Early discoverers called it “Feejee,” although the official name is Fiji—and that, too, is wrong. The correct name for it is Viti. Captain Cook made the mistake when he touched at the Tongan Islands, near neighbors, and heard the Polynesians say “Viti” in their own way. This group was honestly named “the Cannibal Islands.” The transit of fierce tribes from man-eating to prayer-meeting is miraculous. In 1927 when Martin Egan, as a traveler, saw a long file of sedate natives going to church, he remarked, “From Cannibalism to Calvinism!” And this describes it, although the predominant Church happens to be Wesleyan. It is almost impossible to believe that these quiet, law-abiding people have emerged so soon and gone so far.
The Fijians not only were cannibals, but were inordinately cruel. When a chief’s dwelling was being built captives were made to stand in the postholes “to hold up the house,” and were buried alive. A chief’s canoe was launched over living bodies, human rollers. When there was a shortage of enemy meat, hunters would stalk women and children of their own tribe; women and children were regarded as delicacies fit for visiting chiefs. When there were plenty of captives the resident chief would order out his livestock in the morning, to choose his meat. If one of them sneezed, which was considered an evidence of cowardice, the chief would cry “Mbula!” which meant, disdainfully, “I give you life.” No proper man ever ate coward-meat. Then the sneezer would reply, “Moli,” which meant, in effect, “Your words are like the sweet juice of the orange to me.” The word “Mbula” is often heard today, a pleasant greeting: “How’s your health?” “Mbula vinaka” is like a casual “My health is good.”
I am not so sure that their cannibalism was not caused originally by a protein shortage. There were no four-footed animals, with the possible exception of the rat. The Fijian fainted at sight of the first horse, as the Aztec did before Cortes’ ponies. Old tales tell of a maniacal blood-lust: How the father of King Thakombau cut out a disobedient brother’s tongue, roasted and ate it. How Thakombau (Evil of Mbau) performed the same feat on the severed arm of a living captive.... Widowhood was handled with frightful practicality: during a husband’s funeral the widow would lay her head in the lap of a seated woman, who would put one hand over the widow’s mouth, the other at the back of her neck; and a relative, sometimes a son, would string a vine around her neck and finish the job.
If some man of the tribe would come forward and claim her, the widow was spared. The very word for widow, dawai, is still an abusive term. Little girls who were betrothed to little boys had the vine-noose always waiting. If the boy happened to die it was etiquette to strangle the girl and toss her in his grave. Sometimes she was given a chance to return to her parents and try another marriage. Frequently the parents were so devil-ridden that they sent her back to the executioner. Yet the Fijians were, and are, a child-loving people. I cannot believe that the custom-bound parents who led their daughter back to death were not torn with genuine grief; the nice name for daughter is “rafter of the house.” The widow who was nursing a child or was pregnant was sent home to her father’s house and lived out her natural life.
The ceremonial over a dead chief would go on for a long time, at intervals. In a hundred days came the final feast. Some of the warriors would show up with a finger or two missing. They had cut them off as an expression of grief.
The first and last King of the Cannibal Islands was named Thakombau, and since most history books spell him “Cakobau” I must dwell on a trick of Fijian spelling that has driven native schoolboys to despair. Johann Sebastian Bach, descendant of the great composer and for years Fiji’s public printer, told me how this mad spelling came about so that the island of Mbengga, for instance, is printed “Beqa.” In the early days the man who did the missionaries’ printing ran short of type. In Fijian every g and d has an n sound in front of it, so to save n’s, none were used, the n sound being understood in front of each g and d. Every Fijian b has an m sound in front of it so that letter was understood there and dropped. The plentiful th sound ran the printer out of that character, so he substituted c for th as there is no other use for c in Fijian. The common ngg was replaced by a handy q. A full account of this typographical theory would require pages, but I hope I have outlined the principle, which shows some remarkable results.
This King called Thakombau (and spelled Cakobau) offers an example of the native money sense, that perfect vacuum. His warriors had been merrily destroying American trading establishments, and missions, occasionally pausing to eat the inhabitants. In 1858 President Buchanan sent the Vandalia to press a claim for a $45,000 indemnity. The warships looked mighty strong, and Thakombau wasn’t getting on very well with his revolutions; the one way out seemed to be to sell his mess of empire for the debt. He offered the bargain to the United States and to England, but found no takers.
In 1874 home politics changed the British mind. According to current myth Thakombau was beleaguered on Mbau’s Gibraltar-rock when a British man o’ war lay handily offshore. A well-armed landing party scattered the besiegers, brought the King back to his tapa-lined house, and saw him make a cross on a paper which mentioned the payment of debt and the delivery of the Fijis, body, soul and breeches. The story is close enough to the truth. A little later Britain accepted the Fijis. King Thakombau finished with a pretty gesture when he handed over his war club as a present to Queen Victoria. Probably she never used it, but her heart was gratified when she learned that the deposed monarch had exchanged cannibalism for Christianity. He burned most of the heathen temples in his fading realm, but saved his own on Mbau—for sentiment’s sake.
The chastened Thakombau took to travel, and did his bit toward importing foreign disease. In 1876 he came back from Australia with a dose of measles, which he spread far and wide.