Masi : House and cloth of the vanua

Masi: A potent cloth-like material

Masi is the clothing ³ and wealth ⁴ of the gods, of whom the chiefs are the temporary embodiments. The following extract of a conversation between Reverend Williams (1985[1858]: 120) and a priest from Somosomo, Taveuni, illustrates that Fijians considered the ability to make, and wear masi an indicator of the greatness of the powers of one’s god(s):

I [Williams] mentioned the destitute condition of some of the natives of the New Hebrides, ⁵ adding that they thought themselves very wise, and had many gods. The priest could not conceal his displeasure at the latter part of my remark. “Not possessed of masi, and pretend to have gods!” He muttered repeatedly with great contempt. (p. 120)

Christensen (1968: 138) describes a type of masi that is worn as a girdle with a train at the back that drags over the ground, ⁶ which illustrates the potency Fijians consider masi to have: ⁷

Anything, dead or alive, that the train touched would then be conveyed to the chief without a word of explanation since it would be considered too sacred [mana would have gone from the train to the object] for the common person to eat it.

The following description of pre-Christian religious practices and the use of masi in pre-Christian temples illustrates the function of masi as a point of access to powers of the gods, and mediating agent between the sacred and profane.

To ensure their blessing (favourable winds for sailing, a good harvest, success in battle and general wellbeing) the gods had to be presented with suitable gifts on a regular basis. These gifts consisted of humans and/or food, tabua (whale teeth), masi, war clubs and later, weapons. If these blessings did not materialize, people could consult a bete (pre-Christian priest). He, in return, could access the god in question via a train of white masi that hung in a bure kalou (temple). ⁸ A description of the interior of such a ‘temple’ by Derrick (1950: 12) is presented below:

Every village has its bure kalou; important towns have several; Bau has twenty. Though small in floor area, these buildings were perched upon high terraced foundations, and their lofty roofs dominated all others. Their construction was elaborate: the timbers were overlaid with intricate lacings of sinnet; festoons of plaited cord hung from the ridge-poles and were enriched with cowrie shells – the emblem of chiefs. Within, the furnishings were few and simple. The most important accessory was a strip of masi (bark cloth), one end of which was fixed up in the roof framing, the other reaching to the floor and being draped before a corner post; and down this the god came when invoked. ⁹

After the arrival of the missionaries, and conversion of the powerful chiefdom Bau to Christianity in 1854, these places of worship were demonised and stripped of their important trains of white masi – ‘behind which their gods are said to descend’ (Larson, 1960: 90). ¹⁰

Based on these descriptions I argue that not only these trains of white masi, but masi in general should be viewed as a material that can contain and therefore be a point of access to the powers of the gods. As such, masi can provide strength and protection, which, in turn, is crucial to understanding masi’s continued use as screen, area to sit or walk on, and as a wrapping. Several literary accounts substantiate this interpretation, such as Hooper’s (1982: 162) description of the installation ceremony of the paramount chief of Lau. It points to a direct relation between the words that are spoken by the Vaka, ¹¹ and the masi that is wrapped around the arms and head of the future paramount chief of Lau to make him the Sau (the embodiment of the ancestor god of Lau): ‘Give me your right arm that I may tie there the bark cloth of the Sau – that you be the Sau of Lau’ (Hooper, 1982: 162). ¹²

In March 2004, the same Vaka explained that the masi he wrapped around the arm of Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara gave him the power and strength to look after the people of Lau as their new paramount chief. However, it was not until he drank the first cup of yaqona that was presented to him, that he truly became the paramount chief of Lau. As Sahlins (1985: 96–97) and Turner (1986) explain, it is by drinking yaqona that the future chief dies and is brought back to life as Sau of Lau after he has emptied his cup and the men present cobo ¹³ (clap with cupped hands).

An account by Johnston (1918: 62) that describes the use of masi during trials by ordeal as practised in central Lau illustrates the potency of masi further. The accused, in issues to do with witchcraft, would be placed in the centre of a ring composed of chiefs and asked if he or she was guilty. When a person claimed to be innocent a ‘filmy scarf of the finest tappa [masi]’ was thrown over his or her head. If guilty the masi would capture his or her soul and lead to death.

