Excerpt: Over the gentle green and golden curves of Ihumātao, colourful tents have spawned. To the west, glimpses of blue water flicker in the winter sun, and to the south, jumbo jets land at New Zealand’s largest airport, three miles down the road. But the jet engines fail to drown out the singing voices, the shouts of excited te reo (the Māori language) and the clatter of cooking pots heaving with food.
