On December 13, 2003, Te Wehi Heketoro Ratana and other members of the Māori protest group, Te Waka Hourua, abseiled from the roof of New Zealand’s national museum, Te Papa and, with angle grinder and spray paint, removed all but a few words of the English version of the Treaty of Waitangi in the Signs of a Nation Display. Left were the words ‘No. Her Majesty the Queen of England the alien. ration the Queens veges.’ This was directly in response to the frustration of many New Zealanders that the English version of Te Tiriti o Waitangi does not accurately reflect the agreement that was made between the Crown and Māori in 1840 when Te Tiriti was signed.

It helps to know this before you attend this play in order to understand each step of the performance because this is a wild, energetic ride and you need to have your wits about you to keep up with solo performer Ngahiriwa Rauhina’s non-stop action.

The protest is a catalyst for the story, but it is not the main driver. On being arrested for his actions, Te Wehi Heketoro Ratana spent 48 hours in Rimutaka Prison, in a cell with ‘Brian’. This experience takes the event that was a moment of Māori resistance and expands it into a deeply human exploration of voice, sovereignty and power.

Co-written by Te Wehi Heketoro Ratana and Tainui Tukiwaho, and directed by Tukiwaho, the moment of rebellious Māori resistance that occurred at Te Papa is expanded into a deeply human exploration of voice, sovereignty and power, exploring both the effects of incarceration and the lack of empowerment experienced by many Māori and Pacifica people.

The title is a puzzle until you understand that it encapsulates the play’s central challenge to authority. “Ration the Queen’s Veges” is a mischievous inversion, a protest that flips the colonial dynamic on its head. For centuries, the Crown rationed Māori land, culture and resources; here, Ratana symbolically returns the gesture. Through wordplay that’s absurd yet incisive, he reclaims language as a weapon of sovereignty. The phrase becomes both satire and statement: if meaning has been controlled, then twisting it becomes liberation.

Ngahiriwa Rauhina is instantly likeable from the moment he appears on stage and asks the audience to choose which t-shirt he should wear. He delivers a captivating performance, slipping easily between characters with lightning precision and emotional honesty. His physicality, wit and empathy give the story its dynamism. A stripped-back stage design, combined with expressive lighting, AV elements and carefully chosen music, keeps the focus tight while enriching the storytelling.

The portrayal of Te Wehi Ratana’s 48 hours in Rimutaka Prison whips me back to when I visited the prison garden during my student days and, in freezing weather, sat with a group of inmates in a garden shed during smoko as they took a break from tending the prison’s vegie patches. It was a grim, bleak place and a time when they were still permitted nicotine the old-fashioned way, whereas in Ratana’s experience, things have changed. Denied tobacco, nicotine lozenges have become barter and letters are lifelines, which is a sharp reminder that control, in all its forms, is about rationing freedom itself.

If I have one criticism, it is that the dialogue is delivered so fast, it is hard to pick up every word, especially when Rauhina switches between characters. Turn off for a second and you can easily miss something important.

Ultimately, ration the Queen’s veges is a triumph because it records the essence of history in a way that is immediate, intelligent and boldly unafraid. It provokes laughter and reflection in equal measure, turning protest into art and defiance into dialogue. Rauhina proves to be a brilliant storyteller, and this is contemporary New Zealand theatre at its boldest, well deserving of its standing ovation.

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Who better than Tainui Tukiwaho to work with abseiling activist Te Wehi Ratana and Te Pou Theatre’s Creative Team (click Production Details, above) to make a play about Te Waka Hourua’s redaction action at Te Papa Tongarewa’s Signs of a Nation exhibition on 11 December 2023 and its unexpected aftermath!

As a member of that climate and social justice rōpū, Ratana spray-painted over the misleading English text of the Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti, signed by the Chiefs, affirms Māori sovereignty, but the English version says it was ceded). The redactions left Article Three with nothing more than: “no … Her Majesty the Queen of England … is … the … alien … ration … the … Queen … v..eges.” The play reveals all the whimsical options Te Waka Hourua considered before landing on that satirically resonant message.

That inciting incident is ingeniously staged through a blend of Nicole Marsh’s set, Connor Magatogia’s sound, and Jane Hakaria’s lighting and AV designs, operated by Marshal Rankin. They place the audience on the ceiling of Te Papa as Nqahiriwa Rauhina’s Te Wehi Ratana ‘abseils’ down the giant facsimile with his redacting ‘spray can’. Brilliant.

But first, Rauhina sets the stage and the premise of the play with affable chit-chat leading up to a spectacular re-enactment of the moment he got a mobile phone call about the action plan in the middle of his second-to-last tandem skydive before he’d get his solo ticket. Which reminds me to mention that while Rauhina is the only on-stage actor, playing multiple roles, the voice-overs of various others turn out to come from a versatile live backstage performance by stage-hand Roy Iro.

