Brother Eugene Eyraud

K/

THE SOJOURN OF THE FIRST MISSIONARY ON

RAPA NUl: EUGENE EYRAUD AMONG THE

KANACS, 1864Translated by Ann M. Altman, I

with Judith Schwarti

B rother Eugene Eyraud was the first missionary to work onRapa Nui. In December 1864 he wrote a letter from Val­

paraiso to the Very Reverend Father Superior of the Order ofthe Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary in Paris, telling him abouthis experiences during his first visit to Rapa Nui. 3 This letterhas been summarized in many publications and, apparently,translated into Spanish. However, we know of no translationavailable in English and the absence of such a translation hasdeprived many of those interested in Rapa Nui of a charmingand informative account of life on Rapa Nui in the middle of thenineteenth century. In November 2002, while assisting the cura­tors of the museum in Hanga Roa, and as part of our contribu­tion to an expedition organized by Earthwatch under the aus­pices of Dr. Christopher Stevenson, we came across the corre­spondence of Brother Eugene and, upon learning that no Eng­lish translation seemed to exist, we decided to take up the taskourselves. We believe that our efforts will be rewarded by thepleasure that this letter will give to those who are now able toread it.

Using his own funds, Brother Eugene sailed from Tahiti toRapa Nui, where he arrived on January 2 1864, according to aletter4 to the Father Superior in Paris dated December 1864from Father Olivier, an official of the Order in Valparaiso:

Brother Eugene made appropriate preparations forhis voyage. He took several bolts of cloth with whichto dress the natives, some carpenter's tools, variouspieces of timber and wood with which to build acabin, a barrel of flour, two or three catechisms andprayer books in Tahitian and, lastly, a bell withwhich to call the natives to prayer. ... He also tookfive sheep and some cuttings of trees that he hopedwould adapt to the climate on Easter Island. Duringthe voyage, he tried to learn a few words of the localdialect from the natives [four men, a woman and achild, who had been rescued after their capture bypirates] whom he was bringing back to the island andhe became friendly with one of them, namely, Pana.It was agreed that they should disembark at Anakena,where Pana's family lived, to facilitate FatherEugene's arrival on the island and his acceptance byits inhabitants.

Then Father Olivier adds:

But here we are, on the verge of landing on EasterIsland, so let us hear what Brother Eugene has to say:

On the twenty-fourth day of our journey, on January 2

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1864, we caught ourfirst glimpse ofEaster Island, knownas Rapa Nui to theislanders. The cap­tain asked the island­ers that we werebringing home withus whether theycould see AnakenaBay, where I wishedto disembark. After afew moments hesita­tion, because of thedistance, theyshouted, "That'sAnakena".

The islandlooked very pleasant,especially after sucha long voyage. Itmust be about 25kilometers long and 17 wide. In general, the coastline consistsof precipitous rocky cliffs and there are few places where onecan land easily. The landscape is much smoother than the cliffs,with three large "bosom-shaped" hills. From the top of thesehills to the coast, the island is uniformly fertile. The same vege­tation grows everywhere, with high grasses everywhere; thereare no trees or tall plants; there are deep gullies but no streams.Along the coast, there are three main bays where one can land:Anakena, in the north; Anarova [Hangaroa], in the northwest;and Vahui [Vaihu], in the south. But these bays, if one can callthem that, offer no shelter to large vessels.

When we arrived at Anakena, the captain suggested that itmight not be a good place to land. In fact, his desire to dockelsewhere was associated with an ulterior motive. However, Iwas determined to land at Anakena and I insisted to the captainthat he let me disembark there. He protested that my baggagewould get soaked but I said that would be only a small problemfor me and that it was important to let the Kanacs [islanders]disembark immediately so that they could introduce us to theircompatriots and so that nobody would mistake us for pirates.The captain appeared to give his consent and ordered that arowboat be launched from the ship. The Kanacs prepared to getinto the boat but, since I had developed a bad headache, I laydown on my bed to rest for a moment. I had hardly fallen asleepwhen I was awakened by the noise of the Kanacs, who, I hadassumed, had already landed. I went up on deck and saw thatwe were heading for another point on the coast."Where are you going to let me go ashore?" I asked the captain."How am I going to be able to transport my belongings fromthere to Anakena?"

"Don't worry," he answered, "For a gift of four pieces ofcloth to the Kanacs, I'll make sure that your things are takenwherever you want."

"That's fine," I replied, "But will you also guarantee that Iwon't be robbed on the way?"The captain said nothing, the boat continued on its way and, inthe evening, we arrived at Anarova. After testing the depth of

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...X,lomifn.s

. '". "', ILE DE PAOUES';~~~ ArrIvee du. fro EYRAUD

.................. Tuite vers ANAKENA._._._._._._._ 2<m" voyase (1866)

ECHELLE

Soon I was on land and pulled up several clumps of grassthat 1 put into the rowboat myself. Daniel's trials were nowover and off he went. Mine were just beginning: there I was inthe midst of my new hosts. We should certainly excuse Danielfor being afraid. The multitude of men, women and children,perhaps as many as twelve hundred, was hardly reassuring.The men were armed with a type of spear made of a piece ofwood to which was attached a sharp stone. These savages arelarge, strong and handsome, and their faces are much moresimilar to European faces than those of the inhabitants of otherislands in Oceania. The Marquis6 islanders are, of all theKanacs, those who are most similar to Easter Islanders. Theircolor, even though it is somewhat coppery, is not very differ­ent from that of Europeans and quite a large number of themare completely white. But initially, and especially from a dis­tance, one does not know what to think because all of them,men, women and children, have faces and bodies that arepainted in a thousand different ways and tattooing adds to thestrange impression that they make. They use a kind of earth or

the juice of certain plants to decorate themselves in this way ­the women only color themselves with red dyes, while the menuse all colors indiscriminately.

Daniel had decided that the islanders were hostile be­cause he had been unable to recognize a single woman in thecrowd. But he was wrong and it was clear why. At first sight,everyone looked the same because everyone was dressed in thesame way. This "uniform" was very simple. The main itemwas a band of material made of papyrus or some other plant,which they fastened with a cord of hair around their hips. Apiece of the same material, but larger, was thrown over their

the water, the captain decided that it would be unwise to dockso we went out into the open sea for the night.

