Cannibalism in Fiji: History, Sites & Dark Tourism Ethics • Fiji Travel

There is a moment, usually in the first few days of a Fiji trip, when the subject comes up. Perhaps you see a carved wooden fork in a souvenir shop, labelled with something vaguely menacing. Perhaps a tour guide mentions it with a practised casualness designed to produce a particular reaction. Perhaps you read it in a guidebook or encounter it online while researching your trip. However it arrives, the information is this: Fiji was, within living memory of the colonial era, a place where people ate other people.

The reaction this produces in most visitors is a mix of fascination, discomfort, and nervous laughter — the standard human response to encountering something that sits outside the categories of acceptable experience. It is interesting precisely because it is disturbing, and disturbing precisely because it is real. This is not legend or exaggeration. Cannibalism was practised in Fiji until the mid-to-late nineteenth century, and its existence is documented in the accounts of European missionaries, traders, and colonial administrators who witnessed it, as well as in the oral traditions and material culture of Fijian communities themselves.

What to do with this information as a visitor is a more complicated question than it might first appear. Fiji’s pre-colonial history of cannibalism is the foundation of a small but active dark tourism economy — cave tours, museum exhibits, artifact displays, and a general willingness by parts of the tourism industry to trade on the shock value of the subject. Some of this is done thoughtfully. Some of it is not. Understanding the history properly, knowing what you can visit and why it matters, and approaching the subject with the respect it requires is the difference between dark tourism that educates and dark tourism that merely titillates.

This guide provides the historical context, describes the sites and artifacts that are accessible to visitors, and offers guidance on navigating a subject that is simultaneously a legitimate part of Fijian heritage and a source of genuine sensitivity for many Fijians.

Historical Context: What Cannibalism Was and Was Not

The first and most important thing to understand about cannibalism in pre-colonial Fiji is that it was ritual, not dietary. Fijians did not eat human flesh because they were short of food. The islands were, and are, abundantly productive — the land and sea provided more than enough to sustain the population. Cannibalism in Fiji was a cultural and spiritual practice embedded in a system of warfare, religion, and social hierarchy. Its purposes were specific, its occasions were defined, and its meaning was inseparable from the broader context of pre-colonial Fijian society.

Cannibalism in Fiji was primarily associated with warfare. When enemies were killed in battle, the bodies were sometimes — not always, but sometimes — consumed as part of the post-battle ritual. The act of consuming an enemy was understood as the ultimate expression of victory and the ultimate humiliation of the defeated. It was a statement of power, directed not only at the dead but at the living members of the enemy group: your warriors were not merely killed but consumed, their bodies denied proper burial, their spirits subjugated.

The spiritual dimension was significant. Pre-colonial Fijian religion was animistic, with a rich and complex cosmology involving ancestral spirits, gods associated with specific chieftaincies, and a relationship between the living and the dead that was more immediate and transactional than the afterlife concepts of the Abrahamic religions that would eventually replace it. Within this cosmology, the consumption of an enemy’s body was understood to transfer the power and spiritual essence of the defeated to the victors. A great warrior, consumed after death, added his strength to those who consumed him. A chief’s body, similarly treated, was a capture of chiefly power.

Cannibalism was also a mechanism of sacrifice. Human sacrifices were made on significant occasions — the launching of a large war canoe, the construction of a chief’s house, or the death of a paramount chief — and the bodies of the sacrificed were sometimes consumed as part of the ritual. These were not random acts of violence. They were structured, purposeful, and governed by protocols that determined who could be sacrificed, how the sacrifice was conducted, and who was permitted to consume the flesh.

The practice was not universal across all Fijian communities at all times. Some areas and periods saw more cannibalism than others, and the intensity of the practice appears to have increased during the period of greatest inter-tribal warfare in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries — a period that coincided with the arrival of European weapons and the disruption they caused to existing power balances. The introduction of muskets made warfare more destructive, which in turn may have intensified the rituals associated with it.

The Most Infamous Stories

Several specific historical incidents have come to define the popular understanding of cannibalism in Fiji, and the most famous of these involves a missionary named Reverend Thomas Baker.

Reverend Thomas Baker was a British Methodist missionary who was killed and eaten in the highlands of Viti Levu in 1867. Baker had been travelling through the interior of the island, attempting to extend Methodist missionary work into areas that had not yet been Christianised. The circumstances of his death have been the subject of varying accounts, but the most widely accepted version holds that Baker committed a cultural transgression — touching the head of a chief, which was deeply taboo in Fijian society — that provoked a violent response. He and several of his Fijian Christian converts were killed by the people of the village of Nabutautau, in the Navosa highlands, and their bodies were consumed.

