Wāhine who answered the call

This Anzac day, Shonelle Wana remembered how battles were not only fought by men far away on the frontlines, but by women here at home.

 

As we remember the brave men, our soldiers of war, this Anzac Day, let’s also take a moment to remember the women. They may not have marched in formation or fired weapons on foreign soil, but they carried the weight of war in countless ways, feeding the nation, raising funds, healing wounds, and holding whānau together while their sons, brothers and husbands were sent away.

This is a story for them, for the wāhine who kept the home fires burning and who stepped forward into roles they had never known before.

When the Second World War broke out in 1939, many Māori responded with readiness and pride to offer themselves for service. But behind the scenes, questions arose. Would Māori be allowed to fight overseas? Would they be treated equally?

Well, that same year, the government formed a separate Māori infantry battalion. The battalion was made up of four companies (A, B, C and D) drawn from different regions. Whānau lined roadsides, stations and ports to farewell their sons, husbands and uncles, sending them off with karakia and tears.

Overseas, the Māori Battalion quickly earned a fierce reputation. They became known for their bravery and unbreakable spirit. In places like Greece, Crete, North Africa and Italy, they fought with outstanding courage.

However, World War Two didn’t just reshape borders overseas, it changed life here in Aotearoa. As thousands of men enlisted and went off to fight, those left behind were faced with a different kind of battle. They were responsible for keeping the country running while their hearts were heavy and hands were few.

The home front became a hive of activity, and Māori women were deeply involved in this effort. Many came from rural areas to the cities to work in factories. Yet, while city work was important, the major contribution from Māori on the home front was in agriculture. By working the land and producing food for both the local population and soldiers abroad, Māori women helped sustain the war effort in ways that were essential and ongoing.

In 1942, the Māori War Effort Organisation (MWEO) was formed. It was a coordinated national movement to aid in military recruitment, contribute to farming and production efforts, and play a role in managing Māori workforce participation.

The country was divided into 21 zones and more than 315 tribal committees were set up. These committees weren’t just symbolic — they were practical and powerful mechanisms for organisation and action.

The MWEO gave Māori women new roles. With so many men overseas, wāhine were called by essential industries to work in hospitals, factories and community centres. A small number also served abroad with the New Zealand Army Nursing Service, caring for wounded soldiers in foreign lands.

Māori women gathered and preserved food for soldiers overseas. They dried karengo (seaweed), pipi, pūpū, crayfish tails and kūmara, often using traditional knowledge to preserve kai so it would survive the long journey overseas. They stored food in tins, packed in pork fat, and sent it across the ocean to feed Māori soldiers who longed for a taste of home.

In kitchens and meeting halls across the country, they knitted balaclavas, socks, mittens, scarves and gloves. Not just for Māori troops, but for all who were cold and afraid far from home. They sewed flannel singlets and baked cakes and biscuits, sending them warmth and a message of love, a reminder that they were not forgotten.

While many Māori women served the war effort from home, others joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF). The WAAF allowed women to take on non-combat roles in the air force to free up men for overseas deployment.

For Māori women, enlisting was not a decision taken lightly. There were cultural considerations, family obligations and social expectations to weigh. But for many, the call to serve was clear. Some saw it as a way to support their brothers and uncles fighting abroad, and others were drawn by the chance to earn a wage or step into roles that had previously been out of reach.

Throughout these years, whānau continued to gather at stations and ports to farewell their loved ones. These moments were filled with pride, anxiety, tears and prayers. Behind every soldier was a mother, a sister, a partner or a daughter. Behind every farewell was a woman holding her grief so that her soldier could walk tall with courage.

When the war ended in 1945, those who had served, both men and women, began to return home. But returning wasn’t easy. The country had changed while they were gone, and they too had changed.

For wāhine Māori in the WAAF, coming home often meant quietly folding away their uniforms and returning to domestic life. Their service wasn’t always recognised: there were no parades, no medals for many and no headlines. Instead, they slipped back into their roles as mothers, aunties, daughters, workers and carers, raising children, tending māra (gardens), supporting their whānau, and teaching in classrooms. Their contributions became a silent strength carried with dignity and grace.

But for many Māori women, the hardest part came not in returning to normal but in the absence of loved ones who never returned. When the war ended, countless mothers, wives and daughters stood at windows or waited by gates, knowing they would not see their soldier walk up the driveway or come through the door.

This Anzac Day, as I wore the medals of my koro, who was a soldier of the 28^th Māori Battalion, B Company, regimental number 39043, I remembered that the war wasn’t just fought on foreign battlefields.

It was also here at home in our kitchens, on factory floors, in hospitals and on our whenua. I remembered our wāhine Māori who carried so much of the burden with humility, love and quiet strength. I remembered that so many of our men, so many sons, husbands, and fathers, never returned home. They paid the ultimate price for citizenship, for a sense of equality in a war that was not truly ours, but which left gouging marks on our whānau, our hapū and our iwi.

I remembered how, as our Māori Battalion fought bravely far from home, many of them longed in silence for their mothers. And back here, their mothers longed to hold their sons again. I remembered our people who stayed behind and held the home front. Those who carried grief while keeping the home fires burning, who gave in quiet ways and who served without recognition.

On Anzac day, as I said “Kia maumahara tonu tātou ki a rātou,” I held space for them all. Those who went, those who stayed, and those who were forever changed. I will remember them.

Dr. Shonelle Wana (Ngāti Awa, Tūhoe, Ngāpuhi, Te Whakatōhea) was born and raised in the Whakatāne district in a large whānau connected to her culture and many hapū. She holds a Doctorate in Indigenous Development and Advancement and currently serves as a Post-Doctoral Research Fellow at Te Whare Wānanga o Awanuiārangi. Her research centres on Māori women’s leadership with a strong commitment to uplifting wāhine voices. She is also an active member of her marae within Ngāti Awa and Tūhoe, contributing to cultural preservation and community development.

E-Tangata, 2025