Why are Māori (the Indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand (Aotearoa)) still overrepresented in the negative statistics of education, health, justice and social services? Why is this so, despite our espoused ‘egalitarian’ society? Why, more than 150 years after the signing of te Tiriti o Waitangi/the Treaty of Waitangi, are Māori not living the wonderful future envisioned at Waitangi on the 6 February 1840 by our ancestors both Māori and Pākehā (European New Zealanders generally of British descent)? Fifteen years ago these questions steered me into research and ultimately into doctoral candidature. At the time, I was a Tiriti o Waitangi educator in a beginning teacher education programme and I was researching these questions and other issues to inform my teaching. But then an old passion for research reignited and I enrolled at Deakin University to study first a Master of Professional Education and Training and then a Doctor of Philosophy. My doctoral thesis was entitled ‘Māori Women Educators’ Pedagogy and Kaupapa Māori Methodology’ (Hiha, Reference Hiha2013).
I was a Māori woman from Aotearoa, undertaking a doctorate at Deakin University on Māori women educators’ pedagogy. Such self-identification is political and for the purposes of this article I chose not to privilege feminist discussion about my identity, over my experience of Kaupapa Māori methodology. Therefore, not satisfied to merely research Māori women educators’ pedagogy, I was interested to know how Kaupapa Māori methodology (methodology-based on Māori worldviews, philosophies and practices), would work as a research methodology and to that end I kept a research journal from the beginning of my candidature. When I started my candidature the discourse and practice of Kaupapa Māori methodology was new outside the world of Māori academia and I wanted to engage with the discourse and research within the methodology. Introduced initially as a response to the apparent inability of the mainstream to improve the outcomes for Māori, Kaupapa Māori provided a critical form of resistance against those attempts and a mechanism to achieve social justice (Smith, Reference Smith2003, Reference Smith2012b). From educational response Kaupapa Māori expanded into a range of contexts including research methodology.
In recent years, the theorists and analysts of Kaupapa Māori research methodology have refreshed the discourse (Cooper, Reference Cooper2012; Durie, Reference Durie2012; Keegan, Reference Keegan2012; Royal, Reference Royal2012; Smith, Reference Smith2012a, Reference Smith2012b). Kaupapa Māori in our colonised country, Aotearoa, could be a risky choice. Kaupapa Māori was little understood in the mainstream, including tertiary ethics committees. Although knowledge and understanding improved with the publication of the Mataatua Declaration on Cultural and Intellectual Property Rights (First International Conference on the Cultural & Intellectual Property Rights of Indigenous Peoples, 1993), Kaupapa Māori researchers relied on the support of Māori academics (Bishop & Glynn, Reference Bishop and Glynn1999; Cram, Reference Cram and Tolich2001, Reference Cram2006; Lee, Reference Lee2009; Mead, Reference Mead2003; Pihama, Smith, Taki, & Lee, Reference Pihama, Smith, Taki and Lee2004; Smith, Reference Smith1991, Reference Smith2003; Smith, Reference Smith1999) and institutes such as Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga Māori Centre of Research Excellence to further their aspirations. By choosing Kaupapa Māori as research methodology I was making a political stand about who I am as a researcher, a Māori woman, and about my research, the reclamation and dissemination of Māori knowledge and practice. It is in the light of that political stand and as a reflection the type of Indigenous research project Smith (Reference Smith1999) entitled ‘sharing’, that I join the discourse as a research practitioner and share my insights into the use of Kaupapa Māori research methodology through my experiences.
Kaupapa Māori Methodology
Kaupapa Māori can be defined as ‘Māori ideology — a philosophical doctrine, incorporating the knowledge, skills, attitudes and values of Māori society’ (Moorfield, Reference Moorfield2011, p. 65). This definition has been interpreted in various ways within the parameters of Māori ideology and at a hui (conference) on ‘Kei Tua o te Pae: The challenges of Kaupapa Māori research in the 21st century’ Smith (Reference Smith2011) articulated her view of Kaupapa Māori as follows:
If I think about Kaupapa Māori as it was, as it is, and as it will be, in some kind of definitional framework I think it's really simple. It was what it was, it is what it is, and it will be what it will be. It is more than, and less than, other comparative terms. It is more than a theory and less than a theory; it is more than a paradigm and less than a paradigm; it is more than a methodology and less than a methodology. It is something much more fluid. . .
