Actor Lionel Wellington with his mau rākau at the Hoani Waititi Marae. Photo / Jason Oxenham
Taonga are like newborn babies, precious.
You have to be gentle and careful, and every time you pick them up you need to show them your love and appreciation. I believe that for any taonga Māori and it's the same for my mau rākau.
I grew up in the firstfull Māori immersion school, Te Kura Kaupapa Māori o Hoani Waititi. Pāpā Pita Sharples opened my school in1985 (the marae opened on April 19 1980) and by then Te Whare Tu Taua o Aotearoa (House of Maori weaponry) had already been running for a couple of years. I was 11 when I was first introduced to mau rākau and I just knew that it was something I was meant to do. It's similar to karate in the sense that there are different stages (and grading), with level 1 being a student and level 8 effectively becoming a black belt. Also, in the same way karate has belts that recognise an individual's level, we have tīpare (headbands).
My last grading was in 2016 and I went for my level 4 and I haven't been back since.
Level 4 is no joke, it takes a long time to get there. In fact, only after you've reached that stage can you can throw down a wero. I've done about eight, with the most significant one for a tangi. When you're doing a wero it's a personal experience — the earth is moving beneath you and there's no one else present except you and the person.
It's these things that I love about my culture: mau rākau, whaikorero, even kī o rahi - they all make me so proud to be Māori and then there's the fact I can share this across the other areas of my life.
Right now I'm buzzing because season two of Head High is about to air. I remember I just happened to bring my taiaha and a different rākau to set on the day we were shooting the school haka and I casually asked our director, "What do you reckon if I have a jam with my taiaha while the boys do the haka?"
To be honest, I don't think he knew I could use it in the way I do, so he was a bit iffy and just said: "We'll give a look." Well, once we had finished, he came over and said, "Yes, we're gonna keep that, more please." And that was that.
Head High has always been a story of the trials of middle-class living and it's told through the eyes of this rugby family that faces the same challenges that any other family living in Auckland would — and I like that. Here I am telling Māori stories, the real stories that get into the nitty-gritty details.
But my mau rākau hasn't always made it to the set. When I was 16 I had a role on Shortland Street and my line producer wasn't impressed when I turned up after training with a bit of bruised lip. She told me to "cut that out" and so I did. Didn't want to make too much extra work for the makeup ladies, you know. So I put my rākau into a corner for a little while and that's given me an opportunity to focus on my acting.
But now, I feel the rākau is calling me again.
I think a lot about my grandmothers, both Theresa Tepania-Wellington and Lorris Fakaosilea. They are ta moko'ed into my skin and I feel them all the time.
I know they loved seeing me do mau rākau as a child. They're watching me from above, wherever they are and they can tune into whatever I'm doing — both on and off the marae. I know they'd be so proud.
- As told to Dione Joseph
Lionel Wellington stars in Head High, screening now till early October on Three Now.