RELIGION
Ancestor-gods--Gods of the After-world--The Ndengei
Myth--Luve-ni-wai--Mbaki--The Priesthood--Witchcraft--Kalou-rere.
The religion of the Fijians was so closely interwoven with their social
polity that it was impossible to tear away the one without lacerating
the other. It was as unreasonable for the people to continue to
reverence their chiefs when they ceased to believe in the Ancestor-gods,
from whom they were descended, as for the Hebrews to conform to the
Mosaic law if they had repudiated the inspiration of Moses. Religion was
a hard taskmaster to the heathen Fijian; it governed his every action
from the cradle-mat to the grave. In the tabu it prescribed what he
should eat and drink, how he should address his betters, whom he should
marry, and where his body should be laid. It limited his choice of the
fruits of the earth and of the sea; it controlled his very bodily
attitude in his own house. All his life he walked warily for fear of
angering the deities that went in and out with him, ever-watchful to
catch him tripping, and death but cast him naked into their midst to be
the sport of their vindictive ingenuity.
The Fijian word for divinity is _kalou_, which is also used as an
adjective for anything superlative, either good or bad, and it is
possible that the word was originally a root-word implying wonder and
astonishment. Sometimes the word is used as a mere exclamation, or
expression of flattery, as, "You are _kalou_!" or "A _kalou_ people!"
applied to Europeans in connection with triumphs of invention among
civilized nations, either in polite disbelief, or disinclination to
attempt to imitate them.
The Fijian divinities fall naturally into two great divisions--the
_Kalou-vu_ (Root-gods), and the _Kalou-yalo_ (Spirit-gods, _i.e._
deified mortals). There is much truth in Waterhouse's contention that
the Kalou-vu were of Polynesian origin brought to Fiji by immigrants
from the eastward, and imposed upon the conquered Melanesian tribes in
addition to their own Pantheon of deified mortals, and that the Ndengei
legend, which undoubtedly belonged to the aborigines, was adopted by the
conquerers as the Etruscan gods were by the Romans. The natives' belief
in their own tribal divinity did not entail denial of the divinities of
other tribes. To the Hebrew prophets the cult of Baal-peor was not so
much a false as an impious creed. The Fijians admitted from the first
that the Jehovah of the missionaries was a great, though not the only,
God, and, as will presently be shown, when converted to Christianity,
they only added Him to their own Pantheon. So, in giving their
allegiance to the chiefs who conquered them, it was natural that they
should admit the supremacy of the gods of their conquerors, who, by
giving the victory to their worshippers, had proved themselves to be
more powerful than their own gods. Wainua, the great war-god of Rewa, is
said to have drifted from Tonga, and his priest, when inspired, gives
his answers in the Tongan language. The Rewans had given the chief place
in their Pantheon to the god of mere visitors.
[Pageheader: THE FIRE GOD]
First among the Kalou-vu was Ndengei, primarily a god of Rakiraki on the
north-east coast of Vitilevu, but known throughout Fiji except in the
eastern islands of the Lau group. The evolution of this god from the
ancestor and tutelary deity of a joint-family into a symbol of Creation
and Eternity in serpent form is an exact counterpart of Jupiter, the god
of a Latin tribe, inflated with Etruscan and Greek myth until he
overshadows the ancient world as Jupiter Optimus Maximus. The variants
of the Ndengei myths are so numerous that they must be reserved for
another chapter; it is enough here to say that Ndengei and the
personage associated with him are proved by the earliest myths of his
home on the Ra coast to be deified mortals who have risen to the rank of
Kalou-vu by their importance as the first immigrants and the founders of
the race.
Next in order to Ndengei is Ndauthina (the torch-bearer), the god of the
seafaring and fishing community throughout Fiji. That he is one of the
introductions from another system of mythology and not a deified mortal
of Fiji is strongly suggested by the fact that all the fisher-tribes are
_tauvu_ or _Kalou-vata_ (worshippers of the same god, and therefore of
common origin). These tribes, by the nature of their occupation, are
prone to scatter widely, though comparatively late arrivals in the
group. They seldom own any land in the province of their adoption, but
attach themselves to the chiefs, from whom they enjoy marked privileges
in return for their services. It would take but few years for the newest
arrivals, scattering thus among far distant islands, to disseminate
their cult throughout a group of islands, and there is nothing in the
Ndauthina myths that disproves their Eastern origin. The fisher-tribes
had the best of reasons for keeping the freemasonry of their bond of
_Kalou-vata_ (_lit._, same God) alive. Their calling subjected them to
frequent shipwreck, and by the law of custom the lives of castaways were
forfeit--a survival, perhaps, of a primitive system of quarantine. But
the shipwrecked fisherman might always find sanctuary in a temple
dedicated to Ndauthina, and thus win the "freedom of the city" in a
village where he was a stranger.
Ndauthina was the Loki, the Fire-god of the Nibelung myth. He is the god
of Light and of Fire--the fire of lightning and the fire of lust in
men's blood. His love of light in infancy prompted his mother to bind
lighted reeds upon his head to amuse him, and now he roams the reefs by
night hooded with a flaming brazier. He is the patron of adulterers, and
himself steals women away by night. He loves night attacks, and flashes
light upon the defences to guide the besiegers. Taking human form he
sells fish to the doomed garrison, who, noticing a strong smell of fire,
know that Ndauthina has been among them, and that their warriors will
not see another sun. His pranks and whims are numberless. When plots are
hatched against his favourites a voice cries "Pooh!" through the
reed-walls, and he flies off to put his friends upon their guard. He
buoys up a rotten canoe to tempt warriors to embark in her only to lure
them into club-reach of their enemies. But upon his friends the
fishermen he plays no pranks, giving them fair winds and good fishing.
Ratu-mai-Mbulu (Lord from Hades), though primarily a local divinity of
the Tailevu coast, is also probably a foreign intruder. Through him the
earth gives her increase. In December he comes forth from Mbulu, and
pours sap into the fruit trees, and pushes the young yam shoots through
the soil. Throughout that moon it is tabu to beat the drum, to sound the
conch-shell, to dance, to plant, to fight, or to sing at sea, lest
Ratu-mai-Mbulu be disturbed, and quit the earth before his work is
completed. At the end of the month the priest sounds the consecrated
shell: the people raise a great shout, carrying the good news from
village to village, and pleasure and toil are again free to all.
In a hole near Namara he lies in serpent form, and thither the Mbauans
carried food to him once a year, first clearing the holy ground. Unlike
the other gods he drinks no kava, for the wind and noise of a blast on
the conch-shell are meat and drink to him. There was once an agnostic of
Soso, the fisher class of Mbau, named Kowika, who set forth alone to set
his doubts at rest. To a snake sunning himself at the cave-mouth he
offered fish, but this was the great god's son. When he was gone to
summon his father from the cave, a greater snake appeared--the god's
grandson he proved to be--and he departed with a more urgent message. At
length there issued a serpent so huge and terrible that Kowika doubted
no longer, and proffered his gift in fear and trembling, but as the god
was loosening his vast coils he shot an arrow into them and fled. As he
ran a voice rang in his ears, crying, "Nought but snakes! Nought but
snakes!" And so it was. The pot was cooked when Kowika reached home, but
his wife dropped the skewer with a shriek, an impaled snake wriggled on
its end. When he lifted the bamboo to drink, snakes poured forth
instead of water. He unrolled his sleeping mat; that too was alive with
snakes. And as he rushed forth into the night he heard the voice of the
priest prophesying the fall of the city as a just punishment for the
sacrilege of wounding the God of Increase. He took the one way of
salvation left to him: he _soro_-ed in abject humility, and he was
pardoned.
