Lucy's Creative Responses

·         I LOVE HAWAII- (Made in China by some worker being paid 13 cents an hour in a factory filled with smog).

·         Here is a keychain with a canoe on it- a canoe shaped from wood- strong and sturdy. Smooth and buoyant, painstakingly crafted. The wood molded so the canoe can glide through the water, carrying its precious cargo. (The plastic keychain broke within three hours.)

·         This lei is as bright and cheerful as a lolly, but it does not contain the pungent flowery scent, nor the soft petals. It is dyed and synthetic (fortunately, for some tourists complain they are allergic to pollen and scared of bees).

·         Look at these traditional tattoos! How painful and barbaric! But they sell temporary ones at the gift store. How pretty they look on me!

·         I love this place. I never want to leave. I’m Hawiian at heart, sigh the tourists, as they lie on their crisp sheets in their air-conditioned hotel rooms, and talk to their relatives back home on their iPhones.

 

This piece is based on Colonisation by Haunani-kay Trask. I was interested in the concept of cultural appropriation and also the irony surrounding it in regards to visitors feeling like they have a ‘right’ to call themselves Hawaiian (for example) when they are just tourists who find it easy to fall in love with a place when it has all the Western comforts from home, and also because they don’t have to deal with the history or cultural baggage. (Is it similar to Rihanna getting a traditional Maori tattoo and then covering it up a few weeks later? Perhaps it is different as she is a woman of colour, so does that mean it doesn’t ‘count’ as cultural appropriation in the same way?) The original poem also touched on the struggles of tourism- on the one hand, the nation wants to retain its traditions and nature and not be filled with tourists and resorts, gift shops, etc.  But on the other hand, tourism is good for the economy, and putting a small country on the world stage (like New Zealand). Tourism can be somewhat educational for foreigners, and I think that for many places, the locals are welcoming and eager to put on a good impression to tourists. The poem touches on this, and begs the question, is acceptance so necessary?

 

Da boiz write tagz

All up da wallz

And down da alleyz

And on da smooth white wallz

Of da bourgeois

Rich white peepole

Who hide in deare houzez.

 

In da islands dere is no hiding

And no wallz to writ tagz on.

Tagz are writ on smooth brown skin.

Tatz for genealogy, da ancestry is da wallz

And da homez and da protecshun.

 

But dis is not da islandz.

Our homez are da gangz.

Our tagz are not fresh blood and old symbolz

But cold koncrete and new wordz, like gunz.

We wear patchez instead.

 

We writ on da wallz

To feel not left out

Becauze we do not have

Smooth white wallz

And our skin is no longer smooth

We hav scabies from bad homez

And pimples from bad foods, McDonaldz etcc.

 

Like a toddlah having a tahntrum

We want this to be our homez too

This is our way to scream

 

But dey paynt da tagz with more

Smooth white

And fo’get

Uz.

 

This poem is in response to Tatz, by Ku’ualoha Ho’omanawanui. The original poem was written in what appears to be pidgin English, or as though it would be spoken by someone with a strong accent. The way she wrote it reminded me of the deliberate misspellings of graffiti or youthful text speak. In this poem I wanted to compare the concept of getting a traditional tattoo as a way to identify with a group of people (such as one’s ancestors) and tagging as a way to identify with a group (such as a gang). I was interested in thinking about why people, particularly immigrants, might tag- perhaps something to do with poverty in the promised land, and anger about that. But comparing tattooing to tagging is interesting because they are both a (somewhat) permanent artform that is as strongly personal as it is visible and public.

 

Bro Town:

“Oh bro! Is that really you, Sione?” exclaimed the solidly built stranger, embracing the unkempt man in a spine-crushing hug.

“V-Valea?” gasped Sione, pulling himself free. “I haven’t seen you in… since high school!”

Valea grinned. “Yeah… We were quite the little trouble makers.”

Sione took a swig of the beer he was holding, as he remembered how Valea had been expelled for tagging on the walls of Morningside School. Morningside 4 Life. Sione had never really thought about the implications of that statement, until it gradually dawned on him, that he may indeed be stuck in Morningside for the rest of his life.

The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of a third man with silver-rimmed glasses and a receding hairline. “Do you think that Mack will appreciate the complete works of Shakespeare?” the man asked nervously. He was holding a large gift-wrapped parcel.

“Vale! Geez, bro! You’ve aged badly!” grinned Sione. He stumbled forward to give Vale a friendly pat on the back and nearly spilled his beer.

Vale pulled away. “Careful,” he grimaced, pushing Sione into a seat on the grass. “Valea, can you get him a coffee or an orange juice please?”

Valea and Sione stared at him.

“Get it yourself,” snapped Valea. “You don’t get to boss me around. Dad’s not here any more.”

“Jesus,” hissed Vale. “Are you both completely pissed? For Christ’s sake, it’s barely gone midday. You should really lay off the free booze.” He pointed his finger at Valea. “Unless you want it all over the front page news.”

“Stuff you man,” muttered Valea. He was just about to walk away when their old friend Mack waltzed across the park, wearing a purple tuxedo.

“Well, hello boys!” he cooed flamboyantly. “How is the old gang? My, my, Valea. You are looking rather dashing. Ooh! Is that for me? Why thank you Vale, how thoughtful.” He picked up the present and turned his head. “Vita! Can you put this with the other gifts?” A slim dark-skinned man walked over, and took the present from Mack. He nodded and smiled at the other men.

“This is my new husband, Tavita,” beamed Mack.

“So nice to meet the Morningside gang, I’ve heard so much about you,” Tavita smiled. As he wandered off, Vale realised that someone was missing.

“Where’s Jeff?” he asked.

“Oh…” said Mack. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know…”

“Know what?” demanded Valea.

“Jeff’s in jail,’ finished Sione wearily. “Armed robbery. Dairy. Had a knife. I visited him about a month ago. Reckons he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he likes it in jail. They feed him. He got involved with some gang a while back. That’s about all I know.”

“Oh, what a tragic tale,” moaned Mack. “It really reminds me of this play I just did, in which I portrayed a violent gang member.”

“Yeah. Your acting’s really good,” said Valea. “I saw you on Shortland Street playing that drug dealer.”

“Oh stop it. You’re making me blush! But yes, I feel so grateful to have found a community that accepts me for who I am- it isn’t always easy being gay AND an ethnic minority, you know. You guys HAVE to go and see my new film when it comes out next month. I play an alcoholic dole bludger. It’s a comedy.”

Vale frowned. “Mack- do you play any role that isn’t a tired stereotype of Pacific Islanders?”

