Tuesday Poem: After the shower

I am a map

a network
of blue-green
avenues

revealed
like invisible ink
by heat

tracing lines
to destinations
yet unknown

landmarks
that push
rise/subside

the small
imprint
of a foot

I'm no
good
at reading

maps

How to freak out a husband

A few days ago, Mark, having read the graphic book chapter I gave him on birthing, quietly went downstairs, got the roll of industrial-strength plastic that we used to waterproof our garage with, and covered our mattress in a double sheet of it. So now when I roll over in bed (every ten minutes) I make loud crinkly noises, in addition to the other noises which have been a feature of our bedroom for some time now (small grunts followed by satisfied exhalation as the bump overcomes momentum and settles into position as I try to change sides; surprised little 'ahs!' from me as the baby scrapes foot/hand/head along peritoneum; a shuffle-grunt-shuffle acompanying my Olympian efforts to get out of bed for yet another pee.)

It seems Mark's taken seriously the threat of catastrophic flooding, should my waters break. Even though this is much rarer than what the movies/TV would have you believe. He's also learning interesting new vocabulary like 'show', 'epidural', 'episiotomy' and 'engagement' (note to other father to bes: when your wife says "I think she's engaged", saying "really? I didn't think she was old enough," is unlikely to be funny.) And over the past week, I've been getting more and more Braxton-Hicks 'practice' contractions.

Anyway. Today while pottering around the house I felt a gush between my legs, went "Oooo" and looked down. The gush isn't that unusual (I can see all you ever-been-pregnant ladies reading this and nodding sagely). I did the usual thing - went to the loo to check the size and nature of this latest leakage. Looked up to see Mark frozen in the doorway.

"What?"
"Are you..OK?"
"Yeah.... why wouldn't I be?"
"Ok. Ok."

My bags still aren't packed for the hospital. Maybe I should soon, if only to stave off Murphy's Law.

Tuesday Poem: First Ball

three tight coils of baby cheeked freshness, bought for her by her mother. Primped, curled, sprayed with morning dew by the florist and tied with a bow in complementary shades. pinned rose petal against rose satin, ah the picture of innocent loveliness. 

going to the ball in the rain in the rain in the rain

one face, an older man with red hair. two songs by Bryan Adams. four beers, one of them spilt on her dress (but it was an accident). hands on her waist sliding downwards and down. run to the toilet petals still pert on her chest the morning dew long gone the innocence not long after. it was a silly dream. he didn’t kiss her. he’s still dancing with his mates. the petals silent now. the moistness dries.

three tight coils dried upside down and hanging her closet. coiled in embryonic waiting, they hang.

**

Apologies for my absence in verse. The act of swelling physically makes me swell with words and inspiration, too, but actually getting to the computer to start working on a new poem feels like far too ambitious a proposition in my brain-tired, third trimester state. Especially when there are other deadlines and projects jostling for the times when I don't feel like sleeping/watching zombie TV. But no more excuses!! Baby is imminent (I'm at 36 weeks and getting regular Braxton Hicks "practice" contractions, am convinced it's any day now - all the more so because I've also procrastinated on packing my hospital bag).

Anyway, this week I have posted a prose poem - semi true/semi fictional. As close to flash fiction as I have got so far. For more flash fiction, go to Tuesday Poem.

The Transit of Venus forum

 It's been a fairly lazy weekend - visits from friends and family, a rehearsal at TAPAC for Culture Clash, lots of sleeping and procrastination. I'm relieved to be home in Auckland and "staying home" from now until the baby arrives (and I'm presuming that the often-mentioned new mother fatigue will keep me home for a while after!).  I've been reading "new baby" books cover to cover, freaking out over detailed descriptions of labour pain, and collecting lots of compliments about The Belly (common comments:"You've still got that glow", "ooo, you're carrying quite low", "oo, you're big", and conversely, "you're quite compact.") For her part, Little Fish has been doing her bit by growing, so she's not really that little any more. She's also very, very wriggly and likes kicking Mark in the back when we're trying to sleep.


It's been a very busy 6 weeks before this. I was more or less doing back to back locums and conferences which meant lots of uncomfortable plane and car trips. Luckily it's all over now, although I'm still having to do stuff in Auckland.

