Shane Te Pou – Adrian Paki Rurawhe – a great Tōtara has fallen

Whakamoemiti ki a Ihoa o ngā mano.
Tuauriuri whaioio ki tonu te rangi me te whenua.
Te nui o Tōna Korōria.
Te Āka o te Morehu e here nei,
hei whakaruruhau.
Te Ātea kua tuwhera a Te Wairua Tapu,
te ukaipo.
Te Temepara tapu, te puna waiora,
o te whatumanawa.
Ko Rātana te tangata,
ko Te Māngai o ngā Ariki te kupu.
Ko Ihoa o ngā mano te pā piringa.
Ko te Whetū Mārama o te rangi,
e piataata mai.
Te Whetū Mārama, te tohu o te Hāhi.
Te Whetū Mārama o te kotahitanga, te huarahi tika.
Ko te takutai moana te rohe,
roto, waho, naku katoa, kei te kapu o te ringa.
Ngā maunga, ngā awa, ngā iwi i raro i a Ihoa,
te pā kaha.
Te Tiriti o Waitangi me te Paipera Tapu te take.
Ko Adrian Paki Rurawhe e tū nei.
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Praise to Jehovah of hosts. The power and the glory, in heaven and on earth.
The Ark of the Morehu that binds us, our refuge.
The open courtyard where the Holy Spirit dwells, the place of nurture.
The Holy Temple, the spring of life to my heart.
Rātana the man.
Te Māngai o ngā Ariki, the mouthpiece through whom the word is spoken.
Jehovah of hosts, our place of refuge and strength.
The Star of Light shining in the heavens.
The Star of Light, the symbol of my faith.
The Star of Light of unity, the pathway before me.
The ocean is my boundary.
Within and beyond it, I hold my responsibilities in the palm of my hand.
The mountains, the rivers and the people under God are the stronghold.
The Treaty of Waitangi and the Holy Bible are the foundations.
Adrian Paki Rurawhe stands.
⸻
This mihi was gifted to me by one of Adrian’s kaumātua as a reflection of his life journey: the person he was, the people who shaped him, and the responsibilities he carried.

Many of the reflections that follow grew out of an interview I did with Adrian when he was Speaker of the House.

Returning to them now carries a very different weight.

Adrian has passed away.

My thoughts are with those who loved him most: his family, his hapū and iwi, and his Rātana Church whānau. They were the great loves of his life, and he was deeply loved by them.

That love showed in the way he spoke about leadership. He never treated it as something that belonged to him. He understood it as something entrusted to him.

He was never a thundering man. He did not lead through volume, intimidation or grand gestures. He chose his words carefully, and when he spoke, people listened, not because he demanded it, but because what he said made sense.
There was an extraordinary quietness to his authority. It came not from being the biggest person in the room, but from knowing who you are, where you come from and whom you serve.

In our conversation, I was struck by how little he needed to prove. Many politicians arrive with big personalities, bigger smiles and sometimes even bigger egos. Adrian was different. The stereotypical Speaker stands demanding order above the noise of Parliament. Adrian could speak quietly and still command the House. He simply made his ruling and moved the House forward.

That was not something he discovered in the chair. It was the continuation of a lifetime, shaped by the Rātana tradition and the example of those who walked before him.

His great-grandfather was Tahupōtiki Wiremu Rātana, founder of the Rātana movement. His family carried the Western Māori seat, now Te Tai Hauāuru, through generations. His grandmother, Iriaka Rātana, was the first Māori woman elected to Parliament. As a young man, Adrian helped her with constituency work, seeing up close what it meant to serve people.

Yet he did not rush towards politics. His first working life was with the Railways, where he witnessed the transformation of an institution that had once employed tens of thousands. He experienced redundancy and saw workers lose their livelihoods. He told me he vowed that if he were ever in a position to protect workers’ rights, he would.

That promise helped lead him into public life.

He committed himself to te reo Māori. He served his kura, and chaired Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Apa during a significant period that included Treaty settlement negotiations. Even when political loyalties were tested, he could stand between different worlds without abandoning either. Perhaps that is what I remember most: he connected people.

When he became the member for Te Tai Hauāuru, he carried a whakapapa already woven deeply into Māori political history. But he never behaved as though it entitled him to anything. If anything, it made him more conscious of what was expected of him. He did not chase headlines or tell people what he had achieved. He simply got on with the work.

As Speaker, where others might have seen a role of controlling the chamber, Adrian saw himself as its servant. That distinction mattered. It reflected his belief that leadership is ultimately about people.

When I sat with him for that interview, he was right there in front of me. Today I am writing about a man who has gone. There is pain in that, for all who knew that gentle, thoughtful man who could say so much without raising his voice.

He inherited much, but he also gave much. He carried the names of those who came before him, but walked his own path.
Perhaps that is why the final words of the mihi feel so profound now:

Ko Adrian Paki Rurawhe e tū nei.
Adrian Paki Rurawhe stands.
He stood for his people, his faith, his whānau, his hapū and iwi. He stood for service. And although he no longer stands physically among us, the values by which he lived remain standing.
Haere rā e te rangatira.
Haere ki te kāinga tuturu.
Haere ki ngā ringa o Ihoa o ngā mano.
Moe mai rā, Adrian.
Moe mai rā e te rangatira.
Tō mana, tō aroha, tō mahi, tō whakapono — ka mau tonu.

Shane Te Pou is a political commentator and Māori broadcaster. It is TDBs privilege to platform his political analysis for the Election.