Photo: TVNZ
Photo: TVNZ

ĀteaSeptember 30, 2019

Māori versus settlers in the wrestling ring? Hell yes!

Photo: TVNZ
Photo: TVNZ

TVNZ’s new online-only series Colonial Combat pits the the inhabitants of Kauri Bay – Māori, settlers, men, women, and many more besides – against each other in the ring. Dan Taipua reviews.

The place is Kauri Bay, kind of. The year is 1836, sort of. The people are Māori, and All Other Comers. The stakes are the chieftainship of hapū, the free passage of export, gunpowder, sex work, the printing press industry, tino rangatiratanga, romantic love, filial piety and the Championship Wrestling Title Belt.

Released in 12 online-only episodes for TVNZ, Colonial Combat is the fictional tale of Aotearoa’s first wrestling promotion. It has a pitch that fills a lot of underserved areas in the local TV market: New Zealand hasn’t produced any action-oriented programming in years, we struggle to find naturalised plots for bilingual content, and as pointed out in an earlier article, Māori have an existing fondness for wrestling formats. The novel premise of the show is matched both by its ambitious scale and its multitude of subplots, each of which deliver their own highs and lows.

Despite the simple outline of ‘”wrestling but old-timey”, the plot for Colonial Combat is densely packed and in all fairness probably overcrowded. It’s an ensemble piece, so there’s no set lead to guide us through the fictional Kauri Bay of 1836 with a clear sense of the world we’re looking at. There is a Cockney fight promoter, a carnie type running the wrestling show in a tent. There is a young mixed-race man born in London who runs a printing press, is involved with the wrestling and is also in the middle of an identity crisis. There is a chief and his brother and a wife in a love triangle. There is a brothel madam who is also a wrestling trainer who is also tied to industrial development. These stories move in and out of the wrestling setting, making it the tale of a town rather than the ring.

The dense plotting sets a difficult pace at only 15 minutes per episode, but the show manages to establish a world of conflict and comedy. Pre-Treaty settings are rare in the history of local TV, and Colonial Combat makes a solid effort to flesh out history with a story of competing interests. In the time before British rule, power and influence was in constant flux and fought for by all means available. The wrestling sequences in the show are an especially good dramatic proxy for that competition over power and favour, a setting where conflicts can be writ large and loud while serving spectacle.

A note on the wrestling: within the world of the show all matches are “shoot” style, meaning they are “real fights” and more in line with MMA or bare knuckle boxing. At the same time though, each fighter carries the tropes of professional wrestling: costuming, archetype and stereotype, even entrance music. It’s a decent postmodern mashup, and sets the action somewhere along the lines of Sherlock Holmes (2009) and A Knight’s Tale (2001). Fictional wrestling matches are notoriously difficult to shoot, since they’re already fictional and take anywhere between five to 50 minutes in real time, so this stylisation helps.

Mark Hadlow stars as fight promoter Harold Barker (Image: TVNZ)

The colonial combatants are made up of stunt performers and members of real-life wrestling promotions like IPW (Impact Pro Wrestling). If you have a personal trainer there’s a decent chance they’re in that ring. Each fighter stands in for their backer, so we have a convict Australian fighting for the British industrialist, a mamau kaiako (traditional Māori wrestling sensei) fighting for the local hapū, and a range of international ringers from the islands and Africa. Special focus is put on real-life champ Candy Lee from Impact Pro Wrestling, who has a multi-episode arc that addresses her transgender identity.

Even if wrestling isn’t your thing, it’s a relief to finally see any kind of action in local TV show. The long drought of action-genre content in New Zealand makes little sense when you consider the wealth of stunt talent in the country. Kiwi stunt performers have filled the ranks of countless Power Rangers spin-offs, half a dozen JRR Tolkien adaptations, superhero films like The Wolverine, sci-fi epics like Avatar and Ghost in the Shell, and all manner of small-to-mid-size-budget productions. Tapping into this resource and the emerging talents of Kiwi wrestlers is long-overdue relief. as much as the performers deserve a spotlight on screen, we also deserve to see them in full bone-crunching flight.

The full first series of Colonial Combat is online right now and free to view, and its 10th and final episode leaves  space for a very welcome second series.

Keep going!
This photo of Jay Jay and Mary Lyne sits in the window of Jaymy’s Beach Fales kitchenette. Photo: Sapeer Mayron
This photo of Jay Jay and Mary Lyne sits in the window of Jaymy’s Beach Fales kitchenette. Photo: Sapeer Mayron

ĀteaSeptember 30, 2019

The survivors of the Samoa tsunami, 10 years on

This photo of Jay Jay and Mary Lyne sits in the window of Jaymy’s Beach Fales kitchenette. Photo: Sapeer Mayron
This photo of Jay Jay and Mary Lyne sits in the window of Jaymy’s Beach Fales kitchenette. Photo: Sapeer Mayron

On the tenth anniversary of the tsunami that claimed 143 lives in Samoa, Sapeer Mayron speaks to the people who were there.