A passage from Lester (1953: 114–115) points to the protective, instead of practical function a blanket of masi can fulfil as a result of its potent abilities. He describes the 11 nights following the birth of a child and the care that is taken of the mother and the newborn. During this time the house windows remain closed, the mother is not allowed to touch her food with her hands and is fed by female relatives of the husband:

The unfortunate mother [referring to the heat and the warm cloth she has to remain under] lies covered by a large piece of barkcloth, gatu … No male may enter the house where a mother and child are lying … The child is also covered with a piece of this cloth … The reason for carefully hiding mother and infant is in order to prevent another pregnant woman passing the house from seeing them. If this should happen the former’s milk would dry and the infant would die. As can be imagined the interior of the house is appallingly hot.

After the 10th night the mother is presented with a meal, new mats and masi are laid over her bed and floor, and she is dressed in masi that has been provided by female relatives. Upon completion the doors and windows are opened again for the first time and female relatives of the mother are allowed into the house to bring gifts of food and share a meal. This is followed by the removal of the masi dress the new mother has been given while the women in the house cry ‘“a sesevura” from vura, “to emerge’” or ‘“to appear’” (Lester, 1953: 115). This important moment indicates the woman has passed the first ‘dangerous’ phase in her new life as a mother and that she is strong enough to return into society.

The use of a wrapping, whether of barkcloth, mats, feathers or coconut coir, to contain and/or transfer the powers of the gods, is widely practised in Polynesia. For example, Babadzan (2003) describes this for the wrappings of the to’o god images from Tahiti, consisting of barkcloth, feathers, mats and/or coconut coir, which functions as a protective container of mana that can be passed on to others through touch. However, except for Filihia (2001), ¹⁴ these studies do not explain why it is that materials such as barkcloth, have these abilities. My analysis of the material qualities of masi presented below illustrates why Fijians believe masi has protective, strengthening and powerful qualities.

Masi: Cloth of the vanua

Fijian society is founded on, structured and sustained by cultural dichotomies Fijians construct between the sea – the land, and chiefs – ‘commoners’, which masi combines within (see Figure 3). This dichotomy is based on the belief that the ancestors came from the sea in a canoe known as the Kaunitoni as described by France (1966) and Geraghty (1993). After arrival, sons of the leader, Lutunasoba, spread over the land, married, had children and built chiefdoms. Consequently, Sahlins (1981) describes the ancestors who came to Fiji by canoe as ‘stranger gods’. ¹⁵ These gods are associated with the sea they came from, and its products, whereas, the ‘commoners’, the indigenous population, are associated with the land.

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Figure 3.

Masi is the vanua.

Based on these dichotomies, Hocart (1952: 57) argues that all things in Fijian culture – people, chiefs, kinship relations, food etc. – come in pairs. Furthermore, all these elements can be ordered into the category of either sea or land.

Toren (1994: 209–211) builds upon this concept by suggesting that if all things go in pairs, as Hocart (1952) describes, a totality consists of a pair of pairs. This means that the ‘totality’ of Fijian society is structured by four elements that constitute the dichotomies: land – sea and ‘commoner’ – chief. People relate to one another as ‘land’ or ‘sea’ and consequently ‘commoner’ (land) or ‘chief’ (sea). However, as Sahlins (1976: 37) ¹⁶ indicates and Toren (1990: 87) ¹⁷ discusses in more detail, the relationship between these categories is dialectical and founded on principles of balanced reciprocity in order to operate effectively and thereby sustain what is referred to as the vanua. Ryle (2010: xxxix) describes vanua as

both land and sea, the soil, plants, trees, rocks, rivers, reefs, the birds, beasts, fish, gods and spirits that inhabit these places and the people who belong there, bound to one another and to the land as guardians of this God-given world. Vanua is a relational concept that encompasses all this, path of relationship, nurture and mutual obligations connecting place and people with the past, the present and the future.

