Bio: Born and raised on Maui, Brandy Nālani McDougall earned a BA from Whittier College and an MFA from the University of Oregon and is a PhD candidate at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. She also studied at the University of Auckland. McDougall is the author of the poetry collection The Salt-Wind / Ka Makani Pa‘akai (2008) (highly recommended – JZ) and the scholarly monograph Finding Meaning: Kaona and Contemporary Hawaiian Literature (2016). Her writing appears in Effigies: An Anthology of New Indigenous Writing (2009), edited by Allison Adelle Hedge Coke. In a review of McDougall’s work, Craig Santos Perez says, “She wrestles with historical and contemporary colonialism in her homeland through the themes of language, education, and exoticism. … McDougall seamlessly weaves together Hawaiian language and English to create a complex, bilingual texture.” McDougall teaches at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa.

 

He Mele Aloha no ka Niu 

by Brandy Nālani McDougall

 

I’m so tired of pretending

each gesture is meaningless,

that the clattering of niu leaves

and the guttural call of birds

overhead say nothing.

There are reasons why

the lichen and moss kākau

the niu’s bark, why

this tree has worn

an ahu of ua and lā

since birth. Scars were carved

into its trunk to record

the mo‘olelo of its being

by the passage of insects

becoming one to move

the earth, speck by speck.

Try to tell them to let go

of the niu rings marking

each passing year, to abandon

their only home and move on.

I can’t pretend there is

no memory held

in the dried coconut hat,

the star ornament, the midribs

bent and dangling away

from their roots, no thought

behind the kāwelewele

that continues to hold us

steady. There was a time

before they were bent

under their need to make

an honest living, when

each frond was bound

by its life to another

like a long, erect fin

skimming the surface

of a sea of grass and sand.

Eventually, it knew it would rise

higher, its flower would emerge

gold, then darken in the sun,

that its fruit would fall, only

to ripen before its brown fronds

bent naturally under the weight

of such memory, back toward

the trunk to drop to the sand,

back to its beginnings, again.

Let this be enough to feed us,

to remember: ka wailewa

i loko, that our own bodies

are buoyant when they bend

and fall, and that the ocean

shall carry us and weave us

back into the sand’s fabric,

that the mo‘opuna taste our sweet.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Please watch:

Ola (i) Na Moolelo: Living Moolelo: Brandy Nālani McDougall speaks at TEDxManoa https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K69_kuqBiX8 (16:56)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Glossary:

niu leaves  — coconut leaves

kākau — tattoo

ahu — Heap, pile, collection, mound, mass; altar, shrine, cairn; a traplike stone enclosure made by fishermen for fish to enter; laid, as the earth oven.

ua — Rain; to rain; rainy. See rain. Rain was beloved as it preserved the land; it was called kāhiko o ke akua, adornment of deity. also, demon.

lā — Sun, sun heat; sunny, solar. See ex., lolo, brain.

mo‘olelo — Story, tale, myth, history, tradition, literature, legend, journal, log, yarn, fable, essay, chronicle, record, article; minutes, as of a meeting. (From moʻo ʻōlelo, succession of talk; all stories were oral, not written.) Puke moʻolelo aupuni, public records

kāwelewele — Ropes, especially those attached to ʻiako, outrigger booms, to assist in righting a capsized canoe; lines attached to a fish net; person or canoe at the head of a line being pulled. Fig., to recall something almost forgotten; dim memory. Also kākāwelewele. ʻO Kama ke akua i ke kāwelewele, Kama was the god [who held] the end of the rope being pulled. Ā i loaʻa hoʻi ke kāwelewele, pono iki nō ia manawa, when an almost forgotten thought is recalled, it helps a little for the time being.

ka — Definite singular article replaced by ke before words beginning with a, e, o, and k, and before some words beginning with the glottal stop and p (ka ʻaka, the laugh, ke ʻala, the fragrance; ka pā, the yard, ke pā, the dish).

wailewa — Coconut water. Lit., hanging water. See riddle.

i —  To, towards, at, in, on, by, because of, for, due to, by means of.

loko —

1. loc.n. In, inside, within; interior, mainland, inside; internal organs, as tripe, entrails (Gram. 8.6). I loko, into, inside, on or to the mainland. I ka moe ʻana o loko o ka hale (FS 259), while those in the house slept. Ua lawe nui au no loko aʻe o kēia mau kānāwai, I have taken much from within these laws. Kō loko, those inside. Mea o loko, things inside, contents. ʻO ka inaina i loko o kekahi hana hewa, malice in respect to the commission of any offense. Make na loko, death caused by own relatives, or failure to observe one’s taboo gods; lit., inside death. hoʻo.lako To insinuate, suggest, implant a thought, either good or bad. (PPN loto.)