Sapeer Mayron is a reporter for the Samoa Observer, covering the 10th anniversary of the 2009 Tsunami. 

Ten years have passed since a devastating tsunami thrashed the shores of Samoa, and took the lives of 143 people in minutes. 

For some, the 8.1 magnitude earthquake and the tsunami that came eight minutes later feels like yesterday. For others, it has been ten long years of rebuilding, recovering and moving forward.

Taleo Vaaiga is one who has not looked back. He and his family never left the coast in Saleapaga, and immediately began rebuilding Manusina Beach Fales, the business his parents started back in 1994.

Taleo Vaaiga rebuilt Manusina Beach Fales following the tsunami. Photo: Sapeer Mayron

“I am just thinking forward. The tsunami is over” he said.

They had no power, running water, or a car. And they were alone, with other survivors already rebuilding their lives up on the village hilltop.

Taleo remembers hearing voices and cries of babies in the night from the sea. At least 30 people died from Saleapaga that day.

But leaving his family’s land was not on the table.

“It was really difficult, and it was really hard for us to continue to stay here, but we tried our best to make our family members excited to return our life to the beginning,” he said. 

For another beach fale owner in the village, returning to the coast after moving uphill was, and still is, slow going.

Perelini Ulugia is still scared of another tsunami, but has rebuilt his life on the coast anyway. Photo: Sapeer Mayron

Perelini Ulugia and his wife lost their two year old Jay Jay and seven month old Mary Lyne to the tsunami.

It took Perelini and his wife four years to move back down to the coast. His wife didn’t want to lose her land, or her memories of their children there, and he admits she had to push him to move.

Together they built Jaymy’s Beach Fales, named in honour of Jay Jay and Mary Lyne. Their photo is in the window of the kitchenette in the dining fale.

Today, if the wind is extra strong at night he imagines another tsunami is coming, and panics.

Elders in Saleapaga who have stayed uphill until today face both challenges and blessings, feeling safer away from the sea but struggling to live without it. 

“When we lived near the sea, we were able to do so many tasks. We wanted some fish, we were near the fish,” village matai (chief), Puletinatoa Povalu said.

“When we were near the sea, the village council’s role was secured but it does not feel that way anymore. In those times it was so easy to see your neighbours and chat but now that is so hard.”

Just 4.5 kilometres away in Lalomanu, 60 people died in the tsunami. That was 7.5 per cent of the population at the time. 

Lisha Ofisa Filipo survived because his quick thinking bus driver sped up the hill instead of continuing along the coastline when the earthquake hit.

Lisha lost ten family members to the tsunami, including a baby boy. But he tries to talk about it often. 

“The more you talk about the tsunami the more the grieving inside you, the sad feeling inside you is released,” he said.

Lisha Ofisa Filipo from Lalomanu was just 19 when the tsunami hit. Photo: Sapeer Mayron

For many families in the region, moving to customary land in the hills with existing plantations made recovery easier.

Research by the Family Centre in New Zealand and the Archdiocese of Samoa found 94.1 per cent of families affected by the tsunami had access to other customary land.

Counsellor and researcher Taimalieutu Kiwi Tamasese, who arrived the day after the tsunami with a platoon of mental health workers, believes that customary land, as well as Samoa’s cultural and religious identity explains how people were able to recover.

“We take that away and we may not be able to respond to another natural disaster as fast as we did to that one,” she said.

Samoa’s pastoral care capacity also proved essential. The Family Centre quickly trained 40 volunteers from the Catholic Archdiocese to deliver post-disaster counselling, which they did for 301 families over the next five months.

“Our people here, the priests, nuns and catechists would have been skilled to provide counselling to families, be it on the physical level, spiritual level or mental level,” Taimalieutu said.

“They need to be supported with just a few other skills to actually not be so confounded at the moment of tragedy.”

Speaking to just a few survivors ten years on, it is clear Samoa is strong in the face of adversity. But the old wounds of the tsunami will not heal fully without help.

Those who stayed and rebuilt their hospitality businesses have shared their stories with thousands of tourists in the last decade. They appear stronger for it. There are many that have not talked about it to this day. 

And the impacts of climate change are already affecting the survivors. 

Samoa’s sea level has already risen more than the global average; by about four millimetres per year since 1993 (the global average is 2.8 to 3.6 mm per year). Under a high carbon emissions scenario could rise between five and 15 centimetres by 2030.

Coastal erosion is damaging the beach fale businesses and the Aleipata district tourism association is looking at moving everyone inland – including the main road.

Two years of extra high king tides have reached parts of the shore they never used to. Both Taleo and Perelini are concerned for their futures.

“It’s a big job, it will cost a lot,” Taleo said about moving the fales inland. But he is not going anywhere.