In an earlier edition of Point of Origin, we read about the arrival of the first inhabitants of the Tikina Deuba.
This week, we will delve into the spiritual concepts and the totemic aspect.
Like any other traditional setting, the influential gods of the Fijians are local ancestor-spirits rather than deities common to the whole race.
Each yavusa has its own guardian spirit, or vu, whose interest is generally the welfare of that group only.
It is true that a common link is supplied by the fact that each vu is believed to have come originally from Nakauvadra and to have been a descendant of either Lutunasobasoba or Degei, the mythical semi-spiritual first migrants to Fiji.
According to William Robert Gedde’s book Deuba: A Study of a Fijian Village, these two original founders are rather misty conceptions, and though of supreme ranks, they are far less important in the religious life of each community than the local vu.
“Possibly they loom larger in the beliefs of the priestly mataqali,” the book states.
Most accounts of the ancient Fijian religion made a distinction between a vu and a Kalou vu.
“The vu is sometimes said to be the actual founder of the particular yavusa, and although now immortal, has a definite earthly existence.
“In most cases, he is believed to be the son of kalou vu, who, in contrast, is essentially spiritual and perhaps never existed as an ordinary mortal.”
“Other accounts say that the vu is the local spirits and the kalou vu is Degei or Lutunasobasoba.”
In Deuba, the vu of the Yavusa Dravuni is called Gusu i Delana, whose name is expressive of his distinguished characteristic of having his mouth on the top of his head.
“He is the original founder of the Yavusa Dravuni, and like all the other vu, he came originally from Nakauvadra,” the book states.
The vu manifests himself to the Deubans in three ways.
Firstly, in the form of the flying ant (kadi vuka), which must not be harmed.
Many members of the yavusa are, however, unaware of this manifestation, and in fact, it seems significant only to the head of the priestly mataqali.
The second manifestation occurs at night, the vu not appearing in any physical form but his presence being revealed by the sound of the Kikau, even the Kikau itself signifies his presence.
“It is merely that the sound is identical; as it is dark and the sound comes from the treetops, it cannot be ascertained whether or not a bird is present.
“Accordingly, there is no prohibition attaching to the Kikau, it can be killed with impunity, although, because of its reflected honour, its possible use as an instrument of the vu.
“Because it has no value as food, it would probably not be harmed by a member of the yavusa.”
All Deubans are aware of the sign of the presence of the vu.
There is no scepticism among the younger members of the community as belief in the reality of the vu appears to be universal.
“Even the most devout Christians reconcile it with their new religion, and even those who do not believe in spirits in general have faith in this supreme one,” the book states.
The third manifestation occurs in dreams, and the head of the priestly clan frequently experiences these dreams.
Geddes’ recollects in the book that the vu appeared to the Tui Dravuni at the time, where he just appeared to him and went away.
“The chief recognised him by the fact that his mouth was in the top of his head.
“The chief was worried for some time after this as his son was away with the fighting forces in Guadalcanal.
“He feared the appearance of the vu might indicate that illness had befallen him.
“But then he received a message from the district officer stating that his son was returning shortly on leave, and he realised that the vu had come to reassure him.”
The Dravuni people assumed the vu was with their men who were part of the Fijian contingent to the Solomon Islands after the Kikau was unheard of for some weeks.
“It was presumed therefore that the vu was with the troops, protecting them from danger.”
After a while, the Kiaku was heard every night over the roof of the house of the head priest.
Nowadays, Dravuni and all Fijians alike no longer worship these spiritual deities, due to the influence of the church and the government law (at the time), which forbids such practices.
“It is, however, implicit in practically all yaqona ceremonies.
“In the old days, it was said yaqona would be made especially for the vu, and after an interval, he would manifest himself.
‘It is suspected that the head of the priestly mataqali may still occasionally practice this rite.”
According to Williams Geddes recollection of an old war tale in the Solomon Islands, an incident witnessed on a troop ship in the northern Solomons revealed what was probably known as the usual technique, although the Fijians concerned were not from Deuba.
“A group of men had just mixed yaqona on a secluded portion of the deck, and it was about to be served.
“Instead of proceeding as normally, however, the cup bearer took the first cupful to the rail and poured it into the sea.”
When questioned later, one of those present said the yaqona had been made for their vu in order to get divine protection for the party.
“The vu, he said, would convey their request to God.
“He compared it to the procedure when one wished to make some requests to the colonial secretary at Suva.”
The totemic aspect, on the other hand, is another feature of the Fijian traditional religion.
In Deuba, as in any other group, there are a trilogy of totems. These include food, fish, and a tree.
The food is the Sawaqa, a variety of plantains that apparently grows only at Qainivalu, the original inland home near Namosi.
The fish is the Vuvula (Megalops cyprinoids), a species fairly common in Deuban waters.
The tree is Makosoi, an annual flowering shrub, the blooms of which, when dry, are used to scent coconut oil.
An important feature of the tokenism is the prohibition of the mention of the names of the totems.
“Should one speak the word Sawaqa or Vuvula in the presence of female members of the yavusa, he would be seized by women and thrown into the river,” Geddes shared in the book.
“Although we never saw it happen, it is believed that it would still be done.”
Geddes recollects his conversation with the chief regarding totems during a yaqona session on a Sunday afternoon, in which the chief spoke so low that they could barely heard him.
“He was asked the name of his kakana, and he answered, Sawaqa, in a low voice but was overheard by the women behind the yaqona bowl.
“They immediately giggled, one of us then repeated it in a louder tone, whereupon the women were shocked and said if it were not Sunday, we would have been thrown to the river.
“When asked why they did not similarly threaten the chief, they replied it was for their enlightenment and had not meant to offend.”
Today, however, should a person innocently or even purposely transgress the above rule, it would be treated as a joke by the females.
“Nevertheless, to say the word too often would be in bad taste.
“The explanation for this lies apparently in the sexual meaning of the totems.
In one of Geddes’ interactions with villagers, they said, to say Sawaqa is equivalent to mentioning body parts.
He said the men may mention it among themselves but not around outsiders as they are not keen on them knowing their totems.
“It would be great amusement for other Fijians to tease a Deuban by saying their totem.
“They would say, the Sawaqa tastes bad or something similar.
“Here again, that is a joke that etiquette would forbid being made too frequently.”
- This article is a continuation of the story which ran on September 30. Part 3 will be continued next week.