2. n. Character, disposition, heart, feelings. Cf. loko hāiki, loko ʻino, loko liʻu, lokomaikaʻi. (PPN loto.)

3. n. Pond, lake, pool.

mo‘opuna — Grandchild; great-niece or -nephew; relatives two generations later, whether blood or adopted; descendant; posterity.

Bio: Craig Santos Perez is a native Chamoru (Chamorro) from the Pacific Island of Guåhan/Guam. He is the co-founder of Ala Press, co-star of the poetry album (Hawai’i Dub Machine, 2011), and author of three collections of poetry: (Tinfish Press, 2008), (Omnidawn, 2010), and (Omnidawn, 2014). He has been a finalist for the LA Times 2010 Book Prize for Poetry and the winner of the 2011 PEN Center USA Literary Award for Poetry. He is director of the Creative Writing program and an assistant professor of English at the University of Hawai’i, Manoa, where he teaches Pacific literature and creative writing. He maintains his own blog, and has blogged for Harriet.

At the very end, I have placed a short review that appeared in the magazine Poetry of one of Santos Perez’s books.

AUDIO OPTION:
July/August 2016: “Fear of Flying (in Broken Gilbertese)”
July 1, 2016   The editors discuss poems by Daniela Danz, translated by Monika Cassel; plus, an interview with Craig Santos Perez on Pacific Islander poetry, and poems by Teresia Teaiwa and Brandy Nālani McDougall. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/podcasts/89956/july-august-2016-fear-of-flying-in-broken-gilbertese 

Here’s a pdf of some of the material below:  CraigSantosPerezMaterials

Praise song for Oceania

(on June 8, 2016, World Oceans Day)

Ocean, we // had been your griot. (Brenda Hillman)

 

