I had the pleasure of attending the Central South Island Synod meeting at Opawa Community Church, Christchurch in the weekend. It was a great gathering and the movement of the Spirit was palpable in the kōrero and the sharing of experience and knowledge as we worked through the Synod business.

One of our discussions focused on the report to Conference “Kōrero Papatupu Whenua (Land Stories). Working through the paper allowed us to engage and further explore our understanding of whenua and property and of our Church policies in this space. However, it wasn’t until our good friend Mark Gibson took us on a hikoi, a walk, later that day that our ‘document’ suddenly became real in a very special moment when walking the whenua connected us with a spirituality of place and time.

The following is taken from Mark’s notes and words as the group walked together following the river not far from the church.The name of the awa is Ōpāwaho.

“We are going on a hikoi along the awa to a special place to hear a little of an unfolding story of transformation and hope; decolonisation and regeneration. It is a 10-12 minute/800m walk. You will need good walking shoes or boots. In places it is still a bit slushy. We’ve had a few drops of rain lately. It’s a floodplain!

I will lead the way. I encourage you to walk in silence/meditatively. Being attentive to the life you see and hear around you. Seeking to walk in the land, rather than merely on it. Walking in the floodplain of the awa. We will stay on the riverside and off the road as much as possible.

Every river walk I lead, and every gathering in the place we are going begins with karakia/with a blessing. It is an acknowledgement that both whenua and awa are sacred.

So, let’s do that now.

Blessing for the walk to Te Ngahere Iti The Tiny Forest

In a wairua of wonder and humility let us now walk in silence in the whenua,
walk by the awa.
As we walk with the incoming tide may God fill us with aroha for whenua,
for awa, for each other.
As we walk may our journey and living in this place deepen and grow.
In the name of the one who dwelt with the wild creatures, we pray.
Amen

Nau mai ki te ngahere iti. Welcome to the Tiny Forest.

Notice where you are standing. From here the climb over the hills begins.

Ahead is the old pathway called the Rapaki track.

The people of Rapaki, Te Hapu o Ngati Wheke knew this place intimately.

It was a place of rest and sustenance before the slog over the hill.

Ngati Wheke also came over the track and into this area we now call St Martins

to harvest harakeke. Pre-colonisation the wetlands west of here were extensive.

The kind that did not grow around the harbour.

Ngati Wheke also hold a crucial place in the unfolding story, history and journey

of Te Hahi o Weteriana. So, it is good that we have come here too to learn and to grow.

Look at the plaque on the rock. Volcanic rock from the hills, connecting this place even

more strongly with them. It tells a story.

The tiny Forest was designed by a local and planted by many other locals young and old to celebrate the sesquicentennial of the signing of Te Tiriti O Waitangi. But there is a significant backstory, and an exciting, emerging story. This is a deeply storied place. Whenua is above all a relationship, a community, a place of story.

While acknowledging the importance and power of story, before we walk, notice too the indigenous fern tenaciously growing out of the rock. As we reflect on story – as people of faith – this is surely a parable.

Now let us walk again silently, meditatively, attentively through the tiny forest to the other side. There we will pause to hear some of the backstory, and some of the emerging story.

This was once a flourishing wetland teeming with life that tangata whenua lived in balance with because they knew themselves to be part of it, not separate from it, or above it.

So, they lived with the whenua, not against it. It nourished them, and they respected and cherished it.

Colonisation changed all of this. Colonisation changed the story.

Both people and land were colonised.

First the wetland was drained and cleared for pastoral farming and horticulture.

Then subdivisions. Over the other side of the awa there became a giant shingle quarry.

Then when it was exhausted, in turn it became a giant landfill. Underneath the now park

is buried toxic waste. When they ran out of space, they dumped it in the awa. The Rudolf Steiner school just downstream from here and on the edge of the old landfill site cannot have a school garden because the soil is too toxic.

Over there, land has been used like a thing. As a mine for an extractive industry.

Then as a dump for city waste. The land has not yet been healed.

On this side the story was more one of neglect. There is a paper road where we stand that was never completed. But it became overgrown with introduced, and unwanted trees and weeds. In its neglect it became a willow forest. It was a suburban wasteland.

