Keywords

1 Introduction

The preamble to the Nouméa Accord signed in 1998 by the French State, loyalist and pro-independence parties declares that, with settler colonisation,

Kanak social organising, even though it was recognised in principles, was drastically disrupted. Population displacements destructured it, ignorance or power strategies too often led to the denial of legitimate authorities and to the establishment of authorities bereft of any legitimacy according to Custom, which exacerbated identity-based trauma.

Simultaneously, Kanak cultural heritage was negated or plundered. Limitations of public liberties and an absence of political rights added up to this negation of the fundamental elements of Kanak identity, even as Kanak people had suffered heavy losses to defend France, especially during the First World War.

This chapter discusses the disruption and devastation of Kanak culture in the colonial period. We interrogate the persistence and continuing consequences of this period, as well as the cultural revival initiated by Kanak people in the last few decades. Based on the examples of Kanak languages (see Chap. 13 by Leblic in this book) and toponyms, Kaneka music and the construction of traditional houses (including a specific example of the tending of straw), we will explain how Kanak people deal with cultural heritage in the present. Cultural heritage depends on two core elements to be passed on: land and language. Land is fundamental to Kanak culture and cultural revival and therefore crucial to our testimony and reflection. The question of contemporary Kanak cultural heritage and cultural revival needs to be understood in the context of a lived environment that has been occupied by settler colonists and institutions, industrialised, and in some places deeply damaged ecologically. Access to, and the current condition of, lands and resources impacts the ways in which Kanak clans and communities carry on culture and pass on their heritage to the younger generations. The extent to which Kanak people and clans embrace industrialisation and commodification also influences the continuation or shifts in cultural practices over time. A culture thrives most potently in and through language. Kanak languages have borne the brunt of past policies banning their use and publication across several generations, and a general attitudinal deprecation of their importance. Policies in the last three decades have slowly and partially integrated several Kanak languages in the French school system. However, the continuing challenges that they face and their de facto lesser status (in comparison to French) require amplified mobilisation from Kanak clans and communities.

This chapter is co-authored between the four of us. We each have distinct background and relation to both Kanak cultural heritage and Kanaky more widely. Antoine Cano Poady is a former cultural collector for ADCK (Agency for the Development of Kanak Culture) and president of the environmental association “Environord”. He has great knowledge of the Haeke language, and on clan migration, the history of sacred and cultural places, and cultural heritage in Paicî-Cèmuhi country. Cano lives in the community of Bako,Footnote 1 close to Koohnê (Kone), the capital of the North Province. Chanel Ouetcho is a singer, composer and one of the founding members of the Kaneka band Humaa-gué from Yaté. He lives with his family in the community of Touaourou in the South of Grande Terre. Matthias Kowasch is a professor of geographical education at University College of Teacher Education in Graz (Austria). He grew up in Germany and lived for around 4 years in New Caledonia-Kanaky where he taught at university and did research at the Institute of Research for Development (IRD). He was welcomed by the Poady clan in Bako, where he built close relationships. Angelique Stastny is a postdoctoral researcher in political science. She is from Europe and grew up in France. She lived on Wurundjeri and Boonwurrung Countries in Narrm (Melbourne), Australia, for 7 years, a time during which she regularly went to Kanaky for her research and wove personal relationships. She engages with issues relating to settler colonialism, whiteness and racism, Indigenous sovereignty and decolonisation.

Our discussion of Kanak cultural heritage – and of two of its constituting elements, land and language – therefore focuses on the communities of Bako and Touaourou in Paicî Cèmuhi and Drubea-Kapumë countries, respectively. While it attends to Kanak cultural heritage and practices of cultural revival that are specific to, or emerged in, these areas, our reflection also draws on the broader settler colonial historical and contemporary contexts in which they have been inscribed. This chapter is organised into two main sections. We will first analyse the ways in which Kanak lands and languages – the substance of Kanak cultural practices – have been the key target of colonial policies and their continuing impact on the practice and transmission of Kanak culture. We will then demonstrate how, in this context, Kanak people have and continue to create resilient and resurgent spaces where languages and cultural heritage can survive and thrive. We focus specifically on Haeke language and culture through the work of the Kanak Oral Heritage Collection in Bako (Paicî Cèmuhi country) and the Nââ numèè language and culture through the art of the Kaneka band Humaa-gué (Drubea-Kapumë country).

2 Kanak Lands and Languages: The Substance of Kanak Cultural Practices, the Key Target of Colonial Policies

2.1 Colonised, Damaged Lands

The French-led colonisation of New Caledonia-Kanaky began in 1853 in Hoot ma Waap country, and invasion spread across the main island (Grande Terre) over the following decades. These invasions were met with resistance. Indigenous-settler relations were often marked by brutal physical violence. Mobile columns (colonnes mobiles), composed of colonial troops, European settlers and Kanak auxiliaries, were sent to crush the resistance. Settlers used a scorched-earth military strategy, destroying communities and plantations, to starve out Kanak people on the main island (Foucher 1890). From the 1850s to the 1870s, there were “frequent uprisings” (Dousset-Leenhardt 1998, pp. 127–159) and “constant military expeditions” (Saussol 1988, p. 41). Armed conflicts and wars went on for many decades and continued to occur sporadically in the twentieth century, notably in 1878, 1917 and in 1984–1988. Kanak resistance over the decades has been dealt with by means of imprisonment, massacre, capital punishment, displacement and exile. Deploying Social Darwinist theories for colonial ends, the French administration confiscated Kanak land and seas and attempted to exterminate some Kanak clans. Colonisation led to forms of genocide, land dispossession and loss of languages and cultures. According to Alain Saussol (1985, p. 1616), the extent of lands stolen by the French state and granted to settlers increased from 1000 to 230,000 ha between 1860 and 1878. Later, a land tenure system gave 25 ha freely to European children exclusively when they became of age. European landownership increased from 240,000 ha in 1893 to 400,000 ha in 1978 (Saussol 1985, p. 1618). The pace, intensity and geography of spatial appropriation (and expropriation) varied from place to place and over the course of time. Yet, throughout, colonisation disrupted Kanak societal structures, displaced entire peoples and disempowered existing political organisation.

