The revival of tapa and the reclamation of stolen indigenous knowledge.

We had tapa.

Tapa gifted for a burial ceremony

The decline

From the early 1900s, the production of tapa declined (Museum of New Zealand/Te Papa Tongarewa, n.d.-c). Tapa was the main natural form of clothing where both men and women wore tapa (Alexeyeff, 2009). The volcanic soil of some atolls in the Southern Cook Islands was fertile ground for tapa-making trees, particularly paper mulberry but also banyan and breadfruit trees (Museum of New Zealand/Te Papa Tongarewa, n.d.-c). Tapa is another example of the closeness between Indigenous peoples and the environment. Tapa making was a task completed by women, wherein their creation was a process of inclusion and collaboration of shared stories and experiences, often between the older and younger women. With the arrival of missionaries came the introduction of cloth, which Māori women began using almost immediately.

Change of fabric

Tivaevae, meaning to stitch together, refers to patchwork which was mostly European inspired (Coombe, 2001), and the Cook Island women soon adopted the tivaevae making it their own. Although the material changed from tapa to fabric, the tivaevae also holds significance within Cook Island culture (Coombe, 2001). The principles surrounding tapa are still present when making tivaevae, apart from the obvious beating of the leaves, and according to Alfred Ngaro, ‘We took tivaevae and made it our own’ (A. Ngaro, personal communication, 17 December 2020). Similarly, as told by Ani Oneill, a New Zealand artist of Cook Islands descent, ‘We have transferred the mana’ (A. Oneill, personal communication, 12 April 2021). Unfortunately, tapa making ceased to be practiced soon after the introduction of cloth.

Reflections

Finding out that our ancestors made tapa has been a powerful and eye-opening experience. Learning that our people were part of a rich tradition of tapa-making connects us to something deeper. It’s more than just a craft; it’s a symbol of identity, history, and resilience.

Even though many of us didn’t grow up with this knowledge, we’ve come to realize that it’s our responsibility now to seek it out. We can’t wait around for others to teach us who we are or where we come from. Taking ownership of our learning means asking questions, listening to our elders, reading, and staying curious. It also means honoring our culture by learning its stories and sharing them with others.

Rediscovering this connection isn’t just about looking back—it’s about how we move forward together, with pride and purpose.

Conclusion

We had tapa! I say this with the same expression as Moana from the movie Moana when she discovers that her ancestors were voyagers.

Do you have a story surrounding tapa you would like to share?

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