COMPLIANCE AND CARE:
AN ETHNOGRAPHY OF A FIJIAN VILLAGE
by Emily Sparks

Chapter 3
Economics: Tradition and an Ethos of Care

Chapter 3

The Traditional Economy

Background on the Six Homes Surveyed

Sources of Income

Expenditures

Land Leasing and the FSC

Attitudes About Money

This chapter will discuss the economics of Navolau #2. From surveying six homes, as well as talking to other people in the village, I have gathered information on their sources of income, the expenditures of the villagers, land leasing, and people's sentiments about their combination traditional-western economy. For the most part, I have found that Navolau residents seem to invest more time and energy in developing social relations than in accumulating material possessions; yet they also have ways of preserving their own possessions. From these observations, I have found that the idea of borrowing and sharing (central notions in the Fijian traditional world view) are still the core of their value system; however, this ethos is being challenged by a more capitalistic philosophy of seeking to gain material a material profit. Before explaining the economics of Navolau, first I will discuss the traditional Fijian economic belief system.

The Traditional Economy

The traditional Fijian economy is based on building social relations among others within the village, as opposed to striving to be independently wealthy. Generally speaking, traditionally Fijians would rather build good rapport with other members in their village than concern themselves with gaining material wealth. In fact, gaining individual wealth actually contrasts with Fijian ideals of what determines a good person. Sharing one's possessions, as well as one's efforts for the benefit of the group, can be seen in the way Fijians view food, and labor, to give some specific examples. Their logic is that "too much striving without a break to enjoy one's effort with others is considered not only bad for one's health, but morally unacceptable" (Ravuvu 1983: 107). In other words, traditionally, it would be wrong to strive for things only for one's own benefit, for this does not improve one's social relations with in a group (and in fact hinders it).

In the traditional Fijian economy, economic exchanges take place so that those involved may enhance each other's status with one another, and reaffirm their ties, whereas Western exchanges are based on individual economic gain. At a funeral, for example, gift giving for the purpose of emphasizing social ties is important. Family members and other guests must bring gifts in order to attend the funeral, and what everyone brings -- be it money, mats, food, or slaughtered animals, is recorded by someone upon one's arrival. Upon leaving the sight of a funeral several days later, the guests are given gifts in return, usually of less value, but of relatively equal value compared what other guests gave the hosts. Thus funerals actually make people poorer in material wealth, but they gain in social standing (as well as a reaffirmed social bond with their kin members who they perhaps have not been in contact with) by giving as much as they can to the hosts. In his discussion of the incentive of traditional exchanges, R. R. Nayacakalou remarks, "Formalized exchanged take place not because of any need to obtain the products of others in return for one's own, but because there is a social meaning in them" (Nayacakalou 1978: 112). Fijians will offer food to any passer by, shares their land with the members of their kin group, and will work on others' land as a favor, with no economic gain incentive. All of these are ways in which people distinguish good, open relations with one another.

Take for instance the exchange of food. A Fijian household, in theory, should always cook enough food for those eating, as well as for those passing by. If they can feed someone else passing by, they will be looking out for the benefit of others, and that guest will be able to tell others (in the community or elsewhere) that this family took good care of him. Thus, the incentive to offer and give food is driven by the fact that the family will be thought of as "good people" in the community. When food is prepared for functions the same concept follows. What one remembers about a feast, or "magisi," is the "vikawaitaki" and the "viqwaravi". "Vikawaitaki" means a care in the sense of concern, bothering about others, paying attention to others' needs, while "viqwaravi" means to take care of other, as in a child, or a guest, especially at a meal (definitions from Becker 1993). Thus, the benefit that those presenting the food gain is knowing that the rest of their community looks at them fondly for offering what they have to others -- and this, from the Fijian perspective, is enough to offer away their food to others.

In the traditional Fijian ethos, labor is seen as a means of helping others, rather than of a way to gain material wealth. Because all land owned by Fijians is owned by the "mataqali," by an extended family group, people are more inclined to help each other with farming tasks. A garden on mataqali land might grow cassava, corn, yams, taro, papayas, bananas or lemons. If one member of the mataqali happens to cut down many papaya one day, he would willingly offer some to other mataqali members that farm the same land. One man (or woman) might do some extra weeding, while another would cut enough cassava for a few families. However, the act of labor to help others, as opposed to gain money, extends beyond subsistence farming. With sugarcane cutting, Fiji's largest export crop, a "gang," often a kin-ship based group, cuts a section of cane. The owner of the cane shows his recognition for the others' help by giving some sort of reward based on social ties, rather than an economic reward. As Nayacakalou notes, "Labour is generally recognized through a common meal" known as an "oco" (1978: 114). When my Tata and his gang finished cutting and loading his sugarcane, he hosted a "lovo" (an earth oven meal), bought yaqona for everyone for the whole night, as well as beer and rum for the younger men in his gang (which were all kinship members in this case). This party was in appreciation for their labor. Because these were kinship members helping him cut his cane, they would work for him anytime. Thus, the feast was not to secure their labor in years to come, but rather to show them appreciation for their time and effort. As soon as Tata's sugarcane was finished he went to a neighboring village to help his cousin-brother finish cutting and loading his cane. Tata was not concerned about getting more money out of this task, as it does not pay very much, he was tired from completing his sugarcane, and enjoys the relaxation of retired life, but as Nayacakalou says, "Labour is given not as an economic service, but as a social one" (1978: 115), and thus he offered his time and energy, and labor to assist his cousin-brother. The morning Tata went to help load someone else's cane he said, "Well, I'm going to another farm today to load cane. When I retired from the FSC, I thought that my life would be easier with less things to do, but now there's always something to do." Thus, although he might of rather stayed home and relaxed, he offered to help his cousin-brother finish his sugarcane, for no benefit except the gratitude of helping another kinsmen. Helping one's kin with cutting and planting, instead of hiring someone else to do the job shows how social gain is more important to the Fijian. Following this line, my Tata also had a few extra people cutting than what was necessary, but felt that he should give the work to kin. Thus, the there is no profit motive for the benefit of material wealth, but the building of social relations is the main incentive.