Mack gasped. “Well, EXCUSE me! I take what I can get, thank you very much!”

“Well… it seems to me that this community that is so accepting of you is also making a mockery of your culture.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “Stop intellectualising everything, Valea. Just because you live in Wellington with your Pakeha wife and little half caste baby, doesn’t make you some kind of authority.”

“Well… I am lecturer at Victoria University in Pacific Island studies…”

“Shut up, Vale. No one cares,” snapped Valea.

“At least I have a job,” sniped Vale. “How’s life after rugby working out? You managed to squander all that money… I told you. But did you listen? No. I told you not to do anything stupid on that trip, and what do you do? You got trashed and slept with some teenager. You’re a mess, Valea. No wonder they kicked you off the team.”

“Hey! Lower your voice,” hissed Valea. “Don’t act all high and mighty. You buggered off to Wellington. You didn’t even come to Dad’s funeral.”

“I didn’t owe him anything! Do you realise he could have killed that poor kid he hit? Driving drunk as usual. Waste of space!” Vale wiped away a tear angrily, and wished someone would bring him a glass of wine.

“Ahh, bugger,” said Sione staring at his phone, wide-eyed. He slumped forward in his seat.

“What is it?” asked Mack, eager to change the subject. He didn’t want the gang making a scene like they normally did.

“It was positive. My girl has a baby on the way. Why does this keep happening to me?” he groaned. “I don’t wanna be a father. I can barely support myself on the benefit, let alone six bloody kids!”

“You have six kids?” said Vale, his eyes widening. “To whom?”

Sione shrugged. “Teuila, Masina, Talia, Chastity, and Alexis.”

“Sione! Didn’t you pay any attention during Sex Ed at school?” asked Valea.

Sione shrugged. “Not really. Besides, Mum always said that using contraception was like wearing a glove made of Satan’s own skin. I never really understood that, but it freaked me out a bit.”

 

After mine and Rachel’s seminar presentation, I was interested to note that most people had negative views of Brotown and the stereotypes that it perpetuates. I was interested in the concept of writing about the characters in the future, and a negative view of what they could’ve turned out like, using some of the same stereotypes associated with Pacific Islanders. Is it better or more ‘realistic’ for them to end up in bad lives as adults? It’s not an optimistic outcome, but alternatively does it trivialise the issues that they faced as teenagers (such as neglectful parenting) if they turn out fine in the end, or does that provide inspiration? I think that it must be difficult to strike a balance between something that is nitty-gritty ‘realistic’ to the point of being bleak and depressing and something that is overly comedic and makes a mockery of these issues. The boys haven’t seen each other since school and are brought back together to reminisce, at the reception of Mack’s gay wedding. I wanted to focus on the negative stereotypes similar to how Brotown does, but with a slightly more sombre view- perhaps now that the boys have grown up and have responsibilities, they have lost their youthful innocence.

 

I really enjoyed the short film O Tamaiti, directed by Sima Urale. I found it really affecting and thought-provoking. I like the ambiguity of the film, and also how it’s from a child’s perspective.

I think it’s interesting that everyone had different responses to the film, and who they sympathised with. Personally, I deeply sympathised with the protagonist.

I liked how subtle the emotion was in the piece.

I felt the most angry with the parents when they are having sex and Tino can hear them. The pain written on his face, as he covers his ears with his pillow. For most kids, this would just be embarrassing, but for Tino, it is worse as I think he understands that this only means more children that he is burdened with taking care of. He appears to be taking more responsibility than his parents and they show him no appreciation for it. Regardless of the parent’s views of contraception, I found their neglect and lack of foresight to be frustrating, especially at the end with the mother patting her stomach, signalling that she was pregnant again.

Aside from the specific social and cultural issues, themes of being torn between adulthood and childhood are apparent. For example, when Tino is asked to leave the funeral of his dead sibling, while his parents stay and mourn, even though it appears that Tino was actually the one who spent the most time caring for the baby while it was alive.

 

Sons For the Return Home

·         Thought the girl character was a stereotype

·         Lots of references/descriptions of nature

·         At the beginning it seemed that she fetishized him, because he was exotic and it would piss her parents off.

·         Is this relationship dynamic still relevant? Is the story and discussion about multi-racial couples still an issue today?

·         Also, he hit his girlfriend, and harboured a deep hatred for her

 

Probably my main issue with Sons For the Return Home was the depiction of the main female character as a typical, attractive spoilt ‘white girl’. It seemed that there was a sense of fetishizing the boy- viewing him as exotic and a way to perhaps validate herself as so much more than just her middle class upbringing and close-minded parents. There was also the sense that she was more ignorant and stupid than him- for example, when she shot down the beautiful hawk, and he had to explain to her that it was wrong. However, the boy himself had to deal with his own ignorance, and in fact, racism towards Maori people.  I’m not sure if this story is still as relevant today. I think that we have come a long way in terms of racial acceptance. I think it would be far more unlikely for someone to sneer or make a racist remark about a multiracial couple nowadays as it happens in the party that they attend with the girl’s friends. Fortunately, it is generally accepted that racism is unacceptable. I also think that back then there was a lot more pressure to stick within one’s ‘class’ and for a woman to marry suitably, as opposed to being an equal in a relationship and able to support herself financially if need be, which is perhaps where some of the tension came from in the novel, particularly in regards to the parents and their ideals. The couple was idealistic about getting married, when they clearly had relationship issues (for example, him hitting her). In a way it seemed as much about making a stand as it did about them being actually in love. The following poem is about fetishizing Pacific Islanders, as that was a theme I related to, having seen it a lot when I went to a private all girl’s school in Year 10-11 that had a predominantly Pakeha student body.

Brown Boys

The girls like spicy brown skin and big muscles.

They admire the long and slow gait.

They want warm bodies and strong hugs.

They want shiny black tattoos.

They want someone they can take home that will piss off their parents.

The girls want brown boys.

The girls smell danger, a disregard for authority, a lack of interest in NCEA.

The boys stare back, nonchalantly, resting their eyes on squirming, blushing females.

They slope onto the bus. They chuck a rugby ball about, graceful and fluid.

The girls adjust their private school blazers and trot neatly to class.

 

“Cross” and “Kidnapped” by Katie Amanda Tomlinson

Through out history we have seen many islands colonised by Western forces this is no different for Samoa.  In the late 18^th century Germany and Britain took control of the island and with that came huge culture, political and social change. New ideas and beliefs were formed in Samoa and along with that came the loss of tradition and locals identity.  In this essay I will discuss the two poems “Cross” by Albert Leomala and “Kidnapped” by Ruperake Petaia and how they relate to the ideas of loss of identity from the impact of colonisation.

