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A snapshot of place based learning in a marae context: An autoethnographic

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Article · January 2010

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Maureen F Legge
University of Auckland
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 A snapshot of place based learning in
a marae context: An autoethnographic
account

Dr Maureen Legge
The University of Auckland

Abstract
In this article, I illustrate my efforts to include M oritanga in the
curriculum content of physical education teacher education in
Aotearoa New Zealand. From a professional perspective, I felt
my students needed closer contact with M ori culture to increase
their bicultural identity. Supported by tangata whenua who had
cultural expertise and skills in outdoor education, I initiated
an annual marae stay. Drawing on autoethnographic research
methodology and the narration of a composite ‘snapshot story’ my
narrative is about helping M ori to discover themselves; asking
non M ori to reflect on their attitudes relating to M ori and the
colonisation process, to discover their identity; and to understand
that facing up to cultural difference is a personal challenge in
which we all have agency. Between the lines is my journey as the
educative outcome of situated learning motivates, influences and
intensifies my commitment to marae based Education Outside the
Classroom (EOTC).

Key words: Autoethnography, identity, , physical education, situated

learning, place based pedagogy
Note: there is a glossary of M ori words and phrases at the end of the
article.

87
Introduction
This article is constructed around my work as a teacher educator taking
second year Bachelor of Physical Education (BPE) students from the
University of Auckland, for five day marae stays. In the article I; explain
my reasons for including M oritanga in physical education and outdoor
education; make visible the role of a place based pedagogy situated in a
marae context; use the voice of a storyteller to portray my experience of
the PETE students’ cultural limitations, vulnerabilities, and struggle to
understand and value M ori identity (Legge, 2006).
An annual ‘E noho marae’ (marae stay) for the BPE year two students, is
shaped by the idea of an adventure. The groundwork for the experience
is laid in outdoor education, positioned within situated learning in a
marae context, and linked to teaching te reo/ao kori (Legge, 2006). Te
reo kori was New Zealand physical education’s specific response for
greater emphasis on bicultural identity and multicultural composition
(Ministry of Education, 1987). The concept has since broadened to te
ao kori and encompasses the body, mind and spirit, thereby teaching “a
wide spectrum of M ori traditions, recreational games and pastimes,
music, medicine, art and movement” (Stothart 2002, p. 27).
Teaching te ao kori I realised few of my PETE students had access to
M ori culture in authentic ways (Legge, 1996). The PETE students
represent a range of cultural backgrounds. Usually there are a few
students who identify as M ori, and a few others may come from a
variety of ethnicities such as Samoan, Chinese or Indian. However, most
(like myself) are P keh 1, non M ori New Zealanders, with European
backgrounds. I believed more could be gained if the PETE students,
and myself, were able to appreciate and value M oritanga, through first-
hand situated learning. Drawn to the kaupapa of a marae stay I believed
immersion in M ori culture would; support the cultural understanding
necessary for teaching te ao kori, and work towards cultural
understanding between people with different ethnic backgrounds. Based
on my personal and educational commitments, and collegial support,
I strategically programmed marae stays to work alongside the tangata
whenua (Legge, 2006). E noho marae is one aspect of the overall BPE
outdoor education annual camp programme,2 held at different places, for
different purposes.
1 P keh is an indigenous expression used to describe non M ori New Zealanders
with European backgrounds (King, 1999). The term is not normally applied to
people from other ethnicities.
2 In term 1, BPE years 1 & 4 have a combined three-day beach camp, and year 2
students the marae stay. In term 3, year 3 students have a five-day bush-based camp