Masi embodies all the elements that constitute and sustain the vanua. For one, it is a product of the land, and therefore considered a materialized blessing of the gods. After the bark is stripped of the tree and beaten into a cloth by adding seawater – which can be described as a ‘road’ (Arno, 1971: 23) and ‘pathway’ to the ancestor gods (Hau’ofa, 1998: 404, 409) – by women who have the reproductive powers of Fijian society, masi becomes a container of the powers of the god(s). ¹⁸

Thus, based on the finding that masi embodies all the four elements that constitute and sustain the vanua (see Figure 3) it is argued here masi is the vanua. The association of masi with the vanua can be illustrated further in the work of Hocart (1952) who writes that chiefs are not only in charge of the vanua, but identified with it and referred to as masi (‘cloths’). After investiture, chiefs, like masi, are the vanua: the sacred spot where the founder god came up and Fijians relate themselves to when referring to their vanua (pp. 17–18). As cloth of the vanua, masi has the ability to contain within and therefore be a point of access to the powers of the gods. Moreover, as a container for the powers of the gods, masi is interpreted below as a house for these powers.

Masi: A house

The association of masi with a house is evidenced in a description taken from the work of Buell Quain (1948: 236). While in Fiji for anthropological research in the mid 1930s, he was presented with a ‘sacred’ war club wrapped in masi by a Fijian man who described the cloth as the ‘house’ of his ancestor. The association of masi with a house is significant and indicative of the fact that houses are not just physical structures, but as Carsten and Hugh-Jones (1995: 46) write: ‘Houses and people are connected. On the one hand, people and groups are objectified in buildings; on the other hand, houses as buildings are personified and animated in thought and in life.’ Carsten and Hugh-Jones argue for a more holistic focus on the house to get a thorough understanding of its role within society. They advocate an analysis of the house that combines both Lévi-Strauss’s (1987) analysis of the house as indicator of specific forms of social organization in combination with an analysis of the architectural aspects of the physical structure that are expressive of the conceptions of personhood and cosmology of the people living in them. ¹⁹

Sahlins (1976: 36) writes, the house in Fiji can be conceived as a ‘model of society’ and a ‘model for society’ (Geertz, 1973: 93). ²⁰ This starts with the organization of the collective building of Fijians houses which corresponds to the dual structure Fijian society is founded on (land–sea, commoner–chief, female–male, low–high) as described by Sahlins (1976: 32) and Roth (1954). In addition to this, Fijian houses used to be built on ancestral house platforms (yavu). ²¹ Influenced by Bourdieu (1977: 89), this article interprets these yavu as a ‘locus of generative schemes’. Yavu relate the inhabitants to their ancestors who used to be buried in them and are considered places where their spirits dwell and watch over their living kin. Each new house that is built on a particular yavu bears the name of that yavu. This name may not be changed and belongs to the senior line of a clan or lineage. Moreover, the Fijian term for clan is yavusa and it is during ceremonial speeches that the name of the yavu is pronounced instead of a person’s given name.

Like masi, both Sahlins (1976) and Toren (1990: 29–49) illustrate the orientation of the houses on these yavu, in combination with the architectural structure and the spatial division of the interior, embodying the dual structure on which Fijian society is founded. As Toren (1990: 32) illustrates: a typical Fijian house has four doors symmetrically placed in the centre of each side. Each house has a high end (private) and a low end (public), a sea side and a land side. The common entrance of each house is at the lower side and always faces the high end of the other house. In addition to this, the land side of houses always faces the sea side of other houses. Influenced by Sahlins (1976: 34), Toren writes this placement indicates the principle of balanced reciprocity Fijian society is characterised by. Each house ‘faces one another’ (veiqaravi) and therefore attends on one another in the same way as commoners attend their chief whose house is built in the centre of the village on the highest yavu next to the church looking out over the ceremonial ground. ²²

