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Thoughts about Rotuma

by Henry Enasio (Sydney, Australia)

Rotuma Hanua Aier 'Ontou.

As I reflect and reminisce about those vivid moments growing up in Rotuma, it reminds me of the good old days, of the kinship and life of peace and tranquility I have sorely missed.

From a distance I see the holistic beauty of Rotuma:

  • an island in the sun, given to me by my father's hands
  • with its emerald green and lush rain forest, cupped in leafy hands
  • its white sandy beaches, soft as maidens hands
  • with its sky blue crystal waters, bound by reefy hands
  • abundant in fish, like an exotic dancer's twinkling hands
  • that calls to me by the most seductive sunset I have ever seen
  • from Ahau through Maka Bay to Uea.

From a distance I feel the soothing effect of Rotuma:

  • that calls me all the days of my life
  • from Lagi te Maurea with its cool and enchanting effect
  • to the tranquility that captivates my senses
  • with the security that I can sleep at night with my doors and windows open
  • with no worries of being robbed or mugged,

From a distance I smell the fragrance of Rotuma:

  • the Tieri and Ragkari that graces the maidens heads
  • to the Sea and Kori that also anoints their heads
  • the fragrances that permeate, I have longed for in my head

From a distance I hear the call of Rotuma:

  • carried to me by the wind of my imagination
  • with laughter of women and joy of children
  • free of worries
  • that begs me home

With these in mind, I know for certain the meaning of Rotuma Hanua Aier 'Ontou. For wherever I go, I will always long for and miss Rotuma all the days of my life.

It is there that I promise that I will one day return to retire and live for the rest of my life. To rekindle the kinship and repay Rotuma for what I owe it, and to be buried with the rest of my loved ones.

Submitted 25 April 2004.

Beautifully said ...

Melinda Saga'itu-Atalifo [25 August 2009]

Pumua ne Rotuma

by Pasirio Kitione in Nadera, Viti Levu

Many know why there is a fence and only people who have business with the ship at anchor are allowed onto the wharf after presenting their cases to the police officers at the gate.

When I realised that I am missing two bags of cargo and after a quick check with all the heaps of óso’ at the wharf, I was ready for a confrontation had I found my stuff. I went back to the cargo hold, checked with the crew and quietly realised that the stories were true, things do disappear at the wharf. Then I tried to block it out of mind and figured out what to tell my family when I get home to Hapmak.

On the bright side, I am home and the island is as beautiful, so beautiful. I met an Australian gentleman from Malhaá who has lost building material before. He shares it with concern, not anger. I am sure he must have wondered, how on earth can one lose roofing iron and timber in paradise? I also silently took the place and crowd in, cringed with sadness and regret and asked myself, this is Rotuma now?

The unloading of cargo was at a relentless pace, sugar, rice, noodles, corned beef, salted beef, tinned fish, toilet paper, breakfast crackers, cooking gas, petrol, diesel, aircraft fuel and alcohol, cartons and cartons of the stuff. I offered to help the kai Malhaá load his materials but can tell that he has become wharf smart and is making sure that there will be no kana loto on his watch.

Fast forward, it is 4pm, I am back for the return trip, standing outside the wheel house and, then I saw it. There on the wharf were the two bags that I lost in the morning. It was a defining moment for all that I know of and value as a Rotuman. I was warm with relief but more so with pride. I was thankful and so very proud that our value of honesty and the old way of helping out is alive and strong, today.

I will never know who mistakenly took my stuff and then, returned it. I do not know how long it was left there beside the pollard. But I know why it was returned - it is the Rotuman Way. I witnessed young men who freely helped out with the unloading of cargo and never expected nor asked for payment. My cousin of Oinafa was at the wharf and carried cargo for everyone. Why? I asked him. His answer? Because he wanted to, he chose to. My family’s house door has no door, yet their few prized possessions have always been safe.

The mangoes were juicy sweet, the green coconuts have no comparison and the watermelon was the nectar of the earth. It was a very short trip and I hope that the next one will allow me many sittings for the bounty from the land and sea. I dread that with time others may not be as fortunate with their cargo as I was with mine. I got to experience first hand, the honesty, the respect, the old traditional norm, the heart of Rotuma. May these values of our heritage endure forever. Faiaksea, se gagajat ne afak se 'otou os mea'mea'heta.
--o0o--
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