[Pageheader: THE SHARK GOD]
Totemism
The shark-god is the tutelar divinity of numerous tribes who are not
_tauvu_ with one another, unless they call him by the same name.
Waterhouse gives the following list of names under which the shark is
invoked: Ndakuwanka, (Outside-the-canoe), Circumnavigator-of-Yandua,
Feeder-of-fish, Lover-of-canoe-spars, Waylayer, Rover-of-the-man-groves,
Expectant-follower, Ready-for-action, Sail-cleaner,
Lord-Shark-that-calls, Tabu-white, Tooth-for-raw-flesh. The tribes that
invoke Ndakuwanka are _tauvu_, but the Soro people who worship
Ndakuwanka recognize no tie with the Yandua tribe, who invoke the
Circumnavigator-of-Yandua. Each of these names covers a distinct cult,
and the fact that a number of unrelated tribes should have agreed in
choosing the shark for their god needs explanation. That shark-worship
is pure totemism is shown by the beneficence of the shark to his
worshippers, and the obligation that lay upon them not to eat their
divinity. Mana, a Soro native, capsized in the open sea, called upon
Ndakuwanka to save him, and a shark rose near him and towed him safe to
land by his back fin. The same god jumped athwart a Soro canoe in the
invasion of Natewa in 1848, turned over to show the tattooing on his
belly, and leapt back into the sea to lead his votaries to the attack.
In 1840 a tabu shark was eaten at Navukeilangi in the island of Ngau,
and all who had eaten of it died. But there the usual features of
totemism stop. The spirits of the dead do not pass into the totem; men
never assume the shark form; the shark-totem does not necessarily
intermarry with any other totem. Totemism in Fiji does not affect the
social system in any way. It is an accident rather than a design in the
religious system; an anthropomorphic divinity would have served as well.
Nor is it totemism in decay, as some have suggested, for with the cult
of the totem so active and vigorous some survival of its attendant
customs in the marriage laws or in the beliefs of the future state would
assuredly have been found. The mental attitude of primitive races in all
parts of the world to worship a species of living animal or plant taught
the Fijians where to look for their tutelary divinity, and the shark
being to a people seafaring in frail craft the most dreaded and
implacable of all the animal kingdom, a number of diverse tribes chose
to propitiate the shark independently.
The shark, though the commonest, is not the only totem. The hawk, the
eel, the lizard, the fresh-water prawn, and man himself have their
adherents. The man-totem were perhaps the only tribe who never practised
cannibalism, the flesh of their totem being forbidden to them.
Totemism, in this limited form, was perfectly consistent with
ancestor-worship. Except in the case of the shark--a malevolent being
claiming constant propitiation from fishermen--the totem had not often a
temple or a priest. Saumaki, the river-shark, was remembered as a piece
of tribal tradition, but his totem worshipped other gods. They were
sometimes _tauvu_ through gods independent of their totem. Lasakau and
Sawaieke, Nayau and Notho were _tauvu_ through their shark-totem, but
Rewa and Verata were _tauvu_ through an ancestor-god,
Ko-mai-na-ndundu-ki-langi, or Ko-Tavealangi (Reclining-on-the-sky), and
greeted one another in the formula, "Nonku Vuniyavu" (Foundation of my
house). Many tribes have either forgotten or have never had a totem, and
the greater number of those who have preserve the tradition as a piece
of family history, and refer to it with a smile, which is apt to fade
when they survey the ruin of their property on the morrow of a visit
from a devastating horde of their _tauvu_ kin.
[Pageheader: THE SOUL'S LAST JOURNEY]
Gods of the After-world
Besides the divinities that concerned themselves with terrestrial
affairs, there was a well-peopled mythology of the after-life. These
beings had neither temples nor priests. They haunted well-known spots on
the road by which the Shades must pass to their last resting-place, but
as they left the living unmolested, the living were not called upon to
make propitiatory offerings. They were kept alive by the professional
story-tellers, who revived them after funerals, when men's thoughts were
directed to the problem of Death, and they gained in detailed
portraiture at every telling. In a land where every stranger is an
enemy, the idea of the naked Shade, turned out friendless into eternity,
to find his own way to the Elysium of Bulotu, conjured up images of the
perils that would beset every lone wayfarer on earth, and the Shade was
made to run the gauntlet of fiends that were the incarnations of such
perils.
Though the story of the Soul's journey agreed in general outline, the
details were filled in by each tribe to suit its geographical position.
There was generally water to cross, either the sea or a river, and there
was, therefore, a ghostly ferryman (Vakaleleyalo) who treated his
passengers with scant courtesy. There was Ghost-scatterer, who stoned
the Shade, and Reed-spear, who impaled him. Goddesses of fearsome aspect
peered at him, gnashing their teeth; the god of murder fell upon him;
the Dismisser sifted out the real dead from the trance-smitten;
fisher-fiends entangled cowards in their net; at every turn in the road
there was some malevolent being to put the Shade to the ordeal, and
search out every weak point, until none but brave warriors who had died
a violent death--the only sure passport to Bulotu--passed through
unscathed. The names differed, but the features of the myth were the
same. The shades of all Vitilevu and the contiguous islands, and of a
large part of Vanualevu took the nearest road either to the Nakauvandra
range, the dwelling-place of Ndengei, or to Naithombothombo, the
jumping-off place in Mbau, and thence passed over the Western Ocean to
Bulotu,[45] the birth-place of the race.
What belief was more natural for a primitive people, having no revealed
belief in a future state except than that the land of which their
fathers had told them, where the yams were larger and the air warmer,
and the earth more fruitful, was the goal of their spirits after death.
We almost do the same ourselves. Englishmen who emigrate never tire of
telling their children of the delights of "home" as compared with their
adopted country. If the Canadians or South Africans knew nothing of
England but what they had heard from their fathers, and had no beliefs
concerning a future state, England would have come to be the mysterious
paradise whither their souls would journey after death, and their
"jumping-off place" would be the mouth of the St. Lawrence or of the
Orange River. With the Fijians the traditions have become so dim with
antiquity that nothing remains but a vague belief that somewhere to the
westward lies the Afterworld, and that the Shades must leap from the
western cliff to reach it.
