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Samoa Under the Sailing Gods

Chapter ix — Upolu—West — I

page 110

Chapter ix
Upolu—West
I

Soon after my arrival in Samoa in 1922, and several months before the birthday party described in the Prologue, there arose an interval of two or three weeks between my transfer from one department of the Administration to another. Being free over that period I decided to see something of the Island of Upolu. Accordingly I borrowed a horse from the Manager of Vailele Plantation, and a saddle from Charlie Roberts, and set out.

I rode towards the south, starting from the Casino, where I had till then been living, past the shipwright's shop and the Chinaman's store and down the causeway which crosses the mangrove swamp, past Vaitele Plantation (not to be confused with Vailele), and all day slowly west along a motor-road through elegant native villages fringing the sea, "in their romantic setting of bowered shrubs and shady palms," which occur in rapid succession. "Here," says the guide-book, "the Samoan may be seen living his care-free life in the picturesque fashion practically unchanged since primitive times." Scattered along this route are European plantations of cacao and coco-nut; while there are, of course, on this road many stores or trading-stations, and numerous native churches, finished and unfinished—Samoa being "The Land of Unfinished Churches"—and in varying stages of repair and ruin. One passes also a fine European house—the scene, this, of a remarkably brutal murder many years ago. Its victim, George Cornwall, the builder of the house, lies buried in the front-garden beneath an imported tombstone. About midway along the road's length is the London Missionary Society's Institute at Malua. "In its page break
A European Cocoa Plantation

A European Cocoa Plantation

page 111extensive grounds are technical schools and colleges, with orderly villages of student dwellings; and the up-to-date printing-press, conducted entirely by Samoans under European supervision, is not its least interesting feature."

Some of the little solitary beaches farther up the coast from here are of almost blinding beauty: Curved like a boomerang, a fringe of palms stands black against the dazzling whiteness of a swelling coral strand.

Through one of the villages, on a sandy bed, wound a wide stream, overhung by lofty drooping palms, the whole silent in a miasma of heat, and infinitely remote.

Towards evening, groups of girls and brown-armed women were gathered on the banks of streams in the villages. They hammered rhythmically with wooden batons at white strips of the paper mulberry, laid upon boards, for the purpose of making bark-cloth.

I stayed that night at the house of a man named Dick, the relieving-manager of the Crown Estates, who was then in charge of a small cocoa (or cacao) plantation to the north-west end of the island. I also spent the next day with him, and I remember going round the dark-leaved, scarlet-podded plantation, to the great detriment of my light boots on the volcanic scoria, and being amazed that trees would grow in such stuff.

On resuming my journey I passed the great coconut-plantation of Mulifanua—where the motor-road terminated—with its loose stone walls and endless lines of palms, planted thirty feet apart, with cattle grazing in between. It is about the nearest point of land to the islands of Manono, Apolima, and Savaii, which have a linear disposition to the north-west.

Manono is some five miles in circumference and rises to a height of only 230 feet above sea-level. The barrier reef which encircles the greater part of Upolu encloses it. It lies about three miles off-shore. Beyond this, half-way across the strait between Upolu and Savaii—or six miles from the mainland—is the little island of Apolima: the creater of an extinct volcano. This has a riven side, and on passing it in a boat one sees that the amphitheatre which forms the interior is a glowing mass of verdure, forming a strange contrast to the grey and sterile abruptness of the outer walls. A single village nestles beneath page 112the palm-and breadfruit-trees at the foot of the miniature harbour. This place was quite impregnable in time of native wars, which accounted for the political supremacy of the Manono chiefs who would retire here in time of need. It was guarded by tripping-lines across the narrow entrance, with which canoes could be overthrown. On account of the possession of this miniature Gibraltar, Manono was always of the Malo—or the victorious party.