The next day, which was a Sunday, we finally landed.The second in command on the ship was a young Mangarevancalled Daniel who spoke some English and French and whoseemed to be able to make himself understood by the natives,whose language bore many similarities to that of the GambierArchipelago.5 He was given the job of taking the Kanacsashore. He came back in a great hurry. Poor Daniel! He wasbeside himself. Even before coming back on board, he had ananimated exchange with the captain, which I could not under­stand because it was in English. What was wrong?

"I won't go back there for a thousand piastres," he toldme, "Those are horrible-looking people. They are threatening,armed with spears, and most of them are totally naked. Theylook even more terrifying because of the feathers that they arewearing as decoration, their tattoos, and their wild cries. Andthere is smallpox all over the island. Some of the men whocame back from Peru brought it and the epidemic has spreadeverywhere except to Anakena."

In fact, of one hundred un­fortunates who boarded a ship inPeru, only fifteen had escapeddeath and they had infected theircompatriots. The Kanacs whoknew of this disease were horri­bly afraid of it. Daniel had heardthem talk about it and, struck bythe red complexions of the na­tives, he thought it was an effectof the scourge, whose effectshad, in fact, been exaggerated.Thus, Daniel, afraid of the dan­ger to which he thought he hadbeen exposed, alerted all thoseon board.

"The captain," he added,"will take you back to Tahiti forfree. You shouldn't dream ofgoing ashore - we might losethe rowboat and catch the dis­ease."

"Return to Tahiti!" I re­plied. "You must be joking....Do you think I came on boardfor the pleasure of a sea voyage. This map is a frontispiece from L'Ile de Pilques, L'Ile de Mystere? R. Pere Mouly, des Sacres-The captain and the ship's sup- Coeurs (Picpus), Librairie de L'Oeuvre. Brussels, 1935.

plier, when they agreed to bringme here, knew very well that there was smallpox here. In fact,they were the ones who first told me about it",

So it was decided that I should go ashore alone and that Iwould go by land to Anakena with Pana. The ship would meetme there the following day to unload my baggage. I jumpedinto the canoe and, while Daniel was rowing, I asked him totake back on board a bit of grass, which 1 had planned to pickon the shore, for my five sheep that remained on the ship andwere dying of hunger. "Ah!' he said. "Who knows if the captainwill allow it on board?" "I understand," 1 replied, "You thinkthat smallpox can be transmitted via grass. Don't worry."

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shoulders and tied around their necks by the two ends to com­plete their outfits. This was the usual dress of both men andwomen and explains why, from a distance, one could not tellone from the other. There is, however, some difference. Thematerial with which the women cover themselves is usuallymade of some kind of straw but men's coverings are made ofsomething else. The men let the ends of their "hip bands" hangdown but the women tie them up. Thus, there were both menand women in the crowd on the shore. And it was actually thewomen that Daniel had noticed predominantly since he had toldme that the savages had their hair in spikes that stuck out per­pendicularly from their heads. In fact, it is mainly the womenwho wear their hair in this fashion.

I had time to notice these details but there was somethingelse that struck me forcefully on my arrival on the island. Ilooked for the Kanacs who had come with me from Tahiti. Ifound them in the middle of the throng and they looked almostas uncomfortable as I was. The compatriots of Pana and the oth­ers hardly seemed to be celebrating their return; they seemedkeener in getting their hands on their belongings. 1 approachedthem and told them that the captain planned to dock at Anakenain the morning. They paid no attention to what I was saying. Irepeated myself several times and Pana finally replied that wewould leave for Anakena as soon as we had eaten the potatoesthat were in the fire. I was hungry, it's true, but I was evenkeener to get away from this noisy reunion.

Once we had eaten the potatoes, it was time to set off forAnakena. But each time Pana and I tried to escape, someonewould put his hand on my collar. Tired of fighting a futile bat­tle, and without any hope of getting rid of my vigilant guardi­ans, I tried to signal the boat that was in the bay. I wave my hat,my handkerchief; I shout as loudly as I can but it's a wasted ef­fort. We try again to escape, slipping behind a rock, but thegroup that we found there let Pana through but took me backinto the middle of the crowd.

It was getting dark, and I had no idea what was going tohappen, when Pana reappeared with some people who werearmed with spears. I moved as fast as I could towards them.They placed themselves between my guardians and me, to covermy retreat, and they suggested that I run as fast as I could. I fol­lowed their advice. It was 11.00 p.m. when my protectors, whohad managed to join me, and I stopped and went into a cave,where women brought us potatoes. We were now able to take alittle rest.

At daybreak, we set off again and reached Anakena. Theship was in the bay and came slowly towards us. I tried to signalthe captain but he seemed not to understand my signals. Hetacked along the shore and so we had to tack along the shoretoo, with all the natives. We were getting exhausted. Panawanted to go home and I had a problem preventing his depar­ture, while the ship sailed out of sight. I retraced my steps and,accompanied by several Kanacs, I reached Pana's home beforeit got dark.

At this point, I felt deeply depressed, seeing myself aban­doned on this island, without any resources, and deprived, per­haps for a very long time, of the ability to speak of our Religionto these miserable natives. The ship had left with all my belong­ings. I could live with that - but what was an irreparable loss forme and the cause of my total loss of confidence was finding

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myself deprived of the one thing that could have consoled mefor the loss of everything else: my Tahitian catechism, whichwas essential for teaching the prayers and the main truths of ourReligion to the Kanacs. My catechisms and my prayer bookswere still on the ship; the ship had disappeared and was proba­bly on its way to Tahiti.

I was dwelling on these sad facts when Pana arrived withsome of his people. "Your baggage," he told me, "has beenunloaded at Anarova and has been taken by people who liveover there. The captain wants you to go and talk to him theretomorrow."

"Return to Anarova! That's impossible: my feet have blis­ters and I have twisted my knee. I can't set off again."

"We'll carry you, if necessary, but you absolutely have togo to Anarova tomorrow. 1 will come with you, but not all theway because they're furious with me down there."

