Amelia Jones
University of Southern California
This paper pivots around the performance works of Tāwhanga Mary-Legs Nopera, a self-identified queer Māori performance artist (and PhD) who lives in Rotorua, Aotearoa New Zealand. Their performances such as Wrapping Up (2018) explore place-making and place-claiming through enacting their body in public space (in this case, a plaza at Waikato University, where they obtained their PhD). They operate through the temporality of performance as an overtly gender liminal body signaling a range of masculine and feminine attributes. In Wrapping Up Nopera places small objects from their personal collection (stones, shells, trinkets, jewelry) to mark the space, masking the painful sounds of passersby stepping on and crushing the objects with headphone-piped music; softly singing to themselves, Nopera then painstakingly retrieves the shards of broken objects. The artist notes that in such performances they activate public space as vā as well as tā: taking over the space in a minor, yet trajectory shifting way, they slow people down, encouraging them towards greater awareness of the indigenous occupation of time and space in colonized lands such as Aotearoa New Zealand. In such works, Nopera offers a new way of thinking about gender liminal bodies against the grain not only of the literal European colonization of indigenous lands, but also of normative North American queer and performance theory—gently, quietly, relationally reconfiguring public space and time through their positioning of private objects and gestures enacted via a complexly identified Māori body.
Edwardo F. Madril (Pascua Yaqui)
San Francisco State University
Sara Moncada (Yaqui)
The Cultural Conservancy
In the Yoeme language, the traditional language of the Yaqui or Yoemem people, there is a word that is used to describe both the people and the land – the place where the two energies come together and engage. It is hiakim. Hiakim is used to describe the people in direct relationship to the land; in other words, understanding people through hiakim makes it impossible to separate us from the land from which we come. Yaqui pahko’ola (pascola) dancers are in part an embodiment of hiakim, bringing into space and time in direct relationship to the land, the powerful knowledge systems of the people that synthesize and amplify the voices and visions of traditional knowledge, Native sciences and worldviews. As such, the power of the pahko’ola performance offers a path towards bringing traditional knowledge systems into understanding with a current worldview. It is in this time of critical need of alternative systems of living in the world that we explore the possibilities of strengthening our human, social and ecological relationships through ourselves as hiakim.
Ella Henry (Ngātikahu ki Whangaroa, Te Rarawa, Ngāti Kurī)
Auckland University of Technology
Hohepa Spooner (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Hineuru)
Auckland University of Technology
This presentation will explore the experiences of one Māori tribe, Ngātikahu ki Whangaroa, from lodging their Treaty Claim in 1987, to Settlement in 2017. The Settlement process is fraught with tension, with Crown agencies, and inter- and intra-tribal conflict. Whilst the tribe has had over 10% of their lands returned, and $6.3 million in cash, the acrimony continues, as factions struggle for supremacy and control of the assets. The return of land has not resulted in the panacea that was hoped for by those elders who took the Claim to the Waitangi Tribunal. If anything, it has exacerbated the struggle, and highlighted the divide between rural and urban tribespeople, those with access to the privileges of middle-class life, and those eking out an existence in rural isolation and poverty. This presentation will combine a photo-video montage, a documentary about the Ngātikahu ki Whangaroa Treaty Claim (from the perspective of the tribal negotiator), and a poster to articulate the key issues for the tribe. These will be complemented by dialogue with the authors, in a process Māori call Wānanga (deep, cultural discourse). The purpose of the presentation is to highlight the ways that colonialist/imperialist attitudes by the dominant culture, and overweening governmental control, continue to divide and conquer Iwi Māori, creating tension in the ties between whānau, hapū and iwi, at a time when Māori most need to unite, and work collaboratively, to find solutions for the raft of social, cultural and economic issues that plague the Māori world.