praise

your capacity

for birth / your fluid

currents and trenchant

darkness / praise your contracting

waves & dilating

horizons / praise our briny

beginning, the source

of every breath / praise

your endless bio-

diversity / praise

your capacity

for renewal / your rise

into clouds and descent

into rain / praise your underground

aquifers / your rivers & lakes,

ice sheets & glaciers / praise

your watersheds &

hydrologic cycles / praise

your capacity

to endure / the violence

of those who claim dominion

over you / who map you

empty ocean to pillage / who divide you

into latitudes & longitudes /

who scar your middle

passages / who exploit

your economy* / praise

your capacity

to survive / our trawling

boats / breaching /

your open body /

& taking from your

collapsing depths / praise

your capacity

to dilute / our sewage

& radioactive waste /

our pollutants & plastics /

our heavy metals

& greenhouse gases / praise

your capacity

to bury / soldiers & terrorists,

slaves & refugees / to bury

our last breath

of despair / to bury

the ashes of our

loved ones / praise

your capacity

to remember / praise

your library of drowned

stories / praise your museum

of lost treasures / praise

our migrant routes

& submarine roots / praise

your capacity

to penetrate /

praise your rising tides

& relentless storms & towering

tsunamis & feverish

floods / praise

your capacity

to smother /

schools of fish & wash them

ashore to save them

from our cruelty /

to show us what we’re

no longer allowed to take

/ to starve us like your corals

are being starved & bleached /

like your liquid lungs

choked of oxygen / praise

your capacity

to forgive / please

forgive our territorial hands

& acidic breath / please

forgive our nuclear arms

& naval bodies / please

forgive our concrete dams

& cabling veins / please

forgive our deafening sonar

& lustful tourisms / please

forgive our invasive drilling

& deep sea mining / please

forgive our extractions

& trespasses / praise

your capacity

for mercy / please

let our grandfathers and fathers

catch just one more fish / please

make it stop raining soon / please

make it rain soon / please

spare our fragile farms & fruit trees / please

spare our low-lying islands & atolls / please

spare our coastal villages & cities / please

let us cross safely to a land

without war / praise

your capacity

for hope /

praise your rainbow

warrior & peace

boat / your hokuleʻa

& sea shepherd / praise

your arctic sunrise & flotillas

of hope / praise your nuclear free

& independent pacific movement /

praise your marine stewardship

councils & sustainable

fisheries / praise your radical

seafarers & native navigators /

praise your sacred water walkers /

praise your activist kayaks

& canoes / praise your ocean

conservancies & surfrider foundations /

praise your aquanauts & hyrdolabs /

praise your coastal cleanups

& Google Oceans /

praise your whale hunting

& shark finning bans /

praise your sanctuaries

& no take zones / praise

your pharmacopeia of new

antibiotics / praise your wave

and tidal energy / praise your

#oceanoptimism & Ocean

Elders /praise

your capacity

for echo

location / our names for you /

that translate

into creation stories

& song maps

tasi & kai & tai & moana nui & vasa &

tahi & lik & wai tui & daob & wonsolwara /

praise

your capacity

for communion /

praise our common heritage /

praise our pathway

& promise to each other / praise

our endless saga / praise our most powerful

metaphor / praise this vision

of belonging / praise your horizon

of care / praise our blue planet,

one world ocean / praise our trans-oceanic

past, present & future flowing

through our blood /.¹

Notes

1 Phrases are quoted from or inspired by various scholars and poets, including Epeli Hauʻofa, Derek Walcott, Elizabeth DeLoughrey, Rob Wilson, Peter Neill, Sylvia Earle, Édouard Glissant, and Albert Wendt. The words chanted are the words for ocean in various Pacific languages. The epigraph is from Brenda Hillman’s poem, “The Pacific Ocean,” from her book Practical Water (Wesleyan University Press, 2009), 26. The gross marine product of the ocean is 2.5 trillion dollars.

 

 

From “understory”

BY CRAIG SANTOS PEREZ

For my wife, Nālani, and our daughter, Kaikainali‘i, on her first birthday

 

nālani clips

kaikainali‘i’s tiny

fingernails while

she sleeps —

“the rape

of oceania

began with

guam” — soldiers

invade okinawa,

hawai‘i, the

philippines, and

south korea —

#yesallwomen

how do

[we] stop

kaikainali‘i’s body

from becoming

target practice —

bullets fragment

and ricochet —

nālani brushes

kaikainali‘i’s hair

when she

wakes, sings

the names

of body

parts in

hawaiian language —

who will

remember the

names of

girls disappeared

from reservations

and maquiladoras

from villages

and schools

#mmiw #mmaw

#bringbackourgirls

nālani gathers

the clippings

because even

[our] nails

are ten

percent water —

outside, mānoa

rain falls

as large

as eggs —

inside, nālani

lies on

her side

to breast-

feed kaikainali‘i

in bed —

they fall

asleep facing

each other,

still latched —

i nestle

with them

and, for

a moment,

kaikainali‘i smiles —

what does

she dream

about? her

deep breath

rises and

falls like

king tides —

her fragile

rib cage

appears and

disappears like

a coral

island crowning —

my daughter,

i know

our stories

are heavier

than stones,

but you

must carry

them with

you no

matter how

far from

home the

storms take

your canoe

because you

will always

find shelter

in our

stories, you

will always

belong in

our stories,

you will

always be

sacred in

our ocean

of stories —

hanom hanom

 

 

ginen tidelands [latte stone park] [hagåtña, guåhan]

BY CRAIG SANTOS PEREZ

[for my dad]

 

The fallen Latte is the sign. It is from within the row of Latte that

we feel our strength. It is the severed capstone that gives us Their

message, “Ti monhayon I che’cho.” We will not rest until the

Latte is whole.

—Cecilia C. T. Perez from “Signs of Being: A Chamoru

Spiritual Journey” (1997)

~

i haligi

a pillar

i tasa

a capstone

i tataotao

a body

~

his hands—

husk coconut—

cooks and

feeds [us]—

stories—this

raised house—

at quarry

outline forms

to sing

forward—carve

limestone to

sing past—

~

citizen : drafted

vietnam war—

the rifle

he kept—

his uniform

his fatigue

~

soak coconut

fibers—dry

under sun—

“make rope”

braided hair—

“like this”

~

hålla haligi—

pull sky—

hålla tasa

“pull, son”

with [our]

entire breath

~

[our] bones:

acho’ latte

removed from—

to museum

of trespass—

to here—

 

 

ginen the micronesian kingfisher [i sihek]

BY CRAIG SANTOS PEREZ

~

[our] nightmare : no

birdsong—

the jungle was riven emptied

of [i sihek] bright blue green turquoise red gold

feathers—everywhere : brown

tree snakes avian

silence—

the snakes entered

without words when [we] saw them it was too late—

they were at [our] doors sliding along

the passages of [i sihek]

empire—then

the zookeepers came—

called it species survival plan—captured [i sihek] and transferred

the last

twenty-nine micronesian kingfishers

to zoos for captive breeding [1988]—they repeated [i sihek]

and repeated :