The other thing about Kaupapa Māori is that. . . [I]t is ours. It is our language, our terminology, and we will make it what it will be. When I think about Kaupapa Māori research, I see it really simply: it's a plan; it's a programme; it's an approach; it's a way of being; it's a way of knowing; it's a way of seeing; it's a way of making meaning; it's a way of being Māori; it's a way of thinking; it's a thought process; it's a practice; it's a set of things you want to do. (p. 10)
Smith (Reference Smith1999) illustrated the potential of Kaupapa Māori and led me into a discussion about the difficulty of defining the term. As a term it had its origins in the Indigenous renaissance of the second half of the 20th Century triggered by the human rights action around the world. The term is used in contexts from ‘by Māori, for Māori’ initiatives to government departments and impact in fields including education, health, justice and social welfare (Durie, Reference Durie2012; Smith, Reference Smith2012a). Many commentators believe that the term Kaupapa Māori has such diverse meanings that it is occasionally unclear and confusing (Durie, Reference Durie2012; Keegan, Reference Keegan2012). I agree that the diversity of possible meanings could lead to confusion, but Māori are used to diversity in practice and each meaning can be explained.
Tikanga (Māori concepts and customs) are examples of such diversity. Whānau (extended family) and hapū (groups of related whānau), throughout Aotearoa exercise the right to interpret and practise tikanga in a way that meets their own needs. The underlying philosophies throughout each tribal area may be the same, but the outward expression can differ from place to place. In an interview with Te Kawehau Hoskins and Alison Jones, Durie (Reference Durie2012) mused that ‘[T]he good thing about the Treaty [of Waitangi] is its vagueness and that means you can negotiate it’ (Durie, Reference Durie2012). The same can be applied to Kaupapa Māori as research methodology and in my research I noted such an insight.
Thursday, 19 April 2007 [journal entry]
The enormity of the task I am undertaking has once again struck me. One of the things I have already learnt about kaupapa Māori is that there is no set way. There are sets of “principles” or underlying factors that inform the practice but how one carries out that practice is personal. Well not exactly personal but variable maybe.
Smith (Reference Smith2012a) identified Kaupapa Māori as an aspirational approach, theory or methodology that weaves in both practice and critical analysis. It is informed in the concepts of tikanga Māori and just as the enactment of the Treaty of Waitangi and tikanga in whānau and hapū can be negotiated, so too can Kaupapa Māori methodology.
This negotiation within the framework of tikanga Māori (the customary system of Māori values and practices) charted my journey as a researcher and became central to the methodology that informed every aspect of my research. It was the philosophy that held the research together and ensured that the research remained aligned to the original purpose. Kaupapa Māori methodology is based on the precepts of Māori culture and society. Kaupapa Māori methodology is the compass that guided each step of my doctoral journey. In the next section I describe those elements of Māori culture and society that I chose to guide my journey.
Research Framework
In my research, which investigated Māori women educators’ pedagogy, I situated myself as a Māori researcher researching with Māori and, as such, I privileged Indigenous and, particularly, Māori research discourse and methodology (Bishop, Reference Bishop2003; Cram, Reference Cram and Tolich2001; Smith, Reference Smith1999). Indigenous research methodologies are built on philosophical concepts that privilege Indigenous beliefs, values and philosophies (Arbon, Reference Arbon2008; Denzin, Lincoln, & Smith, Reference Denzin, Lincoln and Smith2008; Ford, Reference Ford2010; Grande, Reference Grande2004; Graveline, Reference Graveline2000). My approach to Kaupapa Māori research methodology in turn built on philosophical concepts that privileged Māori beliefs, values and philosophies.
The Kaupapa Māori methodology drew on research principles and guidelines articulated by Bishop and Glynn (Reference Bishop and Glynn1999), Christensen (Reference Christensen2001), Cram (Reference Cram and Tolich2001), Mead (Reference Mead2003), No Doubt Research (2003), Pihama et al. (Reference Pihama, Smith, Taki and Lee2004), and Smith (Reference Smith1999). The components of my research methodology were transmuted from Māori philosophical concepts to research principles and from Māori cultural aphorisms to research guidelines.