Hēmi Kelly (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Tahu, Ngāti Whāoa)
Auckland University of Technology
Pepeha is a set form of words customarily used to introduce oneself in Māori in formal situations. The speaker will introduce themselves by acknowledging prominent landmarks within their tribal boundaries and claiming belonging to those landmarks through whakapapa (genealogical) ties to their tribe. Pepeha is widely taught and common now as a practice among students and speakers of the language, including non-Māori. In recent years the popularity of the Māori language has grown and, as a result, pepeha has become the default performance offered in a wide range of contexts. This has led to non-Māori creating pepeha that acknowledge their immediate surroundings or other prominent landmarks from their childhood in New Zealand or their birth country.
When pepeha is recited, performative connections are established between the speaker and audience through identifications of people and place. These connections are predicated on whakapapa, which is a distinctively Māori concept. It is exciting that people have learned the first step, which is to announce themselves formally in Aotearoa; however, they’re not necessarily equipped for what might come back to them as they move into the reciprocal environment. This paper will explore the social implications of the non-Māori claim to belong to tribal landmarks that they do not affiliate to through whakapapa. It will also address how Māori language teachers might better teach pepeha, or other forms of speech, to people who are, essentially, keen and well-meaning, so that they may continue to introduce themselves in Māori, in ways that are respectful and meaningful.
Jamie Cowell (Waikato/Ngāti Porou)
Auckland University of Technology
Disconnection from tūrangawaewae, a place to stand, established through whakapapa and kinship ties, is a reality for many Māori raised outside of their tribal homelands, who are not considered ahi kā on their respective marae (gathering place). Ahi kā are the burning fires of occupation or a metaphor for those who keep the home fires burning on their respective homelands.
Many urban Māori find alternative tūrangawaewae and sources of ahi kā, of learning and cultural connectedness in their urban environments through schooling, work and pan-tribal kapa haka (Māori performing arts groups), which to some degree supplement or even stand in for the connections to place and a sense of belonging customarily offered by whakapapa. For some, the sense of displacement is escalating with each generation born away from their homeland.
This research looks at the practice of oriori: chanted lullably sung during pregnancy, birth and upbringing that transmit crucial knowledge of whakapapa and tūrangawaewae as a mnemonic device. Oriori will be explored historically and presently as a way of strengthening our bonds to each other and our homelands irrespective of where we are. As increasing generations of Māori live away from their marae, and indeed from Aotearoa (NZ), how might oriori and other such practices help us to sustain identity and culture in meaningful ways? How might it help us rekindle ahi kā and tūrangawaewae connections?
Javier Stell-Fresquez (Piru & Tigua Pueblos, Xicanx, British, Spanish)
The Cultural Conservancy
Two-Spirits too often feel disconnected from our communities and our traditional roles in them. Thanks in part to what California native scholar Deborah Miranda terms “gendercidal” policies across colonization, Two-Spirit cultural practices are far too scarce today, precluding our right relationships to each other and to the land. Welcoming Two-Spirit expression in Indigenous space allows healing from colonial ideas of gender and sexuality, which are so toxic to the entire community.
In this project, we explore modern Indigenous Two-Spirit identities, situated as we are in our specific cultural backgrounds, speaking from our specific lenses as urban Natives (of the Bay Area) with specific ties to our rural/tribal communities (home/land). We get personal, asking: “What medicine can I offer as a Two-Spirit within and outside of my Indigenous communities?” We are finding ways into and through this question via land acknowledgements and right relationship to California Native Two-Spirit leaders.
Working from the depth that our respective cultural connections allow us, we decolonize our bodies, minds, and, increasingly, the contexts where we dance.
Two-Spirits stand at the center of the four directions, offering liminal perspectives, reminders of the fluidity of identities, and comfort (sensual joy, even) in the deep complexities/dualities of existence. In celebration of Bay Area American Indian Two-Spirits’s (BAAITS) 20th anniversary, we are lifting up the community, holding as a guiding intention Professor Andrew Jolivette’s call to heal our community’s traumas through a “return to a Two-Spirit cultural ethic of support, intergenerational mentoring, and ceremonial healing.”