In economic exchanges, Fijians look for social cohesiveness rather than economic gain, but what is their incentive? Why would my Tata help his cousin-brother load a sugarcane lorry when he does not need the money, and when he has just finished the exhausting task of finishing his own sugarcane? Nayacakalou suggests that one motivating factor in economic exchange, is the concept of reciprocity. People help each other knowing that one day everything will even out. Nayacakalou points out that "obligations arise and are carried out not for direct reward, but because in the long run they even out. The compulsion to work for them lies in the sanction that if they are consistently shirked, the culprit will in time find no assistance to do work for him which requires assistance" (1978: 119). He will be left alone without the help of others in the community, if he does not help them. This would certainly explain why food is given to whoever needs it, why a tabua (whale's tooth) is loaned out to a family member when certain occasions arise, and when one offers their labor to help a family member. A tabua is a key gift in certain Fijian events. At a wedding, for example, the boy's family must present one to a girl's family in exchange for their daughter. It is the most highly respected and important gift one can give, and symbolically represents more than the amount of money it is worth (which is about F$100 to F$150).

Another incentive that motivates Fijians to offer their time, energy, food, and material wealth to the group is because of "the force of public opinion" (Nayacakalou 1978: 119). Indeed, in small communities, gossip is a powerful constraint and propeller of people's actions. If a Fijian does not invite someone to eat, "mai kana!", then the community will consider them greedy and acquisitive. Likewise, a lazy worker is one who does not care about the benefit of the group's production, but cares about himself and his own desires more. Since Fijians pride themselves on the idea of having plenty of food to present at every meal, or, to have "vutunikakana," a lazy person is talked about and shunned from the community because he will not have "vutunikakana," since there is no way to achieve this except through hard work. "Vutinikakana," as explained by Nayacakalou, is the Fijian "culturally accepted ideal that a man should have large gardens and be rich in food" (1978: 119). Thus, the concepts of reciprocity and social pressure (gossip) are the incentives by which the Fijian economy of borrowing, sharing, and not worrying about individual gain operates. The drive behind this system is for social gain or cohesion within the community rather than material gain.

This background demonstrates the Fijian ethos of why borrowing, sharing, and offering one's self for as labor for others is held in high regard. The economics of Navolau #2 today still embody this world view, but have also changed in some ways due to the ideas of capitalism.

Background on the Six Homes Surveyed

These six homes were chosen at random. The spending patterns demonstrate that the inhabitants are basically more interested in building social relations with each other than with worrying about their own economic status; but they do have a desire to keep money for themselves. Surveying these six households showed that only a few people had regular wage labor, and most patched together a living beyond what was necessary to cover what they considered to be basic necessities of life. Furthermore, investigating patterns of expenditure showed that those who did have higher income spent a lot of this money in contributing to communal causes, or to taking on more economic responsibility than other members of the village.

The first survey was done with Mom a distinguished retired man in Navolau #2. He is a widower, and his three children now live away. He was in the army, worked as a gold miner, and played club rugby as a young man. He spent 30 years working for the Public Works Department, or "PWD," during which time he lived in the village. He says that he spends his present days working in his garden, and looking after the thirteen acres of sugarcane (which is not on his mataqali's land), although he himself does not take such an active part in farming this cane. He usually leaves his house around nine o'clock, and in his garden he plants cassava, taro and bananas. He comes home mid-day for lunch and a rest, and returns to the garden for a few hours in the afternoon, returning at five o'clock for a bath, and dinner, which the ladies next door prepare for him.

