Talanoa as Dialogue and PTC's Role in Creating Conversation

Tomlinson, M . (2020). Talanoa as dialogue and PTC’s role in creat ing conversat ion. Pacific Journal of Theology. Series II (59), 35-46. Talanoa as Dialogue and PTC’s Role in Creating Conversation Matt Tomlinson* Introduction The term talanoa is well known in central Oceania, including Fiji, Tonga, and Sāmoa. As a verb, it means to engage in conversation; as a noun, it means conversation. Yet as many readers know, dictionary definitions are like blurry photos: flat and out of focus when compared to the lively, multidimensional meanings terms gain in real speech.1 Talanoa’s significance expands in several directions beyond simple conversation. Some authors identify talanoa as an especially valuable and productive kind of talk. The Tongan economist Sitiveni Halapua, who directed the Pacific Islands Development Program at Honolulu’s East-West Center, devised a “talanoa process” for political reconciliation which he applied in the Cook Islands, Solomon Islands, Fiji, and Tonga (see the summary in W. Halapua 2008, 5661). More recently, “Talanoa Dialogues” have become a format for discussions on climate change at United Nations conferences, adopted for their flexible deemphasis of hierarchy in service to consensus (Kirsch 2021, n.d). In addition to its political possibilities, talanoa’s potential for theological thinking has become clear. Sitiveni Halapua’s brother, the Anglican bishop Winston Halapua, compares the metaphorical space of talanoa-as-conversation to the flowing physical space of the ocean, noting how both kinds of space cultivate interaction and understanding: Wisdom in talanoa may be seen in the allowing of freedom of movement and freedom of interaction. The moana constitutes the vastness of the interconnectedness of the five oceans in this planet earth—it is immense space and openness. Talanoa involves an open space for people to tell stories. The environment provides a profound contribution to offer to conversation. It is about a sacred space and room for interaction. The moana has depths and shallows. The moana may be peaceful or unpredictable. Talanoa embraces different aspects of meetings among Series II, Issue 59 2020 35 people. Talanoa potentially allows space for a variety of voices coming from different places emotionally and spiritually. The emphasis is on face-to-face encounter with deep and engaged listening. This builds trust and reduces misunderstandings.… Talanoa moves toward the achieving of consensus in decision-making. There is the possibility of dynamic life energy in such encounter in a safe and creative space. Jesus used face-to-face encounter in his ministry. He allowed space and interaction. Talanoa is open-ended as the moana is alive, dynamic and provides space for all because all the oceans flow in to one another and together flow, flow, and flow. Talanoa may enable God’s presence in our midst to speak powerfully. (W. Halapua 2010, 28-29; see also Halapua 2020). In Halapua’s expansive theological vision, talanoa connects people to each other and can also connect them with God. Another Tongan scholar, David Fa’avae, describes “a practice related to talanoa” called talaloto, meaning “to relate one’s religious experience, like giving a personal testimony about a spiritual experience one has encountered/lived as a way to connect, inspire, and empower change in others” (2018, 80-81; see also Churchward 1959, 447). As a form of “relational connection,” talaloto— and talanoa in general—can be seen as a way of shaping and negotiating interpersonal space, a topic on which Samoan and Tongan authors have been developing new scholarly understandings (see e.g. Anae [2016] on the Samoan philosophy of “teu le vā” and Ka’ili [2017] on Tongan emphasis on “tā/vā” [time/space] rhythm and symmetry). For Fa’avae, as for Halapua, relational engagement connects a person to God as well as family and society (Fa’avae 2018, 82). Talanoa is a specifically Oceanic term, then, but understandings of it can be deeply personal as well as potentially universal. Not all authors identify talanoa as a unifying or sacred term, however. Donald Brenneis shows how Indo-Fijian villagers in northern Vanua Levu have adopted the term “talanoa” for gossip. For Bhatgaon villagers, talanoa is considered “wasteful,” yet there is an art to it; “While talanoa is considered worthless in itself, men who excel in it are much appreciated” (Brenneis 1984, 492). And as the Tongan Methodist theologian Jione Havea points out, one sense of talanoa is (pardon the term) bullshitting: “To muse is to talk about nothing, to bullshit. Such do[es] happen in talanoa circles (when hyphenated, tala-noa means ‘tell