From the second half of the nineteenth century and following episodes of brutal colonial conflicts and wars, the French administration moved to create Indigenous reserves to “pacify” Kanak people through confinement and control and to facilitate land dispossession. Such procedures were called policies of “cantonment” (cantonnement) (Bensa 1990; Merle 2000; Kowasch 2010). The Indigenous Code (Code de l’Indigénat) applied across the territory from 1887 to 1946 aimed at heavily controlling Kanak people in their movement, work and forms of association. Perceived as “primitive” and “savage”, Kanak people were forced to work on the plantations of European settlers and suffered from discrimination and violence. They were not allowed to leave their reserves without the permission of the colonial administration. Based on the Australian model, France attempted to develop the basis of a new society that welcomed both “sentenced” and “honest” French or francophone migrants (Merle 2000, p. 230).

The reserve system and Indigenous Code led to both land and cultural dispossession for Kanak people. In Kanak cultures, land is not apprehended as an objective reality of property, but as a cultural identification (Kowasch et al. 2015). Jean-Marie Tjibaou, a Kanak pro-independence leader, murdered in 1989, once said that “a clan that loses its land, loses its personality” (Tjibaou and Missotte 1976, p. 60). Geographer Jean-Pierre Doumenge (1982) described land as an identity card, a place where the totem acts, and the ancestors rest in peace. The social identity of Kanak clans is built on the clan’s history. It is registered in space, as a series of places where the itinerant group passed through and lived. Therefore, the dispossession of land constitutes a loss of identity.

After unabated demands by Kanak people for the restitution of their lands, the Government launched land reform on the main island “Grande Terre” in 1978. This measure was furthered when Tjibaou, at the head of the Government Council (Conseil de Gouvernement) of New Caledonia between 1982 and 1984, established two institutions that promoted Kanak cultures and political rights: the Kanak Technical and Scientific Cultural Office (Office culturel scientifique et technique kanak) and the Land Office (Office foncier). In the beginning, the restitution of land was determined by the development of economic projects to take place on it (see, e.g. Leblic 1993). As of 1999, however, returned customary lands (terres coutumières) became inalienable, unseizable, incommutable and non-transferable, based on the model of the customary reserves. The aim was to disconnect the restitution of land from economic development, which the authorities realised does not grasp the importance of land claims by Kanak clans. The proportion of customary land on “Grande Terre” increased from 10% in 1978 to 18% in 2010 and to 19.3% in 2019 (ADRAF 2019a; Kowasch et al. 2015). Considering that the Loyalty Islands Province was always “customary land”, the distribution of the territory’s total land area shows that 15.8% of New Caledonia-Kanaky are private land plots, 27.4% are defined as customary land, 46.9% are territorial public land and the rest is State, provincial and municipality land. Finally, 0.4% are still in the hands of ADRAF, which aims to return this remaining portion (ADRAF 2019b) (see Chap. 10 by Batterbury et al. in this book). Bako is a Kanak community which managed to get large plots of land returned to its clans. While, in 1980, the people of Bako only had 800 ha of customary land, this rose to 5000 ha in 2017 (VKP Infos 2018a). The huge land area, proximity to the capital of the North Province (Koohnê) and to the territorial road No. 1 (which connects Koohnê with Nouméa) have resulted in a multitude of economic projects (e.g. a cinema, rental housing, a shopping mall) on the customary lands of Bako (Kowasch 2010, 2011). Those projects explain why Bako is often described as “flagship” for development on customary land in New Caledonia-Kanaky (Kowasch 2018).

Despite the Bako example, the colonial theft of Kanak lands and the slow and insufficient restitution to date, accompanied by poor management from medium- and large-scale farmers and industrialists over the decades, means that Kanak people on “Grande Terre” hold inadequate, and often low fertility lands and resources to continue ancestral cultural practices in a suitable and a thriving environment. The challenges that people face today in Drubea-Kapumë country to build a Kanak house is a telling example of such issues.

Building Kanak houses is the embodiment of social and political organising and consensus. At the basis is the common ancestor that built the ancestral home, to which all patrilineal descendants belong. Each clan is connected to land, and Kanak houses are built and positioned hierarchically according to their time of occupancy (Boulay et al. 1990, p. 18; Tjibaou 2004, p. 93). In a communal Kanak house, the elders are its foundations; the clans are represented by the surrounding wooden poles and the beams that support the great central pole, which symbolises the chief. All elements are tied together and reflect the relations between distinct groups that gathered to build a unified and stabilised social and political system (Boulay et al. 1990, p. 19). Architecturally, Kanak houses differ in shape (round, oblong, rectangular) and materials, depending on their purpose and their location. The shape of, and materials used in, Kanak houses have been known for their thermal, aesthetic and architectural qualities, which also make them specifically resistant to cyclones. Yet, in the 1930s, the Department of Indigenous Affairs ordered the destruction of Kanak houses to be replaced by rectangular European-style houses, under the pretext that Kanak houses were unhealthy (ADCK 2007, pp. 62–67). These newly built houses were, however, badly built and insulated. From the 1950s, natural materials were increasingly replaced with cement and corrugated iron (Tjibaou 2004, p. 95). Nowadays, both housing types coexist, and it is common to build a Kanak house along with a European-style rectangular one. Nonetheless, the number of Kanak houses has been on the wane (see Table 12.1). While Kanak houses made up almost one quarter of residential homes in 1989, recent surveys notice that “they have disappeared almost everywhere, except for the Loyalty Islands and the northern part of the Grand Terre’s East Coast” (ISSE-TEC 2016, p. 58). In 2014, only 1% of households lived in “traditional” Kanak houses (Broustet 2014, p. 1).

