Ariirau

[ article en version française sur le blog de Jean-Marc Tera'ituatini Pambrun, l'écriturien: cliquez "Masques d'encre, expressions pures de l'entre deux mondes"]

Collection de têtes Ta MOKO, de Horatio Robley

This most famous picture attracted a million curious eyes. Looking at it, so many feelings come to my mind.

I believe Pacific islanders’ cultures are cultures of emotions, a mere consequence of colonialist encounters that erased Memories and suppressed pagan traditions.

Two worlds for a same mankind, so many ways of thinking: “Indigenous societies often see the body as sacred, something more than a mass of molecules”[1], “This [cultural gap] is illustrated with the Maori Moko […] and the trade that developed in mokomokai, or tattooed heads in the early 19^th century”

Also, as we can see in contemporary Polynesian writings[2], there are constant relations between visible and invisible world (“the dream” as a way to reach the other world). Thus, for Maoris, the Moko takes root in a “legend”: a mortal named Mataoro is married to a daughter of the chief of the underworld. One day, he beats her and she returns to her father’s realm. Mataoro wants to regain his wife and goes to the “underworld”; once on the other side, his bride’s father will teach him Ta Moko art. Mataoro kept ta Moko as a remembrance to avoid evil action and behaviors.

Tattoo is the pure expression of an in-between world; it is, as Palmer & Tano would say “a sign of reconciliation between divinity and man”. In a psychological study about impacts of the Moko on contemporary Maori’s lives, Mohi Rua concludes that “The significance of the moko is twofold. It marks a transition”

Don’t be distracted by the posture of this white man, Horatio, seated in front of his ta Moko heads collection. Horatio Robley married a native New Zealand islander and he lived at a time when tattooed heads were commercial products, of considerable values. Horatio was, himself, a man of his time, and there is no value judgment to make.

"Ta Moko", from reo Maori, means in Tahitian language, "Mo'o" (little lizards, "gecko"). Ta Moko signifies tattooing in that case: the Moko is an animal related to what is magical, fantastic, legends, a being "in-between" worlds. Nowadays, they are commonly tattooed (especially in Tahiti) on women's feet or legs.

The commerce of TA MOKO heads started in the early 19th century: Some Maori men, who wanted to acquire guns, would exchange the tattooed heads, after seeing the White men's interest and curiosity over such an uncommon “thing”[3].

It all started with men’s war and territorial ambitions, who didn’t value enough that sacred part of their culture: its heads.

Mokomokai is a dried, tattooed head that belonged either to a warrior or to a chief, an “Arii” (Lord) as Tahitians would say. As for today, there is only one female Moko head remaining, for they were quite rare. “There are examples in history and in traditional carving in which important women had full-face moko (Starzecka 1996:47). These women were of equal or higher rank than the male chiefs of their generation… They were symbolically men and usually never married”[4]

Tradition says that Ta Moko Heads wear a whole history on the face’s skin: In some cases, there is great importance in the symmetry. Forehead can cover achievements, right or left sides of the face may concern genealogy (“Whakapapa”), etc. : information about lineage, tribe, rank, exploits. Today, Rihari, aged between 25-35 years old, wears a Moko: he explains to Mohi RUA “The moko (nose and mouth) represent current relationship with wife and children. The rae (forehead) is a reflection of his developments as a person within te Ao Maori. The right and left sides represent tribal affiliations”[5]

Simmons (1986) identifies the symmetry of the tattoo[6]:

1.      Ngakaipikirau, rank (centre forehead)

2.      Ngunga, position in life (forehead)

3.      Uirere, likes of rand by hapu (tribe) (eyes)

4.      Uma, first or second marriage (temples)

5.      Raurau, signature (nose)

6.      Taiohou, work (cheek)

7.      Wairura, mana (spiritual authority) (chin)

8.      Taitoto, position at birth (jaw)

Tattoo and social rank was closely linked, as for today, when tattoos are made-not for the braveness of the person but in exchange for money (is there a thin line between identity & vanity?... )[7].

The process of tattooing the head was a tapu process: no one could touch the man, who would abstain from washing or having sex; food was given to him in a peculiar way so that there was no touching[8]. A special hut was built, in which he was tattooed, and his blood was tapu. “There were two methods involved in the creation of Moko: in one the flesh was carved away and the pigment placed inside the grooves, resulting deep, dark lines. The second method was similar to most of Polynesia with the pigment inserted underneath the skin with a sharp-toothed comb (Gell 1993: 246-7)”[9] The tool was called “uhi”

When he died, family would keep his head close, so that his presence remained among them. The presence of the head would be a constant reminder of the man’s leadership and strength.

The tattooed head maintained Memory.

When English colonialists discovered Ta Moko heads, their reactions were mixed: both disgust and curiosity, fascinated by the exotic & “noble savage”. Ta Moko heads would be soon exploited as attraction in Occidental Museums.