nothing’)” (Havea 2013, 157). In these senses, talanoa is entertaining 36 The Pacific Journal of Theology conversation that does not need to carry great conceptual or symbolic weight. In contextual theology, talanoa has a remarkable presence. As many readers of this journal know, contextual theology is the branch of theology that places social context and personal experience at the heart of interpretation and argument. If true dialogue with God is possible, for many contextual theologians, it must make sense in markedly cultural terms. In other words, a Samoan person would address God, and be addressed by God, in a conversation with a Samoan sensibility. “Every time I read my Samoan Bible,” writes Moreli Niuatoa, “I can hear [Jesus] speaking back to me in Samoan” (2018, 30). Accordingly, many contextual theologians (in addition to Winston Halapua and Jione Havea) have discussed talanoa’s theological implications.2 For example, Nāsili Vaka’uta links the Tongan term tālanga to talanoa, writing that “Tālanga is a Tongan way of talanoa (dialogue, verbal interaction, conversation) and it always presupposes orality, multivoicedness, and alternatives” (2011, 74). He takes care to note, however, that tālanga is not exactly the same thing as “dialogue,” because “If the Western notion of dialogue requires a consensus, tālanga does not, and neither does it expect a final word. It is always an openended forum that invites multiple perspectives, opinions, solutions and/or meanings” (ibid.). In an article published in this journal, ‘Asinate Fuakautu’u Samate suggests that talanoa is a method by which suppressed voices can be heard: “the art of story-telling or talanoa [should] be promoted as a source of empowerment by telling, sharing and listening to the stories[,] especially those of the marginalized and disadvantaged in society” (2011, 86). Upolu Lumā Vaai, in his recent work on “relational theologising,” does not explicitly mention talanoa but celebrates inherent mulitiplicity—a many-voiced and many-storied (or as Vaai writes, “multi-strandic”) approach to discovering facts and articulating complex truths—which harmonises with ideals of talanoa (Vaai 2020). Authors outside of theology have taken up talanoa as a subject and research method, too. For example, the education scholar Unaisi Nabobo-Baba (2006, 27-28) has developed a model for “vanua research,” based on Indigenous Fijian cultural expectations and practices, in which talanoa is considered preferable to formal interviews. The post-development scholar Apo Aporosa has drawn on Nabobo-Baba’s methodology in his studies of yaqona (kava) consumption and education in Fiji, arguing that as a “system of dialogue,” talanoa “empowers locals from all sides of the opinion base to debate, be heard and decide on issues Series II, Issue 59 2020 37 that directly affect them, free of external influence, domination and hegemony” (Aporosa 2014, 176). In a much-cited article, Timote M. Vaioleti argues that using talanoa as a research method produces more “pure, real, authentic” information (with the Tongan term mo’oni denoting those qualities; Vaioleti 2006, 21). Tamasailau Suaalii-Sauni and Saunimaa Ma Fulu-Aiolupotea usefully distinguish between talanoa and faafaletui as research methods in Samoan contexts, the latter indicating “closed group discussions of a serious nature” and the former indicating something “more open, encouraging any kind of talk to happen between any persons or groups of persons, either or both in group and/or one-on-one settings” (Suaalii-Sauni and Fulu-Aiolupotea 2014, 334). Talanoa’s value as a research method has even been promoted for sport management (Stewart-Withers, Sewabu, and Richardson 2017). Because of its significance in daily life and its theological resonances, talanoa has become an emblem of Oceanic societies for some authors and speakers (see discussion in Tomlinson 2020). It is identified as a distinctive and valuable feature of local life, a process which exemplifies Oceanic values and practices. Like devout churchgoing, expressions of mana, the drinking of kava/ yaqona, traditional seafaring, and other powerful symbols, talanoa helps make connections across a region. In appreciating talanoa, however, it is important to recognize two facts which are easy to overlook. First, talanoa, like any conversation, is never an unlimited space in which all participants participate equally, despite some authors’ emphasis on openness and freedom. Moreover, in some contexts, conversations can be notably difficult to begin and sustain. How often does the call for talanoa, or the invitation to more dialogue, result in genuinely new and interactive exchange? Second, as a speech genre, talanoa is