Photo via Flickr
by Hayley Jones
Understanding a culture’s relationship with its food can be one of the best ways of examining how its society functions. Food can be viewed as a necessity to keep humans alive, but it can also be viewed as an integral form of cultural expression, an indicator of economic values, and as a gateway to cultural destruction. Every human on Earth requires food to survive, but cultures have evolved to view this simple necessity, and the land on which it grows, in incredibly distinctive ways. This acts as a force which both distances individuals from each other and which can foster communion. Yet, the very definition of food is a subject up for debate as one begins to critically examine what is consumed by a culture and the role that consumption plays within certain contexts. As Tommo, the protagonist of Herman Melville’s Typee, will come to understand, to comprehend a culture through its food is no clear feat. Alex Calder writes: “What I have called the standard reading of Typee (…) demonstrates that the models westerners have of Polynesia can never really fit local metaphors” (Calder 29). Calder emphasizes that the discrepancies and contradictions put forth within Melville’s text are the result of an outsider attempting to make sense of something they are inherently distanced from. Bearing this in mind assists the reader in recognizing and contemplating Melville’s attempts to reconcile his model of Polynesia with the reality he faces. By critically considering Herman Melville’s Typee and augmenting such analysis with insights from Sarah Vowell’s Unfamiliar Fishes, one can begin to explore Indigenous Polynesian cultures through the devoted relationship they had with food and the land from which it grew.
“Typee or Happar?” (Melville 66). This is the question Tommo and Toby ask themselves as they descend into the heart of Nukuheva and hope that they are not turning themselves over to cannibals—potentially becoming food themselves. Toby is convinced the pair are venturing into Happar territory, for “it is impossible that the inhabitants of such a lovely place (…) can be anything else but good fellows” (Melville 56). The Typee have a reputation as being “inveterate gormandizers of human flesh” (Melville 26), and Toby suggests that they would not require “such forests of bread-fruit trees—such groves of cocoa-nut—such wilderness of guava-bushes” (Melville 57). There is a thread here that suggests a connection between being good and virtuous with living in a lovely, Edenic place. Tommo and Toby experience dissonance when they realize that the beautiful lands through which they are adventuring, filled with bountiful food, are the home of a people they view as vicious cannibals. These ideas represent the limited views of Toby and Tommo when it comes to supposedly cannibalistic elements of certain cultures: they perceive the Typee as being cannibals in an all-or-nothing way, assuming that the Typee must be in a state of continual lust for human flesh. However, Tommo eventually realizes that, just because something is eaten, that does not automatically make it equivalent to food:
But here, Truth, (…) for cannibalism to a certain moderate extent is practised among several of the primitive tribes in the Pacific, but it is upon the bodies of the slain enemies alone; and horrible and fearful as the custom is, immeasurably as it is to be abhorred and condemned, still I assert that those who indulge in it are in other respects humane and virtuous. (Melville 205)
Emphasizing this critical distinction between consumption in a rare and particular cultural context and consumption for the sake of enjoying food and obtaining nutrients, ensures that the Typee are not misrepresented. Mita Banerjee presents another reading of the role of cannibalism within the text, where she posits that it is a form of resistance: “Yet, what is so disturbing about the narrator’s glimpse of unadulterated Typee culture is that the Other may have his own means of resistance [cannibalism] (…). This state of nature is far from Edenic” (Banerjee 214). Here, Banerjee explores the role of a greater political context and the importance of reminding the reader that unadulterated culture is itself a means of resistance—so long as it can be held onto. This relationship between consumption and context is also critical when examining Hawai‘i’s kapu system. Vowell writes: “The eating kapus were part of a larger religious, ethical, and legal system, the underlying order for the Hawaiian way of life” (Vowell 44). The missionary wives zeroed-in on the restrictiveness of the kapu system, and their ignorance of the larger context led them to reduce Hawaiian culture to the same harsh stereotypes faced by the Typee. Thus, this serves as a reminder that food and culture do not simply possess a clear-cut relationship that can be discussed without consideration of context.
The complicated contexts tie into ideas of virtue and sensuality that infiltrate Tommo’s experience with the Typee. Words such as “gormandizers” highlight Tommo’s view of the Typee as creatures of overindulgence. This is later reiterated when he says:
But the voluptuous Indian, with every desire supplied, whom Providence has bountifully provided with all the sources of pure and natural enjoyment, and from whom are removed so many of the ills and pains of life—what has he to desire at the hands of Civilization? (Melville 124)
Tommo evidently views the Typee as residents of an Edenic paradise who need not lift a finger to have the luxuries of food and pleasure fall into their laps. What Tommo ignores here is the symbiotic relationship that the Typee possess with their food and the life that that relationship allows them to live. Since they do not overconsume resources to a state of depletion, the Typee are able to enjoy what they do have with pleasure. Along with this, the Typee eat only what naturally grows and thus can lead lives filled with more leisure as they are not constantly needing to work the land in order to eat. It is less of a God-gifted paradise, and more so a society running sustainably and subsisting on what the land can provide. Henry Hughes expands on these ideas of virtue and pleasure by connecting food with sensuality.
