Mataora Journey: How a tāne Māori embraced his sacred calling

"I immediately lifted my shoulders and held myself up. I am a better person for having it."

It took 59 years for Rob Tai (Whakatōhea, Te Whānau a Apanui) to unveil his mataora, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

From a young age, Tai felt an unexplainable pull toward receiving his moko kanohi, something he held as a sacred calling.

"I don't know why I wanted it, but it seemed 'right'," he said.

For decades, Tai avoided getting any other tattoos, saving himself for his mataora - a journey he thought might never come.

"I didn't think it would ever happen. I wouldn't ask or talk to anyone about it because I didn't want to be rejected."

In 2023, the wait ended when Tai's nieces, who had unveiled their moko kauae a year prior, put his name forward for the next mokopapa at Maraenui. Surprised at first, he immediately felt at peace.

"It just felt like the right time, I was finally getting my mataora."

Overcoming misconceptions

For Tai, receiving his taonga challenged assumptions he once held.

As a younger man, he believed he needed permission from elders and fluency in te reo Māori, and his tuakana to go first, before he could 'qualify' for a mataora.

"I thought, how am I going to get that? I was of the belief I had to have permission from the elders and all that sort of stuff. But then I realised my brothers had already pushed me forward after our dad died. They made me the spokesperson for our whānau."

A spiritual experience

Tai's connection to his taonga was deeply spiritual. Before receiving his mataora, he called on his late grandfather for guidance.

"I never actually met him because he passed years before I was born, but through my spiritual journey, I met him. He's an awesome dude."

"I asked him, 'Granddad, please help me through this. I want this. I really need this.'"

On the day of his mataora, Tai felt his grandfather's presence. Surrounded by his tūpuna and his 'anchors' - his sons and ex-wife - he was ready.

"At the first prick of the needle, I cried. Finally. I could feel my tūpuna's aroha and pride. I even wanted to laugh out loud - I was that happy."

Tai also believes the absence of pain during the process signalled he was spiritually aligned.

"People talk about the pain of tattoos, but I was like, what's the big deal? I must have been in the zone spiritually."

Reflecting on the moment he first saw himself in the mirror, Tai described feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness.

"It made me look better - not just physically, but as a better person. I immediately lifted my shoulders and held myself up. I am a better person for having it."

He said his mataora is a reflection of his wairua - gentle, inviting, and pīwari.

It also represents who he is: a proud, gay Māori man embracing his whakapapa and identity with pride.

"It's pīwari, like me. I'm so proud to carry it."

Living with mataora

Now based in Western Australia, Tai said his mataora has brought both challenges and affirmations.

Tai said there is a large population of Māori in Perth, however, in other states of Australia this is not always the case.

"In Sydney, for instance, I know that there's a lot of people with their mataora or moko kauae who are here that have a lot of trouble getting into restaurants and places like that."

To help navigate potential discrimination, he said he takes a proactive approach, asking establishments if they will serve him before entering.

"I go straight to the bar or restaurant and ask, 'Will you serve me?' I want to have that power. I don't want it taken away by sitting down and then being told, 'I'm sorry, we don't serve you.'"

Yet his mataora also draws admiration and curiosity. Strangers from diverse backgrounds approach him to comment on its beauty, ask its significance, or even request photos.

"I have people from all walks of life coming up to me and saying, 'That is so beautiful.' Then I tell them it's called mataora or tāmoko. They can't pronounce it of course, but it's so cool to have people interested."

Encouraging others:

To those feeling whakamā about starting their moko journey, Tai asked: "What's holding you back?"

"For me, it's about contributing to normalising moko kanohi and bringing it back after it was nearly lost.

"There will always be naysayers, but if everything feels right for you - your emotions, your thoughts, your spiritual life - then it's the right time for you.

"We can't let others dictate us. Listen to what they say, be discerning, but at the end of the day, this is your journey."

Reflecting on the growing resurgence of moko kanohi, Tai said he feels "really proud" to see it becoming more common.

"When I was younger, there were kuia with moko kauae, but not as many as today. I don't recall seeing any tāne with moko kanohi. But when I see it now, I'm just really proud."

"I do love seeing it. I do love the fact that it's becoming more normal to see."

- This article is part of an ongoing mau moko kanohi series, sharing the journeys of individuals reclaiming their taonga and embracing their Māoritanga.