18. Inauguration

The construction of the new football stadium was the largest project that had ever been planned and executed in the life of the Village. At first, when the site was still nothing more than swamp, it seemed as if nothing changed from one month to the next. Gradually, as the terraces were cut into the banks and the marshy land was reclaimed and filled, it was possible to detect signs of progress and then, after years of labour, as buildings began to be erected and grass planted, every week and every day began to bring noticeable change.

Carpenters arrived to assemble the benches for the dignitaries and the Head Gardener sponsored a wood carver to decorate his viewing stand. The Captain of the Guardians, not to be outdone, commissioned a pair of columns, carved up their height with animals and birds and with a carving of the Tractor on the top of each. Even the Chief Reader commissioned a painting for the wall beneath the viewing dais. The various football teams of the Village competed to place their own individual emblems in the most favourable places within the entertainment shelters.

As it became clear that the project was drawing to a close, discussion began in earnest on the best way to inaugurate the new facility. The first match would take place on Our Granny’s name day and elaborate plans began to be drawn up for the great occasion. Indeed, so many different schemes began to appear, for processions, ceremonies, dances, entertainments and every conceivable sort of participation that their various proponents were soon at loggerheads.

Finally, the disputes became so heated that Lailavu himself had to take action and he appointed his deputy, Tahmo Lukuni to hear the various suggestions and to draw up the final program for the great day. Tahmo set a day on which anyone wishing to contribute to the celebrations would present their proposals so that he could make the final decision on what would take place.

The courtroom in the Hangar was filled to capacity with enthusiastic villagers touting ideas for the occasion, many with troops of supporters eager to demonstrate their proposals in whatever way was necessary to convince. It was soon clear, however, that if a proposal had not caught Tahmo’s interest within thirty seconds it would not be on the program. A suggestion by one of the Readers, for example, of a public exposition of the rules of football as detailed in the books of the Americans was cut short without the judge ever having got to a point in the explanation where he could have known even approximately what was on offer.

In short order, a final program was published. It began in each of the sections of the Village where the local football team would arrange a ceremony – content to be at their own discretion – followed by a parade from the Village by various routes, arriving one team at a time with precise synchronisation at the stadium and entering the stands.

Once everyone was in their places, a blast on the Great Conch Shell of the Village would herald the arrival of the team coaches, the Chief Reader and his assistant, the officers of the Guardians, and the Gardeners in their colleges. When they had taken their places, there would be a display of drumming and tribal dancing.

Two football matches were on the program. The first would be a junior match played by young boys; the second would decide the championship for the year. The Head Gardener would then award the prizes to the winners (and the losers) and declare the stadium officially open for business. In the evening the roasting of pigs and a memorable night of celebrations was planned.

The program was announced three months before the date of the opening and the whole Village began to prepare itself for the event. The football teams still in the championship competition dedicated themselves to training and every match was contested to the bitterest of ends.

The team drummers began rehearsing. New drums were commissioned from the most skilled drum makers and expeditions were sent into the forest to obtain the choicest wood for them. The drum leaders of all the teams were brought together to decide on the most appropriate rhythms and patterns for the event and the drum teams began to practice; first weekly but, as the event approached, every day. Dancers were recruited and drilled to perfection.

The tailors and seamstresses throughout the Village were fully occupied as costumes were planned and sewed and arrangements for cooking the food were discussed in intricate detail, revised and then revised again. Supplies of rice and corn were procured and the price of pigs soared as supplies were booked ahead of the feast day.

One by one, the preliminary matches were played. At last, the semi-final places were known. Both the Hill and the Field were through the elimination rounds. The Hill faced a team from the new areas named the Flying Foxes. The Field were to play a team of Guardians who called themselves The Clubmen.

The Field played first, a relatively easy match against opposition who, while tough and fit, lacked imagination and tended to rely on brute force to overwhelm the competition. The Hill, on the other hand, faced a strongly motivated team who were prepared to do whatever it took to overcome the opposition. The result was a dirty match and a close call, with the Hill winning in the end by one point and lucky to have only one player injured in the encounter. Fortunately this was not one of their stars, but a defender who had underestimated the determination of a Flying Fox ball carrier and damaged his shoulder in tackling a man twice his size.