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A marae is the turangawaewae, or home turf and hub of tribal activity
(Ryan, 2005). A marae provides shelter for M ori and a platform for their
M oritanga. Physically it is a set of buildings on tribally owned land.
Central to the buildings an A-framed wharenui, stands as the ancestral
and spiritual home of the iwi. The wharenui is decorated with wooden
carvings, painted designs and woven panels, uniquely representing and
revering t puna, and local histories. Te marae atea-o-Tumatauenga is the
sacred place in front of the wharenui. Dedicated to the god of war Tu,
protocol requires visitors to participate in a p whiri, before crossing the
marae atea and entering the wharenui. Other facilities for cooking, dining,
ablutions and storage are on the site and nearby will be a cemetery.
The marae, where the BPE students stay, are in rural locations in
Northland, New Zealand. What is unique is that some of the tangata
whenua who host our visit have cultural expertise and skills in outdoor
education. For most PETE students, e noho marae is a first-time
experience. As manuhiri we participate in the p whiri; sleep in the
wharenui on mattresses provided by our hosts; eat communally in the
whare kai; and korero in the wharenui about marae kaupapa, the role of
manuhiri and the tangata whenua, whakapapa, and colonisation. Outside,
gathering kai moana with the tangata whenua puts the students in direct
contact with the natural environment to learn conservation ethics
inherent in the practice of kaitiakitanga. Experiential activities in the
ngahere, promote the cultural significance of Papatuanuku intensifying
the students’ awareness of how they have not really looked at or seen,
the natural world. Mau rakau and taonga p oro help shape the cultural
experience.
However, learning first hand about the cultural significance of the
marae and the natural world can raise issues beyond the environment.
The pedagogy of e noho marae challenges students used to a dominant
P keh hegemony to locate their personal identity, cultural differences
and understanding of the world alongside the M ori world-view.
Experiencing an extended marae stay highlights different perspectives
that can sometimes cause a bumpy ride of cultural discomfort because
of misunderstandings about histories, colonisation and the effect of
alienation from the land and loss of cultural identity.

Autoethnography
To reconstruct my experience of situated learning on the marae I have
used an autoethnographic style of authorship. This style of representation

89
is a deeply personal narrative using the researcher’s lived experience as
primary data by investigating subjectivity (Richardson, 2000). Written as
a first person narrative centred on the meaning of events, the narrative is
rooted in the social context of the author-self (Collinson & Hockey, 2005),
and is about “connecting the personal to the cultural” (Ellis & Bochner
2000, p. 739). Creating research texts written from the perspective of
the researcher alters the focus of the research information, highlighting
performance and experience as valid sites of meaning. Denzin and
Lincoln (2000) coined the term “mystories” (p. 1052) celebrating the
strength of personal narrative accounts as interpretive scholarship that
seeks to understand how people act out and construct meaning in their
daily lives.
I wrote the ‘snapshot story’ and focal point of this article, Full of shit
(Legge 2006, p.6), from epiphanies generated over eleven years of
participation, observations, events and people during off campus five-
day marae stays with PETE students. The story is a snapshot because it is
composite and captures a few images and moments. Conveyed from the
standpoint of a close encounter, there is less emphasis on the historical
truth and more concern with narrative truth where the past is kept alive
in the present (Ellis & Bochner, 2000).
To write my snapshot story, I drew on autoethnographic, evocative narrative
concepts of inward emotional recall, introspection and expression of
feelings (Ellis, 2004). I imagined myself back in the past, writing from the
heart as well as the head. I wanted to voice my emotions and perceptions,
which may be overlooked if the writing concentrated on facts, to make
an empathetic connection with the reader audience (Collinson & Hockey,
2005). While I wrote to privilege emotions, perceptions, the simple and
predictable, vulnerabilities and understanding (Jenks, 2002), the main
point was not necessarily to exemplify my feelings.
My interest was to identify possible meanings embedded in the event and
to put past experience in motion to account for what happened. I created
composite characters and pseudonyms but used my name - I wanted
to be the teller of my own tale because I was there as participant and
observer. Given that my story occurs in a M ori setting, my storytelling
is consistent with traditional narratives of M ori society; the past is
given significance through recognition of lessons handed down by their
t puna and revised according to present perspectives and circumstances
(Barlow, 1994).

90
Full of shit is a tale of facilitated discussion led by the tangata whenua
in the wharenui. Underpinning the story is a discourse that tackles
biculturalism, and the lack of empathy or understanding related to the
identity of peers. The story stands as evidence of how impressions of
M ori people and their culture, prior to the marae stay, may be biased
and stereotyped. And, that M ori can be seen to be the same because
they have been an invisible part of the world for so long that non-M ori
loose empathy for M ori cultural struggle and identity. By telling this
story, I represent “the intrusions of chaos, disconnection, fragmentation,
marginalisation” of the events in a lived moment “in the face of unexpected
blows of fate that call one’s meaning and values into question” (Ellis
& Bochner 2000, p. 744). The story represents how misunderstanding
and separation from the M ori culture can be manifested, and serves as
evidence of my practice context and continued motivation for situated
learning through marae-based outdoor education.

