Mary, the Devil, and Taro: Catholicism and Women's Work in a Micronesian Society

PAC I FI C I SLANDS ST UDI ES / WO M E N’S S TUDIE S / R E LIG IO N

(Continued from front flap)

Of related interest

FLINN

Dancing from the Heart

Movement, Gender, and Sociality in the Cook Islands k al is sa al exe ye ff

2009, 224 pages, illus. Cloth: ISBN 978-0-8248-3244-5 “Dancing from the Heart is written from the heart. This book is a wonderful evocation of contemporary Polynesian life, joy, and loss. Yet it is also analytically adventurous. Cook Island dance becomes a lens through which questions of gender, performance, embodiment, and globalization come into focus in novel ways. This is surely one of the finest of recent Pacific ethnographies.

—nicholas thomas, University of Cambridge

Dancing from the Heart is the first study of gender, globalization, and expressive culture in the Cook Islands. It demonstrates how dance in particular plays a key role in articulating the overlapping local, regional, and transnational agendas of Cook Islanders. Kalissa Alexeyeff reconfigures conventional views of globalization’s impact on indigenous communities, moving beyond diagnoses of cultural erosion and contamination to a grounded exploration of creative agency and vital cultural production.

o r a T il, and

v e D e h t , y r Ma icism Cathol

UNIVERSITY of HAWAI‘I PRESS

Honolulu, Hawai‘i 96822-1888

ty

Socie n a i s e Micron a n i k r en’s Wo m o W and

Jacket design: Julie Matsuo-Chun

Juliana Flinn is professor of �anthropology at the University � of Arkansas, Little Rock.

like most world religions, is patriarchal, and its official hierarchies and sacred works too often neglect the lived experiences of women. Looking beyond these texts, Juliana Flinn reveals how women practice, interpret, and shape their own Catholicism on Pollap Atoll, part of Chuuk State in the Federated States of Micronesia. She focuses in particular on how the Pollapese shaping of Mary places value on indigenous notions of mothering that connote strength, active participation in food production, and the ability to provide for one’s family. Flinn begins with an overview of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on Pollap and an introduction to Mary, who is celebrated by islanders not as a biologized mother but as a productive one, resulting in an image of strength rather than meekness: For Pollapese women Mary is a vanquisher of Satan, a provider for her children, and a producer of C ATH OLI C I S M,

MARY, THE DEVIL, AND TARO

critical resources, namely taro. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception validates and celebrates local notions of motherhood in ways that highlight productive activities. The role of women as producers in the community is extolled, but the event also provides and sanctions new opportunities for women, allowing them to speak publicly, exhibit creativity, and influence the behavior of others. A chapter devoted to the imagery of Mary and its connections to Pollapese notions of motherhood is followed by a conclusion that examines the implications of these for women’s ongoing productive roles, especially in comparison with Western notions and contexts in which women have been removed or excluded from production. Mary, the Devil, and Taro contributes significantly to the study of women’s religion and the appropriation of Christianity in local contexts. It will be welcomed by not only anthropologists and other scholars concerned with religion in the Pacific, but also those who study change in gender roles and Marian devotions in cross-cultural perspectives.

ISBN 978-0-8248-3374-9

90000

9 780824 833749 www.uhpress.hawaii.edu

(Continued on back flap)

JULIANA FLINN

Mary, the Devil, and Taro

Mary, the Devil, and Taro Catholicism and Women’s Work in a Micronesian Society

Juliana Flinn

University of Hawai‘i Press Honolulu

© 2010 University of Hawai‘i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 15╇ 14╇ 13╇ 12╇ 11╇ 10╇╇╇ 6╇ 5╇ 4╇ 3╇ 2╇ 1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Flinn, Juliana. â•… Mary, the devil, and taro : Catholicism and women’s work in a Micronesian society / Juliana Flinn. â•…â•… p.â•… cm. â•… Includes bibliographical references and index. â•… ISBN 978-0-8248-3374-9 (hardcover : alk. paper) â•… 1.╇ Women—Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atoll— Religion.â•… 2.╇ Women—Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atoll—Rites and ceremonies.â•… 3.╇ Women—Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atoll—Social conditions.â•… 4.╇ Catholic Church— Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atoll.â•… 5.╇ Women in the Catholic Church—Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atoll.â•… 6.╇ Mary, Blessed Virgin, Saint—Devotion to— Micronesia (Federated States)—Pulap Atollâ•… 7.╇ Pulap Atoll (Micronesia)— Religious life and customs.â•… 8.╇ Pulap Atoll (Micronesia)—Social life and customs.â•… I.╇ Title. â•… HQ1865.7.F55â•… 2010 â•… 305.48'682966—dc22 â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•…â•… 2009035821

University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources. Designed by University of Hawai‘i Press production staff Printed by Edwards Brothers, Inc.

Contents

1. Introductionâ•… /â•… 1 2. The Feast of the Immaculate Conceptionâ•… /â•… 18 3. A Woman’s Place Is in the Gardenâ•… /â•… 37 4. Taroâ•… /â•… 66 5. Who’s in Charge and Are Any of Them Women?â•… /â•… 83 6. Church Activitiesâ•… /â•… 113 7. Honoring Maryâ•… /â•… 141 8. Conclusionâ•… /â•… 160

Appendixâ•… /â•… 171 Notesâ•… /â•… 181 References Citedâ•… /â•… 185 Indexâ•… /â•… 195

v

CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Hauling around huge stalks of taro inside a Catholic church, thrusting the plants back and forth in the air outside after the service, taunting fellow women with songs and chants, competing to see who has cultivated the largest taro corm—none of this sounds like any Feast of the Immaculate Conception experienced by American Catholics, or probably Catholics elsewhere for that matter. Nonetheless, these activities are associated with celebrations honoring Mary, the mother of Jesus, on Pollap, an atoll in the Caroline Islands of Micronesia in the western Pacific. Furthermore, those celebrations revolve around a unique image of Mary. A respectful and even humble Mary is part of this image, and an aspect that will be familiar to outsiders, but what is unfamiliar and almost startling is an image of Mary that supports a notion of motherhood rooted in being the family breadwinner, a mother who supports her family by producing the essential staple foods and by gathering octopus and other marine resources. This is how Pollapese have conceived of Mary. This is a locally interpreted and imagined Mary, even though she arrived on the scene as an import from the West. Clearly the hierarchical, male leaders of the Catholic Church, even when they are local people, and traditional dogma, even when presented by local people, are not the sole determinants of how a religion is actually lived and interpreted in everyday life, whether in the West or elsewhere around the world where people have converted to Catholicism. Even Western conceptions of Mary, not to mention those that have emerged in other parts of the world, arose from popular beliefs and practices, deriving at least in part from earlier goddess worship (see, for example, Anderson and Zinsser 1988). Patriarchal Christianity has made some room for female elements, which at times even verge on divinity, and Mary, the mother of Jesus, has been the most prevalent and venerated of the female figures. Religion as lived and practiced in everyday life could not be confined solely to male imagery, nor could divinity completely exclude women. So the very emergence of Mary as a significant figure in Christianity has had its origins in popular practice. This is

1

not to say that the female elements have not been exploited in attempts to keep women submissive to men or in line with culturally defined female roles, but it is everyday practice that has popularized Mary and ensured that she holds at least a certain measure of influence. Sered (1991) analyzes Mary as a saintly figure in the context of a discussion of how Judaism, Islam, and Christianity—all patriarchal and male-dominated world religions—nonetheless each includes female figures, the most prominent being Rachel in Judaism, Fatima in Islam, and Mary in Christianity. These cultic personalities have served as intermediaries between the male gods and mortal women, available to assist with everyday concerns about children, husbands, and parents. There are Catholic women in the United States today who point to imagery and rituals associated with Mary as evidence of value placed on women, though largely in their capacity as mothers (Spencer-Arsenault 2000). Mary’s image in the Western tradition has nonetheless encouraged a submissive role for women consistent with the androcentric bent of Christianity and the other major world religions. This tradition is related to Western notions of female chastity as a measure of purity and a defense against evil (Drury 1994; Ruether 1977; Warner 1976). From the perspective of patriarchy, Mary embodies the ultimate in ideal womanhood in the Western tradition, as she harbors purity, virginity, humility, obedience, softness, passivity, acquiescence, while at the same time being a mother who bore and raised a child. This standard, especially the combination of virginity and motherhood, is one that no mere mortal woman can achieve, leaving any woman other than Mary less than ideal, as impure and weak, and thus bound to fail to live up to what a woman should personify. Even when the motherhood of Mary is glorified, submission to a husband and self-abnegation in the face of the needs of both children and husband are expectations associated with the role of mother. Mary kneels before her child, and she obeys Joseph, submits to the wishes of others, and in effect provides a model of humble domesticity for women. Mixed with such notions of humility and domesticity, however, are some aspects of Mary that symbolize strength. In the popular tradition in the West, Mary historically served in many respects as an earth mother, providing for her children, able to promote good harvests and healthy herds, and willing to listen to requests for assistance (Ruether 1977:59). Mary has also been called Star of the Sea, able to guide and protect sailors in treacherous waters. At times she has also been seen as the Woman of Valor, even as a militant figure capable of leading men in battle and defeating enemies (Pelikan 1996:91; Perry and Achevarría 1988:17). Evidence cited to support such claims is drawn from Genesis, where God tells the serpent commonly interpreted as Satan, “She shall crush

2

Chapter 1

thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel” (Genesis 3:15), a passage in which “she” has been interpreted as referring to Mary. This particular passage, in fact, is central to the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and the image of Mary trampling on the head of Satan is a powerful one; this feast and this image are fundamental to Pollapese understandings of Mary. Such strong imagery does not negate the male-dominated aspects of Catholicism inherent in its dogma and structure, nor the meek and submissive characteristics attributed to Mary; but it is nonetheless apparent that Mary has also been interpreted as a source of influence, with the ability to affect worldly affairs. Her image has been amenable to multiple understandings and has exerted appeal across a wide array of cultures, with notions of Mary shifting and changing according to popular perception (e.g., Pelikan 1996; Perry and Achevarría 1988). Authorized dogma, official texts, and designated leadership comprise only one aspect of a religion, and are certainly not the sole forces shaping local belief and practice. With regard to female imagery, women do not inevitably simply take on the roles dictated by church teachings. Certainly, teachings propagated by church officials have an influence, but it is also critical to attend to how women interpret those teachings, how they incorporate them—or not—into their daily activities, how they experience and even actively shape a version of Catholicism from which they can draw meaning and value. Women should not be seen as mere passive recipients of dogma and imagery, but as active agents interacting with and interpreting what they receive in the context of local cultural beliefs and practices. To cite an example related to the Pollap case, understanding Mary as a mother always transpires in a framework of indigenous constructions of what it means to be a mother. Local cultural beliefs are neither abandoned nor blended syncretically with beliefs brought in by missionaries. Watanabe (1990) convincingly demonstrates how local versions of Catholicism may be actively constructed in a process that involves carefully mingling certain indigenous beliefs and practices with imported notions and symbols, and serving local purposes. Local renderings of Catholicism may well communicate messages about local identity and community rather than devotion to Vatican theology. Furthermore, imported saints, sacred figures, and rituals may become so indigenized that they are perceived of and treated as part of the local heritage (e.g., Barker 1990; FienupRiordan 1990:94–122; Harrington 1988). Meaning is locally constructed and asserted for local purposes, regardless of the original source of symbols, beliefs, and practices. Religion as practiced is about local, regional, or national identity rather than commitment to particular dogma, institutions, and hierarchy. Furthermore, since in recent years the Catholic Church has been more accepting of cultural diversity, adaptation to local circumstances, and incorporation of



Introduction

3

indigenous elements (Montero 2000), one result has been that local definitions and practices of Catholicism—within certain constraints—can more readily flourish. The impact of missionaries has certainly varied in different times and places, and also with denomination. Some groups have insisted on more wideranging cultural changes than have others, and, depending on local and historical contexts, responses to missionaries, understandings of Christianity, construction of symbols, assertions of local Christian belief and practice, and in general the impact of what was originally a foreign religion have varied. In many parts of the Pacific, for example, Christianity played a role in moving women away from food production because such work was deemed by the missionaries as unsuitable for women, at the same time moving women into a more narrowly defined domain of the home. Being a woman became more focused on bearing children, caring for them in the home, and behaving as an obedient wife (Grimshaw 1989 provides an excellent example). Christian missionaries throughout the area actively and consciously attempted to change key aspects of the cultures they encountered, although the details varied with denomination and era; a key focus of change was commonly centered on family, with dramatic consequences for the position of women (Jolly and Macintyre 1989). Although certainly not the only agents of change, missionaries did play central roles, partly because they deliberately promoted and encouraged change, and their efforts were directed not just at religious beliefs but at kinship, marriage, and household relationships. Targets of missionary zeal included extended families sharing common sleeping space, emphasis on strong lineage and other blood ties over conjugal ones, frequent adoption, celebrations of female sexuality, and female influence over men. To bring about what they considered a more appropriate way of life, missionaries stressed the nuclear family, submission of women to the authority of their husbands, the dominance of conjugal ties over ties with family of orientation, assumption of Western-style housewife and mother roles rather than active food-producing roles, and restrained sexuality. Even in areas where missionaries have made considerable inroads and effected change in women’s lives and family dynamics, women today in a number of instances nevertheless exploit various Christian beliefs and structures to influence their own lives, their family situations, and their communities. A group of Micronesian women, for example, working through church groups, successfully lobbied to legally ban the selling and drinking of alcohol in order to reduce the incidence of violence against women (Marshall and Marshall 1990). Douglas (2003) and Scheyvens (2003) analyze Melanesian women’s church groups that foster mutual support among participants and provide women access to relationships that reach beyond individual kin networks, and consequently more of a voice and influence in matters of concern to women.

4

Chapter 1

Many American Catholic women successfully negotiate contradictions between feminism and Catholicism, along with tensions between the pursuit of individual goals consistent with American cultural values and feminism, on the one hand, and obligations toward children and family fostered by Catholicism, on the other (Ecklund 2003). But other, especially non-Western cultural groups eschew the individualism characteristic of American culture. Studies such as those noted above reveal Pacific women who tend to negotiate definitions of Catholicism and other Christian faiths collectively rather than individually, and they maneuver in cultural contexts in which individual well-being is closely tied to family and kin well-being. These women thus tend to use dogma and church structures in concert with other women and in ways that further goals benefiting not just themselves but their kin. This book analyzes a community in which women operate within a vernacular Catholicism and imagery of Mary that support opportunities for women to influence opinion and events, and emphasize the value of women as mothers. Despite attempts that missionaries may have made to define appropriate female roles, including what it means to be a mother, local notions of motherhood filter and shape the impact of the Catholic message. On Pollap, women experience and perceive motherhood not so much as a biological process, with a focus largely on bearing children and then remaining in the home to care for them, but rather as a cultural process that encompasses the production and distribution of key resources. Furthermore, local belief posits power in speech and its ability to define and shape appropriate behavior, and this is a belief that women exploit to their advantage in various opportunities made available through the local church structure for them to speak to others beyond their local network of kin. Thus women play a role in defining appropriate behavior, articulating ideas, and influencing activities in the community. In this book I examine how Pollapese women define their own Catholicism, how they live it in practice, and how these definitions and practices affect their autonomy and their ability to shape their lives, support the well-being of their kin, and influence community events.

The Setting Pollap, part of the Caroline Islands chain, is one of the coral atolls in the western part of Chuuk State in the Federated States of Micronesia. The atoll’s lagoon is about twelve square miles in area, and three islets lie along the reef: Pollap in the north, Tamatam to the south, and uninhabited Fenarik on the western part of the reef. Pollap is the larger of the two inhabited islets, measuring about 0.262 square miles in area (Bryan 1971). Though small, this is typical of Cen-



Introduction

5

tral Carolinian atoll islets and is certainly large enough for a lens of fresh water to sit in the ground above the salty seawater, which facilitates the growth of taro and other plants. A minimum of three acres is necessary for such a lens (Alkire 1978:11), and Pollap has more than enough with a total of about 168 acres. Furthermore, the Central Carolinian atolls generally receive considerable rainfall—over one hundred inches a year—which serves to maintain this lens (Alkire 1978:112). Islets at bends in the reef, of which Pollap is one, typically have natural swamps in their interior (Alkire 1978:27), and these areas are ideal for taro cultivation, especially with the addition of organic material. The settlement area of Pollap lies at the southern end of the islet (see Map 1.1), close to the sheltered lagoon area, which is typical of the Central Carolines. The northern, ocean side is rockier and less protected from the winds. Although the islet is small, the reef, lagoon, and ocean provide abundant marine resources, and the swampy interior of the island supports the growth of taro, a key staple of the diet. The taro that is prized for the December 8 Feast of the Immaculate Conception honoring Mary is Colocasia esculenta, known as woot to Pollapese, although Cyrtosperma chamissonis (commonly called swamp taro), known locally as pwula, is more abundant and easier to grow. Breadfruit, though seasonal, is another important staple, and Pollapese supplement taro and breadfruit with other local foods such as bananas, pandanus, dry-land taro, and arrowroot. When possible, people also buy rice as well as some canned meat and fish, and because of a drought in the spring of 1998, the islanders in subsequent months received several shipments of FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) food from the United States, which included rice, flour, oil, juice, and canned fruit and vegetables. Pollap may appear to be isolated from the rest of the world, a tiny speck out in the ocean, with only one inhabited islet visible on the horizon, but the seas connect rather than separate it from other Carolinian islands, and Pollap has a tradition of maintaining social and economic ties with other islands and a history of contacts with a variety of foreign administrations. Until about the middle of the nineteenth century, it was associated, though as a low-ranking member, with the Yapese Empire linking Carolinian islands in a system of tribute and trade, and thus promoting social and economic ties useful for acquiring goods in normal times and providing assistance in the wake of disasters, especially tropical storms (Alkire 1965; Lessa 1950, 1966). More localized systems persisted once the larger empire dissolved.1 Pollap was part of one that was centered on the neighboring island of Polowat (Damm and Sarfert 1935; Flinn 1992:24). Pollap has also experienced a series of foreign administrations. Initial European contact was actually quite early, in 1565 (Anonymous 1887:20–25), though that particular visit did not have a long-term impact. It was over two

6

Chapter 1

Map1.1╇ Map of Pollap. Courtesy of Edward Hale



hundred years before another recorded European contact.2 Despite the early Spanish visit, Pollap remained largely on the periphery of contact with foreign administrations. Spain nominally held control of the area until late in the nineteenth century; Germany subsequently controlled the islands until the outbreak of the Second World War, when Japan took possession. With Japan’s defeat, the United States administered the area, first through the military and later through the Department of the Interior. In 1947 the United Nations designated the United States to be responsible for the Caroline Islands, together with the Marshall Islands and the Northern Marianas, as the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands. In 1979, Chuuk, the district that includes Pollap, along with Yap, Kosrae, and Pohnpei, ratified a constitution for the Federated States of Micronesia, while Belau in the western Carolines, the Marshall Islands, and the Northern Marianas elected to negotiate separate political statuses. The Federated States of Micronesia signed a Compact of Free Association with the United States that went into effect in 1986 and in 2004 was renewed with amendments. Although peripheral to areas of major change and situated far from an administrative port town, Pollap has nonetheless never been isolated. In addition to regular voyages to other islands, Pollapese experienced and reacted to the presence of the series of foreigners in Micronesia. They killed two Spaniards in 1565 (Anonymous 1887:20–25), though what provoked the attack remains unclear. The islanders traded for items such as axes, knives, and nails when foreign ships arrived at the atoll, but trading networks also provided access to similar goods. Pollapese tradition asserts that a foreign ship, purportedly German, left with several Pollapese men on board. Some Germans attempted to purchase land on the atoll in the hope of developing commercial coconut plantations; even in the face of force, however, Pollapese refused. Pollapese stories tell of Germans returning to punish the refusal by hauling some men off to prison. Men were also taken as laborers to work elsewhere during both the German and subsequent Japanese era. In addition, the Germans put a stop to interisland warfare—though not to hostile attitudes—and in December 1909 they conducted ethnographic research throughout the area, including Pollap (Krämer 1935). Pollapese men during the Japanese era were conveyed to various areas of Micronesia for work, including Angaur, though many lived in Chuuk Lagoon, an administrative center, and some had family members join them. A few boys attended a Japanese school in Chuuk as well. Pollapese tell of resisting at least some of the Japanese attempts to recruit laborers, and the island’s chief at the time was seriously beaten and left crippled in the wake of his resistance. Japanese soldiers on Polowat Atoll, south of Pollap, insisted on being provided with food.

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Chapter 1

Early in the U.S. administration, a couple of young men were recruited from Pollap to travel to the port town in Chuuk Lagoon to receive training and then return home; one was trained as a teacher and the other as a health aide. An elementary school for all local children soon opened on the island, but secondary education, in the administration center, remained highly selective. With an emphasis in the mid-1960s on education as an impetus for development, however, all young people were encouraged to finish secondary schooling, which for Pollapese took place off-island, and some even pursued higher education in the United States. The resultant “education explosion” (Hezel 1978a) also fueled changes in migration from Pollap, with more young people leaving the island for school, more interest in employment in the port town and elsewhere, more islanders residing long-term elsewhere in Micronesia and in the United States, and access to new resources and alternative routes to prestige and influence. Thus a place as seemingly isolated and peripheral as Pollap, where daily life still largely focuses on fishing and gardening, nonetheless interacts with the outside world and external forces of change. The settlement area of Pollap is divided into three villages, with the central area accommodating buildings common to the whole community, and these structures include the church, elementary school, municipal office, and meetinghouse. No obvious boundaries separate the villages, though everyone knows which homesites are associated with which villages. The houses group into villages roughly according to whether they are situated in the west, south, or east part of the islet. Physical residence is not the sole criterion for village residence, however; some women reside in one village but affiliate with and behave as members of another. This happens because, from time to time, members of all or part of a household move to another plot of land situated in another village but the women can nonetheless choose to affiliate with the new village or remain with their original one. Women demonstrate their village membership through participating in village meetings and rehearsals, preparing food when villages are responsible for contributions to a feast or visitors, and assisting with assigned village work. Thus in many respects village membership is demonstrated, not allocated, although one needs land rights to establish physical residence. The population of Pollap has been growing over the years and may eventually put a strain on the island resources, but migration off the island has so far prevented this from becoming a problem. Whereas in 1980 a total of 476 people were either born on Pollap or were spouses or children of someone born on Pollap, by 1998 that number had grown to 950. Of that 950, only about 51% normally resided on the island, with about 27% in Chuuk Lagoon, 6% in Guam, 5% in the United States, 3% each on the neighboring islet of Tamatam and at the junior high school on Polowat, 2% on Saipan, and the remaining 3%



Introduction

9

elsewhere in Micronesia. In Chuuk Lagoon lives a sizeable migrant community, known by the Pollapese as PCI (Pollap Community, Iras); it includes a number of people who hold jobs in the port town as well as young people attending high school or the local community college. Many of the Pollapese residing in Guam, Saipan, and the United States originally traveled to those sites for higher education. Even though some failed to finish their schooling for a variety of reasons, they chose to remain and seek local employment. Although clearly many Pollapese work for wages or salaries off the island, much of daily life on Pollap itself still revolves around subsistence horticulture and fishing. Imported rice now supplements taro and breadfruit as staples, but women continue to work regularly in the taro gardens and men routinely fish. All families have relatives with monetary incomes who can be called upon to provide funds for rice as well as for building supplies, fabric, lanterns, and other imported items, but on the atoll itself, there are few ways of earning money and even fewer full-time jobs. Some people make a little money from selling kerosene, gasoline, and other goods in small stores, and occasionally islanders are able to sell copra. A ship arrived for copra only once while I was there, however, and bought it for a mere nineteen cents a kilo. One family managed to produce enough copra to sell fourteen bags and earn US$277, while others sold only a few bags and thus earned much less. In other words, selling copra usually brings in only enough money to buy a few goods such as soap, batteries, cigarettes, and little else. Occasionally a person can sell a pig for a feast, such as when church monies are available for a religious holiday, and perhaps earn US$150. In addition, a couple of times during the year islanders may have opportunities to be paid by visitors for dancing. This happened three times while I was there in 1998–1999, with the community receiving between one thousand and three thousand dollars each time in the form of money or goods such as medicine (though in one case, the fee also included permission for the visitors to dive in local waters). Usually a portion of the fee was held back by island leaders for a community purpose, such as the dedication of a new building, and the remainder of the money was divided among the participants. This resulted in about three to eight dollars a person, enough only to buy relatively inexpensive goods such as combs, soap, cigarettes, sugar, or coffee. Another chance to earn small amounts of cash comes when those with access to money hire others to clear out a gardening area or otherwise help with work. In this situation, a group of workers is likely to earn about ten dollars, a sum they share, and they can also expect to receive coffee, food, and sometimes a few cigarettes. What islanders called a “women’s café” operated during part of the year, where women sold doughnuts (bread fried in the shape of doughnuts) about three days a week for ten cents apiece, purchasing the ingredients from the proceeds of their sales. While islanders were construct-

10

Chapter 1

ing their new gym/meeting house, they earned about fifty cents an hour for a couple of weeks, with women hauling rocks and sand, and men mixing and pouring concrete. Teachers at the elementary school on the island and a health aide are the only ones regularly resident on the island with full-time, steady incomes, yet even these income earners continue to subsistence garden and fish, though perhaps not as much as others in their families. Compared with eighteen years earlier on Pollap,3 there appeared to be more need for and interest in earning money to purchase Western goods, and more dependence on these goods. For example, by 1998 the island had acquired a generator to operate the church lights and a community refrigerator for storing fish. In addition, a number of people had acquired their own generators, which they used for running TV/VCRs to occasionally show videos outdoors in the evening. A number of islanders had purchased motorboats for fishing and interisland transport, all of which obviously demand fuel acquired from outside. Many of the homes had sheets of linoleum on the floor instead of woven mats. Wheelbarrows were absent in 1980 but common in 1998. Children were wearing clothing at a younger age, and in general people wore more Western-style clothing than before. In particular, many women had started wearing shirts in addition to wraparound skirts much of the time, and most also had a pair of pants they wore in the taro gardens. The sailing canoes that had seemed so central to the Pollapese way of life and sense of identity in 1980 had practically disappeared. A single one remained, but the only time I saw it used was in connection with tourism. In the same vein, most of the dancing I observed during my return visit was also connected with tourism. With regard to much of their material culture, Pollapese take quite a pragmatic view rather than routinely favoring either traditional, older forms or newer, imported ones. For example, most homesites have “modern” as well as “traditional” structures. Most of the “modern” ones are concrete houses, providing shelter in the event of storms. Some even consist of two stories, the upstairs sections of which are typically the domain of young men. These houses are hot and stifling, however, as the sun beats down on the metal roofs, and the concrete walls block any breezes, whereas thatch houses are much cooler. These thatch structures tend to lie close to the shore where they can catch the breeze, whereas the concrete and wooden ones are a bit inland where they can provide more shelter from storms. For a while these “modern” houses were apparently quite popular on the island since they are sturdier, require less upkeep, and provide more protection, but people soon discovered how sweltering they become in the heat of the day. Thus most people have chosen to maintain both a sturdy structure built somewhat inland and a thatch one closer to the shore. Families with the money to buy and maintain motorboats (and keep them supplied with gas and oil) are also likely to have



Introduction

11

one or two small paddling canoes as well, mainly for when they run out of gas or the motor breaks down. While Pollapese embrace many of the benefits of outside practices, at the same time they appreciate the advantages of their own ways—such as living in thatch houses to stay cool and using canoes for fishing without the need for fuel. They continue to take a similar pragmatic attitude toward health, embracing both Western and indigenous ways. For example, they welcomed a health workshop about Western-style family planning, exercise, and sanitation as well as one about local massage. They accept the medicines and expertise of those with biomedical training, as they do those with traditional expertise about massage, therapeutic techniques, and locally available traditional medicines. In addition to—or perhaps associated with—increased access to money, jobs, goods, and the outside world are some social problems that Pollapese used to believe were confined to the port town but are now looming larger on the island. One such problem is young men sometimes fighting when they drink, which had not been the case eighteen years earlier, though it existed elsewhere in Chuuk (Marshall 1979). Pollapese used to feel somewhat insulated from such problems and perceived them as events happening to other people but not to them. Like many U.S. parents, they blame part of the problem on all the TV videos children are being shown on the island through the use of the imported machinery. Adults also recognize problems that arise from sending their young people faraway from home—especially to places like the United States—unsupervised by mature Pollapese. This is one reason parents and elders in recent years have tended to restrict the colleges their students can attend to more local ones in Micronesia itself. Although many in Micronesia have become disenchanted with the promise of education (Hezel 2001), Pollapese parents nonetheless still equate it with access to jobs and the ability to bring money into the family to pay for these new items. In fact, an additional concern about showing videos was that they keep children up late in the evening so that they are tired and inattentive the next day in school. Education now begins on the island with a Head Start program, and students then pursue eight years of elementary education at the local school. Almost all elementary school graduates, along with other students from the Western Islands (an area known locally as Páttiw), then proceed to nearby Polowat for two years of junior high school. Pollapese elementary school graduates used to attend Weipat Junior High School on Onoun in the Namonuito Atoll, together with students from Namonuito, the Hall Islands, and the Westerns, but several years ago, some Western Island leaders organized their own local school, PJ (Polowat Junior High School), closer to home and to their own kin and customs. Attending PJ also enables the students to return home more often and more readily, especially during the Christmas break. Although

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some young people drop out of junior high school, many manage to continue on to high school on Weno in Chuuk Lagoon, where there are now several private options in addition to the public high school. Although in the 1970s it was popular for high school graduates to attend college in the United States, local college options have become more common in recent years. Parents are increasingly hesitant to allow their young people to leave for the United States, in part because too many have not returned. Thus in recent years a number of islanders have attended the University of Guam or community colleges in Chuuk, Pohnpei, Saipan, Belau, or Guam. Although Pollapese remain proud of many of their older practices, especially those connected with respect shown to senior siblings, they feel more ambivalence about ééreni ‘tradition’ compared with earlier years. Since 1980, when I first arrived on Pollap, many more islanders had gone to school or work off Pollap and even outside Chuuk on Guam, Saipan, Hawaii, and the mainland United States, and more outsiders, including a Japanese anthropologist and a number of female Peace Corps volunteers, had visited or lived on Pollap. In 1998 and 1999, I noticed there was more concern about the possibility that outsiders might look down on them and perceive Pollapese perhaps as “primitive” and “dirty.” There was a self-consciousness verging on embarrassment about the nudity of children, and younger women seemed particularly inclined to wear a shirt or blouse instead of just the wraparound skirt they had worn in the past. When preparing for photographs in 1998, for example, parents dressed their otherwise unclothed young children, often with comments such as “What will Americans think of you if you have no clothes on!” Younger men tended to tie their loincloths to cover their buttocks, inciting some of the community leaders to complain that from the back they could no longer tell the women from the men. Island leaders are seeking more outside assistance. For example, community leaders successfully sought money and expertise for the installation of a desalinization pump on the island to prevent problems in the event of another drought and for the construction of a new building to serve as a gym and meeting hall. Islanders were particularly proud of their new gym, the first of its kind in the area, which will presumably bring them status in the eyes of others. It was something they believed would advance iiten Pwollap, or the ‘name’—reputation—of Pollap. Thus, instead of being considered primitive, they strive to be perceived as actually ahead of their neighbors in what they view as improvements to their community, while at the same time they manage to continue practicing many valued traditions. Islanders in 1998 were generally much more aware of outsiders, other possibilities, and potentially negative attitudes about what they locally construed as ‘tradition.’ Ambivalent or not, the Pollapese nonetheless retain considerable interest



Introduction

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and pride in their heritage, and tradition is seen as guiding much of their lives in a very positive fashion. They cling with fierce pride to customs of deference to senior kin; to knowledge of navigation, fishing, gardening, medicine, history, dancing, weaving, and other skills; to values of generosity, patience, and modesty; and to commitment to kin and community rather than personal self-development. In several respects, there has even been revival of some abandoned customs. Just before my arrival, a traditional ceremony for the initiation of navigators had been reconstructed and performed on the island, the place where the art of navigation is believed to have originated. And parents are beginning to select traditional names again for their babies. Another force that Pollapese understand as guiding their lives—and one that is not supposed to conflict with tradition—is the Catholic Church. Church-related activities are woven into the fabric of both ritual and everyday life on the island, and Pollapese are immensely proud of their Catholicism (Flinn 1990a). They were converted through the influence of a catechist from the Mortlocks, a group of islands southeast of Chuuk Lagoon; this happened in the late 1940s, which was later than for much of the rest of Micronesia. Established in 1948, the church on Pollap was first named St. Michael, had its named changed in 1957 to Sacred Heart, and was rebuilt again in 1985, retaining the Sacred Heart name.4 Today Pollapese are committed Catholics and see their religion as one of the forces governing and shaping their lives. Although the realm of chiefly authority persists, it has been supplanted in some contexts by the introduced religion in a process similar to that described by Comaroff and Comaroff (1986) in their analysis of the disjointing of politics and religion under missionary influence, with the chief’s domain of influence narrowing. Pollapese accept both chiefly and Christian authority, and they are pleased that a Pollap woman has even become a nun and that another young man studied for the priesthood. In the same vein, no longer is a foreign missionary responsible for Pollap; in fact, the priest responsible for the parish is a native of neighboring Polowat, just a few miles to the south. Although there is no resident priest on Pollap itself, some of the local islanders have been trained to hold prayer services and distribute communion. Sacraments such as baptism, marriage, confession, and first communion must wait for a visit from the priest, but other church leaders are quite active in his absence. Prayer services are held every morning, recitation of prayers associated with the rosary every afternoon, and other island events are typically scheduled before or after one of these daily occurrences. In other words, these church events even structure the day. Catholic holidays are occasions for community feasts, the four major ones being Easter, Christmas, New Year’s, and the Feast of the Immaculate Conception—this last more commonly referred to as “December 8.” Six major church organizations and a youth group keep islanders busy planning events, visiting

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the sick and elderly, and studying the Bible. However, Pollapese Catholicism is not all form or superficial. Central to a Pollapese system of meaning are commitments to generosity, caring for those less fortunate, respect for rank—in effect a wedding of indigenous and Catholic values. Pollapese view Catholicism as a force that has allowed them to nurture their good qualities and to resist those that have come to be defined as less desirable (Flinn 1990a). In other words, Catholicism has come to be an integral part of Pollapese identity, not an alien intrusion, despite its origin. According to Pollapese, the Mortlockese man responsible for converting them to Catholicism is also the one credited with promoting the celebrations of December 8, which, according to older women on the island, began in the early 1950s. In consultation with new church leaders at the time, the decision was made to celebrate the holiday with food offerings. Though perhaps not explicitly taken into account, this practice paralleled earlier indigenous rituals that involved food offerings to spirits. Men, for example, regularly contributed the best of a catch of fish as an offering. On a larger scale, however, a type of fair was held during which people brought an offering of food to a meetinghouse, where coconuts, taro, and fish—the bigger the better—were offered to spirits. For the occasion, people presented the very best of their harvest, especially taro. One or two leaders would then be responsible for calling out the names of the spirits for whom the food was designated. Taro offerings for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception in honor of Mary thus dovetailed with these older ceremonies. The December 8 events became an open contest or competition to determine who had grown the largest taro, with a focus, however, on honoring the day celebrating Mary, demonstrating women’s best work, and contemplating one’s spiritual life. The details have varied over the years, some celebrations having a more explicit contest, sometimes even with an awarded prize, and others a more muted competition. In fact, the theme of competition used to be much more evident than it is today, with its clear attempt to determine by measuring who had provided the largest taro corm. I was also told that the celebration had been scaled back for a while a few years ago because of concerns over the heavy work demanded of the women in cultivating and preparing the taro, the large amount of food involved, and the unequal ability among islanders to make the monetary offerings for the taro brought to the church. The celebrations were later resumed, though, in the wake of Typhoon Owen and its destruction of much of the island in 1990. Since Mary is believed to be able to protect the island from storms, many residents wanted to revive the more elaborate celebrations in her honor, thinking that perhaps the storm would not have come had they been honoring December 8 in the former grander style, and that perhaps they could prevent future



Introduction

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typhoons by reinstating the full tradition. Furthermore, women maintain that they actively wish to make an offering of both the taro and the hard work involved in growing it; they assert their exhaustion and their commitment as integral to their yasór ‘offering’ to Mary. Certainly the celebration I witnessed entailed considerable work and involved offerings of choice taro plants at the church as well as huge plates of cooked taro for the feast. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception is one of four holidays during the year for which the parish council has monies to sponsor a major feast. In 1998 all six church groups had been expected to contribute US$200 each, making it possible to spend US$300 for each of the four feast days of Easter, Christmas, New Year’s, and December 8. (The money can cover paying for items such as pigs grown on the island and/or flour, sugar, coffee, and other imported items brought in from the port town.) In other words, this feast that is so clearly associated with women and with Mary is not relegated to a set of lesser holidays but occurs in a category along with Christmas, New Year’s, and Easter. No one claims explicitly that it has equal importance, but the fact that it holds such prominence culturally is evidence of a high value placed on Mary and what she represents, including an emphasis on the value of women and their work, especially in their roles as nurturers of children, land, and taro, all of which are key community resources.

The Organization of the Book I first provide an overview of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on Pollap and an introduction to the imagery of Mary for the islanders. I discuss how her image is largely that of a mother, not a biologized mother but a productive one, one largely of strength rather than meekness, and one that promotes women’s ongoing contribution to the production of key island resources. Chapter 2 takes a closer look at the nature of women’s work on the island and the prominence of their productive activities. The work of women is constitutive of their identity as women; an individual demonstrates appropriate womanhood through appropriate productive and nurturing activities. In other words, womanhood is something one does rather than something one is. Women produce and tend key resources, especially staple foods and children, and these activities also define their motherhood. The key subsistence activity involves the production of taro, which carries not only practical nutritive value but strong symbolic significance as well. Thus Chapter 3 analyzes the various types of taro central to Pollap life, gardening practices associated with these major types, and symbolic uses associated with offerings of taro made in various cultural contexts. This life-giving resource produced by women has

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strong cultural value in addition to being essential to community survival, and the image of Mary continues to promote this role for women. The production and distribution of taro communicate messages related to values of nurturance, generosity, commitment to kin, and respect for community well-being and reputation. The fourth chapter investigates the roles of women in various domains, or institutions, perceived as governing Pollapese lives, and one of these domains is Catholicism. As a result of both missionary influence and the introduction of new political and economic institutions, especially on the part of Americans, Pollapese perceive three realms of governance: traditional chieftainship, the representative political system promoted by the United States, and the Catholic Church. They speak of tradition as governing certain aspects of community life, and the chief and clan elders play the public roles in defining guidelines for behavior. Women can negotiate influence in this arena with some indirect tactics at their disposal. The American-introduced system of government is a second domain, and although women vote, they do not hold and are not expected to hold, public positions. Ironically, however, it is in the domain of the introduced religion—androcentric and patriarchal Catholicism—that women have the most opportunities for public influence. In the midst of messages that keep women in bad marriages and focus on conjugal relationships and nuclear families rather than extended family ties, the area of religion nonetheless also provides women with opportunities outside the domain of tradition and the introduced government to shape and influence community life. Next follows a closer look at the activities of women associated with the church and the role of these activities and the church in everyday life during the course of the year. Included is an examination of issues raised at a churchsponsored workshop on roles of women at which islanders had an opportunity to articulate their views about women’s responsibilities. Following this discussion of church activities is a chapter devoted to the imagery of Mary herself and connections with Pollapese notions of motherhood. The concluding chapter then takes a look at the implications of this imagery of Mary and Pollapese notions of motherhood for women’s ongoing productive roles, especially in comparison with Western notions and with contexts in which women have been pulled or kept out of production. Pollapese notions of Mary in many respects dovetail with proposals advanced by some feminist theologians regarding ways to improve women’s status in Christianity.



Introduction

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CHAPTER 2

The Feast of the Immaculate Conception

For months the women of Pollap had been cultivating taro in the swampy interior gardens, hauling out leaves to enrich the soil, mounding up those leaves and mud to mulch and fertilize their gardens, and nurturing each plant in the hope of producing large, strong, tasty offerings for December 8, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and Mary’s special day. For weeks the women had invested time in planning the morning’s church service, the food for the afternoon’s feast, and the activities designed to provide entertainment for the feast. And for days they had been gathering to rehearse the various songs and skits scheduled for the event. Now the day itself, December 8, had finally arrived. I had waited for eighteen years. Women’s stories of the event had captivated me when I first heard of the celebration years earlier during a previous period of research on Pollap in 1980 and learned the details of their observances and their unique fashion of honoring Mary.1 I had listened attentively as women spoke with relish of their December 8 customs and explained how they competed to determine who would provide the biggest and best taro for the occasion. I had been intrigued to hear that at times there had even been a prize for the winner, and I listened as they described the huge dishes of taro they routinely prepared for the ensuing feast. In subsequent visits with Pollapese, I learned a few more snippets about their December 8 celebrations, which further whetted my curiosity and eagerness to actually witness and perhaps even participate in the event. From the women’s descriptions, the day’s activities certainly bore only a minimal resemblance to the Feast of the Immaculate Conception I had grown up with in the United States, as the Pollapese festival, in contrast to the one I was familiar with, involved a major community celebration and a lively competition, with taro as the basis both of the feast and of offerings for Mary. Yes, it was a holy day of obligation on Pollap as it was throughout much of the Catholic world, requiring attendance at Mass,2 and it celebrated the Immaculate Conception, but there the resemblance with the U.S. obser-

18

vance ended. At home, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception never compared with Christmas, Easter, or New Year’s, and in my experience growing up Catholic, did not involve any party or celebration other than attending Mass. For Pollapese, however, especially for women, this particular holy day in honor of Mary rivals other feast days in popular practice. Although no islander would ever claim that Mary or her feast possesses equal status with Jesus or with other holy days, nonetheless the zeal, energy, and passion of the women surrounding this celebration demonstrate a significant commitment to Mary. According to Catholic tradition, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception celebrates Mary being free from original sin from the very moment of her conception. A Catholic encyclopedia (Holweck 1910) explains that, after centuries of contention, “In the Constitution Ineffabilis Deus of 8 December, 1854 Pius IX pronounced and defined that the Blessed Virgin Mary, ‘in the first instance of her conception, by a singular privilege and grace granted by God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the human race, was preserved exempt from all stain of original sin.’” Church doctrine is quite specific about the notion of Mary’s conception and manages to distance her Immaculate Conception somewhat from the sexual activity of her parents, though without asserting a virgin birth: “The term conception does not mean the active or generative conception by her parents. Her body was formed in the womb of the mother, and the father had the usual share in its formation. The question does not concern the immaculateness of the generative activity of her parents. . . . The person is truly conceived when the soul is created and infused into the body. Mary was preserved exempt from all stain of original sin at the first moment of her animation, and sanctifying grace was given to her before sin could have taken effect in her soul” (Holweck 1910). These theological intricacies are not what appeal to the Pollapese, however, whose focus is on much broader imagery of Mary rather than on the technical meaning of the December 8 celebration. None of the official readings for the church service explicitly mentioned the Immaculate Conception (although passages for that day from Genesis and Luke have been interpreted by theologians as evidence for it). With the exception of a single line in one hymn, none of the Pollapese discussions surrounding the feast, or the hymns, songs, or skits prepared for the celebration, included the particulars of Mary being conceived free of original sin. In fact, like many lay Catholics around the world, some people suggested that the conception in question involved the conception of Jesus; after all, the day’s gospel reading was about the angel Gabriel visiting Mary to announce Jesus’ conception. In addition, Mary’s virginity was not highlighted in the sermon or discussions. Her virginity is not ignored or discounted, but for Pollapese, Mary is a provider, a mother, and an enemy of Satan, and it is in these respects that she is honored on December 8.



The Feast of the Immaculate Conception

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As December approached, Pollapese women delighted in discussing with me their anticipated celebration and their offerings, explaining that Mary furnishes them with taro and supports its growth, which is why they believe they should proffer taro offerings on her feast day. At least in terms of effort, planning, and festive atmosphere, this holy day rivals Christmas, New Year’s, and Easter, and I was pleased to finally have a chance to witness the events. As they unfolded, I realized that they wove together a tapestry of womanhood on today’s Pollap, with threads about women’s work, the position of Mary in their lives, the relative roles of the church and tradition and government, opportunities for self-expression and for influence, and ways of demonstrating or enacting womanhood. Women’s work on the atoll revolves around producing and nurturing food and children, the community’s two key resources. These activities also define women as mothers, and Mary in her role as mother—as exemplar nurturer—provides a model for Pollapese women. In fact, it is the image of Mary as “mother” rather than Mary as “virgin” that strikes a chord with these women, and it is Mary as an active foe of Satan rather than a passive handmaiden who resonates with them. Furthermore, on Pollap women are quite active in church affairs, and being “strong in religion” was explicitly cited as a part of women’s work in my interviews. This domain of religion allows women opportunities to be heard, to take part in making some important decisions, to express creativity, and to influence the views and behavior of others. Finally, in many respects, celebrating the Feast of the Immaculate Conception not only honors Mary but celebrates womanhood on Pollap and asserts that women play essential roles in production and other aspects of community life.

Preparation In preparing for December 8, the parish council, which consists of both men and women, began in November discussing and planning an essential part of the festivities: the food that would be provided for the feast. A few members of the council were initially somewhat unsure about whether or not it was indeed their council that should be making the decisions about food. Was that not perhaps the responsibility of the traditional council rather than the church council? Did it not belong in the sphere of tradition rather than religion? These questions arose because Pollapese are scrupulously careful about which domain has which particular rights and responsibilities. Eventually, however, someone at the meeting pointed out that an elder of the chiefly clan was present, thus covering the traditional domain, so the participants resolved to continue with their discussions, satisfied with the appropriateness of their actions.

