WHAT'S BEAUTIFUL?
BODY IMAGE AND THE SOCIOCENTRIC SENSE OF SELF IN FIJI
by Emily Sparks

Chapter 3
A Background to Fijian Communal Values

Chapter 3

"The Chiefly Way": An Introduction to Fijian Ideas about Community

Communality in Social Structure

Gender

Tavale

Communalism Seen Through Economics

Yaqona

The Women's World -- Prescribed by Men

Conclusion

"The Chiefly Way": An Introduction to Fijian Ideas about Community

One important concept to keep in mind in discussing the emphasis of community among Fijians is the idea of vakaturaga. Literally, it means behavior appropriate in the presence of the chief; however, it has many other connotations as well. A person with vakaturaga "knows his place in society and complies unquestioningly to his various traditionally defined obligations and responsibilities" (Ravuvu 1983: 103). This person possesses respect, deference, humility, and is attentive and complying in relation to other people. Since respecting one's community and one's role within the community are very important to Fijians so that a harmonious community is maintained, having vakaturaga is highly valued to a Fijian, for it shows that this person is humble and puts what is important to the community before his or her own needs. Thus, the concept of vakaturaga encapsulates the Fijian ideology of communality: the ideal person is not one who displays individual talents, but one who is attentive to the needs of others and respects communal tradition. In the following pages, I will explore this rich ideology of communality.

Communality in Social Structure

Social structure refers to the way the people of the village conceptually organize their people. This section is important for our background discussion about village life in Fiji, for it exemplifies the importance to Fijians of people playing proper roles within the community, roles which are dictated by the society.

The Fijian social system emphasizes the ways that individuals are parts of collectivities. There is also an emphasis on the interdependence of these various collectivities to form a larger collective whole. For instance, in Fijian society families are organized into mataqali. Mataqali can be best associated with the generic anthropological term "lineage." Asesela Ravuvu, a Fijian anthropologist, defines "mataqali" as "an agnatically related social unit -- usually a lineage of the larger clan" (Ravuvu 1983: 119). Three to four tokatoka--a subgroup of mataqali made of a few families make up one mataqali; five to six mataqali make up one yavusa; and two to four or five yavusa make up one vanua -- that is, one land and people, collectively. Mataqali, in turn, are conceived of as each playing a specialized role in order to preserve a harmonious vanua. Ravuvu's description of vanua embodies the importance of vanua to Fijians. He states:

The Fijian term, vanua, has physical, social and cultural dimensions which are interrelated. It does not mean only the land area one is identified with, and the vegetation, animal life, and other object on it, but is also includes the social and cultural system -- the people, their traditions and customs, beliefs and values, and the various other institutions established for the sake of achieving harmony, solidarity and prosperity within a particular social context. Its social and cultural dimensions are a source of security and confidence. It provides a sense of identity and belonging… It is an extension of the concept of the self. (Ravuvu 1983: 70)

Here Ravuvu explains the importance of vanua, not only in its physical meaning, but as a part of the Fijian ethos of a collective, harmonious community.

The concept of vanua, in turn, emphasizes a larger interdependence between land and people. Each plays its role in preserving a prosperous whole; each player is both nurtured by, and nurtures, the other. The Fijian idea of vanua is more than simply a land that people live on. It is also the largest grouping of a family and refers to the way people live with their environment. Asesela Ravuvu describes vanua in this way:

Vanua literally means land, but also refers to the social and cultural aspects of the physical environment identified with a social group… For a vanua to be recognized, it must have people living on it and supporting and defending its rights and interests. A land without people is likened to a person without soul. The people are the souls of the physical environment… It is a major source of life, it provides nourishment, shelter, and protection… Land is thus an extension of the people. Land becomes lifeless and useless without the people, and likewise the people are helpless and insecure without land to thrive on. (Ravuvu 1987: 76)

In other words, a people may not exist without vanua, and a land which exists without people is considered void, or dead. Thus, vanua must exist for people as an extension of themselves and their community. Again this concept emphasizes nurturing and interdependence, where a collection of interdependent elements are made greater by the presence of the others.

