Vaughan Rapatahana: Ngā pātai. Can you please tell us your tribal affiliation(s)?
Arihia Latham: Kia ora, ko au he uri o Kāi Tahu, Kāti Māmoe, Waitaha.
VR: Can you also please tell us something about yourself? Writing career and genre(s), including latest poetry collection, eh? Overseas living experiences? Current position?
AL: I’m someone that needs to be creative and needs the taiao to feel balanced and grounded. As a result I have always had a visual art and writing practice, alongside studying health science and becoming a rongoā natural health practitioner in my twenties. I also became a mother then so I have lived my life holding many whenu weaving their way. My poetry collection Birdspeak was published last year by Anahera Press, though I have had short stories, essays and poetry published and anthologised widely. In the last year I was lucky to have a poem in Te Awa o Kupu (Penguin Random House), Rapture (AUP), Ōrongohau (VUP), Koe (OUP) and an essay in Flora (Te Papa Press).
Making art that is political, gives mana to others and is collaborative is a big part of what I love. I was the arts columnist for The Post for a year and have just made a poetic short film for Mana Moana. I work as a cultural advisor in the education for sustainability sector and I have three beautiful tamariki and a kurī.
VR: I know that you do would like to and do write i roto i te reo Māori. How important is it for you to write in te reo, please?
AL: Writing in our reo rangatira is certainly a special thing and is also not the only way to represent our Māoritanga. Ultimately the reality was that our reo was oratory. So I speak and sing and immerse myself and my whānau in our reo as much as I can. I think being Māori and speaking our reo is full of complexity due to colonisation and so writing about that in english sometimes is what’s needed. Writing in our reo can be restorative and also can sometimes feel like doing the hard mahi. When I need to convey a feeling or a concept I do it in whatever comes most naturally at the time, for that project, and I believe that being authentically ourselves is the most important thing.
VR: Relatedly, how important/vital do you think it is for Kiwi writers, especially Māori, to write in te reo Māori? Or at least attempt to?
AL: I think it’s really important not to police or shame anyone on how much reo they have or choose to use to express themselves creatively. I think Tauiwi need to tread very carefully in writing about te ao Māori and in te reo. There are so many things we can write about but I think it’s important we stand in our rightful, tika and pono place when doing so. If we have whakapapa, we are Māori. Are we pronouncing our reo correctly, are we going home and giving back to our marae and our hapū? These are important things on our haerenga too. I think if it feels like the right thing to do to write in te reo Māori then kua mīharo tērā, but equally if you feel expectation or pressure is blocking your creative voice then I would say we need to be free to express ourselves as we feel most able to tell the stories we want to tell.
VR: Do you think you might have a piece of flash fiction or a prose poem for us to include, please…? That would be great too.
A story by Arihia Latham
Rākaihautū and the rocks
The stars rose, a mirage of oil on water, indigo fading to lilac. Hovering below a whispered moon, above the lake, black and breathing. Whakangā, inhale the story of Rākaihautū digging this crater with his kō. I saw a figure beside the lake and said it was definitely a statue of him. We clambered over the muddy bones of mountains, my breath misting the view till we reached the lapping tongue of the water. Before us was in fact no man but a pile of rocks: laughter doubled us over like kākahi. Our guffaws made clouds, carrying awkward feelings of being tourists on our own whenua, evaporating them beside the ascending decaffeinated sun.