Kapiolani
Community College Horizons 2003
Kapiolani
Community College
Horizons 2003
As I sat on the sands of Ke’ehi Lagoon watching a canoe regatta, I noticed
these beautiful tattoos on a woman’s legs. I was so intrigued, I just
had to find out more about it. I approached her and she was more than happy
to tell
me about her life altering experience. I listened to her story and was fascinated
because I knew nearly nothing about the Samoan culture and the significance
of their amazing tattoos.
It is not known where or when the Samoans acquired o le ta tatau, the art of
tattooing. There are several variations of a story, which explains the origin.
One story begins with two women of chiefly status, Taema and Tilafaiga who
swam across the Pacific Ocean to Samoa from Fiji to deliver a message. That
message
contained the knowledge of the art of tattooing. On the way to Samoa, they
unfortunately made a mistake in the song that they were singing. The song originally
said, “Tattoo
the women and not the men,” but they somehow reversed it and sang, “Tattoo
the men and not the women.” When the women finally arrived in Samoa,
no one was interested in their skill. Eventually, a chief recognized their
artistic
abilities and the two women taught the villages in Samoa their trade (Samoan
Sensation).
Karen, the woman I interviewed, initially knew nothing about Samoa because it
wasn’t her culture. She is a Jewish woman from Beverly Hills, California,
oddly enough, but her friend Benki, a Samoan woman, invited her to go to Samoa
for vacation. Benki told Karen all about the Samoan tatau, which is Polynesian
for tattoo, and that maybe when she was there, she could get her tatau.
Karen said, “Yeah right, I’m not getting a tattoo.”
Karen and Benki stopped in American Samoa, and while there, Karen met Benki’s
sister, Matumu. Karen saw Matumu’s tatau and instantly fell in love with
it. Karen thought it was the nicest and most beautiful thing she had seen.
Matumu explained to Karen that in Samoa it is very important for the family
of the chiefs
to have it. Karen said at that moment, she wanted it, but did not want to actually
do it.
Well, little did Karen know, but Matumu had told her father, who resides in
Papauta, Western Samoa, that Karen wanted a tatau. Matumu’s father traveled to Savai’i
to summon Mose, the Tufuga tatau, the tattoo artist, or the “chop-chop
man,” as Karen refers to him.
“I couldn’t say no to him because I was too chicken. Their whole
culture is built on respect. I couldn’t tell him ‘thanks for going
through all of that trouble, but no thanks.’ I was too chicken to back
out,” says Karen.
The Tufuga tatau spends many years mastering each symbol and aspect of the tatau.
There is no apprenticeship, so the Tufuga tatau studies byobserving other Tufuga
tatau at work and practices by tapping designs onto the sand or onto bark cloth.
When the Tufuga tatau is ready, he will begin (Blackburn 175).
A few days later, while still on vacation in Samoa, Karen met her future husband,
Alex, who was of chiefly status and the brother of Benki and Matumu. There
are two other brothers in the family, Loki and Ali; they too are also chiefs.
Two
days later, Alex asked her to marry him. She accepted, and then he told her, “I
want you to get the tatau.”
“That’s how important it was to Alex,” says Karen. He explained
to her that there are two rules: number one, you have to finish and number two,
you can’t cry.
The morning after her wedding, as she went to make coffee, her father-in-law
told her to come and lie down on a mat. “Okay,” Karen said wearily.
And that is when they began her tatau.
“It was like fire!” Karen exclaimed. “It’s just a whole
other way of thinking. It’s so extreme. The pain was so unbearable that
I just wanted to laugh because I couldn’t believe I was actually doing
this.”
Her father-in-law said, “The trick to dealing with the pain is that you
have to leave your mind. You have to go somewhere else and just ponder something,
like what came first, the chicken or the egg.”
When the tatau begins, the “chop-chop man” is given money, precious
heirlooms, called measina ale atunu’u, and fine mats, which are used
to display wealth (Avea, 10).
“My tatau was really cheap!” Karen said. “It was only forty
tala, which is like seventeen U.S. dollars. Oh, a big box of chicken, Coca Cola,
cigarettes, and a fine mat which was provided by Alex’s family, and lava
lavas for the him and the other two guys.”
