island conversations
podcast series
Welcome to SICRI’s “island conversations” podcast series.
The aim of these podcasts is to highlight the work of island studies scholars and practitioners who make a significant contribution to islands’ research, arts, and culture landscape.
The podcasts are accompanied by a curated transcript that is edited to read as an independent piece.
"Island Notes" composition in Cretan Flat Mandolin by Christophoro Gorantokaki @"Melody Box"
Welcome to SICRI’s Island Conversations podcast series. This is Dr. Evangelia Papoutsaki, the host of this podcast and SICRI’s co-convener.
in this island conversation with have Jarcinda Stowers-Ama with us.
Jarcinda is a Aotearoa / New Zealand born Cook Islands and Samoan artist, project manager and producer. Living arts and te peu Kuki Airani – the ways of Cook Islands culture and values – were the foundations of her upbringing in West Auckland.
Jarcinda is the Director of the Pacifica Arts Centre – Moanaroa and serves as a trustee on a number of governance boards and advisory groups, including Objectspace and Corban Estate Arts Centre.
She is also a founding member of Turou Takitua, a Cook Islands storytelling collective that is inspired by the knowledge and art practices passed down by her elders.
Kia orana Jarcinda!
Jarcinda Stowers-Ama. Te Maeva Nui Festival Aotearoa 2025
(photo source: Gerardus Verspeek)
Kia orana Valia, thank you for the invitation to be on the podcast.
This is a first for us in this podcast series. So far, we’ve been having conversations with island scholars, but today, we’re speaking with SICRI’s Advisory Board's inaugural creative industries island practitioner. I'm really looking forward to our conversation about how an island practitioner experiences islandness—especially through the lens of migration.
Let’s begin!
Can you share a bit about your personal island connections? What are some of your earliest memories of island culture, both here in Aotearoa and in your islands of origin?
Thank you, Valia. As you mentioned, I was born in Aotearoa—more specifically, in Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland)—and raised in West Auckland. My bloodlines connect me to Rarotonga in the Cook Islands, and to Savai‘i in Samoa.
When I think about my connection to the islands and my earliest memories, I feel incredibly blessed to have grown up in a home that was quite different from many of my friends’. Both of my parents are artists. My father is a musician and a composer of Cook Islands music. My mother—who I can only describe as a force of nature—is a creative, a weaver, a tivaevae maker, a community connector… all of it.
I share that because it really shaped the world I grew up in. My earliest memories are filled with music and living culture. That was my normal. I was constantly surrounded by the Cook Islands language, ways of being, food—everything that brings my homelands to life.
Those are all part of my early memories and my childhood.
What’s your first memory of going back to the Cook Islands?
I was really fortunate—my parents placed a strong priority on making sure I returned to the islands regularly, almost every year. I actually travelled back as a baby, which isn’t all that common. So for me, things like the Moana—the sea—are part of my earliest memories.
Where I grew up in West Auckland—we still live in the same area today, that’s how much I love it—we weren’t close to the sea. So when I think about those trips back to Rarotonga, I always remember this rickety old truck we used to ride in. We’d sit on the back of the truck—even as a baby, that’s just what we did. It was safe then, and we still do it now.
We’d arrive at my auntie’s or uncle’s house, wherever we were staying at the time, and the very first thing we’d want to do was jump in the ocean. That moment always washed away the long travel—because back then, the journey home took quite a while. So for me, it’s the smell of the sea and that cleansing feeling of getting into the water.
And it’s funny because, not only is that one of my first memories of returning home as a child, it’s still a ritual I practice today. As soon as I get off the plane—while people are busy talking or thinking about different things—all I can think about is jumping in the ocean, usually with my clothes still on! Most of the time, I’ll just dump the suitcase, ditch the laptop, and head straight for the sea. That’s how I know I’m home—as soon as I’m in the Moana, in the water, I feel that deep sense of return.
Rarotonga, Cook Islands (photo source: Cook Islands Tourism)
I can really picture that vivid image of the beautiful sea in the Cook Islands. So, you grew up in a Pacific Island household, where your culture was proudly expressed every day.
