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kataibusaibiin · 5 years

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Offering our voices to honor our ancestors

Protecting What is Sacred: Our land, Our water, Our hope for a better future

I preface this with an apology because these thoughts were scribbled in the wee hours of the morning when I couldn’t sleep and thus this lacks the clarity I’d hoped for in sharing some of what’s been weighing so heavily on my heart. That said, some folks have nudged me to share some of these reflections and it felt important to start somewhere in voicing how my heart connects these dots. So, below are some meandering thoughts as I reflect on Obon and how it threads us together with our past, present, and future... and ultimately each other...

In less than a month, I will be returning again to my place of birth - my maternal ancestral homeland in Okinawa - to visit with family and friends and to pay my respects to those who came before us. It’s been 2 years since my last visit and it will be the first time I am able to speak to my beloved grandmother in Uchinaaguchi - one of Ryukyu/Okinawa’s indigenous languages which I’ve been studying - to thank her and share with her my ongoing studies here in Hawai’i as I continue working to record our family’s stories, deepen my appreciation and understanding of our indigenous Ryukyuan history and culture, and create resources to share with fellow Uchinaanchu/Okinawans living in the diaspora across the globe. My grandmother is 96 now and has been my trusty compass since as far back as I can remember - back to my earliest childhood memories in Okinawa. Her visits to see us once we moved to North Carolina are highlights of my youth. Even when we moved to the states and we were thousands of miles apart, I could still always feel her love and would sometimes look out across the ocean in the direction of Okinawa, trying to picture her and the rest of the family there, hoping that I too could cultivate the kind of love she shares which could be felt across time and space.

It is not coincidental that my upcoming trip to Okinawa next month was planned to coincide with Obon and, as such, will involve returning to my grandmother’s village in Kijoka, Ogimi where some of our family tombs (ohaka) are located. I have yet to find the words to express what it means to me to be able to revisit the same land where generations of my family have lived and where we continue to return, year after year, to offer prayers and gratitude for our village, our ancestors, and all the sacrifices they have made for us. It is something to treasure all the more since there are many who are unable to do so, especially since I know many in Okinawa whose family tombs were destroyed during WWII or were paved over for US military bases under US occupation in the aftermath of the war.

I remember before taking that trip back to Okinawa two years ago, my mom had told me on a number of occasions that visiting our family tombs to pay respects was something she had always wanted us to be able to do together. I was never able to line up the time and resources to return for Shimi but she’d made clear that the timing wasn’t even what was important - just that we made the time. And I vividly remember when I finally had the opportunity to join my family to do so as an adult during that trip, time seemed to collapse onto itself. I could feel an overwhelming connection to the past, present, and future as a continuum extending well beyond the 5 generations of our family represented in the gathering that day.

One of my young nieces and I tidied up the area and altar together as other family prepared the offerings we brought. As we did so, I recall my grandmother commenting how happy the rest of the family (meaning our ancestors) must be to see my niece Sawana and I there together, putting such love and attention to detail in cleaning and helping with preparations. Hearing this as a gentle breeze passed, it certainly didn’t feel like we were alone. After our prayers and offerings, we found a nearby spot to enjoy our family picnic. Sitting in a circle, I looked around at my family with the sweeping views of the ocean behind them and my eyes welled up with tears of joy as I laughed and we talked story, savoring the beauty of that moment and seeing it similarly reflected on their faces. As I think back on such moments, my hope is that each day, I find a way through actions to express how much I cherish these gifts of love, tradition, and hope for a better future that have been and continue to be passed forward through my family and communities.

As many of you know, my return to Okinawa two years ago was something I was apprehensive about in many ways - despite longing to return since I was little - and I am beyond grateful that it was ultimately a deeply healing and transformational experience. During this trip in August, I plan to return to Shuri were my grandfather’s family is from and offer prayers and gratitude for my grandfather’s family at their hakas too, in hopes of contributing towards intergenerational healing within my family. After all, the history and stories of my grandfather’s family are part of what motivates me to do some small part to preserve Uchinaaguchi and not only Ryukyu/Okinawa’s history and culture but also our family’s legacy as part of that living history. (Some of you already know why I’ve not grown up close to that branch of our family but for others, suffice to say my grandmother is a strong, fiercely loving woman who would always stand up for what is best for her children...no matter the self-sacrifice involved.) I mention this because history is never clean - often filled with pain, conflict, and contradictions - but we shouldn’t shy away from certain parts of our past because of that; those parts shape(d) us too and can be part of how we learn, heal, and ultimately reclaim our futures. This is true even of my father’s side of the family - direct descendants of both Reverend John Robinson “Pastor of the Pilgrims” who sent his congregation over on the Mayflower as well as the Mississippi band of Choctaw who were nearly wiped out by the arrival of these European immigrants. I often think about how to hold these complicated truths and seeming contradictions of our past and/or different perspectives and the importance of doing so even as we face such situations in the present...