“You usually have to do it with someone else so that you can switch off,”
Karen said, “but I had to do it alone because Loki’s wife, Sa, was
too chicken to do it. Ali’s wife never got the tatau and everyone thought
she was crap because she didn’t have it.
“Loki’s wife is Samoan, and the family was very angry with both
of the women. ‘How can you be Samoan and you won’t get a tatau and
here’s this white girl getting it,’ the family said. So when I was
finished with mine, Sa decided to do it.”
The entire process took Karen six long, excruciating hours. She lay on a lauhala
mat with the entire family sitting around watching. This provides some comfort
and support. “Grandma was trying to fan off the flies with her lauhala
fan because they kept attacking the blood,” said Karen.
Mose “chopped” on the back of her legs for two hours. He started
with her right leg, and then when that leg was complete, he would actually lean
over onto Karen’s right leg to do the left leg. Two other men held the
skin taut. The pain she experienced on the back of her legs was nothing compared
to the front.
“The worst part is the knees because they actually hit bone,” claims
Karen. “I drank some kava, but that didn’t really help. It felt
like my whole body was burning. I could’ve sworn I saw God, it was that
painful. My arms were literally flapping all over and my mouth was shaking.
You have absolutely no control over your body because of the pain.”
Karen said that it was so painful, the only way she could describe it to someone
who hasn’t had that experience of getting a tatau is that it is like
having surgery while still awake.
Karen had her CD player on during the entire process and said that she would
never forget the songs playing. She listened to UB40’s “Labor of
Love,” Gregory Isaac’s “Night Nurse,” and “Waiting
to Exhale,” over and over and over again.
She thought to herself that if Alex’s sisters could do it, then she could
do it as well. “Alex got it so much worse as a man,” she said. “If
someone’s done something in life, there’s no reason that you can’t
do it too.” Although she had that mentality, Karen kept saying, “Thank
God I’m not a man, thank God I’m not a man” to herself, and
that became her mantra.
The tatau of the men are much more elaborate than the women’s tatau. The
men’s tatau begins at the middle of the torso, near the end of the false
ribs, and continues down the back and waist, down both sides of the legs to just
below the knees. Their tatau is much more elaborate and solid (Marquardt 20).
The sessions last for hours at a time. Three days is the absolute fastest that
the tatau can be completed, but it usually takes about a month to finish. The
men’s tatau is highly detailed and tells the history of Samoa, whereas
the women’s tatau serves more of a decorative purpose and has no specific
pattern (Dunai). At times, the women’s tatau is from her genitals, down
her legs, and ending at the knees. However, it more commonly begins at the
thighs and ends at the knees (20).
During the ceremony, traditional songs are usually sung to try to distract the
individual who is receiving the tatau. It helps them to remain strong through
the harshest pain. Here is an example of one of the songs:
O Le Tatau A Samoa
O le mafuaaga lenei na iloa
I le taaga o le tatau i Samoa.
O le malaga a teine e toalua,
na feasusi mai fiti i le vasa loloa.
Na la aumai ai o le ato au.
Ma si a la pese e tutu mau
Fai mai e tata a fafine
Ae le tata o tane.
O le ala na tata ai tane,
ona ua sese a la pese,
taunuu I gatai o Falealupo,
ma vaaia ai o le faisua us tele.
Na totofu ai lea o fafine,
ma ua sui ai si a la pese.
Fai mai e tata o tane,
ae le tata o fafine.
Silasila isi tama ua taatia,
o le tufuga lea ua amatalia.
Talofa ua tagi au ue-ue
i le oteote solo o le autapulu tele.
Sole sole ia e loto tele,
O le taalaoga faatama tane.
Eui lava ina tiga tele,
ae mulimuli ane ua e fefete.
O atunuu uma o le Pasefika,
e sili Samoa le tautaua.
O se sogaimiti ua savalivali mai
ua fepulafi mai ona faai‘ila.
O aso faaifo faamuli ali ao,
faa‘atualoa seu faalaufao.
