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An American in Fiji

James Patton, Peace Corps Volunteer

Nayavu Village, Wainibuka, Viti Levu, Fiji (Viti)
1976
Reprinted From

Koro Ni Vuli: Case Studies In Educational Practice In Fiji

With permission from the United States Peace Corps
& The University of Southern California

Editor:  Dick Hailer, Ph.D

Peace Corps Press, Washington DC: 1976

Culture And ChangeDefending DefenseAt SchoolA Current AssessmentEpilogue

Introduction

How To Pronounce Fijian B is pronounced like mb in timber C is pronounced like th inthine D is pronounced like nd in handy G is pronounced like ng in singer Q is pronounced like ng in finger Taboo in Fijian is tabu is tambu (kapu in Hawaiian) and the "m" is not shown. Cakobau, the great chief, is "Tha-Kom-Bau." There are no exceptions.

Living in a Fijian bush village is living close to the earth. The other day, at one of our numerous feasts, I was mentally listing the things that require an actual outlay of cash. What a short list it was!  We grow our own taro, yams, and tapioca for their roots. We catch prawns in the Wainibuka River that runs near our village.  We find that bananas and coconuts, duruka, oranges, and papayas are abundant.  We cook in the earth oven or over a simple fire, and the firewood is free.  Many families have their own cows and pigs, and most have chickens.  We sit on fine mats, woven of local plants by the women, and we carry things in baskets made of coconut leaves, discarded after one use.  The men drink kava (yaqona) into the night, and if they want to, they can grow their own kava root (Piper methysticum) to save money.  Clothing is simple, and because there is little or no accent on fashion, a single shirt may be repaired and handed down for years.  Most houses are the Fijian bure style of thatched roof and bamboo walls, cheap, and built by those who live in them with help from friends.

Westernism

The villager who resists most of the trappings of in-creeping Western civilization needs little money. After acquiring a few utensils, a lantern, a wooden food safe, and bedding, an average family of 10 can live on 5 dollars per week. A trip to the doctor is 10 cents. When money is spent, it is on such things as beer, transportation, kerosene for cooking, benzene for lighting, and school fees. All these and more are of Western introduction. Inevitably, the ease of buying even those necessities that can be made or grown at home, like a net or bananas, and the seduction of the larger luxuries, like a radio or tobacco (tavako), have created a subtle demand for higher wages (or wages for the first time) and a general money consciousness.

Before my house girl agreed to work for me, she first made sure it would not beat the same "low" wages paid by my PCV predecessor who had left before I arrived.  Parents tell their kids school is meant to get them jobs.  Because I am "European" and the only Caucasian for many miles in any direction, I am rich, even though I am paid the same as my local teacher counterparts -- Fiji Indians (2 Moslems), and Fijians (various Christian denominations).  Awe is expressed at the enormity of Western purchasing power, and some of the awe spills onto me, as much as I try to avoid it.  When I cannot afford something in the shop, I am told "Oh, you have plenty money."  At the same time, children and adults regard me as a master or even a savior from the West.

Powerful forces of change operate today in outlying areas like Nayavu and in Fiji generally. Many outsiders as me tend to view the beautiful Fijian way of life with some reverence.  With disturbing frequency, Fijians appear to sacrifice or compromise certain traditions which seem to us intrinsically meaningful (several for which a Westerner might give his eyeteeth to have back home, e.g. the harmony among the social tiers).  Compromises to satisfy real needs (medicine, education) require our indulgence, and we must be mindful of falling in the trap of protecting others for our purpose rather than theirs.  When X-rays at the hospital diagnose the problem and get it a quick cure, we cannot lament too much the absence of the traditional healing rite that fascinates us.  The pace of change is quickening even without rural electric power, a glut of Western media and technologies, and their consequences.  Imagine that in two years the balanced and harmonious Wainibuka Valley is expected to go electric, an occurrence, which will surely hasten this fading unity of man and land.