Table 12.1 Number of “traditional” Kanak houses as main residential home according to all types (total), per year
Full size table

Traditional housing design, as an expression of Kanak identity, needs to be reaffirmed. Yet, continuing the practise also faces several contemporary challenges. These broader challenges are to do with the ecological destruction that has resulted from colonisation and land exploitation (mining, forestry, etc.). Despite improvements in environmental performance and the restitution of land, traditional (ecological) practices, including construction, are still viewed as backward-looking and ineffective. We see this in school textbooks, for example, as argued by Stastny and Kowasch (2022).

In Bako, Paicî Cèmuhi country, as well as in other customary areas, the building of Kanak house depends on working with and tending straw, and this is also a key element of Kanak identity. The following section describes this in Haeke, a language that is only spoken in the community of Bako (although there are some dialects such as Bwatoo and Haveke in other communities), approximately 4 km away from Koohnê, the capital of the North Province.

Ni vaa na mwathâng

  1. 1.

    A mwathâng je ta hngia a mau ka mwa koon.

  2. 2.

    Nya thipo lu ma doop, ka je cine ni gomwa koon.

  3. 3.

    Je cabwin a juu xuu ca mwathâng.

  4. 4.

    Fitia a mwathâng pwa bala zhee, cia ngibu ca voxa.

  5. 5.

    Fitia mwathâng pwa e zhee, la na bwoa ci pa go xha hame la ai ma pi bwalike.

  6. 6.

    Je wi moathâng, pulane je xatékéa tchiéne tchixate pulane je bala vaa Koohnê.

  7. 7.

    Thitake ma je wii mwathâng, na bwa cau bweezhila.

  8. 8.

    Thitake ma je wii mwathâng, ce la ma je pi cami a thia.

  9. 9.

    A mwathâng je cine a xu ka je nya ca tââ.

  10. 10.

    Fwa nicin ko a mwathâng, ko hmâine ni vaa ne ân.

Tending the Straw

  1. 1.

    The straw allows us to cover the roof of the Kanak house and home.

  2. 2.

    To make some cob, we need to mix it with some soil: this allows us to build walls to close the house.

  3. 3.

    We cover the true yams with the straw to preserve them.

  4. 4.

    In the field, we tie a piece of straw on a stick of wood. We then peg it into the ground to signpost a prohibition.

  5. 5.

    We also tie a few twigs on a tree to indicate that we are passing through for the first time.

  6. 6.

    We pull the straw out of the ground, and we dry it for three days. We will then be able to work it.

  7. 7.

    It is forbidden to pull it out if we haven’t eaten the new yam yet.

  8. 8.

    It is forbidden to pull it out if we have already planted the yam field.

  9. 9.

    We cover the yam with the straw and we put it into the oven.

  10. 10.

    Straw is precious and has multiple uses. It must therefore be respected.

The word for straw in Numèè language, in Drubea-Kapumë country in the South Province, is “nian”, which also means “custom”. That’s why we say “A nian mën gné réa” (“The straw hasn’t arrived yet”, which means that “the customary gesture hasn’t been made”).

To build a Kanak house, we need a central pole and, depending on the size of the house, between 6 and 12 poles to hold the roof structure. These various poles need to be very hard wood so as not to rot when in contact with the earth. The types of wood we use are, for example, the “wiya” (Alphitonia neocaledonia), the “teu” (gum oak) and other resistant woods. If it is a communal house, the central pole signifies the chief and the clans that make up the community. Because of colonisation and other related factors (land-based conflicts, the displacement of clans and the introduction of “modern” materials), Kanak communal houses are no longer seen in many communities.

Likewise, another challenge arises when wanting to build the roof structure of the Kanak house. To build the roof, we use the wayü (a pine tree native to the far south of the Grande Terre), the tchèrètee and other types such as the kaori and the fir. All the woods that are used to build a Kanak house need to be cut when the moon is right. This is when the sap is no longer in the trunk and branches but in the roots, that is, from three days before the full moon to three days after it. To attach the straw, we need a flexible and very resistant wood. In the Touaourou community, we use the tan. Due to deforestation, wildfires and invasive plants, the straw is increasingly rare in many places. This is another reason why fewer Kanak houses are built.

The South Pacific region is a hotspot of biodiversity but also has the world’s highest concentration of invasive alien plant species (Lenz et al. 2019). Besides, the geographic isolation of the islands produces evolutionary characteristics, which result in native plants being more vulnerable to competition from invasive plants than mainland species (Dyer et al. 2019; Woinarski 2010). In New Caledonia, 83% of the endemic plant species are considered as threatened (Pouteau and Birnbaum 2016). Invasive species include, for example, the Miconia calvescens (the velvet tree), one of the world’s most invasive, and the Sansevieria trifasciata, also known as “snake plant”.