Samoa was colonised in the 18^th century by Germany and later Britain. Two missioners by the name if Charles Barf and John Williams arrived in Samoa in the early 1830’s to spread the word of Christianity to the native people. Samoa was seen as a place that would be great for trading and later became one of the most popular places and was used by a German company J.C Godeffroy and Son. During the periods of 1850-1970 Samoa was passed through the hands of America, Britain and lastly New Zealand. Through out this time the native people of Samoa had been through a lot of changes and had constant western influence, Christianity became a huge part of their culture and church was a regular part of life. It wasn’t until 1970 that Western Samoa gained independence and in 1997 they officially changed their name to “Samoa”. 

In the poem “Cross” Leomala talks about “cross” with a lot of anger and resentment, for example “Cross I hate you, You are killing me, You are destroying me, My traditions I hate you”. I believe that the cross is a symbolism of everything that the Westerners brought over, at face value you could take the cross as a representation of Christianity but I think it’s colonisation as a whole. Leomala speaks about how they never “bother about me and my traditions” for him they came in and took over everything that was important to their Samoan culture and replacing it with what they thought was ‘better’. He goes on to talk about how ‘they’ receive them as “ignorant” and “primitive”, the idea that they never understood his culture or ideas just because they were different it made them ignorant or stupid. At the end of the poem it takes more of aggressive approach using lines such as “I hate you cross….. take your ideas, And your civilization, And go back to where you belong” Leomala is rejecting the colonisation of Samoa and everything that came along with it; religion, politics and language. I believe that Albert feels that they have loss a sense of their identity, because Germany and Britain brought in so much of their values like Christianity the English language that it over took theirs traditions that were consider to be “disgusting”.  Leomala speaks as though through loss of traditions you lose your identity as a Samoan and that is expressed with a lot of anger and hatred for it.

 “Kidnapped” by Ruperake Petaia is very similar to the poem “cross”. They both feel the effects of western influence. As a part of the colonisation came higher forms of education revolving around English culture. Petaia see’s his mother’s decision to send him to school as “careless” and relates school life as being “kidnapped by a band of western philosophers armed with glossy pictured textbooks and registered reputations”. I think that the problem was not education it was more the context of what they were learning, mostly western books and it school was usually taught in English. He then talks about “in a classroom guarded by Churchill and Garibaldi pinned up on the wall. Again we can see that they were learning about American History. For Petaia I believe that it was hard for a young Samoan boy to be thrust into schooling and to be only taught about English culture rather than anything about their Samoan culture. “ Mama and Papa loved their son and paid ransom fees each time, Each time Mama and Papa grew poorer and poorer and my kidnappers grew richer and richer. I grew whiter and whiter” Petaia uses constant references to the word “kidnapped”, for him that was what going to school felt like. He was being forced into becoming white or ‘western’ there was no teaching about Samoan culture. He considers finishes school his “release”. I think you can tell from the poem that Ruperake feels as though school was something he did not choose nor like or found any value in, he considers his degree “a piece of paper to decorate my walls certifying my release”. This poem explores the idea of what the colonisation of Samoa had not only on traditions but also their education. We see that he refers to losing his Samoan identify as he was becoming “whiter and whiter” instead of keeping their own educational values.

I wanted to talk about my experience with this issue.  My mother is from Bulgaria and my father is from New Zealand and what I have notice is there is a vast difference between the two cultures. I always have seen myself as a New Zealander and never really identified as Bulgarian but every time I would see my extended family I would always feel out of place as I felt more kiwi than anything. My mother is traditional eastern European and sometimes I found it very difficult with her values and morals as they were quite different to the typical ‘kiwi’ culture. I feel as though that with accepting both sides and acknowledging that I am a mix that my identity doesn’t have to be black and white I can fit in both sides. I know that it defiantly made me a much more interesting person and allowed me to be more respectful and value other cultures.

In both poem’s we see the effects that colonisation had on the island of Samoa. In “cross” Leomala talks of the effects as a whole while Petaia speaks of the effects it had on his education. Both poems see the effects in a negative light, both feel as though it has made them lose a sense of their Samoan identity.  They both reject idea of the western influence and preferred their Samoan traditions. I think that there is both a positive and negative to colonisation. It can bring more advances to islands that don’t have help they need, like medical care and also education. But in saying that I feel as though a lot of times when islands are colonised that they feel as though their way is the only way and that the natives are barbaric or are not living the right way. I feel as though Christianity is something that Samoa treasures, it is a big part of their lives and having faith in something is a positive attribute and is personal choice. 

Seminar post

Our group choose the poem Four poems and Sione's Wedding by Karlo Mila.This poem explores the ideas of misogamy and the serotype of woman and pacific woman. She talks about the double standards between men and woman “drive through drives, double double standards, burgers with fries” “ yeah those boys know freedom like flying foxes in the night” . Boys have more freedom to grow up and live their lives, their able to make mistakes and have no one to answer to. While women can either be one to two things; the Madonna whore complex that still affects woman today. The poem is written in three different paragraphs, the first one coming from the boy’s perspective and with that they have more freedom have fun without getting judged or named. While the second paragraph is what pacific island woman should be like with more traditional roles “same old roly poly roles, dusky maiden in her little lava-lava”. The last paragraph is where pacific are actually, they can only express their sexually through art as it is not accepted in society. Woman who are sexual are named while men it is considered a normal part of their life. Mila points out through this poem that we still are stereotyped are living in a man’s world “its called BRO- town mate”

Son's from the Return Home

The story in set in the 1960's when a Samoan family migrates into New Zealand for a want of a better life with more money and security.  The parents feel as though they want their children to return home so they can keep their Samoan culture and identity, His mother wants him to keep their values and not turn "papalagi" as her culture is very important to her. You can see the protagonist struggle through this book with his identity because he is Samoan but living in New Zealand. I loved the book and the emotion that it brought out was quite intense. The love story I found to be very real, a young Samoan boy with a white New Zealand girl and through out they faced a lot of difficulty.  The Sons from the return home deals with a lot of issues such as racism, identity crisis, love and family. It really showed the hardship of coming from a different country and trying to grow up in New Zealand. Racism is shown with the girls mothers and how she does want them to marry, being a different nationally must face this all the time. I couldn't help but feel the book brought up issues that we all have to deal with. He was a great student in school but struggled with the fact that it wasn't good. I thought that it was quite cool that the characters were not given names bu only refer erred to "he" or "she" , i found it allowed you to identity with the issues more instead of being completely involved in the characters. It is kind of hard to not feel emotion for the two main characters and their relationship, you cant help but root for them because their is so much getting in the way.