This man left the village and lived in the city while working; he found it stressful, for he was "always worrying about making money," and he thinks that "it was very nice to come back to the village." He attended the Agricultural School up to form four, and after a brief time in the village, he went to Vautukola to work in the gold mine for five years. After this, he joined the army for six years in Suva. While in the army, he earned four pounds every fortnight. (During this time Fiji was using the English monetary system). After the army, he was hired at Public Works Department. His starting salary was three pounds, sixpence every week, and by the end of his career, he says that he made F$24,000 during his time working for the PWD. From his job, he has a pension of forty-five dollars per month. When he goes to visit his children, once every two months or so, they will send him back with forty or fifty dollars. Thus, he also makes money through remittances. He also earns F$1,300 gross per year from his thirteen acres of sugarcane, but since other members of his mataqali plant and work the land, his profit is about seven-hundred to eight hundred dollars per year. However, since he leases the land on which the cane grows, he pays F$163 per year to lease the land. Like most others that lease the land, he pays it in two installments -- eighty dollars in June, and eighty dollars in December. He keeps his money in the bank.

Among other expenses that this man is faced with these days, he spends ten dollars per week on groceries like flour, sugar, and onions, which he buys at the supermarket. Since he eats his meals next door, and since he grows a good deal of the basic food, he does not spend a great deal of money on groceries. His electricity bill runs to be about F$6.00 per month, and he donates two dollars per month to church. For the annual donation to the village, he gave F$200, the requested amount.

Another retired man of sixty years also spends his days working in his garden, or helping his brother with his sugarcane farming (but not during harvesting season). His garden is located on his mataqali's land between Navolau #1 and #2. He works in his garden between 7:00 and 10:00 in the morning, and then comes home for tea until 11:00. He goes back to the farm, and works until noon, when he comes back for his lunch and a rest. On occasion this man goes back to the farm in the afternoon, but as he says, "Sometime if I have a hard job in the morning then I rest in the afternoon, because I'm too old, I can't work as hard now. Sometimes I rest in the morning, and then work in the afternoon. I can't spend my whole day doing a hard job." Since his wife passed away recently, his two daughters (in their twenties) do the housework, while his seventeen year old son helps him on the farm or cuts sugarcane during harvesting season. The father worked for the Public Works Department for thirty-one years, and retired just last year. He started there as a laborer, and then after twelve years was promoted to a "leading hen" -- someone in charge of a labor unit. He keeps his money that he made during that time in the bank. His son brings in about one hundred dollars every three weeks cutting cane during harvesting season. His daughter sells garlic peas and cigarettes from her home, and makes between eighty cents to one dollar every three or four days on the peas and the cigarettes each.

This older man's electricity bill last month was F$4.80. He says that he spends one hundred dollars on food every two weeks, and each time buys four kilograms of sugar, ten kg of rice, ten kg of flour, tinned fish, noodles, eggs, and occasionally soap, and other household necessities. About once a year or so, he said that they will buy a household good. He said that they donate seventy dollars per year to church, and that this year he donated one hundred and seventy dollars to the village fund. Other expenditures he mentioned include doctor's fees. He does not go to the doctor often, but each time it is twenty dollars per visit. As far as living in the village, he (and his children that live with him) find their expenses rather minimal, since they have lived away in town for the past twenty-five years or so. When they moved back to the village, he built the house that they live in now, and gave his house in town (which he owned) to his eldest daughter and her family, who resides there today.

The third economic survey I conducted was with a relatively young couple, who live with their two small children, and the husband's mother. The husband spends his days working at the farm. He plants cassava, yams, kumala (sweet potatoes), bananas, and paw-paw (papaya). He also is a fisherman. However, during cane harvesting season, this work is secondary, for he spends his days cutting sugarcane for his uncle. During the harvesting season, he makes between eighty and one hundred and fifty dollars every three weeks, depending on how much is cut. When he goes fishing, his wife said, he can make up to thirty dollars per day selling his catch. The family also sells chickens and pigs. A chicken sells for ten or fifteen dollars, about once a month, and a pig for forty or fifty dollars once a year. They keep their money at home as opposed to in the bank. The wife spends her days watching after their two young children, and doing the housework.

This young woman says that they go to the supermarket every two weeks and spend twenty dollars each time. At the supermarket they buy rice, sugar, flour, cooking oil, soap, and spices for cooking. She noted how expensive the spices can be, "It costs five or six dollars just to get the curry for one meal." The family has a television which they pay off in monthly installments. However, since her husband's uncle bought them the television, he deducts it from the husband's sugarcane cutting check -- the monthly payment is thirty-one dollars. The husband, for his part, says that he spends about five dollars per month on yaqona, but does not buy beer, as it is too expensive. Their electricity bill is F$4.00 per month, and they spend no money on school fees, since their children are still too young to attend school. The largest expense that their household faces is paying hospital fees for his ill mother. They said that they can spend up to forty to sixty dollars a month on hospital fees, and preparing food when other relatives come and see her. However, they do not pay for the medicine, this is paid for by his sister who is a teacher.

Since the wife is a Seventh Day Adventist, she is required to give ten percent of her family income to the church. She says that every month she usually gives eight, nine, or ten dollars; meaning that the family makes between 80 and 100 dollars a month (this makes sense from her previous estimates).