Based on the previous analysis of the house as a model of and for Fijian society, the following structural analysis of the overall design of the important gatu taunamu ni viti substantiates my interpretation of masi as a house further. The gatu taunamu ni viti is a type of masi that is hung in the house on formal occasions to form a ‘screen/partition’, or protective barrier against outside influences. The name gatu taunamu ni viti literally means ‘Fijian mosquito net’, because it is said people would sleep within such a masi similar to the way a mosquito net is used at present. Hooper (1995) writes that a gatu taunamu ni viti, hung in the house for a wedding ceremony, functions like a ‘tent’ for the bridal couple during their wedding night. A photograph by Hocart (see Figure 4) illustrates what such a ‘tent’ might have looked like in the early 1900s. One can see that the top is open, which makes one wonder if the term ‘mosquito net’ is misleading. Hung in this manner it is not a good protection against mosquitos, and considering the warm climate of Fiji, very hot to sleep within. ²³ Therefore, instead of what its current Fijian name implies, the function of this masi is interpreted as that of a protective ‘house’, instead of a mosquito net. ²⁴ The potent cloth material protects the people sleeping within from harmful outside influences such as witchcraft or spirits of the dead with malicious intentions until the marriage is consummated by neutralizing these when they come in touch with the masi.

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Figure 4.

Nuptial couch, Lakeba, Fiji. Hocart, Arthur Maurice, 1883–1939: Photographs of Solomon Islands, Rotuma and Fiji. Ref: PAColl-1914-102, item link:  http://natlib.govt.nz/records/23196994.Courtesy of the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. The masi functions as a ‘tent’ or ‘house’ for the bridal couple to sleep within. (See colour version of this figure online).

The following analysis of the names of the different areas of the gatu taunamu ni viti, as recorded in Southern Lau (2003/2004) (see Figure 5), ²⁵ illustrates the association with a ‘house’ in more detail. Hooper (1995) has related a transverse space on the gatu taunamu ni viti, called the doka, with the ridgepole of a Fijian house that bears the same name. However, he writes that upon further enquiry it was found that people did not make the same association. Nevertheless this was not the case when I showed several Fijian women the schematic structure of the most widely used design of the gatu taunamu ni viti as it is produced in Lau and depicted in Figure 5. These women said the various spaces, in combination with their names, are representative of the simplified structure of a typical traditional Fijian house.

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Figure 5.

Structural design and example of a gatu taunamu ni viti from Moce recorded by Kooijman (1977: 91–92). The tasina area hangs at the back and is therefore not visible; it is generally similar in length as the front. For clarity of the figure, it has been depicted smaller in this example. (See colour version of this figure online).

In addition to the design of the gatu taunamu ni viti, this article poses that the type of barkcloth called gatu vakatoga also bears an association with elements of a house. This type of masi can be made hundreds of meters long and consists of panels that are called lalaga (see Figure 6). The term lalaga is also a term that is used in Fiji to describe the walls of houses (lalaga ni vale). Consequently, when the gatu vakatoga is interpreted as a cloth that consists of walls one can understand its use, amongst other things, to create protective partitions in houses behind which the body of a deceased person lays in state while visitors sit in front. Or, its misconceived use as a mosquito net for people to sleep within, such as newlyweds to consume their marriage. Consequently, I argue that when people refer to masi as a house, as described by Quain (1948: 236), they do not simply refer to a house linguistically. Masi is a house for the powers of their god(s). Both the analysis of the design structure of the gatu taunamu ni viti and the gatu vakatoga substantiate this by indicating a metonymic, instead of metaphorical relation between masi and a house.

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Figure 6.

Women are painting motifs on a gatu vakatoga by hand on Moce Island, 2004. Note the numbers along the left-hand side which indicate the number of lalaga (panels) the cloth consists of. (See colour version of this figure online).

When masi is considered a house that can provide protection for people and sacred objects, its use in other contexts can be interpreted, such as burial. Masi, as wrapping material, is used to literally create a protective house for chiefs who have died. A house structure, or temple, is built on top of their grave with masi wrapped around, or attached to it. Both the temple and the masi accentuate their sacred status. However, the masi in particular is able to contain their powers within, and protect the deceased from harmful outside influences, such as sorcery, by capturing and neutralizing these. This is of specific importance when it is thought that the death is caused by witchcraft, which, in Fiji, most deaths are believed to be.