Last weekend Mark and I returned from a trip to Gisborne (a meandering 7 hours' drive southeast) for the Transit of Venus Forum, a 4-day event which aimed to start conversations about how science could drive NZ forward.  It was a lovely event - a mix of community engagement events and more traditional 'conference' style proceedings, all run with idea of getting maximal input from/between attendees, the local East Coast community (who hosted us in Tolaga Bay on the day of the actual Transit, then attended the forum itself), and people watching the live webcast. I guess it remains to be seen whether the lofty goal of not only having the conversations, but getting the NZ public/policymakers to listen, will actually happen. But it was such a positive thing to be involved in and I felt entirely comfortable and in my element. I really hope the conversations will continue!

Here's the video of our day in Tolaga Bay observing the Transit and then taking part in local celebrations (including a hangi, yum) : you'll notice a cameo from Little Fish towards the end!



I was lucky enough to be asked to be a speaker at the forum and my session, the final one of the forum, focussed on "The People". Our speeches were kept short and to the point so as to encourage discussion rather than didactic speechmaking. Much harder for people to fall asleep that way!

Here's the text of my talk: (7 minutes!)

As you can see, I have a little private science project on the go, and I hope the results won’t be delivered before I get back to Auckland. 

As a mum-to-be, I have a lot of questions – what will my child be like? Will she have her father’s nose? And the big question, what will she be able to achieve?  I can tell you that being a paediatrician does not lessen all those hopes and fears – if anything, it makes me a little more paranoid.

So what are the things that influence a child as it grows up?  Each one of us is a complex tapestry - an interplay of genetics, physical and social environments – but it’s possible to tease out the common strands.

And that’s my subtle segue into talking about how we can use science to understand NZ’s greatest resource – ourselves, the people. I’m going to talk about longitudinal studies. What is a longitudinal study?

I like to use something called the onion model.

Here’s the individual with his or her cocktail of genes, cocooned in their whanau and immediate physical environment, interacting with their community, and then influenced by the layers of the wider environment – cultural, social, education, policy, environment and so on, at a national and then international level.  These influences change over time as a baby grows into an adult (so now the onion looks more like a wobbly leek), and you could use the same model to look at changes over generations or even whole populations.

It’s this change over time in a population that longitudinal studies are good at looking at. It’s complex, it takes patience and it’s expensive, but gives us incredible depth and the potential to search out those patterns which can then be applied to answer questions like:

What are the factors before birth that influence health in adulthood?

How do we make sure children achieve their full potential?

What factors give families the resilience and the ability to cope with adversity?

This is a type of science NZ is already very good at. Data from the pioneering Otago and Dunedin longitudinal studies, now nearly 40 years old, influences health and policy around the world. 

Growing Up in NZ, where I’ve been involved as a core researcher, is following approximately 7000 NZ children and their families from before birth to when they are adults – the kids are between two and three years old now, so we’ve got a way to go. It has several very unique qualities. One is that we are one of very few longitudinal studies in the world to study fathers as an essential part of the family unit.

Another is that our families reflect the diversity of New Zealanders today – socioeconomic, urban and rural dwellers, and most importantly, cultural. Our cohort is broadly generalisable to the NZ population and proportionally represents Maori, Pakeha, Pacific, Asian and other ethnic families. Excitingly, and appropriately, there are many mixed-ethnicity kids.

NZ is unique in that it sits on a faultline where many traditions and cultures are colliding and changing each other, but (if you’ll forgive the earthquake analogy) we’re stable enough to study the aftershocks. Further, our research team is diverse - coming from across many disciplines – health, social sciences, education, culture and humanities, and includes different NZ universities and centres of excellence, so we can use ideas and links from as wide a base as possible.

Finally, and most importantly, Growing Up in NZ operates under a kaitiaki principle – of guardianship of the data we collect, for the benefit of all New Zealanders. From the beginning, we’ve seen ourselves as being in collaboration with families and communities, with a responsibility to report back to those groups, as well as to the wider research community, and to government. A key aim for Growing Up in NZ is for important findings to translate into real action. 

Growing Up in NZ is part of an international network of longitudinal studies and we’re actively collaborating and exchanging skills (and, I can tell you that people overseas are excited about our study.)

 

So how can a study like this contribute to the conversation about making NZ a better place for all? Well, we’re only just out of nappies, but already we have a few things to say.  The data generated is enormous, and we’re still working our way through it, so I’ll just give you a taster.

