Elesa
Knowles
Dr.
Ellis
Travel
Literature
February
21, 2015
“Kiwi Bunny! The birds within They who do not Grieve”
In Sia Figiel’s Book 2, Alofa-Tausi makes
the link between grief, the mind, and metaphorical birds. “For that is what the
moa is. It is universe of its own
lives within us. A universe of colorful birds that die only when we neglect
them. That is, when we don’t feed them the food they are used to” (Figiel 136).
According to the protagonist, Moa or Mau means a universe inside of an individual. Considering Mau was official name associated with the movement for
Samoan independence from colonial rule during the early 1900s, this
understanding of a petite universe with independence and agency within another
universe is logical. In Samoan, Mau denotes 'firm strength'. For this
universe to exist, it must have stability to endure but also the flexibility to
adapt within the self. (Para http://www.nzhistory.net.) The bird imagery points to this physical manifestation
of Moa. The “universe of birds” seems to point out that each individual bird
hold essential components of a whole being within them and needs to be in
emotional solidarity as a flock not in extreme solitude or they will die.
Each color of the birds
seems to be associated with an emotion meaning the red birds that haunt the
protagonist are grief manifested; while as, black birds appear to be despair or
hope regained manifested. “Rivers of despair that spiraled endlessly towards
the birthplace of joy and sorrow- the moa.
Drowning joy so that I would hear nothing but the black birds’ winds flapping,
screeching through the endless insomniac nights” (Figiel 160). The bird’s
universe is that of the emotional human mind, which is essential to the human
protagonist as a whole. The protagonist shows great maturity in recognizing the
birds are a natural part of her opposed to demons that haunt and torment her. I did not have maturity to make peace with my
birds. In particular I wanted to rip my bird from my mind once and for all.
This bird with a kiwi body and bunny ears that made me wail and drained to the
core. My bird that stood screeching within me as I stood in funeral lines
shaking hands with strangers and refusing to cry. There were 5 relatives in one
month perished, 2 to cancer, 1 to pancreas exploding, and 3 to texting and
driving. From dust to dust, I breathed it in daily suffocating what on the
therapist telling me, “People die all the time?”, the counselors telling me,
“Maybe you have an eating disorder…. join grief group”, and my roommates telling
me, “I liked you before you became retarded”. There were 17 days without sleep;
31 days without food, and eventually too many days to walk vertically anymore.
On November 8th, my body went horizontal and succumbed to the birds.
A looming bird, wailing the kiwi bunny, the flightless bird was now skeleton of
all my futile attempts of getting through grief without utilizing it. My bird
of fear both once my enemy. In my bed in December under medical cares, I
realized Kiwi Bunny was and always was my ally.
Alofa-Tausi speaks of, “A universe of colorful birds that die only when
we neglect them. That is, when we don’t feed them the food they are used to” (Figiel136).
Through therapy, rest, and conversations with myself, I feed the starved bird
love, acceptance, and a voice to listen and hear its cries. By not listening to
it, I let it starve and as an extension of myself. I starved as a warning of my
soul’s decaying if I did not grieve properly. The bird was looking after me
even at the cost of itself own life. Kiwi Bunny is my anxiety, which is a part
of who I am. My bird is a natural reaction to unnatural chaos of loss and
grief, which does not run on the timeline of deadlines, midterms, or job
expectancy. It was always there and appears during short periods. I did
everything in my power through self-improvement, body language, rationalizing,
and ousting spiritually what I thought was unnatural threat to my life as
normal person. If I had kept rejecting
my bird, then it would be like me cutting off my lung. My emotions and birds
are not cancer meant to be cut from me. They are my body and mind’s way of
defending itself. Through patience and collaboration, the Kiwi Bunny and I
became a team. The bird of fear gave me caution through insomnia, rumination,
and sometimes fits of paranoia of being abandoned. I politely answer back and
thank it for the warnings but I tell it I can rationally walk through the
situation with you by my side. Then the bird calms down, sleep comes
eventually, the thoughts stop racing, and the abandoned bird is reminded we
never shall be parted because we are two universes in one. When the Kiwi Bunny
does not let me eat or sleep, it is because it is trying to tell me something
essential. Instead of fighting myself and blaming it, I listen even late at
3:00 AM. It screeches, then sings then whispers and cries itself to sleep
alongside me. Acceptance of my emotion of fear, rush of cortisol hormone, and
the feigned stages of death is what makes my universes overlap not collide. “Drowning joy so
that I would hear nothing but the black birds’ winds flapping, screeching
through the endless insomniac nights” (160). Acceptance is a song of pain and
joy at a intense pitch, but like Alofa-Tausi
if you listen the sounds of the birds’ universe, then the tiny wings can guide
you to transform their universe as well as your own.
Works Cited
Figiel, Sia.
They Who Do Not Grieve. New York: Kaya, 2003. Print.
http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/politics/samoa/rise-of-mau.
Accessed 21 February 2015. Web.
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