relaxation and preparing for the night, everything about me repeats to
me this theme of all being done with the whole body. About an hour ago
prayers were said and all sat around while the regular form was
repeated, and then our young hostess prayed an extempore prayer
commending us all to the care of God. Some words I can catch, but the
intonation is sufficient. It is a prayer cadenced as well as the most
consummate of clergymen could manage, and repeated without the slightest
hesitation. Then she stretched herself out, with her head on the Samoan
pillow, and talked with some young male acquaintance outside the hut
whose head just appears over the barrier that runs between the pillars,
for our house is placed higher than usual. She talked with Adams who is
lying by her, and occasionally she criticises the game that is going on
near her at that end of the house. I have only followed the little
things happening by fits and starts, as I have made some sketches and
have been writing letters, but I make out that the household is playing
some game in which some motion or gesture has to be duplicated or
matched, and that the beaten side, for there are two rows of players, is
to dance as a forfeit. I say that this is the household, I mean that I
take it for granted, though I see that one of our boatmen is among them,
and that a couple of children have dropped in. The duenna of our young
lady is also there. Sometimes I see her and sometimes I do not, but I
know she is there on watch. But a _siva_ has been organized slowly, a
household unofficial _siva_, begun in little patches--somebody humming
something and several beating hands. Tunes or songs are taken up and
discarded, and sometimes a man, sometimes a woman, stands up to sketch
some motions. At last they appear to have got under way, and I see them
swing and dance, with little clothing and much clapping of hands, at the
other end of the house. And everybody joins in: even the children beat
time and take up the words--and the two elder women are the most
enthusiastic and full of energy. Occasionally a burst of laughter
salutes what I take to be a mistake or some wild caper that seems funny
to them. Faauli, at last, after having pretended to sleep or to talk,
so as to appear to herself to have done something, sits up and takes
more interest. By and by she sketches out some steps in an indolent
manner--soon she begins in earnest, and with one of the performers goes
through an energetic dance, slipping her upper clothing for greater
ease. The clapping and beating time comes fast and furious from every
one, and laughter and small shrieks replace the gentle monotone and
seriousness of the evening prayer. At last she sits down suddenly, her
face rather overcast: (her name means “Black Cloud that Comes up
Suddenly”). She has hurt her foot apparently, for turning round to see
why all has stopped, I see her bent over and looking at a toe. Note that
she does this as easily as a baby with us--her face comes down on her
foot raised halfway to meet it. As I come up, she shows me that she has
torn off the larger part of a nail, and is paring off the remainder
evenly against the exposed surface of flesh. I offer her scissors which
she uses with indifference, as we might cut off superfluous hair; and
apparently more from politeness and obedience than from necessity, she
accepts my court-plaster. Then being properly mended, she sits down to
play cards while I resume my writing. Now here has been something that
explains some sides of these good people; an absence of nervousness and
insensibility to pain--for to most of us such a small accident would
have been very painful and sickening. Before this the dance had been
merely an outlet for action, as natural and unpremeditated as any other
motion. The entire body has been called into play: from the ends of the
fingers to the toes of the feet, all the exterior muscles have been
playing gently for some two hours, with almost every person present,
whether they sat or stood. This constant gentle exercise must go far
toward giving the smooth even fullness that marks them. And meanwhile,
too, they have decorated themselves; some one has brought out garlands,
and they have been worn: flowers have been put in the hair, as if to
mark that this is not work but play.
And now that all is quiet, I shall try to resume my itinerary, and
recall small matters that are fading away, and becoming so confused from
repetition that it requires an effort for me to distinguish this _siva_
from that _siva_, and to remember what _taupo_ it was who danced well,
and what one it was who danced ill.
I was writing last in Iva, on our first day there, Sunday. It is now
Thursday night.