O le sufane faapea faaulu tao,
ua ova i le vasa laolao.
The Samoan Tattoo (Translation of the Song)
The original that was found. The beginning of tattooing in Samoa. The journey
was made by two beautiful ladies. They swam all the way from Fiji to Samoa.
They brought with them a basket of tools and singing the same song all the
way. The
song they sing says the tattoo is for the ladies and not the men. But the reason
why the men get the tattoo is because the words are mistaken in the song.
When they arrived at the coast of Falealupo, they saw a large oyster. They
dove to get the oyster. When they surfaced, the song was changed. That is why
the
men get the tattoo and the women can’t.
Look at the handsome man lying down. The Tufuga starts the tattoo. The poor
man is crying and screaming. Feeling the pain from the sharp bones, the Tufuga
says, “Warrior
be brave. This is the game men play. Even though it is painful, when it is finished,
you will be so proud. All the islands of the Pacific, Samoa is the greatest and
well known. When you see a man walking towards you with a beautiful tattoo, you
will find the ‘anchor,’ the atualoa (the centipede) and the fa’aulutao
(the spear) are above all the rest.” (Avea 12-13)
The razor sharp instruments used to make the tatau are primitive and vary in
width to accommodate the designs. The ‘au, the principle instrument used,
is approximately a foot and a half long, and resembles a hoe or a mattock. The ‘au
has three parts to it: a handle, comb, and connecting toe. The handle is made
of wood from the A’afu’a tree. The comb is serrated and made of
bone. Human bone is preferred, but if unavailable, horse and ox bone is used.
The connecting
toe is made of tortoise shell or bone. It is all tied together with coconut
fiber (Marquardt, 7).
Sets of eight to twelve implements are used, depending on the preference of
the Tufuga tatau. The implements are held in a wooden container called a tunuma.
Depending on width, each implement has a different name. The narrowest one
is
called the ‘aumono, which consists of up to ten teeth. It is used for the
tender regions of the body and for very detailed work. The medium-sized ‘au
is called the ‘ausoniaso. It has up to twenty-five teeth. In addition,
the widest comb, the ‘autapulu, contains up to sixty teeth. The ‘autapulu
is used for large dark areas on the outer thighs. The sausau, or mallet, is
used to drive the razor-sharp combs into the skin (9). It is traditionally
made from
a piece of coconut-leaflet midrib or wood. The ink used is made of burnt candlenut
and water (Blackburn 175).
The ‘au is dipped into the ink and the Tufuga tatau begins to strike the
handle of the ‘au with the sausau in the air before tapping into the
skin. This process is repeated until finished (Avea 16).
“I will never forget that chopping sound when the chop-chop man starts
chopping in the air before it touches your skin,” said Karen.
There are only a few requirements, or “main rules,” for the design
of the tattoo. For the women, there must be a band around the upper thigh.
This band consists of three designs: the diamond band, arrowhead band, or waves.
The
band just below the knee has to point upward, and the stars of Samoa must be
in the tatau. Other than that, the Tufuga tatau chooses the design of the tattoo.
Karen’s tatau was a design that was “given” to her by Alex’s
other sister, Talu, who is a taupou, or village maiden. That really meant a
lot to Karen. Her design consisted of the diamond band around her thigh, a
band of
birds around her knee, the stars of Samoa, some sea urchins (which only two
other women had at the time of her tatau: Talu and Mose’s daughter),
and some other designs. Karen never found out the meaning of everything on
her tatau.
The Tufuga tatau does the entire tatau without any drawing, and he does it
entirely by freehand, with remarkable precision. It is almost perfectly symmetrical.
Each design has a meaning. Combinations of designs are respected statements
referring to nature and to things with great power over man (Marquardt, 23).
Here are just
a few of the designs of the tatau: The “anchor” is a reminder that
you are anchored to your body and that the spirit of your body will always be
free (23). Pe’a, or flying fox, is a symbol for the bases of life. It expresses
the cycles a man will confront in his life (23). The “nest” symbolizes
the final resting place of the soul. This design is found right below the navel
on the lower part of the abdomen (25). The “diamond” signifies the
nine levels of heaven in the old Samoan religion (26). The “comb” pays
tribute to Taema and Tilafaiga, the two women who swam from Fiji to Samoa. It
is because of them that the power of the tatau lives on to this very day (27).