Baker’s death became one of the most frequently cited incidents of cannibalism in the Pacific, in part because he was a European (and therefore his death was recorded and publicised in ways that the deaths of Fijian victims were not) and in part because his boots — which were reportedly too tough to eat and were returned to the Methodist mission — became a macabre detail that lodged in the popular imagination. The boots, or objects claimed to be them, are held by the Fiji Museum in Suva.

The story did not end in 1867. In 2003, the village of Nabutautau held a formal ceremony of apology to the descendants of Reverend Baker — an event that attracted international media attention and that illustrates the complex ways in which modern Fijians relate to this aspect of their history. The apology ceremony is discussed in more detail below.

Ratu Udre Udre is the figure most often cited as Fiji’s most prolific cannibal. According to oral tradition, this chief from the Rakiraki area of northern Viti Levu consumed between 872 and 999 bodies over the course of his life — a figure that, if true, would make him the most prolific cannibal in recorded human history. The evidence for these numbers is a collection of stones that were reportedly kept as a tally of his consumption, each stone representing one body. The stones are preserved at a site near Rakiraki.

Whether the numbers are literal truth, ceremonial exaggeration, or somewhere between the two is debatable. Oral traditions are not always intended to be read as statistical records, and the accumulation of reputation — particularly a reputation for power and ferocity — was a political act in pre-colonial Fiji. What is not debatable is that the tradition exists, that the stones are real, and that the story tells us something genuine about the values and fears of the society that produced it.

Naihehe Cave: The Cannibal Cave

The most developed tourist site associated with Fiji’s cannibalism history is Naihehe Cave, located in the Sigatoka Valley on Viti Levu’s main island. The cave is marketed as the “cannibal cave,” and while the marketing can be heavy-handed, the site itself is genuinely interesting.

Naihehe Cave is a large limestone cave system in the hills above the Sigatoka River. It served as a fortress for the local people, the Naivilaqata tribe, who used the cave’s natural defences — its narrow entrance, its internal chambers, and its concealed exits — as protection against enemies. The cave was, in essence, a defensive stronghold, and the people who occupied it were formidable warriors who resisted both rival tribes and, later, colonial incursion.

The association with cannibalism is based on the cave’s use as a site where the bodies of defeated enemies were prepared and consumed. Stone platforms within the cave are identified by guides as having served this purpose, and the oral traditions associated with the cave include accounts of cannibalistic rituals. Whether every specific claim made by tour guides is historically verified is another matter — the oral tradition and the tourism narrative have had time to influence each other, and some embellishment is likely — but the broad historical association of the cave with warfare and its associated rituals is well-established.

Visiting Naihehe Cave requires joining a guided tour, which is operated by the local village that has custodial rights over the site. The tour includes a traditional welcome ceremony (sevusevu), a guided walk through the cave, and commentary on its history and cultural significance. The guides are members of the local community, and the tour fee (typically FJD $50 to $80 / AUD $35 to $55 per person, depending on the operator and inclusions) goes directly to the village — a genuine example of community-owned cultural tourism.

The cave itself is impressive as a natural feature — large chambers, interesting formations, and the atmospheric experience of walking through a space that has been occupied by humans for centuries. The historical narrative adds a layer of significance that a purely geological cave visit lacks.

Practical considerations: the cave involves some physical effort, including walking on uneven ground and some ducking through lower passages. It is accessible to most reasonably mobile adults but may not be suitable for young children or people with significant mobility limitations. Bring a torch (flashlight) as a backup, although the guides provide lighting. The cave is in the Sigatoka Valley, accessible from the Coral Coast, and tours typically take two to three hours including transport from the coast.

The Fiji Museum: Cannibal Artifacts in Suva

The Fiji Museum in Thurston Gardens, Suva, holds the most significant collection of artifacts related to Fiji’s cannibalism history. For visitors who want to understand the historical context rather than the tourism spectacle, the museum is the essential stop.

The collection includes iculaunibokola — the wooden forks that are perhaps the most recognisable artifacts of Fijian cannibalism. These are large, multi-pronged wooden forks, typically carved from hardwood, that were used specifically for eating human flesh. Their existence reflects the ritual nature of cannibalism in Fiji: the practice was sufficiently formalised that specific implements were created for it. The forks were necessary because of a related taboo — human flesh was considered too sacred (or too powerful, or too dangerous, depending on the interpretation) to be touched by the hands of the person consuming it. The fork was the intermediary.