Then he invited me to eat sweet potatoes and to come intohis home for the night. It was the first time that I had been in­side a Kanac dwelling. And I want to tell you about it - whichwon't take long. First of all, the furnishings are very simple: thedishes consist of a calabash for carrying water and a little bag ofplaited straw for carrying potatoes.7 As for the bed and the fur­niture, you will understand what they might be when I tell youabout the house itself. Think of a mussel that is half open that isresting on its valve and you will have an idea of the shape of thehouse. A few sticks covered with straw make the frameworkand the roof. An opening like the opening to an oven allows thefamily and their visitors to enter - not on their knees but ontheir stomachs. This entry marks the middle of the building andallows enough light in that one can see oneself after one hasbeen inside for a few moments.

You cannot imagine how many Kanacs find shelter underthis thatched roof. It is quite warm inside and one is exposed tothe consequences of the poor hygiene of the islanders and thelack of cleanliness of their possessions. One cannot go outsidewithout carrying, in one's clothes (if one has any) a large num­ber of the inhabitants of the hut. But, at night, when one has noother place to shelter, one has to do what everyone else does. Soone takes one's place, which is assigned to each one by the verynature of the hut. The door, being in the middle, establishes anaxis which divides the hut into two equal parts. People sleeplying head to toe alternately, leaving between them enoughspace for others to come and go. One stretches out, thus, acrossthe width of the hut, arranging one's limbs as best one can, andone tries to sleep. Even though I was very tired, I had a numberof reasons for not shutting an eye. Thus, I was able to listen atleisure to the songs and the weeping that expressed, so I wastold, the joy of those present.

At daybreak, the first object that I saw was a little domes­tic idol, to which people appeared not to pay much attention.Alas! It was not of such gods that I was inclined to think at thattime. I started, in front of all those present and with all possiblesolemnity, to pray in the language of the Kanacs. I needed,more than ever before, to ask God for strength and for patience.My troubles were only just beginning.

I now had to go back to Anarova and deliver myself intothe hands of those who had already given me so much trouble.But I had to keep going so I set off again on foot, in spite of theweariness caused by two days of walking along paths that

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seemed made to especially to vex European feet. The island'sterrain is volcanic, with stones and pointed rocks everywhere. Inthe midst of these stones and the grass that grows all over theplace, there are only the barest outlines of footpaths that are nar­rower than the sole of a shoe, obliging you to walk with yourtwo feet in a single line, without ever being able to put eitherfoot flat on the ground.

When I arrived in Anarova, I was once again surroundedby a noisy crowd that covered the beach, as on my previousvisit. The captain had unloaded my baggage. Several Kanacs,armed with spears, seemed to be guarding my property but theyhad also taken the trouble to appropriate anything that theycould lay their hands on. One of them was proudly wearing myhat, another had managed to put on my coat - everything thathad not been under lock and key had disappeared. But I still hadseveral trunks and the sides of a cabin that I had prepared in Ta­hiti. My most pressing need now was to construct my cabin be­cause the protectors of my property seemed keen on protectingit from its rightful owner also. The four sides of wood attractedthe most attention. Some of the people acted as if they wereparts of a boat, others tried to figure out what they were for. Itold them that if they would leave me alone, I would show eve­ryone what they were. So then they allowed me to approach mythings. I took a hammer and some nails and began to set up thewooden walls. But I had to keep stopping to listen to a constantstream of advice, with some in the crowd suggesting that I stopand others that I continue. After proposing many alternatives,the spectators finally understood that the object that had in­trigued them to such an extent was a house. I had not, of course,been able to choose the site; I had had to settle for building myhouse around my trunks. But when the job was complete, I hadthe satisfaction of seeing my belongings locked up and the hopeof being able to sleep in my own home.

It was growing dark and finally I could breathe more eas­ily: I had a shelter, my belongings had not been stolen, and Ihad a key in my pocket. At that moment, Temanu, one of theKanacs, came with a gift of three chickens. As a result, I madethe acquaintance of a man with whom I was going to becomefar too involved: my evil genius had appeared in the form ofTorometi .... At the sight of the chickens, he came up to me andasked for them, "to take them off my hands and to have themcooked". He did indeed take them off my hands and, during mynine months on Easter Island, the buffoon continued, with un­stinting perseverance, to take off my hands everything that I hadbrought with me but which had by no means been a burden tome.

Torometi is a man of about thirty, tall and strong like theother natives of the island. His untrustworthy and surly mannerinspires caution and justifies his bad reputation. I was told thathe was not a native of the island - but he was indeed a Kanac,having brothers and a large family. I noticed that he lorded itover his neighbors. It is hard for me to characterize the authorityof chiefs on the island. I don't even know the basis for such au­thority. It seems that authority depended only on the influencethat some natives were able to exert over their neighbors andthat the people gradually grew accustomed to such displays ofsuperiority. In any case, it was clear that Torometi was a chief:he was my chief and my neighbor. His home was only a fewsteps from mine but, even so, he did not think that was close

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enough because, at nightfall, he told me to open my door,stretched out on my trunks without any ceremony, and invitedme to go to sleep. He had just taken over my lodgings.

So now I am definitively established in my new homeland.I am accepted, I am recognized all over the island, or at least Isoon will be. My home is going to become the meeting place forall those who are curious about me, that is to say, for all the is­landers. I am the popa;8 the stranger that everyone wants toknow, that everyone wants to watch as he works, and, in par­ticular, that everyone will make an effort to exploit. You canalready imagine, most Reverend Father, what my life was likeon Easter Island. Torometi considered me and my belongings tobe his personal property. Bearing this in mind, he gave me dailymy ration of cooked sweet potato - he took care to feed me.Thus, I was able to devote my days to teaching the natives.That's what I did from my arrival to my departure. I barely hadmore than two things to distract me: the work necessary to culti­vate a little garden and to sow the vegetable seeds that I hadbrought with me; and the effort required to protect myself fromthe constant interference by Torometi. Apart from this, my stayon Easter Island was one long class, a long catechism, inter­rupted only by brief periods of rest and a few little incidents.

