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State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project
Australian National University

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BLESSED MATERNITY AND MATERNAL BLAME:
The paradox of motherhood in Marovo, Solomon Islands

by

Will Parks
Tropical Health Program
University of Queensland
 

At the baptism of newborns, Chubikopi, Marovo Lagoon, Solomon Islands

INTRODUCTION

In the next twenty minutes, I shall talk about an apparent contradiction in the lives of many Solomon Island mothers. According to the intertwining ideologies of church, kastom and government—ideologies largely created and propagated by men —Solomon Island mothers are "blessed" with their child-rearing capabilities. Yet we often find these same cultural institutions criticising women should they fail to fulfil their maternal obligations. Despite the lip-service paid to "gender equality" by political parties, government services, church groups, non-government organisations (NGOs) and international agencies, the lives of many mothers remain constant, frequently difficult vigils of children.

Although interspersed by periods of light relief such as birthdays, weddings, and women's meetings, motherhood is underscored by endless role conflicts: whether to be reproducer, breast-feeder, food producer, faithful partner, income-earner, family care-giver, church supporter, entrepreneur, or community contributor (see also Dureau 1993). My observations are informed by the last five years spent evaluating Pacific child survival programs and more intimate appreciation gained discussing such domestic matters with mothers in Marovo Lagoon, Solomon Islands (see Parks 1998).

But as a childless male, who am I to commentate on motherhood? Even worse, as a foreign researcher, who am I to report upon Solomon Islands' life? And perhaps, worst of all, as a very sceptical Christian, who am I to criticise the influences of Christianity in the lives of far more committed believers? Realising that I harbour these personal reservations, I hope you will permit me some latitude as I proceed. I hope you will also forgive my explicit, perhaps confrontational concern that unless radical ideological shifts are made within church, NGO, government and international programs, far from becoming "empowered," Solomon Island women will become trapped within a new set of societal values that recognises their need for greater autonomy, yet does little to alleviate or appreciate their workload.

In the first part of this paper I shall discuss how I believe the contradiction between blessed maternity and maternal blame came into being. Then, I shall highlight important social issues that I see arising from this paradox. Finally, I shall outline some of the "radical" changes of which I speak.

THE ORIGINS OF THE MOTHERHOOD PARADOX

In order to understand the origins of this suggested paradox, l believe we must return to nineteenth century Britain. During the first half of the last century, child death in Britain was considered a mundane, somewhat predictable misfortune (Cooler 1992). The British courts:

Revealing Christ and rescuing children: the work of early missions.

Reports of polygyny, post-partum taboos, ritualised infanticide, and seemingly deliberate child neglect in Melanesian societies horrified British society. The impositions of Judaeo-Christianity, formal education, economic engagement, and government legislation were seen as appropriate forces of morality and social advancement to change such "backward" and sacrilegious practices (Jolly 1991). Missionaries working in Melanesia were at the forefront exhorted mothers to cease their "harmful" practices and to let missionaries either "rescue" children, help directly with child-care, or at least be allowed to provide instruction. Commenting on early missionary activity among the Dobu of Papua New Guinea, Michael Young writes:

But it would be foolish to suggest the paradox of motherhood arose solely out of the missionization of Melanesia. The foundations of the paradox were already present before missionaries arrived. For instance, in Marovo, children were said to "descend" genealogically and gynaecologically from women and were thus the responsibility of women.' Women's work was considered "small" in comparison with the "big" work of men but each involved the taming of "wild" yet precious resources—the ways of daughters and sons on the one hand; the ways of land and sea on the other (see Hviding 1992). If any blame was to be apportioned for the deviation of offspring from the ideals of Marovo kastom, women were the logical targets for that was their domain. So when missionaries and nursing sisters told fathers their wives were to blame for children's ill-health, this simply reinforced what men already knew and what women generally accepted.

There is, however, one final side to the kastom construction of motherhood. In Marovo care-givers know children were never and are never innocent, compliant, malleable souls but frequently mischievous, obstinate individuals inclined to follow their own way.

Children were thus and still are considered "wild" (piru) and only domesticated (manavasa) through the patient work of mothers. From the viewpoint of Marovo mothers, child-care was and remains an interactive process guiding the child's way towards the adoption of communal values such as respect, exchange and identity within and between descent group, mother and child.