[Pageheader: THE PATH OF THE SHADES]
Every step of the soul's journey was taken on a road perfectly familiar
to the people, and constantly frequented by daylight. But after
nightfall none were found so foolhardy as to set foot upon this domain
of the Immortals, while the precincts of Ndengei's cave and
Naithombothombo (the Jumping-off place) were tabu both by day and
night. In 1891 a surveyor, employed in sketching the boundaries of the
lands claimed by the Namata tribe, was taken by his native guides along
a high ridge, the watershed between the Rewa river and the eastern coast
of the main island. As they cut their way through the undergrowth that
clothed the hilltop, he noticed that the path was nearly level, and
seldom more than two feet wide, and that the ridge joined hilltop to
hilltop in an almost horizontal line. Reflecting that Nature never works
in straight lines with so soft a material as earth, and that natural
banks of earth are always washed into deep depressions between the
hills, and are never razor-edged as this was, he had a patch of the
undergrowth cleared away, and satisfied himself that the embankments
were artificial. Following the line of the ridge, the saddles had been
bridged with banks thirty to forty feet high in the deepest parts, and
tapering to a width of two feet at the top. The level path thus made
extends, so the guides said, clear to Nakauvandra mountain, fifty miles
away. For a people destitute of implements this was a remarkable work.
Every pound of earth must have been carried up laboriously in cocoanut
leaf baskets and paid for in feasts. Even when the valley was densely
populated the drain on the resources of the people must have been
enormous, for thousands of pigs must have been slaughtered and millions
of yams planted, cultivated, and consumed in the entertainment of the
workers. With the present sparse population the work would have been
impossible. It was thought at first that this was a fortification on a
gigantic scale, for Fijians never undertake any great combined work,
except for defence, to preserve their bare existence. It could not be a
road, because the Fijian of old preferred to go straight over obstacles,
like the soldier ants that climb trees rather than go round them. The
old men at Mbau, whom I questioned, knew no tradition about it, except
that it was called the "Path of the Shades," and that it was an
extension of one of the spurs of the Kauvandra mountain range. Of one
thing they were certain--that it was not built for defence. Then I asked
for guides to take me over it, and three grey-headed elders of the
Namata tribe were told off to accompany me. We started in the driving
rain. My guides were reticent at first, but when we had climbed to the
higher ridge, and were near the "Water-of-Solace," the spirit of the
place seemed to possess them, and at every turn of the path they stopped
to describe the peril that there beset the poor Shade. The eldest of the
three became at times positively uncanny, for he stopped here and there
in the rain to execute a sort of eerie dance, which, if it was intended
to exorcise the demons of the Long Road, was highly reprehensible in a
professing Wesleyan. Little by little I wormed the whole story out of
them, together with fragments of the sagas in which it is crystallized.
After I had reached home two of my native collectors were sent to Namata
to reduce the tradition to writing. The following is a literal
translation of what they brought me--
_The Spirit Path_ (_Sala Ni Yalo_)
There is a long range which has its source at Mumuria in the Kauvandra
mountain, and stretches eastward right down to Nathengani at Mokani in
Mbau. It is called the Tuatua-mbalavu (Long Range), but in Tholo and Ra
it is called the Tualeita. This range is nowhere broken or cut through,
nor does the course of any stream pass through it. And all the streams
that discharge into the Wainimbuka take their source in this range, and
also the streams that run towards the sea, on the whole coast, from
Navitilevu to Namata.
Now our ancestors said that the souls of the dead followed this range on
their way to Kauvandra, and at the foot of the range at Mokani was their
fountain of drinking water, called Wainindula. We begin our account of
the "Spirit Path" at Ndravo, for at that place all the souls of those
who have died at Mburetu, and Nakelo, and Tokatoka, and Lomaindreketi,
and Ndravo crossed the water.
This is the story--
[Pageheader: THE GHOSTLY FERRYMAN]
When a man died his body was washed, and girded up with _masi_ and laid
in its shroud. A whale's tooth was laid on his breast, to be his stone
to throw at the pandanus-tree, which all the Shades had to aim at. And
while his friends were weeping, the Shade left the body and came to a
stream so swift that no Shade could swim across it. This stream was
called the Wainiyalo (River of the Shades), but it is now called the
Ndravo river. When the Shade reached the bank he stood and called
towards the Mokani side, where the god Themba dwelt, the same whose duty
it is to ferry the Shades across the water. Now Themba has a great
canoe, divided in the middle; one end is of _vesi_, and in this the
chiefs embark; but the other is of _ndolou_ (a kind of bread-fruit), and
on this the low-born Shades take passage. The name of the place where
they stand and call Themba is Lelele. When the Shade reaches Lelele he
stands and calls, "Themba, bring over your canoe." And Themba answers,
"Which end is to be the prow?" If the Shade answers, "The _vesi_ end,"
Themba knows that it is the shade of a chief, but if it cries, "Let the
bread-fruit be the prow," it is a low-born Shade, and the bread-fruit
end touches the bank.
When the Shade is ferried across from Lelele it goes straight to the
bluff at Nathengani, but before it reaches it it has to cross a bridge
called Kawakawa-i-rewai. Now this bridge is a monstrous eel, and while
the Shade is crossing it, if it writhes it is a sign to the Shade not to
tarry, for it means that his wife will not be strangled to follow him.
But if the eel does not writhe, then the Shade sits down, for he knows
that his wife is being strangled to his manes, and will soon overtake
him.
Now, as he climbs the bluff at Nathengani the path is blocked by an
orchid, and from this orchid the disposition of the man is known,
whether it is good or bad; for if it is the Shade of a man kindly in his
life, and he cries to the orchid "Move aside," it allows the Shade to
pass, but if it is the Shade of a churlish man the orchid will not move,
but still blocks the path, and the Shade has to crawl beneath it. And
when he reaches the top of Nathengani he sees the pandanus-tree, and he
flings his stone at it. If he hits it he sits down to await his wife,
for it means that she has been strangled and is following him, but if he
misses it he goes straight on, knowing that no one is following him as
an offering to his manes.
It is also related of the eel-bridge that if it turns over as a Shade
crosses it, that is a sign that the husband or wife of the Shade has
been unfaithful during life, and that when the Shade feels the eel
turning he goes forward weeping, because he knows that his wife had been
unfaithful to him in life.
A goddess named Tinaingenangena guards the end of the range at
Nathengani. These are the verses that relate to her:--
Let us send for Tinaingenangena,
To teach us the song,
When we have learned it we are dissolved in laughter,
Her short _liku_ is flapping about,
As for us we are being laughed at,
The Shade of the dead is passing on,
Passing on to Nathengani,
He is stepping on the bridge; the eel-bridge,
It writhes and the Shade rolls off,
My dress is wet through,
He speaks to the orchid at Nathengani,
Speaks to the orchid that blocks the road,
Move a little that I may pass on,
He breaks the whale's tooth in half,
Breaks it that we may each have one,
That we may throw at the red pandanus,
He misses and bites his fingers in chagrin,
She loves her life too well.
And as the spirit travels onward it comes to a _Ndawa_-tree called
"The-Ndawa-that-fells-the-Shades" (_Vuni-ndawa-thova-na-yalo_), which
stands at Vunithava. This it climbs to tear down the _ndawa_ fruit to be
its provision for the journey, and it weeps aloud as it goes in
self-pity for the deceit of the wife who had been unfaithful, as it now
knows.
