The pace of reviews for folktales and mythologies from around the world has slowed, but my efforts to immerse myself in ancient cultures from around the world through their stories continues. As I’ve moved beyond the more commonly known and translated stories from major cultures with strong literary traditions, like the Greeks, Indians, Chinese, and Sumerians, identifying stories to read has become more difficult, and accessible English translations elusive. Such was the case for Uta-Matua and Other Tales of Kapingamarangi, a brief collection of Polynesian stories which I could find only as an excerpt from a scholarly journal of anthropology.
The excerpt, by Samuel Elbert, is only seven pages long, and the only complete story is a translation of Uta-Matua, the others being mere summaries of stories which were dictated to Elbert. These remind me a little of the stories Binghurst shares in A Story as Sharp as a Knife, but they are too brief to provide as deep an immersion and sense of completeness as the Haida mythology imparts. Soon, I’ll be reading From Two Canoes, which I believe is a more extensive collection of stories from a similar region. For the Kapingamarangi people, animals feature less than in many comparable oral traditions, and their gods are less mythical in both façade and deed than in many other traditions. Uta-Matua is a kind of god, the founder of an island, but he is depicted more like a particularly capable man with a special destiny.
Since, at least from this collection, we can gain only a sliver of insight into the associated culture, it is difficult to draw meaningful conclusions. Instead, I find myself asking more questions. Does Uta-Matua’s role and nature reflect how the people perceived divinity as a general concept? Are there other stories of Uta-Matua, after he founds the island home? What is the significance of his walk that led to his wife swimming across the ocean and dying? It is also notable what does not appear in the story – there is little talk of cooking, shelter, and other concepts which might appear in other cultures’ stories. The main manufactured product which is referenced is a canoe, which is depicted as something cobbled together in a somewhat casual fashion.
“Founded” is also an interesting word. I keep using it to refer to what Uta-Matua does in the story, but that is not precisely right. Or rather, it is not precisely right in the sense with which we are accustomed to employing the term. Rather, Uta-Matua literally finds this island, and fights with the current inhabitant for priority or authority of some kind. If this is the founding of a people, it is an interesting double-meaning. Unfortunately, Elbert gives us little to no insight into his translation process, aside from mentioning that he received a few different versions of the story from members of the same family. Especially when translating from an oral tradition in a language less directly related to our own, translation decisions can have immense impact on the meaning of story and the significance of elements within it.
If you’re interested in reading about Uta-Matua for yourself, the excerpt can be found on JSTOR (https://www.jstor.org/stable/537200). This may be only dipping our toes in the water (an appropriate metaphor for a seafaring tradition), but I am hopeful it will serve as the starting point from which to explore the unique world of Polynesian mythologies.
IGC Publishing 