

Last Friday was supposed to be a day off for the students of Panmure Bridge School, but for the Kapa Haka group, the real work was just beginning. Teachers from all around our local area and some who had traveled from the far corners of New Zealand were gathering, and we were the ones chosen to welcome them.
I woke up at 6:00 AM to get to the school early. The morning air was crisp, but there was no time to lounge around. I threw on my mufti clothes, laced up my shoes, and headed out the door, walking as fast as my legs could carry me. The streets were quiet, but my mind was racing with the lyrics and actions we had practiced so hard to perfect.
Arriving at the school, the atmosphere was buzzing with nervous energy. I hurried straight into the boys’ changing room to transform into our performance attire. Off went the mufti, and on went the black shorts, the bandana, and the heavy piupiu. The final touch was the (face tattoo). We lined up as some teachers that go to my school used black paint and stencils to apply the fierce, intricate designs to our faces. Looking in the mirror, we didn’t just look like students anymore we looked like a real group ready for battle.
Before stepping out, we had to get our minds and bodies right. We ran through a quick warmup, singing our melodies softly at first, then letting them swell to clear our throats and build our confidence. Between songs, we practically chugged water, knowing that once we hit that stage, we would be giving it everything we had.
When the time came to step into the spotlight, all the early morning tiredness vanished. We performed like there was no tomorrow. The sound of our voices echoed through the space as we launched into Tāmaki E, followed by the powerful melodies of Whakarongo Rā. Next, we sang the song Matariki with lots of different melodies that can be sung with it and now finally, it was time for the last song: the haka, He Taua. The stomps sounded heavy, the pūkana were fierce, and the energy in the room was electric. We left everything on that stage.
Once the final echoes of the haka faded, our job wasn’t quite done. We quickly moved outside to form two long lines facing each other, creating a living pathway for the guests to walk through. But before the teachers moved past us, a few chosen leaders from our Kapa Haka group stepped forward to deliver a powerful karakia (prayer) on behalf of the entire Panmure Bridge School, clearing the path and blessing the day ahead.
Then, the procession began. A sea of teachers and educators walked down the path we had created, heading toward the hall. The air was filled with a chorus of “Well done!” “Amazing job!” and “Proud of you!” It was awesome to look out and spot some familiar faces. I saw teachers I knew from Tāmaki College, and even my old teacher who used to teach at Panmure Bridge but is now over at Pt England School. Seeing them smile made all the hard work worth it.
As the crowd thinned out, we began to pack up, thinking the day was a wrap. But the most memorable moment was still to come.
Out of nowhere, a very kind man from the visiting group stepped forward. He stood before us, locked eyes, and began to perform a powerful haka all by himself. It was a deeply moving moment it was the first time anyone had ever performed a haka back to us to show their appreciation. The sheer respect of his gesture gave us goosebumps.
To return the honor, the students who had said the karakia stepped forward to hongi the man, pressing noses and sharing the breath of life to seal the bond between us. As he finally turned to walk into the hall, the rest of us clapped loudly, our hearts full of pride.
With the day officially a success, I headed back to the boys’ changing room, took off the piupiu, put my mufti clothes back on, washed the paint from my face, and walked home, knowing we had done our school proud.