Introduction
Whakapapa (genealogy or lineage) lies at the heart of Māori world views. It is more than a family tree – it is the thread that weaves people, land, sky and all living things into one great whānau (extended family). In simple terms, whakapapa means the layering of one thing upon another. As Māori elder Apirana Ngata explained, it is like laying out ancestors in ordered layers, each generation resting on those before it. This framework links the physical and spiritual realms, binding together mythology, custom and history. In Māori knowledge (mātauranga) the living and the non‐living, the seen and unseen, are joined by whakapapa. Through stories and recitations, Māori trace their origins back to the very beginning of the universe, finding their place in the world among gods, forests, birds and mountains.
Whakapapa serves many roles in Māori life. It affirms identity and belonging – by naming our tīpuna (ancestors), we know who we are and where we come from. It establishes rights and responsibilities – by citing our ancestors, we claim ties to land (mana whenua), to rivers, forests and communities. It teaches values – knowing we share whakapapa with nature instils respect for all things. And it preserves knowledge – within each whakapapa are hidden lessons about the environment, survival and ethics. In this way, whakapapa is at once historical record, spiritual charter and living story. It turns the past into a guide for the present, and it is always recited or remembered when communities gather.
The Genealogies of Creation
Maori creation stories begin in a time of darkness and potential – a primal state called Te Kore (the nothingness). From Te Kore came Te Pō (the darkness), and from Te Pō emerged Te Ao Mārama (the world of light). These are not just abstract phases, but stages in a living whakapapa. In the earliest times, the sky father Ranginui (often called Rangi) and the earth mother Papatūānuku (Papa) lay entwined in a tight embrace. Between them lived their many children in total darkness. The children longed for light and space, so they met in council to decide how to separate their parents.
The children who agreed to separate the sky and earth tried to pry them apart. Rongo (the god of cultivated food), Tangaroa (god of the sea), Haumia-tiketike (god of wild food plants) and others pushed with all their might – but Rangi and Papa clung together. Finally Tāne Mahuta, god of the forests and birds, lay on his back and pressed with his legs against the sky. With a mighty effort, Tāne forced Ranginui upward, and pried Papatūānuku downward. This act let in the first light of day. The sky lifted away from the earth, creating the space (the heavens) and land that became the world we know. The children had become gods of different domains: Tāne became the father of forests and birds, Tangaroa of the oceans and fishes, Rongo of cultivated plants, Haumia of wild plants and ferns, Tūmatauenga (Tū) of war and humans, Tāwhirimātea of winds and storms, and so on. These domains – forest, sea, sky, earth – are like the branches of the great family of Rangi and Papa.
After the separation, Tāwhirimātea (god of wind and storms) was furious at his siblings for tearing his parents apart. He fled to the sky and unleashed tempests on Tāne’s forests and Tangaroa’s seas. The forests heard Tāwhirimātea’s roar and fell; the sea churned in great waves. In the turmoil, Tangaroa’s son Punga had two children: Ikatere and Tūtewehiwehi (also called Tū-te-wanawana). Ikatere became the ancestor of the fish and sea creatures, while Tūtewehiwehi became the ancestor of lizards and water reptiles. Fleeing Tāwhirimātea’s rage, the fish of Tangaroa’s family (led by Ikatere) took shelter in the sea, while the reptiles (led by Tūtewehiwehi) fled to live in the forests and swamps, under the protection of Tāne. Because of this event, Tangaroa was angered at Tāne for saving those fish-reptiles, and ever since humans (who are children of Tāne) have carried the tools of the forest (like nets and snares) to catch Tangaroa’s fish. Meanwhile, Tāwhirimātea continued his wrath against Rongo and Haumia (food gods), but Papatūānuku hid them in her bosom, so they survived hidden in the earth. The storm god finally turned on Tūmatauenga, but even he could not defeat the unyielding god of war. Thus, at last, peace came among the gods.
