Sparks - Weeks 5 and 6 Field Notes

Note Index | Emily Sparks

Emily Sparks Weeks 5 and 6 Field Notes excerpts - Economics, Life Cycle, Festival

Tuesday, 10/5/99

Today I felt like I really had a lot of information to gather over the course of the next week. I still feel torn about going out and doing things with people, and doing "work." I guess as the week goes on, I’ll be able to figure out some sort of plan for this. It saddens me to think that my time here will be spent just "collecting data." It seems unfufilling and empty in a way. I am determined to not make my experience like this, but I’m not sure how to go about doing this. I think that the feelings of homesickness and having too much work go together, because whenever I go out and do something -- talk to people, get information on something, it makes me feel more a part of what is going on in the world I’m living in. This is something that I remember from BDS, but for some reason, I didn’t really remember the feeling until I was placed in a similar situation.

Today I had an interesting talk with Ase, and it called to my attention that when she wants to be, she can be a great informant and teacher. She seems to have times when she is "on," and tells me exactly the kind of information that I’m interested it. However, I haven’t found how to operate that "on" switch yet. At times she’s great with information, and other times, she simply won’t explain anything -- or the explanation will be, "that’s just our custom," or "he was just making a joke." (Well, what’s the joke?) I guess that’s just part of human nature.
LIFE CYCLE -- conversation with Ase about Funerals

Since Ase brought up the death of her mother today (which was about 5 or 6 weeks ago), I decided to press further about funerals. Most of the questions I asked were not personal, as I didn’t want her to feel pressured -- I let her go where she wanted with this on. She told me mostly about the 100 nights. [Perhaps she focused on that because it’s something that she hasn’t gone through yet, and isn’t painful].

Overall, the funeral is put on by the mother’s people, the vasu, but the person (if it is a woman) does not go back to her village, she will stay in her husband’s village -- her family comes there. Although the vasu puts the funeral on, (pays for everything), they father’s family, or the people she is living with (her husband’s family), cooks the food and hosts the funeral. Ase said that for her mother’s funeral, they first asked her mother’s family if they wanted to put on the arrangements, and they said that they did, so they waited until they got here. In this case, a bus full of people came. Ase said that when people come to pay their respects everyone must give something. It could be a monetary amount (usually small, 5 dollars), a mat, or an animal such as a cow. Ase said that there would be someone at the door writing down what everyone has brought. By the end of the three or four days, they try to give back what people brought them.

The 100 nights ceremony celebrates the end of a mourning period. After someone’s death small ceremonies, or nights of remembrance are held on ten nights, 20 nights, 50 nights, and 80 nights as well. (This is according to Ase). After 100 nights, the official mourning period is over, and the widow, if she is living with her husband’s family, may go back to her own village if she chooses to do so. During these ceremonies, a meal is make, and people usually sit down around a bowl of yaqona to remember the deceased person. Ase mentioned that they do not have to tell stories about the dead person, but if often odes happen. She mentioned that during this official mourning period (of 100 days) some people give up drinking grog. Some men do not shave for the 100 nights, while women often wear a black pendent on their clothing. Ase mentioned that she has refrained from weaving mats for the 100 nights, out of respect from her mother, since her and her friends used to gather in the empty house and weave and gossip together.

Ase also told me the story of Atika’s death -- Andy’s host brother. I have heard various stories about this death -- some that it was a car accident, some that it was a heart attack. But this story seems like it makes the most sense. Ase told the story -- A group of the boys from Nakorokula were coming back from Lautoka late one night from a rugby game, and they were all very drunk. They were all walking back to the village, a bit spread out. At one point, someone looked back, and saw Atika behind him. However, after that (so the story goes) he went up to an Indian house where he was having an affair with an Indian woman. The husband of the woman he was having an affair with was home, and killed him by striking him with an iron (a big piece of metal) over the head. This jealous husband then dragged him out to the main road. The next morning another Indian fellow came by Andrew’s house. Ase said that this man knew who it was, but didn’t want to tell the family directly, for fear that the mother or father might have a heart attack. According to Ase, the mother had a feeling it was her son. So Atika’s father (bu-tika, he has the same name as his deceased son), went to see who was in the road. Ase said that when he realized his son was dead he dropped to the ground and starting crying and yelling. She said that there were many people standing around him.

This story is one when I think about it I want to break out into tears. Perhaps it is the way Ase told me the story -- so dramatic. I feel like I can picture the exact scene, and can image the father’s sadness -- partially.
Fijian ancestral spirit -- TRADITIONAL STORIES, conversation with Lucy

Lucy and I were getting ready to take our sisile (our bath) at night, like we usually do before dinner. She told me the story of how young women our age are not supposed to shower at night. If they do, an evil ancestral spirit, like the devil will take the unborn babies away from that woman. According to Lucy, this spirit is attracted to pretty young Fijian girls, and once it "gets you," you can’t get rid of it. I asked Lucy what she meant by this, and she said that you will never find any one person to settle down with, because once you do, this devil will cause problems within your marriage, and you will always be moving around from one man to the next. The reason for this is that this spirit disguises himself as different men, and can trick women into marriage. She also gave an example of one of her tavale’s sisters (Etonia’s sister), who was sitting outside and all of a sudden started hysterically laughing for no reason, in a very giddy way. Her father asked her what was going on, and she said that she was just imagining one cute boy. Also, Lucy mentioned one of her cousins’ friends who keeps marrying and divorcing, and is thought to have this spirit.

