The Mahana family arrive at church.
Tamihana Mahana (Temuera Morrison) and his rival Rupeni Poata (Jim Moriarty).
Simeon (Akuhata Keefe) among his family going into church.
The entire Mahana family lined up for inspection by the patriarch.
Simeon (Akuhata Keefe) being kissed by Poppy Poata (Yvonne Porter).
The Mahana family.
Ramona Mahana (Nancy Brunning) singing to her bees.
Ramona Mahana (Nancy Brunning) with her granddaughter Gloria (Sienna MacKinlay).
Tamihana Mahana (Temuera Morrison).
Simeon (Akuhata Keefe) confronting his grandfather Tamihana.
The Waituhi community in church.
Simeon (Akuhata Keefe) with his mother, Huria (Maria Walker).
Simeon (Akuhata Keefe).
Mahana men, from left: Aperahama Mahana (John Grice), Mahana kids (Bailey and Paia Marumaru), Mohi Mahana (Matariki Whatarau), Pani (Eds Eramiha).
From left: Aunt Ruth (Aroha Rawson), Pani (Eds Eramiha), Miriam Mahana (Ngahuia Piripi) and Gloria (Sienna MacKinlay).
Tamihana Mahana (Temuera Morrison) and Simeon (Akuhata Keefe).
Simeon’s family at his grandmother’s house.
Pani (Eds Eramiha) and Miriam (Ngahuia Piripi) with Simeon’s family.
Tamihana Mahana (Temuera Morrison) watching the deserters.
Huria Mahana (Maria Walker).
Rupeni Poata (Jim Moriarty).
Joshua Mahana (Regan Taylor) and his wife, Huria (Maria Walker).
The annual shearing competition.
From left: Golden Shears ‘Stan’ (Greg Johnson) and ‘Clarrie’ (John Leigh).
The Waituhi community watching the shearing competition.
The annual shearing competition.
From left: Hone Mahana (James Tito) and Mohi Mahana (Matariki Whatarau).
Pani (Eds Eramiha).
The Poata family, led by Caesar Poata (Te Kohe Tuhaka), present their challenge at the funeral.
From left: Huria Mahana (Maria Walker), her daughters Faith (Kyra McRae), Hope (Tuhiwhakauraoterangi Wallace-Ihakara) and Gloria (Sienna MacKinlay) with their father, Joshua (Regan Taylor).
The Mahana clan at their homestead.
Director Lee Tamahori oversees the shearing scene.
The Mahana cast.
Author Note
This novel is dedicated to my father, Te Haa Ihimaera Smiler Jnr, my grandfather Pera Punahamoa Ihimaera Smiler and the great Smiler family of whom I am a member. It is also written in memory of my fabulous grandaunt, Mini Tupara, Uncle George Tupara and the Tupara family.
Bulibasha is a work of fiction. Although Waituhi is a real village, Hukareka is not. For geographical purposes Hukareka has been situated somewhere between Manutuke and Bartletts. The Golden Fleece championships is modelled on the Golden Shears competition.
The novel was written when I was the Katherine Mansfield Fellow, Menton, France. My thanks are due to the Katherine Mansfield Trust, the Electricity Corporation of New Zealand, Mrs Marguerite Lilley, and Professor Albert Wendt and the University of Auckland for leave from the English Department.
From the bottom of my heart I thank William Rubinstein, trustee for the Katherine Mansfield Fellowship in France and secretary of the New Zealand France Association, Nice, and his wife Nelly. Thanks also to the New Zealand France Association, Monsieur Frederic Billy and the Maire of Menton, my French teacher Monsieur Alain Roman, Jean and Olga Franc de Ferriere, Jacqueline Bardolph and Jean, William Waterfield and Angelique, Annabelle White, Gordon Stewart, Maarire, Terry, David and Guillaume for their support — and to Jane, and Jessica Kiri and Olivia Ata, the best daughters in the world.
There was no better place to write Bulibasha than in the south of France, close to Italy, where verismo — temperament, passion, pain and laughter — is so much akin to the Waituhi Valley’s own passionate involvement in life, death and history. I pay tribute to the sun, mountains and peoples bordering the great Mediterranean Sea.
About the Author
Witi Ihimaera’s first book for Penguin Random House was Pounamu, Pounamu (1972) and he has subsequently written 13 novels, including The Whale Rider (1987), seven collections of short stories including The Thrill of Falling (2012), and works for children. His most recent book for Penguin Random House is Maori Boy (2014), the first volume of his memoir.
A multi-award-winning writer, Ihimaera has had careers in diplomacy, teaching, opera, theatre, film and television. He has recently taught in the Native Arts Program, Banff Centre, Canada, was Patron of the Rochefort Oceanic Film Festival, France, 2014, and gave the New Zealand Book Council lecture, ‘Where is New Zealand Literature Heading?’ at the Dunedin Writers and Readers Festival, 2015. He was a Randell Cottage Fellow in 2015 and his play All Our Sons was premiered that same year, winning six Wellington Theatre Awards including Best Play and Best Original Production.
He lives in Auckland.
From Bulibasha to Mahana
In 1993 I travelled to Menton, France, as the Katherine Mansfield Fellow. I planned to stay for six months and to write the long-delayed sequel to my novel The Matriarch, published seven years earlier in 1986. As soon as I had unpacked my bags and started writing, I knew I was in trouble.
The sequel was The Dream Swimmer. There I was, in a country on the other side of the world, totally separated from the mythic, historical and geographical library resources I needed to assist me to create the metafictional, post-modern, post-colonial hydra of the story. In those days when internet research was in its infancy, I had none of the books and manuscripts that would help me build the historical and cultural bones to enable the sequel to, well, swim.
I didn’t have Dad with me, either, my wonderful storyteller father upon whose oral stories I relied. Long-distance phone calls with him only took me so far, and ominous intervals in the writing process started to open up like chasms.
In Katherine Mansfield’s Villa Isola Bella, where I was writing, my poor dream swimmer began foundering in her sea of dreams. What had I been thinking?!
I went around Menton or down to the sunny plage, muttering foul imprecations against any poor unsuspecting French boulevardiers if they got in my way. I was still very cross when, three weeks after my arrival, my friends William and Nelly Rubinstein drove me to the government immigration offices in Nice where I could apply for my carte de séjour, the identity card all visitors need to stay in France. On our way back to Menton, we came across a strange and motley group of cars and caravans parked by the side of the road. People were standing or sitting around the vehicles, and the women were cooking on open fires. Children were laughing and playing on the verge and, as our car passed, some of them came running to the window to ask us for coins.