To Honor My Ancestors Is to Honor All Our Ancestors

Here in Hawai’i, Obon festivities have already begun as there are literally bon dances held every weekend from mid June through August. To write about some of my experiences and reflections thus far (including the way Obon is celebrated here versus back in Okinawa) is a topic for another time. I share this as context though because as a member of the Young Okinawans of Hawai’i (YOH), we share our song, drumming, and dance as offerings to our ancestors and to communicate with them, just as Okinawan eisaa was traditionally intended for. It is not entertainment for the crowd that gathers but, if anything, an invitation for the community to join us in this collective offering for all our ancestors. Whether it’s the little ones that find their way towards the inner circle around the yagura to dance by our side during our bon dances or the young ones in my family and communities, I hope that any child I ever interact with can feel and cherish the gifts of our uyafaafuji (ancestors) and learn to manifest that gratitude with their voices and in their actions, guided by what’s in their hearts. I do not take lightly the moments like this weekend when a group of little kids surrounded me and looked up wided-eyed and open-hearted, eager to watch and follow in my footsteps as we sang and danced around the yagura together. When I heard one of the littlest ones next to me begin to join me as we called out with our heishi, I’m not ashamed to admit I got a little something in my eyes.

In sharing the history and meaning of Okinawan eisaa and inviting friends to join us for Bon dancing, I have found myself often clarifying for folks that when I say I dance and sing for “our ancestors” I am referring collectively to the people we are tied to through our connection to place as well as our families of origin which we are connected to through blood and other familial connections. So, when I sing and dance here in Hawai’i, I too sing for the kanaka maoli - the indigenous Hawai’ians and the Kingdom of Hawai’i. I am aware that in moving here to study and build community with the Asian plurality and fellow Uchinaanchu here, I am also a settler. So, I strive to listen and learn from not only the elders I meet but also to their ancestors who sought to protect this land and its precious resources. That comes with inherent responsibilities to listen, learn, and take heart when I am asked to speak out as someone whose ancestral homelands were similarly colonized, whose people also endured physical and cultural genocide, and whose democratic voice and right to self-determination is still being ignored. As shimanchu whose past have so many parallels, I believe our hopes for a better future and collective liberation are also bound together. So too, I feel a deep responsibility as someone raised in the US and with the relative privilege that comes with that, even when so many Americans have made it clear that they will always see me as an outsider. It is all too clear to me how these things are all interconnected.

So, this weekend, I danced not only for my ancestors back in Kijoko but also for those in Henoko, Okinawa where my parents met and for the community there who have been dedicated to protecting our one ocean in the face of joint US-Japanese military construction in Oura Bay. My heart also joined the protectors here in Hawai’i who have been gathering at Mauna kea to prevent the desecration of that sacred land. I lit candles and held in my heart the memory of my paternal grandparents and their families. My heart too, also sang out for the children who are locked up in cages across the US for the crime of having a family who dreams of a better future for them but come from another side of an imaginary line. I carried in my heart - the heart of a first-generation immigrant to the US - all the families of refugees, asylum seekers, and immigrants who are dreaming for a brighter future.

I might not have all the answers for how to re-envision the future to be a better one for all, but I’ve seen enough to know one thing we have to do is speak out to say that this current path we’re on sure isn’t the way.

To honor my ancestors is to honor the preciousness of all life. Nuchi du takara. So, to honor all my ancestors, I offer my voice to honor the ancestors of all of us - to acknowledge our interconnectedness - and to share our ancestors hopes of a better future for us all. In sharing my voice as an offering, I also extend an invitation: Let us never give up the hopes and dreams of our ancestors. Instead, let that be what unites us as we protect what is sacred.

Rise for Henoko! Aole TMT! Protect Our One Ocean! Kū Kia`i Mauna! Never Again is Now! Together, We Rise!

p.s. I recently shared this music video but felt it was apropos to share this song again here with a gentle request to take the few minutes to watch and reflect:

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fallen-gravity · 7 years

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Kimi Hamuti (1/?)

co-written by @paapakawalk !!

Fandom: Moana

Category: Gen

Word Count: 4,433

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: Kimi Hamuti- it means "to make amends" in Te Reo Māori.