I had lunch that day with a trader who was reputed in his youth to have been a cowboy, and also on occasion to have assisted a cheap-Jack selling quack medicines in the United States. He was very depressed just then, and pessimistic about his prospects, for he had been a victim of a police and Customs raid, when he had been found distilling, and in addition to his heavy fine he had lost his employment on one of the Government plantations. He appeared to be lonely for the company of a white man, for he came running down to the gate when he saw me approaching and asked me to come in to his balconied trading-station overlooking the sea, with the two islands in the offing. I recollect that we had for our lunch the best bit of steak that ever I tasted in Samoa.

It would have been this afternoon that the track led over a mountain that seemed to jut out right into the Pacific Ocean. I remember, before the track turned off into the bush, seeing a motor-boat that was broken down and drifting towards the reef. It was dead calm and very hot and a desolate part of the coast. I wondered, somewhat uneasily, being new to the country, what my responsibility in the matter was; but decided, rightly, to leave the occupants to shift for themselves. I had been assured by one or two people that I would be unable to take a horse over the mountain, since a number of trees were down across the path as the result of a recent storm; but I felt not disposed to turn back. The ascent was not bad. There were several trees down, but the mare was able to take them in her stride, or there was no difficulty in making a detour. But on the down grade, after passing the apex, I did come to a brute of a place. It was something in the nature of a greasy precipitous slope, like a wet clay bank, with impenetrable bush on either side. I had forced the mare over one large fallen trunk, and there, con-page 113cealed by the inverted foliage, within the space of a few feet, was another, with a great forked branch sticking out above it. The sun was fast setting, and if I turned back—which now presented almost equal difficulties—I knew that I must be overtaken by nightfall long before I could win clear of the bush; which meant probably a night there and being eaten alive by mosquitoes. I dismounted, and tried every way I knew to lead or drive the mare over the trunk, for which there was sufficient clearance from the limb above; but she would not attempt it. At last, in desperation, I mounted her, bent low in the saddle, gave a cut with the switch, dug the spurs in, and she jumped. My back was grazed to draw blood through my shirt; and doubtless I deserved to get it broken. I managed to keep my seat, and the mare slithered down the rest of the slope without mishap.

Soon we were out of the bush, and came upon native plantations, still upon the mountain-slopes, and all covered and cluttered up with a luxuriant green weed known as "Mile a Minute." The light was failing all the time, and now—as on other occasions—I knew the occasional untruth of the dictum that there is no twilight in the tropics. We kept on, at a smart walk, and soon I heard the sound of running water. On the banks of the river was a beautiful little native village, and the lamps were just being lit in the beehive houses. I was invited to the fale of the principal chief, where I disposed my saddle, and then took the mare to water her at the river. The white man's solicitude for his horse—particularly when a welcome awaits him—is regarded always in Samoa as an amusing, if harmless, eccentricity, and this was the occasion, as usual, for a sort of tolerant laughter. I tied the mare, on a length of rope which I carried for that purpose, beneath a palm-tree where was a good patch of grass I had marked on entering the village, and then returned to the house of the chief. The village missionary, clothed entirely in white, was now in attendance. He could speak English. He told me that they were surprised to see that I had come with a horse across the mountain, and thank God I had arrived safely, and so forth, in the conventional native style. They gave me some food quite soon; but my meal was interrupted when the missionary requested an interlude, and offered up the usual evening prayers, and they page 114all sang a hymn; similar paeans were going up—or rather had gone up—from every house in the village.

The missionary said that the morrow was Sunday, and they supposed that I would not be travelling on that day; that the chief hoped I would make a stay in their village. I knew something of their ideas on the keeping of the Sabbath, and I was in no particular hurry, so I said that I would stay over the next day and make a start upon the Monday. The women of the house made up a bed for me on the floor, with a mosquito-net suspended over a pile of soft pandanus mats surmounted by a stiff white sheet and bulky pillows; and so I spent my first night in a Samoan house, and slept well.