Another key aspect of the ideology of communality is the idea that individuals should fulfill a responsibility to preserve a harmonious traditional way of life. This idea is expressed in religious beliefs. The primary reason why an attachment to a vanua, or land, is a central aspect of Fijian life, is because it is the place where one's ancestors lived. The Vu watch over the Fijians during everyday life, guiding them towards remembering and keeping alive their traditions and punishing them if they desert the traditional way of life. The Vus' power is called mana, and it is the source of power behind the Fijians and their land. By birthright, chiefs have more mana than most people, and are thus more powerful than the average person. In his book The Straight Path, Richard Katz gives a description of the power of mana:

One chief, for instance, said that his mana was so powerful that whenever he bathed in a stream, the fish would die. A person fishing downstream might be overjoyed at the unexpected catch, but since the fish died from exposure to the chief's mana, they would now be sacred and thus potentially dangerous [if eaten]. Thus the Fijian people, their land, and their beliefs are all intertwined, reminding themselves that they are, and have been since the time of their ancestors kai viti ("Fijians, or literally, "from Fiji"). (1999: 23)

The idea of vanua is a powerful one in the Fijian ethos, for it reminds Fijians today to have respect for their land, their ancestors, and their traditions, which emphasize the idea of communal living.

In Navolau #2, as well as all over Fiji, people think of themselves as members of their father's kin, or their father's people. In anthropology this is called patrilineal descent -- tracing one's heritage through the father's line. Sisters and daughters leave their home villages when they marry and move in with their husbands' people, or mataqali. Ravuvu notes that when a woman marries, "apart from looking after the husband personally, the welfare of his group becomes one of her main concerns," and if it is not, she is considered a "worthless wife" (Ravuvu 1983: 3). Thus, to be viewed as a "good wife, within the community, a woman must be willing to put her aspirations and individual desires after the concerns of her new family" (Ravuvu 1983: 3). When children are born, they are traditionally raised as a part of their father's people. Ravuvu states that "a Fijian child is normally registered at birth as a member of his father's mataqali and this entitles him to all rights and privileges including land rights" (Ravuvu 1983: 1). Thus, membership to the father's kin is not only part of the social structure -- how people conceptualize themselves; it is also part of social organization -- how people physically classify themselves within the network of the community.

Even with all this emphasis on the male line of descent, and belonging to the father or husband's mataqali, there is a strong relationship that exists between a child (even if he or she is grown) and his or her mother's people. People refer to their mother's people as their vasu, and may ask anything of the family. The prescribed relationship is jovial, and the mother's people are overly generous, sometimes in an amusing way. For example, during a ceremony to introduce one of the Union College students to his host family in Nakorokula, a neighboring village, the host repeatedly offered four hundred dollars he had been given to look after the student to the young man who was attending the ceremony as his vasu. This is not usually an amount of money to joke around with, but throughout the ceremony, the host tried to force the envelope in his vasu's pocket or slyly pass it over his way.

The Fijian emphasis on kin ties illustrates two crucial parts of the ideology of communality. First, as with beliefs about mataqali and vanua, interdependence of people is emphasized. Rituals such as funerals, which feature gifts to the vasu, highlight how important maternal relatives are in creating a person. This is part of a more general cultural emphasis on the ways individuals are the product of networks of nurturing relatives. Second, the kinship system shows well how this interdependence depends on each person playing their correct role in the system. Fijians genuinely care about their relatives, but their culture prompts them to conceptualize this caring less in terms of individual personality characteristics than in terms of categories of relationships. Thus, the relationship that exists between a child and his or her mother's people is a pre-determined one. The two parties act towards each other in a scripted manner, where their relationship in conjunction with the society determines their actions, not the individual rapport they have with one another. Further examples like this one show how prescribed social behavior is a result of a public ideology that determines the way people live their lives. In this way, culture prompts people to think less about individual personalities (and expressing these) than about preserving networks of relationships. However, in order to discuss these relationships, a brief list of kin terms is necessary, so that we may discuss these scripted relationships that between people.

In Fiji, kinship ties are an integral part of how people interact with one another. In order to discuss these relationships, it is first important to discuss the names of these kin relationships. With so many terms between kin members, this table will help explain how people refer to one another, so that later we may discuss how these members treat one another. See Appendix A for a list of kin terms for both a male and female voice.