A snapshot story: Full of shit

It is about 11.00 am on a Wednesday morning and I am inside a
wharenui. The adventure of EOTC has led me to this special place with
thirty physical education teacher education students, who are now lying
comfortably on mattresses spread around the walls of the room. The
interior of the wharenui is hazy in comparison to outside where the sun
sparkles on the sea. Through the open front door, I can hear seagulls call
against the quiet lap of the incoming tide. I am sitting on my mattress,
legs outstretched, leaning against the end wall where the photos of the
t puna are hung. Anaru, the M ori co-facilitator, is sitting opposite me
on the taumata at the other end of the wharenui.
Anaru “So what is the gossip on M ori? What stories do you
have or hear about M ori people?”
A momentary pause then low voiced conversation ranges around as
people talk privately to one another.
Anaru “Please korero with all of us not just the person beside
you.”
Sophie (Nervously clearing her throat and stumbling over her
words.)
“Well, aahh, um, MMM, MMa, M ori are um, always in the
news, um, er, because of Treaty of Waitangi land claims!”

91
 Josh “Yeah, they are always asking for more land, look at the
Tainui [name of a tribe]…. and the ones in the South Island, who
are they, the Nga Tapu?”
Michelle “Ngai Tahu [name of tribe] actually!”
Josh “I guess so, and what about that guy, Tana, no, you know
the one with the face tattoo, you know, what’s his name? He is
always doing radical things like spitting or showing his butt.
Tana? Tane?”
Lisa “You mean Tane Morehu. I saw him in Auckland recently
-- he looked really fierce.”
Cindy “True? What was he doing there?”
Cindy moves into an upright sitting position to be more able to engage
in the conversation that has suddenly become interesting to her. Tane
Morehu is a M ori who commands a certain amount of intriguing
notoriety.
Lisa “He was running a fish and chip shop.”
Cindy (smiling) “Really?”
Josh “Yeah, but didn’t he and his mates pinch something
important? Like art or I dunno ..? (His voice trails off.)
Richard “M ori are always stealing stuff. The jails are full of
them!”
Sam “Mmmm, but what about Carlos Spencer, he’s a pretty cool
rugby player?”
Sarah “And Lelani Joyce, she’s M ori and an awesome Squash
player.”
I listen to the ebb and flow of the conversation as class members share
stories mostly of infamy; land claims or criminal acts linked to tales
espousing the opportunities for M ori privilege in and through education.
Other stories are more legendary, about M ori sporting heroes from
national teams such as the “All Blacks” and the “Silver Ferns”, or as in
this dialogue, an international Squash champion. Some students discuss
equality and status between M ori and P keh , a few show insights into
issues of difference thoughtfully defending discrepancies in behaviour
between the cultures.

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Meanwhile, I sit silently watching from my vantage point. I feel concerned
that the prevailing attitudes I am hearing seem offhand, disregarding the
relevancy of land claims, educational underachievement, poor socio-
economic status and low self-esteem of M ori. I have a sense that most
present do not understand or are unwilling to accept the long-term effect
of colonisation, dismissing the lingering impact of the loss of language
and practices of M ori values.
I realise I am listening to conversations where the students are largely
unobservant of the damage of historical, social, cultural and economic
circumstances on M ori. I feel disturbed by how class members speak
complacently with a romanticised version of the happy ‘native’. I
remain silent. The conversation continues but eventually most of the
class appears to decide that M ori people have more advantages and
privileges available to them than non-M ori. They suggest that this is
especially true in the teaching profession.
Sophie (confidently) “M ori people will always get selected for
careers like nursing and teaching because they are M ori.”
Cindy “Really, why is that?”
Lisa “Isn’t that tokenism?”
Josh “It’s not tokenism it’s a recruitment drive. It’s because they
are M ori.”
During the korero, I notice that the only contribution made from any
of the five M ori students in the class, was when Michelle clarified the
point about the name of Ngai Tahu. P keh students have dominated the
conversation while the M ori students sit quietly. However, Linda from
South Africa begins to voice concerns about the assumptions the others
are making. She is not so sure. She wants to know if her M ori peers
felt that they had had any advantage over the P keh in their education,
particularly in gaining access to the teaching profession. Linda wants
to hear what they have to say. Incredibly, others in the class say that
isn’t necessary and continue to hold the floor with their point of view.
Doggedly, Linda makes her request again.
Linda “I want to hear what the M ori students feel about being advantaged
or privileged.”
I am astonished that Linda is ignored but she persists and makes her
request two more times before the rest of the class finally agree to let go