Monday morning at Iva we were up early, before the sunrise, waked by the
red glow of the dawn that calls one up easily from the hard bed of
double mats laid on the floor of small stones. Every one was up, people
were moving about, probably most had had their early bath, for they
were returning with wet clothes, or with their garments spread over them
like a veil. So that we scrambled over the stone wall that seems so
anomalous and unreasonable here. But they not only divide village from
village, but also prevent the straying of that roaming property, the
pig, that wanders about the village and the forest also, picking up
everything of course. To see a pig picking out the flesh of the cocoanut
has been one of the small amusements of this afternoon, and last night,
besides the invariable dog, pigs came into our house and snuffled at the
faces of Charlie and Awoki, who lay outside of the mosquito netting. The
path over the fences brought us to the bathing pool opening to the sea
on one side only, where among black rocks the fresh water runs up to
meet the tide, filling in the pool. There we went in and swam about,
watched by many of the smaller villagers, girls and boys who were
curious about the manners of the white people. And I was able to admire
the skill, though unable to rival it, with which the native bathers
draped themselves as they rose from the water, so that man or woman was
clothed as he or she stepped on shore.
By the time we returned, our mosquito nettings had been put aside, the
mats swept out, and Awoki was bringing us the tea and brown bread,
which, with such native food as we liked, made our meals. Fish there
was and yam and taro, and some preparations of cocoanut. And there were
cocoanuts for their milk for which I do not care, but there was no water
yet, the water in the two pools near the sea, edged with black stones,
being blackish until the change of tide should leave the spring to fill
up by itself.
Then our host came in and told us that we might rest that morning: that
in the afternoon there would be a reception, a sort of review or
“fantasia,” and presents of food would be given and speeches made, and
songs and dances, the whole apparently included under the general title
of the _talolo_ which was to be given us. So we waited peacefully; I
sketched the girls in the neighbouring house, who were at work making
the wreaths, the garlands, the complicated flower girdles that should be
worn later in the day, and perhaps at night, for there were murmurs of a
night _siva_. But I knew that our host was a church member, and that the
_siva_ is not encouraged, neither the _siva_, “fa Samoa,” Samoan way,
the Samoan _siva_, nor the _siva_ of the Europeans, which we call round
dancing; for had not Faatulia, the wife of our leader, Seumanu, been
threatened with excommunication for dancing in her innocence in European
ways at the Consul’s Fourth of July ball. Meanwhile my models across the
way in the shadow posed badly: they were always moving, or they came
across the way to see what we
[Illustration: SOLDIERS BRINGING PRESENTS OF FOOD IN MILITARY ORDER.
IVA, IN SAVAII, SAMOA]
were at. For somebody would stop in and look at us, and go give the
news--a little pile of small boys and girls, three rows deep, sat
respectfully under the bread-fruit trees watching us. But somehow or
other the morning wore away, and by two o’clock we were told that all
was ready, and that we had better come to the house chosen for us to
occupy during the ceremony. Meanwhile, behind the trees that closed in
the sight (for the village was placed, if I may so describe it, in an
irregular open grove of many kinds of trees), we had seen for the last
hour or so, dressed-up figures moving about; men with large green
garlands, and green cinctures around their waists stiffened out and made
larger by great folds of new bark-cloth, or by the fine wearing mats
which are the most precious possession of the Samoan: some of them with
guns carried with pride, for these were men who had been victorious and
had beaten off the bullying German.
And now we took our places in the circular house which looked like a
pavilion, and which stood on the east of the large open space near the
church. Opposite us perhaps some two hundred feet or more was another
house, and others spread to right and left, leaving a large space ending
on one side near the church, whose white façade had written on it its
name, Lupeanoa, Noah’s Dove--enclosed by a little clump of trees to the
left, where we could see figures moving with great swaying of leaf
girdles and waist-mats--and the occasional beat of a war-drum came from
further back.
We were seated, all facing toward the open space, the next house filled
with women and children: Seumanu and our host and other people of
importance near us, and the rest of the house packed, but not too
closely, behind us. Out on the grass and near trees people sat, mostly
women. Others moved slowly to take their places, showing some vestiges
of yesterday’s Sunday in their hats and long gowns.