These events of separation and conflict are immortalised in whakapapa. The family tree of the gods unfolds: Rangi and Papa at the root, their children (the atua of winds, forests, seas, etc.) in the middle, and the descendants below them. Each of those gods is ancestor to living things: Tāne’s children are forests, birds and all woodland creatures; Tangaroa’s children include fish, whales and tides; Tāwhiri’s children are the four winds and all weather patterns; Rongo’s and Haumia’s children are fruits and vegetables. In reciting this genealogy, Māori express that people, trees, birds and rivers are kin, all part of the same cosmic whakapapa.
The Birth of Humanity
Human beings have special place in the whakapapa of the world. Māori traditions hold that the first human was born from the earth and the divine, linking humankind directly to the gods. After the skies were opened, Tāne (the forests) desired companionship. He found inspiration in Papatūānuku’s sacred soil at a place called Kurawaka, and with his hands he shaped the clay into the form of a woman. When Tāne breathed life into her, she became the first woman, Hineahuone (meaning “woman made from the earth”). In a sense, Papatūānuku gave birth to humanity through Tāne’s creation. Hineahuone became Tāne’s wife and bore him children.
Their first daughter was Hinetītama, who later took the name Hine-nui-te-pō. Hinetītama’s story is poignant: unaware initially of her parentage, she married Tāne and had children. When she discovered that her husband was also her father (Tāne), she felt such shame that she fled to the underworld, becoming the goddess of night and death. In Māori understanding, the child of the human-god union becomes the guardian of the frontier between life and death, the threshold between day and night. Thus from Tāne and Hineahuone came the lineage of mortals, as well as the first mother of souls. All human beings are said to descend from this sacred first woman, and so have sacred origin.
Other stories say humans also trace descent from Tūmatauenga (the war-god), or even from Ranginui and Papatūānuku directly. But the common theme is that humanity arises from the divine family. Māori scholars say that humans are “woven into the family of nature.” Every iwi (tribe) remembers its own tūpuna (ancestors), often going back through the generations to figures such as Kupe, Māui, Paikea and others whose deeds shaped the land. For example, Kupe is remembered as a mighty navigator from Hawaiki who discovered Aotearoa (New Zealand). His waka (canoe) and those of other ancestral leaders became the roots of tribal genealogies. When Māori introduce themselves, they often recite an introduction (whakapapa) that names their mountain, river, waka and tūpuna, linking each person to the landscape and the past.
Thus whakapapa binds people to people and people to the land. A river or mountain may be named after an ancestor, or even treated as a tūpuna. Many tribes say they descended from certain birds, fish or forests through the lines of the atua. For example, some Māori feel kinship with Tangaroa (the sea-god) when they see whales or fishes of the ocean, tracing a spiritual lineage to the deep. Others invoke Tāne when walking in the forest, acknowledging the trees as their forebears. The world of humans never stands apart from the world of nature and spirit; genealogy ties them all together.
The Great Family of Nature
In Māori thought, every living thing has whakapapa. Trees, birds, fish, even stones and clouds are considered ancestors or relatives in some sense. The forest is not just a resource, but the home of Tāne’s children – the trees. Many Māori say that forests and plants are older relatives than humans, because Tāne created plants first. Indeed, early scholars like Sir Peter Buck (Te Rangi Hīroa) noted that Māori taught “man and plants have a common origin… plants are the link between man and ancestors.” In many tribes the mighty rimu, totara, kauri and others are viewed as elder siblings or uncles to humans.
Each species often has its own genealogical story. For instance, Rātā is a man known for building a canoe from a fallen tree, so in some tales Rātā becomes a personification of the forest king. The sclerophyll tree known as rātā may be said to be one of Tāne’s children, or descended from Tāne through Hineraukatauri or other forest deities. The towering kauri is sometimes linked to noble ancestors of the tribe. The kahikatea is the “maid of the plain,” sometimes associated with ancestors who danced in the swamp. Even small plants have stories: the kōwhai flower might represent the dawn or a particular mythic figure. Māori often recite lines of descent for plants and trees, just as they do for humans.