Another older husband and wife live nearby. They are in their fifties, and have one son in his twenties that lives with them. Another child, a twelve year old niece, also lives with them. Since the husband had a stroke last year his wife and her son do most of the work. Her son spends his days looking after her cassava, while the mother fishes, collects firewood, and does the washing, cleaning and cooking (with these tasks she is assisted by her niece). She says that she only spends twenty minutes on her washing every day, since only four people live there. She spends about four or five hours fishing, when she goes, and collecting firewood is done once a week, and takes about an hour and a half to two hours. Their household makes money through remittances, receiving sporadically ten to thirty dollars every few months. She sells fish, when she makes a large catch, but this is rare, for on many occasions she gives in away to others in the village.

Since the land that they farm is owned by their mataqali, they do not pay land lease. The wife says that she spends twenty dollars a fortnight on food shopping, and maybe twenty dollars per year on clothing. She said that she spends 6 dollars per month on yaqona, and her electricity bill was F$4.86 this month. She gives twenty cents every Sunday to the church, and at the annual village fundraiser, this year they donated seventy dollars.

In the next house, the husband is now retired, and starts off his day at 4:00 am. for church service. At 5:00 am. his wife starts preparing the food for the children, and their grandchildren that live with them. There are about 9 children living currently in the house, four of whom attend school. After the children go to school at around 7:00 am., they go up to the farm at around 8:00 am. When it is not sugar harvesting season, they will tend to their dalo, cassava, paw-paw, and bananas. They'll work until 10, and then stop for a rest, and then wait for lunch. Then, they'll do a few hours of work in the afternoon, and come back at around 4:30 or 5:00. Sometimes they'll spend the morning going to town.

The husband is now retired from the Fiji Sugar Corporation, where he worked for thirty years. His starting salary at the FSC was one hundred and fifty dollars per fortnight, and when he retired he was making two hundred and eighty dollars per fortnight. While he worked at the FSC, the FNPF (Fiji National Provident Fund) took out seven cents per dollar to put towards his retirement fund. He decided not to have a pension when he retired; instead, he took the money in a lump sum, which was F$32,000. He also has a sugarcane farm which from which he earns F$4,000 per year on ten acres of cane, after expenses (fertilizer, rice that they receive through the FSC and is deducted from their profit) are taken out. This amount of money he receives in four payments over the course of one year. They receive forty dollars per month for the care of one of their grandchildren who they raise, from the boy's father, who, under a court settlement, is forced to give money to help raise him. They also bought a car last year, in full, and have a relative drive it as a taxi, for which they make on average thirty dollars per day on average, before paying for gas and the driver (the husband's brother). The brother does not earn one fixed amount, or even one fixed percentage; his wage depends on the needs of him, of the car, or of his brother's family. However, usually he makes around sixty percent, and is paid every week. His brother's wife sells mats, maybe one or two a year, for which she can receive between fifty and one hundred and fifty dollars. Their adult sons also help on the farm, and their 18 year old daughter sells yaqona for one dollar per bag for her own profit, but her father gets it for free, since he says he pays for her school fees. He keeps his savings in Westpac bank.

The family leases the land, and pays two installments of about eighty-seven dollars each time. Their mataqali also leases out their land to Indian and Fijian cane farmers, but since the money is split up between the mataqali, their particular family only receives ten dollars per month. Among their other expenses, they go to the supermarket twice a week and spend seventy dollars each time, since ten to twelve people stay there on a regular basis. They buy flour, sugar, rice, cooking oil, spices, noodles, chicken, toothpaste, toilet paper, and other household necessities. They have one child in form six, which costs forty dollars per term; and three children in form four or below, which costs thirty dollars per term per student to send to school. They have one son schooling at Queen Victoria School which can be up to four hundred dollars (but more like two hundred), for the first term, and ninety dollars each for the second and third term. The school uniforms cost about fifty to twenty dollars per student, and they get new ones every two years. Their electricity bill is ten to fifteen dollars per month, and they donate one dollar a week to church. For the village annual donation they gave two hundred and twenty dollars. This household certainly has more income than other homes; however, when guests come to the village they always stay in this house. For example, a man has come to the village to run a workshop for six weeks, and it is this household that has taken him in as a guest, cooking all of his meals, washing his clothes, and giving him a place to sleep for six weeks while the workshop is in session, free of charge.

In the next house I surveyed, the household head spends his days farming cassava, bananas, taro, papaya and during harvesting season he cuts sugarcane. The mother does housework, which she says takes her the whole day, working at a slow place. This includes things like doing the cooking, cleaning, rolling voivoi and making mats. The three younger sisters attend school, one sister helps with the housework, and the eldest sister works in Suva. During cane harvesting season, the father gets paid one hundred dollars about every three weeks. They sell yaqona from their home for one dollar per bag, and make ten to twenty dollars per week. This family makes money off of remittances, since the eldest sister works as a supervisor in a garment factory, and sends home between ten and twenty dollars per week.

Every two weeks at the supermarket the family spends twenty dollars, where they buy things like sugar, flour, tea, soap and oil. They spend thirty dollars per term, per student, and pay for school uniforms in installments of four dollars every fortnight. Currently, they are also paying off a the purchase of a television by paying twenty dollars weekly to courts. Last month their electricity bill was F$4.53, and they give two dollars a month to church. To the annual village festival, they gave F$145.