For people in Bako (Paicî Cèmuhi country), the straw is more abundant than in Touaourou, but there are only about ten traditional houses in the community of approximately 500 inhabitants. The extent to which Kanak people and clans have embraced industrialisation and cash commodities have influenced shifts in cultural and architectural practices. Pulling the straw out of the ground is hard work, and many people prefer to build concrete or corrugated sheet houses today. The material (concrete and corrugated sheet) can be bought at building supply depots, which is more comfortable. In earlier days, the straw “went together” with the yam season as described above, which represents a customary ritual. Yam and straw were planted in September or October, and the harvest was in February or March. Today, people who wish to build a traditional house do not always respect the straw season; they harvest the straw or buy it whenever they need it.

Challenges and shifts in the practice and transmission of Kanak cultures also affect Kanak languages (see Chap. 13 by Leblic in this book). Pre-colonial multilingualism has been contested and disrupted by the forceful enforcement and domination of French and the French school system, even if, nowadays, Kanak languages are taught in schools and at the university and promoted by the state agency ADCK.

2.2 Contested and Competing Spaces of Education and the Transmission of Culture

In 1863, first governor of New Caledonia Charles Guillain banned schooling in Kanak languages, a measure that was reiterated in 1883 and 1923 (Rivierre 1985, p. 1694). From 1881 to 1886, Member of the French government Jules Ferry designed laws to introduce free, compulsory and secular primary schooling for children aged 6 to 13. From 1885, a segregated, public, secular school system was set up. In parallel, in 1885, non-compulsory secular Indigenous schools (écoles indigènes) were opened and existed until the dismantling of the Indigenous Code in 1946 (Salaün 2005). The Indigenous schools were initially under the authority of the Department of Indigenous Affairs (Affaires Indigènes) and then from 1919 under the Service of Public Instruction (Service de l’instruction publique). Indigenous schools aimed at controlling Kanak people by creating conciliatory elites and “useful” masses for the colony, through their labour. Likewise, missionaries banned Kanak languages within the missions. Fabrice Wacalie (2011) notes that “learners were punished if they spoke in Kanak language, to the extent that a certain number of ‘traumatized’ grandparents still forbid themselves from speaking their own language today. This created a rupture in the dynamic of intergenerational transmission”. In 1921, publications in Kanak languages were banned. Thereafter, the “French monolingual ideology was implanted in a territory traditionally favouring plurilingualism” (Colombel and Fillol 2009, p. 2).

As we noted above, Kanak languages have been a crucial target of the colonial repression of Kanak people and cultures, and their use and revitalisation is a crucial objective and tool in struggles for freedom and decolonisation. In 1946, the Indigenous code was abolished. Indigenous schools were progressively closed, and Indigenous students relocated to government schools (Bruy-Hebert 2010). In 1951, it was estimated that 50% of school-aged Kanak children attended a public school. In the second part of the twentieth century, the integration of Kanak as citizens within the French Republic and into previously exclusively “white” schools marginalised Kanak languages further (Colombel and Fillol 2009, p. 2). School curricula received increasing criticism and fed the growing Kanak nationalist and liberation movement. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, several activist groups were created (e.g. The Red Scarves [Les Foulards Rouges] and the 1878 Group) and organised political meetings and demonstrations. One of the key catalysts of the Kanak movement starting in the late 1960s was the publication of tracts against segregation written in French, Drehu and Nengone (two of the 28 Kanak languages) by members of The Red Scarves that led to the arrest of some activists for publishing in Indigenous languages and subsequent popular uprisings (Rivierre 1985; Chappell 2003 p. 195). At the beginning of the 1970s, the movement for independence placed the government school system at the centre of their political struggle, in addition to the restitution of lands and cultural recognition. The “colonial school” was perceived as a source of alienation and acculturation for Kanak people. The first official request to recognize Kanak specificities in schools goes back to 1971, when local politicians asked that the Deixonne Law – which had regulated the teaching of regional languages in France since 1951 – be applied to New Caledonia-Kanaky (Salaün 2005, p. 264). On assessing the validity of the request, the Vice-Rector appointed in Nouméa responded in 1975 that “the role of elementary school is to give the children the means for communicating, orally and in writing, which are indispensable if one wants to integrate in a changing society (see Chap. 14 by Wadrawane in this book). In light of the foregoing, one can only stress the need for a place where the French language can be used uninterruptedly. In secondary schools, it does not seem justified to compare [the Kanak languages] with some of the large regional languages of France, which support a literature and in many cases have served as a means of communication for hundreds of thousands of people” (Vice-Rectorat de la Nouvelle-Calédonie 1975, p. 3). The Vice-Rector thus argued that French should remain the dominant language in formal school education.

In 1979, Claude Lercari created the Office for Vernacular Languages (Bureau des langues vernaculaires) to initiate reflection on the teaching of Kanak languages. During the 1984–1988 war, the independence movement’s politics of refusal targeted both the electoral and schooling systems. An active boycott of the school system by Kanak people was put in place across the territory, and Local Kanak Schools (Écoles populaires kanak) were created as an alternative (Gauthier 1996; Nechero-Joredie 1988; Small 1996). Despite the fact that these Local Kanak Schools stopped after several years, or a couple of decades for the longest-lasting ones, the school boycott and the ongoing conflict precipitated changes in the public educational system and in government policies more widely.

