For too long, Kiribati culture has upheld the dignity of men in favour for hiding the experiences of the women they abuse.
I have written about oceans, waves, contaminated well water, droughts, rising water temperature, low lying land, loss of culture, loss of land, loss of identity.
All of this I’ve written about and so I’m at a point in my writing career when my mind wanders to the big question: have I got anything left to give?
And from there, word by work, sentence by sentence, essay by essay, my culture started to seep in. Bit by bit. It didn’t happen straight away.
The culture seeps into my soul, like coconut oil being gently rubbed into my skin. The smells of salt, rotting rubbish, raw fish, sugar, bananas, dirt, sand, dead dogs, sweet toddy, bars of velvet soap, coconut oil, salted smoke fish, soy sauce and fresh bread buns. The sounds of cards slapping the floor on the…
I’ve been writing long enough to know that the writing mojo comes in waves. Sometimes it’s there and sometimes it isn’t. It’s so frustrating when it isn’t, but it will pass. So, I’ve decided to pass the buck somewhat. Instead of forcing something that’s not there, I have asked my mum to write down her recipe for Kiribati donuts.
Leonardo DiCaprio speaks to scientists, world leaders, politicians, religious leaders and discusses with them the state of our earth.
For I-Kiribati people, we will be particularly proud that Kiribati is highlighted and Anote Tong is featured in the film.
But is Kiribati accumulating land quick enough to contend with the increase of rising oceans?
Kiribati is such a tiny country and if you don’t know about the country, then why would you care if it sinks or not? THIS is why people like David Katoatau are so important to Kiribati.
There is no hiding that like so many other Kiribati men, my grandfather was abusive to my grandma. He was physically overbearing over Terira. There is a story that my grandma spent a night clinging to the inside of a well while my grandfather, in a rage, raced around looking for his wife.
If I can’t recognize the power storytelling and the advice my elders are passing onto me, how can I expect my future children to understand?