Lucy also gave an example from her own life. According to this legend, young girls are also not supposed to have a rest in the afternoon time, because the spirit is likely to come to them then. She said that one time she was visiting her cousin in Suva, and trying on all her makeup and clothing. Lucy said that she fell asleep in the afternoon, with makeup on her face. She said that she had a dream where one very handsome man came into her room, and "lay on top of her," (those were her words). She said that she really felt like something very heavy was on her, and she started screaming. Her cousins came to her room and woke her up, and said that they have to go do something, so that she doesn’t fall asleep in the afternoon again.
ECONOMICS INTERVIEW WITH TATA -- Tape Summary

How they spend their days

Tata is now retired. Starts off at 4am, goes to church service, then at 5am, start preparing food for the kids to go to school (nana). Tata checks the taxi, to make sure everything is running. Washes the car, check the oil, water, and after that have tea. After that, around 7, when the kids are going to school, then we go to the farm. At 10am we’ll have a rest, wait for lunch. After lunch we’ll go back to the field until sunset. Then have supper. After supper we’ll have some grog maybe, then around 9pm we’ll go to bed. Mostly Nana does the washing. Sometimes on Tuesdays Nana goes to the meetings held in the hall for women, and they teach one another how to weave a hat, or a different kind of craft.

When cane is not being harvested, he will still go to the farm many days and plant cassava, dalo, year round. Sometimes we do some shopping in town. When we’re not cutting cane nana stays home, and looks after the house, keeping the house clean.

Sources of income

Sugarcane is 5,000-6,000, that’s gross. Then we subtract the other expenses, and that might come to four thousand. That’s the rice, the fertilizer. After those, it’s about 4,000. We get paid for the cane every 3 wks during harvesting time. For the cutters and the farmers, every three weeks. During the rest of the year it’s three payments a yr. Starting salary at the FSC -- 150 per fortnight. When I retired, 280 fortnight. No Pension, but I received a lump sum, this was my choice, as opposed to the pension, I took it all at once. They took 7 cents out per dollar, and every year you receive a statement -- FNPF -- Fiji National Provident fund. The FSC deducts before giving to the bank. The lump sum was $32,000. We keep the money in Westpac bank. Never fear that the money will run out -- cane still provides an income.

When nana isn’t at the farm sometimes makes mats, and sells it. Sometimes in Nakorokula -- for big mats, they can cost 150 dollars, a smaller one 50 dollars, 70 dollars, it depends. Sometimes Nana sells fish too, but usually just has it for this house.

No remittances. They lease the land for the farm, but also lease out some land -- that’s the mataqali’s land. Income from land is divided up by the members of the mataqali. Sometimes it only comes out to #10 per house, because there are so many people. It’s 200 that they pay every 6mo. Indians and Fijians lease the land.

Sells yaqona -- one dollar per bag. Out of Lucy’s room. It’s 15 per kilo.

No Pension, no debts, no mortgage, no payments on car -- bought it in full, no bank loans, paid them off before he retired.

Expenses

Go to the supermarket 2 or 3 times a week. Flour, sugar, rice, cooking oil, toothpaste, toilet paper, chicken, noodles, beef, mutton. Spend 70 dollars twice a week on food. Lots of people.

For school fees -- Penang, 40 dollars per term, with Pasy we just pay for the building fund, the government pays for the rest, because it’s still form 3. But at QVS, it’s 40 dollars for the tuition fee, 50 dollars for boarding fees, 90 dollars per term. The first term, you can spend up to 400 dollars, b/c of PTA

School kids uniforms -- 2 prs each, they last for 2 yrs. One uniform costs 12 dollars for the skirt, and the blouse is 5, for the girls.

Every two years buy something for the house -- picture frame, plate, etc.

The electricity fee is between 10 and 15 dollars. Water is free. No other bills.

Don’t spend much on yaqona, only one or two times per week.

Donations -- this week 200 for the year. Every week 1-2 dollars on Sunday mornings.

Pays the most money to the boarding school and the church.

Mataqali donations -- wedding, funeral. Sometimes it’s a lot, but we can only give what we have. The payments are not that much higher than what they used to be.

Grog a bit drain on their income. Some people that don’t have that much money, they spend so much on grog, smokes and beer. Grog today is very expensive. Before you could buy a kilo of grog for 10 dollars, now it’s about 30. About ten yrs back it was 10 dollars. Sometimes a husband spends too much on grog, and the family is not getting what it’s supposed to get, because so much has been spent on grog, and smokes.

People don’t really fight over money. It’s a high priority to some people to make money, higher than it used to be. Even people that don’t have money can do things. " Fijians don’t take money so seriously. Now though we need more money to get things. But we Fijians don’t bother about this money thing. We are changing now, and when we talk about money, people say that so much has been wasted. They’ve given away so much, when they could have saved it."

Most people are dreaming of being rich, but just the young people want to go and get a job in Suva. We know now that money can get things for us. When I was young, when I was in Suva, I wanted to stay -- lights, bread and butter, but now that’s all in the village.

Now people are making choices for money over being with their family. People will work someplace else, like on a island resort, or in Suva, and send money back for church, school fees, everything. They’ll send the money from where they work. This happens seldom.

Requests for money -- that is our way of life. Kerekere. And you don’t have to pay back. Easier to request money from the Vasu, your momo, your nei, tata lailai, tata levu.

You can just go up to someone and say, "please, just buy me one packet of smokes," and if you got it (the money), you will get it.

Some people try and protect their money from others. You can always say, "No, I haven’t got any money." Now this happens more and more, because we can’t kerekere all the time now, people are trying to save money for themselves. The attitude about borrowing is changing. People tend to keep their money for themselves and for their family.