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Considering how often Pollapese contend that at least according to tradition women should remain silent in public meetings, I was somewhat surprised to notice at these meetings that it seemed perfectly acceptable for women to voice their views and for other members of the council, including men, to listen. Women readily presented their suggestions, which were then discussed among the council members and voted on. Sometimes a woman’s view carried, sometimes not, but the decision appeared to be independent of gender. Parish council meetings were clearly a venue in which women were expected to participate and in which they could exert influence. In fact, a couple of the key issues surrounding the upcoming December 8 celebrations were first presented by a woman. This woman, whom I will call Harriet, though a member of the chiefly clan, was on the council not in that capacity but because of her role as president of one of the six church groups, each of which has representation on the council. At one of the meetings when food for the feast was being discussed, Harriet proposed that each homestead, rather than each individual woman, provide a plate of food for the feast, and that each of the three villages provide five additional dishes. She emphasized homestead over individual contributions out of concern that a dish per woman would be overly burdensome. She also suggested that each homestead provide a dish of Colocasia taro only if it could, that other dishes should be acceptable, and that each village should decide for itself about their five additional contributions. She stressed that the council should not insist on the homestead dishes all being Colocasia taro, as that, too, might be a hardship for some. In other words, a key economic activity directly affecting women was successfully shaped by a woman. Granted, being chiefly is an asset in such contexts, but it is not necessary; I eventually observed other instances in which proposals from nonchiefly women were presented, discussed, and also accepted. From time to time Harriet, in her capacity as a chiefly woman, held meetings with women of the island to discuss additional arrangements and details for the upcoming celebration. A number of these issues had to do with the morning church service; eventually they decided that selected representatives from three of the church organizations would carry special taro offerings during the church service, and a representative of a young women’s organization would provide flowers. For three specific prayers, three women would come forward to the front of the church, although normally only men did so, and each of the three church organizations would decide which particular women would represent them for these prayers. Harriet also ensured that women understood the decisions made by the council about food for the feast, reassuring them that, although Colocasia taro was preferred since the event was on December 8, it was not necessary. Cyr-



The Feast of the Immaculate Conception

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tosperma swamp taro would be an acceptable alternative; this latter type of taro is easier to grow and far more plentiful, and thus less burdensome for women to contribute to the feast. She particularly encouraged women who were providing the prestigious Colocasia taro dish as a village contribution to prepare swamp taro as their household contribution. She also wanted to settle the details for the village contributions, the five dishes from each of the three villages. She asked volunteers to prepare their taro in particular ways so that a variety would be available and thus enhance the feast: two plates of taro cooked as chunks in coconut cream, two with the chunks mashed with the cream, and one pounded with coconut cream added as a sauce. The women then decided on the remainder of the dishes, making sure they would have plates of swamp taro, breadfruit, and bananas, also prepared in a variety of ways. In other words, this feast for Mary the Mother of God deserved their very best. A large quantity of food, a variety of dishes, and special care taken in preparing them were essential. Women even agreed to bring their largest plates—explicitly called “December 8 plates”—rather than small or even regular ones. In their separate church groups, Pollapese soon began rehearsing their songs both for the church service and for the competition planned for the afternoon feast on December 8. The church group I had joined was responsible for two particular hymns in church as well as two competition songs during the feast. Although this particular church organization consisted of both men and women, those rehearsing were primarily women, with a few men occasionally joining in. Every now and then someone wrote down words to one of the hymns, but for the most part participants relied primarily on singing the verses many times, over and over, in order to learn them. The singers routinely deferred to the older women when deciding on what the correct words were supposed to be. I was particularly impressed with the four-part harmony and how they kept together completely unaccompanied. On Sunday December 6, just two days before the holiday, the community met to finalize details. Sunday is ordinarily a popular day for meetings, since no one is supposed to be working. Ideally, such meetings should be focused on church issues, but that was not invariably the case—sometimes to the consternation of church leaders. December 8 preparations, however, were nonproblematic, as these were church-related. At this meeting on the sixth, women took advantage of a tactic they have at their disposal to influence events and shape public opinion that seems to be of long standing and applicable in a wide array of settings. This particular tactic—a taunting song and seated dance—is one more readily initiated by older women rather than junior women. At the meeting, a few of the older women started singing a song other women rapidly

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joined in on, a song that involved teasing, even challenging, the men to provide them with some special fish for the December 8 feast. Clearly not an order or even rude impertinence, it was nonetheless a challenge the men would not readily ignore.

December 7 Unfortunately, on Monday the seventh, when men were scheduled to go out fishing for the December 8 feast and women to harvest their taro, the day dawned cloudy and stormy, thus preventing good fishing. As a result the whole community ended up disappointed by the dearth of fish, and last-minute, alternate arrangements were made for a pig to be slaughtered instead. The weather put no damper on the women’s preparations, however, as they gaily marched out to their gardens. Even before heading out to harvest her own offerings, one of the women in our household was busy cutting up a seemingly endless supply of taro previously brought back from the gardens. Harriet explained that this was in preparation for later cooking, to help speed things up so that they could cook when they returned later that day from the taro gardens. The taro being prepared was for the feast, she explained, and now they were preparing to harvest the taro that would be presented as offerings to Mary. Ideally, there was to be one plant offering for each individual Pollapese, including those off-island at the time, thus demonstrating a serious commitment to honoring Mary. Furthermore, a number of people had made monetary donations for the taro offerings, which provided additional income for the church. Since the entire taro plant was harvested and conveyed to the church, the taro offerings could provide both immediate and future food for those who made donations, as one can cut off most of the corm and then cultivate another plant from what remains. Before heading out to the gardens to harvest their offerings on the morning of December 7, many of the women first assembled at the public meetinghouse. This is a large structure with a thatched roof and open sides in the center of the settlement area, near other public buildings such as the municipal office, elementary school, and church. By the time I arrived with Harriet, a couple of the more outgoing and playful women, all in their forties or fifties, had started dancing and teasing the others who had arrived. Younger women, at least publicly, usually have to show more deference and decorum. One of the teasing women led others around the church, which lies beside the meetinghouse; some carried their machetes, and some waved flags in the form of cloth tied to



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sticks, as they continued their singing and good-natured taunting. Bearing baskets and machetes, we eventually all headed down the main path of the island out toward the gardens to harvest the prize taro offerings. The lines of teasing competition seemed to lie primarily among the three lay church organizations that have female members: Selatora, Mwiir´en Maria, and Mwiir´en Asor. Selatora and Selator are primarily older women and men; Mwiir´en Maria is a local Legion of Mary and exclusively female, and Mwiir´en Asor (yasór means ‘offering’) includes both men and women.3 One of the teasing songs the women performed as they paraded down the path was directed at the Selatora, the group that Harriet headed and that I had joined. It went as follows: Open up, open up your bag! We will see how meaty, how meaty, How meaty is the taro. Whose is it? Whose is it? The one belonging to Selatora— It is all dried out!

In the absence of men (though a fringe of curious children tagged along), the women sang, danced, teased, romped, and in general let loose. One elderly woman playfully charged the line of women with a machete, prompting peals of laughter. In an open field near the woods and gardens, some of the older women danced exuberantly, celebrating their femininity and teasing the others. I saw sexual gestures and references not used in the presence of men. A few examples of the songs will provide a feel for the tone of their fun. One is common to many types of competitions : We’re ready to start! We want to see how good you are! It’s already getting late, And we’re ready to get going.

Another made reference to women’s strength: The fire cannot be put out. That is how strong we are— As strong as fire that cannot be put out.

Another in the same vein specifically referenced gardening:

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Women have died from working taro From pulling it up, from cutting it, from working the soil From using all of their strength.

In other words, “We are strong. You are not strong; you are the ones likely to die from all the hard work.” In a clearing in the forest outside the gardens, women paused to prepare for entering the swamp. Any who needed baskets wove them right on the spot from a coconut frond. Out of view of any brothers, several women changed out of lavalavas or skirts into pants to help protect their legs. Modesty normally requires women to cover and avoid showing any separation between their thighs (hence the normal prohibition against shorts or pants), a custom that is particularly incumbent on women in the presence of classificatory brothers. All the women entering the gardens made sure they donned shirts and a cloth to cover their heads as protection against the sun before venturing out. Finally they took off flip-flops in order to sludge through the rich swampy muck out to their own gardens and plants. In the gardens, where taro grows higher than people, Harriet and many others dug up their taro and then let out a mighty, triumphant, “Wayooooh!” Women bragged about their taro, characterizing their best plants as pakútang ‘dynamite’ and asserting that other women would therefore be mehak ‘afraid’ of the huge rival taro. When women carried their plants out of the gardens, they did so by hauling entire plants carried in baskets on their heads. Once back in the dry clearing, they lined up their taro and eyed the collected plants to compare which were the best and had the largest corms (see Figure 2.1). I had never realized how many different varieties there were; the plants laid side by side on the ground displayed an amazing variety of hues, the stems in all shades of green from light to dark as well as pink and red and purple. Women gathered into their three church groups for more merriment, but eventually, later in the afternoon, they had to return to the work of preparing food for the next day. In addition to the plates of taro and special village dishes being prepared for the feast, some women were assigned to make doughnuts, eventually making about 1,800 of the popular treats. Monies collected from the various church organizations had been used to buy flour, sugar, and grease for these extra delicacies at the feast.

December 8 People began assembling in the church on Tuesday morning, December 8, earlier than normal for regular morning prayer services. Outside the church



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Figure 2.1╇ Taro harvested for December 8

lay piles of taro plants—whole plants complete with corm, stem, and leaves— stacked around the church, some on the ground, some in wheelbarrows. Several women and children entered the church, while others, especially men, remained outside. In addition to the early arrival and the taro outside, there were other signs that this was no ordinary service. People sat together according to church group rather than gender, and most people wore special colors for the day, or what they called a “uniform.” I had been told that blue, a color particularly associated with Mary, was the uniform if possible, though white would also be acceptable. In fact, all those involved in the church service itself wore white. These people included the male lay church leader, two male readers, and a couple of altar boys, all of whom wore white loincloths, some with decorative fringing. The women designated to proffer the taro plants as offerings, as well as the women slated to compose and speak the special prayers, also wore white. These uniforms play a role in contributing to a highly valued sense of beauty for ceremonial occasions. So, too, do decorations in the church, and for December 8, taro was clearly the main decorative theme. The statue of Mary, situated in its usual place in front of the church on the left, the women’s side, was heavily decorated with flowers, taro leaves, and gold foil ornaments. Huge taro stems and leaves mixed with flowers adorned the front of the church and the altar.

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Those parishioners who were already seated inside the church eventually started singing a hymn, one that had been composed years ago by a Pollapese church leader; this hymn asked for Mary’s assistance, love, and care. Soon after beginning the song, people exited the church in order to carry in the plants lying outside. Women along with a number of children and a few men picked up one or more entire plants, brought them into the church, and ceremoniously carried them down the aisle, across the front of the church, back up the sides, and then placed them carefully in the rear of the church. The first reading of the service for December 8 was from Genesis 3:9– 15, 20. In this passage, after Eve tells God about the serpent tricking her into eating from the tree, God speaks to the serpent. In verse 15 he says, “I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel.” This image has been interpreted by the Catholic Church as a prophecy of Mary’s future role as the Second Eve who would triumph over Satan, and it is one of two passages from the Bible used by theologians as evidence for Mary’s Immaculate Conception. The argument asserts that, since Mary was free of Satan’s power, and since there was enmity between the two of them, there had to have been a “continual union of Mary with grace” (Holweck 1910), and Mary therefore had to have been totally free of sin. This includes freedom from original sin, and from the moment of her conception. The passage from Genesis is said to contain “a direct promise of the Redeemer, and in conjunction therewith the manifestation of the masterpiece of His Redemption, the perfect preservation of His virginal Mother from original sin” (Holweck 1910). Mary stepping on the head of the devil is a prominent image in the songs and festivities celebrating the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on Pollap and a striking one that the Pollapese women find appealing. In fact, a typical sentiment seems to be “People like Mary because she ran Satan off; she stomped on him,” to use the words of one informant. It is this they emphasize rather than the conception of Mary free of original sin. The gospel reading that morning recounted the story of the angel Gabriel greeting Mary (Luke 1:26–28, Conference of Catholic Bishops 1998): The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.



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He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

This is the second passage from the Bible used by theologians as evidence for the Immaculate Conception, primarily because of the greeting “Hail, full of grace!” This salutation is said to indicate “a unique abundance of grace, a supernatural, godlike state of soul, which finds its explanation only in the Immaculate Conception of Mary” (Holweck 1910). The Pollapese focus, however, is not on the Immaculate Conception per se, but on Mary becoming a mother. Following the Gospel, the catechist during the sermon discussed two impossible (and therefore miraculous) events recounted in the reading: Mary becoming pregnant as a virgin and Elizabeth becoming pregnant as an elderly woman. At one point during the sermon, Mary’s pregnancy as a virgin was highlighted rather than Mary’s own conception free of original sin; in fact, the belief that Mary herself was conceived without the stain of original sin was not explicitly discussed in the sermon. These are not the aspects of Mary that the islanders find most meaningful. Instead, Pollapese focus on her propensity for caring for her people as a good mother and the strength that lies behind that ability, including her ability to be free of Satan’s temptations. Further, although Mary’s virginity was mentioned in the sermon, it was primarily in connection with the miracle of her pregnancy and impending childbirth; the sermon did not proceed to outline virginity as an explicit model for young women to follow. A second point mentioned in the sermon concerned the phrase nawún hamwol reekkiné ‘servant of the chief,’ the translation of “handmaid of the Lord.” This expression was not used to exhort women to be meek and mild, however. Rather, everyone is expected to attend to God’s wishes. In everyday life in the Pollapese community—aside from what religion preaches—everyone is supposed to defer to someone else of higher rank, particularly to senior siblings. The sermon ended with a call for all those present to apologize to Mary and beg her forgiveness for anything done to hurt her, because this was her

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special day. This comment was clearly not aimed solely at women, but at everyone, men and women, young and old, since Mary is mother to all. Women played unusually prominent roles in the service. During the offertory, six women dressed in white, two from each of the three church groups that include female members, carried two taro plants each and reverently placed them by the statue of Mary as their offerings. These were in addition to flower offerings and those normally made during Mass or a prayer service. Three women came forward for the prayers of the faithful portion of the service and offered three prayers: yóóteken amwusomwus ‘prayer of apology’ from a member of Mwiir´en Maria, then yóóteken kilissow ‘prayer of thanks’ from a member of Mwiir´en Asor, and finally yóóteken tingor ‘request prayer’ from a Selatora. Normally, these prayers are brief and consist of ‘requests’ only, and men are responsible for speaking them. December 8, however, featured women in conspicuous roles. It provided them with opportunities to compose and present prayers and thus with a chance to exhibit artistry, oratorical skill, and effective public speaking, all of which are traditionally valued. It was also an occasion for women to exert some influence; these prayer presentations are much longer, and more elaborate and eloquent, than those typically prepared for regular services. So although these opportunities are rare, they are nonetheless not inconsequential. The church was even a little more full than usual and somewhat noisy with all the children in attendance. If one grew too fussy, then a man, most likely the father, carried the child out of the church. Occasionally the official usher, a man, made sure that the children remained quiet, seated facing forward, and out of the aisles. Only the most obstreperous young ones were hauled outside. In general there was a sense of energy, and the noise of the children was only a part of it. The hymns were strong and vigorous; almost everyone had memorized the words, and they were able to sing in harmony and unaccompanied. In the absence of a priest, there was no communion service but a series of prayers instead, again all memorized and energetically recited. The hymns during the service were all in honor of Mary—and without a narrow focus on the technical notion of the Immaculate Conception itself. One of the songs narrated the story from the day’s gospel about the angel Gabriel visiting Mary, and two other hymns mentioned Mary treading on the head of Satan—the image of strength and power, of protecting and taking care of her children. This image seemed to hold special appeal and was even chosen as the key image of one of the skits performed later in the day at the feast. It is an image Pollapese associate with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception: a statue of Mary with a serpent under her foot is a rendering of Mary they explicitly label the “Immaculate Conception,” even though officially in the Catholic Church, this particular statue is otherwise known as “Our Lady of Grace.”



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Also emphasized in the hymns was Mary as Mother of God, mother of Jesus, and holy. The lone hymn that did specifically mention “Immaculate Conception” also included an emphasis on stepping on the serpent and on Mary as the Mother of God: Verse 1: Pope Pius IX proclaimed in the year 1854 on December eight Mary’s Day. Mary, Immaculate Conception, You were free of sin from your conception And original sin never reached you. Chorus: We know from the book of Genesis God said to the serpent “I will make anger, hostility between you and that woman. O, she will step down, step on your head!” Verse 2: It is important that we learn the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus We believe God couldn’t let Jesus be born of a sinful person That’s the meaning of Mary, the mother of God. Repeat chorus.

A serious, dignified tone permeated the vigor and energy of the church service, but this atmosphere changed when people exited the church. Sedateness turned to playfulness, as a number of women picked up the pace and rushed to grab some of the taro that had been placed in the back of the church. Outside, women held aloft their plants, corm side forward, and then thrust them back and forth at other groups of women as they danced and sang more teasing songs. One group paraded around the church, while two others engaged in a mock fight. I observed only women actively involved, no men. At full volume, women performed teasing, provoking songs, as they had the previous day. Soon enough there was a lull, however, as people returned home to gather together the food prepared for the party. Like most community functions, the feast was to take place in the meetinghouse. There a separate cheepel ‘table’ section was set up at one end of the structure and included an actual table and chairs but also an area on the ground where women who were invited to the ‘table’ could sit and therefore still show the appropriate deference to classificatory brothers by staying low. No one would be forward or arrogant enough to sit unbidden at either of the two ‘tables,’ however. Instead, everyone gradually

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just found places to sit on coconut fronds laid out on the floor of the meetinghouse, grouped primarily by lay church organization. Members of a young women’s group sat together with Selatora and Selator, the group I had joined. A man of about forty, active in the church, had been selected as emcee by the parish council, and after a prayer led by the catechist, this emcee proceeded to invite the ‘table’ guests forward to take their seats of honor. Since the day’s festivities inaugurated a new parish council, in addition to celebrating the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, its new members were the first to be called. A senior man from the chiefly clan and an elder from another clan were included at the ‘table,’ as were visitors to the island, including my husband and me. After more hymns, speeches, and food, the song and skit competitions began. Members of Selatora, Mwiir´en Maria, and Mwiir´en Asor, the three groups with adult women members, were the participants. A few male Selator and some members of a young women’s group participated with the Selatora women, and a few male members of Mwiir´en Asor joined the women of that group, but the large majority of the singers were women. The audience, however, consisted of the entire community, not just other women. First came the song competition, consisting of hymns celebrating Mary, some of which had been heard earlier in church that morning. Then followed the skits, but this time Selatora did not participate; although we had prepared a contribution, the leader of our group had been called away because of an illness, leaving the rest of the group reluctant to proceed without her. Mwiir´en Maria, the all-female group, performed first, with a narrator and four players. One woman was portrayed as humble and thus following Mary’s example as the Lord’s handmaid; the handmaid role had been featured in the church service that morning, but it is important to note that humility is also traditionally valued in a wide array of situations. In contrast to the humble character, a second woman was portrayed as arrogant, lazy, and mean, qualities that are devalued in Pollapese culture. Two other women, both about fifty years old, played two brothers: “Apilúkúlúk” and “Achiféwa” (Belief, Faith), who were married to the two women. To signify that she was ill, the humble wife lay down at the end of the open space that had been cleared for the skit. The arrogant woman was sent by the brothers to feed the sick one, but instead she tossed the food away once out of sight of the men, thus violating not just religious teachings but strong Pollapese cultural norms about caring for those in need. Ignorant of what had happened, the brothers proceeded to venture out fishing—an activity the two actresses hammed up with oversized gestures and comic sound effects. They simulated paddling a canoe, building a fire, and cooking. They then sent the healthy woman out once again with food for the



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ailing wife, but again the lazy woman tossed away the food. Still unaware of the problem, the men once again went fishing, expecting the healthy wife to prepare food for their return. Instead, however, she urged the sick woman to get up out of bed and forced her to work. She pushed her around, shoved her, hit her, and compelled her to do all the work, thus resulting in the sick woman’s death. Then, when the brothers returned and the husband of the humble woman asked for his wife, the malicious woman lied by claiming that the sick woman had simply gone to bathe. Eventually the second man pointed out to his brother that his wife was most likely dead. At that point, the actress playing the role of the widower demonstrated her ample comedic talents and mined the situation for laughter. She moved to the far end of the meetinghouse, extracted from a bag a huge stuffed bear to represent the dead wife, simulated tears, and started wailing over the “body.” She drew out a woven skirt and beaded belt to dress the “body” and then displayed a picture she cried over. The players milked the skit for laughs, exploiting every opportunity with the details of the story to draw it out. They mimed fanning a fire to keep it going, they added sound effects for the paddling of the canoe, they slowly and carefully carried the “body,” and the “widower” often renewed her wailing. Eventually, when the laughter quieted down a bit, the narrator had a chance to point out the moral of the story and contend that, presumably, the difference in behavior between the two women was obvious. The narrator admonished everyone to take care of each other and reminded the listeners that Mary loves and cares for everyone. The point of the story was almost buried in the broad performances of the two older women who played the two brothers. But this was clearly an opportunity for women to express themselves, explore their creativity, and make a statement to the entire community. The skit was prepared and performed by women but presented to the entire community, not just other women. The second skit involved both men and women who were members of Mwiir´en Asor, a mixed-gender church group. A woman acted as emcee as others reenacted the story of Adam and Eve and the passage from Genesis in which Mary steps on the serpent, the segment that has been interpreted as predicting Mary as the Second Eve, victorious over the devil, and free of original sin. In the skit, the actors were banished from heaven after being given locally made coconut-frond skirts. The audience howled gleefully when Satan wiggled a tree to tempt Eve with the “apple” in the form of a doughnut propped on a branch of a tree outside the meetinghouse, and they laughed even harder when they spied Mary approaching the scene, perhaps because they anticipated what was coming and eagerly awaited Satan’s demise. Women played the roles of Eve and Mary, and men played the roles of God, Satan, and Adam. The party concluded in time for the afternoon recitation of the rosary, and

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those who had promised monetary offerings for taro proceeded to cart away the plants piled beside the church. Apparently there were not enough plants for all those who had offered money, but no one appeared to be perturbed. It seemed to be a simple matter of figuring out who had made the first offers and encouraging them to take the taro. Thus the day ended calmly, and everyone had food left from the feast to take home with them and stories to recount about the events of day, especially the details of the skits and the antics of its actors.

Mary: Mother, Protector, Provider, and Devil Stomper Although technically a celebration of Mary’s conception without the stain of original sin, this Pollapese event honors Mary in many more ways, including Mary as mother, as provider of food, as victor over temptation, and as protector from storms. This is not to say that virginity, docility, meekness, gentleness, or other such characteristics often associated with Mary are denied or rejected. In contexts other than that of December 8, I heard Mary described as méhónóhón ‘humble,’ especially in the sense of being deferential. But I also heard Jesus described in similar terms, and in sermons both men and women were exhorted to be ‘humble.’ This is consistent with local values, because in general Pollapese have traditionally been expected to exhibit respect for senior siblings and others of higher rank, such as members of the chiefly clan. Rather than emphasizing docility, however, December 8 imagery for Pollapese focuses on Mary as the woman who stepped on the head of the serpent, the woman who ensures a good taro harvest, the woman who protects them from storms (at least if they continue to honor her), and the woman who is not only the mother of God but a mother to all of humanity. Motherhood is in many respects inseparable from being an adult woman on Pollap; even barren women are mothers through adoption. And Mary as mother far more than Mary as virgin is the role model for Pollapese women. Though aware of Mary as virgin, Pollapese stress her motherhood. In the Western Christian tradition, this motherly aspect of womanhood was connected with biological processes and therefore was not spiritually valued (Ruether 1977:17). This emphasis on female virginity and purity appears to have been widespread among agrarian states, and not confined solely to Christianity (Ortner 1978). Mary as a mother is obviously an element in the Western Catholic tradition, but Mary the virgin has nonetheless always had a special emphasis. According to this tradition, not only did Mary conceive and bear Jesus as a virgin, but she also remained perpetually virgin, even through conception, birth, and wifehood. Especially in popular religion, however, even among European women, Mary as mother provided a valued role model: “By her experiences she



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made real a religious alternative to the cloistered life of the nun. Like Mary, a young woman could marry, bear, and nurture a child, live as a wife and mother” (Anderson and Zinsser 1988:217). Mary as mother has its own Pollapese slant, however, because of Pollapese notions of women, work, and motherhood. Pollapese mothers are not idealized as staying in the home and devoting themselves to taking care of children—at least not in the traditional Western sense. The image is certainly not that of a housewife, freed from outside work and devoted solely to care of a house and children. In fact, in order to care for children, women on Pollap must cultivate the staple foods and produce essential material goods. A mother is a provider, a breadwinner, a producer of goods, not a housewife. In fact, in this matrilineal, uxorilocal society, women produce, nurture, and sustain the two primary requirements for any society: children and food. They are responsible for land, horticulture, and children, and thus provide for the permanence and continuity of the descent group (Flinn 1986). Honoring Mary in her capacity as a mother—not just the Mother of God but also mother to humanity—also places value on the Pollapese woman. Mary is perceived as a strong, capable woman, as mothers should be for Pollapese. Here the passage from Genesis is relevant. In the Western tradition, it has been interpreted as Mary being the Second Eve (Pelikan 1996:26–27, 39–52; Ruether 1977: 53–54.) The first Eve succumbed to temptation, whereas the Second Eve defeated the devil. In the same vein, Mary became “Woman of Valor,” a defender and leader (Pelikan 1996:91), and “Star of the Sea,” an image that clearly resonates with Pollapese, both male and female, with their seafaring heritage. These aspects of the Western roots of Mary are the ones that have held most appeal for Pollapese. For Pollapese, who invest motherhood with notions of strength, the Western tradition in which virginity implies strength through purity and holiness (Warner 1976:72) makes little sense. All adult women are mothers, and until the notion of a Catholic nun was introduced, never had a woman been expected to remain a virgin for life. All women married and in one way or another had children. Furthermore, it is as mothers—not as girls or as virgins—that women exhibit their strength. Thus it makes sense to Pollapese that Mary as Mother, not Virgin, is the Mary who triumphs over evil, protects her children from storms, and oversees the work of nature that ultimately provides islanders with food. Looking to Mary as provider and nurturer is certainly not unique to Pollap; in many parts of the Western world, for example, Mary was connected with some sort of earth mother, nurturing people, crops, and animals, and providing protection from storms (Ruether 1977:59). For many peoples of the world, including Pollapese, Mary is more approachable than Jesus; she cares about,

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understands, and assists with everyday problems, and she can also ensure good harvests, healthy children, and shelter from danger. In popular European Catholicism, she became in some respects a substitute mother goddess (Ruether 1977:60), and on Pollap, in a place where female spirits and goddesses have been active among male ones, Mary seems to hold a similar appeal. Considering women’s responsibility for taro production, the central role of taro in the diet, and Mary’s role as provider, it is not surprising, then, for Pollapese to believe that she would be willing to help ensure a good harvest and therefore should be honored with a feast and offerings of taro. This image of Mary makes sense within the Pollapese cultural tradition. Furthermore, it places value on the roles women play in Pollapese society and affirms some core indigenous values. This type of marriage of Christianity with indigenous values, beliefs, and concerns seems to contribute to the vitality of the religion in the Pacific (e.g., Barker 1990; Smith 2002), though the resulting belief systems clearly vary. Celebrating the feast in honor of Mary implicitly also celebrates Pollapese womanhood. This womanhood is not a state of being, however, but is evidenced through what women do, through their behavior and their work, and is linked to kinship. Women are mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, and it is difficult to unravel the notion of being a woman from being a kinswoman. Being a mother or a sister or a daughter or a wife—being kin in general—is something one demonstrates through one’s behavior. In describing kinship in Chuuk (formerly Truk), Marshall explains that “Trukese kinsmen are those who share such things as land, food, labor, residence, support, and (not necessarily) genetic substance and who choose mutually to acknowledge each other as kin. In the Trukese view, those who nurture one another through acts of sharing validate their natural kinship or become created kinsmen as a consequence of these nurturant acts. . . . For Trukese, then, kinship is ‘active’—it must be sustained by continuing nurturant behaviors” (Marshall 1977:650–651). Pollap is a part of this tradition in which kinship is demonstrated, and it is through behaving as good kin that one shows one is a good person (Flinn 1992:45–71). Through the work that women carry out on the island—work that includes cultivating and preparing food, nurturing kin, weaving valued mats, showing deference to senior kin—they enact womanhood. And this womanhood is celebrated on December 8. All this is true despite the fact that Christianity, like the other major world religions, is patriarchal, male-dominated, and androcentric (see, for example, Holm 1994; King 1995; Kurtz 1995:228–234; McGuire 1997:120–139; Swatos 1994). Catholicism in particular involves a hierarchy of formal leadership lodged in the hands of men. Nonetheless, to examine only sacred texts and official hierarchies is to neglect the lived experiences, activities, and efforts of



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women. This is even aside from the efforts of feminist theologians to reinterpret Christianity. In other words, it is essential to attend to how women practice, interpret, experience, and even shape their Catholicism (e.g., Dillon 1999; Watling 2002). It is not just the Vatican, church leaders, and texts that define Catholicism or what it means to be Catholic in one’s everyday life. Women can negotiate leadership roles and enact their leadership in nonhierarchical, nonauthoritative styles.4 Certainly Pollapese women are fulfilling leadership roles, at least through their membership on the parish council and through the various church organizations. Women also play roles in shaping beliefs and practices themselves. Through religion, Pollapese women, both publicly and privately and in a multitude of settings, have opportunities to elucidate their views and to affect the beliefs and practices of others. Their shaping of Mary is one that in effect places value on being female and on women’s productive work.

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Chapter 3

A Woman’s Place Is in the Garden

Gender ideology on Pollap associates women with land and men with the sea. In a concrete sense, this means that women garden and men fish, but on a more abstract level, it signifies that women are associated with stability and men with mobility. At times, Pollapese even explicitly contend that “women should die on land; men should die at sea.” To support and exemplify these statements, islanders most often point to the realm of subsistence activities, in which women are expected to cultivate and prepare the staple foods, especially taro, and men are expected to fish. Although there are a few men who from time to time cultivate some taro, and women certainly participate in fishing activities, in ideological terms women are nonetheless associated with the land and cultivating taro, men with the sea and fishing.1 However, aside from this ideological realm and the obvious fact that women do indeed spend much of their time in the gardens cultivating taro, what are the women’s own views about their responsibilities? And how does their work contribute to the social construction of womanhood? Women’s subsistence work is clearly one component in the Pollapese definition of what it means to be a woman. Even though the islanders are increasingly becoming connected to the world market, horticulture and fishing nonetheless remain central to the atoll economy, and as in many other horticultural societies, on Pollap women play significant roles in production. Although men do most of the fishing, women forage for octopus and other marine fauna on the reef, and they carry out almost all of the gardening, especially taro cultivation. By so doing, they nurture and produce the staple foods that provide sustenance for the community. In general, much of what it means to be a woman on Pollap revolves around what women do as they carry out their responsibilities to provide for their children, the sick and elderly, husbands, brothers, other kin, and even visitors. Furthermore, “the domain of work is more than material transformation of resources and of the social relations involved in economic transactions. Work is linked to notions of identity and personhood and

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to relations of differential control and privileges” (Tiffany 1984:8). What it means to be a Pollap woman—including a Pollap mother—is revealed through a woman’s work, and it is through her work that she enacts and demonstrates womanhood. Looked at objectively, much of women’s work appears to be obvious: they cultivate taro, gather marine resources, prepare food, weave mats, and care for children. But what is the nature of their work from their own perspective? What exactly do women see themselves as responsible for? How do they view the cultural domain of women’s work on Pollap? The details will obviously vary from woman to woman, but what is the aggregate picture? Which aspects of what women do are most significant or most central to their identity? I pursued these questions during the course of my research conducted through a variety of structured interview procedures.2 First, I asked a number of women for free listings of women’s work in order to elicit their own terms for their responsibilities and to accrue a list of them for further analysis. These free listings were intended as the first step toward building an aggregate picture of how women view this particular domain and how they talk about it, but another purpose was to generate a list of the more salient aspects of women’s work to use in other interviews. With that list, I then proceeded to ask women to sort the various aspects of their work for me, grouping similar items together and separating dissimilar items. I also asked them to rate the items on a oneto-four scale according to the importance of the item for taking care of people. To assist in the analysis of the data, I used ANTHROPAC software (Borgatti 1993a). This process allowed the judgment about salience and the resulting aggregate perspectives to be based on systematic data collection and analysis rather than being limited to my subjective understandings from listening to women talk and watching them work. The use of these structured methods and ANTHROPAC software ensured that the results derived both from the data and from the women themselves.

Free Listings I asked twenty women to provide a list of activities they deemed to be women’s work.3 I imposed no limit on how many items women could provide in their lists and gave no details other than a request to list for me the activities they considered to be women’s work. Some women provided me with extensive comments on each item they named, giving me careful explanations, and some participants even included lists of the stages involved in completing a particular task, such as the steps in constructing a mat. Other women were much more concise and simply named a list of tasks. I made a point of talking with women

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from various households around the island as well as those of different ages and statuses. These included single and married women; childless women as well as mothers, grandmothers, and a great-grandmother; and women with no formal education as well as women with education ranging from elementary school to high school, and even some college. In most cases, I interviewed an individual woman, but occasionally several women in a household participated at the same time. Every now and then when one woman provided most of the items, she nonetheless asked another woman who entered during the interview to help out. After interviewing about ten or eleven women, I discovered that I was no longer acquiring much new information, as the same items kept recurring. Thus after twenty interviews I was quite confident that I had a stable list of the most salient items connected with women’s work and could proceed to the next stage. Using my own ethnographic knowledge, observations, interviews with women, and a few trial pile-sort exercises, I was then able to construct a list of fifty-four items from the free listings.4 I entered the fifty-four items and used the free-list program with ANTHROPAC to help analyze the results and assess the relative salience of those items. Salience in this program is calculated as a function of how often an item occurs (how many respondents mention the item in their lists) and how high it appears on a respondent’s list.5 An activity mentioned by every woman and as the first item on each woman’s list would therefore have a salience of 1.00. The program also calculates average rank, which is a measure of where, on average, an item appears on respondent lists. If everyone mentioned a particular activity as the second one on their lists, for example, the average rank for that item would be 2.00. In order of frequency (the number of women’s lists that included a particular activity), the results of the analysis of the Pollap women’s free listings are listed in Table 1 in the Appendix. This clearly indicates that the one aspect of women’s work mentioned by all women and showing the highest salience was ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens.’ Its average rank was 1.65 and its salience was 0.946. The two next-highest salient items were fawufaw heki ‘plait mats’ and féér mwéngé ‘make food.’ These three tasks all had a salience above 0.50. Interestingly enough, one item mentioned seventeen times and with the seventh-highest salience is an activity women no longer engage in, namely, féér téér ‘make lavalavas.’ With an average rank of about eleven on women’s lists, it was not what most immediately came to mind, but it was nonetheless mentioned by most of the women I spoke with, hence the relatively high salience. This is probably because weaving lavalavas is an activity that is still closely associated with women’s identity, and it involves a type of knowledge and skill they speak of with pride. In fact, at a workshop about women and



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their roles, both men and women commented—almost lamented, in fact—that this weaving was no longer being practiced. The women tended to blame the men for the loss, contending that men had not constructed any looms or the necessary parts of a loom for them, and the men tended to fault the women, saying the women were too lazy to weave because today it is so much easier to use store-bought fabric instead. One can simply buy a few yards of fabric and then wrap it as a lavalava or loincloth; no sewing is necessary. Woven lavalavas are still highly valued for occasions such as dancing, however. A few women still possess the knowledge of how to prepare the hibiscus fibers and to weave cloth, and most agree that ideally women should know how to actually use the back-strap loom for weaving cloth. Currently the knowledge is still alive, and this was evidenced by the fact that weaving was one of the traditional activities selected as a demonstration for a group of tourists that visited the island in 1999. Taking care of children, a task most Western women would presumably associate with “women’s work,” did not appear very high on the Pollapese list and was mentioned even less often than the no-longer-practiced weaving of lavalavas. Seven out of the twenty women failed to mention it at all. This may be because women do not conceive of caring for children as a specific, discrete task. Certainly cultivating taro, making mats, preparing food, and cleaning all had higher salience. Furthermore, these activities may also be construed as components of caring for kin, including one’s children, thus obviating the need to mention taking care of children as a separate, explicit task. Of the fifty-four items on the final list, forty-six were mentioned by at least two of the twenty women interviewed. The remaining eight items had been mentioned only once and appeared very low on any woman’s list, and all eight were in one way or another subsumed in other activities women had mentioned.6 Since I wanted to limit the number of activities for the next set of questions to a manageable number, I decided to proceed with only those fortysix items.

Pile Sorts I asked twenty-six women in the community to participate in this second stage. Some of the women had previously participated in the free-listing activity, but others had not. For this next phase, I asked women to sort the forty-six activities into piles of similar items. Again I worked with a range of women in terms of age, education, marital status, and residence. In most cases, I talked with an individual woman, but in a few instances spectators provided additional input. At times, it was just not possible or culturally appropriate to insist that a

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woman work completely alone. Even when more than one person contributed input, however, I counted the results as a single pile sort. I asked women to sort all of the items, to sort them only once, and to place items in one and only one pile. If respondents provided commentary as they went along—and most did—I took notes on what they said. When they had finished their sorting, I asked the women to discuss the various piles and why they had grouped certain items together and separated others. The purpose of such an exercise is “to measure perceived similarity among a set of items in a cultural domain” (Borgatti 1993b:24). It can also assist in understanding the dimensions or underlying reasons for folk classifications. That was my major reason for paying such close attention to the women’s thoughts about why and how they grouped activities as they did. I used the ANTHROPAC program to assist in analysis of this data. First, I used it to produce an aggregate proximity matrix of the results, which portrays the extent to which respondents perceived various activities to be similar to each other in the domain of women’s work. In this case the results consisted of a forty-six by forty-six matrix (because there were forty-six items in the sorting process) with a number in each cell indicating what percentage of times two items were sorted together in the same pile (because the items were perceived as being similar).7 Such a matrix is visually and cognitively difficult to make sense of, but it can be used for other analyses that present the results in a more comprehensible format. One such analysis is multidimensional scaling, a type of perceptual map in which distance between items is an measure of how similar items were perceived to be.8 In other words, the closer two items appear on the diagram, the more people saw them as similar and placed them together in a pile, and the farther apart on the diagram, the more people saw them as dissimilar and placed them in different piles during their sorting. In addition to multidimensional scaling, ANTHROPAC can also use the proximity matrix to produce clustering diagrams such that the deeper the gaps between items and clusters of items, the more dissimilar the items were judged to be by the Pollapese women, and the higher they cluster together, the more similar.9 The multidimensional scaling diagram with the results of the Pollap women’s pile sorts appears in Figure 3.1,10 and the clustering analyses in Tables 2, 3, and 4 in the Appendix.11 These analyses and interview comments make it possible to formulate a composite view of women’s work. One cluster of activities that emerges includes plaiting and weaving activities, all characterized by women as ‘handwork.’ In fact, since a number of the plaiting activities were deemed similar by so many women, they lie essentially on top of each other on the scaling diagram, which is indicated simply by the term ‘plait’ and the dot representing those activities. A second grouping, which on the scaling



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diagram appears on the opposite side from “handwork,” consists of more abstract responsibilities having to do with respect, order, and maintaining peace. Caring for children, the sick, and the elderly comprise another cluster, and activities carried out in the forest and taro gardens group into a fourth. Finally, making and serving food form a group, and some cleaning activities are loosely associated with each other. Each of these clusters is described below in more detail. Mats, Weaving, and Other ‘Handwork’ This set of clustered activities, falling on the right side of Figure 3.1, includes what many women call wóón pawú or angaang pawú ‘handwork.’ Some islanders use the English word “handicrafts” for this category, and a few women specifically mentioned products of these activities as objects they might be able to sell to make some money. The items in this cluster include all the fawufaw ‘plaiting’ activities: • fawufaw heki ‘plaiting mats’ • fawufaw ŕ´rúúk ‘plaiting coconut-leaf baskets’ • fawufaw sépaawo ‘plaiting coconut-leaf mats’ • fawufaw háánipé ‘plaiting fans’ • fawufaw pwótow ‘plaiting underarm baskets’ • fawufaw kini ‘plaiting thatch wall panels’ • fawufaw yóóh ‘plaiting thatch roof panels’

Figure 3.1╇ Multidimensional scaling diagram of women’s work

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The last five, in fact, were judged to be so similar that they appear as a single coordinate on the scaling diagram. Other items deemed similar at this aggregate level are





• teete méngaak llón mwesin, yafówut méngaak ‘sew with a machine, decorate clothing’ • féér téér ‘make lavalavas’ • féér uunóómw ‘make small fish traps’ • fiif walúwal, pwpwul, mwáár ‘string plants, beads for head garlands’

and on the edge of the category on the scaling diagram, bordering on the cluster of activities that occur out in the woods, is • hipeki ‘cut and collect pandanus for mats’ (see Figure 3.2). Constructing small fish traps emerged in this group probably because women thought of the process of making the trap rather than the process of using it for fishing. Furthermore, women often use the term fawufaw ‘plait’ when they refer to making these particular fish traps. Except for ‘cut and collect pandanus for mats,’ which sits in the scaling diagram between this category and one with forest activities, tasks in this ‘handwork’ cluster involve weaving,

Figure 3.2╇ Collecting pandanus



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plaiting, or otherwise producing something with the hands. Another dimension underlying this category appears to be the place where these activities are carried out; with the exception of cutting and collecting pandanus for mats, they are typically performed around the home site, whereas many other activities take place out in the woods. ‘Sewing’ was spoken of as today’s equivalent of ‘make lavalavas’ by weaving cloth on a traditional back-strap loom. ‘Cutting and collecting pandanus for mats’ consists of procuring the materials for ‘plaiting mats,’ and hence its intermediate position in the scaling diagram makes sense. ‘Stringing plants or beads’ is pulled toward another cluster in the diagram, because some women spoke of it as an activity undertaken for visitors (along with feeding them), and others sorted it with ‘dance,’ because dancing is the most common activity for which beads are typically worn. Furthermore, a fair number of women made ‘stringing plants or beads’ a category in itself, not closely connected with the other handwork. Making sleeping mats had the second-highest salience in the free listing, and participant observation leads to a similar conclusion. In general conversation, for example, when people speak about female work and mention any specific tasks, they tend to talk about women being occupied either out in the taro gardens or working on mats. From just watching and participating in daily life, it is clear that women spend most of their time on three main activities: working in the taro gardens, preparing food (third on the salience list), and plaiting mats or preparing the pandanus for doing so. Furthermore, producing these mats is an activity central to women’s identity, together with cultivating taro and weaving lavalavas. The work is timeconsuming and laborious, and mats are of both functional and symbolic value. In addition to their clear practical value for sleeping, these mats are highly valued as gifts, signs of hospitality, and evidence of caring for relatives. An indication of the cultural importance of mats was evident when the island community prepared some cultural demonstrations for tourists: constructing a mat was discussed from the very beginning as a major activity to be included. Although the early discussions about demonstration activities focused on constructing a wide-strip type of mat that is fast and relatively easy to make though not as highly valued, in the end women demonstrated both the narrow and the broad kinds. Only later during the discussions about what to present for the tourists were other cultural activities suggested and added to the list. In other words, the quintessential activity to demonstrate—at least for women— was the production of mats. Furthermore, this work is also one of the activities very explicitly associated with ééreni ‘tradition,’ and one that islanders worry is in potential danger of being lost. People regularly point out how others in Chuuk have abandoned the craft and therefore are left with either something they have to buy (or “lose money on,” as Pollapese tend to put it) or some-

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thing they have to substitute for a mat, such as cardboard, that Pollapese deem unacceptable. The value of these mats was repeatedly revealed during my time on the island. When the traditional council discussed possible fines for men who violated drinking regulations, for example, some of the council members argued for upholding tradition by requiring mats as one of the possible penalty payments rather than charging monetary fines. When a chiefly woman died, refraining from making mats was one of the restrictions placed on people for a month after her passing. (Some women complained about this, though, saying that such restrictions had not been imposed in the past. They contended that previously only weaving had been restricted, because using a loom could be a noisy activity, and it was primarily noise people are expected to avoid making during the mourning period.) When discussing another part of tradition that involves a custom in which a woman moves in with her husband’s mother while he is away, people brought up helping the husband’s mother to prepare mats as one of the specific activities that justified the temporary move. In a community workshop about women’s roles, making mats was one of the activities specifically listed as both traditional and important that women still continue to practice on the island, although other activities—weaving cloth and making small fish traps—were cited as fading from practice. In addition, spreading out a mat for a visitor is a gesture of hospitality. I do not know how many times I visited a home and would have been perfectly happy to sit on an old mat or linoleum or cement, when it seemed a good deal of trouble for my hosts to fetch another mat and have me move, yet it was important for demonstrating hospitality. Mats are also highly valued as gifts. At one point, women even started grumbling (though with a fair amount of pride) because they were so busy making mats as gifts for one purpose or another at the request of one island leader or another. Two different church groups were working on them while I was there, one for a raffle, and another as gifts to the priest. Mothers were preparing mats to give to children heading off the island for secondary schooling. And women had been asked to make other mats as gifts for outsiders who had been instrumental in helping them construct a new building on the island, and then still more as gifts for special guests invited to the dedication of a newly completed building. Just before I left, a church group was in the process of deciding whether or not to produce mats for all the women visiting for an upcoming religious workshop, and they were justifying the work because the visitors could use the mats during the workshop and then take them back home with them. Once given to someone, mats are highly personal items. For example, among the many brother–sister respect rules is one that forbids women from



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sitting or stepping on a mat belonging to a brother because of associations of the mat with sleeping and with intercourse. When the chief was ill for a period of time, people tending him who sat on his mat were expected to abstain from certain foods when the chief was using a particular type of local medicine. Furthermore, they were to abstain from intercourse if they were among those sitting on his mat, regardless of medications. The work associated with making these mats—from gathering the materials to preparing them and then hunching over the work plaiting the strips hour after hour, day after day—requires considerable time. The time and work involved in producing mats even prompted some women during the pile sorts only reluctantly to cast mat making as similar to other handwork activities. In particular, when deciding what was similar during the pile sorting, a number of women hesitated about lumping ‘plaiting mats’ together with other ‘plaiting’ activities and explained that this was because making a mat is considerably more difficult than plaiting anything else, as well as more time-consuming. My daily observations supported these comments. Wandering around the island, I often saw women carrying bundles of pandanus they were hauling home from the forest, or I observed them dragging strips of green pandanus over a fire as one of the many steps in preparing the pandanus for plaiting. Handling pandanus is no easy matter either, because the edges and center strip of each leaf are lined with tiny thorns. When visiting in houses or sitting at meetings, it was common to see a woman stripping off the thorns of pandanus from the center and sides of each leaf, or scraping, smoothing, softening, cutting, and shaping the strips in preparation for plaiting. And I often saw a lone woman or a group of women bent over working on a mat in their homes when I visited. These mats are ever-present. People sleep on them, and they carry them with them when they travel rather than sleep on someone else’s. They may take them to a long meeting or feast to sit or lounge on. They unroll and spread out good ones for visitors to sit on. I noticed that people seemed more concerned that I have a mat to sit on than something to lean my back against—even when the back support was my preference. Older mats may form part of the floor of a house, although in recent years they are being replaced with sheets of linoleum; nonetheless, newer mats are routinely rolled out for visitors. Helping with mat production, especially preparing pandanus strips, an activity that can be done while seated, and often the plaiting as well, are activities that older women continue to undertake even when they find it difficult to continue working in the gardens. A number of these older women, however, are concerned about possible loss of the knowledge and tradition associated with mat production because not all the younger women are learning the craft. Older women contend that the younger ones should be ‘smart’ not just in school work but in women’s work that is part of ‘tradition’ such as making

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mats, but they complained that some of these young women are ‘lazy.’ This is a label women shun; a reputation for being industrious is valued, and working on mats in addition to cultivating taro are two important ways of earning and maintaining such a desirable reputation. Women construct three types of mats. One type, fawur´éér´éé, requires fairly wide strips of pandanus, and once the pandanus has been prepared, it can be plaited in a day, although it lasts for only a matter of months.12 This type was not among those I observed mothers making for sons or daughters being sent off to school, nor for honored visitors as gifts. I did, however, notice such mats being produced for raffle prizes. The pandanus pieces for this wide-strip type of mat are put over a fire for softening and then carefully laid out in the sun to dry, perhaps for three days if the sun is good. They are then scraped for further softening and smoothing, and the thorns are removed from the sides and center of each leaf. Two other types of mat, lipa and maang, are plaited in a different manner from the wide-strip style, with much narrower strips of about one centimeter. These mats take far more time to produce, but they also last far longer than the wide-strip ones. Therefore, these are the finer, more valued mats. For example, these are the mats mothers construct for children heading to school, and they are the ones produced when destined to be gifts. Even when church groups organized raffles, the wide-strip mats were acceptable only as regular prizes, whereas the two finer types were fewer in number and reserved for special prizes. The plaiting technique for these two finer types is similar, but the materials derive from different varieties of pandanus and the leaves are prepared differently. Maang is considered the superior type, because the pandanus itself is less likely to break, and the mats last about three to five years, which is a bit longer than for lipa. Maang pandanus is prepared by being dried in the sun, whereas lipa pandanus is boiled. Another difference is that the pieces of pandanus are somewhat narrower for maang than for lipa. Both types of finer mats may also be decorated. One common way of doing so involves boiling a few of the pandanus strips with ditto masters to dye them purple, and the dyed piece is then matched with a regular, undyed strip and plaited together close to the edges of a mat. Women sometimes also incorporate colored ribbon or other imported materials to embellish their mats. Women may work on plaiting a mat along with others in a small group, thus completing one in less time, and the work then also serves as a social activity. The women talk, gossip, and tell stories, sometimes the plot of a video one of them saw or a novel someone read. For the church organization raffles, women typically divide up the work of mat production, with some constructing the wide kind, others the narrow. And for these occasions, they almost



