MoMA (Museum of Modern Ancestry)

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines a “museum” as

“An institution devoted,

to the procurement, care, study, and display of objects of lasting interest or value.”

They are meant to reflect what humanity

we see in ourselves.

Growing up, my favourite part of Te Papa

was always the Pacific collection.

Tucked tightly into the corner of its floor

I could spend hours staring

at aunties and uncles long-gone

A declaration that I had history

no one could take away.

As soon as we left the collection

waving goodbye to the ghosts of the vaka

the walls shifted uncomfortably

from rocky recreations and pisupo puppets

to florid frames cradling crook’s canvas

Even then I knew.

How was I meant to recognise anything

When it didn’t recognise me?

As life gripes and glares

through growing pains

I find that I cannot fit in that corner any longer

I want a wing

Maybe two, if you’re feeling generous

Spanning a bitten coastline

Dancing and ducking into any space

open enough to welcome it.

Like feathers to the kahu huruhuru,

If the people aren’t present,

the piece goes forever unfinished.

“But if they are to make room for us,

It must be truly brilliant.

Procure me a Polynesian Picasso,

Drag a Brown Benvenuto from the depths,

Root out a Rembrandt in Rarotonga.”

Why do they think we can only be great

If we are imitating one who is already considered “great?”

Bring me a Tohi or a Tuffery

to sculpt my testimony into tangibility

Call a Wendt to transcribe it

and a Tusitala Marsh to deliver it

to the steps of a higher power.

I want my family lineage plastered on a column

where I can tap-tap-tap down the branches

until I am tracing over the dorsum of my own nose.

I want a map of the Pacific where carpet should be

lamplight eyes darting around rocky edges of islands

until they are circular enough to use as ei katu forms.

I want a portrait gallery without gilded settings

dress the subjects in Hi-Vis and Mother Hubbards

and let teeth shine where mount should.

A pa is placed at the front desk for donations

but no admission price is asked.

The doors swing open from then till now.

Read the sign.

This is the museum.

You are the museum.

It is your right and mine

to free and eternal entry.

Kaiata Kaitao