Then rushed across them a man all blacked, with a high white turban
bound to his head, with green strips of leaves, a few leaves for a
girdle, and waving a paddle. This was a friend of Seu’s--a funny man and
joker, with a hand maimed or deformed--the deformed in such communities
take things gayly and are jokers. He shrieked out things that caused
shouts of laughter, and repeated “_Alofa_ Atamo!” From behind the church
came out a mass of warriors, with banana leaves in their hair, and
wearing girdles of the long green leaves of the _ti_: their backs were
streaked with white lines following the spine and the ribs, and their
faces and bodies were blacked. They carried their rifles high and
discharged them into the air, then cantered past and away. Again the
buffoon and again the warriors.
Meanwhile in the distance, in the opening of trees, we could
[Illustration: TAUPO AND ATTENDANTS DANCING IN OPEN AIR. IVA, IN SAVAII,
SAMOA]
see other warriors: behind them the drum and the little fife made a
curious war music, and a peculiar shout and call with a short cadence
came from the men. Unconcernedly a girl moved across the opening in
front, intent on something else, and a hunch-backed dwarf, with enormous
wide shoulders and long legs edged with green leaves, came to us and
shouted “_alofa!_” Then six warriors again emerged from the grove,
swinging their clubs, and marched back leaving the green space before us
empty and silent.
Slowly now, moving step by step, the mass of people behind the trees
came out, so that they could be seen. In front of the men and of the
music a girl, with black, shaggy waist garment, like thin fur, with long
red necklaces of beads, and flowers in her hair, danced slowly to the
tune, crossing and uncrossing her feet in a hopping step, and swinging
with both hands a slight club in front of her, as a drum major might
move his stick. Slowly she advanced, escorted by two men clad in mats
and garlands, upon whose heads stood out a mass of yellow hair, like the
cap of a grenadier, supported by circles of shells around the forehead.
They also kept time to the music, but did not repeat the girl’s
monotonous step that made the central point of interest to which the eye
always returned.
This girl was the _taupo_, the virgin of the village, dancing and
marching in her official place at the head of the warriors--like
Taillefer, the Norman minstrel who began the battle of Hastings. When
she had moved slowly a few yards, one could see that behind in the crowd
there were two other girls representing other villages, who also
repeated these movements, while some of the men danced and others
stepped slowly with crossed arms, holding their clubs and muskets. And
the virgin danced forward and passed, and then up the slope toward us,
followed by the other girls, and all saluted us; when the whole assembly
in the field came up suddenly and threw down before us leaf baskets
containing taro and yams, and cooked things wrapped up in leaves, and
fish, and a number of little sucking pigs, with hind legs tied, that
struggled up and down in the heaps of leaves. As each person threw his
load down he stalked away gravely and took a seat somewhere in the
distance. All became silent. I could see the _taupos_ moving off with
that peculiar walk of the dancer who is resting. A warrior with high
white turban of bark cloth sat down against a tree near us, without
looking to the right or left, his gun against his shoulder, and smoked
gravely, while a girl, his daughter perhaps, leaned affectionately
against him. Meanwhile the sucking pigs had been escaping with hind-legs
tied, and every now and then Charlie pulled them back into place.
[Illustration: PRESENTATION OF GIFTS OF FOOD AT IVA, IN SAVAII, SAMOA]
Then rose the orator, the _tulafale_, from the centre of the three rows
of men now seated opposite to us, across the green space, and from two
hundred feet away, addressed us slowly as he leaned upon his stick, and
seemed not to raise his voice beyond what was absolute necessity. But
the cadence always rose in the last words, so that the effect to the ear
was of a distinct, emphatic assertion. Then he added, “This is all,” and
sat down, apparently inattentive and indifferent. Our turn came next.