How was it growing up in Aotearoa as part of the wider Pacific Islands diaspora? And how has that shaped your identity as a New Zealand Pacific person?
I guess it’s only now, as an adult, that I realise how blessed I was to grow up in a home where there was always living art. For me, that was just normal—that was simply the way our household was.
I didn’t realise until I visited other people’s homes that not everyone had a thousand aunties and uncles coming around each week. Not everyone had someone new visiting every weekend—someone who’d come to our house, share a story, sing a song, and enjoy a meal at our table.
I genuinely didn’t know there was any other way to live until I stepped outside of that environment. I remember going to a close friend’s house—someone I’m still friends with today—and being surprised at how structured things were. Her family had a set dinner time, specific rules about how they ate and who joined them.
And suddenly, it made sense why she reacted the way she did when she came to our house. Because our place was open—anyone could come by, anytime, day or night. If you were hungry, we’d feed you. And people would bring food too—it was a constant exchange.
So even though I was physically away from my ancestral homelands, I really felt like we had our own island right here in West Auckland. And it wasn’t just Cook Islanders—we lived alongside Tuvaluans, who have a strong community in West Auckland, as well as Samoans, Niueans, and many others. It was like a rich tapestry of cultures woven around me, always present, always alive.
When I think back to that time, it still brings me joy. I grew up surrounded by community and by living art. And I felt deeply supported as a child because of that environment.
Would it be fair to say that growing up in a wider Pacific diasporic community helped you develop a broader Pacific Islands identity, as opposed to just a specifically Cook Islands identity?
Yes, absolutely. My Cook Islands culture definitely underpins much of my upbringing—especially through my parents.
But you’re right—growing up in that wider Pacific community gave me something extra, almost like a superpower. I had aunties and uncles from different islands who I saw as superheroes and role models. They would come into my life and teach me the cultural ways of wherever they were from.
So that added layers to my understanding and knowledge of Pacific cultures.
It really felt like I was growing up in a cultural village—rooted in what I learned at home from my parents, but enriched by learning about the customs of Niue, Tuvalu, and others. And I felt completely comfortable and at home within those communities too.
Are there any specific cultural values, traditions, or practices from your island upbringing—within that broader diasporic context—that continue to influence your work today?
Yes, definitely. One of the strongest values that continues to influence my work is manaakitanga—the idea of care, generosity, and looking after people. That was something I experienced daily growing up.
Whether it was welcoming someone into our home, sharing a meal, or listening to stories, that value of making people feel seen and heard has really stayed with me. It shows up in the way I collaborate, in how I lead creative projects, and in how I try to centre relationships and community in everything I do.
Another is the practice of reciprocity—giving back. Nothing was ever just taken; there was always an exchange, whether of food, knowledge, time, or energy. That idea of mutual support really grounds the way I work in the creative industries today.
And of course, there’s the value of storytelling itself. Growing up surrounded by song, language, weaving, and performance—it wasn’t just art, it was how we preserved who we were. That’s at the heart of what I do now: using creative expression to hold and share our identities, especially for Pacific people navigating life away from our homelands.
Moanaroa Artists in Residence 2025 (photo source: Ralph Brown)
This feels like a really nice transition into your professional journey and the work you’re doing now. Can you tell us about the Pacifica Arts Centre—the home of the Pacifica Mamas and the Pacifica experience?
Yes, absolutely. I’m the Director of the Pacifica Arts Centre- Moanaroa. We’re based in West Auckland, and we serve as a home for Moana—Oceania—arts, cultures, and communities.
The beating heart of our centre is the Pacifica Mamas, and their story began long before I came into the picture. It started back in the 1980s with a group of about eight women who came together in West Auckland. They were all artists, practitioners, and knowledge holders who had migrated to Aotearoa and wanted to hold on to their cultural traditions. They were looking for fellowship, for a space to create, to be together.
