- 87

THIS paper has two aims. One is to give a contribution to Polynesian ethnography. Anuta (Cherry Island) is one of the least-known islands of the Western Pacific. It is remote, small and rarely visited, and as far as I know no scientific account of the culture of its people has hitherto been published. 2 It is of interest therefore to set out the main principles of Anuta social structure, and by suggesting comparison with those of Tikopia, which I have already analysed 3, to give another variant of Western Polynesian structure. The second aim, more general, is to examine the nature of the social relations between Anuta and Tikopia. In the search for the - 88 factors which determine or condition the various kinds of social behaviour it is important to get examples from as wide a comparative range as possible. Here, with these two tiny islands, remote and far apart across the ocean, is a case where communications might be expected to be at a minimum. It is of interest that their inhabitants should have any social relations at all. What the nature of these relations are, it is difficult to envisage in advance of observation. They could be hostile, peaceful, or on careful guard; they could be friendly, intimate and eagerly sought, or diplomatically “correct” but of no great interest to either group. They might vary from simple trade to inter-marriage or to attributions of responsibility for sorcery. To examine the quality of these social relations and to try to indicate their immediate determinants may give then some indication of primary human interests among small-scale groups in conditions relatively unfamiliar to us.

In the present case, the two societies may be described as being in a symbiotic relationship. The term social symbiosis has been used, as by S. F. Nadel 4, to describe the conjoint life of two societies each of which benefits the other. There are many possible forms and intensities of such condition, and the particular variety represented by the relations between Anuta and Tikopia will be described more precisely later. An element in the symbiotic condition is the quality of the social image each society has of the other. It is well known that the conceptions people form of the members of a society other than their own, and of the society as a collectivity, are apt to be distorted, and it is assumed that this distortion tends to reflect their own major interests. Either they exaggerate contrasts or they select only those features which relate to their own status or economic strivings. In particular, they set up “stereotypes”, images with an emotional charge, often with moral content, which sometimes idealise but more often denigrate the character and the position of the other folk. But apart from such distorted social images, culminating maybe in stereotype formation, there are also more empirically based notions relating to cultural behaviour, and fairly closely integrated with a flow of events in which - 89 members of both societies are concerned. It is with such notions and events that I am primarily concerned here.

In examining this social symbiosis it is convenient to start from the standpoint of Tikopia, since this was my own beginning.

The people of Tikopia rely upon the people of Anuta as a haven from exposure at sea; a source of certain types of wealth; a non-local field of kinship. The quality of their relations in these respects depends largely on: (a) the frequency of communication between the two communities; (b) their relative demographic condition; (c) similarities and differences in their social structure and culture; and (d) differences in their resources. It is manifested particularly in the degree of what may be termed social participation by members of each community in the other in such matters as residence, intermarriage, and ceremonial. Let us take each of these elements in turn.

(a) Communication:

Anuta is a very small island, about half a mile across, roughly semi-circular, and rising to a height of a little over 200 ft. in a central hill. It is extremely isolated, lying about 70 miles north-east of Tikopia (the Southern Cross log gives the distance as 82 miles), and being even more out of the track of vessels travelling through the Western Pacific. There is no good anchorage, and no landing place for an aeroplane. In a gale, it affords hardly any shelter for a craft of any size. Many Tikopia have visited it, some in native canoes, most nowadays on the yacht Southern Cross of the Melanesian Mission or on a Government vessel. In a European craft it is reckoned as a night's run from Tikopia, and in Tikopia seamanship it is much the same. In either case the object is to sight Anuta with plenty of daylight left. Not only is the angle subtended from Tikopia by the whole length of Anuta extremely small, but if one does get even slightly off course the island is so low that there is a good chance of missing it altogether. This is especially so if, as occasionally happens, mist or cloud obscures the hill. Hence to the Tikopia, the notion of a voyage to Anuta implies a certain amount of anxiety, slight when the trip is being made in a European vessel, but considerable when a native canoe is being used. It is not for nothing that by the Tikopia sea-experts of old

- 90 - 91

Anuta was termed figuratively Te Fatu Sekeseke—the Slippery Stone—since it is such a small spot in the ocean to be found, and so easily slid away from. It is known to the Tikopia by an alternative descriptive name, Nukumairunga, Locality in the North. Conversely, Tikopia is known to the people of Anuta as Nukumairaro, Locality to the South.

To make a safe landfall, the Tikopia, if sailing in their own canoes, adopt certain regular procedures which not only facilitate their technical success, but also may tend to reduce their anxiety. They set out at the end of the day in order to run through the night and, as mentioned, maximise their chances of landfall by daylight. They carefully choose a favourable wind. The best wind for Anuta, the Ariki Kafika told me, is the Sukasao, from the south-east. With this wind the canoe is steered straight on its path, and there is no need to set the bow off to make allowance for drift. The craft is also set carefully in the required direction by using marks of orientation on Tikopia. On the northern side of the island is a beach named “Mataki Anuta”, “Looking on Anuta”, i.e., facing in that direction. At the back of this beach a gulley runs up the mountain side; this is known as “Te Rua i Soso”. “The Hollow from Soso” (this last being a taro plantation above). When setting out for Anuta the crew turn the stern of their canoe to this gulley and keep it in sight as long as they can. But the major navigational guide is the Star-path, the “Carrier” (Kavenga). This is a succession of stars towards which the bow of the canoe is pointed. Each is used as a guide when it is low in the heaven; as it rises up overhead it is discarded and the course is reset by the next one in the series. One after another these stars rise till dawn, and at some times of the year a few still remain to rise when dawn breaks. It is to have the advantage of the Star-path, above all, that the voyage to Anuta is made at night. Each star is named, and according to the Ariki Kafika, the Star-path to Anuta has nine stars in all 5.

These procedures have a reasonable prospect of success if the wind does not suddenly change, or in particular, the sky does not become overcast so that the stars can no longer be seen. If the latter happens, then there is dismay. “People of - 92 this land go simply by the stars; if the stars are lacking, if the sky is covered over, the hearts of the sea experts become dark, they don't know what to do, they do not know where the land may be, because the Carriers are lacking, the assurers of the land”. These words descriptive of the voyagers' plight are from an account in 1928 by the Ariki Kafika which began with talk about stars in general; and from there he was led of his own volition to discuss the Anuta voyage and its dangers. But to cope with the perils of sea-travel there are ritual as well as technical procedures—appeals to the sailing gods and the spirits of the sea. In 1952 the Ariki Kafika was led from a talk on Anuta and its gods to describe a mist-dispersing ritual. “When mist spreads over Anuta, it covers, covers the crown of the hill, and then creeps down until it strikes the ocean. The sea-experts gaze at it, and cannot find the land. The Atua i Anuta is angry—he doesn't want the fleet to arrive at his land. But if the gods of this land are strong, they sweep the mist aside and reveal the land standing there, and the canoes go on. When the fleet sees the mist, they collect together and stop; not a canoe may go aside. They appeal to the gods, that the mist may clear. They draw together and don't move, to allow the sky to clear, that we may not be bewildered by the gods. To see if they have pity upon us, that the sky may be clear. Thereupon the gods of this land crawl to the gods of the Anuta people, that their men may be brought safely to shore. That is the expression, the fleet assemble together to set out maro. Each canoe unfolds its own maro (strip of bark-cloth), be it four or five canoes, until all have unfolded maro (as offerings to the gods). There is a dance song about it:

Hence the voyage to Anuta, with its dangers, is one of the conditioning factors in the Tikopia religious system.

Precise historical information about the degree of communication of Tikopia with Anuta cannot be given. But traditonal accounts tell of the beginnings of contact about twelve generations ago (see later), by Pu Lasi, Ariki Taumako. Since then according to tales which are commonly agreed upon, there have been frequent voyages to Anuta and back by Tikopia, and some Anuta people, mainly women, have settled in Tikopia 6. In my collection of general data on Tikopia I have noted references to more than 20 voyages to or from Anuta in native canoes.

A few examples of these contacts may be mentioned. About the middle of the 19th century, according to report, the great-great-grandfather of the Ariki Tafua used to go to Anuta to visit his kinsfolk there. Some time before 1900, two canoes came from Anuta to Tikopia, one of them containing the Ariki i Muri, by name Ariki-memea (grandfather of the present chief). On the return voyage, one of the visitors a woman named Metekere, went in a canoe of the Tikopia Fangarere clan. A storm sprang up, the fleet was scattered, and the Fangarere canoe returned to Tikopia. There the woman settled, married and as Nau Maneru, with married sons, was known to me in 1928. In 1922 a canoe with a canoe of three men went from Namo in Tikopia to Anuta. In 1924 a canoe from Anuta with a crew of five young men came to Tikopia—the name of the canoe was Te Aravave, of Tungatau paito. The vessel was not seaworthy enough for the return voyage, and was left in Tikopia, a part of its hull forming a side wall of the Tafua house Mukava. The young men were taken back in the mission vessel Southern Cross.

- 94

Some time after 1929 a canoe from Tikopia, from the Rangipaea house, went with three men to Anuta; they landed, and returned in due course on the Southern Cross. In the time of the war four young men left Tikopia in a canoe and arrived at Anuta. They set out on their return also by canoe, and had got so far as to see the crest of Reani, the Tikopia peak, when they were blocked by a contrary wind, and had to run before it, finally landing in the Reef islands, over 100 miles away. Thence they were brought back (they said) by the American vessel Echo. Another attempt to reach Anuta from Tikopia was made by a single man, Vakairakau, who went out alone in a high wind. He could not handle his small canoe except by swimming with it—the Tikopia are like seals in the water—and he was eight nights at sea in all, with no food and no water, before he ultimately landed on Fatutaka (Mitre Island). He was rescued by men of Anuta. In another voyage, three young men went off to Anuta but fetched up on Fatutaka. One of them, Kupengakitanafe, swam to Anuta from there—a distance of 25 miles—with a pole as aid, to get help. When he landed he found another Tikopia man there, who had gone there with a party of Tikopia on H.M. Sloop Veronica, and who had missed the boat home. Together they organized a rescue party of Anuta men and brought the others over. They returned to Tikopia in an Anuta canoe (of Pa Tavarei), which is now laid up at the house of Pa Niukaso.

