beautiful monsters

Kaore koe e wareware i a matau, Maramaiti

Cheesy Warning: Accounts of deep and meaningful experiences ahead
– proceed at own risk!

Ok, so some of this might sound really cheesy, but this is the only way I can express what has happened.

Last night was one of the most beautiful and moving nights of my life. I am so lucky, because every Thursday night I have the opportunity to go along to the Bluenote bar and hear live performances from incredibly talented singers and songwriters. As if that wasn’t enough honour and pleasure in itself, I am even more privileged, because I have the opportunity to take part in these nights, alongside these amazing performers.

The Mad Genius Songwriters Nights at the Bluenote have become an important part of my life – and so have the people who take part in the nights. They have become my friends, my whanau, my brothers and sisters. The nights have become my marae, my home, the place where I can be myself, where I can explore my own potential, the place where I know I will be accepted.

Yesterday was a difficult and emotional time for me, because I was remembering Saskia’s birth, and her death... and because I was contemplating the history of our country, and the future, and my part in the future. During the day I kept busy – I wrote, I went for bike rides, I painted... I went to a BBQ even though I get incredibly shy meeting new people, because being shy around new people was better than being alone with my own thoughts. I guess you could say I was avoiding stuff... or you could say I was distracting myself as a matter of survival, because my memories were so painful I couldn’t bear them without support.

Over the past few years I have felt a lot of sadness, and a lot of guilt. I have also experienced fear. These feelings are my reaction to some of the things that have happened to me. There have been times when I have been abused – physically, sexually, but most of all emotionally. I have said "no" and been ignored... and so I have come to believe that I don’t have the right to say no if someone else wants something. I have talked about my beliefs and dreams, and I have been told that I am wrong, that I am bad for thinking and dreaming... and I have come to believe that everything I do is bad and wrong. But now I am beginning to understand that I do not have to believe these things. I do not have to let my past experiences continue to hurt me.

When Saskia (my flatmate's baby) died, I wrote a song for her. I wrote it in Maori – perhaps because it was too painful for me to express myself in English... or perhaps because English wasn’t expressive enough. It didn’t feel as though I was choosing the words – they seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me. Last night, because it was Saskia’s birthday, I wanted to sing her song... but I was afraid. I was scared that I would make a mistake, that I would misuse te reo, and people would be angry with me. I was scared that people would tell me I didn’t even have the right to sing, to write a song, in Maori. I was scared that my voice would shake, that people would think I was stupid, that people would tell me that my feelings were wrong. But I knew that if I kept silent, I would not feel peace. I had to overcome my fears.

I wanted to say a karakia (a traditional prayer/chant) in Maori, to acknowledge that the time and the place were sacred... but again, I felt afraid, that I would do something wrong, that people would be angry. Also, it’s quite a well-known karakia among Maori, and there are a few lines at the end where traditionally people join in (a bit like everyone saying amen at the end of a prayer). I wasn’t sure if anyone would join in, because it was a bar, not a marae... and it’s a pretty weird feeling to say those words by yourself and realise that no one else knows what you’re talking about, no one else is going to join in and support you. But, I decided to take the risk. I stepped up to the microphone and I said the karakia... and I could feel the room grow still and silent around me... and when I got to the end, all around the room there were voices joining with me... I felt incredibly touched, because I felt so supported.

I sang the song that I wrote for Sakia. I also read a poem that I wrote when I found out about the part my great-great-great-grandfather played in one of the most infamous injustices in our country’s history. He was the Native Minster for the Government at a time when land was being forcibly taken from Maori people. Two leaders, Te Whiti and Tohu, were leading a movement of passive resistance – they were teaching the same wisdom as Ghandi, but a generation before him. From all over the country, people came to the village of Parihaka, to listen to the teaching of Te Whiti and Tohu, and to take part in peaceful protest, to resist the violence of the government. Ghetsuhm has been talking about the concept of mana. Well, those two leaders had a lot of mana. They had strength, dignity and integrity. My ancestor did not have mana. He had a big white horse and 1500 men with guns.

On November 5 1881, he got on his big white horse and he rode to Parihaka. Blocking the road were rows of children, playing games and singing. They must have been afraid when the horses came thundering towards them, but they did not move, not one child broke ranks. The soldiers had to pick up some of the children and drop them on the side of the road, then they rode through the gap they had created. The people of Parihaka remained steadfast and peaceful, while my ancestor arrested their leaders, ransacked the village, took hundreds of prisoners and held them without trial.