Iculaunibokola in the museum’s collection are striking objects: well-made, often with decorative carving, and carrying a weight of association that is difficult to separate from the experience of seeing them. They are not large — typically the length of a forearm — and their resemblance to ordinary dining forks makes their specific purpose all the more unsettling.

The museum also holds braining stones (waka) — large, smooth stones against which the skulls of victims were smashed — and other artifacts associated with the practice. Photographs, missionary accounts, and interpretive material provide context that the artifacts alone cannot convey.

Reverend Thomas Baker’s boots, or objects attributed to them, are part of the museum’s collection and are among its most frequently discussed items. The boots function as a kind of material punchline to the Baker story — the one part of the missionary that was indigestible — and their presence in the museum bridges the gap between the abstract historical narrative and the physical reality of the events.

The Fiji Museum is open Monday to Saturday, with an entry fee of approximately FJD $10 (AUD $7) for adults. Allow one to two hours for a visit, more if you are genuinely interested in the broader cultural and historical collections, which extend well beyond the cannibalism material.

How Christianity Ended the Practice

The end of cannibalism in Fiji was inseparable from the arrival and spread of Christianity, and the two stories cannot be told independently.

Christian missionaries — primarily Wesleyan Methodists, joined later by Catholics and other denominations — began arriving in Fiji in the 1830s. The early missionaries faced extraordinary challenges. The Fijian society they encountered was complex, powerful, and not particularly interested in being told that its religious and social practices were wrong. Several missionaries and their Fijian converts were killed, and the progress of conversion was slow and geographically uneven.

The turning point came with the conversion of high-ranking chiefs. In Fijian society, the chief’s religion was, in practical terms, the community’s religion. When Ratu Seru Epenisa Cakobau — the most powerful chief in Fiji — publicly converted to Christianity in 1854, the political and social landscape shifted dramatically. Cakobau’s conversion was motivated by a complex mix of genuine religious conviction, political calculation (Christian Tonga had military power that Cakobau wanted as an ally), and pragmatism. Whatever the motivations, the effect was decisive. Other chiefs followed, communities converted en masse, and the cultural practices associated with the old religion — including cannibalism — were progressively abandoned.

The process was not instantaneous. The killing of Reverend Baker in 1867 — thirteen years after Cakobau’s conversion — demonstrates that the interior highlands of Viti Levu remained unconverted and that the old practices persisted in areas beyond the reach of Christian influence. But by the 1870s, cannibalism had effectively ceased across most of Fiji, and the cession of sovereignty to Britain in 1874 — and the colonial administration that followed — ensured that it would not return.

Christianity did not merely end cannibalism. It replaced it with a new moral and social framework that Fijians adopted with striking thoroughness. Modern Fiji is one of the most devoutly Christian countries in the Pacific. Church attendance is high, Sunday observance is taken seriously, and Christianity is woven into daily life in ways that visitors from more secular societies often find striking. The depth of this Christian commitment is, in part, a measure of how completely the old religious system — and the practices associated with it — was repudiated.

The Nabutautau Apology: 2003

One of the most remarkable events in the modern history of Fiji’s relationship with its cannibalistic past occurred on 13 November 2003, when the village of Nabutautau — the village where Reverend Thomas Baker was killed and eaten in 1867 — held a formal ceremony of apology to Baker’s descendants.

The apology was rooted in a belief within the Nabutautau community that the killing of Baker had brought a curse upon the village. Whether this belief predated the apology ceremony or developed as part of the process leading to it is a matter of perspective, but the community’s conviction that the act of killing and consuming the missionary had spiritual consequences that persisted across generations was genuine and deeply felt.

The ceremony was elaborate and traditional. Ten tabua (whale teeth) — the most sacred objects in Fijian ceremonial exchange — were presented to Baker’s descendants, who had travelled from Australia to attend. The presentation of tabua is the most weighty act of apology in Fijian culture, reserved for the most serious transgressions, and the number presented reflected the gravity with which the community regarded the original act. A traditional feast was held, speeches were made, and the descendants publicly accepted the apology.