From this it can be seen how such intermittent traffic by canoe helps to maintain social relations between Tikopia and Anuta.

Apart from this, Tikopia make every effort to visit Anuta by any European vessel that goes there. In 1952 the competition was so keen that a quota system had to be imposed, and much bad feeling was generated by the exclusions that had to be enforced (see later). One of the reasons for this eagerness was the wish to get coconuts, since the hurricane at Tikopia had stripped the palms entirely.

The relative frequency of Tikopia contacts with Anuta is in marked contrast with the almost total absence of contact with Rennell and Bellona (Mukava), about 400 miles to the west, though they are known, and their people recognized as - 95 being of analogous culture 7. It is in contrast also with their relations with Vanikoro to the north-west, and the Banks islands to the south, both about 100 miles away. Here there has been much voyaging, but little social penetration, presumably owing to the considerable differences in culture, and in social structure.

Contact with Anuta is inhibited by difficulty of access to the shore, even after a vessel has arrived. There is a narrow fringing reef surrounding the island, with a surf nearly always breaking upon it, even in relatively calm weather. Through the reef, on the south-west side of the island, are two narrow channels, known as Te Ava Rai, the Large Channel, and Te Ava Ti, the Small Channel; the latter is somewhat nearer the settlements. Both channels are mere fissures in the coral rock, not much more than the width of a ship's boat, and dangerous, often impossible, to traverse in rough weather. Not infrequently such ships as do call at Anuta have to leave without being able to land passengers or goods. Even in good weather one risks a ducking as one shoots the passage by boat or canoe and scrambles up the steep beach. This mode of access, of the same type as at Tikopia, but much more difficult, reinforces the Tikopia classification of Anuta as a community like their own. At the same time it helps to maintain their notion of the society as relatively aloof, withdrawn.

(b) Demography:

Before examining the social structure of Anuta, the demographic position must be examined. In general terms, the population of Anuta is rather less than one-twelfth of that of Tikopia. In 1929, when the population of Tikopia was approximately 1,300, that of Anuta, by a report of a Tikopia mission teacher to me, was 108. In 1944, when the population of Tikopia, by enumeration by the District Commissioner, Eastern Solomons, was 1517, that of Anuta by similar enumeration was 133 (73 males, 60 females) 8 I took no census of Anuta in 1952, for lack of time, but would - 96 judge that the general proportion was of the same order.

It is significant that despite this demographic discrepancy, the Tikopia do not treat the people of Anuta as socially or politically inferior, as poor relations. They are spoken of as members of an autonomous society (with a reservation to be mentioned later), and social and economic contacts with them are on a level of equality.

(c) Social Structure and Culture:

The settlement pattern of Anuta is very similar to that of Tikopia—major dwellings relatively dispersed along by the strand, with some minor dwellings for occasional habitation in orchards inland. The major dwellings are arranged in irregular straggling order on the south-east side of the island, in two named villages, one with several sections, but no very clear demarcation between any of them. One village, nearer the landing beach, is called Vatiana (Vaisana in Tikopia speech); the other is called Lotoapi (Rotoapi in Tikopia). A rough sketch plan of the layout is given in the sketch map.

The kinship structure of Anuta has a close analogy with that of Tikopia. The basic descent group, termed paito as in Tikopia, is a named unit of patrilineage type, though it is very small in numbers as a rule. An aggregation of paito, not all connected by tie of common descent, is the kainanga, a term translated by me in Tikopia as clan. But whereas in

Married males	20	Widowed males	5
Married females	20	Widowed females	2
	40		7
Single males	35	Children, male	13
Single females	33	Children, female	5
	68		18
	Totals, male	73
	female	60
	Grand total	133

By “children” is meant only young children; others were included in single males and females.

- 97

Tikopia there are four kainanga, each with a personal name, in Anuta there are only two kainanga. They are named by seniority reference, as te kainanga i mua and te kainanga i muri, the “Clan in front” and the “Clan in Rear.” As in Tikopia, both paito and kainanga are structurally non-exogamous, though ordinary incest rules obtain.

In 1952 I was told by some knowledgeable Tikopia that there used to be four kainanga in Anuta:

in that order of precedence. It was said that Pa Raroakau, a man of influence, was the head of Ta Pangatau; the fourth kainanga was said to have been lost. I did not pursue this topic very far, but I could find no evidence that there was recognition of Pangatau and Rotomua as being of the same general status as the other two. They have no ariki and were not mentioned by any Anuta men as kainanga. On the other hand, they were included in 1928 in a list of paito given me by a Tikopia, Pa Niukaso, who had lived on Anuta for many years and was married to an Anuta wife. According to him, Pangatau was a member of the kainanga i muri, and Rotomua of the kainanga i mua. Moreover, I was also told in 1928 by a Tikopia who had also lived in Anuta that Pangatau was the maru (executive official) of an Ariki. The “disappearance” of Rotomua in modern times is explicable by the fact that in 1952 its modern representative was an unmarried woman. Hence I concluded that these two units were in fact simply leading lineages.

Anuta society has the same system of personal names as does Tikopia. Names for the unmarried are drawn from all sorts of incidents or objects, and are not highly stylized. Those for married people, however, are a definite feature of the social structure. Each dwelling bears a proper name, applied basically to the site, and such proper name is commonly, though not inevitably, borne by a married couple, the husband being a member of the paito owning the land on which the house stands. As in Tikopia the husband is termed Pa … and his wife Nau …, these terms corresponding to the English Mr. and Mrs. However, in 1952, only about - 98 one-quarter of the dwellings were occupied by married couples with the same name as the dwelling; in the rest different domestic names had been assumed—or the dwelling was inhabited by unmarried people. (See list accompanying sketch plan.)

In 1928 the list of paito given was as follows:

A. Kainanga i mua:	B. Kainanga i muri:
Farikitonga	Fareumata
Nukutaua	Fangatau
Maravai	Nukuamatangi
Raropuko	Tungaforau
Faremanongi	Taraoro
Tavarei	Tepuko
Rangitavaki	Tukutaunga
Rotomua	Tungatau
Tatapunga	Nevaneva
Niuausi	Nukumarere
Aforanga	Matarere
Taitai	Sukufanga
	Rangiora
	Raroakau
	Rangiriki
	Takaraua

Of these 28 paito, approximately one-half bore names identical with domestic names in Tikopia. This is symptomatic of the close connection between the two societies, though it is not the case that every Anuta paito is regarded as of the same stock as, or immediately affiliated with, its Tikopia namesake. The paito system is congruent with, but not identical with that of Tikopia. The relationship is expressed in the usage of tauranga, whereby Tikopia regard themselves and are regarded as having a specific connection with one or more Anuta paito with which they have ancestral kinship or bonds of friendship 9

Consideration of the paito names of Anuta, with particular reference to differences in the material after the lapse of a generation, brings up two points about the social structure. The first is the fluctuation in these names. Comparison between 1928 and 1952 indicates that only 16 of the 28 paito names from 1928 were in use in 1952. The reason for this is partly personal choice, but partly a more stringent paternal name avoidance than in Tikopia. As the Ariki - 99 Kafika expressed it: “In Anuta, when a man dies and his son is alive, he (the latter) is called by the paito name of his grandfather and not by the paito name of his father; it is bad (if he should be). In Tikopia here, if he is called by the name of the father, then he may be, but if he is called by the name of the grandfather, he can be so called; it is good. In Anuta, it is taboo; one isn't called by the father's name; it's good to be called by the grandfather's name.” The Anuta avoidance is also expressed in non-verbal behaviour, such as greater care than in Tikopia to shun personal contact, as in bathing, etc.

The second point is that the lineage structure of the paito in Anuta appears as much less clear-cut and formal than in Tikopia. The paito as named are in fact much more domestic units of the patrilineal extended family order. although the ties among them are such that they can unite into larger units for ceremonial purposes. But the units which correspond more closely to the Tikopia lineages, the paito of wider span there, are the Anuta kainanga. In fact it is hardly an exaggeration to say that the Anuta kainanga and paito, instead of being translated as clan and lineage respectively, as their Tikopia homophonic units can, should be termed lineage and extended family. This difference in structure would appear to be a direct reflection of the demographic difference in the two communities.

The structure of Anuta kinship terminology is similar to that of Tikopia. A few kinship terms, however, are variant. The following is a list of the major terms, compared with those of Tikopia:

Anuta	Tikopia	English
Tamai	Tamana	Father
Pae	Nana	Mother
Tama	Tama	Child
Pota	Fosa	Child
Tuatina	Tuatina	Mother's Brother
Iramutu	Iramutu	Sister's Child
Makitanga	Masikitanga	Father's Sister
Taina	Taina	Sibling (same sex)
Kave	Kave	Sibling (opposite sex)
Ma	Ma	Brother-in-law (reference)
Tauma	Tangata	Brother-in-law (address)
Tupuna	Puna	Grandparent
Mokopuna	Makopuna	Grandchild

- 100

(It may be noted that the Anuta term for mother is equivalent to the Maori whae.)

