My name is Ephrim Osea Aumua and I am of Samoan, Fijian, and English descent. My paternal grandfather hails from the village of Sapunaoa, Falealili, and my grandmother from the village of Afega, Tuamasaga, on the Island of Upolu in Samoa. My maternal grandmother hails from the village of Naveicovatu in the province of Tailevu, on the island of Viti Levu. Her mataqali are the Naloto clan. My English heritage stems from my great-great grandparents, who migrated to New Zealand from Kent, England in the early 1900s before the First World War.
As a New Zealand-born Pacific Islander, I grew up in a culture-rich environment, surrounded by Samoan and Fijian language, food, music, and cultural practices. Although I always considered myself lucky to grow up in this environment, being a part of two strong cultures has presented various challenges. Like many other New Zealand-born Pacific Islanders, my cultural identity never felt grounded in one or the other, but rather a balance between the two. At times I felt closer to my Samoan heritage, and others more to my Fijian. Growing up in a household where there is more than one language being spoken at a time and by different parents also resulted in my siblings and I never becoming completely proficient in one language. Today I understand the common household words in both Samoan and Fijian but lack the ability to converse confidently in either.
My family moved from Auckland, New Zealand to the city of Perth, Australia when I was 11 years old so my mother could pursue her career ambitions. Though young, I was excited for the new chapter but was somewhat fearful of entering the unknown. Perth is a city on the far western coast of Australia, known for its beautiful white sandy beaches and its rich natural resources. It is geographically the most isolated city on Earth, with the next closest major metropolis being nearly 2,500km away. For perspective, this distance is nearly twice as long as the entire length of New Zealand. At the time, this isolation made Perth a very different place to the diverse populations of Melbourne and Sydney, with less than 1,000 Māori and Pacific Island residents in 2004 when we arrived. Departing an environment rich in Pacific culture for a place where it was near absent would have a significant impact on how my cultural identity would eventually form. Though preserving my culture became that much more important in theory, practicing it and speaking it throughout daily life would come to feel redundant. Especially at such a young age and having been heavily influenced by my peers and the value systems that emerged (or lack thereof), I began to feel less connected to my heritage.
My siblings and I would live in various cities across Australia for nearly two decades, only returning to Aotearoa eighteen months ago. As a family, we adapted and navigated our way through the different cultural landscapes that Australia presented. Regular trips back to Aotearoa and the Islands to visit family would keep us connected and would prove vital in our decision to eventually return and make Aotearoa home again. Being of mixed descent has meant that I have deep-rooted family lines across multiple countries and regions, and has granted me access to a culturally rich network of people that I hope to maintain close connection with.
As a father of two young girls, the need to sustain our language and culture has never felt more relevant. My wife is of Chinese, Tahitian, and Papua New Guinean descent. She speaks fluent Pidgin and is proficient in Cantonese. Between us, we strive to teach and speak to our girls as much as possible across these four languages. Having children has motivated me to be more proactive in learning and preserving both the Fijian and Samoan languages.
Fiji is one of my favourite places on Earth and is a place that I know very well. Every year growing up I spent a few months in Fiji at our family home in Suva. Though I call Fiji a second home, not being able to converse in the language ‘Vosa Vakaviti’, has and continues to create a sense of disconnection during general discussion and talanoa. Learning a new language requires cultural immersion and constancy in effort, so I will continue to do my best to acquire all the knowledge and understanding I can so that it can be sustained and passed on.