The following morning, after a breakfast of tea and biscuits, which I sent out to buy, and in which the chief joined me, I accompanied him to church. All the men, dressed in their best white shirts and lava-lavas, were seated upon mats on the floor of loose pebbles to one side of the plaster, tin-roofed building, and all the women, in the most outrageous hats, upon the other. The chief sat rather apart, and I on his right. I was presented with a fan, and he obligingly lay around with his fly-switch whenever the flies became obstreperous. He also shared his book with me, which, in my ignorance of the language, was not of the slightest use, but he seemed a trifle surprised that I did not join in the hymns. The missionary, when it came to preaching, was in his element; he roared and ranted and gesticulated, in the most amusing burlesque of the extreme theological declamatory style—as is the way of native pastors—in marked contrast to the dignified and balanced diction of the indigenous native oratory.

After church came the usual Sunday morning feed; for the natives are not early eaters, and take no meal to correspond with our breakfast. There was a mighty coming and going amid the houses with baskets of food. There was served taro, roast pig, bread-fruit, baked fish, and palusami, upon mats covered with green leaves. I spent the afternoon asleep; and in the evening I was asked to visit the missionary's house. I have a recollection that it was on a ridge overlooking the river or a gully. The lamps were lit, and the effect was strange, of looking through the open walls over that black space, from page 115one's seat upon the floor. A bowl of kava was made, and some things resembling red peppers added to it, giving it a very sharp effect and a taste slightly reminiscent of gin. The missionary produced an oval wooden bowl, three-quarters finished. He told me that his brother was making it; that the wood was now very scarce, except in the west of Savaii; that this was the last place in Upolu where the trees grew. He asked me—translating his question—if white men could make such bowls. They all waited eagerly for my answer. I resorted—there seemed no alternative—to a lie, and said "No"; when they laughed delightedly, and the wood-carver looked absurdly pleased with himself.

The following morning, being Monday, the missionary and the chief accompanied me to the local store, which lay beyond the village. I think the former had seen fit to point out that it was customary to make a parting gift: a reminder which was not strictly necessary. It is when Samoans are in a European building, and particularly in a trading-station, that you see them at their worst. I went behind the counter at the invitation of the trader, and the avaricious looks of the two natives around the stock, sickened me. Finally they began fingering a machete in a tentative sort of way, priced at some fifteen or eighteen shillings. I was preparing to buy it; but the trader scoffed at the idea. "Give the chief a four-shilling lava-lava, and if you want to do things particularly well, give a four-pound tin of beef too." This I did; and the chief, with not the best of grace, pushed his presents along the counter to the missionary, who pretended to be reluctant to accept them; but finally did so with a smile rather like that of the tiger on which the young lady of Niger is alleged to have ridden. They then shook hands, wished me a pleasant journey, and took themselves off. I was puzzled to account for their behaviour; but the trader explained that according to Samoan etiquette a chief on receipt of a present is supposed to pass it on to another, if one happens to be in his company; and that the missionary, by virtue of his sacred office, was treated as chief. I thought it a pity, under the circumstances, that I had not made my present to the missionary; but possibly he might then have forgotten his chiefliness.