"Missionary" child-care, on the other hand, entailed a one-way process, transferring Christian values such as piety, protection and salvation from bible to mother to child.

The latter process, I believe, only served to dilute the authority of mothers who were often bypassed in this "arrangement," particularly in such strategies as "child rescue." During the missionization of Marovo, Christian beliefs played upon kastom beliefs, reinforcing the sexual division of labour but exaggerating both the innocence of children and the deviance of mothers. Derived from a mixture of Christian and kastom edicts, "motherhood," I suggest, came to assume a central yet paradoxical position within Marovo culture, as elsewhere in Melanesia.

THE IMPACT OF THE MOTHERHOOD PARADOX

So what influences might this contradiction between blessed maternity and maternal blame have upon the lives of contemporary Melanesian women? I do not have time to cover such pressing issues as population growth, economic decline, military conflict, urban drift, rising unemployment, environmental degradation, gender inequalities in educational and political opportunities, domestic violence, and challenges to sexual health, all of which highlight women's social importance in determining national affairs. But perhaps by highlighting one rising problem and three possible ideological shifts pertaining to child-care, some generic messages can be broadcast that apply to many of these other concerns.

Rising conflicts between men and women

Marovo women, young and old, stress the constraints motherhood imposes upon their social life. This becomes particularly acute when they want to participate in social events such as visiting relatives or attending church-related gatherings. Women's organisations such as the United Church Women's Fellowship (UCWF) and the SDA Dorcas have become highly valued forums for women to engage in discussion, offer mutual support, and share experiences (Scheyvens 1992; Dureau 1993:26-27).2 Although such groups have done much to assist women throughout Melanesia, some commentators suggest little progress has been made to advance women's social position: "with their strong emphasis on moral conduct and dutiful wifely behaviour, they offer little hope of revolutionising women's lives" (Lee 1985:233). In Marovo, men still look upon the UCWF and Dorcas as the "work of women," insignificant and peripheral to mainstream societal values and political processes. Men resent their wives' impositions but women simply respond by criticising their husbands, revealing that while maternal blame is a core cultural construct, it is not the only form of blame to be apportioned in Marovo.

Conflict between husbands and wives is no more apparent than when issues of family size are discussed. For several years, health services have been active in raising awareness about the need to space births and to limit the total number of children parents should have. Once again, the construct of maternal blame is invoked when Marovo men comment on family size and birth spacing:

She had another one before the first could walk about.

She has too many children...

Women have a different viewpoint, captured in the frequently used sexual idiom: "She's busy because her husband doesn't let her rest!" Although many young men and women are becoming increasingly concerned about the rising costs of living and the mounting pressures on land and sea-based resources, older and thus more influential men still favour larger families and denounce the "weakness" of present-day women. Faced by such conflicts and constraints, how can health services and church groups remedy the situation? Among other possible interventions, I see the need for better targeted health education programs, the need to shift control of knowledge and resources beyond medical practitioners, and the need to improve access to services, especially for those who are currently denied access yet are most in need.

The need for education programs with more realistic messages and appropriate target audiences

I have found most mothers well-versed in the messages they have heard from health educators and clinic staff. For instance, they can recite, almost "parrot-fashion," a list of causes for various diseases: "mosquitoes bite us," "flies on food cause diarrhoea," and so on. This knowledge, however, cannot always translate into the realities of their daily practices. "Hygienic" food preparation, for instance, is unfeasible for some mothers given their obligatory commitments to such activities as gardening, marketing, and entertaining visitors. Likewise, effective family planning is often unattainable for women when their partners do not attend clinic consultations and do not understand the need for such practices as birth spacing and limiting the number of children (see Braun n.d.; Frankel 1985).

When mothers and only mothers are targeted with information and only information from so-called child-care "experts" (doctors, nurses, health educators, church leaders, school teachers, and so on) it places them in an inclusion of other care-givers such as fathers, grandparents, church elders, school teachers and community leaders in the exchange of new knowledge, and without significant social and economic changes to the daily obligations of caring for children and supporting the family and community at large, maternal "enlightenment" can often lead, and I believe, has led to maternal blame.

