Thursday, October 31, 2013

Creative response to Looking thru those Eyeholes by Russel Soaba

I wrote a poem in response to Looking thru Those Eyeholes by Russel Soaba. His poem I believe was about reconnecting with your culture/family and also about returning to your homeland. I chose to write my poem about my deceased father and how I feel lost without him.

The Grave



I once went to the grave of my
Father to see the grass and wild flowers
Had taken over and covered the writing which
Said “Here Lies Tane” etc. I waded through
The foliage only to feel myself sinking into the
Ground. I choked on the dirt and felt it fill my lungs,
When suddenly I stopped struggling and realised
I had fought so hard to reach my father and finally
I was beside him. And so I let myself drown in the
Earth and our bodies disintegrated and became food
For the flowers up above us.

Analysis of Sons for the Return Home



‘Sons For The Return Home,’ by Albert Wendt is about a Samoan family’s experience immigrating to New Zealand in the hope of gaining financial security and education for their two sons. It is never intended as a permanent move and the family plan to journey back to their homeland; Samoa. The novel is mainly focussed on the life of the youngest son; the romance he has with a Palagi girl and the turmoil their relationship encounters. 

The themes I found within the novel were search for identity, cultural identity, racism, family, social and sexual consciousness and love. This story spotlights the complex nature of freedom, racism and love in New Zealand. It requires the reader to constantly reassess his own attitudes. 

The story contains its share of stereotypes – a love story about a poor Samoan boy and a rich white, blonde (Palagi) girl, the Samoan family close-knit, the white parents estranged and their daughter unwanted.
Their love is at the centre of the novel and Wendt explores the attempt to locate in their love a sense of identity and belonging. For a time he feels less displaced in New Zealand and his sense of exile is eased. He also understands his adopted country better through loving her. For this Samoan boy, this relationship represents the first time he has allowed himself to become involved with his adopted country. I found the novel to be filled with lovely poetic prose and this supported the love story. The girl is the stronger character and initiates the relationship by drawing the young man out of the silence in which he takes refuge.  

A part that I found to be particularly significant and filled with poetic language was when the man and woman take their road trip and she shoots the hawk to protect the sheep. I believe this was a reference to how white people have colonised various countries and destroyed them to a point. I also believe the shooting of the hawk was foreshadowing for the girl having an abortion. “It was after those poor sheep. I had to kill it!”
The story deals with the difficulties that arise when visiting the home-land one has left behind, especially the challenges that arise when you feel like a foreigner in either land. It depicts the process of identifying oneself and others with a particular country.

Something I found really interesting in the book was the connection between the protagonist and his grandfather. Even though they did not know each other they were very similar and this similarity was important to the book.

The novel’s title suggests that home is where we are not, the place to which we long to return. This man is neither at home nor a stranger in New Zealand. His desires for home, his attempts to locate home in a place or in a person, cannot be fulfilled, even when he returns to Samoa.

The mothers of the main characters play an important role and have more in common than they would like to admit. Both are racist in their own way, and both have growing anxiety about the budding relationship. “Our way of life, our people may destroy her...my grandchildren to be half-castes. It cannot be!”

The abortion is a trauma to the couple’s relationship. It not only destroys their relationship, the abortion occurs because their projected union so threatens the people surrounding them.

The novel ends with the Samoan boy being suspended between countries and I found this made me question what is home and where my own sense of belonging is.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

'Sons For The Return Home' Analysis + Response

Analysis

After I read ‘Sons For the Return Home,’ I thought that the main themes were racism and identity. Because of these riveting and intriguing themes, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the novel. The range of characters that included Sarah, the middle class Palanagi girl, and Sionne who was involved with the love story really drew me in and made the novel more interesting. After completing the novel, it opened my eyes about what life is like for immigrants and what troubles they face upon arrival.


Racism is very prevalent throughout the entirety of the novel. “They called him a ‘dirty coconut islander.’” These sorts of quotes show how serious racism was. This nickname of sorts shows how badly some immigrants got it from people already living in New Zealand.  This racism in my opinion is a lot of the time due to misunderstanding and how different cultures often clash before they are acquainted.

Identity is also heavily prominent in the novel. A lot of the characters we come into contact with are trying to find themselves and discover themselves as a unique person and thus finding their identity. Although I enjoyed the book, I found it quite hard to read at times. It was perfectly written, but some parts such as the homosexual couple having sex and the elder getting beaten by the young boys, confused me because they felt unneeded and rushed.

Response 

They called him a ‘dirty coconut islander,’ and when he beat up the kids who called him that, the Principal, the same condescending man that refused to call you by your names today, canned him in front of the whole school and called him a ‘brainless islander who should be deported back to the islands.” When I heard those words come out of his mouth, I had to try and keep my mouth and eyes from widening. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew that there was some culture clash, but what I was hearing, even I knew wasn’t on.

