The Poetry of the Moana
Illustrated by Sara Moana (she/her)
As children of the diaspora, we are always trying to find ways to navigate our way back to our homeland and ancestors.
Though we’re vastly different in so many ways, the Moana connects us back to our heritage and to the journey our ancestors made from Hawaiki.
Writing can function as a means for this connection to be deepened and explored. Through inheriting our aiga’s intergenerational skills of storytelling, many descendants of the Moana are articulating our stories and journeys through the art of writing and poetry.
Writing and storytelling allows us a means to transcend both time and location, to walk with our ancestors in real time. Western conceptualisations of time have worked to fracture our cultures and disconnect us from past events and history. Stories function as a way for us to speak to and understand stories of our history in truly Pacific ways and understandings of time past.
To understand how authors of the Moana engage with their culture and history within their writing, I have had the opportunity to speak with three talented, multidimensional writers.
Firstly, I had the honour to speak with Lana Lopesi, who is of Samoan heritage. Lana is an incredibly talented, multi-faceted creative who is providing Aotearoa with much needed insight on the lived experiences of Samoans of the diaspora. She is an author, art critic, editor and soon to be Assistant Professor Pacific Islander Studies at the University of Oregon.
I also had the honour to speak with Tusiata Avia, who is of Samoan descent. Tusiata is a dynamically talented, attention-grabbing writer who brings the real and often violent histories of colonisation to our consciousness. She is a poet, performer and childrens’ book writer.
It was also my privilege to speak with Ruby Solly, who calls from Kāi Tahu in Te Waipounamu. Ruby is a beautifully articulate and accomplished writer, among many other skills, who unpacks stories of whakapapa and identity. She is a writer, musician, taonga puoro practitioner, music therapist and is currently undertaking her PhD here at Massey University.
Growing up away from one’s homeland or papakāinga is an experience that leaves many feeling lost or isolated from their identity. For some it may feel as if we are unable to access our ancestors and history, but while our experiences are different from those before us, our ancestors remain firmly beside us – guiding our path.
As they walk alongside us on our journey through life, we discover our own ways to connect with them in a variety of ways.
All three authors spoke to storytelling and writing as a means to facilitate and deepen that connection to their ancestors and the wider aitu. Being able to write out our thoughts and emotions allows us to work through some of our pain and confusion, enabling us to better understand our own experiences.
“I write for myself first and foremost to try to think through something or find an answer to a question that I’m grappling with,” explains Lana Lopesi.
“Working with ideas and thinking about humanity and the way we as Samoans and women have and continue to live our lives gives me a greater sense of empathy and care for other people, it helps me see what other people’s situations may have been and that connects me to people,” she continues.
Throughout this process of unpacking the wider concepts of the world, Lana acknowledges that this gives her a stronger connection to her wider aiga and also her partner, kids, friends, and other humans.
“When the questions I’m grappling with have to do Samoa or womanhood, then of course it enables me to feel connected to my ancestors,” she notes.
She acknowledges though, that our ancestors are always with us, no matter if we’re creating or not.
“I think it important to remember though that anything you do, just walking through the world as you are, is you carrying your ancestors with you.”
“And so through that example, they’re with me all the time and that includes writing. But you don’t need to be a published author to know that they’re with you either,” states Lana.
Tusiata Avia speaks similarly to her writing experience, which extends over the last 20 years. Much of her work has discussed her ancestors, both in her blood line and the bigger ancestors in Samoa, particularly goddesses Tusiata feels connected to – such as Nafanua, and Taema and Tilafaiga.
The rawness, beauty and savageness of Tusiata’s words encapsulate her ancestors and the goddesses she finds herself drawn back to time and time again.
“I think writing is a main way for me to make that connection,” Tusiata states.
She tells me a large aspect of this is related to researching, and subsequently engaging with her aiga who have been able to provide her with family knowledge and history.
Tusiata explains that for Samoans of the diaspora – who were not brought up at our grandmothers’ knee – the onus is left on us to find these stories ourselves. In this way, unpacking these stories connects us further with our own histories and aiga.
It’s often hard for many of us within the diaspora to negotiate our own identity and where we fit within the world. Tusiata acknowledges while we need to do as much asking and researching as we can, we also need to find comfort within the middle space that is led by our imagination and intuition.
“There’s that middle space – that vā between knowledge, intuition and imagination. For me that space is really important, that’s how I actually create a relationship between myself and my blood ancestors who have passed and our greater ancestors,” explains Tusiata.
“I guess I’m always writing that out – writing my way towards that.”
“I think it’s in our bones, literally in our physical bones, in our DNA. That’s how I get there – I trust what’s there to inform me,” she continues.
In this way writing has also been a way for Tusiata to connect with those who have passed. This was specifically the case for one of her books which surrounds the narrative of her father and his death. She explains that the book has been a way for her to maintain her relationship with him after his passing.
“I’m aware that they’re all still there and that we do have access to them. I don’t think it’s as easy as it was once was but we have to use what we’ve got.”
Ruby Solly notes this has also been true within her work, including her book Tōku Pāpā which allowed her to explore her whakapapa connections.
