THE CHIEF OF MBUA—FEUDAL RIGHTS—A NIGHT IN A MISERABLE
VILLAGE—CHURCH _A LA_ ST COLUMBA—NIGHT ON A DESERT ISLE—SAVU
SAVU—BOILING SPRINGS—THEIR USE—PAST AND FUTURE.
NI SONI SONI, VANUA LEVU, _August 16_.
We are resting in great peace in a large clean church, built of
coral-lime. It stands apart from the village, on a grassy spit of land,
divided from the sea-beach only by a border of Fijian lilies—overhead are
tall cocoa-palms. It is a calm pleasant spot, and we hope for a night of
peace and rest, of which we stand sorely in need.
We hoped to have reached Mbua about noon on the 13th, but we had
seventeen miles to make in a head-wind, so it was near sunset ere we
anchored in the bay, after which we had to row three miles up the river,
which, like the Rewa, has several mouths, and we tried the wrong one
first, and rowed a considerable distance up a fine stream, dense with
_tiri_ (mangrove) on either side. Then, retracing our ground, we made a
fresh start for the town; but by this time it was so dark that we could
only discern dark palms against the sky, and had to shout to people on
the shore to learn our way.
On reaching the mission station we found the inmates absent, but the
students lighted up the house, and prepared tea and milk; and soon a kind
neighbour (Miss Wilkinson) brought us a welcome gift of fresh butter and
bread. I regret to say her father is suffering seriously from internal
cramp, brought on by long exposure in the canoe coming to Nasova with the
news of the wreck of the Fitzroy.
A wild storm beat up in the night, and we were thankful to be on land.
The country round is bleak and barren; but heavy rain-clouds and mists
glorified the very shapeless ranges of hills, and suggested parts of
Scotland.
In the morning we called on the chief, Tui Mbua, a middle-aged man,
with a pleasant-looking wife. Not long ago his favourite son committed
suicide, in his rage at finding his father’s laws enforced against some
of his peccadilloes, as if he had been a _kai-see_ (_i.e._, of low
birth). Such very great laxity is allowed to chiefs by the feudal system
(which always has prevailed in these isles, and is likely in a great
measure to be continued), that it really must be difficult for a man
always to stop at the exact point where a chief’s right becomes wrong.
There is a system in force called _lala_, by which a chief may claim
from his people whatever service or property is required for any public
work affecting the good and honour of the tribe. This is considered
right and proper, and his commands are willingly obeyed. But the system
is liable to great abuse, being constantly called into action merely
to gratify some whim or personal pleasure of a chief—as, for instance,
when he covets some expensive article, and his people have to raise the
payment. This abuse is called _vaka saurara_—_i.e._, “taking by force,”
and is simply an oppressive form of levying black-mail. A common instance
of the way in which this is done is when a chief (or more probably his
son) starts on a journey with a party of his retainers, perhaps several
canoe-loads of people (in former days they would all have been armed
men). Perhaps they are going to some great feast (a _solevu_ or exchange
of property), to which they must carry some offerings, expecting to
receive a good exchange, each district bringing its own produce. They
probably start literally empty-handed; but at every village where they
halt, they demand not only food but gifts, and a Fijian thinks it
shameful to refuse to give anything for which he is asked. So these
rolling stones disprove the old proverb, for they gather as they go,
and reach the _solevu_ well provided—their progress along the coast
being marked by every manner of evil; for they regard neither rights
of property nor domestic ties, but are simply a curse to the quiet
hard-working villagers. They have only to see and covet any man’s goods,
and straightway appropriate them.
I believe the system, in its true and legitimate working, is considered
both wise and good. It is apparently the only way to get a semi-civilised
race to work well together for the good of the tribe; and it is a custom
which, from time immemorial, has existed throughout the group, being
the tribute rendered by the people at the bidding of their chief, to be
repaid by protection and by a fair share of all goods acquired by the
tribe. It applies to planting gardens, making roads, building houses and
canoes, fishing for turtle, or any other work requiring combined action.