Set in an AU where Te Kā refuses to take her heart back, she sends Maui out to reconcile with every being he has ever wronged in his immortal lifetime. To make sure he actually complies with what she says, Te Kā places a curse on Moana. Until Maui has reconciled with *everyone* he's ever wronged, Moana will suffer and feel all of the collective pain of those he needs to make amends with. To try and talk Te Kā into letting Moana stay home, he suggests to bring someone who despsises him, and metions Tamatoa by name only as a joking suggestion.

But due to a very poor miscommunication error on Maui's part, Te Ka caves in *immediately*, and instead of letting Maui get his way and sending Moana home, Te Kā instead insists that he must now travel with both Moana *and* Tamatoa, trapping them in a situation where *none* of them can be happy.

An impulsive decision, a blinding flash of light… and just like that, his hook is gone.

The kickback is enough to send him careening towards a small rock jutting out of the sea, and when he looks towards his hook it’s nothing more than a hilt and a pile of ash. Sharp pain shoots across his chest as he stares at his prized possession, his gift from Tangaroa; but he shakes it off. As long as the attack was enough to buy Moana enough time to find the spiral, then, well, his hook really isn’t his biggest concern at the moment.

But apparently he underestimated the power his cracked hook had, because when Te Kā stands back up a few seconds later, she’s grimacing and gripping tightly at her chest – where his hook had apparently chipped away at multiple layers of hardened lava.

Māui curses silently to himself, and slowly pushes himself back up to his feet to challenge Te Kā again. It’s not like he has any chance without his hook, but if he can buy Moana even one minute of extra time so she can restore the Heart to Te Fiti, then Te Kā won’t exactly be a problem anymore.

Besides, he’s the one Te Kā’s after, right? He’s the one Te Kā tried to fight for the Heart when he stole it a thousand years ago, wasn’t he? It’s not like Te Kā would have any reason to show interest in Moana at any point other than when she was on the same boat as him, and all Moana’s doing is trying to restore the Heart. Māui’s not sure Te Kā is even aware that Moana’s the one who has the Heart at all.

But when Māui chances a glance up at Te Kā as he’s standing to his feet, he suddenly realizes that he couldn’t be further from the truth if he tried. Instead of focusing all of her rage on him, or using his broken hook as an opportunity to smite him on the spot, Te Kā is instead directing ounce of her attention onto Moana.

So he picks up the broken hilt of his hook and slams it back down onto the rock, just for extra effect, and calls out to Te Kā. She freezes instantly at the sound of his voice, and contorts herself to face him so quickly that she accidentally sends some of her lava falling into the water below.

As soon as he’s sure he’s got her undivided attention, Māui immediately drops into a haka, challenging Te Kā to pay attention only to him, to attack him, to smite him, because better him than Moana. He’d rather die a thousand fiery deaths at the hands of Te Kā than watch Moana suffer underneath her wrath – because, after all, it’s his fault they’re here, his fault things got this far out of hand–

But before Te Kā can swing her hand down to scorch him alive, he sees a tiny flash of bright green out of the corner of his eye. Evidently Te Kā has seen it too, because she screeches to a halt, the ball of fire in her palm disintegrating into the water with a weak splash. Gone in an instant is her attention on him, and when Māui turns to see what Te Kā’s looking at he spots Moana standing on the very peak of Te Fiti’s blackened shore. She’s holding the Heart up in the air, and there’s enough bright light flashing from it to be spotted from the barrier islands.

At first Māui thinks she only did that to stop Te Kā from killing him, and that she’ll go right back to the spiral to put the Heart back, but instead of turning around Moana begins to walk back down the shore towards the ocean. Crazy little mortal, he thinks, beginning to grow alarmed. What is she plotting?

“Moana!” he shouts in an attempt to catch her attention, but she doesn’t seem to hear a single word he’s saying. Instead, she pauses right where the ocean splashes against the shore. One word to the ocean has it splitting itself in half before her, giving Moana a direct path to the barrier island Te Kā seems to be trapped on.

The moment Te Kā watches the ocean part in two, she roars, and slams herself down onto the now-dry ground, tearing up the very earth itself as she claws her way towards Moana. Māui’s about to grab his hook and turn into a hawk just so he can keep watch and make sure Te Kā isn’t going to burn Moana to a crisp – but stops and curses to himself when he remembers that his hook isn’t exactly functional.