Sources of Income

As recorded in the survey summaries above, most homes get the majority of their money from sugarcane. Whether the men actually farm the cane themselves, or just are hired as cutters during harvesting season; the sugarcane market provides most people with some sort of monetary income. As discussed in the surveys, cutters usually make about one hundred dollars every three weeks, and most of the cane farms owned by people in Navolau are roughly ten acres, bringing in between F$1,000-F$4,000 per year, before paying the lease and fertilizer bill to the FSC (this will be explained later). Money is also gained through small sales of things like yaqona, fish, cigarettes, and snacks (as in the case with one household). These are items that individuals sell to gain a profit -- something that one would think they are not inclined to give away. Although people sell these objects, and gain a profit from them, they also will let people borrow, or occasionally give these things away, especially fish. The line for selling and lending is not a distinct one. Here, one can see how the Fijian economy encompasses both the traditional one of lending and borrowing, as well as the capitalistic one of trying to earn money for an individual. Another way in which households gain an income is through remittances. Although it does not happen in all households, many people who have immediate family members working in a city receive money from them either on a weekly, or monthly basis. Although these relatives do help their family, these family members have clearly moved out of the village to earn money, and thus what they give back to their family in the village is usually a small amount compared to what they are actually making. One house actually makes a third of its income this way, for the eldest sister sends home a fixed rate every week. In one case, the retired man does not receive a consistent rate from his children who live in Suva, but often when he goes to visit them, they will send him home with an extra forty or fifty dollars or so. Some family members however do not send money back home, for they are struggling themselves to make enough money to pay for their rent, electricity and water bills, along with their food bill in the cities (worries that are not as pressing to villagers). A daughter of one family, for instance, works as a housemaid doing cooking and cleaning and makes one hundred and thirty dollars per week. She does not send money home on a regular basis, but sent home twenty dollars to contribute to the family's "adi" donation. She also helps pay for hospital fees when the children need to go to the hospital. When she came to visit she brought soda and cookies to the house -- two things that are never bought for the household, and she paid for her younger siblings, nieces and nephews to visit the Vaileka Fiji Day Fair.

It is difficult to say exactly what an average annual income is. This is a question that is very important to Americans in categorizing people, and their standard of living, however, based on the traditional Fijian economy, this category is irrelevant. Because most of the villagers in Navolau #2 do not have a fixed job with some kind of business, they do not have a regular annual salary. For those that do have jobs with the FSC or PWD (I do not think that there are any in the village who currently hold a job at one of these organizations), they might make between one hundred and two hundred and eighty dollars per fortnight. For example, one of the men was earning F$7,280 per year at the end of his career, not including the seven cents per dollar that was taken out for his retirement fund. Some retirees who have worked for these companies may receive a pension, such as one man's forty-five dollars per month, or they can decide to take all the money at once which, from the surveys I conducted can be up to thirty thousand dollars.

For those that own sugarcane, depending on how efficient they are with their growing (how much ton they grow per acre), can make up to four hundred dollars per acre. These payments are received in quarterly annual installments, and the fertilizer, and rice that they can purchase through the FSC are deducted from their final profit. Cane cutters earn roughly one hundred dollars every three weeks during harvesting season, which lasts for about six months. This means they get about six hundred to eight hundred dollars from cutting, and this money is saved for the course of the year. In the off season cane cutters must save their money. However, as in the case with the younger couple's household, they sell their chickens and pigs, as well as fish during the rest of the year, when they are running short on money.

Those who had a job with a salary could more easily say how much they made; however, within the Fijian villages, most people do not keep exact records of their money, for it is not something that they think about as often as say, someone living in the city. As one man said, "Fijians don't take money so seriously, we Fijians don't bother so much about this money thing." Monetary gain is simply not very important to villagers, as the traditional economic ethos suggests. (If it were important to them, they would not be living in the village.) Of course people do want material possessions which only money can buy, but they are not super-ambitious to work extra long hours, expand their farming beyond subsistence, and the majority are not willing to move to a town or city to find a job. This man compared how making money is not as important to Fijians as it is to Europeans, "We Fijians don't try to get rich, if someone asks for something, we give it, it's not something we strive for in the same way you Europeans do." In other words, he is suggesting that Fijians don't mind gaining material wealth, but it is not as much of a focus in their lives as it is for Europeans in the capitalistic economies.

Out of the houses that I surveyed that did not have a member of the family working with the FSC or PWD, most could not say exactly how much they made per year, or even per month, and their income is gathered through a variety of ways. For example, in one house, it can be estimated that they take in thirty-five dollars a week from selling yaqona and through remittances that her older sister sends home. This would amount to F$1,820 per year. However, during cane harvesting season, the wife's father brings in about one hundred dollars every three weeks, (during peak season) which might amount to about F$600-800 per year. Thus, my estimated total amount that their household makes is F$2520. This is typical of a home where there is no fixed salary. Depending on which house is looked at, one might find some deviations from this -- perhaps someone sells fish, mats, or sells cigarettes instead of yaqona; however, the pattern and amount made is similar (for those not receiving fixed salary).

