At the opening night of the play Witi's Wahine, in Gisborne as part of the inaugural Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival just last month, Nancy Brunning sat down the front, to one side, in her wheelchair. She'd conceived the play, a presentation of the women in the work of Witi Ihimaera. She'd also put it together – no mean feat from among Ihimaera's millions of words – and directed it. And as those who were so privileged to be in the audience that night discovered, she had given us a taonga.
"There it all was," I wrote afterwards, "Ihimaera's remarkable ability to shuffle history and myth, serving up the richness of culture and the wonder of people, with all their warts, with all the laughter and the singing and the pain. Lifting you up to ride on the back of a whale and insisting, also, that you learn how to deal with death.
"Four women and a guitar on stage. I don't mind saying I was utterly wrung out by the end, and felt blessed for it. This, again, is who we are and what we have to build on."
Ihimaera's characters and words, made wonderful on stage by Brunning's genius. She was very ill, she had been for a long time. The rumour was, people wondered if she would last. Surely not people who knew her well. Nancy Brunning (Ngāti Raukawa, Ngāi Tūhoe) was not going to miss her last opening night.
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