Bro'town

Critical Response

Does the humour in Bro'town work as a form of subversion, or does it perpetuate racial stereotypes?

Ethnic jokes have always been a way of 'owning' your cultural stereotypes. Being able to laugh at ourselves is an important developmental process and can be empowering. However there is a fine line between humor and bad taste and it became clear in the discussion in class that many people see bro'town as crossing that line.

Knightly said that "brown academics" (the people most vocally offended by the show) "are the enemies of fun". I thought that this was a cop out response to very real concerns academics may be raising about the place that humour has in perpetuating stereotypes. I often feel offended at racial jokes if they do not come from a person of that race. In my eyes the Bro'town stereotypes and humour is often believed by people outside of the culture as somewhat true. The fact that it may be laughing at these stereotypes is easily missed. Although I do not think extreme racism is prominent in NZ society, there is often a notion of superiority displayed by majorities. Bro'town displayed racial humour on a public stage and in my experience was then mimicked by many of my Pakeha friends thinking it was okay for them to make these kind of jokes too.

I think the Pacific Island representation in prime time television was a positive experience for New Zealand, but it would have been more empowering had the characters moved away from stereotypes. I also think there are aspects other than racial depiction which lead to its very split audience opinion. Some people not finding it funny because the jokes are repetitive or relying to much on toilet humour and slapstick comedy.

Sons for the Return Home

“The boy experiences two cultures and two lifestyles. He both suffers and survives the misunderstandings and discriminations which recur between white and brown, among Maoris and Samoans and other Islanders. He is neither assimilated nor integrated into NZ society. Nor is he content in the reality of Samoa. He is a man forever divided.”

Do you agree with this critic?

I agree that the protagonist is divided between his NZ lifestyle and his Samoan lifestyle. His mother seems particularly intent on the children keeping their Samoan culture alive and not adopting to "Papalagi way". Especially in issues regarding faith, family, and sexuality.

However I don't feel that he is 'forever divided'.  I do not feel that culture is synonymous with identity but is a part of identity. Identity can have other factors such as personality and faith and is something which we can choose.

 Part of his identity is his education, intelligence, and his unique way of seeing things clearly- as his father describes. He can accept he is a Samoan New Zealander and does not have to do things the Papalagi or Samoan way, but his way. In this sense his links to Maui are evident, as Maui was very much a rebel carving out his identity. I think Wendt is clever with his use of this mythology in the novel.

I think the third part of the book is interesting as he is trying to both come to terms with the death of his grandfather, has ancestor, and the abortion, which could be seen as the death of his would be descendant. This ties that he has the dead seem to be something he needs to acknowledge and talk about with his parents, but ultimately, in acknowledging them, he feels a sense of freedom and is able to make peace with his past 'He was alive; at a new beginning'. I think this freedom also empowers him to define himself.

 Do you think the hero is sympathetic? The heroine? Is she more sympathetic?

I don't really find the main character particularly sympathetic. Especially because he twice displays violence towards women and I think at times he is arrogant. I think he is quite self absorbed, negative, and overly concerned with the fact that other people may have racial prejudice even though he is at times racist himself. I feel that he sees racism everywhere partly because he dwells on it. I am not sure if he really does love the girl. Although it is a small detail, the fact that he buys her Camus essays for Christmas even though she seems to have no expressed interest in philosophy or literature, seems like he is thinking about himself, or even showing off his intellectualism.

The heroine I found more sympathetic but I think that she quite cliché and sort of an unrealistic male fantasy. Good-looking, rebellious, larger than life and always randy, she seems to be put in the novel to serve the purpose of invigorating the male lead and breathe some mystery and adventure into the book.  I think one of the reasons she is with him is to break away from her conservative middle class upbringing, as initially I can't see how she is woo'd by his silence. As it goes on I think she should leave him as I think he treats her cruelly, such as in the scene where he brings her to his meet his Samoan community and does not look after her, or when he goes off drinking and doesn't apologize.This also made me less sympathetic about the abortion as I do not think they would be ready for a child anyway.

I also think that naming the characters would have made them sympathetic as it is more personable. As would more description of their physical appearance. I wondered in Albert Wendt wanted them to be sympathetic, to me, this did not seem the intent as leaving them with out names seems to be a technique to develop objectivity.

What do you think is the best hope for a Pacific person in NZ society today?

Auckland seems to have a big pacific community and I do not think it is as racially charged as it is depicted in the novel Sons for the Return Home, although I can imagine it was at the time of publication. Common wisdom dictates that one must know their roots to know themselves. I am not a big believer in this sort of thinking. Certainly it helps some people to find their identity and many people like to hold on to cultural practice and language, but I do not think it is absolutely necessary, but perhaps this because I have not struggled greatly with identity. I always felt that I fit in with my Pakeha friends at school and with other Polynesians. Most Maori people would say that I am like a white girl and I am fine with that because I think that these labels are so subjective that it doesn't matter what other people say and that I am still Maori. I can imagine some Pacific Islanders would like to adapt to Pakeha ways, for example if you were atheist like the protagonist in the novel, the tradition of the church, which has become a integral part of Samoan culture, could be unappealing. However going against tradition can be strong assertion of personal identity because it is going against the crowd (What can be more self affirming than marching to the beat of your own drum).

Charles Darwin said that the species that survives is not the strongest nor the most intelligent, but the most adaptable to change. I think this is true of people too. Adaptability, I think, is the most important quality to have in migration. I think, realistically, to succeed in NZ there needs to be an acceptance of New Zealand culture. I think the mother in Sons for the Return Home really hinders her sons in her unwillingness to adapt and by looking back to the past with rose tinted glasses. In saying that many of my Pacific friends have held on to particular customs, such as dance, language, and song, and it is a delight when they share and express that. I think Auckland is on its way to become a more accepting and multicultural city.

Confessions From the Land of Milk and Honey. - response to Vilsoni Hereniko's The Unfinished Fence

Confessions from the Land of Milk and Honey 
- response to Vilsoni Hereniko's The Unfinished Fence

It was late summer, 1974, and Auckland felt like it had been dropped into a furnace. I recieved a call from the head office telling me I was needed to help with the dawn raids. I had to be down at the station at 5am. A step up from my life working as a traffic warden and finding lost cats. I was finally going to get a bite of the big boy stuff. Muldoon was all over this immigration thing. "Taking a stand",  sending anyone with dark skin back home, getting them out of here. They were over stayers and as far as the government was concerned were taking our jobs and loading up on our social services.