From this information, it is clear that those who have a regular, salaried-paid job earn more than those who do subsistence farming, fishing, and cane cutting. However, in the village, I found that those people who had regular salaries gave more to the community, and those who have less are not expected to provide as much for the community. For example, one family has more money than the average household in Navolau #2. However, this family also spends a lot more money by raising and providing for children that are not theirs. Two of their grandchildren live with them, and the parents do not give extra money to the household. The husband and wife spend food for the children, and school and uniform fees, as well as other necessities (like occasional hospital fees). This household also gave more to the village festival than most households, giving two hundred and twenty dollars, where most gave under two hundred. Leveling mechanisms like this, as well as borrowing and sharing one's goods are what keep households in the village relatively close to one another, in terms of their economic prosperity. As the man of this household pointed out, "We share our things, and don't hold on to them. If someone asks for a cow, then we will give it. This is why people don't get rich in Fiji. It goes from poor to middle class, everyone's nearly the same." This will be discussed later in "Attitudes about money."

Because making money within a household is usually a group effort -- the father, mother, and children contribute individual amounts, few family members have independent sources of income. One young woman I talked to does sell yaqona herself, but gives her father bags for free, as her contribution to the school fees and bus fare that he gives her. Boys who are cutting cane give nearly all of their earnings to the household, and keep a small share for themselves. In my house for instance, Ilimo and Veresa, the two elder sons, work on the family's farm from day to day, helping out, but get their own pay during cane cutting season. If their father asks them for some of this money, they will give it, but most of it they keep for themselves. Thus, most family members give their money for the benefit of the household. The men of the village are obviously the ones who make the most money; however, their earnings are ideally put towards the household's needs. While young women might lack their own source of income, they may stay at home for however long they want, and will be taken care of. However, this does not give these women as much freedom as the men. Women in the village complain about men spending the family's money on yaqona, and when the women ask their husbands for money, they might refuse the woman's request. An example of this occurred in my village one night during Fiji's Independence weekend. One young wife who married into the village decided that she was going to come to the festival in Vaileka with me and some other women, even though she knew that her husband would disapprove. While he was spending the night buying and drinking yaqona, she asked him for a couple of dollars for bus fare. (We heard a rumor that the buses were supposed to be free that night, but wanted to bring money just in case there was a bus fare.) The fair grounds were too far to walk, but her husband would not give her this extra few dollars. This is an example of a young woman not having as much freedom as a man her age because she must stay and cook for her husband's family during the day, and can not earn an income of her own.

Expenditures

The people of Navolau spend most of their money on what I would consider the necessities of life (this of course depends on how one defines necessity). Subsistence farming and fishing are the main ways people acquire their basic foods -- cassava, taro, greens, sometimes bananas, and papayas are what most people grow. At the supermarket, families spent between twenty per month and one hundred and forty per week! There certainly is quite a range. However, this difference also makes sense in terms of the leveling mechanism in the village. Wealthier families spend more on food, because they are feeding more mouths. The wealthiest man from my survey spends the most money on food out of everyone else in the village (F$140), but also takes care of more people outside his immediate family than others in the village. Electricity bills are usually under five dollars. However, for a big house like his, the electricity bill is between ten and fifteen dollars. School fees are thirty dollars per term, per student, and school uniforms are either paid in full of fifteen to twenty dollars per student or in installments. People pay between one dollar a month, and one dollar per week on church donations, and this year gave anywhere between fifty to two hundred and eighty dollars to the village fund. The set price that every household was supposed to give was two hundred -- a few families gave more, and most gave less. This again is another leveling mechanism so that the wealthier people in the village can give more to the community, which equals out how much money they have compared to everyone else. Out of the six surveys, only two were paying back loans, both of which were from purchasing televisions. The homes are all owned by their mataqali, so they do not pay rent for their houses.

Those with more money give more to the community, but those with more money are also visibly more wealthy. This same family, for instance, owns the only car amongst the villagers of Navolau #2, they have an extension to the house where two extra bedrooms are, and a kitchen and eating room were added to the house last year. However, the family does not act differently. They work just as hard, and live the same way as the other villagers.

The village "adi" -- or annual fundraiser -- was an event where one could see the leveling mechanisms, and people's attitudes about money played out. The festival was held during the day, and the villagers sat together under the festival shed, drinking grog, dancing, and spending time with each other, and with the family members who were returning for the weekend. What was interesting about the festival however was the idea that the purpose of it was for each family to give their annual donation to the front table outside the community hall. As the day progressed families handed in their donation, and the amount was announced and written on a chalk board for everyone to see how much each family donated. Even though the set amount was two hundred dollars, only four families gave two hundred (or slightly over that amount). Among these were the village shop (clearly having a somewhat of a steady income, as they run a small business), and the one household that I've already explained has more money than most other households. Thus, those that have more money, donated more. The family that won fourth prize, giving just under two hundred dollars was very proud of themselves. Nevertheless, when each donation was announced, no matter how much the donation was for, everyone clapped and thanked that household for their donation.