Then in the mid to late eighties local authorities deemed that the awa should be widened to improve its navigability and flow for drainage purposes. So, the overgrown bank was completely denuded in preparation for bank re-engineering.

At the eleventh hour this latest chapter in the sad narrative radically changed.

A new way of understanding the urban space broke through.

Instead of widening the awa the decision was made to recloak this bank with indigenous wetland and forest.

This is where the story of the Tiny Forest began.

At first King George V Reserve – was chosen to be one of seven natural heritage projects that would mark and celebrate the sesquicentennial, 150th anniversary, of the signing of

Te Tiriti O Waitangi.

The Tiny Forest, the size of an international rugby field was designed by local, inspirational ecological scientist, Dr Colin Meurk.

It is made up of distinct ecological zones, the ones you find in lowland Canterbury.

So, it is a true celebration of lowland Waitaha, of our region, our place, as it was meant

to be. From wetland, to floodplain, to dry terrace forests of kanuka or totara and matai.

Many locals, young and old planted the forest in 1990-91. For a while they protected and weeded the trees, and then apart from the occasional visit by City Care contractors

the Tiny Forest was left to fend for itself. It was in some ways a neglected place again.

Sure, people walked through here regularly but there was no real community engagement or sense of relationship or responsibility.

Not until several years ago when a handful of us who live nearby began talking and envisioned building a relationship between the community and the forest.

We had a few exploratory weeding sessions on the forest edges, but it was difficult to know how we could grow the vision.

Then, when I was part of the formation of the social enterprise Flourish Kia Puawai, we decided to seek funding to make the Tiny Forest the centre of a Regenerative Communities Pilot project.

Funding was secured from several sources, the local community board gave their blessing, and the project was launched in March last year. In the forest and adjacent scout den we held a 30th birthday party for the tiny forest. It was a collaborative effort with Te Hapu O Ngati Wheke, the Cashmere High Green team, the Christchurch City Council and the Opawaho Heathcote River Network. There was a guided walk through the forest with Dr Colin Meurk, enrichment planting was done by young people and there was a harakeke weaving workshop. We even had a birthday cake and sang happy birthday in Te Reo to the tiny forest. It was a grand beginning!

Ever since so much has happened here. Probably over 300 people, nearly all local, have been engaged with the tiny forest in one way or another. A tremendous amount of learning has gone on and a huge amount of mahi has been done to help both the tiny forest and community to grow and flourish.

During a recent online talk Maui Stuart from Te Hapu o Ngati Wheke asked, “How do we connect with the land?” Then responded with “It’s mahi, mahi, mahi”. This understanding has guided all that we have done in the Tiny Forest.

Colin Meurk, and I, led an eight-session programme, with 25 students from St Martins School. This involved a lot of hands-on experiential learning. Most of these newly planted trees and shrubs around us were planted by them. I have been working with the scouts next door to build a deeper relationship with the forest. They too have done some enrichment planting.

We have started monthly what we call ‘give back’ sessions for people who live around here. Now we have a network of over thirty people of a range of ages who are engaged regularly in the forest.

We have a highly popular facebook page for the tiny forest. This both celebrates the forest and seeks to build relationship with it and knowledge of it.

We have held winter planting events. The most recent one was two weekends ago and nearly thirty people participated. We even now have a smaller team who do mahi here during the week.

Things just keep growing and growing, organically, mostly by word of mouth. We have resisted ringing in conservation volunteers from all over because we are trying to grow something very local, where deep relationships form, and sense of community grows. This

is at the heart of what it means to be regenerative.

The Tiny Forest is always leading the way. My growing awareness is that we just need to watch and listen and learn. Discovering last year that it has begun regenerating itself with real energy was both exciting and wondrous. The Totara, kakikatea, kowhai, titoki and pokaka are with the assistance of birds bringing on the next generation throughout the Tiny Forest. It is incredible seeing what is going on. Our mahi is increasingly becoming one of just supporting the Tiny Forest to do its own thing.

