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Inquiries and Reports - New Zealand
Di Pitama, George Ririnui, Ani Mikaere
New Zealand Ministry of Justice
August 2002
Editor’s note: this is an edited version of the report, and the footnotes provided have been edited and renumbered to assist the reader. Please refer to the full text of the report for complete citations.
To provide information on Mäori perspectives on guardianship, particularly in relation to custody and access. To investigate and describe the experiences of Mäori applicants, respondents, as well as their wider family/whänau, when they have gone to the Family Court to settle custody and access issues.
The review of the Guardianship Act 1968 (NZ) takes place in a context in which the diversity of family types and diversity of values regarding families and relationships are increasingly being recognised and reflected in legislation and policy. There have also been significant changes in the way the relationship between Mäori and the Crown is defined in terms of the Treaty since 1968. The Guardianship Act 1968 has been described as one of several family law statutes that reflected the assimilationist policies of the period.1 The Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989 (NZ) in contrast, makes specific provision for whänau, hapü and iwi involvement in decision-making about the lives of children and young people. Puao-Te-Ata-Tu, a major report published by the Department of Social Welfare in 1986 had a significant influence on the way the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989 was developed. While the focus of the report was developing ways of working within DSW that would be responsive to Mäori needs, it was also an important means of gathering information about Mäori views regarding whänau, and matters such as guardianship and custody.
The focus of this particular piece of research is the experiences of Mäori whänau and individuals when they engage with the Family Court over matters of guardianship, custody and access. While the Guardianship Act 1968 is one path to this engagement, other pieces of legislation, notably the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, and the Domestic Violence Act 1995 (NZ) can also result in Family Court involvement over these matters.
The Guardianship Act 1968 sets the legal rules for guardianship, custody and access in respect of guardianship, custody and access.
Under this Act, guardianship[2] means:
‘Upbringing’ is defined to include education and religion. It also includes things such as change of name and major health decisions.
Custody is defined as the right to possession and care of a child. This day-to-day care of the child is usually the right of both parents, but if they separate the Family Court can grant a custody order in favour of just one of them if necessary. A parent, step-parent or guardian may apply to be granted custody. The term ‘access’ is only relevant where custody has been given to one parent. In this context, ‘access’ refers to the arrangements for the child or young person to spend time with the non-custodial parent.
Under the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, matters of guardianship, custody and access may become relevant when there are issues related to the care and protection of the child or young person. If it is determined that the natural parents cannot adequately care for or protect the child or young person, the Family Court may grant guardianship and/or custody to another person or persons.
The object of the Domestic Violence Act 1995 is:
To reduce and prevent violence in domestic relationships.[3]
Under the Domestic Violence Act 1995, the definition of violence includes causing or allowing a child to see or hear the physical, sexual, or psychological abuse of a person with whom the child has a domestic relationship.[4] Under the Guardianship Act, if the Family Court accepts that a parent has been violent against anyone in the immediate family, then the court will not grant custody or unsupervised access to the child unless the court is satisfied that the child or young person will be safe.
In seeking the perspectives of Mäori regarding guardianship, custody and access, the diversity of Mäori experience and whänau type must be considered. The interviews conducted reflect this diversity of experience and whänau type. Those who took part in the interview process came from both large urban settings and remote rural locations. Their involvement with them Family Court over matters of guardianship, custody and access was initiated in a number of ways, and participants include aunts, mothers, fathers, grandparents and whängai parents. Some were able to clearly articulate the centrality of whakapapa and whanaungatanga to their beliefs and decisions regarding the care of tamariki. Others were isolated from their own extended whänau, and had little contact with hapü or marae.
In recognition of this diversity of experience, and in order to provide a context in which Mäori concepts of caring for children are clearly articulated, Ani Mikaere has conducted a Literature Review.[5] The Literature Review begins with a brief summary of a Mäori world view before moving to a discussion of key principles underlying Mäori child-raising. The principles identified are:
These principles have also clearly emerged in the participant interviews, and provide a context for understanding why particular aspects of the current legislation and court procedures are difficult for whänau to understand and cope with. It is also clear that while many whänau are cognizant of their ongoing kinship obligations, that these obligations are at times a source of stress and concern, particularly where whänau lack financial resources.
