Huia Short Stories 15 (eBook)

Various authors (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024
240 Seiten
Huia (Nz) Ltd (Verlag)
9781775508465 (ISBN)

Infos

Here are the best short fiction stories, short non-fiction pieces and poetry from the Pikihuia Awards for M?ori writers 2023 as judged by Emma Espiner, Carol Hirschfeld, Maiki Sherman, Mike Ross, H?mi Kelly and Robert Sullivan. This competition, run by the M?ori Literature Trust and Huia Publishers, is held every two years to promote M?ori writers and their work. This year, the awards sought short non-fiction and poetry, along with short fiction, from writers in te reo M?ori and English. The competition attracts entries each year from writers of all ages and those who are starting out to seasoned authors. This collection of finalists' work celebrates M?ori writing, introduces new talent and gives an opportunity for M?ori writers to shine.

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Here are the best short fiction stories, short non-fiction pieces and poetry from the Pikihuia Awards for Maori writers 2023 as judged by Emma Espiner, Carol Hirschfeld, Maiki Sherman, Mike Ross, Hemi Kelly and Robert Sullivan. This competition, run by the Maori Literature Trust and Huia Publishers, is held every two years to promote Maori writers and their work. This year, the awards sought short non-fiction and poetry, along with short fiction, from writers in te reo Maori and English. The competition attracts entries each year from writers of all ages and those who are starting out to seasoned authors. This collection of finalists' work celebrates Maori writing, introduces new talent and gives an opportunity for Maori writers to shine.

Textauszug

Affidavit in the Family Court: Ranginui vs Papatūānuku
(Letter to the Climate)

Nadine Anne Hura

In the High Court of New Zealand:

No: FC-4928-30

Under the Care of Children Act 2004

In the matter of the separation of Ranginui and Papatūānuku

Between Plaintiff/Applicant: Ranginui-te-matua-o-ngā-tūpuna-me-ngā-mea-katoa

and

Defendant/Respondent: Papatūānuku-te-whaea-o-ngā-tūpuna-me-ngā-mea-katoa

Affidavit of Papatūānuku-te-whaea-o-ngā-tūpuna-me-ngā-mea-katoa

I, Papatūānuku-te-whaea-o-ngā-tūpuna-me-ngā-mea-katoa, solemnly and sincerely affirm that:

1.In the beginning, when we were younger, I didn’t mind our closeness. I loved the connection and intimacy between us. I thought Ranginui’s protective nature was a sign of love. I thought it was normal for a partner to check in constantly about where I was and who I was with and when I was coming back. I didn’t realise that this kind of love can be unhealthy. The phrase ‘take my breath away’ is not meant to be literal.

2.After the kids were born, I started to feel myself drifting. I would go out to do the shopping and stay away for hours. When I got home, Ranginui would be irate, demanding to know where I had been. I once went to the mall with Tānemāhuta and declined Ranginui’s calls three times. Our son said, ‘Mum, you’re going to get in trouble for that later.’

3.We went to see a counsellor. I thought the counsellor was good and understood me well. He explained to Ranginui that by holding on so tight, he was preventing me from fully expressing myself. He told Ranginui that he shouldn’t feel threatened or afraid of my need for space. He said, ‘Relationships aren’t just about loving the person; they’re also about loving the distance between you.’

4.Ranginui did not like the counsellor. He said he talked in riddles.

5.After six months of therapy, I told Ranginui that I wanted to leave. I said I still wanted to parent together. Ranginui was furious. He said, ‘If you leave, I will get custody of the kids.’ I said, ‘I will not leave without the children.’ He said, ‘Well, they will have to choose.’

6.Our daughter, Rūaumoko, overheard this conversation. She was only young and did not fully understand. The next day, she tried to make us a romantic dinner. Soon after, she began having terrible nightmares. I believe she was worried I would leave without her. She used to sneak into our bed at night, and Ranginui would wake and find her lying between us and become angry. Once, he locked Rūaumoko in her bedroom so she couldn’t get out. Rūaumoko screamed and screamed and banged on the door so loud that the neighbours called the police.

7.Eventually, I moved out of our bedroom into the spare room. One night, Ranginui came and begged me for another chance. He was crying and pleading. The door was locked, and Tānemahuta was scared. He told his siblings to stay in the lounge while he climbed up the balcony and walked across the roof in the dark, smashing a window to get in and take his father away.

8.I went back to the counsellor. I said I was worried about the trauma I was inflicting on our children by trying to leave. The counsellor said that staying in a relationship that isn’t working can be more harmful than leaving. He said that many children are happier and develop better relationships with both parents once they are separated.

9.The next day, I moved out and took Rūaumoko with me. Tāwhiri stayed with his father. Tānemahuta is old enough to go between both of us.

10.A text message (Exhibit A) is attached to this affidavit. It is from Ranginui, dated 28 June 2017. It says, ‘Your need for freedom and selfishness has set off a chain reaction that neither of us can control. You have caused the destruction of our family and ruination of everything we created. Do you remember my telling you about the precautionary principle? You could never see what was coming over the horizon.’