The Research Methodology
In the research I chose to honour Māori women educators’ voices. When discussing identity MacIntosh (Reference MacIntosh2007) asserted that ‘Privileging one line does not inevitably mean that one dismisses or devalues the other line or lines’ and such an assertion can apply equally to privileging Māori women educators’ voices. In education, Māori women's voices are strong (Airini, Reference Airini1998; Cram, Reference Cram and Tolich2001; Irwin, Reference Irwin, Du Plessis and Bunkle1992; Jenkins & Pihama, Reference Jenkins and Pihama2001; Ka’ai, Reference Ka’ai1990; Kidman, Reference Kidman1995; Lee, Reference Lee2009; MacIntosh, Reference MacIntosh2007; Makareti, Reference Makareti1938; Pere, Reference Pere1982; Pihama et al., Reference Pihama, Smith, Taki and Lee2004; Smith, Reference Smith1999; Te Awekotuku, Reference Te Awekotuku1991) so my decision to research with Miriama, Liz and Rose was based on a desire to explore the pedagogy of people I had admired for many years. The research participants' real names were used with their assent. Choosing to research with highly respected Māori women proved to be complicated. Smith (Reference Smith, Denzin and Lincoln2008) examined the complexities of power and identity of researching in Indigenous and Māori contexts. I was insider researcher as a Māori, a woman and an educator, but I was outsider as novice in te reo and tikanga Māori. I was the researcher with the perceived position of power and I set the research themes for our research conversations, but I chose to take the cultural position of teina in the research process.
In Māori terms, siblings of the same gender are named differently to say a brother of a sister or visa versa. An older sibling is tuakana and a younger sibling is teina. Although the research participants were not my sisters, the dynamic was similar. I may have been the researcher with the expert knowledge of my research project but I felt teina. I utilised tuakana teina principles in the thesis by listing the research participants oldest to youngest.
I structured my research according to four principles drawn from the work of Bishop and Glynn (Reference Bishop and Glynn1999), Mead (Reference Mead2003), and Smith (Reference Smith1992). From each principle I identified research practice guidelines adapted from the work of No Doubt Research (2003) and Smith (Reference Smith1999). These guidelines and the overarching principles, informed my research methods, relationships with the research participants and the thesis structure.
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Whanaungatanga — the principle of recognising and respecting the connections between whānau, hapū and iwi (groups hapū with a come ancestor) through whakapapa (genealogy and associated stories).
Guidelines:
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Aroha ki te tangata — maintain a respect for people
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Kanohi ki te kanohi — present yourself to people face to face
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Manaakitanga — the principle of nurturing the connections and relationships through action.
Guidelines:
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Titiro, whakarongo. . .kōrero — look, listen. . .speak. Value others’ contributions
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Ngākau mahaki — calm and caring
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Manaaki ki te tangata — host people, be generous
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Tino Rangatiratanga — the principle of relative autonomy.
Guidelines:
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Whakamanawa — encourage people
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Noho puku — respect critical reflection, respect the respondents have their own timetable
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Mā te wā — all in good time
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Taonga Tuku iho — the principle of cultural continuance.
Guidelines:
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Kia tupato — be cautious
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Ko te mana ko te kupu — walk the talk, so act with integrity
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Whāia te iti kahurangi — perseverance, effort and professionalism.
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Kaua e mahaki — do not flaunt your knowledge - share it for the benefit of the community
Although the four principles and associated guidelines were not mutually exclusive, in this article, I have treated each as a separate entity to highlight the various aspects of the Kaupapa Māori methodology.
Journaling the Journey
The journaling process constituted part of the reflexive practice of the research. Reflexivity, to some, is an interrogation of experience leading to change (Etherington, Reference Etherington2004; Heron, Reference Heron1996; Pillow, Reference Pillow2003). I used journaling to interrogate my research methodology in order to change, remember, understand, learn and discover new insights within the research process.
I kept a reflective journal over the period of the doctorate to document my journey within Kaupapa Māori methodology. My approach was informed by and loosely structured on Holly's (Reference Holly2002) work in the field of reflective practice for professionals. Holly's statement below was a touchstone as I documented my doctoral journey with Kaupapa Māori methodology.
Keeping a journal is a humbling process. You rely on your senses, your impressions, and you purposely record your experiences as vividly, as playfully, and as creatively as you can. It is a learning process in which you are both learner and the one who teaches. (2002)
While self-interrogation was not new to me, I had never before planned to make such reflections public by writing a chapter in my thesis dedicated to my personal experience of research with Kaupapa Māori methodology. By doing so, I sought to contribute to the existing philosophical and theoretical discourse on Kaupapa Māori methodology.