The British had learned elsewhere the difficulty of indenturing a people in their own land.The importing of laborers was a sensible official rationale for Fiji to share in British administrative costs.  The expense prevented British acceptance of earlier Fijian offers of cession..  While compassion was clearly an element of Great Britain's subsequent change of mind and annexation, subsidizing the cost was pre-eminent.  Setting aside the pre-Indian slave labor traffic to Fiji ("blackbirding"), retrospectively we see in the design of this kind of culture contact the chronic exploitation of Fijian wealth to other parts of the world without real compensation or high purpose:  Sandalwood (exhausted in 13 years), beche-de-mere, a fish (gone), and gold (a 25 year supply is left) to mention a few.  Due to the American civil war, the initial British key to success in Fiji was cotton.  However, America got back on its feet at the expense of the British plan.  Except for the British, no one in the world, could compete in common with the United States.  Numerous attempts at establishing a cotton industry using the Indians in Fiji failed  -- then, fortuitously, the sugar cane industry took off, flourished, and Fiji had found its economic niche.  Indians may have ended their indentures, but by staying rather than returning, they outnumbered the Fijians by the end of WWII  -- a war boycotted by many Indians and embraced by many Fijians, one at home enlarging families, the other away defending Fiji.

A Larger World

Most Fijians never see Fiji except where they happen to be born. This tradition is partly due to self-sufficiency and partly to Fiji's insular nature of hundreds of inhabited islands. Villagers and Fiji Indians in our community get dividends from Nayavu's role as the leading village of the area. It has the school, the postal facility, and a number of government stations. The greater Nayavu area is isolated yet sufficiently close to Fiji's major metropolitan area, Suva, that it gets the best of both worlds. There is opportunity and reason for travel to other parts of Fiji, at least for adults.

Twice now, in the course of my professional duties or social pursuits, a small child has run like crazy from me when they suddenly caught sight of a stranger with a startling skin color. Last week, a group of students came to my house after school to play my guitar. One of my students, fourteen year old Raijieli (Fijianized form of Rachel), was telling me this was the first tin of vegetables she had ever seen.  In the same breath, she surprised me by saying that the first time she had ever been away from her home was just two months ago, when our school (Wainibuka Junior Secondary School) took a field trip to the University of the South Pacific, in Suva, just to see it, or perhaps more accurately to confirm to the students it existed!

Nayavu lies in the Wainibuka valley of Fiji's biggest island (Viti Levu or "Big Fiji").  It is only 60 miles north of the capitol, Suva, the largest city.  Suva is accessible by a winding and mountainous road.  To a local adult person, the excitement and perks of the city are easily obtainable by taxis and open-air buses.  European tourists, on the other hand, come up or down our road front so rarely that when they do, we are surprised.  Tourists can choose the paved leisure of the east coast's Queen's Road -- Fiji's answer to the "highway" -- to get back to the international airport at Nadi (built by the Amricans in WWII).  Alternatively, they can brave the inelegant trial of the gravelly, unpaved King's Road that dissects the island and cuts through the skirts of our village.  Leisure seekers get instead villages and villagers that expect tourists and prepare for them.  Brave hearts get the inner side of Fiji available to those who value spontaneity and forego the sugar coat.

The recent (1970) independence from Great Britain, orderly though it was, mildly shocked Fiji society at all levels.  At the forefront is an understanding that the new order requires a new kind of self-reliance that deals with nations beyond the worlds of Polynesia and Micronesia (keep in mind that Fijians are descended from the same ancestral group that gave rise to the Polynesians).  This understanding reaches even into the villages.  One of the great side effects of intramural sports is that students (mostly boys) have travel chances that otherwise simply would not exist.  The educational value of travel is obvious, and most villagers, even the chiefs and older men and women, are eager to endorse the school excursions.

We of the West expect and take for granted the utility of travel and the consciousness expansion travel affords.  Up to now, the typical Fijian appears to have had little feeling for a role in world affairs or, more importantly, a right or any special reason or need to participate in its affairs.  These are new ideas beginning to grow with increased external international contacts (the Fiji Army is expected to participate in UN Middle East peacekeeping missions, e.g. in Lebanon, with other nations such as Finland, Ghana, and Nepal).  As true of the elite of many underdeveloped nations, Fijians of chiefly lineage are often an exception to the isolation of the people they govern.  The Fiji Indian, who has a worldwide brethren and ancient external roots, is also an exception.  Children of Fiji Indians are extremely aware of the outer world and aspire to interact with it.  Fijian children, on the other hand, are coming only slowly into the global fold.  This "coming of being" is accelerated by scholastic intramural travel -- a door to the first step of knowing your own country.

