Introducing Te Rama
Te Rama (The Light) is a Mareikura, a sacred pounamu that embodies maternal wisdom, protection, and aroha. She is a āhuru mōwai (haven) of nurturing energy, offering warmth, reassurance, and a deep sense of belonging to all who seek her guidance.
Te Rama absorbs the healing power of light, drawing strength from Te Taiao (the natural world)—Te Rā (the sun), Te Marama (the moon), and Te Waiora (the ever-flowing waters of Papatūānuku). She channels this energy into a force of safety, resilience, and empowerment, radiating a gentle yet unwavering presence that uplifts and guides those who connect with her.
The two sides of Te Rama symbolise the challenges and growth that shape every journey. On one side, she still displays rough, raw, and weathered elements – her worn and fractured surface reflecting life’s struggles, the scars we carry, and the hardships we endure. Though more polished and refined, the other side still holds traces of its past – representing healing, growth, and the ongoing transformation work towards a bright future. This contrast serves as a visual kōrero, acknowledging our resilience while offering a vision of a future shaped by light, renewal, and hope.
More than a beautiful object, Te Rama is a beacon of hope – illuminating pathways forward, restoring balance, and embracing those in need with the boundless aroha and commitment of whānau. She is a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is always light, strength, and the unbreakable ties of whakapapa to guide the way.
Introduction to: He Waiora, He Arataki
He Waiora, He Arataki
Down by the water’s edge,
where the tides breathe – in and out.
Against the bones of the land,
Ngā Tekau stands.
A place where stories come ashore
salt-stung, weary, trembling from the journey.
Here, the whole person is seen.
Not the chaos they carry,
not the Taniwha that clings
with sharp memories and sharper hunger.
The heart beneath the ravaged soul is seen,
where the Wairua still flickers,
the mana that addiction cannot steal.
Inside the walls at Tekau,
two practitioners stand – shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.
One Tangata Whenua, one Tangata te Tiriti,
each holding a corner of the cloak
that wraps gently around the whaiora.
In partnership, they steady the path
battling the Taniwha.
Wayfinders on the shoreline of struggle.
Hearts and hands working together – steady, open, unhurried.
Every moment is a weaving
of heart, of breath, of courage.
They cast nets of care beneath every stumbling step
and celebrate when whaiora rise again
into the fullness of their own light.
The Admin – the heartbeat beneath the waves of the mahi,
steadying the tides,
holding each thread of the whare together.
The first smile.
The warm welcome.
The calm presence at the doorway.
The gentle hand that extends – Nau mai, hoki mai.
The Taniwha is not selective;
it knows no Whakapapa line,
no suburb, no status, no gender.
It devours in its pathway tāne mā, wāhine mā, rangatahi mā, koro mā, kuia mā.
Those at the margins and those at the centre of society.
The Taniwha does not discriminate,
but neither does our care.
Whaiora arrive carrying tempests inside:
waves crashing,
storms raging,
currents pulling them out
to te taniwha o te korekore – the vast, dark ocean beneath all things.
Their coastline struck again and again
by memories.
By fear.
By shame.
Yet, for a moment
in this haven by the sea at Pito One,
the waves slow.
The roar quiets.
The storm gathers its breath.
All. Is. Still.
They are seen.
They are heard.
Their mana, held with reverence and respect,
precious like the first light rising over Matiu Island.
And in the stillness,
a rise.
A glimmer.
A shimmer of dawn on water
promising a new tide.
A new turning,
a new way forward.
HOPE.
Hope that grows like kōwhai in spring –
gold against the dark, reminding each soul who walks through the doors:
‘You were never meant to battle the Taniwha alone.’
by: M. Robertson, with aroha