He aha te tikanga o te ingoa? What’s in a name?

I’m one of those people that cries at beauty. I spend most of He Ingoa with tears flowing. The waiata and tito nekehanga (choreography) in this performance evoke deep emotion. Kapa haka, with its tradition of story-telling in words and movements, and heavenly Polynesian harmonies, is a natural base for creating musical theatre. For anyone born here this performance strikes deep. You’re at home here.

He Ingoa (A Name) explores how the use of ingoa affects identity and respect. It uses ingoa as a potent lens through which to view colonialism in Aotearoa. We experience the anguish of being mis-named, the domination of being re-named, and the disrespect of having our name continually mis-pronounced.

The message we are given is to defy colonial pressures, focus on the sacred act of naming our tamariki, give them ‘brown’ names without concern for incompetent tauiwi pronunciation. As is appropriate for the Kia Mau Festival, this performance is aimed at Tāngata Whenua. Tāngata Tiriti are here as manuhiri.

Our musicians enter Circa Two from the foyer and the doors close. We have Olive Blythe (keyboard), Terry Liu (acoustic guitar) and Sarah Lawrence (violin). Seated upstage right, they accompany six beautiful performers singing waiata in English and te reo Māori.

The stage is set simply with several kete hanging left, right and upstage at chest height, beautifully decorated and holding props. Kōwhiuwhiu (fans) represent the unfolding petals of a person blooming into existence, and a hue (gourd) represents a newborn infant. Otherwise the lights are down and lightly misted with a hazer. I feel we are in Te Kore, the void of potential from which the universe is created.

Monet Faifai-Collins emerges like Io-matua from Te Kore, singing Te Pō and Te Ao Marama into existence. His broad tenor invokes chills. Singing ‘A Rose Will Bloom’, he transports us to that pure space where we are created anew, named for the first time. Waikamania Seve and Taipuhi King accompany him in harmony before they sing Oriori: a duet of two parents naming their child, explaining its depth and significance to their baby.

Jade Merematira and Shenazzar Sta. Lucia follow with two solos, telling us of their complex relationship with their ingoa. In ‘Everyday’,Merematira finds identity only in her middle name – which comes from her grandmother. Sta. Lucia rejects her name outright in ‘My Shadow’, struggling to understand who she is. Then director, writer and composer Raureti Ormond duets with Seve on ‘E Papa’ (not the traditional waiata of the same name) before the ensemble gives us ‘My Mother’s Tongue’. Both of these explore the colonial control of names as a tool of oppression and cultural annihilation.

Merematira’s waiata is her own composition, with all other waiata composed by Ormond, saving the mighty finale ‘Spectrum’. Ormond’s direction (supported by Parekawa Finlay) and choreography is stately, graceful and utterly mesmerising. All the voices are clear and effortless, full of emotion and conviction. It is an effort for me to focus on details because the spell cast by the combination is so transporting.

The lighting (Michael Trigg and Ezra Jones-Moki) is subdued, with little floodlighting and restrained use of the hazer. In the smaller venue, with such powerful singers, my only distraction is the volume of the PA. I find myself wondering if a PA is even needed. Though the quiet parts are difficult to hear even with the PA, the crescendos leave my ears ringing and no doubt even more deaf. Without a PA I am certain our ensemble could raise the volume of the quiet parts enough to be understood, and my enjoyment of the full-throat singing would be complete.

I leave, though, with a full heart. Ormond’s vision and execution is masterful. He deeply understands how to communicate directly with our emotions on multiple levels. We are elevated, empowered, connected, identified. There is no media that can produce this depth of feeling but theatre – humans in a room sharing directly, eye to eye, heart to heart.

Ngā mihi maioha, ngā mihi manahau. Kia kaha te reo Māori.

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