Tommo is hand fed by both his male friend Kory-Kory and the women who share his hut. Among these women, Fayaway becomes his paramour. Melville devotes several pages to an adoring description of Fayaway—she appears as the “perfection of female grace and beauty.” Among the more eatable features, she has rich “olive” skin and a soft mouth like the “arta,’ a fruit of the valley,” luscious in its “red and juicy pulp” (Hughes 5).
The use of food-language demonstrates the fact that Tommo views the voluptuous and gormandizing tendencies of the Typee as traits expanding beyond their consumption of food and into their sensual consumption of each other. Though they may not be gormandizers of human flesh in the context of cannibalism, he does view them as such in a sexual context. It is also worthwhile to note Tommo’s context within this moment. He has come from a ship where he existed in a state starved of pleasure and nutrition. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that he would have food and sexuality on his mind as he transitions sharply from a state of deprivation to overstimulation. This interplay between context and food practices is critical to consider when contemplating the implications food has on a culture’s relationship to sensuality and virtue.
Having taken time to understand what food is not for the Typee, it is necessary to examine the food that sustains them and that forms the foundation for much of their culture. Tommo’s first encounter with Typee food happens when he is near starvation after time spent on a ship carrying dwindling provisions and a treacherous journey into Nukuheva. He is in such a state that his wettened bread mashed together with tobacco has “a flavor and a relish (…) that under other circumstances would have been impossible for the most delicate of viands to have imparted” (Melville 47). Having lived without quality food for an extended period, the food of the Typee, prepared with care and attention, provides an excellent reward. He and Toby first encounter the Typee underneath a bread-fruit tree (Melville 68), which feels symbolic of the universal need for food and its ability to bring people together. It is also an encounter that begs the reader to recall Adam and Eve’s encounter with the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil; once Toby and Tommo interact with the Indigenous populations, the knowledge that they impart can not be undone. Whatever Edenic purity Tommo falsely believes the Typee to have, will be irreversibly demolished. During his time with the Typee, Toby will eventually develop a great fondness for bread-fruit, a primary food for them, and he explains that the food is “by no means disagreeable to the palate of the European” (Melville 72). Here, he is attempting to work through his inherent negative assumptions about the eating practices of the Typee. It comes as a shock to him that such a “primitive” (Melville 11) people could possess food that would taste good to a European. Food becomes a source of communion, almost an inverse of the aggression of cannibalism, as it is a means of promoting peace and passivity. Thus, food is a way for Tommo to begin to view the Typee as more human, while also being a force that foreshadows the destruction that looms as he entwines himself further into the lives of the Typee.
There are many aspects of food culture amongst the Typee that feel familiar to Tommo, continuing to humanize the Typee. Tinor, the mistress of Marheyo’s household, does “not understand the art of making jellies, jams, custards, tea-cakes, and such like trashy affairs, [but] she [is] profoundly skilled in the mysteries of preparing ‘amar,’ ‘poee-poee,’ and ‘kokoo” (Melville 84). Tinor is not unlike the caring women Tommo remembers from back home who ensure that everyone is well-fed. The use of food as a form of care appears, therefore, to be a universal act that seems to exist in many cultures. Tommo and Toby are given such an abundant feast upon their arrival as a display of hospitality and not because they are being fattened up for delectable consumption, as Toby fears (Melville 94). Food as a form of care is also seen in the shape of “anxious mothers [who] provide them [sailors] with bottled milk” (Melville 21) before their sons go off to join the ships. Since they can do little to provide them with any comfort, this small and fleeting gesture of sustenance is a way for them to express their love and care before losing their sons for an indefinite amount of time. Tommo never stops eating well during his time with the Typee and he is privy to a variety of feasts as mealtimes are an important aspect of their day. Tommo explains: “While partaking of this simple repast, the inmates of Marheyo’s house, after the style of the indolent Romans, reclined in sociable groups upon the divan mats, and digestion was promoted by cheerful conversation” (Melville 150). It is evident that the sharing and preparation of food is a means of demonstrating care and comradery to those who one cares most about.