Wednesday, 10/6/99

Today I heard the village TK (turaga ni koro?) Spokesperson walk around and shout out what needs to be done for Friday -- our village annual festival / donation day. I thought that it was interesting because I heard him right before I left to go to Nakorokula. It was around dusk, and he ways shouting out in a loud, fast-talking, yet what seemed like monotone voice of what needed to be done before the festival. I learned from other what he was saying was to remind the boys and young men to build the shed, and to remind the households to contribute their annual donation. This year I learned that it’s 200 dollars per house.
ECONOMICS INTERVIEW WITH MILI -- Tape Summary

Husband spends days at the farm -- plant cassava, yams, kumala (sweet potatoes), bananas, paw-paw. He also cuts cane during the harvesting season. He’s doing that now. Mili stays home, does the washing, and the cooking. The household sells chickens and pigs once in a while. A chicken every maybe once a month -- costs 10, 15 dollars. For a pig, 40, 50 dollars, but not as often -- once a year, like that.

No relatives send back remittances. No leasing the land out. Husband’s farm is land from mataqali, doesn’t have to pay to use it. Doesn’t sell food in market, just for the family.

No mortgage, there is a TV that they are paying off, but the husband pays if off through subtracting from his husband’s pay check, since his uncle bought it, and he works for his uncle. $31 dollars per month, for 2 yrs. No bank loans.

Most food comes from the farm. They go to the supermarket when the husband gets some money, when he gets his check from the supermarket -- every 3 wks, he gets between 80-150 dollars. It depends on how much they cut. At the market they buy rice, sugar, flour, cooking oil, soap, and ingredients, spices. Spices are expensive -- 5 or 6 dollars just to make curry. Does shopping in the supermarket -- cheaper. Usually we spend 20 dollars to buy all my ingredients, I go every 2 wks.

Don’t keep money in the bank -- save it at home.

When he stops harvesting, he fishes. He does spear fishing, and will sell the fish, after the cane season. He makes more from fishing -- in one day he can make 30 dollars! No other jobs. Fishing, garden, cane.

All her children are too young for school -- no school payments. Electricity bill is $4.00 per month. Water is free. No other bills, only the electricity.

Only the husband drinks yaqona, Mili is 7th day. Husband buys 5 dollars a month on yaqona, no beer.

Donations -- husband gives 10% so that Mili can give it to her 7th day church, that’s per month. Each month, she usually gives, 10 dollars, seeing 100 dollars is how much per month, maybe 80 dollars per month, where she could give 8 dollars. When my husband is fishing, I could give 5 dollars per week.

Most of the money goes to the sick mother in law that lives with them -- buys special foods, take her to the hospital, doctor’s visit. For one month we can spend 40-60 dollars on her health a month. When people come and see her, come and visit her, we buy food for her to eat. The medicine is paid for by the sister-in-law, she’s a teacher.

People in the village don’t have to make as much money. In the city, 10 goes through in one day, in the village that can last a week. Mili thinks that people in the village dream of being rich. Young people want to go to Suva to find a good job, but then realize that they have to worry everyday, and then come back to the village. Some like to leave and make money, even when they have children in the village, but most don’t do this. Mili doesn’t know anyone who’s doing this.

Asking for money -- trading, one person weaves a mat, and the other person might give something else to that person. Borrowing money is very easy -- very open. Too much borrowing isn’t good -- it can get annoying, especially when the person doesn’t pay back.

Can’t say no when one asks of the Vasu. Also true of the immediate family.

Strategies for protecting money -- just say that you don’t have it, lock the house up. If she has it, she can give it, if not, than no. Mostly when she has it, she gives it.

(10 dollars for uniforms per yr., in a few payments. Mostly Mili buys material, and takes it to the tailor, for them to sew.) Fabric is 1.99 per meter.
Personal Thoughts

Today was Andrew’s birthday. I thought that today was going to be more productive than it actually was, but it was productive in other ways -- not necessarily a "getting work done" way. I enjoyed hanging out with Andrew’s friends in town, and felt very comfortable around them. Comfortable in the sense that a) I was not stressing because I didn’t know what was going on around me (I didn’t feel like I was at the mercy of following around people when I didn’t want to be there), and b) I did not feel like they were showing off the fact that they were with Andrew or I. (As opposed to another time going into town the second week). Of course these feelings could be different now simply because I’m more comfortable with the environment in general.

Maybe it is just the timing, or the fact that they are not people that I’m around all the time. Whatever the case may be, spending time with them reaffirmed in my mind that I am enjoying Fiji more and more everyday. (This feeling has started since I got back from the last class). I feel like I’m turning the corner, and will soon be in love with the place.

Thursday 10/7/99

Well today is a day to sleep. Andrew’s birthday was a lot of fun, but we stayed up too late, and just didn’t really sleep. His family prepared a big dinner, and even ordered a cake from the resort (Mokusiga, which I found out means "lazy bones"). I like spending time at his house. For some reason, his Nana and Nana lailai have kind of adopted me, and I get such a kick out of Va, as well as her children.

