On the 16th of June, 1906, King Koroki was born and a great celestial waka appeared in the sky. Te Matariki and her six daughters formed the bow of the waka and other constellations created the rest, this was known as Te Rā o Tainui. Swimming with Te Matariki. Crossing oceans. Preparing the harvest. The Kūmara roots spiral towards the light. George told me the story once of her tūpuna, Hinehākirirangi, who brought her scared basket filled with Kūmara to Tūranganui-a-Kiwa from Hawaiki. Cassandra said, ‘our tupuna brought them here on our waka too Hana!’. I’ve been here before. What is it to be alone? Miriama says, ‘You are not ready’ and I know she is right. I miss your pink face and watching movie trailers in your damp cold room on Constable street. An electric blanket with Kimmi. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Dirt floors but we are wrapped in blankets. I’m parū with hūpē dripping from my nose. I’m dying and I don’t even realise. We cannot give the pākehā any more of our land. Transmitting disease through blankets. They will do terrible things and we will keep trying to stop them. No promises only lies. I am so hungry. I am so sick. I will die soon. We sing waiata to remember our pain, but what if they don’t learn, what if they leave Aotearoa and never come to the marae? Those who opposed land sales are obvious targets. Don't listen to the Pākehā they said. There is no ‘private land’, it’s all stolen. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Hiding underneath Aunty’s orange trees. Daphne is pungent. Taylor picks Daphne in Pōneke, but Yvette can’t find any daphne in Whakatu. I message them both. Alexis runs circles around me. Giggling as her blonde hair swishes backwards and forwards. Soon she will be grown and much taller than me. Alexis squirts water from her mouth like a whale. Whales rushing to the shore, rotting and dying. Pera did not live to meet us, but I still think of her everyday. I feel like we can talk to her even though she’s not here. The sky is pink and purple and blue. The sky will begin falling soon. I don’t trust people who don’t believe in astrology, sorry but it’s important. Violent waves crashing across Whāingaroa. The Tainui waka spent so long trying to find somewhere to land. The native bees recoil. 28 species of native bees, 25 of which are becoming extinct. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Rūaumoko squirmed inside Papatūānuku’s womb. Each time he squirms fire and rock and lava pierce through the Earth. As Rūaumoko grows he comforts Papatūānuku in her grief and lives in her belly keeping her company. Each time he rises up to the surface the earth shakes violently and splits before Papatūānuku calms him. You said I calmed you the way no one else could, but now we don’t speak at all. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Pump kawakawa into my veins through an IV. The bees who make the honey are not from here. Kumara I forget about that has roots spiralling towards the sky in my inner city apartment. Urban ocean. The only way I sleep. I dream of Tāmaki with all the volcanoes exploding, Rūaumoko is so angry. Grandpa forgot everyone but Grandma. The native bees are dying. They ban plastic straws before they ban drilling and polluting our sacred waterways and mountains. I dreamt I was strangled by plastic in Cape Reinga. Swimming in a beach made of only plastic. Man made beach. ‘Reclaimed’ land. A pākehā woman angry that a pākehā lecturer won’t buy free range eggs, but not angry that he’s racist. Aunty knew but was afraid and thought she was protecting him. He wanted to know who he was. Before we could meet her she died of a heart attack brought on by losing all her memories. We still don’t know really where we come from. He gave us $50 each and called us his grandchildren, but we are strangers looking at photos of strangers. A hotel in Paihia called ‘te tiriti resort’. Shells covered in dust. Sand in Josephine’s bed. Volcanic rocks for Alexa. Crying because Taylor left me on seen and I don’t know who else to talk to anymore. I cry not because of this but only because I feel alone all the time. I message Yvette ‘why does everyone hate me?’, then unsend it realising I’m just really sad. Love island makes me cry am I too old to be loved? Why is heterosexuality such a trap? I miss the way your body could comfort me more than anyone else. I project ideas of love on to other people to fill the gaps left deep inside the crevices of my body. Maybe I am very sensitive, maybe I am too sensitive. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Body fluids are poetic, not slime but nectar.1 Yvette sends me photos of Josephine’s blood noses almost everyday. George pulls her hair back sometimes into a bun, her eyes look green but are brown, her collarbones appear peeking through her white, long sleeved cotton shirts and jeans. George’s hands are so elegant. Nat replying to my texts at 3am. Ellyse sends me videos of her in summer walking around Barcelona. Kimmi’s laugh. Smoking cigarettes with Noelia in bed in Paris sad about men. Drinks with Faith on that rooftop bar. I miss you Faith. Ali and her Whakatane swimming club towel. Jordana dancing on their knees. Priscilla’s tweets about Prince. Alexa rolling me a spliff. Taylor’s layers of linen and other soft fabrics and leftover eyeliner a lá smokey eye on his big green-blue eyes. Yvette’s red hair and striking big blue eyes. Yvette is the most sensitive to how sensitive I am. Chris being a Virgo. Louise being a Virgo. Other Louise pulling a look. Nikolai’s cooking. Katie saying, ‘Maybe heartbreak is forever’ in Berlin. Audrey’s revenge. Jo keeping the jalapeño plant I named after my ex boyfriend and laughing when they tell me it died. I love Scorpios. Alexa reading tarot cards for me in Josh’s apartment in Berlin. Sophie taking me to Loretta’s to make sure I’m okay. Ana giving me a hug when I’m crying in our studio. Matthew dancing around me with his cap on. Please come home Matt. I miss you. Josephine’s laugh on the beach in summer, our sand princess. Mya’s smirk, hair flick and constant support. Piupiu says, ‘my honey I love you so much’. Come home Piupiu you are my Aunty, my sister, my nana, my te Matariki guiding me always. Please help me I am hurting very much.