The bell rang three times a day for prayers. We gatheredtogether and I pronounced each word of a prayer and the nativesrepeated it: we really were praying. Next came classes, whenthe natives repeated the prayers and the catechism and I tried toteach them to read. In nine months and a few days I did not cre­ate any scholars but, in the end, some Kanacs, as many boys asgirls, had learned the main prayers pretty well, as well as theprincipal mysteries of our Religion. Many had started to spellout words and five or six could actually read quite well. Theseresults might not appear too brilliant but you mustn't forget thatthese poor people hadn't the faintest idea of what I was trying toteach them. Moreover, their language lacked the words withwhich to describe it. To teach them the prayers, I had to learntheir language, which was more difficult than you can imagine.With savages, there is no way that you can ask a question or getsome information. They can tell you the name of the object thatis in front of them at that moment, but don't go any further ­don't ask for the meaning of a word that you don't understandor, in particular, for a definition: that is infinitely beyond any­thing that they can understand. All that they will do is reply byrepeating your question.

To achieve even these minimal results, I had to be, atevery moment of the day, at the disposal of these children, bothbig and little. Ready or not, Professor and Brother Catechist,here come the students. They knock on the door. If I come outimmediately, that's fine; we start our class on the grass oppositemy cabin. But if I drag my feet or if, believing that I have no­ticed that my pupils are keener to play than to learn, I try tosend them away until later, they don't miss a beat. After havingknocked at my door, they knock all around my house, then theysit down a little way away and amuse themselves by throwingstones at the house, first little ones and then bigger ones to keepthemselves amused. No matter whether Brother Catechist is in agood mood or not, he had better put in an appearance. So out Icome, armed with my catechism and, sitting down on the grass,I say to them, "Come now, gather round, we shall learn someprayers." "No," reply the students, "You come over here!" The

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simplest thing is to give in and, with everyone squatting on thegrass, we repeat the prayers and the questions and answers ofthe catechism, with the pupils paying more or less attention.After a little while, some new students arrive. Those who getbored first get up and leave; the last to arrive hasten to followthem. Soon everyone has left and the teacher starts to do some­thing else - but he has to be ready to start again whenever thestudents decide to begin their studies once more. If it's not to­day, it's tomorrow - so be ready because here there is little forthe people to do and few amusements. They'll be knocking onthe door soon, saying, "Teach us to pray."

These good people, in fact, have nothing to do for twelvemonths of the year. One day's work assures them of an abun­dant harvest of sweet potatoes that will last an entire year. Dur­ing the other 364 days, they take walks, they sleep, and they govisiting. They also have big gatherings and party continually.When a party finishes at one end of the island, another begins atthe other. The nature of the festivities depends on the season.

In summer, it is the palna that attracts the entire popula­tion. Everyone brings enough food to last through the wholecelebration, especially for the last day, the day of the banquet.All the food, placed in a long line and covered with branches, isthe centerpiece. When everyone has run around for severaldays, when everyone has, according to the rules of etiquette,gone through all the necessary motions, the big day arrives.They gobble down the potatoes or sweet potatoes. Then theygather all the branches that had covered them and make a kindof column or mast, which is called the palna.

Autumn and winter are the rainy seasons and the nature ofthe festivities changes. Palna is followed by areauti. 9 There isno more racing around, no more ritual motions or succulentbanquets of sweet potatoes. They build large houses at the siteof the festivities and, by houses, I mean huts that are higher thanusual. Once these are built, the natives gather in groups, formtwo lines, and sing. What do they sing? Oh! I can assure youthat their poetry is very primitive and, more especially, verymonotonous. An event that has really sparked their imaginationis, in general, the subject of the song. Thus, if a disease has beenintroduced, smallpox, for example, they sing about smallpox. Atone of the parties, they caught my sheep, roasted them and atethem - and then they sang about them, I couldn't tell you howoften. Don't imagine that they make up poems on these occa­sions. They just repeat the thing over and over again - some­times just a single word - and they sing the same thing from thebeginning to the end of the festivities.

Spring brings mataveri. They gather on a kind of paradeground. The gathering lasts for two months and again they runand participate in all possible kinds of exercise. Mataveri islinked to palna, which reappears when summer comes. That'sthe way our Kanacs do the best they can to keep themselvesamused.

Naturally, these festivities are an excuse for displays ofextraordinary finery. Everyone appears with his most preciouspossessions. Thus, some of the outfits are quite eccentric. TheKanacs are no longer satisfied with the simple state of undressof which I spoke above. They put on everything that they canlay their hands on. They paint themselves with greater care thanusual - taking advantage of the services of artists skilled in col­oration and the tracing of fanciful lines on their faces, which has

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a wondrous effect. The women put their pendants in their ears.These are an extremely curious invention in terms of the art ofpleasing others. The women begin early in the day to piercetheir earlobes with a piece of pointed wood; little by little theypush the point in further and further and the hole gets bigger.Then they put in the hole a little role of bark which, acting like aspring, expands and makes the hole even bigger. After a while,the earlobe becomes a slender loop that falls onto the shoulderlike a ribbon. On feast days, the women put an enormous role ofbark into each loop - it looks quite lovely. Moreover, it is thefashion and here, as elsewhere, fashion has the last word.

On these occasions too, the Kanacs wear an amazing vari­ety of head coverings. It is essential to have a hat of some sort ­sometimes it might be a hat decorated with buttons, or even acalabash, half a pumpkin, or a seabird whose carcass has beensplit open and has been cleaned to a greater or lesser extent.One day, I saw one of these dear Kanacs had had the wit to putone water pail inside another and wore both jauntily on hishead. Another, having found a pair of boots left by a Peruvian,had split them open, joined them together and literally shod hishead. Long ago I knew a tailor who divided people into twoclasses: people who clothe themselves and people who dressthemselves. It is clear that the Easter Islanders belong to the lat­ter class. They don't care about covering themselves to keep outthe heat or the cold; they care about dressing themselves. Thus,on their important feast days, they dress themselves carefullyand load themselves up with anything that they can attach tothemselves in one way or another. A man who has been able tolay his hands on a dress wears it; if he has two, he wears themboth. A woman who has a pair of trousers, a jacket and a coatwears them all in the most elegant manner. And happy is theone who can add to all this luxury something that makes a noisetoo, such as a piece of metal, etc.! My Torometi, who under­stood these things, had taken care, early in my stay, to appropri­ate a little bell that I had brought with me. The bell earned himuniversal applause and was the subject of much discussion.