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always help each other, either working together as a small group or one relative taking on the work of making a mat for another’s contribution, especially if the other woman is not considered very skilled. The other items that women ‘plait’ are all clustered in the scaling diagram close to ‘plaiting mats.’ These items are all plaited by hand from pandanus or coconut leaves, and they includeŕr´úúk ‘coconut-leaf baskets,’ sépaawo ‘coconut-leaf mats’ used on sailing canoes to protect against rain and sun, háánipé ‘fans’ made from a coconut leaf, pwótow ‘baskets’ made of pandanus or coconut leaves and usually carried under the arm, kini ‘thatch wall panels,’ and yóóh ‘thatch roof panels.’ Fans are small, relatively easy and fast to make, and less essential for survival, but all of the other items either now or in the past have been critical for basic shelter and subsistence. More and more these days, however, imports are becoming possible substitutes for many of these items. Wheelbarrows, for example, are being used instead of baskets in some situations, although women still make and use baskets for carrying taro, pandanus, leaves for mulching, and firewood. It takes only a few minutes to plait a basket from a coconut frond in the clearing outside the taro gardens before entering. Although wheelbarrows are fine for lugging taro and other heavy items along island paths, they are hopeless in the muck of the taro swamp. Some homes are being constructed with imported wood or concrete, but most homesteads also have thatched houses as well, which require both roof and wall panels that women are expected to provide. The roof and wall panels, as well as the mats used on sailing canoes, are women’s work that complements the work of men, since building a residence or a canoe house is an activity that requires both male and female labor. Men are expected to gather the coconut fronds, because this requires climbing trees, and to climb the roofs to tie on the panels. Producing the panels, however, is the female contribution; obviously both activities are deemed necessary for the final product. Since a wide variety of female kin are expected to assist, contributing panels is also a way of demonstrating ongoing commitment to kin. In the recent past, women’s plaiting work was also traditionally important for sailing, which is otherwise in the male domain. In addition to the mats for protecting canoes, the sails for canoes were plaited of pandanus until imported cloth became readily available. The rest of the items in this ‘handwork’ cluster are not prefaced with fawufaw ‘plait’ but they do otherwise entail production of material goods. Féér uunóómw (also sometimes spoken of as fawufaw uunóómw, however) involves constructing a type of small fish trap. Although fishing is typically deemed a male activity, this particular type of trap and the fish it catches are associated with women and in the past contributed to women’s ability to care for themselves and their children. This is one of the traditional activities people speak

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of nostalgically, lamenting that women no longer make and use these traps. It appears, however, that making these traps as well as weaving cloth are still connected with their identities as women. Weaving cloth, or making lavalavas, was still common in 1980 during my first period of fieldwork but had disappeared from regular practice by 1998. This weaving was accomplished with a back-strap loom, using hibiscus fibers or, more recently, cotton crochet threads. Most people own a woven lavalava or loincloth for use on special occasions, particularly dancing, and several women still possess the knowledge of how to weave. A precipitating factor in the waning of this practice was the occurrence of a typhoon several years earlier that had destroyed existing looms; no new ones had been made. A woman with ties to a community to the west in the outer islands of Yap had the sole remaining loom on the island, and it was used to demonstrate weaving for tourists when they arrived. At a church-sponsored workshop about women’s roles, one discussion centered around women’s traditional responsibilities that have been fading from practice. Constructing the small fishing traps was one such item mentioned, but the contentious issue focused on the lack of back-strap weaving looms. (This was the discussion mentioned above in which women charged that men were lax in constructing the looms necessary for weaving, and men countered that women were lax in making use of them.) Women did agree that it was far easier to simply tear a couple of yards of fabric from a bolt of cloth to use as a lavalava or loincloth than it was to weave one. In the past, weaving was necessary labor, essential for the provision of clothing as well as for mosquito netting, but these products have been replaced by imported cloth and mosquito netting except for the colorful, striped lavalavas woven from cotton threads worn for dancing and other special occasions. Sewing on a manufactured sewing machine was judged to be similar to the plaiting and weaving activities because it verges on being a modern substitute for weaving cloth. Not all women have sewing machines, but any woman is likely to have access to one belonging to a relative. Sewing machines are typically used for adding decorative fringes to lavalavas and loincloths rather than for constructing items of clothing such as dresses, shirts, or pants, although some women occasionally sew some simple skirts. Sewing machines are not necessary for clothing, however, as regular lavalavas and loincloths are simply a couple of yards of fabric torn from a bolt, and the ends are not finished unless the lavalavas are being decorated for a special purpose. Finally, ‘stringing plants [as for head garlands], beads; making head garlands’ is another type of handwork, but unlike production of mats, baskets, clothing, fish traps, and housing materials, this activity is less closely connected with material well-being or survival. The head garlands today are none-



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theless an integral part of ceremonial or festive occasions, contributing to an aesthetic sense of beauty, and depending on the particular situation, they communicate messages of hospitality, respect, or love. Although making garlands was clearly identified by the women as ‘handwork,’ this activity in the scaling diagram is pulled somewhat away from the other items in the cluster because of connections some women saw between garlands, on the one hand, and dancing, games, and the greeting of visitors, on the other, since these latter are all occasions typically associated with use of these garlands. In fact, a number of women sorted ‘making garlands’ into a category by itself, dissimilar from any other activity. Nonetheless, ‘making garlands’ is spoken of as handwork, and beaded necklaces along with woven lavalavas and small plaited articles (such as small mats that can be used as place mats) are spoken of as handicrafts that women can occasionally sell to tourists. Maintaining Respect, Order, and Harmony At the other side of the multidimensional scaling from the handwork cluster lie four items deemed somewhat similar to each other, and as a group they are obviously quite different from other activities women are responsible for. Specifically, these four activities are • affér kinamwmwe ‘settle disputes, make peace’ • maamaw llón lamalam ‘be strong in religion’ • apwpwóro wóón mwáán ‘stoop for brothers as a sign of respect’ • ffén ‘advise, instruct, admonish, scold’ Other ways in which ffén was phrased—and deemed in trial pile sorts and discussions as essentially the same—included fénew nawúúr ‘instruct our children,’ asúkuuler nawúúr ‘teach our children,’ and yafalafal ‘make speeches’ (because ‘making speeches’ is a way through which such instruction is accomplished). Not productive of material goods, these activities nonetheless provide other types of nurturing and support. Affér ‘settle disputes’ refers to mediating problems and settling disputes. Although not exclusively a female obligation, it is nonetheless expected of women as part of their responsibility to maintain harmonious relationships among people, and it can be seen as a type of nurturing activity. If a married couple is having difficulties, for example, a woman of the household would be expected to step in and attempt to resolve the issue in order to restore relationships and harmony. Some men even maintain that a man’s attempts to resolve disputes are not generally expected to be effective, because men supposedly tend to end up fighting. Women are said to be more polite and gentle than men, and to operate with a more humble attitude, thus making them more proficient

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at dealing with such problems. Even if it is two men who are at odds, either a senior woman related to the men or an older woman from the senior church organization may be brought in to mediate. Being ‘strong in religion’ is another item not exclusive to women, but they are nonetheless generally seen as more active in the church and its associated activities than are most men. Women attend church services more often, a higher percentage of women than men participate in reciting the rosary each afternoon, and women also take a more active role in other church duties such as ministering to the sick and the elderly. Apwpwóro ‘respect brothers’ denotes the traditional custom of women showing respect to classificatory brothers, typically by stooping or even crawling when the men are near. In general, women should never stand higher than a brother, though in actuality the respect pattern is far broader and includes using some specialized vocabulary when speaking to or about brothers, remaining clear of a brother’s sleeping mat and other personal items, and avoiding references to sexuality in their presence.13 According to older women, in the past Pollapese believed that failure to show appropriate deference to a classificatory brother could cause the man to sicken or even die. On the one hand this meant women could be blamed for a brother’s illness, but on the other it could also be interpreted as a sign that a particular type of power lay in women’s hands. In either case, today, exhibiting such behavior demonstrates that one is a good person and is committed to family, kin, and clan. Many others in Chuuk have abandoned this practice, and Pollapese pride themselves on having maintained the custom. They see themselves as remaining committed to mutual support among kin when others in the state are moving toward individualism. An old story a woman narrated to me is instructive in this regard. In this tale, a canoe caught in a storm at sea overturned, dumping all the crew and passengers into the ocean. One of the victims, a woman, spied her husband and grabbed onto his shoulders in an attempt to save herself. In response, her husband shrugged her off, back into the water. She tried again to hold on, but once more the husband threw her off. Eventually the woman’s brother noticed the situation and encouraged her to grasp his shoulders instead. The woman refused, knowing it is pin ‘taboo’ for a woman to touch her brother’s shoulders. Also, the woman in the story had lost her clothing, and a man should never see an adult sister naked. Aware of these obligations, the brother nonetheless insisted that she grab onto his shoulders anyway; he maintained that it was permissible because in this case it was to save her life. She still refused, determined to show the proper deference and respect toward her brother. Insistent, the brother then seized her arms himself and forcibly placed them on his shoulders in order to save her. When the woman’s father spied them, he provided his daughter with some clothing, and they then returned home without incident.



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Safely back on land, the son-in-law was thrown out of the house, because his actions had made it obvious that he did not ttong his wife. Ttong encompasses notions of love, compassion, sympathy, mercy, and pity, the last being a “positive feeling towards others in the sense of wanting to do things for them” (Goodenough and Sugita 1980:358).14 The brother and sister, on the other hand, had both demonstrated their ttong for each other. An additional moral of this story, however, focuses on the highly valued bond between brother and sister, one that is far more secure than the one between husband and wife. Ffén ‘advise’ means to admonish, scold, verbally discipline, give advice, or tell someone how to behave. In general, language for Pollapese is imbued with power to affect behavior, and explaining to someone what they should do is supposed to induce the desired behavior. The most public and visible examples of ‘advise’ are seen in the actions of men such as the island chief, clan chiefs, and municipal and church leaders speaking to the community or particular clans in public meetings. But women are the key socializing agents and thus are expected to direct the behavior of their children, grandchildren, and junior siblings. A woman may even admonish her father, but she would need to proceed cautiously if she felt a need to speak to a brother. Normally, if a brother is misbehaving, his mother would be expected to ‘advise,’ but in the absence of a mother, a sister may intervene, though she needs to speak with extreme deference. These four activities are a far cry both from practical handwork and from subsistence activities, lying instead in the realm of beliefs, values, and norms. Among these four, ‘settling disputes’ and ‘being strong in religion’ are closer to each other in the scaling diagram than other combinations in the group. Explanations about their similarities provided during the pile sorts reveal a common pattern in which religion and peacemaking overlap. For example, women contended that if there is a problem between people, then it is appropriate for members of a church group to step in to mediate and resolve the issue. In general, religion—specifically Catholicism—is seen as a force that can aid in keeping the peace, and in fact part of the job of religion is to help maintain harmonious relationships among people. In explaining why ‘showing appropriate respect for classificatory brothers’ is similar to the other items in the cluster, one respondent pointed out that failing to do so would be disruptive; this would then also be an example of an occasion when it would be appropriate for women, in the name of the church, to step in and speak with the offending woman to mend the relationship between the siblings. In the same vein, many women made it clear that the point of ‘admonishing or advising’ someone is often to resolve a problem and effect peace. One woman specifically claimed that one who is ‘strong in religion’ can then effectively both ‘admonish’ and ‘settle disputes.’ One woman

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who sorted ‘respect brothers,’ ‘advise,’ and ‘settle disputes’ together as similar specifically classified them as tasks directed toward keeping the peace. Some women spoke of the four activities in this cluster as being similar because they all relate to ééréni ‘tradition,’ even though the cluster as a whole includes the domain of religion, which is usually considered as a distinct domain in its own right. Although Pollapese speak of the domains of religion, tradition, and the modern government as separate, ideally the three should not be in conflict. In fact, they may dovetail or even reinforce each other. That is why, for example, it could be appropriate for a church group to intervene if someone violates ‘tradition,’ such as when a woman fails to exhibit the deference due her brothers. Furthermore, a common example of ‘advising or admonishing’ involves reminding children and young people about the appropriate respect due anyone senior to them, including a woman’s brothers. In other words, ‘admonish’ and ‘settle disputes’ could take place in any of the three domains even though they are viewed as deriving originally from the domain of tradition. Classifying ‘advise,’ ‘settle disputes,’ and ‘respect brothers’ together seems to be based in part on interconnections among them and the fact that they originated in the domain of ‘tradition.’ Inclusion of ‘being strong in religion’ probably reflects in part how the domains of religion and tradition ideally work hand in hand, but more important, it reflects a similarity in the purpose of these activities and an underlying set of values among the Pollapese focused on maintaining harmonious relationships, including the pattern of rank and deference. Not all women lumped these four items together as tradition, however, acknowledging that religion is typically considered a domain separate from that of tradition. Nonetheless, according to most of the respondents, if a woman is strong in one of those domains, she is believed to be strong in the other, especially since these domains ideally are mutually reinforcing. One woman pointed out that in the sphere of religion, they sometimes preach that people should show respect for senior siblings and follow other Pollapese customs. In this manner, religion and tradition coincide, one domain not having priority over or contradicting another. It was clear from respondent comments that the community should strive for kinamwmwe ‘peace, harmony’ between religion and tradition. One woman opted to label the cluster as ‘tradition and religion’ but other women more obviously struggled with the fact that those are two different domains and that in actuality the two do not always work in harmony, even though they should. These four activities were also described as ways of taking care of people— clearly part of what women are expected to do, whether by providing food, caring for someone who is sick, or advising them. One woman, who placed ‘advise’ with other túmwúnúw ‘caretaking’ activities, explicitly asserted that tasks such



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as care of children, the sick, and the elderly; massage; and ‘advising’ were all versions of ‘caretaking.’ Other respondents made connections with religion by explaining that religion preaches, among other things, caring for the elderly, and that if one is strong in religion one will therefore also take care of people. Somewhat isolated on the scaling diagram from other items is fitiy aruwow, literally ‘go to Tuesday,’ which means attending the weekly Tuesday community meetings, known as mwiir´en aruwow (sometimes atere ‘muster’). In theory all able-bodied adults attend these Tuesday morning meetings, which are usually held in the community meetinghouse located between the church and the elementary school. (These meetings moved to a newly built gym in 1999.) A municipal leader typically oversees meetings; when the mayor is on the island, he conducts them, but more often it is the assistant mayor. These meetings usually open and close with a prayer and otherwise consist of a number of reports, announcements, and speeches given by community leaders. The mayor, other municipal officials and council members, and those with government positions such as the health aide, frequently have announcements to make. Examples include information about the arrival of FEMA food, purchase of a desalinization pump, tentative plans for the island ship’s schedule, plans for the visit of a tourist cruise ship, and the schedule for blood-sugar tests and distribution of medications. The school principal occasionally attends and speaks about school issues and problems, and he reminds parents about days for studentteacher conferences. Leaders from the domains of tradition and religion may also have announcements to make. A member of the chiefly clan, for example, announced the mourning rules and taboos to be followed after the death of a senior woman of the chiefly clan. Decisions about when drinking would be permitted or banned were presented by the chiefly clan at municipal meetings. A member of the traditional council reported on plans to construct some traditional sailing canoes and explained the rules to be observed after drinking had been approved by the traditional chief. Leaders from the church may also speak at these municipal meetings, and the parish council frequently has decisions they wish to report. Other announcements and decisions made at these municipal meetings concern work or activities required of people in the community. Islanders hear about schedules to practice for dancing at an upcoming event, to prepare copra in advance of a ship’s arrival, to plan for competitive games, or to prepare food for visitors and feasts. Almost invariably, at the end of the meeting the assistant mayor directs the community to clean certain areas of the island, especially the public, community areas. These meetings are also prime opportunities for ‘advising’ on the part of community leaders. For example, after receiving FEMA food that included rice, a senior man admonished people to refrain from making “pop rice” (frying the

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dried grains until toasted) because it would exhaust the supply of rice far more quickly than would the normal procedure of boiling it in water. In the wake of the problem of a few teenagers sniffing gas, a number of community leaders publicly lectured a group of young people, warning them of the dangers of the practice and the shame brought upon the island by their misbehavior. At times, islanders were urged to avoid laziness and selfishness, to exhibit proper respect for the chief, to conserve fish, to show more respect during church rituals, and to stop showing movies (on VCRs hooked up to generators) because children who watched them could not work well in school the next day. The health aide stressed the importance of cleanliness to prevent disease and suggested that islanders avoid consuming too much sugar, coffee, and fat, and that they strive to get more exercise. Sometimes the full meeting is followed by a smaller one, such as a meeting of the adult women led by a senior woman of the chiefly clan. For example, women sometimes meet to implement how to carry out what they have been asked to do in the full meeting, such as working out the details of food preparations and dance practices for an upcoming event. After a meeting in which the chief announced a halt to drinking, the senior woman of the chiefly clan advised the other island women about how they should behave at home in the wake of the decision, admonishing them to behave quietly and in ways that would promote harmony. In the average and single-link hierarchical clustering analyses generated by ANTHROPAC, ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ is somewhat associated with cleaning activities; in the complete-link hierarchical clustering, it is somewhat associated with the four items discussed above. On the multidimensional scaling diagram it lies rather isolated, and other activities scattered beyond it include, in addition to the four above, some cleaning activities and wurumwot ‘games’ and pwarúk ‘dance.’ Certainly women varied considerably in how they grouped ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ with other responsibilities. Several informants talked about the Tuesday meetings as occasions when people are directed to carry out those various activities—cleaning the island, organizing games, preparing for dances. As one woman put it, “When you go to the Tuesday meeting, you listen, and then you tell your children, and they tell you at the meeting to clear certain areas and the paths and to clean outside your houses.” Fettiwow ‘make copra’ occurs with other activities out in the woods but is pulled toward ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ in the scaling diagram because some women view making copra as an activity undertaken when announced at one of those meetings; it is carried out as a community mandate and not through individual or family decision making. Although close to each other on the scaling diagram, ‘dance’ and ‘games’ are also somewhat isolated from other activities, as indicated by both the cluster-



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ing and the scaling diagrams. Some respondents even spoke of dance as a type of game. Like the items above, these are not considered work in the same sense as producing mats or cultivating and preparing food. Furthermore, unlike the four activities in the tradition/religion cluster and ‘attend Tuesday meetings’, dancing and games contain an element of fun and entertainment. These two are somewhat close to ‘attending Tuesday meetings’ on the diagram probably because so many women view them as being announced at those meetings. Dances and games are community-level activities decided upon by a community body such as the municipal or traditional council and then announced at a public meeting. In addition, in the words of one woman, they “involve many people together, and it could be men and women together.” If ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ is seen as a node, then arrayed around it are items many women perceive as connected with these announcements at the meeting and with activities that take place at a community level. They are not decided at an individual or family level. (Or, if they are, people are exhorted to do so at these meetings by community leaders.) ‘Dancing’ and ‘games’ are in this position; kel kapich ‘dig garbage pits’ (and dispose of garbage), túkú ppi ‘gather sand’ (for making concrete and for placing on the floors of thatch houses or around the outside of a house), and yalimelim ‘wash, clean, beautify’ are other activities prescribed during the community meetings. In the words of one respondent, these activities—dancing, participating in games, taking care of garbage, keeping places clean and neat, hauling sand, attending Tuesday meetings—are all angaangen fanú ‘island [community] work’. In other words, these are island responsibilities, not individual, clan, lineage, or family ones. One final item—mówun wóón woot me yiik ‘throw taro and fish’—is an event during which women carry cooked taro, specifically the prestigious Colocasia true taro, down to the beach when men come in from fishing, then toss in the air out to the men as the men in turn throw their fish ashore. Some respondents maintained that this is a type of game and is announced at the Tuesday meetings, but others likened the event to activities connected with providing food for people, which accounts for the intermediate position of ‘throwing taro and fish’ between ‘games’ and ‘Tuesday meetings’ on the scaling diagram. This particular activity did not occur during the 1998–1999 period of fieldwork, and respondents sometimes commented that it used to be more common, though no one lamented that it was fading away as they did for activities such as weaving cloth or constructing fish traps. Caretaking Another distinct group indicated by the clustering encompasses túmwúnúw ‘caretaking’ activities:

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• túmwúnúw chillap ‘take care of the elderly’ • túmwúnúwr´manúkól, may lachchin ‘take care of babies and children’ • túmwúnúw r´óón hemwaaw, no ngenir may hemwaaw ‘take care of the sick, stay with the sick’ • anawunaw r´óópwut ‘help deliver babies’ • r´éér´éé ‘massage’ Taking care of people can run a gamut of activities including massaging, providing food, fetching medicine, watching over children to keep them safe, and keeping company with the sick and elderly—telling them stories, fanning them, making them comfortable, praying with them, and washing their clothes. A related activity, ter hafey ‘fetch local medicinal plants,’ appears to be connected with these caretaking activities according to clustering analyses, although it appears less so on the multidimensional scaling diagram. On the other hand, amwéngé aremah ‘feed people’ and nganey piik ‘feed pigs’ seem to be a part of the group on the scaling diagram, whereas clustering indicates similarities with activities connected more directly with food. (Most respondents put ‘feeding people’ and ‘feeding pigs’ in the same pile as similar activities but apologized for doing so, as though this needed an explanation. Most of them maintained that the two activities are similar because they involve giving food. Some also said that feeding pigs means that one is eventually able to feed people.) Since ‘feeding people’ is perceived as a way of taking care of them, its position between taking care of people and taking part in other food activities makes sense. Furthermore, ‘gather local medicine’ may have been pulled away from other caretaking activities in the diagram because some people grouped it with activities carried out in the woods, activities that lie in the lower right portion of the diagram. In the Forest and Taro Gardens Leewal ‘in the forest’ activities form another clustering group and include • fettiwow ‘make copra’ • téété núú ‘climb and pick coconuts’ • wotoot r´oo, núú ‘husk coconuts’ (mature and drinking coconuts) • atake (núú, wuur´, mááy, fine) ‘garden (coconuts, bananas, bread fruit, dry-land taro)’ • wuwow amwúr´ ‘carry firewood’ • wowaal ‘carry leaves’ (to the taro gardens for mulching) • ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens’ • saata ‘charter’ (i.e., hire/work for wages)



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Normally, climbing coconut trees is male work, but women consistently mentioned that they climb for coconuts as well, especially while working in the taro gardens in the absence of men. With no brothers nearby (in deference to whom women would have to stay low to the ground), and with no men to fetch coconuts for them, women therefore do climb to harvest their own coconuts. Both men and women husk ripe coconuts and drinking coconuts, and women are quite proficient in doing so. In fact, during a contest between men and women to determine who could husk and grate a given number of coconuts the fastest, a woman won. Women also haul firewood for cooking and carry leaves for their taro gardens. Although taro gardening itself will be discussed in more detail in a later chapter, here it is useful to point out that some women make a distinction between ló leepwéél ‘going to the taro gardens’ and atake ‘gardening,’ the latter referring to planting and caring for coconuts, breadfruit, and bananas. Other women, however, conceived of taro gardening as part of atake, or they saw atake as an activity one carried out as part of ló leepwéél. Saata refers to working for money, and this is primarily associated with paying for help in the taro gardens, which explains why it appears in this cluster of items. All of the activities in this cluster were characterized by respondents as taking place away from the settlement area, either in the gardens (leepwéél) or the woods (leewal), unlike the weaving and plaiting activities, which take place at home. Hipeki ‘cut and collect pandanus leaves for making mats’ lies not too far from this ‘in the forest’ cluster in the diagram and near the handwork activities, because some women categorized it with forest activities, others with plaiting activities. Making and Serving Food Yet another cluster of activities consists of preparing, cooking, and offering food. These activities include • pweyiker r´oo ‘grate coconuts’ • féér mwéngé ‘make food’ • lehet, yááyir kúúh ‘go fishing, spear octopus’ • yar´ing ‘make food for returning fishermen’ • pawonen angaang, amwéngén angaang ‘provide food for workers’ • mówun ‘throw’ (taro at men as men throw fish at women) • ahów, awahééla ‘bring food to visitors’ • amwéngé aremah ‘feed people’ • nganey piik ‘feed pigs’ This whole cluster lies near the ‘caretaking’ group in the scaling diagram because many women lumped some of these activities together with several

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of the caretaking ones, pointing out that these are additional ways of helping people and thus caring for them. Women grate mature coconuts primarily to extract coconut cream, a key part of almost all meals, usually either as part of the cooking liquid or as a sauce poured over taro, breadfruit, bananas, or other staple food. It is also commonly used mixed with seawater for stewing fish. In the scaling diagram, ‘grating coconuts’ lies close to ‘husking coconuts’ because some women grouped these together, pointing out that husking coconuts logically precedes grating them. The preparation and cooking of food is considered one of the most important of women’s tasks and can take considerable time, since women must clean, cut up, cook, and then often pound the staple starchy food. Yet this is also a time for socializing, as women work sitting in the company of others, where they talk and share stories. While they cook, they often send younger children off to run errands such as hauling water and fetching kettles. When women mentioned ‘fishing’ during the free-listing exercises, they talked primarily about hunting for octopus and gathering other seafood on the reef. During the pile sorts, however, there was a tendency for women to discuss fishing as an activity typically seen as a male task, so women associated it with ‘throwing taro and fish’ and ‘feeding fishermen,’ both of which can occur only in the wake of male fishing. This is what probably accounts for fishing showing up where it does in the diagram near these two items. ‘Throwing taro and fish’ lies not too far from ‘dancing’ because the latter is typically part of the former, as women stand on shore dancing and singing as men approach in their canoes with fish. On the average version of the hierarchical clustering, this group of activities involving preparation and serving of food connects first with the forest and gardening activities and then with the handwork activities. This makes sense, because both food preparation and weaving involve processing what has been harvested, whether it is food, pandanus, or coconut fronds. And both food preparation and the handwork activities usually take place in the settlement area. Cleaning This clustering classifies together some items that appear somewhat separated on the scaling diagram, and these all have to do with cleaning:





• yalimelim llón iimw, lúkún iimw, wóón yaal ‘clean, beautify inside the house, outside the house, on the path’ • kel kapich ‘dig garbage pits’ (and dispose of garbage) • túkú ppi, fawú ‘gather sand, rocks’ (for making concrete and for

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putting down on floors of thatch houses or around the outside of a house) • soopw pisek, hepi ‘wash things, dishes’ (includes clothing)

The first three items are activities people are likely to be charged with and discussed at the Tuesday meeting, which is probably why they show up fairly close on the scaling diagram to ‘attending Tuesday meetings,’ whereas ‘wash things,’ the last item on the list, is associated with household decisions and lies farther away on the diagram. All the items in this cluster have to do with cleanliness, but the first three are often prompted at the community level, whereas washing dishes and clothing is a household activity. There are times when the whole island is directed to clean around their houses, the paths, and the public buildings, but I never heard people admonished at a community meeting to spend the day washing clothes or dishes. Nonetheless, all of the cleaning activities may also be household activities rather than community ones, and they are seen as being related to each other. For example, one women said, “When I clean, I put white sand around the house to make it clean and pretty,” and “We put sand around the house when we clean up,” and “If you clean around the house, you dig a garbage pit to dispose of the refuse, and you are likely also to sprinkle sand when finished.” Some discussed washing as an item similar to the caretaking ones, in part because it can help maintain health, but also because it is an activity associated with tending people who are sick. In particular, women wash clothing for ill relatives. In the words of one woman, “Taking care of people also involves taking care of their things.” The fact that washing often involves clothing helps explain why this activity lies not far from sewing on the scaling diagram, and it lies close to food preparation activities because both are associated with the practical care of people.

Salience and Clusters When examining the free listings and clustered groups in light of item salience, it is clear that the salient items are dispersed among the clusters. And the eight most salient items are spread out over five different clusters. In fact, these items with high salience may well be the ideological center of their clusters. ‘Go to the taro gardens,’ the most salient item, is in the midst of the forest and garden cluster, while the other items in the cluster—with lower salience and mentioned later in women’s free listings than was ‘going to the taro gardens’— were typically discussed by the women during the pile sorts as being related to taro gardening. The second most salient item, ‘plait mats,’ occurs in the

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plaiting and other handwork cluster, as does ‘make lavalavas.’ Two other high salience items—‘preparing food’ and ‘fishing’—lie in the food preparation cluster. ‘Washing’(dishes and clothes) and ‘cleaning, beautifying’ are yet two other high salience items and are distinct from the handwork and forest activities. Finally, ‘taking care of children’ is part of the caretaking cluster. The beliefs and values grouping is the only major cluster without a high-salience item, and it does in fact lie somewhat removed from the other activities on the diagram. In some sense, these latter items clearly are different; they are less obviously work and certainly not usually physical work, although many of the women spoke of them nonetheless as wiis ‘responsibilities’ of women.

Ratings As I listened to women articulate their reasons for their pile sorting and as I examined the multidimensional scaling, it appeared that perhaps a túmwúnúw ‘caretaking’ dimension existed, with items toward the ‘advise, admonish’ end having more importance in terms of caretaking, and with the items toward the handwork section having less so. Therefore I asked women to rate all of the items on a 1 to 4 scale (with 4 being the highest) according to that criterion. I specifically asked women to consider how important these activities were in terms of taking care of people. Since some did not understand the 1 to 4 number scale very well, I also couched the request in terms of letter grades used in school once I discovered that most people understood A, B, C, or D as a rating scale better than they did a series of numbers. I asked twenty women to rate the items, sometimes immediately after they completed a pile sort, sometimes on a separate occasion.15 Using ANTHROPAC, I ran a PROFIT analysis,16 which subsequently indicated that ‘caretaking’ does not appear to be an attribute used for similarities.17 Ideas about caretaking influenced the clustering of some of the items, but it did not appear to be a dimension applied to all of the items. The ratings results were nonetheless revealing about attitudes toward women’s work. The item with the highest average rating, 3.80, was féér mwéngé ‘make food.’ This was one of only two items that no one rated low at either 1 or 2. (The other activity that also received neither a 1 or a 2 was amwéngé aremah ‘feed people.’) The items that averaged 3.5 or above are as follows: féér mwéngé ‘make food’ 3.80 amwéngé aremah ‘feed people’ 3.75 túmwúnúw chillap ‘care for the elderly’ 3.75 ffén ‘advise, admonish’ 3.75 túmwúnúw hemwaaw ‘care for the sick’ 3.70



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túmwúnúw manúkól ‘take care of children’ 3.70 atake ‘garden’ 3.65 maamaw llón lamalam ‘strong in religion’ 3.60 anawunaw r´óópwut ‘help deliver babies’ 3.60 affér ‘settling disputes’ 3.60 ter hafey ‘fetch local medicine’ 3.60 Those that were rated between 3.00 and 3.50 are as follows: yalimelim ‘clean, beautify’ 3.40 lehet ‘go fishing’ 3.35 ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens’ 3.30 r´éér´éé ‘massage’ 3.20 ahów ‘bring food to visitors’ 3.20 apwpwóro ‘show deference to brothers’ 3.15 pawon ‘provide food for sea voyages’ 3.10 soopw ‘wash (dishes and clothes)’ 3.05 yar´ing ‘make food for returning fishermen’ 3.00 Those that had an average rating between 2.00 and 3.00 are as follows: fitiy aruwow ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ pweyiker ‘grate coconuts’ fawufaw heki ‘plait mats’ saata ‘charter/hire’ fettiwow ‘make copra’ féér téér ‘make lavalavas’ hipeki ‘cut and collect pandanus for mats’ kel kapich ‘dig garbage pits’ wuwow amwúr´ ‘carry firewood’ téété núú ‘climb and pick coconuts’ fawufaw yóóh ‘plait thatch roof panels’ wowaal ‘carry leaves’ teete llón mwesin ‘sew with a machine’ nganey piik ‘feed pigs’ féér uunóómw ‘make a small fish trap’ fawufaw r´úúk ‘plait coconut-leaf baskets’ wotoot r´oo, núú ‘husk coconuts’ fawufaw háánipé ‘plait fans’

2.80 2.70 2.70 2.55 2.55 2.55 2.50 2.50 2.40 2.40 2.30 2.25 2.25 2.20 2.20 2.20 2.15 2.10

Those with an average rating of less than two are as follows:

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fawufaw kini ‘plait thatch wall panels’ túkú ppi ‘gather sand’ mówun ‘throw taro and fish’ fawufaw sépaawo ‘plait coconut-leaf mats’ pwarúk ‘dance’ fawufaw pwótow ‘plait underarm baskets’ wurumwot ‘compete in games’ fiif ‘string plants, beads for head garlands’

1.95 1.80 1.80 1.75 1.70 1.65 1.60 1.45

The bottom three items as well as fawufaw sépaawo were items that no one rated as a 4. What accounted for most of the differences in responses seemed to be whether or not women approached the question in practical, subsistence terms or in ideological ones, focusing on beliefs and values instead. In fact, the collection of activities that ended up in the highest category of items rated above 3.5 include items from a variety of clusters. Three of these highest-rated activities came from the beliefs and values cluster, several others from the caretaking cluster, and the remaining ones from the gardening and food preparation clusters. When I asked women to rate how strong or important the activities were in terms of caring for other people, I used the word túmwúnúw ‘caretaking,’ so it was not surprising that a number of items with that label were highly rated. It is revealing, in fact, that other items appeared in this highest category at all. The very highest were those connected with physical survival; respondents who asserted that féér mwéngé ‘making food’ was the most important in terms of taking care of people explained their positions with comments such as “Otherwise people would die”; without food, nothing else would be possible. Other women applied similar reasoning when giving the highest rating to atake ‘gardening’ (and even though ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens’ got a lower rating, as previously mentioned, many consider these two activities to be essentially the same thing); women were interpreting atake in the broad sense of gardening in general rather than the narrower sense of non-taro gardening. Those who chose items from the túmwúnúw ‘caretaking’ cluster explained, “We need to keep people alive and well. We need to help give birth to children and take care of the children and the sick and the elderly.” Those women who stressed beliefs and values in their ratings implied that the associated activities underlie or make physical survival possible. For example, women who rated affér ‘settling disputes’ as a level 4 activity maintained that such behavior is what helps enable people to work together, get along, and eat together. One woman who put ffén ‘advise, admonish’ in the top category said, “If I don’t ffén, then my children will die. And they could hurt people or get hurt.”



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Those items in the lowest category include activities that have rarely been carried out in recent years (plaiting thatch wall panels, coconut-leaf mats, and underarm baskets), and that at the same time are not central to women’s identity in the way producing lavalavas on the back-strap looms continues to be even though women so rarely weave these days. Unlike the making of lavalavas, for example, the low-rated activities were not among the ones demonstrated when the tourists and cruise ship arrived. Mówun, the special event during which women throw taro and men throw fish, also in the lowest-rated group, was also not performed during my 1998–1999 visit. ‘Games’ and ‘dancing,’ two other low-rated activities, are primarily viewed as entertainment and not central to taking care of people. ‘Stringing beads or plants and flowers for garlands’ is not connected with health or survival either and was sometimes put with dance in the pile sorts. It is less clear why ‘gather sand’ ended up in this low-rated category. One possibility is that this activity is not as directly associated with cleanliness and health as are ‘cleaning, beautifying,’ ‘washing clothes and dishes,’ or ‘digging garbage pits.’ ‘Gathering sand’ and ‘making garlands’ are more associated with personal appearance, and thus perhaps less connected with health—whether physical, mental, or spiritual—less essential for survival, and thus less connected with taking care of people.

Women’s Work Cultivating and preparing the staple foods, producing key material items, caring for children and the sick and elderly, ensuring cleanliness, and striving to maintain respectful and harmonious relationships—these, then, are the responsibilities of women on Pollap. These activities are associated with their identities as women such that the extent to which they carry out these tasks demonstrates their worth as women and their commitment to the care and well-being of others. Women provide physical sustenance as well as guidance regarding appropriate behavior; they tend food, people, and relationships. They are not alone in these pursuits, but the foods they provide are the staples without which one cannot have a culturally defined “meal.” Certainly, fish is valued and improves a meal, but the foundation of a true meal consists of taro, breadfruit, bananas, or in recent years, rice. If necessary, women can also gather octopus or other sea creatures, and they can tend chickens, dogs, and pigs, and thus contribute valued protein themselves rather than being forced to rely on men. At times women mentioned that they were planning to hunt octopus that day precisely because no fish had been caught. In another area, men typically perform much of the public speech making, which includes providing advice and guidance for the community; but it is

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women who are responsible for most of the regular, daily guiding of behavior of the kin under their care. As wives, but also as classificatory mothers, sisters, and daughters, they are responsible for their husbands and for classificatory children, brothers, and parents. The houses and canoes that have traditionally been men’s responsibilities to build and repair require the work of women to be complete. The canoe voyaging so central to male identity requires food that women produce and prepare. In other words, women’s work is essential to the work of men and to the economy of the community. Women provide and tend food and children—two key resources. A woman’s role is to nurture, and the ultimate nurturing figure is Mary, the Mother of God. This nurturing, whether supplied by Mary or Pollapese women, is clearly more than just physical caretaking, but none of the rest would be possible, in their eyes, without the cultivation of taro. This most salient aspect of women’s work provides a foundation for all other forms of nurturing, and taro is thus the most suitable and appropriate offering to Mary on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.



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Chapter 4

Taro

Working in the taro gardens is unequivocally the most salient aspect of women’s work on Pollap; it is central to women’s identity and a key avenue for enacting womanhood in the community. By providing a staple food, cultivating taro clearly enables a woman to support her family, but in addition, this practical material support is an obvious and necessary component of the female nurturing role that is further realized in a wide array of other activities expected of women. The ability to substantively support her family provides a foundation for ensuring that a woman is able to carry out her other responsibilities and in so doing demonstrate that she is a good woman. Feeding one’s family is obviously crucial in a literal sense, but taro and its cultivation resonate with symbols of nurturing and of womanhood. This symbolism permeates the activities and rituals involved in the December 8 Feast of the Immaculate Conception. In general for Pollapese, the most clearly and explicitly identified responsibility of women is for them to work in the taro gardens. This is conventional wisdom and is mentioned first and foremost—even before taking care of children, before cooking, before cleaning. Aside from emerging as the most salient item in the free-listing activity, cultivating taro as the epitome of women’s work appears in a myriad of other contexts. For example, in discussions connected with the church workshop about women that was held on the island, some participants claimed that roles for women are somewhat nebulous today—with the clear exception, however, of working in the taro gardens. In casual conversations, when talking about a woman being busy, the first assumption is that she is busy in the taro gardens (and only second that she is working on a mat). And hypothetical cases of women being busy at work always seem to presuppose work in the taro gardens. People focus in particular on how physically taxing it is to work in the taro gardens, and they then tend to point out that, in addition to the heavy gardening work, women are also expected to prepare food and to clean. I also

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commonly heard comments to the effect that “women just work; men work only if they want to.” Although people do acknowledge that men sometimes work in the gardens, culturally it is entirely at men’s discretion to do so, and only if they feel so inclined. Men may work alone or with their wives, but it is never something routinely expected of them; in short, cultivating taro remains essentially a woman’s job. If her family is to survive, she has no choice. A man knows he can count on his wife, and if for some reason the two of them become estranged, he can always rely on his sisters instead. Thus he is free to choose to garden or not. In contrast, a woman shows herself to be not even an adequate woman, much less a good one, if she fails at gardening, whereas a man’s identity is connected with fishing, not his ability to provide the staple food for his family. Throughout the Pacific such staple foods have high symbolic value; food “is used to express basic relationships, not only between kin, and others, as when they share food together, but also between people and the land, and their ancestors that provided for their needs in earlier times” (Pollock 2002:284). Although fish or meat enhance a meal, it is the local starchy foods of taro, breadfruit, and bananas that are truly “food” and absolutely essential to a meal, whether it be a family affair or a community feast. No amount of meat or fish can make up for a dearth of these foods. Not only is taro among the key staple starchy foods that are essential to a meal and critical for survival, but the sharing of such foods, offering them to visitors, and presenting them at feasts are actions that communicate kinship, respect, prosperity, strength of character, commitment to generosity, and a concern for the well-being of others. As such, these activities shape the reputation of the individual, kin group, village, and sometimes the entire island community. Since women bear responsibility for taro, they are thus key players in this communicative system.

Cyrtosperma and Colocasia On the low islands of the Central Carolines, it is taro rather than breadfruit that is the primary staple, in contrast with high islands such as those of Chuuk Lagoon (Fischer 1970:16). Certainly on Pollap breadfruit is grown and valued, but the islanders nonetheless depend more on taro. The two main forms of taro grown on Pollap are Cyrtosperma chamissonis (commonly called swamp taro) and Colocasia esculenta (true taro). Both are edible aroids of the Araceae plant family. The corms, or underground stems, of both plants are the parts commonly used as starchy dietary staples throughout the Central Carolines (and farther); they are grown in swampy soils that have been enriched with organic materials, especially leaves, for humus. Although the leaves are also edible, Pol-



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lapese do not consume them, at least currently. They do make use of the leaves, however, for covering foods that are boiling in pots, for laying on top of earth ovens, and for packaging soft foods such as preserved breadfruit to be baked or boiled. On the atolls of the Carolines, more Cyrtosperma is grown than Colocasia, though Colocasia is often the more highly valued (Alkire 1965:75; Burrows and Spiro 1970:51). This is certainly the case on Pollap, where Colocasia is culturally valued over the more common and plentiful Cyrtosperma. The swamps on Carolinian islets where taro is grown vary, however. Some islets have essentially ready-made swamps, especially those islets found at a bend in the reef. On other islets, swamps need to be created or enlarged, which entails considerably more work, as people must dig out soil to reach the lens of freshwater that makes taro gardens possible (Alkire 1978:27; Barrau 1961:68; Spriggs 2002:83).1 Taro grows quite well in swamps that are able to tap this lens. Pollap lies at the bend of a reef and enjoys a naturally swampy area in the middle of the islet. Cyrtosperma (swamp taro), the more common taro cultivated in the Carolines, grows readily on atoll islets, including Pollap.2 This type of taro can handle fairly large amounts of water—as long as it is freshwater and as long as salt water does not invade the area—and can thus withstand some heavy rains. Cyrtosperma can be cultivated either through suckers or through planting the top of a corm. Lacking viable seeds, this type of planting is necessary for propagation (Pollock 2000:219). Some varieties manage to mature in a year, while others take longer; some varieties of Colocasia (true taro), however, can mature earlier, sometimes in as short a time as six to nine months. The top of the corm is used for planting either type of taro, and care is taken to fertilize and mulch with leaves, especially when nurturing Colocasia. Cyrtosperma can survive in water that is somewhat brackish and can be left for years unharvested in the ground without deteriorating (Englberger et al. 2003a:227). It is conventional wisdom for Pollapese that Cyrtosperma is far easier to grow and to tend than Colocasia, and the fact that true taro is both more work and less common probably explains in part why it is the more highly valued. Taro is available year round, unlike fresh breadfruit, which is seasonal, but the subsistence base can nonetheless be threatened by typhoons that periodically strike the Caroline atolls. These storms can easily cause the taro gardens to fill with salt water, largely because of the huge waves such storms can generate. This salt water is disastrous for the taro, killing much of it, and potentially results in famine if no assistance is provided by nearby islanders or the United States. According to the women, the taro “dries out” from the inundation, thus ruining the meat. They contend that even too much freshwater from heavy rains may create problems for growing taro, especially true taro. All aroids, including the taros Pollap consume, are acrid and thus eas-

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ily irritate the skin, mouth, and throat. As a result, they need to be handled carefully to reduce itching and stinging, and they must be very thoroughly cooked before eaten. The irritation problem may be related to crystals of oxalic acid that are found in both taro leaves and corms (Maga 1992:460; Pollock 2000:226). Nutritional studies indicate that both types of taro are quite serviceable as staple foods, and the protein from either can make a significant contribution to the diet, at least for adults (Maga 1992; Standal 1983). The main nutrient in both types not surprisingly is carbohydrate; levels of fat and salt are low, and the protein is of medium quality, similar to that of rice. Although the protein is not sufficient for growing children or pregnant women, it is nonetheless acceptable for most adults. The fiber content is high (Huang, Titchenal, and Meilleur 2000:863). Comparing the two types of taro, Cyrtosperma has more calcium than Colocasia, but both provide potassium and B vitamins, and though not overly rich in carotene, both can nonetheless provide about twice as much of the nutrient as a potato can (Standal 1983). Taros also have high levels of zinc, and the yellower varieties of Cyrtosperma have high levels of provitamin A and other carotenoids (Englberger et al. 2003a, 2003b). Pollapese often mix both types of taro in their gardens, but swamp taro is much more commonly eaten and is easier for the women to produce. Although varieties of swamp taro on Pollap take about a year or more to mature compared with about nine months for many varieties of true taro, women maintain that they can let swamp taro stay in the ground for a while without it going bad, unlike true taro. They say that with true taro, “You put it in, you take it out, you put it in, you take it out,” which requires more constant vigilance and tending. That is one reason they maintain that swamp taro is more plentiful: it can be left unattended and unharvested without spoiling. Different varieties of true taro mature at somewhat different times, but all true taro is in general more vulnerable and has to be harvested within a relatively narrow time frame. Women maintain, for example, that the masowan ‘contents’ (meat) of chéchól ‘dark’ varieties can deteriorate especially quickly, perhaps after seven or eight months, if not harvested. Other varieties have a longer growing cycle; pwer´epwer´ ‘light, white’ (a favorite on Pollap) and párápár ‘red’ varieties, for example, are larger and may last a year before harvesting. Another factor affecting potential crop yields is the amount of rain, because true taro is much more sensitive to excess water than is swamp taro. If the swamp receives too much rainwater, true taro spoils fairly quickly—even faster than under normal circumstances. Under good conditions, true taro can remain in the soil for a month or so after maturation before going bad, according to informants. Thus in many respects true taro is the more fragile food, softer and more vulnerable than swamp taro. Women also point out that the leaves,



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stems, and corms of true taro are softer than those of swamp taro. In sum, true taro deteriorates more quickly, is more sensitive to variations in the amount of water, and requires more careful cultivation and mulching. The freshwater swampy area where taro is cultivated in the central part of the island is known to Pollapese as pwéél, and islanders distinguish between swamp taro grown in this pwéél and swamp taro grown closer to home in essentially untended gardens. Swamp taro grown in pwéél is much preferred and cooks far more quickly. With the other type, women explain that they typically have to start cooking the day before they plan to consume it and then rise early the next day to finish the cooking. On the other hand, women contend that it is far easier to grow, since it does not involve any real cultivation or the work of mulching: “You just dig it up, make a place, and then plant it.” True taro, however, unlike swamp taro, is grown only in the pwéél, where women have enriched the soil and regularly mulch and tend their taro. In fact, an area in which the soil has been worked and enriched is part of the definition of pwéél, and true taro is grown only in such areas. From time to time I heard discussions about some women possessing more true taro than others, although I never heard such discussions about swamp taro. For example, in preparing for December 8, several people deliberating about the food contributions for the afternoon feast stressed trying to avoid placing an undue burden on women who could provide less true taro than others. One of the chiefly women in particular repeatedly stressed that a plate of swamp taro instead of true taro would be acceptable for the feast, and that in general organizers should not ask for too many plates of true taro as required contributions. The only factor I heard discussed as explaining some of this variation, however, was the fact that some women could afford to pay others to nnak—to work the soil and tend the gardens—compared with other women who had to rely on their own labor and the work of relatives willing to help them. The ability and willingness to nnak seems to be the major criterion; I heard of no one lacking appropriate plots in the pwéél for growing true taro.