While the information needs outlined below set the general parameters for the dialogue with participants, the participants themselves had their own ideas about what the salient features of their experience were. The case profiles are a means of allowing the voices of those participants to be heard, and include a number of verbatim statements from them. Likewise, counsel and the Mäori social services professionals interviewed had clear personal views about what constitute the most significant barriers to effective Mäori participation in Family Court, and how these barriers can be overcome, if at all.
The interviews are followed by a discussion of the issues and themes that emerged in the course of the interviews. The first part of this discussion focuses on the links between the principles identified in the Literature Review and the experiences and views described by those who took part in the research. This includes suggestions of ways that these principles and Mäori perspectives could be further recognised in the Family Court. While there is a necessary focus on guardianship, custody and access, the need for consistency across Family Court legislation is noted. Access to justice issues raised in the course of the research are also discussed in this section.
...
The objectives of this research were:
The principle of ‘the welfare of the child’ is a cornerstone of family law and practice. Aperusal of the judgements discussed in the Literature Review indicates that this principle is at times seen to be in conflict with the rights and responsibilities of whänau, and the significance of whakapapa. In the Literature Review Ani Mikaere argues that attempting to explain Mäori perspectives of guardianship, custody and access can easily become an attempt to define them in terms of what they are not. The explanation then frequently centres on ‘differences in perspective’ and how these can be accommodated.
This assumes that there is already a central or dominant view or perspective, the inference then being that this view is value neutral or grounded in objective reality. Mäori perspectives are often reduced to the level of viewpoints. These viewpoints or ‘starting points’6 are frequently subsumed within a dominant view. The final power to define and decide within Family Court rests with the law and those who administer justice. The legitimacy or lack of it accorded a Mäori world view has real and material consequences for tamariki-mokopuna and their whänau.
The ideas of a ‘Mäori world view’ and Mäori identity can be viewed as problematic, with a risk that static and uniform definitions will limit the possibilities for choice and recognition of diversity. The choice of the word ‘perspectives’ in the commissioning of the research may be seen as an attempt to manage that risk. Ihimaera’s7 discussion of what it means to ‘grow up Mäori’ provides an insight into issues of identity and diversity:
Growing up Mäori has come to mean growing up and across the fractures in time and space within our culture as well as finding oneself and one’s location within the pastiche that is the post-modern world.
We all now live in a universal reality. The original template came from Rangiatea, that’s where the seeds were sown. I like to think that since then the process of maintaining our identity has been like the constantly-changing patterns of the cat’s cradle. The primary pattern of culture was created when Mäori began to live with each other in Aotearoa, and traditions and histories were devised based on our tribal and family relationships. Then the Päkehä came and, increasingly the tensions of maintaining that original pattern meant our ancestors had to weave more complicated designs over more empty spaces to ensure that the landscapes of the heart, if not the land, could be maintained.
The ‘fractures in time and space within our culture’ that Ihimaera[8] refers to mean that not all tamariki-mokopuna have ready access to safe and supportive whänau, nor the positive childhood experiences described by Pere[9] and others in the Literature Review. This does not mean, however, that children should be denied access to the wider support networks of whänau, hapü and iwi. It is likely that children who have experienced the dislocation described in some of the interviews are those who most need the security of knowing who they are and where they come from.
A considerable body of work exists that articulates a Mäori world view while acknowledging the complexity of such projects.[10] The authors of He Hinetore ki te Ao Mäori contend that:
There is compelling evidence that custom did not constrain Mäori adaptation and development. The adherence to principles, not rules, enabled change while maintaining cultural integrity ...[11]
The Literature Review was conducted in order to provide a context for understanding of the views and experiences expressed in the interviews, and to link these views and experiences to key principles. As Mikaere suggests, the starting place for understanding how Mäori might view guardianship, custody and access is not in attempting to find equivalent Mäori concepts. It is rather to locate the principles and practices related to the care and upbringing of children within a Mäori philosophical framework. This means a process of ‘framing’ and ‘reframing’ is engaged in, in which decisions are made ‘about what is in the background, what is in the foreground, and what shadings or complexities exist within the frame’.[12]
For the first part of the discussion of themes and issues that come through in the interviews, the principles identified in the Literature Review pertaining to the care and upbringing will be placed in the foreground. The second part of the discussion will focus on participant views and experiences that can be understood in terms of access to justice issues.
