A new production called Coolie: The Story of the Girmityas is shedding light on the lesser-known history of the Indian indentured labourers.

Poet and music producer Nadia Freeman’s latest work gives life to the hidden voice of her Indo-Fijian ancestors through electronic music and theatre.

“I just felt like I was losing more of my ancestry and my ethnicity, and I wanted to look more into it to understand,” Freeman says.

The show opened on Thursday at the Kia Mau contemporary Māori, Pasifika and indigenous arts festival.

“Coolie”, which is used in the production’s title, was a derogatory term used by British colonial supervisors when addressing the workers in Fiji.

“I want people who are outside that community to know what happened, to know more about,” she said.

Who were the Girmityas?
The Indian workers were called the Girmityas, which in Hindi means “agreement”. The agreement was initially for five years, but it was extendable.

On finishing five years abroad, they were permitted to return to India at their own expense or serve 10 more years and return at the expense of the British colonial government.

Some workers returned home, but many could not afford the return journey and were stuck in Fiji.

“We are still quite an angry community … angry because we haven’t healed,” says businessman and community advocate Nik Naidu.

His grandfather, M.N. Naidu, was an indentured labourer who was on a ship to Fiji in the early 1900s.

Like many Indians who were sent to Fiji, Naidu’s grandfather was also looking for a better life.

“They were living in dire poverty and were looking for money to support their families, so that’s how my grandfather got on the ship,” Naidu says.

Challenging life
Life in Fiji was challenging.

The journey took months, and many did not even make it to Fiji. That was not the end of their struggles.

“There was hardship and there were difficulties,” Naidu says.

“In the beginning, it was the harshness of plantation life, poor living conditions, you know, resettlement, displacement, realisation of not being able to return, inability to participate in their religion properly, and, you know, the caste system that existed, the difficulties and, of course, lack of women.”

Finding a companion was a challenge for many young Girmits. The disproportionate sex ratio meant there were only 40 women for every 100 men.

Journalist Sri Krishnamurthi has also heard many stories about the Girmityas from his grandparents.

Working sugar canefields
“My grandmother, Bonamma, came from India with my grandfather and came to work in the sugar canefields under the indentured system,” Krishnamurthi says.

“They lived in ‘lines’ — a row of one-room houses. They worked the cane fields from 6am to 6pm largely without a break. It was basically slavery in all but name.”

Krishnamurthi remembers the story about his grandfather, who was sent back to India, “because he thumped a coolumbar sahib” (a white man on horseback who made sure the work was done) who was whipping the workers.

Naidu says: “I wasn’t fortunate enough to meet my grandfather. I was 2 years old when he passed away and he went back to India and passed away in India.”

His family is now running the organisations that his father started, including schools.

“The colonial administration at the time did not want to educate the Fijian Indians,” he says.

“They wanted them to stay in servitude, as small farmers who were always dependent on the sugar cane plantations and uneducated.”

Addressing new challenges
A few weeks ago, the community celebrated the 144th Girmit Remembrance Day in New Zealand.

“We remembered our forefathers, who had contributed towards this development of the Fiji Indian community,” says Krish Naidu, president of the Fiji Girmit Foundation.

“It is a day where we honour and remember their struggles and sacrifices, but we also celebrate their resilience.

“It’s important our young people in particular actually understand who we are, where we come from.”

In 2023, a new challenge emerged for the Indo-Fijian community in New Zealand. The government’s decision to classify them as Asians rather than Pacific Islanders is stirring criticism within the community.

“Because we, as people with Indian biological traits, are not considered by the Ministry of Pacific,” Naidu says.

Naidu thinks that the government’s move is “unfair”.

“We get emails and messages from students because they miss out on specific scholarships,” he says.

However, he was delighted for the newly announced Girmit Day, a national holiday in Fiji.

“We were the actual architects of it because we’ve been pushing for the holiday since 2015 in Fiji,” he says.

“We are absolutely overjoyed.”

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Last week, writer Sherry Zhang was at the opening night of Auckland Theatre Company’s production of Single Asian Female. She’s waited to see it since 2019 and now, having finally seen it on New Zealand shores, she reflects on the play and what it means to her.

I’ve been waiting for a while to see this show. I first heard about Single Asian Female in 2019 from a Sydney friend who told me I had to see it. “I’ll fly over from Auckland then,” I joked, but more than half-serious.