Gardening Gardening terms that emerged in the initial free-listing activities conducted with women included ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens,’ nnak ‘cultivate the soil for growing taro,’ and atake ‘gardening.’ In discussions about these terms, some women made a distinction between crops they atake ‘garden’ and crops they nnak ‘cultivate the soil’ for. These women asserted that atake applies to plants such as bananas and breadfruit that involve little more than planting and harvesting, whereas nnak applies to cultivating taro through working the soil

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and enriching and mulching it with leaves. For other women, however, atake was a general term for growing food, with nnak a subset of this category. In any case, all agreed that nnak is the term for working out in the pwéél to grow taro. Some claim that Pollap’s true taro is superior to that of other islanders because of the way they nnak; they assert that other women, on other islands, sometimes just plant and harvest taro without the extra care and work of preparing the soil and nurturing the plants, at least to the same extent as Pollapese women do. Pollap women also speak with pride of the quality of their island’s taro swamp and believe it is a factor responsible for the superiority—certainly in their eyes—of Pollap’s true taro compared with that of other islands. They maintain that, unlike the swamps on neighboring islands, theirs is unusually deep, which thus promotes the production of good true taro. On Polowat and Houk, for example, two other islands in the Western Islands group, one can supposedly dig down only a little way before reaching sand. Pollapese women acknowledge that swamp taro may be of good quality on those islands, but not the true taro. They also point out that nearby islands rely on manmade taro swamps, whereas Pollap’s swamp is naturally occurring, and this they believe also helps account for its superiority. Nonetheless, women carefully work the soil and add organic material for enrichment and mulching, and they have been expanding the naturally swampy area to create more garden space. Each woman has a section of taro swamp that is hers to work on, and the various areas within the swamp have traditional, long-standing names, just as do plots of other types of land around the island. Women sometimes venture out alone to work in their gardens, sometimes with other female kin, and occasionally even with a spouse. From time to time, a group of women work together to cultivate an area, with a senior kinswoman directing her younger relatives (see Figure 4.1). Women laboring together are related through kin ties and have decided to work with each other on a particular woman’s plot. Working as a group is especially the case with saata ‘hiring,’ when one woman pays a group five to ten dollars (plus food and drink) to work on her patch. Taro gardening has traditionally been subsistence work, however, and has only recently involved payment, although women still continue to help one another through the kinship system as well. This ability of women with access to money through their own employment or through that of relatives to hire others is what is believed to enable some women to produce substantially more true taro than others can. Even if a woman ventures out alone and works by herself, she still has ample opportunities for socializing, and it would be almost unthinkable for her not to take advantage of them. A woman is likely to sit for a bit outside the garden before entering, chatting with others in the clearing, usually discussing



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Figure 4.1╇ Working in the taro gardens

recent events and gossiping. She may meet other women on the way in or out of the gardens and sometimes stop again to talk. And she will probably work nearby another woman, even if she cannot see her. I even noticed women calling out jokes to each other from across a fair distance in the gardens. Thus, even though gardening is hard work, especially out in the heat and sun, and certainly has its solitary aspects, women still find occasions to visit and talk with other women, with no clear separation between work and leisure. The day is not divided into times and places for “work” as compared with those for “relaxing.” Older girls may help their mothers in the taro gardens, especially with tasks such as carrying baskets, mulching, and weeding. Younger girls can assist with minor tasks such as carrying coconut fronds to provide some shade in the garden, but they are not expected to undertake any of the heavier work. I noticed a number of girls who wanted to help their mothers, and without overt pressure or encouragement. I even occasionally observed a mother actively discouraging her daughter’s efforts to help, especially when the girl clearly was not working very effectively. Working in the taro gardens may be optional for girls, but this is not the case for women. In fact, one of the signs of being r´óópwut ‘a woman’ is engaging in women’s work—specifically in the taro gardens. It is during the years when a woman is maamaw ‘strong, healthy, vigorous’ that she is expected,

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without question, to work in the taro gardens. It is only in later years, when she becomes older and weaker, that younger women take over cultivating her gardens. Accompanying a woman out to the gardens is not culturally viewed as fun or exciting; for most, it is simply hot. This is in contrast to attitudes about joining the fishing activities of men, especially as revealed by a study conducted by a Pollap student at the University of Guam. This man, now an island leader, interviewed Western Islands students as part of a class project. His findings (personal communication) indicated that many of the young people believed they spent more time with their fathers than with their mothers while growing up. The investigator believed that these findings most likely had to do in part with how busy women are and in part with the kind of work they do. Men may well take children with them fishing, which seems to be perceived as more “fun,” whereas the taro gardens are just plain hot. I also heard small children complain that they would sink down and get stuck in the mud of the swamp, and mothers have little patience with such complaints. For example, I heard one mother insist, “You have small feet and you can walk along the edges [which are firmer than the mucky paths themselves]; you’ll be fine.” People also grumble about how they are likely to itch from being in the swamps, especially if it has recently rained and if they have been handling true taro. People are especially susceptible when the swamp has filled with extra water from heavier-than-usual rain, and true taro tends to be worse than swamp taro for causing people to itch. When a woman sets out to work in her gardens, she may have a child accompany her, or she may leave children in the care of their father or another woman in the household. Older women who no longer work in the gardens are most often the ones to serve as babysitters. In fact, taking care of young children while the parents tend to gardening, fishing, and other work away from home is among the many valued practical contributions of older people. It is almost taken for granted, and such work is even part of the definition of being older and of being a grandparent. The point is that working in the gardens is not perceived as interfering or being incompatible with taking care of children; rather, it is part and parcel of being a woman and a mother. After all, through gardening, a woman is taking care of her children since she is ensuring that there will be adequate food for the entire family. When respondents listed and discussed women’s work, and again when they engaged in rating the importance of the various responsibilities of women, they regularly talked not simply of “planting taro” but of “planting taro for our children” (emphasis mine). In the words of one woman, “We keep our families alive and well because of this work. If we don’t work in the gardens, there will be no food.” Babysitting children is not supposed to be a



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healthy adult woman’s primary task; nor is it supposed to be hers alone. Fathers are among those expected to participate. At the community workshop about women’s roles, for example, some men were concerned that women no longer make a type of fish trap (uunóómw) that they used to make. In response, one woman said, “But you men won’t take care of the children so that we women can have the time to do things like weave the fish traps.” The male response to this comment at the workshop was, “Well, you manage to find the time to go work in the taro gardens.” Women have somewhat of a respite from gardening following childbirth, however. This is because after the birth of a child a woman is expected to remain home with the infant for at least several months, assisted by her sisters, mother, and mother-in-law. These women help her both with the care of the infant and with tending her gardens. After this period of rest with her newborn, a mother then returns to her regular work in the gardens and can expect to find others willing to watch her children. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are the officially scheduled days on which women work in the taro gardens, with Tuesday reserved for municipal meetings and work, Thursday for the church, Saturday for food preparation, and Sunday as a day of rest. According to this regular weekly work schedule, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are the days when people in general—men and women both—are normally permitted to leave the settlement area for leewal ‘the forest,’ thus allowing work out in the taro gardens. The same schedule does not usually apply to accessing foodstuffs not grown out in the woods; for example, the less valued swamp taro grown nearby can be harvested on any day (though usually not Sunday, which is a day of rest), as can bananas, breadfruit, or other foods located in or near the settlement area. Traditionally, the chief of the island has been responsible for regulating access to food resources and thus helping to ensure that they are adequately conserved. This three-day-a-week work schedule appears to be a version of that same process. Women claim that in the past they would have worked in the taro gardens every day, so they appreciate what they perceive as efforts today to conserve women’s time and energy as well as the food resources. They say they value being able to get some rest on the days in between, since other work is usually seen as less arduous than the work in the taro gardens. Even with a daily schedule of taro gardening in the past, however, chiefly elders would have been responsible for conservation of resources, and there would have been periods of time in which people were not permitted to harvest food. Restrictions still occur from time to time today; for example, such a taboo was put into effect for a month in the wake of the death of a chiefly woman in 1998. In discussing chiefly regulations about venturing out past the settlement area to harvest food, one woman explained: “In the past, they would blow a shell

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signaling that people could go out to the taro gardens. It might be only for one day that they could harvest their crops.” So the schedule followed today of gardening three days a week shows continuity with an earlier pattern of regulation rather than with a pattern of individual or household free choice about when and how much to work, and when to harvest taro. The weekly schedule clearly is not rigidly followed day in and day out, but varies with ongoing needs and plans. For example, in the fall of 1998 women worked nearly every day in preparation for December 8 to ensure an adequate supply of true taro for the festivities. At other times during the year, when extra work is necessary for some reason, accommodations are made and the schedule adjusted. In the same vein, for certain occasions, such as mourning the death of a chiefly person, women refrain from working out in the gardens, even on the days that ordinarily are permitted. And before conversion to Catholicism and abandonment of the menstrual houses, women were not supposed to nnak ‘cultivate the soil for taro’ while they were menstruating or else they risked having their male relatives drown while out fishing. On the other hand, women are not forced to work in the gardens if they have no need to do so on a particular day or if other concerns take priority. I remember vividly one particular Friday when a number of women decided not to venture out to their gardens because of fears of a catastrophe. For weeks the community had been rife with rumors about something dreadful that was supposedly scheduled to fall from the sky and cause earthquakes and possible widespread devastation that Friday. (My best guess about the cause of the rumor was an impending meteor shower.) In response, women stayed away from the gardens for two reasons. First, the gardens lie out in the forest, far from home and family, and women dread the thought of dying alone out in the gardens rather than surrounded by kin. Despite its social aspect, gardening is nonetheless viewed as lonely work and as labor that takes them away from the comfort and support of their relatives. People spoke with heartfelt sympathy and concern about the case of a woman who several years before had died in the taro gardens, alone, without any kin nearby. She had sent the younger women home while she continued to work a little longer, but then failed to return herself: “She didn’t come after rosary, and she didn’t come even by the next morning.” Soon enough, however, she was discovered in her garden, and the sorrow of the death was compounded by her having died alone instead of surrounded by family. If Pollapese were to die that particular Friday from the unknown disaster, they at least wanted to die with their relatives around them. A second reason why women avoided their gardens that day was so that they could gather together instead to pray in the church. Pollapese have a profound belief in the power of prayer—in this case the power of prayer to prevent the catastrophe.



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When women head out for work in their gardens, in addition to wearing their customary lavalava, they usually don a long-sleeved shirt and wrap a scarf around their heads for some protection from the open sun. Although the taro plants are about as tall as a person, there is otherwise minimal shade. In addition to the shirts and scarves, sometimes women also prop up a coconut frond to provide themselves with some temporary shade. For a little protection for their legs, in recent years some also have started changing into trousers just outside the swamp, tying a plant fiber around the lower edges to keep the pant leg snug around the ankle. Since they walk and work barefoot in the swamp, the trousers safeguard them somewhat against scratches. Women wait until reaching the edge of the gardens before putting on pants, however, because it would be inappropriate for a ‘brother’ to see them dressed that way. If she has not brought a basket with her from home, a woman may also sit outside the gardens in the shade and construct a basket on the spot out of a coconut frond. To do so, she plaits one side of the frond, followed by the other, and then plaits them together. By splitting the stem holding the leaflets down the middle of the frond and stripping off the middle, hard section, she can then open the frond into a basket. Before placing the harvested taro inside, the basket is lined with taro leaves, and when filled, the two ends of the basket can be pulled together and tied to secure the contents. With her basket, machete, and some water, a woman is ready to enter the gardens. Most of the pwéél ‘taro gardens’ obviously is swampy, making shoes impractical, but scattered throughout the swamp are some higher areas that remain dry and might have a coconut tree or two growing on them. Here a woman may rest to drink a coconut or some water, and on the way back she may also stop to trim her harvested taro. To access her plot, she follows narrow, usually very mucky, paths that wind throughout the taro gardens. To nnak ‘cultivate the soil,’ a woman digs into the dirt with her hands and machete, and adds leaves (such as banana or breadfruit leaves that have not been dried) and covers them with some soil. This, women say, makes the taro corms become maamaw ‘strong.’ A woman can then proceed to plant taro by using about an inch left from cutting off a corm together with the lower stems. After cutting off taro, she bends some remaining leaves back, winds them around the remaining section of the corm, and plants it. A woman may plant as she goes or wait until she has finished preparing a whole plot and then plant. Other work in the garden involves weeding out vines and additional invasive plants that can hinder the growth of good-quality taro. Tending true taro entails more effort than growing swamp taro, because women have to add an extra step to the process. After a true taro plant has started to grow, when three or four stems with leaves have emerged, more leaves and mud should be added around the base of the growing plant. These leaves

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may be dried first or put around the plant to dry in place, and mud then added on top. This in and of itself entails a considerable amount of work. A woman first gathers the leaves she believes to be most effective and then spreads them out near her home or outside the gardens. Next she has to haul them out to her garden in baskets on her head (see Figure 4.2). When I ventured out to the gardens one day, I counted a total of about five baskets—one that the woman carried out with her and at least four others that a young kinswoman was asked to bring in from where they had been laid out near the boundary of the taro gardens. I was taught to put these leaves completely around a plant covering about a six-inch circle around the stem, squeezing them as densely as I could and then piling mud on top to cover them. This, they say, helps ensure large corms; without this work, true taro would be unacceptably small by Pollap standards. To harvest taro, a woman digs with her machete down around the edge of a corm, pulls it out, cuts off the top stems and leaves, and trims a bit of the outside of the corm. Then with about three whacks of her machete, rolling a little forward and pushing against the top, she is able to cut off the corm, leaving about an inch attached to the upper stem of the plant. Before leaving the gardens, a woman usually trims each taro corm a bit more, cutting out bad spots and chopping up the larger corms. She lines a coconut frond basket with taro leaves and then uses the basket to haul the trimmed taro back home.

Figure 4.2╇ Carrying leaves to the gardens



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Women may pick coconuts to drink while they are out working—using, for example, the small trees on the raised dry sections of the gardens—and they customarily carry water with them. They do not normally take food, however, but usually wait to eat until they return home in the afternoon. In fact, conventional wisdom explicitly contends that one reason women have a hard time working in the taro swamp is precisely because they do not eat in the gardens; while women bemoan this fact, at the same time they speak with some pride of how demanding it is for them to work in the taro gardens with no noon meal, especially considering all the heavy work: “We might leave for work with just a small meal in the morning and then not eat again until evening.” The strength and fortitude required for this work are sources of pride for women and contribute to the value of taro, especially of true taro. Women speak of taro gardening as their ‘biggest’ work and their major responsibility, and they claim that because of it, they work more and harder than men do: “Men might make one canoe in a year, but we go to the gardens every day. They might work on one house in a month or in a year, but we go every day. They go fishing, but then they just put down the fish and they can just sit or sleep. They may go get breadfruit, but then we fix it. They can just sit down or sleep.”

Offering Taro Culturally, true taro (Colocasia) is preferred on Pollap, and this is the taro used for any special offerings. A cultural value placed on true taro in fact seems to extend beyond Pollap. On Ifaluk, for example, true taro is one of the foods of the ancestral spirits (along with flowers) and something valued by both people and spirits (Burrows and Spiro 1970:214). Not all true taro is considered to be equally tasty, however. It is said to be especially good if it is ngngútangngút ‘strong, tough, elastic’3 and par´apar´ ‘sticky,’ whereas poor true taro is r´aanur´aan ‘watery.’ Larger true taro corms are preferable to smaller ones, and either kind of taro—true taro or swamp taro—should be cooked in or covered with coconut cream. Common ways of accomplishing this are to cook chunks of taro in coconut cream and water, to slightly mash the cooked taro and coconut cream together, or to boil taro in water and subsequently pound it into a paste and then serve it topped with a sauce of coconut cream. People freely acknowledge that some individuals may personally prefer the taste of swamp taro or some other staple to the taste of true taro. Furthermore, either true taro or swamp taro is normally acceptable to offer guests, and both are believed to provide strength. For example, when I visited a household one

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day where a woman was walking around in labor, a kinswoman was preparing swamp taro because the pregnant woman had asked for it and believed it would help make her strong for the imminent labor and delivery. Nonetheless, true taro still carries prestige regardless of personal taste, and a gift or offering of true taro sends a stronger message than does a plate of swamp taro. If Pollapese wish to signal that they awúcheyeni ‘value’ someone, the cultural choice should be to offer them true taro rather than swamp taro. Pollapese are especially pleased to be able to offer true taro to visitors from neighboring Houk and Polowat, who are said to crave Pollap’s true taro, supposedly the best in the area. In general, however, all visitors are honored with true taro. Even once islanders had become familiar with my favorite local foods, which were swamp taro or preserved breadfruit dishes rather than true taro (and it was acceptable to have a favorite that was not true taro), they nonetheless made a distinction between deliberately preparing a dish they knew I particularly liked and bringing a special gift of true taro. True taro is more scarce than swamp taro, more work to cultivate, and more vulnerable to inclement weather conditions, and these contribute to its higher value. The fact that it tends to have a softer consistency than swamp taro is appreciated as well, since in general people tend to prefer soft, pasty foods. For example, pounded breadfruit and taro are typically favored over firm chunks, even when cooked in coconut cream. In addition to differences in consistency between types of taro, conventional wisdom also contends that the taste of true taro is superior to the taste of swamp taro, although as already mentioned islanders acknowledge that this varies with individual preferences. Also contributing to the significance of true taro is the belief that other islanders acknowledge and value the high quality of Pollap’s true taro. Any number of occasions may be appropriate for a gift or offering of taro. For example, soon after my husband and I arrived on the island, we learned of someone whose serious injury had been successfully treated by massage administered by a neighboring islander, and on this, the anniversary of the event, the family was therefore sending a gift of taro in thanks. Later in the year, for a party to honor some visitors from Korea who had arrived to assist with a couple of development projects, women prepared both types of taro, but especially true taro. Even though it was breadfruit season, the women explicitly spoke of how it was nonetheless essential to provide true taro in order to demonstrate to the Koreans how much they valued their assistance. During discussions of the traditional council concerning fines to impose for violating new rules regulating drinking, two suggestions were made regarding items from the domain of tradition as possible fines: mats and true taro. No other food item was mentioned, only true taro. In addition, I heard numerous stories of the past about women cooking true taro to present to men in the main canoe



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house, and many old tales involved offerings of true taro as an element in the plot. Even in recent years, when men and women have celebrated with mówun wóón woot me yiik ‘throwing taro and fish,’ the event specifically has called for true taro. Furthermore, a motivation for this choice is said to be that women feel ttong (love, compassion, sympathy, mercy, pity) for the men and thus wish to provide them with the valued true taro, which both honors the men and reveals the women to be good nurturers. At a ceremony initiating new navigators that was re-created on Pollap a few years ago, men cooked breadfruit—a food that men, rather than women, normally harvest as it may involve climbing trees—and women cooked true taro. A huge bowl of true taro included in such ceremonies is also connected with myths of early navigators in which such taro plays a key role. Even the story I heard narrated most often, a tale about how navigation came to Pollap, contains true taro as a key element.4 According to this tale, a magical kuling ‘plover’ that had raided the nearby islands eventually arrived at Pollap and was fed there by a Pollapese woman. Although she brought the bird only a coconut, a fish, and a single true taro (not swamp taro or breadfruit or bananas) in a coconut shell, the bird was nonetheless able to continue eating until he was completely full. In return, he taught the woman the secrets of navigation, which is how the knowledge arrived on Pollap. Later, she loaded the bird with all the leftover true taro, which weighed him down so heavily that he drowned; thus he was unable to continue devouring all the surrounding islanders. At the community workshop about women’s roles, one of the questions posed to participants had to do with customs that have faded; one particular response that was discussed concerned a gift of true taro that a new mother customarily used to make to her husband’s mother and/or his sisters. While she was pregnant, a woman would “nnak, nnak, nnak” (seriously cultivate her taro gardens), to quote a couple of women, in preparation for the birth and for the period of time afterwards when she would not be working in the gardens. She had to remain home for about four months following childbirth, and then the first time she returned to her gardens, she was expected to fill a basket with true taro and present it to the women of her husband’s household. Although this custom has been abandoned, it is evidence of a long-standing value placed on true taro. December 8 is the major church holiday for which true taro offerings are made today, but a secondary occasion is now June 26, the anniversary of the ordination of a priest from Pollap and dedication of the new church after it was renovated and enlarged. June is also the month of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which is the name of Pollap’s church. Although the whole community is involved in the four major church holidays, the various church groups plan

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the lesser ones, and Selator and Selatora—members of the senior group—are responsible for planning this particular holiday in June. A celebration in honor of their church, especially when organized by this particular church group, warrants offerings of true taro. At times, however, some chiefly elders have been concerned about conserving true taro, the amount of work required to provide massive offerings for feast days, and unequal access to money for buying the offerings of true taro. Some leaders have deemed it unfair that only those with money can manage to purchase such offerings. Even though the money goes to support the church, some islanders are uncomfortable with the resulting uneven distribution of true taro, which is in contrast with other contexts of food distribution. Furthermore, I gather that at times the transactions over the offerings have tended toward the commercial, with something akin to church groups organizing markets in which taro was sold. Nonetheless, the island women steadfastly resist abandoning their offerings of true taro, especially for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. More than once I heard them discussing attempts made by leaders to downplay the true taro offerings, but then the island was hit by Typhoon Owen. In its wake, some islanders expressed concern that the calamity had befallen the community because they had neglected Mary; the typhoon might not have been a direct punishment, but the offerings were nonetheless reinstated afterwards, in the hope that this would encourage Mary to intervene to protect them from future devastating storms. Clearly, women believe that true taro offerings help place them in a favorable position in Mary’s eyes; after all, in addition to helping true taro grow, she is the one who can protect them from typhoons. Fatima, a small shrine at the northern end of the settlement area on the western side of the islet, houses a statue of Mary, and it had been built where islanders believe typhoons tend to strike. In the same vein, Pollapese maintain a strong belief in the power of prayer to affect Mary and their taro harvests. At one point during the year when taro was growing poorly, a chiefly leader of the women pointed out that the puny taro was presumably the result of the women having been lax in their prayers; she encouraged them to join her before dawn in the church or up at Fatima for special prayers several days a week in order to promote a better harvest. When preparing their offerings for December 8, women still operate in a competitive atmosphere, even though there is no longer an official prize for the woman who produces the largest taro. The singing and dancing on the way out to the gardens on the seventh was replete with competitive themes, and when women harvested particularly large plants that day, they let out hoots of triumph, convinced they were likely winners. Furthermore, even in the absence of an explicit contest, the taro plants were laid out side by side and compared as women emerged from the gardens.



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I detected no sense of shame or belittlement at not having the largest plants, only pride on the part of those that did.5 It seems that competitions tend in general to add extra festive overtones to events. For example, the entertainment for feasts typically involves competitions of some sort in the forms of dances, songs, skits, and games, with people organized along any number of categories, for example, gender, church group, or village. Women persist in their desire to offer true taro on December 8. One of the reasons they say that some of the elders have discouraged it has to do with the work involved; for women, it results in waa mwoow ‘broken veins’—a reference to how tired and exhausted they become. With a measure of pride, however, women also maintain that they wish to make offerings of their exhaustion along with their true taro. True taro on December 8 thus is an emblem of their strength, their contribution to family and community well-being, and their success as women. It marks them as able to care for their families and to honor visitors, thus bringing prestige to the entire community. It signals their value, not just in providing material sustenance, but also in forging a spiritual bond with the mother of God. Mary is the ultimate nurturer, and Pollap women are demonstrating their ability to follow in her footsteps. Offering true taro is central to their identity; it is no wonder that they resist abandoning the practice.

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Chapter 5

Who’s in Charge and Are Any of Them Women?

Pollapese speak of three domains that govern their lives: religion, tradition, and government. These are not simply anthropological, analytic categories applied by outsiders; Pollapese themselves explicitly speak of these forces as shaping, governing, and guiding their lives. Ideally, one domain should not take priority over or conflict with another. Nonetheless, they often do so in practice; the boundaries are not always clear or discrete, and have to be continuously negotiated, even in the case of important events such as December 8 that take place annually. The Pollapese terms for these domains are usually lamalam ‘religion’ (referring to Christianity in particular), ééréni ‘tradition, custom,’ and mwowún ‘government.’ By ‘government’ they mean specifically the institutions that have developed through the efforts of outsiders, and in most everyday situations the term refers to the municipal government modeled after a U.S. democratic, representative system. As an alternative label to mwowún for this domain, Pollapese sometimes use the borrowed English word “municipal.” For the domain of lamalam, Pollapese occasionally use the word mwichipin ‘church’ instead. The designation “domain” is mine, although every now and then Pollapese use the borrowed English word “government.” The term “government” for the notion I have labeled “domain” is accurate in the sense that all three domains are perceived by Pollapese as governing their lives, but its use can be misleading to Americans, who tend not to consider tradition or religion as types of government. Alternatively, at times Pollapese speak of these domains as three ‘sides’: pelien mwowún ‘the side of government,’ pelien mwichipin ‘the side of the church,’ and pelien ééréni ‘the side of tradition.’ The main point is that, cognitively, these are three distinctive, named spheres of life that Pollapese perceive as regulating, guiding, or governing their lives. In the Pollapese view these domains should not conflict with each other if life in the community is to proceed smoothly and peacefully. This ideal balance is not unproblematic or readily accomplished, however, as I repeatedly

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witnessed discussions and public speeches about these three domains and the activities they should or should not govern. Most comments stressed how imperative it was that all three operate together, hand in hand. This constant emphasis on the domains functioning together harmoniously may well be necessary precisely because people are aware of how, in practice, one domain does often conflict with or tread on the territory of another. Whether at municipal, church, or traditional events, it is commonplace—almost de rigueur—for speakers to refer to these domains and emphasize the importance of their working in tandem. The contexts of these speeches themselves are telling; for example, at a religious workshop Pollapese attended on a nearby island, a chiefly man (representing the domain of tradition) who was also a key figure on the municipal council raised the issue of these three domains, reiterating the point of desirable cooperation. At the weekly municipal meetings, the lay leader of the church frequently encouraged avoiding conflicts with the realm of tradition. It is quite common for the context of one domain to include figures representing one or both of the other domains, and for the leading participants to speak of how the three areas ought to function cooperatively. Although the domains are expected to operate in harmony with each other, they must also nonetheless remain distinct. In fact this distinctiveness is supposed to be a means of evading problems. For example, typically different bells are rung or shells blown to summon people to meetings, depending on the domain and the type of meeting involved, and the signal for one must never be used for another’s domain. Furthermore, in theory, separate groups of people are in charge in each domain, and one group refrains from infringing on the territory of another. In actuality, the domains nevertheless interpenetrate, boundaries are not always clear, and leaders overlap. Within each of these domains, the roles and statuses of women differ. The possibilities for women to maneuver, shape the course of events, influence the behavior of others, and participate in decision making vary, depending on the domain. And obviously, there are often differences between the conventional wisdom about the role of women and the reality of their situation.

The Domain of Tradition Two key governing bodies in the domain of tradition or custom are the island chief—along with others of the chiefly clan—and a council of male clan elders. Pollapese speak of particular customs, such as showing deference to brothers, as operating in this domain and as regulating their lives. These customs connect with the formal structures of chieftainship and council because the chief, others of the chiefly clan, and traditional council members are ultimately

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responsible for upholding, promoting, and at times even defining the nature of Pollapese custom. For example, islanders contend that when Pollapese converted to Christianity, it was the community chief who set fire to the menstrual houses in order to abolish an aspect of tradition that had come to be interpreted as specifically ‘pagan.’ Only a chiefly act would have had enough credibility to successfully redefine tradition and achieve acceptance in the community. Anthropologists have now long recognized that much of what may be labeled or perceived of as tradition is not a collection of historical relics surviving from the past but contemporary symbolic constructions.1 Although traditions purport to relate to the past, they are nonetheless asserted in the present, in particular places and contexts; they are influenced by specific opportunities and constraints, and relate to current needs, issues, and problems. Considerable debate has occurred about the label “invented” being attached to “tradition,” especially as “invention” came to imply inauthenticity and illegitimacy (Jolly 1992; Keesing 1989, 1991; Linnekin 1991; Trask 1991). It is nonetheless clear that traditions allegedly passed down intact from ancestors may well not gibe with historical fact, and it is the cultural beliefs about tradition that are the more “real” or “true,” in that those beliefs—not historical facts—are what shape behavior and local understandings of current issues and concerns. People do not simply passively accept unchanging traditions. Identities and traditions are negotiated in an ongoing process, in given times, places, and sociocultural contexts, and the ways in which people represent their past and assert certain behavior as traditional are related to strategic concerns of the present.2 Pollapese themselves acknowledge a certain malleability in tradition and recognize the political benefits of asserting that they continue to practice particular traditions, yet they defer to the chief and other elders to take the lead in defining the nature of that tradition. One clan, Howupwollap, is the chiefly one on the island, and the most senior man of this clan officially serves as the paramount chief of the entire community.3 At the time of my fieldwork, this particular man was quite elderly and senile, though nonetheless still well respected. Since he was clearly unable to carry out the duties of chief, however, the second-highest-ranking man in the clan took on those responsibilities. The mind of this second man was still strong, but physically he was weak and thus only rarely ventured out in public. Indeed, during the time I was there, he only once spoke publicly. In order to accomplish this, he had to be transported in a wheelbarrow to and from the community meetinghouse; that may sound undignified to an American, but this chiefly man nonetheless carried himself with impressive dignity, grace, and poise. Because of his infirmity, the third senior man took over in most public, active situations, and in his absence, the fourth man. In fact, all those in the chiefly clan have a measure of chiefly obligations to safeguard the welfare of the



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islanders and to provide for visitors. Although the most senior man had none of the responsibilities of chief, he was still accorded the honors and respect due the position. For example, when I arrived, my family suggested that I visit the chief with greetings and if possible offer a small gift such as cigarettes or candy, and it was clear that this in effect meant visiting both the titular chief and the number two person who actually carried out most of the responsibilities. These chiefly responsibilities are essentially to take care of the islanders and their resources. One of the ways the chief does this was discussed in the previous chapter on taro: the chief acts on behalf of the whole community by designating Monday, Wednesday, and Friday as the days for venturing out into the forested area, a restriction that helps prevent overexploitation of resources. If someone wishes to enter the area on other days, permission must be sought from someone in the chiefly clan. In the same vein, concern for both the resources and the well-being of islanders has been behind chiefly decisions to restrict overly large offerings of taro for feasts such as December 8. The chief also regulates other activities, such as community fishing and the drinking of alcohol, and he must therefore remain sensitive to the mood, needs, and interests of the community. The chiefly clan also owns some reefs and the nearby uninhabited islet, and thus in effect controls access to these areas, which in turn controls the resources available in those localities. Ideally, such regulation benefits the entire community and should not be abused by the chiefly clan for their own purposes, and at least some customs serve to prevent a chief from being able to take complete control. For example, after the official period of mourning for someone of the chiefly clan, the nearby islet, owned by the clan, is open for a day to the entire community to exploit freely for any resource. The chief typically must balance various needs and interests within the community, and he may have to contend with the conflicting interests of opposing groups. One common and recurring case centers on alcohol consumption, because for the most part men and women hold starkly contrasting views about whether or not such drinking should be permitted in the community. Men enjoy drinking and contend that it is a social activity providing an ideal context for learning about traditional medicine and other specialities; they assert that owners of these specialties, who are reluctant to reveal their knowledge when sober, are more likely to be forthcoming when drinking in these social groups. Women, on the other hand, maintain that men neglect their work and sometimes cause disturbances when drinking. Islanders sometimes attempt to purposely sway the chief in his decisions. One tactic is simply to request a particular decision, and if necessary to do so repeatedly. Given their belief in the power of language, a common strategy even among individuals in more ordinary situations is to ask repeatedly until a request is granted. A sister hoping for permission from a brother to attend

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school, for example, may use this tactic. A request made of the chief may also be accompanied with gifts, thus strengthening its impact. The chief and others of the chiefly clan are also responsible for the care of visitors. If someone arrives who is a member of a clan not represented on the island (or without a clan at all, such as foreign anthropologists), the chiefly clan is expected to take responsibility for that person. A visitor who becomes a long-term resident may even opt to affiliate with that clan. In any case, the chief must ensure that visitors are fed and housed. When we arrived on Pollap, for example, it was the chief’s decision that each household in turn bring us a plate of food—which they did, almost without interruption, the entire time we were on the island, even though we were affiliated with a family that was also providing for us. The interests of the chief and his own well-being must be secondary to those of the community. A vivid historical case is that of a man who was chief during part of the Japanese era because he endured beatings rather than cooperate with the Japanese in their attempts to draft men from the island. In fact, the same sort of attitude is expected of anyone in the chiefly clan. A nonchiefly woman described how even ongoing medical problems in a chiefly family should not excuse or relieve them of their obligations to care for visitors: “Yes, they may have problems, but they are chiefly.” And although everyone—male or female, chiefly or nonchiefly—is frequently exhorted to be patient, such behavior is most incumbent upon those who are chiefly. This expectation is reflected in one of expressions used to characterize the chiefly clan, namely fawun lukun púngúpúng ‘rock that is outside [i.e., impervious to] the roaring.’ In other words, no matter how often people approach chiefly people to petition or complain, members of the clan must remain patient, calm, and forbearing. They must be “rocks” in the midst of all the “noise” of the talk of the people. And they must set an example for others to follow by strictly observing all the rules. For example, at a chiefly clan meeting, the young men were exhorted to scrupulously comply with the regulations about drinking in order to set a good example for other men of the community. The chief is honored in a number of ways. Most obvious are first-fruit offerings of true taro, breadfruit, preserved breadfruit, fish, and coconuts. Although technically the chief may do as he wishes with this food, in reality it is redistributed. In addition, three kinds of fish and a type of turtle must be offered to the chiefly clan when caught; other islanders may eat them only if they are redistributed. Some claim that these foods enable the chief—and presumably anyone of that clan—to “speak well, act kindly, and be concerned for the people,” in the words of one informant articulating the conventional wisdom. This also succinctly sums up the expectations of the chiefly role. In other words, the chief



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must be able to speak well, as this is obviously critical to having influence over others. Lower-ranking members of the chiefly clan who speak well will have more real influence and will be expected to be more active in community affairs than someone of higher rank who lacks that ability. Much of the chief’s real influence, in fact, comes from this talent for speaking. The islanders normally expect the chief to be male, not female. Some people did point out that a woman nonetheless may conceivably be of higher rank than a paramount chief and named a particular woman in the generation senior to that of the current chief as an example. Although all the men of a particular generation outrank all the women of that generation, those of a higher generation, regardless of gender, are senior to those of a lower generation. Even though a woman is of higher rank, however, she does not therefore take over as chief; she would do so only if there are no men of the descent group. Krämer (1935) does not mention a female chief in the list of Pollap chiefs, but some Pollapese contend they had heard of one in their past, possibly around the end of the German or beginning of the Japanese era. Nearby Lamotrek can claim a female chief (Alkire 1965:36–37), and people of Ifaluk maintain that they could conceivably have one as well (Burrows and Spiro 1970:185). Pollapese certainly deem it possible, and it is true that women have acted in the place of a chief under special circumstances. When a chiefly decision needed to be made on the nearby uninhabited islet, for example, but no chiefly man had accompanied the group, people turned to a chiefly woman for guidance rather than to a man of another clan. Women of the chiefly clan have chiefly responsibilities with regard to women’s activities in the community. While I was on Pollap, chiefly women were expected to be instrumental in ensuring that women rehearsed dances, arranged for cultural demonstrations planned for the arrival of a tourist ship, and prepared food for designated events. In general, chiefly women take charge of organizing the details of women’s responsibilities at the community level. In addition, foods designated for the chiefly clan, such as the fish described above, are likely actually to be given to women of the clan rather than to the men. As is the case for chiefly men, oratorical skills are essential. This ability relies only partly on a facility with words; it also encompasses knowing when to adopt a light tone and make people laugh, and when to assume a more serious tone and lecture. In fact, the most active chiefly woman is not technically the highestranking woman, but she nonetheless serves as such largely because she is such a skilled speaker. She is said to know how to ‘use words’ and is appreciated for her ability to speak ‘softly’ rather than harshly or in an overtly scolding or angry tone, a skill that is probably even more essential in a chiefly woman than in a chiefly man. In addition to the chiefly clan, the second key structural body in the

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domain of tradition is a council consisting of the male clan elders. Technically the council should include the highest-ranking male from each clan, although in actuality more than one man from a clan usually attends the meetings. Thus, in effect, senior men in general deliberate at the traditional council meetings. Younger men occasionally participate, but this tends to be only when their elders have to be absent and it is necessary for someone to attend in order to ensure that all the clans are represented. Women are not members of this council and are not allowed to attend even as spectators. This is because according to tradition women are not even supposed to speak out publicly in front of men at community meetings and thus should not be part of the traditional council or serve as chief. People speak of the chief being higher than the elders of the council, although this probably oversimplifies the situation and provides a misleading picture of the local hierarchy. Far from being an authoritarian figure, the chief operates in concert with the other elders: he listens, he consults, and he maneuvers for consensus. In fact, he is held responsible for the welfare of the community, and thus to be effective at his job, he must be attuned to their issues and concerns. Not just the chief, but the clan elders, too, are expected to act on behalf of their clans and can expect consequences if they fail in their responsibilities. During meetings to draft the drinking regulations, for example, I noticed that serious attention was paid to the known concerns of the women. In addition, some of the elders contemplated what women might do if their wishes and perspectives were ignored; in other words, coupled with a genuine consideration of the interests of women was an awareness of potential problems if the clan elders failed to attend to the needs of their constituents. It is not as though men or women would actively resist or overthrow an authoritarian chief or elder, but there would be passive resistance such as slow compliance or poor work performance. Another element of the chiefly system that militates against accrual of power in the hands of one individual is the fact that chiefly power is distributed, with chiefly responsibilities not all concentrated in the hands of one person. Duties are not only spread out among members of the clan, but they often filter down through others in nonchiefly clans as well, especially to the offspring of men of the chiefly clan. For example, the people responsible for ensuring that we received our daily plates of food from the various households were three female daughters of high-ranking chiefly men, one in each village. Thus, it was daughters of chiefly men, themselves women of nonchiefly clans, rather than chiefly members themselves who oversaw the food allocation. During council deliberations, considerable attention is consciously paid to tradition. In 1998, for example, the council decided on several initiatives to promote retention and renewal of particular customs; they charged islanders



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with constructing three sailing canoes, one per village, and with teaching navigation. Interestingly enough, however, they were simultaneously and quietly attempting to set aside a different type of custom, one that emphasizes ownership of knowledge that is not normally readily shared; this was evidenced when the council stressed that specialists should no longer hoard their traditional knowledge but pass it on to the younger people. The fear of such knowledge being lost outweighed other concerns. Assertions of tradition also emerged in the council deliberations concerning the rules for drinking in the wake of a chiefly decision to allow it to be resumed. When discussing possible fines for infractions, one of the leaders pointed out that council members should be using the Pollapese word for fine, riiyá, instead of the borrowed Japanese word pakking, even though—or perhaps precisely because—the latter was more commonly used. The elders wanted to explicitly reinstate the Pollapese word. In the same vein, some of the possible fines proposed for violating the drinking rules were suggested specifically because they derived from the domain of tradition; these included fines consisting of true taro and mats—goods women produce—though someone also briefly mentioned rope, an item men produce. All of these were discussed as items that “truly mattered to people” because they lie in this domain of tradition. Clans are other structures in the domain of tradition, and their members meet from time to time under the leadership of the senior male of the clan. Women may be expected to attend, depending on the issue, but not to speak unless specifically asked to. On one occasion, for example, all the clans were charged by the chief to assemble in their respective canoe houses in order to deal with some of the drinking issues. (This was before the chief had changed the policy and charged the council with drafting new rules.) Those who were guilty of violations were expected to provide some sort of goods—cloth, soap, combs, woven lavalavas—as fines; in a number of cases I witnessed goods being contributed by women on behalf of men. The head of the clan lectured the members in attendance and then requested that others contribute their thoughts, and these included some women. In addition to clans, afaakúr ‘offspring’ of a descent group (those whose fathers are all in the same descent group) may meet collectively. Typically, these meetings, too, are led by men, but I attended at least one that was called by a woman and attended only by other women. The senior woman called this meeting in order to organize visits and gifts of food to their fellow ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’—that is, their fellow ‘offspring’—who were sick. Deemed women’s work, these activities would quite rightly be discussed and directed by women. Examining the formal political organization in the domain of tradition indicates that women clearly do not play roles equivalent to those of men. This does not mean that women have no influence, however; they can exploit ave-

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nues for influence aside from the formal ones. For example, senior women are acknowledged as experts on a number of matters, including descent group and land histories, and this knowledge is clearly a source of potential influence.4 Chiefly women have serious obligations to speak and to act on behalf of others, and they may behave in ways forbidden to other women—and to many men as well, especially younger men. One story told with great relish, for example, is a tale of a chiefly woman who acted to curtail problems with drinking by granting permission for women to drink and consume the coconut toddy their male relatives had been preparing. Any woman, whether senior or chiefly, has influence over junior men in her clan. For example, in stories about customs that were abolished when Pollapese converted to Christianity and then subsequently revived, I was told that apwpwóro ‘showing deference to brothers’ was reinstated by a chief through the influence of his mother. Women can use their relationships with men, including those in the chiefly clan, and speak with them privately. In the same vein, although a woman would not attend a council meeting herself, she may approach an elder male of her clan (or her father’s clan), express her concerns, and expect those concerns to be represented and lobbied for at the meeting. Elders who consistently ignore the needs of those they represent, including women, eventually lose influence. In some respects, women are even obligated to attempt to influence others, because among their responsibilities is a duty to ensure that certain kin, including grown men, behave appropriately. A woman not only may, but at times should, ffén ‘advise, admonish’ men classified as her ‘children’ as part of her obligations and duties as their ‘mother.’ So the situation is certainly not as simple as women deferring to men, because those of one descent group or kinship status, regardless of gender, defer to those of another. Some women even pointed out that in the absence of a mother it would be possible for a sister to ‘advise’ a brother, though she would have to do so ‘softly,’ continuing to show the utmost deference and respect. Thus even in this deferential brother-sister relationship, a woman can exert influence. At the community level, women are also quite skilled at framing situations and shaping interpretations that can influence public opinion and subsequent decisions. For example, in the tug-of-war between women and men on the island over whether or not drinking should be allowed (which is ultimately a chiefly decision), women may be able to influence the outcome through shaping public perceptions, even though the chief is male and no women sit on the council of elders. They can attribute a poor catch of fish to men drinking rather than encountering bad weather. If an individual or family is having problems only tangentially related to drinking and there is concern among the women in general about problems with alcohol, the problem can be framed as a drink-



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ing issue. Women can avoid dancing practice and “Bible sharing” and explain their behavior as necessary due to their fear of drinking problems. Women can point out that elder leaders should be the ones to set good examples and ensure that their juniors follow suit, and therefore should scrupulously follow all customary behavior and comply with all the council rules about drinking. If they do not, talk may circulate about leaders themselves not following custom. For example, if a woman’s brother is drinking, he should not visit her home that evening and venture only to his wife’s or his father’s sister’s home; yet there were complaints that the elders were not effectively making sure that the youth were observing this rule, and in fact that they themselves had violated it, even though the elders above all others should be the ones strongest in tradition. Such talk can have a powerful effect on behavior. It either ensures a minimum of problems with drinking or an eventual change to a ban on drinking, at least for a period of time. As long as the goal of the women’s interpretation of events is a culturally valued one—and harmony in the community certainly is, as is the reputation of their island—then their actions are consistent with their responsibilities as women. Their community is supposed to be a place of ttong ‘caring’ and tipiyew ‘agreement,’ without discord, anger, or tense relationships. I do not know to what extent women spoke publicly before the advent of the municipal domain brought in by the Americans, but certainly today women commonly speak in public, even in contexts that fall into the domain of tradition. Nonetheless, they adopt a more deferential style than with regular speech, employing a softer tone of voice and adhering to gendered formulas for politeness, especially in their opening remarks. Men, when speaking publicly, commonly start with tirow (‘excuse me’) wóómi (‘on you’), whereas women characteristically instead say ‘excuse me’ faan per´emi ‘under your feet.’ And technically, women speak only when they are asked to do so, although it appears that in practice women are routinely given that opportunity and it would be unusual for them not to be asked. Furthermore, women are not ignored. In community meetings, I noticed that especially when a chiefly woman spoke, the others—including men—showed respect. This is usually exhibited through silence and sometimes averted eyes if being chided—gently and politely chided, but chided nonetheless. It is true that conventional wisdom holds that women traditionally were not supposed to speak at community meetings, but interestingly enough, such comments were almost invariably couched in the past tense. The fact is, though, that it is rarely young women who speak in these public settings but women in their forties or older. At the same time, some men, especially younger and nonchiefly men, are usually expected to remain silent at community meetings as well. Age and relative rank are always factors, not just gender. Another public avenue I saw used by women, discussed in the Chapter 1,

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is for some of them to begin a song and tease men into complying with their requests. As is the case with speaking publicly, this is more likely to be carried out (or at least initiated) by senior women. Such behavior would be unseemly on the part of younger women, though they may join in once the older women have provided the momentum. For instance, the women performed such a teasing song, with a seated dance, to challenge the men to provide some special fish for the December 8 festivities. The tone was lighthearted and respectful, but nonetheless conveyed wishes that could not readily be dismissed. Women avail themselves of some quieter, less obtrusive options as well. To influence the chief, for instance, his female afaakúr ‘offspring’ (children of male clan members) may approach to petition him for a particular decision, even if it runs counter to what they know men prefer, such as permission to drink alcohol. This is because, culturally, no one is supposed to deny the request of any ‘offspring,’ although the more serious the issue at hand, obviously the more selective and careful ‘offspring’ must be with a request, and most especially when approaching the chief. In particular, it must be absolutely evident that a serious problem exists and that there is an acceptable foundation for the petition. And the reasons for such requests cannot be selfish; they must affect the well-being of a number of people. In the case of drinking, probably the single most contentious issue between men and women, one avenue for women to pursue when they experience escalating problems is to have the female ‘offspring’ of the chief intervene on their behalf by quietly, unobtrusively approaching the chief to remedy the situation. I had the distinct impression that women resort to petitioning the chief sparingly, and at one point when a decision about drinking came out in their favor, a chiefly woman advised the women to remain quiet and respectful, and by all means to refrain from gloating. This technique of demonstrating a quiet, respectful request can be quite effective. Over and over, I heard this insistence on speaking politely and softly rather than strongly, in anger, or vehemently. In fact, conventional wisdom contends that such a request—a quiet, respectful one—can be almost impossible to refuse and that women are reputedly more experienced in such behavior. In conversations surrounding the workshop held about women’s roles, people posited two gender-related ways to approach a person and make a request: a man’s way and a woman’s way. The man’s way, the more direct and assertive, is not expected to be effective since it often ends in fighting, whereas a woman is more likely to be soft and polite and thus more likely to be successful, especially if she is an experienced senior woman. One man explained how he had exploited these expectations after he had asked something of a male relative from another island and been refused. Unhappy with the refusal, he then sent his wife with the same request, which was subsequently granted. When the relative next saw the husband, he complained, “You knew I didn’t want to



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give that to you! Why did you send your wife?” This is not simply an ideology to keep women in their place. Although Pollapese culture allows men to be more assertive than women, Pollap women are far from meek, and in general it is the case that being patient, respectful, and humble is valued in both men and women, both chiefly and nonchiefly.5 This quiet strategy is an element of women’s expected role as mediators: to make peace, maintain harmony, and help soothe ruffled feathers among disputing relatives. Part of being respectful, however, typically entails a large measure of selflessness; a woman is more effective in requesting something on behalf of someone else than for herself. If she wishes something for herself, she may be more successful if she has a mother or older sister speak on her behalf as her ally. Age must be taken into account as well; a young woman should seek the help of older women, who have more influence. Senior, elderly women, those who are reepi ‘knowledgeable,’ should be listened and attended to. Their knowledge, opinions, and attitudes are valued by both men and women, and younger women who can convince senior female relatives of the worth of their cause acquire strong allies who are also likely to be successful lobbyists on their behalf. In general, women can expect the emotional and practical support of sisters and mothers, and their collective voices can be brought to bear on men. Such an effort might not be carried out publicly, in a meeting, or with vehemence, but privately and probably at home. Certainly, as producers and caretakers of staple foods and of children—key descent group resources—women and their interests cannot readily be disregarded. Furthermore, it is largely the domain of tradition that is expected to govern household and family decision making, and it is at the level of descent group and household that the role of women as managers and decision makers is most apparent. Women actively participate in the daily decisions governing the allocation of work, and thus they have considerable control over daily activities, both their own and those of most men in the household. The senior woman is ultimately responsible, but as she attends to the well-being of the household, she includes consideration of the interests of all its members. The senior woman is r´óón apwungaló ‘decision maker.’ Her daughters and sons-in-law are expected to do as she asks, although she consults them as well, and she should take into account their views of what must be done and what they express interest in undertaking. The sonsin-law are known as ‘workers’ or ‘servants’ in the household they marry into (as are daughters-in-law and brother’s wives, but these relatives are not typically resident in the household). If a man’s mother requests his assistance, he is expected first to attend to his mother-in-law and only then to his own mother. In the same manner, if the husband of the senior woman realizes that both of them want a son-in-law’s labor for different tasks, ideally he defers to her.

