to the parting of Ranginui and Papatūānuku. It also clearly comprehends the nature of elimination. In relation to Bell and Rusell's it provides for the required societal history orientation that facilitates new rememberings in ways that assist students and society in navigating the upheaval of the status quo. 119 On another note, it is becoming clearer that Patrick Wolfe did not create the analytical concept of 'settler colonialism,' but rather framed an existing indigenous concept in a way that white people and academics would understand. 120 Māori have a long philosophical tradition of theorising settler colonialism. Based on this series of papers, we can comfortably conclude that Te Ao Māori has been theorising about the concept as far back as 1850 in the mōteatea of Puhiwahine. This is consistant with Kauanui's assertion that settler colonialism has many 'geneaologies' not just that which start with Patrick Wolfe and Lorenzo Veracini. There is a wealth of knowledge contained within these cultural items that can and should enhance our understanding of the effects of settler colonialism. 121 The problem for non-speakers of indigenous languages, particularly for mōteatea, is that the language is opaque. 122 It would be very difficult for non-speakers and readers to understand. Just because it is not written in a way the Western academics can understand does not make it any less relevant as philosophy and culturally grounded theory; to believe otherwise would be inexcusably Eurocentric. As Clements suggests, part of what cultural items like haka and mōteatea do is to function as means of 're-writing and re-righting' indigenous experience. 123 The present investigation of Māori cultural memory and philosophy sheds new light on Wolfe's phase, 'settler colonialism.' The use of the term 'settler' is very problematic from an indigenous perspective. 'Settler,' as outlined by Lawson (2004), is an attempt to avoid claiming responsibility by the settler/invader population to ownership of the past and their responsibility to decolonise and prolong historical amnesia. It is a disavowalment which strategically transforms the 'invader' into 'peaceful settlers.' 124 I also note that utilising 'settler' does not allow them to 'settle' with the indigenous population. 125 To be fair, this is most probably unintentional on Wolfe's part. 126 I believe that 'settler colonialism' as a concept is a form of whiteness as it does not allow them to 'settle' with the indigenous population. 127 'Settler' in this context implies a form of innocence, whereas any concept of settling worth endorsing requires ownership of wrongdoing and coming to terms with the new circumstances. 128 (See Simon 2021, 2022) Discursively invoking the 'settler' prior to any such authentically reparative process ensures that the latter fundamentally does not occur. 129 (see Veracini 2013). Hence, I have stopped using the terms 'settler' and 'Pākehā,' and would contend that a better indigenous framing of the concept would be 'invader colonialism' or 'settler/ invader.' 130

Conclusion
As a method, whakaaro-based philosophy promotes the understanding of indigenous philosophy and theory. It challenges non-indigenous ways of knowing, particularly for academics. As a mode of response to this mōteatea, it allows us to remember the acts of genocide during the invasion of the Waikato region, acts that settler colonial system still tries to make us forget. Such remembering stands among and inspires acts of resistance, like the national petition, that will continue. What this paper has sought to do is to further our understanding of settler colonialism more generally, but also in its unique application to the experience of indigenous Aotearoa New Zealand. This waiata tangi is exemplary on both levels, expressing a broadly indigenous understanding of elimination, grief, trauma, and dispossession in a sophisticated and open-ended idiom proper to Te Ao Māori. This investigation has led us to question the appropriateness of the concept 'settler colonialism' and to propose 'invader colonialism' in its place. While this research is about conserving our understandings and worldview from an iwi perspective, it is also active resistance in the tradition of those who have stood in defiance of invader colonial institutions.
To this day, this sect of Ngāti Apakura still resides in Tūwharetoa. Although more formally now known as Ngāti Kurauia, that whakapapa remains to remind us of the colonial atrocities and war crimes the British committed in the seizure of Rangiaowhia. It is interesting to note the reference to their Tainui whakapapa in the choice of name for their wharenui being Pūhaorangi, the son of Tuamatua, who is also known as Atuamatua. This is an acknowledgement on some level that they come from both Te Arawa and Tainui whakapapa. Increasingly, as we have become more conscious as a nation of the act that took place during these colonial wars, there is a developing movement to acknowledge Rangiaowhia as a 'war crime. '