The Sacred Root: drinking kava on Vanuatu

World and I, April 2004 v19 i4 p174

The Sacred Root: Drinking Kava on Vanuatu. Anders Ryman.

Anders Ryman is a freelance photojournalist and anthropologist based in Sweden.

It is late afternoon. A warm light finds its way into the imwayim, a meeting place cut out of the dense forest and shaded by magnificent banyan trees. Men and boys are gathered in the open space. They are naked except for penis sheaths made of shredded leaves. The color of their athletic bodies is the same as that of the black, trampled ground. Small leaf huts that are used when the weather is bad stand at the outskirts of the clearing, but there is no rain in sight. Everyone sits or lies down outdoors, forming small groups.

The island of Tanna, which lies in the southern part of Vanuatu, is a network of such meeting places. Imwayim are connected to each other by paths cut through the dense, tropical greenery. They are used for informal gatherings, dances, and ceremonies: Boys retreat here and remain in seclusion for months during the annual circumcision rites. This is also where men gather each evening to share the sacred kava drink that allows them to commune with their ancestors.

Using pieces of the fibrous husk of the coconut, some boys and young men are now removing the dirt from newly unearthed kava roots. Others have already filled their mouths with pieces of root. As they chew energetically, their bulging cheeks make the boys look like trumpet- blowing jazz musicians.

The kava is easy to chew, but--as it acts as a local anesthetic--it makes your mouth feel as if you have just been to the dentist. Older men, who do not chew the roots, smoke and chat while waiting for the kava drink to be ready. Soon, newly chewed, porridge-colored heaps of kava are lying on green leaves placed on the ground.

Two boys now sit on their haunches and place a big, rectangular strainer made of plant fibers between them. A third boy places one of the kava heaps in the strainer and then starts to knead the pulp while water is poured on it. The grey-brownish juice flows through the strainer and down into a cup made of half a coconut shell that has been placed on the ground.

This is the first kava cup of the evening. It is offered to the leading man of the area, old, gray-bearded Kowia. He takes it, walks to the outskirts of the clearing, turns toward the deep forest, and drains the cup slowly without removing it from his lips. He does not swallow the last mouthful but spits it out loudly, the kava bursting like a fountain from his mouth. Then he addresses the forest, talking to his ancestors who dwell out there in the darkness. Finally, he returns and sits by the fire. Contentedly he lights his clay pipe, which has turned black from age and loving use.

Posen, my guide in this culturally conservative corner of Vanuatu, makes a sign that the next cup is mine. I take it, walk a few steps toward the forest, and drink, swallowing some of the kava and spitting out the rest. The sacred drink should be imbibed according to the strict rules that govern its usage, so I try to drink slowly and drain the cup in one go. It is bitter and pungent. Not even the most seasoned kava drinker will claim that it is particularly palatable. It may be just as well that there is little time for me to really taste the cup's contents before it is emptied.

One man after another comes forward to drink his kava, spit, and talk to his ancestors. In the meantime, large, leaf-covered packages are placed on the ground and opened. Inside is laplap, a pudding made of cooked taro, manioc, or banana. To my taste, it is no culinary sensation. I swallow the sticky substance with difficulty; soon, the pieces form heavy lumps in my stomach. But the men and boys eat the laplap with relish and chew on large pieces as thick as pan pizza.

After darkness falls over the imwayim, nobody speaks except in whispers. The men sit around the fireplaces, smoking their pipes. Old Kowia sits by himself at the foot of a banyan tree. The embers of the small fires glow, and the smell of smoke permeates the meeting place. While the metallic sound of cicadas rings in the ears, the effect of the kava is felt slowly. Motionless, the men listen to the kava, listen to the answers from the ancestors.

Pacific sedative

In everyday speech on Vanuatu it is often said that kava makes you drunk. In truth, the physiological effects of kava are very different from those of alcohol. Kava does not change one's perception of reality and is not considered addictive. Its traces do not remain in the body but generally disappear about twelve hours after usage. Kava has even been regarded as a drug with almost no bad side effects. The only known negative effect [other than recent, unproven fears about liver damage; see sidebar] is that heavy and repeated use may lead to an allergic reaction in the form of dry, scaly skin, a phenomenon often seen among the men on Tanna. As soon as you stop drinking kava, the dry skin disappears.