More proactive measures were taken when pro-independence Kanak people were in power or had stronger leverage. It is only when politician Jean-Marie Tjibaou became head of the government in 1984 that the laws forbidding instruction and publications in Kanak languages were repealed. The vice-presidency of Jean-Marie Tjibaou at the Government Council (1982–1984) was short-lived. However, a second catalyst was the 1984–1988 war. The political urgency of the period made the recognition of Kanak cultures and languages a question that non-Kanak politicians and people could no longer ignore or postpone. The Agency for the Development of Kanak Culture (ADCK) was founded in 1989 with the purpose to promote Kanak culture. Its four key directives have been to (1) enhance Kanak linguistic and archaeological heritage; (2) encourage contemporary forms of expression of Kanak culture, especially in the field of handicrafts, broadcasting and the arts; (3) promote cultural exchanges, especially within the South Pacific; and (4) to define and conduct research programmes (ADCK 2019). As for Kanak languages, the 1951 Deixonne Law – which officially recognised regional languages in France, allowing their inclusion in school curricula and exams, allowing teachers to use them in class to facilitate students’ learning – was applied to New Caledonia-Kanaky in 1992, 41 years after it was voted in French parliament. The law included only four of the 28 Kanak languages (Ajië, Drehu, Nengone and Paicî). That same year, the North and Loyalty Islands Provinces implemented the teaching of these languages. The South Province only did so in 2005. The 1998 Nouméa Accord set up the institutional framework for the teaching of Kanak languages and granted the latter “the status of languages of instruction in the same way as French”. In 2012, 19 Kanak languages were taught in primary schools and about ten in secondary schools (Vernaudon 2013, p. 116; see also Chap. 13 by Leblic in this book).

The teaching and status of Kanak languages remain precarious, however public instruction continues to be mostly carried out in the language of colonisation, French. This is despite Kanak people and linguists fighting for many decades to implement schooling in Kanak languages, especially in areas where they continue to be widely spoken. What is at stake is not just the instruction of languages but the languages of instruction. Kanak languages continue to be optional and are only offered by the school if parents express an interest (through a survey) in their children learning them. In a televised debate on the place of Kanak languages in public schools, National Education Inspector and Manager of the Service for the Teaching of Kanak Languages and Cultures, Yves Kartono (2017), explained that Kanak languages continue to be optional and minimally offered in schools because “we don’t force a pupil to choose a language, it’s the pupil […] who chooses”. The French language, however, does not abide by this rule, and regardless of the choice of the pupil, it is de facto the language of instruction. The current place and status of Kanak languages in the school system therefore does not abide by the 1998 Nouméa Accord that stipulates that Kanak languages are, with French, official languages of instruction. One study (Colombel and Fillol 2009, p. 3) concludes that “even freed from the ‘Parisian’ constraints, the New Caledonian school system continues to disseminate a monolingual ideology” and the non-European epistemologies are “only rarely” taken into account. To date, except for one pilot project at the Kuru raa (Coula) school in Wa Wi Luu (Houaïlou) where teaching is carried out in both French and Ajië, no policies of bilingual education have been put in place in New Caledonia-Kanaky. Thus, linguistic exclusion was (and remains) common, as Kanak people whose native language is not French continue to be forced, by coercive laws and practices, to learn primarily in the dominant settler language. Writing from another settler colonial society, the United States, Iyengar (2014) demonstrates that colonial language policies have been fundamental to the logic of elimination of Indigenous people in settler colonial societies. The languages of instruction are a crucial tool of settler colonial power and remain, to date, a matter of contention between the settler colonial polity and Kanak advocates of decolonisation.

Such policies contribute to the continuing erosion of Kanak languages. Today, 15 of the 28 Kanak languages are classified as “in danger” by UNESCO (Moseley 2010). Fluency in French, on the contrary, has drastically increased in recent decades. In 2000, 70% of school children spoke French as a first language, while only about 30% of their parents did (Vernaudon 2013, p. 117). Therefore, instruction in/of Kanak languages remains precarious, despite the fact that most political powers concerning the matter have been transferred from mainland France to the territory, which benefits from “unmatched institutional resources” in comparison to France’s other overseas territories (ibid, p. 117). In the face of continuing colonial domination and such institutional reluctance, Kanak people continue to create ways to affirm and pass on Kanak cultural heritage. This “constant reformulation” (Tjibaou 1985, p. 1601) testifies of the flexibility and resilience of Kanak cultural practices (see Chap. 14 by Wadrawane in this book).

3 Resilient and Resurgent Spaces of Kanak Languages and Cultural Heritage

3.1 Haeke Language and Culture: The Kanak Oral Heritage Collection

Haeke is part of the Voh-Koohnê linguistic group, which gathers seven dialects and about 1200 speakers in total, recorded in 2009: Bwatoo, Haeke, Haveke, Hmwaeke, Hmwaveke, Vamale et Waamwang (no longer spoken). Haeke was spoken by about 300 people that year (Rivierre and Erhart 2006, p. 13). These seven dialects have strong similarities and interferences between one another. There hasn’t been a tradition of written transmission of knowledge in Haeke to date, but the language is still little documented and studied. Some research was conducted by Maurice Leenhardt (1946), G.W. Grace (1955), who published a list of 200 words in Haeke, and then André-Georges Haudricourt (1963). Jean-Claude Rivierre and Sabine Erhart, who conducted surveys in the region in the 1970s and 1990s, published a dictionary in collaboration with Raymond Diéla (2006). Since 2017, Jean Rohleder (University of Bern) has studied the Vamale language, which counts only around 100 speakers, as part of his PhD thesis in Linguistics. He is currently in the process of writing, together with his research group, a dictionary; 2000 words have already been collected (VKP Infos 2018b).

Urbanisation has intensified the use and domination of French and considering the proximity of the community of Bako to the town of Koohnê, Haeke language is on the wane. Many children do not speak Haeke anymore; they communicate in French. Besides, an increasing number of adults in the community are waged workers, which also results in a loss of customary practices and use of the language (Kowasch 2011, pp. 5–6). It is in this context that the 2006 Bwatoo dictionary (which also includes Haeke) was published so as to provide a teaching material that young people could use to relearn their language (Kowasch 2011, p. 6). According to the clans in Bako, the dictionary is an important source for conserving the language. In the last few years, Haeke has been taught in pre-school and primary school “Les Almandas” in Koohnê. Nevertheless, learning Haeke remains an option, it’s not compulsory. Kanak institutions have also taken the issue in their own hands.