remarkable for its emphasis on dialogue. But monological speech is a recognised speaking style in Oceanic societies, too—for example, when authorities (including church ministers and traditional chiefs) are expected to speak in ways that are not meant to be open to direct challenge or rejoinder. Talanoa’s emphasis on dialogue, I suggest, needs to be seen in relation to more monologic styles of speaking. Challenges of Dialogue, Challenges to Dialogue Many readers will recognise the situation: You are talking with someone, exchanging words back and forth, but at some point you realise they are not really responding to what you say—and perhaps you are not fully responding to their words, either. Instead of an interactive dialogue in which each side takes up 38 The Pacific Journal of Theology the words of the other, you might be offering competing monologues, talking at each other in a format that only seems conversational. “Dialogue is not merely the interchange of words,” Maurice Friedman writes; “genuine dialogue can take place in silence, whereas much conversation is really monologue” (2002, xvi). In observing and participating in casual talanoa at hundreds of yaqona (kava) drinking sessions in Fiji, I have always been intrigued by the push and pull of conversation. In the most casual sessions, the jokes flow freely and laughter enchants the air. In the most formal ones, reverence for chiefly authority is marked by silence and deliberate movement. Sessions can move between these extremes. Some begin formally, but after they are officially “closed,” drinking and conversation continues in a more relaxed way. And some sessions unfold in a complex middle ground: everyone is relatively relaxed, but when one person starts talking, others stop and listen, whereas another person who wants to be heard is ignored. These dynamics are hardly unique to talanoa at kavadrinking sessions, and they have their cultural rules; for example, cross-cousins can speak more freely with each other than brothers and sisters. My point is that although the term “talanoa” is applied to an open and interactive style of engagement, different participants in the conversation have different capacities to contribute. As Jione Havea wrote pointedly in this journal two decades ago, “Now and then when we say that we are having a dialogue, we usually ‘talk over’ each other, to the end that some voices go unheard” (1998, 65). And different kinds of talanoa have different rules or expectations of engagement. A casual after-work talanoa among cross-cousins around a Fijian kava bowl will differ from a United Nations-based Talanoa Dialogue on Climate Change in many ways, even when the casual talanoa features discussions of climate change and the UN forum includes Fijian speakers. Yet it is important to recognise that silent participants can still be active participants; as Faafetai Aiava points out (personal communication, October 2020), “listening is just as much a part of talanoa as speaking is.” As mentioned above, there are Oceanic styles of speaking which deemphasise dialogue, too. For example, when a traditional chief speaks, he or she is often supposed to be listened to with quiet acceptance. Chiefs’ speech might be interrupted, but this can be shocking when it happens. Methodist ministers in Fiji might receive an affirmative “vinaka, vinaka” (good, thanks) from members of the congregation when they preach, but do not expect Pentecostalstyle yells and stomps—nor open disagreement, for that matter. Because church Series II, Issue 59 2020 39 ministers represent God, their words cannot be received too dialogically. As a Samoan Congregationalist author commented, for many Samoans “Whatever the faifeau [church minister] says is taken as the Word of God and whatever he does is God’s Will” (Moa 2008, v). Some chiefs and ministers do attempt to cultivate more interactive forms of engagement. For example, George Marcus (1980) has described Tongan nobles’ attempts to create informal discussion at kava-drinking sessions. At the 2013 meeting of the Oceania Biblical Studies Association (OBSA), held on PTC’s campus, PTC’s principal at the time, Feleterika Nokise, asked if sermons should be replaced with talanoa so that everyone, including women, could participate. One author—an education scholar rather than a theologian—has suggested that dialogue has an aura of danger, however. Kabini F. Sanga from Solomon Islands has argued that researchers from Oceania should work with fellow Pacific thinkers to recognize their shared philosophy rather than attempt to engage in dialogues with Western scholarship. Western thought, according to Sanga, has different philosophical bases and will simply provoke “an urge