Aroha Naruthu
Every morning, I wake up to the hum of bees. It’s a sound I’ve grown so accustomed to that the silence in the rare moments they’re not buzzing makes me uneasy. The bees and I have a rhythm, a shared purpose, and this land, nestled in the mountains of New Zealand, is where we dance our dance together.
I’m 34 now, and I’ve been tending to bees for nearly half my life. Beekeeping isn’t just my livelihood; it’s my connection to my ancestors, to the land, and to something much larger than myself. The honey we produce isn’t just any honey—it’s manuka honey, sought after around the world for its healing properties. My people, the Māori, have known about its power long before it became a global sensation. Now, “manuka” is a brand, a label that can fetch eye-watering prices, but the irony is that authentic manuka honey is a rare find. They say only one in six jars sold worldwide is the real thing. It’s frustrating, really, knowing how many are being duped.
A few years ago, we hit a rough patch. One morning, I went out to check the hives and found them all gone—stolen. Every single one. It was like losing family. We were devastated. The thought of starting over, of rebuilding what had taken years to cultivate, was almost too much to bear. But we did it. We had to. There was no other choice.
The demand for our honey has soared in recent years, and with it, the prices. It’s a double-edged sword; the money’s good, but it brings attention we don’t always want. Still, the real worry isn’t theft or money—it’s the bees themselves. Like everywhere else, they’re dying. Pesticides, disease, loss of habitat, climate change—it all feels like a slow, unstoppable tide. Sometimes, when I’m out checking the hives, I can’t help but feel a pang of fear. What if they all disappear one day? What if there’s no one left to hear their hum?
But I push those thoughts aside, because there’s work to be done. The bees rely on me as much as I rely on them. We’re in this together, and as long as there’s a single bee left, I’ll keep tending to them, keep the rhythm going. That’s all I can do.