1. Dodie Bellamy, “Sex space” in Academonia (San Francisco: Krupskaya, 2006), 35.
Afraid to make anything. Afraid to write anything. An art practice I cannot afford. A life I can’t afford. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Clasping grandma’s hand. Her grip is light. She shrinks each time claiming I’m getting taller. My skin is too milky, my bones mean nothing anymore. Holding my grandmother’s hands. Hands like hers. Feet like hers. The Clarkson bow legs. Wearing Margaret’s pearls and Pera’s pounamu. Please help me I am hurting very much.
A photo of Tamatia’s baby directly across from Tamatia as a baby. Hine says all five of them are Leos. It clicks in my head that this makes sense. Cup of tea? Yes please, no sugar but a dash of milk. I wanted a life that would never exist. I am still grieving. You were never patient with me. When you ran from me it broke me again just as I was starting to be stronger. Queenie does a karanga at Honeanga’s tangi. Who are these people I dream about? They call to me in my sleep. Would you come to my tangi? Please help me I am hurting very much.
A Spanish woman speaking in tongues to Saint Rita. Matariki rises. How my ancestors adapted to this place I will never know. George writes about the rāhui being over, but will it ever be over George? I am afraid, I am so afraid of everything. Please help me I am hurting very much.
I know I should learn te reo rangatira but im too afraid. A woman from Ngāti Porou tells us te reo is precious and we must never lose it. Its inside you she says. Please help me I am hurting very much.
What if the rāhui will never end. Kauri used to grow in thick forests all across Te Tai Tokerau and down into Tāmaki Makaurau and King country. Some of my ancestors cut these forests down, some wept at their erasure. All the other trees started to rot in the green muck spilling in from tramper boots, the dairy sludge and the piss that stains Papatūānuku, killing tōtara, tānekaha, taraire, tawa, miro and rewarewa. The anangu people lost their maunga to the pākehā. Pākehā still climb Uluru because nothing is sacred to them. Pākehā have almost killed kauri in less than 200 years. We have already lost so much. I see Tāne Mahuta and weep. Please help me I am hurting very much.
How to stop the ten signs of ageing. Moisturise. Nanocream designed to hide lines under makeup. Great for a primer. I want botox. I want laser. I want microdermabrasion. I want to alter my body into its most desirable form. Exhausted always from just being alive. Eating turmeric vitamins as a skin brightener. It starts to jiggle after awhile. It isn't plump. Scarlett is desirable only as an automated body. Scarlett is a sexbot that doesn’t do full service, just a tease. Scarlett cries alone on her piles of money. Lonely. Hana is too smart, too emotional, too guarded, too afraid. It won’t just ‘happen’. Twenty-eight and I’m no longer desirable. Twenty-eight and everyone is getting married. I want a baby. Twenty-eight and exercising daily to stop it all from sagging. Afraid of going to seed. Reminded always that my body is slowly dying. I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of never being in love again or that I am too much or not enough even for myself. I am afraid I’ll never have sex again and that I’ll always be alone. I'm afraid that no one will ever really love me or want me even when they are ‘mine’. It was never enough for me but I gave everything. It aches still sometimes and I am very embarrassed. Please help me I am hurting very much.
Hine-nui-te-pō please swallow me I want to die while I’m sleeping. This pain is too great. The burden too much. I carry the pain of many women before me. My mother holds me as I cry myself to sleep in Thea’s childhood room. Mum says, ‘when your Nana was my age she was sick’. It’s not fair. Please help me I am hurting very much.
‘Have you swam in the Waikato te awa before?’, everyone keeps asking me. I say, ‘Once when I was a child I think. The water felt dirty. Is the water polluted?’ Nana looks down on the river from Taupiri. Please help me I am hurting very much, too much.
Please help me I am hurting very much.
This text was written in response to Georgina Watson’s project Larks in the dawn, published earlier this year on Un Magazine.
The text is available here →