Kava is made from the root of the kava plant (Piper methysticum), a pepper plant with numerous medicinal properties. The drink kills bacteria and fungi; acts as a local anesthetic, painkiller, and diuretic; relaxes muscles; induces sleep; and reduces blood pressure. The active substances in kava are called kavalactones. These are encapsulated within the cells of the plant's roots and are not soluble in water. Chewing kava--as done on Tanna--is very effective, as the roots are ground into a fine pulp, allowing as many kavalactones as possible to be absorbed when drunk.

What happens in the body when one feels intoxicated by kava? Kavalactones serve to relax muscles, dull pain, and induce sleepiness. The body becomes so relaxed that it seems to be separated from the mind, and muscles may become too relaxed to function properly. Standing can be difficult, but the mind remains clear. Kava is essentially a sedative. Drinkers become calm and relaxed, entering a passive, meditative mood. In many ways, the effects of kava are quite opposed to those of an intoxicant like alcohol.

Sitting in the imwayim on Tanna, I am beginning to feel comfortably sedated. I stand to drink my second cup of kava and manage to swallow yet another piece of laplap. Then I sit on a bamboo bench under a banyan tree and roll myself a cigarette. I light up and quietly enjoy the night. The kava continues to make itself felt. Soon my body seems to be no more; I am aware only of my thoughts, of consciousness. The mighty crown of the banyan tree is silhouetted against the sky, and the song of the cicadas rises and falls. All is peaceful.

After a while Posen sits beside me. He asks in a whisper if I want to go back to the village. The women will have prepared meals and be waiting for us. I do not want to return quite yet; I want to enjoy the kava a little longer. Still, I force myself to rise. Posen takes a long, glowing piece of wood out of the fire. As we make our way home along the path, he swings the stick in front of us. The scattering sparks and embers create enough light so that we can see to place our feet safely. As the men of Tanna amble home after yet another evening of drinking and communing with their ancestors, the paths connecting the villages and imwayim are alive with rows of swinging, glowing dots. I think in sleepy amusement that the island must look like a web of fireflies, flickering and fading in the darkness.

Spreading to the world

Kava is known to have been cultivated for over 2,000 years and probably has been raised for even longer. About 3,500 to 3,000 years ago, seafaring Austronesians spread over the western and central parts of the Pacific, possibly carrying kava with them eastward to Polynesia. Today it is drunk for social and ceremonial reasons on Fiji, Samoa, and Tonga, though the kava there is considerably weaker than on Vanuatu. On Samoa, for example, all meetings of chiefs begin with a kava ceremony in which the serving order reflects the relative rank of the participants, and Fijians rarely meet or part without drinking a few shells of kava, or grogg, as they call it. In Micronesia, which consists mostly of coral islands where the kava plant cannot grow, kava was only drunk on the volcanic islands of Kosrae and Pohnpei. It was also drunk in scattered places on New Guinea, whereas the inhabitants of the Solomon Islands mostly preferred to chew the betel nut.

Vanuatu, where about fifty varieties of kava are found, is probably the homeland of the cultivated plant. I regularly saw villagers leaving for their kava plantations high in the mountains. Generally, they did not return until several days later. This was a new style of living brought on by the growing importance of kava as a cash crop for export. Even if these traditional villagers dress in penis sheaths and grass skirts, they use money to buy iron pots, axes, and bush knives. There was no better way for them to make money than to grow and sell kava.

In Vanuatu, kava has an average concentration of 12--13 percent kavalactones, whereas the average for the rest of the Pacific is less than 10 percent. Kavalactones are only found in the root. Traditionally, the rest of the plant is discarded as waste. The combination and concentration of the different kavalactones govern kava's quality and strength. Some combinations are avoided by people except for medicinal purposes.

The kava plant cannot reproduce itself without the helping hand of a cultivator, and the plant's properties change only through mutations. Traditionally, the local planters have studied the effects of the kava and chosen cuttings accordingly. To allow the kava to develop good quality and strength, the plant should be left in the ground for at least three to four years.