“There’s a Maui storyline that goes through the book showing that we are our ancestors and we are living these same things again and again,” she says.
“That really provides a lot of roadmaps of being from how those things were dealt with by our tīpuna or what they faced.”
“I think that that speaks a lot to how Oceanic peoples, indigenous peoples view time,” she continues.
“It’s completely different to how the western world views time. I think that the book does speak to that as well, there’s lots of points where it seems like the history is right there with you as you’re walking,” states Ruby.
While it is true that we feel deep connections to our ancestors, part of this feeling is often an understanding of the sacrifices made to allow us to stand in our own shoes. This often leaves many in the diaspora feeling overwhelmed or shameful, feeling as if they’re not living up to certain expectations.
Lana Lopesi spoke of the burden of carrying the weight of her aiga’s sacrifices and how she manages this within her own career.
“I had this epiphany where I realised my pain was real, but it was incredibly different to the lives of my grandparents,” she tells me.
“…and not to take away from my own difficulties, but being on a scholarship to study at PhD level where I read and think all day is actually such a luxury in the scheme of things, and a dream that I’m proud to live out for all four of my grandparents who left their home countries and never to return.”
“So I think navigating that burden is about understanding the privilege you have.”
“It’s about being grateful for living the lives we do, because they were often only unfulfilled dreams for previous generations.”
It is possible to be grateful and fulfil our expectations while still experiencing our own personal hardships, despite these looking very different to the struggles of our ancestors. It’s not necessary to punish ourselves for feeling pain throughout this process. In the same sense, it is important we remain cognisant of our positions of privilege and uphold the sacrifices our families have made for us.
“We love to hold onto a struggle narrative in Pacific storytelling,” Lana notes, “but we also need to be able to have critical reflexivity to see our class privileges and upward mobility.”
“I think the greatest honour I can give my grandparents and parents is to honour their struggles, and differentiate them from our own, because my successes are theirs.”
Ruby Solly’s work reflects this, honouring her whānau and those who have enabled her to create in the ways that she does.
Her book Tōku Pāpā was a mihi to her wider whānau, and specifically to her father. She wanted to acknowledge and give gratitude to him and the rest of her whānau, who managed to pass on their culture and Kāi Tahu identity despite being raised in the North Island away from their iwi.
“I wanted this to be a mihi to him and to my whole family and the fact that they’ve managed to pass all this culture on,” Ruby tells me.
“Despite that we didn’t live in the South Island anymore, despite colonisation, despite all of these things and other difficulties.”
“They’ve still managed to create and nurture and nourish children who have a staunch Kāi Tahu identity and can tell stories in this way.”
In this way, writing is able to provide a way to unpack these deeper thoughts and concepts relating to identity, culture and family.
“I write because it’s part of my process of understanding, so it’s a way to work through or understand something that I’m grappling with,” explains Lana Lopesi.
“I don’t think that’s ever been a matter of me intentionally writing about identity. I get that my work can be described in that way but it’s not how I think about it,” she continues.
“I just write about my life and what’s in front me, and if other people describe that as me writing about my identity then so be it.”
For some, writing about these topics may seem difficult or taxing, although Lana doesn’t view it this way.
"I find it liberating to be honest. I think holding onto things, and hiding them inside, living with shame – that’s draining,” she says.
For Ruby Solly, writing through these issues and unpacking themes of identity and whakapapa is a way for her to create resources for Kāi Tahu across the country. She notes this is especially so for Kāi Tahu living in the North Island, who may have minimal connections to whānau in Te Waipounamu, and for whom resources would be particularly meaningful to.
“It’s really important to me to be able to create those resources so that Te Waipounamu can be accessed by Kāi Tahu tangata in other places as well”.
“I’m definitely trying to create things for mokopuna of my lines and for mokopuna o Te Waipounamu,” she continues.
For Tusiata Avia, growing up in Christchurch in the 1970s and 1980s as a young brown girl was an experience encapsulated by a very real presence of white supremacy and racism.
“I think there is literally a spiritual heaviness about this place and I think you feel that as a brown human being,” Tusiata says.
Writing, again, is a way to navigate through some of these issues that one feels when placed in these environments.
“It’s the thing that we are all challenged by and struggling with, kind of finding our way through,” she notes.
“I definitely used writing as a way of exploring that and coming to terms with that as well.”
For those looking to dive deeper into writing and research, don’t be scared to explore yourself and your identity in this public way. Unpacking these ideas in writing creates further resources for indigenous people – something so needed for those across the diaspora.
Our stories need to be told and shown to the world. As Lana Lopesi noted to me, no one can take your truth away from you. This is essential to remember as you put your work into the world and field the opinions of strangers and critics.
Our stories, across the Moana, are diverse and vast, and everybody’s experience needs to be portrayed in our depictions of the world.
“Live in your complexity because that’s what makes us all beautiful, that’s what makes the world beautiful, so thrive in that and speak from that position, because no one can take that away from you,” Lana Lopesi advises.
“Be brave, be vulnerable, we need your words in the world.”