And now the Shade hears the voice of the god Ndrondro-yalo
(Pursuer-of-Shades), and he strides towards the Shade bearing in his
hand a great stone with which he pounds the nape of his neck, and the
_ndawa_ fruit the Shade is carrying is scattered far and wide. Therefore
this spot was called Naitukivatu (the Place-of-the-pounding-stone).
[Pageheader: THE WATER OF OBLIVION]
Then the Shade comes to a place called Ndrekei, where there are two
goddesses named Nino, whose custom it is to peer at all the Shades that
travel along the "Spirit-path." These goddesses are terrible on account
of their teeth; and as the Shade limps along the path they peer at it,
creeping towards it, and gnashing their teeth. And when the Shade sees
them it cries aloud in its terror and flees.
And as the Shades flee they come to a spring, and stop to drink. And as
soon as they taste the water they immediately cease their weeping, and
their friends who are still weeping in their former homes also cease,
for their grief is assuaged. Therefore this spring is called
Wai-ni-ndula (Water-of-Solace).
And as soon as they have finished drinking they rise up and look afar,
and lo! the _mbuli_ shells of the great dwellings of Kauvandra are
gleaming white, and they throw away the rest of their provision of
_via_, and to this day one may see the via they throw away sprouting at
this place, where no mortal may dig it. For now they know that they are
drawing near their resting-place; therefore they throw away their
provisions that they may travel the lighter.
These are the verses that tell of the journey of the Shade from
Vunithava to the Water-of-Solace:--
What do we see at Vunithava?
A _ndawa_-tree weighted to the ground with fruit,
Climb it that we may eat,
To be provision for the Shades on their long journey,
Here have we reached the "Stonebreaker,"
He pounds us and spills our _ndawa_ fruit,
Thence we go forward limping,
Nino begin to creep forward peering at us,
Now we arrive at the garden of puddings,
We stop to rest at the Wainindula,
We meet and drink together, e e.
Having drunk we are mad with joy (forgetting the past)
The Kai Ndreketi are growing excited,
They have sight of our bourne,
The shell-covered ridge-poles to which we are journeying
They seem to pierce the empyrean
We throw down our provisions,
Soon the great _via_ plants will appear (that have sprouted from the
_via_ thrown away).
Journeying on from the Water-of-Solace the Shade comes to a place called
Naisongovitho, where stands a god armed with an axe. The name of this
god is Tatovu. When the Shade reaches this place Tatovu poises his axe
and chops at his back, and thenceforward the Shade goes with his back
bent. Presently he reaches Namburongo, where the god Motonduruka
(Palm-spear) lies in wait to impale every Shade with a spear fashioned
from a reed.
Wounded with the rush-spear of Motonduruka, the Shade journeys on to a
place called Natambu, where there is a god called Naiuandui who wounds
him in the back, and he goes forward reeling in his gait. Therefore is
this place called Naimbalembale (the Reeling-place).
There are verses that tell of the journey of the Shades from Rokowewe to
Naimbalembale:--
Rokowewe ("Lord Ue-Ue!") announces us,
"Prepare, ye old women,"
They prepare their nets and shake them out for a cast,
They entangle them (the Shades), and cast them out,
Tatovuya (the Back-cutter) cuts them down,
Motonduruka (the Cane-spear) stabs them,
Naiuandui bruises them,
How far below us lies Nawakura,
How far above Mambua,
Mambua the land of insolence,
The land to which the spirits of every land come,
We are struck down, we are slain,
We go on reeling from side to side, e e.
Now when the Shades have passed Naimbalembale they reach a spot called
Narewai. Here they have to crawl on their bellies. Thence they journey
to a place called Nosonoso (the Bowing-place), which they have to pass
in a stooping posture. There they bow down ten times.
Thence they come to Veisule, where they throw down the provisions they
have taken and faint away. Thence they are dragged on to Nayarayara (the
Dragging-place) as corpses are dragged to the ovens to be cooked. Thence
they travel to Nangele.
[Pageheader: THE DREAD FISHERWOMEN]
Thence they come to a place called Navakathiwa (the Nine-times). This
they have to encircle nine times. Thence they have to journey on till
they come to a spot called the Watkins (the Pinching-stone). Every Shade
has to pinch this stone. If he indents it it is known that he was a
lazy man in his lifetime, for his nails were long, as they never are
when a man has been diligent in scooping up the yam hills in his garden
with his hands. But if his nails do not indent the stone it is known
that he was industrious, for his nails were worn away with working in
his plantation. From the "Pinching-stone" they go forward, dancing and
jesting, towards the god Taleya (the Dismisser), who is the god that
lives in the great _mbaka_-tree at Maumi. Then Taleya asks each Shade
how he died, whether by a natural death, or by the club in war, or by
strangling, or by drowning. And if he answers "I died by a natural
death," Taleya replies "Then go back and re-enter your body."[46] Hence
is the god called Taleya--the Dismisser. But if the Shade replies that
he was slain in war or drowned, Taleya lets him pass on. The Shades that
are sent back to re-enter their bodies do not always obey, for some are
so eager to reach Kauvandra that they disobey his command.[47]
Thence the Shades follow the Long Road to a spot called Uluitambundra,
which is on the junction of the road with Namata. At this spot there is
a god who announces the Shades with a shout. His name is Rokowewe, and
when a Shade reaches Uluitambundra he shouts "Ue, Ue, Ue!" And two
goddesses at Naulunisanka on the road shake out their nets in readiness,
for they are set to net the Shades as they pass. These goddesses are
called Tinaiulundungu and Muloathangi, and they make a sweep with their
net. If it be the Shade of a warrior it will overleap the net as does
the _kanathe_; but if it be the Shade of a coward it will be entangled
like the _sumusumu_, and the goddesses will disentangle it and bite its
head as if it were a fish, and will loop up their nets and throw the
fish into their baskets. These goddesses inhabit the "Long Road"
(Tualeita), and they loiter in the path listening for the sound of
wailing from the villages below them, for the sad sound is wafted to
the "Long Road." But the real dwelling of these goddesses is Ulunisanka,
a peak on the road. There is a saga about these goddesses, and how they
fish for the shades of the dead. It is well known in Namata among the
women there, and it is called "Shade of the Dead" (Yalo mate).
The goddesses are looping up their nets,
They are listening to the sound of weeping,
From what village does this weeper come?
Let us stand and dispute about it,
It is weeping from the village of ----?
They spread out their nets for a catch,
They spread their net across the belly of the road,
We hold the net and wait,
The shade of the dead is topping the ridge,
Let us lift up the head of the net cautiously,
The Shade leaps and clears the net at a bound,
One goddess claps, and clasps her hands, and the other bites her fingers
(in chagrin).
I look after the Shade, but it is far on its way,
Let us fold up the net and return.
The Shades that have escaped from the Fisherwomen at Uluisanka follow
the "Long Road" to Naikathikathi-ni-kaile[48] (the
Calling-place-for-kaile). In the valley below this spot are two
goddesses boiling _kaile_, and when the Shade reaches the spot it calls
to them for _kaile_. If it calls for a red _kaile_ it is known for the
Shade of a man slain in war, but if it calls for a white _kaile_ it is
the Shade of one who was strangled. Some, however, call for _kaile_ from
Mburotu; these are they who have died a natural death, and _kaile_ from
Mburotu are taken to them. Other things, too, are called from this
place.