Typically, travel abroad in past years has been reserved for middle-aged national dignitaries—those with the traditional need, wherewithal, and position.  However, some Fijians are beginning to travel abroad in the more important formative years of sixteen and seventeen.  I recently spoke with a Queen Victoria School (Suva) student and his teacher.  They had just returned from a trip to the U.S. sponsored by a former Peace Corps Volunteer.  The teacher and student seemed different from their counterparts who had not traveled -- more serious and understanding, more contemplative -- and perhaps we had a better basis for communication.  The teacher's most vivid impression of the U.S.?  Its vastness and the confidence of its children.  The student's?  Frisbees and TV.

Fijians And Fiji Indians

The heritage of the Fijian Indian includes the Bhagavad-Gita of old and incipient nuclear power (in India) of late. Much of Indian past is a record of non-violence, and linguists consider ancient Sanskrit as one of the world's most perfect languages.The powerful restrictions Indian ancestors imposed on the sexual behavior of their progeny seem to have caused some preoccupation with sex, manifested in what might be exaggerated forms in male joking, female avoidance, and occasional violence.Possibly these restrictions explain some of the prodigious energy that Fiji Indian and other Indians channel into so many pursuits of excellence of the mind and the pocketbook.Fijians and Fiji Indians contrast markedly in they way they use their talents.These behaviors highlight the amazing intersection of deeply differing values that exist in Fiji through historical accident.

While the differences between the typical Fijian and the typical Fiji Indian are formidable obstacles to a truly united nation, there are some incredible similarities, too.Watch the Indian stoics walk across hot coals.Then watch Fijian firewalkers stand and dance unburned on great pools of red-hot rocks and stones.No pain or injury in either case.Read the story of the just widowed Hindu woman setting fire to her own funeral pyre.Then read an eyewitness account of a Fijian woman, newly widowed, digging her own grave with bare hands and asking to be strangled.It is good for us to remember that differences exist not only between peoples, but among peoples, and that giving value to a particular set of differences can have important, life-sustaining or socially cohesive functions for the in-group (perhaps for the out-group, as well).When reaching a certain degree of variance in an atmosphere of competition, members of one group may totally reject the other, ignoring their human common denominator.Some of these members may call for expulsion, as some Fijians demand that Fiji Indians are shipped "back" to India. Yet, most Fiji Indians under 60 years old (the upper vast majority) were born in Fiji and this is their only home.Such ideas are unfair and unrealistic, and an impediment to an eventual unity.One need only hear an Indian youth, as I have, proudly singing the Fijian National Anthem -- alone, and on his own time -- to know this is true.

Cannibalism

Nobody knows why, when, or how cannibalism came to the Fijis.We do know what it is and where it could be found, and that knowledge frightens or intrigues people to this day.In the language of the land, it was "dau kana tomato," or literally, "the habit of eating people".The stronghold of this habit was, of all places, the "garden" isle of Fiji, beautiful Tavenui Island.It yet awaits an H. G. Wells and a time machine to answer the most basic of questions regarding the origin and reasons for one eating his own kind.

Was it an import of a distant Asia or New Guinea past?Was it bred of the same necessity, which recently faced those South American athletes: Crash-landed, isolated, reluctant…but starving?Could the warrior really consume the brave enemy and become braver by a power conveyed in the flesh?Was the warrior simply more able because he prevailed, with absolute proof through the cannibalistic act?Was it a fear tactic?Was it population control?Was it the protein factor?

Protein-rich animals have been here a long time, at least long enough to have several humorous legends about them.But birds and worms are too small, rats (presumably) don't taste good, and fish are hard to catch.In fact, the mullet will jump over your head and escape the net.The wild pig is dangerous and even harder to catch.Peni, one of my students, told me how several years ago he and his father were hunting boar in the bush.He heard a scream, and ran to find his father gored in the groin and dying.It is no more dangerous to hunt a man, and doing so actually has advantages:the return is greater; a Latin American equivalent of "machismo" is satisfied; the pool of competitors is reduced.

I think we can relate to the plight of the much maligned "beachcombers," usually shipwrecked sailors, like Charles Savage, in the late 1790's and early 1800's who may have started it all -- the real Fijian wars, and what has become regarded as the real Fijian cannibalism, not in its popularized character as indigenous, but a product of European presence!These castaways and strays often worked hard to introduce firearms into Fijian warfare, supplying muskets to one or the other of rival chiefs in an attempt to be ofmore value alive than dead and the subject of a chief's dinner table. A European, especially beachcombers who lost the favor of a chief, could instantly regain esteem amongst the Fijians by being converted to "bokola ," the body of the dead enemy to be baked in the lovo(earth oven; imu in Hawaii) and eaten.It happened often enough that both living and dead Europeans earned the unenvious title of "long pig" owing to -- whether real or imagined -- some special good taste unique to Caucasians or kaivulangi ("strangers from under the sky").