11.A few weeks later, I woke to a cyclone of fury. Ranginui was at my door yelling, ‘Let me in!’ I stood on the other side and waited for him to calm down. After a while, I heard Ranginui whisper, ‘I am so sorry, e te tau. Please forgive me.’ A few moments later, Tama-nui-te-rā appeared and took Ranginui away.

12.I have not had direct contact with Ranginui since the separation. I have blocked all contact. He sometimes drives past my house at unexpected times. I have recently noticed his temper becoming much more volatile and unpredictable.

Signature of the deponent:

(Note: place your signature here after printing this document.)

Papa-tū-ā-nuku

Sworn/Affirmed* at Te-Upoko-o-Te-Ika on this 12th day of March 2018.

R,

Well, I’ve done it.

I finally lodged the affidavit. I wish I could believe it’s over, but I know things will never be over between us.

Do you remember our last night together? Do you remember how I asked if you believed that we were carved from the same piece of clay? You were stroking my face in the dark, and even though I couldn’t see you, I could feel you watching.

You said, ‘I don’t know if we are carved from the same piece of clay, but I know I can’t pull away, no matter how much it burns.’

I couldn’t include any of this in the affidavit. I was advised against it. The court is only interested in the facts, they told me, not feelings. This is crazy when you consider that facts have very little to do with truth. Facts on their own are abstract. Rarely do they convey meaning.

The day you told me that the kids would have to choose between us forever, I knew I would never be able to be with you again. I left with nothing. I was cold all the time, shivering under the blankets as the lawyers excavated my wounds. There was nothing those miners’ heavy claws were not prepared to take from me: oil, coal, stone, iron, the very essence of my being – filling the holes left behind with lies.

Somewhere deep in my core, I was boiling, sweating, burning. But on the surface, I could not stop shivering.

Only Rū understood – then and still. An invisible pulse marking time. Rū taught me how to settle, how to start over, rebuilding from liquid ash. Rū taught me about resilience. Patience. The power of silence. That daughter of ours is more fierce, more tenacious than all her siblings combined. Maybe that’s why you and everyone keep her at arm’s length. Everyone underestimates the pōtiki.

If anyone asks what hurt the most – which the court never will, by the way – I will tell them that it’s not the misrepresentation of my story. It’s not the fact that I have always been portrayed as passive and mute. It’s not even your false accusations of selfishness. What hurts the most is that somehow the children became convinced that our separation was their fault. Tore themselves up over it. Siblings at war. When Tāwhiri ripped out his own eyes in your defence, I couldn’t watch. I turned over.

At any point, you could have intervened. You could have said something to set the record straight. A person is always free to walk out, to let go, to turn away. Blame is irrelevant when you’re writing an inventory of lost things. Loss is loss.

But you just tucked those jewels inside your chest as proof of your righteousness and carried on.

Tāne only calls me now when he’s drunk. Do you know how much he looks up to you, wants to be like you? I can see it, even though he won’t admit it himself, yet no amount of drink can ease the awful weight of blame heaped onto his shoulders. Heaviest of all is his own conscience: the knowledge that in order to stand up for me, he had to stand against you.

Sometimes, regret is so sharp, you can touch it. The tip of a blade, aimed inwards, wants to make a butterfly of your chest. Just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay. I am not sorry. I do not regret it. Sometimes there can be a hundred reasons to stay and only one to go, and that one reason outweighs all the rest.

But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that, some days, the rain drives so hard it splits me in two. We have children together. To deny you is to deny them, and I will never do that. Yet here we are, headed to court with evidence heavily weighted in your favour. Folders and files and records and predictions. RCP modelling pathways tracking your temperatures under different scenarios from 1.5 degrees of warming to 1.8 degrees as though I don’t even have a name in this story, let alone a voice.

It’s hard to speak when you suspect no one’s listening. Everyone is obsessed with what can be done to mitigate the force of your wrath, the speed of your changeable moods, the inevitability of collapse.

But no one seems to be paying attention to the reasons why. The ‘evidence’ keeps everyone distracted, looking up when they ought to be looking down. Or more precisely, looking within. Without my story to balance the narrative, the evidence is just a collection of facts devoid of meaning and divorced from truth.

It’s ludicrous to think that a court might be capable of restoring this disconnection between us. Only our children can do that, and I believe one day they will. After all, we are no different from any other family: flawed, beautiful, mad with grief, love, betrayal, laughter and lessons hard learned.

When the counsellor said that the trick is to love the bright chasm from which the light not only escapes but also illuminates what otherwise would never be known, he...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 7.6.2024
• Reihe/Serie: Huia Short Stories
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Anthologien
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• Schlagworte: Māori literature • Māori writers • New Zealand Literature • Poetry • short fiction • short non-fiction
• ISBN-13: 9781775508465 / 9781775508465