It was still dark as I drove to work. The street lights gave the fog a hazy neon glow. I wound down the window, tasting the ripe breeze, feeling its severe whip against my skin.  Not another car on the road, pushed down hard on the peddle. I felt like a man on a mission. The sonorous vocals of Mick Jagger played through the speakers. "Brown sugar, how come you taste so good' 

When I got to the station one of the senior sergeants was already waiting for me. Ted, a burly man in his early 50’s with a large mustache. I had come across him for time to time in the office. He was well respected but cold to new comers.

“Morning” He said. He had a gruff voice and an overbearing stomach that hung over his belt. “Get in, we’ll grab some coffee on the way.”

I got in his car and we made our first stop was a small bakehouse down the road. They were just setting up, getting the bread out of the oven. We ordered two coffees with milk and gave the waitress a wink.
 "Grab some lunch too" Said Ted. I ordered a chicken roll. 

“What suburb are we going to do today” I asked

“ Epsom.” He said, taking our coffees and ordering a pie and donut. “I found three over stayers last time I went into the area.”

“We going to head there now?” I asked, burning my tongue on the bitter coffee. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s your first day. We’ll start with just questioning people on their lunch break. We’ll check the streets out and look at doing the raid tomorrow.”

“Can you talk me through the questioning procedure” I asked.

“It’s all common sense.” He said. “Ain’t no procedure. Just spot a darkie and ask to see their papers.”

I couldn’t tell if he was acting bent and terse to shock and disarm me or if it was his natural demeanor on the job.

“You drive.” He said, handing me his extensive set of keys. “I’ll do the questioning.”

We cruised down Great South Road on our way to Epsom. There were a lot of people out and about. Children with their mothers. Woman in their sundresses, and students still in the uniforms, no doubt skipping class.

A dark-skinned man was walking down the street. His hair was long and wavy and he wore a knit jersey and some cord pants. Ted told me to slow the car down, so we crept behind him no faster the 7km an hour. He looked over his shoulder and then jerked his head away, he started to fasten his pace. One foot after another. Not looking back. “Oi you.” Ted said. “Got some papers to show me?” The man stopped abruptly

 “Bugger off,” And then he walked right up to our car.

 “I’m a Maori. Show me you fucking papers”

“Don’t talk to an officer like that, I’m doing my job, now show me some papers before you have to get down to the station.”

The man pulled out his license and that was no disputing the validity of it. “Go make yourself useful and stop loitering around on the streets.” Ted said.

He wound up his window. “Bloody Maori’s” He said, “you can’t tell them apart from the PI's. Would deport them too if I had a chance, what are people doing out on the street at this time anyway. Dole scum. My tax dollar's paying for all him to sit on his ass all day.”

“All the islanders were pretty useful about ten years ago when we needed the manual labor’ I said.

“Don’t give me any of that left wing bullshit” He said. “Overstaying is overstaying, it’s against the law, we here to enforce the law. Is that why you signed up to be cop- ain't it” I nodded. “I should bloody well hope so, I’ve had enough of people giving us shit for doing our job. Not so bloody high and mighty when they get mugged and assaulted are they, they need the us then.”

“There must be a better way to find overstayers than interrogating Maori, they been here a hell of a lot longer than we have”

“ Listen boy.” He said. “were not in the interrogation room now, so save your good cop, bad cop routine for later”  

We drove around Epsom the opulent streets of Epsom,street with lush trees shading big white villas. The streets were quiet apart from the chirp of birds and the chatter from the Epsom and Grammer school playgrounds.The smell of melting tarmac washed through the air “ We have to get them on the lunch break.” Said Ted. “They’re all at work now.”

 We parked up next to playground and ate our food and I decided to not to try and converse with Ted and be meet with more hostility. We got back in his car and he turned up the radio to listen to the cricket. “Burgess is about the worse captain we ever had” He said. “Too right” I said.

We saw a tall dark man wearing white overalls walking down the street. His overalls were splattered with paint, and it was all over the his hands. A white color, as if he had been painting a picket fence.  His skin was as dark as a roasted coffee bean and he had prominent round eyes.

“Here we go” Said Ted

We crept up slowly again Ted wound down his window.

“ We are the po-lice. You un-der-stand”

The man stood staring at him, perhaps too stunned to reply. He body started to become shakey and his checks blushed ever so slightly. He resumed walking.

“Where you going?”

“To the shop” He said, pointing down the road to nothing in particular.

“Your name?”

“Jimi Valiame, I haven’t done nothing wrong” He said, taking out a notebook from his pocket. He stated to walk very fast, His steps were short and fast.  The sweat on his forehead was building.

“Tonga?”

“From Fiji” He looked as though he was going explode. His large white eyes shot red with adrenalin.  

He bolted.  Ran and then turned left onto Arcadia Road. Teddy didn’t rush, “we’ve got him now”, he said and we manoeuvred our car as naturally as a dog rounding up sheep.

We drove down Arcadia and didn’t know which one was his, but then I spotted some paint splattered boots just outside the door that looked just the same as the ones he had been wearing. Teddy got out first and knocked a large burgundy door. I stood behind him. He knocked on the door again but did not hear anything. “Stand back, this door will come down easily”.

He gave it a whooping big boot. Crack. It was knocked off his hinges. We searched around the living room and could see some photos of him and his family back in the islands. There were tapa cloths hanging on the green walls inside. The house had a feminine touch. Fresh picked flowers on the windowsill. A salty fragrance.  I was sure we were in the right one. The living room was decorated with photos and painting. I opened up the bathroom door, and saw his thin silhouette up in the corner of the room.

“Please sir.” He said. “I am just a tourist.”

“Don’t look like a tourist, said Teddy as he entered the room. “Looks like you’ve found yourself a home here”

“We just need to see your papers” I said.

“Papers..papers...” Said Jimi. “yes I will find them now. He went and looked around through documents in the living room. “Who are you living here with?” I asked. His voice began to quivar. “ Just friends” He said. His face ran with hot and sticky sweat. Teddy looked through the photos on the mantel piece and I sat down at the table. Jimi made a run for a door but I bolted out to catch him. I got him before he made it out of the driveway. “We just need to see your papers” I said.

“I’m a tourist” He yelled his voice full of jelly “I haven’t got any papers”

Ted came out. “Put your hands behind your back” He yelled, Jimi obliged, and we cuffed him and put him into the back of the car.

