Matire Seath has been a part of Toi Tangata for over 17 years. Matire is Toi Tangata's Business, Finance and HR Manager but more than that, she is the pou of Toi Tangata's everyday operations and a mother to us all, as well as her tamariki! She keeps our team safe and supports us in bringing our visions to life. 

We talk to Matire about her upbringing in Ōtakanini, Haranui, where she and generations of her whānau have been shaped by the moana. For Matire, the moana is a place that resurfaces memories of loved ones, grounds her in the ebb and flow of her kāinga, and is a source that has and continues to feed generations of her whānau.

If you’ve ever had the good fortune of having Matire cook or bake for you, you will understand that kai is about more than feeding people physically - it is an expression of love and care. It is an expression of her deep reverence for the taiao, which you can taste in the simple ways she prepares kai and allows kai to lead. This is exemplified in her one of her favourite “dishes”, fresh-caught fish eaten just like that, maybe dipped in salt water, or, her feijoa cake!

Mei kore ake te wahine rā e whakaora ai i a tātou.

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Ko wai koe, nō hea koe?

‍Ko Matire Seath ahau. Nō Otakanini/Haranui ahau. 

Would love to know more about your upbringing, where did you grow up? Who were some of the influential people in your life?

I was born in 1980 in central Auckland, during a time of strong Māori cultural and political resurgence, including the early advocacy that laid the foundation for Te Kōhanga Reo. Although my parents, Mum (Māori) and Dad (Pākehā) did not speak the reo nor were we around any kōhanga reo where myself and my siblings could learn to speak our language, today we still have a deep appreciation and respect for our Māori culture and although none of us are able to kōrero Māori or understand it, we do understand the importance of tikanga.  

My parents had me at 19 and raised me in West Auckland before we relocated back to Mum’s whenua in Ōtakanini, Haranui, South Kaipara, at the age of 8 where I live today.  Growing up surrounded by whānau, our lives were deeply connected to the whenua and moana. I have fond memories gathering kai with my uncle, grandfather, and cousins. 

These experiences not only shaped my upbringing but also instilled in me a lifelong love for kaimoana and a deep appreciation for our traditional ways of living.  Influential figures in my life were my whānau, especially my uncle and my grandfather, who passed on knowledge, tikanga, and a love for the taiao through everyday life.

How was kai intertwined in your upbringing? Do you have any fond memories of kai, recipes, favourite moments or meals?

Kai was a huge part of my upbringing and deeply intertwined with how we connected to our whenua, moana, and each other as whānau. Growing up in Ōtakanini, Haranui, surrounded by whānau, we lived off the land and sea. It was just a normal part of life. I have really fond memories of going eeling and fishing with my uncle Slim, my grandfather, and my cousins. We’d set mullet and flounder nets down the creek, and back then, the fish were plentiful. We never went hungry.

One of my favourite things was walking the country fields after rainfall to pick mushrooms with my mum and aunties, or gathering watercress in season. Those moments weren’t just about getting kai, they were about wānanga, laughter, connection, and learning tikanga in practice. It was through these experiences that I developed my love for kaimoana, which honestly feels like it’s been part of my DNA since childhood.

We didn’t grow up with flash recipes or cookbooks, it was more about knowing how to prepare what we had, often straight from the creek, garden, or bush. I still carry those simple but powerful traditions with me today.  I was an observer first but had a hunger to get in amongst things, especially with my aunty in the kitchen, she was the one who taught me how to make bread, something I do quite regularly these days and is like second nature to me.

I know you have a particular affinity with the moana, who did you get that from?

My affinity with the moana definitely comes from my whānau, especially my uncle and grandfather.  From a young age, I was too nosey to stay home so if I was lucky enough I’d be out on the water or down at the creek with them, setting nets, gathering kaimoana, or just being in the environment. It wasn’t something we were formally taught, it was just part of life, part of our rhythm as a whānau.

They passed down their knowledge not just through words, but through action. Watching how they respected the moana, how they knew when to gather and when to leave it, how they used what they caught to feed the whānau. Those were some of the most formative lessons of my life. That connection was never just about food, it was about whakapapa, responsibility, and being in tune with our taiao.

I think that’s why my love for the moana runs deep, it’s tied to memory, identity, and a sense of home.

How much do you think living in the Kaipara influenced that for you?

Living in the Kaipara absolutely shaped that connection for me. Being raised on our whenua in Ōtakanini, Haranui, right by the moana meant the taiao wasn’t something separate from us, it was part of our everyday life. The Kaipara has its own wairua, its own rhythm, and growing up here meant we were constantly surrounded by the natural world, whether it was gathering kai, walking through the fields, or just sitting by the water.

It taught me to slow down, to observe, to appreciate the abundance around us but also to respect it. The values of manaaki, kaitiakitanga, and whanaungatanga were lived out in real time, especially when it came to how we harvested and shared kai. So yes, the Kaipara didn’t just influence my connection to the moana, it grounded it, strengthened it, and made it something deeply personal and cultural at the same time. 

What kind of tikanga, or considerations do you make before/when diving or fishing?

For me, diving and fishing have always been more than just gathering kai, they’re a way of connecting to the moana, to my whakapapa, and to the tikanga passed down through my whānau. I was raised in Ōtakanini, Haranui, surrounded by whānau who lived off the land and sea.  My grandfather and uncle taught us to respect Tangaroa, to only take what we need, and to never waste anything.  

While I’ve always been more of a fisherwoman, I only got my dive ticket last year in 2024. Diving is still new to me, but it’s something I’m really excited to keep learning and growing in, it’s another beautiful way to deepen my connection to the moana.

Before heading out, we always take a moment to pause, whether it's through karakia or simply acknowledging the taiao. We pay attention to the tides, the seasons, and the feeling of the environment.  It’s about listening, respecting, and maintaining balance.  That connection to the moana was etched into me from a young age, and it continues to shape who I am today.

What's a perfect weekend on or by the ocean look like for you?

A perfect weekend for me and my partner Eric is getting out on the Kaipara Harbour in our little dinghy with a couple of rods, hoping to catch something for the smoker. Since coming back home, these slow, simple moments on the moana have become our favourite way to connect with each other, with the taiao, and with the way we were raised.  If we’re lucky, we’ll bring home a few fish, fire up the smoker, and share a kai with the whānau. And for some reason, whenever there’s fresh fish, I always feel the need to make a batch of fried bread, it just goes hand in hand. It’s peaceful, grounding, and exactly where we’re meant to be.

You have a mokopuna now, what is one thing that you hope you can pass onto them?

One thing I really hope to pass onto my mokopuna is a deep connection to his whenua and the moana, to truly know where he comes from.  Even though he’s growing up in Sydney right now, I want him to always feel that his tūrangawaewae is here, in Aotearoa, on the lands and waters that hold the stories of his tūpuna.  That connection is something I carry deeply, and it has grounded me throughout my life.

I need him to feel that same sense of belonging, that our whenua is not just a place, but part of who he is.  I'm hopeful that he’ll return home one day, even just to visit more often, so he can learn where he’s from, gather kai from the moana, and hear the kōrero that were passed down to me.  If I can nurture that connection in him, then I know the legacy of our whānau and our tikanga will live on in the next generation.