A surprise addendum to my Easter weekend trip in Western Viti Levu was the decision to become a fully certified Open Water Scuba Diver. This qualification is generally attained in the first three days of learning how to be a subaquatic primate but I had been too cheap in those early Thailand days to get it S.O.R.T.E.D (Signal, Orientate, Regulator, Time, Equalize, Descend).
Realizing all that was required were two more dives and a few straightforward underwater skill tests, I figured where better to earn my stripes than Fiji’s fertile reefs. A quick cross-reference between the stack of brochures at Blue Water Lodge and TripAdvisor pointed me in the auspicious direction of Mana Island.
A fascinating word I first heard around the tanoa, mana carries deep cultural significance for peoples of the Pacific. As a mostly clueless Gen Z white man, I am in no position to propose a definition of mana, however, following my rabid curiosity and a felt sense of resonance, I will hazard an outline of the things I’ve gathered about mana thus far…
What is Mana?
In New Mana: Transformations of a Classic Concept in Pacific Languages and Cultures, a rich modern anthology of essays on mana that I discovered one drizzly Sunday afternoon in the University of the South Pacific’s library, the concept is explored in illuminating depth.
As Micheal Lampert points out, curious foreigners and (especially Western) academics have been “‘word prospecting’—pulling terms out of context and treating them as emblems, or fetishizing them’’ (p.238) for a long time in the South Pacific. Mana has been a regular target and, thanks to its cultural association with manifest power and Christian association with miracles, has been sucked wholesale into the circus of New Age spirituality.
“Many books that deal with esoteric energy tend to list ch’i, ki, prana and mana together as if they are the same thing. While the pairs do rhyme nicely, it must be stated that mana does not belong in that list. Mana is a Polynesian word that basically means divine or spiritual power and authority or influence. It is the ability to direct energy, rather than the energy itself’ (Serge King in Mana for a New Age 1992)
A tidy paragraph, the above quote was written by Serge ‘Kahili’ King, a dubious teacher in the allegedly Hawaiian ‘Huna’ spiritual tradition. King has claimed that Huna, an ‘ancient empowerment and healing practice’, was originally gifted to the Hawaiians by aliens from the Pleiades star system…
Pali Jae Lee, a native Hawaiian activist concerned with the misappropriation of her culture, conducted extensive research with Hawaiian elders to confirm without a shadow of doubt that Huna is Not Hawaiian.
Mana is listed as one of the 7 core principles of Huna and is defined by King as “all power comes from within”. I cite this New Age definition of mana because it is precisely the opposite of what I have learned about mana thus far from native Fijians.
A Vanua View
Riding the bus one day back to Suva from the town of Pacific Harbour after my first half-marathon I sat down next to an older iTaukei man with a very kind smile. We struck up a conversation prompted by the tanoa strapped to the backpack at my feet and I eventually got to asking him about mana. Navitalai’s response was direct and delivered with a sense of humility that touched me. To paraphrase, he shared that;
‘Mana comes from the vanua. It comes from the people, it comes from the land, it comes from the power of place invested in figureheads of that place; namely Fijian chiefs.’
Vanua means land in iTaukei and is a tremendously important multidimensional thing for the people of the Fiji Islands. A term used in cultural, religious, communal, political, historical, artistic, and many other contexts - to say that mana comes from the vanua is to affirm that the power of any part is always an expression of that part’s aligned relationship to the whole.
Navitalai continued, ‘The chief holds mana because all of the people look up to him for guidance and leadership. Mana is power, but it is not an individual's power - it comes from the land and the community (vanua) and is channeled through the chief in service to the vanua.’
This understanding of mana as a force of the collective applied in service to the collective is vital and draws a sharp contrast to King’s highly individuated ‘power from within’ definition. Relationality, not individuality, seems to vibrate at the core of mana - a point all too often missed by the navel-gazing Western mind.
Methodist Mana
What I have shared thus far amounts to a somewhat pre-Christian perspective on mana but any sincere treatment of the topic in modern Fiji must bring Christendom into play.
