Literature & Identity: An Interview with Kanak Author Noëlla Poemate
- Pacific Islanders in Publishing
- 4 days ago
- 11 min read
This text is the transcription and translation of an interview by La Pause Décoloniale podcast with Noëlla Poemate, a Kanak author from the Baco tribe. Noëlla Poemate is a French teacher at the Tiéta Secondary School in Voh and the president of the Poa Boa Vi Thila (the place where the elders met) association, which manages the Pomémie Cultural Centre in Koné. Among her literary work are the novellas La Fille de la Ville (The City Girl), Je suis un Enfant de la Rivière (I am a Child of the River) as well as Olé Oléti, a collaborative work with Léopold Hnacipan. She also wrote Tabou, an unpublished novella referenced in Alan Nogues’ documentary “La Littérature est un voyage” (Literature Is a Journey).
La Pause Décoloniale is a podcast and show broadcast on Djiido Radio. It explores decolonization from the perspectives of women from Kanaky, the Pacific, and beyond. The interview was conducted by Roselyne Makalu in 2024. It was later translated by Anaïs Duong-Pedica. The interview was released in two episodes of which this transcription is only an excerpt.
Roselyne Makalu: You are an author. I have read some of your books, including “La Fille de la Ville” which really touched me. What does writing represent for you? What and who do you talk about in your stories? Does the tribe inspire you?
Noëlla Poemate: I have been writing since I was a child, so at the beginning writing was a game. It was entertaining. We didn’t have a TV. I mean, we only had two TV channels at the time, and in black and white, so one of my pastimes was to write. I won my first prizes when I was in secondary school, so I felt like it was good because writing was recognized. After that, it’s true that I was inspired by the tribe to create the setting for my novellas. I’m not going to talk about New York when I grew up in Baco! Even though I would have liked to know New York.
So yes, I am inspired by the tribe to set the scene. In terms of the characters, I am inspired a lot by the people that I know, the people in my surroundings, and their personalities. It’s as though you are giving life to fictional characters but using reality to get into the story. Because you cannot know your story if you don’t know your characters. That’s why, to really know your characters, you draw inspiration from what surrounds you. I talk about the yam field, in order to set the scene. We talk about what we know, otherwise we don’t talk.
RM: It seems that writing was really something that you did since you were little. The only reason you wrote was because you were so passionate about it when you were a child.
NP: You know, my grandmother’s brother used to say that we all have a gift, and I think that writing is a gift that I received. Then, one needs to exploit one’s gift. As I was saying earlier, at the beginning, writing was just a pastime and, later on, I realized I had to be careful. You can write, you can also talk about anything, but you must be careful about the words you’re going to put down, because they will stay. The word stays. We always say we are the people of orality, so when we say something, it stays.
But it does not matter whether it’s among the Kanak or another ethnic group, when we say something to an adult or a child, it stays. Where it becomes “dangerous” with writing is when the spoken word stays on the paper. If it gets published and read, it means that the word will be disseminated, so you have to temper certain texts. I don’t know if I talk about everything in the books or novellas that I write – because I write novellas.
Sometimes you can write, but you have to be careful not to upset people. Especially among us. While my grandparents and my parents are no longer with us, my mother’s uncle and little sister are. That means that when I write, if I’m inspired by something that’s happened, I am still mindful… of not exposing them, because I don’t give names to my characters, but I still try to be mindful.
RM: When you write a book, do you warn them before publishing it?
NP: For some books, I didn't warn them beforehand, because they explored themes I felt I could write about freely.There were other novellas that I wrote where I didn’t speak directly to my uncle, but I spoke with my aunt and I asked, “can I speak about this?” She said “yes, but careful, you need to remove this, you need to remove that…” So she filtered it a bit.
Also, when it is too personal and that people in my family can recognize themselves, I ask for permission. For instance, it has already happened that I had to delete an entire section of a story because a family member didn’t want me to talk about what had happened, so I said I will remove it, even though it denatures the story, but eventually, publishers decide whether they want it or not.
RM: In your texts, you denounce a lot of the problems of contemporary Kanak society through your characters, to whom you don’t give names. You point your finger at facts and situations that are normalized, for example rudeness. Can you talk a little bit about your approach?