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This is not an authoritarian system, however, but a consultative one; people are expected to discuss the day’s activities and express their wishes or propose their own plans, and a good ‘decision maker’ is, in effect, a good negotiator. A more junior woman may take over the major planning activities when a senior woman is ill or otherwise incapacitated, but quite elderly and disabled women retain the managerial role as long as their minds are still active and alert. Custom also allows women to call on their ‘offspring,’ the children of the men of their clan, for assistance; these offspring are supposed to be given food or goods when asked, but they are expected at the same time to provide their labor when asked. A senior woman can thus have significant influence over the labor of people in her household and beyond. She also is responsible for sending gifts of food to relatives living elsewhere, gifts that sustain relationships and incur obligations. Furthermore, the lines of authority between brothers and husbands in many respects benefit the women of the group (Flinn 1986). It would have been difficult, for example, even after the advent of Catholicism, for a man to remain in a marriage—or at least in the home—if he were consistently abusive. Especially before the coming of Catholicism he could easily have been thrown out of the household and thus the marriage. Also, to the benefit of women, brothers must ensure that their sisters are well treated, and this includes making sure that a sister’s husband takes care of his wife and children, children who are the brother’s junior descent group kin. With Catholicism’s ban on divorce, ending a marriage is much more difficult than it used to be, but pressure can still be brought to bear on a misbehaving husband, and he can leave a household without an official divorce. In other words, in reality women have several strategies in the domain of tradition at their disposal to have an influence on events. Even the public deference shown to brothers, an explicit component of tradition that appears to support the subordination of women, is nonetheless quite complex and provides women with room for maneuvering. Furthermore, this deference is a part of a larger system of respect and ranking such that everyone—male and female—defers to someone else; all except the very oldest, for example, have a senior sibling. The ‘stooping’ of women for brothers is simply the most obvious part of this relative ranking. Even then, a woman with a reputation for being particularly respectful and concerned about her brothers is that much more likely to be listened to herself, and thus to have more influence. A brother is then even more obligated to attend to her welfare and to ensure that she gets what she wants. And the more senior the woman, the more she is respected, attended to, and even expected to offer advice and have influence in the community.



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The Domain of Government Sometimes called the “municipal”domain because it is largely associated with the municipal government introduced by the American administration, and sometimes called “Merika,” this domain encompasses almost anything associated with American (but nonreligious) influences on the island. This includes the state and national governments, hospitals, schools, and the world of money and paid jobs. Spatially, this domain is represented on the island by the municipal office, freezer, dispensary, elementary school, and Head Start buildings. Temporally, Tuesday is the day set aside for this domain: community municipal meetings are held in the morning each Tuesday, and these are usually followed by a cleanup of the municipal grounds assigned by the assistant mayor, with the three villages each responsible for certain areas. Usually, however, it is women who do the actual cleaning, since such cleaning and clearing activities are considered women’s work. The formal structure of the municipal government, not surprisingly, mirrors what is standard in the United States and includes three branches: executive (a mayor and assistant mayor), legislative (a konsel ‘council’), and judicial (a judge). The municipal council explicitly takes tradition into account in a couple of ways, however; the traditional chief is asked to open the first meeting of the council when it goes into session, and membership on the council is designed to include clan and village representation. The full membership includes a representative from each of the six clans, one representative from each of the three villages, and six at-large members. All positions in these three branches are held by men, with the lone exception being the council secretary. A female secretary is not considered unusual, as secretaries in government and business offices in the port town are female. No one seems to think it amiss that only men fill the other positions, and I even heard the argument that this situation is consistent with tradition because women are not supposed to speak publicly. I heard no serious complaints about the lack of women in the municipal government, and I saw no attempts to include them, aside from their roles as voters. As for voting, certainly serious attempts are made to ensure that all islanders are able to vote, including women. People even carry ballots around to the housebound elderly, so that they too may have an opportunity to vote. I saw no interest on the part of the women to participate in any other way, although at least one of the younger educated men mentioned that he thought women ought to be eligible for the council and should run for office. This municipal domain has been responsible for many of the development projects introduced on the island. For example, a desalinization pump was installed during the year I was on the island. Pollap had experienced a serious drought earlier in the spring and hoped to prevent future problems by relying

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on the new pump. A multipurpose building, intended primarily for meetings and sports, was also built that year, again with monies and expertise obtained through efforts of the municipal leaders. On another occasion, the mayor negotiated prices with cruise ship officials eager to arrange a visit to the island, and he organized craft demonstrations and dancing for arrival of the tourists. Several years before, he had been largely responsible for the purchase of a ship for the community. Much of the paid labor force in Chuuk works for the government, and on Pollap the primary figures in this area are the schoolteachers, who are part of the Department of Education. Thus, even though the teachers are not figures that “govern,” their work and activities are seen as operating in this domain. Women have managed to find employment on the island as teachers in the Head Start program and in the first three grades of the elementary school. It is considered somewhat difficult for them to participate in this domain because of their concurrent responsibilities for children and food. Even if they are earning an income from teaching, they still expect to garden, and they somehow manage to find time to do so after school hours. Maintaining one’s traditional subsistence activities while working for wages at the same time is considered more difficult for a woman than for a man, although it is easier for women who have the assistance of sisters and mothers who can share in the gardening and childcare work. Many of the grandmothers on the island, for example, frequently spend time with their grown daughters living and working in Chuuk, Guam, or Saipan, helping with the young children as the mothers pursue other jobs. The Tuesday morning weekly municipal meetings are a key part of this domain, and all able-bodied adults are expected to attend. When the mayor is resident on the island, he presides at the meeting, but otherwise the assistant mayor takes over. Much of each meeting consists of announcements from representatives of this domain, and these include people such as the head of the municipal council, the woman in charge of the infirmary, someone working with the Land Commission, and the principal of the elementary school. The health aide addresses issues such as healthy habits, diabetes testing, and distribution of medications. The assistant mayor often encourages people to improve their efforts at keeping the public areas clean. The school principal sometimes speaks about school issues and announces meetings for parents. Islanders hear about directives from state government agencies and news of the island’s ship. Elders may take the opportunity to ffén ‘advise’ the community about what they view as current problems on the island. Even though this would technically be in the municipal domain, the Tuesday meeting is a time when the three domains can be seen working together, since almost always the lay church leader is asked to speak, as are representatives of the chiefly clan and other elders.



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Men are far more likely to speak than women at these meetings, although women are responding in the background—talking, laughing, grumbling, complaining, or remaining attentively silent—clearly communicating their reactions, both positive and negative. If their talking becomes excessive, a chiefly woman is likely to chide them afterwards for their disrespect, and the women themselves sometimes complain about too much background chatter, as it can be difficult then for someone who wants to pay attention to hear what is going on. The health aide is a woman, and she is routinely invited to speak, because she represents a branch of the government. After these meetings there is often a separate meeting with the women alone, led by a woman of the chiefly clan, either to discuss the details of implementing some decisions (such as food contributions for an event) or to ffén women about something, such as how to behave after an announcement that drinking was to be stopped. Nonetheless, the male and female public roles in the municipal domain are clearly asymmetrical.

The Domain of Religion Pollapese converted to Catholicism in the middle of the twentieth century, and today this religion is an integral part of their culture. In addition to the wider Catholic hierarchy, several structures and positions exist on Pollap itself. There is a priest for the Western Islands who is a native of neighboring Polowat, though he is not usually resident on Pollap. In his stead and assisting him are lay male leaders who can lead services and distribute communion. Women do not hold those positions, but they do participate with men in the parish council. The structure of this council has shifted over time but has regularly included female members. When I arrived, it consisted of one member from each of the six clans, one from each of the three villages, and one from each of six church groups. Unlike the municipal council, however, which is expected to be all male, parish council representatives may be either male or female. In fact, since some of the church groups are entirely female, at least some of the representatives will inevitably be women. Mwiir´en Maria, devoted to Mary, and Mwiir´en Koroti, named for Saint Maria Goretti, are two all-female church organizations, so their presidents, who also serve on the parish council, are automatically female. Selator/Selatora includes both genders and had a female president while I was there, Mwiir´en Asor is a mixed-gender group and had a male president, and organizations called Joseph and Crusades are all-male. In addition to female representatives from some of the church groups, a few of the clan and village representatives were also women when I arrived. The structure changed in 1998 when the parish council abandoned the

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required clan and village representation; instead, the newly structured group was designed to include the lay church leaders, representatives from each of the six church groups, and an additional six at-large members. During the discussions about the change, someone explicitly asked if the at-large members had to be male, and the answer was essentially, “Of course not. They can be male or female.” In addition, some concern was expressed during the planning of the election that parishioners would see only men up in the front of the congregation running the meeting during which the election would take place and would thus think only of male nominations. There was not enough concern to change the manner of the elections, however, and in the end two women and four men were elected at large. Just as the municipality has its day, Tuesday, so does the church: Thursday is known as “mission day” or “church day.” In effect, this normally means that the various church groups meet on that day, when they may also tend to tasks such as cleaning in and around the church, clearing the path for a procession to Fatima or the cemetery, or tidying the grounds at Fatima or the cemetery. Women cannot be priests or hold the highest positions in Pollap’s church, but the church is nonetheless an arena in which they can exert influence. Although Christianity is highly patriarchal and has certainly been criticized for oppressing women (see, for example, Fiorenza 1985; Hamington 1995; Perry and Achevarría 1988; Ruether 1983), the domain of religion on Pollap nevertheless furnishes women with various public roles and other opportunities for self-expression and influence not available in either the traditional or the municipal domains. First of all, the parish council includes both men and women, and it makes a number of serious decisions affecting money, food, and other significant resources, such as the high-quality mats women produce. As council decisions can have an obvious impact on the local economy, it is obviously a force to be reckoned with. The parish council is the only formal governing body in any of the three domains that officially includes women in its membership. Furthermore, women are active members in the organization, and their voices are attended to. Women raise and discuss issues along with the men, and their ideas seem as likely to be eventually accepted as those of men. Thus they participate in decisions about how much money to spend, what to buy, how much food should be prepared for certain events, what kind of food should be presented, how visitors for church events will be taken care of, and what sorts of goods should be prepared for special events. In addition, women take advantage of innumerable oratorical opportunities, which can have a significant effect on behavior. The next chapter discusses these opportunities in more detail, but they include monthly discussions in which women as well as men are active participants. Many of the regular religious activities of women, which include visiting various households, also



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involve making oratorical presentations and speaking on critical issues. Outside the sphere of the household and private conversations, this is the domain in which women have considerable opportunity to express their views and to be heard. Islanders explicitly acknowledge religion as giving women more of a voice than was the case in the past. They say that traditionally women were not supposed to speak at public meetings, but religion contends that women’s knowledge and wisdom should be aired. So especially in church meetings, Pollapese encourage the voices of women.

Harmony or Conflict? The three domains of tradition, government, and religion ideally should work in harmony, according to Pollapese, each operating in its own sphere, without interfering in any of the others. In actuality, harmony is negotiated, but in theory, the domains operate harmoniously. A council in one domain, for example, should refrain from making decisions that fall under the purview of another—hence some of the discussions about food for December 8 and concern about which governing body was entitled to make which decisions about the upcoming event. The weekly schedule is one of the clearest examples of how the domains operate and how they are conceptually distinct; in the words of one woman, “Tuesday is for the municipality; Thursday is for the mission; Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday are for you and your children.” The domain of tradition regulates access to gardens on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; Saturday is a day of preparing food for Sunday, the day of rest and another day associated with the church; Tuesday is reserved for meetings and work associated with the municipality; and Thursday is for meetings and work associated with the church. This weekly schedule became an issue, for example, during the traditional council’s deliberations about drinking regulations. Once the chief had decided to allow drinking to recommence, he charged the traditional council with drawing up associated rules, including the days and times when drinking would be allowed. During the ensuing discussions, Sunday was proposed as one such day as it is a day of rest, but other elders argued that they would then come into conflict with the church, because men would probably not attend church services or meetings if Sunday were designated a day on which drinking was allowed. When Tuesday was discussed as a possibility (a proposal that was eventually approved), the elders made it clear that drinking could begin only after the municipal meeting had ended and any assigned work had been completed. The daily schedule is also often adjusted to accommodate the needs of

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the various domains. During the year I was on Pollap, the times for the daily morning church service were adjusted from time to time during the year to take into account other activities such as attending school and constructing the new multipurpose building. Repercussions and punishments for violating rules in the various domains also tend to be distinctive. Riiyá is the term for a punishment in the wake of breaking a rule in the realm of tradition and typically involves paying a fine of one sort or another, typically in the form of goods. Local belief asserts that even if people are not caught committing an offense, they may nonetheless be punished, probably in the form of an illness. Tipis is the word for a sin in the realm of religion, and it is often applied to the municipal domain as well. Sin incurs supernatural punishments in the religious domain, whereas fines or imprisonment apply in the municipal domain. At meetings in any of the domains, participants should refrain from infringing on another domain or coopting its authority. At a parish council meeting, for example, someone raised a question about a potential conflict with tradition, expressing concern about their council, a church organization, deciding that villages would be the food-providing units for an upcoming event, because villages are part of the domain of tradition, not of religion. The leader who raised the issue worried that it might not be within their purview to be telling villages what to do. Eventually the parish council decided to have food contributions come from each church group instead of from the villages, as the church organizations clearly reside in the domain of religion. At a traditional council meeting, when there was talk of policing some activities, one of the elders pointed out that the municipal domain already had police and that the traditional council therefore should not create a competing structure. The parish council heeded domain boundaries even to the extent of officially asking permission to write on a portable blackboard that technically belonged to the school, which is deemed part of the municipal domain. Leaders must also be careful even about where they make their announcements. Announcements in the realm of religion, for example, can only be made from inside the church building itself. Decisions made by the parish council about people contributing food to a feast in connection with a church-sponsored workshop are a case in point. It would be completely inappropriate to make announcements about a municipal meeting or a traditional council meeting in church. It is very common, however, for people to be called together right outside the church immediately after the morning service, as so many are gathered in this centrally located place. Members of a particular clan or afaakúr ‘offspring,’ or those needed to plan a municipal event, might be called to a meeting. Or parents may be charged to take their children for immunizations. Women gather to discuss the details of dance rehearsals or food preparation for



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upcoming events. These gatherings invariably occur outside the church building, not inside, and largely because it is a natural time and place where a large percentage of the community can predictably be found. In theory the domain of tradition governs contributions and distribution for community events that involve local food, the parish council has dominion over food purchased with church-acquired funds, and the municipal domain is responsible for distributing government-provided food. For example, FEMA sent food donations to the island in the wake of a drought, and the municipal domain allocated these shipments whenever they arrived. In reality the process does not always work this way. For the December 8 deliberations, although the parish council made decisions about both local and purchased food, there was nevertheless some discussion about whether or not the parish council should have the traditional council of elders make the local food decisions instead. (A chiefly elder later revised somewhat the parish council decision, with no resulting grumblings that I heard of. I knew of no cases, however, where a chiefly elder changed decisions about food purchased with money belonging to the church or the municipality.) Some of the Christmas deliberations took place with members of both the parish council and the traditional council meeting together. Technically, the traditional council was to make decisions about local food and the parish council was to decide on the nature of the activities for the festivities, but in practice they worked as one body to jointly decide on the food contributions and activities for the event. Clearly this indicates that the three domains do not operate completely independently of each other, and in innumerable cases they effectively intermingle. The idea is not one of separation of church and state (or church and custom) but of harmony among all three. Often an occasion governed by one domain incorporates explicit elements of another. Prayer, a religious practice, is a prime example. Prayer routinely opens and closes municipal meetings, council deliberations, and school classes, with the intent of weaving elements of religion into the other domains and strengthening their effectiveness. The altar in the church is constructed of breadfruit wood and is supposed to represent a coconut husk from the story of how navigation came to Pollap, a tale that is integral to the people’s tradition and cultural identity. Feasts celebrating a religious holiday are likely to include speeches by an elder of the chiefly clan as well as by a key figure from the municipal realm. At a church-sponsored workshop, a leader asked if a chiefly elder wished to contribute some thoughts, thus giving a nod to the traditional domain. Furthermore, people contend that the traditional council will acquiesce to requests made by the lay church leader. At one point during my research, all three intermingled when the clan elders decided that each household would provide a certain number of coconuts for copra, the proceeds of which would go toward a house to be built for the priest,

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and this was announced and promoted at a municipal meeting. One particular Sunday in May found Mother’s Day, elementary school graduation, Head Start graduation, and a monthly set of religious discussions all taking place one after the other in the main meetinghouse (see Figure 5.1). The municipal meetings on Tuesday mornings almost always include elements from the other two domains. In addition to the opening and closing prayers, religion is typically represented by a speech from the lay church leader. The traditional domain is involved through announcements from the council of clan elders as well as speeches or advice to the community by members of the chiefly clan and other clan leaders. Occasionally a chiefly woman leads the prayer, a minor example how religion has provided some avenues for public participation on the part of women. In general, Tuesday municipal meetings are viewed as opportunities to discuss issues of broad concern to the whole community, and though run by the municipal domain, they nonetheless incorporate all three realms. For example, at a meeting prior to Diocese Day (in the domain of religion), the assistant mayor (from the municipality) pointed out that the traditional council had posted on the bulletin board information about food for the associated feast. He admonished people that the food should be of high quality, with generous amounts of a prized, extra-thick variety of coconut cream, pointing out that the quality of both their food and their hospitality would help the island retain a favorable reputation. At another meeting, the

Figure 5.1╇ Head Start graduation



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assistant mayor advised women about how they should deal with men drinking, an issue that was in the domain of tradition since the regulations originated with the chief and traditional council. The acting chief (the domain of tradition) at another municipal meeting gently chided people about how to behave during some religious rituals during the season of Lent, obviously in the domain of religion. Moreover, some resolutions articulated in traditional council meetings were announced at municipal meetings, and a Tuesday meeting was used to apprize the community of the details and rules concerning taboos and prohibitions in the domain of tradition following someone’s death. Parliamentary procedure, introduced into the municipal domain through U.S. administration of the area, is regularly observed in parish council meetings and sometimes even in the traditional council. Because the parish council is also associated with an institution introduced from the outside, it makes sense for parliamentary procedure to be used in those settings. I was a little more surprised, however, to see it used during traditional council meetings. I witnessed some decisions made by consensus in that venue, and I saw some other deliberations begin or end with a nod to consensus, with parliamentary procedure and voting used as only a part of the process. But in some cases, the entire process involved parliamentary procedure. I had perceived consensus to be part of the domain of tradition, but I never heard islanders explicitly speak of it that way. Although introduced from the outside, Pollapese parliamentary procedure is syncretic and clearly blends with consensus, especially in the domain of tradition. For a number of years, the mayor of the island, part of the municipal domain, has been a member of the chiefly clan. Many believe that this is a beneficial situation, in part because it helps avoid conflicts between the two domains. When this leader discusses an issue or makes a decision, he can be interpreted as operating in either domain. If, for example, he announces a decision that can be construed as relating to the municipal domain, people interpret it as coming from the mayor; if he says something that can be construed as relating to custom, people interpret it as coming from the chiefly clan. At one point during my stay, for example, this leader wanted the men to refrain from drinking for a period of time. Some perceived this as coming from the mayor, others from a member of the chiefly clan. Someone not of the chiefly clan would have to walk a much finer line and might not have as much influence. For example, the current mayor can effectively discuss issues such as providing food and housing for a wide range of visitors, including people such as members of the Land Commission charged with government work on the island. The leader of the municipal council was also of the chiefly clan, which facilitated his leadership as well. Being chiefly adds credibility to a person’s leadership position, enhancing his authority and his ability to influence people.

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Activities may shift from one domain to another. When some visitors arrived for a church-sponsored workshop, they were first cared for under the domain of religion, and consequently food and shelter for the visitors during the course of the workshop were arranged through the church groups. The visitors were housed collectively in one canoe house, and a particular church group each day was designated to provide them with food. After the workshop, however, care for the visitors shifted to the domain of tradition, partly because the workshop presenters had to remain on the island far longer than originally planned. In effect, this meant that the visitors moved from the canoe house to the homes of individual relatives. Other relatives were then expected to visit and help provide food, and the chief could also decide to request that all the households in turn make a contribution. The domain of religion often plays a supporting role for the other domains. In addition to opening and closing prayers, for example, religious metaphors and stories are commonly used in speeches made at both municipal and traditional domain meetings. At a clan meeting, a typhoon that had occurred several years before was framed as a punishment from God for misbehavior in the traditional domain. In discussing candidates for the municipal council, a chiefly leader evoked an analogy with the gospel story about some women who had prepared their lamps and others who had not, thus justifying the legitimacy of candidates who had applied on time and according to the rules. Pollapese today are very proud of being Catholic and view their religion as having enabled them to strengthen some valued aspects of their tradition and to abandon problematic ones (Flinn 1990a). They maintain that traditional values stress harmony and that their Catholicism enables them more readily to behave in ways that cultivate it. At one event, the lay church leader (also a key figure in the municipal domain) spoke of the church as providing haram ‘enlightenment,’ kinamwmwe ‘peace,’ and tipiyewfengenn ‘agreement,’ thus reinforcing what tradition is supposed to promote. In one of the workshops conducted on the island, presenters discussed the existence of two types of ‘enlightenment,’ one provided by tradition and another by the church. At times, people contrast current, more enlightened conditions with those of their pre-Christian past, illustrating their assertions with examples of how certain older customs, such as using menstrual houses, were abandoned as pagan. Other customs, such as apwpwóro ‘showing deference,’ were temporarily abandoned but then revived once deliberations concluded that the practices were traditional, not pagan. Today’s municipal meetings are compared with pre-Christian events that involved people gathering every evening on the beach to dance, rendering community meetings unnecessary at that time. Today they say, “Now we go to church; in the past they danced in the evenings,” thus describing more enlightened behavior in the wake of conversion to the new religion.



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Perhaps so much cultural stress is laid on how the three domains should operate without infringing on each other precisely because achieving this is problematic. Leaders have to actively and consistently strive to achieve harmony among the three. I certainly heard plenty of talk about tensions and potential conflicts. For example, the parish council would have preferred that Sunday be reserved entirely for the domain of religion and as a day of rest from work, with the only meetings scheduled for that day being church-related. But the church leaders did not always prevail, and thus it was not uncommon to have nonreligious community meetings held on Sundays. A member of the parish council also lamented that the council might make a decision in connection with church activities, carefully striving to avoid conflicts with the other domains, but then a leader in the municipal or traditional domain would make another decision that in effect conflicted with or contradicted the one made by the church council. No direct confrontation or deliberate challenge would ensue, just a sense of encroachment on the domain boundaries. Occasionally people grumbled mildly when municipal activities were inadvertently delayed and overlapped with the time set aside for recitation of the rosary in the afternoon, because the delay was perceived as interfering with the domain of religion. Religion and tradition are the areas that most often seem to come into potential as well as actual conflict. For example, the language used in church texts is in another dialect and includes some words not appropriate for mixed company in Pollapese culture. Thus, even in the case of the daily readings assigned for morning church services, a lay leader usually takes the time and effort to translate them into Pollapese. At the workshop sponsored by the church about women’s roles, one touchy issue that arose focused on official roles for women such as possibly serving as lectors for the daily readings during the services, a practice that would conflict with tradition. This type of involvement of women is now encouraged by the Catholic Church, but according to Catholic tradition elsewhere in the world, lectors and other active participants are expected to remain standing as a sign of respect, a practice that on Pollap would inevitably result in women standing in the presence of seated brothers, thus blatantly violating the custom of apwpwóro ‘showing deference,’ which is a central part of their tradition. The most common custom discussed as posing potential conflict with religion is, in fact, this particular sign of respect. Many accommodations of religion to tradition have readily been made. During church services, men stand up promptly when it is time for the congregation to rise, while women hold back, so that in effect they are not upright until brothers are already standing, which is acceptable, at least in church. Men usually wait standing outside the church until the bell rings for a service to begin, so that in the meantime women may enter the church. If a man were to

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enter and sit down before his ‘sisters,’ the women would then be compelled to crawl inside to find places for themselves. On Ash Wednesday, when a cross of ashes is placed on the foreheads of the parishioners, a few men who are ‘older brothers’ to the lay leaders apply the ashes to themselves, as according to tradition no one—not even a church leader—should touch the head of a senior sibling. Nevertheless, islanders feel pressure in the domain of religion to have women take on more active roles in the services. Pollapese are also uncomfortable because of criticism from other islanders, who apparently have accused them of placing tradition above religion because of Pollapese insistence on maintaining their deference customs. Such accusations hurt, for the reputation of their island is carefully guarded and nurtured. A number of such issues emerged during the workshop on women and women’s roles that was sponsored by the church. The workshop opened with leaders asking women to tell about earlier workshops they had attended, and one woman brought up her learning that according to the church, she could ffén ‘lecture’ her brother if necessary although according to tradition, she should not. Workshop presenters pointed out that in many respects it was contrary to tradition for them as women to even be sitting in front of the community, making speeches and presenting the workshop materials. In the domain of tradition, and even to a large extent in the municipal domain as well, this sort of public activity is reserved for men. The workshop context was tempered, however, with elements from tradition, especially in the style of its presentation. Indeed, the leaders of the workshop, all women, started each day and each event with elaborate apologies. Men in such positions use their own formulas for showing modesty and humility—especially when they are not chiefly men—but the women’s versions are more elaborate. In their apologies, the women emphasized that “custom says we shouldn’t talk like this [in front of men and to men], but perhaps the church wants women to help out. God gave me what I have inside me; he sent it into me. We don’t mean to be arrogant or haughty.” Here women were employing a form of tradition to facilitate their roles in the church, and doing so allowed them to speak and have influence. In a skit that women presented during the workshop, one participant played the role of a priest asking women to take on various responsibilities in the church, and other women assumed the roles of those being approached. Each woman who was asked to accept a church position apologized and turned down the job: “They’ll say I’m arrogant. We can’t stand in the presence of men. It’s not allowed in our custom to address men.” After the skit, a heated discussion ensued around the issue of the church promoting more involvement of women and encouraging them to become more active and to take on some roles that only men currently play—roles especially of minister (who can lead



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prayer services and distribute communion), lector (reader), and usher. When asked why these are currently reserved only for men, the answer was consistently ééréni ‘custom.’ The workshop emphasized the role of Vatican II in insisting that all people can work in the church and that women, too, are Catholics, not just men. Pollapese interpret this to mean that both men and women can and should spread the Gospel and be r´óón afalafal ‘speakers, orators.’ One woman in the audience who had already been active in speaking within her church group said, “Traditionally, I’m not allowed to make speeches to men. And I’m afraid, and I’m doubtful, but I talk anyway.” One image commonly used was that of steering: women should help steer men in the right direction. Just as women should point out a star they must follow on a canoe voyage, so should they point out to men when they are shirking their responsibilities or drifting away from the church. The reaction of at least some of the women to the idea of taking on the roles of minister, lector, or usher was that the island already had more than enough people in those positions, so why did they need more? In general for Pollapese, what the community needs is deemed more important than what an individual wants, though I also sensed no interest on the part of the women in taking on those roles. From their perspective, they already play important roles, such as leading the rosary recitations and some Lenten rituals, and serving on the parish council and its various committees. Other women at the workshop attempted to make their community look more up-to-date by pointing out changes that had already been made, such as everyone now standing up for communion, when in the past women used to crawl. Some of the men with more Western education than others seemed more likely to speak out on behalf of having women take on some of the public roles, even though it went against tradition. One well-educated man explicitly bemoaned how women sometimes literally have a heavy load to carry, but they nonetheless must bend low near ‘brothers,’ and in church, if they were to carry the cross, they could not walk upright, the way Catholic tradition would have it. Another man talked about wanting to be able to concentrate in church but instead being distracted by having to stand up so that women could enter, or by needing to encourage the women who must stoop or crawl to enter. In other words, a number of men supported changing roles for women. Other discussions at the workshop revolved around questions such as Which is higher, Jesus or tradition? Who can permit the changing of custom— the elders? the chief? Custom is a gift from God; can we break it? What can be done so that religion and tradition can work together? The consensus seemed to be that clan elders and church leaders—including the parish council, which includes female members—can, if necessary, meet, discuss, and legitimately

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change customs. (Some thought it would be useful to include the municipal domain in the deliberations as well.) Or leaders might pinpoint a way to accommodate both domains rather than sacrifice one for the other, which for many was the ideal. Someone pointed out that perhaps the church itself could adapt: instead of insisting that the congregation remain seated for some readings, the church could have everyone stand when a woman was responsible for some readings. In short, Pollapese acknowledge ongoing potential conflicts between these two domains, and they worry about the disharmony such discord can cause in the community and the danger it can pose to their island’s reputation, but they believe that such conflicts should and can be resolved. Pollapese certainly have precedent for making changes in order to accommodate the domains of religion and tradition. When Catholicism arrived, many customary practices, such as the deference behavior, were discouraged by the missionary, but when some problems and discontent ensued, a chief later encouraged people to revive some of the older customs. As mentioned above, community leaders meticulously considered aspects of their traditional behavior, categorizing it as either “pagan” or “custom.” If pagan, the practice was to be abandoned; if custom, it was to be restored or maintained. The movement of the Catholic Church to indigenize its religion in the Caroline and Marshall Islands (Hezel 1978b) presumably aided in this movement to retain and revive customary ways. Another potential area of conflict between these two domains centers on the conjugal bond; traditionally it was weak, yet Catholicism forbids divorce. A component of Pollapese pride in practicing Catholicism is marrying for life now, whereas in the past a woman would “stay with one man for a while, then toss him away and take up with another.” This former pattern was even proffered as conventional wisdom to explain why women had difficulties in the past getting pregnant and why the birthrate shot up in mid-century in the wake of conversion to Christianity.6 In the past, conjugal relationships yielded to descent-group ties and interests. A son-in-law who was not working out for one reason or another could be ejected by the wife’s mother, for example, whereas today all efforts should be made to keep a couple together, following Catholic guidelines. Parents may attempt to resolve marital disputes of their children, but they should not break up a marriage. Yet in the words of one woman, “What if my son-in-law doesn’t do what I tell him to do?” This obedience to wife’s kin is one of a man’s obligations, and persistent failure to acquiesce in the past would have been sufficient reason for ousting him from the household and from the marriage. Thus, in general, Catholicism places a much stronger emphasis on the conjugal relationship, whereas Pollapese tradition stresses the sibling relationship, which is basic to descent-group operations (Marshall 1981). Respect



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behavior, for example, is incumbent on sisters toward brothers and younger siblings towards older siblings. And formerly, if a man were to be killed, it was customary to send valuables to the man’s father and close matrilineal kin, not the man’s wife and her kin. I quite often heard comments about the significance of one domain relative to another. A chiefly person, for example, is entitled to a fairly lengthy mourning period at death, but when a chief died a few years ago, he is said to have requested only a three-day period of mourning, pointing out that since Jesus had only three days, a chief should have no more than that. In other words, the domain of tradition should not overshadow the domain of religion. (This is also a way of exhibiting humility, which is valued in the realm of tradition.) A chiefly woman spoke of a nun who was concerned that islanders might not gather to listen to her if she requested it, contending, however, that they would come if a chiefly person were to ask them instead. In response, the chiefly woman countered that, on the contrary, being a nun was ‘higher’ than being chiefly—or at least should be. It should be noted, however, that although people might speak of the chiefly clan as being ‘higher’ than the parish council, this is not the same as saying tradition has priority over religion. Nonetheless no one believed it appropriate for a chiefly decision to run counter to parish council or lay church leader decisions. A related issue is that, in general on Pollap, one defers to another of higher rank rather than someone of higher rank asserting a superior position. Chiefly people, for example, carry out their responsibilities to those of lower rank and accept chiefly honors due them, but they do so modestly. Traditional council deliberations about drinking regulations began with a decision to use the inclusive ‘we’ instead of the plural ‘you’ in the language of the rules, in order to explicitly send an inclusive message rather than imply that the clan elders perceived themselves as distinct from the rest of the community and of higher rank. In the same vein, I never heard church leaders assert that they had priority over the chiefly clan or even over tradition, though they might grumble about decisions made in other domains running counter to theirs, and they certainly would hold that religion should not conflict with tradition. Furthermore, there is a distinction between discussing the domains in the abstract versus discussing particular individuals or groups in those domains. Certainly people consider that the chief has rank over the traditional council and that a priest holds rank over the parish council. Between domains, however, I never heard people say that the “chief” or the “priest” or the “mayor” is higher; what I heard was those operating from one domain say that they did not have rank over someone (or some group) in another domain. When tension between domains develops, it creates enormous stress within the community, threatening both internal harmony and the island’s external

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reputation. It is particularly problematic if decisions made in the realm of tradition conflict with the interests of the church and its leaders. Drinking allowed through decisions made in the realm of tradition, for example, could be seen as possibly interfering with preparations for a religious holiday. It would be difficult for church leaders to rebel openly, however, for such actions would involve asserting priority over another realm. This would create a potentially explosive situation, but Pollapese are resolute and committed to resolving such conflicts. Aspects of the problem can be reframed, for example, as the domain of tradition perhaps inadvertently not having been careful about infringing on the domain of religion. This explanation is more acceptable than religion arrogantly asserting priority over another domain. In one case, I heard a problematic decision discussed as having been made by clan elders rather than by the chief, thus somewhat weakening the strength of the role played by tradition and opening the door to compromise and resolution. In the sphere of resolving issues, I also observed women acting quietly as mediators to calm the various parties and to move them toward agreement. The community may witness public apologies, but behind the scenes the work of women (such as ‘mothers’ of the parties) facilitates resolution and serves to maintain harmony and protect the reputation of the community. At a community meeting in which key leaders offered apologies to each other, explicit emphasis was accorded to the three domains working peacefully and harmoniously together. Women then respectfully encouraged a number of other leaders to speak, thus strengthening the reconciliation. These apologies were dignified and humble, and they lacked the sort of shame that often accompanies apologies in the United States. In fact, the speakers seemed to garner respect, especially as the result was the restoration of harmony. Contributing to the tension among domains is the fact that tradition is both a significant issue for Pollapese and a sensitive, touchy one. Some islanders are concerned about religion and government chipping away at tradition, while others worry about privileging tradition and thus losing the advantages the other domains can bring. Their tradition is something they are proud of (Flinn 1992), but it can also make them feel uncomfortable or anxious, because they fervently wish to avoid being perceived as backward or primitive. This anxiety contributed to Pollapese participants at a Chuuk workshop growing perturbed at accusations that the Western Islanders have two “gods”: custom and (the Christian) God. Pollapese were in effect accused of being backward. In response, a Pollapese leader proudly pointed out that the Western Islands have produced both priests and nuns, all of whom have worked for the people in Chuuk, “and you, the Chuukese, have people like that [nuns and priests] in your communities every day. We don’t. And yet look at what we’ve accomplished. Our religion is strong for us here.” Furthermore, Pollapese prefer a



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reputation for having become strong, active Catholics, even in the absence of a resident priest or nun. The celebration of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception is plainly one event that almost seamlessly incorporates elements of all three domains. Custom and religion—which so often are problematic—interweave with each other. December 8 is an official church feast, a holy day of obligation in the U.S. Catholic Church, and is celebrated with a church service or Mass (if a priest is available or if communion will be served). At the same time, it involves offerings of true taro and highlights the traditional productive role of women and their ability to nurture. It incorporates elements of competition, also from the domain of tradition. Yet money offerings are made for the taro, and even though Tuesday (December 8 in 1998) would normally have been a day for school and a municipal meeting, there was absolutely no question about even a possible conflict. It was unquestioned that the two domains would not conflict and that the municipal domain would support religion by suspending school and the meeting; it did not even have to be announced. The parish council, either on its own or in concert with the traditional council or the chief, oversees decisions about activities and food for the feast that follows the church services. Chiefly elders have also played key roles in moderating the competitive and commercial aspects of the celebration and the amount of taro to be involved. During the church service, women perform public roles normally reserved for men, and during the festivities they make speeches and take part in skits enabling them to send messages to the community. Thus the day of December 8 asserts commitment to both tradition and to Catholicism, it highlights women’s productive and nurturing capacities, and it incorporates some of the new opportunities for public speaking and consequent influence.

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Chapter 6

Church Activities

Pollapese are proud of being Catholic; they contend that Catholicism has enabled them to strengthen behavior that is valued both by the church and by Pollapese tradition. Many of the values they understand the church as promoting are consistent with what their tradition advocates, especially ttong ‘love, compassion,’ tipiyew ‘agreement,’ and kinamwmwe ‘peace, harmony.’ They look on their past with equanimity, however, and acknowledge abandoned customs such as warfare or salacious dancing as simply having been their ways before they were converted to Catholicism and became enlightened. To a certain extent, they have even used aspects of their pre-Christian reputation to their advantage to demonstrate a strength that they are capable of but choose not to exert because of being Catholic (Flinn 1990a). For example, they can look to a warlike past as evidence of strength. Pollapese sometimes even point to abandoned past behavior as a way of highlighting current virtue and spirituality, which signals another type of strength evident in the islanders’ ability and willingness to have changed. Many people mentioned that before Christianity they danced every evening, and that their dancing could become licentious; the words and the movements of the dances could have sexual overtones, and men and women often left the dance with someone they were not married to. Now, however, Pollapese speak proudly of how they changed; they point out that they converted to Christianity and consequently behave differently today. The past is now spoken of as a time of darkness (ror´), when people were róchopwaak ‘ignorant,’ whereas now they are said to have haram ‘enlightenment’ because of Catholicism. This has enabled them to nurture and more readily practice the virtues of compassion, harmony, and peace. Ideally they also demonstrated these virtues in the past, but Catholicism is said to have strengthened their ability to do so. Some of the changes brought by Catholicism are problematic for women, such as the emphasis on marriage for life. Although women speak with pride and appreciation of this change, it nonetheless means that they now have fewer

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options in dealing with troubled or abusive marriages. At the same time, however, Catholicism has brought some benefits for women. One of the particular changes relevant to women is how Catholicism has encouraged their more official and active participation in church activities than has been the case in the other domains. Perhaps most important, their Catholicism encourages women to speak—not just privately and within the family, but publicly—and not just to other women or to children, but to anyone, including men, even brothers. In contrast, the domain of tradition asserts that women should refrain from speaking at public community meetings, and as a result many people also find it inappropriate for women to speak publicly in the municipal domain as well. In fact, the sanction against speaking in community meetings in the presence of men is often given as a reason for women not being members of the municipal council. In contrast with the other domains, the realm of religion asserts that women have miriit ‘knowledge’ and that this knowledge must be aired; thus women must speak. They even have an obligation to do so. With Catholicism, people now have not only kkepah ‘the word’ of Jesus but also the ‘word’ of Mary, which further strengthens the cause for women. Despite so much public discussion and self-conscious awareness of the separate domains and their potential clashes, Catholicism is nonetheless woven into the everyday life of Pollap in a creative manner, merging and adapting Pollap and Catholic traditions into a new entity, producing, for example, the December 8 celebrations. In this and many other situations, there is no discussion about certain aspects of an event, such as the offerings of taro and the theme of competition, being “traditional” and others, such as attending Mass, being “Catholic.” Rather, they are all simply Pollapese. Similarly, the annual cycle of events on the island revolves very much around the religious liturgical calendar, and these events are rich with ritual and beauty. Pollapese revel in the rituals and embellish them with hymns, prayers, flowers, and drama. Even the weekly and daily schedules readily incorporate Catholicism, as certain days and times of the week are set aside for church activities, and daily events are scheduled relative to church events. In addition, considerable time and resources are spent on church activities, and church associations are as much a part of the current social structure as are the clans and the villages.

Church Associations All adults in the community are members of one of six lay church associations. Each association in theory has a particular function, though in effect they share a number of similarities. In fact, most people can speak only vaguely or in quite general terms about the various specific aims of the associations. What

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seems more relevant is what all the organizations have in common, and that is a commitment to service, including practical help such as caring for the sick as well as spiritual assistance and prayer. Those who are elderly or sick or who are nursing small children are typically not expected to participate fully in the work of an association, and women tend to be more active than men, but technically every adult is a member of one association or another. Two of the groups are for men only, two are for women only, and the rest include both men and women. In addition to these six discrete groups is an overlapping one for the youth, though “youth” seems to be construed quite broadly to include even those adults approaching forty years of age. The newest of the six is an organization for men committed to emulating Joseph, Mary’s husband. The other all-male group, founded earlier, is called Crusades and consists of “soldiers,” ideally the strong young men of the island. Its members are supposed to be responsible for much of the physical work of the church, such as repairing the roof when needed, but for some, the spiritual work takes priority: “The real thing they should do, since they are strong and are young men, is give speeches. They should request that Christians strengthen their faith.” One of the two all-female organizations is for young unmarried women only and known as Mwiir´en Koroti. These young women are expected to help with decorating the church and producing garlands for welcoming church officials, and they assist at parties and celebrations, filling plates behind the scenes, for example. In short, they do much of the work that young women would ordinarily be expected to do on the island. At times they also visit the sick, and at least once when I was there, they were visiting the housebound and reciting the rosary. This took considerable time, as the women visited three people each day, saying a complete rosary (reciting the prayers of the rosary three times through, each time meditating on a different set of events in the life of Jesus and Mary). The members of the organization should also strive to emulate Saint Maria Goretti, a young girl held up as a model of purity because she allowed herself to be martyred rather than lose her virginity, though I rarely heard any reference to the saint. Many islanders did not seem even to know who Mwiir´en Koroti was named for. This may be in part because the name is similar to the name of the woman who started the association on the island. Like the other organizations, the emphasis seems to be on service, although islanders acknowledge that a woman who becomes pregnant is expected to resign from the organization. The other female-only association is Mwiir´en Maria, a local version of the Legion of Mary and dedicated to emulating Mary. The Legion of Mary is a worldwide organization of lay Catholics that was organized in 1921 in Dublin. Numbering several million worldwide, its members may be male or female,



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but on Pollap they are only women. Usually responsible for leading the rosary prayers on the island, they are also expected to pray for the sick, but most important, they pwon ‘promise’ or commit themselves to Mary. Emulating Mary in part is supposed to involve listening to one’s elders and husband, working to maintain peace and harmony in the family, and helping to avoid problems or discord. Some women also spoke of being loving, good wives as part of emulating Mary, and others spoke of caring for the family and promoting harmony. One who mentioned following Mary’s tekiséssón ‘modesty, humility’ elaborated by saying, “She listened to what Joseph wanted her to do; she didn’t say, ‘I won’t.’” In the same breath, this woman admitted that she herself was not overly successful in achieving that but could work toward it. During the year I was there, members of this organization also led a special prayer in preparation for the year 2000, the new millennium, and the prayers associated with some Lenten rituals. Recitation of the rosary and the Lenten rituals are often attended by more people than the morning service, though in neither case is there the equivalent of a sermon in which women could express their own views or interpretations of church teachings. Every Saturday after the regular rosary prayers, members of Mwiir´en Maria ceremoniously carry a statue of Mary from one household to another, giving another recitation of the rosary and additional prayers at each place, and forming a procession with songs and prayers in between as they move the statue. Pollap acquired the statue from a Filipino group in Chuuk, who gave it to them in return for a commitment to circulate it among the various households. Sometimes they rotate the statue through the homes of the sick, elderly, and housebound. While I was there, they also visited the households of the various church officials and church group officers in turn. In addition to their other activities, Mwiir´en Maria also held a retreat for a couple of days at an isolated spot away from the settlement area of the island. They spoke of it as an opportunity for prayer and “Bible sharing.” They also visited nearby islands a couple of times during the year for workshops with women of similar groups. In preparation for these events, they met almost daily, especially to practice their songs and skits. One of the church associations with both male and female members is Selator (Selatora for female members); this is the oldest and historically the most important group, consisting primarily of older men and women. Although some of the members are young, this organization is the one with the most senior and experienced people of the island. In the past, in fact, no young people were involved at all. When people decide they need church-related efforts to resolve disputes, they almost always specify asking someone from this particular association to mediate, since it contains the most respected and seasoned islanders. This group also has a measure of responsibility, along with the church leaders,

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for the spiritual education of others. In the past, before the parish council was organized, they served as the church council. Today they oversee a series of monthly religious discussions. There is talk of changing the name of the group, however, as the organization itself has changed over the years, especially with the entry of younger people into the group and with the parish council having taken over much of what this organization used to do in the past. The association is connected with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which is also the name of the church on Pollap. Like members of many of the other groups, from time to time women of this group also visit and comfort the sick, infirm, and elderly, bringing them food and coconuts, and offering prayers, songs, and speeches. The other mixed-gender group, and the largest on the island at the time, is Mwiir´en Asór, yasór meaning ‘offering.’ These offerings may take the form of volunteering to clean the yards of those who are sick, wash their clothes, help bathe them, and pray. They also regularly hold Bible discussions and prayers in the church in the evenings. Mwiir´en Asór members sometimes take their “Bible sharing” out to people’s homes instead of conducting it exclusively in the church. This allows the elderly and housebound, for example, who find it hard to walk to church, to be reached nonetheless and to participate in these discussions. At one point during the year, members of this organization visited the sick and elderly to read and discuss the day’s church readings. On these occasions, as with “Bible sharing,” they usually read and then discuss their thoughts about a half dozen or so passages, and women are at least as active and vocal in these sessions as men, if not more so. And they speak with energy, clarity, confidence, and conviction. People provided various reasons for joining one or the other groups, but these reasons often encompassed issues other than just the particular focus of the association. Most people did not simply say, “I wanted to emulate Mary” or “I wanted to make offerings.” Instead, most spoke of relationships they had with others in the associations as the catalyst for joining a particular group. For example, one woman said she was first interested in Selatora, but then Mwiir´en Maria people “called out” to her, so she joined them instead. Being asked, presumably by relatives, to join a particular group has considerable sway. Another woman mentioned that she had been considering two possibilities and then chose the somewhat smaller group, thinking it had more need of her. Another spoke about two groups competing for her participation, so eventually she joined a third one to avoid the dilemma. Some took into account the groups that others in the household were members of, pointing out that it would be hard on a household if they were all members of the same group because of the pressure to provide food and goods; if they were members of different groups, demands would be spread out over time. They see it as better to have members of one household distributed among several of the organizations; otherwise,



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when a particular church group is called on to provide food or mats or other goods, it would be too much of a drain, with several contributions having to come from a single household. Thus who is in a particular organization seems to matter more to most people than the specified purpose of the group, especially as the goals of all the associations are so similar and all involve prayer and service of some sort. These associations are a part of the community organization, and they crosscut clans and villages. Especially for church events, people are categorized according to these groups. Food contributions for feasts and for church visitors are usually based on these groups rather than on homesites, villages, or clans. Mats to be presented as gifts to church guests and head garlands for visitors, such as those who arrive to conduct religious workshops, are also likely to be charged to the church groups to provide. Furthermore, people sit in the meetinghouse within their groups for a number of events, for December 8 the competitive activities were organized according to church group, and representation on the parish council takes into account church group membership.

