Kāti Te Kōhuru Tamariki

Māori are finally marching for our children

The other day, I wrote again about the silence. The silence that follows the murder of a Māori child. The silence that echoes louder than any tangi, deeper than any haka of protest. For a long time, there has been no collective outrage, no public movement to confront the violence inflicted on our tamariki in Aotearoa.

It wasn’t the first time I raised it. I've spoken on this before. I've called out the lack of visible, vocal response when our babies are harmed. In frustration, I created a banner. It was simple and direct: “Kāti Te Kōhuru Tamariki” - Stop murdering children. It mimicked the design of Toitū Te Tiriti Limited merchandise, the company strongly linked to Te Pāti Māori. That wasn’t accidental. It was a deliberate appeal to our political and cultural conscience, a challenge to our collective priorities.

And today, I can say with some hope that something has changed.

Kaikohe is preparing to come together. A hīkoi will take place this morning to honour the short, bright life of Catalya Remana Tangimetua-Pepene, a three-year-old mokopuna from Northland, known to her whānau as Remana. She was farewelled last week at Te Paea Marae and laid to rest at St James Church cemetery. Her neighbours described her as a light, a child whose smile "lit up the whole world.”

But that light was extinguished. Emergency services found her unresponsive in a home on Tawanui Road last Wednesday. Despite desperate efforts, she could not be saved. A 45-year-old man, currently protected by interim name suppression, stands accused of assaulting her and of murdering her.

For too long, these stories have passed without enough of a collective outcry. But this time, Ngāpuhi is responding. The hīkoi has been called by local hapū Te Matarahurahu and is supported by Ngāpuhi Group. It will begin at Len’s Pies and end in the heart of town - a community coming together in grief, in love, and with determination not to look away.

There will be karakia, karanga, takutaku and waiata. Bright colours will replace black, a tribute to Catalya’s joy and innocence. And in their official statement, Ngāpuhi doesn’t just mourn. They speak plainly: this is not an isolated tragedy. Violence is a pattern - one that has devastated Horeke, Pakotai, and far too many unnamed homes this year alone.

They go further, acknowledging the complexity of harm. Recognising not just those harmed, but the vulnerability of those who cause the harm as well. That is not weakness. That is wisdom. And it’s what gives me hope.

I take my hat off to Ngāpuhi. Truly. For finally listening. Not just to me, though I’ve spoken up, and yes, I’ve been dismissed more than once. More importantly, though, they’re listening to the people. To the voices that have cried out for action on meth, on homelessness, on violence in our homes.

Ngāpuhi is standing up. Speaking out. Showing that iwi leadership can evolve, not just in the halls of Parliament or Treaty negotiations, but in the rawest, most human places, where our babies live, and too often, where they die.

This hīkoi is more than a tribute. It is a signal. A cultural and spiritual commitment to do better. A declaration that Māori leadership cannot remain silent when Māori children are being buried.

To Ngāpuhi, ngā mihi nui. Thank you for listening - not to me alone, but to every whānau who has suffered in silence. May this be the first of many steps toward a future where banners like “Kāti Te Kōhuru Tamariki” no longer need to be made. Where our children are not only remembered, but fiercely protected every day.

Let this hīkoi be a beginning. Not an exception.