Distantly, if he listens closely enough, Māui thinks he can hear the sound of Moana singing. And if he didn’t know any better, if this were a far, far less dangerous situation than the one she’s willingly putting herself in, Māui could swear she was singing a lullaby, because he’s not sure he’s ever heard anyone use such a soft and gentle voice for anything other than for putting their feisty child to bed at night.

Huh. He never actually considered that lulling Te Kā into submission would actually work, but if there’s anyone out there who could manage, it’d be Moana.

So when Te Kā comes to a halt in front of the tall rock Moana planted herself on, but doesn’t use the close distance to kill her and get it over with, it comes to no surprise to Māui.

What happens after she stops, however, that’s the part that shocks Māui.

Instead of bowing her head to Moana to speak to her, or even dissipating the lava boiling inside her to allow Moana to step closer to her so she can speak, Te Kā instead throws her head back and begins roaring in laughter. Raw, genuinely amused laughter.

Māui’s not sure why this rubs him just the wrong way, but it does.

And he’s not sure why Te Ka’s ominous laughter has him leaping off the rock he was standing on, or why it has him sprinting towards where Te Kā and Moana are standing, but he does.

It’s probably not a great idea, Māui realizes, sprinting right towards the lava demon who tried to kill him at least twice, but he does, and the closer he gets to them the more of their apparent conversation he can begin to make out.

“…You really think that’s all it’s going to take? Some puny meatbag simply handing the Heart back, telling me she forgives me for the way I’ve been behaving for the past thousand years?”

A pause, as Moana, taken aback by the lava demon’s words, collects herself.

“But…” she starts. “But you’re only behaving this way because your Heart was stolen! I know who you really are, Te Kā, and this isn’t the real you!”

Another deep, grating laugh bubbles out of Te Kā. “Maybe a thousand years ago, child. I know who I truly am. I’m Te Fiti, Giver of Life, and Goddess of all things green and beautiful. You know, the whole works,” she spits out mockingly. “Or, well, that’s what I used to be. Now I’m Te Kā, Goddess of Fire and Lava – and bringer of death to all things green and beautiful,” she hisses, clearly amused by her own joke. “And know something else, meatbag? I don’t want the Heart anymore. It’s useless to me, and you’ve got good ol’ Tangaroa to thank for that. Instead of simply bringing my heart back to me myself – and don’t you dare try to argue that the ocean wasn’t capable, because I just saw it part for you – he decided to wait to find some special Chosen One to bring it back for me. And not just any Chosen One, oh no. Apparently Tangaroa thought it’d be a great idea to send a child to come to my rescue.”

Moana opens her mouth, but is cut off by Te Kā’s scoff. “And you want to know what else? What’s so great about some Chosen One coming to look for me instead of, oh, I don’t know, my own father bringing it back to me instead?” she pauses for a second, but doesn’t give Moana time to respond. “You’re only here because you have to be. Oh, I can imagine the real reason you’re here. Let me guess. Home island crumbling to pieces? People are dying because there’s no food left?” she pauses, and grins viciously when Moana takes an awkward half-step backwards.

“I–” Moana begins, but wavers and falls silent.

“Bingo. You don’t care about me. You never did. Nobody on this gods-forsaken planet has ever cared about me. So you know what? No, I’m not taking the Heart back. You know why? Because none of it was my fault to begin with. This isn’t my problem to fix, or to care about. I’m going to keep letting this darkness spread until it wipes out every island in the Pacific. And when everyone needs somebody to blame, somebody to get really angry at for what happened to their homes… you know where they’re going to turn?”

Te Kā pivots, and before Māui’s even aware of the situation she’s facing directly towards him. “You,” she spits. “You’re the one who stole the Heart in the first place, so you’re the one who should be responsible for the consequences of your actions. And don’t even bother trying to smooth-talk your way out of this one, because who’s going to believe whatever story you come up with, anyway? Moana? It’s not like she’ll want to see you after this whole ordeal is over… especially once her island is wiped off the face of the earth.”

A wicked grin spreads across Te Kā’s face. “As a matter of fact, maybe I should kill her, just to make it harder for you to find someone who will support you after this mess is over with.”

She pivots back around to face Moana – but before she even raises her arm, Te Kā freezes as another idea hits her.

“No, you know what? I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take the Heart back; I’ll restore life to your islands, but only under one condition.”

“Anything,” Moana says, desperation writ large in her voice.

Te Kā grins, and it’s the most terrifying thing Māui has ever seen. “You sail home, you let me kill Māui, and you let his stories go out with him. What do you say, Chosen One?”