My research journal took the form of hand written and computer entry records as well as voice recordings. I cut and pasted the contents of e-mails I sent to my doctoral supervisors and critical friends into my electronic journal and included notes taken during and after telephone conversations with my supervisors. I only used my own writing and personal recordings for data in this exploration of Kaupapa Māori methodology.
Doing the Research
Although my Kaupapa Maori methodology was not finally agreed until my doctoral confirmation meeting (called a ‘colloquium’ at Deakin University), my research journals show that the principles of Kaupapa Māori methodology guided me from the moment my candidature began. Given that I am Māori and was brought up with Māori values and beliefs it was not surprising that the principles of my methodology were present from the beginning. Further, I had utilised the guidelines of my doctoral Kaupapa Māori methodology in my Masters research project (Hiha, Reference Hiha2004). After exploring a number of other research methodologies, I revisited the metaphors I developed in my Masters’ research report. These metaphors were: Whanaungatanga me ngā Manaakitanga (the principle of links and relationships); Tino Rangatiratanga (the principle of relative autonomy); Mātauranga mo te Oranga (the principle of education for wellbeing) and Taonga Tuku Iho (the principle of cultural continuance) (Hiha, Reference Hiha2004, p. 62). These metaphors were developed in my Masters’ research in response to Bishop and Glynn's (Reference Bishop and Glynn1999) assertion that new metaphors are required if Aotearoa is to develop a system of education that could fulfil the aspirations of all citizens, including Māori aspirations. It was within this context and drawing on their explanations of Tino Rangatiratanga and Taonga Tuku Iho and the data I collected that I then developed metaphors to fulfil Bishop and Glynn's objective. The metaphors used in my Masters’ research report to achieve aspirational goals thereby became the inspiration for the principles of my approach to Kaupapa Māori methodology. However, the decision to choose Kaupapa Māori methodology was not a forgone conclusion. From the beginning, I felt Kaupapa Māori was the natural choice, but on reflection I had thought that if I chose Kaupapa Māori without exploring other methodologies this may be seen as ‘lazy’. In my hapū it is considered ‘lazy’ to ask questions, because you are not doing your own searching. There was also the possibility that one of the other intriguing methodologies could work well with Kaupapa Māori.
11-10-05 [journal entry]
Ethnography is a potential methodology or the Indigenous equivalent.
08-02-06 [journal entry]
One of my on-going concerns is to stay true to my inner Indigenous voice and ensure my writing is accessible to others.
Wonder about the grounding concepts out of which the methodologies would come as a way to go. Say whakapapa, Whanaungatanga, Manaakitanga of even Whare Tangata – whānau, tinana, whakapapa, wairua.
Monday, 20 March 2006 [e-mail to supervisors]
The methodologies/methods I have been drawn to are, Narrative, life history/story, and ethnographies. I only have vague ideas about the above but wonder if there would be some merit in using them or other appropriate ones to support or contrast what I want to do.
I did explore the methodologies mentioned above and also explored grounded theory, but in the end I settled on Kaupapa Māori methodology as being the most appropriate for my research. As a Māori woman researching Māori women educators’ pedagogy, I felt using Māori methodology was entirely congruent and contextually relevant. My identity as an Indigenous researcher was never in doubt although there were complications. MacIntosh (Reference MacIntosh2007) pointed out that in her research, her identity was linked to more than her genealogical roots. Similarly, my identity as Māori is inextricably linked to my immersion in mainstream education. At the time that I made my choice of research methodology I had little idea of how much influence Kaupapa Māori methodology would have on my research experience. With Kaupapa Māori research methodology selected, I commenced the research phase of my doctorate.
Kaupapa Māori Methodology in Practice
The four principles of Kaupapa Māori methodology outlined above are used to consider the challenges and successes encountered in the data collection phase of my research into the pedagogies of the Māori women participants in my doctoral study, research involving senior and highly respected Māori elders. The principles were not only to guide my relationship with the research participants and others who supported my research journey but also to support my wellbeing during my doctoral candidature.
Whanaungatanga
Relationship acknowledgement and relationship building is the raison d’être of any communication within Māori society. The effort expended on meeting, greeting and fare-welling family, friends, acquaintances and strangers substantiate this observation. We honour the connections and by doing so we honour each other and, through this, our mana (honour, authority, prestige, power) is enhanced.