I took the steering wheel again. I looked at him in the rearvision mirror. He held his body so tight I wondered when he would snap. His lips trembled and his eyes were cowered and remorseful. He put his head down and started to say a prayer.” He said. “God have mercy” using his right hand to touch his forehead, his middle, his left shoulder, and then  right. 

“Stop looking at him” said Teddy. “You need to learn not to sympathize with criminals” he said.  “It’s part of the job, it’s not all murders and rapists, it’s not black and white” he said. We got back to the station and Teddy booked him on the first flight back to Fiji. We gave him a phone to tell his family he was coming home, he went off into another room.
"I might book myself a trip too." Said Ted. "Could do with a holiday."

When Jimi came back and saw what almost looked like a smile on his face. His posture had relaxed and he sat quietly and waited to be driven out to the airport. At least he knows he is going home now, and maybe there would be job for him there. But I had never seen Fiji so it felt as distant a lifestyle to me, as the Inuit’s in the North Pole.

At the end of the Day Ted told me we would be going back to the house in the morning to another round up. I wanted to throw the towel in on my whole career when he told me that. But I had spent a few years training to move up and I knew if I did a good job of the dawn raids, all sorts of positions at the top would open up.

“ See you 5 tomorrow” I said. His strode off to his car, his face as angry to be going home as it was to be at work.

________

 “I find it hard to listen to the NZ accent on TV” Janet said, as we sat on the couch, watching an episode of Pukemanu.”

“I’m surprised you’re not used to it by now” I said

“I think that the revival of Maori culture and language is very good for the country” She said. “but I must say I don’t understand Maori’s at all. I can’t see why their parents don’t make them wear shoes, I guess that applies to all you New Zealanders really.”

“We better get married soon” I said. “Everyone is clamping down on Visa’s.” She nodded her head. “We don’t see why you like soccer and insist on talking about class and money.”

“We just have to wait for my parents to get their tickets over here, and then we will be straight down the aisle. You think class is irrelevant over here.” She said. “But it’s not.”

“Send them a letter will you, tell them to come” I said. “Tell them, as soon as possible”

Haute Culture

In relation to the idea expressed by James George that major corporations are modern colonising forces.

Haute Culture

Nike sends deepest regrets that
Samoan tatau (no au tu required) 
was ill-advised and bad taste for their new season
women's leggings.

However,
Sass and Bide's
Aztec head-dresses will be
trending this season
Tagline "the take-over"

Attention all fashionistas,
Urban Outfitters release
Keffiyeh scarves for
"Arabain Nights" campaign
#Palestinianchic #Burkaswag

Festival Season!
Go rave crazy like M.I.A,
Bindis will draw
attention to your eyes and channel
your seventh chakra!

First world problems?
Put them behind you
with Nike's New Shackle Shoes
But don't worry they won't chain you down
introducing Shox for "Springback"

Man in England
Has a Koru tattoo
I asked him if he is hails from down under
No, he said, I just like the look
Rejoice for self expression

Guys like Gauguin

This first stanza of the poem uses very emotive language. The phrase 'the uncivilized ripen like pawpaw are best slightly raw' has sexual connotations and I think Selina Tusitala Marsh may be alluding to the artist Gauguin's fancy of young native women. Made more explicit by the words "prepubescents buds" and "nymphomania"

The next stanza continues with the sarcastic tone, thanking Balboa for naming the seas the south seas which is heralded by history books as a feat and ignores the fact  they were only new seas to foreigners and did not need a name. The mention of 'opposite to all' seems to closely align with Edward Said's ideas of Orientalism. I think the 'inversion of all your laws' is a poignant line. Law and justice seem to be something that colonialists felt that they should oppose on countries who they saw as intellectually inferior. I think they believed their use of logic and law making were far superior.  I am not trying to justify this but I can see how this would come about. Sometimes when I read about human rights overseas, particularly for women, I do think that it would be better for them to have western rights and justice systems.

The third stanza seems to poke fun at the colonizers sense of rational thought. I think the allusion to "Masculine orderly fashion" refers to the fact that rational thinking has historically been seen as a male characteristic.. It seems very outdated in this day in age. I think the divide between rational/irrational is very interesting. Especially as western thought still seems to be seeking 'toward the light'. Knowledge being seen as up most importance. Eastern philosophy tends to be seen as new age. Ideas that can not be scientifically proven tend to be ridiculed. I think this is largely because of the schooling system where a western model of epistemology has been used.

The final stanza refers to 'the new world'. The other, seen as dark, feminine, sexual and irrational in comparison to the north. While I don't agree with this labeling, it doesn't really annoy me because I guess I don't find the dark, exotic stigma insulting, although I think it is limiting.

I really enjoyed this poem and find it really thought provoking.

Identity

I decided to attempt with my own version of poetry in relation to themes of identity, cultural identity and being a half-caste. Also the term 'Other'. I admire and applaud the way Albert Wendt made a stand stating he and his people would not be defined as 'Other.'
In the words of actor Brian Blessed: (ASB commercials)

"Be not so humble, be proud!" ( Blessed would have also bellowed; "Bravo!")

Aotearoa / New Zealand is my place of birth
The colour of my skin does not define my worth.
My hair as people have commented is perfectly straight,
The ignorant merely quip; "It's not a Polynesian trait."
I was often teased when younger, that my eyebrows looked like Mal Meninga's,
I took that as a compliment, never allowing negativity to linger.
They're more like Oscar's from Sesame Street, including the semi-permanent frown.
Ignore all the critics, they're not worth your time.
Instead walk as though upon your head, lay a crown.
The colour of your skin is neither a crime or a sin.
Embrace what you were born in.....
whether your skin be brown, red, or yellow like the hues of Autumn, ebony like rare black diamonds or shades of tan, like sandy beaches or the sea foam, soft and white.
As long as your spirit remains free, unshackled,
to soar in glorious flight.

My cultural identity for me is hard to define.
My great grandfather Maximilian originally hailed from Westphalen, Germany.

My great grandmother was Gilbertese.

My grandmother was meant to have had a flag draped over her coffin. She had risked her own life by ensuring Catholic priests safety and provided food for them during the Japanese occupation of the Gilbert Islands during WWII.