At that time, most Pacific people were settling in South Auckland or the central city, so in West Auckland, it wasn’t hard to spot each other. They’d see one another at markets, at the mall—sometimes literally calling out across the way, “Who are you?” That’s how they found one another and began to build something together.
These women made a decision: they wanted to create a space—a home—where Pacific people could gather, create, and keep their languages and cultural practices alive. A place where our ways of seeing, doing, and knowing could be upheld and passed on.
And that vision was the seed for what became the Pacifica Arts Centre.
It all started small. In fact, it began in our family garage—my mum was one of the founding members. That’s where all the music, creativity, and noise I spoke about earlier came from. All those aunties and uncles coming through our home—it started right there.
The centre grew quickly from those humble beginnings. One of the core values of the Mamas has always been sharing—ensuring access not just for Pacific people, but for anyone interested in learning about Pacific cultures.
They started running workshops from our home, which soon led to invitations to participate in festivals, and eventually to launching an education programme. Two of the Mamas were school teachers in Samoa before moving to New Zealand, so education has always been a key part of their kaupapa.
From that small group of eight women, if we fast-forward more than 40 years, we’ve now grown into a large, thriving organisation. Over 40,000 people connect with us each year—whether through workshops, school education programmes, artist residencies, or community events.
We now have 26 groups based at the centre, and it's become a busy, vibrant hub of activity. And all of it is thanks to the vision and dedication of those Mamas who started this journey back in the 1980s.
What an amazing legacy—starting from a garage 40 years ago, a grassroots initiative that grew up from the heart of the community. And I think that’s often the best guarantee of success and sustainability—when something is truly rooted in the people it serves. You mentioned, the Pacifica Arts Centre hosts so many projects and groups under the umbrella of the Pacifica Mamas, including the Pacifica arts educators. Could you tell us a bit more about this initiative?
Yes, that’s our Pacifica Experience programme, which actually goes out to schools. I like to call it one of the OG programmes—one of the originals that the Mamas created. It started with the aim of connecting with school groups—not just Pacific children in our local area, but children from all backgrounds—to share our arts and cultures.
Pacifica Mama Mary Ama - School Education programme workshop (photo source: Waka Pacific)
It’s one of our longest-running programmes, and probably the very first one the Mamas put together back in the 1980s. We’re still running it today, and each year around 8,000 students take part.
At its core, the programme is really about connection. It gives students the opportunity to engage with real, living Pacific arts—taught by the Mamas, and now also by people like me, who still proudly hold on to the title of "Auntie."
There are a few of us from the next generation who work in the programme now, carrying that legacy forward. Education has always been, and continues to be, a big part of what we do here at the centre.
Yes, you also have the Moanaroa Artists in Residence programme.
Yes, that’s one of our key artists-in-residence programmes. Over the years, we’ve received a lot of feedback from communities wanting to learn directly from what we call the authentic source—knowledge holders with lived experience and deep cultural understanding.
Different Pacific communities here in Aotearoa have expressed a need to reconnect with traditional art forms and strengthen their understanding of cultural protocols. And that’s really how the Moanaroa Artists in Residence programme came about.
Most recently, we completed our 2025 residency, where we had two knowledge holders fly in from Rotuma. The focus of that residency was on Rotuman arts and cultural protocols. The theme was broad, but it was entirely community-led.
People submitted specific questions and areas of interest—everything from:
“When we hold a cultural ceremony, we know where to stand, but we don’t know why,”
“We’re unsure what to wear,”
“What’s the correct food to serve?”
These are the kinds of things that can feel unclear when you’re living in Aotearoa and separated from your homelands—things that might be second nature back home, but harder to maintain in the diaspora. That’s really the purpose of the Moanaroa Artists in Residence: to strengthen and, in some cases, rebuild that connection to cultural knowledge.
This year’s residency was a beautiful experience, delivered in partnership with the New Zealand Rotuman Fellowship. None of my
team are Rotuman, so it was really important that we listened deeply and allowed the community to lead.