The key principles identified in the Literature Review in relation to the care and upbringing of children are:
The importance of whakapapa was a particular feature of those interviews where applications for custody were made by whänau members rather than the natural parents. Without exception, the grandparents, aunts and uncles who made these applications were committed to ensuring that the mokopuna stayed within the whänau. In several instances this resulted in financial hardship and setting aside of cherished individual life goals. The obligations inherent in a whakapapa imperative become clear when one considers that in three of these cases the whänau members who applied for custody had had limited contact with the mokopuna prior to their seeking custody. In these cases the imperative was not an emotional bond based on an existing attachment to the mokopuna, but on whakapapa.
Despite the strains imposed by colonisation and urbanisation, whakapapa continues to be a basis for decision making and the application of whakapapa principles has consequences that are real. In more than one case the decision about where the mokopuna should be placed was governed by the mataamua (oldest child status) of the aunt involved.
Applicants 2 and 3 from Area 2 both illustrated the importance of whakapapa in different ways. Applicant 2 took her responsibility for ensuring that her nieces retained contact with ‘both iwi’ extremely seriously, and consciously chose kohanga and schools where the girls would have contact with their father’s iwi. Applicant 3 spoke of working with all of the mokopuna who came into her care to ensure that they knew their whakapapa. In her view she had a responsibility for any child who was hurting that she had a whakapapa connection with. She saw her primary responsibility for children outside of her own whänau[13] as attempting to establish connections for them, so they could be cared for and protected by their own.
The principle of children ‘belonging’ to whänau, hapü and iwi is linked to the principle of collective responsibility for children. It is whakapapa that defines the descent group that children belong to. Whakapapa and whänau, hapü and iwi relationships form the basis for Iwi Social Service organisations. A key challenge in terms of Family Court legislation is consistently applying or enshrining in law these principles as has been the case in the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act, so they are placed at the forefront of any decision-making about guardianship, custody and access. Principles 5(a) and 13(b) of the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act make direct reference to whänau, hapü and iwi involvement in decision-making and protection of children. This cannot occur without the establishment and acknowledgement of whakapapa links. This applies whether or not both parents are Mäori, because the whakapapa provides the link to the iwi. Links to Iwi/Mäori social services for whänau having difficulties could provide a means of whänau accessing a range of other culturally-appropriate services.
Mikaere notes that a recommendation of the Rangihau Report14 was that a child’s whänau should be empowered to select Kai Tiaki from their hapü who could act as Children’s Advocate. It should be noted that the term ‘advocate’ is used in its broadest sense in this context. There are a number of possible roles for a skilled Kai Tiaki as suggested below. It is clear from the interviews that where skilled Mäori Counsel for the Child are working with the child and whänau, that much of the support children and whänau need is already forthcoming. Real possibilities exist however, for strengthening the resource base of iwi and hapü-based social services to provide both support to whänau and advice to the court as appropriate. Trained Kai Tiaki with knowledge of whänau and hapü relationships would be ideally positioned to work alongside and assist Counsel for the Child. These Kai Tiaki could also be part of facilitating whänau hui. Such hui could occur at a number of points. C/1 argued that hui and discussion should occur early in the process, before parties become locked in adversarial court processes. Other counsel also suggested that well-facilitated whänau hui could resolve many issues without court involvement, and that this was an appropriate role for Iwi Social Services. A1/R3 suggested that there should be ‘someone with authority but not a judge’ to help negotiate and work out what ‘reasonable access’ means. Kai Tiaki could also take on this role. Clearly several of the applicants and respondents interviewed did not have a clear understanding of what the outcome of their time in court actually meant, so appropriate Kai Tiaki support could also affect this.
