Thousands of mourners gathered in the North Island town of Ngāruawāhia on Thursday to bid farewell to New Zealand’s Māori king, Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII, who died six days earlier. They came to witness the ascension of his daughter, Ngā wai hono i te po, to the throne. The new queen, at 27 years old, becomes the second woman to assume the Māori monarchy, a tradition dating back to 1858.

As she was escorted onto Tūrangawaewae marae — an ancestral meeting place — where her father’s casket lay draped in feathered cloaks, cheers erupted among the crowds gathered outside. They watched on TV screens and along the banks of the Waikato River as Kīngi Tūheitia’s funeral procession made its way through the town. After her ascension, Ngā wai hono i te po accompanied the late king in a flotilla of traditional canoes along the river as Māori warriors guided him to his final resting place.

These events marked the end of a weeklong tangihanga — funeral rite — for Kīngi Tūheitia, 69, a leader who had in recent months rallied New Zealand’s Indigenous people to unity amidst a more racially divisive political landscape. His daughter’s ascension signals the rise of a new generation of Māori leaders, one that grew up immersed in a revitalized language that had once been on the verge of extinction.

Kīngi Tūheitia passed away last Friday following heart surgery, just days after celebrating his 18th anniversary on the throne. He became king after his mother’s death in 2006 and was laid to rest alongside her on Thursday in an unmarked grave on Taupiri Maunga, a mountain of spiritual significance to his iwi, or tribe.

The Kīngitanga, or Māori royalty movement, is not a constitutional monarchy, and King Charles III of Britain holds the position of New Zealand’s head of state. It carries a ceremonial mandate rather than a legal one, having been formed in the years following British colonization of New Zealand to unite Māori tribes in resistance to forced land sales and the erosion of Māori language and culture.

Monarchs have traditionally exercised political influence sparingly, and Tūheitia was remembered this week as a quiet and humble man. However, in recent months, his voice grew louder.

After a center-right government assumed power in New Zealand last November and began to enact policies that some perceived as undermining Māori rights, people, and customs, Tūheitia took the unusual step of calling a national meeting of tribes in January, which was attended by 10,000 people.

“The best protest we can make right now is being Māori. Be who we are. Live our values. Speak our reo,” he told them, using the Māori word for language. “Just be Māori. Be Māori all day, every day. We are here. We are strong.”

Tūheitia urged New Zealanders to embrace the concept of kotahitanga — unity of purpose — in a cause that he said had “room for everyone.”

His words resonated throughout the days of his funeral, including among political leaders whose plans he had rallied to oppose. Reflecting the prominence of Māori language and customs in New Zealand’s public life in recent decades, his funeral was attended not only by Māori tribes but by leaders from all political parties, past prime ministers, leaders of Pacific Island nations, diplomats, and representatives of the British crown.

Tens of thousands of ordinary people also made their way to the event. Many spoke to each other in Māori, a language that had steadily declined after colonization until activists in the 1970s sparked its revival. Among their efforts was the establishment of Māori language pre-schools, the first graduates of which are now young adults.

Tūheitia’s daughter was among them. While her father came from a generation where many were discouraged from speaking Māori, she was immersed in the language, attending Māori immersion schools. Ngā wai hono i te po holds a degree in Māori customs and is a skilled performer of kapa haka, an Indigenous performance art.

The late king, a truck driver before assuming the throne, was an unexpected choice for the monarchy, which is selected by a council and does not require hereditary succession. However, the new queen was groomed for the role and had accompanied her father in his work during recent years.

Her ascension comes at a politically charged time. Since 1858, the Kīngitanga has championed Māori sovereignty and the other promises enshrined in New Zealand’s founding document, the Treaty of Waitangi, signed in 1840 between the Crown and Māori tribes. In the years since, translation issues and attempts to reinterpret the treaty have at times sparked conflict, which has recently intensified.

“The treaty provides a foundation for us all to work together. Let’s not change it, that would harm us,” Tūheitia said at the event marking his coronation days before his death. While New Zealand was facing a storm as Māori rights were being rolled back, “there’s no need to worry. In this storm, we are stronger together,” he said.

After the new queen was anointed with oils and a service for her father was held, mourners followed the hearse as it drove to the banks of the river sacred to his tribe. There, Tūheitia’s casket was accompanied by traditional carved canoes on its journey to the mountain, with mourners, in some places 10 people deep, falling silent and bowing as it passed.

As he was carried to the foot of the mountain under a clear afternoon sky, a chorus of lamentations, rang out from mourners waiting among gravestones dotted up the steep hillside, and dozens helped to carry the late king to his burial place at the top.

Many had waited for hours to witness the procession, including a large number of young families. Commentators suggested that the queen’s ascension represented a renewal of the culture, with the majority of Māori — who account for almost 20% of New Zealand’s population — aged under 40.

Among them on Thursday was Awa Tukiri, 9, whose family had driven nearly two hours from Auckland to watch the canoe carrying the late king pass by.

“It was pretty amazing because all they do on the boat is do haka and waiata on it,” he said, using the words for Māori chants and songs. Tukiri, who attends a kura kaupapa — the immersion schools that are growing in popularity — said the best part of being Māori was “just hanging out and speaking Māori to each other.”