I had led my horse up to the store, for I had found on page 116saddling that a buckle of the girth, of which there was only one to each end, was practically off, being held by a single thread. The trader produced a saddler's needle and restitched it in about a couple of minutes. He was, undoubtedly, the most versatile man I have ever encountered. He pressed me to stay for a few hours, which I was the more willing to do as he promised to be amusing. He introduced me to his wife: a little doll-like woman with a baby in her arms, of mixed Samoan, Japanese, and German blood. She was acclaimed afterwards in the English newspapers, at the time of the Wembley Exhibition—whither she went with her husband—as a Samoan princess, the daughter of King Malietoa, to the huge indignation of the Samoans. Reed himself was not much bigger than his wife, but he was a demon of activity. He asked me to come out swimming in the lagoon before the store and see his marine garden; and for this he lent me a pair of diving-goggles, with vulcanite rims fitting close round the eyes, to the exclusion of the water. It was strange to flounder face downwards, while small fish marked in green, red, yellow, violet, and tiny ones like sparks, entirely of electric blue, darted beneath and among the fantastically-shaped and many hued corals growing treelike on the white sandy floor of the lagoon. So engrossing was it that one almost forgot the necessity of raising the head to breathe, and was nearly inveigled to attempt to engage in conversation the silent gesticulating figure by one's side. On our return to the shore the trader revealed some crabs which lived in cockle-shells and took up their abode in bushes just above high-water mark. These, when held up and whistled to in a certain note, emerged from their calcareous coverings. But these latter happenings I regarded—and should still regard—with reserve; as Reed subsequently discovered himself as a prestidigitator—doing some very neat juggling and swallowing a dagger for my edification. He informed me that he was also a tight-rope walker and he seemed considerably distressed that he could not give me an exhibition of this art, gazing wistfully at two coconut-trees that would "just have done" to sling the wire. He acquainted me too that he was the author of a well-known and rather sensational book; which, he said, had been filched from him and published under the page 117name of another. And he was also the painter of pictures, then, unfortunately, all packed up. I saw some of them long after, when they struck me as being daubs; but a man can hardly excel at everything, and anyway I am no judge of art.

My host had once been chef at Vailima, under the New Zealand Administration. His speciality then, I was told—not by him—was for remarkable decorative table-centres. One of these, it was alleged, was like a gigantic recumbent crucifix, that excluded nearly everything else from the table. And another took the form of a home-made aquarium, very beautiful to behold, that collapsed suddenly in the middle of dinner, landing water and flapping fish in the laps of the Government House guests. He said that I must excuse him while he prepared something worthy of my lunch.

Reed, in addition to trading, also practised as a doctor; and Samoans came from great distances to be attended by him, some even from Savaii. He had bales of tappas and fine mats, presented to him in this service; for he would take no money. He was just on the point of leaving for another trading-station when I visited him; I believe his boat came in the following day. When I left he was busily engaged in treating a sick baby covered with malignant-looking spots, whose opportune arrival, I think, occasioned him considerable satisfaction.

I was now on the south coast of the island. I remember riding over stretches of yellow sand beside the sea, with brilliant verdure upon my left, which was probably at Falelatai, and being laughed at by some young Samoan men, perhaps because I could not understand the questions they addressed to me (Samoan etiquette demands that the traveller shall be asked where he is going). The next incident was on a lonely part of the coast, where I had to cross the bed of a wide and shallow stream bordered with stunted trees. This appeared to have a bottom of basalt rock with patches of sand upon it here and there, and with never a thought of difficulty I put the mare to cross. When we had nearly reached the other side she suddenly went down as if she had been shot—both forelegs in quicksand, up to the shoulder. I went off over her head and to the right of her, embedding both my arms as I fell, and my legs to the depth of the thigh, before I scrambled ashore. It was black page 118sandy muck that looked exactly like a rock surface, covered by a few inches of clear water. The mare was plunging desperately, and she managed to get a little nearer, and also to submerge her back legs and about half the depth of her body. I secured the reins, which were lying out in front of her, but she soon gave up responding to any verbal stimulus and remained perfectly quiescent, only breathing heavily. I went along the road some way to look for assistance, and shouted without avail—it was clear that there were no houses anywhere near.

I found I was able, with the aid of a log of wood, to approach her on the near side, and loose the girth and drag the saddle off. And then I stood by and held the reins and waited. I don't know how long she was in that sand, but it was a very considerable time; and then suddenly, with a terrific effort, she heaved herself out of it and staggered up the bank, nearly knocking me over. She stood there for a few minutes trembling; and just as I was putting the saddle on her a native woman appeared on the scene. "Talofa!" she said—which is an exclamation of pity as well as a greeting—and then: "Poor man! Poor horse! Poor man! Poor horse!" which seemed to be the full extent of her English.