Though food can be a great way of demonstrating concern for others and can reveal much about a culture, a society’s relationship to its food also has critical economic and political implications. “No danger of starving here, I tell you” (Melville 103), says Kory-Kory to Tommo. This is a stark contrast to life in Europe where citizens starve to death daily and there is never enough to go around. Aside from having a smaller population, their sustainable relationship with food consumption and production ensures that the Typee have enough to feed everyone. Bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, bananas, and other fresh fruits naturally grow in abundance and the Typee treat them with respect and consume them in reasonable quantities. Tommo also mentions their foresight to preserve a certain quantity of bread-fruit in case the trees fail to bear fruit (Melville 117). The fact that the Typee preserve their food in such a way demonstrates how dedicated their culture is to ensuring that starvation is not a cause of death for its people. It would seem quite foreign to many of Tommo’s contemporaries to see a society valuing feeding each citizen. This is also seen in how the Typee distribute fish after a fishing trip. Tommo explains that “[t]he fish were under a strict Taboo until the distribution was completed” (Melville 207). “Every man, woman, and child” (Melville 207) receives a piece. Fish are seen as something of a luxury and Tommo ponders why they do not fish more frequently if they love it so much (Melville 206). This sharply contrasts the idea of the Typee as voluptuaries: one can surmise that they consume their finite resources less frequently so as not to overconsume them. This is also seen in their relationship with salt: “I verily believe that with a bushel of common Liverpool salt all the real estate in Typee might have been purchased” (Melville 114), explains Tommo. Yet, despite the love the Typee have for salt, they do not exploit their resources or abuse labourers to enjoy it. The young girls are not expected to spend all day, day after day, collecting every bit of salt possible. Rather, the Typee appreciate what they can collect without demanding more. The advent of foreign intervention brings about the demise of this tradition and Tommo explains:
When the famished wretches are cut off in this manner from their natural supplies, they are told by their benefactors to work and earn their support by the sweat of their brows! But to no fine gentleman born to hereditary opulence does manual labor come more unkindly than to the luxurious Indian when thus robbed of the bounty of Heaven (Melville 196).
Tommo suggests that the traditional food and agricultural practices of the Typee are Godly and Edenic and that it is the profligacy of Western interveners which drives them east of Eden. Yet, Tommo again ignores the ingenuity of the Typee and their ability to value what they have, instead choosing to view them as indolent people who should be grateful for their heavenly bounty. The Typee are not contemporary residents of a blessed garden, they are simply respectful of land and resources. Evidently, societal values are inextricable from the political and economic realities of food politics within the contexts of intervention and imperialism.
Tommo laments the impending inevitability of capitalist intervention by foreign forces which will ultimately lead to the development of a world that does not allow for Indigenous traditions. Commenting on this impending intervention, Mita Banerjee observes: “[T]he Indian will be ‘displaced’ by the new economy even before he is ‘removed’” (Banerjee 213). Her analysis highlights the seeming hopelessness of attempting to retain any aspects of Indigenous cultures once Western values take hold—even the aforementioned resistance no longer carries weight. The capitalist mindset, so highly valued by Melville’s America, criticizes the Typee for daring to consume only the “spontaneous fruits of the Earth, which God in his wisdom had ordained for the support of the indolent natives” (Melville 196), as opposed to exploiting every inch of the land. Banerjee argues: “Polynesians may be said to bring about their own destruction by that which is said to be ‘genuine’ to their ‘culture.’ As the Other [Typee] is urged to preserve cultural ‘traits’ that precipitate his downfall, resistance itself becomes a sign of degeneracy” (Banerjee 214). Here, Banerjee argues that the Typee have truly been cast east of Eden, and will never be able to revert to what they previously enjoyed. This cold fact is reiterated by Alex Calder who writes: “With regard to taboo, for example, their [the Typee] making allowances for his ignorance of its provisions would eventually weaken those provisions, not only so far as he [Tommo] was concerned, but also so far as everyone was concerned” (Calder 33). Calder demonstrates how the accommodation of one man’s needs is the only shift necessary for traditions to begin their demise. Sarah Vowell also explores this theme in Unfamiliar Fishes, where she discusses how the advent of the missionaries led to the decimation of taboos that prevented Hawaiian women from eating bananas or dining with men: “Natives witnessed haole sailors breaking rules willy-nilly” (Calder 54), which led to Hawaiians breaking the rules secretly until, eventually, they were overturned. Despite civilizations, like the Typee and Hawaiians, attempting to cling to their traditional agricultural and eating practices, once the Tree of Knowledge has been eaten from, there is no turning back.