to rebut, thinking one needs to keep one’s mana in a manly fashion. There is a temptation for indigenous Pacific research to enter into a discussion,” he warns, “using another’s modus operandi. These are tempting challenges and succumbing to them is likely to be time wasting, energy sapping and unproductive” (Sanga 2004, 50). Dialogue is like a fight, Sanga suggests. If you play by someone else’s rules it can be damaging, even “suicidal” (ibid.). Although Sanga is not a theologian, his argument does echo the claim, implicit in some contextual theology, that to discover truly meaningful local Christianity one must deemphasise European influences and models. Whether a casual chat after a day of work or a more formal conversation such as discussion at a theological workshop, talanoa is a significant feature of life in places like Fiji, Tonga, and Sāmoa. But talanoa takes effort to begin and sustain—it is not an automatic process—and it does not level Oceanic societies into complete egalitarianism. Rather, it gives people the opportunity to speak from particular social positions, to take up others’ words or ignore them, to work toward consensus or agree to disagree. And talanoa stands alongside other, equally valued, speaking styles. 40 The Pacific Journal of Theology The Pacific Theological College and the Pacific Journal of Theology as Sites of Talanoa I am a social anthropologist, not a theologian, but I have learned much from theologians at the Pacific Theological College (PTC). One of the main things I have learned is how crucial talanoa is to PTC’s educational mission. I have spent many hours in the central fale in conversation over food, tea, and kava. In chapel services, the multitude of languages reveals what a radically inclusive space the College is. When I spent eight months at PTC (mostly in 2009), I heard prayers in Samoan, Tongan, Maohi (Tahitian), Tuvaluan, NeoMelanesian (pidgin), Hano (from Pentecost Island, Vanuatu), Vella Lavella and Ontong Javanese (both from Solomon Islands), as well as English and French. And the campus’ tradition of holding meetings, conferences, and other events, and hosting visitors, means fresh conversation is always coming soon. Surrounded by this diversity of tongues, talanoa becomes the air we breathe. PTC, in fulfilling its mission “towards leadership for justice” as described in its Strategic Plan, offers a space for talanoa to genuinely challenge established structures and allow previously unheard voices to be given expression (see also Halapua 2020, 10). By continually rethinking its curriculum, engaging with different communities, and maintaining its critical focus on the conjunction of spiritual life and cultural dynamics, PTC can both be its own site for creative talanoa and encourage the development of new talanoa across and beyond Oceania. The Pacific Journal of Theology (PJT) has been a key site for disseminating contextual theological writing from Oceania. In a literal sense, it has broadened understandings of talanoa by publishing articles which discuss talanoa as a topic (in addition to the Samate article cited above, see also Rogers 2008; Havea 2011, 2012). In a broader sense, it has been the site where key ideas have been worked out, expressed, and responded to in ways that have energized Oceanic theology and academic thought in general. For example, PJT is where Keiti Ann Kanongata’a offered her “Theology of Birthing and Liberation” (1992; see also Kanongata’a 1996) and where Ilisapeci Meo and other authors developed key work of the feminist collective Weavers (Meo 1990, 2012; see also Siwatibau 2003). It is where Ilaitia Sevati Tuwere followed ‘Amanaki Havea’s call for a new “Coconut Theology” with his own approach, first with a focus on the sea, then a turn to the land (of his many articles, key ones include Tuwere 1990, 1992, 1995, 2001, 2007). It is also a site where, in notably dialogic fashion, contextual theology has been subject to vigorous criticism (Palu 2002, 2003, 2005). Series II, Issue 59 2020 41 Both PTC and PJT have been key sites of talanoa. In offering this article as a contribution to hoped-for further conversation, I have made two points. First, talanoa has many dimensions. It has been treated both as sacred and irreverent, as a way to solve problems which does not demand consensus. It is rightfully celebrated, but in appreciating the openness it offers, we should pay attention to the ways in which openness is not absolute. Moreover, getting any conversation started—even a casual one—can be more complicated than it seems. In this light, the fact that PTC and PJT have been developing theological talanoa for decades, unfolding the mat for conversation since the 1960s, is