There’s a pause, and past the smoke and bright molten lava of Te Kā’s form, Māui can see Moana taking a step forward towards Te Kā. For the briefest, briefest of seconds, Māui’s considering asking Moana what she’s doing, but before he can even open his mouth Moana leaps forward off the rock to stand in front of him, arms spread out in a protective gesture.

“No,” Moana grits out without hesitation, with just as much hardness in her tone as Te Kā’s. “I would never. I know he can be pretty selfish and pig-headed sometimes, but he doesn’t deserve this. If it weren’t for him, I never would’ve made it across the sea. He’s the one who taught me to sail.”

Moana shakes her head, but she refuses to drop her protective gesture from around Māui. “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive right now. He sacrificed his hook for my life, Te Kā. His hook. If that doesn’t mean a thing to you, if you still think that he’s not capable of changing for the better after witnessing that, I don’t know what would.” Moana pauses in her little speech, and it’s only in this short pause that Māui realizes that Moana’s panting. But she either doesn’t realize she’s doing it, or she doesn’t care, because she continues on anyway.

“Māui doesn’t deserve to die for his wrongdoings. He’s capable of change. He’s good on the inside, Te Kā. I know he is. I’ve seen it myself. There has to be some other way. There has to be a way for him to redeem himself. Because as much as I’d love to restore my island, and all of those other islands out there…” she pauses, and glances down at the Heart of Te Fiti still pulsing in her hand. “I could never live with myself knowing that I just handed Māui over to get killed like that. There has to be some other way. Please,” she says, balling her hands up into fists. “Please.”

Te Kā eyes Moana, the way she’s shielding Māui from her, the way she’s protecting him, and snorts, a thin jet of smoke issuing from her mouth.

“You really think that mini-god is worth protecting? Do you really think that he, a trickster, is capable of changing for the better? Your precious island isn’t the only one affected by the curse. I’m surprised to see you still standing at all, as a matter of fact, seeing as most of the islands the curse has reached are simply piles of ash scattered around the Pacific. He caused all of this, Moana, and he’s done nothing to stop it. He just sat around, watching everything crumble around him, because he doesn’t care. Even now! Was Māui the one who tried to give my heart back? Was he the one who apologized for all of my hurt and suffering over the last millennium? No! He just sat back and expected a human, of all things, to do it for him! You can’t defend him for his wrong-doings. You can’t just tell him that everything’s going to be okay because he’s a good person. He’s been doing this for millennia. Far, far before you were even conceived. He screws up, angers a god or two, and then never faces the consequences for it. He comes up with some pathetic excuse to make up for it, and he always ends up getting away with it – just because he meant well, or just because the Gods are still soft on him and remember the times when he was still an unwanted, unloved little runt. So Has it ever gotten through to that massive head of his that maybe he should just leave things be? No. He just shrugs it off, waits a century or two, and then screws up again. And where does that leave you meatbags? Humanity has been forced to bear the consequences that aren’t even yours. This is no different. You restore my heart, he gets off scot-free, and in few centuries he’s going to make the same exact mistake all over again.”

Te Kā pauses to glance at the duo, and doesn’t miss at all the way Moana refuses to stand down, or the way that she shifts to block Te Kā’s path to Māui whenever the lava demon so as much tilts her head. A new idea comes to Te Kā at the sight, and Te Kā finds herself fighting back a malicious grin. Oh, this will be so much better than simply ending Māui’s life right away. “You don’t want me to kill him? You insist he is capable of good? Fine. I’ll humor you. I won’t kill him. But, to assure this kind of thing will not happen again, he is to journey across the sea and right every wrong he has ever committed. Every god he’s ever angered, every being he’s ever wronged, he must reconcile with every single one of them. Then, and only then, will I forgive him – only then will I accept my heart back.” This time Te Kā actually does smile.

“And to assure he actually leaves, you, Moana, are to accompany him. Because this will likely take centuries, I will bestow upon you a gift. You will no longer age, nor fall ill. You will never die. However, until Māui finishes what he sets out to do, you will suffer immensely. You will feel the pain of everyone he has ever wronged, including me, and this curse will not be lifted until he has reconciled with them all. Do we have a deal?” Te Kā asks.

Before Moana can even open her mouth to say another word, Māui shoves her arm out of the way and turns to stand in front of her, lifting his arms up in the protective gesture she had been using on him. “Are you insane?” he grits out. “I’m not dragging Moana into this! Even if she does become immortal, even if she wouldn’t technically be able to die, do you know how many people out there want me dead? Do you have any clue how many people I’ve gotten in trouble with? Forcing Moana to feel all of their collective pain for all eternity? That alone could kill her, and that’s not even including what could happen when we actually encounter these guys!”