“if it weren’t for us

your birds [i sihek]

would be gone

forever”

what does not change /

last wild seen—

The Peoples Charter for a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific:

Preamble

1. We, the people of the Pacific, want to make our position clear. The Pacific is home to millions of people with distinct cultures, religions and ways of life, and we refuse to be abused or ignored any longer.
2. We, the people of the Pacific, have been victimized too long by foreign powers. The Western imperialistic and colonial powers invaded our defenseless region, they took over our lands and subjugated our people to their whims. This form of alien political and military domination unfortunately persists as an evil cancer in some of our native territories such as Tahiti-Polynesia, Kanaky, Australia and Aotearoa. Our environment continues to be despoiled by foreign powers developing nuclear weapons for a strategy of warfare that has no winners, no liberators and imperils the survival of all humankind.
3. We, the people of the Pacific, will assert and wrest control over the destiny of our nations and our environment from foreign powers, including transnational corporations.
4. We note in particular the recent racist roots of the worlds nuclear powers and we call for an immediate end to the oppression, exploitation and subordination of the indigenous people of the Pacific.
5. Our environment is further threatened by the continuing deployment of nuclear arsenals in the so-called strategic areas throughout the Pacific. Only one nuclear submarine has to be lost in the sea, or one nuclear warhead dumped in our ocean from a stricken bomber, and the threat to the fish, and our livelihood is endangered for centuries. The erection of superports, military bases, and nuclear testing stations may bring employment, but the price is destruction of our customs, our way of life, the pollution of our crystal clear waters and bringing the ever present threat of disaster by radioactive poisoning into the everyday life of the people.
6. We, the people of the Pacific, reaffirm our intention to extract only those elements of Western civilization that will be of permanent benefit to us. We wish to control our destinies and protect our environment in our own ways. Our uses of our natural resources in the past was more than adequate to ensure the balance between nature and humankind. No form of administration should ever seek to destroy that balance for the sake of brief commercial gain.

For more information contact:VVAW AI-Honolulu, Scotty c/o Action Group PO Box 521 Honolulu, HI, 96809 (808) 576-2955orThe Hawai’i Coalition Against Nuclear Testing 766 N King St. Honolulu, HI 96817 (808) 845-9501, fax (808) 843-0711.

 

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Course Map

1. 1. Access-the-Course-Map for Students New to Coursera online and SloPo Courses
   2. Course Overview with Sample Poems and Sample Discussion Thread
   3. The Library
   4. Week One and Two Materials: Ethnopoetics & Shaking the Pumpkin
   5. Jerome Rothenberg Assemblage of Materials: From Ethnopoetics to his own poetry and his work on A Big Jewish Book — texts, audio, video. 
   6. The Q&A with Jerome Rothenberg
   7. Week Three Materials: Contemporary American Indian
   8. Week Four Materials: Pacific Islander Poetry 
   9. Week Four Materials: Contemporary Caribbean Anglophone Poetry
   10. Week Five Materials: Contemporary African-American Poetry
   11. Week Six Materials: Contemporary Latinx-American Poetry and Performance
   12. Week Seven Materials: Contemporary Asian-American Poetry
   13. Week Eight Materials:  The Ghazal, Contemporary Middle-Eastern and South-Asian Poetry
   14. RETURN TO COURSERA COURSE SITE PAGE

---

 Course Map

1. 1. Access-the-Course-Map for Students New to Coursera online and SloPo Courses
   2. Course Overview with Sample Poems and Sample Discussion Thread
   3. The Library
   4. Week One and Two Materials: Ethnopoetics & Shaking the Pumpkin
   5. Jerome Rothenberg Assemblage of Materials: From Ethnopoetics to his own poetry and his work on A Big Jewish Book — texts, audio, video. 
   6. The Q&A with Jerome Rothenberg
   7. Week Three Materials: Contemporary American Indian Poetry
   8. Week Four Materials: Pacific Islander Poetry 
   9. Week Four Materials: Contemporary Caribbean Anglophone Poetry
   10. Week Five Materials: Contemporary African-American Poetry
   11. Week Six Materials: Contemporary Latinx-American Poetry and Performance
   12. Week Seven Materials: Contemporary Asian-American Poetry
   13. Week Eight Materials:  The Ghazal, Contemporary Middle-Eastern and South-Asian Poetry
   14. RETURN TO COURSERA COURSE SITE PAGE