ROD AND GUN Spectacular Fish Drive On A Fijian Island

Press, Volume CVII, Issue 31539, 29 November 1967, Page 8

ROD AND GUN Spectacular Fish Drive On A Fijian Island

(Specially written for "The Press" by

JAMES SIERS.)

Although the Fijians have always relied on the sea for most of their protein requirements they have not developed suitable means for catching large numbers of big, fast fish such as tuna. The Japanese, who have a processing factory at Levuka on the island of Ovalau, are reaping the harvest.

The closest the Fijians came to bulk fishing was in their spectacular fish drives and while at'Korolevu recently, I was able to see one,

The island of Serua, which contracts to provide a fishdrive on order for the hotel, is a tiny gem, alone worth the price of the ticket. You first see it after the car has left a winding dusty road to a lookout. It lies several hundred yards off the mainland, but within the main lagoon. Two knobs, one on each end, give it the appearance of a camel’s back. On the apron of green below, an orderly series of bures houses the small population.

Once, during tribal wars, Serua was a stronghold with a population of more than 1000. Its shore was ingeniously fortified and a fleet of canoes ferried people and goods from their plantations. The reef is about half a mile from the western edge of the island. As our boatman sculled his skiff—canoes are scarce here now—a line of men and women, up to their chests in water, could be seen a long way out. The closer we moved, the clearer their intention appeared. They were formed up in a large circle and on command from the head fisherman would move closer. Everyone had a stick, which was poked into coral to make sure no fish were skulking. As the circle tightened, and this took a long time, a mass of large and small fish could be seen in the centre. Occasionally, one would dart towards the lint., and much as a deer might turn back on beaters in the bush, either swerve at the last minute, or safely get past them to freedom.

When a fish would make this break, the drill was to shout a warning. Although my Fijian had not got past the “hallo, thank you," stage, I

-was soon shouting warnings myself. Quite a number of fish got clear until the circle was drawn tight enough to allow a special barrier of leaves and vines, much like our keikei, to be placed just in front of the beaters.

The drive had started when the tide was high and the line had closed tighter and tighter with the falling tide Now, the deepest part would be about three feet, and the outer edges of the circle up to one foot deep. Paralysing At this stage, the leader shouted an order and from the boats, the root of a junglei creeper was brought out, pounded on the sides of the skiffs and a paralysing drug was released into the enclosure. The fish, which had been moving fast, now became easy targets for an assortment of spears, slingshots and some were even grasped with bare hands. Children sorted through patches of coral with painstaking care and speared the small fish hiding there.. Throughout the Pacific the size of the fish does not matter. As long as it is edible, it is taken. Often, it is cooked whole, chewed, sucked and the mass of bones discarded. Next time you see Islanders fishing on the wharves and collecting spotties you’ll know it’s not for fun.

Only the large fish had been obvious in the drive. These had kept in the centre and close to the surface, but as the spearing went on, I was amazed at the number of fish being turned up. The tourists from the hotel, who were ranged up in boats around the circle, took the spearing in good part, except for some women who shrieked with dismay, when the Fijians, hot in the spearing, began to throw large fish into their boats.

One girl from Melbourne became hysterical, but the boatman was so absorbed in spearing that he took no notice and she screamed in vain.

A number of the big fish were put in a separate bundle, and we skiffed back to the shore. Here the chief, who is a genial host, inquired about our success and while

some went to look at village handicrafts, inevitably brought out for sale, the old hands retired to the meeting bure to sjt in the cool and drink yangona. In time, the women came in, laid a cloth and followed with their version of a Sunday special. There was the fish caught only an hour earlier; several kinds of shellfish cooked with coconut cream taro, tapioca (cooked in large chunks), tomato and taro leaf chopped very fine, spring onion and fresh sliced pineapple. For desert, small cubes of breadfruit cooked and then served in a sweet, coconut sauce. The tour party was an assortment of Australians. Germans, Swiss, some New Zealanders and four or five French. The French, who went on a detailed tour of the island, were a little late to dinner, but watching them eat confirmed my sentiments entirely: it had been an excellent fish drive and the food was something to write home about