I have explained this system of kin relations in great detail elsewhere (Sparks 1999). For the purpose of this paper, I would like to discuss a few key elements of the kin system. In his article, "Is Kinship Costly?" N. Rika describes kinship as "that very strong bond of relationship between persons which gives those people involved a special claim on and responsibility for one another" (1975: 945). In other words, kinship is a bond that ties people together. Whether it be through matrilineal or patrilineal descent (consanguinity), or through marriage (affinity); kinship offers people a sense of belonging, and from this sense of belonging comes an obligation to act in correct ways toward each other. First, the Fijian kinship system defines great numbers of people as close relatives. This definitely prompts people to think of themselves always as being embedded in a network of relations. For example, from the table in Appendix A, one can see that a girl would call her mother's sister her "nana" or "mother"; the mother's sister's children are called sisters and brothers. Thus, a girl's mother's cousin-sister (a cousin that would be called a sister in Fijian) is still the daughter's nana, and her children still her brothers and sisters. One elderly woman in the village noted that one time she met one of her karua (or wife of one of her husband's brothers). Even though the relationship was not close the two women acted as though they had known each other for years and immediately began helping each other in the kitchen. On a similar note, when I visited a neighboring village, where many of my host-family's relatives live, I was instructed to call almost everyone nana levu ortata levu (big mother, big father) and was greeted with "luvequ", which means daughter. Thus, one can see how the Fijian kinship network expands so to include many people within the immediate family.

Not only do Fijians create close family ties with what Americans would consider distant relatives, they also try and find relatives everywhere. When mentioning a village to me, my host family would immediately say something along the lines of, "Emily, your nana lailai (small mother) lives there." Another example of Fijians finding familial bonds everywhere they go can even be seen in the relationship between provinces. For example, while in Fiji, I stayed in the Ra province, which is close to the Tailevu province. The people from each of these provinces refer to each other as mataqali, or mata for short, and when they meet each other (although they may be strangers), they are immediately friendly and jovial with one another. Using the term mataqali is akin to including someone into one's kin group. Once, on a weekend trip with my host-sisters, we visited a tourist attraction where the tour-guide was from Tailevu. Immediately, the sisters were joking around with him, calling out "mata, mata," while they discussed what family each of them belonged to. Another example I observed of Fijians finding family everywhere they go happened one night in my village when a stranger came to my host-family's house, and upon presenting a gift, said that he was here to teach the youth of the village about mechanics and asked if he could stay with my host-family. After the formal ceremony, my host father and the teacher were exchanging stories, and found out that they had a relative in common, through marriage. When my host father learned of this, he made a special note to explain to me that they had discovered that their families were related. These anecdotes show that in Fijian culture it is more important to discover kinship connections than to test out people's individual personalities as Americans tend to do. By creating bonds based on prescribed relationships, Fijians find an inclusive sense of community almost everywhere they go.

Second, the Fijian kinship system prescribes strictly the behavior between categories of kin. Again, individual personality is less important than displaying the correct behavior with the right kind of kin. In Fijian society, as in most societies, elders are respected and cared for. For example, younger members of the community must treat the elders with the utmost respect. The bubu figure, the Fijian word for grandfather, grandmother, and their sisters and brothers, is respected and cared for by their children and grandchildren. In many cases, the bubu lives with one of her son's families (or rather, the son's wife and children live in the bubu's house), and is cared for largely by her daughter-in-law. A bubu-grandfather is seated at the top of a table for eating, is served first, and is thought of as the head of the household, even if he is not the primary bread-winner. Also, bubu is seated as the most honored member of a ceremony, if there are no members of higher-ranked mataqali present.

This notion of respecting one's elders holds true on smaller scales as well. Older siblings may ask their younger siblings, younger cousins, nieces or nephews, to help them perform tasks. Ravuvu notes that older brothers and sisters are expected to "organize social and economic activities… In return, junior members are obliged to provide labour as necessary for the upkeep of the family head and the family as a whole" (1983: 8). As Ravuvu points out, it is the younger children's role to help their elders, on any scale. In my home if Pasy (the thirteen year old girl that did most of the cooking) needed someone to watch the stove, or get her some firewood, she would call upon those that are younger than her to help her. Thus, roles within the family are determined by age.

One way in which people pay respect to their elders, playing out the scripted idea of respect for them, is by using the same names through generations. There is a systematic way that this is done in Fijian society. From examining the household census, as well as the genealogies done on families and households in Navolau, one can see that the first child is often named after a parent (depending on the sex of the child). After the eldest, the other children are named after grandparents' sisters and brothers, and more commonly after parents' sisters and brothers. For example, in my host family the eldest child, a girl, is named Litiana after her father, Laitia. They also have a son named Laitia, as well as two daughters named Merilita and Viniana -- after their father's sisters. Likewise, grandchildren are named after elders. For example, my Nana and Tata's first grandchild is named after her bubu (my nana) -- Vasemaca.

