What you need to know about buying and gifting pounamu

Gathered from the cold blue waters of awa up and down the west coast of the South Island, pounamu begins as a raw, hidden piece of stone.

Once carved and cut into an intricate design, it can take on a deep, personal meaning for the wearer.

Pounamu is a prized taonga for Māori and non-Māori alike, and increasingly gifted for significant life events and celebrations.

But as interest around pounamu grows, what are the tikanga surrounding the buying, wearing and caring for it?

Joel Marsters (Te Arawa, Te Whakatōhea, Ngāti Pikiao) has been a carver for almost 15 years. Based in Rotorua, he has been surrounded by mahi toi for much of his life.

"Me and my twin brother, we kind of always learnt. We grew up with our nan and sat at her side while she weaved. We didn't really think about it as art, it was more functional," he says.

"It was in our blood, I like to think. We come from a long pedigree line of carvers."

Marsters originally wanted to be a tā moko artist, marking people's bodies with traditional Māori tattoo, "but then I slowly fell into whakairo", he says.

Alongside his twin, he attended the New Zealand Māori Arts & Crafts Institute in Rotorua.

There, he was chosen for the first intake into Te Takapū o Rotowhio (the National Stone and Bone Carving School), learning under the tutelage of renowned master carver Lewis Gardiner.

Marsters and Gardiner now work side by side at Rākai Jade, a studio in Rotorua.

Does pounamu always have to be a gift?

Over time, Marsters says perceptions of what is tika, or right, for how to treat pounamu has changed. Now he is working to revive traditional practices.

"We're redefining and making our own as we go, because a lot of the stuff that we were doing was western."

He says one of the biggest misconceptions around pounamu is that you cannot buy it for yourself, with some believing it might bring bad luck.

"I've done some research and there's no evidence of that actually in te ao Māori."

That idea was a "Pākehā marketing method" used to encourage tourists visiting Aotearoa to buy pounamu for their relatives back home, rather than reflecting a traditional practice or rule, Marsters says.

Although the origins of this superstition are murky, it has undoubtedly contributed to the mystique surrounding pounamu ownership.

In the past, when traditional, more time-consuming methods were used to carve a pounamu, it could take a year or more to create a single taonga. As a result, the pieces were highly valued and often passed down from generation to generation - likely influencing the modern practice of gifting pounamu.

Nelson-based carver Timoti Moran also agrees that it became a marketing strategy.

"You can definitely buy yourself one," he says.

"Our tīpuna traded pounamu. It was traded as a commodity, and it was the best commodity. Great warriors, great ariki, great tohunga all had pounamu."

Can you repair broken pounamu?

Previously a plumber and builder by trade, Moran decided to learn how to carve pounamu after he had a recurring dream calling him to work with the precious stone.

He particularly enjoys educating others and, through the blog on his website, addresses commonly asked questions about pounamu.

One of these is what to do if your pounamu breaks.

Because pounamu was traditionally used by Māori to make tools, Moran's tīpuna were practical in their approach to broken pounamu, he says.

"Pounamu that was broken by our tīpuna were always repurposed, because it was the most sought-after stone. There was no such thing as throwing stuff away back then."

He stresses the importance of taking care of pounamu to prevent breakage.

"You are dealing with a stone object, and therefore it will break [because of] our modern concrete floors, concrete tiles, laminated bathroom bench tops, which are really hard. So your care of your pounamu is very important," he says.

"If you need to take off your taonga, do it in a carpeted room."

Fellow carver Marsters says he would only repair a piece "if the structural integrity is there".

"Otherwise, if it's broken, I'm like, 'he tohu tērā, pea ka hangaia tētahi taonga hou.'" (That's a sign, maybe it's time to make a new taonga.)

"I try my best to replicate it or make it look like it has some little tohu (symbol, mark) acknowledging that broken taonga or tiki, so you're still carrying that mauri," Marsters says.

He recommends contacting the original carver of the broken piece.

"You're not allowed to carve over someone else's mahi, because that's tapu whakairo.That's like killing a man twice so I won't."

Like Marsters, Moran says the mauri of the old taonga is still there even when it is repurposed.

"It still carries the story. Regardless of whether it was a toki and is now a hei tiki, its whakapapa is still there, just like ours."

To bless or not to bless?

The question of whether a new pounamu taonga should be blessed is one of the most complex, Marsters says.

He uses karakia in his mahi everyday to clear the tapu, so believes getting the piece blessed separately is not essential.

"For starters, you've made the connection with me. You've obviously come this far with me. You feel safe in my hands. I feel there's no juju, but heoi anō, I do karakia every morning before I start my day."

Moran, who also uses karakia while creating his taonga, says each person has a different perspective, depending on how they were brought up.

"There's a lot of different beliefs within hapū, within iwi, within whānau, so kei te pai, each of their own. You don't have to go and do that [blessing]."

Who can find and sell pounamu?

Ngāi Tahu, the South Island's largest iwi, are the sole kaitiaki of pounamu, a taonga regarded as precious to them and their tīpuna for hundreds of years.

In 1997, ownership of all naturally occurring pounamu within Ngāi Tahu's rohe was returned to the iwi as part of its Treaty settlement through the Ngāi Tahu (Pounamu Vesting) Act. This Act recognises that when the iwi sold land to the Crown in the 19th century, it never intended to give up ownership of the highly prized pounamu.

Francois Tumahai is the chair of Te Rūnanga O Ngāti Waewae - the smallest hapū of Ngāi Tahu, whose whakapapa traces back to the tīpuna of Te Tai o Poutini (West Coast of the South Island). He says that part of his responsibility is ensuring pounamu is protected for future generations.

"From our perspective, we are pounamu."

Ngāti Waewae's takiwā (area) stretches north of the Hokitika River to Kahurangi Point and inland to the Southern Alps, the area where most pounamu is found.

Fossicking for pounamu is only permitted on the beaches of Te Tai o Poutini, and is limited to what an individual can carry. Pounamu found elsewhere, including rivers, cannot be taken without permission from mana whenua.

Tumahai says some people are breaking the rules, resulting in illegal black market trading.

"What is happening at the moment is you've got miners [illegally mining and] selling pounamu to carvers. It's coming off mine sites in the little hours of the morning and being transported all around the country and all over the world."

To combat this, Ngāi Tahu has set up an authentication scheme, which any carver can sign up to for free.

The scheme allows carvers to buy authentic and ethically sourced pounamu to carve. In return, they are provided with a unique traceability code, so customers can identify the origin and whakapapa of the stone, how it was extracted, processed and who the artist that carved it was.

The extraction and mining of pounamu is done sparingly, Tumahai says.

"We're not mining 24/7. We only take pounamu as we require."

The latest pounamu boulder Ngāi Tahu found while mining weighed six tonnes, which Tumahai says will last five to six years.

Joel Marsters is also concerned about the black market and overproduction of pounamu.

He carves by commission only, working with people on their own bespoke pieces.

"Especially for pounamu, there's no place or home for mass-produced taonga. I believe that, just like tā moko, you sit down, you have the dialogue, and you make a connection that way. Every piece I make is that way."

It makes each taonga he creates that much more special, he says.

"I try to steer each person to the appropriate taonga for them, for that point in time. A lot of people, they might get a taonga that's not quite fit for, for example, a baby. I'm quite real with them.

"As kaitiaki, you've got to look at the most resourceful way of doing things too. A lot of carvers, they're just pumping and pumping and pumping. It [pounamu] can't withstand it."

Marsters says he has been advocating for restraint for years. "Pounamu doesn't just come up again, so we need to be careful with what we do."

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