They held onto their land through war and confiscations or fought to get it back, but now they can't build on it. Ella Stewart finds out how red tape and barriers at the bank are stopping Māori building papakāinga.
The dream lives above Ōkahu Bay, on the shores of the Waitematā Harbour. Up the winding hill and through the wooden gates a community lives collectively, Ōrākei Marae at its centre. From the street you can hear nannies chasing after their mokopuna, as well-fed dogs bark at each other. There's uninterrupted multi-million-dollar views of Auckland city, Sky Tower and all, but most importantly, there's 10 purpose-built whare for kaumatua.
This is the dream realised for Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei (after the nightmare of seeing their people evicted from the land and their houses burnt down in 1952), but for most iwi it's a mirage. Even if they managed to hold onto some of their land, through confiscations and war, or succeed in having their ancestral whenua returned, the odds are stacked against them being able to build a single house upon it, let alone a papakāinga like this one.
Look at those two-bedroom houses, all black bricks and red roofs with solar panels, less than a 200-metre walk from the marae and designed specifically for kaumatua needs.
Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei Trust chairperson Marama Royal walks through the grass and speaks of what a success it has been, since building finally finished, following Covid-19 delays, in January.
"Close to the marae, they're on their papakāinga, on their whenua and they're all cousins. Sometimes there's a brother and sister living next door to each other, everyone's related. And it gives them a common space for them to just be the great kaumatua that they are," Marama says.
If it works so well, why aren't papakāinga (intergenerational communal housing on Māori ancestral land) springing up across the country? They remain few and far between, even as statistics show the housing crisis badly impacting Māori. Māori make up just over half of the almost 27,000 applicants on the Ministry of Social Development's public housing waitlist, 33.4 percent of those severely housing deprived, and Māori homeownership rates continue to fall. While in the 1930s, Māori dwellings were much more likely to be owner-occupied (at 70.5 percent) than all dwellings, by 2018 the Māori homeownership rate, including family trusts, had fallen to 31 percent, compared to non-Māori at 52 percent.
Scroll through the Facebook group 'Papakāinga - resources for getting whare on the whenua for whānau' and you quickly realise there are a lot of Māori who want their own houses on their own land, but, they say, the systems are stacked against them.
"How are our people supposed to realise our homeownership and whānau papakāinga aspirations when there are such long processes? I feel like it's not set up for my whānau," one poster says.
"I feel defeated" says another.
Why Māori have to build houses on removable piles
Take the banks - it's far more difficult to get a loan to build on whenua Māori, than to get an individual mortgage.
What stops banks from lending? Māori land can't be easily sold as it is owned by multiple people and protected from being taken from Māori ownership under the Te Ture Whenua Act 1993. That means the land can't be used as security for a mortgage, as it is with other mortgages. Some banks told RNZ they lend for buildings on whenua Māori on a case-by-case basis, but all acknowledged it was challenging and complex for them to do so.
There is one specific loan designed to get around the problem. Created in 2010, the Kāinga Whenua loan scheme is implemented by Kāinga Ora, Kiwibank, and the Māori Land Court, and provides loans, with no deposit required. It uses the house as security, instead of the land. The loans were capped at $200,000 but last week's Budget increased that limit to $500,000.
But even the Kāinga Whenua loan is far from smooth sailing. Houses must be built on removable piles so that in the event of a loan default (though Kāinga Whenua has never seen one) they can be removed. They can also only be one storey high and no smaller than 50 square metres - again to make them easy to remove.
Wayne Knox (Waikato Tainui), the general manager of Māori housing advocacy group Te Matapihi, says there are a number of "bugs" in the design of the Kāinga Whenua loan. As well as having to build on removable piles, he believes the application process is too stringent.
"It's one of those 'death by a thousand cuts' kind of things where there's all these little things, they just add up, which make it a lot harder than a standard mortgage product to be able to access."
In the 12 years since the loan scheme was launched, only 70 loans have been issued, 53 of those in the past five years.
That's too low, according to Knox.
"It's not the volume of housing on whenua Māori that we need to see to be making a real contribution to the housing crisis," he says.
He says the low uptake does not reflect a lack of interest but that the requirements are too challenging for many Māori.
They are even more difficult for Māori with low-household incomes, he says.
"Even accessing a standard mortgage product is hard for many of our whānau."
While there are some government grants available for papakāinga, it's often not enough to help whānau living on very little, like many in Northland, he says.
"That's one of the reasons why we haven't seen a lot of papakāinga development in the North for example, because whānau don't have the income to service a mortgage, " Knox says.
The average individual income in Northland is $24,800 before tax, according to the 2018 census.
"On that income, you can't afford a mortgage when you're dealing with a conventional housing typology - it's just not possible - you can barely afford to pay rent with that kind of income, so, obviously, it's one of the major factors impacting our whānau," Knox says.