People even from other districts may be summoned, and in return for their
work receive daily food, and presents of cloth and whales’ teeth on their
departure. Thus work is done quickly and well which would otherwise be
impossible.
Suppose a great canoe has to be built. All the best carpenters in the
tribe are _lava’d_, and the fittings of the canoe are _lavaka’d_ from
every village in the chief’s district. Each is required to furnish so
many fathoms of narrow matting to make the great mat-sails. This is
provided by the women of the village. Ropes, sails, tackling, and all
the different fittings, are also thus provided. So is the food for the
carpenters. Then when the new canoe is finished, the people must prepare
a great feast at every place where it calls. When one great chief visits
another, food is _lavaka’d_ for the entertainment of the strangers; and I
am told that this occasions frightful waste, as each chief tries to outdo
what others have done, that he may appear liberal before his guests. So
these visits sometimes leave whole districts in a state of famine.
We heard sore complaints in this district of the chief’s exactions of
compulsory “presents” from the very poor villages hereabouts. A short
time ago he ordered all the people from far and near to assemble and
bring him 40,000 yams, 700 mats, and every man a whale’s tooth, each of
which represents upwards of a shilling in value, but _means_ far more.
It symbolises goodwill; and the giving of a whale’s tooth accompanies
every action of the smallest importance—from asking for forgiveness, or
claiming the clubbing of a foe, or bringing in his body. Well, of course,
many of these poor men had not got a whale’s tooth, so they had to go and
beg for them from their friends. One canoe which started on this quest
was upset, and six men drowned. Two of them left tiny babies, who were
brought to be christened at the most wretched of all the villages we have
seen—one from which you could not conceive it possible to wish to extort
the value of a pin. But it struck me that this great chief was far more
inclined to receive than to give. After witnessing the generosity of
the Mathuata chief, I was much amused when this man, with considerable
formality, presented ten cocoa-nuts for the use of the teachers and crew
of the Jubilee, being, I understand, his sole offering to the mission
for the year. Evidently we have left the unsophisticated regions, and
returned to those where white influence prevails!
Returning on board, we found the wind was dead against us, and after
vainly beating in great misery for several hours, we had to anchor for
the night within sight of the Wilkinson’s house, and sorely regretted not
having taken their advice to stay where we were. We had a hateful evening
and night; and as the cabin was unendurable, there was nothing for it but
to lie on deck in the rain and get soaked, which we did most thoroughly.
We tried a fresh start in the morning, but there was still a head-wind
and rain; and everything was so saturated and miserable, that it was
resolved to anchor off the first village we came to. This proved to be
Namau, a filthy village in the mangrove-swamp, poorer and more miserable
than any place where we have yet been. The people looked diseased from
sheer poverty, and we scarcely liked to enter their houses, but we were
driven to desperation by the longing to try and dry our clothes; and
their kindness and hospitality knew no bounds. They seemed delighted to
welcome us to their poor homes, and heaped up blazing fires to dry us
and all our goods. The fireplaces (as I have told you, when speaking of
other isles) are placed wherever fancy prompts—just a sunken oblong,
anywhere on the floor, with a few rounded stones, on which rest the large
earthenware cooking-pots. Very picturesque!
We divided ourselves among the different houses, and our goods were
scattered all over the village; but everything, to the smallest trifle,
was brought safely back, and a few small gifts were received with wonder
and delight. The (very meagre) contents of my travelling-bag were gazed
at with much interest, especially some photographs of sacred subjects
in one of my books. They all called one another to look at and discuss
these; one of the Crucifixion, Mary at the foot of the Cross, chiefly
riveting their attention. I often wonder, considering how many of our
own impressions of sacred things are due to pictures seen in early
life, that their use is so entirely neglected in all these schools. It
may be because the supply is not forthcoming. Certainly these highly
imaginative people have always shown themselves wonderfully capable of
realising things unseen; and even in their days of most gross idolatry,
their religion was entirely an appeal to the imagination—wild legends
of the gods, told in song, but very rarely reduced to the visible form
of any idol. The only pictures I have seen in any native houses are
portraits of (I think) Holloway, whose advertisements are duly sent to
all native ministers in the group. The literature is of course thrown
away on them, but the portraits, sometimes several in a row, ornament
some prominent pillar.
