Te Whare Marie Ki Puketiro is a specialist mental health service for Maori located in the lower North Island of Aotearoa (New Zealand). This setting includes elements of both a traditional marae and modern medical facilities. Here psychiatrists—none of whom are Maori-- practice alongside Maori cultural therapists, kaumatua (elders) and consumer consultants. In Aotearoa, those who care to look around--instead of only ahead-- cannot help but notice the fragmentation of the things that connect people to the language, the land and one another. Still, we are at home at Te Whare Marie, where the meeting house and clinical offices sit side by side, where we begin the day with acknowledgement, prayer and song. . . and checking the fax machine. And so it is that this gerrymandered mental health service picks up the pieces, mending with whatever is at hand: a prayer, a comforting word, a safe place to sit, a meal as often as a medicine.
The concepts of mental illness and
wellness, as understood in Western culture and subsequent medical training,
bear little resemblance to the increasingly lost ways of the tohunga. Because the work of Psychiatry, however skilled or virtuous, bears
the indirect scars of colonialism, No pakeha (person
of European descent) practicing psychiatry in a Maori setting possesses the
honour, mana tupuna, to give formal oratory, or whaikorero, on Maori Mental Health. In our practice at Te Whare Marie, we
struggle sometimes to reconcile the different processes by which Maori and pakeha "heal.” As we interrogate the space between these models
through our narratives, I have asked our kaumatua to extend his korowai (cloak) so
that we may move briefly under its shadow as we pass through the wharenui-- for its protection, and ours.
There are now many didactic resources available to define Maori words and concepts. This is not one of them. Rather, it is an attempt capture a sense of the healing narratives of those who work, train and seek care in this one small corner of Te Ao Marama.
There are now many didactic resources available to define Maori words and concepts. This is not one of them. Rather, it is an attempt capture a sense of the healing narratives of those who work, train and seek care in this one small corner of Te Ao Marama.
* * *
Ko wai koe?[i]
For the people of the land, te tangata whenua, the first question is where do you come from? The
mountain, the river and the bloodlines that live and die upon them, these are
the markers of one’s place in the larger world, te ao marama.
Accordingly, a complex set of protocols, tikanga, governs the movement of
strangers and visitors, manuhiri, onto the marae. The land of the marae and the
meeting house that sits upon it, te wharenui, are sacred, living places. Here
you must take care, inside the body of the tupuna (ancestors) for whom it is named.[ii]
The ceremony of bringing new people onto the marae, or powhiri, is carefully
orchestrated, and includes a call and response (karanga), challenge (wero,
haka), song (waiata), invocation of the sacred (karakia) and speeches (whaikorero)
of acknowledgement to the ancestors (tupuna) and purpose of the engagement
(kaupapa). All of this before introductions, before each person in attendance
shares whakapapa (geneology).
The powhiri serves
the functions of welcome and familiarization, but also of safety. For Maori,
this is not simply a matter of ensuring physical safety, but also on a
spiritual plane moving from state of tapu to noa. And while the ideas and functions of creating a safe interactional
space are not unique to Maori, the powhiri serves an example of a uniquely
Maori way of achieving a lowering of tensions so that those who were previously
strangers may share food, disclose secrets and resolve conflicts. As such, it
is a natural model for therapeutic engagement, and while for practical reasons
we certainly do not powhiri each and every client who enters our service at Te
Whare Marie, we routinely acknowledge this tradition with mihi whakatau, or
introductions, in which karakia is offered, genealogy is shared (whakapapa) and
kaupapa Maori mental health care is explained.
But just what is meant by kaupapa Maori mental health care? Maori models of
narrative-based therapy, such as Te Tuakiri and Te Pounamu, do exist and are
doubtless of great value. When practiced in mainstream clinics, however, they
can feel awkward, or worse, segregated from the “normal” work of the clinic.
This goes back to the broader question of place and process embodied in the
wharenui, the powhiri and the question: ko wai koe? The clinic treatment room has
no analogue in Maori tradition. Before method then, the answer to the question
of defining kaupapa Maori starts with a setting and context in which culturally
informed care feels natural. In its physical design, Te Whare Marie is a hybrid
of marae and community clinic, and functions as both. In practice, there exists
a collaborative tension between Maori and Western Medical concepts of illness
and wellness. That is, it is a place where the possibility of cultural recovery
is woven into every aspect of care. Still, evidence based medicine is practiced
here. We do not have traditional healers (tohunga) or medicines (rongoa), but
we do want to know if our clients have used—or are using—these.[iii]
As the doctor, then, I have to accept that for many patients, mine is often the
“alternative” medicine.
A more blunt
answer was given when I posed the question to our cultural therapist, Tua
Hekenui, two years ago. Without pause he stated, “kaupapa Maori means by Maori,
for Maori.” I have come to understand over time that this is not meant to imply
cultural exclusivity, as there are as many non-Maori as Maori working at Te
Whare Marie. Rather, it refers to the vision and struggle for
self-determination, tino rangatiratanga, in a world where the erosion of
tikanga and cultural alienation are as real as any disease. The complex
cultural détente and ongoing land and water issues, embodied in the 1840 Treaty
of Waitangi, are beyond the scope of the present narrative, but the legacy of
colonialism and wound it has left for many Maori would be difficult to
overstate. Tua passed suddenly in April 2012, but not before giving me many
treasures. Among these taonga were my first karakia, my pepeha and the
beginning of a conversation that has continued since the day his body was taken
from the wharenui at Te Whare Marie to the whenua of his tipuna in Taihape. It
is my hope that this korero honors, and does not offend, his memory. But Tua
would be the first to point out that it is not tika for me to speak alone about
te whanau o Te Whare Marie. I have therefore humbly asked colleagues (kaimahi),
elders (kaumatua) and clients (tangata whaiora) for their help. Nga mihi nui.
[i] Literally, “what are your waters?”, and as good a place as any to
comment on the use of Maori language, te reo, in this narrative. Acknowledging
centrality of language and te reo preservation for Maori, along with the
imperfect nature of translation of complex words, I have retained the Maori
where I feel it is necessary and have avoided italicizing it. Te Wera’s whakatauki
says it better than I ever could: Kei te aahua o te reo, Kei te wairua o te
reo, Maa to taatou reo e mirimiri te wairua me te hinengaaro, (“There is
healing within our language it is the way we speak and the spirit in which it
is spoken. Let us use our language to massage our spirit, our soul and our
emotions”)
[ii] Our whare,
for example, is named after Rongo ma tane, atua (god) of peace.
[iii] We also
have a tradition of very active cultural therapists, who use Maori concepts to
guide many of our clients through losses, family conflict, life stresses and
even culturally-bound transient psychoses. I am indebted to Dr. Allister Bush
and Matua Wiremu NiaNia for sharing their manuscript of case studies with me.
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