In-laws must also respect each other. This category crosses both age and gender. A dauve, that is, a brother's wife, if the brother is older, is allowed to joke around with her husband's younger brothers and sisters. However, she must respect her husband's older siblings. The level of respect here is so high that she must avoid them. This means not mentioning their name and leaving the room when they enter. This relationship between the wife and the other brothers is called daku. This is also the name by which they refer to each other. This relationship is extended not only with immediate family, but with the brother's parallel cousins as well. However, the dauve is free to interact with her husband's brothers' wives, and they call each other "karua." In a karua relationship the in-law wives act as sisters. Likewise, a sister's husband can joke freely with the other sisters of the family.

My host brother Veresa explained that the relationship of avoidance depends on age when dealing with in-laws. He said that when Ilimo (his older brother) gets married, all of Ilimo's younger siblings will be able to talk to his wife. However, when Veresa gets married, his older siblings will not be able to talk to his wife, but his younger siblings will be able to. The term "siblings" also includes parallel cousins. For example, Nana's sister's children that are older than say, Ilimo, will not be able to talk to his wife, but the younger ones will be able to. Thus, in observing respectful relationships, a Fijian is not concerned with the personal relationship, so much as he or she is concerned with maintaining the "proper" relationship, so that the community will remain harmonious.

Gender

Gender also influences the relationship between kin. As mentioned above, cross-gender in-laws observe respectful relationships when the in-law is younger. Again, these relationships can be so strict that they will not even acknowledge each other, nor be in the same room together. Brothers and sisters, as well as cousin-brothers and cousin-sisters, known as parallel cousins or veitacini, once they are married, begin to respect one another more and more, and eventually start avoiding each other. This relationship of avoidance is called veitavuki. Brothers may not make sexual references in the presence of their sisters or female veitacini. Some say the avoidance comes from the uncomfortable situation of such a heightened, and changed degree of respect.

Tavale

While many kin relations require respect and restraint there is one relationship where people act conversely and are actually required to joke with one another. This relationship is called tavale, and it refers to the relationship between a mother's brother's children, or a father's sister's children. Traditionally this relationship was meant for tavale (two or three times removed) to marry each other. Today this is not expected. However, the tavale relationship is a jovial, teasing, and sometimes flirtatious one when it involves a male and a female. Ilimo and Ase, tavale who are around the same age (late twenties and early thirties) tease each other about other romantic relationships that each has with other people. Another example of a tavale relationship from my field notes exemplifies why the term has the nickname "kissing cousins":

While I was in Vaileka, Susannah (a friend of mine, age 18) ran into someone that I thought might have been a boyfriend -- certainly someone that she was flirting with. When she saw this guy (a few years older than she), they joined hands and were leaning in and out of each other. She leaned up against him, giggled and joked with his friends as she stayed leaning against him and holding his hand. They continued talking and laughing for about five minutes. Afterwards, I asked Susannah if that was her boyfriend, and she said that it was her tavale from another island in Fiji, who is now staying in a village near Vaileka.

Another example was when Lucy, my host sister, introduced her friend's father to me. Her friend's father is also her tavale, and he introduced himself as "Lucy's husband."

As I spent time in the village, I began noticing the tavale relationship more and more. One evening before dinner I was walking by the community hall when a couple of men called me in for a bowl of grog. I went in and brought my kinship table with me. After asking some questions, I noticed that Veresa was carrying a bag of feed for the pigs, walking away from our house; I also spotted him later carrying another sack, walking in the opposite direction. Etonia, his tavale, made it seem like Veresa was walking around carrying the same sack. Etonia said, "See, he's crazy, he has to feed the pigs, and he doesn't know why he's carrying the sack of feed. Look, he's walking the wrong way -- going away from the house to feed the pigs. It's sad…" It was then that I realized that Etonia was joking at the expense of his tavale.

I observed another example of the tavale relationship one night after dinner. We were having yaqona at our place, and Veresa (the youngest of the crowd) was serving the grog to everyone. Etonia was sitting behind him, and when it came to be Etonia's turn, a few times Veresa served him a bowl of water, instead of yaqona . Veresa did it so subtly, and he smirked to himself, as did Etonia. It did not seem like this joke was made into a big deal, but as the night continued, they played jokes like this on each other. During this night, I realized that although the two young men became more and more sleepy, they did not give up playing practical jokes on one another. This reveals the idea that out of commitment to their prescribed relationship, they continued to play out their expected role, even if they were not in the mood to do so. Certainly the tavale is a person that Fijians love being around, for the rules of high respect do not apply, and the tavale is an outlet where friendly teasing and joking is encouraged.