Anai, the chief, translated to us the usual speech of great gratitude to
America for having saved them from slavery and from the Germans, and
compliments to us all, with prayers to God to have us in his holy
keeping. Then a few things were suggested between us, and our political
man said what was necessary, and alas, even more: for how can the United
States promise anything--that may depend on sugar--or an election, or at
any rate is merely a matter of barter? Anai stepped out from the house
and repeated all this in Samoan, speaking also quite gently, with little
raising of the voice. Nobody seemed to listen, nobody to care, but this
was only apparent. All heard and had listened.
Then our own men, who had been hidden somewhere, sprang upon the
presents and sorted them: one of them stood up and called them out: so
much of this, so much of that, to give full acknowledgment for
liberality. Then another spring, and all was carried away, even to the
struggling, sucking pigs that could not be made to understand.
Momentary peace settled over everything, and we had begun to ask
questions and to sketch, when we were told that now we should have a
_siva_, that several villages would appear in it by their performers, as
they had appeared in the military display. Men came up garlanded and
cinctured in flowers and leaves, and sat down in double rows before us,
some turning toward us, others away. Out of their number first one, then
others arose and sat down again in order, fronting us, and the _siva_
began; six handsome young men, singing and swaying about upon their
hips, to a chant for which time was beaten behind them.
The sun was setting; tired out and amused we walked back in the crowd,
stopping to exchange _alofas_ with belated warriors who showed us their
guns and occasional wounds, which with the Samoan idea of a joke they
pretended had been caused by running against wire fences.
We had seen for the first time a pageantry of savage war, in a soft
light, in the most peaceful and idyllic of landscapes, so that it was
hard to realize again that this was not all a theatre scene, a fête
champêtre--a play in the open air. There was nothing to contradict this
unreality but the marks of ugly gashes on the arms and chests of the men
and the
[Illustration: SOUTH SEA SEATED DANCE AT NIGHT, SAMOA]
recall of the savage melody, which was undeniably a war song, requiring
no explanation as to its meaning.
In the house we ate our meal spread out on banana leaves, two of the
_taupos_ coming in to help us by breaking the taro and yams, and tearing
the fish and fowls. Then while wishing for nothing but bed and rest, and
closed eyes, we were told that there would be a night _siva_ in our
honour, and that other _taupos_ would figure in it. There was nothing to
do but yield, and with each a _taupo_ to accompany us, we went back to
the house that we had occupied in the afternoon. It was already half
filled with people, occupying one side of it. I sat down against an
outside post, alongside of my _taupo_, next to whom Seumanu reclined at
length with another girl, an old acquaintance, near him, and I tried to
keep awake while the _siva_ went on enthusiastically. At times I would
start with some new figure or more picturesque effect, or when fresh
fuel was added to the cocoanut fire that fit the scene within. Along the
posts of the exterior sat chiefs watching the dance: behind them
outside, a crowd of people in the moonlight, and many heads of
youngsters. Occasionally a chief would say, “Some one a cigarette or a
light,” and a boy darted into the house through the dancers, plunged for
the light, and returned with it to the great man who had asked.
When the _taupos_, big and good natured, had danced, we drowsily asked
them to sit alongside of us, while the _siva_ of the men went on.
Between two, as I became more and more sleepy, I was fortunate in
finding comfort and support from my first neighbour, against whose big
shoulder I reclined, my arm supported upon the weight of her knees--all
mine might have been thrown upon her massive form without apparent
inconvenience. A gentle tap now and then, and a gentle _alofa_ told me
that I was all right, and could go to sleep while making believe to look
on. But the girls, drowsy as they were, were appreciative of the men’s
dances, and so was Seu, who called out over and over again, _mālie_
(bravo) as if he had not seen thousands of _sivas_, which now, having
become “missionary,” he does not attend. I knew that I was interested in
the intervals of sleep, but all has faded into a sort of disconnected
dream. I can only remember getting out into the bright moonlight, and
that it made a silver haze outside during the dances. We had been
obliged toward midnight to make a speech, with thanks, protesting the
fatigue of travel as an excuse for not remaining. The Samoans will sit
up all night, especially in their favourite moonlight: they can sleep
during the day, and apparently always do so. Around our house, until we
had blown out the light, and even for some time after, rows of people
sat watching us in the light of the moon: the people sauntered about, or
sat in the shade of the trees, with sharp-edged leaves that made the
scene look, as usual, like the stage-setting of a fairy opera.