So that's how they enjoyed themselves. Not everyonewould agree that their activities were so entertaining - myselffor one.

My Kanacs were very surprised that I expressed neitheradmiration nor enthusiasm and they could not understand mylack of interest. On many other points, our lack of accord was,unfortunately, even more apparent. I could never get used to thesmell of the juice of a certain plant with which they rubbedthemselves and their clothes. And I could never overcome myfeelings of repugnance on seeing them catch, with the dexterityand skill of a chicken, and then eat the numerous parasitic in­sects that made their homes in the small amounts of materialwith which they covered themselves.

You would probably like to hear some details of the relig­ion of our islanders. As far as I could make out during my nine­month stay, religion seems to occupy a very minor place in theirlives. My imperfect knowledge of their language, it's true, pre­vented me from asking many questions on this subject but, inspite of the fact that I lived with them in close proximity, Inever witnessed any act that was really indicative of a religiouscult. In each of their homes there were many statuettes, of aboutthirty centimeters in height, that represented a man, a fish, or abird, for example. These are, without a doubt, idols, but I never

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noticed anyone paying particular attention to them. Sometimes Isaw a Kanac take one of these statuettes, raise it into the air,make a few gestures, to the accompaniment of a type of danceand some kind of vague chant. What did these gestures mean tothem? I don't even think they knew the answer themselves.They seemed just to be doing what their fathers had done, with­out giving it any more thought. If you ask them what it means,they answer, as they do about their games, that it is just a cus­tom on the island.

I also never saw any religious rites after someone haddied. When an islander is sick, the treatment consists of takinghim out of the hut in the daytime and putting him back at night.If the patient dies, they wrap him up in a shroud of straw, a littlelonger than his body; they tie up the shroud with a piece of pil­rau,IO and they put the whole thing opposite the house, on theshore. These bodies, enveloped in their straw shrouds, areplaced on a pile of stones or on a type of wooden trestle, withthe head pointing towards the sea. Since the people are spreadover the entire island, there are dried out bodies all along thecoastline, and nobody pays much attention to them.

I don't know what concept these poor savages have aboutdeath and the life hereafter. One day, after Torometi had stolensomething, I tried to talk to him about the life hereafter and thefact that he would be called to account for his actions. Pana hadjust died. I reminded him of that and told him that he would dothe same. I had no idea of the effect that my words would have.Immediately after I said, "You will die," Torometi looked as ifhe had been struck by lightning. He started to tremble violently,expressing anger and terror. The bystanders did the same. Eve­ryone was saying, "Our papa says: E pohe 0 'e!,,11 It was as if!had cast a magic spell. I tried, in vain, to soften the effect of mywords, repeating that I did not speak their language well, that Iwished them no harm, but it was useless. Everyone was devas­tated and I was afraid, for a moment, that I might have to payfor my rash statement. This state of affairs lasted for more thantwo weeks. Everyone knew that I had said, "You will die," andfor a long time I was treated as if I had committed a terriblecrime. I realized that the words that I had spoken had been takenas a threat or as a prediction of a great disaster. Thus, I adviseall those who go to Easter Island to never say, in front of thenatives, "E pohe 0 'e."

This incident made me think, moreover, that superstitionswere not unknown on Easter Island and that Torometi had beenafraid that I had cast a spell on him. However, nothing hap­pened to support this possibility and I don't think that suchideas are responsible for the things that I am going to report.

In all the homes there were wooden tablets covered withmany types of hieroglyphic characters, which are symbols ofanimals that do not exist on the island and which the nativesincise with a sharp stone. Each symbol has a name but the mini­mal fuss that the natives make of these tablets leads me to be­lieve that these symbols, the remains of a primitive writing sys­tem, represent a custom that they continue to practice withouttrying to recall its meaning.

[The 2"d portion of the letter begins here]The Kanacs don't know how to read or write but they are

very good at counting, having words for all the numbers. Theymeasure time according to a lunar year. But even there they

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seem to have forgotten the details and they disagree about thenumber of lunar cycles. And here's something noteworthy.These savages are very interested in everything related to theseissues. When I spoke of months, the sunrise and other suchthings, everyone would gather round and even the old peoplewould take their places among the school children. There wasthe same interest whenever I spoke about written correspon­dence. One day, while I was holding a class, I saw a ship in thedistance. Hoping that it might land on the island, I went into myhut to write a few lines. My pupils watched attentively from adistance. They thought that I could talk to people who werevery far away and that I was doing so in my hut. They asked myabout my conversation with the people on the ship.

Should I speak of the industriousness of these goodKanacs? Their needs are so limited that they have little ambi­tion. It is quite natural for them to be idle and carefree. None­theless, they are quite skilled. They braid straw adroitly andwork adeptly with thread, with which they make belts, nets, etc.The thread is pulled from the fibrous tissues of the pilrau. Thebark of the maute, 12 beaten and stretched, furnishes the materialwith which they cover their shoulders. Their tools are just theirfingers and any stone that they pick up. They don't know howto use European tools. If they have to trim their beards, theytake a sharp stone. They would use a stone to cut thread even ifthere was a pair of scissors at hand. Above all, they love to sew.One can give them great pleasure by giving them a gift of a fewpiece of fabric with which to patch their cloaks, which soon be­gin to look like a harlequin costume.

Agriculture, as I have noted already, requires no great ef­fort. The soil is fertile, if stony, and the regular rains and tem­perate climate seem to render this little island suitable for allkinds of plant. My attempts were relatively minimal. The fewvegetable seeds that I sowed did yield a crop. All the plants thatI brought with me seemed to become acclimatized but some ofthem were stolen by Torometi, who let them dry out before hetried to plant them. The tiny plot that I tried to cultivate disap­peared little by little, destroyed by my neighbors and the chil­dren. Nonetheless, my efforts did demonstrate that it should bepossible to grow all crops found at the middle latitudes. TheKanacs don't need so many things. And agriculture, like every­thing else, is still at the embryonic stage. When it is time toplant sweet potatoes, they use a pointed stick to make littleholes in the ground, they put in the potato eyes, and that's it. ifthey are planting a vine, they push a little pile of dirt around aseedling and rely for further assistance on Providence. It neveroccurs to them to till the dirt or to water their plants.