At one point I was getting something out of my bag, (which was in Andrew’s room), and Andy was in there as well. His Tata came in and said, "I’m sorry that I missed the dinner, but I just wanted to wish you happy birthday, because you are my son now, and I want to give you a hug and a kiss now on your birthday." Both Andy and I were very touched by this. Andrew’s Tata is quite a character. He has a very social personality, and is someone who likes to be the center of attention in a social setting I think. (I’m thinking of the fundraiser, when everything he said he exclaimed to the entire room, and everyone laughed, and how he always calls me "uro" when there are lots of people around, not when there are only a few around.) However, I also think he’s very compassionate. This example of wishing Andy happy birthday in this way is an example. Another example was this morning when I felt such a strong family bond at their house -- so much so that I was overcome with what they must have been feeling about their deceased son, that I started to cry, even though I had no idea what the preacher was saying. Erinn and I came down to the house around 9am, and there was a Methodist minister in the house speaking, and Nana and Nana lailai were crying a bit, through their "amens" and mutterings of "jisu." Va brought us in through the kitchen, and we sat down with the family. Present were Nana, Tata, Nana lailai, and three other women whom I did not know, and of course Va was there. Va seemed distraught, but was not crying. (Va is the widow). Tata was sitting at the top of the room, then the minister, then the women in a semicircle, closer to the door. (This would be the correct traditional way to sit, I think, or perhaps the preacher would be at the top? ) Tata was concentrating very strongly on what the preacher was saying, and praying.

I guess why I started to cry, was that I couldn’t help but think of how sad the situation was, and here I was with this young man’s grieving parents, wife, his two beautiful young children -- full of life, and two other women, that were possibly aunts to him. After Erinn and I entered came in Ame and Usa -- I guess they would have been his nephew and tavale (but I think they were all around the same age, and hung out together). I felt a bit embarrassed that I was crying, seeing how I had never met the son, and have only been to Andrew’s house maybe less than a dozen times. But of course, it was ok to shed some tears, and even more so in front of Fijians -- the most welcoming people I know.

The 100 nights ceremony for Andrew’s host brother is Monday. Last week Ame, one of his close friends, (and a nephew) pointed out the spot that Atika died. I found it interesting that Ame was going to Suva on Thursday or Friday to settle something with his parents, but was sure he was going to be back on Monday night. His parents also, came to the village on Wednesday, left Thursday, and will be coming back on Saturday for the 100 nights on Monday. Obviously this is a very important ceremony. Ame said that he "will be coming back from Suva a new man." What he meant by this was that he will be shaving his beard for the 100 nights ceremony.
LIFE CYCLE INTERVIEW -- MILI Laveta, Tape Summary

-Born 1963, 36 yrs old.

-Married with 2 children -- Tikiko, and bu yaca (Siteri). Maiden name -- Sikeri.

-grow up in Malake, but born in Navolau -- father’s family from Malake.

-3 brothers, and Mili is the only girl -- second oldest child.

-left school @ Form 4.

After school, she left her parents, and stayed with uncle / aunt in Nausori -- the town near Suva. She moved there, initially went there for a holiday, and "they told me to come and help them," both are teachers, and after 12 yrs I came back to my mother’s place (Navolau). It was my father’s brother. Helped with the housework -- shopping. She enjoyed that time.

Got married 4 years ago. Before that she had Patresia -- but she stays with nana Levu (also in N#2). Patresia’s father still lives in Nausori. They have a case for Patresia. Mili and P. Father never married -- "and I left him. You know, he drinks a lot like that, goes around like that, and I left him. And then I came to the village, my mother’s village. My mother is from Navolau."

Patresia was 3mo. When they left the father. Every month the father gives 60 dollars for P’s care. He gives it to Mili -- he gives it through the courthouse, but Mili gives most of it to Nana Levu -- expenses for food, uniforms, fares to school. Mostly Mili keeps some of that in the bank. After a few years she married. "Nana Levy doesn’t let me take patresia, because she’s the bubu (joke)"

Married in 1993. He’s also from the village. After coming to the village again, after 3 weeks, they started dating, then they married after 2 months. They are distant tavale. Mili’s mother and his father are tavale.

Husband’s father died when husband was 6 yrs old, so he’s always supported the mother, she still lives there. Mili doesn’t remember how he died.

Mili’s husband died 7 yrs ago. Arranged the funeral from Rakiraki village, as opposed to everyone coming out to Malake. Supposedly more room for gathering there. His mother’s people organized it. His mother is from Inidari Vatu. (?) He was sick, and pretty old.

Living with husband’s village -- not a problem for Mili, because most of the time growing up she stayed here, with her vasu.

Siteri 5, and Tikiko 3. Both children were born in the hospital. In hospital for 2 days only. Families celebrate -- especially for the husband’s first child. Husband’s family (mothers and sisters, etc.) does the feast. Cook foods, brought mats, things to take to the small babies -- powder, oil, small babies. After four days, there is a celebration. Lots of food, relatives come after four days.

Mother shouldn’t leave the house for one week. But actually for 3 mo they can’t really do anything -- just stay home with the babies, no cooking, no cleaning. "After three months you’ll look like one European lady, because you’re never out in the sun." But after a week one can leave the house. You can socialize during those three months, but no other work.

Umbilical cord -- cut off in hospital, but give to parents. Fijian styles -- plant umbilical cord with tree, or something -- a coconut tree, a banana tree in the same place as the umbilical cord, for the remembrance. So that the child will remember his home, if he leaves. They did this with Siteri -- a coconut tree. But when the electricity came last year, they told us that we had to cut down all the tall trees in the village. "It’s kind of sad, but they gave money to cut it down." For Tikiko I went to the wharf and threw it in the sea, so that he can catch lots of fish -- Mili’s husband is a fisherman. It’s good luck.

Marriage -- one day, the reception in the hall. People from this village, Nakorokula, Navolau #1, and Namuaimada. Relatives from Malake couldn’t come, only Mili’s mother’s side. "Normally in Fijian weddings the wife’s family should come, but I didn’t tell them in time."

"In a Fijian wedding, the men have to spend a lot -- prepare foods for us. Only for my family, they have to come and eat. There was no church service. First to Rakiraki district officer`- -sign wedding papers. After a month you have to go back, and show them that you are still married. From there to the village, and people prepare the meal for us.

