“COUGH, cough. Ahem.” So many encounters between islanders and foreigners have begun that way. Two hundred years ago, when Europeans first ventured into these waters as traders, not explorers, things went badly more often than not. Mutual suspicion, assumptions about the other, even the bad experiences of previous encounters affected whether an attempt at trade ended in celebration or bloodshed, and that legacy has lasted until today as islanders and foreign traders still find it difficult to trust each other.
Miles Hordern relates an amusing trade negotiation in Erromango a few years ago. The island in the Vanuatu group often receives visitors from the sea. Hordern sailed up from New Zealand in his 28-foot sloop to visit some old friends, and after a dinner party and reminiscence, he staggered back to the beach and paddled to his boat for a night’s rest.
Just before dozing off, the silence of the lagoon was broken by a “cough, ahem.” A mysterious visitor paddled alongside Hordern’s vessel and announced his presence in the time-honored custom. The clearing of the throat was a non-confrontational way to say, “I am here, I didn’t want to startle you. I am willing to interact if you are.” The ball was in Hordern’s court. He could either accept the invitation for a meeting or tell the man to go away. He took the chance and invited him aboard.
The visitor turned out to be someone he met briefly but did not know very well, and Hordern assumed the man wanted to get to know each other better. They talked for a while, then the man said his friends were having a party in the village. They were all drinking kava but they did not have any tobacco. Aha! The man’s purpose became clear. This was a centuries-old attempt at trade, and although they were only two men, they repeated a custom that has been going on here since the time of Captain Cook.
Hordern mentioned he had never tried kava, which was his way of indicating this was his price for the tobacco. When the visitor said kava was too strong for a foreigner, Hordern gave the man a fistful of tobacco anyway and he left.
Just as Hordern was about to fall asleep once more, he heard the unmistakable sound again. “Cough, ahem.” Another visitor wishing to come aboard. Apparently, word got out where tobacco could be had. Another attempt at trade, another pinch of tobacco, and another canoe paddled away into the night.
This went on a couple more times and Hordern started to regret giving the first man his tobacco for free. Now he was a patsy. He feared the islanders would clean out his tobacco stores and he still had a long voyage ahead of him. And what would happen when the tobacco ran out? Would the islanders sack his boat? Would they harm him? Now it was impossible to sleep. Hordern felt like he had mismanaged the whole affair by trying to be nice and now was in an awkward, even dangerous position. Should he raise anchor and sail away before things turned ugly?
As he contemplated his next move, he heard the familiar cough. Preparing to shoo the scrounger away, Hordern heard the voice of one of the previous visitors. “This is for you, friend.” The man hoisted several large baskets of fruit over the rail and onto the deck. Oranges, limes, and grapefruit in abundance, over sixty much needed and greatly appreciated pieces of glorious fruit. The islanders got their tobacco and Hordern restocked his food stores. Everyone benefitted. If only it worked out like that every time.
BC Cook, PhD taught history for over 20 years. He lived on Saipan and travels the Pacific but currently lives on the mainland U.S.
BC Cook
