Each
country has a culture: some more unique than others. Fiji is a country full of
culture and traditions. This last week I had the opportunity to be a part of a
very unique tradition that does not happen much even in this country.
Death is
such a harsh reality on this earth. It does not care who you are or what you
have. One year ago, unbeknownst to me, my village chief died. Although I had
not arrived in Fiji at that point, I was able to see some of the results of his
death. All were prohibited to fish in our bay for one full year after his
death. On April 27 we as a village celebrated the opening of the bay with a
huge fishing celebration. Preparations began many days before; some were sewing
new outfits, others were gathering and cooking, while the men went into the
bush to find the vines and branches. Everyone participated in the event. Very
early Thursday morning the action began. A team of strong swimmers dragged the
½ - ¾ mile long vine rope to the outskirts of the bay. By 6 AM most of the
villagers were on the beach or in the water taking part. The village was
divided into two sides and placed on opposite ends of the rope. Commands were
given by the appointed leaders in the boats and on the rope ends to pull, wait,
and rustle the rope. After hours of pulling in the two ends, the end was coming
into sight. The fish were being led into and trapped in a small area. The only
thing left to do was wait for the tide to go out and leave the fish imprisoned
in the shallow coral reefs.
The time
had finally arrived. The excitement was growing as the head leader explained
what was to happen: the first fish were to be caught and divided among all in
the village. Shouts and cheers arose as the first spears were thrown! All hands
were put to work as fish were being speared and thrown onto the uncovered
coral. Men, women, children, and grandparents worked diligently to get all the
fish into the boat. After the boat was filled to the brim, the waters were opened
for personal fishing. Instantly, everything became free for the taking. Some
used spears and nets while others used rocks and hands to capture the last of
the fish caught in the low waters. Happiness could be heard and seen even as
the rain began to pour down upon all. But the festival did not end there. The
people went back to their homes to prepare for the afternoon ceremony.
Beautiful dresses, tops, and sulus of brightly printed materials were to be
shown off. There was an abundance of food and fellowship as the afternoon
progressed. Gifts were presented to the deceased chief’s family in honor of his
service to the village. The festivities continued on late into the night as
stories were told and memories recounted.
This may
have been a one-day event, but the memories will stay with me forever. I got to
see a village made up of different tribes and religions come together as one
united family. This is my family.
