Each day seems to bring some new gift I need to say a quiet ‘thank you’ for. And I love the tiny bed I have here in my little room. My landlord tells me it was his grandma’s, and that every person who has slept in it has commented on how comfortable it is.
Sunday found me revisiting New Zealand’s literary scene, after 2 decades of absence. Witi Ihimaera was speaking at the Queenstown Writers Festival. ‘One of Aotearoa’s greatest storytellers was talking about an extraordinary life and a career in writing that spans half a century.
In the early 1970s Gisborne-born Witi Ihimaera became the first Māori to publish a collection of short stories (Pounamu Pounamu) and a novel (Tangi). He has gone on to become one of the world’s most important indigenous writers with such highly regarded novels as The Matriarch, The Whale Rider and Bulibasha.
His memoirs Māori Boy (2015) and Native Son (2019) will soon be joined by a third. His retelling of Māori creation myths, Navigating the Stars, comes out this year. In fact, he launched there in Queenstown.
Witi Ihimaera is a master story weaver who brings his reader home to a place that transcends space, time and culture – while remaining unambiguously here, now, and Māori.
Quiet tears slipped down my face, and the faces of many others I suspect, as Witi sang for us, and read from his book, and talked of a life-shattering event too. His songs were so powerful, and he returned to it as his story-telling vehicle, repeatedly.
He is an extraordinary story-teller. I am so glad I attended.
I paid a small fee, and joined the local bookclub, and became a member of the cinema too. I was rapt to then receive an invitation to the members-only screening of Made in Italy. It stars one of my favourite actors, Liam Neeson, who stars alongside his son, Micheál Richardson.
Life often seems quite extraordinarily beautiful here. Joy has returned.
It’s as if all that I have loved in the world can be found here. From New Zealand literature, to a vibrant arts and culture scene. Solitude in Nature, but the most remarkable gathering of interesting people in any one place I’ve ever lived. Good coffee, fabulous cafes, and then Fat Badger’s have the best pizza I have eaten outside of Italy. There is a French bakery, with French staff, and an Italian restaurant, with a Genovese chef. He’s a little gruff, in the tradition of the sons of Zena, however perhaps he will soften.
There are, at least, two Bellbirds in the new garden, and rabbits too. I’m living out of Queenstown, in the countryside and yet not too far from the centre.
The cost is about the same as living in Manapouri, that small village of 200 … And it was also loved by me but lacked the breadth and depth I find here. However it’s only 2 hours down the road, through some mountains so I’ll go back when I need some big deep lungfuls of Beech forests on massive mountains, next to deep and moody lakes.
Life moves on. I’ve moved home, again. And my work plans are exciting but involve more than a few hours, as I establish myself. The journey has begun. All is good.