The unexpected aftermath, mentioned above, is the consequence of there being no judge available to set bail for Te Wehi Ratana. Of the 12 people arrested, he was the only one charged with an imprisonable offence, so he was remanded to Rimutaka [sic] Prison.

His cellmate, Brian, introduces him to the currency of the institution: lozzies (the nicotine lozenges issued to all new prisoners, whether they smoke or not and no matter how long they’re in for). These transactions unlock conversations, which leads to Ratana collecting written reflections on incarceration, “nuanced, poetic, conflicted and deeply human” as the publicity puts it.“ration the Queen’s veges is built on those voices.”

Presented with manaakitanga, whanaungatanga and lashings of humour, the 45-minute production offers an enriching rollercoaster ride of informative climbs and plunges into impressionistic action.

See:
The RNZ Culture 101 item that reveals the action was inspired by redacted correspondence between Te Papa and the Māori Advisory Board about the Signs of a Nation exhibition.
Te Wehi Ratana’s Opinion piece in The Post.

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He whakaari tēnei e kōrero ana mō te tino rangatiratanga. Nā Te Pou Theatre te whakaari ration the Queen’s Veges i whakaatu ki roto i te whare o Circa Theatre, he kōrero e takoto ana i runga i ngā wheako o Te Wehi Ratana, te tangata nāna i panoni te whakaaturanga Tiriti i Te Papa.

The one-person show distils a moment of fierce Māori activism into a piece filled with humour, grit and heart. A highly entertaining piece to watch, it is co-written by Te Wehi Ratana, whose own experience forms the backbone of the story, and its director Tainui Tukiwaho, and performed with energy by the talented Ngahiriwa Rauhina with vocal support by Roy Iro. Jane Hakaraia’s lighting and AV design transport us to the different environments seamlessly throughout the play.

The premise is both simple and electrifying: Te Wehi Ratana, a member of Te Waka Hourua, abseiled from Te Papa’s roof in December 2023 and spray‑painted over parts of the English text of the Treaty of Waitangi in the Signs of a Nation exhibition, so that it read, “No. Her Majesty the Queen of England the alien. ration the Queen’s veges.” This act — framed as a ‘redaction action’ aimed at highlighting how the English version misleads visitors — sparked widespread debate and ultimately resulted in Te Wehi’s brief imprisonment.

From this act the play unfolds. Inside Rimutaka Prison, Te Wehi, who does not smoke, is given nicotine gum and discovers its value as currency. Through bartering pieces of gum, he receives letters from fellow inmates — expressions of pain, love, remorse and hope.

Rauhina transforms these letters into embodied stories, each inmate’s voice ringing with humanity and complexity. The stage vibrates with warmth, tension, anger and humour. Laughter flows easily from the audience while the performance threads seamlessly between the characters played by Rauhina.

With its mix of humour and honesty, the show shows us how art can take an act of protest and make it something we can sit with, talk about and even laugh through. It opens the floor for voices that usually don’t get heard and it pulls people into conversations that our systems often avoid.

In a time where te reo Māori is both being celebrated and, sadly, still being suppressed, ration the Queen’s Veges reminds us why language, stories, and action matter. What happened at Te Papa and what’s happening on stage now are part of the same thread: protest becoming kōrero, frustration turning into reflection, and silence breaking open into expression that refuses to be ignored.

At Circa Two until 13 September 2025, ration the Queen’s Veges arrives in Wellington with its playful potency intact. Audiences will walk into a theatre expecting a story about graffiti and leave with a reckoning about identity, sovereignty and what it really means for us to take responsibility in today’s political climate.

Tēnei au e mihi atu ana ki te whānau o Te Pou Theatre! Whakanuia!

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‘Inspired by true events.’

That’s always a great hook, and it works especially well for ration the Queen’s veges. It’s contemporary, contentious, controversial, and courageous.

What’s more, we’re told from the stage that it’s all true.

Well, it’s mostly true.

Some of it is anyway.

Turns out I’m perfectly happy with that.

I’m also happy with the use of ‘Ten Guitars’ as aural wallpaper to anchor the work in te ao Māori even if my neighbours might have been less happy with my singing, if it can even be called that.

So many woolshed parties in the ‘70s.

We’re asked from the stage to think about how we came to be in this Māori place and to think about just exactly who we are.

Who we are, and how we identify?

It’s a nice touch – as much because we’ve all chosen to be in this Māori theatre space to take in a piece of Māori theatre that records a controversial event staged by Māori about te Tiriti, for some specific reason or other.

We’re given a comprehensive list from which to choose. My whānau decide they’re there because they’ve been invited (by me) and because they whakapapa Māori and are wankers. I decide I’m there because I’m Pakeha, an activist, and also a wanker (arts person).

Lots of laughter exudes from the darkness which suggests we might all be wankers.