Fa’aulutao, or the spear indicates bravery because the men must be brave
to fish in the deep waters of the Pacific Ocean. This particular design is found
along the sides of the ribs (28). The “birds” are a sign of beauty,
and represents the bravery that the Samoans had when they journeyed out into
the unknown without fear to experience other lands (29). Atualoa, or centipede,
reminds the wearer that a Samoan will feel no pain if he is hurt or bitten
and will be able to withstand all kinds of pain (30).
The design that signifies bravery facing the unknown is the rectangle. This
particular sign describes not so much the unknown in the world, but the unknown
in an individual’s
life (31). The ali ‘ao, also known as the fa’a moi ‘ali ‘ao,
represents the belief that all things an individual works hard for is precious
and that the quality of that person is precious too (32). The ao ao allows
man to talk to the heavens. This design resembles a cloud and one sort of has
to
think of it as an antennae capable of communicating with a higher being (33).
The pute is the last part of the tatau. It is a design that is tattooed over
the belly button. It represents life and death of the family and is the most
painful part of the tatau (34).
The more designs that one has, the better. Karen also explained that, “the
more it bleeds and blobs out, the better the tattoo. It means that they went
deep and did it a lot of times.”
As soon as Karen’s tatau was complete, they held a ceremony. The oil
from a saffron lei was rubbed onto her legs. An egg was also cracked over her
head
to symbolize her new life; by getting the tatau, she was reborn. Then, her
husband helped her massage her legs in the river.
“My legs were swollen and black and blue,” she said. “Alex
helped me massage my legs. This clear liquid was oozing out from the raw sores.”Afterward
Karen went to the pharmacy to get antibiotics to ward off any infection. “They
don’t sterilize their equipment. All they do is wash it with some soap
in the spigot outside, if you know what I mean,” she said. “It isn’t
sanitary at all.” Unfortunately, some people have even died from getting
the tatau. Their deaths were due to massive blood loss or infection (Avea 16).
Karen went out dancing the same night that she completed her tatau. She said
that she was so happy and so proud of herself that she was done. “When
you’re done, you’re done. The worst is over, the pain doesn’t
matter anymore.”
Alex and his family were also tremendously proud of Karen because receiving
the tatau meant so much to him and his family that they cried. “They know that
I accomplished one of the most difficult tasks in life,” she said.
It takes about five to six months for the designs to distinctly appear on the
body. The tattooed body then takes nearly a year to heal (Blackburn 175).
“I had scabs all over my legs for a month. It was so itchy and I couldn’t
scratch it,” exclaimed Karen. She explained that to alleviate the itching,
she would scratch between the designs with a matchstick.
After five years, Karen says that her legs are still not completely healed.
If you look closely enough, you can still see the holes from the razor-sharp
teeth
of the ‘au.
“If I get a mosquito bite or bee sting on my leg,” she says, “the
designs would flare up but not my skin. Sometimes if I got bitten in one place,
it would flare up and get sore in another spot. I think all of the ‘connections’
are messed up because of the tatau. All of the “strings” don’t
go in one direction anymore ... It’s all mixed up like spaghetti.”
Although Karen has finished her tatau, not everyone who undergoes the process
of getting the tatau does the same. It is considered very shameful and embarrassing
for the tatau to be worked on intermittently. If it isn’t finished at all,
or if the tatau isn’t very intense-looking, this bring shame. It is also
embarrassing if it looks too “clean” and sparse (Dunai). The Samoans
refer to these people as palaa’ai, or cowards. Women sometimes shun the
men who don’t have the tatau or don’t complete it, and some chiefs
refuse to accept any tribute from them (Marquardt 7). These palaa’ai
will never show the tatau if it is incomplete and they will die with their
embarrassment
(Avea, 20).
