DISCONNECTION FROM MANAWA

AMELLIA KAPA COMMUNICATIONS ADVISOR, REGISTERED MIDWIFE

MORAL DISTRESS THROUGH A MĀORI LENS

The concept of moral distress is complex and can be explored through a myriad of different lenses. Te ao Māori offers another perspective, which Amellia Kapa gets to the heart(s) of with Ruatau Perez and Hannah Livingston, of Te Whare Wānanga o Te Ara Teatea.

Ruatau Perez (Ngāpuhi, Tūhoe) spent 10 years immersed in the teachings of worldrenowned tōhunga (traditional Māori healer) Hohepa Delamere, or ‘Papa Hohepa/Joe’ as he was more commonly known. Since Papa Hohepa’s passing, Ruatau has continued to share the esoteric mātauranga, along with partner Hannah (Ngāpuhi), through wānanga and traditional Māori healing at their whare hauora (clinic) in Ōtautahi.

Their perspective on why midwives may be experiencing such high levels of distress is unique, and cannot be separated from the historical events that drastically reshaped how women would birth in Aotearoa. “The Midwives Act of 1904 and the subsequent Tohunga Suppression Act had a huge impact. They took the mātauranga and power away from whānau, who had always birthed their babies at home, according to traditional Māori lore,” Ruatau explains.

As the tapu sphere surrounding pregnancy and birth was systematically broken down by colonisation and medicalisation, Ruatau explains the natural order was disturbed. “Historically in te ao Māori, birth wasn’t just a physical process. Takutaku (incantations) were used to protect wāhine and pēpi; waiata and oriori were performed to bring babies through in the highest vibration possible, in connection with te taha wairua (the spiritual dimension).”

“Grandfathers or koroua (male elders) were the birth attendants, who acted as pou, holding space for labour and birth to unfold. Kuia were also there and played an important role, but typically grandfathers protected the space and called babies into te ao mārama (the world of light),” he explains.

This traditional division of roles may seem irrelevant, but this approach - steeped in ancient wisdom - maintained equilibrium between masculine and feminine energies. Hannah explains present day challenges are, in part, due to the fact that this delicate balance has been lost.

“Birthkeeping has become women’s work, but it never used to be that way. The koroua kept the balance; there was synergy between the feminine and masculine energies and our tūpuna understood the importance of that. Part of the solution lies in regaining that balance - empowering our tāne to step back into their traditional role of holding space,” she says.

“Because our whānau have been so disempowered over time by the loss of our mātauranga, the responsibility of holding space for hapūtanga, labour, and birth has fallen almost entirely on midwives. So midwives are holding space for entire whānau and communities, but who’s holding space for midwives?” she asks.

Clearly, imbalance is a significant contributing factor. Disconnection is another, but before wading into this, a foundational concept must be understood. According to the esoteric mātauranga, human beings were gifted three hearts by the atua (gods), which can be thought of as heart spaces and likened to chakras or energy centres.

The three hearts each hold equal but unique significance, relating to different aspects of our being, and can be defined as follows:

If we are disconnected from any one of these heart spaces (whatumanawa, manawa, or pūmanawa) or they are not in alignment with each other, we find ourselves in a state of imbalance, which can affect us on every level and limit our potential.

The whatumanawa is the seeing or spiritual heart (whatu = eyes, manawa = heart), which our third eye is nestled within. This heart space connects us to deeper ways of knowing, intuition, as well as our atua and other nonphysical realms or dimensions.

The manawa is our physical heart and true centre, connected to all aspects of our being.

The pūmanawa, situated below the pito (umbilicus) is our feeling heart or emotional centre, where we not only experience and express emotions, but store them up when we aren’t able to acknowledge them or become overwhelmed.

If we are disconnected from any one of these heart spaces or they are not in alignment with each other, we find ourselves in a state of imbalance, which can affect us on every level and limit our potential.

So what is happening relative to these three hearts when midwives are experiencing moral distress? Hannah explains the distress is a direct result of disconnection from the whatumanawa, pūmanawa, or both. “Midwives enter the profession because they want to empower our wāhine, but they themselves can be disempowered by the colonised biomedical model, which doesn’t allow for - let alone nurture - intuitive abilities. Many midwives have that deep longing to be birthkeepers, but may find themselves constrained by a system that forces them to disconnect. Over time, that can become a source of distress.”

“Being prevented from developing deep emotional connections with whānau can also be debilitating. If the pūmanawa is being activated, but then midwives are shutting it down, either as a coping mechanism, or because it’s seen as inappropriate in the work environment, it results in disconnection. And not only are they disconnecting from pūmanawa, but across the board - including from the whānau they’re caring for.”

Ruatau explains why this is so painful if it occurs; disconnection of this kind is a violation of our wairua (spirit). “When we’re cut off from any of our manawa, it goes against our core values. All three hearts need to be activated or we’re not honouring the whole process (of life) and we’re going against our wairua, which is why we end up in a state of inner conflict and turmoil.”

The solution, therefore, is a radical shift to heart(s)-centred care, which is within every individual’s control. “In an emergency or a busy shift, it’s challenging, but a moment needs to be found to whakatau (settle) our energy and connect. Turning inward is the key - paying attention to and connecting to our breath, to re-centre and reground ourselves before we connect with whānau.”

Rather than waiting for the systemic changes that are undoubtedly needed, Ruatau suggests small adjustments to individual practice. “It’s about the little things, like remembering to make the connection with pēpi in te whare tangata (in utero), and not just their mothers. Asking for a baby’s consent before laying hands on their māmā’s puku might not seem like a big deal, but it has the power to completely change the way we connect.”

In his own work with wāhine hapū, Ruatau asks pēpi for permission before massaging their mothers. “These pēpi are rangatira and need to be revered as such. Sometimes I’m waiting for 10 minutes for the consent to come through,” he explains. “But I wait for as long as it takes.”

Both Ruatau and Hannah also highlight the importance of any health practitioner being attentive to their own healing if they wish to help others. “It’s about turning inward before looking outward,” Ruatau explains. “We’re always reminding tauira in wānanga – you’re not here to learn how to heal others. You’re here to heal yourself first.”

Attending wānanga isn’t the only way to achieve this, as Hannah points out. “This mātauranga is emerging in different spaces. It could look like attending wānanga for some, and for others it might be about returning to their papakainga or learning about their whakapapa as a first step.”

Both are clear about the fact that all is not lost, and everyone has access to the tools, which are simultaneously inside of, and all around us. “Connecting with the elements and nature to whakatau (settle) the mauri (life force/energy) during times of stress can be really helpful. Going for a walk in the ngahere - noticing the sounds and vibrations of the manu, or connecting to the moana and its constant flow of waves and tides are just a couple of ways to do this. Even just knowing that there are three hearts can spark new awareness and potentially a journey of discovery.” square

Rather than waiting for the systemic changes that are undoubtedly needed, Ruatau suggests small adjustments to individual practice. “It’s about the little things, like remembering to make the connection with pēpi in te whare tangata (in utero), and not just their mothers."

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