The political structure of Anuta is also similar to that of Tikopia. Each of the two kainanga is headed by a chief, te ariki, whose ritual powers formerly, and whose social controls now, are of considerable importance in the sphere of public order. As with the kainanga, the terms are Ariki i Mua and Ariki i Muri, Chief in Front and Chief in Rear, the former being senior, by descent and in social affairs. According to my Anuta informant Tomotu, the senior ariki is known as Ti Anuta (a term I heard in use on the island); the junior is known in formal parlance as Tui Kainanga. In 1928 I was told that the paito ariki i mua—“the Chiefly House in Front”—was that of Farikitonga, and that in Rear was Fareumata. In 1952 while the House in Rear was the same, that “in Front” was Teukumarae. This does not represent any shift in authority, but a normal process of shift in house names. The former Pa Farikitonga (Parikitonga in Anuta speech) was of the paito of Teukumarae, and simply bore a different house-name. The Ariki i Mua was in 1928 as in 1952 called Pa Teukumarae (Tomotu referred to him once as Pa Teuku) in domestic terms. On Anuta, as in Tikopia, an ariki is treated with great ceremony. I received from Tomotu an account of funeral rites for an ariki of which I give a summary for comparison with Tikopia practice 10.

When an Anuta ariki dies, a sacred dance (makomako tapu) is performed near the shore. At this dance, which is never performed for ordinary folk, songs are chanted, of the elliptically descriptive type similar to the sacred songs of Tikopia. These songs have been described as having been brought from Tonga, with their ancient meaning practically lost. It does seem that they cannot be adequately translated by people nowadays. But references in them to such personalities as Ratu, Kaurave, Pu Akiti suggests that they rather refer to ancient traditional incidents in Anuta life. (See later. Since most of the phraseology is obscure I do not give them here.) The body of the chief is then taken to the grave dug for it. Two coconut fronds are broken off and four people to each sit down and plait small baskets. These are filled with sand and brought to the grave, the carrier of the - 101 first being a woman, of the next a man, and so on. Another song is then chanted for the burial. Four of the baskets of sand are tipped into the grave, the body of the chief is laid on top, and the other four baskets are poured over the body. The grave is then filled in. The burial is done by the tuatina of the dead man, and his sister's children may also assist. On the day of death, also, the patrilineal kin of the chief present mats, bark-cloth, bonito hooks, etc., to the matrilineal kin, the sister's children and other kin, and these gifts are reciprocated. After this, people take clubs and a sham fight ensues, with punching and wrestling—an obvious ritual cathartic.

When the corpse has been buried the members of the burial party—a to tapu—the “sacred planters”—go and sit on the border of the grave. They are decorated with turmeric and sit there—presumably with intervals for rest—for five days. (If it rains they come into the house, and then go out again when the rain has cleared off). Cooked food (vai) is brought in each day by people outside the immediate kin circle, and the mourners are fed, by hand. On each day, also the putu offering of raw food is stood on the grave. After the fifth day this is divided into shares—a painga—for the different types of kin, by one of the cooks. No reciprocal gift is made for this.

The fifth day after the burial is the penu pariki—the “rubbish of the funeral.” The floor is swept clean, coconuts are brought in, and libations poured from them to gods and ancestors, as in a kava rite, both in the morning and the evening. In contrast to Tikopia practice, no gift exchanges take place then. Then the women of the household begin to plait pandanus mats, and the men to plait coconut sinnet cord, as preparation for the puanga, which takes place after several months. The first day of these ceremonies is marked by formal wailing, and by a kava rite in the evening. On the second day food is brought from the orchards, and various of the kin arrange who is to be responsible for the punefu and other food shares. As in Tikopia, the pakaariki, the special share for the chief of the clan, is provided, as a mark of respect for him and his deified ancestors. The new chief attends the ceremonies, and is decorated with turmeric. The pakaariki is given to him, with valued property, while the punefu is apportioned among the mourners who have sat - 102 outside by the edge of the grave. The food is not reciprocated (tongoi), in contrast to the Tikopia custom. This is the completion of the obsequies.

The political and especially the ritual functions of the chiefs in Anuta involve attention to their genealogies, which not only supply the validation of their status, but also serve as points of ritual appeal through the deification of ancestors. The Anuta genealogies present some of the same obscurity with regard to autocthonous origins (afu kere) as do those of Tikopia. The tale which explains the loss of autocthones depends in fact on Tikopia intervention (see later). There is general agreement that the ancestors of the present Anuta chiefs and people were mainly Tongans, about ten generations ago, who came in two canoes, led by Kaurave and Taupare. Kaurave became a chief, Taupare did not, though from him the line of chiefs sprang. The genealogy is as follows:

Note.—Chiefs in capital letters.

This genealogy shows the typical segmenting character of the process whereby the chief of junior social and ritual status is also by tradition of junior descent.

Like the Tikopia, the people of Anuta have as their nuclear religious rite the performance of what is termed te kava. But there is one significant difference. Despite its name, no kava is employed. The kava plant does not grow in Anuta, and the religious rite is performed without it 12. The procedure is for the ariki officiating to seat himself on a

- i - ii - iii

- iv Page is blank

- 103

floor mat (tapakau) and have another mat or section of mat (tengi) spread before him. He grasps its “tail” (sukusuku, the smaller end), bends over it, and recites the formula of invocation (taro) to the spirits. Bark-cloth is then spread out (fora) as offerings. The formula of the kava is of the same general style as in Tikopia, but uses different phraseology. Typical introductory phrases are:

This appeal, and others in similar strain, is repeated for the range of gods and deified ancestors invoked by the rite. According to Tomotu, the junior chief did not (in 1928) perform kava rites.

Identification of these gods and ancestors by the Tikopia is facilitated by the use made of them in Tikopia rites, and by the way in which several of them fit into the Tikopia cosmological scheme. I received information about them from the Ariki Kafika; the Ariki Taumako; the heir to the Ariki Tafua; a member of Ngatotiu lineage (which is regarded as having originated from Anuta) as well as from several other people.

The major god of Anuta, a tupua who was never a human being, is Fakarangaimoana. By one account he was a god whom the Tongans brought with them. By the Tikopia he is cited in the kava of Marae. He is not actually invoked in the kava there but a branch of the kava stem is wrenched off for him and carried over to be deposited by the stone dedicated to him 13. Another name for the same deity is Marangaimoana. According to the Ariki Kafika (in 1952) the name - 104 Fakarangaimoana is the honorific title (rau fakaariki) of the god in Tikopia, and his name in Anuta is Fita. I was not able to check this directly, but Pita was given as the name of an Anuta god by Tomotu. Three other gods, said to be children of Fakarangaimoana, are: Angaimarae, Takaparu and Tangaroa. The Ariki Kafika said that the eldest was Takaparu, te Atua i te Fakatiu—God of the Northwest; Angaimarae is the Atua i te Tuauru—God of the South, while Tangaroa in his special form of Tangaroatoto is the Atua i te Tonga—God of the Southeast. After their creation they went to their respective quarters and began to make thunder and lightning—in the usual fashion of weather controllers. Another god is Papauri, a male deity who is appealed to by the Anuta chief to allay hurricanes. Still another god is Te Kauponorangi.

But the supreme deity of Anuta, the atua lasi, is not a spirit by origin but a man, a deified ancestor, “a man who died.” This is Te Arakura, one of the early chiefs. Like the Atua i Kafika in Tikopia, with whom he was compared, he is a culture-hero.

The kava ritual was formerly carried out at sites out-of-doors, known as marae. Each of these marae had its own name, and was under the spirit control of atua. According to Tomotu, the marae were: Pare Ariki, Te Pae, Paito Karae, Tapuariki, and Marae 14. The most important marae seems to have been Pare Ariki (in Tikopia speech, Fare Ariki). In olden days, it is said, a house stood there, but it was abandoned and the site was treated as a temple. Nowadays, with the conversion of the Anuta to Christianity 15, the kava rites - 105 have been abandoned and Fare Ariki was overgrown in 1952 when I was there. I was also shown a spot at the base of a puka (Hernandia) tree between Mua and Muri, which was said to be a tapu place formerly, though not now. Its name was “Rua ariki” and it was the abode of one or two gods from Tonga.

Since the life of the Anuta people is so dependent on the sea, one expects their canoes to be linked with their religious ideas. The traditional canoe ritual of Anuta is similar to that of Tikopia, but much simpler. In 1929, I was told by Tomotu, when a canoe was built, there was the same distinction made between paopao, ordinary secular craft, and vaka tapu, sacred craft, as in Tikopia. There was no collective ritual of Taunga vaka, as in the Tikopia “Work of the Gods”, but the maro of mats was prepared for a sacred canoe, and set out, with the performance of kava rites, as in Tikopia. A list of some of the vaka tapu then in use, with the gods to whom they were severally dedicated, was given me as follows:

Canoe (vaka)	God (atua)
“Purotu”	(a) “Tinamanongi”—a name in oceanic context for the chief Tingirau.
	(b) “Rotoapini”—female deity (?cf Tikopia “Pinimata”) 16.
“Puinga”	“Kavatoto”—a deity who was never man.
“Tumomo”	“Tauwakatai”—an ancestor, brother of one of the chiefs.
“Te Aravave”	(a) “Te Aravave”—spirit of the chief.
	(b) “Taukite-fakatiu”—another atua of the same vessel, a foetal spirit of miscarriage.
“Patiaitu”	(a) “Patiaitu”—a deity who was never man.
	(b) “Tupuarua”—female deity (? analogous with the Tikopia “Ruanofine”)
“Meretaukitemana”	“Te Kuitapu”—god-name for the chief Te Arakura.
“Te Ataika”	(a) “Ongaimarae”—major deities, brothers.
	(b) “Takaparu”—son of Fakarangaimoana.
	(c) “Pita”—foetal spirit of miscarriage.

