Tapu Misa: Storms in a kava bowl - and the fallout wasn't pretty

Oh dear. The feathers have been flying since the weekend's cultural festivities, and I don't mean those ubiquitous duck feathers that covered the ground at Western Springs during Pasifika.

I'm talking about the storm in a kava bowl over the presentation of an award at the inaugural Pacific Island Music Awards, which was staged as part of the opening ceremony for this year's premier Pacific festival.

The trouble began when the committee organising this supposed celebration of Pacific music decided to get a Samoan transvestite and designer, Lindah E, to present the award for best male artist.

A minority in the committee felt that the honour should properly go to the hugely popular Hawaii-based Fiji Veikoso, one of the Pacific's biggest-selling singers, who just happened to be available and willing.

But Lindah E's supporters weren't swayed. It was suggested her presence would be a boon for the gay and lesbian constituency, despite the event being a celebration of Pacific music rather than gay pride, and that Lindah E, aka Linda Lepou, qualified as a musician of sorts, being a singer whose fame would soon spread beyond the borders of Grey Lynn.

Unfortunately the idea of a fa'afafine presenting the premier male music award didn't quite sit right with those who felt the mana of the occasion deserved a heavyweight with more serious musical credentials. And preferably someone of unambiguous sexuality.

So a coup was staged. Lindah E turned up on the night to present the award but never quite made it on to the stage. While she was distracted by security guards, Fiji Veikoso presented the award.

Those who were close by on the night report that the fall-out was not pretty. Hell hath no fury like a fa'afafine who's all dressed up with nowhere to go. There were accusations of homophobia and threats of complaints being fired off to the Human Rights Commission.

Which has taken a little of the shine off a successful festival that managed to cater for more than 200,000 people despite its stingy $132,000 funding from the Auckland City Council. (AK05 got $1.5 million, attracted 38,000 people and lost $600,000.) Of course, I can understand why Lindah E is so incensed. She should have been spared the insult. But maybe she and the awards committee should breathe a little more deeply.

This wasn't about homophobia. It was about mana, propriety and rank - all of which, whether we like it or not, continue to play an important part in Pacific Island culture. On a night to launch Pasifika and celebrate Pacific Island musicianship, a veteran musician trumps a flamboyant fa'afafine, even one who might be world-famous in Grey Lynn.

Mind you, Lindah E and the awards committee weren't the only ones whose feathers were ruffled. Samoa's Deputy Prime Minister, Misa Telefoni Retzlaff suffered the indignity (huge in Samoan terms) of being relegated to a 13th row seat at Pasifika's opening ceremony.

We might think of ourselves as modern, forward-looking, cosmopolitan Kiwis, but when it comes to such things, we're apt to be as dutiful and rank-conscious as any villager.

I suppose this is why so many Kiwi Samoans, even ones who already have impressive letters after their names, are so keen these days to display their newly-acquired matai titles. A chiefly title has become de rigeur among Samoans who want to be taken seriously by their community, even here, and even if the title is of obscure origin.

It's true we Samoans are fond of handing out chiefly titles at the slightest encouragement. All manner of people have been accorded matai titles, from the late Rob Muldoon to The Rock. I like to think of it as the Samoan version of egalitarianism. If everyone is a matai, then we must all be equal, though of course some of us are always going to be more equal than others.

But even in Samoa there are growing misgivings about whether a land full of chiefs is necessarily a good thing.

After a number of recent court cases involving questionable village council decisions (people being summarily banned from their villages, for example, or having their property destroyed on the orders of matai), a high chief and MP, Leva'a Sauaso, told the Samoa Observer he thought Samoa had too many chiefs.

"Today nearly every boy and girl has a matai title," he said. "Many are in positions to make village decisions but are very green, very shallow and lacking of any knowledge or experience in village affairs, and as a result bad decisions are made. Bad decisions that are detrimental to village development and its residents."

In the old days, says Leva'a, only one or two high chiefs had the last say in making decisions in the village. Nowadays, matai titles have been divided, and there are many titleholders to some specific titles. Instead of working together, there is rivalry between titleholders, matai ganging up on other matai, and far too much influence from titleholders living outside Samoa.

Many of them not only live in New Zealand but were born and raised here. Which begs the question: is there really a place for matai here? My father would argue that the answer is yes, that a title connects people like me back to our families and origins in Samoa. And that's fine - as long as we all understand that.