When each Shade has received the _kaile_ for which he called, he passes
on to a place called Naikanakana (the Eating-place), and there he eats.
Thence he goes on to a place called Naililili (the Hanging-place). Here
there is a _vasa_ tree, and from the branches are hanging like bats the
Shades of the little children who are waiting for their fathers or their
mothers, and when one sees its mother it drops down, and goes on with
her to Kauvandra.
[Pageheader: WHERE THE SHADES MEET]
The children cry to the Shades as they pass, "How are my father and my
mother?" If the Shade answers, "The smoke of their cooking-fire is set
upright" (meaning that they are still in their prime), then the
child-Shade cries, "Alas, am I still to be orphan?" But if the Shade
replies, "Their hair is grey, and the smoke of their cooking-fire hangs
along the ground," the Shade of the child rejoices greatly, crying, "It
is well. I shall soon have a father and a mother. O hasten, for I am
weary of waiting for you."
Thence the Shade follows the "Long Road" to a place called
Vuningasau-leka (Short reeds). Here the Shades stop to rest for a time,
and they turn to see who is following them, and there they recognize
each other, and become companions for the rest of their journey to
Kauvandra. Hence this place of Vuningasauleka is a by-word when there is
strong anger between two persons. If one would tell the other that he
will not see his face or speak to him again until one of them is dead,
he says, "We two will meet again at Vuningasaleka," meaning that they
will never meet again in this world.
Thence the Shades journey to Nankasenkase (the Crawling-place). Here
they kneel down and crawl to the place called Naisausau (the
Clapping-place), where they stand upright and clap their hands. In
former times a village of the Naimbosa tribe was in this place, and they
say that in those days they used to hear about them the sound of the
hand-clapping which the Shades made at Naisausau.
Thence they pass on to a place called Tree-fern-target (Balabala-ulaki),
where there is a tree-fern at which reeds are thrown, and here they stop
to throw at it. And next they come to Levukaniwai, and then to
Vakanandaku, where they rest for a time with their backs turned to one
another (Vakanandaku). Then they come to Naterema (the Coughing-place),
and here they cough loudly. Thence they pass through the place called
Buremundu, to Nainkoronkoro (the Place of Wonder), and there they stand
and marvel at the world, the beauty, the pleasures, the sorrows, and the
labour of it. Here they take their last look at the world before passing
on to Kauvandra.
Passing through Nakovalangi, and Bulia, and Navunindakua, and
Matanikorowalu (the-Gate-of-the-eight-villages), which is a village of
Vungalei, they come to a place called Naisa-vusavu-ni-weli (the
Spitting-place). Each Shade as it arrives at this spot spits at the foot
of a _ndrindriwai_ tree, and go on to another place called Naikanakana
(the Eating-place), and here they stop to eat. Now our fathers have told
us that when we dream that the spirit of a dead man is eating us, it
signifies that the Shade has reached Naikanakana-ni-yalo, and that there
he finds the spirits of us the living, and that straightway he pursues
our spirits with intent to devour them. Therefore we sometimes say,
"Last night the Shade of so-and-so ate me, and I shouted till I almost
died."
Having eaten the spirits of the living, the Shades of the dead pass
onward to Vunivau-nkusi-mata (the Hybiscus-for-wiping-the-face), and
here they break off leaves of the hybiscus, and wipe their faces with
them. If it be the Shade of a man the leaf will be black, but if it be
the Shade of a woman the leaf will be red.
Thence they pass on to a spot called Navuniyasikinikini (the
Sandal-wood-tree-to-be-pinched), for in this spot there is a sandal-wood
which is pinched by all the Shades, and if the nails of the spirit make
an impression on the tree, it is known that it is the Shade of a lazy
man, but if the Shade pinches and leaves no impression it is plain that
it is the Shade of an industrious man who is diligent in gardening.
Thence they pass on through the places called Naloturango and Tova,
through Navitikau and Tanginakarakara, still following the "Long Road"
through Thengunawai and Naitholasama and Nathau.
[Pageheader: THE DANCE OF THE GODS]
Next they reach a spot called Mbalenayalo (the Spirit falls), and as
each Shade reaches this spot it suddenly falls down with a loud report.
Thence they pass through Thenguna-sonki (Pigeon's rest), Drakusi (the
Wound), and Nambaikau (the Wooden wall), and Kelia, and Suva, and
Waitamia, the waterfall of Ndelakurukuru (Thunder-hill), Namatua's city.
Now this is a great city of the gods built on the "Long Road." Here the
Shades enter a house near the _rara_ (village square) called
Naisongolatha (Sail-cloth door). In this house they are to rest and
witness the dance of the gods of Ndelakurukuru. And when the gods have
finished dancing the Shades of the dead dance before them in their turn
in the great house of Nasongolatha. This is the song of the gods:--
I am in the house of Nasongolatha,
Likuse-ni-karawa speaks,
The great chiefs are met to practise a song,
Thou, dear to women, come and practise.
Mbatibukawanka leads the song,
Thavuthavu-mata (the Face-stealer) follows.
(This god used to steal the faces of good-looking men in order to
seduce women.)
He carries the club Singana-i-tamana (His father's triumph).
Roko Matanivula ("Lord Moon") is next;
Whence do all these chiefs come?
They are the chiefs from Molikula,
All their brothers follow them,
They assemble in the _rara_,
They turn once and scrape their feet,
They stamp and the earth splits,
Like the sound of thunder in the morning.
When this song is finished the Shades leave the house to bathe in the
bathing-place of Ndelakurukuru, which is called Ndranukula (the Red
pond). This pool is in the middle of the city. And when they are about
to bathe, the god Namatua, who rules the city of Ndelakurukuru,
exorcises the water. This is the song with which he exorcises it:--
Bathe at Ndranukula and Namatua speaks,
There is a wind on Ndelakurukuru (Thunder-hill).
The breeze is scented with _ndomole_ flowers,
As clear water flowing forth from a spring.
All my children are dancing,
Weliwelinivula (Moonshine) leads the dance,
Together with Molikula.
And after they have bathed the Shades go to look at the quicksand. This
sand is white and very fine, and the spirits go to look at it, and after
trying to cross it they fall asleep from very weariness, for, being a
shifting sand, it cannot be crossed. This is the song that tells of
it:--
I fall asleep at Nukutoro, the quicksand,
The sound of the singers and the drummers floats to me,
The sound of the spear-dance from the mountains,
The onlookers in their delight climb one upon another to see.
The guardians of the mountains sing on,
The calves of their legs are like shaddocks,
Their red turbans are of the colour of blood,
Like the fruit of the _vutore_ tree floating down a river.
Then the children of Namatua are assembled to be counted in order that
the Shades may know their numbers, the children of the god of Vungalei.