93
of their hold on the conversation to allow the M ori students a chance
to korero.
Now in the gloom of the wharenui the spotlight is directly on the M ori
students. The others are finally ready to listen. There is a hush as we
wait, and intuitively I can tell this is an important moment for the class.
I observe that each of the M ori students take their turn to speak from
where they sit in the wharenui in relation to Linda, and they direct their
response to her.
The first one, Michelle, who can speak te reo M ori and is knowledgeable
about M oritanga says,
Michelle “I feel cool, yeah, okay. I don’t think I am especially
advantaged.”
Michelle hesitates, about to speak again, but shyness overcomes her so
she stops. That was all she is going to say, although later she confided
in me she wished she had said more. She turns towards the next M ori
student, Susie.
Susie “I am quite distanced from my culture and up to this point,
staying on the marae, I have not put any major emphasis on being
M ori. (She pauses and looks down. Then, says quietly almost in
a whisper.) My family disregard our M ori side and do not think
that it is important!”
Susie tries to smile but it is brittle, and her face looks like it would crack.
Her mouth is turned down and I see her bottom lip tremble. That is all
Susie can say. And then Jay bursts out…
Jay “I feel like a half-baked M ori!”
He then breaks down and cries. Jay is very distressed. The class looks on
horrified. This is not what they expected. Their silence in the wharenui is
intense. Jay sobs and then manages to gasp out.
Jay “I am broken hearted at the struggle to be M ori. I don’t even
know my own language! How bad is that?”
Jay stops speaking, head bowed, tearful eyes averted from the stare
of his classmates. Next to him Mike, the fourth M ori student nods in
agreement he can’t speak and instead turns to comfort Jay. There are
tears in Mike’s eyes too, although he doesn’t cry outwardly. Tim, the fifth

94
M ori student, shakes his head in what looks like absolute disbelief at the
way the conversation has turned. He is speechless.
I look on and I feel heart-broken too. This is a moment I have seen time
and time again in the wharenui on these physical education ‘camps’.
M ori students weeping because by staying on the marae they are
confronted with how much their culture is absent from their lives. I feel
such compassion for Jay. This young man has been our rangatira, a
stalwart of support and inspiration as we prepared for our marae stay.
Now he is showing us a grief that mourns his loss of heritage. It isn’t even
a heritage he has lost because he hasn’t really had it to lose!
On this day I felt an intense irritation and frustration that simply boiled
over because my feelings had been simmering for a long time. I had
to respond because I could no longer watch silently as the students
continued with muddled beliefs that I felt limited their worldview. Finally,
I had to take a firmer stand! Despite the hot sun outside, I felt a freezing
cold inside me and I felt angry. In the heavy silence and stillness of the
wharenui, my thoughts leapt and burst out as I said.
Maureen “This is why I keep coming to the marae, for the Jays
of the world! I have seen how important it is for a young man like
him to know and experience his culture to see what it is about, to
recognise who he is and [re] connect himself to his whakapapa,
and heritage so his cultural identity is strengthened. I think that
through him knowing who he is, the rest of us can deepen our
understanding of who we are!”
I felt breathless and my heart was racing in my chest. I was speaking out.
I caught my breath.
Maureen “However to achieve this, experience has shown me
that we need to be open to possibilities and not fall back on myths
and stereotypes about M ori. For the two days of our stay, so far
I have listened to all of you speak and for all your ‘maturity’ I
am shocked at how you are unaware of the realities others face in
their lives (I pause), you’re full of shit! You mouth platitudes and
prophecies about New Zealand society, but remain distant and
disengaged. You’re full of shit!”
I was really on a roll now. I wasn’t angry any more. I was resolute and
was no longer going to pull any punches!