Any movement towards the development of this kind of role would require further discussion of how to most effectively provide whänau[15] and children with support, and how to provide the court with quality information or cultural advice.
The principle of collective responsibility for children was evident in several of the interviews. A1/A6 expressed her grief that her sister’s children would grow up thinking ‘you never came to see me, you never bothered with me’. She believed that the granting of guardianship and the manner in which this occurred prevented her and other whänau members from sharing responsibility for these children. She felt that once CYFS had established that she could not actually take custody of the children that she was discounted from having any role in their lives.
A1/A5 had difficulty caring for her three badly abused mokopuna and ‘gave’ the baby to her brother to care for. When censured by the judge for doing so, she indicated that she believed it was a totally appropriate action to take. A2/A3 and her daughter applied for shared custody of a baby girl. The kuia has the primary caregiver role while her daughter works, but she acknowledges that because of her age her daughter will take a more active role in the care of the child as she grows up. A2/A1 supervises the access her sister has with her son, because she wants them to retain a relationship, and she wants her sister to take on responsibility at a level that she can manage with her tamaiti.
In both of the cases involving whängai relationships, both whängai and birth parents saw themselves as having responsibility for the wellbeing of the children. As A1/R3 described:
We went to his birthday, the whole whänau, because I wanted to be in touch with this sort of thing ... I want that child when he grows up to be able to come and talk to me if he is in trouble.[16]
The single most pressing issue of concern for those who went to court was not being able to have whänau support in the courtroom. Being alone in the courtroom was seen by most as alienating. On a profound level, it is also a visible reminder that the current legislation is based on ‘individual rights and nuclear families’.[17] In the case of A2/A4, this was particularly difficult because her ex-partner’s spouse appeared to be allowed to attend court ‘as of right’. She was not offered the option of whänau support. In several instances, applicants commented on their need to have someone of kaumatua or kuia status present in a supportive role, and how alone they felt, knowing that their whänau support was sitting outside. C/2 expressed this as a recognition ‘that the client is part of a bigger environment’. She was of the view that this isolation also contributed to confusion and distress in terms of access arrangements where whänau members other than the parties had key roles in caring for the child. Those whänau members, particularly grandparents who have caregiving responsibilities, should in her view be able to apply for access.
An emphasis on sharing the rights and responsibilities for child-raising represents the availability of a range of skills and resources to the child. These skills and resources will not necessarily be resident in a nuclear family context. This has significant implications for involving a wider range of whänau members in decision making about the care of mokopuna, and for ensuring that access arrangements reflect this shared responsibility. C/1 expressed it this way:
I have a phrase for you — who is looking after the mokos? That removes it to another generation and puts it in perspective. It is inferential that you don’t need to make access orders. If you are within the tikanga there is no such thing as access. There is availability.
Clearly the issue of access for whänau members other than natural parents was a significant issue. This was evident for PS/R1 who was unable to take his children to his mother’s tangihanga due to problems with access arrangements. He also spoke of the grief his mother expressed before her death, as she watched her mokopuna drive past her house on a daily basis, but was denied access to them.
There were some interviewees who did not have close links with their own whänau, hapü and iwi. It should be noted, however, that nearly all in this category were part of ‘kaupapa-based whänau’,[18] and had strong links with kohanga reo, urban marae or Iwi/Mäori Social Service organisations. These ‘kaupapa-based whänau’ were a source of emotional and practical support, and it was apparent that those who were estranged or living some distance from their own whänau would have welcomed the opportunity to have this support in a court setting.
Given the range of difficulties whänau may experience, and the cycles of poverty, poor parenting and intergenerational abuse that exist for some whänau, the need for skilled Mäori professionals is evident. Those whänau members who took on the care of mokopuna with serious abuse histories all indicated a need for professional support and guidance in caring for the mokopuna. The emphasis on shared responsibility for the mokopuna does not absolve state agencies from their responsibilities to ensure that whänau and Iwi Social Services are adequately resourced to care for mokopuna placed with them.