It was probably this evening that I stayed in a Samoan village that might almost be called a small town. I came to it just as dusk was falling, and I was directed to a certain house where I was invited to stay. I removed the saddle, took the rope from it, and led the mare outside the village and to some little distance before I found a spot where there was sufficient grazing to tether her. When I returned to the village it was dark and the lamps were lit. I was quite unable to get my bearings and locate the house in which I had been. I wandered from one to another, peering in, and powerless to explain to the occupants my predicament. Some of them were obviously perturbed, and I saw men start up and look about them angrily, evidently thinking that I was searching for some particular individual, for no very friendly purpose. At last, in desperation, I entered a house, seated myself on a mat, and waited in stolid silence. The owner, a stout elderly man, who may have been a native pastor, addressed himself to me in a friendly way, and I signed that I wished for materials for writing. I was given a slate and page 119pencil, made a crude outline of a horse and saddle, which they signified that they knew as such, and then rubbed out the horse, leaving the saddle suspended in mid-air. There were exclamations of understanding and a boy was despatched running and presently returned with my haversack and saddle; and later my host from the first house—who must have been at a loss to account for my behaviour—came along, and there was a general reconciliation. I slept at the second house, although I should have wished to return to the first; but it was beyond my powers to explain it. Apparently no one in that village could speak a word of English.

Reed had advised me that the better way when making a present was to give money—although, but for that, I should have hesitated for fear of possible offence—and the way in which he suggested giving it was to chuck it upon the floor with a "Laitiiti mea alofa!"—"My paltry gift!" Accordingly I tried this the following morning, and the lady of the house caught it up and pressed to it her bosom with what appeared to be enraptured thanks, so I gathered it was all right.

The next thing I remember clearly is passing a house full of Samoan chiefs just about to make a start upon a feast. They were so pressing in their invitations that I should enter that I did not like to refuse, although I had no particular wish to join them, thinking it might prove embarrassing in my ignorance of the language and customs. However, I hitched my horse to a tree and went in, and sat down crosslegged in the space they made for me in their half circle. They were a fine and particularly big lot of men, naked but for their lava-lavas, the tattooing showing on the smalls of their backs and knees, and running up in two thin lines upon the lower ribs; with magnificent copper-coloured torsos and dignified cast of countenance. One of their young men, on the other side of the house, translated a few words of welcome, with much thought over every word, and then the food was set before us on mats about the size of a tea-tray and covered with a cloth of shining green banana leaf. There were great roots of taro, whole fish, pieces of pig, and the usual condiments of a Samoan feed. I was not hungry, and finished first, and my food-mat was immediately removed. Then a young man came, and bending page 120low, handed me the half of an enormous coconut-shell, polished, and black with age, and filled with water. I knew it was usual with the Samoans to rinse their fingers after eating, and I never doubted that this was a bowl for that purpose, and accordingly put it to its use. I had hardly done so before I realized that I had made a blunder. There were one or two stifled exclamations, and then words of elucidation passed among the chiefs, and courteous gestures conveyed to me that it was not of the slightest consequence. The cup actually was a drinking cup, for the Samoans commonly swill their mouths—spitting the water behind them outside the house—and drink, after eating. There is passed then usually a European enamelled wash-basin, or an oval bowl carved from wood, and a small towel, for the purpose of cleansing the lips and hands. A few minutes afterwards, all having finished—for they normally are fairly moderate eaters—I left the house, followed by a friendly chorus of farewell and good wishes for my journey.

