Mata-Utu

Wallis, called Uvea by its people, was settled by Polynesian-speaking voyagers roughly three thousand years ago, in the great eastward migration of the people who made Lapita pottery. Archaeologists have found their decorated sherds on Wallis and on Futuna, and the islands were part of a web of voyaging that linked Fiji, Tonga and Samoa. The island's first centuries are known mostly from digging and oral tradition, not from written sources.

In the 15th century Tongan chiefs conquered Wallis. Oral history tells of a Tongan expedition that built fortified sites on the island, and the stone ramparts of Talietumu, on the south of Wallis, are the best known. The Tongan period shaped Wallisian society for centuries: the language, the rank of chiefs, the ritual drinking of kava and the practice of building with stone platforms all carry Tongan marks. After the Tongans were gone, the chiefs of Uvea kept the system of a paramount king, the Lavelua, and a council of district chiefs.

Europeans arrived late. The English navigator Samuel Wallis sighted the island in 1767 and gave it the name that outsiders use. Whalers and traders called in the early 19th century, but the change came with the Catholic missionaries. The Marist priest Pierre Bataillon landed in 1837, worked with the king and his chiefs, and within a few years most of the island had become Catholic. On the neighbouring island of Futuna, a Marist priest, Pierre Chanel, was killed in 1841 and later became the first saint of Oceania, which added to the mission's prestige.

France established a protectorate over Wallis in 1887, at the request of the Lavelua, and later added Futuna. During the Second World War Wallis became a base for American forces, which built airstrips and camps and brought a huge number of soldiers to an island of a few thousand people. After the war, the islanders voted in a 1959 referendum to become an overseas territory, which took effect in 1961. In 2003 Wallis and Futuna became an overseas collectivity, a form of status in the French Republic, and it remains one today.

Wallis and Futuna is a French territory with three kings. On Wallis the Lavelua rules the kingdom of Uvea, and on Futuna two kings rule the kingdoms of Sigave and Alo. The French state runs schools, hospitals, police and the economy, while custom governs land, ceremonies and the rank of families. Both systems operate at once, and the visitor sees them side by side: a prefect's office and a royal palace within a short walk of each other in Mata-Utu.

The Lavelua is chosen from the royal families by the chiefs (check the procedure locally), and he rules with a council of ministers, district chiefs and village heads. The palace at Mata-Utu is his residence and the centre of ceremonies. The grounds are closed to visitors; you can see the buildings from the road and you should not photograph the household. Ask your guesthouse how custom affects your visit; the kingdom is not a heritage show but the working structure of the island.

Land is at the centre of custom. Families hold land under customary rules, and tracks and lakes that look empty are the property of a family or village. That is why you ask before you go to Lake Lalolalo or Talietumu, why guides are arranged through hosts, and why photographing a house or a fenced garden without asking is impolite. A small gift, a greeting and patience are the accepted forms of thanks.

Kava is the ceremonial drink. It is made from the ground root of a pepper plant, mixed with water and shared in a set order among the chiefs and guests at an important occasion. It is not a tourist drink but a mark of respect; if you are invited, follow the host's lead, accept the cup with both hands if that is what the others do, and drink or pass it as they do. Feasts, funerals and weddings are marked with mats, tapa cloth and food, and they take days of work by whole families, so a guest is a person to feed, not a person to entertain.

Catholicism is the second structure of the island. The Marist mission took hold in the 1840s and became the school system, the health service and the calendar. Today almost every villager is Catholic, and each village has a large church, often with a painted interior, that is bigger than the number of people seems to need. The church holds funerals, weddings, feast days and the weekly Mass, and it is where parishes show pride with flowers, mats and choirs.

The cathedral of Mata-Utu, dedicated to Our Lady of the Assumption, stands on the central square beside the palace. It is the seat of the bishop, and its main feast is the Assumption on 15 August, when processions and choirs fill the square. A visit is easy on a weekday morning outside Mass: dress modestly, keep quiet and ask before photographing inside. On Sunday the church and the surrounding streets are full, shops are shut, and the sound of singing carries across the island.

Music is a highlight. Wallisian choirs sing in harmony, in Wallisian and Latin, in a style that grew from Polynesian voices and French church music. Weddings, funerals and the annual feasts have their own hymns, and a group of women may sing for an hour without a book. Visitors who want to hear it should ask their host which service welcomes guests and sit quietly at the back.

The church has also shaped daily behaviour. Sunday is a day of rest, and people avoid work, noise and travel. Modest dress is expected, and it is polite to greet a priest or elder first. All Saints on 1 November is another strong occasion: families clean graves, decorate them with flowers and gather at the cemetery through the evening. It is a moving day, but it is a private one, and a visitor should watch from a distance and never photograph mourners. If you attend a service, arrive early, sit at the back, and leave quietly at the end; a nod and a thank-you to the person beside you is enough.