Mikaere suggests that:
Just as children had the right to know their whakapapa, to be secure in their identity, and to expect support from adults within their whänau, the principle of reciprocity operated in order to ensure that they also carried responsibilities within their own whänau.[19]
The expression of these lifelong obligations to the entire whänau was particularly evident for those women who were mataamua[20] in their whänau. As already indicated, the level of responsibility this imposed on many of the women meant that their individual life plans had been abandoned or significantly changed.
PS/A2 described her experience this way:
My sister said you better come and get this girl — she is playing up ... And I thought why me? So I asked them respectively (her siblings) and they said because you are the oldest of the whänau ... so that was OK.
The kuia who had taken on the responsibility of tamariki from her whänau for over 20 years believed that because she had been entrusted with whakapapa knowledge from an early age she had specific responsibilities in terms of the maintenance and passing on of this knowledge.
The Literature Review concludes with reference to Te Whainga I Te Tika,[21] and includes a comment describing the Family Court as ‘intimidating, individualised, monocultural’. Mikaere argues that more recent reports suggest that little has changed in the 15 years since Te Whainga I Te Tika. Interviews with counsel tended to support this view. It should be noted however that all counsel interviewed indicated that some judges and court staff were responsive to Mäori needs. All counsel emphasised the key link between quality of representation and client satisfaction.
It should be noted that not all applicants or respondents actually appeared in court. In some instances where there were applications with consent from the respondent, or where the application was not contested, only counsel was required to appear. Some found this concerning, as they wanted to be seen by the judge.
Favourable experiences for applicants and respondents included the following:
Counsel were able to generalise across the experiences of a number of clients and all commented on the way that their client’s experience was very dependant on the people involved on the day. C/3 stated:
It is like anything really — you can have a good experience at the petrol station or a bad one. There are some judges who are incredibly accommodating and others who follow a traditional and distancing style.
Those who expressed most satisfaction with administrative aspects of court procedures were unsurprisingly those who expressed satisfaction about the overall outcome of the proceedings. Where involvement with the court was prolonged and there was a lengthy wait for contact with specialist services such as a psychologist, whänau found this very stressful.
Those who had positive relationships with counsel and Counsel for the Child also expressed high levels of satisfaction.
The role of Counsel for the Child was a pivotal one for most of the applicants22 interviewed. Those who had Mäori Counsel for the Child were uniformly positive about having someone who was able to establish rapport with them and the children concerned. Given that Counsel for the Child frequently visit homes, it was also important to them that they were comfortable with someone of the same cultural background. One applicant had Counsel for the Child who was not Mäori but who worked very effectively with her and the child concerned. In one situation where Counsel for the Child was not Mäori, the applicant considered that his lack of knowledge of Mäori whänau dynamics and naiveté put her mokopuna at risk. Counsel interviewed expressed concern about low levels of cultural competence and cross-cultural communication skills among Counsel for the Child generally. They believed that this contributed to poor analysis of what constituted risk for children, and an inability to understand whänau dynamics. The Iwi Social Services CEO interviewed also expressed strong dissatisfaction with the inability of many Counsels for the Child to work safely and effectively with Mäori.
All applicants interviewed qualified for legal aid, but those who were not parents often found the process of gaining legal aid to support their applications more difficult to work through. Most were extremely positive about the availability of legal aid, and considered that the contribution they had to make was reasonable. Several suggested that other whänau they knew did not engage with Family Court because they had a perception that it would be expensive.
Costs that did pose a barrier for some were related to transport and phone calls for those in remote rural locations. Another key financial issue was to do with the relationship between benefits and drawn-out court proceedings. This meant that applicants were often involved in lengthy and complex negotiations with WINZ and respondents with WINZ and Inland Revenue. Those who had been invited to make custody applications by CYFS felt that they did not receive adequate support over this period.
Respondents who were in paid employment expressed concern about cost. In two cases this meant that respondents did not seek legal representation. Although this was because they did not intend to contest custody, they subsequently believed they were disadvantaged in terms of access arrangements. It is a matter of concern that these respondents saw no avenue for getting advice or support that was not costly.