As soon as we were moderately dry, we settled ourselves for the
night in the wretched little church, which is a miserable spot, with
mangrove-swamp all round it. It is the tiniest little building of
wicker-work—quite a St Columba style of architecture,[38] wattle without
the daub; and the rainy wind blew through it, and the mosquitoes took
refuge in it. We had a weary night. Being very tired, we all hoped for a
good night’s rest, but had hardly fallen asleep when a cheerful brother
missionary, in aggravating health and spirits, chanced to anchor at a
neighbouring village, and in his delight at hearing his friends were so
near, he came over and woke us all, and kept the gentlemen talking the
whole night. Pleasant for Mrs L. and myself, who were vainly striving to
sleep! At early dawn the two little orphan babies I told you about were
brought to be christened, so we had to hurry over our dressing, and for
once were right glad to return on board ship. How any human beings can
deliberately build their villages in these mangrove-swamps passes my
comprehension. It simply means living in the mud, with salt or brackish
water on every side, and mosquitoes in myriads.
Our quarters to-night seem strangely luxurious, and I must profit by them
and sleep now,—so good night.
* * * * *
_August 17._
After all, I did not sleep long, for I woke to see such lovely moonlight
that I crept out of my corner made of mats and my old green plaid, and
went out to sit alone by the brink of the great waters, and watched the
earliest lights before dawn. Now all are astir, and we are just starting.
* * * * *
CAPTAIN BARRACK’S HOUSE, SAVU SAVU, VANUA LEVU, _August 22, 1876_.
I have been here for some days greatly enjoying the blessings of the
land, and this most lovely scenery. We left Ni Soni Soni at dawn on the
17th, purposing to make the isle of Taviuni, but finding the wind fair
for Levuka, steered for that port. Another change of wind put a stop to
that, and we could make but little way. After a weary day of beating,
we succeeded in nearing the small uninhabited isle of Namena. Tempted
by the lovely foliage which overhung the white sands and drooped right
over the water, we landed in search of some shelter which might act as
sleeping-quarters. After a long hunt, during which I cut my boots to
pieces on the rocky coral shore, we found a slightly projecting rock—a
poor shelter, but better than the hard deck. So we brought our mats
and pillows ashore and made nests for ourselves by the light of the
blazing fires at which the students did their cooking. Of course they
were as much delighted as ourselves to escape the night on board, and
their presence lent human interest to the scene, as they gathered in
picturesque groups round the fires, or knelt together in evening prayer.
The night proved tolerably fine, only a few heavy showers, which shot off
the rock just past our toes, so we were quite dry. And you know in these
favoured isles we have no fear of snakes or other noxious creatures; so
we slept in peace, knowing that nothing more hurtful than a wandering
crab could possibly assail us, and that he would run off in great fear
the moment he discovered what strange beings had invaded his isle.
Once more we embarked at dawn, and the wind blew us straight to this
port, which I exceedingly longed to see, but our destination was Taviuni;
so, much to my disgust, we tacked with the intention of crossing thither.
For several hours we battled with the breeze—weary hours of tossing
and sickness. We lost our main-topmast; and at last, finding that the
wind had driven us back to this desired haven, it was resolved that the
Langhams and myself should come ashore, and the vessel go on to Taviuni
with such of the party as were thither bound, and return for us. So an
hour later I found myself under this hospitable roof; but the Langhams
make it a rule always to live in native towns, in order to be amongst the
people. How I do revel in a fresh clean room all to myself, and abundance
of new milk and scones!
This place has a special interest on account of its boiling springs,—not
that they are striking in themselves, but because there are so few places
in the group where any trace of such phenomena is found. I have seen no
other boiling springs except those at Ngau, but I hear there are some at
Loma Loma, and there is a hot stream in Viti Levu called Wai Mbasanga.