There was a presentation of tabua, and they made speeches. Each family (husband and wife) provides clothes for those getting married. Tata cloth for the formal wear, but then they take them off once they reach the hall. Leave the clothes to the husband’s family.

Gifts -- cups, bowls, mosquito nets.

I think that Mili was just exhausted for this interview -- she had been out fishing last night from 9-2am. Maybe, if I stick with her, definitely a follow-up (or two).
KINSHIP -- Tavale

Just a few quick notes about the tavale relationship. More and more, I’m noticing how they interact, and I’m realizing that most of the jokes that go on with individuals, that really seem to be funny, but sometimes subtle, are between the tavale. For starters, on Thursday evening before dinner I was walking buy the community hall, when a couple of men called me in for a bowl or grog. I went in, and brought my kinship chart with me. At we were sitting inside, Veresa (my brother, and Etonia’s tavale) walked by carrying a sack of feed, or something. Etonia said to me as if this was normal conversation, "see him? He’s crazy, when he was in Suva, he spent two weeks in St. John’s." (I think this was the name -- in any case -- the mental hospital). At first I totally believed my tavale, Etonia. The joke was put a side, and then five minutes later, Veresa walked by again, carrying another sack of feed, walking away from our house. Etonia made it seem like Veresa was walking around carrying the same sack. Again 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.

Another example was tonight after dinner. We were having grog at our place, and Veresa (the youngest of the crowd) was serving [I have to find out what the name of this position is]. 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 smirked to himself, as did Etonia. It did not seem like this joke was made into a big deal (no loud comments on it), but they could have been talking about what they were doing to each other, subtly -- as part of that style of humor.

In town today, when we were "dropping off" Stephanie in town after Nakorokula (why I went, I have no idea), we were waiting for my Tata lailai to come back to the taxi stand, so that we could catch a ride back up with him. I heard an Indian taxi driver call out "tavale" to someone who seemed like someone he was friendly with. I asked Ame about this, and he said that the Indians have copied Fijians, in the sense that they use that term with someone whom they are friendly with and can joke around with.
Indian / Fijian relations

On the way to the bus stand we passed the Indian - owned shop with the fancy-metal work around the outside of it. Ame started chatting with an Indian. They were laughing, giggling, and having what seemed like a fun, but not totally superficial conversation. (Fun because of the laughter, but also were definitely talking about something -- like a personal joke or something). This, to me, was a display of how well Indians and Fijians get along..."living in harmony"... Ame proceeded to tell us that because Indians have been in Fiji for several generations, Fijians have learned Hindi, and Indians have learned Fijian. Ame gave the impression that they’ve learned each other’s languages so that they can get along better, and that they care about understanding each other. However, when we asked him what he thought of so many Indians living in Fiji, he said, "I hate them." This statement struck me as a bit severe, and perhaps exaggerated. He did not really give a reason, and I got distracted with getting on the bus, and didn’t follow through.

Also, on Tuesday Ase and I walked down to a far shop (an Indian one of course). On the way back, we passed an Indian man that asked me if I had any change. After we passed the man, Ase expressed some of her views on Indians. She said that unlike Fijians, who are so giving, and can just "kerekere," for anything they need, and a Fijian will give it to them, Indians are always concerned about making money and keeping it from each other. She gave an example from her days in Lautoka. She said that living next door to her was an Indian family that had an exchange student from Australia. She said that the Indian family was always asking the student to buy them things, and would never give anything back in return. Of course this could be true, but she was using the example to show how inhospitable and money driven Indians are compared to Fijians.

Friday 10/ 8/99

ANNUAL FESTIVAL

Today was the day. It was very anticlimactic. I did some writing in the morning, then showered and got dressed in my bula shirt and one of Nana’s sulus with an elastic. I then went over to Wati and Etonia’s house, where the youth were doing their cooking. All the young women (my peers) were busy cooking, going back and forth to the shop, peeing cassava, and the like. I felt a bit out of place all dressed up in my festival clothes, when theirs were splashed with grease, curry, and their heads were in smoke from the fire. Oh well. During this time, I noticed that the male youth members were under the shed, along with the elderly men ( all the momos, as I refer to a group of old men together, who seem to be doing something official). As I was sitting down outside with the women, trying to peel cassava (what a joke), Wati told me what was going on. She said that the youth were officially opening the festival, and were doing a sevusevu with the elders. They were presenting their gift, along with the yaqona for the sevusevu. This ceremony did not last for very long -- only about 15 min. However, it seemed quite formal, as everyone was dressed up in suit sulus and nice button down shirts. Over a megaphone, someone announced the youth’s contribution -- it was $1003.50. Their were many cheers and clapping.

Soon after this, Ase decided that she was done cooking, and I walked back to our side of the village with her so that she could bathe. She was so excited, and charged with the idea that the youth came up with and donated so much money -- she kept saying, "wow, 1,000 dollars contribution, 1,000 bucks!" Indeed, it is impressive.

After this everyone began to gather under the shed, which began right outside the door of the community hall. Under the shed were four groups of people -- all with bowls of grog. By the community hall was a group of women, then two groups mixed, then farthest away from the hall were the group of older men, as well as younger men that floated in and out of that circle. Most of the youth group men of the village were actually in the hall, drinking yaqona in there. These groups were fluid, as everyone moved within the first three. Actually, even the group of women closest to the hall were accompanied by their tavale.

