He wāhi tō te waipiro i roto i tō tātou whakapapa / Does waipiro have a place in our whakapapa

When we first asked rangatahi of Manurewa Marae about Waipiro, their reaction was almost instant—laughter, surprise, maybe even a bit of shock. Talking about alcohol, especially in this space, isn’t the norm. But that’s exactly why we were there—to open up a different kind of kōrero, one that didn’t start with judgment, but instead with whakapapa.

 We posed a simple question that shifted everything: Does Waipiro have a place in our whakapapa?

If something is in our whakapapa, we must be able to trace it back. We whakapapa to our Atua, to our Whenua, to our Tupuna—so what about Waipiro?  Where did it enter our stories?  Who brought it into our whānau? And most importantly, what was its role before it became what we know today?

To help us understand this, we broke down the word Waipiro itself.

In Te Ao Māori, Wai carries immense spiritual and cultural significance—it is the essence of life, a taonga with deep connections to our whakapapa, our Atua, and our well-being. Piro, on the other hand, means putrid, foul-smelling, or rotten. When Māori first encountered alcohol, they recognised its effects and named it Waipiro—a direct reflection of its impact on the body, the mind, and the mauri of our people. It was never seen as a life-giving Wai, but something that altered the balance of our natural state.

 This led us into kōrero about Kava, a drink with deep roots in the Pacific, traditionally consumed in ceremony and connection. We talked about the Kumete/ Tanoa—the sacred bowl from which kava is shared—and how, in Pacific cultures, this practice was never just about drinking, but about honouring relationships, knowledge, and intent.  Rangatahi were intrigued by the idea that what we consume is often shaped by the tikanga that surrounds it.

Turning the whakaaro back to Waipiro we wanted to understand what tikanga, if any, sits around alcohol today?  For many, it’s no longer about ceremony, but about escape, numbing, or habit. Somewhere along the line, its role shifted. 

But just like anything in our whakapapa,

we have the power to reclaim and reshape it.

This kōrero wasn’t about telling rangatahi what to do—it was about giving them the space to think differently about something so normalised in our lives. By tracing Waipiro back through whakapapa, they could see it with fresh eyes, ask new questions, and maybe even consider a different relationship with it moving forward.

 So, the question we pose to you is, does Waipiro have a place in your whakapapa?

Ngā mihi to the Kaimahi at Manurewa Marae for creating a space where these kōrero could happen, and most importantly, to the rangatahi who brought their full selves to the discussion. These whakaaro are shaping the way we navigate Waipiro as Māori—not through shame, but through understanding.

Authored by Rangitini Williams (Oranga Whakapapa Lead), supported by Kaukurangi Maori, Oranga Whakapapa and Alcohol Harm team at HFSA, The Cause Collective.

Authored by:

Rangitautini Williams/Lead Systems Innovator – Healthy Families South Auckland

 Anaru Ah Kew/Kaiurungi/Healthy & Thriving Families & Communities – The Cause Collective

Led by the Alcohol Harm team for Healthy Families South Auckland – The Cause Collective