The event attracted significant international media attention, partly because of its inherent dramatic interest and partly because it offered a narrative of reconciliation that made for compelling journalism. But for the people of Nabutautau, the ceremony was not a media event. It was a spiritual and cultural act of genuine significance — an attempt to address a historical wrong through the mechanisms that Fijian culture provides for such things.

For visitors, the Nabutautau apology is significant because it illustrates something important about how modern Fijians relate to the cannibalism history. This is not a subject that Fijians treat lightly or cynically. The willingness to hold a formal apology ceremony — with all its cost in tabua, in preparation, and in the public acknowledgment of ancestral wrongdoing — speaks to a seriousness about moral responsibility that transcends generations.

Modern Fijian Feelings About This History

This is the most sensitive part of the story, and it requires careful handling.

Fijians are aware that their country’s cannibalism history is a source of fascination for outsiders, and they hold a range of views about how that history should be discussed, displayed, and understood. These views are not uniform, and generalising about them risks exactly the kind of flattening that thoughtful engagement with another culture should avoid.

Some Fijians are matter-of-fact about the history. It happened. It was a long time ago. The world was different then, and Fiji was different. Every culture has dark chapters, and Fiji’s happens to involve a practice that carries particular shock value for outsiders. This pragmatic view is common, and it often coexists with a quiet exasperation at the disproportionate attention that cannibalism receives relative to other, richer aspects of Fijian culture and history.

Some Fijians are uncomfortable with the way the tourism industry handles the subject. The reduction of a complex cultural and spiritual practice to a marketing hook — “cannibal cave tours,” souvenir forks, joking references by tour guides — can feel disrespectful to people for whom this history involves real ancestors and real communities. The line between cultural education and cultural exploitation is not always easy to draw, and not everyone agrees on where it falls.

Some Fijians, particularly those with strong Christian convictions, view the cannibalism history through a religious lens: it was a practice of the pre-Christian era, it was wrong, and its end through Christian conversion is part of the salvation story that gives meaning to Fiji’s history. This view does not deny the history but places it within a moral framework that gives it a specific meaning.

And some Fijians — particularly younger, urban, educated Fijians — are interested in reclaiming and recontextualising the pre-colonial past without the moral judgments imposed by colonialism and Christianity. From this perspective, understanding cannibalism as a ritual practice within its original cultural context is more intellectually honest than condemning it by the standards of a completely different moral system.

All of these views exist simultaneously, and encountering them — or at least being aware that they exist — is part of engaging with Fiji as a real place rather than a tourist destination.

Dark Tourism Ethics: Visiting These Sites Respectfully

The term “dark tourism” describes travel to sites associated with death, suffering, and the darker aspects of human history. It encompasses everything from Auschwitz to the Killing Fields to the 9/11 Memorial. Fiji’s cannibalism sites sit within this category, and the ethical considerations that apply to dark tourism generally apply here.

Approach with seriousness. These sites and artifacts are associated with real deaths. The people who were consumed were real people with families and communities. The spectacle of their deaths should not be the primary source of entertainment value, even if the passage of time makes it easier to treat it that way.

Support community-owned tourism. The best cannibalism-related tourism experiences in Fiji — particularly the Naihehe Cave tours — are operated by local communities that have custodial rights over the sites. Your fee goes to the village, your guide is a community member, and the narrative you hear is (at least partly) the community’s own telling of its history. This is preferable to commercial operations that commodify the history without community involvement or benefit.

Engage with the context, not just the shock. Cannibalism in Fiji was part of a complex society with sophisticated art, navigation, agriculture, political systems, and spiritual beliefs. If you visit a cannibalism-related site, take the time to understand the broader cultural context rather than extracting only the most sensational element.

Respect the artifacts. The iculaunibokola, the braining stones, and other artifacts in the Fiji Museum are not props. They are objects of genuine historical and cultural significance. Treat them — and the histories they carry — accordingly.

Be mindful of your reactions. Nervous laughter, performative horror, and joking references to the subject may feel like natural responses, but they can be uncomfortable for Fijian people who are present and for whom this history is not abstract. Read the room, as with any sensitive subject in any culture.

A summary of the accessible sites and collections:

Fiji Museum, Suva — the most comprehensive collection of cannibalism-related artifacts, including iculaunibokola, braining stones, and material related to Reverend Thomas Baker. Open Monday to Saturday, FJD $10 (AUD $7) entry.

Naihehe Cave, Sigatoka Valley — the most developed cannibalism-related tourism site. Guided tours operated by the local village, FJD $50 to $80 (AUD $35 to $55) per person.