In other rituals, taro, breadfruit, and coconut are celebrated. But there is no elaborate cycle of rites akin to the - 106 Tikopia Work of the Gods. A special form of rite known as Paiinu ko nga atua—Feeding of the Spirits, was performed on the journey to Fatutaka to ensure a safe voyage. It is of interest to find that no particular allegations of witchcraft or sorcery are made by Tikopia against Anuta people; their relations are primarily on the empirical, social plane.

In the further cultural field, relationship between Tikopia and Anuta is facilitated by the many similarities between them. Houses are of similar style, save that in Anuta it is common to use tapakau, plaited coconut leaf mats of carpet type, for side walls, and even to some extent for roofing as well (Plate 1). This is due to the relative scarcity of sago and abundance of coconut palms. Canoes are of the same style as those of Tikopia, though often considerably larger (Plate 2). Paddles are similar, though again the large steering paddle is used by Anuta men, though no longer by Tikopia, and Anuta also makes and uses a canoe sail of pandanus mat type 17. The Anuta canoes are not kept in sheds, as are those of the Tikopia, but are carefully protected by plaited coconut screens (Plate 3). When I visited Anuta all the canoes were drawn up on shore, far from the channel; it was said that this was to prevent the young men from running away to sea in them. In ordinary domestic affairs, Anuta and Tikopia use the same kind of equipment, to similar effect. Headrests, coconut grating stools, food bowls, are all of the same type. Darts are also used for recreation, as in Tikopia. There is some differentiation in mats, however, the Anuta women being in particular skilled in the manufacture of the kie with decorated border. All ordinary working tools are the same, many now being of European manufacture 18.

Other cultural differences tend to emphasise the separate nature of the two communities. I was told that in an initiation rite in Anuta the basic physical act is not superincision as in Tikopia, but circumcision—the prepuce is cut completely - 107 round and thrown away. The operation is performed when the boy is well grown. He is taken to the woods by one of his mother's brothers and operated upon, while he shrieks with the pain. Then he is returned to the house and an oven is prepared to celebrate the event with a feast. I gathered, too, that it has been customary for a long while in Anuta for burials to take place outside the house, and not inside, as has been common in Tikopia. The reason for this was stated to be the fate that befell a former “Chief of the Front.” He went to Vanikoro and died there, and was buried outside a house. When his sons heard the news they broke down their dwelling. And because the dead chief had been buried thus, not a person in Anuta could be buried inside a house in future.

Stories told of one island by inhabitants of the other, even by those who have never visited their neighbour, build up the concept of separate social entity. The Ariki Kafika, who knew the sailing directions to reach Anuta but who had never been there, told me of two stones on the crest of Anuta, one named Tapukuru, the other, somewhat lower, named Rafenua. These, he said, represented the fakatupuanga of the people, their origins when the land was pulled up.

Names have also been adopted in Tikopia from Anuta Rangifana, a house in Nuku, is a name from Anuta which Pa Taneanu, a traveller there, announced to the owner, Pa Tafora.

But the most marked differentiating element of culture is the speech of the two island communities. Despite their close association they have definite dialectal differences, so that while their speech is mutually intelligible, it is at once evident from which community the speaker comes 19. Phonetically, the major difference is the Anuta p instead of the Tikopia f. Thus the Anuta say e pa, four, instead of e fa; pungona, son-in-law, instead of fongona, etc. Verbally, differences are heard in a number of common words, thus: Anuta kairo (no) for Tikopia siei; Anuta pare (house) for Tikopia paito; Anuta tamatii (child) for Tikopia tamariki; Anuta rerei (good) for Tikopia laui; Anuta kovi (bad) for Tikopia pariki; Anuta aru (go) for Tikopia poi; Anuta rerea mai (tell me) for Tikopia muna mai; Anuta maipe (sore) - 108 for Tikopia esu; Anuta e ita (objecting) for Tikopia e teke. These speech habits are fairly easily acquired, however, by a member of one community who has lived for some time in the other, and Tikopia are apt to be proud of their skill in imitating Anuta speech 20 In 1928 I was given a series of Anuta terms by Pa Niukaso, a Tikopia mission teacher who had lived for ten years on Anuta. When I appealed to his Anuta wife for confirmation (which she gave) Pa Niukaso was moved to expostulation on the grounds that he knew the dialect well; all this gave rise to much laughter at his expense by the crowd which was present. In 1952 I was again given samples of Anuta words differing from Tikopia. But I was told “Anuta speech follows the speech of this land (Tikopia) but the Tikopia are many in Anuta; there are reciprocal marriages.” The point here is that with the very great difference in population size, a few Tikopia can have relatively much greater influence in Anuta than a few Anuta in Tikopia. It is of interest that Anuta has managed to retain its dialect despite this.

(d) Differences in Resources:

Part of the reciprocal importance of Anuta and Tikopia lies in the opportunity each community offers to the other of supplementing its resources by trade. Anuta, with its heavy stands of coconut palm, is traditionally a source of sinnet cord, coconut water bottles, especially strong digging sticks and fresh coconuts. Its men are noted as builders of large, strong canoes, and as makers of special types of nets, such as the parae, a small seine. Its women are noted for their skill in mat-making, especially in the manufacture of the small decorated pandanus mats known to the Tikopia as kie. In return, the Tikopia can offer bark-cloth, since the paper mulberry tree is much more common on their island, and turmeric, which is not now made on Anuta 21. In modern times - 109 also the Tikopia, with rather more contact with the Western world, tend to take to Anuta calico, knives, adzes and other goods of industrial manufacture; in return they look for to-bacco and other agricultural products, especially in times of food shortage.

It is interesting to observe that even in this remote corner of the Western Pacific, with two such tiny islands, the principles of economic advantage are followed out by retention of specialization in crafts and most effective utilization of differences in natural resources. Among the resources of Anuta should be reckoned those of Fatutaka (Mitre Island). This is a mere rocky peak without habitation, about 25 miles to the east of Anuta, and easily visible on a fine day from there, as I myself saw. It is a jagged fang-like structure, with little soil, but a great haunt of seabirds, for which it serves as an admirable breeding place. It is sometimes described as fenua manu fuere—“simply a land of birds”. The rock is split into two peaks, giving it the mitre-like shape from which its English name is derived. The peaks are called in local language Te Niu 22—The Coconut and Te Ufi—The Yam, because, it is said, formerly plants of each of these types grew there. But the Anuta people, who use the rock as an important source of birds' eggs and flesh, have destroyed all vegetable foodstuffs there lest they should be a temptation to some visitors to settle there.

Because of its economic utility to the Anuta people, they know the rock very well, and have given many names to sections of it. There are two access channels in the rock, Roto te vai, and Roto a maka. Cliffs on either side are known as Te Maka Rai and Te Maka pu; the tip of Te Ufi (which is the higher peak) is Mapuanga, and names such as Te Ano o Pu Tafua—“The Cave of the Ariki Tafua”—witness to ancient visits. In all I was given about 30 names of places on the rock and in the channels, showing the minute interest taken in the islet. To get to Fatutaka takes a good part of - 110 a night's journey with a clear sky; people do not go by day as a rule because there is too much wind.

By social participation is meant the degree to which members of one community partake in social action in the other. This participation may be of two kinds. One involves a set of physical as well as social relations, as when an Anuta man takes part in a Tikopia kava ceremony. The other is of ideological rather than physical kind, as when an Anuta man has claims to status in the Tikopia community, which claims may or may not be implemented if he should come to Tikopia. The Tikopia have social participation in Anuta in both these senses, and vice versa.

In 1929 there were 6 Anuta people (one man and five women) living in Tikopia. In 1952 there were 7 Anuta (one man and six women). The number of Tikopia living in Anuta was about the same, though in the middle of 1952 it was increased by the migration of a Tikopia man, his wife and two children to Anuta, partly because he hoped for a better food supply. Most of the women are permanent residents, having married to settle down. The men are apt to be more transient. An example is Pa Avakofe of Anuta, a noted canoe builder. He has built in the course of his life already about a score of canoes. Of these four were made in Anuta and brought to Tikopia. In addition he lived for nearly three years in Tikopia, on two visits. He built there four more canoes. Whereas when he built for Anuta men he received payment in the conventional maro of mats and bark-cloth, as with Tikopia craftsmen in Tikopia, when he built for Tikopia men he was paid in axes, adzes, and calico.

It should be pointed out that there is no complete loss of identity when a member of the one community goes to live in the other—at least for the initial generation. An Anuta woman married to a Tikopia and living in Tikopia is still regarded as a member of her original community, though her children are regarded as Tikopia. This differentiation is facilitated, as noted, by the dialectal differences in the speech of the two communities. But for all immediate practical purposes the Anuta person in Tikopia has full social participation. He or she lives in a Tikopia household as a member of it, - 111 works with the hosts, dances with his or her appropriate Tikopia village or kin group, takes part in Christian or pagan ritual as occasion arises. If the person should die, or his children in Tikopia die, the appropriate Tikopia kin assume all the mortuary duties, as I have seen. The system of tauranga makes this easy. On the other hand, the occasional visitor retains his separate identity, especially in trading relations and in status relations. A Tikopia or Anuta ariki is treated as a distinguished guest and given the honours of his rank as a foreigner. A Tikopia intent on exchange of goods is marked off economically from his hosts and kinsfolk in Anuta, and operates as an independent unit.

All this can be illustrated by the affairs of 1952, which saw two journeys to Anuta by a number of Tikopia, including the chiefs of Tafua and of Taumako. These people were all carried aboard Government vessels.