Jenna Gerdsen
University of Maryland
This paper will examine the University of Hawai‘i Mānoa’s Hawaiian language production of Lā‘ieikawai (2015)written and directed by indigenous playwright and scholar Tammy Haili‘ōpua Baker. The production marked the beginning of the theatre department’s first Hawaiian theatre program. Through this production, which is an adaptation of the traditional Hawaiian mo‘olelo (story) of Lā‘ieikawai, the theatre department features the Hawaiian language and performance traditions of hula, oli (chant), mele (song).
I use the production and the program to consider the political and cultural negotiations of contributing to the Hawaiian sovereignty movement while acknowledging the colonial history of the University’s foundation as well as the oppression and limitations students and faculty of color often face in an academic institution. I will take this production and examine it in the context of the graduate student strikes of 2015 as well as the Thirty Meter Telescope protests that began in 2014. I investigate the possibilities of using theatre and performance to reconnect Hawai‘i’s indigenous population to their stolen land, and reconfiguring the university, a colonial site, into an alternative space for indigenous cultural expression. The dynamic interaction between what Diana Taylor calls the archive and the repertoire is the backbone of Hawaii state education. I argue that Lā‘ieikawai exposes this epistemological foundation by prioritizing Hawai‘i’s indigenous cultural repertoire and shows all that is missing in the state’s archives.
Kirsten Sadeghi-Yekta
University of Victoria, BC, Canada
In the last two centuries, colonization ravaged many groups, and in this century the economic pressures of globalization are causing many groups to shift to a language with national or international status. The dire prediction is that 90% of the world’s 7000 languages will cease to exist by 2100. The decline and death of languages is an important global issue.
From the point of view of the indigenous speakers, languages are important because they embody cultural heritage, they encode knowledge about the relationship between people, land and nature, and they provide a framework that defines an individual within a family or society. Thus, a high priority has been placed on the preservation of indigenous languages through ongoing research and language teaching. Already, important community-based work has been done in reversing language loss, but there is an urgency to accelerate the work as the Elders and fluent speakers are passing on.
This paper will focus on how to support the cross-generational transfer of the Indigenous language and culture through the medium of theatre. I will discuss alternative ways of language learning such as how to workshop indigenous stories into plays, perform them, and teach others how to make and perform plays.
Māhealani Uchiyama
Mahea Uchiyama Center for International Dance
Hula, the dance of Hawai`i, was received by the Hawaiian people as a result of entering into a state of meditation with the wind, ocean, rain, and other aspects of the environment. Hula teaches its practitioners to appreciate these natural phenomena, to honor the cycles of life and death, and to recognize the intelligence of the universe.
Kaulīlua I Ke Anu O Waiʻaleʻale is one of the oldest temple dances in the cannon of classic hula. We will take an in-depth look at how Kaulīlua illustrates geneology, how it explores the symbolic connection between heaven and earth, and how it celebrates the attachment of the people to their land.
What is it about hula that sustained this connection to the land in the face of colonial displacement? What does it mean to be kama’āina (child of the land)? How can we appreciate the hula as a form of prayer? How does the hula inform a way to a balanced future that holds relevance for all the worldʻs people?
We will examine the impact of colonialism on Hawai`i through analyzing the suppression and renaissance of indigenous cultural practices and the continued commodification of Hawaiian lands. We will explore the ways in which sacred connections to the land and ancestral wisdom practices were and are disseminated worldwide through Hawaiian dance-songs. I will also share the ways in which this specific form of ancestral wisdom has been a catalyst which nurtured my personal journey of healing and connection to my own African heritage.
Romana Tekaharoa Potts (Ngāti Kurī, Muriwhenua)
Te Wānanga o Aotearoa
From Aotearoa my homeland, the land of manu (our chiefly birds), manu over thousands of years have developed systems of ultimate survival in a predator free environment. They come from ancient lines of genealogy unique to Aotearoa and like my own ancestors have survived from the mists of time till now, Te Ao Hurihuri (the world of fast turning change). My presentation is an interactive workshop developed over 30 years as a Pou Ako in Maori language and dance, weaving the qualities of these manu and their movements with ancient cultural values and lores that are strongly needed today to carry on our continuity of consciousness, so it will never ever be lost. The tangi (chiefly voice) from our manu has also been important, passing on ancient stories through sweet songs and melodies, which are techniques used by our ancestors to pass down the knowledge. So today we weave the walk and the talk of these ancient knowledge systems, and thus we tune in to our natural world. Through the flowing manu footwork and their calls you will be taken back into the ancient forests to learn the knowledge of ultimate survival, moving together as one, uplifting everyone to stand strong and surefooted with a voice of wisdom. This is about the art of true leadership.
