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Mother tongue / 母语
A poem in two voices
| I wake to the sound of | what if my mother never left this place |
| blue mosque morning prayers | where the heat pours down |
| I have never known what the words mean | between the coconut palms |
| but I can hear the ache | if I had grown up here |
| in the kitchen every morning | I would have different-coloured hair |
| I peel jackfruit with my fingers | and different-coloured eyes |
| while they talk over and around me | I would speak to Popo all the time |
| in a language so familiar but so far away | we would chop vegetables together |
| in the kitchen every night | and peel the shells off quail eggs |
| I eat pink rice cakes with my hands | on blue evenings we would sit |
| the powdered sugar sticks to my lips | looking out for distant lightning |
| and Popo says is it good? | above the hills where plastic flowers |
| yes, it is good I reply in Hakka | fall against coloured graves |
| because it is all I can say | see how it lights up her face |
| and we sit there with the quiet burning | as the rain cools off the surface |
| of the mosquito coils | of my skin |
| she hands me a paper napkin | of this dream |
| she gestures towards her mouth | where I am not trapped |
| she touches my hand without speaking | in any language |
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Origin myths
While watching Lisa Reihana’s video installation Transit of Venus [Infected]
at the Royal Academy of Art, London.
Where are you from?
What is your ethnicity?
On your mother or father’s side?
How long have you been here?
How long has your family been here?
Where were you born?
Where was your mother born?
Where was your passport issued?
What is your permanent address?
What is your mother tongue?
Is your hair colour natural?
What does this country mean to you?
Is this your home?
What is the purpose of your visit today?
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(In the background a woman’s voice is the wind)
(Blue-green leaves shake while waves pour at my feet)
(I have never seen trees like these growing so near the sea)
(The trees and mountains are listening to the wind)
(The imaginary trees cry out)
(Singing, dancing, an endless loop of sea an endless loop of sea of sea)
(They say the sun never sets on the British Empire)
(A ship with white sails slips into the Sounds)
(A woman with feathers in her hair stands on the shore)
(Watching small volcanoes erupt slowly in the distance)
(To complete the scene I sew my own star map in red thread)
(I embroider volcanoes onto horizons)
(I stitch my name into the sea)
(I measure the distance)
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Two portraits of home
After Werner’s Nomenclature of Colours (1814)
[IMG_098]
morpheus butterfly wing blue albatross white
plastic-orchid blue hawthorn-blossom white
the blue of the sounds skimmed milk
white
the blue of the sounds the blue of the sounds unripe-mango green
distant-forest green feijoa tree green
kōwhai-petal yellow
fantail-feather cream
volcanic grey
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[IMG_227]
enamel bowl rim blue lepidolite lilac
throat of crocus blue
chrysoprase blue
magnolia-leaf green-black
plum black
heart of jasmine pink hot violet hot violet
purple-aster black raspberry ice cream pink
peach-skin pink honey-pomelo pink
strawberry-wafer pink
light blood orange
lower wings of tiger moth red lantern-festival red
mooncake-wrapper gold tūī-feather iridescent green
electric billboard blue neon neon green high-definition silver
shanghai-taxi blue reflected-gasoline blue
grass-jelly black
wet-cormorant black nightriver black
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Mixed girl’s Hakka phrasebook
After Sennah Yee
Phrases I know in Hakka:
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Sit down. It tastes good. Please. Thank you.
Phrases I don’t know in Hakka:
How are you, It’s so good to see you, How did you sleep, It is such a beautiful morning, Did yo...