Fijians didn't wear shoes in those days, and they try not to wear shoes today.In the days of the missionary Reverend Baker, the Sigatoka Fijians (deep in the interior of the big island, Viti Levu) didn't know what a shoe was.Here is a case recorded elsewhere that I got from my students' point of view:There are varying versions of what happened, but the gist is the same:Reverend Baker attempted to retrieve his comb from the "big hair" of a chief.Then, as now, touching the head of any chief was breaking a sacred tabu.Reverend Baker, subject to the old rules, was immediately killed and eaten.There is an irreligiousmixture of tragedy and humor here, as the Fijians are reported to have persistently boiled the Good Father's shoes -- for weeks the students tell me -- until they were soft enough to be eaten with rourou, the same delicious dalo(taro) leaves every Fijian, and myself , eat almost daily with fish.

The story is that the Fijians thought the shoes were a part of the Reverend's body.Some adults say it didn't happen, but this could involve some face-saving.It is noteworthy that if the shoes were a part of Baker's body, the Fijians must have thought him a being of a different species, or even of another realm altogether -- and it is certainly easier to eat something we don't identify with self! (On a side note, the taro plant stalk, cooked in coconut milk, is like asparagus.It is one of the best tasting vegetables in the world -- but an entire plant is sacrificed at its eating since the stalk cannot be re-placed into the wettened earth to grow a new root – thus it is a delicacy -- unlike the leaves and root of the taro plant -- and reserved for chiefs...and Peace Corps Volunteers!).

Today, we know not to touch an adult Fijian's head or even stand above a seated Fijian (though the consequences are not so drastic), and the Sigatoka Fijians know what a pair of leather shoes is.But before we cast a stone, how well do we know ourselves?What is this fickleness of our own culture that lets us treat a subject as a man's death with levity simply because enough time has passed?Is it because the act isn't likely tomorrow or a clear and present threat today?It can't be that we didn't know him -- were we to laugh and the same thing had happened to a stranger yesterday, we would be universally condemned agreement we had exhibited the greatest of…poor taste!

The effect of arms was to place the Fijian in awe of the Westerner, get the European missionaries accepted, and increase exponentially the number of dead bodies and the availability of bokola to be eaten by the non-chiefly classes for the first time.Arms certainly increased the incidence of cannibalism, and some would argue arms created cannibalism as an issue of significance.Some feel that cannibalism prior to the introduction of firearms into Fiji was at most a minor ritual, possibly not widespread, and limited to chiefs when and where found (as in Hawaii).In this view, Fijian cannibalism was actually a consequence of contact with -- or shall we say intrusion by -- the West.It was not something the West found here in full bloom.Its prevalence was very probably as new to the Fijian as the European.

Through time, the suppliers of arms to warring chiefs in Fiji escalated from shipwrecked sailors to ships' captains to traders and eventually, believe it or not, to the King and Queen of England:When the impact of firearms and the new, intense, internecine Fiji Wars had gone far enough, the British Navy sided with one of the kings, King Cakobau of Bau island, by giving use of its cannon in shows of force designed to defeat Cakobau's enemies.This alliance lessened the hostilities that firearms had severely intensified and permitted Cakobau, the Cannibal King, to consolidate Fiji, more or less (much akin to what Kamehameha did in Hawaii without European help.This alliance continues to control Fiji to this day, and the Bauman language of the island of Bau is the pre-eminent Fijian language.

Communication

The Fijians didn't have a written language until the missionary came and set their sounds into words for them.They probably didn't need one, or it would have developed in it own time of its own energy.In Fijian opinion, this has changed, and reading and writing is fully embraced.While the missionary motive was to teach the Bible only, the tool they used had limitless application.What the Fijians had pre-dating the missionary was everything needed – the spoken word, war drums, and ambassador's sticks.Drums, or lali, are still used ceremoniously, and by churches and schools to signal beginnings and ends of sessions.In the old days, these drums would signal the birth or death of a chief or the call to battle, or that something very significant was brewing.