NP: You spoke of “La Fille de la Ville” earlier. When I wrote this novella, it was because at the high school where I work, and even around me, I heard the word “bastard” being used a lot. That’s why I told myself I will write about this word… My first thought was to write for children, to show them that the word “bastard” does not have a place... Because in the tribe, we always have an uncle, a dad, who will play the role of the father who is absent, so this word really was problematic for me. Also, because children tend to talk and to say things, and the adults around just laugh about it.
But no, we’re talking about education. Should we make rudeness something banal? If we do that, what will come next? Verbal violence, because we allow a child to behave in this way by laughing at their silliness, so verbal violence is what follows. After that, it’ll just be plain violence that’ll follow.
RM: Physical violence…
NP: Yeah, physical violence. As adults, how do we let children talk like this and laugh at them being silly? That’s something that I don’t endorse. So that’s what inspired “La Fille de la Ville.” Later, the story became a story of rape, but that wasn’t the first intention of this novella.
RM: We started the year 2024 with the death of three young people in their twenties, including one victim of feminicide. Recently, there was a march organized by the “Cris et Pleurs de Femmes” collective on January 27th. You explore the topic of violence against women in your work. What can you tell us about this violence and of the act of marching to denounce violence against women?
NP: Firstly, all my condolences to the family of the young girl who died on January 1st. When I saw that there was going to be a march, I thought: “Again? But for what?”. I have myself organized a march in the village in Koné for one of the mums who had endured violence in Canala. I thought, “Another march? Until when are we going to march? What’s the goal?”
When I approached this topic in my novella “Un Prénom de Fleur”, it wasn’t to denounce, it was because I thought the situation was absurd. This was because the young girl who died (it’s a real story that happened here) was someone I had seen the Friday before I went to Nouméa. I didn’t know her personally, but I would see her around often. I thought it was absurd that she was dead, just like that. I found it inconceivable, I had seen her on Friday before leaving for Nouméa with my students, and then, I learned that during the night she had been killed.
I wanted to talk about this because things happen very quickly, and then we say that it’s because of alcohol: “Yeah, I was drunk and I don’t remember anything”... No, this has to stop. If drinking means hitting someone, you better stop drinking.
RM: Are you politically engaged? Although here, when we speak of political engagement, we often mean it in the sense of engagement in a political party.
NP: I don’t know if I’m politically engaged. I say what I think. I tell my students, and I make fun of the fact that I speak really badly. Even my big brother asked, “Are you sure you’re the one writing these books? Because you speak badly”. It was an inspector in literature last year who said that I spoke a “français cailla.” But I wanted to tell her, “I grew up in the tribe. I won’t Frenchify or disguise myself just to make you happy.” However, what I teach students is that I write really well. What I write, I have learnt it at school, through my experiences, and that is what I transmit to my students: writing.
So, I don’t know if I’m politically engaged, I only know that when I do something, I try to go all the way. But I don’t do this to be recognized. I learnt to be like this: when you start a task, you finish it. It’s working towards the well-being of the collective. There are things I have never told about some experiences I have had. For example, my Year 6 teacher used to say that I was cheating. Speaking of this, hello Mr. Guéry, I have not forgotten. It’s just to say…
RM: He’s affected you.
NP: He affected me because he was underestimating me by suggesting that I was not capable of having good results compared to other students.
RM: It was impossible for him to imagine that you were doing good work.
NP: Yes, and when he told me this in Year 6, I thought, “I don’t know, I didn’t cheat, I learn my lessons, I do my homework…” So I did all my secondary education in Koné, and when I went to high school, the same thing happened. I forgot the name of this teacher, but he said something similar in the teachers’ meeting, just because I got 18/20 in written French and 12/20 in oral French at the Baccalaureate, so that’s why I say sometimes I struggle to express myself orally, or I speak as though I was at the tribe…
RM: There is a gap between written and oral French…
NP: Yes, there is a big gap for me, but I acknowledge that. This teacher said, “it’s just luck that got her an 18/20 in written French, let’s see if she gets her diploma”. Well I got my diploma! So it was just to show the preconceptions. So it’s these experiences that have shaped me. Another thing is the experience of living 6 years in France, far from family… We were forced to defend ourselves to speak our truth.
