Mawhialeo Ote Alowha / Our Love | 2020 | New Zealand
Language: Tokelauan, English

Meli and her husband Avito reflect on the pivotal decision of their lives. With much trepidation they left the tiny atoll of Tokelau for New Zealand seeking a better life for their son. 43 years on, they find themselves pulled  between family and a longing for home.

Director & Cinematographer: Valeriya Golovina
Producer: Niamh Swannack
Executive Producer: Paul Wolffram
Editor: Morgan Hopkins
Sound: Cameron Cook
Composer: William Philipson
Story Advisor: Catherine Fitzgerald
Translation: Nive Venning & Les Atoni
Featuring: Kalameli Teinawho Ihaia Alewhohio, Avito Alefosio,
Iosefo “Joseph” Alefosio, Selina Alefosio, Joinah Alefosio Maiava,
Meliana Alefosio Maiava

Director’s statement
As a filmmaker I have had the chance to travel to places that seemed unreachable growing up in a small town of Yakymivka in the South-East of Ukraine. Working with local communities in Tanzania, Sri Lanka, Morocco, Germany and UAE motivated me to continually expose myself to untold stories and shape non-mainstream narratives within our communities. I do believe there is nothing more powerful than an honest human story inviting us to care for one another across borders and continents. The stories of leaving your homeland are always sharp and painful. They are concrete names, families, losses and sacrifices. Of course I believe in the power of moving images. Gosh I love movies. I love getting to know people and places I know nothing about. I'm often asked: "But why are you interested in that story? You have no relationship." This is exactly why.

Immersing myself in the vibrant city of Wellington eventually led me to Meli Alefosio and her poignant story. Hearing how her family left Tokelau for New Zealand to provide a better life for their blind son resonated with me and my own journey of uncertainty being away from home. Meli and Avito only planned to be here for a little while and yet 40 years on they’ve had to make New Zealand their second home. Although there are plenty of familiarities in cultures and societies I have lived in, and especially here in New Zealand, there are plenty of differences too, making me feel like I both belong and do not at the same time. Meli and Avito welcomed me into their family and community providing a unique chance to tell their personal story alongside them. Being in Aotearoa I have witnessed that even though Pākehā live alongside many cultures and might have Samoan or Fijian friends, people rarely get a chance to glimpse into Pasifika communities. My hope was  to elevate Pasifika voices and share with the viewers access into these communities they would not normally have one to.

The film speaks to the life of Tokelauan immigrants in New Zealand, their strong sense of belonging and inability to find a “sense of  home.” My artistic approach not only seeks to portray their journey but aims to represent a wider range of social and cultural experiences among the Tokelauan community. Stories of women are rarely told; stories of Tokelaun women even more so. Meli speaks in depth about her upbringing in Tokelau and her continuing journey finding her place in New Zealand. Often poignantly she points to what she cannot speak about. 

The film serves as a nuanced archive of Meli and Avito’s journey, excavating intimate and poetic memories shared by the family. The finished film is a gentle and immersive exploration of culture and community, giving viewers an insight into the relationships between the individual and community in Tokelauan culture.

It’s surreal for me to think that just over two years ago I could sit at Meli and Avito's house, have tea, chase their great grandkids in the backyard, and talk about our homelands - Ukraine and Tokelau. I always want people to remember something about Ukraine, our endless fight for freedom, our generosity and courage despite a seeming coldness and firmness at first. To put Ukraine in their mental map, and the same goes for Tokelau.

It’s easier to chose “that doesn’t concern me, those are not my people, my family, my community,” but what if it was your community, home, family? In that film, on that photograph or drawing? Would it concern you then? What do you do if there is no more physical place to your roots? Where do you return?