The collection of Kanak oral history has been an important project of the ADCK. Since 2002, partnerships have been gradually established with the Kanak customary areas of Grande Terre, Hoot ma Whaap, Paicî-Cèmuhî, Ajië-Aro, Xârâcùù, and Drubea-Kapumë (Kasarhérou 2007, p. 28). The public institution appointed Kanak oral heritage collectors in each of these customary areas who, since 2002, have recorded ancestral knowledge such as songs, dances, weaving techniques, rituals, and the history of Kanak clans. Conferences and meetings between the collectors have been organised in collaboration with the Tjibaou Cultural Centre, the New Caledonia Museum, the media library of the North Province (Médiathèque du Nord) and the Pomemie Cultural Centre in Koohnê. It must be noted that due to the limited budget of the ADCK, these Kanak cultural collectors work on a voluntary basis and receive monthly compensation in return. In addition to ADCK, the ALK aims to promote and revitalise Kanak linguistic heritage. The public ALK was created in 2007 and works on the transcription of the 40 Kanak languages and dialects. The objective is to determine, for each of the languages, a writing system, that is, a standardized alphabetic code, and graphic correspondences between phonemes (sounds) and graphemes (signs) (ALK 2019).

An example is the collection of toponyms in different Kanak languages. In Bako, the cultural office of the North Province commissioned cultural collectors to conduct a short survey of Kanak toponyms in Paicî-Cèmuhi country. Collection of Kanak toponyms was further developed in Bako and in Netchaot by Antoine Cano Poady (in Bako), Samuel Goromido (in Netchaot) and Matthias Kowasch in 2009 as part of his doctoral studies. Informed by Antoine Cano Poady’s ancestral knowledge and clan history and equipped with mapping equipment, over 20 toponyms were collected in Bako. Samuel Goromido, president of the Clan Council and former president of the New Caledonian Customary Senate, and Matthias Kowasch reported and mapped over 120 toponyms for Netchaot alone. The map of these was later presented at the Clan Council and approved by all clans in Netchaot, a Kanak community in the mountain range around 20 kilometres away from Koohnê.

Figure 12.1 shows the structure of housing and toponyms in Haeke language in Bako.

Fig. 12.1
A map of Bako with spatial organizations. The houses of the different clans are located above and below the market at the center. Old school is located in the north.

Map of Bako – spatial organisation and toponyms. (Source: Poady 2009 (personal communication), cartopgraphy: Kowasch and Arroyas 2023)

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Bako did not exist before the colonial period, and its 22 clans – which arrived at different times – are assembled in four “bigger” clans: Bako, Poawidapthia, Wabealo and Poaxu (Table 12.2). Each “bigger” clan has a different colour on the map. The former chief house, former houses, and places where sick people were treated are sacred places; they have been named in Haeke on the map. According to the anthropologist Jean Guiart (1963/1992), the Bako clans, formerly settled in Koohnê, were joined by refugees from various repressions and European killings, notably those of Pouembout and Poya. In Haeke language, we call the clans “moatabo”, which means “house where we sit”. The families are named “moau” which means “clan”, “house” or “lineage”. In Bako, the Wabealos are the most numerous clan, followed by the Poawidapthia and the Bako clan (Kowasch 2010). The following table shows the 22 clans residing in the community of Bako:

Table 12.2 Clans residing in the community of Bako
Full size table

“Camoadoope”, the former chieftaincy (Fig. 12.1), is a significant cultural place. According to the former clan chief of the Tiaouniane clan (pers. inter., 20 July 2010), the term “Camadoope” means “big land” or “big land plot” in Haeke. At the time, it was the Vabou-Poithily clan who resided there. At the death of the little chief, an old Vabou-Poithily, his adopted son Fidèle (also born Vabou-Poithily) was too young to take on the chieftaincy. His brother, Louis Vabou-Poithily, was sick and drowned in the Koohnê river. The chieftaincy was therefore given to the Poemate clan (part of the larger Poaxu clan, who arrived last in the community of Bako). On the death of old Poemate in 1973, the father of Djessé Tiaouniane (of the larger Bako clan) took the leadership “on a whim” (ibid.), without consulting his family beforehand. However, he died 2 years later, in 1975. Subsequently, the chieftaincy returned to the Poemate. Gabriel Tibotéa, the uncle of the current president of the clan council, acted as an administrative chief between 1975 and 2001. Since then, the chieftaincy has been vacant in Bako, but the clan council has met regularly until recently. The place “Camadoope” is well known by all families who reside in the community, but the notion of “taboo” or “sacred” is being lost. The former chieftaincy used to be respected by everyone, but Djessé Tiaouniane deplores that “it is no longer taboo” today (pers. inter., 20 July 2010).

Efforts and projects to promote cultural heritage put in place by Kanak institutions and the state are also buttressed by individuals and local grassroots initiatives. For instance, the association Mwafinati based in Bako aims at promoting Haeke language and culture by opening up a cultural class (music, dance, weaving, sewing cloth) and providing learning support to the children in Bako. “Mwafinati” means “house for reading a book/paper” in Haeke, whereby “Mwa” means “house”, “fina” “read” and also “counting” and “ti” “book” or “paper”. Besides the work done by Mwafinati, another cultural association called “Vee Caa” ran initiatives in education. The latter helped mostly younger school children to do their homework. It also promoted Haeke language and culture. Vee Caa has two meanings in Haeke: the first refers to the coleus plant that is given to the uterine uncles of a newborn so that they receive the strength and knowledge of their uncles; the second means “knowledge” and “learning”. After the dissolution of the homework support done by Vee Caa, Mwafinati was founded and set up to restore the former school building (Fig. 12.2b). The former school in Bako was a public school, and the planned taking over of the school building by the Protestant School Alliance is currently being discussed. To date, Mwafinati has not been able to start work, because of a customary conflict in Bako: a family of the Poadjare clan (of the larger Poawidapthia clan) claims the plot of land where the school building is located. The project of the association has been put on hold until an amicable agreement is reached.