The main purpose of the festival was so that each house in the village would contribute their donation (the set rate was 200, but most didn’t give that much). There was a table set up on the porch of the hall where three or four youth men (mostly it was Verersa, Maciu, nana levu’s son, and someone else -- it fluctuated) who were accepting the money, writing it down, and announcing over the loud speaker how much each family donated. There was also a board with the house name, and the donation written on it, the youths also recorded it in a book. Most houses gave over 100 dollars. I think that the lowest was 50 dollars, and the highest 265. Prizes were given for the highest four donators. The shop -- house "Ladoli" was the highest, then my family, and then two families which gave around, and just under 200. I believe my family gave 210. I went up to receive our prize -- a thermos. When looking at the record book, I noticed that a few families -- especially the shop gave an initial donation, and then ten dollars, then five dollars, etc. I think that the shop took the money that they made on that day, and donated it to the village fund. Their goal is to be able to build a house for the minister, who is now living with Momo Charlie.

Last year, I found out that they competed by mataqali for the donations, but supposedly that did not work, because some members of a mataqali would give a lot more than other houses.

I noticed that certain people were selling things - lolis, peas, cigarettes, and when I asked Ase, she said that they were not for the village, that they were for the individuals. Perhaps this is just true in Ase’s case? Even my family was selling lolis.

In the afternoon, after lunch the day continued with people giving money, and just sitting outside under the shed, drinking yaqona. The scene was relatively quiet, but people were enjoying themselves. At one point Wati told me to go into the hall and pick a partner to dance with. I told her that she should come in with me. She said that she couldn’t because her Momo was in there (her father in law?, or another momo), so she couldn’t go out of respect.

At the end of the festival there was another sevusevu, which I found out was to thank everyone for donating, and a closing prayer. However, as the festival was winding down relatives from Suva, Nadi, from other towns started to arrive, and especially for the men, sevusevus were being performed. I also talked to someone who had no connection to this village, but was invited by my tavale (someone who normally doesn’t live here). They work together, and tavale invited him to come to his home village. This young man was like a guest of honor, and sat in front of the tanoa.
LIFE CYCLE -- conversation with Veresa about Peer Pressure

Thursday night Versea came to my room as I was typing up some notes. I was happy to see him, because I wanted to ask him his opinion on one of the questions that the intro students wrote. He was a bit "groggy," and when I went on to explain my independent project, he said that he’ll have to get back to me on that one when he can think a bit clearer. Nevertheless, he shed some light on what it’s like to be a teenager in Fiji. We finished up the conversation this morning before the festival.

Veresa said that teenagers who are still in school must work very hard. The idea here is that their parents put a lot of pressure on them, by reminding them of how much it costs to go to school (it starts costing when the children are above form 4 or 5 I think). There is a pressure to do well in school, so that they will be able to take care of their parents when they have a good job. [I think that this could be the attitude of people that went to boarding school like Veresa, this family puts a very high premium on education.] He also said that teenagers must respect their parents, and that they can not act like kids any more. They are expected not only to do their school work, but help out around the house.

For kids that do not go to secondary school, he said that they might start trying alcohol at about age 16. However, for those in school, most don’t go near it, because school is much too important to have alcohol interfere with it. [Just like Union!] Veresa said that when he was in his college, (FIT I think), he said that there was a lot of pressure to start to drink alcohol. He said that his friends would always get together, and tell him to meet at a certain place at night, but he would make sure that he didn’t go near that place at that time, because he never wanted to get involved with that when in school. However, when he was about 23 he said he "gave in," and started to drink once in a while.

Veresa said that the main break-up of families is due to alcohol, and violence as a result of that. He says that this happens much more in the city, but in the village, mostly the adult men drink just grog, and some of the kids mess around a bit with alcohol. He made reference to Tata, saying that he used to drink alcohol, and smoke cigarettes, but "that was before he changed." He said that "you might find some of that going on in the village, but not much, and you would never find that in this house." I personally can’t imagine any of the men of the family hitting anyone.

Another pressure that teenagers face is of course when boys become interested in girls, and vise versa. Versea said that in school, the main way to get a girl’s attention is to write her a love letter. If she replies, then the two would set up a time to meet, but if not, then that is the end of it. He said that at school, it was mostly just a few guys that always had the girlfriends, and the others would "just talk a lot." V. said that in the village people don’t write love letters to each other, because everyone knows each other. He said he thought there was more of this pressure during his schooling, then there is while he is home in the village.

Saturday 10/9/99

Today I was overwhelmed with the family bonds which I felt in the village. So many relatives came home, including a direct sister and brother of mine. Merilita, the third eldest child -- Naibuka’ mother, as well as "Junior," the son a QVS boarding school. I was introduced to so many other relatives over the course of the weekend. When each bus came, people were down at the bus stop to meet them. Some came unannounced, like Esita’s older sister, from Suva. Saturday night, sitting around after dinner -- Nana, Tata, Lucy, Me, junior, Naibuka, and in and out Veresa and Ilimo -- everyone was so happy to be sharing stories. We all lay down in the eating room, using those sugar canisters as pillows, and I could hear Nana mentioning certain things that I’ve done, or learned, and people smiled at me fondly.

When Merilita first arrived this morning, Tata was coming back from the farm, in his dirty work clothes. Both revealed thoughts about city life versus rural life Merilita said, "oh, look at my father, walking around so dirty, in those dirty clothes. Tata instantly replied, "oh, these city people, they don’t know how to work on a farm now, they just go buy everything."

I also completed my economic surveys today, and started asking questions about my thesis topic.