Thus, nature leaves little for these fortunate islanders todo. However, they still have to cook. But here too there is littlethat is complex. It does not take much to cook the eternal sweetpotatoes. That's what they eat every day, the invariable every­day meal of the Kanacs, both young and old. There are indeed afew chickens and, very occasionally, someone catches a fish butthese tasty delicacies are shared only by a few privileged peo­ple. The wife and children, when the husband has eaten, mightperhaps suck on some bones, which have already been suckedfree of flesh once and even twice. Apart from these exceptions,there is perfect uniformity: always sweet potatoes, everywheresweet potatoes, cooked in the Polynesian manner here, as on allthe islands, by steaming in a hole in the ground, with heated

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stones. However, the Kanacs do this very skillfully and couldcertainly teach us something.

I have noticed that the Kanacs are very careful not to spillblood. They strangle chickens. One day, I was using my knife tokill a chicken and a woman who saw me almost passed out. Tokill dogs and goats, they dig a hole of the desired size and burythe animal's head. When the animal has suffocated, they takeout the animal, singe its skin, and then, without further ado, theyput the body into the regular oven with the sweet potatoes. I be­lieve that the sight of human blood is similarly repugnant to theKanacs. Even though they have had knives since the arrival ofthe Peruvians, they never use them in their feuds. If they wantto send someone into the next world, they find it simpler to usestones. Thus, when Torometi was displeased with his meal, heliterally stoned his wife so brutally that the poor creature wasunable to move the next day.

All that is left to tell you now, Most Reverend Father, isabout the purely personal adventures that I had. And I have de­cided to tell you about them to give you a more exact idea of themorals of the island. These little incidents are not very variedbecause, at bottom, they all involve my efforts to prevent my­self from being robbed of everything or, at least, of everythingall at once. Torometi, of course, wanted to steal everything assoon as possible and, while I tried to drag out the entire process,my host took advantage of every occasion to make a renewedassault on my property. Torometi had a very bad reputation,which seemed well justified to me. Nonetheless, I have the im­pression that, had I fallen into other hands, I would not havebeen better treated. All the Kanacs accuse each other of theft...and all the accusations are true. If there are some who steal lessthan others, it's only because they lack the chance or the nerve.

Immediately after I landed, Torometi, who consideredhimself the owner of everything that I had brought with me,started to appropriate everything that I had not locked away.The next day, I had to open aU my trunks in front of him, showhim everything that they contained, and explain the purpose ofevery object. Unfortunately, he was not satisfied with just look­ing at things. He saw a little axe and immediately took it. Thatwas the subject of our first argument; I resisted as much as Icould but I was unable to take it from him. There was only thissingle axe on the entire island and he was very keen to acquireit. "And anyway," he said, ''I'll lend it to you when you needit." So I had to resign myself to the loss of my axe. Torometiwas never without this weapon and he used it to induce me togive him everything that he coveted during the course of mystay. During his first inspection of my belongings, another thingthat intrigued him was my bell. I had an enormous amount oftrouble keeping it and placing it above my cabin. The gifts ofnature, with which my guardian absconded, grew up one moretime during my stay on the island.

You might find it strange that I was so accommodating.Indeed, I did offer a little resistance but, in the end, I felt that itwas prudent not to let things go too far. The natives don't oftenresort to violence. I have seen them have noisy arguments andbum down each other's huts but without, nevertheless, comingto blows. I am no less convinced that, if Torometi had gottenreally irritated, he would have had a way of taking care of me.Moreover, Torometi was not alone - I was dealing with the en­tire population of the island and, when I was feeling better and I

Rapa Nui Journal 55

made a greater effort, I achieved no better results. If I closed mydoor to this unwelcome scrounger, he would go and sit somefifty paces from my hut, and soon his wife, his neighbors andthe anyone in the neighborhood would sit down with him andthey would begin to make a terrible row. They would throwstones and make me see quite clearly that it would be better forme to surrender the object that Torometi coveted than to letthem demolish my home or to wait until they set it on fire.

Meanwhile, I needed a chapel. I worked on this projectduring the few free moments that I had when I was not teachingprayers or catechism. There was not much to choose from interms of construction materials; all I had at my disposal wasearth mixed with straw and dried in the sun. It was summertime.I had to be satisfied with seawater for moistening the earth andwith dried grass instead of straw. In spite of everything, I wouldhave been able to build something passable had I not been inter­rupted by the winter rains and if I had had more scrupulousneighbors. In vain, I cut grass and left it to dry: Torometi haddiscovered that there was nothing better for his kitchen fire andI had to start over every day.

In three months, all that I managed to achieve was the be­ginnings of a chapel, eight meters long and four meters wide,with walls that were barely 130 centimeters high. The rains pre­vented me from continuing and Torometi, whom I had asked tohelp me, told me quite clearly that he did not want a mud house.So I abandoned my work as a mason and concentrated on teach­ing the catechism exclusively.

Soon I took upon myself the task of visiting the entire is­land. My intention was to visit the principal sites and to teachthe natives at each site in succession. When I told Torometi ofmy plans, he seemed against them initially but then appeared toapprove of my departure. Once I had reached Temana, I startedto teach the catechism and to congratulate myself on the goodmood of my hosts. But, then, one fine day, I was told that Toro­meti had taken advantage of my absence to move everything outof my house. I set off again for Anakena, accompanied by agroup of Kanacs.

When he saw me, Torometi appeared most surprised. Hesaid that he would have been unable to cause me the slightestharm. According to his account, it was the wind that had blownopen my shutters and had caused the disappearance of a largenumber of items from my hut.

