SANTO (continued)--PIGS
The sun had hardly risen, yet the air hung heavy in the shrubs
surrounding my sleeping-hut. Damp heat and light poured into the
shed-like room, where hundreds of flies and as many mosquitoes
sought an entrance into my mosquito-net. It was an atmosphere to sap
one's energy; not even the sunshine, so rare in these parts, had any
attraction for me, and only the long-drawn "Sail ho!" of the natives,
announcing the arrival of the steamer, had power to drive me out
of bed.
She soon came to anchor and sent a boat ashore, and when I entered
my host's house, I found some of the ship's officers there, ready for
business and breakfast. Probably to drown the touch of home-sickness
that the arrival of a steamer brings to those who are tied to the
islands, our host set about emptying his cellar with enthusiasm and
perseverance, while the visitors would have been satisfied with much
smaller libations, as they had many more stations to visit that day.
While the crew was loading the coprah and landing a quantity of goods,
the host started his beloved gramophone for the general benefit, and a
fearful hash of music drifted out into the waving palms. Presently some
one announces that the cargo is all aboard, whereupon the supercargo
puts down his paper and remarks that they are in a hurry. A famous
soprano's wonderful high C is ruthlessly broken off short, and we
all run to the beach and jump on the backs of boys, who carry us
dry-shod to the boat. We are rowed to the steamer, and presently
descend to the storeroom, which smells of calico, soap, tobacco and
cheese. Anything may be bought here, from a collar-button to a tin
of meat, from perfumery to a shirt, anything,--and sometimes even
the very thing one wants. We provide for the necessities of life for
the next month or two, hand over our mail and end our visit with a
drink. Then the whistle blows, we scramble into the boat, and while
my host waves his hat frantically and shouts "good-bye," the steamer
gradually disappears from sight. My friend has "a bad headache" from
all the excitement of the morning. I guide him carefully between the
cases and barrels the steamer has brought, and deposit him in his bunk;
then I retire to my own quarters to devour my mail.
Some days after this we went to see a "sing-sing" up north. We rowed
along the shore, and as my host was contributing a pig, we had the
animal with us. With legs and snout tightly tied, the poor beast lay
sadly in the bottom of the boat, occasionally trying to snap the feet
of the rowers. The sea and the wind were perfect, and we made good
speed; in the evening we camped on the beach. The next day was just
as fine; my host continued the journey by boat, while I preferred to
walk the short distance that remained, accompanied by the pig, whose
health did not seem equal to another sea-voyage in the blazing sun. It
was touching to see the tenderness with which the natives treated the
victim-elect, giving it the best of titbits, and urging it with the
gentlest of words to start on the walk. It was quite a valuable animal,
with good-sized tusks. After some hesitation the pig suddenly rushed
off, Sam, his keeper, behind. First it raced through the thicket,
which I did not like, so I proposed to Sam to pull the rope on the
energetic animal's leg; but Sam would not damp its splendid enthusiasm
for fear it might balk afterwards. Sam managed, however, to direct
it back into the path, but we had a most exhausting and exciting,
if interesting, walk, for the pig was constantly rushing, sniffing,
grunting and digging on all sides, so that Sam was entirely occupied
with his charge, and it was quite impossible to converse. At last
we proudly entered the village, and the beast was tied in the shade;
we separated, not to meet again till the hour of sacrifice.
I was then introduced to the host, a small but venerable old man,
who received me with dignified cordiality. We could not talk together,
but many ingratiating smiles assured each of the other's sympathy. The
village seemed extremely pleasant to me, which may have been due to
the bright sun and the cool breeze. The square was situated on the
beach, which sloped steeply to the sea. Along the ridge were planted
brightly-coloured trees, and between their trunks we could see the
ocean, heavenly blue. On the other side were the large, well-kept
gamals, and crowds of people in festival attire; many had come from
a distance, as the feast was to be a big one, with plenty to eat
for everybody.
Palo, the host, was very busy looking after his guests and giving each
his share of good things. He was a most good-natured, courteous old
gentleman, although his costume consisted of nothing but a few bunches
of ferns. The number of guests increased steadily; besides the real
heathen in unadorned beauty, there were half-civilized Christians,
ugly in ill-fitting European clothes, of which they were visibly vain,
although they made blots on the beautiful picture of native life. All
around the square grunted the tusked pigs.
At noon four men gave the signal for the beginning of the festivities
by beating two big drums, which called the guests to dinner. Palo
had sent us a fowl cooked native fashion between hot stones, and,
like everything cooked in this way, it tasted very delicious. Shortly
afterwards the real ceremonies began, with the killing of about two
hundred young female pigs which had been kept in readiness in little
bamboo sheds.
Accompanied by the drums, Palo led all the high-castes in dancing
steps out of the gamal and round the square. After a few turns the
chiefs drew up in line in front of him, and he mounted a stone table,
while everyone else kept on dancing. His favourite wife was next
to the table, also dancing. Palo was entirely covered with ferns,
which were stuck in his hair, his bracelets and his belt. He still
looked quite venerable, but with a suggestion of a faun, a Bacchus or
a Neptune. It was a warm day, and the dancing made everybody perspire
more than freely.
