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Apologies to readers - this has been a busy
week and there has been little time to write a column of the
usual length. However, I would just like to relate to you
three minor incidents related to ideas of and different forms
of money from three different areas of the world to ponder.
'Stones and pigs: Eivissa and Vanuatu'
Regular readers of this column may be becoming
slightly familiar with periodic references to the Republic
of Vanuatu in the South-west Pacific, the incredibly complex
archipelago where so far I have spent 17 years since 1973
pursuing anthropological themes. In my series of articles
on the importance of pigs in traditional Eivissenc culture
('Ric com un Verga') I made periodic references to the traditional
use of various forms of pigs amongst the cultures of Vanuatu
as a form of traditional currency. The best known forms of
these are male pigs with artificially elongated and curved
tusks. A curved pigs tusk also appears on the modern currency
of Vanuatu, a currency known as 'Vatu'. In many of the 113
languages of Vanuatu the term 'vatu' or related terms means
'stone'. Particular types of stones are of great importance
in the traditional cultures there: some are endowed with spiritual
power, some have powers put into them by human intervention,
some encapsulate history, some represent sacrifice and blood
- the list is almost endless. I have spoken at great length
over the years with many Ibicenco friends about aspects of
culture in Vanuatu: most are fascinated. One old Ibicenco
friend, a shepherd in his late 70s, once asked me what was
used as money in those far-away islands. I replied 'Pigs and
Stones' (well, there are a lot more forms, but I was quickly
comparing the old and the new) and we sat down on a hillside
as I explained things as best as I could. I actually had a
100 Vatu (equivalent to about US $1) coin in my pocket and
showed it to him, also pointing out the curved pig's tusk
on it. He turned it over and over slowly in the sunlight and
then said " 'Stone', that is good: everything that is
solid and made to last must be built on stone and of stone.
Most of our modern things are not made to last". Thinking
about the pig's tusk and pigs, he said " Well, we don't
know about these tusks, but it is true that pigs are valuable,
and look how some of the rich people today started off"
(here I think he was actually referring to events occurring
when he was young, or during his father's time, when adroit
manipulation of the 'pig market' in neighbouring Mallorca
enabled one well-known individual to begin an immense fortune).
He chuckled and then went on to muse about the fact that nowadays
on Eivissa/Ibiza people stole money, but in the old days 'they
stole women and sometimes pigs'. At least the latter were
useful.
'Having no Money can save your life'
In December 1997 I had been invited to go
spend 6 months as Visiting Senior Research Fellow in the Department
of the Arts of Africa, Oceania and the Americas of the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in New York. Rather than waste money on rather
pricey accommodation in central Manhattan, I found a charming,
very good value accommodation in 'El Barrio' in the lower
edges of Harlem. As any anthropologist arriving in new territory
is wont to do, I thought it a good idea to scout out the territory
and one night shortly after my arrival I set off to penetrate
deeper into Harlem and by about 1am I was ready to cross over
a road somewhere around the corner of Lexington and 125th
Street, I think. Three young men suddenly appeared from under
the shadows of a street light: one pulled out a knife and
said, "Give us your money and your credit cards!"
My mind was elsewhere and I absent-mindedly laughed a bit
and replied "Ha, I'm an anthropologist so I have very
little money and I'm really English so have never used a credit
card in my life". I must admit they seemed a bit taken
aback, but I had noticed that the one who had spoken had done
so in slightly accented English as if he were originally a
Spanish speaker. I then switched in to Spanish and said, "Hey,
is this a mugging like on gringo TV? "One of the others
then said how did I know Spanish? Well, I live on the island
of Ibiza in Spain, I replied. Their eyes rolled and the third
said "Waoo, hombre, sexo, drogas y 'rock'n'roll"!
and then the conversation really started. I said Ibiza is
not really like it is portrayed in the media and began to
talk about pigs and gold chains and sheep and rural life.
Well, I eventually ended up with them (at their invitation)
in a back street bar (or whatever) where the conversation
came to a deathly stop as I walked in with them. I was definitely
the one with the lightest skin hue in the place. Not drinking
any alcohol, I gratefully accepted their offer of a coffee,
and ended up drinking several (at their expense). We had a
fascinating conversation. They were Puerto Ricans - or at
least their families had come from there several decades ago
- and church-going Catholics. Good jobs were hard to come
by and they had more important things to do. Their girlfriends
were always asking them for presents and so they did a bit
of petty mugging now and then to make ends meet. By 3am I
said I would have to leave as I had to be at the Metropolitan
Museum early that morning and so we said our cheerful farewells.