Māui shakes his head at himself, angrily, and takes a deep breath. This is the last thing he needs right now, to anger Te Kā even further, and if he keeps this up, keeps attacking her when she’s vulnerable, then, well, for all he knows, she could put Moana through something worse, just to spite him. She could force Moana to feel all of their collective hatred towards him. She could place a permanent curse on Motunui that would remain even after all of the other islands are freed.

She could kill Moana right here, right now, without so much as the blink of an eye.

Māui sighs.

“Look, I get it! I really do! You’re angry at me, a lot of people out there are angry at me, and you want me to fix my mistakes. Done! I’ll leave right now. I’ll even come back to check in and see how you’re doing every few centuries, if you’d like. But please, Te Kā, leave Moana out of this. What has she ever done to you? Tried to help you? Offered to give your heart back to you? She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

There’s a short pause, and Māui almost thinks that Te Kā’s considering his point, but she just shakes her head and cracks a grin horrifying enough to drain the color from Māui’s face.

“That, mini-god, is exactly why she does deserve it. It’s not about what she’s done for me. It’s about what she’s done for you. You’re attached to her. She’s somebody you like, no? The reason poor Moana has to go through all of this is so I can be sure you actually leave. Besides…” she draws out the word in a way that makes Māui shudder, “you’re too late, little one. The curse has already been placed. It’ll take effect soon enough. She will suffer, no matter what you do. And the only way to end her suffering is to accomplish exactly what I’ve asked of you.”

Te Kā stops, and pivots, like she’s planning to return to her barrier island.

“Wait!” Māui shouts suddenly as an idea comes to him, and Te Kā stops. “Wouldn’t that be a little, I dunno, boring for you?”

Te Kā blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Me, sailing around with Moana,” Māui explains. “She’s the only friend I’ve got. Possibly the only person in the entire Pacific who can stand to be around me. Curse or no, don’t you think it’s possible that I could end up enjoying myself, at one point or another?”

He’d never end up having a good time, truthfully, if he ended up stuck on a boat with Moana if she was going to end up miserable and in pain the entire time. But if he could just think of something, someone else to come with him instead of Moana – if he could figure out how to get Te Kā to lift the curse so that Moana gets to home and be safe and sound for the rest of her life… Then, well, being stuck on a boat for the next millennia with anyone would be enjoyable by comparison.

And he means anyone.

Te Kā looks like she’s listening, so Māui clears his throat. “Why not send me off with someone who can’t stand me? Wouldn’t that be more fun to watch? Me, stuck on a boat with somebody who hates my guts?” Māui grins, trying as hard as he can to hide the true reason behind his suggestion. “I could probably list a good number off the top of my head. A lone survivor on a dead island? The spirit of some monster I killed a few centuries ago? Tamatoa, even! Why send me off with my best and only friend? Wouldn’t that be a little, I don’t know, vanilla of you?”

A long pause, and this time Te Kā actually looks like she’s seriously considering his words. Finally, she hisses in annoyance. “As much as it pains me to admit this, you do make a good point. Tamatoa, eh? I remember hearing of the falling out between you and that tiny creeping crustacean spawn. The legends say you two can’t stand each other to this very day! Now that sounds like something I’d just love to see play out.”

Māui’s about to sigh in relief, and he’s about to drop his protective gesture from around Moana, he really is, but then Te Kā speaks again.

“They will both accompany you. Your pathetic human pet, if you will, as well as Tamatoa.” A pause. “But, seeing as he has grown to a size far too massive to fit on a human canoe, I shall put a curse on him, too. For the entire duration of the trip, Tamatoa will be trapped in the body of a man. Once the mission is complete, he will return to his normal form and size and will once more return to his place in Lalotai. But if you refuse, mini-god…” She glares at him. “I will kill both you and Moana on the spot. What do you say, demigod? Do we have a deal?”

Silence.

If he doesn’t leave, he dies, and Moana dies… Besides the fact that she’s his best friend, well… knowing how wonderfully accurate human legends about him are, there’s a chance word will spread that it was all his fault. Knowing Te Kā, she’ll probably be the one to spread the story herself. The story of how the once great demigod Māui tried to sacrifice a human girl’s life to restore the Heart of Te Fiti, but still failed anyway, getting himself killed in the process. He’d be a laughingstock. Everyone over on Motunui would hate him, and it wouldn’t be long before his more heroic stories would be lost to the sea forever.