In March 1952 the first party went. The voyage of the two chiefs was a great event. There was wailing in the houses of their clansmen when they had gone, in accordance with custom. Tukutukunga o fenua: te ariki ka poi ki moana na kainanga ka tangi rei. Ko ia e foki mai apai ki nga uta. “The custom of the land: when a chief goes to sea his clan will wail. When he returns, he will be carried ashore”—so Pa Fenuatara of Kafika crisply expressed it. And Vakasaumore, a prominent member of the Taumako clan, apologised to us the day after the chiefs had left for no food gifts having been brought to us. He said that the custom when the chief is abroad is for no ovens to be prepared. Only the children are given food—adults do not eat. When I asked what would happen supposing (as was possible) that the vessel was prevented from putting in at Tikopia on the return from Anuta and went direct to Vanikoro with the chiefs aboard, he replied that then the men of his clan would not eat for two or three days. Since the chiefs in that eventuality might be away for weeks or even months, the custom recognised the practical limitations of the situation. When the vessel in fact did return after two days, the two chiefs were ceremonially carried ashore. The term used for this process is apai, applied to any lifting and carrying of a person in the arms. The Ariki Taumako came ashore first, when the tide was high. He was carried up the beach. The Ariki Tafua, in white shirt - 112 and bark waist-cloth with kie mat over it, sat high on the deck of a large canoe as far as the edge of the reef. Then since the tide was low, he began to walk ashore with two men of the Tikopia crew at his side. Later, as they drew near the beach, the two men put their arms round the chief and, half-lifted, half-walking, he came shore. A crowd had assembled round the Ariki Taumako—it was near his home village. But then they dispersed to the Government vessel, and the Ariki Tafua disembarked almost without attention.

Since this was the first time either of the Ariki had visited Anuta, their novitiate had to be celebrated. The koromata (novice) in an important pursuit, or on an important occasion, is often singled out for attention in Tikopia 23. But there is also another aspect. In Tikopia when a person has suffered a major change of physical state this is celebrated and to some degree socially nullified or absorbed by the preparation of a ceremonial oven. Such procedure is termed pungaumu, or alternatively, it is said na umu ku pu—“kindling of the ovens” or “his oven has been kindled”. In my earlier work this ceremony has been discussed as referring to the social significance of “injury or death” of a person 24. Strictly speaking the concept should include the risk of injury or death. So in this case the Ariki went to Anuta and returned safely. But their voyage caused a social disturbance owing to the risk of their loss, and injury to the land thereby. In this sense, then, the pungaumu is a rite of social re-integration.

I attended the pungaumu of the Ariki Taumako. I had had warning the day before of the ceremony. Faoa ka tanaki ki te Ariki e faia ko ia ku poi ki Anuta. “People will assemble round the chief because he went to Anuta.” Early on the morning of the day I saw a parcel wrapped in a giant taro leaf being taken to a house. In answer to my query I was told Te pungaumu te Ariki kai fai te asonei. Tena tana fiuri. “The ovens of the chief will be kindled this day. That is its food contribution.” It was a giant taro being taken along, as is customary, to add to the feast. In fact, there was a double preparation of food. In the house of representatives - 113 of the mother's family of the chief, an oven was made and a maro, a ceremonial offering of bark-cloth, got ready. On the other hand, there was also a large amount of food prepared at the dwelling of the chief. By 10 a.m. the oven in the cookhouse adjacent to Motuata, the dwelling of the Ariki Taumako, had been kindled, and people were cutting up giant taro and making other preparations. At that time there were 24 men and 5 women in the dwelling with the chief, apart from numerous children and various cooks, who occupied that office according to the ordinary rules governing the duties of affinal kin 25. By the time the oven was uncovered, when the food was cooked, about 40 men and 14 women had assembled in Motuata. Three small baskets (longi) were filled with food, for the Ariki and his two brothers next to him in status. two large baskets (popora) were filled then, one as a return gift for the maro of the chief; the other to serve the rites of the kava. The chief and a small party of men and male children then adjourned to the temple Raniniu near by; I was with them. Turmeric pigment was offered to the chief, and he smeared a broad band of it on his breast. “Do it properly,” said one of his kinsmen. Marking the person with this brilliant red pigment, sacerdotally the property of the principal god of the Tikopia, is a sign of special accomplishment—in this case the safe return from Anuta. The normal ritual of the full kava ceremony was then carried through, with offerings of food and bark-cloth to the gods and ancestors, and libations of the kava liquid to them 26. We all then went out with the chief, to eat a meal in Motuata with the rest of the company.

Meanwhile similar, but simpler ceremonies had been performed for the Ariki Tafua. Since he was a Christian, there was no kava rite. Two bundles of bark-cloth and one on pandanus mats were brought to him as maro from members of his mother's family. The maro were not opened and offered to the gods as would have been the case if the chief had been a pagan—“because I have been baptised” the chief explained to me. The donors of the bark-cloth and mats also brought food gifts to the chief, a large basket each. Each - 114 also brought turmeric pigment mixed with oil in a little leaf package, and smeared it liberally on the arms and belly of the chief. All this ceremony is the fakamailonga of the chief—the mark or celebration of his journey and safe return. The chief did not keep all the gifts for himself alone. Later three men of Faea returning home with a small basket of food apiece and one with a piece of bark-cloth in addition explained this as “parts of the maro of the chief” (a vae o a maro o te Ariki). The Ariki Tafua brought back from Anuta the son of his sister Nau Tekoro, married and settled down there. I saw the boy clothed in marotafi (orange bark-cloth) and smeared in turmeric, sitting in Motuapi after the return of the chief.

The celebrations of the Ariki Taumako did not end with his pungaumu. He took this journey to Anuta as an occasion to hold one of the feasts (anga) which are part of the customary social privileges of a Tikopia chief, and are linked with his status 27. The day after the pungaumu, the accumulation of food began; this was the tokonaki te kai. The next day the anga itself took place, in Uta, and was in traditional style. Since its relation with the Anuta visit was marginal, the details need not be given here. But a few general observations must be made. The feast was described as te anga te ariki ne sopo ki moana, ne forau. “The feast of the chief, who jumped on to the ocean, who went on a voyage.” It had no special name, and was not part of the graded series which marks the progression of a Tikopia chief to old age. It was “simply a feast; the custom of this land” (te anga fuere; tukutukunga o fenua nei). I asked whether the Ariki Tafua would also hold a feast. “It's according to their wish; we don't know” was the reply of my informants, who were Taumako men. In fact the Ariki Tafua did not make such a celebration—it being a time of food shortage. The pungaumu of two days before, it was explained, had in part the function of serving as a preliminary announcement of the intention of the Ariki Taumako to hold his feast. It was termed “te fakataurongo—te fakaari ki te kainanga ki anea ka fai te asonei—ki te kava”. “An announcement—informing the clan about the things that will be performed today—the kava”. At the feast itself, about 100 people were assembled. - 115 and at a very rough calculation, about 1,000 lb. of food was collected and distributed. From all this it is clear that a journey to Anuta is regarded as a very significant event in the life of a Tikopia chief, and is of public importance.

All Tikopia appear very keen to visit Anuta. This was evident when a second opportunity came in May 1952. Many requests for assistance in securing a passage had been made at various times to me and to my assistant, and there was great discussion when the Government vessel arrived. The serious food shortage in Tikopia, with the possibility of getting some supplies from Anuta, intensified the interest of the voyage. In particular, the Ariki Taumako had felt himself aggrieved because coconuts brought on the vessel had not been reserved for the chiefs but had been carried off by the crowd of ordinary people. He therefore announced his intention of going to Anuta, if the vessel went there, to obtain coconuts for himself, as his legitimate right. The District Commissioner of necessity had to limit the number of Tikopia who could be carried, and placed the responsibility for selection on the chiefs, allowing each two men apart from themselves. At the same time he gave me and the Melanesian priest each the same rights of choice. Several issues of political interest then came to light.

The Ariki Taumako, in whose village we were living, came to me at once and said “Pa e! Au tama tokarua, Pa Motuata ma Pa Rangiora.” “Father! Your sons are two—Pa Motata and Pa Rangiora.” Now this attempt to dictate my choice was awkward. I had no objections to the two men he wished me to take; Pa Motuata was a great friend of mine, and I would be glad to take him. But I had long ago promised another old friend Pa Maneve, that if there was a chance I would take him. So I replied to the chief “What about you?” He said, “I have my two”. I said “But Pa Maneve spoke to me long ago, and I wish him.” He replied “Oh! he's not up to carrying coconuts” showing one of the dominant themes in his mind. There was something in this, since Pa Maneve had a lame foot, and could not be expected to work as hard as a more able-bodied man. But behind this lay another reason—Pa Maneve, as an ex-mission teacher, who did not attend the kava rites, was less in favour with the pagan chief than Pa Rangiora, who - 116 was one of his main adherents. I did not wish to go back on my word. So I answered the chief “Oh! I want Pa Maneve”. He did not reply, and stood talking by the door of the house. I then called a messenger, and said “Go and tell Pa Maneve to get ready.” He came back in a moment from the door and said in an embarrassed way “The chief objects”. I went up to the chief then and asked “do you object to Pa Maneve coming?”. He said “Yes”. I then replied “I acquiesce in the chief's wish. Pa Maneve will not come. But my sons will be one only—Pa Motuata”. The chief did not reply, and shortly afterwards he left. I thought that he would be annoyed by this. But when I saw him later on the deck of the vessel he was very pleasant, and said he had waited for me along the path, twice, that we might go aboard together.