The Calendar and Pollapese Catholicism Every morning some sort of service is held: a Mass, if the priest is on the island; readings, prayers, and communion with hosts consecrated by the priest before leaving the island; or just readings and prayer in the absence of both a priest and consecrated hosts. There is good attendance almost every day, though the largest is on Sundays and feast days. Just as in most municipal meetings, women and men usually sit separately in the church: women on the left side (facing the altar), with those responsible for the day’s hymns up in front, and men on the right side, usually with boys up in front, older men scattered in the back. Women enter first, while men stand outside waiting to enter until after the final bell so that the women do not have to crawl because of the presence of brothers. (Women who are late tend to linger in the rear of the church and enter on their knees.) Most mornings during the week there is a sermon along with the service, although not invariably. Weekday services also have music, with a hymn at the beginning and end, and one before the gospel reading. Sundays are more elaborate, with six hymns and more ritual involved. Every afternoon parishioners recite the rosary inside the church, complete with hymns and at times some additional prayers. Usually the women’s church group Mwiir´en Maria is responsible for the rosary, although for a while in the year I was there, the duty rotated through the young men and women of the community. Rosary attendance is usually equivalent to or larger than the morning services, and Sunday rosaries in May (Mary’s month) and October (the

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month of the rosary) are particularly well attended and include a procession up to Fatima. Just before dawn on Thursdays, some of the women assemble in the church for yet more prayers, and on Tuesdays and Saturdays they meet at Fatima, a site especially devoted to Mary. Various church groups also have regularly scheduled days for additional prayers after rosary and morning services, and some for discussions of the Bible and other prayers in the evening in the church. Community activities such as meetings, dance rehearsals, erection of a new building, or greeting visitors, are typically discussed in relation to the daily church activities, especially the morning services and afternoon rosary, and to a certain extent evening Bible sharing. For example, I often heard activities scheduled for “after church” or “after rosary,” and these are often activities completely unrelated to the church. After morning prayer services is a common time for other meetings and at least catching people for announcements. In addition, after rosary is a common time for people to sit and socialize, men often by the office building, women scattered around the church grounds. On one Sunday a month, people assemble for speeches on a particular assigned topic, “Being Sisters and Brothers in God,” for example, or “God Residing in a Person.” This event is coordinated by the senior church association. Women regularly participate as speakers as well as audience, and those who assign them seem to make a point of ensuring that both men and women participate, unless the group designated to provide the speakers is one of the all-male ones. The categories of people from which to select speakers vary. One time, three men and three women spoke, two from each of the three villages on the island. At other times, the groups from which to choose speakers are the church associations, or perhaps members from a particular church group selected from each of the three villages. During these discussions, speakers— both male and female—have an opportunity to advise or even admonish the community about how they ought to behave in order to comply with church teachings and the designated issue under discussion. The annual Catholic liturgical calendar is observed in the community, with special attention given to several holy days, when the church services are followed by community feasts and entertainment. Easter, Christmas, New Year’s Day, and December 8 are the ones for which the parish council collects monies and organizes major feasts. For New Year’s Day in 1999, however, although the normal church celebration took place, there were no accompanying festivities in order to honor a period of mourning (from the realm of tradition) for a chiefly woman who had recently died. The mourning involved, among other restrictions, refraining from any unnecessary noise. (As soon as the taboo was lifted later in the month, however, children enacted the secular part of the holiday, banging drums, yelling, and begging for candy around the island.)



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New Year’s Eve is celebrated with a thanksgiving prayer service. For the one I attended, people in the church sat together by village instead of gender, and each village was responsible for leading a song of thanks. For the last segment of the service, individual people had a chance to express their own words of thanks, and those who chose to do so included women in about equal numbers with men. Other days may also have associated feasts and events, but they are typically organized by one of the church organizations rather than the parish council. Mwiir´en Maria, for example, is in charge of the Feast of the Assumption on August 15, and Mwiir´en Asór for the Feast of Christ the King, the fourth Sunday in November. June 26 is celebrated, with the festivities organized by yet another church organization, in remembrance of the ordination of an island priest and dedication of the new church several years earlier. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are also treated as church events, with small celebrations held after the service outside the church in the meetinghouse. In February when I was there, Pollapese celebrated Diocese Day with a feast and speeches. For All Saints’ Day, November 1, and All Souls’ Day, November 2, islanders, most of them women, clear the cemetery of debris, trim the grass, and decorate the graves with flowers, both real and handmade out of colored paper; these are yasór ‘offerings.’ Especially on the second, they make a point of praying in the church or up at the graves for the souls of their deceased relatives. Ash Wednesday draws a larger crowd than usual for a weekday, and islanders remain after the prayers to have a cross of ashes placed on their foreheads. This is one of the occasions for which tradition and religion have managed to accommodate each other, as mentioned in the previous chapter. The church officials have a few senior siblings in the congregation whose foreheads it is forbidden by tradition for the officials to touch, so those elders simply put the ashes on themselves. During Lent, people acknowledge the Stations of the Cross with a series of prayers, hymns, and meditations on the final hours of Jesus a couple of times during the week. The Easter season is particularly impressive, with a procession of parishioners carrying palms on Palm Sunday, the Last Supper enacted during Mass on Holy Thursday, live Stations of the Cross performed on Good Friday, and Easter celebrations conducted on both Saturday evening and Sunday morning. Women are active in leading the rosary, the Stations of the Cross, and novenas (series of prayers over nine days, for special purposes) said during the year, but in the morning services, aside from leading hymns and carrying offerings, women normally do not play active roles except on certain holidays focused on women or on Mary, such as August 15, Mother’s Day, and December 8. On these occasions, the prayer requests portion of the service is the most common opportunity for women to present prayers they have composed themselves.

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Sometimes they are in the form of amwusomwus ‘apologies,’ sometimes tingor ‘requests,’ sometimes kilissow ‘thanks.’ Normally, representatives from the various church organizations are selected to speak on these special occasions. On Mother’s Day, for example, a woman from Mwiir´en Asór, one from Mwiir´en Maria, and one from Selatora each spoke. These were prayers they had created and spoken themselves, not formulas. On other rare occasions, women may also play public roles: on New Year’s Day during my stay, a woman participated in offering prayers of thanks during the prayer request time. As a priest is not resident on the island most of the year, the sacraments are not routinely available. The priest can consecrate hosts so that at least for a period of time, people can receive communion even after he has left, but otherwise Pollapese have to take advantage of his brief visits for confession, baptism, first communion, and weddings. During the priest’s visit the year I was there about a dozen babies were baptized, several dozen young people received first communion, and one couple married—all during a single Mass. The children and young couple wore white lavalavas and loincloths, and adorned themselves with beads and hair garlands. The bride with her witness sat on the women’s side of the church, as did all the female babies to be baptized, with the parents and godparents behind them. The groom sat on the men’s side, with the male babies, parents, and godparents. The first communion children assembled outside the church and were directed to sit in the back until it was time to process up the aisle for communion (see Figure 6.1). Although there is much explicit discussion on the island about how religion and tradition should interact together without conflict, Pollapese have woven their own version of Catholicism into innumerable elements from their own customs. Moreover, they do not self-reflectively discuss these as cases of religion and tradition working together; they seem to simply accept them as the appropriate way to behave. The offerings of taro for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception are one example. Yar´ing ‘making food for returning fishermen’ is another; it is a custom independent of religion that at times is incorporated into church activities, such as when the women of one of the church groups present food to the men of another when they collectively fish for a church event. In addition, for the major feasts, men typically all venture out fishing for the whole community, as they did in the past in order to ensure that everyone ate fish, not just the families of successful fishermen. People wear special and often decorated loincloths and lavalavas for church events, typically in a designated color as well. For example, as already described, those dressed for first communion proudly wore white loincloths and lavalavas, with beads and head garlands. Beliefs have mingled as well as practices. For example, Pollapese believe that they can meet the soul of someone who has died while dreaming, and one woman said that when she saw her mother in a dream, it meant she



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Figure 6.1╇ First Communion

was to pray for her on All Souls’ Day, another unselfconscious mixture of indigenous and Catholic beliefs. Secular and religious events can coincide seamlessly—and without comment. The visit of a well-known traditional Micronesian navigator, Mau Piailug, who arrived by canoe with a crew from Hawaii, took place on Easter Sunday, and the dancing originally scheduled for the Easter feast doubled as entertainment for the visitors. The events were scheduled to accommodate both the church services and the activities connected with the visitors; people attended church that morning dressed in white in honor of Easter, returned home to change to red to welcome the visitors and fetch the garlands they had strung, collected in a canoe house for the welcoming, and then proceeded to the main meeting structure for the subsequent feast and dancing. Although on many other occasions, people explicitly talk about how tradition and religion need to go hand in hand, this was an occasion in which it simply happened naturally without comment. Visiting the sick and tending to their physical, social, and emotional needs is another example of the mingling of domains. Considered by tradition to be part of women’s work, it is undertaken now not only by the relatives of a patient, as would be the case in the absence of Catholicism, but also by the various church groups with women members as part of their service work. Sometimes this takes the form of prayer, songs, rosary, speeches, and/or Bible discussions, but at times it entails bringing food as well.

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Chiefly women are the ones who organize and oversee much of the preparation for religious events. For example, on Diocese Day, villages were the units responsible for providing food, and it was a chiefly woman who assembled the other women to arrange the details. A chiefly woman also ensured that women rehearsed their dances for the Easter feast and the songs for Christmas. If the unit of organization for an event is the church group, it is the group leaders who are responsible, but when the unit is the village or gender, then a chiefly woman will become involved. Mother’s Day, a secular American holiday, is celebrated in the church, and Pollapese acknowledge that it was imported from the United States. Many of them seemed somewhat perturbed, however, that Mother’s Day is reputedly supposed to single out and honor only one’s biological mother. They found this inappropriate, since for them, in the realm of tradition, many other women are mothers in name as well as in behavior. So people honor mothers, aunts, grandmothers, and mothers-in-law with garlands, candy, and sprays of perfume. These honored women would also include adoptive mothers, as adoption occurs only between people already standing in a classificatory parentchild relationship (Flinn 1985). Festivities for the church holidays also involve competitions, and people spend considerable time preparing for feasts and associated events, and rehearsing their songs and skits in order to maximize their position for the competitions ahead. In preparation, leaders meet to discuss choosing the types of groups to compete, and then the types of activities. For Christmas, for example, the decision was that men and women would be the categories to compete with each other, and scheduled activities included a volleyball game, tug-of-war, husking and grating coconuts, and eating hot rice, which took place on the Sunday before Christmas. Competitions scheduled for Christmas Day itself included a contest about the Bible and then solo, duet, and group songs. December 8 competitive groups were based on the church associations, and the entertainment activities included songs and skits. Easter festivities involved dance competitions (with men and women dancing separately). When I left the island, people were excitedly preparing for a meeting of the Western Islands youth group, particularly looking forward to the competitions, which were to involve songs, skits, and speeches. Even in the absence of an explicit theme of competition, with one person or group winning or exceeding what others do, there is nonetheless the element of at least meeting expectations or risking being shamed. For example, for the Christmas feast, each man was charged with contributing any combination of salted fish and octopus so long as the total was ten. If someone failed to provide all ten, or if the fish were deemed too small or inadequately dried, the man would then be háwo ‘ashamed.’ To help prevent this, a number of women



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helped the men they were related to by providing additional octopus and overseeing the drying.

Time, Goods, and Money All these various church activities—regular services and prayers, special holidays, church association commitments—require time and other resources. Islanders attend morning services, afternoon rosaries, meetings, Bible sharing, novenas, workshops, and feasts, and they visit the sick. In addition, most of these activities take time to prepare for and involve untold hours of meeting and planning. Church associations commonly meet on Thursdays, but they often need to meet at additional times as well, which are signaled by a church bell, with each association having a particular number of times the bell tolls so that they can distinguish one group being called from another. In addition, islanders regularly clean the church grounds and inside the building, and for holidays, extra care is taken and may involve repairs and painting. Pollapese decorate the church quite elaborately for several of the holidays, and they clear the main paths for occasions such as the rosary processions in October and May and the cemetery observations in early November. They also tidy the area around Fatima for the special rosaries in May and October, and at the cemetery for All Souls’ Day in November. They rehearse skits and songs for upcoming holiday feasts and workshops, they plan for and participate in workshops, and they put in extra work cultivating and preparing food for holidays and visits of church officials and workshop participants. Obviously not everyone participates in all of these activities all of the time, though women are typically more active in most church activities than are men. Even for women, however, other concerns, especially tending to family members, often take priority. For example, nursing mothers did not participate in a Mwiir´en Maria retreat, as children were not supposed to attend. Another woman had a sick husband to tend to. Yet another excused herself, explaining that her children were fussy, crying a lot, and thus in need of her at the moment. If women have work in the taro gardens or food to cook or children to feed, they skip meetings and rehearsals for upcoming events. When men return with fish, women will put aside other work and plans in order to cook it, and this can also easily keep them from a meeting or rehearsal. Leaders of the church groups are not pleased when this happens, but clearly no one is forced to participate when she feels needed elsewhere. In addition to demanding time, many church activities also entail food production and preparation. Obviously the feasts associated with the various church holidays involve large contributions of food. December 8 presentations

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call for extra production in addition to women’s regular subsistence activities. Church groups from time to time carry food to the sick and elderly, necessitating additional work and produce. Novenas, retreats held by church groups, and visits by church workshop groups and other church officials also require food. In some cases, it is probably not food in excess of what would otherwise be harvested and prepared—those on a retreat, for example, would have been eating anyway—but nonetheless more of a burden is placed on those not participating in the retreat. Feeding visitors, on the other hand, clearly involves preparation of additional food. Furthermore, since Pollapese find it critical that the community appear generous, large portions must be provided. In particular, more true taro will be harvested for such occasions than would otherwise be the case, since this prized taro is expected for most special occasions and for honoring visitors. These days a number of such occasions and outside visitors are associated with the church and religious activities. When members of church associations visit the sick with gifts of food, when islanders go to a home and participate in a novena, and when Mwiir´en Maria takes the statue to a home on Saturday, the receiving household reciprocates in some way. Often they serve coffee, sometimes a little food (doughnuts made with flour, yeast, and a little sugar are a favorite when the ingredients are available), and sometimes cigarettes or tobacco. Although some people grow a little tobacco, and occasionally local food is given in thanks, the other goods must be purchased. This is not cheap: coffee costs about US$5.50 for a small jar, sugar about US$2.50 a bag, and cigarettes US$2.50 a pack or US$22.50 for a carton. These are not nominal sums when most people on the island have no regular cash income and have to rely on remittances from those working elsewhere. The church groups are also expected to provide the parish with funds each year toward the community celebrations of Easter, Christmas, January 1, and December 8. Groups that include women tend to raise more money than allmale groups, probably because women are generally more involved in church activities. Church associations raise money for other purposes as well. One group purchased a statue as a gift to another island while I was there. Several associations collected bags of rice and donations of soap and other imported items as gifts for the sick and bereaved on other islands. These items were furnished in addition to whatever relatives were already providing. When Selator/a were preparing for the celebration on June 26 in connection with the anniversary of the church dedication, they decided to make an yasór ‘offering’ of fabric, candles, artificial flowers, and banners to be used to decorate the church—all of which had to be purchased. Throughout the discussions lurked a hint of competition as well, with talk of what other groups had managed to make for the church in the past and hopes that their contributions would compare favorably.



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In addition to these monies, the community is also expected to provide about three thousands dollars a year toward the parish budget for items such as wine and hosts for communion, and materials for repair and upkeep of the church. Those living off the island, especially those with jobs, are expected to be contributors as well, not just those actually resident on the island. In fact, this is one way in which the off-island people demonstrate their ongoing commitment to the Pollap community—by contributing financially to its maintenance and associated activities. Regular collections are taken on Sundays, and to encourage additional giving, there are often special collections tapping particular categories of people, such as the oldest or the youngest of a group of siblings, the members of a particular clan or afaakúr ‘offspring,’ or those with paid jobs. Again, off-island Pollapese may be considered ongoing members of the community through such contributions. When the special collections were to come from the oldest male in each sibling group and the oldest female, for example, but that particular male or female was not actually resident on the island, a relative was expected to donate the money. It was even considered appropriate, if not expected, for me to contribute money for my son as the oldest male, even though he was not on the island at the time. People also donated money for the offerings of taro on December 8, and individuals often purchased and distributed candy for some of the special church events. In other words, innumerable aspects of the church on the island involve monetary contributions. One way church associations sometimes raise money is through raffles. Although a few of the raffle goods, such as soap, are purchased by individuals and then donated for the raffle, most of the items are locally harvested foods or produced goods: fans, brooms, at least two types of mats, firewood, bananas, coconut oil, mature coconuts, drinking coconuts, and pounders and boards for mashing food. These raffles thus obviously require additional production of local foods and goods. Mat production is stimulated in yet other ways by church activities, especially because church groups commonly produce them as gifts for certain occasions. Mwiir´en Maria, for example, decided to make a sleeping mat for each woman attending a workshop on Pollap, and on another occasion women in another church group produced mats to give to the priest.

Constraints and Opportunities Much as been written about deleterious effects of Christianity and missionaries on the status of women (see, for example, Jolly and Macintyre 1989; Lockwood 1993:34–49; Perry and Achevarría 1988), and we have seen that on Pollap Catholicism has certainly made it more difficult for a woman to abandon a bad marriage and to limit her childbearing. At the same time, however, Catholi-

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cism has also brought women some opportunities. Becoming a nun in some respects is actually one such opportunity despite the constraints of the position; although it certainly does not bring the sort of influence and recognition as becoming a priest does, it nonetheless results in considerable prestige and influence in the eyes of the Pollapese. More important, for all Pollapese women, church activities offer more opportunities to travel to other communities and to exchange ideas. Education has also played a key role in opening up these opportunities, but the church has provided many others. Perhaps most important is that Catholicism for Pollapese women provides avenues for creative self-expression and for influence, primarily because of the emphasis on women’s speech in this domain. Thus the impact of Catholicism for women is obviously complex and not a simple matter of beneficial or deleterious to their status. The heightened emphasis of Catholicism on the conjugal bond and the associated ban on divorce are actually viewed by Pollapese women as advantageous, even though the result may be that some women have to remain in problematic marriages. Women say that a main advantage of Catholic marriages (as opposed to both Protestant and pre-Christian marriages) is that a man cannot abandon a woman to take another wife. (Conversely, I heard a few men speak of Catholic weddings as “handcuffing” them, though most of the time they too spoke with pride of their constancy with Catholicism.) Be that as it may, when women discuss the nature of relationships with men in the past, before Pollap became Catholic, the focus is not on women being deserted. Rather, they tend to speak of the pre-Christian era as a time when women cavalierly tossed men out of their lives to take up with other men, not as a time when men callously abandoned their wives. Also, there are any number of stories about women fighting over men in the past. Whenever I asked if men behaved similarly— deserting one woman for another and fighting over women—I was repeatedly assured, “Yes, of course they did,” yet at the same time discussions of the preChristian practices were almost invariably phrased in terms of women being the active players. In the same vein, old dance songs often center around a married woman’s secret lover. Divorce was both easy and frequent before conversion to Catholicism, and in their discussions about the past, women did not highlight the problem of being deserted by a husband during that era (except by implication, when they claim that Catholicism today prevents the problem); rather, they said it was easy enough to find another husband. Certainly a husband was not necessary in order for a woman to be provided with fish, though this is not something women routinely mentioned. A woman could count on her brothers to provide fish, and households had other in-marrying men to assist with work. A woman could also easily turn to other male relatives, such as the offspring of the men of her descent group.



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It is true that, today at least, a woman may be protected from her parents or brothers throwing her husband out of her marriage if they are unhappy with him, even if she herself is satisfied (as they, at least theoretically, could have done in the past). On the other hand, if a woman is unhappy today, she cannot divorce and remarry. Instead, pressure will be brought to bear on the couple to improve their relationship, although this effort obviously is not always going to be successful. One woman who told of her husband hitting her claimed that in the past her parents would have admonished the man and disciplined him for such behavior but now they had to refrain from doing so, as it would be perceived as interfering in the relationship. Parents can help make peace between the two, but now in-laws are not supposed to fight with their daughters’ husbands. (This creates strains for mothers, because they find it sinful at the same time not to interfere in a situation in which they see their daughters getting hurt.) Women are being told that when husbands create problems— because of drinking, for example—wives should be patient, control their anger, and pray. Prayer is said to result eventually in improved behavior. Other direct action, aside from a woman calmly speaking to her husband, is not warranted. Catholicism has taught that a woman should not turn away from a husband’s problems, she should not tell him to leave, and she should not divorce him. She may talk to him, pray, allow others to talk to him, but no more. Otherwise, a de facto separation is the only viable option today; just as in the past, at least this does not leave a woman alone and forced to support her children without assistance. With Catholicism has also come a heightened emphasis on women obeying their husbands, as has commonly happened elsewhere (see, for example, Jolly and Macintyre 1989), though this seems to be strongest for women in Mwiir´en Maria, one of the all-female church associations. Only in contexts of discussions about Catholicism did I hear such an emphasis placed on obedience to husbands. And the word “masta”—a borrowed word—is sometimes used today to designate the husband as the head of the family, with “family” used in the sense of a nuclear family, referring only to wife, husband, and children. In discussions that lie outside the realm of religion—for example those about respect patterns, who in a household should answer to whom, or how decisions are made about daily work—Pollapese stress that they should follow directives of brothers, senior siblings, and parents, and remember the obligations of in-marrying men. It is revealing that a woman’s husband was not named in these contexts and that obedience to husbands is stressed almost exclusively through Catholicism. Furthermore, in the context of some church discussions about roles for men and women in today’s world, the stereotype presented was one of men obtaining paying jobs and women becoming essentially housewives,

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responsible for cleaning, cooking, caring for husbands and children, and teaching children appropriate behavior. This emphasis has not prevented women from pursuing education and employment off the island, however, nor has it taken them out of the taro gardens, but these ideas cannot help but exert some pressure and eventually influence their views about appropriate gender roles. Catholicism has also brought ideological pressure against premarital and extramarital sexual affairs, and consequently some embarrassment ensues when young unmarried women become pregnant. It is hard to determine if the pressure and embarrassment are stronger now than in the past, but Pollapese certainly speak of islanders in the past as having been promiscuous and assert that the situation changed when they became Catholic. It is likely that having a child born out of wedlock carries more of a stigma today than it did in the past, but even today a woman can rely on the practical support of her female kin. Pollapese have heard of abortion but have no conception of why it is necessary; they take it for granted that a child in their community will inevitably have someone to care for it, whether it is the child’s mother or grandmother or aunt. And a young mother is never expected to serve as the sole caretaker of her child. An unwanted pregnancy has often meant leaving school, however, and if this occurs before graduation from high school, a woman is not likely to return to obtain her diploma. But many young unmarried women have returned to college or to work after having a child. Some of these women decided to care for their children themselves, but in other cases a mother or other female relative has taken over as primary caretaker. Pollapese also contend that their promiscuous ways of the past actually prevented them from having many babies, and they speak with pride of how becoming good Catholics has now taken care of that problem. If women (or more specifically, their wombs) are not ppóhh ‘stable, steady, still, motionless,’ they are believed to have trouble getting pregnant; intercourse with many men can create an ‘unstable’ womb and thus result in barrenness.1 Stable marriages have solved this problem, they say, so that now it is much easier for them to have children. And Pollapese women do indeed have many children; in fact, a physician visiting the island mentioned to me his understanding that Pollap had the highest birthrate in all of Chuuk. Although children are highly valued, a number of Pollapese women nevertheless want some measure of control over their childbearing but find this difficult if not impossible because of the Catholic Church’s ban on birth control. During a workshop on the island held on women’s health issues—primarily exercise and birth control—the women showed considerable interest in some of the birth control methods discussed. They were especially intrigued by contraceptive foam, since it does not require a doctor’s visit. At the same time, however, they were reluctant to use it if for-



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bidden by the church. Some of the workshop participants suggested that they should speak with the priest, and they were fairly confident that he would understand the health issues involved and grant permission, as having one child after another, every year or every other year, would presumably be seen even by the priest as dangerous for both a woman and a potential fetus. Thus the women were looking for ways to control their fertility without having to violate their understandings of church teachings. So, although Catholicism obviously constrains women in a number of ways, it has at the same time offered them opportunities. Although most people in the United States consider becoming a nun a constraining choice, and a woman is indeed bound by regulations of her order, it is nonetheless a choice that Pollapese women lacked in the pre-Christian era, and it is one that today brings both prestige and influence. The island community is enormously proud of one of its women who has become a nun; her work is an alternative form of nurturing and caring for people, both highly valued behavioral traits. It is also a sign of success in the domain of religion, and one that is of value to the entire community. Furthermore, since this nun normally works in the port town, her work is deemed to have an impact beyond the community of Pollap, extending to the entire state. Through serving in this larger realm, she brings renown to her whole island community, thus raising the status of Pollap in the eyes of other Catholics in Chuuk. Further evidence of the prestige accorded a nun was evident in the visit to Pollap of another nun from the nearby island of Houk, an event that almost rivaled a visit from the priest. She was eagerly sought after, in particular for special rituals and prayers, and she played a key role in a religious workshop held on her home island when she returned. A more widespread (and less ambiguous) benefit derives from more opportunities for women to travel to other islands. Although this part of the Pacific has always been characterized by mobility and interisland ties, men have traditionally been the more active travelers rather than women, commonly sailing to other islands via canoe. Men could join a crew simply on a whim, whereas women traveled less often and typically only with a specific reason—and a more serious reason than just a whim, such as visiting a sick relative. Education has provided women with considerable opportunities to travel (Flinn 1992), yet religion provides several more, especially with teams of women traveling for workshops to other islands in the Westerns and to Chuuk Lagoon. Whether male or female, those presenting workshops are treated as honored visitors, greeted, accommodated, fed, and often even feasted as would be the case with any other important visitors to the island. For the workshop presented by women held while I was on Pollap, this treatment included a greeting and a feast in their honor, with the workshop members expected to be included among those seated at the table for guests, officials, and those giving speeches.

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To accommodate custom, the women sat on the ground rather than in chairs, and gave their speeches from their seated positions, but they were still an official part of the honored table. Most important for women, however, are the enhanced opportunities to speak publicly. In a community that values speech and views language as having real impact, this is highly significant.2 We have seen that Pollapese believe that language can wield considerable power over behavior, almost possessing a force of its own. It is quite telling that the ability to speak well is essential for leaders, regardless of clan membership, although it is particularly incumbent upon those who are expected to have influence in the chiefly clan. Repetition can be particularly effective. For example, when a man working with the Land Commission discussed his responsibility for resolving land disputes and his techniques for doing so, he stressed speaking to the parties involved, and, “If that does not work, I will speak with them some more.” When explaining the importance of obeying someone who holds the rights to make demands or requests of a person, Pollapese here too focus on language: “If asked to bring some food, you should not say ‘No, I won’t!’” The act of saying “I won’t” is in effect an act of refusal, not just a signal of intent. The emphasis on ffén ‘advise’ is also clearly based on a belief in the power of language; admonishing, scolding, giving advice—whatever form ffén takes— all rely on the force of language. For example, if someone seriously misbehaves while drinking, his senior kin are expected to approach him in order to ffén, an action that is expected to resolve the problem. Furthermore, children are believed to behave only when they understand the words of what they have been told, which explains why ffén is so essential to the proper care of children. Names also have power. One should refrain from saying the name of someone who has recently died for fear of drawing his or her attention. Islanders remain vigilant about the name of their island and what behaviors they want to come to mind when Pollap is mentioned by name. They show great concern about their island’s reputation and what others say about it. The women working on making new banners and altar covers for the church wanted the name of their organization and its efforts to be spoken of in the same favorable way that people had been speaking of the existing goods and the group that had fashioned them. Because of this emphasis on the power of language, speeches are not only methods of influencing people and giving voice to one’s concerns, but they are also artistic creations. From a very young age, oratory is explicitly encouraged. I was impressed, for example, at a Head Start graduation exercise in which each five-year-old stood in front of the entire community and spoke clearly and with confidence his or her name, clan, father’s clan, village, and then some piece



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of information learned in school, such as the names of colors or numbers or shapes. In the realm of tradition, women are proscribed from speaking at public meetings, and they certainly should refrain from publicly lecturing any men. The municipal domain holds similar expectations. Although the educational system brought in by the United States has been available to women as well as men, some of the women have found paid employment, and women have the equal right to vote, this domain nonetheless has not opened many opportunities for women to speak publicly or provided opportunities for creative selfexpression and influence. Oddly enough, it is Catholicism that has done so. It is Catholicism—not American democracy—that to the Pollapese preached that the voices of women, the ‘words’ or ‘speech’ of women, should be heard. Pollapese explain that Catholicism insisted that, since women have knowledge and experience, these should be expressed, heard, listened to, and followed. It is not simply that their views may be heard, which in and of itself is contrary to what tradition asserts, but that they ought to be. Anyone with the wisdom and experience to provide valuable advice and opinions has an obligation to do so, and Pollapese have interpreted Catholicism as insisting that this includes women. At the very least it means that men have an obligation to ask women to provide their views on an issue. A key responsibility of the members of some of the church associations, regardless of gender, is now to talk to people, which can take the form of ffén ‘advising’ or affér ‘resolving disputes’ or explaining a religious or moral issue. This particularly affects Selatora women, who are the most likely to be expected or asked to speak, as they are the most senior on the island. Another way in which Pollapese contrast the present with their pre-Christian days is by pointing out that now they have both kkepahen Maria and kkepahen Jesus—the ‘word’ of Mary and of Jesus. The emphasis here again is on speech. They believe that both Mary and Jesus desire the full participation of women—participation that should include women spreading the word of both of them. In fact, when Pollap’s Mwiir´en Maria merged with similar groups on the other islands in the Westerns, they gave themselves a new name, Mwiir´en Merikiisom, a name that is rooted in the notion of spreading, such as spreading out a mat for someone to sit on, with the implication that members are responsible for spreading the word of Mary. In a sermon addressed to the entire congregation concerning Mary and Elizabeth, the lay church leader specifically asserted that ‘we’ (including both men and women) should emulate Mary in spreading the ‘good word.’ The emphasis on the power of language also contributes to Pollapese belief in the efficacy of prayer. In the realm of tradition, magic historically

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relied largely on the power of words; in addition, body gestures associated with magic and amulets to fend off sorcery worked only in conjunction with spells, which consisted of a series of words (Lessa 1987:501–502). Thus the power of prayer today clearly relates to indigenous beliefs, especially in the case of formulaic prayers such as those found when reciting the rosary. Pollapese do indeed spend considerable time on prayers of various sorts, both formulaic and composed. In addition to whatever they may say privately, members of church associations remain after rosary and church services for additional prayers on certain days of the week, and women visit the church or Fatima several times a week at dawn for yet more prayers. While I was there, a special prayer was initiated in anticipation of the coming year 2000. When the island was being drenched with so much rain that taro was potentially in danger of spoiling, a chiefly woman exhorted the women to pray even more, in the firm belief that their efforts would make a difference. When they heard word of possible war (such as U.S. bombing in Yugoslavia or Iraq), they turned to prayer. When a drought hit the island, they prayed. When they feared meteors falling to earth and spreading destruction, again they resorted to prayer. Many Pollapese were afraid of some unknown disaster arriving with the year 2000 and therefore were fervently praying in order to prevent catastrophe. Prayer at least brings some comfort—and occasionally some credit or prestige to the individuals who said the prayers that helped obtain the requested result. In other words, a Christian belief in prayer dovetails with Pollapese belief in the power of language to affect behavior. Furthermore, prayer may be accompanied by offerings, just as the requests of a chief may be accompanied by gifts, though the words themselves are essential. Prayers are not confined to requests; in fact, Pollapese seem to be careful to offer prayers of thanks as well, especially after having made requests they believe were granted. Prayers of thanks were profusely given after a successful birth of a baby following an extremely difficult labor and delivery. Prayers of thanks were offered both in households and in the church after Pollapese lost at sea for several days were found alive and well; a section of the morning church service normally used for request prayers was devoted that day to thanks for the safe outcome. On some special holy days, this portion of the service formally has three specific types of prayers: tingor ‘requests,’ kilissow ‘thanks,’ or amwusomwus ‘apologies.’ Women have the chance to compose and present these at special occasions such as December 8, when they are exclusively the ones who publicly offer these prayers. They participate along with men at other times, such as a thanksgiving service on New Year’s Eve. These special opportunities are obviously not as frequent as the daily ones, when a man is usually solely responsible, but the daily prayers are typically short and



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routine, almost formulaic, whereas the special occasions offer more opportunities for self-expression and artistry. In addition to prayers, women also have opportunities to present speeches at religious occasions. These speeches are sometimes spoken of as alilih ‘help,’ since they usually involve advice, suggestions, or interpretations. When the nun from neighboring Houk visited the island and led some special rituals, both men and women had opportunities to offer words of help. More regular occasions involve the Bible discussions. For some of these, people carefully prepare their thoughts in advance, but at other times the presentations are extemporaneous, composed on the spot. Even these are performances, however, and they are expected to be delivered artistically and with energy and clarity—and women do so. The annual cycle of events offers several other opportunities. These include the monthly discussions held in the community meetinghouse in the presence of the entire community. Each of these I attended had female participants, and in the discussions among the senior church group planning who would speak, I noticed that considerable attention was paid to including women. Since assignments for these discussions are made in advance, women have the time to carefully craft their presentations. On Diocese Day, another example, those who spoke about the meaning of “diocese” included both men and women. Other speeches at the same event ranged a bit wider. One woman spoke about family and expressed her views about the roles of parents and the obligations to guide their children. Another discussed the responsibilities they as Catholics, not specifically as women, have toward those in need, who include the poor, the suffering, the sick, the imprisoned, and—interestingly enough—visitors. These are all people deemed to be helpless and in need of assistance. So again these speeches provided an opportunity for women to define the nature of good and proper behavior. Doing so at the same time reinforces the value placed on much of the work women devote to the care of others and serves as an opportunity to influence the behavior of men. Sometimes comments in such speeches are quite explicitly directed at men and use the teachings of Catholicism to provide support for the women’s assertions. For example, one of the women speakers said, “If you have a water tank, you must help those who need water. If you have money, buy clothing for those that need it. If I am in the taro gardens, I get thirsty. If I ask a man to climb a coconut tree to get me a coconut, will he listen to me? If I am sick, will a man bring me coconuts? If you men can fish with a motorboat, will you help those without a motorboat? You, as men, have obligations.” She was articulating the general Pollapese notion that those of higher rank have responsibilities toward those of lower rank (such as brothers toward sisters): “If you are tekiya

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‘high’ and I am faan ‘low,’ then you have an obligation to take care of me.” Here, in urging men to fulfill their own duties to care and provide for certain kin and those in need, this woman was blending both Catholic and traditional values. Carrying a statue of Mary around to various households and visiting the sick, elderly, and housebound provide yet other occasions for both prepared and extemporaneous speaking on the part of women. These particular speeches are not voiced in front of the entire community, but moving the statue nonetheless brings women to a wide variety of households, including those they would not likely to be visiting otherwise, thus in effect giving them opportunities to speak in front of a wider audience. At most of these occasions, after the planned speeches, songs, and prayers, opportunities arise for others present, whether part of the visiting group or a member of the household, to speak as well. Part of the stated purpose of the speeches is to offer help not only to the person who is sick but to everyone else who is there. Speakers may discuss the meaning of the gospel that was read that morning, or present their interpretation of how people should behave if they want to show ttong ‘love, compassion,’ or how they should behave if they wish to demonstrate that they carry God in their thoughts. In other words, women on these occasions are not just discussing abstract theological issues but how to put them in practice. I even observed these speeches being used to reinforce and promote the obligation of women to speak in the sense of advising people, reminding them of the responsibility to ffén ‘advise, admonish,’ pointing out that they should advise not just young children, but anyone in need of guidance. In a speech devoted to Mary, for example, the woman delivering the comments asserted that Mary had spoken out in a similar way, as it was part of her work to help others. Thus in this way Mary is used as a model; she is not just the meek, quiet, mild, patient woman but also one who speaks, who advises, counsels, and guides. In addition to the opportunity to shape the belief and behavior of others, these speeches furnish opportunities for creativity and self-expression. Speech accomplishes more than just providing some useful words or affecting behavior; ideally, it should be aesthetically pleasing as well. Although women show modesty and humility in their public speaking, they exhibit no mumbling or stammering. Their performances are clear, organized, articulate, eloquent, and often quite moving. Speaking is a valued art, and Catholicism offers women on Pollap a range of opportunities to develop and demonstrate their artistry. Women were not deprived historically of chances for self-expression, but Catholicism opened more possibilities. In the realm of tradition, a main vehicle for women’s artistic creativity has been in composing songs and dances, and participating in their performances. Most of the occasions for dancing these days are visits from outsiders, but they are nonetheless public occasions and



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involve the entire community as an audience. Women also tell stories, and these are other contexts for self-expression, but such stories are told in small groups, not in large public meetings. The realm of Catholicism provides support and public contexts for other opportunities. Church events sometimes involve dancing, and they always include speeches of some sort. In addition, many events call for skits, and women frequently participate. The workshops made use of skits to highlight and illustrate some of their points, and December 8 and Christmas contests included several that related the events being celebrated. Although such skits often have an educational component, audiences nonetheless expect them to be entertaining as well. Conceiving the story, composing the main thread of the lines, and then performing the roles all call for creativity. Women thus have opportunities to act and to explore their expressive abilities, including—or perhaps especially—comedic talents and the resultant ability to make an audience laugh. (The December 8 skit with the two brothers described earlier is a prime example.) Such sketches also allow women to express their views and be heard; the skits typically have a moral, and this moral can be directed at men, not just other women. A skit presented during the workshop about women’s roles is a case in point. Although part of the moral was explicitly directed at women, it held a clear message for men as well. In this particular skit, all the parts, including the male ones, were performed by women, and it began with a father leaving the house with his paycheck to purchase food for his family. Unfortunately, he soon became sidetracked by drinking. When he returned home and asked for food, his wife had to admit they had none, an answer that angered the husband, who then went out drinking again. In response, the wife was expected to be patient and refrain from anger herself. She had to remain composed, speak calmly and patiently, and pray. This was the message to women. The point made to the men in this skit was that drinking is both sinful and harmful, especially because it contributes to family problems. Although Catholicism now keeps more marriages intact and emphasizes obedience to a husband, both of which may constrain women, it has at the same time allowed additional openings for women to influence their brothers. Women are now ‘enlightened’ by the church and are expected to speak, so if a brother is misbehaving or troubled, a woman should not remain silent: “Now we can even go and talk [emphasis mine] to our brothers, who will now welcome our help.” It is recognized that women have the possibility to help, advise, watch out for, even possibly guide their brothers, and that they actually have an obligation to do so. They have always had an obligation to care for them, but now they potentially have more influence over their behavior.

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Some women also mentioned an enhanced freedom to speak to their husbands. In the past, even a woman’s parents, who otherwise had a fair amount of influence over a son-in-law, were not to admonish him about sexual affairs; they would have been ashamed to do so. But now some of the women say that they feel freer to speak to husbands themselves about the issue. A woman’s only choice in the past supposedly had been just to wait and see if a husband confessed instead of continuing to deceive her. (Interestingly enough, such a confession was said to be evidence of his ttong ‘love’ for her.) Catholicism teaches women that they should remain patient if they think a husband is straying, though at the same time it has encouraged women to feel freer to speak to their husbands directly about it. The major public presentation by and about women that took place during my fieldwork was a three-day religious workshop directed by women, involving a team that had themselves attended an earlier workshop elsewhere. The workshop on Pollap was attended by the entire community, with both men and women participating in the discussions, and the program itself was led entirely by women. Each day’s workshop opened with the formulaic apologies discussed in the last chapter, women acknowledging that they were speaking publicly contrary to tradition but in accordance with religion. These apologies were not directed solely at men, but included stating their awareness that they were speaking in the presence of knowledgeable elders, both male and female. The workshop concerned women’s roles, including their responsibilities to guide and direct others. The first day focused on the topic as it applied to the realm of tradition. Workshop leaders began by pointing out that women cook, care for and advise children, and often have responsibility for family goods and land. They then proceeded to ask the audience to come up with a list of traditional roles of women and then discuss which were still in practice and which had been abandoned. Without discussion, agreement, or disagreement, any role someone called out from the audience was added to the list, which included ffén ‘advising,’ gardening, resolving disputes, obeying parents and the laws, apwpwóro ‘showing respect for senior siblings,’ caring for the sick, preparing medicine, comforting people, helping those in need, mourning, following sororate and levirate expectations, and residing with the husband’s mother when the husband is off the island. During the ensuing discussion, some people expressed concern that outside customs coming from a variety of sources—Chuuk Lagoon, the United States, access to money, television—have been weakening customs of respect and deference, though others maintained otherwise, asserting in particular that women still listen to what their brothers and older sisters advise them to do. Some added that women also respect what their husbands ask of them.



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There was agreement, however, about a weakening of the tradition that a woman should move in with her husband’s mother when her husband is off the island. Some people contended that this custom is no longer necessary, because with Catholicism and church marriages, there is more ttong ‘love’ now in a marriage, and more trust. Therefore, a husband can trust his wife not to stray while he is gone, making it unnecessary for her to live where his mother can keep an eye on her. Others asserted that this was never the point of the custom, claiming that the purpose instead is for the woman to replace her son while he is absent and to help ensure that his mother is properly cared for. One elder maintained that cultural rules in general are necessary in order to maintain harmony in relationships, and preserving these good relations was the point of this particular traditional custom; today, however, if husband and wife agree on the issue, then there is harmony, and thus no longer a need for the rule. What the islanders readily agreed on during the discussion was that husbands are supposed to trust their wives these days because of Catholicism, and the implication was that if a woman follows the traditional custom today when her husband is away, it is because she wishes to help her husband’s mother, not because she needs to be under the eyes of her husband’s kin to prevent her from seeking out other men in her husband’s absence. Finally, considerable discussion revolved around whether or not Pollapese should respect tradition, which allows a woman to expel a problem son-inlaw, or religion, which teaches that divorce is forbidden. This was one of the occasions on which people explicitly asked, “Which is ‘higher’: custom or religion?” Certainly the thrust of the workshop was that a couple should remain married even in the face of serious problems and that parents should act only to help mend relationships. Several of the skits presented and stories told during the presentations centered on women having problems with their husbands, patiently enduring those problems, and seeking help through prayer, rather than turning their backs on the relationship. A woman’s parents are supposed to support her in these efforts and help ensure that the marriage remains intact. The second day’s focus during the workshop was on women’s responsibilities in the community. The brainstorming activity resulted in items such as contributing food, cooking, cleaning, dancing, welcoming visitors, singing, gardening, catching octopus, producing mats, making first-fruit offerings of true taro, meeting together after municipal meetings to plan their activities, and taking on jobs such as being a midwife or council secretary. The list also included some tasks mentioned the day before, such as resolving disputes and tending the sick. In this second day’s session, islanders discussed some customs that they believe have been fading or are no longer practiced, such as making fish traps and offering true taro to one’s female in-laws when returning to the gardens after giving birth. There was a heated discussion about tradi-

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tional weaving, with men contending that women no longer weave with looms because they are lazy, and women countering that men no longer make the looms or watch children to give women the time for weaving. Women did acknowledge that today it is far easier to just tear a piece of cloth for a loincloth or a lavalava than toil over a loom, with the implication that weaving was not as necessary an activity as it had been in the past. When the women presenters spoke, they placed emphasis on ways that women can and should provide guidance to others, including men. Most of the examples centered on mediating disputes and working to promote harmony. One of the speakers discussed some family problems that a couple of years before had eventually prompted women to approach the chief, speak with him, and request that he halt permission for drinking on the island in order to resolve those problems. The third day of the workshop concentrated on the roles of women in the church, which resulted in considerable discussion about conflicts between church and tradition regarding some of the roles, as discussed in the previous chapter. The jobs that people in the community listed in the brainstorming session included praying, serving on the parish council, becoming a member or leader of a church association, making offerings, working as a nun, mourning the dead, and meeting with the sick. Very telling was the inclusion on this list of making speeches. This was the only section of the workshop in which public speaking was mentioned as an appropriate role for women. When the team members made presentations at the end of this third day’s session, the emphasis was on exhorting women not to fear custom or their husbands or accusations of being arrogant when pursuing responsibilities or duties the church has defined as appropriate. The issue of taking on some of the roles currently limited to men was left unsettled, except for the very general plan of having leaders from the three domains meet to discuss how to accommodate both religion and tradition. This workshop was both a very public and prolonged opportunity for women to express themselves, an opportunity that is lacking in the other domains. Women not only told stories and performed skits they had designed, but more important, they also presented formal speeches to the entire community and asserted views about appropriate behavior and roles for women in the community. Much of what they had to say reinforced roles of women in the domain of tradition—especially their roles as mediators and as advisers. Catholicism reinforces these roles but has also expanded the arenas in which these roles are to be played, thus both strengthening and extending opportunities for women to have influence. At the same time, however, the workshop stressed obedience and respect for husbands and the sanctity of the marital bond, largely a product of Catholicism. This was at least tempered somewhat



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by admonitions to men about how they ought to behave as husbands, with special reference to problems associated with drinking. Most obviously, the workshop underlined the notion of women’s obligation to speak, even when doing so—whether publicly or privately, whether to a child or to one’s brother—runs counter to custom. The workshop itself was an enactment of the process, as it was highly public, with the entire community in attendance, including brothers, husbands, children, and fathers of all of the workshop presenters as well as of the women who participated in the ensuing discussions.

