But I suffered a big dose of Fomo over Waitangi this year. Which is why I am writing this column from the police tent at the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, outside Te Whare Rūnanga.
I can hear the haka practice of the Ngāpuhi taua on one side of me and protest haka practice on the other. In between these two sounds, people are slowly arriving ahead of the 11am Pōwhiri for Politicians.
None of the MPs will be left alone today. Not for fear of their security but for fear of what a minder-less politician might say to an inquisitive journalist.
At 6am the political day at Waitangi was already under way. There were half a dozen rangatahi in the moana and another two-dozen getting ready to jump in.
The main street of Waitangi was mostly full of parked cars and vans, with flags on the windows and the occasional boot door open revealing a gently sleeping teenager.
Pup tents were pitched along the grass verge and all along the beach walk were jandals, umbrellas and camping chairs, tidily lined up and out of the way.
On that short early morning walk I meet a parade of walkers and joggers, iwi leaders from the north and south, sleepy campers drinking tea and even a judge taking a morning constitutional. Everyone said ‘‘morena’’.
This year, for the first time ever, Te Runaka o Ōtākou was welcomed on to Te Tii Waitangi Marae on the lower Treaty grounds. It was all done in a very Kāi Tahu way, a humble yet momentous occasion.
It was lovely and a privilege to start the day with an early pōwhiri at Te Tii.
Te Tii Waitangi Marae has been a focus of Ngāpuhi political activity since before 1881, when the whare was built there. That whare is called Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Next door to the marae is the large open ground where, in 1835, He Whakaputenga o te Rangatiratanga, the Declaration of Independence, was signed by rangatira, and where, just five years later, rangatira met to discuss the implications of te Tiriti o Waitangi.
But Te Tii is not used for the political pōwhiri like it used to be. That helps to make the Ōtākou pōwhiri even more important - this is the marae where we come first as Māori.
It makes a kind of sense that the state-led formalities at Waitangi now take place in the upper grounds. This was the place where the British officials crafted the Treaty, and indeed the Declaration. This was the place of their power at that time.
This means that the politicians’ pōwhiri is different. They are still challenged but they are not as uncertain on their feet.
The representatives of the state are on ground more familiar to them, ground from which their predecessors exercised political power. Perhaps the land remembers.
Te Tii Waitangi Marae is very different. It is the place of Māori authority and it is very difficult for politicians to feel any comfort there, knowing how much harm they have caused over the last two centuries.
You will have seen the news that showed you what happened at the politicians’ pōwhiri. I plonked myself down on a park bench to watch it.
It was a little higher on the hill and I had a good view of all the different sides.
Sitting to my right on the bench was a kaumatua from Kaitaia. We shared an umbrella. Sitting to my left was a bearded man in sneakers, shorts and cellphone earbuds.
Thinking that was a ubiquitous uniform for security up here, I asked him ‘‘Who are you security for’’? He took off his glasses and said ‘‘It me, Kelvin’’.
Doh! So it was the Hon Kelvin Davis, previous deputy leader of the Labour Party, both of us happily above the political fray playing out below us.
But politics is the topic of the day. The kaumatua and I talked about it for a long time.
‘‘For a while,’’ he said, ‘‘the Greens, Labour and Te Pāti Māori looked really strong. And then they crashed’’.
Why, we pondered, and was it repairable?
Yes, we agreed, it would be possible for Te Pāti Māori to come back.
‘‘They just had to sit down and talk to each other’’ he said.
‘‘Oh matua, don’t we all?’’
• Associate professor Metiria Stanton Turei is a law lecturer at the University of Otago and a former Green Party MP and co-leader.
