"Hanging
on the Vine called 'Money' "
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. |