As the third-ever Tumu, or head, of Te Rito o Rotowhio, Bennett carries a lineage of patient instruction. She was mentored by Edna Pahewa, who herself learned at the side of her mother, Emily Schuster, the woman who founded this school in 1967. This matrilineal chain of knowledge ensures that the techniques of weaving—the intricate kete, the heavy whāriki mats, and the prestigious korowai cloaks—remain as they were centuries ago, passed from hand to hand rather than through the cold medium of a textbook.
The education is rigorous and intimate. Only a handful of students are chosen for each cohort, and they must arrive with the blessing of their iwi, the tribal authorities who expect them to return home with these skills. They learn to harvest the flax with a sense of stewardship, cutting only the outer leaves of the plant to protect the central shoot, which the Māori call the rito, or child. It is a philosophy of growth that mirrors the school itself.
In the valley of Whakarewarewa, the earth provides the tools for the craft. The students utilize the natural ngāwhā—the boiling geothermal pools—to soften the fibers and set the dyes. To achieve the deep, indelible black required for traditional patterns, the muka fibers are steeped in paru, a specific iron-rich swamp mud, for an entire day and night. The result is a color that does not fade, a pigment forged by the chemistry of the volcanic soil.
Before the weaving can even begin, there is the sensory work of preparation. One can smell the damp, fibrous scent of the stripped harakeke as it fills the workshop. The students roll the fibers against their legs, turning raw plant matter into two-ply threads. It is a physical, taxing process that demands a quiet mind and a steady hand. When these students graduate, their final pieces are not sold, but are kept in the institute’s permanent collection, joining the work of the women who came before them, a tactile record of a culture that refused to be forgotten.