Firstly, the study confirms that NZ society and family structure are changing very fast. 1 in 3 NZ children have at least one parent not born in NZ. The traditional nuclear family model is less and less the case – nearly 24% of mothers live with extended family, and as you might expect this varies depending on the cultural environment. Most mums now work before and after their babies are born, and only half the families own their own home.

But despite their diversity, NZ parents share similar hopes and dreams for their children.  Most parents want their children to grow up happy and healthy, to learn to value their own culture and that of others, and be able to realise their own dreams as well as contribute to their community.  Many recognise NZ as a good place to nurture all these things, and if they succeed, then NZ will be well placed for the future.

What next?  I’ve mentioned the value of a scientifically robust study which recognizes complexity over time; of working across disciplines, skillsets and borders, drawing knowledge links between science, economy and humanities.  I’ve mentioned those words we’ve heard a lot this week, communication, collaboration and community.

The final word I want to mention is translation. Translation into policy, but also importantly translation into general knowledge so that our greatest resource – our people – you, me, my baby - can take the future into their own hands.

I was on TV today...

I still get excited about being on TV or radio. Although nervous in case I don't come across how I meant to.... luckily the journalists who cover arts stories all seem to be lovely, and in most cases passionate about the arts themselves.

So....I was on a new local show called Neighbourhood, where they showcase different suburbs by focussing on what various (ethnic) people are doing.  I happened to be rehearsing my play The First Asian AB for its Hamilton season at the time they filmed this episode, so here are myself and friends Robbie Ellis, Sam Mence, Paul Fagamalo and Ben Teh. Love how my boobs look bigger due to pregnancy, but they frame the shot so the bump doesn't show.

This link will only be up for a few weeks, and I think can only be viewed within NZ:
http://tvnz.co.nz/neighbourhood/s1-ep6-video-4904092  (start at 9:33)

Tuesday Poem: Christina

Brain

the eldest sister
she raised
her brothers
showed her sister

how to cook
for others first
but now she’s far
from those crowded streets

instead she’s on
an unfamiliar island

her wedding ring
still shiny
her husband
holding her at night.


Lung

cartoon dogs
on flannel sheets
wag at the rain
challenge grass clippings

inside
she vacuums
broken porcelain
from the new orange carpet

finds a discarded bib
in the corner

listens
for the first cry
from the
small bedroom.


Heart

she measures
the rice
three cups
for five mouths

slices meat
from chicken bones
to stir-fry
with choy sum

lays chopsticks
on white plates

says not to worry
she's last
to sit down
at table.


Liver

he works at the hospital
until 10 pm
wants dinner hot
when he gets home

they have two girls
and one on the way
he asks her to learn
to drive

her words boil
like soup

she swallows
picks up
the swat
to kill flies instead.

Spleen

From the new house
she can see the school
she's learning the names
of the friends' parents

her children
come home
with words
she’s never heard

she wonders whether
to ask them to explain

pays for music lessons
buys a cake to take
to the school stall
learns to make party jelly.


Kidney

today
after thirty seven years
the last daughter
leaves the house

three empty beds
faded floral curtains
a wardrobe still full
of teenage dresses

a car arrives
small feet patter

she runs past
the new high chair
opens the door
to the sound of “Por-por”.

The latest in a series of sonnet sequences I am writing about people close to me, exploring cultural beliefs to do with organ systems.

New Kiwi Women Write Their Stories

This week I started a workshop series for migrant women in Albany - it's an idea started by Matt Blomeley at Auckland City Council, and I was lucky enough to be approached as convenor. Due to Matt's hard work in promotion the course has been enthusiastically received and we started with not only a fully subscribed course, but a waiting list! You can keep track of how the workshops are going here.

Tim Jones - a virtual book tour

Tim is a friend, fellow poet and one of the most enthusiastic people I know - when I started blogging about poetry many years ago he was one of the first people to welcome me, and it's my pleasure to catch up with him whenever I'm in Wellington. Tim has recently released his third collection of poetry, Men Briefly Explained. Following his 'physical' book tour, Tim has now done a 'virtual' book tour - this blog being his final stop. So without further ado:

Renee: This is the first time I've heard of a "virtual book tour". How is it going and is it succeeding in terms of sales and getting people to read your book?