Pentecost Island recently became Vanuatu's largest kava producer. A few years ago I spent time in Bunlap, a village that clings to the steep mountainsides above the southern coast of Pentecost. Here, kava is drunk every night, but its use is not traditional and therefore has no religious significance. Drinking has simply become something of a daily male ritual. When the men return from their plantations, they always bring some roots with them. If the weather is fine, the kava is prepared in the open, on wooden tables placed in the dance and meeting place that crowns the village; if it rains, the drink is prepared inside the long, smoke-filled men's houses. Here the kava is not chewed but crushed, which means that more cups are needed to achieve the same effect as on Tanna.

One day during my visit, a couple of men who exported kava to an American naturopathic medical company appeared in Bunlap. In the darkened men's house they explained their work to the villagers sitting around. The exporters asked the men to grow more kava and join them in forming a kava export company. The villagers, who could not read, looked through the American company's brochure with great interest. Curiously, they touched and smelled samples of the gray kava tablets that were being produced for sale as tranquilizers and sleep inducers.

For pleasure and profit

Though used as a ceremonial beverage for generations, kava can no longer be regarded as an exclusively sacred drink even in Vanuatu. In fact, its ritual significance applied to only some of Vanuatu's more than one hundred different ethnic groups. For many others, kava had no ceremonial importance whatsoever. Today, however, many groups that never drank kava before have started to do so for recreational purposes.

Kava is now offered for sale in commercial bars in the capital and drunk for sheer pleasure's sake. A campaign on the islands about fifteen to twenty years ago encouraged people to drink kava instead of alcohol. It was argued that whereas alcohol can excite and cause problems like domestic violence, kava only pacifies. When you drink it, you certainly do not feel like fighting. Whether it was a result of the campaign or not, the number of kava bars in the capital of Port-Vila increased dramatically. Fifteen years or so ago, there were only a handful. Today, there are close to 150.

Some kava bars are traditional, and the kava there is drunk as it is on the islands. Others are modern places where you drink from plastic bowls, sit at tables, and maybe even watch TV. If you do not want to drink at the bar, the staff are more than happy to fill a container with kava for you to take home.

Another development is that kava is now accessible to women. On Tanna, women are still not permitted even to watch when kava is being made, let alone drink it. But today plenty of women go to Port-Vila's commercial kava bars, and many drink as frequently as men do.

The greatest single change has been the development of kava as a cash crop for export. Since the 1970s there has been a growing demand for the root from the pharmaceutical industries in Germany, France, and the United States. For over thirty-five years, for example, the kava-based medicine Kavaise, a muscle relaxant and painkiller that is given to patients with infections in the urogenital system, has been produced in France. Nonaddictive tranquilizers, sleeping aids, and antidepressants have been produced from kava extracts. Indeed, the international interest in kava--and other medicinal plants that grow on the Pacific Islands--gave the people of Vanuatu great hopes for large export incomes. It also caused some tensions in the region.

Charles Long Wah, a Chinese store owner in Port-Vila, buys and resells around 65 percent of the kava used in Vanuatu's domestic market. He told me that production had grown considerably since the campaign to induce people to grow and use kava was started at the end of the 1970s. Then, only a couple of villages grew kava for commercial purposes and that on a total area of less than 40 acres. Before the export market collapsed several years ago, that area had risen to more than 8,500 acres and the number of cultivators to 6,000 individuals.

Income from harvested roots was considerable, but locals were concerned that they were being cheated out of big money. Voices were raised demanding that the islands receive a percentage of all kava profits (not just benefit from sales of raw crops). There was also talk of building factories on the islands that could produce kava extracts for export. This would ensure that a larger share of the profits would stay on the islands. Most of these hopes were dashed when health scares concerning kava caused the export market to collapse in 2001. Hundreds of kava crops were rendered worthless and went unharvested. Whether the export market can ever recover remains to be seen. But on Vanuatu, it perhaps matters little. Kava will always be the sacred root, the peaceful close of the day.