Around
March, my village was slated to play host to one of those big all
important fishing grounds meetings like the one we went to to request
permission to set up our tabu area from the high chief of chiefs Tui
Cakau. That meant that Tui Cakau would be coming to our village for the
first time in about fifty years. We were just all of a dither.
Part
of preparing for Tui Cakau's arrival was the giant fish harvest. This
would be a traditional gift to Tui Cakau and his people, it would also
feed the participants of the meeting, and the remainder would go to our
community for their sale or consumption.
I was very torn over
this whole situation. I had a sincere desire to be a part of my
community in all aspects, to see and experience new things within this
different culture and to respect the rules and traditions therein; it
was also important to me to continue to maintain a good connection with
Tui Cakau and the other leaders of our province so that when I put
forth suggestions, ideas, or project proposals they won't fall on deaf
ears.
However, the very basis of this giant fish harvest was
essentially going against every conservationist message I had been
trying to spread. Now, we agreed in the bylaws of the temporary marine
protected area that it was temporary in the fact that it would be
opened once a year around Christmas time for people to have some extra
freedom in preparing for the feasts of the holidays. After opening it
for a week or two, it would be closed again. This, of course, is only
in reference to our smaller tabu area and is completely separate from
the larger permanently closed area.
In honor of this important
meeting, the villagers chose not to open the tabu at Christmas time and
postponed it until March. I did not have a problem with this nor did I
have a problem with temporarily opening the tabu for fishing. My
concerns stemmed from how this fishing was to be carried out.
We
did something called a Qoli Wawa. It is a rather rare event and hadn't
been done in our community in over three decades, possibly because it
requires close to a hundred people to help. For the week or two leading
up to the event, the community was busy preparing the hand made rope
that was to be used. It was close to a half a mile long and consisted
of beaten vines woven together with split coconut fronds braided around
it.
On the day of the event, all those involved boarded one of
the half dozen or so fiberglass boats we could scrounge up for the day
and sped out into the middle of the tabu area (approx. 1 km from shore
and 1 km from the reef break). Once the entire armada had arrived, the
elders with experience took charge directing which boat should go where
and in what order.
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| Some of the boats grouping in the middle of the tabu before getting started. |
Essentially,
the lead boat was the boat with the giant vine rope in it. The plan
was for these guys to drive in a huge circle within the tabu area
whilst letting the vine drop out little by little from the back. The
remaining boats would follow and people would dive off these moving
vessels navy seal style at periodic intervals along the rope until
eventually the entire rope had been released forming a completed circle
with divers spaced regularly along it.
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| Releasing the vine into the water in a circular fashion |
For
the next 3-4 hours, the divers worked together (with direction from
the elders still leading from the boats) to bring the rope ends passed
each other and to little by little coil the monstrosity up - thus
making the circle smaller over a long period of time and forcing the
fish inside to get trapped in the center.
My first problem with
this, and I can attest first hand from the scars still remaining on my
legs, is that all of the divers in the water were just trampling corals
left and right in their effort to maintain control of the unwieldy
vine in the current and waves. While the tide was going out and the
water level dropped to waist height, the people in the water were still
trying to work the vine into a smaller and smaller circle and
effectively destroying all of corals within that original circle's area
in the process.
 |
| After
close to four hours in the water we finally managed to close the vine
into a nearly solid barrier. At this point the circle's diameter was
only about 30' across. |
My second serious issue
arrived when it was time to catch the fish that we had trapped. While I
do not want to besmirch the reputation of anyone from my community, I
cannot tell you how upset and shocked I was by what transpired. For
months now, I had been working with my community to understand this
upcoming event and to help prepare for it.
My chief wanted to
perform the event the way it had been traditionally done - using a
poison derived from the root of a local plant called Duva. Basically,
once all the fish are trapped in the circle a few people jump in the
middle with this root, put it in the water and grind it up in their
hands until its juices start to mix in. Once the fish are poisoned they
start to act erratically and attempt escape at which point the
barricade is able to stop and catch them. This doesn't just kill the
fish in the immediate area but the corals and every little living thing
within a 2 mile radius (as the poison is carried by the current and
waves and apparently even a small dose is enough to cause harm). It is
also illegal. Upon discovering this I did all I could to discourage
this method and as an alternative, I coordinated with the ministry of
fisheries to borrow their giant nets for the day, which are several
hundred meters long.
The nets were dropped off the night before
and I was immensely relieved knowing that we would at least be doing as
minimal damage as possible in that regard. The nets were taken out in a
few of the boats that day and once the circle had been constricted to
its final point, the nets were laid out in concentric rings around the
group with the vine.
Then someone on my boat (I was out of the
water at this point to take pictures) withdrew a large flour sack from
under one seat, opened it up and withdrew giant fistfuls of duva. I was
taking a video at the time and you can audibly hear my shocked voice
ask dumbly what that was and another girl in the boat joke to me about
pounding it up and drinking it like you do with grog (which comes from a
root as well). And then it dawned on me that after months of
discussions and encouragement about not using the poison and after
working hard to acquire the nets to use instead, the community all just
nodded and agreed and then went and planned on using duva anyway and
just didn't tell me.