ECONOMIC SURVEY -- Auntie Rosa

I interviewed auntie Rosa, and brought Lucy with me to translate. Some relatives from Suva were there to, so they ended up making most of the decisions, and then running it buy auntie. At first I was arrived at auntie’s later than I had planned, and she didn’t want to do it, but Lucy forced her to.

How they spend their days

Since Auntie Rosa’s husband had a stroke a couple of years ago, he can not work, and she does all the work. (He worked for the FSC for 10 yrs, but has no pension). She spends her days looking after her cassava, fishing, collecting firewood, and doing her washing and cleaning. She said that she only spends 20 min on washing per day, since there are only three people living there now. (Her son doesn’t live at home, and Bereta, the girl that used to live here, now lives with Auntie Rosa. Nana calls her "the run away"). She said that she spends a few hours farming (I think about 4) per day, and when the women go out fishing, it’s usually a 5 hour affair. So the days that she goes fishing, she spends less time with her cassava. She collects firewood about 1 time per week, and that takes about 1 and a half to two hours.

Sources of Income

Auntie Rosa’s home makes money through remittances, and through fishing, for she sometimes sells the fish when she catches extra (but not on a regular basis). She said that relatives send home 10-30 dollars a few times a year. Her husband must have had money saved up from his job.

Expenses

The land that she farms is owned by the mataqali, and she doesn’t lease any out, nor does she pay a land lease. No mortgage, no bank loans, no other bills besides electricity. Last month electricity was $4.86, and this is about what it normally it.

She said that she spends 20 dollars a fortnight on food shopping, and maybe 20 / yr. On clothing. Yaqona she said 6 dollars a month. Donations -- 20 cents every Sunday, and for the annual donation this year she gave 70 dollars.

Attitudes

She found the annual donation burdensome, because it is compulsory to give, and the expected amount is so high. She said that within her house, there is no fighting over money, but she said in some houses, people fight if too much is being spent on yaqona, or a credit is being built up.

She said that money isn’t important to people here, compared to people in the city, but it obviously plays some role. She said that older people don’t care as much about money, as the younger generations.

Lending money to family is ok, the Fijian custom to help one another. But in Suva, this can become burdensome, because everyone might be asking form money.

She said that you can’t refuse relatives, but it’s reciprocal, so it’s ok. She said that relatives are most important, but from others it’s ok to hide your money.
ECONOMIC SURVEY -- Esita’s House

How they spend their days

The father spends his days farming cassava, bananas, dalo, pawpaw, and during cane season he cuts cane. The mother does housework -- she said that it takes the whole day. This includes things like making mats, and rolling voivoi. The mother also fishes during the day, but keeps the fish for the family, and doesn’t sell them. The three sisters younger than Esita are in school. During the day Esita will help her mother with the cooking and washing, but mainly just hangs out.

Income

During cane harvesting season the father gets paid every three weeks (about 100 dollars, maybe a bit over). They sell yaqona from their house for $1/bag, (already powdered). Also, every week, her sister sends home 10-20 dollars from Suva. (Lowatta is a supervisor in a garment factory).

Expenses

They have a TV, for which they pay 20/wk to courts. The supermarket is $20 / fortnight, where they purchase things like sugar, flour, tea, soap and oil. For the school uniforms, they pay in installments of $4 / fortnight. The school fees are $30 / term, per one student.

Last month electricity was $4.53. In church they give $2 / mo., and for the festival they gave $145. Esita said that most people will start saving for next years festival after Christmas, at the start of the new year.

Attitudes

She said that some people fight over money, especially for yaqona, but not in her family, because they always have it, and make money from it. She said that younger people in the village have dreams of moving out, and becoming rich, but that most come back to appreciate the easy-to-survive way of village life.

She said that to ask for money among relatives, that it’s ok, but if people are not relatives, then you don’t have to give them money, and that people will say that they don’t have any when a non-relative asks for money, unless it is someone that they are very close to.
THESIS -- CULTURAL MODELS

Today while going around with Lucy, I also asked a few people about my project. For most, I asked what were the first five words that came to their minds when they heard these words. The words were, "uro," "attractive," "strong," "well-cared for," and "good person." I found some people that I definitely will want to go back to and interview, and some that I will avoid for the rest of this topic. One thing that got in the way was the language barrier. For most of them, Lucy went to talk to someone else during the mini-interview, which was good, because the topic is a private one. However, I felt like people were compromising what they really thought so that they could explain it in English. From now on I’ll tell them to say it in Fijian, and I'll get the translation later.

1) Female, age 22.

Uro -- fat, love, friendship, gorgeous, caring, joking.

Attractive -- Colors (as in pretty colors, her best color is blue), a view of the island, a gorgeous guy, a well-stated guy (dressed up), broad and not too tall (speaking of a guy).

Strong -- a hero, "I want to be strong for things that come my way,", self defense, also physically strong -- muscles.

Well cared for -- my parents care for me well, relatives, friends, some one who is well cared for is surrounded by people.

Good person -- giving, caring, loving.

2) Female, age 16

Uro -- love, you are looking nice, liking that person, cute, handsome, gorgeous.

Attractive -- something you like, something wonderful, when something is attractive, like clothing, you want to have it.

Strong -- "he’s very strong, that means he has lots of muscles," big, broad, huge.

Well-cared for -- someone who is well cared for is kind because people look out for them, someone who is funny, and jokes around.

Good person -- someone who includes everyone, someone everyone likes, caring.

3) Female, 27.

Uro -- cute, handsome, well-built

Attractive -- nice, colorful (as in favorite color), draws your eye

Strong -- big build, physically strong

Well Cared for -- fat, "as in people provide a lot of food for that person," not many cuts on the body, maybe soft skin.

