Embodied Symbols of the South Seas: Eastern Oceania

Article © 2010 Lars Krutak

Tonga

The documentary record of tattooing in Tonga is far less extensive than that available for Samoa.  Missionaries established themselves here at an early date, and after King Siaosi Tupou I began devising laws around 1840 that would eventually outlaw and eradicate traditional Tongan tattooing altogether, the traditional context of established design forms and original symbolism was lost. In fact, less than five illustrations of "true" Tongan tattooing are known to exist in the world today.

For such reasons, the practice of tattooing in Tonga rapidly vanished in the mid-19th century, compelling chiefs, nobles, and other affluent personages to travel to Samoa to get tattooed; a pattern, I might add, that was nothing new to the Samoan elite (see below). Although Samoa was missionized to some degree, Christianity's grip there was often tenuous and tattooing continued to be practiced as it always had on islands like Savai'i. According to oral history, Savai'i became very rich due to the influx on Tongans in search of body art.

Prior to the arrival of proselytizing Christians, however, tattooing was widespread in Tonga and Cook describes numerous men "punctured" with patterns in the late 18th-century that were similar in placement and form to those of Samoa. On Tonga, tattooing seems to have been an initiation rite since one early account revealed that "Every male Tongan on arriving at manhood was tatued." Another writer reported: "It is considered very unmanly not to be tattowed...The men would think it very indecent not to be tattowed, because though in battle they wear nothing but the mahi [undergarment].Even the glans penis and the verge of the anus does escape [the tattooing]."

George Vason, an early 19th-century missionary who left behind the church and married a local woman, was himself tattooed because he could no longer stand the shame and ridicule he faced amongst his male bathing companions. Vason wrote:

While going from place to place on these triumphant excursions of pleasure, I was frequently exposed to the reflections and sarcasms of the young people, especially in the hour of bathing, which generally recurred three times a day, for being destitute of the cuticle vesture, which modesty has taught the South Sea Islanders to throw around them as an excellent initiation and substitute for garments, I mean the tattoo. On these occasions, they would raise a shout of merriment and call me by opprobrious epithets.

Tattoo Process, Terminology, and Design

Most of the terminology related to practitioners and tools was closely related to words used in Samoa. According to contemporary Tongan tattooist Rodney "Ni" Powell, the Tongan word for tattooing is ta tatau, meaning "to strike repeatedly." Powell continues, "In its poetic or aesthetic form, ta refers to time or [the] status of time, and tatau can invoke a sense of complete symmetry or both sides being equal inside and out. In this thought, ta tatau [can] also be interpreted as the state of complete balance in all things."

Tattoo artists were called tufunga, but the profession was not typically a hereditary one as it was in some regions of Samoa and other parts of Polynesia. For example, informants interviewed about 1880 reported: "The office of Ta Tatu was not hereditary, as so many trades were among the Tongans; any man of the lower orders might take to it, and those who acquired a reputation received large fees for their services."

Although well paid for their work, tufunga were not allowed to tattoo members of the Tongan elite, because as "commoners"  they were tabooed from even touching chiefs or other nobles. This aspect of ceremonial protocol did not necessarily present a problem for high status individuals, however, because for centuries the rulers of Tonga sailed to Samoa for their cherished tattoos.  

In Tonga, however, some chiefs and nobles were tattooed by Samoans known as matapule who served as their ceremonial and court attendants. Because matapule were foreigners, they were immune from the rigid taboos surrounding physical contact and they could tattoo Tongan chiefs, cut their hair (the head of a Tongan chief is extremely tapu), and also prepare their bodies for burial.

Like their brethren back home in Samoa, tattooing matapule employed methods of hand-tapping to create their bold designs. In Tonga, these tools were called hau and took various forms. William Mariner, a teenage ship's clerk who was a captive of Ha'apai island chief Fīnau Ulukālala between 1806-1810, observed the "operation of ta tattow" and described it as follows.

