Postcolonial Polynesian Life Leavens Literary Freedom
Next World Readers group meeting: Thursday, Mar. 29. 6:30.Tonight, (Feb. 22),our customary "spin of the globe" produced the Canadian provinces of Quebec, Ontario, and Manitoba as March's country of literary interest. Since this is a rather long post, we'll begin at the end,with a summary of several threads that ran through our discussion. First, a view espoused by Albert Wendt, (a pre eminent Polynesian author), that, although Colonialization disrupted (and, even in the "post" period, continues to disrupt) every aspect of traditional Polynesian life, authors and poets have, nonetheless, experienced incredible literary opportunities. Second, a Polynesian's world view, one of vast sky and water, must be vastly different from those of us landlocked on great continents. The original inhabitants begain sailing in 40,000-50,000 years ago. Polynesian settlement is "merely" 3,00-4,000 years in the making. *** Up first tonight was our group's most resolute world traveller- Anne- who shared an interesting web site penned by blogger Laura Hanks, a Peace Corps volunteer currently acculturating in Western Samoa. Hanks, 24, chronicles her new found experiences, and provides an interesting "wish list" of items we assume are scare in Western Samoa. The list encourages friends and relatives not to forget to pack the "Sex in the City" season 6 DVDs, Kleenex, and Emercen-C packets. After sharing parts of Laura's on line tome, Anne confessed her own dark secret- a budding interest in blogging. *** Bill introduced us to Doug Pool, a well known New Zealand poet. For the second meeting in a row, Bill astonished those assembled by reciting the following poem. (Note that "Lava lava" is the traditional Samoan garb, much like a sarong.) Lava lava Your Shroud enwraps my waist thighs legs colours me hibiscus pink yellow red gives me something I believe in That I am Samoan enough to wear your Lava lava Dedicated to my Matriarch Nonosina Ulberg *** Albert Wendt (1939- ) is a contemporary poet, novelist and educator, about whose life and literature Michele shared. Of both German and Polynesian descent, Wendt is likely the best known author in the South Pacific.
Among Wendt's major works is "Leaves of the Banyan Tree" (1979), an epic work bridging three generations. "Leaves" is considered to be a modern classic work of Pacific literature. Here is an excerpt.
"His father and Toasa had grown up together. They had spanned fifty years before his father died in 1928. In his memories of them Tauilopepe could never quite separate one from the other. They had both brought him up, nurturing him as one father, yet they were so different: Toasa full of laughter and vigour; Tauilopepe Laau, his father, aloof and silent, almost unapproachably cold. He had thought of them as making one complete human being - Toasa the flesh and bone and his father the calculating mind, the real power behind their leadership of Sapepe. But when his father died Toasa absorbed unto himself the being of his father, as it were."
***
Brian brought information on "Whetu Moana: Contemporary Polynesian Poems in English". The book is the first English language anthology of contemporary Polynesia poetry edited by Polynesians. Albert Wendt, above, is one of three editors.
Below are the three that were read tonight.
My Mother's Coat
As a child
I felt protected and warm
Wrapped
in my mother's coat
It must have looked funny
Big brown eyes
Peering from its folds
As if that was all there was
to me
I remember
Its unique threads
Unusual and coarse
Their slenderness
belied their strength
Its tivaevae-like panels
of thin fabric
An effective shield
against bitter winters
The colours loud
Shouting for attention
and space
My mother always wore
her coat with pride
Unphased
by its highlighter effect
Marking her out
in a Papaa crowd
But blending beautifully
at every putuputu anga
I remember too
With youthful disdain
Discarding my mother's coat
Not for me
The uncool design
extravagant colouring
and awkward fit
I did not want
to be marked
If only
I knew then
What I know now
She wears it still
Her brooch of pride
brilliant and bright
And not long ago
I tried it on
after many years
Although it's not really me
It's because of her
I can sew
my own
Ta'i George
Dogs & Dinghies
Down here now, it's just
dogs and dinghies.
All the rangatahi have moved
into the city, all
except for the Johnston boy
who's a little simple.
The dogs are all old and tired.
The dinghies are upturned
above the tideline,
prows to the hills.
There's the old people, of course,
slipping between the past
and the time before that,
the time when the setting sun
sparkled in someone's eyes,
threw silhouettes upon the sea.
Phil Kawana
Sa Nafanua
(for my sisters)
high-stepping in pink
patent leather boots
arms linked, we march together
in raggedy-assed lines, holes in our
sequined stockings/ crooked at the seams
under rainbow colored tights and feather
cloaks/ this band of warriors/ your
frisky daughters, my dear/
at your service/ our weapons slung
across shoulder & hip/ paintbrush & camera
Zenith laptop & lawbook/ your freckled daughters/
after-jets burning away illusion/ attachment/
clearing the channel for the birth
of ourselves & each other/ your
gypsy daughters.
we move down to the sea;
our sons carry the boat
brining coconut, breadfruit,
taro and papaya to plant the new land.
babies chortle at the breast
the bigger ones chasing sandcrabs
back into their holes/ our brothers
hoist the sails & festoon us
w/maile garlands/ pua & awapui
flower-scented aura of our people/
protect us mother/ we follow your
ocean patch to the world above
the dark cave/ guide us mother
the sea serpent lurks beneath waves
monster ego/ demons gnaw on the rigging
steady us mother/ your eye lights the way
your heart moves our blood
your hand steers our boat
and plants us like seeds in the new
land/ sing for us tina.
Caroline Sinavaiana-Gabbard
posted by BHP at 8:10 PM