And when they are counted they are found to number one hundred and two,
and they are called collectively the Vuanivonokula (the
Fruit-of-the-red-kula). This was their title of honour. Now all these
sons of Namatua are young gods, strong and handsome. This is a portion
of one of the poems that relates to them:--
Let the sons of the god be counted,
They number one hundred and two;
The fruit of the _vono_ is drifting,
The fruit of the red _vono_.[49]
The Shades, watching the dances of Ndelakurukuru and marvelling at the
strong and warlike appearance of the young gods, long to repay them by
singing a song of their own land. But they can only sing of their own
sufferings. They think that they will thus raise in the minds of the
gods anger against the mortals that are still living, and against the
race of mosquitoes, and flies, and black ants, for the dead are ever
malignant towards the living. This is their lament:--
My Lords, in ill fashion are we buried,
Buried staring up into heaven,
We see the scud flying over the sky,
We are worn out with the feet stamping in the earth,[50]
The rafters of our house (the ribs) are torn asunder,
The eyes with which we gazed on one another are destroyed;
The nose with which we kissed has fallen in;
The breast to which we embraced is ruined;
The thighs with which we clasped have fallen away;
The lips with which we smiled are fretted with decay;
The teeth with which we bite have showered down,
Gone is the hand which threw the _tinka_ stick,
Rolled away are the hawks' stones (testiculi),
Rolled away are the blunters of razors
(alluding to the custom of shaving the pubes).
Hark to the lament of the mosquito:
"Well it is that they should die and pass onward;
"But alas for my conch-shell that they have taken away" (the human ear).
Hark to the lament of the fly:[51]
"Well it is that they should die and pass onward,
But alas! they have carried away the eye from which I drank."
Hark to the lament of the black ant:
"Well it is that they should die and pass onward;
"But, alas! for my whale's tooth that they have taken away!"
(The male organ; the most vulnerable point of attack for that insect
when a native sits down.)
[Illustration: Painting a _tapa_ shroud.]
[Pageheader: THE LAMENT OF THE SHADES]
And when the gods of Ndelakurukuru heard this song they cried, "Liku
tangoi ya io," which signifies in the language of the immortals, "The
mortals' way of burial is well enough, are we to condemn it for a song?"
We are sitting and the stars are appearing,
My feet are in the ferry canoe,
There is trampling on the Path of the Shades
They are following the "Long Road."
I go on and speak as I go,
The world there is lying empty,
I am standing on the firm ground,
I stand on the hard path,
The path that leads straight to Kauvandra,
The dance of the "Mbuno-ni-tokalau" echoes,
What tree shall I take shelter under,
I sit under the _ndanindani_ tree,
We sit there chattering,
Our food is thrown away,
Our children are weeping,
I hate to be buried looking skywards,
I hate being buried to be stamped upon,
The hand with which I threw my _tinka_ stick has been torn off,
My legs have fallen off, like rotten fruit.
Our bodies have been broken in half,
Our teeth have showered down till not one is left,
Our pupils have been turned round to show the whites,
Turned so as to show the whites,
The whole land is tremulous with haze,
I sit down and weep with head bowed to the earth,
Let us go and enter the house at Naisongolatha,
Ndaunivotua has entered it (the singer of the _votua_),
To teach us to sing the _votua_,
They keep remembering as they dance,
They sleep till it is daylight.
The reminiscence of Greek myth in Themba, the ghostly ferryman, and in
the Water-of-Solace is, of course, mere coincidence. The republican
sentiments of Charon find no echo in Fiji, for Themba reserved the
hard-wood end of his craft for aristocratic passengers. The
Water-of-Solace, too, was a more complex invention than the Water of
Lethe, for the Fijians, whose emotions are transient, make their Lethe
an excuse for the shortness of their mourning for the dead. "And his
friends also ceased from weeping, for they straightway forgot their
sorrow, and were consoled." The saga is valuable for the light that it
throws on the moral ethics of the Fijians. Cowardice and idleness were
the most heinous crimes; a life of rapine and a violent death were
passports to the sacred mountain. A natural death was so contemned that
the Shade was commanded by Taleya to re-enter the body and die
respectably. This part of the story was of course devised to account for
recoveries from trance and fainting fits. Life on earth was not a
desirable possession. Seeing the misfortunes that overtook the spirit in
its last journey, the Fijians might well have exclaimed with Claudio--
"The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
Is Paradise to what we fear of death."
Yet so gloomy and joyless is the prospect of a return to life that the
Shades who are offered the privilege by Taleya do not all obey, so
"anxious are they to reach Nakauvandra."
Light is also thrown upon a fact wonderingly related by the early
missionaries, that the widows of dead chiefs themselves insisted upon
being strangled to his manes, although it was notorious that they did
not love him. It was their good name that was at stake, for we read that
when the Shade had missed his throw at the pandanus-tree, and knew
therefrom that his wives would not be strangled, he went on weeping, for
he had now a proof that they had been unfaithful to him in life.
[Pageheader: THE ANCESTOR GOD]
The religion of a primitive people springs from within them and reflects
their moral qualities, and the modification that it receives from the
physical character of the country in which they live is a mere colour
that goes no deeper than the surface. Every turn in the "Long Road"
embodies an article of social ethics. If there had been no long spur
protruding from Nakauvandra into the plain the story would have been
different, but the moral ethics of the race would somehow have been
illustrated; the industrious and courageous would somehow have been
rewarded; the man of violence would have had some advantage over the man
of peace; the Shades would in some way have shown their preference for
the terrors of death to the gloom of life; the idle and the cowardly
would somehow have been put to shame.
The Ndengei Myth
Ndengei is supreme among the _Kalou-Vu_ (original gods), and his
authority was recognized by the whole of Vitilevu and its outlying
islands, and by the western half of Vanualevu. The oldest tradition in
which his name occurs mentions him as one of the first immigrants with
Lutu-na-somba-somba, but his fame far exceeded that of his companions,
and so many myths gathered about his name, that when the first
missionaries arrived he had come to be a counterpart of Zeus himself. In
serpent form he lay coiled in a cavern in the Kauvandra mountain above
Rakiraki, and when he turned himself the earth quaked. Enormous
offerings of food were made to him by the Rakiraki people. Several
hundred hogs and turtle were carried to the mouth of the cavern, which
the priests approached, crawling on their knees and elbows. One of the
priests then entered the cave to proffer the request. If it was for a
good yam-crop he would reappear, holding a piece of yam which the god
had given him; if for rain, he would be dripping with water; if for
victory, a fire-brand would be flung out in token that the enemy would
be consumed, or a clashing of clubs would be heard, one for each of the
enemy that would be slaughtered. Beyond the limits of his own district
he had scarcely a temple, and little actual worship was paid to him,
though in the great drought of 1838 King Tanoa of Mbau sent propitiatory
offerings to him; and even in Raki-raki itself, there is a humorous
song in which Uto his constant attendant, is represented as visiting the
public feasts for the god's portion, and returning to Ndengei with the
rueful intelligence that nothing but the under shell of the turtle was
allotted to him. In some versions Ndengei has the head and neck only of
a serpent, the rest of his body being of stone. He is the creator of
mankind, but he has no emotions, sensations, or appetites except
hunger.[52] Another version describes him as sending forth his son,
Rokomautu, to create the land. He scraped it up from the ocean-bed, and
where his flowing garment trailed across it there were sandy beaches,
and where the skirt was looped up the coast was rocky. He also taught
men how to produce fire.