Fig. 12.2
2 photos. The first photo is of wood being sculpted. There are wood carving tools placed on top of it. The second photo is of a small single storied wooden building.

(a, b) Sculpture atelier and former school building in Bako. (Credit: Kowasch 2007, 2009)

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In addition to Vee Caa and Mwafinati, several other groups have been created to maintain and promote cultural activities in Bako. There is a youth group performing activities (such as dances) at the parish and a women’s group called “Ue Been” that organizes sewing and bingo events, for example. Moreover, there are a market association and two sculptors (Kiki and Simon Wabealo; Fig. 12.2a) in Bako.

3.2 Nââ numèè Language and Culture: Humaa-gué and Kaneka Music

The Drubea-Kapumë customary area encompasses three Kanak languages: Nââ numèè (in Touaourou, Waho, Goro and Ouen Island), Nââ kwegni (Île des Pins) and Nââ drubea (Unia and Païta). Except for Nââ numèè in Yaté, none of the Kanak languages taught in schools is from the Customary area Drubea-Kapumë. Nââ numèè is spoken by about 800 people. Nââ numèè also suffers from the fact that some parents favour French as they consider it necessary for their children to achieve at school. In the last decade, projects have been initiated to promote the Numèè language. In 2012, a bilingual (Numèè-French) edition of the oral story of the wild yam Nyùwâxè was written by Adolphe Ouetcho. A year later, Fabrice Saiqë Wacalie (2013) wrote a PhD thesis on Nââ numèè. In 2015, the Academy for Kanak Languages (Académie des langues kanak) has proposed and codified a written form for Numèè (Ihage 2015).

In addition to these institutional projects and programmes, people also have, at the grassroots level, created new ways and different media to express Kanak cultures and use, and to promote Kanak languages. For example, musical creation, as any artistic activity, is part of a historical process, with its contradictions and its social struggles. In the 1970s, socially and politically engaged musicians such as Jean-Pierre Swan, Kiki Karé and Théo Menango started singing about past and contemporary Kanak resistance. A new musical genre, Kaneka music, was thus born from the history of the national liberation struggle of Kanak people. A founding event was the “Tradition and creation” seminar held in Canala in 1986 (Bensignor 2013). The musicians of Kal, Kiki and Krys performed at it, along with Théo Menango, Lionel Weiri and others. Since then, Radio Djiido, the recording studio Mangrove and many concerts in Kanak communities have popularised Kaneka music. Kaneka – coined from the expression “cadence née des Kanak”, meaning “rhythm born from the Kanak” (Mwà Véé 2006, p. 2) – is inspired by ancestral rhythms (the aéaé chants for instance) and influenced by genres from overseas. This new cultural expression has promoted Kanak cultures and people and testified of the continued creativity of Kanak contemporary art forms. Humaa-gué, a band from the Touaourou community, is another example of Kaneka music and Kanak cultural resurgence in the last few decades.

In 1991, an association whose aim was to gather young people around cultural practices and crafts was created in Touaourou. Four years later, the Kaneka band Humaa-gué was created and initiated by the Ouetcho family (Louis, Emmanuel, Hubert, Pascal and Chanel). The rhythm is based on tedra, an ancestral fast-paced rhythm from the south of Grande Terre, mixing ancestral (ex. pounding bamboo poles) and imported instruments (ex. harmonica) and a cappella chorus (“éaé”). Over the years, the members have changed and the musical influences and instruments varied. Regardless of these evolutions, the songs by Humaa-gué (which means “Our History” in Nââ numèè) addresses a large diversity of topics and discusses political issues: cultural life and practices in the community (“Mode de vie”) as well as aspects of colonial history (ex. “Iaai”), sociopolitical issues and afflictions facing Kanak people (ex. “Alcoolonisé”, meaning Alcoholonised), affirmation of Kanak independence (“Kanakydeal”) and the mining industry (“Terre du sud”).

Humaa-Gue – Kanakydeal (2014)

Cher et en mon cœur tu resteras

Mon idéal oh ! Kanaky tant d’ignorance

A ton égard mais oh pourquoi

Dear and in my heart you will remain

My ideal, oh! Kanaky so much ignorance

Towards you but oh, why

Même si tu es l’exil de la bourgeoisie

Tu resteras mon paradis

Tant convoitée due à l’éclat de ce système

Even if you are the exile of the bourgeoisie

You will remain my paradise

So desired due to the flamboyance of this system

 On oublie trop souvent nos tribus

 On oublie bien souvent ces ghettos

 De la ville

 Même s’ils sont bien fleuris

 Kanakydéal Kanaky

 We too often forget our communitiess

 We too often forget these ghettos

 Of the city

 Even if they are full of beautiful flowers

 Kanakydeal Kanaky

Même si l’idéologie d’être un jour

En Kanaky s’en est allé pour

D’autres rêves où le système nous désunis

Even if the ideology to be one day

In Kanaky has been replaced by

Other dreams in which the system pulls us apart

N’avons-nous pas le droit d’être un jour

En harmonie dans ce pays où le système

Nous désuni pour dominer

Haven’t we got the right to be one day

In harmony in this country where the system

Pulls us apart to dominate

 On oublie trop souvent nos tribus

 On oublie bien souvent ces ghettos

 De la ville

 Même s’ils sont bien fleuris

 Kanakydeal Kanaky

 We too often forget our communitiess

 We too often forget these ghettos

 Of the city

 Even if they are full of beautiful flowers

 Kanakydeal Kanaky

The song “Militant” aims at raising awareness among today’s youth to work in hand together for the country. In this country, the respect of traditions and cultural differences are precious gifts. As militants for freedom, Humaa-gué encourages people to live in harmony and in peace: the song should be a light on the path when you are in doubt.