'Kāinga Whenua needs to be completely reviewed'
Janine and her whānau own a block of land in Te Tai Tokerau and started planning their papakāinga in 2019. Three years on, they are still having trouble raising the funds they need.
She describes the Kāinga Whenua loan scheme as "very hard", a "long, arduous process" that reminds her of the Māori Land Court.
"We've been to our own bank, no - they don't want to touch Māori land. There's just too many shareholders involved."(Māori land is extremely fragmented, with an average of 111 owners per block of land.)
She says every day she sees double standards when it comes to what is available to owners of Māori land compared to general title land.
"We have Māori land on one side of the road, we have the farmers, who were gifted the land through the crown, who own the other side, it's a beautiful farm. They have access to loans, a mortgage, you name it. They have all of the necessities for life and good living. But our ancestors, who originate from this whenua, and [yet] we have to go through this long process of just trying to put a whare on there. It seems ridiculous."
The Kāinga Whenua loan has faced scrutiny since it was established, with advocates pushing for reform. A 2011 Auditor-General report on government planning and support for housing on Māori land found that the loans had a low uptake due to unaffordability, eligibility criteria, problems in getting owner consent, and difficulties accessing information and support. Former Māori Party leader Marama Fox has previously criticised the scheme as full of bureaucratic red-tape and doing next to nothing to get Māori into warm, dry, affordable homes.
Whangārei architectural designer Jade Kake (Ngāpuhi, Te Whakatōhea, Te Arawa) believes the current barriers and challenges of building on Māori land are almost identical to those identified by the Auditor-General in 2011.
"It's been the same issue since 2009, which is really an indictment on this government and really they should be more embarrassed by this than they are."
Kake says some people find it hard dealing with the multiple organisations involved in administering the loan (Kāinga Ora, Kiwibank, and the Māori Land Court).
"Often people would go to the Maori Land Court and hear something different, go to Kiwibank [and] get told something different. So that specialist lending knowledge of how the loan product works might not be there, which leads to whānau getting kind of misinformation or told 'no' when the answer might actually be 'yes'."
Wayne Knox says he's seen the same thing.
"It really depends on who they're talking with in Kiwibank, at one office they may well have some experience and have helped other whānau to get through the scheme whereas another office will have no experience with it and so they don't really know where to begin."
Kiwibank says it acknowledges the complexities of buying and building on whenua Māori, especially with the different parties involved. They are working with Kāinga ora and the Ministry for Housing and Urban Development to improve experience and redevelop their training programme for "specialist lenders who will be responsible for delivering the Kāinga whenua scheme in the future".
Kāinga ora says given the steps involved, it understands the importance of ensuring the right information is available about eligibility, that information is consistent, and that people are supported through the application process.
"We encourage anyone who may need help with clarifying any details, or may need more information to get in touch with Kiwibank or Kāinga Ora to see how we can help."
Kāinga ora says they have been working together with Kiwibank, and the Ministry for Housing and Urban Development to improve the experience and outcomes for whānau.
But Kake says Kāinga Whenua needs to be reviewed.
"And I mean reviewed properly to understand what is and what is not working with that product," she says. "And then, from there, the changes made to have an optimised Kāinga Whenua in line with its original policy intent."
She says a review needs to identify the gaps in the government funding available and create a joined-up "Māori housing finance ecosystem".
Landlocked and stuck in the Māori Land Court
For Luanne Butler, the problem is not getting a loan - well, it's not only getting a loan - it's where her whānau land is. Surrounded by native bush in rural Hokianga, the land is vast and largely undisturbed. There is currently one whare, which belonged to her Nanny but she hopes one day her whānau will be able to build more and live collectively.
They began the process at the beginning of 2020, but they are still only at the planning stage because their whenua is landlocked, with no legal access, unless you count a rough driveway created by years of tyres rolling across the same land, which floods anytime it rains, and which she says is unsafe.
"When whenua is landlocked, you either have to have really good neighbours who will let you drive over their whenua, or you can't actually get to your whenua other than walking. So my nanny, my mum and them when they were young, they used to have to walk," Butler says.
"I think that's the same with a lot of rural whenua. It's when it was all divvied up but they didn't think about how people were going to get to the whenua when there was no road."
Indeed, approximately 27 percent of Māori whenua is landlocked. It's the result of many years of extensive subdivision as land was transferred or sold. Some blocks have legal access, in the form of a 'paper road', but no physical road.
Butler says her whānau have to walk 2km, hauling their bags of groceries, just to get to the whenua.
"Many years we spent as kids having to walk from the road, across the paddock, across the stream, and up the hill."
What's the solution? Maōri land owners must approach surrounding neighbours to negotiate and formalise reasonable legal access. In cases where they can't come to an agreement, the Māori land owners must apply at the Māori Land Court. But it's a long process and they may be required to pay compensation for access across private land.
Past generations of Luanne's family did not have the resources or support to formalise their own road. The whānau are trying to sort it out now, drawing up a master plan and holding hui.