The instrument used for the purpose of this operation somewhat resembles a small tooth-comb; they have several kinds of different degrees of breadth, from six up to fifty or sixty teeth; they are made of the bone of the wing of the wild duck. Being dipped in a mixture of soot and water, the outline of the tattow is first marked off before the operator begins to puncture, which he afterwards does by striking in the points of the instrument with a small stick made of a green branch of the cocoanut tree; when the skin begins to bleed, which it quickly does, the operator occasionally washed off the blood with cold water, and repeatedly goes over the same places; as this is a very painful process, but a small portion of it is done at once, giving the patient (who may justly be called) intervals of three or four days' rest, so that it is frequently two months before it is completely finished. This operation causes that portion of the skin on which it is performed to remain permanently thicker.

The late 19th-century colonial administrator Basil Thompson also described the process of tattooing. But his local informants suggested that another kind of tool was employed to mark the designs:

The design was roughly marked on the skin first. The operation was performed with an instrument, or rather a number of instruments consisting of shark's teeth lashed to a wooden handle, the number of teeth varying with the intricacy of the portion of the design being struck. The patient lay down and the teeth were struck with a light mallet, the operator wiping away the blood with a piece of gnatu [barkcloth], and smearing the wound with a mixture of charcoaland candlenut oil. It was a matter of honour to endure the pain without a murmur, but the operation was so painful, particularly on the inner part of the thighs, that only a small portion could be done at a time, and the process, therefore, occupied many days.

D'Urville's illustration of the Tongan peka tattoo, 1827. Apparently, Tongan women were only lightly tattooed with small marks on their hands, fingers, legs, and feet. No significance has been attached to the designs outside of ornamentation itself.

Perhaps the best and most accurate depiction of Tongan tattooing was published by D'Urville after his visit to the archipelago in 1827. The Frenchmen published a side view of the tattooing on the lower trunk and thigh of a man which shows an arrangement of horizontal panels: one of which on the upper thigh is inset with rows of triangles. Two of the patterns shown in this illustration closely resemble Samoan designs: the parallel serrated lines on the abdomen, which appear to be quite similar to the Samoan fa'aifo; and sets of several parallel lines on the upper thigh. In addition to these, the irregular shape imprinted across the small of the back above the main panels somewhat resembles the Samoan tua, which was placed in the same location. But upon closer inspection, it would seem that Tongan tattoo patterns were much thicker overall.

Like those in Samoa, the principal tattooing patterns were named and they were applied in a definite sequence. Sadly, however, only a handful of these names survive: a design across the small of the back called peka ("flying fox"); and one on the front of the leg named pulu ("to wrap").  As a man increased in age, additional tattoo patterns could be applied to his arms and the upper torso. The latter design is only understood from its description because there are no drawings that survive to illustrate it. This motif was called matahema and consisted of a stripe that emerged from the lower spine. It then bifurcated into branching lines which ran upwards under the arms and eventually curved inwards toward the nipples.

Contemporary Movements

Today, contemporary versions of traditional Tongan designs continue to mark the bodies of Tongan men through the work of several Polynesians including Tongan tufunga Rodney Powell and Aisea Toetu'u. These motifs are derived from decorative elements found in other Tongan art forms like wood carving, mat weaving, and barkcloth ornamentation. Other patterns refer to cultural and mythological elements and have evolved from such traditions to become tattoo symbols themselves. Rodney Powell writes, "Lomipeau, Tonga's Legendary vaka [sailing canoe] of the Tu'i Tonga, sits across the back; the three Tongan dynasties are also represented in the Ngatu 'uli across the thighs; the 'Ulumotu'a and Fahu - symbolic matriarch and patriarch of Tongan families - is also acknowledged.  Other designs include the Kafa and the 'Otu Kakala, representing Tonga's love with nature.  The designs continue until a whole picture of Tongan society is created and firmly wrapped around the wearer's body, much like our traditional Ta'ovala [dress]."

Of course, the revitalization movement of Tongan ta tatau has also been made possible in large part by Samoan master  Su'a Sulu'ape Petelo. In 2003, he created the first peka tattoo in over one-hundred and sixty years based on his experiential knowledge of Samoan designs, D'Urville's illustration, and other Tongan decorative forms. Confirming once and for all that the art of Tongan ta tatau appears to be alive and well after so many years of artificial separation from its deeply-rooted Polynesian past.

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