AUKAHA
Tū atu, tū mai – he karaka manu ki kā manuhiri Nā HANNAH KERR
As I write this piece from my whare nestled in a hilly Ōtepoti suburb, I can see kererū perched on the power lines, bellies full from backyard fruit trees; tūī perform spectacular aerobatic stunts between the treetops; pīwaiwaka tease and tattle-tale; tauhou fuss and flash their silvery eyes; pūtakitaki pairs keep vocal tabs on each other, and kāhu glide, searching for their next meal. After nightfall, I hear rūrū relay messages, their call the only sound that breaks the darkness. Just down the hill in the CBD, the calls of these manu are replaced with the hustle and bustle of traffic and people. But just imagine if the city centre was alive with the sound and sight of native manu – their kōrero and waiata breaking the drone of everyday life.
54 ı TE KARAKA
That was the vision of Kāi Tahu artist Vicki Lenihan when creating the installation of her aural project, Tū atu, tū mai – he karaka manu ki kā manuhiri. “It was a metaphor for the re-indigenising of the creative landscape, and thus paralleling the reinvolvement of mana whenua in our city’s creative storytelling,” says Vicki. “ … a call to action, a wero to the citizens of Ōtepoti to recognise the opportunity to respond to decades and centuries of denying mana whenua our right to be seen and heard on our tūrakawaewae, and to embrace the celebration of our stories in our place.”