In the courtesies of pre-modern warfare,the unsuccessful ambassador, now on the eve of battle, would put back in his pouch the several ambassador's sticks of varying lengths, each symbolic of a particular thought the ambassador delivered from his chief to the foreign chief he knelt before.No longer does an ambassador lay each stick in the dirt before him, relaying the important message exactly in the exact order.No longer does the war drum begin its sound when the unsuccessful enemy ambassador departs the village.When diplomacy pertains to the enemy or the allied chief of today, the Fijian ambassador uses satellite and telephone, and the intangible equivalent of fire and the wheel -- the most meaningful tool the Fijian or anyone has grasped from the earliest, prehistoric beginnings -- the written word.

Language And Land

As an environment molds a people, so a language reflects a people.Thus, language and environment are intimately related.Fiji is not a large, uniform island where homogeneity is great.It is hundreds of islands with hundreds permanently inhabited from true desert islands to beautiful coral islands with foliage and water.Then there are some of the densest, mountainous tropical rain forests on earth covering the "high" islands formed by volcano.Diversity is a key word in Fiji, and it reflects in the hundreds of dialects and hundreds of variations on a central cultural theme and even in the many variations in appearance and skin color.

Water is everywhere, and acts as both bridge and barrier. Though in most parts of Fiji it falls out of the sky in excessive quantities, it is the critical link between Earth and Sun and lush vegetation.Though it keeps you indoors when you want to go out, it cools the air. It is the bridge that opens and the barrier that intensifies; it is the hope of future generations for electric power.Owing to the layout of islands over thousands of square miles, it was once impossible for a single aggressor to dominate Fiji.Owing to competition with nature and other islanders, especially Tongans and other Fijians, native creativity has been tested and stretched.Owing to small coral islands with a single large village and to the small, isolated villages on the volcanic islands, Fijian societies have been intense and structured.Owing to the European, these things are changed.

Up to the European, the major cares were watching out for the numerous tabusand getting food.These concerns were interwoven.It could be argued that the purpose or result of the tabu was to get the food.It is anyone's guess to what extent one had to be careful to avoid being eaten for food, but it is clear that lives were readily sacrificed in support of the social structure.Thus, you may hear that the Fijians are a slightly nervous people.This impression of early Europeans may be confirmed by current observation.In that "association patterns tend to persist over long time periods," it is easy to infer a relationship between the old tightrope days of profound subservience, the demeanor of the people of old, and what we see today.If the purpose of recreation is relief and release from the tension and anxiety produced by the cares of living, then surely elaborate mekes, the feasting and dancing, the singing and liaisons, even religion, served this purpose.

The enchanting Fijian languages (originating in the Malayo-Polynesian language groups) reveal a lot about the people and their gorgeous environment.We find a milieu of not a few, but hundreds of dialects and at one time there was a dialect for each village.Though English is the official language (and, the language of instruction, thank God), Bauan (of the island of King Cakobau) is the aristocrat of tongues.Each dialect is laced and prolific with things of the water, things of the appetite, interpersonal relationships, and war.Ideas about canoes and fishing, food and it endless combinations, skills and tabu, heroes and humor, and how to stay on the good side of the chief dominate the lexicon.Some words are of another origin, and reflect past associations with Rotuma and Tonga, and lately, Europeans (e.g.Clock is kaloko).

Many words are clever and explicit, and I enjoy using them.Mata-ni-siga, the Sun, is literally the "eye of day"; vale-ni-bula , the hospital, is literally the "house of health".Numerous phrases are proverbial, describing aspects of ourselves for which we are hard pressed to find so exact a construct to fit our meaning.Take "Garo ni ka ca":to be eager to make a kill in battle but be killed instead; or, to be eager to sail before others, but to drown in so doing (literally, "to desire the bad thing").Surely, "kadi kadi," where kadi is a black, stinging ant, is superior to saying my leg is asleep, and approximates "pins and needles."And notice how time is expressed in terms of natural cycles:Nuqa is a fish, and in January they abound, so, January is Vula i nuqa levu, "month of the many nuqu."In December, nuqa are scarce, and you can guess the name of that month.In March, when the yams are ready to dig, Fijians say Vula i magomago, the mature month.Fijians are masters of understatement.Consider this:In days past, dulumeant to find it difficult to continue, or to be "eaten in war."And here is Carlos Casteneda, anticipated by centuries in a single word; dredrevaki, " to laugh when in imminent danger of being killed."To someone interested in fun, the Fijian language provides a nice playing field, and Capell's Fijian Dictionary is great reading.