Te tangi a te Tui – Rere tōtika rapu hua tū kōtahi tū kōtahi tū tū tū!
The learning song of the Tui bird – Fly straight and true to seek the fruits from the knowledge trees, then we can all stand strong and united forever!
Sharon Mazer
Auckland University of Technology
What might it mean to tell the story of colonisation in Aotearoa/New Zealand through the lens provided by professional wrestling? Colonial Combat is a new web series being developed by Awa Films for TVNZ. The year is 1840. Europeans have been landing in Aotearoa for several decades, mingling with Māori, putting down roots as missionaries, traders and settlers. The Treaty of Waitangi is being signed between the British crown and Māori rangatira; its implications will play out over subsequent generations. Instead of waging war, the British and the Māori have, momentarily, stepped away from their muskets and taiaha to face each other in the squared circle . . .
The premise underlying Colonial Combat is anachronistic and preposterous, even by WWE standards. It’s also fascinating. Wrestling is an unsporting sport. The fight is fixed. The guy with the money decides who wins, who loses, and on what terms. Justice turns a blind eye, and virtue is no guarantee of success – in fact it’s often the opposite. To envision wrestling matches between Māori and Pākehā at the pivotal moment in the colonial encounter would seem to make light of the appropriation of land and consequential erosion of Māori language and culture. But perhaps there is something to be learnt by upending postcolonial pieties in this way. After all, like professional wrestling, colonialism has carried with it a certain degree of performative con artistry – the appearance of a this-for-that exchange of lands, goods and promises belied by the less-equitable, more insidious reality behind the scenes.
Te Rita Papesch (Waikato-Maniapoto, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Whakauē)
Te Wānanga o Aotearoa
In the previous two years there has been an up-rise amongst Māori iwi and hapū to remember, in performance, the Māori Land Wars of the nineteenth century. These performances are known as Te Pae o te Riri (sites of war). Prior to said Wars the Māori had a strong economy in part based on possession of land and its use. With the invasion of British troops, often supported by kūpapa (traitor) Māori, Māori land right across Aotearoa was systematically confiscated thus depriving Māori of their economic base. The result was not only a loss of land but a loss of language use and customary practice that also brought with it poverty and criminal activity.
Te Pae o te Riri performances keep the Indigenous people of Aotearoa, New Zealand, connected to our land. These performances quite noticeably un-settle any colonial delegation present – possibly because they call into question any postcolonial rights to ownership of what was once Māori land with a vivid reminder of how the land was acquired. Or, it might be that the descendants of the settlers cannot be sure, from the performance spectacle that they are confronted with, how safe they are in the presence of these life re-creating performances. This presentation sets out to stimulate discussion on how performance can serve to sharpen the memory of dispossession and reignite our – Māori and Indigenous – claims to the land.
Timoteo I. Montoya II (Lipan Apache)
The Cultural Conservancy
The intersections of story, dance, song, ritual, and place intrinsic to Indigenous people’s traditional ceremonies are essential to their lived experience and identity. As Indigenous peoples move from their ancestral homelands and their identities shift, expand, and push against the boundaries of traditional lifeways, there is a risk of losing generations of knowledge held not only in the minds, but in the stories, and the bodies of the people. Engaging future generations of indigenous peoples in practicing ceremony and embodying these traditional intersections means finding new ways to accommodate the shifting boundaries and visioning of indigenous selves into the future. Re-sowing indigenous lifeways within a futurism framework that incorporates technology – imbued with the same careful use, prayer, and sanctity bestowed on traditional implements of ceremony – is essential to encouraging future generations in continuing our work as stewards and healers of ancestral and diasporic places.
