A wry, touching short story from one of New Zealand's best-loved writers.
When Uncle Rangiora visits his sister and dances with her in the garden, she knows she has to visit the place where he died, and where he and other of his comrades from the Maori Battalion were buried during the Second World War. His sister is an old woman now, her husband is even older, but that's not going to stop them from setting off across the world alone, to the great consternation of their children who wonder if they will ever get there and back.
This moving and entertaining story is a fictionalised version of the trip to Tunisia taken by the author's elderly parents. Musing upon postcolonial politics and perspectives, it also considers the lyrical form the author used at the beginning of his literary career and the wit, style and drama that readers can discover in his newer works.
Witi Ihimaera is a novelist and short story writer from New Zealand, perhaps the best-known Māori writer today. He is internationally famous for The Whale Rider.
Ihimaera lives in New Zealand and is of Māori descent and Anglo-Saxon descent through his father, Tom. He attended Church College of New Zealand in Temple View, Hamilton, New Zealand. He was the first Māori writer to publish both a novel and a book of short stories. He began to work as a diplomat at the New Zealand Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1973, and served at various diplomatic posts in Canberra, New York, and Washington, D.C. Ihimaera remained at the Ministry until 1989, although his time there was broken by several fellowships at the University of Otago in 1975 and Victoria University of Wellington in 1982 (where he graduated with a BA).[1] In 1990, he took up a position at the University of Auckland, where he became Professor, and Distinguished Creative Fellow in Māori Literature. He retired from this position in 2010.
In 2004, his nephew Gary Christie Lewis married Lady Davina Windsor, becoming the first Māori to marry into the British Royal Family.
A wonderful story about family, loss, remembrance, and honoring those you love. A very quick read, but one full of lovely sentences, a good pace, interesting characters, etc.
A special story that connects to the Maori Battalion.
For my last book of #IndigLitWeek I had been planning to read The Dream Swimmer, No #2 of the Mahana Family series, by Maori author Witi Ihimaera. I thought I was resigned to not having No #1, The Matriarch, but then I discovered that Bayside Library has a copy, and so I shall pursue it there. But not this week: I already have five library books that have come in from reserve all at the same time, and The Matriarch is a long book. I want to do it justice, so I’ll chase it up some other time. In the meantime, however, there is just one lonely looking review of Maori writing for #IndigLitWeek 2016 – what to do?
Well, I found an intriguing short story by Witi Ihimaera instead. It’s called I've Been Thinking About You Sister and it offers a lot to think about…
It begins in an unusual way. Written in the tone of a memoir, it explains how the narrator is feeling fraught because he’s been approached to write a short story for an anthology but the publisher wants him to write the kind of story he used to write thirty years ago. The narrator is a bit indignant about this: apart from the fact that the world has become a different place he’s become an professor of English, into post-colonial discourse, Freire, Derrida, and The Empire Writes Back. When the publisher pursues him to write something suitable for the gentle reader and no politics, thank you, the narrator is cross. He’s worked hard to become an indigenous writer of some distinction… not afraid to engage the complexities of race, identity and representation and examine the polarities that existed between majority and minority cultures.
But he gives in. He writes the story. A seemingly simple story of the narrator’s mother, still grieving the loss of her brother Rangiora who died in WW2. And how, in her seventies, she decides to take off for Tunisia to visit his grave. How his father is dubious about the whole idea, and how she is dubious about him coming too because of his dodgy hip. And how the anxious children call on friends and family around the world to keep an eye on things to make sure that the elderly couple don’t miss their plane connections. Things go wrong, and a good Samaritan helps them out. The story concludes with this mother’s poignant wish to bring her brother’s body home, only to be told by the Ministry of Defence and the Ministry of Maori Affairs that the Maori Battalion had made a collective agreement that all the boys who died on the battlefield should stay together in the country where they had fallen.
It’s a lovely story, but *chuckle* it’s not a simple story at all.