The Chiefs

A hundred years ago, the power of a chief was enormous.His body radiated mana, a "subtle influence" capable of producing life or death at the touch.In effect, a chief was a god, but his heredity was human.As in most polgamist societies, a chief's rights descended through the line of a highborn female, rather than that of the less selective male.It is said you always know who you mother is.Thus, a male hereditary chief (as opposed to a commoner usurping power and establishing a new line through his daughters or a chiefly wife) definitely had a chiefly mother and probably had a chiefly father.

The power of a chief was absolute; life and death was his.He ate the best, dressed the best, lived in the best house, and worked the least.xThe power of life and death was his.He ate the best, dressed the best, lived in the best house, and worked the least.He conscripted the men and seized the women, and at the levying of taxes, the people would celebrate the great day with feast and meke (dancing).  After contact with the West, it was not uncommon that a chief would sell some outlying parcel of village land, forget to tell the extended family (mataniqali) that farmed it or lived there, and create needless conflict with outsiders.

x

Such attitudes of infallibility and superiority are not unique to Fiji, and, parallel many olitical, religious, military, economic, and social systems in the so-called "civilized" world, even today.  Chiefs did have certain obligation and, in the unity of the peoples, did not act in isolation but were part of a viable structure in which their position was needed since so much else vital to the people depended upon the chief fulfilling his role.The Council of Chiefs, still in existence, would make and break war, and in general, provide leadership and protection.Or, should a chief require a mataqali of 30 to 40 persons to do his work for him, such as build a canoe, he was required to fee them.Upper classes, on the other hand, have a way of establishing the means through which obligations are easily or readily discharged.For example, in the custom of babani, the chief has the right to go to each persons garden and take 3 or 4 yams or dalo.Thus, the reward of those in a chief's employ could easily be the right to eat a greater share than usual of their "own" food which they had produced.You might call it a tax, and the village got a new canoe, or something beneficial to the chiefs and therefore beneficial to his peoples.

In the Viti (Fiji) of yesterday, some hard to believe customs extended to the arts.As an example, because a canoe is built on land, transport of the completed vessel to the sea is difficult.Often this hurdle was overcome and transport was facilitated by the use of log rollers.Keep in mind that Fijians often kept their wartime captives as slaves, impounded until needed for food or labor, a show of force, or all three.The launching of a chief's canoe presented just the right opportunity to employ slave labor, provide celebratory food, and show a chief's strength, since that is when the impounded "foreign" Fijian slaves could truly be needed and used to best advantage -- as log rollers.The emaciated dead, in effect having "christened" the chief's new high seas venture, would afterwards be eaten in the happy expositions immediately following the successful launch.In very "prosperous" times (post-contact but preceding conversion to Christianiy in most cases), a captive would even be killed at the laying of each chiefly plank, a simultaneous appeasement to the chiefs, the gods, and a reminder that victors not losers establish the extant order.

How might one demonstrate respect and subservience to a chief?Let me count the ways!Giving up your garden, giving up your wife or child, supplying your labor, deferring in all things, stooping in a chief's presence, never looking a chief in the eye, never touching a chief (especially in the head area), giving him your home, fighting for him, defending him, exercising care to not step on his shadow (and be killed by your own belief system or with the help of the chief's protectors), not partaking of the chief's food or reserves or things chiefly, honoring his birth and death, honoring his commands, wishes, and requests.The fate of the bokolo (body to be eaten) was not always reserved for vulagi or strangers, but with equal ease it could be used as a teaching device employing known subjects of even the same village who violated the more serious tabus.A Fijian could demonstrate in many lesser way his or her subservience to a chief, and these lesser forms of ettiquitte extend into the present day.For example, only when addressing a chief, or God, would you use the plural (kemuni) to a single individual.If your head is in any way elevated above a chief's yu must be in the proper stooped position, lowering your body as much as possible while in his immediate physical sphere.This stooping is especially preserved in the lower class, elderly women of today, and (probably as a safeguard) may stoop whether the male (sometimes female) is a chief or not.For you and me today, it is disrespectful to stand in the presence of any seated local persons of Fijian extraction) without making an apology.Indeed, this friendly Peace Corps volunteer, even though conferred chiefly status by his local group, has on more than one occasion dropped to the ground folding into the cross-legged position, rendering 3 resonant claps of the cupped hands or cobos, immediately on shaking hands with a visiting Fijian of high birth.Even today, to do otherwise is seen as haughty, unacceptable, and a basis for denial of privilege.On the other hand, The Fijians are an extremely forgiving people, you can fight with one "friend" now and in a moment be drinking beer or kava in an atmosphere of cordiality and laughter that would not quite come together like that in the United States.

