James Henare Research Centre’s leading son

James Henare Research Centre is named in honour of renowned Te Tai Tokerau kaumātua and Ngāti Hine leader Sir James Henare, who played a key role in Ngāti Whātua’s Treaty of Waitangi claim over Ōrākei in the 1980s.

Sir James passed away in 1989, shortly before the centre was launched in 1993, so his son, Bernard, was invited to get involved.

Bernard is now chair of the transdisciplinary centre, which provides research to empower Māori in Te Tai Tokerau, from Auckland to Northland, and aims to improve their social, environmental, and economic wellbeing.

The 74-year-old doesn’t choose a seat at the head of the table in the centre, which is based in an historic building on Wynyard Street, near Waipapa marae.

And he doesn’t tell the story one might expect.

“I was a bit of a daddy’s boy and I think he saw me as the one who would inherit his mantle – but I had other ideas,” Bernard laughs.

At the age of 12, he started boarding at a Māori boys’ school, Hato Tipene, St Stephen’s College in Bombay Hills, Auckland.

It was a long way from his home, on a large dairy farm in Mōtatau, near Kawakawa in Northland.

He was accredited university entrance, but his father’s hopes that young Bernard might head off to university were soon shattered.

“I’m the bete noir of the family. I was a teenager in the 1960s, when the austerity years after the Second World War were slowly fading and a new thing was taking over - it was rock ‘n’ roll and people were becoming more liberal.

“I thought, ‘yeah, that’s me’.”

As the second to youngest in a family of six children, Bernard knew his father didn’t allow his tamariki to smoke or drink until they turned 21.

When he was 17, he remembers buying a packet of cigarettes on his last day at school. After dinner, he lit up in front of his father, who sat at the head of the table.

Soon after that, Bernard bought a carton of beer and openly drank in front of his father.

“He looked at me and never said a word.

“It seemed like he just thought I was a lost cause and it wasn’t worth saying anything.”

Sir James served as a Lieutenant Colonial in the Māori Battalion during World War Two and Bernard was born in 1951, after his father returned.

Sir James’ father, Taurekareka (Tau) Henare, was an MP for Northern Māori from 1914 to 1938. Tau felt responsible for sending young men into battle during World War One.

“My grandfather’s way of repaying that debt was to send two of his sons to participate in the Second World War,” says Bernard.

Sir James was wounded about three times while leading the Māori Battalion in Italy, but he and his brother were lucky to return home largely unscathed, though Sir James suffered occasional nightmares after the war.

“He said the war had sharpened his skills in discerning what was important and what wasn’t.

“I don’t know if it was a result of his war experience or not, but he never disciplined us physically,” Bernard says.

Both his parents were fluent in both Māori and English, giving him a good grasp of te reo from a young age.

Despite choosing a different path, Bernard says his mother, Rose, and his father brought up their family “the right way”.

They were Anglicans, who attended church regularly, a faith Bernard retains.

Sir James also appeared to have uncanny insight and the gift of understanding the ruru, which is the Ngāti Hine kaitikaki or guardian animal.

“More than once, I remember my younger brother and I waking at about midnight and hearing my father outside talking in Māori.

“We snuck out and had a look and there was a ruru on the power line outside our house. He was talking to it and the morepork would reply and it seemed like he could understand what the owl was saying.

“I think those conversations with the ruru were like messages being delivered,” says Bernard.

The Henare house was always busy during Bernard’s childhood, with people coming to seek advice from his father, who “just knew stuff”.

Sir James worked for the Department of Māori Affairs and often travelled in that role.

Sometimes, he took his young son, Bernard, with him when he visited old war comrades, who needed a boost to lift their spirits.

But it was Sir James’ brother, Mita, who sparked Bernard’s love of trains, a passion that shaped his life.

“I remember sitting on my uncle’s knee when I was four or five years old, while he was driving a steam engine in Wellington. I thought, ‘that’s what I want to do’.”

Bernard worked as a KiwiRail train driver for 51 years, before retiring last year.

He recalls plenty of heavy drinking sessions, before he gave up drinking and smoking at the age of 34, a few years before his father passed away in 1989.

“If I hadn’t done that, I doubt I would be as healthy as I am now,” he says.

In 1976, he married Maryanne and they had four children, before she passed away two years ago, after a long illness.

Despite his youthful rebellion, he has ended up taking on some of the leadership his father tried to pass down to him.

In 2014, Bernard chaired a hui with the Minister of Treaty Negotiations to progress talks on Ngāti Hine’s treaty settlement.

He now has a part-time role as a senior Māori cultural advisor for KiwiRail, performing the role of kaumātua around the country.

As chair of the James Henare Research Centre, he hopes to help build a vital hub connecting Māori researchers with people who want research done in Te Tai Tokerau area.

“A centre like this is badly needed, because the North is underdeveloped, with not much industry. The health statistics are not too flash, there’s pretty widespread poverty and drugs like P are causing a lot of problems.

“It’s an area with a lot of potential, but also a lot of baggage. It would be great if the centre could help lift the health and wellbeing of people up there,” he says.

As Sir James said:

Kua tawhiti kē tō haerenga mai, kia kore e haere tonu. He nui rawa ō mahi, kia kore e mahi tonu.

You have come too far not to go further, you have done too much not to do more.