Now one of the other men took hold of a little pig by the hind-legs and
threw it in a lofty curve to one of the dancing chiefs, who caught the
little animal, half stunned by the fall, and, still dancing, carried
it to Palo, who killed it by three blows on the head, whereupon it
was laid at his feet. This went on for a long time. It was a cruel
sight. Squealing and shrieking, the poor animals flew through the
air, fell heavily on the hard earth, and lay stunned or tried to
crawl away with broken backs or legs. Some were unhurt, and ran off,
but a bloodthirsty crowd was after them with clubs and axes, and soon
brought them back. Still, one man thought this troublesome, and broke
the hind-legs of each pig before throwing it to the chief, so that
it might not escape. It was horrible to see and hear the bones break,
but the lust for blood was upon the crowd, and on all sides there were
passionate eyes, distorted faces and wild yells. Happily the work was
soon done, and in front of Palo lay a heap of half-dead, quivering
animals. He and his wife now turned their backs to the assembly, while
a few high-castes counted the corpses. For each ten one lobe was torn
off a sicca-leaf, then the missing lobes were counted, and after a
puzzling calculation, the result was announced. Palo turned round
and descended from his pedestal with much dignity, though panting
from his exertions, and looking so hot that I feared an apoplexy
for the old man. I did not know how tough such an old heathen is,
nor that his efforts were by no means at an end. Noblesse oblige and
such high caste as Palo's is not attained without trouble.
As female pigs may not be eaten, those just killed were thrown into
the sea by the women; meanwhile, the chiefs blew a loud blast on the
shell-bugles, to announce to all concerned that Palo's first duty was
accomplished. The deep yet piercing tones must have sounded far into
the narrow valleys round.
Then poles were driven into the ground, to which the tusked pigs were
tied. Some were enormous beasts, and grunted savagely when anyone
came near them. I saw my companion of the morning lying cheerfully
grunting in the shade of a tree. Now came a peculiar ceremony, in
which all who had contributed pigs were supposed to take part. To my
disappointment, Mr. F. refused to join in. Palo took up his position
on the stone table, armed with a club. Out of a primitive door,
hastily improvised out of a few palm-leaves, the chiefs came dancing
in single file, swinging some weapon, a spear or a club. Palo jumped
down, danced towards them, chased each chief and finally drove them,
still dancing, back through the door. This evidently symbolized some
fight in which Palo was the victor. After having done this about
twenty times, Palo had to lead all the chiefs in a long dance across
the square, passing in high jumps between the pigs. After this he
needed a rest, and no wonder. Then the pigs were sacrificed with
mysterious ceremonies, the meaning of which has probably never been
penetrated. The end of it all was that Palo broke the pigs' heads
with a special club, and when night fell, twenty-six "tuskers" lay
agonizing on the ground. Later they were hung on trees, to be eaten
next day, and then everybody retired to the huts to eat and rest.
Some hours later great fires were kindled at both ends of the square,
and women with torches stood all around. The high-castes opened the
ball, but there was not much enthusiasm, and only a few youngsters
hopped about impatiently, until their spirits infected some older
people, and the crowd increased, so that at last everybody was raving
in a mad dance. The performance is monotonous: some men with pan-pipes
bend down with their heads touching, and blow with all their might,
always the same note, marking time with their feet. Suddenly one gives
a jump, others follow, and then the whole crowd moves a number of
times up and down the square, until the musicians are out of breath,
when they come to a standstill. The excitement goes on until the sun
rises. The women, as a rule, keep outside the square, but they dance
too, and keep it up all night; now and then a couple disappears into
the darkness.
Next morning Palo, who had hardly closed his eyes all night, was very
busy again, giving each guest his due share of the feast. The large
pigs were dressed, cut up and cooked. This work lasted all day, but
everybody enjoyed it. The dexterity and cleanliness with which the
carcases are divided is astonishing, and is quite a contrast to the
crude way in which native meals are usually dressed and devoured. We
whites received a large and very fat slice as a present, which we
preferred to pass on, unnoticed, to our boys. Fat is considered the
best part of the pig.
The lower jaws of the tuskers were cut out separately and handed over
to Palo, to be cleaned and hung up in his gamal in the shape of a
chandelier, as tokens of his rank.
Palo is a weather-maker. When we prepared to go home, he promised to
smooth the sea, which was running too high for comfort, and to prevent
a head-wind. We were duly grateful, and, indeed, all his promises were
fulfilled: we had a perfectly smooth sea, and such a dead calm that
between the blue sky and the white sea we nearly fainted, and had to
row wearily along instead of sailing. Just as we were leaving, Palo
came to the bank, making signs for us to come back, a pretty custom,
although it is not always meant sincerely.
Late at night we arrived at home once more.