The doctoral colloquium (confirmation meeting) was supportive and affirming, but I was not prepared for the emotional rollercoaster. The meeting was held in Wellington, Aotearoa. Generally in Aotearoa a whakatau (semiformal welcome ceremony) or more traditionally a powhiri (formal welcome ceremony) would be an integral part of such events. The colloquium panel engaged with Māori custom to ensure that Māori protocols were followed and in so doing affirmed the building of a new relationship and in particular protocols surrounding what Salmond (Reference Salmond1975) termed a ‘ritual of encounter’ (p. 115). Before my doctoral colloquium the panel asked me for guidance on the appropriate welcome procedures for the colloquium and my parents were happy to provide a format. My parents and a friend were there to support me and we began with a whakatau.
1 September 2006 [journal entry]
Colloquium day – I feel calm
Although . . . I can feel the emotion stirring so seem to be suppressing something.
06-10-06 [journal entry]
I got rather frightened at colloquium, at the enormity of the task I am undertaking.
I had suppressed those thoughts from earlier.
The colloquium was an exhausting experience. All the sadness and loss of language of generations of Māori came welling up when I admitted that linguistically I did not feel competent.
It feels safe for me to be going through this research under the umbrella of kaupapa Māori and any concerns and issues I have will be addressed in that context.
The beginning whakatau was wonderful. . . Kathie called us in [with a karanga—ritual keening that welcomes visitors to the hosts space], it was beautiful and Mum responded. The Chair said welcome and it was over to us. Dad did his whaikōrero and we sang “Hutia”, karakia (blessing), then introductions and we were about to be sent off and. . .Kathie called “taihoa [wait], what about the cup of tea?” Dad explained why, so we had a cuppa and went down stairs to wait for the panel to discuss the document.
. . . the good news. I could proceed and I had the signed piece of paper to prove it. What a relief.
The whakatau was a performance of Whanaungatanga through the relationship built in the planning and enactment of the event. The whakatau signalled recognition of the importance of my culture and respect of both Māori and non-Māori involved and also gave me the confidence to be myself during my doctoral colloquium. If not for that particular ceremonial beginning I may not have been able to raise my concerns.
One particular concern centred on my lack of fluency in Māori language. A parameter for choosing the research participants was that the Māori language was their first language. I was apprehensive about working with research participants fluent in Māori language, especially if we discussed complexities that may prompt my deep sadness to recur. The loss my ancestors endured, that culminated in me not being able to say that Māori language is my first language, is a sorrow that distresses me every day. To ensure that my lack of proficiency would not undermine my research and ultimately the thesis, the panel members and I agreed that a licensed Māori language translator would translate any Māori language used in the thesis, not already translated by the research participants.
My parents were an essential part of my doctoral journey. They supported my research and offered protection as I navigated my approach to Kaupapa Māori methodology and the Māori world that informed that methodology. They came with me to the first meeting with each research participant once again enacting Salmond's ‘ritual of encounter’. Through their support the research participants knew that I had whānau support.
Thursday, 19 April 2007 [journal entry]
My visit to Liz was wonderful. After a tour of the premises, which are more than twice the size they were when I last visited, we had morning tea together. Mum and Dad left and Liz and I moved into the office to talk. It was quite distracting and I wondered at the privacy but decided that it was up to Liz to judge.
I was so glad Mum and Dad were with me. It is difficult to put into words the benefit their presence was to me but I know it was right. Whanaungatanga at work I guess.
Monday, 14 May 2007 11:45am [journal entry]
We set up in the office and even though there were comings and goings and G was in there most of the time it didn't matter. Last time I was concerned about privacy but I took my lead from Liz and I had learnt a great deal about what was possible during my session with Rose so the interruptions and the engagement with G was just part of the whole process. It really was an holistic experience.
Thursday, 27 August 2009 [journal entry]
I loved the fact that anywhere was a good place to talk and whoever was around at times engaged in the conversation.
The guideline aroha ki te tangata allowed me to trust that, although it was my research project, the research participants were as much a part of its creation as I. So I could relax and allow events to develop without being anxious and distracted. I was aware that the awe and respect I had for the research participants might skew my perspective during the conversations. The research participants were my elders. That they were to be respected as eminent in their field was axiomatic.