Tim: Well, I know I sold at least one book yesterday due to a recent blog interview – but I don’t think the sales benefits have been huge. There have been considerable benefits, though, in terms of getting to know the interviewers and their work – and even (fingers crossed) to maybe getting to work on a joint project with one of them. (Got to keep the details under wraps for now, though.)

Renee: For many women writers, finding time to write - in between the demands of family, paying job and housework - is a hot topic. Yet it isn't so much discussed between men - or is it?

Tim: We still live in a sexist society where women are expected to carry more of the burden of child-rearing and housework, while men are expected to carry more of the burden of generating income – and the way our social arrangements are set up reflects this. Due to changes in employment patterns, we also live in a society where women are increasingly the ones generating the income, as well as having to do those ‘traditional’ tasks. That doesn’t leave a lot of time or mental space for writing.

Having said that, in my experience, finding the time to write is a perpetual struggle for most writers.

In my case, I’m trying to find a balance between family life, my part-time job, housework (if you saw our house, you would conclude that I don’t give this much attention, yet the vacuuming and washing seems endless), and the environmental campaigns I’m involved in.

Essentially, I try to carve out one day a week for actual writing, and at least another half-day to do writing-related tasks – submitting work, and so forth.

Most of the writers I know have this struggle to balance writing, time and money, and even those who are in financial position to write full-time still have the challenge of the workload required to keep doing that. I do discuss it with my male writer friends, but almost all the writers – and especially, the great majority of the poets – I know are female. I’ve mentioned before Janis Freegard’s research that shows plenty of male poets are publishing collections – see http://janisfreegard.wordpress.com/2011/07/29/poetry-gender-in-new-zealand-publishing-part-2/ - but I don’t know who or where all these male poets are.

Renee: My favourite poem in the collection is The Problem of Descendants. What spurred you to write this poem?

Tim: The collection begins with me – or a character like me – emigrating with his family to New Zealand at age 2, in the poem “Impertinent to Sailors”. While many of the poems in the book are about other men, or about men in general, the poems that are about that character show him ageing, so it makes sense that the final poem in the book is a post-mortem. Plus, at the end of a sequence of increasingly gloomy poems about ageing, I wanted to end on a little bit of a lighter note, as this poem does. The really scary line, at least for a writer, is “file formats are rendered obsolete”.

Renee: You seem a little worried about your own transience - poems like Inheritance, and prose poems like As You Know, Bob. Is this because you've hit 'middle age', or is it because of the wider things that are happening in the world?

Tim:The state of the world worries me a great deal, but there is more of that in my two previous collections (and possibly in my next one as well, gloom fans!) Men Briefly Explained is definitely my “middle aged” collection – I have now entered that golden era in which it’s plausible to start sentences with the words “In my day…”.

Actually, I used to worry a lot more about my own transience when I was a teenager — “Aargh, I’m going to die! To die before I’ve written my masterpiece!” Even though that is probably more true than ever, it bothers me less – but, as I’d started Men Briefly Explained with poems of childhood and youth, it seemed fitting to end it with poems of age.

Renee: Do you think poetry can change thinking and make a difference?

Tim: It can, but I think it would be going too far to claim that it often does, at least in this country, at least recently. For me, New Zealand examples would include the impact of James K. Baxter’s mix of poetry and political/spiritual activism in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and the impact of feminist poets, especially in the 1970s.

In a more extreme environment such as the post-revolutionary Soviet Union, though, poetry had tremendous political impact – it’s no accident that Stalin’s regime killed, imprisoned and generally repressed so many poets.

Renee: How's the new short story collection going?

Tim: It’s taken a while, but at last I can say that it’s going well, and that I’m getting some stories drafted that (at least at the first-draft stage) I’m happy with.

Having been concentrating on poetry – both writing and editing – for the past couple of years, it has taken much mental shifting of gears to get back into short story mode. I think the turning point was actually a short-short I wrote for the first issue of Flash Frontier [http://flash-frontier.com/2012/01/26/january-2012-frontiers-2/], the new New Zealand magazine of flash fiction.

It’s as though there is a stile across the fence that divides poetry from prose. When you approach from the poetry side, the stile presents itself as flash fiction. When you approach from the prose side, the stile presents itself as the prose poem. I have decisively crossed the stile now – or is it more accurate to say that I have decisively jumped the shark?

****

For more on Men Briefly explained and how to get your hands on a copy, click here.