Both these matches attracted large and excitable crowds, a warning to the Guardians to prepare themselves for the main event and they began to practice their riot drills and crowd control. This was done very much in public and any misdemeanour they encountered received particularly unsympathetic treatment as they demonstrated to the Village the seriousness of their intentions.

Mixed in with the anticipation, there was also an undercurrent of unease. As the work on the stadium finished, groups of workers were laid off, given their last pay packet and sent home. Even a completion bonus did not disguise the fact that a significant number of villagers had become reliant on the work provided by the construction project and, as the number of unemployed increased, murmurs of discontent made themselves heard.

After some of those being paid off showed signs of wanting to take matters further, it became the practice to call men in one at a time to receive their final wage packet to avoid the danger of their making common cause and creating a disturbance. Although the prospect of the grand celebration distracted them, it was clear that, in the longer term, there was potential for trouble among this group, who should have had the most to celebrate.

As always, once the other teams had been eliminated, support shifted behind one or other of the finalists. This time there was no outstanding star in either team. Manaku Jim had made a donation to the team from the Hill, who drew their support from the Gardeners and Guardians living in the upper village. The team from the Field attracted the sympathy of those who lived in that district and also a majority of the unofficial villagers of the shanty areas.

The day of the matched dawned, misty and humid and, by mid morning, the streets were alive with people heading for their local team’s headquarters. The celebrations in each area were very varied. Some had set up tables of food for their supporters, some held concerts, some had organised parades and competitions for the best dancing or costumes.

At last, at midday, the processions began to form up. In the lead were the drummers for each team, then the football players, then the supporters. Columns snaking through the street from each fraction they set off by various routes, drums beating as they made their way down to the new stadium by the river.

Great care had been taken with the timing, with careful rehearsals to ensure that each group would arrive at the gates just as the last of the previous one entered but, in fact, this was an impossible task. This meant that groups who arrived before they were expected were sent marching round the stadium and back towards the village to allow the others to enter. To be quite honest, I do not think that anyone minded this very much as marching was more interesting than waiting in the stadium while the others arrived.

As each group entered, they crossed the playing field and the drummers and dancers turned on to the grass to join their equivalents from the other teams. The rest of the spectators took their places on the terraces. The sound of the drums had been impressive on the march down from the Village but now, as the number of drummers and the variety of their instruments grew on the field, the volume of sound swelled.

Their numbers increased and the drummers found their rhythm. The sound thundered and rolled across the terraces, echoing off the buildings and out over the river to the fields beyond. The enormous bass drums boomed out, answered by the clicking and rattling of the smaller drums and by the metallic clash of cymbals. What had been a series of individual rhythms picked up pace and coherence so that the large drums beat in unison like the breathing of some enormous animal while the restless, excited rhythms of the smaller, lighter instruments lent a sense of excitement and tension.

As each group entered the stadium the sense of occasion and purpose increased. From the Gardener’s dais, a drum leader orchestrated the drumming and then, suddenly, he brought the wall of sound to a stop with a wave of his hand.

In the sudden silence, the Great Conch Shell blew and the Guardians and Gardeners entered in procession. Their uniforms and sarongs were new and brightly dyed as they slowly progressed across the field and took their places, juniors first, followed by more senior officials in order of rank until at last, Lailavu, the Head Gardner entered, escorted by the Captain of Guardians and the Chief Reader.

When they had seated themselves, Lailavu gave a signal and the drummers began again. Now the dancers took to the field. Stamping and twirling in the traditional style, they gave a physical form to the sound of the drums, their movements now simultaneous, now contrasting, reinforcing the sense of a single organism, a community at one with itself and acting in perfect concert. Or so it seemed.

At last the performance ended, the Great Conch blew once more: the signal for the games to begin.