Why a Fiamē and not a Matā’afa?

Review: Journal of Pacific History’s Fiamē Naomi Matā’afa

It seems an age now, but once I lived at Mulinu’ū, the version that no longer exists. My house was on the eastern side, looking into Āpia harbour. Sāmoa’s Fale Fono, the old and then new one, were across the road, as were a line of traditional fale, lived in by people who created a small community on the peninsula. Annual independence celebrations saw tens of thousands of people outside the backdoor. If that coincided with mango season, our tree stood no chance. 

Right next door to my house, was the main hearing area for the Land and Titles Court. It was an open sided, non-air conditioned hall; with the steady breeze it was a comfortable place to gather. 

In my early time in Sāmoa the crisis issue for the matai system was not the big titles but what was happening to the smaller ones. It was a time of matai suffrage and villages all across the country were into an ugly race to split titles, share them out and increase their voting base. In the process the fa’amatai was being wrecked.

One always knew a big title was up for a hearing. The crowds of Sunday best lavalava wearing mostly men were large. Many would have photocopied pages from Augustin Krämer’s 1903 Die Samoa Insein, to either contest a title or confirm it.

 In our dining room we could hear the submissions being made to the panel of judges. At the time I was there some of the big trials were presided over by the Chief Justice, which then was a New Zealand magistrate, Bryan Nicholson.

New Zealanders, and earlier other Europeans, had a notorious reputation for interfering in the holding of matai titles. The worst of them was New Zealand administrator General George Richardson who felt he could control Sāmoa by stripping men of their titles when it suited him. Earlier imperialists had done the same, finding the complex and slow business of succession to titles frustrating. They wanted clear lines of inheritance.