Thirdly, the Fijian kinship system is believed to be crucial to preserving a correct and orderly community. We have seen that interactions between people are based not on individual relationships, but on the scripted role that is predetermined among kin members. The order of the community is based on the adherence to these scripted relationships, and they are necessary to maintain if a group is to maintain an orderly, and harmonious whole. However, when certain members of the community do not accept their place, or their scripted role within the community, Fijians believe that this is disrespectful to the people and to their ancestors (who look over them daily). As mentioned before, men and elders receive the most respect. One possible theory for the reason the rules of respect are heightened between male kin members is because Fijian men are the people in the public sphere, carrying out traditional Fijian ceremonies. Thus, they must adhere to traditional Fijian customs (at least in public). Following this idea, men are respected because they represent respect for community-oriented ceremonies and discourse. Women thus play a much less public role, and respect relations among women are lessened because they actually do work together as a team all day. Women's work, especially cleaning and cooking, is a team effort, and a heightened respect would not allow them to work as efficiently.

Fijian culture dictates precise rules and regulations for how kin members should act towards one another. Although children seem exempt from most of the rules (except that they should respect their elders), once Fijians marry and grow up, distinct patterns of behavior -- specifically those of respect, and even those of avoidance, form within certain kin members. These roles of how to act towards other kin members are played out in the prescribed relationships people have with one another, which helps mold one's identity, for people always know what role to play in cross societal situations. The emphasis on kinship ties in Fiji is something that offers, as Rika suggests, "a feeling of belonging together and possessing a common ancestry and identity" (1975: 497). It is true; being surrounded by kin members, one feels a stronger sense of acceptance, security, and identity, and it is this identity that constructs the Fijian world view.

Communalism Seen Through Economics

Having sketched broadly this ideology of communalism, I will now pursue this point through specific areas to show its richness, the first being ideas about economics. The ethos that an ideal individual is one who contributes to the community is also expressed in economic ideology. Traditionally, a Fijian coastal village economy was one where all was shared, and day-to-day subsistence farming and fishing was the way of life for nearly all the villagers. Land was (and still is) communally owned, and is farmed in this way, so that the food produced could provide for everyone, including a surplus for feasts and for the chief. Ideally, and in practice according to the elders of my village, the only person who was both socially and materially more prosperous than the rest of the community was the chief, for villagers would give their own food and goods to the chief out of respect. This extends to the Fijian idea that all material things traditionally should be shared. The expressions that Ravuvu points out, "Maroroya me qai kena na qele" -- "to keep it only to feed the earth," and "Maroroya me qai kena na baca" -- "to keep it only to feed the worms" (1983: 107), demonstrate the Fijian world view that material accumulation, and keeping things for one's self is pointless. Ravuvu points out that these expressions embody ideas that "the implication that the material possessions must be enjoyed while the going is good, [for] what is the pleasure of hoarding? … Such an attitude minimizes frustrations in many ways and eases the situations in which anger may otherwise be generated" (1983: 107).

The traditional Fijian economy is based on building social relations among others within the village, as opposed to striving to be independently wealthy. In fact, without the Fijian social structure of a complex network of relationships, the Fijian "share and care" economy could not work, so it is more important to maintain good relationships within the village than worry about making money. Generally speaking, traditionally Fijians would rather build good rapport with other members in their village than concern themselves with gaining material wealth, and thus, the building of their social relations is more important than individual gain, for the cohesiveness of the community. In fact, gaining individual wealth actually contrasts with Fijian ideals of what determines a good person. This shows what Fijians value in each other -- they like people who care about others and about human relationships, not people who work hard to get rich. 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), as Fijians emphasize a network of building social relationships, rather than building or cultivating economic gain.

The Fijian ethos of working towards and preserving a network of relationships can be seen in economic exchanges. These exchanges take place so that those involved may enhance each other's status with one another and reaffirm their ties. 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 site of a funeral several days later, the guests are given gifts in return, usually of less value, but proportionate to what they gave relative to other guests; that is, someone who gave many mats will receive a larger piece of meat than someone who gave few mats. Thus by embedding the individual into a network of relationships, funerals actually make people poorer in material wealth, but they gain in social standing and reaffirm social bonds with their kin members by giving as much as they can to their hosts.

