SeaVoice x Edges of Earth
Reclaiming Moana: Howard Reti’s Mission for Aotearoa’s Future Generations
As Told To: Andi Cross: Edges of Earth Collective - Expeditionist, Strategist, Writer
Andi introduces Howard and his organisation Mohimohi Moana
An Expedition to Whangaruru, Aotearoa
Upon arriving in Whangaruru, we quickly came to realise that this place is far more than just another point on the map. Rich in its history, and with a deep connection to the moana (ocean), Whangaruru lies nearly as far north as one can venture on Te Ika-a-Māui, (Aotearoa / New Zealand’s northern island). Whangaruru means “place of shelter,” with ruru meaning owl. The owl is the guardian of the night, just as the region’s harbour has long been a guardian for the people who call it their home.
We came to witness something powerful: a community not just conserving its waters, but restoring them, rebuilding resilience, and reviving traditional knowledge that's been on the brink of extinction. We had the pleasure of living alongside Howard Reti—an Indigenous leader, author, entrepreneur, mentor and advisor dedicated to uplifting the next generation of ocean stewards. We dove, fished, gathered food, and listened to stories of a life intertwined with Aotearoa’s land and sea. Alongside Howard, we met his whānau (extended family) and saw firsthand how he, and his collaborators, are carrying their ancestors’ knowledge forward to protect the moana.
“We need to change our mindset, from being a hunter and gatherer, to be a gardener of the sea.”
Meeting Howard Reti. © Adam Moore
May I introduce myself?
Howard: “My mountain is Mono. My river is Punaruku. My marae is Otetao. Our wharehui is Hori Reti and our wharekai is Huhana. My hāpu are Te Uri o Hikihiki, Kapotai, and Ngāti Tautahi. My iwi are Ngātūwai and Ngāpuhi, and my waka is Mahuhukiterangi. My name is Howard Reti—kia ora.
Most of my childhood was spent outdoors. We'd dive for kina (sea urchins) as young as six, collecting enough to share with whānau. We’d crack open extra kina on the rocks to feed the big snapper and crayfish, keeping the kina population in check. That kind of kaitiakitanga (caring for the moana) was just part of life. Back then, you didn’t need fancy dive gear. My aunties and uncles speared crayfish straight off the rocks, no boats needed. When we set nets, they’d be so full of fish, we had to let half of them go. Nights were spent on the beach, fires crackling, cousins gathered around, watching the tide roll in.
Where Howard grew up in the North of New Zealand. © Adam Moore
I come from a big family—seventeen brothers and sisters. With only one breadwinner and Mum raising us all, we had to live off the land and sea. Every day was about gathering kai (food)—picking pipi (clams), checking eel traps, collecting pūhā (vegetables), or foraging for wild mushrooms. And when we caught more than we needed, we shared it with those who couldn’t gather their own. No one went hungry. We call it mahinga kai—working the land and sea for food. And that’s how we were raised.
A Life Connected to Nature
I’ve travelled—Vanuatu, Singapore, Copenhagen, London, to name a few. I still remember arriving in London with my earphones in, Joe Cocker playing, double-decker buses rolling by, black cabs everywhere. But no matter where I went, I always found my way back home.
I’ve always been connected to the outdoors—whether here in Aotearoa or overseas. But when I came back from my travels, I found my true calling. There was a programme called Northern Wilderness Experience, run by the Presbyterian Social Services. It was designed to help young people struggling with drugs, alcohol, and tough lives at home by taking them into the bush. Letting them face their challenges away from the distractions of modern life. I thought, “If anyone’s going to do this work, it should be me.”
The wild and rugged landscapes of Northern New Zealand. © Adam Moore
We ran ten-day expeditions, taking groups of ten to twelve young people deep into the wild. We’d get dropped off by ferry at a place called MotuKokako, Cape Brett, and the first challenge was immediate—we had to swim to shore. If they didn’t know how, they’d pack their clothes in plastic, use their backpack to float, and kick their way in. From there, we’d walk—all the way to Whangārei. It was a long, long trek.
We’d cross Whangamumu and Rāwhiti, cross over the saddle road, pick up a food drop after five days, and continue through Mimiwhangata and Maurice’s Bay before finally reaching Whangārei. Ten days of carrying everything we needed on our backs, pushing through the elements. Out there, there was no hiding from yourself. I saw kids break down, open up, and come back transformed. Some found clarity, some found strength, and some just found a moment of peace they’d never had before. A lot has changed since then.
The Changing Tides
We’ve drifted from who we are. My people were hunters, gatherers, folks of the land and sea. But the world modernised around us, and we had to keep up. So we traded the bush for offices, the ocean for cities, and the old ways for new careers. A good hunter and gatherer doesn’t necessarily make a good office worker, but we adapted. We became labourers because we had to. And with that, our communities emptied. First to Whangārei, then Auckland, then Australia. Now, our once-thriving country towns are barely hanging on. Take my hometown. It used to have three native schools. Now, there’s just one, barely staying open with 20 students left. The land is still here. The sea is still here. But the people? They’re disappearing. And this didn’t start yesterday. It goes back much further.