Good person -- attitude that is honest, caring, well behaved, and easy to be with.

Her wall posters

-Statesman Rutu Sir Lala Sakana -- because he’s a respected figure in history

-Willabees rugby team -- her favorite team. She likes the look of these players in action.

-New Castle Rugby team -- a portrait

-All Blacks rugby team -- photo of their celebration

-George Gregin -- Australian’s half back, in a sneaker commercial -- "uro."

-Boxing match -- mike tyson, on the wall because he’s the heavy weight champion of the world.

-Body builders -- "uro"

-Singer with dreadlocks -- she doesn’t know who he is, but said he has a cute face.

-total -- 15 posters, 2 black people, 13 white people, mostly rugby players, or sports figures.

Sunday 10/10/99

Today the rain came. Another wet day of pouring rain. It was wonderful. Everyone just sat inside all day and told stories, slept, I read, and talked to people. Breakfast was late this morning -- about 9am, it was a full meal, with fifteen of us. Rice, curry, pancakes, and roti. After that everyone got ready for church. It was pouring rain, and the church was quite full because of all the relatives. I went up and gave the donation for my family. I didn’t take part in the singing as much this time, I was just enjoying listening to the loud, four part harmonies which can be heard throughout the village (or at least from my bed at the 4am service during the week). After church and another huge meal, we played cards for a while, and everyone took a nap.

When I woke up, I decided to read my pleasure book, and Nana kept walking by my room. When I went out into the eating room, and sat down with Veresa and s cousin, they asked me if I was homesick. (Which I wasn’t at all, I felt so happy to be here in their family, the opposite of homesick). Then Naibuka came in and sat down and just said, "homesick, and smiled." About 10 minutes later, Tata called me into the sitting room, and said, ""what’s wrong, are you homesick? Nana thought that because you were lying in your room awake, by your self, that you might be home sick or something." I reassured him that I wasn’t, and brought my book into the main room.

I gathered some information for the social structure chapter that I was unsure about (but put it right in the chapter, and not in f’notes). However, Tata told me that the stories about land, and mataqalis might be different depending on who I ask. He told me that with Fijian Independence, officials from Britain came over, and recorded what land belongs to what mataqali. However, he said that no one from this area goes by the official records, because they are incorrect.
Sugar Industry

Of course, sugar came up. This might clear up some of the past information. The CSR (colonial sugar refiner), and Australian company came to Fiji in the mid 1800s. In 1959 the SPSM (south pacific sugar mill) took over, some was local, and some run by Australia. Then, in 1972 the FSC, all local Fijian government organization was installed.

When a mataqali becomes extinct the government would get it - this is schedule A, however, the Fijians are pressing to be able to return to their native land.

Monday 10/11/99

This morning Lucy, Nana, Tata, Peni and Naibuka went to Sigatoka to visit Vasania, another daughter, who had a sick baby. I spent all morning in my room tying, and headed over to the youth festival in the afternoon. I went down to Wati’s place (right below the hall), and they were making me a salusalu. I went into the hall (most of the youth guys were already there), decked out in the salusalu, a flower behind each ear, and two cameras. The men were sitting around, and the women were preparing the food. Large banana leaves were brought in as mats for the cassava. I was stationed to sit at the top with the momos. (Many of them come to the youth activities). Luckily Ilimo was sitting near me, and I could dish off some of my food to him. After the food, the dancing started. I spent all afternoon "toa tale" (that Fijian shuffle dance), with everyone. A few mistakes on my part. When everyone was telling me to go up and pick someone, I picked Ase’s brother. However, I didn’t realize that he couldn’t get up because he was serving the yaqona (or at least this was his excuse that he came over and told me later). Also, at one point I was shuffling around with someone and a girl came up next to me, and joined our shuffle. At one point in the song, I ducked out and stuck the two of them together. Although everyone thought this was funny, it was quite embarrassing for them because they are brother and sister. (Opps).

I saw the tavale relationship in full effect, except when it was a girl choosing an older man that wasn’t her momo -- as a joke. People would only choose their tavale to dance with (it was mainly the girls choosing the boys). Some of the boys would start to dance, then run away, and the girl would have to run after him. A few times, a boy would go over and tap a girl on the shoulder, and then leave, implying that she should follow him. This of course was only between the tavale.

After a few hours the gathering broke up, but people still hung out -- on the hall porch, or together (men and women) in a small group around a tanoa. This was a group of tavales. I went to say good-buy to the relatives leaving to go back to the cities, and then tried to do some more cultural model interviews in the evening.
Cultural Models -- THESIS

4) Female, 19.

Uro -- cute, handsome, gorgeous, great body

Attractive -- nice eyes, great mouth, the way they hold themselves, possibly their family background.

Strong -- physically strong, well built

Well Cared for -- someone who smiles a lot, speaks to many, they must be nice to lots of people if lots of people care about them, some one with manners.

Good Person -- Loving, looking out for others, kind, someone who can help with problems.

5) Male, 14.

Uro -- a bigger girl, clear-eyes, pretty smile

Attractive -- nice eyes, nice hair, nice feet

Strong -- tough, muscles, levu - big.

Well Cared For -- Veimaroroi (translation?)

Good Person -- talking, laughing, singing.

This person admires Diana because she helps poor people, and cares for others. He also admires the singer Lucky Dube, because he is a good singer (Here, I feel like this explanation is compromised because of the language barrier).

He likes his girlfriend at school because she helps him. And "day view kawaitaki." He is attracted to a shorter, fatter girl, who doesn’t need to have strong calves. However, a guy should have a "tough body, and strong calves."

Top of Page | Note Index | Emily Sparks