The results of my first excursion made me delay a secondone for a while. Moreover, it was wintertime and, even thoughthe winter weather is relatively mild, it is still felt by peoplewho wear as little as our Kanacs. The rain does not last verylong but it does rain frequently and sometimes the wind isstrong enough to whip up a high sea that prevents anyone fromlanding on the shore for a week or two at a time. At such a time,my Kanacs had a new idea. They got the idea into their headsthat I should build a boat. There was no point my protesting thatI knew nothing about such things - my protestations went un­heeded. They thought that I knew everything and could do eve­rything, even build a boat without wood and tools. I was in apretty tricky situation. I have already told you how they carriedon when they were determined to get something from me. Sothey began to make another ruckus. "You want wood," theyshouted, "We have lots of wood." And they ran all over the is­land, gathering all the bits of planks, all the pieces of wood -

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straight, bent or rotten - that they could find. This boat was go­ing to be the result of national cooperation. On other occasions,I had noted this custom of making everyone contribute to a pro­ject that was considered important. Nobody would think of notparticipating. There is no need for me to add that I also had tosacrifice some of the wood that I had. Then, with so many finecontributions, it would have been rude of me to refuse, anylonger, to get to work as carpenter and boat builder. I ceased toresist and, at the end of two weeks, my impatient Kanacs wereable to see something that resembled a boat. Ah! These twoweeks had seemed such a long time to them and they hadbarely allowed me the time to eat.

The assemblage of all these pieces of wood left somethingto be desired and, in addition, it was also necessary to make thecraft watertight. I announced that this final task was their busi­ness and, since they indicated that they had a type of clay thatwould make a good seal, they set to work. I was only afraid ofone thing and that was being chosen to take command of thisnew and dangerous vessel. That same day, and before the sealhad time to dry, they wanted to launch it. So I shut myself inmy hut.

But they were determined to complete the festivities ap­propriately. Recalling that the vessels that had sometimes sailedto the island had been manned by sailors in shirts and trousers,they dreamed up the idea of getting all dressed up too. Ofcourse, I had to provide their costumes. One of them, Teoni,had the nerve to go into my hut and steal my trousers. Pushedto the limit, I seized the thief by the arm and threw him out ofthe door. I had not noticed that he was carrying an axe and Iwas wounded in the arm. The copious flow of blood horrifiedthe Kanacs, and Teoni gave up his quest for trousers. I wentback into my hut and watched the launching of the boat.Dragged brutally across the stones, it reached the water's edgein no time. Now what would happen? Everyone wanted to par­ticipate and to contribute to the long-anticipated launching.But, alas, their joy was short-lived. As the boat entered the wa­ter, so water entered the boat - and soon it was full. It was im­possible to proceed further. Farewell, boat rides and expedi­tions. Gone were the dreams of our good native islanders. Theywould have to find other ways to amuse themselves and, in­deed, they did not lack for entertainment.

Mataveri was approaching and everyone was a little ex­cited. Torometi's behavior was even more outrageous than be­fore. He asked me for all the rest of my belongings, "to hidethem because someone is planning to steal them." Since thesefine fellows are so suspicious of one 'another, and with goodreason, they are always on the alert to defend and to hide thelittle that they have. And hiding places abound. There are deepcaves, some natural and some artificial, all over the island, andthey have very narrow entrances. Only a few stones are neededto cover and hide each entrance. At any given moment, the en­tire population of the island could disappear, hiding in thesecaves. Torometi proposed to put my belongings in one suchcave to keep them safe. I refused outright. But Torometi, hisbrother and his wife, with neighbors as reinforcements, setupon me and I was unable to resist. They took my keys, gath­ered up all my possessions, leaving me only my mattress andthe boxes for my tools. Once the operation was complete, theyreturned my keys.

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Nothing like this had happened to me before. Without adoubt, Torometi had often arranged things so that he could ex­tort some coveted object from me. He had begged me andthreatened me but he had never actually resorted to violence.The last barrier had fallen and it seemed that henceforth Iwould have to fear for my life. The only thing to do was to ex­tract myself from the grip of this tyrant by running away. But,until now, I had never managed to get away without him stop­ping me or going through my luggage and I had had to beg himrepeatedly for permission to go and baptize Pana and three orfour others who had begged for this benediction. Thus, I waitedfor a favorable moment to escape the vigilance of my Cer­berus - and soon such a moment arrived.

Some Kanacs from Anapika IJ came to carry my few be­longings and I set off with them, in spite of Torometi's arrivaljust as we were leaving. The people of Anapika were well dis­posed towards popa because, of course, they planned to robhim in their turn. I had hardly had a moment's rest in Anapikawhen Torometi showed up with some islanders: they had comelooking for me. I did not want to go with them and there wasanother long struggle. In the end, they knocked me down,grabbed me by the arms and legs, and set off again. They hadthe patience to carry me in this way for about two kilometersbut they were not very gentle and I felt almost torn in two. Itold them that I wanted to spare them the trouble of carryingme further and they set me on the ground. They returned myshoes and I finished the journey with them on foot.

A surprise awaited me. Torometi had put back into my hutmost of the things that he had taken from me a few days earlier.

"You thought that I was a thief but here is what was miss­ing. I simply wanted to put everything in a safe place. The realthieves are the people that you went to see. You will soon un­derstand that because you can give up any hope of seeing whatyou took with you again: everything is gone. Go back now tothose people who don't even have a single sweet potato for youto eat."

I was quite confused, as much by the failure of myscheme as by the mistake that I had made. I understood thatTorometi had been right when he told me that I would neveragain see the things that I had taken with me and that the otherKanacs were not any better than he was. A week later, I wentlooking for my trunks. Alas, Torometi's words had been true tothe letter: I was able to bring back nothing except damaged andempty trunks.

More was about to happen. It was September andmataveri brought together a large part of the population aboutsix or eight kilometers from our home territory. Torometi wasclearly focused on this reunion and expected that it would bringabout the coup that he had been expecting for some time. Oneof the Kanacs, Tamateka, had, in fact, let me know that Toro­meti was hated by everyone and that his misdeeds would bringhim an exemplary punishment.

