I entered a simple bure located in a hilly village in Tailevu. The household was affiliated with the Methodist Church and was one of the selected families for our interviews. I took a seat on the mat, accompanied by my colleague from England. The husband lay bedridden on a raised platform, and his wife sat next to him on the floor. With my hands cupped, I respectfully clapped three times (known as cobo) to show appreciation for their hospitality. After exchanging greetings and expressing gratitude for their willingness to be interviewed, I provided a brief overview of the project.
Following some initial casual conversation, we moved on to the main questions, particularly about their relationship with the Methodist Church. I was taken aback when, almost immediately, the woman began to cry. I empathized with her and offered to pause for her to gather herself, but she continued to express her sorrow. She recounted a visit from their mataqali (clan) chief the previous night, who reprimanded them for their outstanding debt to the Methodist Church. The chief pointed out that their failure to settle the debt had tarnished the name of the vanua. It is customary for names to be announced, along with the amount contributed by each household. She further explained that most of their monthly social welfare benefits were spent on their grandchildren—who had been abandoned by their separated parents and were currently in school.
In November and December 2013, we conducted an Australian Government-funded research project focusing on informal social protection in Fiji, commissioned to Development Pathways Ltd (UK). This research examined various religious organizations, including Catholic, Hindu, Methodist, and Muslim institutions, and I was one of two local researchers recommended by Professor Vijay Naidu from the University of the South Pacific. Preparatory efforts involved consultations with the Ministry of iTaukei Affairs and representatives from the religious groups. After the fieldwork, our team presented preliminary findings to officials from these organizations at the Australian High Commission in Suva. When our Team Leader revealed that the Fiji Muslim League had been rated highest among selected Fijian communities in both rural and urban settings for assisting the poor, while the Methodist Church was rated lowest, a very upset Reverend from the church stood up to challenge our Team Leader. I had to step in to clarify our methodology and to explain the context of the opening scenario.
Reverend Ilaitia Tuwere (2002:52) described the Taukei Trinitarian Solemnity as consisting of the vanua, lotu, and matanitu. He noted that this structure infiltrated nearly every level of the Taukei hierarchy, emphasizing that their unity was so significant that disconnecting one from the others would lead to the collapse of the entire system.
Throughout the years, I have observed that beyond ineffective Government policies, some villages feel pressured by the ongoing practice of traditional leaders or influential individuals who solicit funds for various purposes, including church contributions. This pressure often leads villagers to either leave the Methodist Church or migrate to urban areas, leaving behind their villages. While some may find better opportunities, many struggle under the challenges posed by globalization and a fluctuating economy. It is evident that the Taukei, who make up 75 percent of the poor population, are predominantly affiliated with the Methodist Church.
Rev. Dr. Semisi Turagavou, president of the Methodist Church of Fiji, made significant remarks during this year’s conference, addressing a practice established in the 19th century and perpetuated through colonial indirect rule. This practice involved funding church operations through the concept of ‘lotu, matanitu kei na vanua,’ as articulated by the late Reverend Ilaitia Tuwere. The tendency to elevate the role of the chief to a divine status has proven damaging, especially to the vulnerable who remain bound by this belief. Thanks be to God for the Methodist Church’s willingness to confront its own past and to possibly pave the way for liberation.