Family members returning from cities for the festival also helped contribute to their family's donation. When looking at the record books I found that with many families an initial amount was donated, and then additional donations of twenty, thirty, or fifty dollars were added as the day went on, and as family members returned and added to their family's donation. Every few years a special guest is invited to the festival through request upon a tabua presentation. He is invited when the community is looking to raise more money than usual, as his donation is expected to be in the hundreds or even thousands of dollars. Going to different festivals is a common practice, especially for men in rural Fiji. One tavale of mine went to three different festivals in one weekend, all to villages where his extended family lives. This of course reduced the amount of money that he donated to our festival, but in his mind, it was worth it because he reaffirmed ties he had with other kin members. Thus, attending a festival makes the visitor materially poorer, but personally richer, as the emphasis is placed on reaffirming social ties.

The Adi is one event where one can see the two economic systems coming into play. Although it is not a traditional Fijian ideal for people to keep all this money in their possession, their donation is something that does fit in with their idea of sharing and giving to the community. Although the donation is not to a chief (as it would be traditionally), the fund is used to pay for something for the villagers. In the past it has been the church, the community hall, the instillation of electricity, and this year it is to build a home for the village talatala, or head minister, who is not originally from the village. However, often there is no decided purpose for the fundraising which makes the analogy to feasts stronger: people five to display their commitment to social ties. Traditionally Fijians had to only produce excess food for festivals and for the chief. Today's Adi follows that same idea, but instead of producing an excess amount of food, they are expected to produce an excess amount of money. In my family for example, two daughters living away from home gave twenty dollars and thirty dollars to their family's donation.

Land Leasing and the FSC

The villagers of Navolau #2 both own and lease land. The system in Fiji is bit complicated, but land is an important part of the economy in rural Fiji, since all Fijians are entitled to their mataqali land, but may choose to lease out land out, farm it themselves, and lease other land. Thus, the land issue is also one which straddles both the ideas of traditional and western economies. According to the traditional Fijian economy, each mataqali, or group of families is entitled to their own land which they may live on and farm. Traditionally mataqali land was used for subsistence farming. Today mataqali land is still used for subsistence farming, but the advent of sugarcane has prompted about mataqali to lease out their land. Since sugarcane is the backbone of the Fiji's economy, some mataqali lease out their land to sugar growers, and then lease the land that they farm. When one leases land to grow sugar, they do not pay it directly to the other mataqali. Instead, they pay it to the FSC, or rather, the FSC deducts it from their final product, and the FSC then pays the mataqali that the land is leased from. Actually, most of this land was leased out over one hundred years ago, and over the past four generations has been used for sugarcane.

Normally, according to my Tata, the sugar factory pays seventy-five per ton on sugar, but after deductions (e.g. fertilizer), the profit is between fifty and sixty dollars. Tata produced 96 tons last years, and he thinks he will produce one hundred this year. He started farming the land in 1982, when he was still working for the FSC. Tata explained that the cane field does not need to lie fallow very often unless the plant is not cared for. He said that the rotun (the name for the grown cane plant) gets bigger and bigger each year, and if cared for properly, can go until twenty-five years without a new plowing. However, when the field does have to be plowed, it must lay fallow for one year afterwards, before being used for sugarcane again.

Sugar growers are divided, according to the FSC into gangs. Each gang, according to the FSC must produce at least 2,000 tons of cane. A gang can be made up of any amount of people, as long as it produces at least 2,000 tons. Forty-five gangs make up a section, and ten to fifteen sections make up a district. I found out that Tata is the "gang president" of this area of growers. This means that he receives the statements from the FSC to distribute among the members in his gang. The statements showed debts and profits. Debts accounted for "Blend A or Blend B" fertilizer, bought from the FSC, as well as rice from the Rewa river (deducted from final profit). The statements also showed the amount of burnt cane harvested (in tons) and non-burnt cane harvested, and showed the profit. Most profits were between F$700-F$2000 -- depending on the amount of cane harvested.

The sugar industry is a powerful one in Fiji, and is a reflection of both traditional and western economies. Obviously on the western side of the business sugar is being farmed and sold, and farmers and cutters individually receive fixed rates for the amount sold and cut. The sugarcane is also grown on mataqali land, which when rented out, is distributed among the members of the mataqali, which reflects the Fijian economy of sharing the products of their communal land. However, it is important to note that once the profits of the leased land are distributed among the mataqali, the amount each family receives is not very much (at least this is what I found in Navolau #2). My Tata's mataqali land, for example, is leased out, and he receives only ten dollars per month or so. Thus, the villagers do not profit from this particular kind of combination of western and Fijian economies.

Attitudes About Money

Villagers in Navolau have interesting views about money, since they are faced with wanting to hold on to their traditional values of sharing within the community, but at the same time are being confronted with western, capitalistic ideas about earning a material profit. Before discussing these differences, I will first lay out some of the traditional Fijian views on money and personal material objects.