* * * * *
The next morning we were to leave for the next important place,
Sapapali, the home of the Malietoa, the princes who have been for a long
time the principal chiefs of these islands, and who are now represented
by the present king. This is a rude definition; as I have told you
elsewhere, the question of chiefhood and sovereignty here is one not
easily represented or defined by our words. At Sapapali, the ancestral
home, we should be received by Aigā, the King’s niece, and consequently
a young person of the highest rank, indeed, I suppose the greatest lady
of the land. With us this would be the Queen or the Royal Princess, or
the heir to the throne. But here blood and descent are all and in the
direct line. This young person was next to Malietoa as being of
sufficient blood.
Our arrival was to happen about noon, so that, as in Samoan phrase, it
was only about half an hour’s walk, we were to leave punctually at ten
o’clock. Early rising took us again to the black pool surrounded by high
trees, where two of us bathed, watched and escorted by two little
damsels with whom the other one of us flirted. I myself was too much
occupied with the difficult question of keeping on, while swimming, the
fathom of cloth they call lavalava; and afterward of adjusting it in
the water, after swimming for it when it had floated away, and then on
coming out, receiving dry cloth with one hand and putting off the wet
one. But I found out how one begins in the corner. Later in the morning
it had grown hot, as we left pretty Iva, and made our way through broad
or narrow roads, to Sapapali. The old difficulty again amused me; we
could not walk in proper Samoan order; sometimes one of us, sometimes
another was in front, while properly, all of us chiefs should have led,
and the attendants followed at respectful distances. So that again Awoki
would canter on in front of the chiefs: meanwhile Anai told us things of
local information, pointing out where the road narrowed, the place where
had stood in older times, a famous tree, a cocoanut. Among its branches
the Malietoa, who first became converted later to Christianity, used to
conceal himself and lasso or noose such pretty _taupos_ or maidens as
passing might strike his fancy. One of these had been the grandmother of
the young lady whom we were going to visit. While the party talked the
scandal over I remained a while by a deep well near the shore, and
watched a handsome Samoan ride his horse barebacked to the water, to the
sand and distant trees of a little promontory.
When I hurried forward, the party had gone far ahead, and had arrived
before me. I crossed the rocky bed of a dry river, upon whose edge stood
houses, and going up the hill before me, came upon a high open space
with trees far scattered, and several large black tombs made of stones
piled together in regular rectangular form; and in the centre of the
green a house high-placed which instinct told me was the guest-house,
our destination. Part of the mat curtains were down opposite the central
posts: I entered by the open side, and saw Adams and the Consul seated
next to a young woman in half European dress (that is to say with a
corsage); and on the other side of her Seumanu and Anai. I entered and
sat down with some hesitation next to the Consul, and after being
presented to her ladyship looked about me. Opposite, the posts of the
pretty house all adorned with flowers had each a chief, as a sort of
sitting caryatid or buttress. And they were big and splendid; that was
the Greek frieze of which I was telling you. Between each massive
figure, of Ajax and Nestor and Ulysses and Agamemnon, appeared from time
to time some little boy, whose small person made them look more ample,
as the boys or angels of Michael Angelo’s Sistine Chapel make sibyls and
prophets look more colossal by comparison. Then _kava_ was brought in
and made solemnly, when in stepped a woman and sat herself beside the
_kava_ attendant who dried the wisp. A moment later, and her presence
was explained. She, it appears, had the hereditary right to “divide the
_kava_,” and had come to claim it. When the heavy clapping of hands
announced that the drink was ready, she called out the name of Aigā, to
whom the first bowl was presented as to the greatest personage. Then to
one of the guests, then to the next relative of the Malietoa, then to a
guest, then to a chief, and so on, contrariwise to what we had seen
before, where we as guests were helped first. You see we were at court,
in the presence of royalty.