Melville’s text provides a vivid snapshot of a society’s relationship with food before foreign intervention, and Vowell shows what happens after foreign influence takes hold. Though the Typee and Hawaiians are distinct cultures with their own traditions and languages, they do have enough similarities to be appropriate comparisons and it is safe to assume, as Tommo does, that what happened in Hawaii would likely happen to the Typee. Taro is the Hawaiian equivalent of bread-fruit: “A Hawaiian could not exist without his calabash of poi [mashed taro]. The root is an object of the tenderest solicitude, from the day it is planted until the hour it is eaten” (Vowell 48). This care, not unlike the care Tinor puts into preparing bread-fruit, demonstrates the inherent respect that Hawaiians have for the food that sustains their life. Taro is so critical that it is even a part of their creation myth, which simply reiterates the relevance of food to their culture. However, during Americanization, “cane fields soon replaced taro patches” (Vowell 332), substituting the cultivation of a Hawaiian necessity with cash crops serving a Western appetite for luxury. With more and more foreigners coming to the Islands, the Hawaiian economy began to develop a dependence on the outside world and their ability to grow sugar became one of their greatest economic assets. However, this was far more than just a commodity: these fields became a part of cultural erasure as they disintegrated the symbiotic relationship Hawaiians had with the land and the food it produced. One aspect of this disintegration involved shifting towards an American concept of private property. During the mid-nineteenth century David Malo, an American-educated Native Hawaiian who was a critical contemporary voice for Hawaiians, suggested a ten-year moratorium on land purchasing so as to educate Hawaiians on private property and ensure that they were able to adequately participate in the new financial system (Vowell 157). However, this suggestion was readily ignored, leading to Hawaiians being displaced by the new economy, just as Banerjee describes regarding the Marquesan. By not viewing the land that produces food as private property to be exploited for economic gain, the Hawaiians, and Typee (Melville 201), view food as a right that everyone should have access to and not as a commodity to be used to garner wealth.
After losing the culture that relied so heavily on taro, Hawai‘i has since used food to create a new, post-Americanization identity reflecting contemporary Hawaiian culture. “[N]one of us belong here—not me, not the macaroni, not the chicken soaked in soy sauce” (Vowell 1), writes Vowell of the plate lunch she eats. These plate lunches have become a staple meal in contemporary Hawai‘i and represent the change in culture that has occurred since the days when Hawaiians ate solely from the land and sea around them. With the growth of sugar plantations, the need for cheap and multitudinous labour expanded and an intake of immigrants, primarily from China, Japan, Korea, Portugal, and the Philippines, shifted the demographic of Hawai‘i (Vowell 7). Vowell explains that the plantation workers would often share food during lunchtime which led to the development of a culture that is now derived from all around the world (Vowell 8). She quotes Gaylord Kubota, retired director of the Alexander & Baldwin Sugar Museum, as he describes a set of interviews he conducted. In one interview he says, “a third-or-fourth generation Portuguese-American was talking about how her family had a standing order from the Japanese neighbor lady for tofu” (Vowell 180), by which, he demonstrates the new relationships people living in Hawai‘i have built because of food. As Hawai‘i changed, food remained a critical part of its culture and is a show of the productive engagement of individuals living within Hawai‘i who chose to adapt and evolve in order to assemble a culture that reflects the new realities of Hawaiian life.
“The end of the old system was a natural side effect of the (…) foreigners” (Vowell 54), writes Vowell. This unfortunate truth was a distinct reality for the Hawaiians and Tommo predicts a similar fate for the Typee. By living amongst the Typee, Tommo comes to understand that the ways in which they treat their food and the land it grows on is a direct reflection of how the people treat each other. Much can be learnt about a culture by taking the time to understand the extent to which they respect their food sources, for, as Hawai‘i shows, once respect for the land is gone, respect for a society’s inhabitants leaves as well. This poignant reminder is all too relevant in a rapidly changing world where individuals die daily of starvation and land is damaged until it can grow nothing new. It is unnerving to consider what will come next for societies once there is no food or land left to rely on.
Works Cited
Banerjee, M. (2003). Civilizational Critique in Herman Melville’s “Typee, Omoo, and Mardi”. Amerikastudien, 48(2), 207–225.
Calder, A. (1999). “The Thrice Mysterious Taboo”: Melville’s Typee and the Perception of Culture. University of California Press, 27–43.
Hughes, H. (2004, October). Fish, Sex and Cannibalism: Appetites for Conversion in Melville’s Typee. Leviathan, 6(2), 3–16.
Melville, H. (1996). Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life. Penguin Group.
Vowell, S. (2011). Unfamiliar Fishes. Riverhead Books.