When the 2025 cohort of the Mindanao Young Leaders Programme were called onto the marae ātea of Ōrongomai Marae in Upper Hutt through pōwhiri for noho marae (3-day stay), they carried with them the stories of their own communities – communities grappling with the legacies of colonisation, the erosion of Indigenous languages, and the struggle to preserve cultural identity. There, they would find their own stories reflected back to them and see the possibilities that emerge when communities reclaim their language, land, and identity.
A living space of identity and resilience
For Angela Mariz Obsina, the marae revealed itself as something far more than a building. “It is a living space of their identity, their history, stories, and their resilience,” she observed. In an urban setting, the marae stood as testament to the Māori people’s continuous fight to preserve, restore, and revitalise not only their language and culture, but also their land.
What struck Angela most profoundly was the marae’s commitment to community care through social and health services, education, and reintegration programmes. “For them, it is not about the economic gains and the power, but it is about truly being there for your community,” she reflected. The experience strengthened her understanding that sustainable development must centre the community and have great consideration on cultural history and practices.
The revival of language, the revival of culture
From Siargao, an island rich with Indigenous heritage where many traditions are no longer widely practised, Alnie Espiel found herself confronting how little she truly knew about Indigenous culture. The Māori fight to preserve their language through initiatives like the Kōhanga Reo movement resonated deeply with her.
“It was a powerful reminder of the importance of acknowledging and protecting one’s language, which carries so much of a community’s identity, values, and history,” Alnie shared. The parallel to her own Siargaonon language, culture, and practices – slowly fading in her community – became impossible to ignore. The experience inspired her to reflect on ways to recognise, honour, and sustain her own Indigenous roots.
Emmanuel Jr. Cababarros found this insight deeply resonating with his own work, recognising that “reviving language is also a revival of culture”. As a conservationist, his time at the marae transformed his understanding of his work. Nanny Lorna’s emphasis on identifying plants shifted his perspective. “In Māori worldview, identifying plants is about recognising relationships, acknowledging that we are connected to these beings in deep, reciprocal ways,” he explained.
The experience reminded him to listen to what the land needs rather than focusing only on what can be taken from it. “Moving forward, I will apply these lessons by integrating Indigenous values of care, reciprocity, and respect for the environment into my conservation work in Mindanao.”
Te Whare Tapa Whā: A holistic vision
Cleo Mansiliohan found inspiration in the marae’s holistic approach to health and wellbeing, embodied in Te Whare Tapa Whā – the four walls of the meeting house representing spiritual health, physical health, mental and emotional health, and family and social health. This approach demonstrated significant interconnectedness to cultures, whenua (land), whānau (family), and community.
“It is important to embrace our culture and language as it is our identity,” Cleo reflected. The experiential learning at Ōrongomai Marae provided profound insights into decolonisation, revealing how preserving culture and language can address the disconnection of cultural practices, societal issues such as connection to our environment and land.”
Shared struggles, shared hopes
Kenneth Cagula felt a strong sense of community among the people he met at the marae. They spoke not only of intergenerational trauma, exclusion, and prejudice faced by Māori people, but also of their communities’ shared hopes and aspirations.
The visit resonated powerfully with Kenneth’s experiences engaging with historically marginalised Indigenous communities in Mindanao who continue struggling to assert their fundamental rights. “I may apply my learnings from Ōrongomai Marae in understanding the struggles of other groups and finding connections with them to build pathways for healing, justice, and development.” he reflected.
Applying Indigenous practices
For Rhaneses Rosales, a non-Indigenous person, Ōrongomai Marae marked his first encounter with Indigenous practices. Initial awkwardness gave way to amazement at the depth of cultural traditions and the strong sense of community. The warmth of the people and the calming, healing ambience made him feel at ease.
What particularly impressed Rhaneses was that the marae offers social services not only for Māori but for anyone seeking support, demonstrating its role in community development and inclusivity. During the farewell, he felt deeply emotional, especially during the poi dance paying tribute to those who have passed and the elders. “Thinking about the passage of time and leaving this place stirred strong emotions,” he shared.
“I plan to apply my learning from Ōrongomai Marae by approaching community interactions with respect and openness, advocating for inclusive practices, and supporting initiatives that strengthen cultural understanding and social support within diverse communities.”
Where the heart is
“Marae is where my heart is. Marae is home.” Rick John Guillarte’s simple words captured something profound that many of the group felt. Even in their short stay, the love and warm welcome from Nanny Lorna, Sammy, Nanny Hene, Kiwi, Lu, Selena, Mika, and everyone at the marae created a sense of home away from home.
Rick found deep value in their work reviving language and their continued struggle to reclaim land stolen from them. “I believe that the efforts and works that they are doing is a testament of the aroha they have for their tribe, environment, and family,” he observed.
The experience taught him that family, community, and nation are important actors that must be considered in crafting projects. “It should be centered and crafted based on what they need,” Rick emphasised.
A living example of Indigenous development
Viktor Melitante found the stay profoundly moving and transformative. From the pōwhiri (welcome ceremony) to the shared kai and kōrero, every moment was infused with warmth, respect, and a deep sense of belonging.
What stood out most was the intentional revitalisation of Indigenous knowledge—rongoā (traditional medicine), tikanga (customs), and te reo Māori (language) – all of which had been suppressed through colonisation. Witnessing this cultural revival reminded Viktor of the urgent need to protect and restore Indigenous narratives in his own context, especially the Blaan river-protection stories fading from memory.
“The marae itself is a living example of Indigenous and community development,” Viktor observed. “It’s not just a physical space – it’s a cultural anchor, a place of healing, learning, and intergenerational connection.”
As a teacher and project development officer, Viktor sees clear parallels between Māori efforts and his work with Blaan and Ugat-Dayo communities. Both strive to reclaim wisdom, empower youth, and build sustainable futures rooted in culture. “The marae reminded me that colonisation and technological advancement should never come at the cost of cultural erosion.”
Ancestors in the making
As Emmanuel reflected: “Even if the transformation we seek may not happen in our lifetime, we are leaving small pockets of change for future generations. We are, after all, ancestors in the making.”
At Ōrongomai Marae, the young leaders from Mindanao found more than cultural exchange. They found recognition of their own struggles, validation of their work, and inspiration for the paths ahead. They discovered that the work of decolonisation, cultural preservation, and community development is not isolated to one place or people – it is a shared journey of resistance, renewal, and hope.
Most importantly, they found whānau. They found home. And in finding home at the marae, they found renewed strength to continue building home in their own communities, carrying forward the lessons of aroha, reciprocity, and the understanding that true development centres the community and honours the deep connections between people, culture, and land.
Ōrongomai marae welcomed them as visitors. They left as whānau, forever changed, forever connected.