The foremost political problem is like a gun.Land is the trigger, the Indian is the hammer, and the bullets may one day be real.The British tossed this weapon into the political field for all to see, and went home.The gun is cocked and loaded, and silent, but ready.The British are betting that nobody's rights are so infringed that they will pick it up and use it.The odds are with the British.If they are wrong, it is questionable who would win:man to man, undoubtedly, it would be the Fijian whom the Japanese feared during World War II.There are, however, no firearms in Fiji available to the public.They are prohibited. We should remember it is the merchant with the worldwide kindred and existing economic channels to procure them, and in Fiji, the Fijians are not the merchants.Overall, I think it is unlikely we will see a local re-play of the holy wars of a Beirut or a Belfast.There exists a level of mutual understanding here not present where violence usually erupts, and indeed, when you interview the "villager in the bush," each side sympathizes somewhat with the predicament of the other.

The predicament is this:Indians cannot own "native" land.In that native lands take up over 80% of Fiji, the non-ownership prescription is a serious source of concern. There is fear among the Fijians that were the "crafty" Indians to get some of land, they would eventually get all of it or enough to constitute a Fijian people deprived of their rightful territory.There is some "freehold" or fee simple land, that land originally purchased by the Europeans, which anyone can own.In fact, one Indian owns hundreds of acres contiguous to my village.But there is not enough.Unless you count the hundreds of thousands of acres held in reserve to which roads don't even go.In the showdown, the question should not be ownership of land, except reasonably sized private homesteads, because ownership is secondary to the acquisition of agricultural wealth.The question should be use of land.

The Indians are industrious and acquisitive.They are willing capitalists, without the most important of capital.They are farmers without farms.Of little fault of their own, and no fault of the Fijian, they have been pushed into a situation similar to that of the Jew in an earlier Europe.Money changing is the main means of subsistence.(Ironically, I have noticed a certain respect for Hitler, among the Indians.One Pundit told me he hadn't noticed, but added, "Well, he was a great man, wasn't he?") Hitler exalted "Aryan" stock, from which the Indians are thought to be descended, probably accounting for his popularity). There is no actual caste system here, but light Indians do not want their children to marry dark Indians.The time may come when Indians demand an equality here that was not possible for their ancestors in India.Yet it seems to me that much pressure forcing such a movement has already been relieved, because even second-class status for Indians that made the trip here represents a tremendous gain over their Asian pasts.

In my opinion, Fijians have the key, but do not turn the lock.It is long term leases of 25 or 90 years instead of the present 5 or 10, and new lands should be opened from the thousands of acres in the interior of the big islands (generally, only the coasts are settled).With the proper guarantees against loss, it could be in their best interest to do so.Turning land loose to the Indian could herald and era of mechanization and technology like that of the farming boom in the U.S. in the 20's, 30's, and 40's.Sound economic growth requires long-term investment and security, and the Indians have neither.Recently, the Fiji Sun (owned in part by Raymond Burr) ran an article on an Indian farmer whose yaqona(kava) plantation was seized by the Fijian landowners.The Sun is sensational and undependable, but true or not, the story points to Indians' fears that when they are about to reap the fruit of their toil, the Fijian will step in and snatch it.Economic solutions will only spring forth with an eventual political peace and geographic equity, and strong programs of efficiency and self-sufficiency.

Need For A New Self-Sufficiency

Item:Some locally produced goods are more expensive than identical goods imported from outside, and any 10 items picked at random will contain at least nine form China, England, Japan, or Australia.

Item:Japanese fish in Fijian waters, catch Fijian fish (Fiji has a huge water area), use Fijian facilities at Levuka for storage, take the fish back to Japan for tinning then sell Fijian fish to Fiji and the world, at a profit that could easily be Fiji's.

At least, we should expect that Fiji feed itself.Dalo(taro) is the Fijian's number one food.Moreover, I have heard contradictory reports about it on Radio Fiji.First, they said the Fiji imports one-fourth of its dalo from other countries, especially Samoa.Then, at this writing, Radio Fiji reports that Fiji is exporting dalo to New Zealand.If the first account is true, then the two mainstays of the Fijian diet, dalo and tin fish, represent a negative cash flow of millions of dollars, which is unnecessary because so many thousands of acres of water and land lie unused.Compare this to a single U.S. farmer how grows enough food to 56 people plus himself.Blessed is the U.S. agricultural community, but Fiji can do better.Proper management is the key, and on both land and sea, the lock is turning slowly.

