By Matt Bray

Noa’ia se ‘oto kaumane’ag Rotuam ‘e ran teisi.

Ours is a gift that should last forever. Rotuma is a treasure of this world, which, if it were lost, would be the ultimate loss. I know I’m repeating something you most likely all already know, but this is also something we must remember before we consider such things as moving to mainland Fiji, or overseas. From figures and estimates by early ships that reached Rotuma in the 19th Century, the population was upwards of 4,000 people, a figure now halved.

Now, I’d firstly like to acknowledge how little I know on the subject, just in case any of you plan to point it out. I am biologically only half Rotuman and yet, although I’ve never actually been there, and have only experienced interpretations and versions of our culture in Fiji, here in Australia, and in books, I feel still connected and drawn to it. The thought that, if I do one day have children, that they, or my grandchildren, may have to grow up without the chance to hear a tiap hi'i, wear a tefui, go fara, greet someone with a friendly “Noa'ia,” or hear of Raho & Tokaniua, brings me great sadness, as I can imagine it would for many of you. Rotuma constitutes a lot of how we see ourselves. The values and traditions of the society make us the people we are, and the people we want our children to be. I realize this may be sounding negative and bleak, but these still stand as high-risk possibilities for the future, and are best considered before it is too late. It’s all very well to say, ‘I don’t live in Fiji or Rotuma anymore, and I’ve left that behind, so I needn’t bother.’ Personally, I will get there soon. From what I’ve heard, the island is incomparable. So I would imagine we would all like to get back there. We would also like Rotuma to be there whenever we wish to return.

Where will the mamasa be when there’s no one on the island? Or for that matter when no one is a manatu or purotu, when there’s no one to weave 'epa? Am I the only one seeing this as a possibility for our future? If so, I am urging that we take immediate action to ensure the survival of our way of life.

So what does this mean? How do I, le' hafat (apologies if this term offends), plan to help keep this from happening before Rotuma disappears into non-existence? Personally, I think those of us whose families have decided to emigrate should take a leaf out of the book of the New Zealand Rotuman fellowship. Their tight-knit community seems to keep alive their traditions and cultures overseas. They hold “Fellowship Weekends” where elders teach traditions, social etiquette, and the place of everyone in the family’s social order. True, elsewhere, we don’t have time to uphold our traditions. But is two hours a week, for example, such a high price to pay to ensure our endurance?

Here in Australia, it is difficult to try to explain “Rotuman” as one’s race. Many of us simply identify ourselves as Fijian, because it is easier. When we do try, we end up being mixed up with Rotoruans, Rarotongans, and Samoans. That’s why I’d like to applaud people such as Alan Howard, Elisapeti Inia, Vilsoni Hereniko, and all those who have tried to explain Rotuma to the world.

So if Rotuma disappears, where will you be from? Here is where action must be implemented to ensure there’s a Rotuma there for us to return to, and that Rotuma goes with us wherever we are. So, what do we do? Each of us may be conscious of this, but then scoff at the idea, saying it’ll never happen, which it may not, but if it came to that, we need to be ready. We are generally a highly spiritual people, reflected in our name “Rotuma”, and so I think our first step should be to offer our efforts and hopes to God, the Almighty, for without Him, everything may well be in vain.

The second stage of the operation will require us to strengthen our already healthy Rotuman communities overseas. We should abandon petty differences; these will only get in the way. Our people are renowned across the Pacific as respectful and courteous; hopefully this extends to everyone. Our communities also need to become keen and conscious, keen to meet up regularly, conscious of what needs to be done to get things on track, e.g. fundraising, etc. We must promote sharing and trust in our communities, these being the foundations of our way of life. We must be open to share our responsibilities, our triumphs and trials, and share our ideas for how to do things. Everyone traditionally has his or her input into everything; that way we all can see the results and then reap the benefits. After all, there is great strength in unity. United we stand, divided we fall.

Next we must be open to accept “Rotumanness” in any and every aspect of our lives. We must be willing to learn and ready to teach. We have to start with our children, while they are still young. This may mean talking to them in Rotuman, letting them watch ceremonies on tape or listen to Rotuman music, and offering them every chance to experience the culture, and to make it a fun thing, not a chore. It is well documented that strong influences in a person’s childhood go with them wherever they are. If we reinforce Rotumanness from a young age, we may be planting the seeds for a generation of migrant Rotumans who are proud and knowledgeable in their culture.

But where are they going to learn how to be Rotuman? Books like the New Rotuman Dictionary, Seksek ‘e Hatana, Rotuma: Hanua Pumue,and Kato’aga are all magnificent accounts and explanations of the way we do things, or should do things, and I am here by no means criticizing these works’ content or capacity, or the capability of their very knowledgeable authors. But in the end, the best ways to educate are practical in nature, where one can capture the essence of what they are trying to say.

I think the teaching of “how to be a Rotuman” can be something the Rotuman communities can take on as their responsibility. It has been applied in New Zealand, and I imagine could be done anywhere. Knowledgeable elders can teach different aspects and age-groups on a regular basis, maybe with a koua every fortnight, assisted by the students, with presentations to parents, as examples of what the students have learnt, e.g. offering fakpeje, acting as mafua, etc.

Now, all of this is not my way of saying the demise of Rotuma and its ways are imminent, fast approaching, and inevitable, nor am I looking for a chance to carp the institutions into place. I simply wish to share my views with the wider community. I’m only 14, and may be missing the point.

There are many things I have not taken into account, and which I, by all means, invite you to bring into this forum; however, my essential aim is to open a dialogue amongst those concerned, like me, with the future. Many of us find it difficult to fulfill Rotumanness, or just can’t in their new busy home, which I acknowledge. But none of us should have to say “I’m Australian” if it hurts; none should have to lose their cultural identity due to lethargy. We’re not like that.