Battle of the big tiki

The hei tiki arms race at Waitangi

I wrote this back in February 2025 — but it didn’t make it to Substack, until now — enjoy.

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Waitangi is no longer just a celebration of nationhood, history, and heated political debates. It has now become a full-blown contest of who can lug around the most ridiculously oversized hei tiki pendant without developing a chronic neck injury.

This year, the stakes were higher than ever. Among the usual displays of Māori supremacism, protest, and drowning out political speeches by old mate Seymour, there was an unspoken yet undeniable Hei Tiki Showdown. As I stood in the crowd, eyes scanning the throngs of influential iwi leaders, it became increasingly clear—the bigger the tiki, the smaller the dicky.

I saw some tikis so large they looked like they belonged in Te Papa, not dangling precariously off someone’s chest. Some of them easily tipped the scales at a kilo or more, gleaming in the Te Tai Tokerau sun like spiritual bling, stretching the very definition of wearable art. It was as if the weight of history and whakapapa had been literalized into a giant lump of pounamu, hanging off the necks of the elite like an anchor of cultural dominance.

At some point, I started to wonder: Was this a flex? The Māori equivalent of driving a lifted Ford Ranger with oversized mud tires to compensate for… other shortcomings? If so, the hei tiki have become the Rolls-Royce of cultural overcompensation.

One particular bloke, Aperahama Edwards, the morbidly-obese bloke who took away David Seymour's microphone, looked like he was on the verge of toppling forward under the sheer gravity of his pendant - a tiki so enormous it could have doubled as a life raft if the waka capsized. Another kaumatua stood regally, his giant hei tiki resting like a greenstone breastplate, daring any lesser leader to challenge his dominance in the Waitangi Weightlifting Championships.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if next year someone turns up with a full-sized carved pou strapped around their neck, just to really drive the point home. Forget debate, forget speeches - the real measure of mana will be who can carry the heaviest chunk of pounamu without suffering a spinal injury.

So, where does it end? When does the madness stop? Or do we just accept that next year, Waitangi will introduce an official Hei Tiki Hefting Competition, complete with Olympic weight classes and sponsorship deals from physiotherapists, TAB and WINZ?

Until then, I’ll be here = watching, waiting, and praying for the day when we can return to smaller, more elegant pounamu. You know, before someone snaps their neck trying to assert dominance by making up for their little rakau.