In Waterhouse (1997[1866]: 203) there is a description of such a burial site taken from a letter written by Reverend William Moore (1855): ‘Their chief [Ratu Qara] is buried in the best new temple [bure kalou], which has just been built.’ ²⁶ A reproduction of an etching depicting this grave shows a bure kalou that is possibly wrapped in lengths of barkcloth. ²⁷ After the adoption of Christianity, and the abolition of such ‘temples’, more simplified versions were created to continue to protect the body and the mana of the chief from harm. The grave of the Tui Moala (1909–1914?) (see Figure 7) is a good example of such a stylized structure. It consists of a raised grave tomb with four poles at each corner that support a sheet of masi, which hangs above the grave. These ‘temples’ continue to be placed on top of the graves of high chiefs, such as that of the late Paramount chief of Cakaudrove, Tui Cakau, Ratu Penaia Ganilau in 1993, and the paramount chief of Rewa, Adi Ro Lady Lala Mara, Roko Tui Dreketi in 2004. A house structure, doka lili, a hanging roof, was erected on top of her grave with a train of masi hanging from its top, or the doka (ridge pole) of the temple structure it represents.

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Figure 7.

Chief’s tomb, Moala, Fiji. Hocart, Arthur Maurice, 1883–1939: Photographs of Solomon Islands,

However, research in Fiji in 2003/2004 and 2012 indicated protective house structures are increasingly erected on top of graves of commoners, such as can be seen in Figure 8. These house structures are renewed at special commemorative dates, such as the uplifting of 100 nights of mourning, or when relatives from overseas visit the grave for the first time. In between these periods they are left to wither. In addition, nowadays, when someone has died in Suva the body will stay in the hospital till the burial day. However, the walls of the main living room are entirely covered with masi and mats are laid out on the floor (see Figure 9). A picture of the deceased is often put at the ‘top’ of the room on top of mats and masi that have been gifted by close female relatives. As women explained to me in Suva (2012), it is by covering the walls with masi and laying out all the mats and masi on the floor that a special protective house is created for the person who has died. Close elder female relatives of the deceased person stay in the room day and night till the burial as a means to vakamenemene (nurture) the deceased.

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Figure 8.

A house structure created on top of a grave. Note the plastic over the masi to protect it from the rain and the cuts made in the masi to prevent people from stealing it (Suva, 2012). © Photograph: Jara Hulkenberg. (See colour version of this figure online).

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Figure 9.

Room with walls covered in masi to create a house for the deceased in Lagere, Suva, 2012. © Photograph: Jara Hulkenberg. (See colour version of this figure online).

Interpreted as a house which contains potent qualities that can provide strength and protection, masi continues to be used most frequently as ceremonial attire during rites of passage, such as the first birthday of the firstborn and marriage. These masi associate the wearer with his or her ancestors, their god(s) and provide access to their powers, like sala (paths), founded on kinship relations along which reciprocal exchange takes place of goods and services. For example, the type of masi that was tied around the arms of the paramount chief of Lau during his installation is of the type masi i sala. This masi functions as a ‘pathway’ (sala) for the gods to give strength to their kinsman who is destined to become their temporary embodiment. The turban, called salasina, the paramount chief is provided with on the day of the installation is a pathway for the gods to give, and for him, to access the ‘sau’ (ability to exercise the spiritual power of the ancestor god(s)).

As cloth of the vanua and house for the powers of the ancestral gods, the presence of masi in general signals and constitutes the omnipresence of the gods. Due to these abilities masi also serves to demarcate sacred areas as a signal to Fijians that they are in the presence of a god and need to show due respect. As Quain (1948: 165) describes: ‘During the carving [of poles for the house of a chief] a barkcloth is tied near the log’s shelter as a warning that the place is sacred.’ If people fail to show due respect they may anger the god(s) who can then cause misfortune. A contemporary example of the use of masi as indicator of a sacred area or person is prominent when it is used to demarcate an area where a chief may sit, pathway for chiefs and its use in chiefly houses. The richly decorated house of the late paramount chief of Lau on Nayau Island is a good example (see Figure 10). Commoners, though less extravagant, use masi in a similar manner as wall-hangings in their home, which has been wrongly described as decoration in existing literature. ²⁸ The masi may be decorative, but more importantly, the material and visual qualities of the masi, such as its motifs, associate the members of the household with their vanua and protect them from harmful outside influences.

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Figure 10.

The elaborately decorated interior of the vale levu of the Tui Nayau on Nayau Island, Narocivo village, 2004. © Photograph: Jara Hulkenberg. (See colour version of this figure online).