With just over a day left for the first match of the Indian Premier League, Rod Curtis looks at the game of cricket [kilikati rather] in an island far away from the glitz and glamour of the billion-dollar league in the Age.

Kilikiti is an interesting exercise in what happens when you take a sport and drop it in the middle of the Pacific and let it evolve without the guidance of wealthy guardians seated in plush chairs in north London.

Played between two villages on a cricket-sized ground — or any-sized ground that's mostly clear of coconut trees and ocean — kilikiti has a pitch running down the middle, with three stumps just off each end made from skinny, bark-stripped branches, that go all the way up to your armpits.

As does the bat — an unwieldy, 1.2-metre-long weapon carved from a single piece of the Fau tree, said to be a cross between an old cricket bat and a war club. And yes, "death by kilikiti bat" has occurred. A note for the weary traveller: if you're invited to bowl in a game, always agree with the Samoan wielding half a tree.