a remarkable fact. Second, talanoa’s emphasis on dialogic exchange must be seen in relation to other styles of speaking, especially authoritative speech from high chiefs and church ministers. When and how, we might now ask, do speakers “convert” from one form to another—bringing sacred speech into casual conversation and elevating everyday talk to a higher plane of meaning? * Dr Matt Tomlinson teaches anthropology at the Australian National University and University of Oslo. His most recent book is God Is Samoan (University of Hawai’i Press, 2020). Acknowledgments: I am grateful to Rev. Prof Upolu Lumā Vaai for encouraging the submission of this article, and Rev. Dr Faafetai Aiava, Dr Apo Aporosa, Mitiana Arbon, and Dr David Fa’avae for their thoughtful comments on it. All errors are my own. Endnotes In Fijian, “talanoa” as a verb means “to chat, to tell stories,” and (with the nominal prefix -i) it is a noun meaning “a story, account[,] legend” (Capell 1991: 215). In Samoan, it is a verb for “Chat, make conversation, have a talk” and as a noun (talanoaga), “Discussion, conversation” (Milner 1966, 233). In Tongan, the verb means “to talk (in an informal way), to tell stories or relate experiences” and the noun, “talk(ing); story, tale” (Churchward 1959, 447). 2 Havea, I should note, writes flexibly and dynamically about talanoa in ways I have not discussed. For example, he also describes talanoa as a kind of responsive, interactive approach to Bible reading: “Talanoa moves, links, and grabs, as well as cuts, and releases. It is telling, and interchanging” (Havea 2014, 210-211; see also Havea 2010). 1 References Anae, Melani. 2016. “Teu Le Va: Samoan Relational Ethics.” Knowledge Cultures 4(3): 117-130. 42 The Pacific Journal of Theology Aporosa, S. 2014. Yaqona (Kava) and Education in Fiji: Investigating ‘Cultural Complexities’ from a Post-Development Perspective. Albany: Massey University, Directorate Pasifika@Massey. Brenneis, Donald. 1984. “Grog and Gossip in Bhatgaon: Style and Substance in Fiji Indian Conversation.” American Ethnologist 11 (3): 487-506. Capell, A. 1991. A New Fijian Dictionary, 3rd edition. Suva: Government Printer. Churchward, C. Maxwell. 1959. Tongan Dictionary. London: Oxford University Press. Fa’avae, David. 2018. “Foki Kihe Tupu’anga: Talaloto and Autoethnographic Reflections of Navigation Back to the Homeland.” Departures in Critical Qualitative Research 7(4): 78-86. Friedman, Maurice. 2002 [1965]. Introduction to Martin Buber’s Between Man and Man, translated by Ronald Gregor-Smith, xi-xx. London: Routledge Classics. Halapua, Winston. 2008. Waves of God’s Embrace: Sacred Perspectives from the Ocean. London: Canterbury Press Norwich. Halapua, Winston. 2010. “Theomoana: Toward an Oceanic Theology.” In Oceania and Indigenous Theologies. Edited by E. Wainwright, D. Irarrázaval, and D. Gira, 23-33. London: SCM Press. Halapua, Winston. 2020. “Talanoa of Justice: Keynote Address on the Occasion of the Inauguration of the 55th Anniversary of the Pacific Theological College.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 58: 6-14. Havea, Jione. 1998. ““Tau Lave!” (Let’s Talk).” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 20: 63-73. Havea, Jione. 2010. “Welcome to Talanoa.” In Talanoa Ripples: Across Borders, Cultures, Disciplines. Edited by Jione Havea, 11-22. Palmerston North: Pasifika@Massey; Auckland: Masilamea Press. Havea, Jione. 2011. “Is Shalom Enough? Drifting Peace, in the Waters of Oceania.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 45: 28-43. Havea, Jione. 2012. “Kautaha in Island Hermeneutics, Governance and Leadership.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 47: 3-13. Havea, Jione. 2013. “Death Roots: Musings of a Pacific Island Native.” In Pacific Identities and Well-Being. Edited by Margaret Nelson Agee, Tracey McIntosh, Philip Culbertson, and Cabrini ‘Ofa Makasiale, 157-168. New York: Routledge. Havea, Jione. 2014. “Bare Feet Welcome: Redeemer Xs Moses @ Enaim.” In Bible, Borders, Belonging(s): Engaging Readings from Oceania. Edited by Jione Havea, David J Neville, and Elaine M Wainwright, 209-222. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Series II, Issue 59 2020 43 Ka’ili, Tēvita O. 2017. Marking Indigeneity: The Tongan Art of Sociospatial Relations. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Kanongata’a, Keiti Ann. 1992. “A Pacific Women’s Theology of Birthing and Liberation.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 7: 3-11. Kanongata’a, Keiti Ann. 1996. “Domestic Theology.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 15: 73-75. Kirsch, Stuart. 