Militant (2015)

Où sont-ils arrivés ces gens-là

Avec leurs droits de combattant liés à la cause

Les militants de la Kanaky éa

Ils ont mené la vie dure

Laissant traces et souvenirs liés à la cause

L’indépendance de la Kanaky éa

Where have those people got to

With their combatant rights attached to the cause

The militants of Kanaky éa

They’ve had a difficult life

Leaving marks and memories linked to the cause

The independence of Kanaky éa

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

Différent les uns des autres

Les combattants de lutte pour la cause

Les militants de la Kanaky éa

Garder le moral

A l’heure où l’on ne parle que de la cause

L’indépendance de la Kanaky éa

Different one from the other

The combatants of the struggle for the cause

The militants of Kanaky éa

Keeping the spirits up

At a time when we only talk about the cause

The independence of Kanaky éa

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

 Eaé éaa éaé

Où sont-ils arrivés ces gens-là

Avec leurs droits de combattant liés à la cause

Les militants de la Kanaky éa

Ils ont mené la vie dure

Laissant traces et souvenirs liés à la cause

L’indépendance de la Kanaky éa

Where have those people got to

With their combatant rights attached to the cause

The militants of Kanaky éa

They had a difficult life

Leaving marks and memories linked to the cause

The independence of Kanaky éa

Without Title

Gué ba va é gön tchotchiri yova,

Mön van tchapwé,

Më nhgon ba tcha néta vé gue,

Kwé aé ön kapé é.

We ask you, my god, you, our Elders

That you always catch one of my feet (you show me the path)

Like in the past.

Gué ba va é gön tchotchiri yova,

Mön van tchapwé,

Më nhgon ba tcha néta vé gué,

Ea on gni rika.

We ask you, my god, you, our Elders,

That you always catch one of my feet (you show me the path)

Today

Gué roe kwan é gon tchotchiri yova,

Mön van tchapwé gué,

Hgon ba tchané ta vé gué,

Ku amán on ta kare.

We sing to you, my god, you, our Elders,

That you always catch one of my feet (you show me the path)

For our future

Na yaro tchan varekin bwë na ni metön Humma-gué,

Gou ré tire mwa ré tee moumwar,

Kete a man ke a on takare,

Na vee bwa mé gnarè ye oe,

Vee nare ba tcho ton ön.

You the young, look far ahead of you, because our Elders are no longer here,

One day when you will be overtaken by evolution,

The sacred word will bring you back to reason.

(Refrain)

Nuè makaré aé,

Gué rö vee nene mi gué.

(Chorus)

The same heart as before

Working hand in hand.

4 Conclusion

After decades of land dispossession, forced labour, oppression and genocides, Kanak people and public institutions have tried to preserve and promote cultural heritage. The ADCK and the ALK work on languages, knowledge on sacred places, toponyms, myths and dances. Taking the example of the community of Bako, we have demonstrated that knowledge of toponyms and language is still present, but school education, the use of mainstream media and the proximity to Koohnê, the capital of the North Province, leads to a loss of language and cultural skills.

By 2000, 70% of school children spoke French as a first language, and by 2010, 15 out of the 28 Kanak languages were classified as “in danger” by UNESCO (Moseley 2010). Some Kanak languages are taught in schools and at university level as we have shown, but their implementation remains largely inadequate to the needs of Kanak pupils and students. Considering that, unlike other settler colonial societies, no policy of bilingual education has ever been implemented in New Caledonia-Kanaky, this deficiency in language policies is all the more glaring. More efforts should be made to implement the teaching of Kanak languages at all education levels, in a more systematic and proactive way. A loss of language is a loss of cultural diversity. Kanak knowledge systems, cultural heritage and practices should guide formal and non-formal education. That means that the entire education system needs to be rethought. Reform would contribute to the full recognition of Kanak identity required by the Nouméa Accord in 1998: “The past was the time of colonisation. The present is the time of sharing, through rebalancing” (Faberon and Postic 2004, p. 15). To achieve this sharing, power relations need to shift to ensure a thriving environment for Kanak languages, cultural heritage and practices.

More importantly, this chapter has demonstrated that in a context of colonial legacies, institutional conservatism and depleting natural resources, the initiatives undertaken by Kanak people at the grassroots level are key to the continuance of Kanak cultural heritage and practices. The work and artistic engagement of clans and associations create opportunities for Kanak that are otherwise not, or inadequately, provided by institutions. Music can be a way to (re)learn a language. Kaneka music is popular amongst young people, and bands such as Humaa-gué, from the community of Touaourou, are thus a powerful vehicle for Kanak cultural heritage and knowledge for the new generations. Humaa-gué’s songs are politically engaged and tackle issues that are relevant to today’s youth, from the fight for freedom to heavy drinking of alcohol. Considering the political tug-of-war that continues to characterise the territory and the continuing reluctance and fears of a large part of the population to see Kanak people asserting their rights, Kanak clans, grassroot associations and groups remain important resurgent spaces where languages and cultural heritage may survive and thrive.