To ensure that I was consistent in my interactions I chose to embrace my teina status, younger and less knowledgeable, in the conversations and maintain respect for the research participants and myself. It was not easy to keep a research focus in the light of the wonderful kōrero shared by the research participants, but regular reality checks during the data collection process kept me grounded as I attempted to find my way between adulation and respect.
Thursday, 19 April 2007 [journal entry]
In terms of the shape of the research I am going to put out the focus for the day and go with the flow from that time on. Each time I will have a focus but I will not limit what is returned from that focus. I don't want to ask questions that might take them away from their train but I think that at the beginning of each subsequent session I would like to spend some time on the previous session – clarifying things, asking if they have anything to add or want to modify, change, delete.
After testing the process of ‘clarifying things’ from the previous session with Liz, in our second session together, I realised that we could spend all our time expanding the old material and not move on so I set aside that plan and began each session with the theme for the day.
Manaakitanga
I experienced Manaakitanga throughout my candidature. The relationship I built with my supervisors who nurtured and guided my academic journey, the groups I joined and the peers I shared the doctoral journey with, were all expressions of the principle Manaakitanga. An interesting benefit of living with my approach to Kaupapa Māori methodology was that insight came from unexpected directions.
01 March 2007 1:30 pm [electronic journal entry]
I am reading a great book Bishop, R., Shields, C. M., & Mazawi, A. E. (2005). Pathologizing Practices: The impact of deficit thinking on education (Vol. 268). New York: Peter Lang. It has set me thinking about “discourses” and the impact that competing discourses, whatever they may be, will have on the framing of my interactions with the tohunga o tou na ao, research participants.
The discourses around being: a PhD student; enrolled in an Australian university; working within the paradigm of kaupapa Māori; working with native speakers as a non-native speaker; being much younger than the research participants; knowing the research participants to different degrees.
This particular entry crystallised a longing I had felt for some time to engage with other Māori research students and feel the manaakitanga of others who knew my cultural experience. I joined MAI ki Poneke, the Victoria University of Wellington branch of the Māori and Indigenous postgraduate support network established by Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga. At the end of 2007, I attended my first MAI supported Māori doctoral students’ conference at Kāwhia, a community on the west coast of the North Island of Aotearoa, and at last felt at home in academia.
The guideline manaaki te tangata (share and host people, be generous) caused my greatest moments of angst and delight. I knew I would feel ‘wrong’ if I did not take a koha (offering, cultural contribution) for I would be hosted wherever we met.
So, for a week before each session I would plan what I would take as koha. My Māori upbringing had instilled in me that my koha could not be merely bought at a store with no thought a box of chocolates, bottle of wine or bunch of flowers would not be manaakitanga. Instead I ‘foraged’. Home grown fruit and vegetables, preserved fruit, jams, pickles, relish, mutton birds — I did not catch them myself but I did have to source them — home baking, rewena bread, made from a potato yeast-like starter acquired from my father's cousin, who got it from her aunt who, no doubt received it from one of her elders. But there were times when the best-laid plans did not carry through to fruition.
Sunday, 17 June 2007 10:13 pm [electronic journal entry]
I had not been all that organised in terms of a koha for the first participant and luckily I had a pile of feijoas I could take but I was aware that it felt rather miserly.
The next participant was rather different. We were well prepared with rewena, jam and Mum and Dad had contributed a couple of muttonbirds.
Monday, 14 May 2007 11:45 am [electronic journal entry]
Today I took rewena and jam – that felt so much more appropriate – I think it is because I put some thought into it rather than the last minute what have I got to take that happened last time.
The people at Liz's school loved my visits because there would be rewena and jam on the lunch table that day. They would not say, ‘we love you coming’, they would say, ‘oh goody rewena and jam for lunch today’. Rose told me a story of people who had volunteered time at her property and always brought enough food for themselves and her too. As she put it, ‘they knew what was right’. These examples of positive expression affirmed my commitment to manaakitanga and enhanced my understanding of the intricacies of relationships within Māori society.
The koha for my final data gathering session was my most difficult and in that case I did buy goods. I was meeting the research participants all together for the first time. That time the koha was as much a thank you gift to show my appreciation for their contribution to my doctoral research, as the koha was a cultural contribution. At the group session, when to give the koha was problematic. Did I give the koha to them when I arrived, as was usual in my experience, or after our session? As it happened the decision was made for me, because not all of the research participants were there at the beginning of the session so I waited until we closed.