Efforts have been made to resolve issues faced by the owners of whenua Māori. In 2020, an amendment was made to Te Ture Whenua Māori Act 1993, but there was strong criticism that the changes didn't address the problems of landlocked whenua.
Living in cow sheds with no running water
Jumped through hoops to get a loan and figured out how to build on removable piles? Been to the Māori Land Court and managed to get access to the whenua? Now try living on land unconnected to infrastructure (think water, sewerage, electricity). A lot of Māori land is often in rural locations and poorly connected to infrastructure, according to a 2011 Auditor-General report. Eighty percent of Māori land is in the poorest land classes (non-arable), according to Te Puni Kōkiri, which support a limited range of productive uses.
The cost of connecting infrastructure can be a heavy burden. Māori land owners can apply for up to 100 percent of their infrastructure costs to be covered by the government (though experts say in reality it's unlikely all costs would be covered), but whānau say the process is as long and arduous as all the others involved in building on whenua Māori.
Back on the papakāinga support Facebook page, a number of posters have had it.
"Government funding is hōhā, it's set up with government processes and their processes are long, like jumping through hoops," one person says.
"Numbers could be so much higher if there wasn't so much red tape involved in the process and criteria. More of our people could be homeowners, and living back on their whenua," another posts.
Jade Kake says the upshot of jumping through hoops to obtain infrastructure is not pretty.
"Whānau are living in cow sheds and tents and caravans and they don't have any running water."
The way forward
Where to from here?
In a statement, Associate Minister of Housing Peeni Henare acknowledged the barriers that whānau Māori have been struggling with for many years, when building on their whenua.
"As a Government, we have already made changes to the law via the Te Ture Whenua Māori (Succession, Dispute Resolution, and Related Matters) Amendment Act to make it easier for Māori land owners to connect with and use their whenua. Some moves to improve the situation for Māori trying to build are underway."
Indeed, the 2021 Budget injected major funding - $750 million - into Māori housing and infrastructure.
Of that, $380 million will be invested over four years through the Whai Kāinga Whai Oranga initiative, which will fund approximately 1000 additional homes. This includes a mix of papakāinga and larger-scale developments, while also delivering repairs to another 700 homes.
The Ministry of Housing and Urban Development says the initiative is making steady progress with 540 homes contracted to be built, and 266 whānau Māori houses approved for repairs so far.
A further $350 million from the $3.8 billion Housing Acceleration Fund was also set aside for infrastructure to support the Māori housing programme.
But in January this year, Te Puni Kōkiri said the demand across the country for housing funding "far exceeded the funding available in 2021/22, even with the additional Whai Kāinga Whai Oranga funding," and that any more funding applications "already received plus any new applications received in 2022 will be reprioritised and reconsidered when we plan for 2022/23 investment."
Online enquiries into the Te Puni Kōkiri housing funding applications more than doubled in the 2021, with an average of 148 per month, compared to an average of 25 per month in 2020.
Even so, there was no additional funding in this year's Budget.
Peeni Henare, however, says efforts are still being made.
"We know that there is further work to be done, which is why I am currently working with my officials at Te Tūāpapa Kura Kāinga to further address barriers for Māori who are looking to build homes on their whenua. I am also aware that there is additional work underway to address barriers around landlocked whenua Māori being led by Te Puni Kōkiri."
But is a bigger shake up needed?
Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei trust chairperson Marama Royal says what's needed is an iwi-led bank.
"They're trying to fit a circle into a square and it's not going to work. They have to be more flexible, more agile, around how they work with iwi… When you've got red tape, or bureaucratic processes that stop you, people get frustrated and just give up.
"Māori are really smart people and I think if iwi came together and put an iwi bank together, it would not be set up like how the current financial institutions are, it would be based on aroha, manaaki, and tiaki and it would be whānau first."
Te Matapihi General Manager Wayne Knox backs the idea.
"There's a lot of factors that would need to be considered to make such an initiative successful. There needs to be more innovation in the finance space and I would love to see an iwi bank one day."
A vision of the future
Up on the hill above Ōkahu Bay, Marama Royal is trying to be heard over the barking dogs. She wants to see papakāinga like this across the country.
"When you can build a home and the view looks across to the city of Auckland, which was gifted by our tūpuna Āpihai Te Kawau to Governor Hobson to build, when you can see that, from where you're living, it is pretty special."
"We can see our Maunga, Maungakiekie, from here, Maungawhau. So all of those sites of significance are just so important to us."
Papakāinga change lives, she says.
"We need to maximise what land we've got to house our whānau, that's a priority for us is to build warm, healthy, affordable homes for our people"
And it's not only the lives of Māori, it changes.
"If we can actually house our own people, it frees up other homes out there for others. And our people are telling us they want to come home. And so as a trust our responsibility is to work really hard on achieving those aspirations for them."
RNZ
*This story originally said the number of Kainga Whenua loans issued was 63. It has been corrected.