Rebirthing traditional ceremonies to accommodate these shifting boundaries will enable several generations of displaced and urban indigenous bodies to again feel the stories, songs, and dances our peoples have practiced since the beginning of time. What might our ceremonies look like in the future when technology is just as sacred as our fireplace, our water, our songs, and our lands? How might we use technology in our ceremonies as we heal, manage, and pray for our lands?
Valance Smith (Te Parawhau, Te Uriroroi, Te Mahurehure, Ngāti Mahuta)
Auckland University of Technology
Erana Foster (Tainui/Waikato, Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Hako)
Auckland University of Technology
The connections indigenous peoples have with their ancestral lands are intrinsic. Whilst Māori are tangata whenua (indigenous people of the land) in Aotearoa, our connections with the land can be made anywhere in the world as our cultural narratives tell us that we descend from Papatūānuku, the Earth Mother. Currently, one sixth of Māori live abroad (Haami, 2018), which can lead to disconnect from the homeland and culture. At the heart of this cultural disconnection is alienation from ūkaipō (ancestral homelands), whānau (family), and kaumātua (respected elders). However, many Māori living overseas continue to maintain connections to their heritage and identity through kapa haka (Māori performing arts groups). These groups develop a strong sense of community, living and practising Māori cultural values. Kapa haka is now an important pathway to cultural identity (Papesch, 2015). How does kapa haka assist the Māori diaspora to maintain a connection to their cultural identity? How do overseas kapa haka groups support and foster their Māori cultural pursuits and aspirations? With the development of multigenerational diasporic communities, the role of kapa haka becomes even more important. This presentation explores these questions in a discussion with members of London-based kapa haka group, Ngāti Rānana, and San Francisco-based kapa haka group, Māori Mō Ake Tonu. It will provide insight into the importance of overseas kapa haka in maintaining Māori identity and culture in a different land.
Wikuki Kingi (Te Whanau a Apanui, Tainui, Ngai Tahu, Hawaii)
Pou Kapua Creations, GRID Pacific, Whaotapu Trust, Auckland University of Technology
Tania Haerekiterā Wolfgramm (Whakatohea, Te Aupouri, Ngai Tai, Vava’u Tonga)
Pou Kapua Creations, GRID Pacific, Hakamana, Auckland University of Technology
Rachel Maunganui Wolfgramm (Whakatohea, Te Aupouri, Ngai Tākoto, Vava’u Tonga)
Pou Kapua Creations, University of Auckland School of Business
Mai te Rangi, Ki te Whenua, Ki te Ao Mārama – This haka connects the essence of Ora and wellbeing from the heavens, to the earth and into the world of enlightenment through Pou Kapua, a taonga, created and gifted to the world.
Pou Kapua called out: “Kia mau - hold fast humankind, for I am coming.” Haka masters Wikuki, Tania, Te Uranga o Te Rā, Pūroku, and Rachel called out to the world to join the haka of Pou Kapua … “Haere mai rā i roto i taku ao” – welcome to our world. The vision to bring Pou Kapua into life as a symbol of identity, of sovereignty of people, space, and place was shared.
Tōhunga and iwi gathered to wānanga. The iwi of Te Rarawa and Tūwharetoa joined the haka with gifts of magnificent kauri and totara. Indigenous Master carvers from around the world came from Tonga, Samoa, Cook Islands, Tahiti, Hawaii, Rapa Nui, New Caledonia, Australia, Alaska, Canada, and America. They performed with body and mind, chisels and adzes. Stories of gods and guardians, lands, peoples, leadership and wayfinding across vast oceans and lands are expressed. Te Atairangikaahu, the Māori Queen, revealed Pou Kapua to the world in a Puawaitanga.
Pou Kapua, the largest Māori Pacific Pou in the world, is a living embodiment of this great haka, a manifestation of whakapapa and global alliances forged across generations. The haka challenges and generates collective transformation, renewal and resilience to advance mauri ora and nourish our wairua.