The group session was fully catered and a dear friend had agreed to take on the role of caterer and host. The day before the group session, my friend left New Zealand urgently to attend the birth of her first grandchild in Australia. My partner organised to take the day off work and did all the cooking the night before. Allana, my sister, telephoned to wish me all the best and when I explained the situation to her, she said that she had the day off and could do hosting duties. My partner happily gave up his seat in the car and went to work, while Allana supported me in Wairoa. By living Manaakitanga I was able to call on others to support my doctoral journey and they in turn were willing to support me. The reciprocal power of Manaakitanga and Whanaungatanga was never more present than at that time. We help and support each other whānau and friends, supervisors and peers.
Tino Rangatiratanga
Of all the principles of my research I found that the principle of Tino Rangatiratanga in conjunction with the associated guidelines gave full expression to the relationship between the right to focus on and strive for one's own goals and the responsibilities one always has to others. Following the guidelines for this principle ensured that I kept my goals in sight, without undermining my relationship with my participants and gave me permission to be with the participants and let the sessions unfold, rather than drive the agenda set out at the beginning of the session.
Noho puku and mā te wā caused the most energetic arguments with myself as I fought against sticking to my plan at all costs. My research proposal indicated that the data collection was to be completed in one year, by October/November 2007.
I thought I would see the research participants every three or four weeks, but I did not factor in their busy schedules or the length of time it would take to transcribe the research conversations. After some frustration at not being able to ‘stick to my plan’, I called forth the guideline mā te wā and although I never stopped planning, I gradually relaxed into this guideline and went with the flow most of the time.
The ethics committee had asked me to carry out a few minor changes to my plain language statement, which I effected quickly. But, I was unprepared for the long decision-making schedule of the University's ethics committee. It propelled my own timetable into chaos. The guideline mā te wā was an ever present reminder to wait until the time was right.
30 January 2007 4:06 pm [electronic journal entry]
I am still waiting for confirmation of ethics approval following my response to the questions the committee put to me.
I am getting nervous about getting started because the fieldwork will be mixed up with the beginning of the teaching year and I have got some extra work to do.
Of course, it was not only my life that was in danger of getting in the way of my well-laid plans, unexpected events occurred occasionally, but by 2008 I was used to making alternative arrangements.
1 May 2008 [e-mail correspondence with supervisors]
We have had to postpone tomorrow's session in Wairoa. Two of the participants have been involved in Tangihanga (the rituals carried out after a death through to the feast that always follows the burial ceremony) all week. . . The new date for our hui is Friday, 30 May 2008.
Tuesday, 3 June 2008 [e-mail correspondence with supervisors]
Yes, it did happen on 30 May. Not as planned of course.
They all seem happy with the letter I had sent them and the conversations we had that day, rounded out my understandings about why things were the way they were. I have organised to go back once every 6 months to discuss my progress with them.
I was given some great direction about my audience and asked some tough questions about why only women. I answered them to their satisfaction and I think that the dichotomy between their lived experience and the fact that there were only women made my choice all the more relevant.
Given the logistical difficulties of meeting with the research participants during the data collection phase of my research I have no idea why I thought I was going to be able to see them every six months thereafter. I did go back to see them once but they could not all be there together so since e-mail has kept them abreast of my progress.
Two competing aspects of my personality were highlighted during the data collection with my research participants that resonate with the relationship between the right to follow one's own path expressed by Tino Rangatiratanga and the responsibilities to others. On the one hand, if I had a plan I did everything possible to adhere to it, Tino Rangatiratanga, and it took a great deal of effort to let go and relax as my dates came and went unmet, as suggested by the guideline mā te wā. On the other hand, if there was no plan or a loose one I was very happy to let things unfold. Tino Rangatiratanga is not only about doing things. ‘Being’ was as likely to achieve a purpose as I learnt to my advantage.
Taonga Tuku Iho
The involvement of my parents and the research participants in my research ensured that the principle of Taonga Tuku Iho was enacted. If Māori are to live as Māori and engage in the world, as Durie (Reference Durie2001) described one of the goals of the Hui Taumata 2001, then cultural continuity is imperative. The research participants embodied cultural continuance. They were born into whānau and hapū that were steeped in cultural principles and knowledge that had been passed from one generation to the next. The research participants learnt from their elders and in turn transmitted their principles and knowledge to the next generation.