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Chapter 7

Honoring Mary

For Pollapese, Mary, from her very conception, has played an influential and significant role in the lives of humans. First and foremost, she is the mother of God and the ultimate nurturer, and as such, she protects Pollapese from storms, nourishes their taro, provides guidance for families, and listens to and helps with their personal problems. Mary serves as a model for women on Pollap, yet hers is not a model of simple meekness or passivity: Mary is also the woman who trod on the head of the devil—clearly a potent, active deed. Although a highlight of the year, December 8 is not the only occasion in remembrance of Mary, however. The Feast of the Assumption is celebrated on August 15, though with far less fanfare, and every day she is publicly honored on the island in the form of the rosary recited every afternoon in the church, with good attendance. These rosaries have special associated ceremonies on Sundays in the months of May and October that include processions to the small Fatima shrine. It is also telling that there are more statues of Mary than of anyone else in people’s homes throughout the island. One of the all-female church associations is specifically devoted to emulating Mary’s virtues, takes responsibility for the rosaries, and ceremoniously carries a particular statue of Mary from one household to another each Saturday during the year. Pollapese notions of beauty permeate these practices. Statues themselves have beauty, as do the words of prayers and speeches, the lyrics and music of hymns, the smell and appearance of flowers, and the colors of cloth. Pollapese appreciate ritual and the beauty inherent in ceremony, and these suffuse their efforts to honor Mary. On December 8, for example, taro plants and leaves are among the items used to decorate the inside of the church, and flowers, garlands, beadwork, and decorative cloth comprise offerings and ornamentation for many of their ceremonies. Although all women look to Mary as a model for ideal behavior, the members of the church association Mwiir´en Maria are expected to make a special

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commitment to do so. The primary emphasis of this commitment is on motherhood and caring for one’s children and relatives rather than on virginity. Emphasis is also placed on showing patience (likiitiw), especially in the presence of suffering, which is a type of strength in the face of adversity. Mary is not presented as a woman who is at the whims and mercies of other people and meekly accepting of what happens for lack of any other options. Nor does she resort to tears or hysterics. In much the same way that chiefly people are expected to remain quiet, calm, and patient in the face of complaints and problems, Mary exhibited patience in bearing the problems of her life. Though no rebel or feminist model for the women of Pollap, she is nonetheless a strong figure and the woman who trampled the devil.

Statues One of the most vivid activities of Mwiir´en Maria consists of the weekly ceremony of carrying a statue of Mary from one household to another after the regular Saturday rosary late in the afternoon. This church organization acquired its statue and the custom of circulating it through various households from Filipino Catholics on Weno, where a sizeable community of Pollapese resides near the port town. These migrants and visitors in town took notice of the practice, and the local Filipinos eventually presented Pollapese with a statue of Mary, conditioned on a willingness to continue the custom on the atoll. Now, every Saturday, Mwiir´en Maria members transfer the statue to a new household according to a given cycle. This cycle at times has focused on the elderly, sick, or other housebound people, while at other times it has circulated among key church figures such as the lay church leader, assistant leader, other church officials, and officers of the various church associations. Thus, even though Mary is more associated with women than she is with men, and even though Mwiir´en Maria members are all female, moving the statue nonetheless embraces men as well, as the statue is sometimes taken to a particular man, and men are always members of the households receiving the statue and typically are present for the rituals and speeches at both the sending and receiving households. Although technically the statue is destined for a particular individual, it in effect goes to a household. When the statue is intended for a man, a woman, such as the man’s wife, is usually a key figure. It was the wife of a man who received the statue, for example, whom I saw arrive at someone’s house requesting a copy of special prayers customarily recited while a statue is in one’s household. In other words, the statue of Mary invariably involves women even when formally presented to an individual man. I occasionally heard mutterings about particular destinations, with some

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undercurrents of concern about appropriate respect or reverence being shown in the presence of the statue. In one case, for example, I heard concerns about men possibly drinking alcohol in the presence of the statue, which would be considered offensive. At the same time, expressing these concerns was also a socially acceptable way of protesting problem drinking and perhaps even affecting the behavior of men drinking on the island. It certainly served to frame male drinking as problematic. At both households—the one relinquishing the statue and the one receiving it—people recite a rosary, offer some additional prayers, make a few speeches, and while carrying the statue sing hymns along the path. Normally this results in a total of three recitations of the rosary, but even if there is an occasion for omitting the regular afternoon rosary in the church, Mwiir´en Maria members still transport the statue and proceed with the rosaries, prayers, and speeches at each home. In other words, moving the statue is conceptually distinct from the Saturday afternoon rosary. Just as much of the rest of community life is scheduled in reference to church activities, it appears to be convenient to time the weekly transfer of the statue for after rosary on Saturday. Although ideally everyone participates in the regular afternoon rosary, moving the statue on Saturday is characteristically a Mwiir´en Maria activity. Just as with other church association activities, all Mwiir´en Maria members who are not sick are otherwise expected to participate, while others who are occupied with children, sick relatives, or cooking may remain home. Anyone is welcome to participate, however, regardless of church group membership, and those associated with one of the two households involved are particularly likely and even expected to do so. This is no small event; as many as fifty people may participate. The household receiving the statute usually, though not invariably, provides some sort of refreshments for the visitors. Coffee is probably most common, and the household often serves rice, doughnuts, or local food as well. Cigarettes and loose tobacco are popular, though more difficult to provide because of their cost and scarcity. Offering food and drink is part of the Pollapese ethic of hospitality and appears to be consistent with earlier, pre-Christian practices in conjunction with rituals.1 At each household, a Mwiir´en Maria leader offers a speech in addition to the rosary and formulaic prayers. She may also deliver some sort of impromptu prayer in her own words, asking, for example, that Mary provide haram ‘light, enlightenment’ and likiitiw ‘patience’ for carrying out their work and responsibilities. Regardless of who leads, the speaker invariably proceeds to ask others present if they have any words to contribute themselves. She usually encourages particular people by name, especially those in the household, but ample time is always provided for anyone to speak and thus contribute her or his own



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thoughts. In addition to these thoughts, people often ask Mary to assist with whatever the people of the household have requested or need, and to aid the sick and motivate men who are drinking to behave peacefully. This amounts to yet another opportunity for women to publicly define appropriate behavior. The audience for their speeches encompasses not just the women accompanying the statue but all the residents of the household present at the time, which typically includes the household men. In other words, this is not a matter of women simply speaking to other women or of those within the same religious group communicating just among themselves. Throughout the year, they reach virtually everyone on the island, both male and female. This statue and the one in the church are not the only statues of Mary on the island; Pollapese houses very commonly at least have religious pictures in them, and many have statues as well. Most common are statues of Mary, which become treasured possessions for many of the women. As evidence, one woman explained that when she had to flee one evening during a storm from a thatched dwelling near the beach to a concrete house inland, she made sure to rescue her statue before she sought shelter; she did not bother taking any of her other possessions, just the statue of Mary. A willingness to pay over a hundred dollars in some cases for a statue is yet another indication of their spiritual value. As a result, statues must be taken care of and treated with respect and honor, which involves more than just keeping them clean and undamaged. Attitude matters as well; in particular, drunken misbehavior in front of a statue is something the women consider abhorrent. Pollapese are aware that there are various patterns in the types of statues of Mary, each of which is named. For example, they call a statue of Mary with her hands clasped together in prayer “Maria Fatima” and another of Mary holding a baby “Maria Carmen.” Their understandings do not always match the official versions, however. Most relevant to this study is that Pollapese speak of the Immaculate Conception statue as one in which a serpent lies under Mary’s foot (with Mary’s hands outspread and down). The official Catholic Church name for such a statue is Our Lady of Grace, although the hands are similar to those in the official Immaculate Conception statue. Nonetheless, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception—for Pollap the central celebration of Mary—the focus is on this very powerful image of Mary treading on the devil, and it appears to be the most popular one among Pollapese women as well. Any statue of Mary is valued, but it is revealing that the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and the statue they see as representing it are both associated in their minds with Mary trampling the serpent. Regardless of which version of the statue of Mary they possess, women generally prefer to situate it so that they can readily pray in front of it, although they also clearly believe that no statue is necessary for prayer to be effective. I

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routinely heard comments to the effect that God is everywhere and that people can pray in a church if they have no statue—or anywhere for that matter. Several maintained that if prayer comes from the heart, it does not matter where one prays. Nonetheless, many felt that a statue certainly helps; they claimed that it is somehow easier to pray before a statue, perhaps because it helps concentrate the mind. Some also spoke of having a statue to gaze at during prayer as effectuating a setting that is lling ‘beautiful,’ and the more beautiful, the more pleasing it will be to Mary. When they pray to Mary, women are usually asking her for help, and they have great faith in the efficacy of their prayers. For example, one woman insisted that Mary had granted all the requests she had made, and she seemed particularly pleased that her prayers had resulted in relatives returning home from other islands. Even though Pollapese use the words yóótek ngeni ‘praying to/toward’ a statue, I never had the sense that they believe it is the statue that grants their request or that it is the statue itself rather than Mary that is the recipient of a prayer. They spoke of Mary—not the statue—as listening to them; the statue is not Mary herself or a substitute for her, just a reminder of Mary and an object of beauty to be appreciated. Thus ‘toward’ rather than ‘to’ is probably a more accurate way of representing how they view the connection between prayer and a statue. In addition to serving as a focus for prayers, a statue commonly enhances other religious events. For instance, when Mwiir´en Maria members traveled to Houk to participate in a several-day workshop with other Mwiir´en Maria women from neighboring islands, they were delighted at being permitted to bring their statue of Mary on the ship with them. On Houk itself, the statue was carried in a procession for a special event and was also otherwise kept clearly in view during workshop sessions conducted near the church (see Figure 7.1). A statue of Mary always stood prominently at novenas I attended as well. At a typical novena, a statue of Mary had been set up on a table covered with a cloth and a vase of flowers placed by its side. Its position on a table raised above the seated participants allowed the statue to be clearly viewed by everyone in attendance. The women were routinely seated closer to the statue, with the men farther back. Again, people spoke of how the statue contributed to making the occasion lling ‘beautiful I noticed more statues of Mary than of anyone else and observed more rituals involving a statue of Mary, but there were nonetheless a variety of other statues and photographs in people’s homes as well as in the church. A crucifix is not uncommon, and Mary is not the only focus for women or for praying for one’s children. One woman mentioned she liked to hold a small crucifix when she prayed, convinced that it was beneficial when asking help for her baby. Large statues of the baby Jesus played a key role during Christmas Eve



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Figure 7.1╇ Statue of Mary

and Christmas morning ceremonies: both in the evening and again the next morning at the end of the services, the entire congregation lined up to kiss one of the statues of the baby. On December 28, the day the gospel spoke of Herod killing all the young babies, a statue of Jesus as a baby lay on a table in front of the altar. Statues are more than just pretty pieces of porcelain that lend beauty to a setting, though. For Pollapese much of their value lies in their being blessed. If a statue has not already been blessed when purchased, people make a point of having it blessed later. They believe that such statues have feyiyééch, which means “good luck, blessings, good fortune, welfare, prosperity” (Goodenough and Sugita 1980:117). Statues have “lots of it,” in the words of one woman. The term feyiyééch also means ‘grace’ in other church contexts, although the more polite form on Pollap is feyefir´. Because statues are blessed, Pollapese believe

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that one must take extraordinarily good care of them. If a statue were to break, the perpetrator would be mehak ‘afraid’ because of anúúmaamaaw, which means to “insult a heavenly god or good spirit of the dead; (by extension) to be ill as a result of failure to obey one’s parents, a chief, a priest, or the rules of conduct” (Goodenough and Sugita 1980:68). This term anúúmaamaaw comes from the domain of tradition, and the fact that it applies in the realm of religion as well was acknowledged by informants as a specific example of the two domains operating hand in hand. The concept of anúúmaamaaw applies quite widely, and deleterious consequences appear to be automatic and expected. If, for example, someone violates taboos imposed in the wake of a death by making too loud a noise, something unfortunate inevitably results; perhaps someone falls ill or dies, or a boat gets lost at sea. So, too, if a statue breaks, misfortune ensues as a consequence. The reverse, however, also appears to operate. Good comes to those who behave as they should. (I was told, for example, that it was because I had been attending church and rosary so regularly that I was successful in reaching someone at home via the island radio during an emergency.) The two discussions of miraculous visions that I heard also both involved statues of Mary. One event transpired during a procession when women were carrying a statue of Mary; in this case someone saw a vision of Mary and henceforth began attending church and rosary very regularly. In the other case, people witnessed a light glowing around a statue of Mary. A community statue of Mary sits on the western side of Pollap at the northern end of the settlement area at the small shrine named Fatima. The catechist who converted the islanders late in the 1940s is said to have been the one responsible for its construction. The small building that shelters the statue lies somewhat elevated on top of a mound of earth, and the area surrounding it is regularly kept clean and clear to maintain a sense of beauty and respect. Every Tuesday and Saturday mornings at 5 a.m., some women gather at Fatima to pray, but the site is also the focus of other rituals. Islanders make a point of carrying a statue of Mary to Fatima and back to the church if there is word that a typhoon is imminent, as they believe Mary helps protect them from storms. In fact, that is why people say Fatima is built where it is—because they believe typhoons come from that particular direction. Ordinarily winds come from the northeast, but Pollapese contend that the winds shift when a typhoon is threatening. Special rosaries are also recited at Fatima during May and October. During the 1917 Fatima vision, Mary is said to have designated herself as Our Lady of the Rosary and charged her children to faithfully recite it (Warner 1976:309), which explains the connection with Fatima on Pollap. In the Catholic Church, October is the month of the rosary and May is Mary’s month, but commonly on Pollap they are both spoken of as Mary’s months. A key portion of the observances during each month involves a pro-



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cession up the main path to Fatima for rosary on Sundays. In May, the Pollapese add offerings of flowers to the ceremony. During the rosary—at which attendance approaches and at times equals Sunday morning service attendance— people process along the path north to Fatima. They complete one recitation of the rosary in the church, begin singing a hymn, leave the church, start up the path, continue singing, and finish another recitation of the rosary on arrival at Fatima. A man leads the procession with a cross, and four women follow, carrying the statue of Mary with her face forward in the direction of travel. Other women, followed by men, march behind the statue along the path, which is always cleared in preparation for these activities. Participants sing and continue reciting the rosary as they proceed up to Fatima. Upon arrival, they circle around Fatima, starting on the inland side and finishing on the ocean side. Men then sit in front of the shrine on the ocean side, women inland. In May, flowers figure in the event as well; subsequent to some prayers and songs, children, then men, and finally women place offerings of flowers on a cloth. As the flowers are carried forward, the congregation sings a hymn for Mary. Then during the return procession back down the path to the church, parishioners sing yet more hymns and alternate praying the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary,” and at the church they complete the ritual with a few more songs and prayers. Donating a statue to the community on the island of Houk constituted a major event during the year of my residence, and this offering and attendant ceremony also highlighted the cultural significance placed on statues— and not just those of Mary. On Christmas Eve a ship arrived with the statue, called “Leluken Jesus,” the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a statue that Mwiir´en Maria members had purchased with the explicit intent of presenting the gift to their neighbors. Mwiir´en Maria was planning a visit to Houk the next month for a meeting and workshop of Mwiir´en Maria groups from each of the neighboring islands in the Western Islands group, and it was at this meeting that they planned to make the formal presentation. When the statue arrived at Pollap, Mwiir´en Maria members as well as many other women welcomed and greeted it. As part of the ceremony, a few of the women ventured out to the ship on two motorboats profusely decorated with coconut leaves; these women sang and clapped on the way out to the ship, upon return to shore, and also during their procession carrying the statue to the church, where it would reside until they departed for Houk. When someone handed the statue down to the women from the ship, other women scattered flower petals and small leaves over it. Then those in the other boat tossed yet more leaves over to the boat carrying the statue. As part of the greeting, those waiting ashore welcomed the statue with more songs and clapping, then accompanied the statue to the church, where Mwiir´en Maria leaders led some prayers before leaving and formally completing the welcoming festivities.

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Yet another welcome took place when the ship ferrying the women and the statue to the workshop arrived at Houk, and local islanders greeted the visitors as well as two statues, the gift Sacred Heart of Jesus statue along with Mwiir´en Maria’s statue of Mary. Both had been carried on the cupboard in the front part of the ship’s passenger deck space, where they would be well-protected and sheltered from the elements. One of the Houk boats that motored out to the ship was decorated with palms and, being appropriately adorned, was in charge of fetching the two statues ashore. It brought up the rear as all the motorboats approached the shore, neatly aligned end to end. Ashore a number of women decoratively dressed alike in blue lavalavas and turmeric greeted the visitors and the two statues with yet more songs and vigorous hand clapping. On the first full day of the workshop, the visiting women and local islanders, together with both statues, marched in a formal procession down to Houk’s own Fatima. Once assembled at the shrine, a Pollap Mwiir´en Maria leader spoke and led prayers. Once she had finished, participants began singing hymns, and the statues were ceremoniously carried from Fatima to the church, one statue in front of the crowd, leading the procession, and the other in back, with other women carrying decorative banners. During the church service, the gift statue of Jesus was carried up to the front as an offering and formal presentation to the church. Interestingly enough, the church already had a large statue of Mary, as did the Fatima shrine; it was a statue of Jesus that they had been lacking.

Beauty The notion of beauty inheres in many aspects of a statue of Mary. As we have already seen, a statue itself is viewed as lling ‘beautiful.’ Attempts are made to enhance this basic beauty. The statue that is moved each Saturday rests on a platform that allows it to be carried easily by two people, one holding each end, and is decorated to ensure an appropriately beautiful setting for the statue; Mary’s head is adorned with a beaded head garland reminiscent of a crown. Two people from the first household carry the statue on its platform, usually accompanied by some small children carrying flowers—also contributing to the beauty of the scene—followed by the Mwiir´en Maria members, ideally in identical blue or white lavalavas to enhance the beauty of the ritual. The household to receive the statue makes fairly elaborate arrangements to prepare its home and grounds, ensuring they are not just clean for Mary but also ‘beautiful.’ As part of this preparation, the householders clear a clean, wide path to and around the building destined to hold the statue. Even the word they use for this cleaning, limeti, has implications of beauty: it refers to more than ridding a site of dirt; it involves making a place neat, orderly,



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and nicely arranged. I was told that when expecting the statue, people should clean in three ways—outside the house, inside the house, and themselves—as the appropriate way to greet and welcome the statue. A table, trunk, or other area is meticulously and decoratively prepared for the statue, sometimes with a cloth, sometimes with the addition of flowers, candles, or a lamp. These are all intended to heighten the beauty of the setting. People may also wear flower garlands, and other garlands may be presented to those receiving the statue; this was done, for example, when the statue arrived at the chief’s house. The clothing that participants choose to wear adds another dimension of beauty; this often takes the form of a uniform, with participants wearing a common color. For the ceremonial weekly transfer of the statue of Mary, all the women alternate wearing white lavalavas one month and blue lavalavas the next, although someone not wearing the appropriate color is not excluded from participating. Both colors are associated with Mary. In the Western tradition, Mary has been associated with the moon, the sea, and the sky, and the latter two are blue; furthermore, blue was apparently a costly color for painters, as it was made from imported lapis lazuli (Warner 1976:255–266). Wearing a common uniform is seen as beautiful, especially as the women process as a group from one household to another, singing hymns in honor of Mary. Wearing similar clothing and selecting special colors are aspects of beauty found in many other areas of Pollapese culture, such as dances, graduation, and other church ceremonies. For dancing, they may choose to wear colorfully striped woven lavalavas. If not wearing these, they choose a particular color for all participants to wear, and the fabric may be embellished at each end with fringe and decorative stitching. Beaded necklaces are valued for dancing and for graduation ceremonies, and beadwork often adorns statues as well. When greeting a famous navigator and visitors, the islanders wore red loincloths and lavalavas, offered flower garlands, and adorned themselves with beads and turmeric. These notions of beauty have been applied in the domain of religion as well and incorporated into rituals involving Mary and her statue. The choice of color often has special meaning, enhancing the beauty of the color itself. For example, when the female church group presented the threeday workshop on women’s roles, presenters selected a different color for their lavalava uniforms each day and discussed its symbolic significance. Green on the first day symbolized that women grow food and produce children; presenters asserted that women are liyen yamáár ‘women who cultivate, grow, nurture.’ This notion applies both to the fact that they cultivate taro, a staple food, and that as women they bear, feed, and raise children. Participants wore red the second day, explaining that it symbolized ttong ‘love’ of God. The third and final day they wore blue, explaining that it was the color of kinamwmwe ‘peace’ and appropriate for the occasion as women are liyen kinamwmwe ‘women of peace.’

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For December 8, people wore blue or white—colors associated with Mary and the same ones worn when carrying the statue from house to house each Saturday. Those officiating at the December 8 service that morning in the church all wore white. Mwiir´en Maria women who attended a religious workshop on the nearby island of Houk also chose different colors for clothing each day: blue, then white, then yellow. In addition to the symbolism associated with colors, other nonvisual notions of beauty come into play as well. During a particularly vivid speech made one Saturday after the statue had arrived at its new household, for example, a Mwiir´en Maria leader spoke of a prayer, offered at the first house’s rosary, about opening one’s tongue, or one’s speech, to the beauty of God, enabling a person to speak with more beauty and thus more conviction and influence. The notion of beauty can become even more abstract, as revealed for example when a leader commented on the beauty of a teenager who had demonstrated the knowledge of how to say a rosary. Doing so involves more than just being able to recite the “Our Father,” “Hail Mary,” and “Glory Be,” because one also has to know all fifteen mysteries, or series of events in the lives of Jesus and Mary, associated with the rosary prayers. (A set of five mysteries is associated with one recitation of the rosary, and at the time there were three sets, called joyful, sorrowful, and glorious.) An older woman had just finished giving thanks for having finally learned how to say the rosary properly after considerable work and years of not knowing how to do so. The leader asked another elderly woman if she had been able to lead the rosary as a teenager, and the answer was no. The leader then observed that it was ‘beautiful’ that today’s youth, unlike those in the past, can lead the rosary. At a religious workshop on the rosary, the women seemed particularly taken with the idea that its recitation creates red and white roses, and that the word “rosary” itself means “crown of roses.” That knowledge generated numerous questions: How many roses total? What colors? Just red and white? How many of which color? Even these unseen roses and the idea of a crown of roses contributed to notions of beauty surrounding Mary and the rosary. A garland made of flowers and sweet-smelling plants is a potent traditional symbol of beauty and of ttong ‘love, compassion.’ Although the beaded crowns Pollapese place on statues of Mary are associated with Catholic beliefs of Mary as Queen of Heaven, at the same time they dovetail with the local custom of wearing a garland of flowers on the head. The same can be said about flowers in general, since flowers—including their aromas—are associated with Mary in Western tradition. A case in point concerns the Feast of the Assumption, which celebrates Mary’s triumph over death; death carries a foul odor, whereas flowers and sweet-smelling plants convey the ideas of life and beauty, and thus a connection with Mary (Warner 1976:99–100). Mary smells sweet and is thus



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honored with flowers. In the Central Carolines, flowers are rich in imagery as well; work conducted on Ifaluk (Burrows 1963) includes numerous detailed examples of flowers associated with strong emotion and of flower metaphors embedded in love songs and laments, the domain of women’s composition. Garlands of flowers numbered among offerings to gods, general tokens of friendship, and ways a woman could express her feelings for a man (Burrows and Spiro 1970:155). Hymns honoring Mary systematically refer to beauty. One celebrates December 8 as a ‘beautiful day’ simply because it is Mary’s and asserts that the day is beautiful regardless of the weather. In other hymns Mary is depicted as a rose to express the notion of beauty, and in yet others her mere gaze is deemed beautiful. A painted circle of flowers behind the altar forms part of the permanent church decorations, and statues and banners on either side enhance the effect. The arrangement of people for a service may also have implications for beautifying the setting. In planning for a special service, for example, the Liturgy Committee organized the seating according to village, with women on one side of the church and men on the other, asserting that this would make it beautiful. Beaded garlands usually adorn the statues on either side of the altar, and special efforts are made for holidays, including December 8, along with Christmas, New Year’s Day, and Easter. Flowers, greenery, coconut leaflets, and colored fabric are key components: coconut leaflets hang from the beams and down the center of the church, other greenery lines the aisles and the edges of the altar, flowers sit in the windows and elsewhere in the church. For Christmas, lights, glittery decorations, and a manger for a statue of Jesus are set out as well (see Figure 7.2). The statues in the church are themselves adorned for special occasions. For December 8, the statue of Mary was heavily decorated, and offerings of taro were placed close by the statue. A beaded garland was placed on a statue of Jesus for the celebration of Jesus Christ the King in November and subsequently remained there for many months, and a flower garland was placed on it during the church service that Sunday. Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday have already been described as rich with ritual and other aspects of beauty. Easter itself is no exception. No bells are rung after the live Stations of the Cross on Good Friday at noon until during the Saturday evening service in the church, so that when they finally sound at a key point in the service, they have special impact. The church is decorated with coconut fronds hanging from all of the rafters as on the other holidays, but at first the extent of the decorations remains hidden, for sheets are hung as curtains to conceal the entire altar area, and the cross above remains shrouded. All that is visible at first is that the two statues on either side of the altar have been unshrouded and that banners that usually hang near them have

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Figure 7.2╇ Church decorated for Christmas

been put back on the walls. For the occasion most people dress in white, the designated uniform for the day. At the opening of the service, the lights are out, so lanterns and flashlights have to be used during the first part of the service. After several readings, when people stand up to sing a hymn about Jesus rising from the dead, someone starts ringing the bell outside, others blow noisemakers, the sheets across the altar are pulled aside (revealing more decorations), the cross high above the altar is uncovered, and electric lights powered by a generator are turned on. Islanders seemed to have been particularly moved by a ritual the visiting nun presided over, one that involved fire and water. During part of the ceremony, someone carried forward a basin of water, and the nun scooped up handful after handful and spoke of all that water provides. Then she invited participants to come and wash their hands, cleansing themselves spiritually. She also had people write on a piece of paper a sin or something they wanted to change about themselves and then throw it into a small fire. Even the regular Sunday services are rich with ritual and beauty. The men officiating at the service usually wear similarly colored loincloths—often white—with decorative fringed ends. The service starts with a procession led by a man carrying a cross. When it is time for the daily readings, a man ceremoniously carries the lectionary down the center aisle, holding it high and turning slowly several times; he is accompanied by a boy on either side holding



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candles. The boys remain with their candles on either side of the reader during all three readings up at the lectern. During the offertory, a different family each week is responsible for bringing offerings of flowers, and these usually include garlands for those officiating. These behaviors and decorations blend well with wider Catholic practices. Pollapese follow the customary color patterns of the liturgy, with purple during Lent, for example. No flower offerings are made during Lent, and the beaded crowns for the statues in the church are taken down as well. When selecting fabric colors for church decorations, parishioners consult materials about traditional Catholic colors appropriate for the occasions. Notions of lling ‘beauty’ intermingle with both fowut ‘decorations’ and yasór ‘offerings’ associated with the church. What may appear to be only a decoration whose sole purpose is to provide beauty may well be an offering instead, with much of its value residing in its beauty. A case in point are the flowers carried to Fatima during the May ceremonies. Then, while people place their flower offerings on a cloth in front of the statue of Mary at Fatima, they sing a hymn about the beauty of flowers and of Mary: We have all come We weave garlands of blooms As Mary our mother is sweet smelling Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! Mary our Virgin Mother You are our mother We honor you We bring you beautiful garlands.

Such offerings also show continuity with the past, as traditionally flowers were counted among ritual offerings. This practice and associated attitude seem to have been widespread in the area. On Ifaluk, for example, ancestral spirits were said to feed on flowers and true taro, and islanders wore scented flower garlands, knowing the spirits appreciated them (Burrows and Spiro 1970:214). In an analysis of aesthetics for nearby Polowat, Steager (1979) notes the role of the sight and aroma of flowers associated with body ornamentation. There are other pre-Christian models as well. Krämer (1935:275) mentions hanging altars in homes on Pollap and Tamatam; shrines for ancestral spirits, as well as offerings to those spirits, were noted by ethnographers for a number of sites in the Caroline Islands (Lessa 1987:500). On Ulithi, “the shrine consists essentially of a bamboo grid from which are suspended offerings of coconut oil, leis, loincloths, and turmeric” (Lessa 1966:50). These gifts were offered in appreciation for requests that had been granted or in the hope

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of a visit from the spirit. Lamotrek houses also held shrines for ancestral spirits with coconut oil and garlands; larger ones included offerings of food, woven lavalavas, and turmeric (Alkire 1965:116). Similarly, several shrines were found on Ifaluk with offerings such as tobacco, medicinal plants, and lavalavas (Burrows and Spiro 1970:227–228). Today offerings are usually more general, although individuals may make them for specific purposes—to strengthen a request or to express gratitude— but they also serve to maintain good relationships and demonstrate a person’s good character. Furthermore, these offerings in the past were to ancestral spirits, who were felt to be more approachable than the gods; today, Mary appears to be as approachable as the ancestral spirits had been in the past. It probably helps that she was mortal and that she is perceived in many respects as ancestral to today’s Catholics; thus she has much in common with ancestral spirits. Eve was a mother to all of humanity, but Mary, in part because she is the Second Eve, is also a mother to those who believe in her and in her son. Thus she can be approached as an ancestral mother.

Maria Mary—known as Maria to the Pollapese—holds strong appeal and a prominent place in the local belief system. Strong female figures, however, are not new to Pollap; they were widespread in older indigenous myths and legends. Pollapese are particularly fond of the woman who played a key role in bringing the secrets of navigation to Pollap, whence they spread throughout the region, bringing renown and respect to the island. This is the woman who fed the seemingly insatiable plover a bottomless coconut, fish, and serving of true taro, and in return was taught the secrets of navigation. Furthermore, throughout the area there was a belief in the mother-goddess Likowupwuupw. Goodenough (W. H. 2002:92) translates her name as “Bearer” or “Nurturer,” and Luomala (1987:505) characterizes her as “the Carolinian earth mother.” She is credited with producing people, islands, trees, and other plants. On Ifaluk, one of her children was “Aluelap, whom she ordained as ruler of the sky” (Burrows and Spiro 1970:208) who is typically considered the Carolinian high god. Lessa (1987:504) describes her as a creator goddess considered by some Carolinians as ancestral to all the gods, including the high god. Furthermore, islands came into existence through sand scattered on the sea—usually said to be by a woman—and a Pollap story has “Ligoubub” sending out her children, who dropped sand to form islands (Krämer 1935:280). Pollapese also credited her with charging that the dead be buried on Fenarik islet instead of Pollap (Krämer 1935:280). Stories from Polowat (Damm and



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Sarfert 1935:180, 191) mention the goddess as creating the world and living underground, and as being ancestral to the other gods. Pollapese, too, posit her as living underground, and they can even point to a particular plot of land named Owupwuupw, from yawupwu ‘give birth to,’ as the site, which some claim is unique to Pollap. She produced people and plants, including both types of taro, along with coconuts and breadfruit. In one story of famine, she provided food to strengthen the islanders. Krämer (1935:257) explains that Pollapese used to consult her to determine if food was poisonous before undertaking a voyage. Finally, Pollapese also saw her as playing a role in the growth and development of children. Thus a belief in Mary, the Mother of God and a woman who nurtures people and food production, would come easily to the Pollapese. Not only does Mary help protect the islanders from typhoons and other grave storms, she watches out for families, both providing them with taro and helping to ensure that it grows well. This is the primary reason for the offerings on December 8 and accords with some other Christian practices elsewhere. Certainly it has also been common in Western Catholicism for Mary to be associated with agricultural productivity (Ruether 1977:58). Pollap women also look to Mary for enlightenment and the patience necessary for carrying out their work and responsibilities. This work may be directed toward keeping peace in the family or toward growing food for their sustenance. Women also have confidence in Mary, a trust that she will grant their requests. As is the case elsewhere in the world, she serves as the Star of the Sea for Pollapese, watching over ocean travelers, able to protect her children from storms, harm, and enemies.2 In short, she is seen as the ultimate nurturer, the ultimate mother. Moreover, she is a strong mother. After all, she sakaaló ‘pushed away’ Satan, and she puuri ‘stomped on’ him. In Catholic tradition, this is associated with the notion of Mary as the New Eve, or the Second Eve, who accepts rather than rejects God and who turns against the devil (Pelikan 1996:39–52). “It was the voluntary and virginal obedience of Mary by which the voluntary and virginal disobedience of Eve was undone and set aright” (Pelikan 1996:50). Although Pollapese do not speak of Mary as Eve in this manner, they nonetheless tenaciously hold to the image of Mary stepping on the head of the serpent that is the devil, and it is this vivid image that characterizes their December 8 celebrations. Qualities of modesty associated with Mary do not contradict this image of strength; nor is modest or humble behavior viewed by Pollapese as exclusively female or as being associated only with Mary. It is nonetheless the case that she is spoken of as r´óópwut tekiséssón or r´óópwut méhónóhón ‘humble woman’ with letip fiir´ ‘good soul, heart, place of emotions.’ In explaining these terms, some said that the two words for humble mean essentially the same

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thing, though a few consultants, including an older woman very active with the church, believed that tekiséssón implies attending to people and showing ttong ‘love, compassion’ to those who are sick or suffering, whereas méhónóhón has more the connotation of remaining quiet. Méhónóhón and ttong intertwine with each other: “If I’m angry with someone and she just talks angrily back at me, there will be problems between us. But if she stays quiet when I go on and on talking to her—if she is méhónóhón—then I will ttong her.” Mary’s patience is related to these notions and carries the implications of remaining placid and bearing suffering quietly. Ideally women model themselves on Mary’s behavior, but humility is not expected to be confined to women. Similar language about humility appears in sermons and prayers regarding Jesus and ideal behavior for anyone. Jesus, not just Mary, is spoken of with the same adjectives, and people in general—not just women—are admonished to follow his example. For instance, the short “Sacred Heart of Jesus” prayer addresses Jesus as being ‘humble in your heart’ and asks that Jesus ‘make our hearts like yours.’ In other words, Jesus is humble, and all should attempt to emulate that behavior, not just women. Pollapese cultural values also stress such behavioral traits. During a municipal meeting when a community leader addressed a group of students, he admonished them to be likiitiw ‘patient’ and méhónóhón ‘humble.’ Members of the chiefly clan are supposed to exhibit similar behavior in the face of complaints from islanders. Those who are chiefly should refrain from showing irritation and instead remain patient and listen. As previously mentioned, they are supposed to be ‘rocks’ in the midst of all the ‘noise’ from people’s requests and voiced concerns. Mary is said to listen to Joseph, and Joseph in turn to the Holy Ghost. These attitudes about humility and about obligations to respect and nurture dovetail with local beliefs concerning rank. Everyone on Pollap—with the possible exception of the chief—has someone higher in rank to whom deference is due and from whom deference is received, and this applies to both men and women. True, it falls more heavily on women, who must show deference to all classificatory brothers, but men have yet other men who are senior to them to whom deference is owed. Also, women have younger sisters who must show them respect, and a variety of male kin are expected to do as a woman asks. So rhetoric exhorting women to be like Mary is not substantially different from what is expected of women otherwise or what is expected only of women. Furthermore, humility in the presence of someone of higher rank is required of both men and women. Jesus, not just Mary, is portrayed as humble, and in an array of contexts, I heard everyone regardless of gender exhorted to show humility and modesty. Mary exhibits ttong ‘love’ and concern for others, and so should all women.



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Jesus, too, is said to have ttong, which in general is a valued behavioral characteristic. Women spoke of imitating this particular aspect of Mary by helping those who suffer or those who feel shame or embarrassment. Furthermore, women are expected to guide children and any others in need of advice about how to behave. Such behavior is not a sign of weakness but of strength. The chiefly clan, for example, is also expected to show such concern toward others. Although ideally all women imitate Mary, members of Mwiir´en Maria are supposed to make an extra effort to do so. One key way they articulate this has to do with taking special care to keep peace in the family and to work to make sure that there are no strained relationships among kin. This is consistent with a belief that Mary helps take care of families as well as with the cultural emphasis on women as central to family and on their roles as liyen affér ‘peacemakers, dispute settlers.’ In discussing what it means to follow in Mary’s footsteps and to show humility, one of the key figures in Mwiir´en Maria provided some concrete examples. She explained that if Mary ever felt anger, she would not let it show. When she saw others hurting Jesus, instead of speaking out she made her feelings an offering and let God take care of the situation. When she was pregnant—though not through intercourse with Joseph—she felt ashamed and embarrassed, but she nonetheless chose not to complain or impose her feelings on others. Then when she learned she was pregnant through the Holy Ghost, she rejoiced. The Mwiir´en Maria leader went on to apply these ideas to her own life and to show how she should follow Mary’s lead. She said, for example, that if she had a fight with her husband, she should not go around talking to people about it; if she did, the person she talked to would think she is arrogant, essentially the opposite of being humble. If she became pregnant but was not married, she should not make a fuss or create any sort of scene or difficulties for the family. Another leader used the adjective likiitiw ‘patient’ and explained, “If a woman isn’t feeling well or feels hurt, for example, she should not make a fuss about it, complaining loudly to others. Mary can help you with this, and you should try hard to still go to church and rosary and meetings. She can perhaps lessen the pain to make it easier.” The Pollapese emphasis appears to be on encouraging women to deal effectively and reasonably with situations as they arise, rather than constantly exhorting them never to fight or never get pregnant out of wedlock. This is not to say that they approve of either or that they fail to teach their daughters otherwise, but there seems to be a realization that these things happen, and the critical point is how they are dealt with when they do occur. Mary as mother is a more powerful symbol for Pollapese than might at first be apparent, and more so than is common in Western Christianity. Motherhood among the Pollapese has never been considered any sort of lesser choice for

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women than virginity, as it has been in the Western tradition. And a person’s biological aspects have neither been separated from nor perceived as inferior to other aspects, whether these be spiritual, emotional, or intellectual. Ruether (1977:17) discusses some of the Greek influences on Western Christian thinking, pointing out that Greek mythology separated the sexual, biological aspects of women—including their motherhood—from their spirituality and relegated the biological to an inferior position. Thus virgins were elevated as being spiritually superior to nonvirgins, including mothers. Virginity could be a source of ritual strength, and the Christian Church added to this the notion of virginity as virtuous and morally superior (Warner 1976:48). The Western tradition is heavily dualistic, separating the life of the spirit from the life of the world, reason from passion, the soul from the body—with the latter in each case seen not just as inferior to but actually as a threat to the former. Saint Paul clearly viewed marriage, and thus ordinary motherhood, as inferior to a life of celibacy. Furthermore, Augustine interpreted the lustful feelings associated with intercourse as a base aspect of being human, and thus concluded that Mary must have been a virgin mother and that virginity must be superior to sexuality (Ruether 1977:66; Warner 1976:54). Augustine also viewed the ideal marriage as one without sex. In other words, sexuality was viewed as dangerous, and sex, sin, and death all became comingled because sex and death resulted from the sin of Adam and Eve (Warner 1976:51); sex and motherhood, in fact, were part of Eve’s punishment. None of these concepts coincides with Pollapese traditional views. In the Western Christian heritage, virginity is exalted over marriage and motherhood, but not in Pollapese tradition. If anything, sexuality was traditionally celebrated and enjoyed. Children born out of wedlock never carried the stigma found in the West, and care for such children—in fact for any children—could and still can easily be shared with other women. Until Catholicism introduced the option of the convent, motherhood had always been the universal expected role of women in the community—and still is, except for nuns—so honoring Mary at the same time honors this traditional role of women on Pollap.



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Conclusion

In the development of Western Catholicism, there seems to have been a “popular need for a female aspect of the faith” (Anderson and Zinsser 1988:215) such that veneration of Mary gradually became incorporated into official church teachings and celebrations. In many respects Mary replaced earlier goddesses, and “their festivals, symbols, and images became hers” (Anderson and Zinsser 1988:486). Pollapese, too, had female goddesses in their tradition, and it is not surprising that with conversion to Catholicism there would also be interest in a female aspect of the faith and that it would develop in the context of local tradition, beliefs, and values, and not exactly as it did in Western tradition. Devoted to Mary Mother of God, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception is one of the four major church holidays on Pollap, along with Easter, Christmas, and New Year’s. Furthermore, it is the most distinctively Pollapese holy day, incorporating more indigenous elements than any of the other holy feast days, especially through the role played by taro. This feast on December 8 is for Pollapese the most salient celebration of Mary, even though they also observe the Feast of the Assumption on August 15, celebrate Mary and the rosary during May and October, and meet publicly to recite the rosary every afternoon. In other words, first and foremost for Pollapese, honoring Mary is associated with December 8. Moreover, this event and all the preparations surrounding it comprise at least one segment of Pollapese life in which the three domains of religion, tradition, and government function largely in harmony with each other in accord with the ideal. Even elements from religion and tradition—normally the aspects most difficult to reconcile—have become so interwoven over the years that these activities evince little of the conscious discussion, otherwise so prevalent, about how the domains ought to work together. For Pollapese, it is simply the way they celebrate December 8. More than any other holiday, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception also involves months and months of preparation in the form of the careful nurtur-

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ing of women’s prized taro. We have seen that their true taro is more scarce than swamp taro, more work to cultivate, and more vulnerable to inclement weather conditions, but these very properties, in addition to the soft consistency of the cooked product, contribute to its higher value. Thus it is Colocasia, true taro—not swamp taro, breadfruit, bananas, or rice—that generally comprises any special offerings. It is Colocasia that most strongly signals to visitors that they are valued. It is Colocasia that demonstrates women’s nurturing of men when they present their taro in the canoe house or mówun wóón woot me yiik ‘throw taro and fish.’ Colocasia plays a central role in numerous old stories and in ceremonies initiating new navigators. Because cultivating this taro is hard work, its successful production attests to women’s strength and provides evidence of their abilities to nurture family and community. Colocasia communicates the value of women’s work and, in addition, a spiritual connection with Mary, the Mother of God. On December 8, Pollap women are demonstrating their commitment to following Mary’s lead. In other words, offering Colocasia is clearly central to their identity, and highlighting this feast of Mary through taro is a vivid annual reminder and sign of the productive role of women in the society. Thus, although the ostensible purpose of the event is to honor Mary, at the same time it reinforces, validates, and celebrates Pollapese motherhood, and in ways that highlight the productive aspects of the role of mother. The traditional roles of women in the community are implicitly extolled, but the celebration also provides and sanctions new opportunities for women, especially enabling them to speak publicly, exhibit creativity and artistry, and influence the behavior of others, including men. The elements of the preparation for the feast, the beliefs surrounding the event, the ways in which it is celebrated, its meaning to women, and the images in hymns, discussions, and activities associated with the celebration reveal Pollapese notions of what it means to be a woman, and allow women to demonstrate that they meet their culture’s expectations. Being a good woman is interwoven with being a good mother, though it is not really so much what a woman “is” as what she “does,” her behavior, her enactment of the role. In fact, it is probably more accurate to speak of a woman “mothering” rather than “being a mother,” thus stressing that “mothering” is revealed, demonstrated, and enacted through the many ways in which a woman nurtures those for whom she is responsible. From an analysis of women’s work, it is clear that they nurture food, people, and relationships, and that this work is far more than just practical care, fundamental as that is: women also tend to physical, social, cultural, mental, and spiritual needs—though these distinctions are mine, not theirs. This extensive work of women is tied to the land, taro, and stability, in



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contrast to the work of men, which relates to the sea, fish, and mobility. These two spheres are visibly manifest in many aspects of Pollapese life, some of which even entail a spatial separation between women and men. On the islanders’ tiny ship that carries passengers to and from the port town, women sleep with their children under a canopy on a deck at the stern, while men and older boys wander the ship, settle from time to time at the bow, and sleep out in the open. Almost all the women experience seasickness, unlike the men, who are said to be “used to” the sea, having spent so much time in canoes in their childhoods, thus becoming immune to seasickness. Only those women who have also grown “used to” the sea, usually because they have traveled in and out of the port town frequently, are said to be free of the problem. At community meetings, women sit on one side, men on the other, and at regular church services and rosary, men and women sit on their respective sides. When I asked a couple of men to draw by hand a map of the island, naming places and marking their locations, they began the project by discussing the sea and the outside edges of the island. Women, in contrast, began by drawing the main path down the island. Conventional wisdom holds that girls are preferred to boys (though ideally a mother should have both), as girls will remain in the household when they marry and because, even when young, they are said to be more industrious, whereas boys just “play around.” Just as adult women are said to work harder and more consistently than do men, so are boys said to be less obedient, lazier, and more interested in sleep and play, especially play that involves wandering from home. The two spheres are also apparent in several of the activities mentioned in the women’s free listings of their work. Certainly the complementary spheres are dramatized with mówun wóón woot me yiik ‘throwing taro and fish,’ in which women come to shore from the land, men from the sea, then meet at the boundary (the shore) and in effect exchange fish and taro, which are then combined to make a household meal. When women ahów, awahééla ‘bring food to visitors,’ they supply taro, breadfruit, bananas, or other staple products, while men provide fish and coconuts. Similarly, women yar´ing ‘make food for returning fishermen.’ Obviously the complement to women’s ló leepwéél ‘going to the taro gardens’ is for men to fish. At the birth of a child—women’s work— men are expected to go out fishing for the new mother. Women produce mats for the canoes, which are constructed and sailed by men, and they provision the voyages undertaken by the men. Some female tasks complement not just male fishing but other variants of male mobility: men climb trees and construct buildings, whereas women provide roof and wall panels for the buildings, and food for the workers as they build. Women’s stability is contrasted at times not simply with male mobility but also with related behavior that by its nature potentially threatens stability and

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thus warrants support. Men, for example, are said not to know how to take care of or spend money appropriately, in contrast to women, who are stereotypically held to be more economically sensible and capable of spending money wisely. According to conventional wisdom, men in the port town purportedly spend money on alcohol, whereas women supposedly reserve money for food, taxis, and school supplies. Furthermore, the metaphor of women “steering” men appears in several venues. It is as though, without support, male mobility can become unfocused, unanchored, or aimless; men may stray or lose their way. The metaphor of steering emerged during one of the religious workshops, in which leaders spoke of women steering men in the right direction if they stray from the church and its teachings, just as women would help steer men by pointing out a star when sailing. Part of the discussions about reviving the initiation ceremony for navigators included proposals about also allowing women to learn about navigation, specifically so that they could assist men on a sea voyage if the crew became confused. Considering the fact that men are astute and skilled navigators and not in need of assistance from the inexperienced, the discussion seemed to focus less on practicalities and more on the image of women as providing stability. As so many of these aspects of the women’s sphere are highlighted in the December 8 celebrations, it is not surprising that this day holds particular appeal for the women of the island; through honoring Mary and offering taro, the event also serves to foreground the strength and value of Pollapese womanhood. Observance of this holy day emphasizes that women as mothers sustain the well-being and survival of the entire community. Furthermore, the overriding image of Mary worshiped on this day is not Mary the Virgin, or Mary the woman conceived without original sin. Instead, as revealed in the names for their statues, the images in the hymns, discussions about the Immaculate Conception, and the themes in the day’s entertainment, the revered image of Mary is of the woman who treads on the serpent and defeats the devil. It is a strong, vibrant image. In other contexts, Catholicism on Pollap undeniably presents the image of an obedient wife, especially among the women in Mwiir´en Maria, and a strong emphasis on humility in general parallels local values—though for everyone, not just women. Yet this particular day celebrates the strength of Mary and her ability to nurture, protect, and guide. The image of Mary as “handmaiden” mentioned in the gospel for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception has been criticized as emphasizing passivity, but this quality is not emphasized in Pollapese rhetoric. Furthermore, deference is not confined to women but is expected of everyone relative to those of higher rank. Nor is concern for the needs of others limited to women. In fact, it is a primary responsibility of the chiefly clan, and of anyone else, to help those in need; such behavior brings respect and enhances one’s reputation, whether



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male or female. Behaving with concern for others could as easily be labeled “chiefly” for Pollapese. Although in Catholic belief Mary can be seen as a strong figure when designated the New Eve, this image has also been criticized for raising Mary to an unattainable ideal: because Mary is portrayed in contrast to Eve, this means that other women, unable to even approach Mary’s level, become associated with the negative attributes of Eve rather than with the strength of Mary. Theologically, Mary may be the New Eve, but on Pollap this is neither the indigenous understanding of her nor is it part of popular belief and practice. They see her as the woman who trod on the head of the devil, and for Pollapese she did so primarily on behalf of her children rather than to make up for the sin of Eve. The Pollapese celebrate the strength of Mary’s motherhood, not her virginity, nonsexuality, or domesticity.1 In some respects, for Pollapese the virgin birth would not even be considered very remarkable, since in Micronesian lore supernatural beings that could appear human commonly had miraculous births (W. H. Goodenough 1986:563). Thus it is the miraculous nature of the birth of Jesus that most likely fits with older beliefs rather than Mary’s virginity per se. Furthermore, vital to the status of women on the island is the fact that motherhood does not consign Pollapese women to the home; Pollapese motherhood reaches beyond biology and domesticity to encompass production, management, and an ability to support one’s dependent kin. Production of taro is as much a part of being a mother—if not more so—than babysitting. In fact, the Pollapese celebration of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception provides ideological support for women’s ongoing productive activities outside the home in the taro gardens. Although being a woman means being a mother, the role on Pollap is construed much more broadly than as just caring for children. Taro gardening is clearly the most salient aspect of women’s work on Pollap, and other productive activities, especially construction of the valued sleeping mats, follow close behind. Even the home activities, such as preparing food, have a wider impact beyond the household, especially through the practice of sending food to other kin in other households, making contributions to community events, and provisioning male activities. Women also advise and provide guidance not just to their own children but to a wide network of kin well beyond the household, and they help resolve disputes and restore relationships that lie outside the household. Unlike in some other places in the Pacific (see, for example, Grimshaw 1989), on Pollap conversion to Christianity did not pull women away from their productive activities; the role of wife never came to the forefront to overpower the role of woman as mother or as sister, and the role of mother has remained distinct from the role of wife to a husband. Furthermore, a woman’s

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productive work is done largely for the benefit of her household in general— and even beyond—rather than a husband in particular. Work is also often shared with other women rather than taking the form of a lone woman caring for her own biological children and husband by herself. Even mothering tasks such as tending small children still continue to be shared with other women, both those in the household and those living elsewhere who are related to the in-marrying men. The fact of rather late conversion to Christianity probably militated against at least some of the more extreme efforts to change local cultures, enabling Pollapese to retain more of their own ways. For example, unlike the case of some neighboring islanders, Pollapese were not exhorted to abandon the traditional lavalava and loincloth in favor of Western-style clothing. Thus they also did not receive as strong an antisexuality message as was imposed in other places, as on Pollap the church accepted the notion of women continuing to go topless and men revealing their buttocks. In general, Catholicism has tolerated more continuation of local practices than has Protestantism because of the Catholic belief that people of any culture, through reason, can already have some understanding of God (Langmore 1989:93–94). Conversion efforts were also affected by the philosophy of indigenization (Hezel 1978b). Although Catholicism on Pollap has made it difficult for women to abandon a bad marriage or to limit their childbearing, at the same time it supports some traditional roles of women that afford them influence, especially their roles as mediators and socializing agents. Even more, however, Catholicism has somewhat expanded those roles. For example, women are now more free to ‘speak to’ brothers and husbands who are in need of counsel; in fact Catholicism champions such efforts. Catholicism has also presented many opportunities for women to speak more publicly, both in household and public settings, and to promulgate their views about appropriate behavior, with the additional power of the church backing up their words. Fiorenza (1985), a feminist theologian, decries the silencing of women in the Catholic Church, especially the limitation of the priesthood to men. Pollapese Catholicism at the local level has nonetheless offered women sanctioned and frequent opportunities to speak about and promote their own views, including views about appropriate behavior and interpretations of the Bible, opening avenues to influencing local beliefs and behavior. Although all Pollapese—men and women—remain subject to the promulgation of doctrine from the Vatican and other all-male groups of the church hierarchy, at the local level women have an ability to interpret issues that directly affect their lives, such as the appropriate behavior of men toward women. Participation in the church associations is a related component of women’s impact on local affairs. Women’s church groups may well look and sound con-



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servative, but throughout the Pacific they are nonetheless agents of change. Pollap is not the only place where women use church organizations to organize and take active roles in their communities. Groups in Melanesia, for example, provide women with support for issues of concern to them, a forum for defining common problems, a sense of empowerment, opportunities to build leadership skills, and a network of relationships beyond family and other kin; through such groups women are also participating in global institutions, even though they often do not play political roles in the local public arena (Douglas 2003; Scheyvens 2003). Through church organizations, women in Chuuk, Federated States of Micronesia, managed to combat domestic abuse through effecting a ban on the sale and consumption of alcohol and then lobbying successfully to sustain that ban for several years (Marshall and Marshall 1990). Paini (2003) analyzes a similar case in New Caledonia of a Catholic women’s group organized to protest male alcohol abuse. The movement drew on imagery of women’s power being derived from their motherhood, with an emphasis on the strength of mothers rather than the meekness of wives. Dickson-Waiko (2003) contends that in Papua New Guinea, women’s church groups are becoming increasingly politicized and represent a type of feminism, and certainly one through which women address issues of change in today’s world. Women on Pollap can also continue to rely on the assistance and support of female kin. Despite the fact that Catholicism stresses the conjugal bond, matrilineal relationships still remain strong, so that women retain effective ties with sisters, mothers, and brothers. Marriages cannot be readily broken the way they used to be before conversion to Catholicism, but marital ties and obligations are not supposed to interfere with a woman’s continuing relationships with her own matrilineal kin. Furthermore, a woman with a husband deemed to be a poor worker still has others to rely on, especially because she is part of a larger household with other in-marrying men. In addition, she can continue to count on her brothers either to provide assistance themselves or to speak to her husband, who is expected to heed the brothers of his wife (Flinn 1986). A woman may also still depend on her female kin, whether it is for help in tending to children or to her gardens. A woman who is herself nursing a child may even breast-feed a sister’s child if the sister is away. Moreover, adoption continues to be a common practice that enables any woman to be a mother and also helps a young woman who may not be prepared to raise a child herself. Certainly, a woman is not considered to be a poor mother if she acquiesces to a request for adoption; on the contrary, she is considered to be a good person—a good relative—and appropriately selfless for doing so. A woman also demonstrates that she is a good sister to her sibling and a good ‘mother’ to her siblings’ children when she makes an offer to adopt.