In several instances, applicants and respondents were involved with both the Family Court and Child Youth and Family Services. Some experienced frustration and confusion due to poor communication between Courts, CYFS and themselves. Where there was Child Youth and Family Services involvement, it was because the child or young person had come to the attention of CYFS due to care and protection issues. As illustrated in some of the case profiles, this meant whänau members such as aunts or grandparents were encouraged by CYFS to apply for custody and/or guardianship. Working across agencies often resulted in time delays when a range of reports and specialist services became involved. At times respondents and applicants were unsure whom the person they were engaging with actually worked for and what their role was. Frequently the written communication they received made little sense to them, and they did not know whom to contact about this. This raises significant issues about the development of effective interagency protocols. They should serve both to minimise delays, and to ensure that communication is clear and effective between agencies, and with whänau.
The need for Kai Tiaki who are able to communicate effectively with Mäori applicants and respondents has already been discussed.[23] It is likely that if sufficiently resourced and supported this could contribute significantly to increasing the effectiveness of Mäori participation in the Family Court. It could also provide counsel and the judiciary with a source of significant cultural advice. Counsel, social service providers and several of the applicant/respondent interviewees all identified whänau hui and mediation processes as being of value. Such hui could occur both at an early stage to avoid matters escalating, and after proceedings have been completed. Early hui provide the opportunity for wider whänau participation, and may assist in identifying safe options for the child. Such hui may also be useful for those respondents who are reluctant to seek legal advice, in order to allow them to participate more fully in understanding the implications of their decisions. Hui after proceedings were seen as important in negotiating ‘reasonable access’ within a safe environment, and in ensuring that all parties were clear about the outcomes of proceedings. C2 also believed that such hui were important to ensure that parties planned how they would communicate the outcome of the court proceedings to their tamariki, and to other whänau members. As already noted, any development of Kai Tiaki should involve further discussion of the range of roles they could carry out, and how these would be prioritised.
Respondents who were also respondents to protection orders had some difficulty understanding how the protection order and violence impacted on their custody and access. It is evident that high quality DVA programmes should continue to be provided to help respondents understand the effects of violence on their children. Respondents also need clear advice from counsel regarding the relationship between the Domestic Violence Act 1995 and the Guardianship Amendment Act 1995.
A lack of culturally appropriate specialist services continues to be problematic. There is still a shortage of Mäori Family Court counsellors and specialist report writers. This means that in many instances Mäori applicants and respondents effectively receive no service at all. Those who did have access to Mäori professionals commented positively about this.
It is also important that there is consistency across Family Court legislation in acknowledging the legitimacy of the principles pertaining to childcare and upbringing that have been discussed in this report. These principles are reflected to some degree in the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989.
Section 13(b) states:
The principle that the primary role in caring for and protecting a child or young person lies with the child or young person’s family, whänau, hapü, iwi and family group and that accordingly —
(1) A child or young person’s whänau, hapü, iwi and family group should be supported, assisted and protected as much as possible; and
(2) Intervention into family life should be the minimum necessary to ensure a child or young person’s safety or protection.
In considering possible changes to the Guardianship Act 1968, it would therefore be useful to consider the principles pertaining to whänau, hapü and iwi incorporated in the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, and ensure that the principles of any new law are consistent with these. The specialist role of Iwi Social Service agencies, approved under the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act should also be recognised and further explored. Adequate resourcing and the development of clearer relationships between Iwi Social Services, Family Court and Child Youth and Family Services would allow whänau and children access to culturally appropriate services.
In summary, it is suggested that the following options be explored for further recognising Mäori perspectives on guardianship, custody and access, and facilitating effective Mäori participation in Family Court proceedings. These options have all been described in the preceding discussion:
The stories of the applicants and respondents recorded in the case profiles provide rich descriptions of their experiences. The strong emotions that accompanied the telling — the tears, the pain, and in some cases, the anger — may not be visible to the reader. At the centre of each story are those whose voices are not heard in this report — the tamariki mokopuna. The stories and the tears of the children have not been gathered, no reira he mihi tino nui ki a koutou tamariki ma. Tangi ana te ngäkau i te aroha. ?
