by Seiuli Salamasina von Reiche and Dan Smith
It's more than skin deep, tatau is wearing the marks of ancestors.
Image, Tufuga (Master tattooist) Li’aifaiva Malofie at work.()
Li’aifaiva Lavea Levi was studying civil engineering at university when his life took a very different turn — he decided to abandon his degree and take up traditional tattooing.
Years earlier, at 17, he'd gotten his first tattoo and learned from his father that his family was one of the original tattooing families of Samoa.
It had been four generations since there had been a tattooist in the family though — and so years later, three years into his degree, Li’aifaiva started studying a very different skill.
"The apprenticeship system you have to do, it's pretty much learning how to stretch the skin and observe the muscle fibre," he told Culture Compass.
"The tatau that always sticks out is the first one... I had to approach our carpenter because he would come around the house and ... he would always sort of like bugging me and telling me, 'Hey, if you ever start, I want to be your first'.
"When the time came, I approached him and he forgot what he had said. But it was a very nerve-wracking experience because even the stretchers I had, one was an eight-year-old and another was a very inexperienced stretcher.
"So we were kind of thrown in the deep end and we had to sink or swim."
Much like Li’aifaiva's revival of his family's tradition, tattooing in the Pacific is experiencing a comeback.
The ancient practice of tatau, or tattooing, has been at the heart of Pacific societies for more than 2,000 years, but on many islands, the practice was suppressed by Christian missionaries who believed it was sinful.
Then in the late 20th century, some islands banned traditional tattooing due to health and hygiene concerns.
Samoa was the only place in the Pacific were the practice survived, and tufugas, or tattoo masters, like Li’aifaiva continue the practice.
"I feel like we're in a beautiful time in our history that not only is the practice safer, but the world has changed," Li’aifaiva said.
"Tattooing has become a lot more accepted globally."
Not eradicated, but 'quiet'
For Papua New Guinean woman Moale James, her tatau — or reva reva, as they are known there — honour her family and leave a legacy for her children.
"Our practice was quiet for a moment. It was quiet for a generation, it wasn't eradicated," she said.
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| Papua New Guinean-Australian woman Moale James wears the marks of her ancestors.() |
"And now it's back. And it's loud.And it's here, it's in your face — literally, on your face! And now we're just living that practice every day."
Moale said her great-grandmothers both had full-body marks "from their toes up to their head", but once missionaries arrived, women were told the reva reva were wrong.
"And there were old women in our village who had half-finished marks and you can see it as you go down their body… it's just finished, instant, you can see the change in the stop," she said.
As the older generation died, so did the marks and the stories that were linked to them.
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| Reva reva is a full-body marking tradition that dates back generations in Moale's family.() |
Alarmed, Moale's mother and aunties, set out to revive the mark and keep the stories alive.
They looked through anthropological texts and interviewed elders, learning the marks, where they're placed, what they mean and how to make them.
"So they created ... documentaries, to document that journey, but also something for the daughters and their sons and their children to look at in the future," Moale said.
"And it was about bringing that practice back to life, and then there's my generation now, which is this is our practice.
"It's been brought back, and now it's here. It's every day. And it's our responsibility to teach. It's now my responsibility and my legacy to teach my children if I have them in the future, this is our practice."
First published at ABC Pacific, September 5, 2023
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