A Bit Of The Old Self-Sufficiency

Some of the old fishing techniques are becoming things of the memory.Batibati is a traditional method of making a great circle of people in the shallows, closing the circle, and trapping fish.In the old days sinnet (coconut fiber) nets were used in fishing, but more so in catching turtles.The first trick was to find the turtles feeding on the shore.The turtle fishers would circle behind the turtles and stretch their nets across the return path at the water's edge.When the turtles finished feeding, and a lucky turtle fisher can get a turtle flipper enmeshed and caught in the net, the easy part is over.

On the other hand, if the men were out on the canoe one day and found a swimming turtle, they would simply keep the shadow of their sail on the animal and scare him, keeping him constantly moving until he was exhausted.He was easily brought on board.However, not all days were sunny and the real work of turtle fishing ensued.I will quote the next stages from the book the Uncivilized Races of Men, by J.G. Wood, San Francisco, 1882:

"When the fishermen feel that the turtle is fairly caught,

they proceed to get it on board (the canoe), a task of very great

difficulty and some danger, in as much the turtle is in his element, and

the men are obliged to dive and conduct their operations under water.

The most active diver tries to seize the end of one of the fore-flippers,

and pulls it downward very violently, knowing that the instinctive

desires to rid itself of the inconvenience will cause the reptile to rise.

Of course, the diver can only retain his hold for a limited time, but

As soon as he rises to the surface for breath, another takes his place."

"Should the turtle be a vicious one, as often as is the case, one of

of the divers will grasp it across the head, fixing his fingers and thumb

in the sockets of the eyes, so as to prevent the creature from doingmischief.Finding itself thus hampered, the turtle rises to the surface, when it is seized by the other fishermen who are in the canoe, hauled on board, and laid on its back, in which position it is utterly helpless.The successful fishermen then blow loud blasts of triumph on their conch shell trumpets and bring their prize to land."

When the traders came, the Fijians caught turtles less for food and more for the high price -- and the number of muskets -- the shell would bring.

Up to the European, the major cares were getting food, avoiding being gotten as for food, and observing the numerous tabus.Thus, if you hear that the Fijians are a slightly nervous people, an impression of early Europeans, you may see a relationship, in that "association patterns tend to persist over long time periods".And, if the purpose of recreation is relief and release from the tension and anxiety produced by the cares of living, then surely elaborate mekes, the feasting and dancing, the singing and liaisons, even religion, served this purpose.The many Fiji languages reveal a lot about their beautiful country.We find a milieu of not just a few, but hundreds of dialects and at one time there was a dialect for each village.Though English is the official language, Bauan is the aristocrat of tongues.Dialects are laced and prolific with things of the water, things of the appetite, interpersonal relationships, and war.They are embedded with allusions to humor, which are very funny, to canoes and fishing, to food and its endless combinations, to skills and tabus, heroes and humor, and how to stay on the good side of the chief.Some words are of another origin, and reflect past associations with Rotuma and Tonga, and lately, Europeans (as clock is kaloko).

The Fijians didn't have a written language until the Christian missionary came and set his words down for them in a process that undulated slowly across Fiji.They probably didn't need a written language, or it would have developed in it own time of its own energy, and locked in certain dialects over others and created uniformity not present when the first white men of the West arrived.What they did have and what did develop naturally (and thus was needed) was the war drum (lali) and ambassador's sticks.

With little or no exception (and which should be applied to all Fijian words in this paper):

B is pronounced like mb in "timber"

C is pronounced like th in "thy"

D is pronounced like nd in "handy"

G is pronounced like ng in "singer"

Q is pronounced like ng in "finger"

Drums, or lali, are still used ceremoniously, to signal the start and end of school, the arrival of a chief or hero, and by churches to signal the beginning of services.No longer does the Ambassador carry in his pouch several sticks of varying length, each mnemonic to a particular organized thought.No longer does the ambassador lay each stick in the dirt in a kneeling posture before the ranking recipient, relaying the important message from a distant foe or ally, exactly and in the proper order.To the enemy or allied chief of today, the Ambassador uses satellite, and telephone, and what is probably the most meaningful tool in the grasp of the Fijian (and Man) in his entire history….the written word.
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