Birds, insects and fish also figure in whakapapa. A kiwi, for example, is sometimes called “Tāne’s little child,” because it hides in the forest undergrowth, and some say Tāne gave birds wings to fly and the kiwi lost its ability to fly because it stole Tane’s plant or disobeyed him. Eels (tuna) have tales of descent from Tāwhirimātea or Tangaroa, explaining their slippery nature. The great moa and Haast’s eagle (now extinct) had their place in story as well – perhaps descendants of Tāwhirimātea or Tūmatauenga hunting in the forests. Carving and weaving often depict these genealogical relationships. For example, a carved eave-panel on a meeting house might show a frieze of intertwined birds and fish alongside human figures, illustrating the shared ancestry of everyone present.
Even mountains and rivers are respected as ancestors. Many Māori greet a mountain by name and give thanks – naming it is a way to honour the tūpuna who dwell in that place. A river might be described as a long line of ancestors flowing from the place of origin to the sea. By knowing the whakapapa of a region – which ancestors settled where – people orient themselves in the whenua (landscape). In this way, the entire environment becomes a living genealogy.
Tribal Genealogies and Migration Stories
Whakapapa is also the lineage of tribes (iwi) and sub-tribes (hapū). Each iwi has an ancestral figure or figures from whom its members descend. For example, the North Island tribe Ngāti Porou trace back to ancestor Porourangi and ultimately to Rongowhakaata and Paikea. Ngāi Tahu in the South Island look to Kaiapoi ancestors and to the canoe Waitaha, the ghosts of Hine Waiao, and so on. The details vary, but the pattern is the same: people recite their descent from names and deeds of the past.
A crucial chapter in many genealogies is the voyage from Hawaiki, the ancestral homeland. Māori oral histories tell of great waka (canoes) that carried ancestors to Aotearoa centuries ago. There were canoes like Te Arawa, Mātaatua, Tainui, Horouta, Mātaatua, Tokomaru, and many more. Each waka had a captain and crew of chiefly lineage, and those lineages became the founding tipuna of many iwi. When people trace their whakapapa, they might say “tōku waka, tōku tūpuna,” meaning “my canoe and my ancestors.” In tribal narrations, the leaders of those voyages – such as Kupe, Tama-te-kapua, Tamatekapua, Hoturoa – are like patriarchs whose stories are intertwined with landfall, battles and settlement.
Māui, the famous culture-hero, appears in some whakapapa too. Maui’s exploits (fishing up the North Island, slowing the sun, etc.) often serve as cultural allegory, but some tribes consider him a relative of their ancestor. Other renowned figures include Paikea the Whale Rider, who is said to have arrived by whale to the Gisborne region, and Ruatapu and Rahiri, ancestors of Northland tribes. Each narrative of arrival and migration is also a whakapapa narrative – the lineage of names, canoe moves, battles, alliances, and eventual settling in particular valleys or coasts.
As descendants, modern Māori take pride in this ancestral map. They say “Ko Maunga-whakahii o Kaweka me Ruahine, ko Rangitīkei te awa” (such-and-such mountain and river are our ancestors). They link themselves to famous ancestors to assert status or rights, or simply to remember the hard paths their forebears walked. In times of gathering, tribe members may recite long chains of names from these hapū ancestors through each generation down to the present. To hear a line of whakapapa is to hear the lifeline of a people.
Whakapapa in Daily Life and Custom
Whakapapa is not a dusty history – it lives in ceremonies, in speech and in everyday behaviour. When Māori meet for a pōwhiri (welcome ceremony) at a marae (meeting place), one of the first things spoken is the genealogy. The speakers introduce themselves by listing mountain, river, tribe and ancestors. This ceremonial “mihi” situates each person on the land of the marae through their whakapapa. By the time formal talks begin, everyone knows everyone’s origins and connections. Such introductions can be eloquent speeches in te reo Māori, but they can also be told in English with reverence.
