Remembering Keri Ngapera Kaa - CNZM, QSO Ngati Porou, Ngati Kahungunu

As I was sitting in the memorial for Keri Ngapera Kaa in the Taki Rua rehearsal room at the end of August I was feeling the legacy of her as spokesperson and teacher. The tangible celebration of Keri is felt in the love she has from the many people she gave guidance to; she is significant in the lives of many.

In her life Keri advocated for Māori artists, Māori art, Māori language, women’s rights and the retention of Māori land. There are numerous organisations who asked for her advice, and her investment in what she believed in makes it seem like she never said no.

The energy of Keri Kaa was palpable, I remember it at Taki Rua Theatre in Wellington where I was a tech and designer in the 1990s. I saw the positive effects Keri’s energy had on the people she was supporting in their work to forge a way for Māori performing arts. I was at Taki Rua working with on the women’s cabaret Hens Teeth and Not Broadcast Quality with Sally Rodwell and Madeline McNamara, and because my flatmate Maila Urale worked there. I was lighting and set designer for some of Taki Rua’s early Te Reo Māori productions including the futuristic Pūkeko Tuawhā by Hinemoana Baker in 1998 and Hawaikinui, directed by Keri’s brother, Wi Kuki Kaa in 1996.

I remember Keri’s good friend Tungia Baker also – a combined force. There were deep discussions in the foyer interspersed with laughter with staff, directors, supporters, often I was passing by, sometimes I was leaning against the bar and sometimes I was in the circle. I also remember quietness and thoughtfulness for the work on stage during the Te Reo Māori, and Taki Rua main bill productions including Te Ohaki a Nihe by Selwyn Muru, Ngā Tangata Toa by Hone Kouka, Whaea Kairau by Apiranga Taylor and Irirangi Bay by Riwia Brown.

It seemed totally normal to me, as a young pākehā, that contemporary Māori theatre existed and was being created by committed, professional makers and doers. In hindsight it wasn’t normal throughout New Zealand and it was only because of battles by Māori through the 60s, 70s and 80s for self-governance and recognition of systemic racism that led to this intensely creative and innovative time.

There was a cross-over of Māori artists working in both theatre and film. In 1989 the short film series E Tipu E Rea included Keri as one of the driving visionaries with a kaupapa of Māori in key creative roles bringing together Larry Parr, Lee Tamahori, Riwia Brown, Don Selwyn, Rawiri Paratene, Temuera Morrison, Joanna Paul, Wi Kuki Kaa, Patricia Grace, Hone Tuwhare and Bruce Stewart. The ground-breaking work from this and other efforts fed into the theatre scene I had been part of.

Keri Kaa was a teacher when she started out. She graduated from Ardmore Teachers’ College in 1963 and went on to work as a Māori Language and Tikanga teacher in primary and secondary schools. Then the Wellington College of Education / Te Whanau o Ako Pai ki Te Upoko o Te Ika in Karori was Keri’s workplace for almost two decades, she started there in 1979. While at teacher’s college Keri was involved with the Haeata Women’s Collective, a group of Māori women artists, the Herstory Diary project and the Waiata Koa collective. Te Whanau o Ako Pai was a special place which has exerted a strong influence on New Zealand society including film, television, performing arts with many practioners passing through as teachers or students, including the beautiful soul Laughton Patrick who we also lost in recent weeks. He also guided and uplifted so so many in his time in theatre and in education.

The list of her associations and awards is a testament to Keri’s commitment to making a difference. She was staunch about Māori voices within Pākehā institutions. She taught at Toi Whakaari: The New Zealand Drama School and was a cultural advisor as they were trying to learn what being a bi-cultural organisation meant. She was a cultural advisor to the New Zealand Film Commission (NZFC) in the 1980s, and a member of the NZFC Short Film Fund.

Some other institutions she was connected with are Creative New Zealand, Te Waka Toi, the National Library, DANZ (Dance Aotearoa New Zealand), Taki Rua Theatre, Ministry of Culture and Heritage, Tairawhiti Museum Gisborne. In 1980 she was part of a group who marched to parliament to demand that Māori language become official (it was another seven years before that happened). In addition, Keri had associations with Tapu Te Ranga Marae, Te Upoko o Te Ika Māori Radio and Te Wānanga o Raukawa, and she judged in kapa haka and Māori speech competitions. In 2010 Keri featured in the Māori Television’s series on leaders, E Tu Kahikitea.

She received two awards from the crown – Companion of the Queen’s Service Order in 2001, and the Companion of the New Zealand Order of Merit in 2012 and Keri was often called upon to speak at select committees and international advisory groups.

