I visited a modest bure located in a hilly village in the interior of Tailevu, where I was to interview a selected Methodist family. Alongside my colleague from England, I was welcomed into their home. The husband was reclining on a raised platform while his wife seated herself on the floor beside him. I respectfully acknowledged the elderly couple by clapping my hands three times before expressing my gratitude for their hospitality. After exchanging greetings and providing a brief overview of the project, we engaged in some light conversation before delving into key questions, particularly about their relationship with the Methodist Church.
To my surprise, the wife immediately broke down in tears, revealing the deep emotional weight she carried. I offered to pause the interview to give her a moment, but she continued to speak. She recounted a visit from their mataqali chief the night before, who had reprimanded them for their outstanding debt to the Methodist Church. He expressed that the delay in repaying their debt, which is referred to as vakamisinare—a monetary collection meant to support church officials—had brought shame upon their community. Typically, these debts are publicly acknowledged, with household contributions announced during church gatherings. During our discussion, she shared that much of their monthly social welfare benefits were spent caring for their grandchildren, who had been abandoned by their separated parents and were attending school.
This interview took place in late 2013 during a research project funded by the Australian Government, which focused on informal social protection in Fiji. Development Pathways Ltd from the UK was commissioned to conduct this research, which included a study of the Catholic, Hindu, Methodist, and Muslim organizations. I was one of two local researchers recommended by Professor Vijay Naidu, head of the Development Studies program at the University of the South Pacific. The preparatory stage involved consultations with the Ministry of iTaukei Affairs and representatives from the various religious organizations. After completing our fieldwork, we presented our preliminary findings at the Australian High Commission in Suva. When our team leader revealed that the Fiji Muslim League was leading in assistance to the poor, while the Methodist Church was rated lowest, a frustrated Reverend from the church publicly challenged our findings. I had to clarify our methodology and contextualize our initial scenario.
According to Reverend Ilaitia Tuwere, the interconnectedness of vanua, lotu, and matanitu is crucial to the iTaukei identity. He noted that these aspects are so tightly woven into the social fabric that separating them would undermine the entire structure.
Over the years, I have observed that ineffective government policies and traditional leaders often pressure villagers for monetary contributions, particularly for the church. This pressure has led some villagers to distance themselves from the Methodist Church or migrate to urban areas. While some individuals fare better in cities despite the challenges of globalization and a struggling economy, others do not.
Data indicates that a significant percentage of the impoverished population belongs to the iTaukei community, many of whom identify as members of the Methodist Church.
The recent remarks by the president of the Methodist Church of Fiji, Reverend Dr. Semisi Turagavou, have shed light on the church’s historical practices. His comments challenge the colonial-era strategies that have tied church funding to the authority of local chiefs, creating a dynamic that has disproportionately affected vulnerable individuals. It is encouraging to see the Methodist Church examining its past with the hope of providing a path toward liberation and growth for its members.
Alisi Daurewa is a proponent of people-centered development, and the views expressed in this article do not necessarily represent those of this publication.