Probably the highlight for me so far in this unfolding story, apart from discovering this natural regeneration, was the Matariki-in-the-Tiny-Forest celebration we held in the Scout den on a cold Friday night at the beginning of July. It was for the volunteers. The Kaupapa was to offer manaakitanga, to give back to those who had given back to the Tiny Forest. These circles of reciprocity are central to the culture we are cultivating here. The whole event was organised with our Tiriti partners Te Hapu Ngati Wheke. It was a magical night with a hangi; a time of sharing in a circle where we reflected back and gave thanks, and dreamed of what else could yet be; and some wonderful story-telling by Maui Stuart.

So, we have begun a tradition of doing our annual reflection on our mahi and planning for the new year as part of the Maori new year. In the context of the whenua, the forest and the awa it feels like the right thing to do. The right time of year. The right way to grow regenerative community.

The relationship with Te Hapu O Ngati Wheke is growing. Some of our leadership team,

at the invitation of Maui, spent time with him in Taukahara, the regenerating ancient indigenous forest on the slopes of their ancestral mountain behind Rapaki. We have also been invited to come and help at the next community planting event on the mountain.

The Regenerative Communities Pilot project was launched with a special blessing by mana whenua. We have carried this tradition on. Every event or gathering, or workshop or ‘give back session’ in the Tiny Forest begins with a blessing. It is a central thread in what we are about.

The next exciting stage of our evolution and development is happening right now.

We are forming a small oversight team of passionate local volunteers. This spring summer we are also planning several workshops that will help to grow the regenerative approach.

The volunteers have asked for a workshop that helps them to learn the Maori and English names of many of the trees, shrubs, grasses and ferns that are part of this living forest.

During our reflective sharing time at our Matariki event we asked the volunteers, “How has being involved in the tiny forest changed you?” Their responses included: pride in our community, taking responsibility in our community, a sense of being kaitiaki for the river and land, colonisation has disconnected us from the land and knowledge about it and this is changing for me, learning about Matariki, reconnecting with the place I grew up with, and recovering a sense of village through working together on the forest.

When we shared ideas for the new year beginning in September, they flowed. You could feel people’s excitement and see their sense of relationship and engagement.

Something else we intentionally do here is grow the sense that we are part of an ongoing story. That others began the story, and we now build on their mahi, and one day hopefully others will build on ours. The blessing offered at every gathering always acknowledges those who came before us.

I guess everyone would give their own title to this story.

One of mine is “Transformation” subtitled “from a reserve to a tiny forest”.

Or alternatively, “The Tale of Two Sides of the Awa - a story of decolonisation”.

I can’t wait for the next chapter to begin!

And yes, talking about names, we are actively seeking to decolonise the name.

Our volunteers hate the name. Te Hapu o Ngati Wheke want it changed.

The community Board are very supportive of a name changing process beginning.

This is partly why we call it the Tiny Forest. It changes the narrative. It’ll happen. I know it’ll happen.

The Jewish prophet Micah called his people to “walk humbly with their God”. Over the years I’ve found new layers of meaning in this phrase. One of my more recent insights is that we walk “with God” in the whenua, in the land. So, it is in our relationship with whenua that humility is seen or not seen. It is in the whenua where we learn to be humble.

As a descendant of the colonising generation this is a particularly challenging task. It means changing the narrative. We need to grow a way of living, relating and being that is genuinely humble in this place we now call home.

Being in relationship with tangata whenua, the people who are the land, being on a

bi-cultural journey, means learning how to walk humbly with them and with the whenua.

It can’t be one without the other.

Decolonisation is good climate action too. This side of the awa did a whole lot better in the recent flooding than the other side. Despite City Council efforts to stop erosion it continued unabated. Half the Tiny Forest was flooded but has quietly absorbed the water in preparation for spring and summer growth. On a hot day the temperature in the tiny forest is noticeably cooler than out on busy Centaurus Road.

But I want to leave you with some questions to ponder and converse on as you wander back to Opawa Church.

Hearing some of the unfolding story of this place, of this Tiny Forest, I wonder how the narrative of the land where your parish buildings are could change?

Is it a living community of life or a property? Are you living with the community of life there or against it? How could the whenua in your care be decolonised?

What is the fern on the rock that we will pass again saying to us?

What is the Spirit saying to Te Hahi about whenua?

Walk with someone else and reflect together on these questions.”

by Tara Tautari

In this issue

Yearbook Updates