Nouméa III

You can hardly be any farther away from all that trouble than I am right now. I am out. Completely out. What day is it anyway? Maybe it is the sunburn that makes me feel as if I have landed on another planet. I do not think I have ever been this far away from everything, from all the things that used to get on my nerves. From people, their stories, their lies, their hunger for attention, their constant need to parade their own importance. Gone. And who am I again, actually? And why does it suddenly not bother me anymore? Reset? Is this the big reset I have been waiting for, that zero point, that formatting from which you can build again? I certainly hope so.

I have found a new favorite place here at the hotel, the atrium. Nicely lit, very green, a small fountain, a pleasant breeze and, very importantly, a power outlet. So I sit here, work, write, sort photos, communicate, and stay relaxed. There is a coffee machine with drinkable coffee, and now and then someone walks past. From here I plan excursions, do research, read, and then head out.

Unfortunately I have completely lost track of which day I did what. All I know is that yesterday it rained the entire day and I congratulated myself on not having taken the bike route. Not only because of the rain, but also because of the sunburn. How do you even get sunburn on the tops of your feet and on your love handles, as a side sleeper no less? How fried do you have to be not to put sunscreen on those spots? And have you ever done bench presses with sunburn on your back? One hundred and forty kilograms floating above you, you arch your back, and the full weight presses onto your red shoulder blades. Those are pretty damn stupid to put sunscreen on by yourself too. A Shakti mat is nothing compared to that. And me? I am actually enjoying it. It’s as simple as it is. And no, I am not masochistic. It is just this simplicity of the problems that I find pleasant right now. When I was cycling there was always some logistics running in the background, always a bit of everyday life, always something that needed to be dealt with. And now? I just must not forget to eat. Other than that, pas de problème.

So, what have I experienced here?

I went on a pilgrimage, or at least what I consider one. There is the open air cathedral Notre-Dame-du-Pacifique here, a pink statue of the Virgin Mary, solemnly inaugurated in its current form on July 19, 1901. It stands on a blue rock, I suspect it is painted, above the city with a view over Noumea. All around it are display cases. I think they depict the Stations of the Cross. I focused more on the view than on their content though, and then on the walk that followed. Onward to a telecommunications tower, following the road, simply wandering aimlessly through the area, and eventually ending up at the zoo, which unfortunately only opens on Wednesdays. Somehow I made it back too. Coffee here, coffee there, and in the end I was sitting in the atrium again. In the evening I headed out once more, walked to Plage de la Baie des Citrons, along the Pacific, and watched the sun sink into the sea.

The next day was a rain day. Working, communicating, drinking coffee, and doing what one does. Making plans, discarding plans, thinking, discarding the thoughts as well and starting over from scratch. Letting things pass in review and then letting them go. What a day. Completely ineffective and at the same time healing.

This morning then, back to the atrium, and afterwards I booked a driver to take me to the Tjibaou Cultural Centre. I was too lazy to walk, partly because of the sunburn on the tops of my feet. That is not pleasant. The man, oh man, a real character. He caught on that I was German, and then off he went. He belted out some old soldiers’ songs and sang loudly in German. One of his comrades had been from Germany, he said, he himself had been in the Foreign Legion, and another comrade had been from Poland. So in between I also got to hear a Polish soldiers’ song. And he showed no mercy, telling stories in English and French about his comrades in his wreck of a car, and me? I really had fun with this bird. Was I here alone? Yes, I answered truthfully. He laughed and said I should pick myself a Polynesian flower, that the women here were wonderful. I should go to the east or to the north, he said, I would get off the bus there and fall in love, and then I could stay here. He looked at me and said the women here were all flowers, not potatoes with spikes. He laughed loudly and stopped at a gas station because his car was having trouble. That went on all the way to the cultural center. What a type. And he thought it was good that I was interested in the Kanak. I could learn a lot at the cultural center, he said. Fist bump, and he was gone.

The Tjibaou Cultural Centre in Noumea was designed by the architect Renzo Piano and opened on May 4, 1998. It was created as a cultural centerpiece for the preservation, presentation, and promotion of Kanak culture and combines traditional forms with modern architecture. Even from the outside the center is impressive, because the complex consists of, I think, ten striking structures inspired by Kanak huts, built from wood and steel, blending harmoniously into the landscape of the Tina Peninsula. I think the architecture is magnificent, very stylish, and the individual huts house exhibitions.

The Tjibaou Cultural Centre is much more than just a museum. It is very open in layout, with a garden trail and plants that are explained along the way. It is an architectural and cultural symbol of the living identity of the Kanak. The complex takes up the form of traditional Kanak huts, translates it into modern architecture, and divides the ten large cases into three areas: exhibitions, research and library, as well as music, dance, painting, and sculpture. Particularly impressive is the Chemin Kanak, a symbolic path through the Kanak creation story of Téâ Kanaké, where rocks, plants, ancestral mounds, and a pierced stone mark the stages of origin, nourishing earth, the world of the ancestors, the spirit world, and rebirth.

Behind the center, or rather in the MWAKAA area, you can also discover traditional huts from the southern, northern, and island regions, showing how closely architecture, society, and symbolism are interwoven in Kanak culture. They differ in form, height, and construction, but they all share the hearth at the center. Rather than speaking of one single Kanak culture, in New Caledonia one speaks more of eight, with close to thirty Kanak languages. That is why there is not just one creation story, but several regional and clan based origin myths.

As the central narrative presented at the Tjibaou Cultural Centre, the myth of Téâ Kanaké, the first human being, stands out. At the beginning of the world, the moon places its tooth on a rock rising out of the primeval sea. From this origin Téâ Kanaké emerges, the first human, who knows nothing at first and asks the spirits to teach him the knowledge needed for life on earth. In that way the myth is not only a creation story, but also a story about learning, belonging, and the close bond between human beings, the ancestral world, and nature. At the Tjibaou Cultural Centre this myth is told as the Chemin Kanak in five symbolic stages, from the first beings through nourishing earth, the land of the ancestors, and the spirit world, all the way to rebirth. In this way Téâ Kanaké is shown less as a distant legend and more as a living key to understanding Kanak culture and its relationship to the landscape.

Man must ask the spirits to teach him the knowledge needed for life on earth. He enters the world humbly. That is a beautiful thought.

What stands out for me, alongside the beautifully presented Kanak life and the differences across the island, is the art on display. You have to imagine it, this island is not large, but what is offered on these few square meters is leagues better than what the arrogant neighbor in the west has to offer. Truly, some of the sculptures, whether modern or traditional, are world class, just like the entire complex. I stopped in front of several of the works and found myself applauding inwardly at the sheer idea of creating something like that. Phenomenal paintings and sculptures, whether of Kanak or more European influenced origin. Exorbitantly good, in that sense.