In Theologies of Mana and Sau in Fiji, another excellent essay in the New Mana anthology, author Matt Tomlinson references distinguished Methodist theologian Ilaitia Sevati Tuwere at length illustrating how deeply enmeshed mana is in the Fijian zeitgeist:
‘In Vanua: Towards a Fijian Theology of Place, Tuwere writes that mana “involves a semantic domain that includes a number of other terms such as tabu, presence, blessing, success, creative force, fertility and more … but also writes that it is integral to sorcery (Tuwere 2002: 141, 161)’ …
Mana is implicated in social control, but also ultimate freedom: Jesus ‘is the source of all life-giving mana’, and in sacrificing himself on the cross he gave ‘lasting mana for all those that believe’ and ‘for the whole world to have healing and integrative mana’; mana is power, but also powerlessness as seen in Jesus’ humility and despair (136,141,155,156,164,166-68).
From a generally fecund animist power to the Passion of Christ, descriptions of Fijian mana have a range that is both mind-boggling and reassuring. Across this range, mana appears to bridge the vibrant Indigenous spirituality of Fiji’s long pre-Christian history with the more modern influence of the Church.
In those many centuries before the arrival of missionaries and a Biblical God, the force of Sau occupied a similar source position in Fijian cosmology. For perhaps self-affirming reasons, discussions of sau in Christian discourse often vaguely equate the term with mana while veering in the direction of witchcraft and sorcery.
Nevertheless, the interactions between sau and mana from the Indigenous perspective are both fascinating and uncomfortable as they begin to pull on dark threads of colonization and cultural erasure in modern Fiji. There is much more to learn about sau, but for now, let’s return to the puzzling end of the quote above.
In what sense could mana be described as both power and powerlessness?
“Keeping these irreconcilable meanings in tension, Tuwere writes that ‘Mana, illustrating the reconciling work of God in Christ . . . does not exhaust the nature of God but . . . is the only meaningful way of describing God and what his power may mean in the Fijian context (161) (Theologies of Mana and Sau in Fiji, p.248 New Mana) (March 9 in photos)
While this bombshell from Tuwere may only muddy the mana waters further, I get the strong sense that what he is pointing to is faith. Faith in the miraculous power of a savior that exceeds comprehension, perhaps a savior that might also be the ever-giving and receiving land/waters/communities that bind Fijians together...
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Back to Paradise
Eventually - after that longwinded tangent - I arrived on Mana Island and was welcomed ashore by a smattering of staff from Ratu Kini Guesthouse singing a cheerful tune with hearty claps.
The guesthouse reception had a sandy and windswept feel with various faded images of Fijian scenery on the walls. Mounted above the ridge beam in the main building was an interesting plaque commemorating the sealing of a time capsule in 1999 by Ratu (a title usually reserved for chiefs) Kini Bokonaqiwa. I wondered what mana might reside inside.
Following a brief introduction to the island’s sights and topography I learned that Mana had played host to the American Survivor TV show for the last seven years. Production of the eighth season was to begin the next day with half of the island locked down for security and privacy. Not much of a Survivor fan I was pleasantly surprised to learn that other Hollywood productions had come Mana’s way. Back in 1999 Tom Hanks and 20th Century Fox had posted up on the uninhabited island next door to film Castaway, the movie I had almost decided to watch on my 10-hour flight to Fiji but thought better of given the plane crash which kicks off the whole ordeal!
I did manage to get some scuba lessons S.O.R.T.E.D with the front desk and after lunch wandered down the idyllic beach in search of my instructor. Finding out that Tukana had gone fishin’, I hung around the Mana Bula Lodge admiring its handcrafted sunshade structure before meeting little JJ, the cutest kid to have crossed my path thus far in Fiji. JJ was enthralled by all the trinkets that dangled from my backpack, carefully inspecting each for size, color, and playability. Not much older than two, JJ’s frolicking joyfulness warmed my heart, reminding me to slow down and absorb the simple beauty of this place and time.
Resting under the shade structure a little way from JJ’s playground sat Mica, a longtime Mana resident originally hailing from the chiefly province of Bau on the Eastern side of Viti Levu. Mica and I had just begun a friendly conversation when Tukana returned handing me a smile and stack of documentation to complete before our afternoon lesson turned into a night dive.
Suited and booted we waded out in bathtub warm waters past Mana’s sandbank before sinking into the miracle of scuba. As my breath turned into Darth Vader’s, I followed Tuks’ guidance through the necessary skills tests including underwater orienteering, neutral buoyancy, and readjustment of tanks. With these formalities complete a short adventure ensued with Tuks pointing out various critters on the sea floor as the light began to fade.