Here, too, occasional shocks of earthquake suggest that volcanic action
is only dormant and may reawaken some day. The springs are quite boiling,
but (as was the case of those we saw on the isle of Ngau) a stream of
cold water flows close to them, and the people save themselves the
trouble of getting firewood by boiling all their food in the springs.
They take their crabs, bunches of bananas, yams or _taro_, wrap them up
in banana-leaves and deposit them in the boiling spring; then they go and
bathe some way off where the hot and cold streams have mixed, and return
to find their dinner ready cooked. The water tastes utterly disgusting
and very salt, but the food boiled in it is excellent; and the people
who bathe here are free from many diseases. There are springs all along
the shore for half a mile, just at high-water mark. The three principal
ones bubble up in a circle like a small crater. They are intermittent,
and the highest makes a fountain about two or three feet high. There used
to be about fifteen springs in this circle, and the people came from
far and near to cook their food, especially if they had any _bodies_ to
boil. But in 1863 Tui Wainoonoo, a neighbouring chief, came and besieged
the large strongly fortified town of Eroi further up the lake. He could
not take it, and raised the siege just when the defenders were reduced
to starvation, having only a few lemons for food. He, however, captured
sixteen men, and Ramasi-Alewa, the old lady to whom the springs belonged.
She was past seventy, and must have been very tough and smoke-dried;
but as in her young days she had been a regular Joan of Arc, leading
her tribe to battle, and herself fighting hand to hand with a hatchet,
he determined to eat her. So he had her cooked with the sixteen men,
and made a great feast; and then, to spite the people, before leaving
the district, he attempted to choke up all the springs—in which amiable
effort he partially succeeded.
These springs were also a favourite place for depositing all superfluous
babies, especially girls, who never got much of a welcome. They were
popped in alive like so many lobsters, and treated with quite as little
ceremony. I am told that there is an intermittent cold spring on a
conical hill on the opposite side of the harbour. Some of the hot springs
bubble up through the salt water below high-water mark.[39]
I think Savu Savu is about the prettiest place I have yet seen. The
harbour is so entirely enclosed by great hills that it is simply a salt
lake, dotted with many isles, all richly wooded—too richly, for they are
in consequence haunted by a plague of mosquitoes. Dr Mayo, who, you will
remember, was one of our party coming out, has such a conviction that the
hot springs will become important in course of time, that he has bought
one of these pretty islands and built himself a house on it. It is not
yet finished, and he is obliged to live at Khandavu as quarantine medical
officer, much to his disgust, as his object in coming to Fiji was the
hope of gaining large experience of native races. He brought out as his
assistant a college servant, who lives by himself on the island and takes
great charge of everything. I have just been across to see the unfinished
house and tastefully planned shrubberies of foreign plants; but the
island is infested by hordes of such vicious mosquitoes that I was fairly
driven away.
Of course we have made expeditions to all parts of the lovely lake,
beginning with the native town of Eroi, to see the fortified hill which
was so bravely defended. It is surrounded by very deep ditches, and
only accessible by a very narrow path overgrown with dense vines. The
thatched roofs of the village are half hidden by tall bananas and scarlet
hybiscus, orange and lemon trees: the latter are of the prickly sort,
which was planted near many fortifications as a natural defence. Another
day we sailed across the bay to visit friends who there own a large
plantation. Here we saw something of sugar-growing, sugar-crushing, and
rum-distilling; also fields of splendid pine-apples—by far the finest
we have seen in the isles. Turtles and pine-apples in abundance sound
well, do they not? But I fear they do not compensate for lack of beef and
mutton, and many another ordinary comfort.
I find that Captain Barrack is just sending a little schooner across
to Levuka, so I shall despatch this long journal to catch the mail. I
only wish it might give any of you a thousandth part of the amusement
which I have derived from the actual trip, notwithstanding all the
discomforts.—Your loving sister.