2021. “Why Pacific Islanders Stopped Worrying about the Apocalypse and Started Fighting Climate Change.” Forthcoming in American Anthropologist. Kirsch, Stuart. n.d. [unpublished manuscript]. Talanoa Dialogues at UN Climate Change Meetings: The Extraordinary Encompassment of a Scale-Climbing Pacific Speech Genre. Marcus, George E. 1980. “Role Distance in Conversations between Tongan Nobles and Their “People.”” Journal of the Polynesian Society 89 (4): 435-453. Meo, Ilisapeci J. 1990. “Why Do Women Remain Silent in Meetings and Discussions with Men?” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 3: 45-47. Meo, Ilisapeci J. 2012. “Women and Theological Education, Its Significance in the 21[st] Century and Beyond.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 47: 42-51. Milner, G.B. 1966. Samoan Dictionary. London: Oxford University Press. Moa, Imoa Emanuel Cluny. 2008. O Le Faifeau—The Servant of God: Redefining the Faifeau Paradigm of the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa in Aotearoa New Zealand. Master of Theology thesis, University of Auckland. Nabobo-Baba, Unaisi, 2006. Knowing and Learning: An Indigenous Fijian Approach. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific. Nabobo-Baba, Unaisi. 2020. “At Home in the Pacific Five Millennia and Counting: Decolonising Pacific Institutions of Higher Learning and Research Methodologies and the Role of Research Institutions Like the Pacific Theological College.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 58: 136-147. Niuatoa, Moreli. 2018. We Really Lost Jesus in Hermeneutics: Fashion Me a Theology of a “Samoan–Jesus.” Tafuna, American Sāmoa: Kanana Fou Theological Seminary. Palu, Ma’afu ‘o Tu’itonga. 2002. “Pacific Theology.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 28: 21-53. Palu, Ma’afu ‘o Tu’itonga. 2003. “Pacific Theology: A Reconsideration of Its Methodology.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 29: 30-58. Palu, Ma’afu ‘o Tu’itonga. 2005. “Contextualisation as Bridging the Hermeneutical Gap: Some Biblical Paradigms.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 34: 22– 43. 44 The Pacific Journal of Theology Rogers, Muriel. 2008. “To What Extent Does Theological Education in Oceania Perpetuate Violence Against Women.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 39: 5-23. Samate, ‘Asinate Fuakautu’u. 2011. “The Challenge and Contribution of Gender to Theological Hermeneutics in Oceania.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 46: 55-94. Sanga, Kabini F. 2004. “Making Philosophical Sense of Indigenous Pacific Research.” In Researching Pacific and Indigenous Peoples: Issues and Perspectives. Edited by. T.L. Baba, ‘O. Māhina, N. Williams, and U. Nabobo-Baba, 41-52. Auckland: Centre for Pacific Studies, University of Auckland. Siwatibau, Suliana. 2003. “Weavers Book Launch.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 30: 34-39. Stewart-Withers, Rochelle, Koli Sewabu, and Sam Richardson. 2017. “Talanoa: A Contemporary Qualitative Methodology for Sport Management.” Sport Management Review 20(1): 55-68. Suaalii-Sauni, Tamasailau, and Saunimaa Ma Fulu-Aiolupotea. 2014. “Decolonising Pacific Research, Building Pacific Research Communities and Developing Pacific Research Tools: The Case of the Talanoa and the Faafaletui in Samoa.” Asia Pacific Viewpoint 55(3): 331-344. Tomlinson, Matt. 2020. God Is Samoan: Dialogues Between Culture and Theology in the Pacific. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Tuwere, Ilaitia Sevati. 1990. “He Began in Galilee and Now He Is Here: Thoughts for a Pacific Ocean Theology.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 3: 4-9. Tuwere, Ilaitia Sevati. 1992. “Emerging Themes for a Pacific Theology.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 7: 49-55. Tuwere, Ilaitia Sevati. 1995. “An Agenda for the Theological Task of the Church in Oceania.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 13: 5-12. Tuwere, Ilaitia Sevati. 2001. “Indigenous Peoples’ Struggle for Land and Identity.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 25: 39-50. Tuwere, Ilaitia Sevati. 2007. “Belief in God the Creator: A Call to Make a Difference in the Household of Life.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 38: 27-38. Vaai, Upolu Lumā. 2020. “Relational Theologising: Why Pacific Islanders Think and Theologise Differently.” Pacific Journal of Theology, series II, 58: 40-56. Vaioleti, Timote M. 2006. “Talanoa Research Methodology: A Developing Position on Pacific Research.” Waikato Journal of Education 12: 21-34. Series II, Issue 59 2020 45 Vaka’uta, Nāsili. 2011. Reading Ezra 9–10 Tu’a-Wise: Rethinking Biblical Interpretation in Oceania. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. 46 The Pacific Journal of Theology