Another scene stands out very clearly in my memory: a tiny village by the sea, comprising a mere handful of houses, cut off from the road or track by a high stone pig-fence, over which it was impossible to get a horse. I tied the mare in an overgrown native plantation which furnished luxuriant feed, and, slinging my saddle across my arm, scaled the wall by the notched logs that were leant up against it, forming a suitable style for barefoot men. The fale at which I stayed was the native missionary's—who was away from home. His wife, who did the honours of the house, a fat goodnatured-looking woman in a cotton dress, squatted monumentally on the floor. She could speak a little English. She said that having come a far journey I must have a lomi-lomi, of which I had never heard until this minute. Whereupon at her instruction two young girls of about thirteen or fourteen, of extremely innocent and modest demeanour, and just between childhood and womanhood, seated themselves on either side of me as I lay stretched out along the mats reclining on my elbow, covered the lower half of my body with a sheet (a missionary idea this), and began to massage the thighs and calves of my legs with their strong, pliant fingers. I was considerably embarrassed at first, for, to those unaccustomed to it, the operation is likely page 121to be disturbing; but when inured to the idea one finds the treatment wonderfully restful and relaxing to the muscles. The lomi-lomi is applied not only to the legs, but also the back of the body from the shoulders downwards; and the changes are sometimes rung by substituting the tui-tui—a gentle, rhythmical pounding with the clenched fists. During the operation it was somewhat amusing to watch the old lady, with frowns and nods, giving mute instruction to the girls in the art; for apparently the experience was near as strange to them as it was to me.

The following morning, or it may have been that evening, a young Samoan came into the house; he was little more than a boy, but he was newly tattooed—it showed dark blue on his clear brown skin—so he ranked as a man. He had a new lava-lava of peacock blue, and a scarlet flower was thrust in his jet-black hair; while behind one ear he carried a selui—a slim cigar of tobacco and dried banana leaf. He was of the most perfect symmetry, and one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. He sat on the far side of the house, as a young man should, and he seemed slightly resentful. I remember offering him a cigarette, which he regarded quizzically for a moment, and then lit it and thawed somewhat. I believe these four were the only people that I saw in that village.

At Safata is a bay, land-locked by an elbow of peninsula, along which the road runs. A village that straggled along the sandy main shore of the bight was at this hour of the day almost deserted. I forget how I was aware that I had to make the crossing. Anyway, the distance across blue water to the peninsula seemed considerable, and I did not know which point would afford the easiest passage; so I cast around for a native who could swim my horse across while I followed in a canoe. At length I found a woman and one little boy of about four or five, who seemed to be the sole occupants of the place. The woman, who could speak English, said that I must wait until the men came back from the bush, that the child was too little to ride the horse, although he might have taken me in a canoe. But I was unwilling to wait, and it was agreed that he should take my haversack and saddle in the canoe and go ahead to show the best crossing, while I followed page 122on the mare. She faced the crossing without difficulty—the distance over which she had to swim was not very great—and we landed on the sandy palm-grown point. I dismissed my guide, saddled up and proceeded. It was hereabouts that I passed a trading-station—the usual wooden white-painted bungalow type of building. On the beach of sloping yellow sand that faced the open sea a white motor-boat was drawn up, heeled over on her side. On the little gate of the small enclosure that lay before the living-room of the store a white man was leaning his elbows. He was old and had a pointed white beard and was well dressed in clean white shirt and trousers and canvas shoes. I was wet half-way up my thighs, and the mare dripped water as she walked. The old man and I regarded each other, exchanged never a word, and I passed on down the track. I heard afterwards that he was a German who could not speak English. There may not have been another white man within miles.

The next village I think was Siumu. There were some natives squatting in a house where kava was being made, and they called to me to come in and join them; but I refused, as I was anxious to get on. I had determined to be more civil, so when an elderly native of good appearance, sitting solitary on the floor of a neighbouring fale, called out "Talofa, ali'i!"—"My love to you, O Chief!"—as I rode by, I shouted back, loudly enough, "Talofa ali'i!" whereupon a smile of the most extreme gratification spread slowly over his face from ear to ear; from which I adduced, what no doubt was correct, that he was not a chief, while the kava-drinkers were.