My grandfather was a medical practitioner employed by the New Zealand government, he was born in Tokelau and also of Samoan descent.
My father was a proud Samoan, born and raised.
He came to these shores in his youth, for the same reasons the majority of people do; in search of employment and/or educational opportunities for their children and earn money and to have a good life.
He was honest, hard working and paid off the mortgage on his Mt. Eden home. He took responsibility in raising my sister and I and supported his mother too. Like many Pacific Islanders, he wanted to retire to his place of birth.
He passed away unexpectedly, two weeks short of his pre-booked flight.
Mother was an enigma......... of mixed European descent.
I have loved being of mixed ethnicity, a hybrid as someone once said.
In the end, like many others, I saw myself as a Kiwi.





The poems by the various pacific artists are interesting and engaging,
amusing at times, thought provoking, food for debate...

Alas, you are confronted by the ugly reality that is prejudice and hate.
Ignorance and negative stereotyping only adds fuel to the fire,
like when you label a gypsy; a vagabond, a thief and a liar.
I was once yelled at by a racist neighbour, "Go back to your tent!"
He ignorantly assumed I was of Native American descent.
Like the fictional character of 'Archie Bunker' from "All in the Family" (a 70's sitcom)
he happily aired all his racially biased pov's and prejudices (www.youtube.com)
My family thought it was amusing and it is easy to laugh at the incident now,
but at the time, you're tempted to retaliate; "Bring on Batman and Robin... Biff! Bam! Kapow!"
Situations can ignite and get out of hand; when someone chooses to open Hades gate...
to a flood of racial intolerance, bigotry, prejudice, hostility and hate.
The world needs more 'Super Heroes' of the human kind,
So that no one person or group shall feel marginalized or left behind.                  




I enjoyed listening to: 'Brown Brother' by J. S. Iosefo

My Art History test, High Sch.

Pacific Island youth need encouragement to go into the world and have aspirations and make what they may have deemed impossible possible. During my school years, I was good at English and Art and through High School I did well in History and Art History though it helps to be passionate in the subjects you're studying and enjoy what you're learning, maintain your focus and not get distracted. Youth need the right kind of motivation. To have good role models and mentoring to help them succeed. I did and that makes a big difference. I admired Joshua's speech, his confidence, poise, his voice and eloquence. However, I had some mixed feelings regarding aspects of his spoken word poem. Had he been my son, I would not have allowed him to walk out the door without a few amendments. I felt some of what he had to say would have been more relevant a few decades ago because I feel at this point in time, many Pacific Islanders have succeeded in many avenues of life; through education, the arts, sports, using God-given talents, acquiring their own business and/ or their first home and so on. Youth need Pacific Island role models like Joshua to inspire them and defy the demographics. I've grown up in a Pacific Island household and though we had the traditional Pacific Island ornamental items in our home, I was raised as a kiwi, the island language my grandmother had taught me to speak in was discarded in favour of English for school. This was a mistake because your language is a major part of your identity, your culture and ancestry. I have grown up with plenty of Pacific Island role models who have succeeded in different avenues of life. My first after school employer was Tongan. He owned a grocery store, a restaurant, a racehorse, his own home and a sports car (he had started out as a bus driver). My son's primary school principle was Samoan as well as a fellow doctor who worked at the doctor's surgery. As for people who work in factories, cleaning and so on, they work damned hard, often in thankless jobs. I live across from a hotel and every night the Pacific Island cleaner is there working through the night. Often the parents work different shifts to make ends meet. I used to work days and my ex husband worked nights. We both worked full time and looked after our baby. I did the majority of household duties. I would get home from work, and he would be leaving for work. When he would return home from work, I'd just be going to sleep. Even with two jobs we were just surviving. Blame at times should be directed at the government to raise minimum wage. People are relegated to a substandard quality of life. Existing is NOT living! Minimum wage does not reflect the high cost of living, especially in Auckland. I challenge members of parliament to have a trial period of living on a minimum wage. They receive their annual raise before Christmas, estimated at 2%. While they look foreword to "Deck the halls with boughs of holly....",. for others, poverty dictates the same bleak outlook, no festive fare or presents under the tree. With higher levels of stress at this time of year, It'll be more like "Deck the wife......"
(no reference intended to any particular race, just families that are financially disadvantaged and/or suffer especially during Christmas). Financial issues are an underlying major contributing factor. I visited a young family. The husband's employed full time, receiving $380.00 (after tax) and even with FTC and top up, they struggle financially due to high rents, petrol prices, power, water and so on. The woman's father gives money from his own pocket (he earns minimum wage) and he suffers because he doesn't have enough for himself. The same man, extracted his own tooth because he couldn't afford dental costs. People share medications because they can't afford doctor and prescription charges. Minimum wage confines people to a life of poverty, frustration, tension and despair. It's POVERTY Mr. Key. Many of the societal issues that exist today are directly poverty related. For a child's birthday, I had to buy shoes instead of a toy. To quote one mother; "What is the point of this shit existence?" I sympathize and wonder is she right? People deserve a living wage, a quality of life for themselves and their children. A sense of hope for the future. As for people on benefits, there was a recent documentary "New Zealand and the Economy," that aired on T.V. It had stated tax evasion equaled 1 billion, despite this, only 50 percent per year are prosecuted with a 20 percent chance of receiving a jail term. Benefit fraud though greatly less, had a higher percent of prosecution with a 60 percent chance of receiving a jail term. At times, the timing of news regarding people on benefits seems suspect. For example: at one point, there were three major ongoing news stories; reduced fishing quotas, the Fonterra scandal and another news piece that had been dominating the news for some time, then a news item was aired regarding people on benefits. It was a convenient and timely distraction, taking the heat off from the governments involvement in other issues and gave them breathing space. It seems white collar crime does pay. For example; in 1992, executive chairman of Equiticorp, Allan Hawkins was accused of embezzlement, $88 million from investors, yet only sentenced to six years. Bridgecorp chairman Bruce Nelson Davidson was sentenced to nine months home detention, 200 hours community work and only ordered to pay 500.000 reparation. The investors had lost 49 million.

  

          

                                                                            

It is vital to have a sense of one's own cultural identity to enable a person to have a sense of belonging and a connection to their ancestral roots.  


I once had a Chinese flatmate who at one point, lost her cultural identity. She recounted her childhood story. She and several children had been abandoned in/outside a village in China (due to some superstition). She was later on adopted by a pastor and family in NZ (she believed he'd done it purely for publicity and had retained newspaper clippings of the event). It would have been a traumatic time, abandoned by her family then removed from her place of birth, culture and her people then have to adapt to a new life, family, country and culture. She was given an English name and confided she had never felt loved by her adoptive family. At one point, she had tried to wash her brown skin white, to fit in with her new family. Many years later, she had a beautiful half-caste daughter, whom she had given both a Chinese and English name.