They told us what their needs were, what they wanted to learn, and what areas they wanted to explore. Our role was to support that—by helping shape the programme, providing infrastructure, and of course, securing funding to properly care for the knowledge holders during their time in Aotearoa.
The Moanaroa Artists in Residence is a key programme for us. It’s all about keeping that vital connection alive—between our communities here in Aotearoa and the wider Moana, the greater Pacific.
The Pacific Arts Center, Office Building – mural by Numangatini Mackenzie (photo source: Jarcinda Stowers- Ama)
Moanaroa Artists in Residence 2025 - Community Workshop Porirua (photo source: Ralph Brown)
This is really fantastic work. You’re not only supporting, addressing, and nurturing Pacific diasporic communities here in Aotearoa—you’re also keeping the fire alive with the islands. It’s a dialogue, a conversation with the islands.
Absolutely. And I really want to emphasise that it’s not a one-way relationship.
Sometimes people say, “It’s so great that communities here can receive all this knowledge and engage in cultural practices.” And while that’s true, we always say—it’s a two-way relationship.
When knowledge holders come here, we also ask: How can we support the work you’re doing back home? What resources do you need?
Often, when they come to Aotearoa, they gain access to different tools and networks—digital content creators, young people who are incredibly skilled in technology. Honestly, our young people amaze me. They’re out there making films, creating digital archives, finding new ways to document our cultures—while I’m still trying to remember my passwords!
So we make sure the programme isn’t just about receiving knowledge—it’s about building real relationships where we can also give back and support the continuation of that work in the islands.
A good example is our very first Moanaroa Artist in Residence, Dr. Jon Tikivanotau Michael Jonathan, who sadly passed away recently. One of his goals during the residency was to publish a book of Cook Islands pe’e (chants).
He told us he had written so much over the years, with many manuscripts still unpublished. Supporting that dream became a priority for us. We helped publish a beautiful book of Cook Islands pe’e, which was incredibly meaningful for him—and for us.
So yes, the relationship is truly reciprocal. That’s the heart of the Moanaroa programme.
At the same time, I know that the Pacifica Mamas are also involved in pastoral care, including visiting prisons. Could you tell us a little about that work?
That’s a great question. Sometimes people ask me, “Don’t you work at an art centre?” And I have to explain that I use the word “arts” very creatively. For the Mamas, living arts isn’t just about what you see on a piece of paper or the final product—it’s about the process. It’s about the village, the people, and the relationships that come with it.
One of the things the Mamas are very committed to is caring for the entire village—not just elders or youth, but also those going through difficult times, including people in our prison system. For many of these people, there’s usually a “why” behind their situation. Often, that “why” is a lack of connection, a loss of identity, and not feeling nurtured within what they believe to be their village environment. So a big part of the Mamas’ work is focused on wellbeing and caring for others. The programmes in prisons have been an important part of that work for many years.
We haven’t yet done any formal studies on the impact of the Mamas’ work in prisons, but it’s definitely on our “to-do” list.
But the way we measure success for the Mamas’ prison programmes is by the many men who, since being released, have become part of our community. They come back regularly without judgment.
They don’t need to explain where they’ve been for the last 10, 15 years, or however long they may have served inside. Instead, they return to this extended family of support—one that is familiar and safe. To quote one of our Mamas, it’s “a village that keeps their minds and hands doing good things.”
For me, that’s the greatest testament to the success of the programme. Pastoral care is truly at the heart of everything the Mamas do, all under this broad umbrella we call “arts.”
Art is also a powerful form of healing. Speaking of that—because you mentioned people who end up in prisons often feel disconnected from wider society—based on your experience, what are some of the challenges the Pacific diaspora in Aotearoa is facing?
One word comes to mind: connection. We have so many people participating in our programmes, and I’m often asked why we have such long waiting lists and why people are so interested in what we do. For me, the answer is simple—it comes down to connection or the lack of it.
There are many people living in Aotearoa who either have no connection to their cultural identity or are seeking to strengthen that connection—to their arts, their language, their island culture.