Before going, though, they told me in the politest way possible
that it might not really be all that safe for me to walk around
these parts of town late at night ("Not all the people
here are as respectable as we are") and one gave me a
mobile phone number to call 'in case of emergency'. As I walked
towards the exit others in the bar (who had seemingly all
been listening to the conversation with extended ears) smiled
and nodded, one even kindly opening the door whilst suggesting
I take the 'quickest way back to where I was staying'. Just
as I was going out one of the three laughingly shouted out
to me " Well, the next time we try and ask a whitey for
money, first we'll ask him if he is an anthropologist and
then we'll ask if he's English! Tonight has not worked out
as profitable as we had expected"! I laughed back, thanked
them and headed for bed.
So the next time you are in Harlem and are
approached in a possibly rather impolite way with a request
for financial assistance, just tell them you're an English
anthropologist. With a bit of luck, you might get some free
coffee. I should point out though, that sometimes it is rather
difficult to find good coffee in some areas of the US.
(One thing did puzzle me, though, when I
thought about it much later: these Puerto Ricans were a little
bit out of their territory as well. Harlem is rather interestingly
divided into different territories and these gentlemen were
also a bit outside of their normal turf, which is traditionally
a bit further south. Maybe they were out scouting the territory
as well).
'Hanging on the Vine called 'Money''
In September and October 2000 I was back
in Vanuatu. An important photographic exhibition about the
traditional life of the Nauvhal-speaking peoples from the
hills in the interior of south-western Tanna Island (in southern
Vanuatu) was coming up at the Academy of Sciences in San Francisco,
California. The photographs were by the well-known (at least
in the Pacific) American cultural photographer David Becker
who has spent well over a decade photographing customary life
amongst isolated Pacific island groups. He has done much important
work in Vanuatu, particularly amongst the Nauvhal-speaking
peoples on Tanna, who have retained an almost completely traditional
lifestyle in spite of over 150 years of missionary activity
on their island (which is, incidentally, almost exactly the
same size as Eivissa/Ibiza). David had arranged for his friend
Posen Arpetung from that area to come to California for the
opening of the exhibition and had arrived in the capital of
Vanuatu to co-ordinate Posen's exciting trip. Posen arrived
from Tanna (Posen is the Vanuatu Cultural Centre's Fieldworker
- or representative - for the peoples of his area) and the
three of us went to drink kava (the traditional Vanuatu sacred
drink) the day before they were due to leave. I suggested
to Posen that he should try and not just look at the surface
of things in America, he should try and look behind the façade
and see what it was really like. David could guide and interpret
for him. I needn't have been so concerned - those brought
up in the deep, ancient lifestyles of Vanuatu are often incredibly
perceptive when faced with new things. I was still in the
capital when Posen and David returned from California. A Tanna
island chiefly association called Foanga ('sharpening stone')
based in the capital and which looks after the welfare of
people from one area of that island had invited Posen (and
David) to come and speak to them about what America was like.
The leader of Foanga, Chief Jacob Sam Kapere, head of the
Vanuatu Cultural Centre's National Film and Sound Unit, is
an incredibly perceptive analyzer of what is good and bad
regarding input from the outside world.
I was there with the Foanga group as Posen
entered the earthen meeting area and he sat on the ground
in the traditional position indicating one of lower status
speaking to elders. Posen gave his report: I am summarising
and paraphrasing his words. "We have all heard of the
island of America and we all think it is very rich. It is
true it is big and it has much riches, but these riches are
not for all and there are many people who have no land and
many people who do not even have a house. Many are not happy.
Everyone is supposed to work for money and that is the main
activity. But many cannot work and sleep by the side of the
road with a tin cup to collect money from people who pass
by and put money in these cups. Some of these cups have a
written paper beside them that says what the money is needed
for. I counted many people like this (and he held up his note
pad where he had made a mark for each such person he had seen
- and the marks covered page after page). Americans place
great value on money, they think it is the most important
thing. Those with more money marry the youngest women. Americans
have many things they call 'machines': these are supposed
to make life easier and happier, so Americans work to buy
these. When they buy one they have to work to buy another
different one, but they do not get happier, they just work
more to buy more 'machines'. (At this point Posen clutched
a handful of grass and pulled it out by its roots) Americans
are like this grass, they have pulled themselves out from
the earth and they have lost contact with it, they float in
the air. (Above Posen was a long thin rope strung across the
meeting area, he called it a 'vine') They have torn themselves
from the earth and hung themselves on this vine above me (and
he made a motion to throw the clump of grass so that it hung
bent over the 'vine'). Every American hangs on that vine.
That vine is called 'money'. If that vine gets sick, then
everyone hanging on that vine gets sick with it".
Which is just about the best analysis of
our modern Euro-American economic system that I have come
across in years!
Enough thoughts for the week. But I note
this is rather longer than I planned.
Kirk W Huffman
kirkwhuffman@liveibiza.com
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