Hunting for kina with Howard’s family. © Adam Moore
In 1835, our Māori chiefs signed Aotearoa’s Declaration of Independence, asserting our sovereignty. Five years later, the British brought “Te Tiriti o Waitangi”—a treaty meant to protect Māori rights while allowing British settlers to govern themselves. But they manipulated it. One version was written in Māori, another in English. When they ran out of the Māori copies, they handed out only the English ones—the version that suited them. The version we couldn’t even read.
The Māori are the Indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand, with a rich culture deeply connected to the land (whenua) and sea (moana). As the original settlers of Aotearoa, Māori have a long history of navigation, storytelling, and environmental stewardship. Their traditions, language (te reo Māori), and customs (tikanga) continue to shape New Zealand’s identity, while their deep knowledge of the natural world plays a vital role in modern conservation and sustainability efforts.
We signed that treaty in good faith, but instead, it was used to take everything from us. The British couldn’t defeat us in war, so they used divide-and-rule tactics—the same ones they had mastered in India, America, and everywhere else they colonised. Laws stripped us of our land, our language, our tikanga. In 1800, Māori owned 100% of Aotearoa. Today, we own just 2%. And the effects? We hold all the wrong records. Highest incarceration rates. Worst health statistics. Shortest life expectancy. We have the hardest jobs, the lowest wages. And when a few of us succeed, they say, "Why can’t the rest of you?" as if we all started from the same place. It’s hard to be Māori, but it shouldn’t be.
Collecting oysters under Howard’s guidance. © Adam Moore
The Optimistic Outlook
Understanding history—really understanding it—can make you angry. But living in that anger won’t heal you. I’ve come to realise you must first learn and then forgive. But not for anyone else but yourself. Forgiveness brings healing. Healing lets you move forward. Because if you spend too much time looking back, you miss what’s ahead. This doesn’t mean forgetting. It means choosing how to carry the past. I always choose the route of possibility. Today, I might be an educator. Tomorrow, a marine biologist. Why? Because I can and will choose that path for myself.
But I also choose to stand up. My iwi, Ngātiwai, was nearly erased. My people were on the brink of disappearing. I decided I would not let that happen. Whether it was voyaging with our young people into the bush, guiding Māori youth through the wilderness, or simply walking into a restaurant and demanding to be treated as an equal—it’s all the same fight.
The community runs deep and strong. © Adam Moore
Ngātiwai is a Māori iwi (tribe) from the Northland region of New Zealand, with deep ancestral ties to the ocean and coastal lands. Known as the "people of the sea," Ngātiwai’s traditions, identity, and livelihood are closely connected to the waters surrounding their rohe (territory). Their history is rich with navigation, fishing, and guardianship (kaitiakitanga) of the marine environment.
Back in the day, I marched, protested, made signs, and spread the word. We fought for Māori rights, for the Treaty to be honoured, for recognition. Our people have lived on this land for 800 years, unbroken. I was at Waitangi for the protests. I was in the streets for the marches. I stood up because someone had to. When something is wrong, do you sit back and watch? Or do you stand up? That’s why I still stand up for what I believe is right. The fight isn’t just about the past—it’s about what we do next.
Mohimohi Moana Foundation: Guardians of the Ocean
We lost our land long ago. Now, the ocean is at risk. The government is pushing for a $3 billion aquaculture industry by 2030, turning our ancestral waters into commercial farms with little regard for the people who have lived alongside them for generations. But we’re not standing by and letting that happen.
Through what we call “Mohimohi Moana,” we are reclaiming our role as kaitiaki (guardians) of the sea. A little-known Northland Regional Council law allows each marae to claim one hectare of ocean space for a non-commercial ocean garden. That means 134 marae in Northland could be growing kai moana (seafood) for their people—which would create a vast, interconnected network of ocean restoration. Imagine that: 134 hectares of thriving marine gardens, feeding our communities, restoring balance to the moana, and ensuring we remain the protectors of our own waters.
Culling kina helps to restore kelp forests. © Adam Moore
We use rāhui (traditional temporary bans on fishing) to allow populations to replenish. And through our maara moana (ocean gardens), we can cultivate native species like paua (abalone), scallops, crayfish, snapper, mussels, and seaweed. Like any good garden, it’s all about balance. On land, we remove weeds to let crops thrive. In the ocean, we cull kina to allow marine ecosystems to recover. Our first pilot ocean garden is already in motion—a hanging garden system with mussel lines, scallop lanterns, paua, mussels, and seaweed growing together. Beneath it, shellfish are regenerating on the seafloor. Once we refine the process—which we are working on with experts in regeneration—we’ll share it with other marae.
