There are so many ways to begin telling the story of T\u0101me Iti, arguably New Zealand\u2019s most recognisable M\u0101ori rights activist, who was once branded a terrorist by the state and is now considered by many a national treasure.<\/p>\n
You could begin with his formative school years at the foot of Te Urewera ranges, where he was made to write the lines \u201cI will not speak M\u0101ori\u201d as punishment for speaking his language \u2013 lines that have since become a prominent feature of his art and activism.<\/p>\n
Or the time he pitched a tent outside parliament, his hair long, his face not yet lined with his distinctive full-face tattoo, and pronounced it \u201cthe M\u0101ori embassy\u201d, making front page news.<\/p>\n
You could start with his part in organising the famous 1975 M\u0101ori Land March that contributed to the creation of the Waitangi Tribunal<\/a> \u2013 a landmark institution set up to investigate breaches of the Treaty of Waitangi<\/a>, the country\u2019s founding document signed in 1840 between M\u0101ori tribes and the British Crown.<\/p>\n T\u0101me Iti at his home in the Bay of Plenty, New Zealand. Photograph: Alan Gibson\/The Guardian<\/p>\n Or the time he was arrested in the infamous 2007 Te Urewera raids, during which police raided the T\u016bhoe people, under the mistaken belief that Iti was building a domestic terrorist network. The police later apologised to T\u016bhoe.<\/p>\n Iti \u2013 who was this year a finalist in the New Zealander of the Year awards \u2013 has been making headlines for more than five decades. Now, he is telling the story of his own beginnings.<\/p>\n His memoir, Mana, is peppered with photographs of Iti sporting his distinctive bowler hat, alongside images of his art and the people who have fought for Indigenous justice alongside him. It is a personal story, as much as a history of the M\u0101ori cultural and political renaissance.<\/p>\n \u201cThis book isn\u2019t really about me: T\u0101me Iti,\u201d he tells the Guardian over the phone, while parked up on a road somewhere between Auckland and his home on the East Coast, Whakat\u0101ne.<\/p>\n \u201cThe book is about us during that period of time, my generation.\u201d<\/p>\n At times, Mana reads like a rallying cry for the protection of Indigenous rights.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s time for an overhaul, it\u2019s time to dismantle the whole infrastructure, down to its very foundation,\u201d Iti writes in his final chapter. \u201cIt\u2019s time for new relationships. Our own in the name of our whenua [land] \u2013 not someone else\u2019s God, King and Country.\u201d<\/p>\n In other moments, the book feels like a thriller \u2013 there are art heists, run-ins with speed boats, protests that result in burning cars and flags being shot. But much of it is a deeply personal account of a man trying to make sense of, and ultimately reshape, the society around him.<\/p>\n Iti\u2019s commitment to M\u0101ori rights and expression, and forcing the country to reckon with its colonial history, took root early in his life. He was born in 1952 on a moving train and has \u201cbeen on the move ever since\u201d, he says. From the age of two, he was raised by an older couple as a \u201cwh\u0101ngai\u201d child \u2013 a customary care arrangement \u2013 in Ruatoki, an economically poor and culturally rich area, near the East Coast of the North Island.<\/p>\n Iti is a longtime M\u0101ori activist, artist, actor, social worker and well known figure in New Zealand society. Photograph: Alan Gibson\/The Guardian<\/p>\n As a child he listened to adults discussing the history of his iwi (tribe), T\u016bhoe, the waves of settler violence against his people, and the confiscation of iwi land.<\/p>\n \u201cThose conversations stuck in the back of mind and the rest is history,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n At school, he was prevented from speaking his language, and when, aged 16 he moved to Christchurch to take up an interior decorator apprenticeship, he experienced overt racism. Before then, he \u201cnever knew that people don\u2019t like you because of the colour of your skin\u201d.<\/p>\n Soon, protests against the Vietnam war, and later South Africa\u2019s apartheid, erupted in New Zealand. Iti soon joined the newly formed group Ng\u0101 Tamatoa \u2013 a M\u0101ori youth activist group set up to promote M\u0101ori rights, fight racism, and confront government policies.<\/p>\n One of Iti\u2019s first actions was establishing the \u201cM\u0101ori embassy\u201d on parliament\u2019s lawns in 1972 \u2013 the sort of symbolic and theatrical protest action synonymous with Iti\u2019s style, but which older generations, including his birth father, often found difficult to stomach.<\/p>\n \u201cMy father\u2019s generation was traumatised,\u201d Iti says. \u201cEverything was geared to: \u2018how to be a P\u0101keh\u0101 [European New Zealander]. God, King and country\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n But that mood changed, as the movement \u2013 led by groups like Ng\u0101 Tamatoa \u2013 gained prominence and started to push the dial on the recognition of M\u0101ori rights.<\/p>\n Iti photographed in waters of the Whakat\u0101ne River near his home. Photograph: Alan Gibson\/The Guardian<\/p>\n Iti\u2019s push to advance M\u0101ori rights has \u2013 and will remain \u2013 influential for generations to come, says Annette Sykes, a M\u0101ori rights activist and lawyer who has represented Iti.<\/p>\n \u201cHe \u2026 led the M\u0101ori renaissance for land restoration and rights, but was part of the revolution for modern art and reclamation of art forms like t\u0101 moko [traditional tattoo],\u201d Sykes tells the Guardian.<\/p>\n She says his politics are fundamentally about caring for humanity. \u201cEven though he is a small man, he is a giant in our world.\u201d<\/p>\n The final chapter of Iti\u2019s book covers the historic 2024 h\u012bkoi <\/a>that became the largest ever protest march for M\u0101ori rights, and the 2024 Waitangi Day event<\/a>, which saw record crowds descend on the treaty grounds to confront the government.<\/p>\n