When I realised that I was descended from this man, I felt intense sadness, anger and shame. I wanted to hide from the shame, run away from it. Then the sadness and shame began to ease, and I realised that they were not productive feelings. Another emotion began to grow - a feeling of longing. I knew that I needed to tell the story of Parihaka, through my poetry and my paintings, and that I needed to be true to my own beliefs, to live in peace and respect. I realised that I could not change what had happened in the past, but that I would do everything I could to prevent such things from happening again. The poems I read last night, and my attempts to speak te reo Maori, are the beginnings of that process.

As I stepped down from the stage, I was shaking, because I still felt scared, but also proud, and moved, and about a hundred other emotions all at once. I barely made it back to my seat before people started coming up to me and hugging me and kissing me. I was worrying because I’d made a mistake in the song, I’d said something that isn’t even a word in Maori! I thought that maybe the people who were coming up to me didn’t realise that I’d made a mistake. But then, a couple of people started speaking to me in Maori, and thanking me for my strength and honesty, for speaking from my heart. One man came up to hongi with me, and he had tears in his eyes. I’d never met him before and I may not see him again, but for a brief moment we clung to each other as though we were old friends.

There was one person there last night who I’ve come across before, but I don’t really know him well. Now, I always assume the worst, and even though people were showing me so much love, I still felt as though people might think I’d done something wrong. Anyway, this guy was there, and somehow I got the impression that he was angry with me, but I wasn’t sure why. Eventually, I went up to talk to him, and it turned out that I was wrong, and in fact he said some kind and supportive things to me.

Suddenly, so many things became clear to me. I realised that this man was not angry with me, but more importantly, I realised that it didn’t matter if anyone was angry with me. Sometimes, people will be still get angry with me, and say that I’ve done things wrong... in the past there have been times when I have felt guilty just for being born white, and I have felt as though no matter how hard I try I can’t do anything right... And last night I realised, that some people are feeling angry and hurt, and they are stuck in that space, and they won’t be able to accept what I do or say. But that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t speak about what I believe. I can never please everyone. But I can allow myself to be challenged and to grow, and I can stretch my capabilities and work through my fears, live true to myself and my beliefs and passions.

I also realised, that when someone else gets up on stage, or takes a stand in any way, and makes a mistake, I don’t feel anger towards them - I feel love towards them, and I want to support them for having the courage to stand up at all. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the golden rule, do unto others as you would have them do unto you, also works in reverse. I realised that I need to start showing myself some of the love and respect that I feel for other people. Sometimes I will make mistakes, but that doesn’t matter, as long as I have good intentions in my heart.

The woman who runs the Mad Genius nights is totally amazing, and last night she said something that I thought was incredibly powerful. She talked about us striving towards tino rangatiratanga... for everyone, Maori and Pakeha. And I was struck by the truth of this statement. I think people are often afraid of the idea of Maori self-determination, because they think that they will lose something. I don’t believe this is true... if we see tino rangatiratanga as something we have to fight over, as something only one of us can have, then we will continue to experience anger, and guilt, and injustice, and we will all experience loss. But if we see tino rangatiratanga as something we can all strive towards, if we learn to respect and support each other, then we will all benefit.

Even though I’ve had all these deep and meaningful experiences and realisations, I’m sure there will still be many times when I feel scared, and worry about other people’s judgements... because fear and worry are habits that I have learnt over many years, and they will be hard to break! But I am writing these things down so that I will remember them. Last night, so many people gave me so much love and support, and I want to carry that aroha and awhina with me always, so that I can pass it on to others.

"The injustices which occurred in the past must be put right and put to rest, not chewed over like an old bone... The dignity of all must be accepted and enhanced. We must become aware of and foster the cultural traditions of each other. What is needed is diversity not absorption... Music, poetry and sport of whatever kind will bring us together as they have in the past. Above all we must pursue personal encounters on terms acceptable to the other partner."
- From the Inaugural Waitangi Rua Rau Tau Lecture by Sir Rodney Gallen.

"Be steadfast in all that is peaceful."
- Te Whiti.

Arohanui,

Fionnaigh.

Posted by Fionnaigh at February 6, 2003 05:48 PM