In his discussion of the incentive of traditional exchanges, R. R. Nayacakalou remarks, "Formalized exchanges 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" (1978: 112). Fijians will offer food to any passerby, share 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 and stress that proper alliance within the family or community is best for the cohesiveness of the social unit.

The exchange of food illustrates well the Fijian ideal of caring for one's community. 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. This characteristic of caring for others is exactly what is highly valued; it is part of having veidokai, or respect for the community.

When food is prepared for functions the same concept follows. What one remembers about a feast, or magiti, is the vikawaitaki and the veiqaravi. Thus, the benefit for 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 incentive to offer away their food to others.

In the traditional Fijian ethos, labor is seen as a means of helping others, rather than 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, dalo, 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 idea of laboring to help others rather than to gain money extends beyond subsistence farming. With sugarcane, 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 host father, or "Tata" (father) 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 (who were all relatives in this case). This party was an oco, in appreciation for their labor. Because these were relatives, they would work for him any time. 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, 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 would rather have stayed home and relaxed, he offered to help his cousin-brother finish his sugarcane for no benefit except the gratitude of his relative. Helping one's kin with cutting and planting, instead letting them hire 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. From this example we see that Tata worked not to improve his material standard of life, but to build social relations.

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? Of course we have discussed the importance of the network of communal support, and as opposed to individual pursuit, in the Fijian lifestyle. 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. And this is the backbone of why the Fijian economy works. Through social relations, individuals may borrow and lend amongst themselves. If they demonstrate their role in the community as willing to help others, they will ensure support from the community. 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" (Nayacakalou 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 whomever 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. Thus, the correct, harmonious and prosperous Fijian community is created and preserved when its members play their proper role -- taking care of others.

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 they act within the traditional, accepted pattern. 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.

Although these social obligations may seem to be difficult, Fijians keep in mind the importance of sharing and taking care of each other, as a defining characteristic of their own culture. They feel that even though their obligations to their family and to the village are 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 is our family here in the village. I think that the reason why Fijians are so giving and open is because people are always 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 do not have as strong of a sense as family and tradition as Fijians do.

The custom of borrowing in Fijian society is called kerekere, and can not be refused, especially among family, when requested. This background demonstrates the Fijian ethos of why borrowing, sharing, and offering one's self as labor for others is held in high regard. The economic system in Fiji embodies Fijian ideals like vakaturaga and demonstrates how individuals care more about cultivating human relationships than individual gains.

Yaqona

A background of Fijian life would not be complete without a description of kava, called yaqona. The plant is mildly narcotic, and is nicknamed "grog" because of the groggy effect it has on its consumers. The drink is served in a tanoa -- a usually wooden bowl with a bilo (a half coconut shell), into which the drink is poured at served to the people. The preparation, distribution, acceptance and consumption of this plant has prescribed words, chants and gestures which must be respected, to ultimately show respect for elders, chiefs and the Vu which stand behind these men. The root of the yaqona plant (piper methysticum), ground up, pulverized, and mixed with water, is at the center of every Fijian function, for it calls upon the Vu to be present at all functions. Thus, when one calls upon the Vu (one's respected spiritual ancestors), one offers yaqona to the Vu so that communication with the Vu becomes possible.

At all ceremonies a sevusevu, along with other rituals, is performed. The sevusevu is the most common way to exchange yaqona, as it must be performed at the beginning of each ceremony and as one offers more yaqona to the community and to the Vu. A guest brings yaqona upon his arrival, and in return the host reciprocates this notion, offering a sevusevu to the guest and the land he comes from.

Although yaqona is consumed informally for recreation, in a formal ceremony a specific order of the presentation of the yaqona is observed with those of a chiefly or elderly status being served first, and this order demonstrates the importance of respecting one's proper role in society. The highest ranking elder, or chief, is served first, and then his "talking chief," then the next highest ranked man, and his talking chief. In order for the yaqona to be offered to the Vu, in a formal ceremony, it must be served in the proper order, for chiefs (or higher ranking people) have mana and are thus closer to the Vu. In formal as well as informal yaqona gatherings, seating is specified. The most respected member of the group sits in front of the tanoa, while those lower ranked sit around its sides. In back of the tanoa sit the youths, as well as the women.