RM: You have spoken about what you transmit to your students as a French teacher in a private secondary school. What are your thoughts on the current education system?
NP: It doesn’t work! For instance, soon we’ll get back to school on February 12th. Seriously? February 12th… We don’t have air conditioning in our classrooms. Our students will be tired, sleepy, we have to keep them interested… It doesn’t work. We may have to rethink all this because children don’t make the school their own. It’s not all children, but the children who like going to school are exceptional cases. Most children don’t like school. Personally, I teach French. So, try to talk to them about Victor Hugo or Guy de Maupassant when it’s 40°C in the classroom… I can tell you that the Victor Hugos and the Maupassants won’t be remembered. We need to have a different approach. When we talk among colleagues, we speak a lot about the anglophone education system, where the main subjects are in the morning so children can do activities in the afternoon. For example, fishing, teaching them to dig for worms…
RM: Taking them out of the classroom…
NP: Taking them out of the classroom, having a more practical approach, gardening… There was a debate on social media because there was a secondary school in Nouméa where students worked on a yam field. There was a lady who said: “If it’s going to be like this, then everyone goes around in their manou and that’s it.” I wanted to tell this lady that all the big yam sellers in our region, they’re not Kanak, they’re Caldoches who own large fields and are able to sell yams. So, what is degrading about the idea of teaching a French or a Vietnamese child to plant and harvest yams?
RM: It’s racist thinking…
NP: Yes, it’s racist. Would this lady, who is as white as these Caldoches, tell them that their work is degrading? Personally, I respect the work these farmers do because they’re the ones who supply yams in large quantities. So they also work the land. School is also about the values we want to transmit and working out ways to create links between different social groups. I think children forge these links when they create memories and do things and activities together…As teachers, we need to find ways for children to learn in good conditions. For me, ideally, and I always tell that to my students, and they look at me with happy expressions: starting school at 8am. Why do we start school at 7am? Can you imagine?
At our school, we start at 7:45am. Some children have to wake up at 4am to take the bus at 5am because they come from remote tribes. So they've been awake since 4am, and then we start school at 7:45am. That’s why I tell the students, if we start at 8am, we can have a break around 12:30 or 1pm, they eat and in the afternoon, they’re doing activities. So they can play football, basketball, tennis, or paint, do music, I don’t know.
RM: Are there parents who defer to the school for their children’s education?
NP: Yes, there are many, but they’re after us if we’re too tough on their children. Personally, I really involve the parents when I think they need to be involved, but many of them think that it’s the school's role to educate their children. Since we are in private education, we do a little more. I am very tough on my students, but when they have a football game, I go watch them. There’s a relationship between us and the students. Even if we tell them off a lot, we also support them outside of school a lot. But both children and parents often forget they are the key to success – if the child is willing and the parents are supporting them. It’s not us. We only give them work methods and help the child graduate, find their path in high school, and become a person who can integrate into society, a good person we hope.
RM: We are reaching the end of this interview. Thank you very much for accepting La Pause Décoloniale’s invitation. We used formal pronouns to speak to each other, but in reality, we are sisters. Thank you sista for accepting this invitation and all the words you have shared for the youth and the country.
Listen to the first part of Noëlla Poemate’s interview (in French) here, and to the second part here.
[1] The expression « cailla » here is a diminutive for “caillafou,” a local French expression which refers to doing something without thinking about it too much, perhaps in haste. So in this instance, the national education inspector told Noëlla that she spoke a type of French that was “caillafou”, illustrating a bourgeois and colonial perception of different ways of speaking French and a cultural hierarchy in which tribal French is perceived as improper.
[2] Private education (catholic and protestant) is an important part of Kanak history since missionaries were the first to educate Kanak children. To this day, private schools play a significant role in Kanak children’s education and the majority of students in private education are Kanak. Unfortunately, they have been experiencing financial and funding issues for several years.
[3] A “manou” is a cloth that can be used for kanak customary gestures or to wear as a wraparound skirt. It is the kanak equivalent of the Tahitian pāreu or pareo.
[4] “Caldoches” are white settlers who have lived in Kanaky for generations. They are the descendants of people sent to the penitentiary and free settlers.