So the biggest challenge, I believe, is the absence of a strong foundation or connection to island culture.
Along with connection comes access. We often have people come to us saying, “I’ve wanted to learn a particular art form or dance, or my language, but I don’t know where to start.”
So again, it’s about connection—connecting people with the right resources, the right teachers, and communities where they can learn and belong. Absolutely, the biggest challenge for many Pacific people living away from their ancestral homelands is about connection.
The Pacific Arts Center, Pacifica Mamas Studio – mural by Numangatini Mackenziel (photo source: Jarcinda Stowers- Ama)
The Pacific Arts Centre provides a space not only for arts but also for art as a vehicle to create these connections.
Absolutely. As I mentioned earlier, we have 26 groups that come here regularly, and about half a dozen of those are really focused on fellowship. The main reason they come is to speak their language, be around their people, share food, and maybe—just maybe—create a little bit of art by the end of the workshop session.
But it’s really that fellowship, that being together, and the sense of community and belonging that’s such a big part of who we are as a centre, as an organisation, and as a community here at the Pacific Arts Centre.
As you’re asking me these questions, Valia, you know me well enough to know I can be a bit of a rambler when I answer! But honestly, I smile when I think about the home the Mamas have created and feel blessed—along with my team—to be in a role where we are now the heads of this household, leading and bringing all these dreams to life.
All the things we’re talking about now—creating a home where people can practise arts, belong to a community, connect, and access cultural knowledge—are not new ideas. These were the visions of the Mamas even back in the 1980s, when it all started in a garage with no funding and very few resources from home.
Those seeds they planted are now thriving and coming to life. It’s truly a blessing to be part of that journey.
Speaking of those materials from home, I remember being at the centre and seeing the Mamas weaving—but using recyclable plastic.
Caring for creation is a really big part of the Mamas’ practice. Some might call it hoarding; we prefer to call it being resourceful. The Mamas collect everything. If a button falls off a top, we have a drawer for it. If there’s a loose thread hanging off your dress, we’ll cut that little piece of string, store it away, and eventually use it.
One thing the Mamas always say—especially when we visit schools—is that even if we don’t have the same resources we did back home, with creativity we can still keep our culture alive, just in different ways.
Many of the plants and materials we used in the islands don’t thrive in Aotearoa’s climate, so they don’t grow here.
But the Mamas are incredibly innovative and creative. They use plastic and recycled materials, which has even led to partnerships with local factories that used to burn plastic waste, like plastic strapping that’s otherwise impossible to get rid of.
The Mamas take these materials, which would otherwise be discarded, and transform them into beautiful creations—woven bags and everyday household items, even sculptures displayed in exhibitions. So caring for creation, recycling, reusing, and protecting the environment are all central to the Mamas’ artistic practice.
Pacifica Mamas, The Ei Project - weaving with repurposed plastics
(photo source: Raymond Sagapolutele)
I’m in awe. The older generation has such a remarkable capacity to be resourceful and innovative, and I think part of the centre’s success comes from relying on that collective island wisdom.
Jarcinda, you’ve talked about how the centre provides a space for the community but also makes important connections to the ancestral islands. I’m curious—how do you see your work fitting into the broader landscape of New Zealand’s Pacific arts and culture scene, as well as the wider Aotearoa creative industry?
When I think about that, I’m not sure we’ve ever really thought about it as “fitting in.” Instead, the way the Mamas have built the centre, laid the foundations, and designed the programmes has been about providing a home—a place where people can learn, create, and connect.
It feels more like the arts landscape has naturally wrapped itself around us, rather than us trying to fit in. Our artists and communities play a vital role in making sure Pacific voices are heard and our creative talents are seen beyond just our immediate communities.
So, I wouldn’t say we fit in somewhere; instead, we do what we do authentically. Over the years, people have naturally been drawn to the centre—not only because of the high-quality art produced here, but also because of the energy and pastoral care that we offer. It’s the Pacific way of doing things, and that really resonates.
