After a half-hour journey along the winding Sawani-Serea Road, The Sunday Times team arrived at a vast flatland dotted with rows of century-old rubber trees standing tall in the field.
We found ourselves in Veirapa, a significant site for Fiji’s rubber trade in the Naitasiri province during the colonial period. Surprisingly, alongside sugar, copra, and bananas, Fiji once had a modest rubber industry, with Serea being one of the few locations where rubber was cultivated, harvested, and processed.
Veirapa serves as a testament to the British administrators’ efforts to explore various agricultural products for boosting revenue and fortifying the empire. Although the original rubber farmers have all passed away, local residents shared that the land once belonged to a Mister Witherow, who was also involved in banana and dairy farming in the 20th century.
An article published in the New Zealand newspaper Marlborough Express in November 1912, titled “Rubber in Fiji. An established Industry. First returns next year (1913),” highlights that a prominent rubber farmer on Viti Levu in the early 20th century was a Mister F. Powell, who managed various plantations on behalf of New Zealand owners.
Powell supervised 400 acres in Waidoi (likely Wainadoi), 300 acres in Yarawa, 500 acres in Qaraniqio, 300 acres in Taunovo, and 200 acres in Naloa (possibly Galoa) in Serua province. The principal owners of these properties managed by Powell were I. Studholme from Materoa and Mr. T. Crosse from Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand.
The article noted the farming techniques in Fiji, stating, “trees are planted 18 feet apart, and the rows are 8 feet wide, averaging 155 to the acre.” To cover some operational costs until the trees were ready for tapping, banana plants were interspersed among the young trees. However, as the rubber trees grew, they eventually formed a forest.
Some historical sources suggest that Fiji’s rubber seeds originated from Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), but the long distance made this method impractical. Subsequently, seeds were utilized for propagation, with the plants being transplanted in the field after about 18 months.
The health of Fiji’s plantations in the early 1900s was credited to effective management and the suitability of the region for the growth of rubber trees. At that time, approximately 500 indentured laborers worked on the plantations, with conditions reportedly dispelling slanderous claims about the “enslavement of British subjects.”
Despite initially promising prospects for the rubber industry in Fiji, which were deemed “particularly bright,” the industry struggled to survive. The Marlborough Express forecasted a rubber production of 419.375 cwt in 1912, generating £8,180,262, but the reality was far less rosy as rubber production diminished in the late 1920s.
Professor Brij Lal, in his book “Broken Waves,” mentioned that Fiji’s “nascent rubber industry emerged between 1923 and 1926” but collapsed due to the global depression in the late 1920s, compounded by catastrophic floods and hurricanes. This led to a decline not only in rubber but also in other industries, leaving a lasting impact on many local businesses and communities.
While the rubber industry has faded, remnants remain in the form of nearly leafless rubber trees across Serea and potentially other areas of Fiji.
Rueli Rawalana, a landowner in Veirapa, reminisced about the colonial plantation era when two major planters, described by ancestors as Vilive and Witherow, employed indentured laborers from India and nearby villages. Rueli recalled the harsh treatment faced by workers, with stories of plantation owners riding on white horses, brandishing whips to discipline laborers.
Over a hundred rubber trees still exist on Rueli’s land, serving as a reminder of the colony’s ambition for agricultural wealth during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He described the trees as relics of a defunct industry that have now become an obstacle for farming.
Rueli detailed the tapping method used to collect latex from rubber trees, which contains around 30 percent rubber, reported to have been processed into products such as erasers and tyres. The latex was taken to a nearby processing facility where it was colored, dried, and prepared for sale to companies like Dunlop tyres.
He mentioned that the plantation owner resided in a wooden Oregon timber house, still in use today, and that the owner utilized specialized equipment for land preparation, much of which remains idle now.
In addition to the imported rubber trees, Fiji is home to its own species. Historical records reveal that in 1877, a native specimen of caoutchouc, or natural rubber, was sent to Sir Arthur Gordon, Fiji’s governor, who noted that this rubber possessed high-quality attributes akin to premium African rubber.
The early 1900s saw rubber trees in Fiji not tapped until they reached eight years of age. During this process, latex would flow from the inner bark after it was gashed, collected in cups and taken to a collection point. Manufacturers would then extract the rubber, often utilizing acids to coagulate the latex before pressing it into dry rubber sheets.
Although the once-thriving rubber industry is now a memory, families of Indo-Fijian and Melanesian laborers from the colonial period still reside in the area, sharing a rich cultural history and experiences of unity among different communities.
Today, as Fiji’s rubber trees slowly succumb to age, tangible evidence of their past is diminishing. The story chronicling their history may soon be among the last remembrances of their significance, particularly through accounts like Rueli’s and the narrative of the rubber fields in Veirapa, Serea, nestled in the Naitasiri highlands.
When recounting history, it is crucial to acknowledge that different groups may present varied perspectives. This publication is open to alternative accounts, encouraging those with different recollections to share their narratives as well.