The first guideline of Taonga Tuku Iho is derived from the saying ‘Whāia e koe te iti kahurangi; ki te tuohu koe, me maunga teitei. Pursue your treasured aspirations and if you falter let it be only to insurmountable difficulties’ (Moorfield, n.d.). With much trepidation I held this guideline close to my heart and mind as I searched for a third research participant. There was a great deal of trust and perseverance in finding that last participant. I had always thought that the right person would come from my research work with Liz and Rose, and one day Miriama walked into the office while I was talking to Liz.
Friday, 6 July 2007 [journal entry]
I still have not made contact with my next participant although I know she is willing to hear me out. I’ll try contact again this weekend.
It was two more months before my parents and I met with Miriama in November 2007. I had already completed my conversations with Liz and Rose by then. After numerous phone calls and wavering between finding someone else and persevering, I realised that just because it feels right that does not mean it is going to be easy and other people had busy lives too. Countless times I wanted to give up and settle for two research participants. It was all too hard but this guideline, whāia te iti kahurangi, kept me going and thank goodness I did. Once we made contact, the meetings were organised and the process flowed easily from one session to the next. By the end of February we had completed the one-on-one sessions.
Monday, 25 February 2008 [journal entry]
I had my last trip to Wairoa for Phase 1 on Friday. Whew what a relief. They are all willing to get together in Phase 2 but there are a few things I need to do before that happens.
Conclusion
The joy of completing my data collection with my research participants was felt in equal measure to the sadness of realising that the formal meetings with the research participants had come to an end. The research participants, and others associated with my journey, supported me in the research, and with the Kaupapa Māori methodology as a touchstone for my doctoral candidature I had a tangible guide, whether I was with others or alone, in my study and pre and postdata collection.
Kaupapa Māori methods were developed as the result of a drive to reclaim positive space for Māori in Aotearoa society. Three driving questions lead me into postgraduate study and subsequently into engagement with Kaupapa Māori discourse. The diversity of meaning and application of Kaupapa Māori as approach, theory and methodology can be understood within the context of Māori worldviews encapsulated in tikanga and te reo Māori. Tino rangatiratanga is a key driver of Māori people's desire to follow their own paths within the precepts of Māori customs and practices and their responsibility to others. Although Kaupapa Māori methodology is well defined and analysed there are few examples of the living experience of a researcher undertaking a research project according to Kaupapa Māori methodology. This article discussed my experiences with Kaupapa Māori methodology in my doctoral research on Māori women educators’ pedagogy.
The Kaupapa Māori principles and guidelines that supported me through data collection have informed every aspect of my doctoral candidature. I felt secure with the methodology and comfortable with the Kaupapa Māori way of monitoring my practice at every stage. The principles and guidelines did not, however, ensure that I would avoid difficult moments, worry and angst, but they did offer the wisdom on which to reflect on events, make choices and decisions, and then proceed. I learnt a great deal and found Kaupapa Māori methodology to be a robust and relevant, honouring and nurturing research methodology.
I gained confidence within the methodology, as I moved further into my candidature. As I grew through the learning process, I recognised the Western educated perspective in early stages of candidature. Those aspects of my thinking are there to stay but Kaupapa Māori methodology enabled me to train my Māori perspective so that both perspectives are strongly present. I gained in confidence and saw possibilities for a future that ensured Māori perspectives had a voice through Kaupapa Māori research. Every piece of Kaupapa Māori research adds new knowledge to the Kaupapa Māori research landscape and it is my desire to contribute to the discourse in the writing of my experience.
Kaupapa Māori methodology is based on the principles of Māori culture and practice. The methodology enabled me to work with my cultural precepts. The methodology is but one of a number of Indigenous methodologies utilised by Indigenous researchers worldwide and it is my hope that by sharing my experience Indigenous researchers will gain insight into Kaupapa Māori as an Indigenous methodology and embrace their own Indigenous methodologies in research.
About the Author
Anne A. Hiha is an Aotearoa Māori, living in Ahuriri, Aotearoa. She graduated with her PhD from Deakin University, Australia in 2013. Her research interests are Māori education research in Aotearoa New Zealand with special interest in Māori pedagogy. In addition to Māori pedagogy she is has a keen interest in Māori and Indigenous research methodologies. Anne is a freelance researcher and lecturer.