The orator Chief Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe, and others on board a German warship being taken to exile in Saipan.

Injustice is ... 

Samoans tried regaining their independence by creating the Mau a Pule movement in 1908. They held peaceful protests, led by the orator Chief Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe. He and other Mau a Pule Chiefs, along with their wives and children were banished to live in Saipan, Mariana Islands in 1909. Sadly many of them died while still in exile. Lauaki Namulau'ulu Mamoe died on 14th December 1915 without ever seeing his beloved Samoa again. The injustice is they only participated in peaceful protests, first against German colonialism and mistreatment and later against New Zealand. Being exiled, deprived them of being with their extended families, friends and their homeland. Pacific Islanders are very family orientated and have a deep and abiding attachment for their homeland. Looking at photographs of the people aboard the ship and seeing the resignation on their faces...evokes feelings of sadness, anger and disgust... that one race can invade another's land and abuse the civil rights of another.







A young girl lay,
on a cold August night.
So silent and still 
Alone, except for a guardian angel,
a silent witness to her soul's departing flight
Within the hearts of her aiga,

Agnes Ali'iva'a 

she will always remain.
Cherished.

Forever. 
An iridescent flame.

Injustice is ... 

A young girl was found dead at Keith Hay park. The media referred to her as; "The girl in the ditch". The media should have made an effort to be more mindful. It is devastating to lose a child under any circumstances."The girl in Keith Hay park" would have been sufficient. How would they have liked it had she been their daughter. Though she was half naked with her track pants inside out, only one sock on and no shoes, police closed the case, concluding accidental drowning. They were negligent in their duty. When a child is missing or has died in suspicious circumstances, no stone should be left unturned....as in the case of Madeleine McCann. When discovered by a passer by, she was lying face down in a ditch with shallow water. She may have fallen from a nearby ridge and become unconscious. There should have been an investigation into whether she may have been a victim of a sexual assault. Marks and abrasions were found on several parts of her face and body. A person associated with the case said they may have been caused by her jumping from a vehicle. After her body was turned over for photographs, it was mistakenly assumed she was a twenty year old due to her physical maturity. Perhaps had they directed their gaze more towards her face, they would have realised she was just a young girl not quite a teen. No twelve year old girl could pass for a twenty year old, even with make up. Her clothes had been disposed of and not kept for evidence. The case was reopened four years later due to public pressure and the minister of Labour the Hon. Phil Goff.  

I loved: "The Turtle and the Shark"
a beautiful love story. I loved the use of the tapa cloth in the animation:
   



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydDi9iuKbhM


I admired the poignant poem:  'Filemu Samoa!'  by  Ole Maiava          






Below is a short narrative using 'Cinderella,' to illustrate and address various themes in connection with the pacific: colonization, incidents involving injustice, majority versus minority...a power play when the oppressed are pawns in a monopoly game with the colonizers holding the dice and making up their own rules. Included are certain historical events. I use humour, though by no means do I intend it to lessen or devalue issues that were/are still relevant to this day and the historical significance of tragic events.

The character of Cinderella is representative of someone disadvantaged, oppressed, marginalized. The character has similar qualities to Pacific Islanders I have grown up with; being humble, quiet spoken, hard-working and loyal.


Once upon a 'Pacific Standard' time...

There once was a young woman, I shall name her Cinderella,
I do not mean a fa'afafine (a fella).
She lived in a tranquil, untainted paradise... far from cities, pollution and crowds.
Like her own people, she was immersed in her own identity, her culture and ancestry,
of which she was passionate and proud.
The 'Fa'a Samoa' was a part of their traditional way of life.
To be humble and live a simple existence, without too much strife.
They had their seafaring skills, fishing skills and many a plantation.
Then over a period of several years...they came... without an extended invitation,
Lo and behold, the stepmother and the ugly step-sister's... from more than one nation.
Britain the Great (mother-of-all bullies)... in tow with her military force,
Germany too bringing discourse,
New Zealand; shame on you, for the killing of Afioga Tama-Aiga Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III
and the thousands of lives lost with the Spanish Flu.
USA like the great bird of prey, decided to nest and therefore did stay.
France, abandoned her interest in Samoa, thank the Lord for deliverance!
Samoa had no need for her French language, French bread or wine and her damned nuclear stance!


They had all fought for control; Samoa, her islands, resources and people,
Cinderella didn't need her Godmother, her faith was higher than a steeple.  
They tried enforcing their laws and authority, preaching Christianity while lashing out with brutality.
The colonisers deemed themselves as superior,
Treating Samoans, as though they were inferior.
They tried promoting their systems of justice, values and beliefs,
Samoa was steadfast, with her own customs, social systems, including their Matais (Chiefs).
Alleluia! She regained her Independence, depression was replaced with elation and great jubilation!
As for the English stepmother and the ugly step-sister's bar one,
there was only one thing that needed to be done,
Castration!

The Dawn Raids:
The dawn raids unfairly targeted Pacific Islanders. Richard Prebble a Labour MP at the time, was astounded and perplexed to have had two policemen knock on his front door. His wife was Fijian.The dawn raids were instigated when the economy spiralled downwards. Island families were traumatized. Richard Prebble stated that Islanders were used as an easy scapegoat. By 1975 the National party under Muldoon started a racial campaign using a racist cartoon portraying Islanders as immigrants taking New Zealanders jobs and houses and causing problems. Police were made to focus on looking for Pacific Island over-stayers. Pat Booth former editor of 'The Auckland Star' stated if the islanders were found to be legitimate, police looked for other excuses to arrest them; One man was arrested for having two combs in his pocket which he had found. Police were targeting anyone with brown skin. 1970's -1980's statistics showed the majority of over-stayers were from Europe and America but were not targeted the same way. Two thirds of over-stayers were European, yet two thirds of Pacific Islanders were prosecuted. Helen Clark said the dawn raids were shameful and picked on individuals who were not European. It would be interesting if National started a dawn raid on people involved in tax evasion. 1 billion in unpaid taxes. I guess police would have problems getting through their gates and the latest in hi tech security. Guilty parties could always run off to their helipad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZviIkSxjV0k

"Brotown"
I never allowed my son to watch Brotown. I want to RAISE him up not bring him down. Programmes like 'Brotown' and the 'Semisis' perpetuate the ignorant, biased racial stereotyping that is demeaning to all people of the Pacific. I want my son to grow up and be proud of his cultural identity and the Pacific Island blood that courses through his veins.





Photographic images have been retrieved from:
https://www.google.co.nz/imghp?hl=en&tab=wi

Artwork is my own.