Anyone can get the tatau at any age. However, it is recommended that only adults
get the tatau. This is because as children grow, the tatau will begin to fade
and spread out as they grow (Dunai). It is especially important for the chiefs
to undergo the process. A chief with a tatau is able to address his concerns
to the Council of Chiefs without feeling ridiculed for expressing his opinions.
A chief without a tatau will have no voice until he makes the journey of getting
the tatau (Avea 36).
There are also rare situations where the family of an individual who is receiving
the tatau will be against it and won’t accept it. The individual may never
go back to complete the tatau, but if he does, the rest of the process will be
even more painful because the family doesn’t support him (Avea 20).
Karen explained that she didn’t initially tell her family. Her sister flew
down to Samoa from California and instantly fell in love with her tatau. Karen’s
mother didn’t find out until she was watching a video tape of Karen’s
sister’s trip to Samoa.
“My mom started to cry. She couldn’t believe what I had done to
myself. She couldn’t handle it. She was very upset,” said Karen.
Now Karen says her mother is very proud of her tatau and she thinks it is absolutely
beautiful. She defends her daughter when ignorant people say things like, “Look
what she did to herself’ or “I would never do that.” Her mother
appreciates the tatau for what it is and because she knows that it means something
very special. It isn’t just “some stupid tattoo.”
The purpose of the tatau is very meaningful and powerful. The mana, or spirit,
of the tatau lies within the person who wears it. It supports them throughout
their entire life. The tatau signifies the ability to handle anything in life.
Those with the tatau know that their fears aren’t as great as they used
to be. The tatau makes people become passive and enables them to face challenges
with an open frame of mind (Avea 35, Dunai).
Karen is very proud of her tatau. She knows what it means when she looks at
it and thinks about it because she knows how painful it was. To her, the purpose
of the tatau is to endure the pain so that she could handle life. “I used
to be very wimpy before,” she said. “But now, I’ve noticed
that I am able to deal with pain more. When I delivered my daughter, it was nothing.” The
tatau is one of her greatest accomplishments, second only to her daughter, because
it “will always hold something strong.”
Karen also mentions that people recognize her for the tatau. “I went to
the beach in Waikiki and this guy said ‘Ho sistah, what kine of tattoo
is dat?’”
“It’s Samoan,” I told him. Then the guy hits his friend and
says, ‘See, culture’s number one. Culture’s important. She
takes care of her culture.’”
She also said that when she goes to the market, old women would go up to her,
rub her legs, and tell her, “You have heart.” “The tatau has
that affect on people,” she said. “It makes them want to go and get
whatever their family thing is. It is very inspirational. It inspires people
to want to meet up with their culture. “Unfortunately,” she said “appearance
says a lot and there are some people who are really ignorant and don’t
know how important it really is. They don’t fully understand it.”
Karen has never thought that she shouldn’t have done it. She does, however,
have another tattoo on her back, which was done by a tattoo machine. Karen explained
that although that tattoo had some significance at one time in her life, she
would have never gotten it if she had had her Samoan tatau first. She said the
tatau is “the ultimate. What else could you get that’s more significant?”
Karen said that many people often compare the Samoan tatau to a tattoo done
by a machine. “No way,” she said. “It is completely a world of
it’s own.”
Sadly, she doesn’t know what significance the tatau will hold in the
future if everyone is getting it done by the machine.
“They are missing the whole point. I see it as the same as drawing on
yourself with a Sharpie. There is no meaning, no significance, it’s just
for looks. It kind of kills it.”
Ironically, one of Alex’s brothers now makes the “imitation tatau” in
La’ie with the machine.
The process of receiving a tatau is one that definitely should not be taken
lightly or done just for fun. The tatau is highly respected in Samoa and recognized
for
its importance. It is said that it is the most difficult experience one will
have in life, and is absolutely not for decoration. If you don’t fully
understand it, all you went through was for nothing. Your soul will never be
complete and pure (Avea 35).
The tatau is a sign of strength, beauty, and pride which shows endurance, determination,
and dedication. It is a symbol of authority amongst the community. It purifies
your soul and gives you a new and powerful perspective that guides you throughout
life’s endeavors. The tatau represents love and honor to all Samoan people
(3).
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