Just Enough

In his classic guide to the Pacific peoples, cultures, and various transformations, Douglas Oliver’s The Pacific Islanders comments on the work ethic of these islanders in the context of Western colonialists’ labor relations challenges:  “(Islanders) work routines had not conditioned them to the relentlessness or organized work under a foreign master, producing things they no use and for purposes they did not entirely comprehend … their relatively easy subsistence technologies satisfied all their needs, except for those things they wished to obtain from Westerners, and their desires for the latter were not impelling enough to overcome their reluctance to engage in steady plantation work.”  Later, he alludes to the same sentiment in explaining why there were so few native Pacific Islander business owners:  “in many places, the native growers made and sold  less when prices were high. Being not so devoted to acquisition for its own sacred sake, they made and sold only enough to fill the lamp with kerosene or the pipe with tobacco and worked for the morrow on the morrow.”

I see this today in these islands of the Marquesas, as we get to know the people and the land:  “just enough,” in a fertile land where fruit drops from trees and the yields are more than sufficient to support the population.  The fish are bountiful in these waters.  The roads and villages and houses are clean and well-kept, and shops close from 12 to 2 pm.  Schools run 4 days a week, 3 weeks a month, and 11 months a year.  Just enough.  Roads get extended it seems continuously, an ongoing jobs program, but it's also easier on the ubiquitous 4-wheel drives.  A restaurant is only open a few days a week, and only if you make prior arrangements.  The fruit ripens quickly, and picking too much is a waste.  The coconut tree lives for 80 years, and produces 50-60 coconuts a year.  The nuts provide water, food, and oil; a nut can float for months in sea water and germinate on a distant island after 3-4 years.   The leaves provide shelter, the husk provides cordage, and the scraped out shells are turned into bowls and utensils.  Make the most of just enough.

Before anyone fishes a shoreline or bay, you need permission; likewise cutting a tree or clearing an area.  Permission is granted to the extent the proposed activity would not interfere with the morrow’s need.  Resource use, land planning, and conservation:  just enough.  Water spigots in the public parks which tend to line the well-kept beaches are free; people come and fill their 100 gallon tubs daily, and the presence of the spigots limits the endless tapping of aquifers on each and every property.

Easy to do, it seems, on remote islands with many more natural resources than people.    Captain James Cook, one of history’s greatest sea captains and explorers, described these islands:  “All these articles the Earth almost spontaneously produces or at least they are raised with very little labour, in the article of food these people may be said to be almost exempt from the curse of our fore fathers; scarcely can it be said that they earn their bread with the sweat of their brow, benevolent nature hath not only supply’d them with necessarys but with abundance of superfluities.”  (sic)

All of which is not to say these islanders don’t sweat their brows; everywhere on Fatu Hiva we saw people working, children going to school, and the houses and surrounding grounds were well-kept with gardens everywhere.  It’s a small village at the mouth of a small river that collects rain from peaks soaring 1500 feet all around; the breakwater protects a handful of fishing boats – aluminum it turns out, though there are plenty of traditional wooden outrigger boats as well, many recently fitted with a small wooden plate for the small outboard motor.  Mark, a local sculptor whose pieces sell in Tahitian art galleries, lives in a small house down one of the short paved side streets, just before you get to Chez Katie’s house, where Katie serves traditional Marquesan feasts 2-3 nights a week.  Mark specializes in stone, wood, and bone carvings, and we got to know him and his wife over the course of our time there.  He has 7 children, several of whom are in France studying, and where most of the island works on a barter system (no bank on the island), Mark deals only in cash – he needs the money to support his kids’ education.  Katie accepts barter; wine is in demand these days, as everyone is stockpiling for the month-long celebration that originally revolved around Bastille Day, but has since evolved into a purely-Polynesian experience that happens to end on or around Bastille Day.

We worked just enough in Fatu Hiva to make the trek to the top of the crest overlooking the bay; that’s our catamaran in the distance, framed by the towering pillars that gave this Bay its original French name:  Baie de Verges, or Bay of Penises (no joke).  The missionaries were offended, so they added a letter – Baie de Vierges, or Bay of Virgins (again, no joke).  The locals call it Hanavave Bay.

On the way down, we made a detour to the towering waterfall about 3 km. into the jungle-like rainforest.  We swam just enough to cool our bodies, started to eat some bread that turned out to be moldy (no preservatives in the bakeries here!), and then returned to town to visit some Mark, Katie, and Katie’s mari (husband), Serge.

Mark works hard – but makes sure he goes fishing when he needs to refill his larders.  Not too often; just enough.  Katie works hard, and her husband Serge also seems to work hard – although truth be told, he seems most interested in playing his small collection of stringed instruments.  I managed to write a song centered on the concept of “mana” – described by some as the non-human spirit-like force that sits above the specific deities common across many Pacific cultures.  Serge – playing a mandolin tuned to a ukulele (though here he's trying my travel guitar)  -- and I managed to hammer out a melody to my lyrics, with Katie translating the English into French.   We worked on the song just enough for me to record the melody and Serge’s fine instrumentals.  The chords are simple (a ukulele is a simple instrument – just enough to accompany the tropical chords).

Just enough.   It’s a difficult concept for me to embrace fully; I’m used to doing everything I can, and then some.  Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess, as the saying goes.  But in these islands, with their abundant gifts, “just enough” seems to strike a balance that keeps ‘mana’ – and the islanders -- happy.   And Jennifer, with her hand on the pregnant belly of the tiki standing at the harbor entrance in HanaHave, is also happy -- filled with 'mana' and thoughts of our kids.