In many families, babies are given names that honour ancestors, sometimes even unfolding the name of the newborn as a sentence of whakapapa. Karakia (prayers or incantations) often invoke tūpuna names to call for guidance or protection. Haka (traditional challenges or dances) may list ancestors to show lineage and strength. Songs (waiata) often recount tales of ancestors and of Rangi and Papa, teaching younger generations their heritage. A whānau reunion (hui-whānau) might centre around telling stories of great-great-grandparents or of an ancient battle that defined the tribe’s land.
Genealogical knowledge has practical uses too. In earlier times, if someone needed to know if they were closely related to another (for example, before marriage or to settle a dispute), they would trace back through whakapapa. The practice of whakapiri is to find the common ancestor of two people and determine who is senior (tuakana) or junior (taina) in the line. This helped people show proper respect and speak according to kinship ranks. It could be as simple as naming each other’s father, mother or grandparent and seeing where the connection lies. Even today, Māori often ask “Ko wai ō tipuna?” (Who are your ancestors?) as a genuine way of establishing relationship.
In traditional society, whakapapa was memorised and recited by kahu (experts). There were different types of recitation for different purposes. A taotahi was a single line of descent (father to son to grandson), while whakamoe included intermarriages that connected tribes. A tararere was like a family tree with key names, and tātai hikohiko was a shortened genealogy focusing on the most important ancestors. These recitations could be long, but they always served to confirm where each person and hapū belonged in the wider tapestry.
Physical art also carries whakapapa. The carved posts of a wharenui (meeting house) often represent ancestors of the tribe; weaving patterns (kōwhaiwhai) may symbolise genealogies of chiefs; even tattoos (tā moko) can encode family histories. Land features are treated like ancestors: when building a house, the wood might be spoken to, the site blessed with the name of the land’s ancestor, linking the construction to the earth mother.
Key Terms and Practices
Throughout these stories, certain Māori words are key to understanding whakapapa:
- Whānau – extended family, all the relatives bound by whakapapa.
- Hapū – sub-tribe or clan, a large kin group descended from a common ancestor.
- Iwi – tribe or nation, made up of several hapū.
- Tipuna (or tūpuna) – ancestor, often revered and invoked by name.
- Mana – spiritual authority or power, often inherited through whakapapa.
- Tapu – sacredness or restriction, which can attach to people and places because of their genealogy (for example, the site where an ancestor died might be tapu).
- Mauri – life-force or vital essence, present in all things; seen as passed along through genealogies.
- Karakia – ritual prayers or chants, often beginning and ending with names of ancestors.
- Whare Wānanga – traditional schools of learning, where elders would teach young people the sacred genealogies, histories and customs.
Each of these terms shows how whakapapa is woven into every part of life. For instance, mana whenua refers to the authority over land, which a tribe holds because their ancestors lived there. A newborn may have their head touched on the family marae to connect them to the ancestral spirit of that place. The way a pōwhiri proceeds – from calling to the four winds to linking arms at the end – follows ritual patterns rooted in whakapapa and mythology.
Significance
The power of whakapapa lies in its ability to connect the past, present and future. Through it, every Māori can place themselves in a vast family story. It anchors identity: when one knows one’s whakapapa, one knows one’s role in the cosmos and obligations to others. It preserves history: even without written records, vital information has been carried for generations in genealogies. It ensures continuity: by reciting our ancestors, we keep them alive in memory, and we carry forward their teachings. It fosters responsibility: understanding our descent from the earth and gods reminds us to care for the land, the forests and the seas as if they were kin.
For Māori today, whakapapa is still the pulse of culture. It is chanted in waiata by school children learning te reo, it is recorded in tribal books, and it shapes modern movements for land and environmental guardianship (kaitiakitanga). In a broader sense, whakapapa offers a model of interconnection that resonates beyond Māori – it teaches that humans are not separate from nature, that respecting ancestry and ecological balance are part of being human.
In short, whakapapa is the great story of genealogy – an epic of creation, kinship and continuity. It is spoken of in myths, carried in our veins and echoed in the winds and rivers. It reminds every Māori and all of us that we stand on the shoulders of many generations, that the world is animated by shared ancestry, and that by learning the stories of our ancestors we understand how to live together today.
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