On the other hand, he leaves, and forces Moana to stick around in agony for the next thousand or so years. He’s going to be sailing around quite possibly for the rest of his immortal life trying to fix the wrongs he already sought forgiveness for centuries ago. He’s going to be stuck on a boat with Tamatoa, of all people, and he wouldn’t even be able to defend himself if the crab tried to pull something funny, because his hook has been–

Wait. His hook.

“What about my hook?” Māui asks, not quite daring to look Te Kā in the eyes. Eyes? Lava cavities? Whatever.

“What about your hook?” Te Kā spits back. “It’s gone. I destroyed it.”

“Exactly!” Māui argues back immediately. “It’s gone. I don’t have it anymore. And seeing as that I used my hook for most of the problems I’ve caused with the Gods, wouldn’t it make sense that I would need it to reconcile with them as well? All of my shapeshifting powers came from that hook, Te Kā. Everyone knows this. So if I don’t have my hook, how do you expect me to set out at all?”

Te Kā groans. “Ooh, I hate admitting that you’re right. It just gives me this sick, burning feeling in my stomach. You know a different kind of burning than the one I feel every second of every day. Wait here.” Reaching a hand down, she pulls a chunk of volcanic rock from her barrier island and beats it against the palm of her hand, until it forms into a club like the ones Māui remembers from the southern islands: a patu ōnewa. She brings it back over to the duo and holds it up.

Well, it’s no hook, but Māui would be lying to himself if he said this wasn’t just about the coolest thing he’s ever seen. Barely suppressing an excited squeal, he reaches out for it – but just before he can take it, Te Kā yanks it away from him.

“I will give this to you only if you agree to go and do this for me. And as much as I hate you, and as hilarious as it would be to watch you failing to heft this thing, I’ll explain how this works.”

“Your shape-shifting powers will, unfortunately, function just as well with this weapon as they did with your hook. For you see, it does not matter what weapon you wield, demigod, so as long as you’re able to transfer some of your magic into it.” She grins at Māui’s flabbergasted expression. “Your hook doesn’t seem that special after all, now, does it? You could’ve gotten those shape-shifting powers from any object, as long as you knew how to wield it correctly. But seeing as this is a simple club, I doubt that even you could screw this thing up.” She holds out the weapon to Māui again. “So, which is it, demigod? Will you take this weapon and right what is wrong, or will you refuse, and be killed alongside your little friend here?”

Māui closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Because as much as he can’t stomach the thought of what’ll happen when Moana’s curse takes effect, and as much as he really can’t stand Tamatoa…

Nothing would be worth the risk of sacrificing Moana’s life. Especially not something that wasn’t her fault to begin with.

“Deal,” he mutters, and reaches forward to take the patu ōnewa from Te Kā’s stretched out palm.

“Good,” Te Kā responds, and flicks her wrist out towards the ocean. “Now go. Your first stop will be Lalotai, to go pick up Tamatoa. His curse should kick in right about… now. Good luck, little ones…” She winks. “Or not. I really couldn’t care less.”

#moana #moana viewing party #paper scraps #here's the prolouge! written by yours truly #I'm super excited to see how this goes down you guys you have no idea #editing split between paapaka and myself

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elephantpublicity-blog · 6 years

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eleRANT: Director of the Auckland Fringe Festival Lydia Zanetti

Everyone loves a good rant. eleRANT is a series with some of our favourite artists, creators and hard workers, ranting about something they’re passionate about.

For the first installment, read Lydia Zanetti’s speech from the launch party of Auckland Fringe Festival 2018.

Kia ora and welcome to the Auckland Fringe Opening Party in cahoots with the fabulous VICE!

My name is Lydia Zanetti and what an absolute honour it is to stand before you for the second time as Director of this feisty wee fest. 2018 marks the sixth Auckland Fringe festival, and we are proud to say - the first year it has gone annual!

Fringe isn’t something we made up. Each year 250 Fringe festivals happen across the globe, including in our very own Wellington and Dunedin. Built by a group of 8 artists who in the face of not being programmed in the first Edinburgh International Festival in 1947 decided to just turn up and put on their dang shows anyway, Edinburgh Festival Fringe celebrated its 70th birthday in 2017 - cementing its place as the largest arts festival in the world. In Australia, the 2nd and 3rd biggest Fringe festivals in the world are happening as we speak in Perth and Adelaide. Comedy, circus, cabaret, music, theatre, dance, visual arts, spoken word and more are all represented in these festivals.