Hosing down with fresh water back on land, I enjoyed a tasty dinner of stir-fried noodles before my favorite time of day rolled around - kava time! The mix began with the gang at Ratu Kini Guesthouse using the vokete (bucket) I had carried with me to Mana Island from a recent Fijian Drua rugby match in Lautoka. A handful of folks at Ratu Kini had just arrived in Fiji and this was their first time trying kava. While I did my best to explain - as I have had the honor of doing in Thailand many times before - it felt patently weird to be giving such an introduction in Fiji itself.
Nevertheless, my passion for the subject overflowed and soon our talanoa was rolling with hearty laughs and exchanging of stories from South Pacific roads less traveled. A local came up from the beach with a fresh catch in hand and, for a few minutes, all seemed right in the world.
Remembering all at once the invitation Mica had extended earlier that afternoon to come drink grog at Mana Bula Lodge, I picked up the vokete and we relocated our mix down the beach. Sitting comfortably in the Lodge’s main room, a large portrait of scruffy Tom Hank’s watched over the merry scene as Mica replaced my measly bucket with a gorgeous Lauan tanoa.
A man with many stories, Mica shared his memories of the iconic storm scene in Castaway which he said was created with just three industrial fans and a little rain machine. A relatively small operation given that the film had just one actor, the production crew used to take a boat to and from the mainland every day while storing some equipment on Mana Island.
Mana on High
Though I had now been on the island for most of the day, I had yet to learn how it had gained its potent namesake. I asked Mica and his reply surprised me. He shared that according to legend, long ago a sacred mana box fell and sunk from a canoe sailing the waters near the island. Though shrouded in mystery, some believe that such boxes were carried from the Holy Lands of Canaan by ancient Israelites as they spread out across the globe.
According to Exodus 16, God provided manna or ‘bread of heaven’ to the Israelites as sustenance during their forty years in the wilderness. A pot of manna was transported inside the Ark of Covenant alongside the Tablets of the Law and Aaron’s Rod during those long biblical wanderings in the desert.
A fascinating instance of syncretism between Christianity and Indigenous Fijian religiosity, the mana box appears to occupy a point of transition and integration between these traditions - blurring their lines in a perplexing yet beautiful way.
Mica then began to speak of miracles on Mana Island.
Some years ago he told me that he had devoted an entire month to focused prayer for the universal health and well-being of his family, the village, and all people on earth. On the final night of the month, Mica and another woman from the village who had been following the same practice ascended to the highest point on Mana Island marked with three crosses. Facing the ocean just before sunrise, the two were deep in prayer when a fellow villager climbed up to photograph the auspicious closing moments of their month-long practice. But to the photographer’s surprise no figures could be seen in the frame, only a large golden-white box of light in the place where the two sat.
Mica chuckled at my astonished expression and served another round of bilos. It’s talanoa like this that keeps me coming back to the tanoa. Committed as he was to generating positive vibrations for the benefit of all beings, I felt that Mica’s story was the perfect expression of manifest power that mana is all about.
The following morning I hopped in the fibreglass hull of Tuk’s boat with another well-seasoned British diver from Ratu Kini Guesthouse and we set out through the reef passage for the Supermarket. They call it the Supermarket because its got everything you need; sharks, swaying corals, shoals of fish every color of the rainbow, and a marvelous range of crannies filled with all manner of aquatic beauty.
After equalizing and following a barnacled guide rope down 15m to the ocean floor a white-tipped reef shark came to say hello. Roughly the same size as me, this was the first time I had been in the open ocean a large predator and it was exhilarating. Tuk’s briefing at the surface had quelled my nerves and I felt secure observing shark’s graceful movement and rippling gills.
For the next forty-five minutes I made like Dory and just kept swimming. Being under multiple atmospheres of water pressure is a truly miraculous thing. Immersed in oceanic awe, both air and time feel compressed beneath the waves - vanishing all too quickly into dreamlike bubbles.
I resurfaced to choppy weather with the imposing shadow of Castaway Island looming overhead. A more cinematic ending could not have been planned and I remained giddy with delight as our skiff surfed back to Mana Island. With Open Water certification achieved, I boarded the transfer back to Viti Levu sincerely thanking the island and its people for a macro dose of that thing they call mana.