Atawhaito — treat with kindness; to look after
Haka chant — the performance of which achieves collective preparedness and unity of purpose
Hapü — extended kin group, consisting of many whänau; pregnant
Hë — wrong; incorrect
Käkahu — clothing
Kapa haka — cultural performance group
Karakia — prayer; incantation
Kaupapa — purpose; idea
Kererü — pigeon
Kohanga reo — language nest (literal): total immersion Mäori language pre-school Centre
Koroua — elderly man; elderly male relative; ancestor
Kuia — elderly woman; elderly female relative; ancestress
Kura kaupapa Mäori total immersion Mäori primary school
Iwi — people; descent group, consisting of many hapü
Mana — prestige; standing; authority
Mauri — life principle, life force
Mokemoke — lonely
Mokopuna — grandchild, descendant
Ohäkï — speech made on one’s deathbed, often making statements as to rightful successors to land and position
Tamariki — children
Tangata Whenua — people of the land
Tangi — wailing
Tapu — restricted; sacred
Taua muru/he taua — ritual plunder; the extraction of compensation
Tautoko — support
Teina — younger sibling/cousin of the same gender
Tiaki — to look after
Tika — correct
Tikanga — Mäori law; Mäori philosophies
Tipuna/tupuna — grandparent, ancestor
Tohi — purification ceremony
Tohunga — traditional expert and keeper of knowledge
Taurima — to treat with care
Uri — descendant/s
Utu — reciprocity
Waiata — song, chant
Waka ama — outrigger canoe
Whakapapa — genealogy
Whakatipu — to make grow
Whänau — kin group
Whanaungatanga — collectivism; caring for and maintaining contact with one’s relatives
Whängai — to feed; to rear
Whare ngaro — literally a lost house, a descent line that has died out
Whare wänanga — house or school of learning
Whenua — land; placenta
[1]Law Commission Justice: The Experiences of Mäori Women April
1999 p 24.
[2]Definitions of guardianship, custody and access here are taken
from: Responsibilities for Children Especially When Parents Part Ministry
of
Justice Discussion Paper August 2000.
[3]See s 5(1) Domestic Violence Act 1995.
[4]See s 3(3)(a)(b) Domestic Violence Act 1995.
[5]The researchers and advisory group welcomed John Clarke’s
recommendation that the research be supported by a clearly articulated
description of the traditional values and beliefs pertaining to
tamariki-mokopuna and their care.
[6]See Judge’s Comments, Literature Review p 37. Ministry of
Justice NZ full report can be found at
<www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/reports/2002>.
[7]Haig I ‘Titiro, Moko! Whakarongo, Moko!’ in Ihimaera W
Growing up Maori Tandem Press NZ 1998 p 40.
[8]As above.
[9]Pere R Ako: Concepts and Learning in the Maori Tradition Te Kohanga
Reo National trust Board Wellington 1982 p 11.
[10]See discussion in the Literature Review p 19
<www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/reports/2002>.
[11]Ministry of Justice He Hinatore ki te Ao Mäori 2001 p10.
[12]Smith L Decolonising Methodologies — Research and Indigenous
People Zed Books 1999 p 153.
[13]This kuia lived in a urban setting, and is frequently called on by
CYFS and local whänau for assistance.
[14]Rangihau J Address to the High Court 3 April 1987 p 5.
[15]There is also a need to look at this in relation to case
management approaches being taken within Family Court. This should allow
for
more effective provision of information to parties.
[16]The baby they had given as whängai.
[17]See interview with C/1: <www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/
reports/2002>.
[18]See Literature Review p 37 for a discussion of what Metge
describes as ‘kaupapa-based whänau’:
<www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/reports/2002>.
[19]See Literature Review p 25: <www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/
reports/2002>.
[20]The oldest child.
[21]Advisory Committee on Legal Services Te Whainga I Te Tika: In
Search of Justice 1986.
[22]Few respondents made any comment about Counsel for the Child.
[23]See page 94: <www.justice.govt.nz/pubs/reports/2002>.
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