We are not alone. By being involved with Auckland Fringe we are all part of a worldwide Fringe community fighting for accessibility, celebrating otherness and exploring where art can go next.

We are young and ready to fight. 2017 was the year the festival left it’s mum’s house and moved into it’s first flat. In the face of much less financial support then we hoped for, we went out to the artists of Auckland asking - is this festival important? And they came back with a resounding YES. So we buckled down and got on with what artists are by necessity very good at - just making it work. On $7,500 worth of funding we put on a stellar festival across 3 weeks featuring 536 artists in 39 venues. And in 2018 we’ve made it a shorter, punchier hit of two weeks - but we’ve still drawn the same engagement. This festival is on the move.

The 2017 festival was one of the hardest and most rewarding things I have ever done. And I am eternally grateful I did it. But every day, artists are doing things that are incredibly hard. Every day, artists are putting their personal lives and their livelihoods on the line. Every day, venue staff are working their butts off to make space for artists and audiences to meet, to have conversations. Every day, technicians are working late into the night, producers are fighting to get support for and audiences to shows, funders are advocating for more money for the arts. Why? Because we care. We care with all our hearts. We care about making space for people to meet, to be challenged, to be understood, to be changed.

Auckland Fringe is committed to never forgetting this. Committed to this festival being accessible, inclusive and sustainable for every single person involved. We’re young, we’re still figuring out how to get to the point where we can shout dinner. But we’re going to get there.

In 2017 the greater Auckland community came together to make Auckland Fringe happen on a shoestring. In 2018, we have more support. What are we doing with this? We are consolidating our learnings, reaching out into new areas of Auckland, building new support networks & development initiatives, helping connect artists with future touring opportunities - essentially opening our arms a little wider. Because we can’t rely on a community to carry everything. Because the artists need the space to make the art. Because sustainability isn’t relying on the same people again and again.

So here is my challenge, get out and support the Auckland Fringe artists who are taking huge risks to put on their events. Take a risk yourself - try going to an event you wouldn’t usually go to.

Visit Caesar’s Rome, for example. Go on a boat trip. Support an international artist so it is more viable for them to keep taking their work to the world. See cats dancing. Drink a cocktail. Be part of a trial. Watch paint dry. Compete in a cooking show. See kapa haka meet Maori contemporary dance. Listen to some of our best musicians. Laugh with our incredible comedians. Engage in an exhibition. Sit quietly at the back of a theatre and marvel at our Auckland and Aotearoa New Zealand stories. See something you may not understand which may move you in a way you won’t see coming - and will stay with you for years.

And then, after these two jam-packed weeks of joy are over, keep doing it. All year. And the next. And the next. Because a Fringe festival may be the hotbed but it’s also a springboard - and we don’t stop once it’s over. Artists, producers, technicians & more keep making, and making, and making. Because this complex, icky world needs us to. Please take this moment, artistic community, to acknowledge - what you do is important.

Here’s the thing: these festivals, these artworks, these spaces - they are only possible because of the people. He tangata, he tangata, he tangata. It is the people, it is the people, it is the people.

I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank all the people who have helped make Auckland Fringe 2018 happen.

To the Auckland Fringe Trust past & present, in particular: Helaina Keeley, Richard Olney, Raewyn Baker & Amy Saunders

To our funders & especially their tirelessly working staff: Foundation North, Creative New Zealand, Auckland Council and Waitemata Local Board

To our key support organisations & all their beautiful people: alt group, Elephant Publicity, iTICKET, Auckland Live, Q Theatre, Basement Theatre, MonsterValley, Phantom Billstickers, Andi Crown Photography, and Nicholson Print Solutions.

To our sponsors for this opening event: VICE, Sals Pizza, Auckland Live & Absolut Vodka

To the tireless hours worth of work from our staff & volunteers over the past year: THANK YOU Nisha Madhan, Ruby Reihana-Wilson, Chloe Baynes, Hayley Sproull, Katie Burson, Sam Snedden, Johanna Cosgrove, the esteemed industry judges for the awards ceremony and most of all the endless force of joy that is the festival producer extraordinaire Helen Sheehan.

Our final and hugest thank you goes to the folk that nothing is possible without - the artists, the venues and the audiences. Because without any of you, it’d be a rather dull old time.

So I hope your glasses are charged enough to join me in saying cheers to our two week art party bonanza, to Auckland Fringe. Cheers!

https://www.aucklandfringe.co.nz/

Photo credit: Andi Crown

#lydia zanetti #auckland fringe festival #elerant

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