It’s just after lunch and we are back from Church where we sat watching kids play rock,
hammer, scissors outside while they waited for the service to be over. It’s
white Sunday and many of the women were dressed in all white. Dark skinned men
in white suits. Oooohhh. There’s no
Hallowe’en celebrated here, but it’s All Souls Day and Sunday. Nothing is open
on Sunday, and no one works. Except Birdman George.
I’ve just spotted a fruit dove in the tree behind the villa.
He’s doing cartwheels on the branches, and pecking his way about the leaves
eating berries. George isn’t picking up us up until 1pm, so I have time to tell
you about the Tumanu, a tradition only here on Atiu.
On our way to the caves yesterday James stopped and arranged
for us to visit the Tuma Nu (or simply Tumanu) which in English translates
roughly into the bush beer school. According to the history books, the
tradition is ancient, and provided an opportunity for the men to sit around a
circle and share their feelings (ah…). Seriously, since the men traditionally
were responsible for the village decision-making, they used this time to
organize help for one another, share problems, find solutions. The brew, a
fermented hops and malt-based drink was also a big part of the tradition. Women
did not participate but guests could come. So yesterday we were guests at a Tumunu.
When we arrived, stools (a machine-cut log) were ready for us, in the main
circle. We introduced ourselves and were chatted up by all the men, as they
assembled (about 12 perhaps) ranging in age from very old, 80 at least, to
barely old enough to drink, maybe 19 or 20.
Our host here at Atiu village had briefed us on the process.
Everyone will drink from the same cup—a small triangle shaped base of a coconut
shell. The host will fill the cup and pass it to you. You drink it down all at
once, and hand the cup back to the host, who will fill it for the next drinker.
When your turn comes round again, you may take a drink, or pass by facing your
palm to the host. So how does it taste? It’s good. Sweet like wine and thick
like a dark cream ale. I was cautious—barley malt is not on my gf diet--but I
did enjoy three cups (they’re tiny, really!) which at 12% alcohol is probably
my limit anyway. Roger had said 10’s the max, and Margaret continued, to no ill
effect. More interesting though was the ritual. And the camaraderie. About four
or five rounds in, the host asked for quiet. Everyone looked our way. He
welcomed us to the Tumanu and thanked us for coming. He blessed us and wished
us good fortune and a wonderful holiday on Atiu. We signed the guest book. And then
he asked each of us to tell a little bit about ourselves. It was a privilege to
have their attention, and humbling. Atiu hospitality is pretty special.
Everyone knew we were here within minutes of arrival, and we are a little
conspicuous (our white legs?) so everywhere we go we are greeted with warmth
and interest.
I’m sitting around in my pareu after a dip in the pool so
time to get dressed to meet Birdman George.
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