What happened then? It happened whatever happens to Cultures that become folklore and that are commercialized: it lost meanings and tradition was travestied.

To get more guns, because men never had enough guns, a few Maoris would kill slaves, tattoo them, and sell the heads. The mana contained in the tattoo was definitely lost. The tattoos were meaningless, but it didn’t matter… Hongi was a Maori chief who converted to Christianity and it is said that the regular trade of Mokomokai started with him. But the trade of Mokomokai grew with the European museums interests in them.

It became such a huge commerce, that tattooed men started hiding, afraid of being a prey for one of his own, and Ta Moko Heads disappeared progressively… “When the trader was leaving the area the relatives attacked and killed his party and their hands were dried (Robley 1998: 178)”

The horror of the trade went far: the trader, in some cases, would choose a slave (alive), who would be killed on the purpose and then tattooed.

It came back in the 1970s with Maori Culture Renaissance.




One must know that Ta Moko “was kept alive by older women who lived in remote areas of Aotearoa, beyond the pale of European condemnation.”[10]

A Maori contemporary man, who makes the choice to Ta Moko Head, decides to make a tremendous change of life. “The Moko transforms the wearer, defines one’s identity and each is as similar and unique as a fingerprint.”[11]

-For practical reasons (getting a job, a “normal” social life)

- And for psychological reasons. It really depends on the tattoo you wear on the face: it can be an ink mask hiding your face, but it can also be an ink “broidery” were face to face connection is possible.

 
Meredith Collins (picture), like many of us today, has lost connection with her ancestors'Maori culture. The Moko on her chin is a way to keep a trace of her forgotten past on her caucasian features. The tattoo on the woman's chin is not a Polynesian particularity, as I remember Algerian writer, Assia Djebar, quoting an Arab woman: "Le tatouage que j'ai au menton vaut la barbe de tous les hommes"

Face is an opened book[12]: you read the other by looking at his or her face.

Nowadays, looking at Ta Moko head can be like looking at a shield you cannot take off: it can provoke fear or mistrust, especially if you are “molded” in a foreign culture.

Nowadays, tattooed faces are quickly interpreted as Maori activism, pride and identity. Yet patterns and behaviors differ: “Before I had my moko, I wasn’t a humble person” says Newaru. Having the Moko made him conscious of the sacredness of the tattoo, of its mana.

“The media is there to make us look like bad people” says Tio, interviewed by Mohi Rua.

The man with the tattooed face carries on him a huge responsibility: “For me being young and wearing the Moko, people have expectations of me” says Newaru, who’s between 20-30 years old. He wears a tradition that he cannot spoil by bad behavior. He has to be a straight, honest, brave man, otherwise he would contribute to the degradation of his ancestors’ traditions even more. And at this point, I recall the legend of Mataoro: “On a practical level, the moko… serves as a reminder to avoid evil action” (Palmer & Tano)

2 XXIst century interpretations of TA MOKO:

the Christ wearing Ta Moko


a doll wearing Ta Moko



On the 29^th of June 2009, a French Polynesian senator named Richard Tuheiava defended a project at the Senate, submitted by French Senator Catherine Morin-Desailly, so that French Museums would restitute Ta Moko heads to Maori People.

It is a good thing, that Polynesians- from French or English dependencies- are sensible to their neighbors’ islanders’ issues.

There is the emotional aspect of the case: “they” are going home, to the land they were born, on which they lived, to the land they belong.

Mokomokai will find peace after a century of spirits errands in Occidental exhibitive labyrinths.

Maori headless culture is recovering their heads at last, and their tradition is a bit less travestied. The puzzle pieces should come together, one day, and our neighbors’ ancestors can rest in peace.

Il est intraitable, car c'est une belle enflure, cet être infidèle qui ne peut fuir sa femme. Il ne peut en vain, s'en débarrasser, il est corps et âme, tout à elle, lié.

Pris aux racines, il tente de s'échapper, mais ce que Dieu a scellé, l'homme ne peut le dénouer.

Son corps est une honte qu'il ne sait contrôler, il rêve d'un ailleurs et ne cesse de se ridiculiser. Il pense aux enfants qu'il a fécondés, à la sécurité d'un couple officialisé. Mais c'est plus fort que lui: ailleurs il doit aller.

C'est ainsi l'infidèle qui pèse sa virilité, au nombre de souffrances qu'il lui aura infligées. Sa langue est sans parole et rien n'est de sa faute, ainsi la nature sème -t-elle les graines de la tentation: rien n'est de sa faute, c'est l'infidélité, vice de la semaine, pour une vie bien marquée.

Puis vient le jour où il vieillit, et l'arthrose l'envahit. Il est plein de misères et ne peut plus bouger. De toutes les conquêtes, il n'a jamais rien gagné, voici le pauvre infidèle et cette image qui colle à la peau, qui ne fait plus sourire mais qui fait pitié.