I explained my decision to Pa Motuata and to Pa Maneve, who both agreed. I was approached by one of the leading commoners, who complained that none but chiefs and their nominees had a chance to to be taken on the Anuta trip. He asked me to see that his son, who had boarded the vessel, if not allowed to go, would not be thrown overboard and forced to swim ashore, but would be put ashore by boat with dignity. Later again, the old Ariki Kafika explained to me how he had never visited Anuta. He held that being the premier pagan chief he had been “chased away” by the mission teacher, and prevented from going there on board the Southern Cross, the Melanesian Mission yacht, which in former days used to take many Tikopia.

We left Tikopia at 8 p.m. The atmosphere among the Tikopia aboard was that of a party, and most of them were adorned with hair fillets, ear tassels and necklets as for a dance or similar recreation. Many of them hardly slept but stayed up talking nearly all the night. We arrived off Anuta at 7.30 a.m. A score or so men came off to us swimming, and several lads came out on long timber floats. A canoe came out too, of Tikopia type and not very large, having 3 outrigger booms and a crew of 2 lads (Plate 2). Later one with 4 booms and a crew of 5 men appeared. As we were preparing to go ashore the Ariki Taumako addressed the Tikopia, on his own responsibility, and told them to behave and not go raiding cultivations (oro aru saere).

- 117

As soon as they landed the Tikopia scattered, going at once in most cases to the houses of their tauranga, their closest kin. At times there were affectionate scenes of greeting on the path, as kinsfolk encountered one another (Plate 6). (Incidentally, I was greeted most touchingly by a daughter of my dead friend Pa Rangifuri—she had married and was living in Anuta—and given a meal).

But the chief energies of the Tikopia were directed to acquiring coconuts, tobacco and articles such as mats, nets and sinnet cord by gift or by exchange. The process was twofold. Close kin on their own initiative gave presents of these things, either out of pure goodwill or in response to some previous gift from the Tikopia partner. Or with people not specially related a Tikopia would seek or respond to an offer of such an article by the direct exchange of a Tikopia or European article in return. Pa Fenuatara, heir to the Ariki Kafiki, had come with lengths of bark-cloth, large fish-hooks, and calico, some of his own and others given him by various members of his family or kinsfolk in Tikopia, to execute commissions. He settled in with his son at the side of the house of Pa Fareumata, the “Chief of the Rear,” and set out his goods, with the various requests attached (Plate 4). There was some bargaining, but on the whole the tendency between such tauranga is for requests to be met if possible. Pa Teputu, brother of the chief said to Pa Fenuatara while I was there “Tell us then what you want”. Pa Fenuatara replied “I ask for sinnet cord, since it disappeared in the storm, and for tobacco …”. I left him at his discussions and went to a number of houses, in each finding Tikopia and their hosts deep in economic considerations. As the day wore on, Anuta men went off to collect dry coconuts for the Tikopia to take away, and these began to accumulate by the sides of the houses. (Plate 1). Meals too were prepared for the guests, and there was much talk and exchange of news.

But Anuta goods were scarce on the market. This was so, it would seem, partly because with the relatively small number of producers, the second descent of a crowd of eager Tikopia after two months found them with very low stocks. Hence competition between Tikopia was keen, especially for kie mats, coconuts and tobacco. Pa Tafora, a son of Pa Motuata, had earlier ordered a kie from their affiliated group - 118 of Nukuariki in Anuta. It was ready when the vessel arrived. But Pa Rangiuvia, also affiliated with this group, got to the house earlier, and secured the kie—at the high price of three fathoms of calico. A kie had been also set aside for Pa Motuata in this same house, and he himself did obtain it—for me, at the price of a long knife 28. He got it from Nau Rofanga, a widow, only after special pleading. She was against letting it go for a knife, and to a European, since, she said, she had earlier mentioned her wish to exchange it for a cylinder of turmeric pigment. This wish Pa Motuata said he had not heard. The kie ordered by Pa Tafora had already been paid for in advance by a turmeric cylinder. When therefore Pa Motuata was told that it had been handed over to Pa Rangiuvia he said “That finishes it with you people” and he went elsewhere. He told me that he would not have dealings with them in future unless they first came forward with a kie in payment of their debt—even though they and he were of the same lineage (matou paito sokotasi). Before leaving Anuta, he enlisted three women, of Nukuraro, Rofanga and Raropuko, all kin, to make kie for him against promise of turmeric, the transaction to be concluded on a later visit.

On the subject of tobacco there was much bitterness among the Tikopia when the vessel sailed. On account of the hurricane and drought at Tikopia tobacco there was almost lacking, and the demand for it was fierce. Everywhere they went in Anuta they asked for it, but could get hardly any. The Ariki Taumako, Pa Fenuatara, Pa Rarovi, Pa Motuata—all leading men—were given none. Pa Rangiuvia succeeded in getting one large roll (upaka), which he cut up into four sections, giving one each to the Ariki Taumako (his brother), the Ariki Tafua, Pa Matautu (close affinal kin) and keeping the last himself. Judge then of all their feelings when before the embarcation a sack containing about 20 large rolls was handed over by the Anuta people to the - 119 mission priest, the Motlav islander Pa Pangisi, who was a resident on Tikopia. He explained this by saying that it had been “presented” to him, but according to gossip it was the result of a levy made by the Anuta mission teachers for his benefit. An example of the scarcity was an incident when we got back to Tikopia. A man of some status, out fishing in his canoe, came alongside, trailing a line behind him. A small brand was burning on the outrigger of his canoe. He called out to one of our party by name “You have been to Anuta. There's the money. Fill my pipe”. He was refused. He called again “Come and take the money”. And then fiercely “Give it to me. I want a smoke fearfully!”. Then, evidently seeing that he had no hope of getting what he wanted said rather apologetically “There's a famine in tobacco”. Then I heard the other man say to him in low tones “The chief has some”.

Exchange rates have tended to alter in favour of the Anuta folk over the years. The Ariki Kafika told me in 1952 that about the time he succeeded to the chieftainship—probably in the first decade of the century—the Anuta would give one kie mat for one or two fakamaru (long narrow bark-cloth as worn by men). For one mami (blanket or skirt of bark-cloth) the Anuta would give three kie mats. And for a cylinder of turmeric, which was very much desired, they would give five kie mats, or two or three hanks of coconut sinnet cord. “Nowadays the exchange is different”, he said, “it's become bad”. (E kese ko na tauvi ku fai iasonei; ku pariki).

The following series of transactions illustrates the general principles of the exchanges. It also shows how modern rates have advanced, and in particular how the Tikopia were put at a disadvantage through their hurricane and drought.

On his first visit to Anuta, in March 1952, the Ariki Taumako gave to:

paito Nukuariki	6 kalikau (arm-rings of trochus)
Pa Tavarei	1 suru (fathom of calico)
Sa Tekoro	1 suru (fathom of calico)

In return he got from:

Nukuariki	1 kie (fine pandanus mat), 1 menga (coarse mat), 1 upaka (roll of tobacco)
Tavarei	1 menga, 1 upaka
Sa Tekoro	nothing; “they asked me for the calico.”

- 120

In addition, he was given by:

Pa Faitoka	1 upaka
Tauforasia	1 menga
Pae Oliki	1 upaka
Pae Avakofe	1 upaka
Pa Nukumarere	1 kie
Ti Anuta	1 upaka

On his second visit to Anuta, in May 1952, he gave to:

Pa Faitoka	1 fathom of calico
Nau Nukumarere	1 fathom of calico
Ti Anuta	1 fathom of calico
Nau Nukuraro	1 fathom of calico
Sa Nukuariki	1 fathom of calico, 1 knife, 3 mami (bark-cloth sheets), 1 marotafi (turmeric-dyed bark-cloth).

He had taken 7 fathoms of calico altogether. One he had given to an Anuta lad, a kinsman, who had been staying with his father's cousin, Pa Motuata, in Tikopia. The lad was supposed to have gone to the chief's house and collected his gift earlier, but had not done so, so the chief gave it to him at sea. The seventh fathom of calico the chief brought back to Tikopia. He had wished to exchange it for the type of net termed kupenga vaka, but he had not been able to find anyone willing to make the exchange. On this visit, he did not receive from the Anuta people any kie mats or any tobacco, and was very angry accordingly. Moreover, he was given no coconuts by them directly; he received only 2 fi niu (two bundles of ten) from the mission priest and one from the Ariki Tafua afterwards, or 30 nuts in all.

More than six weeks later, when he and I again happened to be discussing this matter he was still resentful. After detailing all these transactions, he went on “The land belongs to me. So when I came back, I was angry”. His explanation of this somewhat surprising statement, entirely unsolicited by me, is very interesting. It leads us into the field of what may be called ideational participation. It gives one view of the history of Anuta. But its primary value, as will be seen, is in substantiating claims to consideration by the Ariki Taumako of today—and to some extent in providing him with emotional compensation when he does not receive what he considers to be proper treatment.

- 121

We may now examine Anuta tradition in some detail.

The chief's arguments were as follows. He said that the ancestors of the Anuta people were more recent than his own; that they were from a foreign land, from Tonga. His great ancestor, Pu Lasi, went first to Anuta. He found there Tui Vai and Te Ariki Fakakanae; these were Afukere, the Earth-sprung. He and the autocthones disputed about their relative manu, their supramundane power. They said their land lacked the sun and the wind—a figurative expression meaning that there was neither hurricane nor drought to afflict them. (The implication was that their manu was great enough to keep off such disasters and maintain the land in prosperous condition). Pu Lasi replied “Yes! Stay there and wait and see!”. Then he returned to Tikopia. Then a hurricane ravaged Anuta for eight months, and a drought for a succeeding eight months. The people of Anuta were reduced to eating any rubbish (anea vare). And there were no birds or fish for food—they had been bewitched by Pu Lasi. The people had to eat excrement. The land was burning. They all died. Pu Lasi returned to Anuta to observe the effects of his power. Tui Vai (Lord of the Waters), dwelling by the spring, was just drawing breath. He died, with a dead infant on his arm. And the land stank from unburied corpses. Pu Lasi said “Oh! Alas! You two opposed me and now look. Sleep then in your land!”. And he buried the chief. Then he put a taboo (noa) on the land, and set up a pennant. Also he blocked the spring with a stone. He intended that the land should be taken over by one of his sons. But when much later he returned to Anuta to observe, he found the land in occupation by Uveans, Samoans and Tongans (Rotumans came later too), who had come in a canoe and taken over the land. They had dug out pools in the swamp to provide themselves with water. Then a dispute arose. The Tongans and their companions said that they were the first to occupy the land. Pu Lasi went to see the pennant he had put up—it was gone and theirs had been substituted. Then they all went to the water supply. The Tongans showed him the pools they had dug and claimed they were the ancient waters of the land. “Ah!” said Pu Lasi. Then he led them - 122 to the site of the spring (which they had not discovered) and removed the stone he had placed there. The water gushed out. Then he blocked it again, with his hand, and the water ceased to flow. Abashed at this knowledge, the Tongans and their companions came round to him, and pressed their noses to his knee. They acknowledged his primacy in the land. They said “Allow us to dwell here, but let the land belong to you”. “So”, said my friend the chief, “when the Ariki Taumako goes there it is said to be his land”.

Now it is significant to record that this story told me in 1952 is the same in all essentials as that told me (on separate occasions) by men of an earlier generation, including the father of the chief, in 1928. There were only slight verbal differences, as in the names of the Anuta chiefs, and in one version of the story I recorded the dialogue a little more fully. Pu Lasi (or Pu Ariki, as he is also known) asked the chiefs of Anuta: “Your land here, is this the way it stands? Is the hurricane lacking? Is the drought lacking?”. Said Ti Anuta “A hurricane—how does it happen? The drought—how does it happen? Let me see it, friend!” Replied Pu Ariki, accepting the challenge, “Wait! If you want to see them, I shall go to Tikopia, and then you shall see!”. (In another version, the ariki of Anuta told him not to touch the trees, which were tapu. He replied “So your land is tapu? Wait!). Such close correspondence in the versions of the tale after a generation makes it clear that it is not an ephemeral story, or one invented by the Ariki Taumako to satisfy his wounded pride. Moreover the narrators were of Kafika and Tafua clans as well as Taumako, and their statement was that the tale was well known in Tikopia generally, and not merely to sa Taumako. They all shared in the vicarious satisfaction of ancestral superiority to the Anuta people and chiefs, since the Taumako ancestor not only represented Tikopia, but was in one way or another a remote kinsman of them all. Hence the function of this traditional tale is essentially, as Malinowski pointed out for myth, to give a justificatory reference point for contemporary claims and interests. But it is important to note that in 1929 the story was told me in the usual version also by Tomotu, an Anuta man living in Tikopia. I had not the opportunity to collect information on this in Anuta in 1952. But it would seem that for the Anuta people the story gives a frame of - 123 reference for social contacts with the Tikopia and hospitality towards them; it certainly has no effect in making them subservient, even to the Ariki Taumako himself. The same traditional tale can have different functions to different groups according to their present relative roles and not merely according to their traditional roles.

Further traditional tales about events on Anuta reveal that social participation of Tikopia in Anuta affairs is believed to have been fairly continuous since the intervention by Pu Lasi. They also show, as the Tikopia themselves point out, how similar has been the course of events in that “wars” have taken place in Anuta, even though it is so small. The cause, as the Tikopia say, is the same as in their own case—“too many people”.

By Tomotu of Tavarei house, the Anuta who had lived for many years on Tikopia, I was told some tales of war. Anuta was originally settled by immigrants from Tonga, according to the usual account. They came in two canoes. Later came two more canoes of Tongans, who lived on the island for some time, then returned to Tonga, bearing with them the news of the settlement. They warned their Anuta hosts before departing that future Tongan raids might eventuate. Later again came two more Tongan vessels. The toa (strong man) of the first was named Tongouri, the toa of the second were Tatia and Kamea. The entire crews of these vessels were killed by the Anuta people, led by their warriors Kaka, Rata and Paowaka. Later again came a canoe from Nanumea (in the Ellice islands), with Porongai, Poepoe, Manu-uri, Pikia, Tara, Te Pure and Tapuni among its crew, some among them being mother's brother and sister's sons. They too were slain by the Anuta people. This was in the time of the chief Te Aravave. In his time also came a canoe from Rotuma, the crew of this too being killed. This slaying of the visitors—a custom also occurring in Tikopia in earlier times—was explicitly in fear lest the strangers might dispossess the inhabitants of their land.

For the same reason there were internecine struggles among the people of Anuta themselves. The chief Te Arakura, with the aid of his son-in-law Pu Taupono, slew a number of people, at night. The ostensible reason for the slaughter was that the people had cooked a para, one of the - 124 prime fish which should be offered to a chief, but instead of sending it whole to Ti Anuta, had sent him only the head. Hence he made kava to obtain ritual help, then attacked them to revenge the insult. In the morning the orchards of those slain were divided among their slayers. The children of the dead men were sought and killed in the woods, and their wives were taken to the shore, their hands bound to the outriggers of canoes, and the craft then pushed out to sea for them to perish. Later again, the households of a pair of orothers of Faitoka family were killed. Another brother, living in Tikopia, heard of the killing in time, got together a fleet and went over to Anuta to avenge the murder.

By Pa Fenuatara and other authorities I was given a Tikopia funeral dirge celebrating this or similar event, which was said to have occurred in the time of the great-grandfather of the present Ariki Kafika, roughly, about 1800 A.D. The song is:

The meaning of this is that while people from Anuta settled in Tikopia went over to help their kin, no Tikopia people took part, though there was much talk of doing so. In this civil war the figure commemorated (name not cited) is that of the man who standing in the centre of the fight, was prepared to sacrifice himself for his brother.

Another Tikopia account of this war, also a Kafika source, stated that a warrior of Kafika, Ngaruvave by name, did go over to Anuta and observed the fighting, but did not take part. The victors were, it is alleged, men of Kafika affiliations, including Taurupui and Taramua; the slaughter they effected resulted in nowadays all the Anuta people being of Kafika tauranga alone. Tafua and Taumako folk of Tikopia, says this partisan assertion, have received their Anuta kinsfolk through this Kafika connection. My informant, Pa - 125 Siamano, told part of a dramatic story, thus: Taurupui and Taramua were brothers-in-law (presumably through the sister of Taurupui). Opposed to them were four brothers, their sister being the wife of Turupui. Two of the brothers were named Parutia and Ranginafa; the names of the other two are forgotten. Then the brothers talked together, to go and fight the brothers-in-law. Their sister, however, came to them and said “What have you done? This is talk of important men!” (in other words, you are biting off more than you can chew). But they made kava, to ensure by ritual means the destruction of the brothers-in-law. Then a day came when the canoe of the brothers went out to sea. But the brothers-in-law hauled their canoe up on the shore. And on shore was Ranginafa, preparing food. The brothers-in-law went to him and slew him. They chased him down the hill and slew him. Then as the other brothers were going along over the sea, a shark suddenly appeared, and they saw the blood running down its head. So they talked together, saying “Oh! That is Ranginafa who is dead …”. My informant had forgotten the rest of the story. The symbolism of the great fish acting as the conveyer of news is common in Tikopia belief also.

Still another account, this time by Pa Teva of Taumako, gives another more detailed story, and puts a different complexion on events.

There were three chiefly brothers who ravaged Anuta. Their names were Pu Tepuko, Kavataurua, and Tauwakatai, i.e., Pu Rikiriki. A group of brothers, five in all, were slain, but another, Pae Tonga, was living in this land. He waited a time, then set out, voyaging to Vanikoro to bring back arrows. He brought them back to this land, and fastened them to his canoe. Then the fleet set out for Anuta, and was called the “war fleet.” When it arrived, the chiefly brothers had gone up the hill. The arrivals went to fight them. Pae Tonga was slain. His arrows had been slipped loose by the Tikopia at sea. A word the Ariki Kafika had passed. He said not to go and do injury to his kinsfolk (the Anuta chiefly brothers). The Ariki Taumako (the narrator's ancestor) went and shot Pu Rikiriki in the leg, but he chased the chief down off the hill and rushed at him. Pu Taumako ran to the cliff and jumped down in fear, landing in a banana tree. - 126 There it stood with its bunch of fruit. The banana fell over. He cut off the bunch of fruit and ran down with it to his canoe at sea. Off he rushed to Tukupasia (his vessel) while Pu Rikiriki came running down. As he ran down he levelled his spear. Then came Ngaruvave the Tikopia, and bared his teeth at him, while Pu Rikiriki jabbed his spear. Then the Ariki (Taumako) yelled at him to stop. “May your father eat filth. Where are you going? The god has been brought here Tinamo has appeared” (i.e. the Ariki Kafika, the most sacred chief, was of the party in the canoe). So then Pu Rikiriki went back. Pu Rikiriki had been shot at also by Pu Aorere, of the chiefly house of Taumako. Father and son in Aorere had gone; the son's name was Nakuro, his father's name, Taueva. He had been struck and killed.

Another tale, told me by a member of the Tikopia house of Tavi, illustrates how relations between Tikopia and Anuta people were not always equable. It refers to a time about eight generations ago. An Anuta canoe had come to Tikopia. Evening after evening, long beyond the time when their hosts had retired to rest, the men of the crew sat up, laughing and talking. At last this got on the nerves of a Tikopia, Pu Akiti—or he thought they intended to harm him by staying awake. He put his club in the back of his belt one night and went over and killed them. One of the crew was living in Namo, however, as the protege of the Ariki Tafua. Pu Akiti went over to kill him too, but the Ariki refused to give up his guest. This man became the founder of the lineage of Notau and Faoreu, the members of which now live in Namo. Pu Akiti himself, a son of the Ariki Kafika Pepe, was the founder of the house of Tavi.

But such incidents seem always to have involved only a few people, and in modern times they have ceased.

Summary:

The social relationship between Anuta and Tikopia may be summarised by stating it in terms which follow out a little further the biological analogy implied in the notion of social symbiosis.

S. F. Nadel has given this notion a special connotation. He has defined it as a form of segmentation (more especially a clan structure) in which every section, as a section, assumes certain specific duties (religious or political) on behalf of - 127 the community at large 29. This restriction to behaviour of elements within a community seems to me perhaps unnecessary. To apply the term symbiosis to the operation of representative and complementary functions of segments of a unitary society certainly has point. In this sense it describes the interrelated functions of the clans in Tikopia. It could also be used to describe class functions in mediaeval feudal society, where as R. H. Tawney indicated, society was conceived to be like a human body, an organism composed of different members each with its own functions and privileges specifically related to the common good 30. But the question of the application of the concept of social symbiosis is linked with that of the definition of a social unit. The term symbiosis implies co-operation of two or more discrete organisms, each theoretically capable of having separate existence, but which in fact depend on one another; it presumably would not apply to the relations of parts of a single organism. Now in the social field each human individual can be defined as a social unit, and the members of an elementary family can be said to live in social symbiosis. On the other hand, at the other end of the scale, what is conventionally treated as a “society” is also a social unit, and it would seem useful to speak of social symbiosis where relations between two such separate societies are of such a closely interrelated type as to be significant for the definition of the form of each. Indeed in any systematic classification of types of relationship, it might be most useful to reserve the term for such relations between such major social units, multi-functional, and of otherwise independent identity.

It is in this sense that the term is used to describe Anuta-Tikopia relations.

It is clear that apart from the daily contacts between the few members of the one society living in the territory of the other, the social relations between Anuta and Tikopia are of low material frequency. Months, even years, may pass without a visit being made from one island to the other. Even the people who come are relatively few in number, and very many people on each island have never visited the other. On - 128 the other hand, when a visit is made, the social relations are apt to be of high intensity. This is especially the case when, as often in modern times, the visit is made by a European vessel making a call of only a few hours. Greeting, feasting, exchange are all of very active and involved kind. Moreover each society is a frequent ideational factor in the behaviour of members of the other, giving them points of reference and comparison, providing incentives for production. Again, while only a limited number of each society have visited the other, every member of each recognises kin or para-kin ties with members of the other. Hence he always has potential hosts available to him, who will be responsible not only for his food and shelter but also for his social acceptance and participation, and his acquisition of wealth. It is this reciprocal host quality which is the most marked element in the symbiotic condition of these two societies. If one were seeking new terms for classification of such social relationships, they could be described (still following the biological terminology) as trophobionts—reciprocal hosts and feeders. It might be held that the relationship between Anuta and Tikopia is so complementary that they may be regarded as a single social system. I think that this would be pushing their connection too far. They have certain unitary features, in particular the concept of tauranga with its kinship ties, and the social institutions of hospitality and exchange. But while each society is definitely enriched in specific ways by the existence of the other in relation to it, it does not depend wholly upon the other. For all ordinary day-to-day purposes the members of each society go about their business without reference to the other. In political terms—of the indigenous structure—they have separate sovereignty. Despite the nostalgic claims of the Ariki Taumako—a kind of notional sovereignty—these are given no empirical test, and Ti Anuta, the premier chief of the smaller island, comes to Tikopia as an independent political head. Nor is he equated with any chief of the Tikopia hierarchy in any table of precedence; he is received as a separate entity. Disappearance of one society would impoverish the other, and would radically change its form, both socially and economically. But though the social organism would have to re-adapt itself and take on a somewhat different form, it would presumably persist. Hence - 129 Anuta and Tikopia are properly to be regarded as two social systems in trophobiotic relationship.

A question of some interest is why this relationship has never been determined by war, considering that the population of Anuta is now, and presumably for long has been, in the region of one-tenth or so of that of its larger neighbour. It would seem simple, and perhaps tempting, for some adventurers from Tikopia to have essayed a conquest of Anuta. The social relationship might then still have been of a symbiotic kind, but recreated as a form of helotism, with the Anuta people operating as slaves, or as tributary to the Tikopia. This does not appear ever to have happened, if the traditions can be taken as generally valid—or at least, if it did happen, the situation was later reversed, and this seems equally unlikely. There may well have been a twofold reason for this absence of conquest. The first is the sheer difficulty of ensuring reasonable success in attacking such a remote place. A very few invaders would probably not succeed—some may have even tried and failed. And a fleet was always likely to be scattered by contrary winds. To judge from Tikopia tradition, there was no moral scruple to deter men from such attack to secure lands and power. Difficulty of access may have saved Anuta from Tikopia in earlier times. But as relations between the two societies developed, another element may have been of prime importance—the advantage to Tikopia of having an autonomous Anuta to provide the range of services described. This is of course largely speculation. But the social and economic utility of these various services is greatly appreciated at the present day. It is clear that the full range of them would be likely to fail if any attempt were made to convert the Anuta people into a servile or other inferior condition. Such a proposition in fact is not considered by the Tikopia at all, as far as I know. Linked with this is the fact that the kinship and para-kin ties of Tikopia with Anuta are so intricate that any such proposition by a few Tikopia would now outrage the sentiments of a large number of other Tikopia and tend to stifle any action. Their traditions of the past support this interpretation and indicate that any fighting by Tikopia in Anuta was to support kin there and not to conquer the island for themselves.

This discussion relates also to the quality of the social - 130 image which the Tikopia have of Anuta.

It might be suggested as a proposition that the more varied the types of social relationship involved and the more completely they cover the total field, the closer these alien views are to the social reality. This proposition is not so obvious as it seems. In domestic behaviour, between kinsfolk or neighbours or even between members of the same family, the closest involvement in common affairs can still exist side by side with gross misconceptions as to the character of the other persons. Temperamental conflict, clash of status and other interests, may be responsible for this. But it may be suggested that multi-relational contacts tend to mitigate stress and misconception when these relations are not merely between a very limited number of parties but are spread out over a greater number of members of the societies concerned. Any very general or modal view by members of the one society of the structure and actions of the members of the other tends then to get constant correction from the requirements of the empirical situation. Yet even this idea would seem to be adequate only on the condition that there is no active competition of interest between the groups for the same set of resources. In the case of Anuta and Tikopia their distance apart to a large degree does away with this possibility.

Key to plan:

No.	House-site Name	Principal Resident
1	Fareumata	Pa Fareumata—Ariki i muri
2	Nukutauo	(vacant—broken in hurricane)
3	Maravai	Pa Maravai
4	Paitoka	Pa Paitoka
5	Tavarei	Pa Tavarei
6	Raropuko	Pa Avakofe
7	Rangituteki	(cookhouse to 5)
8	Parikitonga	Pa Teukumarae—Ariki i mua
9	Pangatau	Anisi
10	Rangitau	Women (unnamed), males dead
11	Taraoro	Women (unnamed), males dead
12	Rarosaua	Pa Rarosaua
13	Rotomua	Susanna
14	Tapunga	Pa Nukutapu
15	Rangateatu	Pa Rangateatu
16	Tepuko	Pa Matauea
17	Maniva	Pa Fareumata and Pa Teputu

- 131

No.	Housesite Name	Principal Resident
18	Tungatau	Pa Nukuariki
19	Nukumarere	Pa Raroifi
20	Nevaneva	Pa Nevaneva
21	Fareatai	Pa Fareatai
22	Rangiora	Pa Raroakau
23	Masarere	Pa Maevetau
24	Fangatauriki	Pa Tekoro
25	Tepao	woman (unnamed)
26	Aramera	Pa Raropita
27	Fenuakena	Piia
28	Nukuraro	woman (unnamed)
29	Nukuariki	Pa Nukuariki
30	Church
31	Norfolk Island	“Mama”—mission priest
32	School House	—
33	Te Urungamori	Koritau
34	Marinoa	Pa Nevaneva
35	Niuaus	Pa Teukumarae—Ariki i mua
36	Te Ukope	Pa Nukumarere
37	Marama	Pa Raropuko

Note:
• 1. Several men own, and may live in, more than one house.
• 2. In indicating resident/owner, the married man is the most significant figure. In several cases I was told “women simply” when there were no males; it was not thought worth while specifying their names.
• 3. Different forms of names from the list on p. 98 are due to the fact that the former list was given to me by Tikopia, the latter by Anuta people.
• 4. No. 31 is named after the famous mission school to which some Tikopia teachers have been. Among them was Pa Niukaso, whose house this was, and who on his retirement from Anuta left it to the priest as a rest-house.
• 5. No. 7, cookhouse, is listed separately since given a personal name; certain other cookhouses are indicated with an f added to number. Many houses had ovens inside, not in separate houses.
  Anuta house with coconuts ready for transport to Tikopia.
  Small Anuta canoe
  Anuta canoes with coconut frond coverings.
  Tikopia and Anuta men discussing exchange of goods.
  Anuta man.
  Tikopia man greeted by Anuta kinswoman.
  

- 132 Page is blank