When the missionaries first attempted the conversion of Rakiraki the
people thought that Christianity was a mere variant of their own cult of
Ndengei, using the following argument: Ndengei = the True God; Jehovah =
the True God; therefore, Jehovah = Ndengei. Many years later the false
prophet, Navosavakandua, whose career is set forth hereafter, used a
similar argument to prove that his teachings did not clash with those of
the missionaries, but were merely a newer revelation.
Ndengei was a purely Melanesian deity, and therefore, as I have said,
the whole of Abraham Fornander's argument of a settlement of Polynesians
in Fiji from the second to the fifth centuries a.d., which is founded on
the fallacy that Ndengei was of Polynesian origin, falls to the
ground.[53] For the serpent-worship indicated in the serpent form of
Ndengei, on which he lays so much stress, is a modern gloss, and, even
if it had been ancient, it would have proved no connection with the
Polynesians, since snake-superstitions are common throughout Melanesia.
[Pageheader: THE SHOOTING OF THE SACRED PIGEON]
The great saga of the war in Nakauvandra is far older than the myth
ascribing serpent form to Ndengei, and there the god figures as a
splenetic and irascible old man, as no doubt he was in his remote
earthly career. I take the story from the version written down by Ilai
Motonithothoko, to whom I have referred elsewhere. When Ndengei had
grown old the settlement on the Kauvandra mountain consisted of several
villages, one of which belonged to Rokola and his carpenter clan, and
the grandsons of the first arrivals were grown men. In the village of
Nai-lango-nawanawa, on the slopes of the mountain, lived two twin
grand-nephews of Ndengei, named Na-thiri-kau-moli and Na-kau-sambaria,
who having brought down a pigeon with an arrow without injuring it,
clipped its wings and tamed it. They gave the bird the name of Turukawa,
and every morning and evening, and at flood-tide and ebb-tide, its
cooing resounded far and wide over the mountain. Old Ndengei, hearing
its voice, sent a messenger to ask the youths to give it to him, but
they were absent from home, and the messenger, assured by their father
that their consent was not necessary, took the bird to his master.
Ndengei wanted the bird for a practical purpose. Elderly Fijians are
somnolent, and the pigeon's cooing at sunrise was useful in arousing him
from slumber.
Next morning the twin brothers were startled at hearing their pigeon
cooing in Ndengei's village, and when they heard that it had been taken
away without their consent, they flew into a rage, crying, "Sombo! is
this to be the way with us children of men?" And they made ready their
bow, which was called Livaliva-ni-singa (Summer-lightning), and set
forth to shoot Turukawa. And when they drew near the banyan-tree in
which he was perched, they doffed their turbans; therefore the place is
called Ai-thavu-thavu-ni-sala (the Doffing-place) to this day. And they
shot an arrow at Turukawa, who fell dead to the ground. And they drew
out the arrow, and went to the carpenters' village, Narauyamba, because
it was fortified, and their own village was not fortified.
For four days Ndengei missed the cooing of his Awakener, and he sent
Uto, his messenger, to see what had become of him. And Uto came to the
banyan-tree, and found the body of Turukawa, and saw the arrow-wound,
and said, "There is none who would so forget Ndengei as to kill his
Awakener but the twin brothers whose bird he was. Why have they gone to
live at Narauyamba, except it be because it has a war-fence?" And he
told Ndengei his suspicions. Then he went to the brothers and questioned
them, and they said, "Yes, we did shoot Turukawa."
Then Ndengei sent to them to come to him, and they refused. And his
anger blazed up within him, and he cried with a terrible voice, "Go,
tell them to depart to a land where I am not known!"
But this also they refused to do, and Rokola ordered his carpenters to
build a war-fence of _vesi_ timber, very high, with neither joint nor
chink in it. And when Ndengei knew that the carpenters had entrenched
themselves, he sent messengers to Rokomouto to come and help him.
Then there was war in Kauvandra--such a war as has never since been seen
in Fiji. Joined to Ndengei were Rokomouto and his clan, who had settled
on Viwa, and together they laid siege to the fortress. Many heroes fell
on either side, but never a warrior could storm the wall of _vesi_ built
by the carpenters. But now Rokola devised a dreadful engine of war.
Before the gate of his fortress there was a ragged rift in the
mountain-side. He sent out his warriors to cut stout vines in the
forest, and suspended a bridge of twisted vines over the chasm. From the
tops of two stout posts, planted within the fortress, he stretched ropes
that appeared to be mere supports to the bridge, but were in reality a
trap such as the men of Notho use when they would snare wild duck in
their taro-beds. For when a man trod upon them he was caught fast in a
noose, and the defenders hauled suddenly upon the ropes, and swung him
high over the rampart into their midst, where they could club him at
leisure. Then warriors were sent out to flee before the enemy to entice
them on the bridge, and many were caught in the trap, and swung into the
fortress to meet their doom. Thus were Ndengei's forces dispirited.
[Pageheader: THE GREAT DELUGE]
There were traitors in Ndengei's camp, who were conspiring with the
enemy, and carrying food to him by night. These men were seized, and
being found guilty on their own confession, were exiled from Kauvandra
for ever. They left the mountain, some going towards Matailombau,
others towards Navosa. Now, when Ndengei saw that he could not prevail
against the fortress, he sought out one Mbakandroti, a man related to
the carpenters, who had chosen to take part with Ndengei against his own
kin, and bade him devise a plan for betraying the fortress. That night a
spirit appeared to Mbakandroti in a dream, and told him to cut down a
_vungayali_-tree that grew close to the rampart. And when he had related
his dream, one Vueti was appointed to cut it down. He had scarce laid
his stone axe to the root when water began to gush forth from the wound.
All that day the water poured into the fortress, and by nightfall it was
knee-deep, and rising still. So the carpenters took counsel, and
resolved to ask pardon of Ndengei, since the gods were with him. So
Ndengei took counsel with his chiefs, and they said, "These craftsmen
are too valuable; we cannot destroy them; let them be exiled!" The
fountain had now become a mighty river flowing southward from the
mountain, and the craftsmen built them canoes in haste, and embarked,
and sailed down the stream till they came to a new land, and there they
settled. These are the ancestors of the carpenter clan at Rewa.[54] But
there was no pardon for the twin brothers; to their exile there was to
be no limit. Yet, for Rokola's sake, they were given time to build their
canoe. And Rokola built them a vessel such as has never since been seen
in Fiji, and named it Nai-vaka-nawanawa (the Lifeboat), and sailed away
down the stream into the western ocean, and were never heard of more;
only the prophecy remains that one day they will come again. It will
presently be related how the false teacher Na-vosa-vakandua turned this
prophecy to account.
