Honolulu Weekly

V‰rua Tupu / Since 1989, University of Hawai’i Press has been publishing the literary journal Manoa. The periodical has devoted itself to the international prose of the Pacific and their latest issue, Varua Tupu: New Writing from French Polynesia, is the first anthology of its kind–an English translation of the stories, memoirs, poetry, paintings and photography from the indigenous residents of the islands of French Polynesia and Tahiti.

In English, Varua Tupu means ‘The Growing Spirit,’ and in many ways, that is what this collection represents. Or as Oscar Manutahi Temaru, the President of French Polynesia himself says, ‘Varua Tupu is a welcome sign that the obstacles dividing Tahiti from the rest of Pasifika are rapidly being overcome. Even the barrier of language no longer need divide us from one another. We all belong to the Pacific, as brothers, sisters and cousins, and it is significant that we are able to travel freely across the reef, physically and through the imaginations of our artists and get to know one another again.’

After Michel Chansin’s black and white photo essay documenting the everyday lives of the indigenous people (locales that don’t look too far off from that of Hawai’i’s), the prose collection begins with Louise Peltzer’s ‘A Strange Ship,’ a telling of a missionary vessel bringing the Word of the Lord to Tahiti, seen through the eyes of a child.

Also near the beginning of the collection, the Flora Devatine poem ‘Voyage Through Words and Notes’ tells us ‘Musical voyage at the bottom of the water of memory of all that live there / and exists to show us what its community can teach humanity.’ These two pieces tie in closely with the anthology’s mission statement and serve as an introduction of sorts.

The writings contained in the volume can sometimes lean toward the simplistic (especially for the notoriously challenging Manoa), but the culture and settings depicted in words are vivid. In ‘The Arrival,’ Kareva Mateata-Allain describes a casual horseback ride with a concrete sense of place.

‘Projected on the bus seat in front of me, a vision of Hinano and me appears. We slope ourselves forward on our horses high above the clamminess of the jungle to enter the realm of fresh pine forests. As our sweat and that of the horses dries in the cool breeze, the wind whispers little messages to me. My horse, Varua, listens too, her ears twitching in rhythm to her swaying mane. Hinano and I reach up from our saddles–keeping our balance with our knees and standing in our stirrups–to grab passion fruit, hungrily biting off an end, spitting the piece out, and then sucking the sweet, juicy seeds through the hole.’

Also worth seeking out in the anthology is ‘Vai: River in a Cloudless Sky’ by Rai a Mai–the first Tahitian to publish a book of literary prose, and ‘Breadfruit and Frangipani’ by Celestine Hitiura Vaite.

Interspersed throughout the words are powerful paintings in deep brown and orange hues depicting the contemporary native culture by Bobby Holcomb. Two essays, ‘Maker of Dreams’ and ‘Bobby,’ both analytically and lovingly written by Bruno Saura and John Lind respectively, are devoted to the artist, and it is fascinating since the images are what provide the most impact in the collection.

A glossary is provided that not only makes the readings easier, but also allows the reader to observe likenesses between Tahitian and Hawaiian language.

The audience for Varua Tupu will undoubtedly be limited, but those with an adventurous sense of literary curiosity will reap great rewards from this precedent-setting collection with ties to our own way of living that go beyond language.