(the book)
Huia Short Stories 10 is the collection of finalists in 'Best Short Story written in te reo Maori', 'Best Short Story written in English' and 'Best Novel Extract written in English' for 2013 Pikihuia Award. Pikihuia means the feather of the sacred bird huia. The collection is always launched in the biennial Pikihuia Award, sponsored by HUIA Publishers.
HUIA Publishers is a gift to Maori and Pakeha writers that deal with Maori-related themes. We visited its office in Wellington on a September morning and listened to a wonderful story behind its creation and achievements throughout the past two decades. A member of them has been invited to the 2013 International Austronesian Conference to be held on 2nd and 3rd December in Taipei. Those interested are cordially welcome.
This year (2013), we had the pleasure of being invited to the award ceremony on the fourth floor of Te Papa Tongarewa (Museum of New Zealand) and basked ourselves in the warmth of a friendly, honoring and also very familial occasion. Family and friends of the finalists were also present. Several times when a winner was pronounced, the family, be them a father or a husband carrying a baby boy, would stand up to bless or chant or sing in Maori. It could touch your heart.
(the finalists for 2013)
The authors of the book stand in the photo. They come from a variety of background and belong to age sets that cover from twenty until seventy. Some are teachers, under- and post-graduate students, artists, full-time writers, restaurant owners, ordinary workers, grandpa, grandma, and mothers.
In the tenth collection, there are 32 stories in total, 5 in Maori completely unintelligible to me as no English translation is provided and the rest in English.
These English stories cover themes including root-searching and -returning (as in 'Found'), poverty (as in 'A Good Friday' that makes me cry), relationship (as in 'I Must Warn You' that makes me cry again for another reason), family relations (as in the winning piece 'Joy Ride'), juveniles (as in 'Eva'), implicit pakeha-Maori relations (as in 'Tank'), social welfare issues (as in 'Harlow and Father Brian'), or election and politics (as in 'Red it and Wept').
The structures of these stories also vary. Aaron Ure tells his 'Regrets' in the format of a journal; Kirsty Dunn dares to write her 'Sam' in a single chunk of paragraph that spans five pages; Aimee Stephens follows the myth of moon to write about 'Marama', which means beautiful; while others employ both paragraphs, dialogues, poetry in the midst of their stories.
Besides, there is a strong element of magical realism in some of the stories like Tia in 'Ahika' have fires flaring from the tip of her ten fingers after surviving from a quake. In 'The Birds of Heaven', the death of the mother of Connor (the protagonist) has a mysterious link to a past of a stolen child and a ghost that would not go away.
A common feature of most stories, however, is a suspense ending. They leave a blank open to be filled. For example, readers are left as clueless as Anna about her mother's secretes because the story ends right before their conversation about the secrets ('Staying Alive'). One can only guess though her secrets seems to be the driving engine of the story, they no longer matter at the end as the mother and the daughter reconcile, and life seems to return again. Or one might also want to know what really happens to Tank and Tini after they smashed a pakeha teacher's car since the story of 'Tank' also ends abruptly with the line, "When the police caught them, they were laughing and jumping at home" (p. 322). This technique keeps readers interested.
(Patricia Grace, the author of Potiki, and us)
It was such a pleasure to have met Patricia in the ceremony. She is the Maori writer who is very much respected and venerated. A gentle lady.
It is for the Fourth Taiwanese Indigenous Literature Conference (2nd and 3rd November) that I picked up this collection and had a enjoyable weekend. In the panel with my fellow traveler-writers, I intend to give an overview of the collection and a comparison between these Maori stories and the stories that were produced by Taiwanese indigenous writers.
There are commonalities, such as the root-searching and -returning urge. But there are also differences.
While Taiwanese indigenous writers talk a lot about hunting and the mountains, the Maori focus more on the marae. Although there may be one call or two about reviving the tradition, Maori writers focus rather more on the adaption to modernity and urban settings. Families, communities and the marae as a spiritual sanctuary are a big concern. Some pieces about sea and fishing (as in 'Navigation'), however, do not rival the works of Syaman Rapongan (Tao); nor are the stories about pig hunting in the mountains a match to those by Sakinu Yalonglong (Paiwan).
In a sentence, there are things to learn and things to feel proud of.
While Taiwanese indigenous writers talk a lot about hunting and the mountains, the Maori focus more on the marae. Although there may be one call or two about reviving the tradition, Maori writers focus rather more on the adaption to modernity and urban settings. Families, communities and the marae as a spiritual sanctuary are a big concern. Some pieces about sea and fishing (as in 'Navigation'), however, do not rival the works of Syaman Rapongan (Tao); nor are the stories about pig hunting in the mountains a match to those by Sakinu Yalonglong (Paiwan).
In a sentence, there are things to learn and things to feel proud of.
After all, I am still doing my job as a translator. As a translator have I gone to the island of long white clouds, as a translator will I tell my part of the journey. Hopefully soon I won't need to translate for no one no more and be the one who speaks.
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