How did I feel? Well, try to decide how you
would feel after almost two years of working with this community on
sustainable fishing and believing that you had garnered trust and
understanding. Things like this are par for the course while doing
development work with a very different culture and I knew that but it
didn't make me feel any better.
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| Just after using the duva, the divers started collecting dead/dying fish and throwing them into the boats |
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| Almost the full haul - all in all there was several thousand fish of all manner of sizes and types |
|
After
all the fish had been collected, the vine was tossed in a boat and we
all returned to shore. The fish was then brought up to the village
center - the bulk of the catch was to be brought across to Taveuni for
Tui Cakau and his community as a gift while the rest was divvied up into
equal piles for the families of the community and for the meeting. The
village was proud of their gift to the high chief as they were able to
send several thousand fish and many of them were large in size. Later,
Tui Cakau shared to me in private that he was impressed with the gift
and was convinced of the effectiveness of creating tabu areas on
recovering fish populations and size.
While I still do not agree
with the way things unfolded during our qoli wawa and still can't help
but feel a little betrayed I am actually appreciative of many things.
- That
I was able to see and experience this centuries old and rather rare
method of group fishing in a subsistence community. I imagine that
centuries ago when they were first discovering the powers of the duva
root and how useful a tool it could be in catching fish, the reefs were
healthy and bountiful and could handle the very occasional mass fishing
event.
- I have respect for the skill they have honed
in preparing for and conducting the event with the efficiency of the
military and I was glad to have learned the process, which not only
helps me understand their culture, history, and traditions better but
also gives me a better perspective of their 'side of things' when it
comes to me giving them workshops on the reef ecosystem and sustainable
fishing.
- In the end, a silver lining shone through
when the results of the event reaffirmed Tui Cakau's support and belief
in the effectiveness of protected areas on recovering the reef
ecosystem.
So, does this mean that I believe the ends
justified the means? Well, no, definitely not - I'm still an
environmental conservationist! - but I will be grateful when something
positive can result from something so negative.
The
meeting went off without a hitch the following day. Each village has
their own special relationship with the high chief and as such performs
their own unique ceremony upon his arrival. In general, however, this
involves the presentation of grog by the men, mats by the women, and
some kind of food from everyone.
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| Awaiting Tui Cakau's arrival with some villagers |
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| Tui Cakau - I took this picture whilst presenting mats with the women. |
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| The men performing the grog ceremony |
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| Presenting the food - in this case it was a whole roast pig and some roasted taro root |
Once
the beginning ceremonies are completed, which can sometimes take up to
two hours (I think ours was only about an hour or so), the meeting
begins. These are known to last for 3-4 hours as there are all sorts of
topics being discussed including last meetings minutes, new projects,
the scholarship fund, general issues, and sometimes me.
I'm
usually the last person on the docket to be given time to speak. This
can be particularly frustrating if you are personally asked to prepare a
specific presentation for a meeting and then during the meeting be
asked by said requester if you still have something you want to say
because otherwise we can adjourn and everyone can go enjoy lunch, which
is always met by a lot of nods from hungry member participants, and when
you say yes you'd like to speak be informed that you are being allotted
1/10th the amount of time expected and have already lost much attention
from those just wishing to fill their stomachs.
I believe I more
or less shouted my presentation at the increasingly restless attendees
as fast as I possibly could to fit my time slot. But, I know at the very
least I had a handful of people nearest to me listening intently and
managed to have some nice in depth conversations with some after the
meeting finished. Sometimes I think I'm more productive when I'm just
sitting and chatting informally.
In the end, we had several
people come up to us (my counterpart and I) telling us they couldn't
believe how big the fish were that we were serving for lunch and that
they wanted us to come and give presentations directly in their village
on creating and managing their own tabu areas (since they couldn't fully
get the gist of my presentation that day). It was heartening to hear
that people were beginning to see the changes in the reef and the
importance of protecting some of their own environment.
 |
| Giving my presentation on managing one's own tabu area or maybe shouting it |
The
rest of the evening was spent drinking grog and celebrating the
successful completion of the event. So then what was the point of this
whole tale into the trials and tribulations of preparing for and
carrying out this meeting? To divulge just how challenging, frustrating,
and time consuming such projects can be but also to emphasize the fact
that though such struggles are to be expected when in the early stages
of developing new topics/ideas like environmental conservation and
sustainable fishing, small successes and steps forward can be possible
even if they come in unexpected forms.
I've decided, therefore,
to not be discouraged into uselessness by my failure to convince my
community to not use poison while fishing but rather to strive on and
try a different path. I'm looking forward to testing out my new position
as a provincial environmental resource management volunteer in town and
to see what new ways I can reach out to my community because those
small successes are worth it.
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Taukei Tukani Viliame Vikoso
