Vaitahu, Tahuata 5 May 2010 9.9366S 139.1122W

The Marquesian culture is one of sharing, but even in a culture of sharing there is an expectation of future benefit to the sharer, when they become the recipient of someone else’s sharing. How is this different from a trading culture or a bartering culture, or our own cash culture? Maybe it’s not that different. I think at the core, there is a common human trait of keeping track and counting. Even if the first shared item was given with no expectation of returns – the miracle of the fishes and loaves, the magic of stone soup – at some point we all count. Maybe what we count varies slightly, but if one individual is perceived as tending towards the recipient role vs. the giver role, that individual will stick out, and the culture will backlash, not always in an appropriate way.

The culture clashes I’ve seen seem, at their heart, to be variations on what we count, how we count it and how we store what we’re counting. Historically Marquesians stored what they counted in Mana (essence/soul). Their lives were focused on building their mana, and consuming the mana of their strongest enemies (through ritual cannibalism). Christianity came along with it’s message of peace, converting their focus to that of consuming the mana of Jesus through communion, and teaching them to store what they count in a spiritual sense through good deeds, which will pave a smooth path to heaven. Then a mass of tourists have come along, storing what they’ve counted (often for years) on board, and in a foreign bank account. A Marquesian does not have a cultural history of “saving” through cash or goods (there are two banks here for six inhabited islands and most have no internet); if they have cash or goods, there is an expectation that what they have will be shared with their village (usually synonymous with their family, since many in a village are related in some way). And historically anything that was owned by neighboring islands (foreigners), was fair game for sacking, pillaging, taking.

Tourists arriving in this context have their own variations on what they expect to get with what they have: some are looking to get the best “deal” – that is trade their item of least value for an item they value more (their junk for cool stuff), others come in charity with donated used clothes or eyeglasses (but wouldn’t a little fruit be nice), still others don’t want to barter, but come with cash, wanting to “just” buy what they desire, nice and easy like going to Costco. Few of our motives or acquisition techniques, are well matched to the local counting mechanism. We’re all counting, but we’re counting different things. Even the donor mentality folks who want to come here and do good, (and recount their good deeds to their churches at home so folks will donate more eyeglasses) are not sharing something they personally value (like the cool Raybans that they are wearing), so it gives rise to suspicions on the part of the locals, that these “generous” folks are just unloading their junk and holding back on the good stuff. They can see the good stuff all over the boats, nice clean kayaks, outboard motors, new lines. They can see us drinking aperitifs at sunset, lazing about with a book, or just suntanning on deck. They don’t see the hard work of preparing for years and setting aside as much as possible, provisioning up, nor the daily work of surviving on a boat (sleepless long passages, repairing heads, changing oil in a 100 degree engine room, doing dishes in a lurching sea). And they don’t understand our need to keep some of our stuff for later in the trip, for the next island, the next country. They just see us arriving with tons of stuff, unwilling to share ALL that we have, like any good islander would. Instead we show them a handful of fishing lures, letting them know we’ll only trade one. So what they trade in return is the fruit from their trees which would otherwise rot in their yards (but you don’t hear me complaining!).

Yes trading is necessary to us all, few villages have more than a small store (the size of your bedroom), where canned food and non-local fruits and vegetables are sometimes available in limited supply (usually just a few cucumbers, green tomatoes, sprouting onions and potatoes). The bananas, mangos, breadfruit, starfruit, guava, and pomplemouse (huge sweet green grapefruits) all fall in someone’s yard. Locals exchange what’s ripe with each other, we trade what we have. Artisans will take cash for their work (tapas, wood and bone carvings, tattoos and black pearl jewelry), but they often expect the full price of an object (the amount they know it will fetch in Tahiti), even though by selling it here, they save the cost of shipping and the gallery owner’s commission. They know it’s value, and they expect that value to be paid, who can deny that logic.

Personally, there is an element to all this trading that concerns me on both sides. I’m ever trying to assume a balanced and honest world, yet none of us is fully balanced or fully honest. Was I being dishonest, when I said to the boat that approached wanting to trade for rum, that we had none? Well we had none to trade… In wanting to step across this planet with a light foot, there is no place for bringing alcohol into a small village with no tradition of consuming alcohol in moderation. Yet many others, don’t come with the same scruples, if that’s the best deal for a beautiful wood bowl, many are happy to pay that price.

In Ben Franklin’s autobiography, he recounts an incident where after “negotiating” with natives, they give them some rum to celebrate. The natives went wild in the evening “beating one another with firebrands, accompanied by their horrid yellings.” The next day the Indians came to apologize for their behavior. One old Indian counselor said:

“The Great Spirit, who made all things, made everything for some use, and whatever use he design’d anything for, that use it should always be put to. Now, when he made rum, he said, “Let this be for the Indians to get drunk with,” and it must be so.”

Ben’s ruminations on this declaration:

“Indeed, if it be the design of Providence to extirpate these savages in order to make room for cultivators of the earth, it seems not improbable that rum may be the appointed means. It has already annihilated all the tribes who formerly inhabited the sea-coast.”

I think there are more than a few travelers in these parts who would wholeheartedly agree with him, and who relish assisting providence. Not being a believer in divine providence, I think it’s up to us to sew what we hope future generations will reap, even this far from home. Now, if I could stay awhile, and share the notion of moderation, along with a nice rum punch before dinner, I think that would be a worthy cultural exchange, but I think it would take more than one evening, maybe more than a generation, and it comes with a big risk. Always we circle back to never having enough time.

Beneath all of this trading there can still be found the common human trait of pure generosity, but amidst the culture clashes of trading, it’s under assault and I personally need to make a more concerted effort to nurture it when possible. Generosity seems easiest when there is a basis of other commonalities, like when Frank helped another boat from Brittany repair their jib, or through meals we’ve shared with younger cruisers on smaller boats, paying back what we were paid forward when we were younger cruisers on a smaller boat. We just arrived in a small village where a store owner, on hearing that we had two sons back at the boat, gave us sweet bone carved necklaces for them (and an extra two for Frank and I); this was after we’d made our purchase, and there was no expectation of payment. We’ve heard other cruisers recount incredible acts of generosity by villagers (usually more prevalent in villages with fewer yachts). This often gives rise to a strong desire to return the gift or the favor in some way – functionally making it similar to a trade, but why does this kind of exchange seem more gratifying? – We’re still counting.

I wonder if the shopkeeper’s kids would appreciate some of Kennan’s Whitewings folding sport planes (a gift from my cousin Cricket).

xoxomo