For the women of Nakabuta village, clay is not just earth; it is identity. The craft of tulituli or tuli koro, or the making of clay pots, is both a livelihood and a living expression of who they are as a people.
It is one of the many ways in which iTaukei identity is grounded in Indigenous and Traditional Knowledge (ITK), values, and systems of knowing, a way of veiwekani of relating to land, resources, and each other.
This week, that message is at the heart of the Na Vuku Ni Vanua – Charting Our Cultural Destiny in a Changing Pacific Climate Environment Conference, held at the Fiji National University’s Bonunaqwele Namaka Campus.
This inaugural gathering brings together scholars, practitioners, community leaders, and policymakers to explore how Indigenous and Traditional Knowledge can inform climate resilience, cultural continuity, and sustainable futures.
The conference is jointly hosted by the Pacific Community, the Fiji National University, the World Bank’s EnABLE program, and the Ministry of iTaukei Affairs.
Against this backdrop, Milinia Sivo, 57, potter from Nakabuta village in the Nokonoko district of Nadroga, demonstrates a practice that embodies those very themes.
Sitting cross-legged on a mat, she shapes clay, or qwele in her dialect, into a traditional cooking pot or kuro, connecting the audience to a tradition that has endured for generations.
“This soil is our yau, our treasure,” Milinia says, as she smooths the pot’s surface with a handmade tool and water.
“If the qwele disappears, it will mean the end of our culture. But we know this is a gift from above, meant to be part of who we are as a people of Nakabuta.”
“During the installation of the Tui Nayau, held this year, the kuro ni wai or water vessel used to store the water for the yaqona of the high chief, was made from Nakabuta.
“We are connected or have veiwekani with other provinces because of our clay pots or yau vakavanua (vanua treasures).”
Milinia is from Cuvu village. She is a vasu ni koro Nakabuta (her mother is from Nakabuta), where she was born and raised. She is a member of the Nakabuta Women’s Pottery Club.
She learnt the skill from her mother, Elenoa Tuvou, and grandmother, following them to the clay pits as a child.
“I remember being only five when I started learning this skill,” she says.
“When our mothers went to dig the soil, we followed. They cleaned the soil, removed stones, and mixed it with sand. We were involved from the start. By the time I was six, I was already selling pots to the tourists who visited our village.”
That early exposure turned pottery into more than a pastime. The women’s work has funded village development, built the local church, and continued to bring in income through pottery demonstrations and sales to visitors.
The art of Tulituli
Everything Milinia uses is simple, natural, and handmade. There are no power tools.
She uses a stone to hollow the inside of the pot, a stick to slap and shape the outer surface, and a piece of shell to etch traditional carvings.
The process is slow and deliberate, teaching patience and excellence. The pots are wind-dried for two days, sun-dried for another, and baked in an open oven using bamboo and coconut husks.
When the pot glows damudamu or bright orange, it is ready. While still hot, gum from the dakua tree is rubbed over its surface, melting into a natural waterproof seal.
“Everything we do comes from nature,” Milinia explains.
“Our ancestors taught us this, and we are teaching our children the same way, by letting them watch, letting them touch the clay, letting them sit beside us.”
Identity beyond income
While pottery provides an essential source of income, Milinia views her work as much more than a mere economic activity.
“When tourists come, the children sit with their grandmothers. They learn by watching. This is not just about money. This is about who we are as iTaukei people.”
As she demonstrates her work at the conference, Milinia listens to discussions on cultural revitalisation and Indigenous Knowledge systems.
“Something good is happening here for our iTaukei,” she reflects. “Our customs, our manners, our ways, they are being eroded.
I am learning a lot just by listening. It reminds us why we must hold on to our tovo vakavanua, our traditional ways, and pass them on.”
Through every pot she shapes, Milinia is not just keeping a tradition alive; she is preserving a way of seeing and being in the world.
She reminds us that iTaukei identity is not abstract but carved from the soil, from the qwele, from the deep connection between people, land, and their ancestral heritage.