Another question is asked that also rouses chuckles, gurgles, hoots, and snorts. It’s a cheap shot but it’s more than welcome, the elephant in the room squatting in the corner drooling over a $3 school lunch: ‘Is David Seymour really a Māori?’

I realise it’s me snorting.

Again, laughter ripples through the fullish house, and we’ve been engaged. Well done, that’s smart work.

The next seventy minutes are about change, inspiring change, and the random things that conspire to bring change about.

So, what’s the context?

Social justice action group ‘Te Waka Hourua’ set the country on fire in December 2023 when they painted over the ‘English Treaty of Waitangi Exhibition’ at Te Papa redacting it to read, ‘No. Her Majesty the Queen of England the alien. ration the Queens veges.’

I remember thinking at the time how great this was. Even better was the message sent that it seemed no-one tried to stop them.

Te Waka Hourua spokesperson Cally O’Neill says that the protesters planned their actions very carefully. She reminds us that ‘there’s a bunch of precedents for art as activism in Aotearoa and that was exactly the direction that we were going … The conversations that our protest have incited are conversations that Te Papa itself was reluctant to instigate, which is why we took that action.’

This play is another.

It’s hard to argue against art as activism – think Ralph Hotere, Tame Iti, John Ford, Red Mole, Colin McCahon – and, while the group insists its actions were not aimed at the government, the 100,000 people who joined the anti-Treaty Principles Bill hikoi, and the 330,000 who made submissions to the bill might respectfully choose to disagree, or at least say thank you.

This ‘redaction action’ provoked strong opinions throughout the motu – some loved it, others called for retribution.

The Prime Minister, when asked for his opinion, refused to comment either way, muttered something about vandalism, and tottered off to India.

While all of the art activists were charged, only one did prison time: Te Wehi Ratana, who was at the heart of the protest, and who joins playwright and director Tainui Tukiwaho in co-authoring this work. Te Wehi Ratana shares the story of his abseiling from the roof of the gallery to, as was said in court, ‘improve the quality of Te Papa’s exhibit Signs of a Nation by redacting much of the English version using wisely directed cans of black spray paint’.

While that’s exactly the narrative that hit the worldwide wires, in the context of this theatre work, it’s the 48 hours Te Wehi spent in Rimutaka Prison that resonates most. It is a story about the quiet voice of defiance that burns within us even when we are silenced – and an idea that his cellmate Brian devised that lit the flame whereby, using the prison currency of nicotine gum, they effectively continued the protest action from behind bars.

How, you ask?

Well, when Te Wehi arrives at Rimutaka Prison, he is given a month’s worth of nicotine gum even though he doesn’t smoke. Brian tells him that the gum is valuable prison currency, so they agree to offer pieces of gum to inmates in exchange for letters expressing how the men feel about Te Wehi painting over the Treaty. The promo material tells us that ‘the inmates see this as a platform to express themselves and many of the letters become intimate testimonies about their inner thoughts, feelings, personal desires and hopes and dreams for the future.’

A book containing all the letters follows.

How cool is that? Someone should tell Mark Mitchell. On second, and all subsequent thoughts, please don’t. He’ll only want to remove the gum.

Ngahiriwa Rauhina plays Te Wehi Ratana. His performance is a tour de force and he zips through the multiplicity of characters and situations with consummate ease. He’s charming, funny, serious when he needs to be, and he tells the complex story with clarity and honesty. He makes talking to offstage voices work extremely well and he fleetingly creates his prison mates – and there is an army of them – as real, flesh and blood beings which turns out to be a very moving process indeed. In solo works over an hour in length there is often a dead patch in the middle, but not so in ration the Queen’s Veges which zips over the wobbly cobblestones like a corgi in heat.

Rauhina is perfect in the role of Ratana hitting all the right notes and clearly enjoying doing so. We enjoy it too and the end comes all too soon. In saying this I’m not suggesting we’re left wanting more, just that what we’ve had has been a deeply pleasing meal and more would … I’m sure you catch my drift.

Tukiwaho’s direction is the same, it’s just right. It’s deft and avoids the pitfalls of self-indulgence that can come with performances that rely heavily on the personality of the actor. The balance is perfect just as it is.

The script is great, and I like it very much. With this being a debut season there will be a temptation to tinker and considering this option would certainly be wise. In the same breath however, it’s damn good as it is so maybe best leave well alone. I’d love to be a fly on the wall during that kōrero.

The set is top notch (Nicole Marsh) with plenty of surfaces for projections and great options for getting on and off, which is always important with solo shows.

It’s appropriate to end by saying that Te Wehi Ratana’s hand is all over the work as, indeed, it should be. Tukiwaho has seen to that. Ratana’s courage and tenacity is there is spades and long may he continue to lead an effective life of courageous activism.

It’s awesome to welcome someone of his quality to our fantastic world of theatre ‘wankers’. We’re not a bad bunch, given all in all.

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