The need to move political boundaries beyond the practitioner's domain

Health professionals (and other "practitioners" such as church leaders. politicians, and teachers) are especially averse to relinquishing power but are often very willing to criticise (m)others. Practitioners, however, need to understand that the autonomy a mother achieves in making her own decisions is a benefit to both herself and her child: self-reliance is, after all, an essential component in Primary Health Care (Abosede 1984). In Marovo, as elsewhere, self-treatment and treatments sought from kin members, neighbours, and local folk healers are therapeutic resources still commonly perceived as practical and convenient. Home-based treatment is the much preferred option and rather than insisting care-givers bring children to clinics, programs should aim to support child-care practices at home.

The need to improve access to resources and identify families at risk

Kastom beliefs and maternal negligence are often posited by government, non-government, and donor (development) agencies as the sole or primary reasons why sick children are not presented promptly at clinics. These reasons are not only speculative, but they tend to deflect attention away from political inequalities and the mal-distribution of health resources (Finerman 1995).3 Recent research in Solomons reveal care-givers readily use services when the latter are easily accessible (Bell et a/ 1998; Chevalier 1998; Parks 1998).

In Marovo, mothers are rarely able to reach clinics without deliberately or necessarily involving others in the decision process. They may spend several days negotiating with or convincing otherwise reluctant or sceptical kin of the need to visit a clinic. Stepping beyond the boundaries of home-treatment involves costs in time away from other domestic obligations and the shame of having to negotiate for help Isee Coreil 199 1). In short, care-givers do not willingly delay resort to clinics but prefer to deal with illness at home.

I have found "single" mothers (whether unmarried, widowed, divorced, or soon to be married) often take the longest to marshal! resources to treat children at home or to reach clinics. It is my impression that single mothers are one of the most disadvantaged group in terms of their access to physical and social resources. Church groups, international agencies, NGOs and government services must address the special circumstances of single mothers. Where once extended kin were able to assist mothers without male partners, increasing family commitments to income generation is leaving many young women having to fend for themselves. This need is particularly pertinent given the number of young, unmarried mothers is said to be increasing in both urban and rural settings (UNICEF/Solomon Islands Government 1993; Burslem et a/ 1997).

CONCLUSION: DAMNED IF YOU DO, DAMNED IF YOU DON'T

In his book, Reflections on the Love of God, Lorenzo Dow, a nineteenth century American preacher, penned the following rhyme:

You can and you can't—You shall and you shan't—You will and you won't—You'll be damned if you do—And you'll be damned if you don't.

These words, I believe, aptly summarise the experiences of many mothers to whom I have spoken and whose lives I have witnessed. Underpinning this paper has been the following premise: if the situation for women and children is to be improved by agencies originating from outside the domestic domain, a thorough comprehension of existing workloads and ideological impositions placed upon mothers is required. At first glance we might believe Melanesian Matriarchs of large families, after all, are revered and respected while childless women are generally pitied and frequently the target of private ridicule. But if we look more closely, could it be that the male propagated propaganda of "blessed maternity" actually subjugates women? In other words, are women damned if they don't produce children and damned if they do? If so, only radical shifts in the political organisation and ideological direction of church groups, health services and non-government organisations will address the paradox of motherhood in Solomon Islands. Some of these shifts can be achieved by: (1) developing better targeted education programs that identify other family members as having important responsibilities in child-rearing; (2) reducing the tendency of professionals (medical, religious and educational) to assume they are the only child-care experts; and (3) increasing access to resources especially for those most in need such 'as single mothers. Who knows, one day we might be able to write: Mothers can—mothers shall—and mothers will!
 

ENDNOTES:

1 Traditional birthing practices involved the mother squatting while giving birth (manemaneke doku) in a birthing hut (doku chichiraeni) at the end of the village. Children thus literally "descended" at birth.
 
 

2 During my PhD fieldwork, the UCWF organised a large "rally" for women in Patutiva at which UC women from Roviana Lagoon (west New Georgia) and Marovo met to discuss important issues such as domestic violence. Opportunities to raise the profile of women are crucial, but as I shall point out, most men still tend to look upon these meetings as perfunctory and simply occasion when women can gossip, leaving them with the imposition of children.
 
 

3 To counter economic decline, the national budget allocation for health expenditure has dropped from 13.4% in 1986 to 11.6% in 1993 (MHMS 1996:7). Of this budget (currently around SI$40,000,000), recent analysis indicates 69% is spent on central administration and services in Honiara (MHMS 1996:8), yet some 85% of the population live in rural areas well away from the capital's services.
 

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