Alternative ways of ascribing meaning and the negotiated spaces in-between

I was lucky enough to be one of “seven sisters” performing at Te Papa last night. Seven “wahine toa” from a range of ethnic origins, including Hinemoana Baker, Tusiata Avia, Jo Randerson, Keri Kaa, Teresia Teawaia to name a few. It was a fabulous line-up with all performers opting to sit in on the other performances, instead of practising alone and ‘missing out’ upstairs.

Wellington did itself proud “representing” as New Zealand’s true hub of arts and culture. A full house and several rows of extra chairs needed. The contemporary marae in Te Papa would have to be the loveliest place I’ve ever read in. You can’t really go wrong in that kind of performance space.

There is something very exciting about Matariki, Maori New Year, and the way it has been revitalised and celebrated over the last decade. This is tangible evidence of the renaissance for me. And the celebration in New Zealand of an alternative New Year, Matariki, in particular, can open up the way we think about seasons, beginnings, endings, stars, the environment and the cosmos itself.

In fact, if you ponder long enough, it can get you thinking about how whole cohering systems of meaning are ascribed differently to our natural environment. Clearly, there is not just one way of viewing the world. And if you have more than one system of meaning (more than one version at hand of how you might interpret events, emotions, incidents, environments,) it can create some quite interesting cracks and fissures in “reality” as you could potentially understand it… When “meaning-making” fights it out inside your head it can be a very challenging place to be… but also a creative place.

A friend of mine writes about the “negotiated space” between worldviews. What I like about this is the sense of power that “negotiating” exudes. I’ve had culture clash sold to me, hybridity, third space, fusion, collision – but negotiation provides some room for options – either detrimental or to your advantage… It also gives a sense that with some skill, persuasion and dexterity you could get yourself a pretty good cultural deal. I like that.

One of the poems I read for the Matariki performance was called: “Inside Us the Dead: The New Zealand-born Version”. This was my attempt at illuminating the differences between world-views of self, life, humanity, existence. Actually, the title is stolen from Albert Wendt’s book of poetry by the same title. I still recall getting this book out of the library many years ago. The Pakeha woman librarian shivered as she issued it to me. “Inside Us the Dead,” she commented, “How morbid”. And again, meaning making collides… Here is the poem:

Inside us the dead (the NZ-born version)

(for al wendt)

Albert said,
“inside us the dead”
maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely
if my body could recall those connections
there are only silences.

I am
bound
this place
time and space
the va with the past is broken.

Even when pregnant
my body feels like a ship lost in water
afloat, remote, solitary and
heaving with sea-sickness.

I did not feel the mercury line
connecting those before me
to their destiny.

I am not capable of thinking
this blood is a ripple
in an ocean
of our blood / I am
the next wave
of a tide that has been coming
for a long time / this vein
leads back to my bones.

This is what I have learned from books.
I am an individual.

But I suspect my body remembers you all.

The curve of my legs,
the shape of my fingers,
the face of my son.

Yes, every limb,
every bend
every bone
is a recollection of
who has been before.

A memory
of all the bodies that have been
the making of me.

Inside us the dead.