95
 Maureen “I have watched how your lives are filled with ‘plastic’!
With mobile phones, takeaways, ‘Nike’ and ‘Reebok’, and all the
trappings that prop you up and stop you getting your hands dirty
or being on your own for an hour-long solo experience and seeing
how things really are. You’re full of shit! It is as if you are wearing
a blindfold! You may remember that before we came here I asked
you not to be colour blind…” (I pause and look around at them,
their faces are drawn tight. Emotion fills me and I continue with
my outburst.) “… and you wondered what I meant but I said
coming to the marae was a way to find out. This is it! Listening to
your conversations, your views are homogeneous. Your thinking
is blind to the cultural differences in people. The thing is, as I
quoted to you before we came to the marae - if you don’t see the
colour then you don’t see the person!”
After this outburst my body felt like an iceblock. I was freezing. I had
just told my class they are “ full of shit.” I distinctly remember saying it
three times!
“Tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa!”3
I don’t remember what happened next, I think Anaru applied some
‘band aids’ but he didn’t do much to patch up what has happened. He
let the events do the talking and ended the session for lunch. At lunch, I
apologised to him for invading his space so forcefully. He just looked at
me with wide eyed compassion and said,
Anaru “Maureen, I am going to tell all of my friends that a
teacher I know had the courage to tell her students they were ‘full
of shit’. I agree. I wanted to say that too but I couldn’t because of
my role here.”
I was grateful for his compassion towards me and I understood how he,
like me, has had to be patient, biding time and waiting for a breakthrough
in the korero. This time the breakthrough was a break out for me. I felt
better and worse at the same time. It was a bit shocking.

3 “Tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa!”- a greeting thrice welcome. I use it
as a contrast to the three times I said ‘full of shit’.

96
An interpretation
I said all that when usually I am very circumspect on the marae, letting
the students do the talking, hoping they will find their own way. I said
these things because for the eleven years or more I have taken students to
stay on a marae I have listened impatiently to P keh and M ori students
lay huge claims about belonging here in Aotearoa New Zealand, when
they appear not to have looked closely at who they are and where they
stand (Legge, 2006). Raising the question, what does t rangawaewae
and the P keh equivalent mean in contemporary times? Up until this
point, I had been hesitant about speaking out because I had not wanted
to impose my experience on their experience, nor had I wanted to cause
offence. Getting angry is a great form of self defense, I felt indignant,
self-righteous and sure of myself. Letting go of my feelings contributed
to the lived experience of those present in the wharenui at that time.
Given some of the social and cultural concerns and injustices in
this country, I have reason to be dismayed at the indifferent attitude
and misleading opinions about M ori culture and people that I have
encountered when staying on the marae (Legge, 1996; 2006). I can
understand why the P keh students may have these attitudes, because
P keh , and other non-M ori, have a limited exposure to M ori culture
and our New Zealand societal experiences are based on P keh language,
culture, history, values and way of life. It is their cultural script. By
speaking out, there was no doubt that I upset my class. No one likes to
be told they are “full of shit” – let alone the impropriety of my language.
I recall an incident during my time as a Head of Physical Education in
a secondary school, when the parent manager of the first fifteen rugby
team told the boys they were “a fucking truckload of shit!” I was stunned
at his indiscretion. Later, I told him that was no way to talk to schoolboys
and requested he apologise and withdraw his statement. Yet here, I had
done a similar thing.
I am fully aware that there is a need for compassion when witnessing
deep upheavals such as this story reveals. I had not meant to offend the
students personally but wanted to challenge them to be more open to,
and aware of, cultural dilemmas and issues that confront other people,
inside and outside, their immediate circle of contacts. In 1994, the New
Zealand film Once Were Warriors (Scholes, Tamahori, Brown, & Duff,
1994) was released. The character Jake Heke, the male lead role, caught in
the turmoil of unemployment, poverty and violence, stormed across the
cinema screen in a riot of antagonism and hate, hitting out in inexplicable