As I looked around, Adam Wilson the resident bully was snickering with his minions. Whispering very loudly and enjoying the pain the poor boy was going through.  My eyes were drawn back as the headmaster was still shouting his head off while the boy’s eyes were scanning the hall, looking for some semblance of support. Unfortunately, none of us were tenacious enough to stand up for him. From where I sat, I could see that his eyes were glazing over. Tears were beginning to form in the corners and one even dripped down the side of his cheek. The pure hostility of Headmaster was unmatched even by the devil.

Eventually, the rampage stopped. My mouth remained glued shut, as I didn’t want anyone to think I was taking his side. I could not allow that to happen, no matter how bad I felt.  The boy returned to his seat, and for the reminder of the assembly, I replayed the confrontation over and over just trying to comprehend why that was necessary. I knew myself that it wasn’t, but I still was utterly shocked at how everything happened. More to the point, why it happened in the first place. Once the final notices had been read out, the teachers began to file out and soon after the hall were alive with sound. Everyone was discussing the incident, while the boy remained as still a tree. Not one person had gone up to him nor said anything. I knew I would regret what I was about to do, but I couldn’t just sit there while nobody attempted to check on him. I breathed in and then out, and finally stood up from my chair. People’s heads began to follow me as I walked towards the boy who would change my life forever.  



Tuesday, October 22, 2013

'Noble Savage' Analysis + Response

Poem

Romantic notions
Of sub human species
Free from the social
Constraints of its day
Alas the noble savage
Works factory floors
Collects social welfare
Is but a shadow of himself
Whilst Civilized man
Hunts the concrete jungle
Controlling the market forces
Becoming a god to himself

Noble savage
Return to the shadows
Of imagination now gone
Savage to be noble and free

Analysis 

When analysing the poem, we see that it is neat and at the start of every stanza, there is a subtitle of sorts. For example, "Alas the noble savage" or "Romantic Notions." The title of the poem is contradictory in itself and the poem is filled with stereotypes such as "civilised man hunts the concrete jungle." This quote representing white people with other quotes obviously being aimed at The Maori or Pacifica people. In the second line, the poem portrays Maori and Pacific island people as not quite human as the line "sub human species' indicates that they are below what a human being should be. However in the second stanza, white people are portrayed as being civilised people or more as Strickson-Pua compares them to god. Because of these stereotypes, the poem has a mocking tone and feel to it. The last stanza, in my opinion, is the most important as it has a sense of resignation while at the same time, a sense of freedom has overcome the poem as well. "Return to the shadows of imagination now gone savage to be noble and free." This quote re-emphasizes the idea that the poet is coming to terms with his cultural identity. His acceptance of this is an emotional and powerful ending to the poem. 

Response

We are not a 'sub-human race.' We are humans.  The same level as the Pakeha and every other race. We have suffered far more than others could imagine. These civilised men think they are above us but they need to think again. We are all built and designed the same way. Sure, we may have different coloured skin and speak different languages but that does not give others the right to try and rise up and be better than everyone else. Who the hell do they think they are? The nerve of some people really gets to me. I wish for one day they were put in our place from the start. Just so that they could see how things would be different under different circumstances. Its funny, just thinking how stupid we would look in their clothes, with their wigs on.  Just as stupid as how they would look with Moku's and skirts. To see how and if they would do things differently would be a joyous sight. If they had our land or went through our struggles, how would they deal with the situations differently?

Even today we are still doing what is expected of us. We could be doctors, pilots even Policeman. Unfortunately, we struggle. We struggle with everyday life. The things that are thrown at us, the things that we are born with or without and the life we are given from the start. I'm sure a lot us want better than what we had as kids for our own children, but it's not that easy. We, as a people, should encourage ourselves to be better; strive for more and be happy with only the best. We should not be happy with the worst because we are worth better. Our island nations have kept us alive and kept us thriving even through the toughest of times. We as the people of the pacific, are strong and will not bow down. We will stand as tall as any of our neighbours because we know we are equal. We as the human race, are all equal.





Monday, October 21, 2013

'Dinner With the Cannibal' Analysis + Response


Poem

That he would be a man of special tastes
His mordant wit and intellect proclaimed him bon vivant I suppose I was bedazzled by it all
The chandelier, the red roses like stigmata
Too flattered by the invitation
To notice that the table was laid only for hors d'oeuvres

It was understood of course that I was privileged to be there
With him in dinner jacket and black bow tie
The fact that he drank claret should have made me realize
That he liked his meat rare yet, even so
I was take aback when, all of a sudden
he reached across the table to snap off both my legs
As if I was a crisp brown Maori-bread man
Saying, "You won't need these, will you"

With him in dinner jacket and black bow tie
The fact that he drank claret should have made me realize
That he liked his meat rare yet, even so
I was take aback when, all of a sudden
he reached across the table to snap off both my legs
As if I was a crisp brown Maori-bread man
Saying, "You won't need these, will you"

