Long circumscribed by ritual,
kava is breaking out of traditional constraints and becoming
an everyday escape-and problem
By
LEORA MOLDOFSKY Port Vila
By
day, it's just another ramshackle shed, set in a square of
grass on a Port Vila back street. But as night falls, Ronnie
Watson switches on the dim red light hanging outside the tin
and plasterboard shack and opens his bar. Inside, under a
bare yellow globe, his wife Ruby slices apples and oranges
into neat chunks, wraps strips of foil around the ends of
scrawny chicken drumsticks, tidies packets of Minties and
Juicy Fruit gum, and funnels a thick, gray-brown liquid from
plastic pails into a row of empty drink bottles lining the
counter. That sludge, kava, is the only drink on the menu
at Ronnie's. The food is there only to mask the pungent, bitter
flavor of Vanuatu's intoxicant of choice.
It may look unappetizing and taste terrible, but many ni-Vanuatu regard kava's warm, soporific embrace as a gift from the gods. Long a staple of South Pacific island rituals, the narcotic wrung from the roots of Piper methysticum, a pepper plant, is traditionally imbibed to cement alliances, repair rifts, reaffirm status, commune with the spirits and treat illnesses from colds to gonorrhea. Condemned as the "devil's drink" by 19th century missionaries and outlawed by Vanuatu's colonial masters, kava has been promoted officially, since independence in 1980, as a link to valued traditions, a lucrative export crop and an innocuous alternative to alcohol, today's demon brew.
While the village nakamals (open-air club houses) on outlying islands continue to observe complex preparation and drinking rites, there's no such ceremony at most of Port Vila's 100 kava bars. "Island beer" can still move adherents to raptures. "Kava is the best," says Ronnie's customer Charles Mark in the quiet, slow speech of a man who has downed three coconut shells of the drink. "I relax, I feel good, I forget everything." But, with use of kava on the rise, Vanuatu's health workers aren't so impressed with its effects.
Each afternoon, when kava roots are brought into nakamals on the outlying island of Tanna, young boys go to work, chewing the fibrous mass into a pulp that is diluted with water, stirred and left to ferment for a few hours before being poured through a coconut-fiber strainer into the communal kava bowl. In bars like Ronnie's, those young mouths have been replaced by meat grinders. That would please the European explorers and missionaries who were revolted by the sight of masticating, spitting virgins. But expatriates like New Zealander Ross Wilson, who has sampled the saliva-laced brew, say it's "cleaner-tasting and stronger" when prepared that way.
It's a taste most women can only imagine. Of the many legends surrounding the origins of kava, one of the most popular is that the shrub sprang from the loins of a woman, says Ronnie's customer McClory Kalsakau, "and only men can drink from a woman." Such was the taboo on the island of Tanna that females who saw kava being prepared or drunk risked being put to death. Today, says Malvatumauri (National Council of Chiefs) chairman Tom Numake, "We just hit her over the head with a kava branch until she cries." Western women are welcome at most of Vila's kava bars, but some ni-Vanuatu men prefer their wives to "buy some powder to drink at home," says father of three Yaxlee Nagos, "once they've finished with the kids."
At Tanna's nakamals, drinking kava is said to be "like shaking hands in farewell"; ritual dictates that drinkers down a shell, blow a spray of liquid into the night, mutter an incantation to the gods, then sit in silence, "listening" to the kava. That wouldn't appeal to Ronnie's customers, although heightened sensitivity to sound means drinkers tend to converse in whispers. "I've made plenty of friends here," says ni-Vanuatu chef Dennis Falau, who's at the bar every night. "In Australia," says refrigeration mechanic Geoff Clelland as his young daughter clambers over the bench beside him, "I'd get frowned on for taking her to the pub, but here no one seems to mind until she starts making a ruckus."
Drinking kava is a nightly tradition on Tanna, where popular varieties include "wok let" (likely to make you late for work) and "two-day" (which has a 48-hour recovery period). In most parts of Vanuatu, the brew was reserved for ceremonies and men of high rank; now many people imbibe daily. Falau, who can drink 10 shells in one session, says "kava is not like alcohol, which can make you want to fight." But some men, says Nagos, "still have to force their wives to heat up their dinner when they come home late." Health Department officer Asha Sine says people are abusing kava-and its effects aren't confined to hangover-like headaches and nausea; it also reduces people's desire to work and isolates them from their families. And though kava only costs $1.30 a shell, says Sine, "it is expensive if you drink every day and buy extra for your friends." With workplace absenteeism and family breakdowns on the rise, Vanuatu's health workers may be wishing that kava did talk-and that it would tell its devotees to exercise some self-control.
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August 20-27, 2001 |
No. 33
COVER
STORY
The
New Pacific
Setting off to explore the islands, Time found an ocean of stories. Faced
with the challenges of the global village, some peoples are prospering,
easily melding old ways with new; others struggle to cling to tradition
in a cyclone of change
TO
OUR READERS...
TRAVELERS ADVISORY...
PACIFIC
BEAT: Bougainville talks; West Papua in coventry...
SPECIAL:
Pacific Journey
CLIMATE: Not Waving, Drowning... Kiribati
and Tuvalu fear being erased by rising seas
MIGRATION: Outgoing Tide... Small
nations are losing their best and brightest people
LAND RIGHTS: At Loggerheads... Landowners
and opportunists vie for Fiji's mahogany wealth
MEDIA: Telling It Like It Is... Nervous
governments make life tough for local newsmen
GOVERNMENT: The Falling-to-Pieces
Process... The Solomon Islands is riven by corruption and lawlessness
DRUGS: Brewing Trouble... As drinking
rules lose their grip, kava is becoming a social bane
RELIGION: Shopping for Jesus... In
Samoa, new brands of Christianity are giving old ones a jolt
BUSINESS: Blooming Economy... Fijian
housewives find growth potential in their backyards
WOMEN: No Room to Move... In Vanuatu,
women's freedom often sits uneasily with tradition
SCIENCE: Gene Blues... Tongans debate
whether to give researchers access to their dna
MEDICINE: Sweet and Deadly... Long-isolated
islanders are vulnerable to diet-related diseases
THE ARTS: Bringing Samoa to Book... Sia
Figiel writes about her homeland with novel candor
ENVIROMENT: Nowhere to Throw... Places
like the Cook Islands have little room for waste
FISHING: Conserving the Catch... Fearful
for the sea's health, Samoans apply their own First Aid
THE ARTS: Tapa Recording... Bark cloth
documents island peoples' lives and legends
THE ARTS: Islamic
art; Pee-wee's back...
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