Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Reconnect. . .

I've written about Maisey Rika before in a previous blog post (see "Tangaroa Whakamautai").
This single was released as part of her EP in March 2009.  Since that time, Maisey has enjoyed success both in Aotearoa and abroad with her unique blend of te reo Māori (the indigenous language of Aotearoa), haunting melodies and primarily acoustic instrumentation with the occasional strings and rhythmic accompaniment.


A whakatauki is a Māori proverbial expression that is used to depict meaning with layers of significance.  A mihi is the traditional Māori way of introducing yourself when addressing a group of people.

The whakatauki I use in my mihi is e koekoe te tui, e ketekete te kākā, e kūkū te kererū - the tui chatters, the parrot gabbles and the wood pigeon coos. 
Because my name is Manu, which translates as 'bird' in both Māori and Samoan, I thought it would be apt to select a whakatauki that reflected my connection (or reconnection, if we stay in the same vein as today's song suggests) between my name and the different types of birds in the whakatauki.

I always explain that in my line of work that I need to chatter like a tui - I must be knowledgable and know what I'm talking about because that's what I've been relied upon to provide (advice and guidance).  Sometimes I might need to gabble like a parrot - my sense of humour and way of connecting with people to create a distraction or diversion - but mostly to make people feel comfortable is another facet to my bird personality.  Finally cooing like a wood pigeon means that sometimes I might be called upon to be the peacemaker or the bridge builder to ensure that conflicts can be resolved and worked through, if not prevented from developing in the first place.

Do you hear the tui call, the huia in the trees
A conscious thing I do, sweet sound you may never seize,
Do ya feel my body burn whenever you are near
A thing I do, a fool for you will I ever learn?

You paid me a visit and it seemed like you wanted to reconnect.
You didn't know what to call or label what we have, so I've chosen not to call it or label it anything.
Maybe it's something that's innately within us that calls us to each other then because you can't seem to stay away and I still seem to be drawn to you.

I hear voices it's summer calling
No more lone, no more lone, no more loneliness
Tis the season to be jolly
But it's not working, it's not working, it's not working out

It doesn't work because it's not meant to be worked out I guess.
It doesn't work because I can't be jolly - even for the season.

We seem to reconnect over the summer, it's when we met of course so it's no surprise that you keep reappearing during these warmer months of the year in Aotearoa.
I sometimes get confused - if it's summer calling, or if it's actually you.
The sweet sound gets sweeter each time I hear it - and it's harder to differentiate between you and summer now.

Change is inevitable, things don't last forever
things don't last forever, things don't last forever
Change is inevitable, things don't last forever
things don't last forever, things don't last forever
Do ya hear me now. . . 

It's been ten years and still we reconnect.
Even though change is inevitable and things don't last forever, there are still remnants of what was.
There are still traces of what was deep set, deeply entrenched and heavy in my heart, hands and mind.
I hope that we continue to reconnect.  Even though it doesn't last forever, it's sufficient enough for when I need you most of all.  You always seem to know just when to resurface when I am at my end.
Now I know. . . you always hear me. . .