The snap and wrench of bone from socket
Sounded louder than I expected, but, the agony was slight
(I've always had a high pain threshold)
What alarmed me more was that my silk trousers were forever ruined
"After all," he said, "a landless man may just as well be limbless"
"And just in case," he added, breaking both my arms,
"This will prevent any further throwing of wet black T-shirts
At Her Majesty"


What could I do? I watched him
Suck the marrow of my bones and tear the meat
That once had made me mobile
I was pleased his manners were impeccable
Not one sweet morsel of me dropped
From his lips - I loved the way
He cracked my toes and fingers open with his teeth
To work the fine gristle for its flavour

He was a gourmet of impeccable sophistication
"That was much better than Aboriginal or Red Indian"
He said, "And I have never liked the taste of Hindu or Pakistani
Too much curry in their diet taints the flesh
You are a repast quite delicious
Almost like Samoan, less fatty than Tongan"
So saying, he proceeded to the main course -

This was my stomach, heart and ribs
Not exactly in that order, for I could not see
What he ate first as he leant forward
With silver knife and fork
To slice the cavity of my breast open
Like a crisp golden chicken

My thoughts were entertained in fact by the memory
Of Noel Coward's witticism about Salote
At the Queen's Coronation in 1953 -
Mister Coward was wise never to visit Tonga -
"Ah, there it is," he said, impaling my heart with his fork
And lifting it from its protective cage
I wept to see its pulsing beauty
But thought - This is only to be expected really
From people who eat and drink the body and blood
Of Christ every Sunday
"Best to rid yourself of this, old chap," he added
"Your Maori yearnings are excessive, you agree?"

I wondered if he was right, after all why yearn
For language and culture already taken, why fight it?
Where does Maoritanga fit in this world of teenage mutant Ninja turtles?
Yet I did protest and fight as he cut through the middle
Of my heart and, seeing that rich blood flow red as a river
Wondered if there was time to escape this dinner

"Oh no you don't" he said, as he began dessert
Dishing the sweetmeats of my body onto a crystal plate
My liver, kidneys and tongue
and last of all, my eyes
Smothering them with strawberries and rich cream
by then, without eyes, I could no longer see
The relish of his enjoyment
Cruelly, he left my brain intact to wonder
Why I had ever accepted his invitation to dine
150 years ago ---

Analysis 

In my opinion this poem has a very clear and concise structure to it. The tone of the poem is quite sarcastic and Irony is used by the author. For example The cannibal is described as having impeccable sophistication when, in reality, that is opposite of how a cannibal would act. When the cannibal begins to consume the guest, he first eats his legs and then moves on to breaking his arms and consuming them as well. This is symbolic of the power of the people being taken away from them. Basically without the arms, one is powerless and defenceless. 
The next area targeted is the chest as the cannibal goes for the heart. The heart is the centre of a human being and without it we lose all emotions. 

Harsh and severe words such as 'impaling' and 'pulsing' are used to show that this poem encompasses a wide spectrum of language. Also, the fact that the Europeans claimed to be kind and polite, and they may very well have been, but definitely not towards the Maori people. The Treaty has come under much speculation and scrutiny ever since it was signed. Because of this, it has resulted in the Maori having a sense of insignificance in their own society as well as being stripped of their own possessions. 

The author, Witi Ihimaera has deliberately gotten rid of full stops in the poem to represent the ongoing struggle that Maori people endured and continue to do since the 1840s. The use of the dash at the end of the poem is used to illustrate that there is doubt about whether the cycle of anguish will continue or if it has finally stopped. Overall, the poem shows the critical impact that colonization can have on native people. In this case, how it affected the Maori people. 

Creative Response - Short Story

"Why? Why did he leave me here, left to think?" I sat, pondering about what I would do with the remainder of time I had left in my life. Maybe I was destined to be left as a brain, just to think. I always was a thinker, never a doer. My train of thought began to drift off. My ideas were beginning to get fuzzy. This was probably just a side effect of being just a brain. The one thing I could concentrate on was the time I met the cannibal and how if I hadn't, my life would be different. 

His composed nature and upper-class style was what drew me in. These facts confused me as his true identity was nothing like how he looked. He had obviously learned the tricks of the trade and had done this to more than one person. He exuded confidence and when he invited me to dinner, it hardly seemed fair to deny the chance to meet him once more.  In comparison, I was almost the opposite. I was quieter and definitely not confident. I was not an upper-class, wealthy citizen like him. I was average and enjoyed the little things. This opportunity was something that I thought would get me into the loop and help me become a 'someone.' I was quite clearly wrong about the whole situation. 

My mind began to slip back into the now. I couldn't hear or see but all I could imagine was the cannibal, sucking at my bones and grinding my meat between his solid jaw. His teeth dripping with my blood and his fingers picking at my remains, trying to reap all that he could from my already decaying body. I hated the cannibal. I hated that he had made me nothing. I hated that  I couldn't move. I hated that all I could do was think. It left me with nothing. I finally was, nothing.