Wallis is a volcanic island, and you can read that in its shape: a low, wooded plateau about fifteen kilometres long, cut by crater lakes, rimmed by a fringing lagoon and a barrier reef, with a scatter of small islets called motu inside the reef. The lakes are explosion craters, filled with rainwater and groundwater; the largest, Lalolalo, has steep walls and is reported to be about eighty metres deep (check), a strange sight in a flat landscape. Smaller lakes lie inland and in the west, some fed by underground channels.

The reef gives the island its lagoon, a shallow green pool that lies between the shore and the reef and is broken by a few passes. The passes are the danger: the tide pushes water in and out at speed, and swimmers and small boats can be taken out. Local advice is essential. Inside the lagoon, small islets such as Nukuatea and Nukufotu have white sand and coral, and boat trips to them are the best day on the water. Ask your guesthouse to book a skipper who knows the tide.

The land is used carefully. Coconut palms, banana, taro, breadfruit and manioc grow in gardens, and pigs are kept for feasts. Fishers work the lagoon with nets and lines, and the catch of reef fish is the main source of protein. Soil is thin and rainfall is heavy, about three metres a year, so the island is green and wet. Cyclones cross the region between November and April and can strip trees, flatten houses and close the airport, so every family prepares for them.

The lake at Lalolalo shows how this landscape is understood by the people who live here. It is a place of legend and customary land, not a swimming spot. Visitors are asked to look from the rim, keep away from the edge, and leave nothing behind. The same applies to the ramparts at Talietumu and the shore: the island is not a park, it is a home, and the way to enjoy it is to ask first.

Wallisian food is built on the garden and the lagoon. Taro, breadfruit, yam and manioc are the starches, cooked by boiling, baking or steaming. Pork is the feast meat, and chicken and fish are the everyday proteins. Coconut cream flavours many dishes, and taro leaves cooked in coconut cream, called lu, are a Polynesian classic. Fish is eaten raw in coconut milk and lime, grilled whole over coals or fried, and reef fish are often eaten the day they are caught.

The umu, an earth oven, is the centrepiece of a feast. A pit is lined with hot stones and covered with leaves; pork, fish, taro and breadfruit are placed on top, wrapped in leaves, and covered with earth to steam for a few hours. The oven is opened with ceremony, and the food is shared among the family and guests. Feasts follow the church calendar and family events, and a visitor may be invited if a host is willing. It is not a restaurant meal but a social act, so bring a small gift and follow the host.

French influence shows in the bakeries. Baguettes and croissants are baked each morning, and by mid-morning the bread is sold out. Snack bars serve sandwiches, plate meals and coffee, and shops stock French wine, cheese and biscuits that arrive by ship at a high price. Imported rice, tinned fish and sugar fill the shelves, and prices for imports are much higher than in Nouméa or France.

Practical points matter. Sunday is a shut day, so buy food on Saturday and order your guesthouse dinner by mid-afternoon. Alcohol is sold in shops and served in a few places, and kava is ceremonial. Coconut crab and lobster are prized and sometimes protected, so ask about rules before you order. And drink bottled or boiled water unless the host says otherwise, since the tap may not be safe. A last practical point: fruit and vegetables at the market are cheaper than anything imported, and a bag of bananas, a coconut and a baguette make a fair picnic for the lagoon road.

Wallis is small and distant. The nearest large city is Nouméa in New Caledonia, about three hours by air, and flights are few. A ship brings most goods, so shelves depend on shipping schedules and prices reflect the cost. The economy rests on public salaries, French subsidies, fishing, subsistence farming and remittances. Employment is scarce, and many young people leave for study or work.

The emigration is large. More than twenty thousand people of Wallisian and Futunan origin live in New Caledonia, more than the whole population of the territory, and many others live in mainland France. The diaspora sends money home, returns for feasts and funerals, and keeps the church calendar alive in Nouméa. That link is why the island's population is small and why families often talk of a house or a plot at home as a place to return to.

Public life is quiet. The French state runs the prefecture, the hospital at Sia, schools and the gendarmerie. There is a modest political life, with a territorial assembly and elections. Visitors will notice that the island has few bars, no nightlife, few shops and no taxis. Sunday is silent. People rise early, work in the morning, rest at midday in the heat and gather in the evening. It is a small society with strong ties and a sense of privacy.

For a visitor, the reward is a rare calm. The best days on Wallis are simple: a morning at the market, the cathedral square and the lagoon road, an early car to Lake Lalolalo and Talietumu, a lagoon day with a skipper, and evenings on a veranda. Plan around Sunday, carry cash, ask before you enter land or photograph people, and let your host guide you. Wallis rewards patience, and it does not need to be hurried. Even a short stay gives you a sense of how the island keeps its own time: the bell rings for Mass, the market packs up by mid-morning, and a stranger who greets people first is remembered.