Other awards Keri received:

• 2016 Ngā Tohu ā Tā Kingi Ihaka (Lifetime of service to Māori arts), Creative New Zealand Te Waka Toi Awards
• 2014 Inaugural Māori Language Award for the New Zealand Post Book Awards for Children and Young Adults (for the book Taka Ki Ro Wai that she wrote in the Waiapu dialect illustrated by Martin Page).
• 2013 Women in Film & Television (WIFT) New Zealand Mana Wahine Award
• 2010 Women in Film & Television (WIFT) Te Whaea Whakaata Taonga Award

Keri had 11 siblings including Wi Kuki Kaa (well-known actor), Arapera Blank (an award-winning writer and poet) and the Archdeacon of Auckland Dr Hone Kaa. Their father was Reverend Tipi Whenua Kaa, vicar of the Waiapu parish and their mother was Hohipene Kaa (formerly Whaanga). In later years Keri returned to her birthplace Rangitukia. In a Storybox project Keri was filmed talking about the importance of making one’s wishes known toward the end of life. Keri died aged 78 at Te Puia Hospital after a long illness.

Keri Kaa memories from Mere Boynton

The Keri Kaa I remember was always giving me little snippets of advice and tautoko. She was a constant presence during my Taki Rua Days along with her brother Wi Kuki Kaa. They were our kaumātua, our pou that we leaned on for guidance in navigating our way through the wilderness of telling our stories in our voice and creating a platform for Māori theatre. Now is a time of change for us in theatre, our kaumātua are leaving us and it is time for us to take up their mantle 'Ka pu te ruha ka hao te rangatahi' As the old net withers another is made. Moe mai e kui, hokihoki koe ki ngā kahui rangatira. Sleep well e kui, return to the embrace of your tipuna.

Keri Kaa memories from Tanea Heke

I have many wonderful memories of Aunty Keri Kaa from Ako Pai (Teachers’ College) here in Wellington and then later at Taki Rua Theatre.

I met Aunty Keri when I was training in at Ako Pai and me and my classmates knew, right from that start, that she was a force to be reckoned with. I think they created the expression “Boss” especially for Aunty.

I was often lucky enough to drive Aunty home to Berhampore from Karori and she would regale me with wonderful tales about her siblings and different members of her extended whanau. It was through Aunty Keri that I was introduced to the mahi of Taki Rua Theatre, which would end up being the starting point for my career and where I met her formidable brother, Wi Kuki Kaa. Crikes, what a combination! She had impeccably high standards and her expectations of what we, her students, produced were equally high. Of course, those same expectations extended to the work produced at Taki Rua.

I am thankful to amongst that number who were lucky enough to be taught, scolded and loved by Aunty Keri, we will remember her with great affection.

Moe mai rā e te mareikura, hei oki oki ai.

Keri Kaa memories from Dame Gaylene Preston DNZM

Keri Kaa was a force. Cultural, spiritual, intellectual. I met her in 1980. Tungia Baker brought her round to my house. When you were friends with one, you got the other. Both among the first Māori American Field Scholars. Keri Kaa – ‘she was boss,’ before that phrase was invented.

Keri had a keen eye for talent and, a poet herself, was a dedicated promoter of all things Māori particularly in the arts and education. Wherever fun and activism collided, that’s where you would find Tungia, and she got a lot done that way, but Keri was different. Measured, strategic, and confident, Keri was more mainstream. She could command any Pākehā committee she found herself part of by her sheer presence. Often not just the only woman in the room, but also the only Māori, she maintained her decorum, demanded good manners of everyone and commanded wide spread respect. Tokenism was not a word in her vocabulary. Her ideas were visionary and she knew how to get people on board to make them happen. She did this by installing fear into the hearts of anyone who dragged the chain. When she walked into the room it was as if the ground shook and the metaphorical red carpet rolled out before her.

A true rangatira with a beautiful poetic streak, I was lucky to have her services on several films. She was cultural advisor for Ruby and Rata, giving Graeme Tetley, Robin Laing and I confidence to make a comedy drama about outsiders – an abandoned Pākehā elderly woman, a Māori solo mother and her truant arsonist son that became the feature film. Later, when I was making a documentary about Keri Hulme for Thames Television UK, a commentary was called for. I didn’t think the film needed a commentary, but the British commissioners wanted one. I asked Keri Kaa. She composed a beautiful poem in te reo Māori, then sang the commentary. Everyone happy, especially Thames TV.

You can see from her extensive list of achievements, that she was an educator and pioneering force. Her influence in helping setting up the first Māori professional theatre – Taki Rua – and her tireless promotion of Māori filmmakers when she advised the NZ Film Commission – particularly on the short film fund panel – certainly contributed to the depth and spread of Māori filmmaking as it is today. She never worked alone. The great persuader. She taught me a lot.

And if anyone got a bit big headed she could be ruthlessly funny. When a BBC team spent a day filming her brother Wi Kuki – another brilliant Kaa – it came her turn to be interviewed for this piece about the genius actor that he was.

“Yes, but can he mow the lawns,” was her response.

Her motto -“Don’t be anti-anyone, be pro Māori,” - was one she lived by and promulgated. People who form bridges, who are culturally and linguistically confident in two worlds (her spoken and written English put me and my peers to shame) are toanga. Born of two rangatira parents of Ngāti Kahungunu and Ngāti Porou, she was educated to lead and lead she did.

I’m very grateful to Tungia for bringing her round to my place that blustery night in 1980 and thank the Gods I passed muster and came to know her well. She is greatly loved by everyone who knew her and will be missed by many.