The Epic of Dengei
Ko Dengei sa tangi langalanga,
"Bongi ndua, bongi rua ka'u yandra
Bongi tolu, bongi va ka'u yandra,
Sa tambu ndungu ndina ko Turukawa,
Isa! nonku toa, na toa turanga,
Isa! nonku toa, na toa tamata,
Tiko e ulunda na ka rarawa,
Au lolova kina, au tambu kana,
Matanivanua, mai thithi manda,
Mai thithi sara ki Narauyamba,
Mo tarongi rau na ndauvavana,
'Kemundrua, ru vanai Turukawa?'
Sa tambu ndungu ni vakamataka,
Ma lolo koto Kotoinankara,
Ma mbunotha no a wai ni matana,
Vakasunka me ramothe mai wanka."
Thus did Dengei weep tears of annoyance,
"One night, two nights have I lain awake,
Three nights, four nights have I lain awake,
Not once has Turukawa cooed,
Alas! my fowl, my noble fowl!
Alas! my fowl, my man-like fowl,
Sorrow has taken possession of my brain,
I am sick with it; I cannot eat,
Come, herald, run,
Run straight to Narauyamba,
Question the archers, and say,
'You, did you shoot Turukawa?
Not once did he coo at daybreak,
The 'Cave-dweller'[55] is still fasting,
The tears are welling from his eyes;
The men are off to sleep on board.'
[Pageheader: THE CRAFTSMEN DECLARE WAR]
The Herald Speaks
Nonku nduri tiko ni karakaramba,
Sa talaki ma Kotoinankara,
"Matanivanua mai thithi manda,
Mo lakovi rau na turanga,
Nonku toa sa mate vakathava?
Au tambu kila no a kena thala."
Soraki ka tukutuku ko Mata,
Ma mbolea mai ko Nakausamba,
'Matanivanua, mo na ngalu manda,
O kenda kethe na luve ni tamata,
Oi au na luve ni mathawa,
Oi au na luve ni vula thandra,
Vakathambethambe nga ko Waithala,
Ka levu ko cava kei Mata,
Au kaya mo na sa vavi manda,
Tha nde ko senga ni na laukana,
Ni ko rui kaisi tha sara,
Au a lenkata na vula ma thandra."
Ko Nathirikaumoli ma vosaya,
"Me tukuna ma Kotoinankara,
Nona ruve e rawata vakathava?
E kune e wai, se rawata matha?
Ko la'ki tukuna me nda tu sa vala,
Sa vu ni tha nga ko Turukawa,
Me tawase kina ko Nakauvandra,
Sa tha nondatou tiko vata,
Me ngundu na masi me tou sa vala."
Kena moto ma rara no kivata,
Na malumu me thavu e na wakana,
Ko wilika ma na sai mbalambala,
Tiko sombu ndaru na okaokata,
E undolu vakatini sa rawa,
Me tou tinia na masi ni vala,
A ndrondro a ue ki sankata.
Mataisau era mbose toka,
Era mbose, era ndui vosavosa,
Me nkai vosa mai ko Rokola,
"Mbai vesi mo ndou la'ki vonota,
Matamata mo ndou la'ki karona,"
Na mbongi ni vala ka sa tini toka,
Kena wa ma mbuki ma so vota,
Velavela ko Lutunasombasomba,
Sai koya nga na ndauloloma,
Nda nkai nanuma tale nona vosa,
"Tou a nkai kune ka ngona,
O ndou nguthe tou na mbokola,
Me mai mbaleta nai votavota."
E tini na vuthu ka tambu na vosa.
I am wearied with the labour of poling,
Dispatched with this message from the Cave-dweller,
"Come, herald, run,
Summon the two chiefs to come to me,
Why was my fowl slain?
I know of no evil that he did."
Thus the herald gave his message,
Nakausamba answers him boastfully,
"Herald, hold thy peace,
We are all the children of men,
I am the child of space,
I am the child of the rising moon,
Which Waithala made to rise,
This herald is full of questions,
My way would be to have thee roasted,
It would be a pity not to have thee eaten,
For thou art the worst of lowborn men;
I have confined the rising moon."
Then speaks Nathirikaumoli,
"Tell this to the Cave-dweller,
How came he by his pigeon?
Found he it in the water, or found he it on land,
Go, tell him that we will fight for it,
Turukawa is the root of the evil,
It is by him that Kauvandra is divided,
It is not well that we should live together,
Up with the flag and let us fight."
His spear lies ready on the shelf,
And his club can be snatched from the eaves,
Have you counted the spear-points of tree-fern?
Sit down and let us number them,
Ten times one hundred in all;
Let us hoist the pennants of war,
The welkin rings with the tumult.
The craftsmen are sitting in council,
They consult, each gives his opinion,
Rokola now speaks,
"Go and fit close a rampart of vesi,
Give special heed to the gate,"
Ten days has the battle raged,
The rope has snared them; they are dismembered,
Lutunasombasomba is dishonoured,
He it is who is to be pitied,
Let us then recall his words,
"We are now in terrible plight,
You gloat over our corpses,
Thinking how ye will dismember them for the feast."
The poem is finished and there is silence.
Vunivasa
Ndungu toka ni singa ko Turukawa,
Sa tambu ndungu ni vakama taka,
Tangi ko Ndengei ru sa lomana,
Isa nonku toa, na toa turanga,
U vula ndua koto ni tambu kana,
U vula rua koto ni lolovaka,
Me ndua me thithi ki Narauyamba,
I tarongi rau na ngone turanga,
Oi ndrua, ru vanai Turukawa,
Sa tambu ndungu ni vakamataka,
"Tiko i ulunda na tiko vinaka,
Ru sanga voli nai vakayandra."
Ra tukia ni mbongi na veivala,
Ndua nai valu ma sorovi rawa.
Tambu ni sorovi mo ndru la'ki kamba,
Era mba nai valu i ruarua,
Ndua i yaviti yae; ndua i tambili, yae,
Ului Ndreketi era sa mbini.
Seu nai valu i matasawa,
Ia la'ki seu ki sawana,
Ru la'ki samuti ko Nakauvandra,
Vosa i cei a vuna vala?
Thimbi koto nai valu sa rawa,
Lave a osooso ni turanga,
Enda vala, enda vala, enda vala--i!
Second Choir
Turukawa used to coo all the day long,
He did not coo at daybreak,
Ndengei wept for love of him,
Alas! my fowl, my noble fowl,
For a whole month I have eaten nothing,
For two months have I fasted for him,
Let one run to Narauyamba,
And question the two young chiefs,
Did ye shoot Turukawa?
He did not coo at daybreak,
"Joy possesses us,
We did injure the Awakener."
They joined battle at nightfall,
It is a war that can never be atoned.
Never atoned; go, storm the fortress,
Both sides joined battle,
Ah! one is clubbed, Ah! another is down,
The bodies of the Ului Ndreketi are piled high.
The war spreads even to the shore,
Aye, spreads even to the sea-shore,
The Kauvandra tribes are thrashed,
Whose was the word that set the battle going?
Lo! the death-dance for the ending of the war!
Crash goes the club into the thick of the chiefs!
We fight, we fight, we fight--i!