But before we grow, we must understand what’s missing. The most valuable part of this work isn’t just putting kai in the water—it’s studying the state of our ocean. What species have disappeared? What can be restored? How do we restore balance? We’re hands-on-learning through experience, working with scientists, divers, researchers, community members, and rangatahi (youth). We’ve partnered with Cawthron Institute, Waikato University, and NIWA. We even have a Master’s student studying with us, helping establish this first garden.
Diving Mohimohi Moana’s first ocean garden. © Adam Moore
If we don’t take claim of our ocean, someone else will. We need to stop thinking like hunters and gatherers and start thinking like gardeners of the sea. If we make that shift, we can evolve with the moana instead of just taking from it. We’ve spent too long disconnected—lost in the city, dealing with colonisation and its impacts. It’s time to come home.
Howard’s Dream for the Future
My dream is simple: start the conversation now so that when our children take it forward, the path is clearer. Fill in the gaps in our knowledge so that when we pass it on, nothing is lost. This isn’t about leaving behind wealth or some fancy house. For me, this is about passing down knowledge, experience, and a way of being that keeps us connected to the ocean and each other.
Have you ever looked up at the night sky and wondered whether it’s stars or satellites you’re gazing upon? Our skies have been filled with thousands of satellites, stealing the darkness, ridding us of what our ancestors once looked to for guidance. In our traditions, when a person dies, a great waka gathers the souls of those who have passed. At Matariki, the Māori New Year, we call their names one last time before they become stars. But now, even the stars are different. Our entire world has changed.
Andi meeting the next generation of Māori ocean stewards. © Adam Moore
And yet, as Indigenous people, we’ve had little to do with creating these shifts. We weren’t the ones running the industries that pumped carbon into the atmosphere. But we are the ones feeling it—watching the seas rise, the storms intensify, the seasons shift, and watching our skies become something unrecognisable.
So what can we do? Instead of dwelling on that which we can’t control, we focus on that which we can. We let our children play. We let them swim in the ocean, run barefoot on the land, climb trees, and get dirty. Let them learn through experience. And when they ask questions, we feed them knowledge—piece by piece—so they know who they are, where they come from, and all there is to protect.
Thank you to Howard Reti for passing on your knowledge, wisdom, and stories. © Adam Moore
I will leave you with three words, for those wanting to experience Aotearoa.
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Whakarongo – Listen. Not just with your ears, but with your whole being. Be open and truly hear the stories being shared.
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Titiro – Look. See us. See our struggles, our successes, our connection to the land and sea.
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Korero – Speak. But more than that, communicate. Engage with us, understand our journey, and carry these stories forward.
If you come to Whangārei, and if you come to our moana, do so to whakarongo, titiro, and korero. Because only then will you truly understand what we are fighting to protect.”
Learn more about Mohimohi Moana: www.mohimohimoana.nz
About Andi Cross, Edges of Earth
Andi is an international expeditionist fiercely dedicated to redefining how businesses coexist with the natural world and the communities they directly and indirectly affect. With over 15 years of experience helping both major corporations scale and building impact startups—as well as nearly a decade in marine and terrestrial conservation—she bridges the gap between corporate ambition and environmental responsibility. She’s constantly vying for a future where people and planet both win. Her work spans industries, guiding businesses, agencies, and venture capital firms to integrate sustainability into the heart of their portfolio’s strategies.
Since 2017, she has been the Strategist in Residence at H/L Ventures—a firm championing historically underserved founders—where she has helped build purpose-driven companies. Previously, as Vice President of Strategic Growth at Huge, Inc., she helped grow the leading digital and design firm to be more effective service-focused leaders. She’s worked with world-renowned brands such as Coca-Cola, Rolls-Royce Motor Cars, Hyundai, and Norwegian Cruise Lines during her tenure at Ogilvy & Mather and other leading agencies around the globe.
A pivotal moment in her journey came when she combined her corporate expertise with field expeditions to some of the world’s most vulnerable regions. Seeing the disconnect between ESG strategies and the realities faced by communities on the frontlines of climate change, Andi founded a sustainability consulting firm in 2018. Since then, she’s partnered with over 250 field experts in 40+ countries, guiding 50+ partners toward delivering tangible change.
Andi’s next-generation approach is rooted in lived experience, bringing practicality and positivity to even the heaviest climate and conservation challenges. While the scope of climate issues may feel overwhelming, she helps enterprise businesses and startups find actionable paths forward without compromising their financial objectives. Her work and insights have been featured in The Wall Street Journal, MSNBC, Forbes, Time Magazine, The Today Show, and more, highlighting her relentless drive to push boundaries in environmental stewardship and corporate sustainability.
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