97
rage and frustration. The man was lost, fighting for his life, unable to
pinpoint the source of his anger, lashing out in an attempt to gain control
of his life. Jake was M ori, and the hard-hitting portrayal of his dislocation
from his heritage epitomised the worst outcome of colonisation. It was
a grim picture. Jake and his family symbolised the loss of a heritage.
Separation from ancestral lands, extended family, language and cultural
practices had stripped away meaning from their lives replacing their
lives with poverty, despair and angry self-destructive reprisals.
When I first saw the film I was shocked by the portrayal, but I think
it is one that must be viewed and understood for the social reality
highlighted at the time. Through no fault of their own, the legacy of
western colonisation (Consedine & Consedine, 2001) had taken from
Jake, and now Jay, my student, what was rightfully theirs, compromising
their cultural identity. Jay wasn’t a Jake, but rather a rebuttal of the rest
of the class’s lack of awareness. Salter (2000) suggests “unlike most
P keh , M ori walk in both P keh , and M ori worlds” (p. 14). However,
Jay’s revelation, and my reaction contradict this comment, emphasising
instead how the identity of M ori is masked because discursive practices
conceal the culture so that access to it is compromised or nonexistent.

So what?
The legacy of my continued experience of marae stays, and on going
teaching of te ao kori, highlights how young M ori women and men
may have limited access to their heritage (Legge, 2006). The educative
outcome of my EOTC work has intensified into supporting M ori identity
with my strong belief that it is important for all of my students to see, that
their future teaching persona must recognise and develop an increased
understanding of bicultural awareness to back up interactions with their
peers. And later, when they graduate, with the M ori secondary students
in their classes. The breakdown by their apparently steady, stable
classmates while staying on the marae highlights that this is more than a
necessity - it is essential.
Becoming bicultural as a P keh , or other non-M ori, is problematic. It
means having to gain knowledge, understanding and application of values
and beliefs that are unfamiliar, to achieve a sympathetic understanding
of the M ori way of viewing the world (Ritchie, 1992). The PETE
students are not to be blamed for their misunderstanding, nor are they
bound to change, only to understand that facing up to cultural difference
is a personal challenge within which they have agency. Their agency

98
lies in choosing whether the experience diminishes or strengthens their
recognition and respect of M oritanga and what they might do about it.

Now what?
Writing about the self involves writing about others at the same time. My
subjectivity is filled with the voices of other people. Although I cannot
speak on their behalf, I endorse the actions of others by including them as
important participants in the story. In representing others, I communicate
to the reader about someone else’s actions from my recollections of an
experience. In doing so, I have selected and refashioned their narratives
and “colour their voices with my own” (Gergen & Gergen 2002, p. 16)
to voice my understanding of their interests and conflicts of interests.
I note that in the process of describing, interpreting and explaining
experiences that I may express my opinion, make assumptions, predict,
pass judgment, empathise, negate and/or validate the actions of others.
In a broader sense, each voice contains traces of other voices in the
conversation.
I told my snapshot story to reflect connections between my experience
and the other participants in the story, and “to offer lessons for further
conversation rather than undebatable conclusions” (Ellis 2004, p. 744).
One of the compelling forces evolving from marae stays is recognising
why it is important to support the potential of M ori and non M ori
students in their struggle to establish and maintain their identity. As a
situated site of learning and meaning, e noho marae is a place to open
the eyes of P keh and other non M ori PETE students, about their own
cultural identity, and to see that they also have a role to play in supporting
M ori identity. As an advocate for EOTC, my pedagogy is not neutral
because I am committed to ways that practice and implement bicultural
awareness and understanding. How I do this is another story!
No reira, tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa.

99
Glossary
iwi - tribe
kai moana - seafood
kaitiakitanga - guardianship of the land and sea
kaupapa - protocol
korero - speak
M ori - the indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand
M oritanga - the culture of M ori
manuhiri - visitors
marae - meeting area of a M ori tribe
mau rakau - using sticks to learn weapon skills
No reira - and so
ngahere - forest
P keh - non M ori New Zealanders of European background
Papatuanuku - earth mother
p whiri - welcome ceremony
rangatira - chief
tangata whenua - people of M ori descent
taonga p oro - musical instruments
taumata - seat at front of meeting house - generally where the elders sit
Tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa - a greeting, thrice welcome
to everyone.
te ao kori - the world movement
te reo kori- the language of movement
te reo M ori - M ori language
t puna - ancestors
turangawaewae -home land of a tribe
whare kai - dining room
wharenui - ancestoral home
whakapapa - genealogy

100
References
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Consedine, R. & Consedine J. (2001). Healing our history: The challenge
of the Treaty of Waitangi. Auckland: Penguin Books.
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