Our Fale by the Pacifica Mamas and Vaka Fa’aola Pacific Artists of Springhill Corrections Facility Turou – The call from our ancestors, the call the return home – Exhibition 2019. Corban Estate Arts Centre, Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (photo source: Raymond Sagapolutele)
Woven Kete Fafetu by Mama Teuke Malaga - Woven with love for the Under the Same Moon Fundraiser for Palestine 2024. Purchased by Tāmaki Paenga Hira Auckland War Memorial Museum
(photo source: Jarcinda Stowers-Ama)
Woven Ei by Mama Mary Ama Turou – The call from our ancestors, the call the return home – Exhibition 2019. Corban Estate Arts Centre, Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (photo source: Raymond Sagapolutele)
So you are contributing to the creative industries and representing a large section of the population in Aotearoa.
Absolutely. We’re adding a new story and a new chapter to a book that’s already there.
We’re talking about Tāmaki Makaurau—Auckland—as the Pacific capital, given its large Pacific population residing in this North Island city.
Yes, it’s a huge population. Here, we’re based in West Auckland, and there are streets where you’ll hear only Tuvaluan being spoken. For example, there’s a local dairy in Rānui, just up the road from our centre, where the shopkeeper can hold a conversation in Tuvaluan better than I can. So, in terms of Pacific people living in Auckland and across different suburbs, there is absolutely a strong and vibrant Pacific presence.
We know about the environmental impact on the Pacific Islands—the climate emergency. We no longer just talk about climate change or climate crisis; it’s a climate emergency. This will result in more climate refugees arriving in New Zealand, making the existence of a centre like yours even more vital to support these new arrivals.
Absolutely. Here at our centre, I’ve mentioned this a few times, but by far, Tuvaluans make up the highest number of participants in our programmes. I had the privilege of visiting Tuvalu about two years ago. Like many others, I had seen countless YouTube documentaries and online reports about climate change’s impact, but I actually prefer the term you used: climate emergency.
It wasn’t until I stepped foot in Funafuti, the capital of Tuvalu, that I truly saw the real impact on the people. One day it rained, and the water came up to my knees. I was there for a book project, promoting and handing out books created by a Tuvaluan artist. We stayed about a week, and when it rained, the impact on the community was immediate and deeply emotional for me.
That experience gave me a better understanding of the people who come to our centre. Some will knock on our door and say, “I don’t really know what you do, but my uncle gave me your number and said this is a place to come.” We share what we do, but increasingly, people come not because they want to leave Tuvalu, but because the homes they live in are no longer safe. They’ve made decisions for their families.
Visiting Tuvalu really drove home for me that this is not just a climate crisis—it is a climate emergency, as you said.
West Auckland Tuvalu Community Fatele (photo source: Jarcinda Stowers-Ama)
Is the climate emergency, the arrival of climate refugees, or the environmental challenges of living on the islands reflected in the work that the centre is doing? If so, in what ways?
Yes, absolutely. For us, storytelling is very important. What we’ve seen a lot with our Tuvaluan communities is the need to have a safe space where people can share their stories and experiences.
Many of our young people run workshops focused on solutions—ideas they have and digital connections that help maintain ties with those still living on the islands, reporting back to us here in Aotearoa. So, this plays a significant role in how we design our programmes.
It’s not just about workshops but also about creating different opportunities for people to share these stories and to come up with ideas and solutions that can help support those living back home.
That’s really valuable work. Jarcinda, over these 40 years, the Pacific diaspora has evolved. It started in a garage, and now you’re connecting with other islands and addressing issues like climate, identity, language, and cultural practices here in the community. How do you see the work of the Pacific Mamas and your role evolving into the future?
When I think about the last 40 years, I realize I’ve grown up with the Mamas—my mum is one of them—so I’ve been surrounded by this environment and witnessed their hard work. I’ve seen their vision stay strong throughout everything they’ve wanted to achieve.
Especially in the last year, I think we’ve entered a really exciting time where our young people are benefiting from all the groundwork that’s been laid. I include myself in that group of young people. When I think about the Mamas, not only have they paved the way, but they’ve actually built a pathway that we can now extend. They’ve made it safe for us to navigate and walk into different spaces.