Fijians today pride themselves on the notion of "kerekere." Kerekere, which literally means "please," is an idiom that is used to ask anything of anyone else. The idea of kerekere is that Fijians will always help each other out, and are willing to give anything that they have to relatives or friends. One man explains, "In the Fijian way, especially in borrowing, it's very open and relations with others are for helping one another." As another says, "Requests for money -- that is our way of life, it's called 'kerekere,' and you don't have to pay back." A younger man explained the concept: "It's like this, if you work very hard for one week, you work very hard and you make thirty dollars, you're friend might say, 'kerekere.....kerekere five dollars,' and you will give it to him. And that keeps happening, and before you know it, you might only have ten dollars left." His father also explained the Fijian concept of sharing material wealth:

We Fijians, we don't save money so much. As soon as we have it, "whip" it's gone. We give a little here, five dollars to you, ten dollars to you, it's like that. We share our things, and don't hold on to them, if someone asks for a cow then we give it. That is why people don't get rich in Fiji.

Here, this man explains how Fijians willingly give money to help one another, but he also suggests that this system does not allow people to get rich, and in a economy that encompasses capitalistic ways of earning money, this creates a contradiction.

Even though Fijians still want to help one another, they still are influenced by the western ideas of saving money. From conducting the economic surveys, I found that villagers have certain people that they are most willing to give money to. This would include their family, and of course if someone asks for something among their "vasu" (their mother's people, to whom they must give anything asked for). As one villager said about giving money to their family, "If we have it, we'll give it in a happy mood." However, villagers repeatedly said that if there were someone that they did not want to give their money to, that they would simply say that they don't have it.

Of the households I interviewed, and the people I talked to, the residents of Navolau #2 said that there is very little fighting over money. The only time people dispute this matter is between a husband and wife, when the husband spends too much on yaqona. They feel that even though their obligations to their family and to the village is at times burdensome, it is well worth it. One young man shares his ideas about the Fijian ethos of giving:

We don't mind giving because it's our family here in the village. I think that the reason why Fijians are so giving and open is because people are surrounded by their family, and everything about the family is important. Giving is part of our tradition, and that's why we take pride in practicing it. The reason why you Americans don't give as much is because you don't have as strong of a sense as family and tradition as we Fijians do. Since they are content with borrowing and lending money that they have, within the village, disputes are kept at a minimum.

Even though there is not a premium placed on being rich, villagers of course still dream of it; however, it is mainly the young people that try to pursue these dreams. Older men and women are content with the life they live in the village -- farming, fishing, and selling things for a small, sporadic profit, whereas young, unmarried villagers are interested in moving to a city to make more money for themselves. As one elderly man in the village explained:

Most people dream of being rich, but just the young people want to and get a job in Suva. We know now that money can get things for us, but us older people are happier in the village. When I was young I went to Suva for the same purpose, but I realized that why I went was not that important to me.

This attitude about striving to be rich shows that people are happy overall with their economic status in the village, and that even though some young residents of the village leave to work, that those who leave find life in the village more relaxing, and worth the low income. Here, an older man explains what it was like coming back to the village after living in Suva, "Oh, I think it was very nice to come back to the village, it's not like living in the city and always working, always worrying about making money, buying your food, and having enough to live off of, it's better to live in the village." Clearly, those who have moved away from the village to earn money, and have returned feel that city life, although one makes more money is too hectic and worrisome, when one can farm and lead a more relaxing life at home.

One question that people debated over, when I interviewed them about economics, was whether people made the choice to make money over being with their family. Overall, their consensus was that people would rather be with their family than make a lot of money. However, in practice, there are several cases where people have chosen money over their family. In many households, members of the family have moved out of the village, to a city to earn money for themselves. There is also an island resort close by to Navolau where a few villagers work and board there for the week, with one day off per week to spend with their family. Although these urbanites often send money home, living outside the village disengages them from the circle of lending money here and there on a daily basis to other villagers. Thus, they are making the choice to make money over being with their family, in many situations. One villager explained the situation, "Nowadays people are making choices of money over being with their family. People will work someplace else, like on an island resort, or in Suva, and send money back for church, school fees, and other expenses." Thus, this is an case where the capitalistic, western notion of making and saving money has become more important in people's minds than the Fijian notion of the uselessness of saving one's money for one's self.

The village economy network in Navolau #2 is one which embodies both the traditional Fijian world view of looking out for one's fellow villagers, as well as a capitalistic ideology which encourages the individual to make money for one's self. In conclusion, I would argue that for the most part the Fijian ethos of an economic system is still how villagers think of themselves in economic relations to one another, and that the capitalistic or Western system has only a few currents running counter to the Fijian's way of thinking. Among these are when people sell objects from their house, and when they move out of the village to get a job. The village economy has a way of leveling out people's profits so that even if they are making more money than other villagers, they will end up spending more by taking care of people in their homes, donating more to the village adi, or lending more money and objects out upon request.

On to Chapter 4...