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A good mother is one who cares for any of those she calls ‘child,’ not just her own biological offspring, and one way of doing so is via adoption. It is not the only way, however, as women frequently assist in the routine care of relatives’ children. Pollapese even resist the notion that a child has a single mother or that mothering should focus on just the children a woman herself gives birth to. This was abundantly clear on Mother’s Day, when innumerable islanders seemed aghast at the thought of ignoring or failing to honor the various women who had fed, nurtured, taught, advised, nursed, and tended them. This is further evidence that Catholicism has not succeeded in detaching women from the support of their matrilineal kin or refocusing a woman’s efforts primarily on her own husband and biological children. A mother remains first and foremost a key player in her own descent group and is responsible for its key resources. These ideas inform Pollapese understandings of Mary, and thus honoring Mary simultaneously provides ideological support for ideas of womanhood that involve fulfilling active roles in production, managing the affairs of an extended household, supervising the productive activities of others, and advising and counseling not just one’s own children but a wide range of kin throughout the community. We have seen that the taro offerings highlight the belief that food production is part and parcel of being a woman. Nurturing one’s kin and mothering are not homebound, nuclear-family oriented activities that involve cleaning, bathing, washing, and babysitting; rather, they provide the very sustenance that keeps kin alive and makes all the rest possible. When women perform such valued roles in production—including distribution and allocation of those products—thus controlling key resources and making them economically independent of men, they tend to have higher status (see, for example, Friedl 1975; Lepowsky 1993; Lockwood 1993; Sanday 1974). Unfortunately, westernization has too often resulted in women being edged out of such roles, to the detriment of their status, and missionaries have been key figures as deliberate agents of change with regard to women’s roles (Jolly and Macintyre 1989). Lockwood (1993), for example, analyzes how westernization—including conversion to Christianity—resulted in a redefinition of women’s roles in Tahiti, with gardening deemed appropriate only for men and with women’s work confined to taking care of the home and children. In other words, men became defined as the producers and providers, and women as the reproducers and maintainers of the household. Grimshaw (1989) describes a similar situation in Hawaii, in which women’s roles became focused on domestic activities as housewives and mothers. On Pollap, however, women’s productive roles have not—at least to date—been undermined, and veneration of Mary in the form found on Pollap supports and contributes to the ongoing high valuation of women’s productive activities. This is an example of the creativity of women’s involvement in religion even when under the influence of patriarchal



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religious structures: “Despite the evidence for suppression and denigration of women’s rituals, we frequently find women expanding their religious worlds in directions that they find satisfying and meaningful” (Sered 1990:315). In the Western tradition, it is chastity, virginity, and purity that provide strength and are seen to have power over evil (see, for example, Drury 1994; Ruether 1977:66; Warner 1976:48), whereas for Pollapese it is motherhood. Morever, the Western tradition created an ideal that women cannot hope to achieve, one that implies that the sexual activity and motherhood that normal women (as opposed to Mary) experience are somehow inferior and thus demonstrate that normal women fail to represent the ideal of the feminine (e.g., Burlage 1974). Even some Western theological work (Miller 1995) that emphasizes the imagery of Mary the Mother and the role of women as life-givers, and that purports to promote the equality of women, including authority within the Catholic Church, fails to provide the sort of model that Pollapese have constructed for Mary. Miller’s work, for example, focuses on the idea of authority as source and remains apart from notions of power and the holding of public office. Furthermore, this work still emphasizes virginity, and discussions of sexuality revolve around virginity, conception, childbirth, and nursing—not the joys of intercourse or other sexual activities—so that sexuality is in effect limited to procreation and nothing else. This work also links motherhood with being a wife, not with maintaining one’s role as sister. And references to the virginal mother persist; motherhood and the Church are linked, with the church portrayed as virginal. In this model males, too, are routinely referred to as the source of life, not just women. Finally, notions of motherhood here are quite biologically based, and being a mother is presented as a state of being, not an activity: “woman does not represent, but is” (Miller 1995:109). On Pollap, in contrast, everyone, both male and female, “represents.” Miller’s work explicitly maintains that whereas masculinity has to be earned, femininity does not. In this Western view, men must demonstrate and achieve, but not women. For Pollapese, being a woman is bound up with being a mother, which is demonstrated, or “represented.” A man, according to the Western view, cannot produce biologically as a woman can, so he must produce from outside his own body, in contrast with women, who produce from within themselves, not outside. Yet for Pollapese, it is the women who produce the life-giving food—and again, outside their own bodies. Not only are Pollapese notions of motherhood far less biologically based than Western ones, but Pollapese mothers are also more autonomous in many respects than is found in traditional Western imagery. So whereas in the Western world Mary as mother may promote a weak and subservient image, with an emphasis on the role of wife, deference to one’s husband, responsibilities for caretaking confined primarily to the home, and isolation from the public

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sphere, that is not the case for Pollapese. For them motherhood is an active, strong, and productive role. Thus using Mary as a model endorses an ongoing ability to provide for oneself and family rather than dependence on a lone male. It helps prevent the idea of women being confined to a purely domestic sphere. ‘Mother’ on Pollap denotes relationships with junior kin and is more ‘elder sister’ than ‘wife’ or, as is the case in much of the Western world, “homemaker.” With a woman’s role more closely associated with sisterhood than with wifehood, women tend to have stronger societal positions (Sacks 1982). Further, Pollap also lacks the typical Western contrast between ‘father’ as the one responsible for establishing and maintaining discipline and ‘mother’ as the softhearted woman who steps in to mute male-imposed punishment. The Pollapese certainly do not reject the traditional beliefs about Mary’s virginity; they just do not focus on them. Nor do they accept sexuality and motherhood as signs of weakness or impurity. Christian tradition may assert that the first Eve sinned—which resulted in sexuality, painful childbirth, and death—and that Mary is the Second Eve who managed to triumph over sin and was even conceived free of the original sin from Eve’s deed, but Pollapese heritage does not associate sexuality with sin and death. The notions of original sin and its associations with sexuality are alien. Pollapese also lack the concepts found in the Western world of a dualistic separation between the body and other aspects of being human, elevation of the mind or spirit over the body, and emphasis on detachment from the world, material concerns, bodily needs, or pleasures. Thus a lack of knowledge on the part of so many and so little emphasis on the technical meaning of the Immaculate Conception are not surprising in a society that otherwise has a fair amount of knowledge about their adopted religion. For example, the Pollapese were well aware of the interpretation of the passage in Genesis about Mary and the devil. For them, it is Mary’s motherhood that is the source of her strength; it is not virginity but motherhood that has power over evil. In some respects, Pollapese notions of Mary fit with propositions made by feminists seeking reform within the Church. Imagery surrounding Mary in the Catholic Church has been criticized for oppressing women, supporting male dominance, and promoting an ideal of women as submissive, compliant, humble, and relegated to domestic life (see, for example, Fiorenza 1985; Hamington 1995; Perry and Achevarría 1988; Ruether 1983). In response, feminist theology has been attempting to revise Mary’s image in order to promote a more powerful and autonomous one.2 Some have tried to portray her as incorporating elements of a goddess, with veneration of women’s roles as mothers and bearers of children and Mary in effect representing the feminine aspects of a divine being and serving many of the same functions as a goddess in popular practice (Benko 2004). This is actually very close to the reality that exists on



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Pollap, although there the addition of the emphasis on food production as part of being a mother further strengthens the image. The Pollapese case actualizes recommendations made to improve women’s status in Christianity and to adjust images of Mary in so doing. Johnson (1985) proposes a revision of our view of Mary to one of a strong, autonomous woman who combines motherhood with an active, public life as a disciple. This is not unlike what Pollapese have made of Mary. Mary can be used to empower women to actively engage in issues rather than passively obey. Another proposal for a revised idea of Mary (Hamington 1995) is actually quite similar to that of the Pollapese as well. This is to see her as “Mary, Everywoman,” with elements that reflect common, lived experiences of women. It involves three images: Mary as Woman, as Mother, and as Sister. Mary as Woman focuses on independence. Pollapese see themselves as interdependent with a wide network of kin, so perhaps the notion of not having to be dependent on a particular man (a husband) would be more appropriate than independence. Mary as Sister focuses on women’s relationships with other women, which is part and parcel of women’s experiences on Pollap in a society with strong matrilineal kinship and uxorilocal residence: women relate to other women, not just to a husband; they are primarily sisters and mothers, key players in descent groups. Finally, Mary as Mother focuses on women’s creativity. The model is primarily one of biological creativity, but for Pollapese there is creative energy involved in cultivating key staples and producing essential material goods. Thus in many respects Pollapese have an image of Mary quite close to what is being recommended here as a strong image for Western cultures. In the activities and beliefs that surround the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, they celebrate the strength of mothering and women’s contribution to sustaining the entire community.

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Appendix

Table 1.

Free listing results

Table 2.

Johnson’s hierarchical clustering results (average)

Table 3.

Johnson’s hierarchical clustering results (single link)

Table 4.

Johnson’s hierarchical clustering results (complete link)

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Table 1╇ Free Listing Results

ITEM

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

172

ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens’ fawufaw heki ‘make mats’ féér mwéngé ‘make food’ lehet, yááyir kúúh ‘go fishing, spear octopus’ féér téér ‘make lavalavas’ soopw pisek, hepi ‘wash things, plates’ yalimelim ‘clean, beautify’ túmwúnúw may lachchin ‘take care of children’ pweyiker r´oo ‘grate coconuts’ wowaal ‘carry leaves’ fawufaw kini ‘make thatch wall panels’ fawufaw yóóh ‘make thatch roof panels’ túkú ppi, fawú ‘gather sand, rocks’ fettiwow ‘make copra’ wuwow amwúr´ ‘carry firewood’ túmwúnúw r´óón hemwaaw ‘care for the sick’ fawufaw r´úúk ‘make coconut-leaf baskets’ fiif ‘string plants, beads for head garlands’ teete ‘sew’ ter hafey ‘fetch local medicine’ maamaw llón lamalam ‘strong in religion’ hipeki ‘cut and collect pandanus for mats’ fawufaw háánipé ‘make fans’ fawufaw pwótow ‘make under-arm baskets’ r´éér´éé ‘massage’ mówun wóón woot me yiik ‘throw taro and fish’ atake ‘garden’ amwéngé aremah ‘feed people’ pwarúk ‘dance’ ahów, awahééla ‘bring food to visitors’ affér kinamwmwe ‘settle disputes, make peace’ apwpwóro ‘show deference to brothers’ wotoot r´oo, núú ‘husk coconuts’ téété núú ‘climb and pick coconuts’ pawonen angaang ‘provide food for workers’ nganey piik ‘feed pigs’ ffén ‘admonish, advise, instruct’ yar´ing ‘make food for returning fishermen’

Appendix

FREQUENCY

AVERAGE RANK

SALIENCE

20 19 19 17 17 16 16 13 12 12 11 10 10 8 7 7 7 7 7 6 6 6 6 5 5 5 5 5 4 4 4 4 4 3 3 3 3 3

1.650 4.158 3.842 7.529 10.765 7.813 8.375 7.846 10.750 14.167 8.364 9.300 10.400 10.375 14.429 14.143 13.000 13.286 18.429 14.500 15.000 14.333 10.167 11.800 17.800 19.800 5.200 12.200 13.750 17.000 19.500 22.750 17.500 15.333 11.333 16.000 19.667 15.667

0.946 0.767 0.698 0.470 0.379 0.464 0.436 0.379 0.291 0.192 0.369 0.286 0.249 0.202 0.140 0.116 0.168 0.116 0.095 0.115 0.085 0.109 0.134 0.099 0.036 0.043 0.194 0.088 0.091 0.032 0.047 0.040 0.064 0.032 0.060 0.044 0.052 0.058

ITEM

FREQUENCY

39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

féér uunóómw ‘make small fish traps’ wurumwot ‘compete in games’ fitiy aruwow ‘attend Tuesday meetings’ túmwúnúw chillap ‘care for the elderly’ fawufaw sépaawo ‘make coconut-leaf mats’ anawunaw r´óópwut ‘help deliver babies’ saata ‘charter/hire’ kel kapich ‘dig garbage pits’ yawúwemóng ‘carry things on one’s head’ féér púruumw ‘make brooms’ fawufaw haweya ‘make a type of basket’ ononé ‘stay with husband’s family while he’s gone’ fawufaw akkaw ‘make hats’ atip amwúr´ ‘cut firewood’ fawufawu olorow ‘make mats for breadfruit pit’ alukkullap ‘serve’



AVERAGE RANK

3 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

SALIENCE

17.000 19.000 20.500 9.000 21.500 18.000 13.000 18.500 13.000 19.000 4.000 25.000 19.000 23.000 28.000 11.000

0.063 0.007 0.012 0.056 0.031 0.017 0.032 0.041 0.025 0.003 0.039 0.000 0.013 0.019 0.013 0.022

Appendix

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Table 2╇ Johnson’s hierarchical clustering results (average)

ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985–2002 by Analytic Technologies

174

Appendix



Appendix

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Table3╇ Johnson’s hierarchical clustering results (single link)

ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985–2002 by Analytic Technologies.

176

Appendix



Appendix

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Table 4╇ Johnson’s hieraarchical clustering results (complete link)

ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985–2002 by Analytic Technologies.

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Appendix



Appendix

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Notes

Chapter 1. Introduction 1. Alkire (1970) describes one for the Woleai area and another for Lamotrek, Satawal, and Elato (1965). 2. See Flinn (1992:28–31) for a summary of the various sightings and visits. 3. For more about the situation eighteen years earlier, especially regarding attitudes about tradition, see Flinn (1990b, 1992). 4. A history of the Catholic Church in Chuuk, including information about Pollap, can be found in Hezel (1991:122–193). Chapter 2. Feast of the Immaculate Conception 1. I left Pollap at the end of the summer that year to conduct research among Pollap migrants in Chuuk Lagoon. 2. According to Catholic Church canon law, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception should be observed as a holy day of obligation, but a country’s conference of bishops can choose not to include it as a required holy day or move it to a Sunday. It is an observed holy day in the United States, but bishops’ conferences in some nations, such as Australia and England and Wales, have chosen otherwise. 3. Historical information about lay church groups in Micronesia can be found in Hezel (1991). An analysis of a Legion of Mary group in Chuuk can be found in Dernbach (1998). 4. See Wallace (1994) for an example of how Catholic women pastors in the United States practiced collaborative, egalitarian leadership rather than the hierarchical style of priests. Chapter 3. A Woman’s Place Is in the Garden 1. See Alkire (1989) for a discussion of how the land/sea and male/female dichotomies interrelated with types of ghosts, spirits, and gods in the Central Carolines.

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2. Detailed discussions of these structured interview processes can be found in Bernard (1994:237–255) and Weller and Romney (1988). 3. In making my requests and explaining how I wanted the women to proceed, I used the word r´óópwut for ‘women,’ as it is the most generic and inclusive term. This word means ‘woman’ as opposed to ‘man’ and usually also means ‘woman’ as opposed to ‘girl.’ Although there are more specialized terms for women at certain points of the life cycle, r´óópwut is the most commonly used and also clearly refers to women at the peak of their productive and reproductive years. For ‘work’ I used the word angaang ‘work, handling of things, performance, way of doing things’ (Goodenough and Sugita 1980:13). During the course of the free listings and concurrent conversations, however, a number of women also interjected the word wiis ‘task, responsibility, duty, office’ (Goodenough and Sugita 1980:368). 4. One issue I had to deal with was variation in the language of the free listings, and I eventually merged a couple of terms into one category, especially after women assured me in the trial pile-sort exercises that the items were essentially the same. For example, I lumped ló leepwéél ‘go to the taro gardens’ with nnak ‘cultivate the soil [for taro],’ and I combined husking mature coconuts with husking drinking coconuts. In addition, items that consultants explained as steps in an activity, such as the stages of making a mat or a woven lavalava, I omitted in favor of the name for the overarching activity. The fewest items any woman named in the free listings was three out of these fifty-four, and the most was thirty-seven. Three women provided fewer than ten items, ten women named from eleven to nineteen items, six women between twenty and twenty-five, and one woman thirty-seven. The average was seventeen items. 5. The detailed formula for how salience is calculated in ANTHROPAC can be found in Borgatti (1993b:21). 6. Three, for example, involved plaiting items rarely used anymore, while plaiting other items—such as mats—appeared in the listings much more often and had far more salience. 7. For example, if all twenty-six women placed two particular activities in the same pile, the number in that particular cell would be 1.00. If half of the women said two items were similar, the number in that cell would be 0.50. If women never put two items together, the number would be 0.00. 8. For multidimensional scaling, ANTHROPAC “finds a set of points in k-dimensional space such that the Euclidean distance among these points corresponds as closely as possible to the input proximities” (Borgatti 1993b:95). In other words, the more similar two items are at the aggregate level, the closer together they appear in the scaling diagram, and the more dissimilar, the farther apart. 9. ANTHROPAC can perform Johnson’s hierarchical clustering on the aggregate proximity matrix. This program “finds a series of nested partitions of the items. The different partitions are ordered according to decreasing . . . levels of similarity. . . . The algorithm begins with the identity partition (in which all items are

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Notes to Pages 38–41

in different clusters). It then joins the pair of items most similar . . . , which are then considered a single entity. The algorithm continues in this manner until all items have been joined into a single cluster (the complete partition)” (Borgatti 1993b:102). 10. The stress was 0.118 with the twenty-six respondents. 11. The details of the differences between single link, complete link, and average are discussed in Borgatti (1993b:102). 12. This type is illustrated in Krämer (1935:261–262). 13. See Flinn (1992:58–61) for a more extended discussion. 14. A detailed analysis of this emotion can be found in Lutz (1988:119–154). 15. Sixteen of the women had completed a pile sort before the rating activity (though not necessarily on the same visit); five of those who rated the items had also completed a free listing, one had done a free listing but not a pile sort, and three did only the rating. 16. PROFIT (property fitting) is discussed in Borgatti (1993b:126). 17. The r-squared was only 0.406. Chapter 4. Taro 1. Details about this Ghyben-Herzberg lens on coral atolls can be found in Wiens (1971:317–326). 2. Details can be found in Lambert (1982). 3. Goodenough and Sugita define ngngút as follows: “(of relatively soft, flexible object like dough) be elastic, strong (not easily broken when stretched)” (1980:271), and Elbert as “strong, as a rope or current” (1972:117). Pollapese say it means “tough, as of pounded breadfruit or a person’s muscles.” 4. More details of this story can be found in Flinn (1992:6). 5. Elsewhere in Chuuk, there do seem to have been food competitions involving strong themes of winning and losing (Caughey 1977:58; Gladwin and Sarason 1953:53). Chapter 5. Who’s in Charge and Are Any of Them Women? 1. Early work includes Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983), Keesing and Tonkinson (1982), and Linnekin (1983). 2. For some examples from Oceania, see Besnier (2000), Dominy (2001), Flinn (1992), Linnekin and Poyer (1990), and Poyer (1993). 3. Details about the chiefly clan, including changes over time, can be found in Flinn (1992:47–52) and Komatsu (1987, 1990). 4. Thomas (1980) analyzes these issues on nearby, culturally related Namonuito. 5. See Lutz (1988:112–113) for a discussion of a good person on the culturally related island of Ifaluk. 6. Conversion coincided, however, with U.S. public health efforts that significantly



Notes to Pages 41–109

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reduced venereal disease in Chuuk and thus increased fertility (R. G. Goodenough 1970:316). Pollapese nonetheless tend to give more credit for this change to Catholicism than to medicine. Chapter 6. Church Activities 1. This is not the sole explanation they supply, however. They also discuss changes in midwifery practices and medicines brought by the United States when they took over administration of the islands after World War II. Ruth Goodenough (1970) discusses the impact of venereal disease on infertility in Chuuk and subsequent control of the problem after World War II with the introduction of penicillin. 2. See Lutz (1988:96) for a discussion of beliefs about the impact of speech on culturally related Ifaluk. Chapter 7. Honoring Mary 1. Burrows and Spiro (1970:317) describe a similar practice on culturally related Ifaluk. 2. Mary is widely associated with the sea in Western tradition as well (Warner 1976:256–267), partly because of her association with the moon. The moon had long been identified with divine female figures in the Western world and also became linked with Mary. As the moon affects tides, it was also related to menstrual cycles and fertility, accounting for its association with female divine figures. Mary also became the “star of the sea” and a guide to seafarers. In a place where the ocean arouses considerable anxiety, including fear of typhoons, the possibility of getting lost at sea, and the vagaries of the fish supply, considerable magic and ritual has naturally been concentrated on the sea, both in the past and—in large part through Mary—today. Chapter 8. Conclusion 1. For a contrasting Pacific case, see Smith (1994) for an analysis of indigenous Catholicism in New Guinea among people strongly devoted to Mary where, in contrast to the Pollapese, her virginity is highlighted in conjunction with local beliefs about sexuality. 2. See Hamington (1995) for a review of this scholarship.

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Notes to Pages 129–169

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Index

Page numbers in boldface type refer to illustrations. Achevarría, Loreto, 2, 3, 99, 126, 169 adoption, 4, 33, 123, 166–167 alcoholic beverages. See drinking Alkire, William H., 6, 68, 88, 155 altars, 26, 102, 146, 152, 153, 154 Anderson, Bonnie S., 1, 34, 160 animals: chickens, 64; dogs, 64; pigs, 10, 23, 64. See also fish; octopus Anonymous, 6, 8 ANTHROPAC (software), 38, 39, 41, 42, 55, 61, 171–179 babysitting, 73–74, 164, 167 bananas, 6, 22, 59, 64, 70, 76, 161 Barker, John, 3, 35 Barrau, Jacques, 68 baskets, 48, 76, 77, 152 beadwork, 141, 150, 151, 152 beauty, 149–155 Benko, S., 169 Bible, 91, 116, 117, 119, 122, 134, 165; references to Mary, 2–3, 27–28, 30, 32, 34, 169 Borgatti, Stephen P., 38, 41, 182, 183 breadfruit, 6, 59, 67, 76–80 passim, 87, 102, 161 brothers, 51–52, 84, 86–87, 91, 106–107, 109–110, 128, 136 Bryan, Edwin H., Jr., 5 Burlage, Dorothy D., 168 Burrows, Edwin G., 68, 78, 88, 152, 154, 155 calendar, church, 118–124. See also schedules

canoe houses, 48, 90, 105, 122, 161 canoes: paddling, 12, 105; sailing, 11, 48, 54, 65, 90, 108 caretaking activities, 56–57, 94, 130 Caroline Islands, 5–8 Catholicism (Pollapese), 83–84, 98–112, 132, 160, 165, 167; beginnings of, 14; calendar of, 118–124; and Mary, 1, 3, 27–28, 30, 32, 34, 169; and tradition, 121, 122, 135–136, 139; and the Vatican, 3, 36, 165; and Vatican II, 108; and women, 83–84, 98–112, 167. See also church associations; church calendar; church leaders; pagan customs Catholicism (Western), 3, 35–36, 160, 164–165, 168–170. See also Christianity (Western) Caughey, John L., 183 cemetery, 99, 120, 124 chiefly clan, 31, 54, 55, 84–95, 104, 110, 157, 163 chiefly people, 87, 110, 142 chiefs, 86, 87, 105, 110, 139, 157 children. See daughters; motherhood; women Christianity (Western), 158–159, 167– 170. See also Catholicism (Western) Christmas, 123, 125, 136, 146, 152, 153 Christmas Eve, 145–146, 148 church associations, 24, 80–81, 98, 114–118, 119–126 passim, 139, 142, 165–166. See also names of specific associations

195

church calendar, 118–124. See also schedules church leaders, 97, 102, 103, 105, 106, 110, 139, 142 Chuuk Lagoon, 8, 9, 10, 13, 67, 130, 137 clans, 17, 51, 52, 84–85, 88–90, 103, 108–109, 118. See also chiefly clan cleaning activities, 59–60, 149–150 cloth, 39–40, 90, 139 clothing, 25, 43, 49, 60, 76 clusters (statistical), 38, 41–42, 43–59 passim, 60–61, 63 coconuts, 22, 57–59, 76, 78, 87, 102, 103, 155; fronds, 76, 152; oil, 154, 155 colors, 150–151, 154 Comaroff, Jean, 14 Comaroff, John, 14 communion, 29, 98, 108, 118, 121, 122, 126 community meetings, 54–56 copra, 10, 54, 55, 102 council: municipal, 96–98, 114; parish, 16, 20–21, 31, 98, 108–109, 110, 117, 139; traditional, 20, 45, 56, 79, 84–85, 89–91, 101–104 passim, 110 cross, 148, 152, 153 Damm, Hans, 6, 155 dancing, 55–56, 122, 123, 135–136, 150 daughters, 35, 65, 72, 89, 94, 97, 128, 158 death, 75, 139, 147 devil, 27, 29, 32, 33, 144, 156, 164 Dickson-Waiko, Anne, 166 Dillon, Michele, 36 Diocese Day, 103, 120, 123, 134 divorce, 95, 109, 127–128, 138 doughnuts, 10, 32, 143 Douglas, Bronwen, 4, 166 dreams, 121–122 drinking (of alcoholic beverages), 4, 45, 54, 86–92 passim, 100, 111, 139, 144; and husbands, 136, 140; and Mary, 143, 144 Drury, Clare, 2, 168 Easter, 120, 122, 123, 125, 152

196

Index

Ecklund, Elaine H., 5 education, 9, 10, 12, 103, 108, 117, 132 Elbert, Samuel H., 183 elderly, 56–57, 73, 115, 142 elders, 84–85, 88–90, 97, 102, 103, 108–109, 116 Englberger, Lois, 68, 69 Eve, 155, 156, 164, 169 fathers, 29, 52, 73, 74, 90, 110, 169 Fatima (Marian shrine on Pollap), 81, 99, 119, 124, 133, 141, 147–148, 154. See also Mary Feast of the Assumption, 120, 141, 151. See also Mary Feast of the Immaculate Conception (Dec. 8): and competitions, 22, 31, 82, 118, 123; decorations for, 26, 141; food for, 100; funds for, 16, 125; and Mary, 3, 19, 29, 144, 152, 156, 161, 163; and motherhood, 163, 170; and non-religious life, 112; and skits, 31–33, 123, 136; and songs, 22, 31, 82; and taro, 15, 18, 26, 30, 81–82, 121, 156, 160–164 passim; and taro (swamp), 21–22; and taro (true), 21, 80, 81–82; and womanhood, 20, 163, 170; women’s prayers during, 133–134. See also Mary FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency), 6, 54, 102 feminist theology, 169–170 Fienup-Riordan, Ann, 3 Fiorenza, Elisabeth S., 99, 165, 169 Fischer, John L., 67 fish, 6, 15, 23, 67, 87, 123, 155, 162 fishing, 9, 14, 59, 67, 75, 78, 121, 124 fish traps, 43, 45, 48–49, 56, 138 Flinn, Juliana, 6, 14, 15, 34, 35, 95, 105, 111, 113, 123, 130 foods, making and serving of, 58–59, 64, 94, 164; staple, 1, 6, 10, 16, 59, 64, 94 forest activities, 57–58 Friedl, Ernestine, 167 games, 55–56 gardening: payment for, 70, 71–72;

schedule for, 74–75; socializing and, 71; in Tahiti, 167; of taro, 26, 39, 57–58, 65–79, 124, 164 garlands, 49–50, 64, 118, 123, 150, 151; for Mary, 141, 149; in pagan customs, 152, 155 generations, 88, 92, 93, 94–95 generosity, 14, 15, 17 gifts, 45, 47, 79, 80, 86, 87, 90, 95 Gladwin, Thomas, 183 gods/goddesses, 155–156, 160, 169 Goodenough, Ruth G., 184 Goodenough, Ward H., 52, 146, 147, 155, 164, 182, 183 government, 17, 54, 83–84, 96–98, 100–112, 160 Grimshaw, Patricia, 4, 167 Hamington, Maurice, 99, 169, 170 Harrington, Patricia, 3 Hezel, Francis X., 9, 12, 109, 165 Holm, Jean, 35 Holweck, Frederick, 19, 27, 28 Houk, 71, 79, 130, 134, 145, 148–149, 151 households, 4, 75, 87, 94, 95, 99–100, 142–143, 149–150 houses. See canoe houses; thatch houses Huang, A. S., 69 humility, 31, 107, 110, 135, 157–158 husbands, 37, 51–52, 65, 94–95, 116, 127–129, 136–140, 164–170 passim. See also marriages hymns, 22, 27, 29–30, 31, 114, 118, 152, 161. See also songs Ifaluk, 78, 88, 152, 154, 155 Immaculate Conception, 27, 30, 169. See also Feast of the Immaculate Conception Jesus, 132, 145–146, 148–149, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157 Johnson, Elizabeth A., 170 Jolly, Margaret, 4, 85, 126, 128, 167 Keesing, Roger M., 85 King, Ursula, 35



kinship, 4, 35, 67, 71, 91, 170 Krämer, Augustin, 8, 88, 154, 155, 156 Kurtz, Lester, 35 Langmore, Diane, 165 lavalavas, 39–40, 49, 76, 90, 121, 149, 150, 155 Lent, 108, 116, 120, 154 Lepowsky, Maria, 167 Lessa, William A., 6, 133, 154, 155 Linnekin, Jocelyn, 85 Lockwood, Victoria S., 126, 167 loincloths, 40, 49, 121, 150, 153, 154 love, 157–158 Luomala, Katherine, 155 Macintyre, Martha, 4, 126, 128, 167 Maga, Joseph A., 69 marriages, 94, 95, 109, 113–114, 116, 127–129, 137, 138; and virginity, 159 Marshall, Leslie B., 4 Marshall, Mac, 4, 12, 35 Mary, 155–159; Bible references to, 2–3, 27–28, 30, 32, 34, 169; and Catholicism (Pollapese), 1, 3, 27–28, 30, 32, 34, 169; and Catholicism (Western), 3, 35–36, 160, 164–165, 168–170; and the devil, 27, 29, 32, 33, 144, 156, 164; and drinking, 143, 144; and Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 3, 19, 29, 144, 152, 156, 161, 163; as a goddess, 169; Immaculate Conception of, 27, 30, 169; as a model, 2, 20, 132, 135, 169; as a mother, 28, 33–35, 142, 154, 155, 164, 170; as a protector, 34, 35, 81, 141, 156; as provider, 34, 35, 65, 141, 156; shrines to, 81, 99, 119, 124, 133, 141, 147–149, 154; as Sister, 170; as Star of the Sea, 34, 156; statues of, 125, 135, 141, 142–151, 154; taro offerings to, 21–22, 26, 35, 80–82, 121, 152, 156, 160–161; and virginity, 28, 33, 34, 142, 154, 159, 164; as Woman, 170; as Woman of Valor, 34. See also Feast of the Assumption; Feast of the Immaculate Conception (Dec. 8)

Index

197

Mass, 18–19, 29, 118, 120, 121 matriliny, 34, 110, 166, 167, 170 mats, 39, 44–48, 79, 90, 99, 118, 126, 164 mayor, 54, 96, 103–104, 110 McGuire, Meredith B., 35 meat, 6, 10, 23, 64, 67 medicine: field of knowledge, 14, 86; substances, 10, 12, 46, 57 Meilleur, B. A., 69 men: council of clan elders, 84–85, 88–90, 103, 108–109; and statues of Mary, 142–143, 144; voicing of views by, 93–94, 97–98; and women, 161–163; and work, 8, 10, 37, 162 Miller, Monica M., 168 missionaries, 3–5, 14, 17, 109, 126, 167 modesty, 14, 25, 107, 116 money, 124–126 Montero, Paula, 4 mother, Mary as, 28, 33–35, 142, 154, 155, 164, 170 motherhood: and adoption, 4, 33, 123, 166–167; and Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 163, 170; and Mary, 28, 33–35, 142, 154, 155, 164, 170; and virginity, 159, 164; and work, 34, 37–38, 65, 161, 165 Mother’s Day, 120, 121, 123, 167 Mwiir´en Asor, 24, 29, 31, 98, 117, 120, 121 Mwiir´en Koroti, 98, 115 Mwiir´en Maria, 24, 29, 31, 98, 115–128 passim, 132, 151, 158; and statue of Jesus, 148–149; and statue of Mary, 141–143, 145, 149 Mwiir´en Merikiisom, 132 navigation/navigators, 14, 80, 90, 102, 122, 150, 161, 163 novenas, 120, 125, 145 nuns, 110, 111–112, 127, 130, 134, 139, 153, 159 octopus, 37, 58, 64, 123–124 oratory/public speaking, 99–100, 108, 130–132, 134–136, 139–140, 151, 161, 165 Ortner, Sherry B., 33

198

Index

pagan customs, 105, 113, 127–133 passim, 154, 155–156 Paini, Anna, 166 pandanus, 43, 44, 46, 48 patience, 14, 157–158 Pelikan, Jaroslav, 2, 3, 34, 156 Perry, Nicholas, 2, 3, 99, 126, 169 pigs, 10, 23, 64 pile sorts, 40–42 plaiting, 46–48, 76 Pollap, map of, 7 Pollock, Nancy J., 67, 68, 69 Polowat, 6, 9, 12, 14, 71, 79, 154, 155 prayer, 29, 102–103, 105, 115–122 passim, 133–134, 135, 139, 143–145; belief in power of, 75, 81, 128, 132–133 priests, 14, 45, 80, 110, 111–112, 118, 130, 165 PROFIT analysis, 61 public speaking. See oratory rice, 6, 10, 54–55, 64, 69, 143, 161 rosary, 51, 115–119 passim, 133, 141, 143, 147–148, 151, 160 Ruether, Rosemary R., 2, 33, 34, 35, 99, 156, 159, 168, 169 Sanday, Peggy R., 167 Sarason, Seymour B., 183 Sarfert, Ernst, 6, 156 schedules, 100–101, 114, 119, 143. See also church calendar Scheyvens, Regina, 4, 166 schooling. See education Selator(a), 24, 29, 31, 81, 98, 116–117, 121, 125, 132 seniority, 88, 92, 93, 94–95 Sered, Susan S., 2, 168 shrines, 81, 99, 119, 124, 133, 141, 147–149, 154. See also Mary sisters, 45, 51–52, 65, 67, 91, 164, 166, 169 skits, 31–33, 123, 136 sleeping mats, 44–48, 90, 99, 118, 126, 164 Smith, Michael F., 35, 184 songs, 122, 135; for church services, 22,

27, 118; for feast competitions, 22, 31, 82; for teasing, 1, 24–25, 30 sons-in-law, 52, 94, 109, 137 Spencer-Arsenault, Michelle, 2 Spiro, Melford E., 68, 78, 88, 152, 154, 155 Spriggs, Matthew, 68 Standal, Bluebell R., 69 staple foods, 1, 6, 10, 16, 59, 64, 94 statistical data, 38, 39, 41–42, 43–59 passim, 61–64 statues: of Jesus, 145–146, 148–149, 152, 154; of Mary, 125, 135, 141, 142–151, 154 Steager, Peter W., 154 storms, 49, 68, 81, 105, 147, 156 Sugita, Hiroshi, 52, 146, 147, 182, 183 Swatos, William H., Jr., 35 taboos, 51, 54, 74, 75, 104, 119, 147 Tahiti, 167 Tamatam, 5, 9, 154 taro: and Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 15, 18, 26, 30, 81–82, 121, 156, 160–164 passim; gardening of, 26, 39, 57–58, 65–79, 124, 164; nutrition of, 69; as offering to Mary, 21–22, 26, 35, 80–82, 121, 152, 156, 160–161; provided by Mary, 156; as a staple, 6, 59, 67, 161; throwing of, 56, 162; and womanhood, 65–67, 72–73, 78, 81–82, 167. See also taro (swamp); taro (true) taro (swamp), 21–22, 67–82 passim, 161. See also taro; taro (true) taro (true), 21, 67–82 passim, 87, 90, 138, 154, 155, 161. See also taro; taro (swamp) thatch houses, 11–12, 48, 56, 64, 144 theology, 3, 169–170 Tiffany, Sharon W., 38 Titchenal, C. A., 69 tourism, 11, 40, 44, 50, 54, 64, 88, 97 tradition (Pollapese): and Catholicism, 121, 122, 135–136, 139; and Christianity (Western), 158–159, 167–169; and lectors, 106, 108; and women, 44–45, 46–47, 53, 54, 83–95, 100–112, 137–138, 160



traps, 43, 48–49, 138 Trask, Haunani-Kay, 85 turmeric, 149, 150, 154, 155 typhoons, 49, 68, 81, 105, 147, 156 United States, 6, 8, 9–10, 12, 13, 17, 96, 132 uxorilocal residence, 34, 170 Vatican, 3, 36, 165 villages, 9, 21–22, 67, 82, 96–101 passim, 118–120 passim, 123, 152 virginity, 28, 33, 34, 142, 154, 159, 164 visitors, 9, 10, 31, 37, 105, 122, 125, 150 Warner, Maria, 2, 34, 147, 150, 151, 159, 168, 184 Watanabe, John M., 3 Watling, Tony, 36 weaving, 39–40, 49, 90, 139 Western civilization, 168–169 wifehood, 31–32, 35, 52, 136, 138, 163, 164, 169 womanhood: and Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 20, 163, 170; among Pollapese, 35–36, 161; and taro cultivation, 65–67, 72–73, 78, 81–82, 167; and work, 37–38, 78, 161–162. See also women women: as babysitters, 73–74, 164, 167; caretaking activities of, 56–57, 94, 130; as Catholics, 83–84, 98–112, 167; of chiefly clan, 88, 103, 123, 133; in Christianity, 170; government, 83–84, 96–98, 100–112; and men, 161–163; in parish council, 98, 108–109, 110, 117, 139; as socializing agents, 52; and tradition, 44–45, 46–47, 53, 54, 83–95, 100–112, 137–138, 160; visiting of households by, 99–100, 142–143, 149–150; voicing of views by, 21, 89, 91–94, 98, 99–100, 132; Western notions of, 168–169; and work, 4, 9, 10, 37, 96, 97, 161–163, 164; work activity statistics, 38, 39, 41–42, 43–59 passim, 61–64. See also womanhood

Index

199

work: and men, 8, 10, 37, 162; and motherhood, 34, 37–38, 65, 161, 165; statistics of women’s, 38, 39, 41–42, 43–59 passim, 61–64; and womanhood, 37–38, 78, 161–162; and women, 4, 9, 10, 37, 96, 97, 161–163, 164

200

Index

workshops, women’s religious, 130, 137–140, 151, 163 Zinsser, Judith P., 1, 34, 160

About the Author

Juliana Flinn is currently Professor of Anthropology at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. She received a Ph.D. in anthropology from Stanford University in 1982 and has conducted extensive fieldwork in Micronesia. Dissertation fieldwork and subsequent research with migrants resulted in the publication of Diplomas and Thatch Houses: Asserting Tradition in a Changing Micronesia (1992).

Production Notes for Flinn | Mary, the Devil, and Taro Jacket design by Julie Matsuo-Chun Text design and Composition by University of Hawai‘i Press production staff ╅╇ with display and text type in Berkeley Old Style Printing and binding by Edwards Brothers, Inc. Printed on 60# EB Opaque, 500 ppi

PAC I FI C I SLANDS ST UDI ES / WO M E N’S S TUDIE S / R E LIG IO N

(Continued from front flap)

Of related interest

FLINN

Dancing from the Heart

Movement, Gender, and Sociality in the Cook Islands k al is sa al exe ye ff

2009, 224 pages, illus. Cloth: ISBN 978-0-8248-3244-5 “Dancing from the Heart is written from the heart. This book is a wonderful evocation of contemporary Polynesian life, joy, and loss. Yet it is also analytically adventurous. Cook Island dance becomes a lens through which questions of gender, performance, embodiment, and globalization come into focus in novel ways. This is surely one of the finest of recent Pacific ethnographies.

—nicholas thomas, University of Cambridge

Dancing from the Heart is the first study of gender, globalization, and expressive culture in the Cook Islands. It demonstrates how dance in particular plays a key role in articulating the overlapping local, regional, and transnational agendas of Cook Islanders. Kalissa Alexeyeff reconfigures conventional views of globalization’s impact on indigenous communities, moving beyond diagnoses of cultural erosion and contamination to a grounded exploration of creative agency and vital cultural production.

o r a T il, and

v e D e h t , y r Ma icism Cathol

UNIVERSITY of HAWAI‘I PRESS

Honolulu, Hawai‘i 96822-1888

ty

Socie n a i s e Micron a n i k r en’s Wo m o W and

Jacket design: Julie Matsuo-Chun

Juliana Flinn is professor of �anthropology at the University � of Arkansas, Little Rock.

like most world religions, is patriarchal, and its official hierarchies and sacred works too often neglect the lived experiences of women. Looking beyond these texts, Juliana Flinn reveals how women practice, interpret, and shape their own Catholicism on Pollap Atoll, part of Chuuk State in the Federated States of Micronesia. She focuses in particular on how the Pollapese shaping of Mary places value on indigenous notions of mothering that connote strength, active participation in food production, and the ability to provide for one’s family. Flinn begins with an overview of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on Pollap and an introduction to Mary, who is celebrated by islanders not as a biologized mother but as a productive one, resulting in an image of strength rather than meekness: For Pollapese women Mary is a vanquisher of Satan, a provider for her children, and a producer of C ATH OLI C I S M,

MARY, THE DEVIL, AND TARO

critical resources, namely taro. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception validates and celebrates local notions of motherhood in ways that highlight productive activities. The role of women as producers in the community is extolled, but the event also provides and sanctions new opportunities for women, allowing them to speak publicly, exhibit creativity, and influence the behavior of others. A chapter devoted to the imagery of Mary and its connections to Pollapese notions of motherhood is followed by a conclusion that examines the implications of these for women’s ongoing productive roles, especially in comparison with Western notions and contexts in which women have been removed or excluded from production. Mary, the Devil, and Taro contributes significantly to the study of women’s religion and the appropriation of Christianity in local contexts. It will be welcomed by not only anthropologists and other scholars concerned with religion in the Pacific, but also those who study change in gender roles and Marian devotions in cross-cultural perspectives.

ISBN 978-0-8248-3374-9

90000

9 780824 833749 www.uhpress.hawaii.edu

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JULIANA FLINN