ANALYSIS: Take away the cameras, the stage and the political spin, and what is left is a much more personal conversation – between candidates and the whānau they want to represent.
Candidates vying for the Te Tai Tokerau seat were sitting among whānau in the heart of North Hokianga, where politics was not separated from the people it is meant to serve.
With election coverage saturated with televised debates, policy announcements, interviews and carefully rehearsed lines, the gathering at Waihou Marae in Panguru felt like a breath of fresh air.
I was there asking the questions, but I am also from this place. These are the communities and whānau behind the issues being discussed.
The occasion was the commemoration of our tupuna Meri Te Tai Mangakāhia, the Te Rarawa leader who, in 1893, became the first woman to address the Kotahitanga Parliament.
She challenged the political establishment of her time, calling for women to have the right to vote and challenging the exclusion of Māori women from political decision-making.
More than 130 years later, her descendants and whānau gathered to remember her legacy and consider what political representation should look like for the next generation.
The political debate was the second part of the day.
But calling it a debate almost feels inadequate.
It was more like a wānanga than contest.
There were no studio lights, countdown clocks, or carefully packaged television moments.
Instead, the candidates were sitting among whānau talking about issues that are lived realities in these communities.
Local kura principal, Whaea Mina Pomare Peita, set the tone from the outset giving the candidates and audience a lay of the land, and shaped the kōrero about the realities facing communities across the rohe.
But she went further, asking what tino rangatiratanga actually looks like in action.
Not as a political slogan, but in our communities.
What does it look like when communities make decisions for themselves? What does representation mean when the people asking the questions know the candidates, know the issues and will live with the consequences of decisions made in Wellington?
Those questions changed the dynamic.
Mariameno Kapa-Kingi, Huhana Lyndon, Maki Herbert, Aperahama Edwards and Willow-Jean Prime rose to the occasion.
They spoke with passion, conviction and, at times, real emotion about their people and the future of Te Tai Tokerau.
The candidates were not simply being asked what policies they supported. They were being asked what they would actually do for communities that have often had to find their own solutions when government services are too far away, too slow or simply not fit for purpose.
And that is what made the kōrero feel so real.
On a marae, political distance disappears.
A candidate cannot hide behind a party slogan quite so easily when speaking directly to whānau who can challenge them, question them and tell them exactly what is happening on the ground.
There is also something fitting about holding this conversation in Panguru, in the shadow of Meri Te Tai Mangakāhia.
Her legacy was built on challenging who gets to participate in political decision-making.
More than a century later, that conversation continues.
The people gathered at Waihou Marae didn’t just listen to politicians asking for their votes. They were also holding them to account.
And perhaps that is why the day felt less like a debate and more like a reminder of what this type of politics is supposed to be.
A conversation between people and those seeking to represent them.
A seat in Parliament is not just a political position. It is a responsibility to the people and communities who put you there and to the mokopuna whose future depends on the decisions made.