One morning, I saw Tamateka arrive, followed by acrowd of people who gathered in front of Torometi's hut. Eve­ryone was talking at once, the discussion became heated and,even though I never understand any of these arguments, it waseasy to see that things were going to end badly. I came out ofmy hut and sat down a little distance away. Torometi, on hisside, had come out of his hut but was barely participating in the

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discussion. I really wanted to get away from all the fuss but Iwas keen not to lose sight of my hut and I wanted to keep aneye on the crowd too. Soon things began to get quite threaten­ing. A few brave souls approached Torometi's hut, tore at thestraw that covered it, and tried to tip it over. Immediately, itburst into flames. It was windy and the flre was over in severalminutes. Torometi had remained impassive, sitting beside thefire. One of his friends had to take him by the hand to pull himaway from the fire, which was about to reach him. I was afraidthat my hut might suffer the same fate but, I am happy to say,there was no attempt to attack it. In fact, a few Kanacs, armedwith spears, set themselves up as guards all around it.

When there was nothing left of Torometi's house, thecrowd, seeing the famous boat that I had built tried, in vain, todestroy it too. At that moment, Torometi, surrounded by a fewpartisans, tried to distance himself from the scene of his misfor­tunes. Now, instead of being just a spectator, I found myselfinvolved. Torometi wanted me to go with him but his enemieshad the opposite idea. However, recalling the futility of my pre­vious attempts to separate myself from Torometi, I decided tofollow him.

We set off in the direction of the mataveri festivities. Adense and excited crowd came with us and the discussions con­tinued. I was in the center of the throng, hemmed in on all sidesand deafened by so much noise. My turn had come. Suddenly, Ifelt my hat being taken and, at the same time, several pairs ofhands removed my overcoat, my waistcoat and my shoes,which were soon in tatters. I found myself dressed pretty muchlike my neighbors. When I was able to glance around, I saw thethieves wearing their spoils: one was wearing my hat, othersthe remains of my overcoat and those who had taken my cate­chism and prayer books were looking for ways to include thesein their outfits. Our progress was not interrupted by theseevents; I set off again like the others. We arrived at another hutthat was to be set on flre but there was no general agreementand little by little the crowd dispersed. I thought I was at theend of my peregrinations and, in spite of all the emotions that Ihad experienced, I consoled myself with the thought of spend­ing the night there. But Torometi wanted to return to my hut ­he wanted to recover some of the things that had been leftthere.

So we had to set off again. It was dark and I scratched myfeet with every step. It was certainly the worst part of the entireday. When we arrived at my hut, I did not have the key since ithad been taken with my clothes. I went in via the roof andpassed to Torometi the things that he wanted. For myself, I washappy to put on an old pair of shoes and, draped Roman style inan old coverlet, I set off again with Torometi on the path toAnapika, where his brother lived. We spent the rest of the nightthere. The next day my companion, who was still worried,thought of moving still further away and led me to Vahui,twelve kilometers further on. Subsequent events proved himright. We learned that his brother's house, where we had stayedin Anapika, had been burned down.

In Vahui, I found sweeter and more docile people, whowere keener to learn than those everywhere else. I set to workteaching the catechism with fresh enthusiasm. Barely a weekhad passed when the children in the class shouted that therewas a black dot on the horizon, "A ship!" It really was a ship

Rapa Nui Journal 57

and it was aiming for the island. I watched it for a little whilebut, seeing it head south, I figured that it must be going to dothe same as the other four or five ships that I had glimpsed overthe past nine months. Night fell and the ship was no longer visi­ble. I went to bed without giving it any further thought.

The next day, at about eight o'clock in the morning, achild came and told me that there was a ship at Anarova andthat Torometi was asking for me. I set off without breakfast andmet Torometi as he was coming to meet me. The ship was tack­ing towards the shore. Seeing the French flag, I reassured theKanacs who were afraid that the ship might be manned by pi­rates. We followed the ship's movements along the shore andsaw a small boat being let down into the water. Torometi, with­out waiting any longer, took me on his shoulders and carriedme to the boat, where I fell into the arms of Father Barnabe. Amoment later, we were aboard the Teresa Ramos.

Father Barnabe will tell you the details of his voyage toEaster Island. As for me, when the decision is made defini­tively to establish a mission on the island, I might be able togive some useful advice to those to whom this task is assigned.

In the meantime, please be assured, Very Reverend Fa­ther, of my deepest respect and my total devotion to the Orderof the Sacred Hearts.

- Brother Eugene Eyraud

FOOTNOTES1 71 Blake Rd., Hamden CT 06517. aaltman@snet.net2 Information Technology Services, Yale: judith.schwartz@yale.edu3 Brother Eugene's letter was originally published in AnnaLes de La

Propagation de La Foi (Annals of the Propagation of the Faith),38:52-71,124-138,1866.

4 Father Olivier's letter was published in the same volume, 38:45-52.5 An archipelago 1,600 Ian southeast of Tahiti, the largest island of

which is Mangareva.6 Marquesas Islanders.7 The reference is to sweet potatoes.8 Popa '0 is Tahitian for a stranger of a white race. There is some ques­

tion whether Eyraud wrote "papa" or "popa". Apparently it couldbe either way, depending upon an interpretation of his handwrit­ing. While "papa" might be used to describe the father of hisflock, "papa" would make sense in the context of being a whitestranger.

9 According to Steven Roger Fischer (personal communication 2003),the word "areauti" was mentioned also by the other missionaries,and has puzzled scholars ever since. It appears to relate to a pre­contact feast, and was renamed once either Eyraud or the othermissionaries, lay brother and catechists arrived, to"areauti". This appears to be an incorrect transcription (becauseof French phonology) of what was originally "hare ha 'uti" or"playnovemaking house", which doubtless refers to the activitieswhich took place in the building. While "hare" is Rapanui for"house", the "ha 'uti" is Tahitian, for "playnovemaking", andwould have been a borrowing of the I860s, one of the first re­corded borrowings in the Rapanui language. What the originalname of the feast was is still unknown.

10 Rope made from the bark of Hibiscus tiliaceus; Piirau is the Tahi­tian term for Hibiscus, used here by Eyraud. The Rapanui word ishauhau.

liE pohe 0 'e is Tahitian for "dying of hunger". Again, the "papa" inthis sentence might be "popa".

12 Mahute or barkcloth.13 This probably is Hanga Piko.

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