In an informal setting, where youths have gathered to drink grog, no one person is so defiant as to sit at the head of the tanoa, resulting in two lines facing one another, with no one person at the head. Informal "grog sessions", as they are called, also display Fijians' willingness to devote time to human relationships, for once the grog is poured, it may take hours to finish, and one may not leave until the grog is finished, for this would be disrespecting the Vu.

Many a night in Fiji men (and sometimes women) sit around a tanoa, drinking grog and sharing stories. Often the grog lasts late until the night, when many would like to be asleep. However, one may not leave the grog unfinished, out of respect to the Vu. One night I awoke to find a group of men sitting in our kitchen. They asked me to come and stay for a round of grog. When I asked if they were tired and wanted to sleep, one elder remarked, "If you do not understand the meaning of the yaqona, then you do not understand our Fijian culture!" Similarly, my Tata describes yaqona as central to Fijian character. He explained, "Yaqona shows us that we are Fijians; if we stopped presenting this yaqona or if we stopped using grog, we Fijians would be lost." Here Tata defines Fijian character through the drinking of yaqona. During this conversation Tata also mentioned that yaqona "makes people's relations with each other continue to remind us that we are 'dua'-- or as one." Here one may note the importance yaqona, as it represents respecting one's community, Vu, and the Fijian ethos of connectedness.

The Women's World -- Prescribed by Men

In order to understand the the place of women in Fijian society, we must first understand why women play out certain roles. I have given an overview of Fijian village life in terms of the social structure, organization and economics; however, this does not fully describe the role which women are expected to play. The following chapters will discuss different roles which women play in the community throughout different stages of their lives; however, this brief section will discuss what roles men expect them to play, and since men are at the center of public life, their decisions play a part in creating the roles women play in society.

One role which women of all ages in the society partake in is doing "women's work." In Fiji, this work includes cooking, cleaning and keeping the house, weaving mats, fishing, and collecting firewood, as well as tending to the smaller crops at the farm. Men on the other hand are expected to partake in "men's work" -- that is, collecting most of the food, tending to the crops and sugarcane (if there is any), fishing, and carrying out the formal business of the village (hosting ceremonies, making decisions for the family and the village, and so on) What it is important to remember in discussing the roles people play in society, is that both women and men of all ages have certain roles which they are expected to live by. While the elder generations are given more autonomy in the public sphere, younger Fijians respect the roles which their elders prescribe for them. For example, one twenty year old man in the village says that adolescents of his age are "supposed to stay home and help the family." As a young man, he shares with us what his parents, and the community expect him to do:

When we wake up in the morning, we should do some weeding, or go and collect firewood, and then come back and have our tea. And then after we have our tea, then we should go and change the cows, feed the pigs, and do some work. Some people don't do this, they just spend time with their friends all day, and their parents will feel unhappy, why they are acting bad, they are not making their parents feel proud.

While young men certainly have obligations to their families, young women have similar obligations to their family, and then to their husband's family. One young man shares what he expects from a wife when he brings her into his family:

For me, the most important thing is how she's acting. I just want to know how she's going to act in the family. If she will be acting good towards my parents, obeying the rules, or will she do what she wants. Can she help my parents? When I bring her home, she's supposed to do the same thing that she does at her home. A boy will try and see how she acts at her home, so that they know she will be acting good when they bring her to their parents. If she could play that role -- that is what is most important, because she would be helping my parents, and help us collect food, and care about us.

Thus, the role which young women are expected to play is not entirely different from that of young men, except they are more at the mercy of what the men dictate for them (as well as the elders of course), whereas men follow only what the elders expect them to do.

A detailed discussion about the prescribed roles in society which women play will be presented in the following pages; this simply gives a background so that the reader may understand the context of the following discussion. Fijians emphasize the community over the individual as seen in their social structure and organization, their economic system, and as well as the culturally determined roles that they play out.

Conclusion

Through looking at the Fijian social economy and social structure, and as seen through ritual practice, a common thread involving Fijians into the community is this notion of working for the benefit of the community, over working for one's individual endeavors. The Fijian individual is embedded into a series of relationships, and these relationships are considered far more important than individual accomplishments or autonomous character. In order to preserve their ideal society, Fijians would sooner spend time cultivating relationships amongst each other than cultivating their individual status within the society. And the correct, harmonious and prosperous Fijian community depends on each individual playing his or her proper role in preserving correct Fijian tradition.

On to Chapter 4...