It has been 50 years since the first novel written by a Māori author was released to the world, which started a lifelong journey of writing for Gisborne-born Witi Ihimaera.

“Tangi”, the first novel written by a Māori author to ever be published, was released in December 1973. It was a story about a father and son set within a three-day tangihanga.

Ihimaera has revisited the text for the anniversary and has added richer details and developed the themes that have continued to preoccupy him over a lifetime of writing.

Before this book, his only experience writing was as a cadet reporter at The Gisborne Herald.

He said there was nobody else around to teach him, so he taught himself.

“But what I did have was pure gold — a Māori world that had never been written about before which was a hardworking East Coast iwi, whānau, hapū whom I loved. Without them there would have been no Ihimaera Ihimaera,” he said.

His iwi is Te Aitanga-a-Māhaki and he has affiliations to Ngāi Tūhoe, Te Whānau-ā-Apanui, Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāi Tāmanuhiri, Rongowhakaata, Ngāti Porou and Whakatōhea.

Ihimaera was 27 when he wrote “Tangi”.

“It was my first try and I got better as I matured as a writer.”

Over his career he has made a habit of rewriting his books to better reflect who Māori are.

“I rewrote ‘Tangi’ in 2004 as ‘The Rope of Man’ with a sequel to the original story and this year, the 50th anniversary edition is also changed a lot. It’s kind of like the Te Pati Māori version with more te reo, and the politics and characterisations are richer, deeper and more Ringatu.”

Among the challenges Ihimaera faced while writing the book was finding the time to devote to it, as as he was working full time in the Post Office.

But on his honeymoon he was able to take time to write “Tangi” as well as the short story collection “Pounamu, Pounamu”  and the novel “Whānau”, all within six months.

He and his new wife Jane were living in a bed-sitting room at 67 Harcourt Terrace, South Kensington in London.

“They should put a plaque on that house,” he said.

Another challenge was finding a publisher, which was “bloody difficult”.

“They didn’t think books by a Māori writer would sell and the third company I approached said, ‘Māori don’t read books’,” he said.

But the Auckland publishing house Heinemann agreed to  publish his works.

He said challenges still exist today for Māori authors.

“Whanaunga Monty Soutar sold his house to get himself the time to write and Airana Ngārewa is a deputy principal at a high school in Patea, and they are best-selling authors.

“It’s not as if you get rich doing this unless you keep on writing for the long haul,” he said.

Even after 50 years, he is humbled by his whānau.

“It feels mighty to be able to reflect on the book, although my sister Pol once said to me that I still only ‘show promise’, and my two daughters say I am only ‘almost famous’.”

He feels that he owes a great deal to his hardworking parents, Julia and Tom, for his success.

“I stand on the shoulders of giants like Apirana Ngata, Tuini Ngawai, Rongo Halbert, Moni Taumaunu, Kani Te Ua and Ngoi Pēwhairangi who were working in traditional storytelling and, of course, Nani Mini Tupara from Waituhi. She became Nani Miro in ‘A Game of Cards’.”

Ihimaera’s life changed after those first books.

After writing “Pounamu, Pounamu”, he was asked to transfer from the Post Office to a job in Foreign Affairs.

“The thing about that was that I grew exponentially as a person as well as a writer

. . . I started to walk the talk and not just write it.

“Coming from a shearing family, Mum and Dad and my Nannies had taught me and my sisters how to work hard — 5am starts and it’s just another day in the shearing shed.”

Now he travels a lot sharing Māori experiences with other indigenous peoples.

“Māori aren’t the only ones going through post-colonial trauma . . . they think of us as leaders out there offering solutions.”

He thinks about how things could have been different if he had not pursued writing and ended up publishing “Tangi”.

He said his parents and his nannies tricked him.

“They kept on showing me I could be better, do better, go further, add value and contribute to the pūtea of knowledge.

“Dad always used to say to me and my siblings that there was nothing we couldn’t do.

“But when I was younger all I truly wanted to be was a farmer like Dad and stay in Gizzy.

“So there’s a lot I would have done differently except there’s always been this ara, this spiralling pathway, this propulsive energy which stops me from taking a breath and thinking about it.

“It was to change the representations of Māori in literature and to show that we, ourselves, had to write about ourselves.”