So in 2021, when Kat Tsz Hung, who plays Chinese matriarch Pearl Wong, stared defiantly at me on a giant yellow post in Auckland Theatre Company’s Waterfront Theatre, I was beyond chuffed.

I’ve waited so long because it’s about time.

Single Asian Female premiered in Sydney years ago and only reached New Zealand shores in 2021.

To be produced at ATC is as mainstream as you can get with theatre in New Zealand. It’s validating to have an Asian-centric story, directed and written, right at the Viaduct. I’ve been to a few ATC shows now, and the audience is generally a sea of white hair on white people.

There’s been incredible mahi buzzing from Proudly Asian Theatre for the past few years, championing the community needs and interests. From producing works, supporting emerging artists, and calling out the lack of diversity in Aotearoa’s performance spaces for Asian creatives.

Working with PAT on this project is smart for ATC, it provides them with some street cred for an institution that has otherwise been slow on the diversity and inclusion front.

Just a few years ago, ATC was still pumping out predominantly all-white casts and all-white production teams. (The two actors of colour had fleeting, almost silent roles).

Sacrifice of our parents
Single Asian Female is a thank you to the sacrifice our parents endure to bring up children in an Australasian space. As the character Pearl says, “food is the great equaliser, our stomachs are the same”.

Our parents run restaurants or takeaways so we can have a chance at a better life. They cook because they can, and it pays.

A scene familiar to me: older siblings running the tables while you sit in the corner finishing maths homework. Or being pulled in to do shift work even if you have prior commitments, because who else is going to run the family business?

Playwright Michelle Law isn’t afraid to pick apart the “tiger mum”, parenting trope. Pearl has so much love for her daughters Zoe (Xana Tang) and Mei (Bridget Wong). She’s funny, supportive and would do anything to protect her children. But she’s also snappy, harsh and overbearing.

It tapped into a fair amount of mother issues I’m still carrying. My friends and I all walked out of the theatre slightly dazed, because “I’m pretty sure line for line, that’s something my Mum has said”.

I was pretty good at holding back the tears, until the final scenes when Zoe shares the songs Pearl would sing to calm her down when she has panic attacks. I sobbed a bit in the dark until the red lanterns and glitzy dance lights came on again for the karaoke finale spectacular.

I see how Asian mothers talk about their duty to their children. This martyrdom of suffering, of keeping up a strong face, often translates into coldness. Pearl’s chants of “I am strong,” is both inspiring and heart-wrenching.

Gorgeous one-liners
The transition from the play’s original setting on the Gold Coast to Mt Maunganui provides some gorgeous one-liners about Winston Peters and L&P. But there are some awkward translations, with jokes about Penny Wong, openly queer Australian MP, not sitting as smoothly.

It felt like a missed opportunity to flesh out queerness in Chinese culture.

I understood the joke was in Pearl’s unexpected openness regarding sexuality (and her complete horror of Zoe’s unexpected pregnancy). But to use queerness as the punchline felt like a slap in the face as someone who’s continuing to unpack the trauma of being queer in a conservative Chinese family.

Other moments that stung include the racist comments Mei endures from her Pākeha high school friends. The internalised racism and identity unravelling is a particular point of growing up Kiwi-Asian.

But it frustrated me when on opening night, non-Asian audience members laughed at these comments. “Oi, it’s literally just our reality,” I wanted to shout.

At first, I struggled to place how old Mei was. But through her growth, I found her characterisation to be realistically matched with the sophistication 17-year-old teenage girls deserve.

Xana Tang’s performance as Zoe was particularly charming, while Kat Tsz Hung was flamboyant and unapologetic as Pearl. To see Asian women taking up space, loud and demanding attention is a necessary breakdown of the small, quiet and obedient stereotypes enforced upon us.

Director Cassandre Tse expertly moves us from moments of immense heartache and grief to fits of laughter. A balance and lightness needed to transport us through a two and a half hour play that holds rather heavy traumatic themes.

We’ve been waiting to hear our mothers, sisters and ourselves speak for so long, and now I just want even more.

• Single Asian Female. By Michelle Law. ASB Waterfront Theatre, Auckland. 27 April– 15 May 2021. This review is republished from the Asia Media Centre under a Creative Commons licence.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz