Dakuwaqa The Shark God

Dakuwaqa The Shark God

(A Legend from Fiji)

One of the best-known gods in Fijian legends is the fierce sea-monster Dakuwaqa. He was the guardian of the reef entrance of the islands, fearless, headstrong and jealous. He frequently changed himself into the form of a shark and travelled around the islands fighting all the other reef guardians.

One day he set out for the Lomaiviti group and after emerging victorious from this area he decided to set out for Suva. The guardian of the reef here challenged Dakuwaqa and a great struggle took place. There was such a disturbance that great waves went rolling into the mouth of the Rewa River causing valleys to be flooded for many miles inland.

Dakuwaqa once more emerged as the victor and proceeded on his way. Near the island of Beqa his old friend Masilaca, another shark god, told him of the great strength of the gods guarding Kadavu island and slyly asked Dakuwaqa whether he would be afraid to meet them. Like a shot, Dakuwaqa sped off towards Kadavu and, on nearing the reef, found a giant octopus guarding the passage. The octopus had four of its tentacles securely gripping the coral and the other four were held aloft. Rushing furiously in, Dakuwaqa soon found that he was being almost squeezed to death as the octopus had coiled its tentacles around him. Realizing his danger Dakuwaqa begged for mercy and told the octopus that if his life was spared he would never harm any people from Kadavu wherever they may be in any part of Fiji waters.

Kadavu

So the octopus released him and Dakuwaqa kept his promise, and the people of Kadavu have no fear of sharks when out fishing or swimming.

Even today when local fishermen go out for a night’s fishing they reverently pour a bowl of yaqona into the sea for Dakuwaqa.

The high chiefs of Cakaudrove are considered the direct descendants of Dakuwaqa and their totem shark will appear to the reigning chief on occasions when momentous news is about to the announced.

Source

http://www.tropicalfiji.com/about_fiji/culture/legends/#shark_g

How the mosquitoes Came to Oneata

How the mosquitoes Came to Oneata

(A Legend from Fiji)

Among the islands that lie to the east of Fiji, there are two called Oneata and Kambara.

Long ago there were no mosquitoes on Oneata. But the Kambara people were sorely troubled and plagued by them. They were stung day and night and could find no rest, in spite of the unceasing work of their women, who pounded the paper-mulberry bark until their arms ached, to make mosquito curtains.

However, on Oneata there were plenty of shellfish with a particularly delicate flavour, which were found on the beaches and in caves, and the Kambara people were very envious as they had none. Listen now, and I will tell you how these things came to be changed.

Once, long ago, ten men of the boat-building tribe of Oneata were washed out to sea when a river overflowed its banks. They clung desperately to a tree trunk, and by and by they drifted to Kambara. Afraid of being killed, they begged the chief to spare their lives and promised to work for him.

The chief, whose name was Tuwara, was a wise and cunning man, and he was very pleased to hear about the wonderful boats that they had built, strong enough to sail even in stormy weather. His own island was full of splendid trees, and so he set the men to work to build a great double canoe. In order to keep them happy he gave them houses, food and wives so that they would not pine to return home.

The work lasted more than two years, for in those days there were no hatchets or saws. First of all, sharp stones and shells were used for cutting the logs. Then the hulls were hollowed out with burning brands and scraped, while the men used pointed shells or small firebrands for boring holes. Strong vines and cords of coconut fibre bound the body work together, and the great sail was plaited from tough leaves.

When at last the canoe was finished it was dragged down to the sea, and the launching was celebrated with a feast.

Tuwara, impatient to put to sea, went on board, taking the carpenters as crew and a crowd of his people as well. Singing lustily, they sailed away with a light breeze filling the sail. But when the wind blew stronger and the canoe began to pitch and roll among the waves, the singers changed their tune to groans. They huddled together or lay clutching the deck, for they were all seasick.

“What is this terrible feeling, O carpenters?” moaned Tuwara. “What is this fearful sickness?”

The carpenters only laughed at the Kambara folk.

“Wait a little, sir, and then it will pass,” they said. “It is always thus when you first put out to sea.” But they were answered with fresh groans by the unhappy people.

Soon the outlines of Oneata appeared on the horizon.

“There is land ahead, sir. Shall we steer for it?” said Melani, the graybeard, the eldest of the boat-builders. “Or would you go still farther?”

“No, no, steer for it, and let us land,” groaned Tuwara.

The people of Oneata had seen the canoe coming, and thinking that it was a huge sea monster they ran into the bush and hid so that Tuwara found an empty town when he landed. He entered the chief's house and threw himself down on the mats to rest. Then the people slowly returned to the village, and when they had lost their fear of the strangers, they talked to them and heard their tale and looked with wonder at the canoe.

Tuwara stayed on this pleasant island many days, for he found the shellfish good to eat and his sleep was not disturbed by troublesome mosquitoes. When at last they sailed homeward they invited Wa-Kulikuli, the lord of Oneata, to come with them to see Kambara.

A great feast was prepared when they arrived, and after eating and drinking his fill, the Oneata chief began to yawn. Tuwara took him into his house, where a large mosquito curtain hung, and the visitor was surprised by the size of the curtain and by the beautiful patterns that were painted on it.

“What is this wonderful piece of cloth? We have nothing like it on our island. And why do you keep it hanging up in this manner?”

“Oh,” said Tuwara, “it is useful as a screen, and it also protects me when the wind blows cold. Let us sleep now, and I will show you the village in the morning.”

He lied about his curtain because he was ashamed of the mosquitoes, which were indeed a plague upon his island, and he hoped to deceive his friend. But when darkness fell, thousands of mosquitoes commenced to buzz outside the curtain, and the chief of Oneata was awakened.

“What sweet sound is that outside?” he asked.

Tuwara pretended that he had not heard and only answered with a snore.

“Eh! Wake up, tell me what those sweet noises are,” the chief insisted.

This time Tuwara could no longer pretend to be asleep.

“Which sounds? Oh, those! They are only the mosquitoes buzzing,” he replied with a yawn.

“What are mosquitoes?” asked his friend.

“They are little insects, and at night they fly about and buzz, and I keep them to sing me to sleep,” said the crafty Tuwara. The Oneata chief begged to be allowed to take the little singers home with him.

“Give you my mosquitoes? Nay, I dare not; my people would never forgive me.”

“Well, just give me some of them and keep the rest,” pleaded Wa-Kulikuli.

“That, alas, is impossible, for if I give even a few away the rest will follow them and will leave me,” said the cunning man. “I am indeed sad that I must refuse you, but now let us go to sleep.”

Wa-Kulikuli continued to trouble his friend with his pleading. He and his people would always be grateful to Tuwara, he said and would tell their children to love and respect him.

“That is a tempting thought, but I dare not give them away for nothing. What would my people say to me?”

“No, no, I will give you anything you care to ask for in return,” said the Oneata chief. “Choose what you like from my island and it shall be yours, if only I may have your mosquitoes.”

“Well,” said Tuwara, “I will not ask for myself. I must think of my people—and the thought has just come to me that they would like your shellfish. That is just the very thing. Give me the shellfish and you may have the mosquitoes.”

“With pleasure,” said the other. “That is a good bargain. Now, will you lift up the curtain so that I can see them?”

Tuwara was then afraid that his friend might be bitten and repent of his bargain, so he refused to lift the curtain. He said that his little insects were modest and bashful and did not like to be gazed at, and therefore they came out only at night.

“Let us sleep now, for it is late,” he begged. But neither of them slept much, for Wa-Kulikuli lay and listened to the song of the mosquitoes, and Tuwara chuckled over the good bargain he had made. He determined to prevent his friend from rising too early, lest a few insects still be flitting about. The foolish chief might realize the trick that he was about to play.

With the first streaks of dawn, the Oneata chief called out, “Wake up, Tuwara. It is time for us to depart, so give me the mosquitoes.”

“Isa! What a restless person you are,” said the other. It is scarcely dawn, and you have kept me awake half the night with your talking. Lie still awhile, for at this hour the mosquitoes gather together and fly away to a cave where they sleep in the daytime. If we disturb them now we shall be unable to catch them.”

“Very well, let us wait," said Wa-Kulikuli. But every few minutes he cried out again, “Do you think they are asleep yet?” and a little later, “Surely they are in their cave now?"—so eager he was to catch them! By this time Tuwara was indeed angry with the foolish chief and would gladly have hit him with his club. Only the thought of the shellfish made him keep his temper, and he did not rise until it was daylight.

“Come now, and let us sail to your land,” he said.

No one saw him collect the mosquitoes, but by the time the canoe was ready he had shut them all in a large basket. This was lined inside and covered with fine mats, through which not even a small mosquito could crawl, and it was carried on board hastily.

Again they were seasick, but Wa-Kulikuli comforted himself with the thought of his little singers, and Tuwara was cheered with the hope of being rid of his plague, in exchange for the shellfish.

It was high noon when they landed at Oneata and furled their sails. Wa-Kulikuli, leaping ashore, called all his people to see what he had brought them, and he begged Tuwara to hand down the basket.

“Not so fast, my friend,” said the cunning Tuwara. “My mosquitoes are a loving tribe, and if I let them go now they will not leave the canoe, for they love me and will not leave me. So give me your shellfish first. Then I will depart, leaving the basket here, and if you are wise you will not open it until I have sailed beyond the reef lest the mosquitoes fly after me.”

“That is true, and you are wise, O Tuwara!” Then Wa-Kulikuli turned and gave a great shout—“Come, O shellfish, come from the beach and from the sea and from the rocks. It is your chief who calls.”

Then from the shore, and from their homes in caves and pools, the shellfish crawled in by the hundreds. The men threw them into the canoe until it was full and shellfish were heaped high upon the deck, and not one was left upon the island.

“Now give me the basket and you may depart, for all the shellfish are on board," said the impatient chief. So Tuwara handed over the basket while his men hoisted the sail, and away they sailed with all speed.

The Oneata men now came crowding around to see what treasure their chief had brought them. It must surely be something of great value, or he would never have parted with their shellfish, they thought. Wa-Kulikuli waited until the canoe was clear of the reef, and then he untied the fastenings of the basket and lifted the mat.

Up rose the mosquitoes in a grey cloud, buzzing angrily, and loudly the people screamed and yelled as they were bitten by the savage insects.

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Tuwara, for he could hear the distant cries, “‘Wa-Kulikuli's sweet singers have already begun their song. Ho, ho, I have met many fools, but never such a fool as yonder chief.”

The wretched lord of Oneata spent days and nights thinking of schemes to get rid of the plague of insects he had brought to his land, but alas, they increased in numbers every day. He made many plans to get back his shellfish, and after some years he sailed over to Kambara one night.

Standing on the beach he called them: “Come, my shellfish, it is I, your lord, who is calling.” But not one of them heard him and not one returned to him.

But Tuwara heard him. He lay in wait and watched him. Then, creeping up quietly, he smote him on the head with his club and cried out, “O wretched man, would you steal my shellfish?”

So Wa-Kulikuli, driven back to his canoe, returned sadly to his island and to his sweet singing plague of mosquitoes.

Source

Tales from the South Pacific Islands

Anne Gittins, Frank Rocca

1977

Pages: 3-10

The Eruption of Pele’s Anger

The Eruption of Pele’s Anger

(A Legend from Hawaii)

In the time of the chief Kahoukapu the great festival of Lono makua was being held at Puna on this land Hawaii. They were carrying the god about the land and taking in the offerings of chiefs. Much taro and kumara, many fowls and pigs, red feathers, garments, mats, dried fish—these things were all collected for the god and laid upon the ahus, and there were boasting contests, hula dancing, sport of many kinds. All the dancers and the drummers came to their work, the strong men fought with fists and wrestled, the chiefs who were skilled slid down the hill on papa holua, the risky sleds.

It was Kahawali, that handsome chief of Kapoho, who was riding down the slope we call Ka holua ana o Kahawal. He was racing with his sled down Kahawali’s sliding-place, his friend Ahua was against him, they competed in the race. Kahawali ran to the track with his sled in one hand; he took the left rail with the other hand, he threw his body on the sled and dived. The people all applauded, shouted when Kahawali came down whizzing like a surfer on his well-oiled papa holua. Strong men have died from their hurts in holua; not Kahawali. The people all would watch that man, he slid the furthest, Ahua his friend slid well indeed, but Kahawali was the winner.

The great noise of the people caused Pele to descend from Kilauea to watch the games. That goddess left her home in the burning crater, stood near Kahawali’s sliding-place, admired his skill. Pele-in-the-form-of-a-woman watched Kahawali, challenged him to race with her. A woman broke the tapu of the chiefly sport, the sport of chiefs alone!

Kahawali let this wornan ride the track. She did not know the skill, He defeated her, he made his sled go further; all the people applauded him.

Jealous Pele asked that chief, ‘Then let me try your sled, your papa holua whose runners are more oily.”

Said Kahawali crosslv co this person, ‘Aole! Do you think you're my wife, char you can use my papa holua?’

He took his run, ran past that goddess, leapt on his sled and raced downhill.

Then Pele stamped her foot, the whole land shook; it quaked, the people cried in fear. She said her word, she called her word to Kilauea and all the burning rock came out, the fire and lava, the mountain's blood,

Then Pele changed, she changed from woman into akua again, came rushing down the sliding-place with all her fiery creatures. Roaring thunder, leaping rocks, streams of burning lava followed Pele down that hill.

When Kahawali reached the bottom of the slope he looked behind, he saw the anger of Pele pursuing from Kilauea. The people fled with screams, they scattered, ran, Then Kahawali took his spear which he had planted in the ground before the race, he ran as well; with Ahua his friend, that chief made off.

The burning lava came from Kilauea; it poured upon the people, burned them all, that lava-flow. Came Pele in fire-form riding on its wave, her anger showed. The singers, dancers, drummers, all were devoured by Pele.

Kahawali and Ahua came to the high ground of Puukea, to Kahawali’s house and family. That chief threw off his cloak to run more quickly, met his favourite pig Aloi pua'a; they-two rubbed noses, made the hongi. Then Kahawali ran to the house of his mother at Kuki’i, made the hongi with her: ‘Compassion great to you! Close here perhaps is your death. Pele comes devouring.’

Then Kahawali, having said this last thing to his mother, came to his wife—her name forgotten, cannot be remembered. They-two made the hongi, said farewell. Cried the wife, ‘Stay here with me! Let us die together!’ But Kahawali answered, ‘No, I go. I go.’

Then he made the hongi with his children Poupoulu and Kaohe, and said to them, ‘I grieve for you two.’

The lava came on, Kahawali ran, he came to a deep ravine, could go no further. That chief stretched out his spear with a powerful word, he made it stretch the chasm, laid it down, walked across. Came Ahua behind and Kahawali held the spear, his friend took hold, was drawn across.

Came Pele speeding with her fire to eat that chief. He came to Kula, greeted there his sister Koai, had no time. Could only say to her ‘Aloha oe!'"—then he ran down to the sea.

Kahawali’s youngest brother came with his canoe from fishing out at sea—saw Pele's anger, Kilauea pouring fire. They-two sprang off in that canoe, and with his broad spear Kahawali paddled fast, they left the land. Came Pele flaming, saw them get away. She hurled great stones, great burning rocks from Kilauea’s hole. They fell around, they singed the sea, they did not hit the canoe of Kahawali.

When Kahawali had paddled a certain way the east wind blew, it drove them from Pele’s anger. Smoke and ash came after them. Therefore Kahawali set his broad spear upright as a sail, it carried them across the sea to Maui. On that land, this chief rested for one night.

They sailed again co Molokai, afterwards to Oahu, where Kahawali's father lived, Kolonohailaau; and his sister, Kane wahine keaho. There with his sister Kahawali afterwards remained. They dwelt quietly in their homes.

Sources

Legends of the South Seas

Antony Alpers

1970

Pages: 253 - 256

Degei - The Snake God

Degei - The Snake God

(A Legend from Fiji)

Greatest of all Fijian gods was Degei, the Snake god. In the beginning, he lived alone, without friends or companions, and the only living creature he knew was Turukawa the hawk. Although the hawk could not speak he was the constant companion of the god.

One day Degei could not find his friend and looked everywhere for him. Days went by and at last one morning, he spied the hawk sitting in some long grass. Gladly, he welcomed the bird but, to his consternation, she ignored Degei and commenced building a nest. Disappointed, he retired to his house and the next day went back to the nest and found two eggs. He then realized the hawk had found a mate and that he had lost her affection. So scooping up the eggs he took them into his own house and kept them warm with his own body. After several weeks of nurturing the eggs and wondering what would happen two shells broke and there were two tiny human bodies.

Degei built them a shelter in a vesi tree and fed them on scraps of food. They grew quickly, but there was nobody to teach them except Degei. He did not understand children but when they were hungry he fed them and to save himself work he planted banana trees and root crops close to them. He also talked to them and told them about the secrets of nature. Eventually, the children were fully grown and all this time had been unaware of each other’s presence as Degei had placed them on opposite sides of the tree.

One day the man left his shelter and as soon as he saw the maiden held out his arms to her and told her Degei had made them for each other and that their children would populate the earth. So Degei showed them how to cook the root vegetables in an earth oven.

Sometime later they were blessed with a little baby and Degei also was very happy as he knew that because of loneliness men and women had come into the world and would worship him as their god.

According to legend Degei also created Viti Levu and all the small islands.

Ratu Vakaruru A Chief of Viti Levu

Source

http://www.tropicalfiji.com/about_fiji/culture/legends/#snake

Kirkirsasa and the Giant

Kirkirsasa and the Giant

(A Legend from Rotuma)

There was a woman named Kirkirsasa. This woman lived at Tarkei (a part of Maftoa), and both her armpits were completely covered with tattoo-marks--they were quite black with it.

Now this woman had some maid-servants living with her, who used to wait on her at all times. The clothes which these maids wore were just pandanus leaf skirts. One day Kirkirsasa said to two of these maid-servants of hers, "You two girls take our two sets of coconut-shell cups to Faniua, to get some sea-water (with which) to fill our green coconuts; for we put the stoppers in them yesterday but have not yet filled them with salt water."

To this, the two maids replied, "All right, madam."

So they turned around and took the two sets of cups, and went off with them. They went on until they reached Faniua. But, instead of getting the sea-water they just went for a stroll at the foot of the hill. Presently they went around the point, and went on a little way towards the small beach when suddenly they heard something snoring at the foot of the big rock above it. And when they looked, they saw something lying there--a great monster, with his mouth as wide open as it could be, and his teeth fiery-red like red-hot coals of coconut shells. And when they saw what this huge fellow was like, it came into their minds at once that it was only giants that were in the habit of behaving in this way. So the two girls discussed the situation for a while and then decided that they would pelt the monster's teeth with stones. Accordingly, each of them proceeded to pick up a stone, which they then threw at the teeth of the giant. This they kept on doing until the giant awoke. On waking, the giant sat up, and the two girls ran. The giant called out to them, but the girls just glanced around and ran on; and, just as their leaf skirts flew out behind them, the giant got up and chased after them.

Presently Kirkirsasa saw the two girls that had gone to fetch sea-water coming along out of breath, exhausted with running, and she exclaimed, "Whatever has happened to you? Is it anything much?"

"O madam," answered the two girls, "it is the most awful thing we have seen in our lives."

"So you have brought disaster upon us, have you?" responded the woman.

"Don't be angry, madam," pleaded the girls; "but a tremendous thing is about to come upon us. We didn't do the work that we went to do but did something different instead. We woke something up at the foot of the hill--a giant we believe it was, and we think he is just about to appear now. We were in front, and he was behind chasing us."

"You are tiresome and cowardly," said Kirkirsasa. "However, just seat yourselves down there, and if the giant comes he will eat you. We people are forbidden to do anything to the giant. But don't run away like this."

Before long there was a great clattering noise, and they all turned around, and in came the giant! Sitting down, he at once exclaimed, "Wait till I have rested, and then I'll have my vengeance on you, you bad children. Who in the world told you to pelt my teeth with stones?"

Kirkirsasa, however, approached the giant with the words: "Good afternoon, sir! And, if you should feel so inclined, just sit down and rest for a few moments, while I dance to you. Wait till that is over, and then eat my two girls, (if you are really going to eat them) after that."

"Dance away!" said the giant, "and let us have a look."

So the woman stood in front of the giant, and began:

Slap the armpits before the king,

With a ho! hi! hey!

Raise arms, lower them, dance and sing,

With a ho! hi! hey!

Thus Kirkirsasa sang her song, dancing all the time. As she danced, she lifted her arms out, first this way and then that way, slapping her tattooed armpits, and extending both arms at once, and jumping up and down, this way and that way, and raising her arms to reveal her tattoo marks. The giant almost went into a fit with laughing, and whichever way the woman bent over, the giant bent over in the same direction.

Dancing (Rotuma, 1981)

As soon as the woman stopped, the giant said, "I say, the markings that I saw in your armpits, what did you do to make them like that?"

"So you like them, do you?" said the woman.

"Oh yes," replied the giant; "so much so that if you can make my armpits exactly like yours, then I will not eat these two maids of yours."

To this, the woman responded: "Oh, it will be quite easy for me to make your armpits resemble mine if you really desire it."

"Then will you be kind enough to do it?" said the giant, "so that I may not eat your two maids."

So the woman then told her people to light up a fire-hole, and then to tell her as soon as the stones were red hot, and in the meantime, she would talk with the giant.

As soon as the stones were red hot, a man came and told Kirkirsasa, who then said to the giant, "Now then! come along to have your armpits tattooed."

So the giant went along, and the woman said, "lie down here between these two posts, that we may tattoo your armpits."

So the giant lay down, and immediately the women-folk brought a roll of sennit, surrounded the giant, and bound him to the posts in the centre of the house, making his legs and arms quite fast. That done, the woman told them to fetch a red hot stone. So one of the men brought a red hot stone and gave it to the woman, and the woman inserted it into one of the giant's armpits. Immediately the giant began to yell. But the woman said, "Don't yell for nothing! you see, if you behave like this, the tattooing will not show properly."

But the giant exclaimed: "By and by, when I get free, I will eat up the whole lot of you."

To which the women replied: "But how will you get free? When a person is bound fast, how shall he escape?"

In the meantime, each member of the company present brought a red hot stone, and some inserted them into the giant's armpits, others rubbed them on his stomach, while others rubbed them into his eyes and nose. And so it went on until the giant was dead.

As soon as the giant was dead, the woman began to scold her two maid-servants, and to warn all her household, never to do such a thing as this again; lest a big calamity should come upon them and they should not be able to contrive a way of escape. True, they had got off this time, but they must never do such a thing in future.

The two maids, on their part, proceeded to apologize to Kirkirsasa, confessing that it was all due to their disobedience.

Source

http://www.rotuma.net/os/Kirkirsasa.html

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dance_in_Rotuma