So, I believe we’re in an exciting time for Pacific arts. I’m seeing new cultural practices emerge that are unique to Pacific people living here in Aotearoa. For the Mamas—most of whom are still very much part of the centre today, except for one who has passed away—it’s a really thrilling time. They keep saying that instead of running events or leading workshops, they now get to enjoy participating in them.
To me, that’s the biggest change: the Mamas feel secure knowing the hard work and dedication they’ve put in is now in the hands of the next generation. Just recently, we supported a huge event called Te Maeva Nui —a major Cook Islands cultural festival. It was beautiful to see Mamas sitting in the audience, not leading choreography or costume-making, because they knew the lessons and knowledge they shared were being passed on. They were just able to enjoy the show.
Many of them have never actually watched a full show from beginning to end because they were always backstage working.
I use that example because we’re in a time of change—an exciting time of change.
Te Maeva Nui Aotearoa Festival 2025 (photo source: Ralph Brown and Edith Amituanai)
Yes, because my question is, since you mentioned there is already a transition of leadership to the next generation, and many of these Mamas are now in their 80s—they won’t be around forever, especially as some approach their 90s.
Yes, some of them are already in their 90s.
I remember working with them in workshops 10 years ago—they were so full of life. So yes, they have made an effort to pass on leadership, but there will come a day when they’re no longer here. I wonder how that will feel.
Oh, you know, it’s a difficult thing for me to imagine, but I know that the Mamas, including my mother, are confident that everything will be fine. They trust that the seeds they’ve planted will continue to grow. They know there’s a younger generation ready to take over and add their own flavor to what the Mamas have already built.
I hate to think about the day when they’re no longer here, but the Mamas have always been prepared for that. They often tell me, “We don’t want to be running the events forever. We don’t want to be doing the workshops forever. We just want to come along and enjoy.”
Over the years, I’ve seen their incredible work ethic firsthand—they’re always the first to arrive at a function and the last to leave. They stay until the very last thing is put away, or the rubbish bins are emptied.
But lately, I’ve noticed a shift. Even halfway through a workshop, they feel comfortable enough to leave or to trust someone else to lock up. For years, I wasn’t allowed to lock the door at the centre—I think they weren’t sure what I was doing! But now, the keys are being handed over to the next generation, which is a really beautiful thing to witness.
Now they can enjoy being part of things without the pressure of running everything. And it doesn’t stop them from coming up with ideas. I mentioned to you earlier, before this podcast started, that I have a huge list of ideas from the Mamas from our most recent events. It’s really beautiful to see this shift happening.
Moanaroa: Home of the Pacifica Mamas Exhibition 2019. Te Uru Contemporary Gallery, Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (photo source: Jarcinda Stowers- Ama)
You know, listening to you, what comes to mind is the Japanese concept from Okinawa, the Blue Zone island, called Ikigai. In Okinawa, people often live into their 90s and even hundreds of years. Many researchers have tried to understand what contributes to this longevity, alongside the island lifestyle, food, and other factors. One key element of Ikigai is a sense of purpose. I think the centre has given that same sense of purpose to the Pacific Mamas—to hand down their collective knowledge and values about the island cultures they brought with them to Aotearoa.
Absolutely. And you know, I have my moments—like everyone does—where I think, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing,” or get a bit ahead of myself, especially with new projects that come up. But I’m often reminded by the Mamas of that original intention or vision. Sometimes they’ll say just one sentence that provides clarity and helps guide everything I’m doing.
So absolutely, the Mamas aren’t just the backbone and beating heart of all that we do at the centre—they have a strong sense of being valued and purpose. And importantly, they have passed that sense of purpose on to us and to our wider community as well.
How beautiful. Now, Jarcinda, you’ve been in a leadership position at the centre for a long time. What are some of the challenges you foresee in the future? Because while I can see the rewards, I’m curious about the obstacles.