Ratu Udre Udre’s tomb and stone collection, Rakiraki — the reputed tally stones of Fiji’s most prolific cannibal. Located near the Kings Road on northern Viti Levu. Access is informal; a small donation to the local community is appropriate.

Nabutautau village, Navosa Highlands — the village where Reverend Baker was killed. Visits are possible but should be arranged respectfully and in advance, ideally through a tour operator with an established relationship with the community. This is a living village, not a museum, and visitors should conduct themselves accordingly.

Souvenir forks — replica iculaunibokola are widely available in Fijian souvenir shops and markets. They range from crude tourist novelties to well-carved reproductions that are handsome objects in their own right. If you buy one, understand what you are buying: a reproduction of an implement associated with a real historical practice, not a quirky travel trinket.

How to Talk About This Topic with Fijians

The simplest guidance is this: follow their lead.

If a Fijian raises the subject — and many will, because they know it is something visitors are curious about — respond with interest and respect. Ask questions rather than making statements. Listen to how they frame the history rather than imposing your own frame.

If you want to raise the subject yourself, do so with sensitivity. A question like “I visited the Fiji Museum and saw the cannibal forks — can you tell me more about that history?” is respectful and open-ended. A statement like “I heard Fiji used to be full of cannibals” is not.

Be aware that humour about cannibalism — which some Fijians deploy with a deadpan skill that can be genuinely funny — works differently coming from a Fijian than from a visitor. A Fijian guide joking about the subject is engaging with their own history on their own terms. A tourist making the same joke may not land the same way.

Do not assume that any individual Fijian wants to discuss the topic. Some find it tedious, some find it offensive, and some simply have other things they would rather talk about. The fact that it is the most sensational aspect of Fiji’s history does not make it the most important or the most interesting, and many Fijians would prefer that visitors showed as much curiosity about their living culture as about the practices their ancestors abandoned a century and a half ago.

Frequently Asked Questions

When did cannibalism end in Fiji?

Cannibalism had largely ceased in Fiji by the 1870s, primarily as a result of Christian conversion and, subsequently, British colonial authority. The killing of Reverend Thomas Baker in 1867 is often cited as one of the last significant incidents, though the practice may have persisted in isolated areas for some years after.

Was cannibalism only practised in Fiji?

No. Cannibalism has been documented in cultures across the world throughout human history, including in parts of Melanesia, Polynesia, South America, Central Africa, and pre-contact North America. Fiji’s reputation as the “Cannibal Isles” reflects the intensity of the practice in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the fact that European missionaries and colonial administrators documented it extensively, rather than its uniqueness.

Is Naihehe Cave worth visiting?

Yes, both as a historical experience and as a natural one. The cave is impressive in its own right, the guided tours provide genuine cultural context, and the community-owned tourism model means your visit directly benefits the local village. It is one of the more worthwhile cultural tourism experiences available on the Coral Coast.

Are the cannibal forks in souvenir shops real?

The forks sold in souvenir shops are reproductions. Genuine antique iculaunibokola are rare, valuable, and held in museum collections or by specialist dealers. The reproductions range from cheap tourist items to well-made carvings that are attractive objects regardless of their association. If you buy one, assume it is a reproduction unless you are purchasing from a specialist dealer with documented provenance.

Is it offensive to talk about cannibalism in Fiji?

It depends on context, audience, and approach. Many Fijians are comfortable discussing the topic factually and will often bring it up themselves with visitors. Some find the subject tiresome or reductive. A few find it genuinely offensive, particularly when it is treated as entertainment rather than history. The safest approach is to follow the lead of the Fijians you are speaking with: if they raise it, engage respectfully. If they do not, there is no obligation to introduce it.

Did the apology to Reverend Baker’s descendants really happen?

Yes. The village of Nabutautau held a formal apology ceremony on 13 November 2003, presenting ten tabua (whale teeth) to Baker’s descendants, who travelled from Australia to attend. The ceremony was a significant cultural event, conducted according to traditional Fijian protocols of formal apology, and was covered by international media.

How does Fiji feel about being called the Cannibal Isles?

Reactions vary. Some Fijians find the label reductive and unfair — defining an entire country by a historical practice that ended over 150 years ago. Others accept it as a historical fact that generates tourist interest and see no reason to be embarrassed by it. The tourism industry uses it selectively, aware that it attracts curiosity while also risking the perpetuation of a one-dimensional image of Fijian culture.

By: Sarika Nand