In the short term, I think here in Aotearoa it’s a challenging time for the arts in general. It’s also a difficult time for indigenous cultures. For our beautiful tangata whenua, our Māori brothers and sisters, it’s a challenging period around honouring and recognising Treaty rights, and honouring language.
For us as an organisation—and something the Mamas have been very clear about—if it’s not right with Māori, if things aren’t right here in this country, then it cannot be right with us. So this is not just a short-term issue, but a long-term commitment: honouring the Treaty and Māori rights in New Zealand. That’s our biggest challenge.
Other challenges that come our way include funding—that’s a challenge that never disappears. I wish the arts received as much funding as sports and other sectors in this country, but I’m very aware that’s unlikely to happen in my lifetime. So being able to fund our programmes is crucial because access is very important to us and to the Mamas. We never want financial barriers to prevent people from participating in our programmes.
There are many challenges, but it’s always interesting to me—like I mentioned to you offline—that whenever I bring a challenge to the Mamas, they provide clarity and remind me of our beginnings. We didn’t have computers when we started the centre. We didn’t have the resources you’re sitting on now. We were all in your mother’s garage with the leaky floor and everything else.
So, seeing what they have worked through and the challenges they faced makes what we’re going through now seem a lot smaller.
Yes, these are some of the ongoing issues when it comes to arts and creative industries funding, but I want to particularly acknowledge the relationship you have with the Tangata Whenua (people of the land) and honouring Te Tiriti and their needs. Have you ever had a joint project with Māori artists and communities?
Yes, one of our founding Mamas, who recently passed away, was the late Judy Cooper. From the very beginning, Māori arts, values, and language have always underpinned the work of the Mamas. This wasn’t something forced—it came naturally to them.
All the Mamas moved here from their own island homelands, so when they arrived in New Zealand, it was an unwritten understanding that they were coming to a new home and honoured the warm welcome they received.
Many of our Mamas talk about the time when they first came to West Auckland, where there were very few brown faces. They recall meeting Mama Judy right away—she approached them and said, “You must not be from here.”
They were warmly embraced by Māori, and to this day, we continue to share a very special relationship. This connection also underpins everything we do as an organisation.
Well, you know, you are all part of the Tangata Moana—the people of the ocean.
Yes, absolutely.
Yes, people of the ocean. Jarcinda, it’s been such a pleasure talking to you. I feel like we could keep discussing the amazing space you occupy, both personally as a leader and with the Pacific Arts Centre. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts about your work today. We’re looking forward to working with you as our new Advisory Board member.
Thank you so much, Valia. It’s been wonderful to share. I think I mentioned this is the first podcast I’ve ever done, but having a conversation with you—and feeling the connection you have to us and the Pacific Mamas—made it feel right to accept the invitation. I felt very comfortable talking, even if I rambled a little bit here and there, just because I’m so excited about the work we do here at the centre. I’m truly honoured to be an Advisory Board member and really look forward to learning and sharing more.
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Links
Pacifica Arts Centre – Facebook Page
This is updated on a regular basis:
https://www.facebook.com/PacificaArtsCentre/
Available Publications – Moanaroa Publishing:
Saifoloi, M., Papoutsaki, E., Williams, M., Harris, U.S. and Naqvi, M. (2016). Pariticipatory Video and The Pacifica Mamas: A Pilot Project. Unitec ePress Research Report Series. https://www.unitec.ac.nz/epress/index.php/participatory-video-and-the-pacifica-mamas-a-pilot-project/
Pacifica Mamas Exhibition Links
Turou – The call from our ancestors, the call the return home – Exhibition 2019
https://ceac.org.nz/exhibitions/turou-the-call-from-our-ancestors-the-call-to-retu
Moanaroa: Home of the Pacifica Mamas Exhibition 2019
Short Films
The Ei Project
Short Film by Robert George for Auckland Council
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5OW6ESEDko
Kupu O Fatele – Tuvaluan Songs, Chants and Words of Inspiration
Short Film by Tristan Petueli