KAVA AND THE SIVA
The principal difference between the dance in Samoa and in the
other island groups of the South Pacific is that in the former it is
an institution and in the latter--in recent times--an incidental. In
years gone by the dance was an integral part of the life of every
South Sea people, but through missionary and governmental
influence it has practically been killed everywhere but in the Samoas.
That the missionary alone could never have accomplished this the
instance of these islands shows, for while the missionary's influence
is no less potent there than in a number of other groups, the dance
has survived his active opposition through the fact that the American
government has not put its official bans upon it, as have the British
in Fiji and the French in the Societies and Marquesas. The _siva_ is
as much a part of Samoan life today as it was in the time of La
Perouse and the first missionaries, and as one of the few unaltered
survivals of ancient times it is sincerely to be hoped that it will
remain so.
As I have pointed out in writing of the dance in Tahiti, it is only
on the rarest of occasions that one may see anything approaching
the "real" _hula_ in that island, and this is also true of the ancient
dances of Hawaii, the Marquesas, Tongas, Fijis and all of the other
South Sea islands. This is partly due to their having been repressed
as immoral, and partly to the fact that, as the years go by, there are
fewer and fewer natives who can perform the intricate movements
of the old dances. In Samoa, however, there is no evidence of the
decadence of this traditional adjunct of native expression, though
certain of the grosser features of the _siva_ are no longer seen
except in out-of-the-way interior villages. This is just as well,
perhaps, for it is these particular features of the dance that have
brought it into disrepute in other South Sea groups and ultimately
resulted in governmental interference. It is these so-called indecent
movements of the _siva_ upon which the Samoan missionaries have
based their opposition to their dance, and through their gradual
elimination at a time that a gradual broadening of the missionary
mind is also apparent, it is not impossible that a still beautiful and
uncommercialized siva may yet exist peacefully in the islands by
the side of those who have hitherto steadfastly endeavoured to
extirpate it as a thing accursed.
The interesting thing about the _siva_--and this is also true of the
Samoan himself--is that it is as it always was. Certain movements may
not be danced in certain villages out of deference to the feelings of
the missionary or because the native himself has modified his ideas
respecting their propriety, but, by and large through the islands, the
_siva-siva_ remains as it has ever been, perhaps the most beautiful
and perfect interpretative dance given to the world by any race in
history. The visitor who is entertained by a chief of Tutuila, Upolou
or Savaii with _kava_ drinking and a _siva-siva_ may know that it was
not in materially different fashion that, a century and a quarter ago,
the Samoans of that time received the officers of the _Astrolabe_ and
_Boussle_ in the great round of feasting which preceded the
unfortunate events leading up to the tragedy of Massacre Bay. The
public offering of the women to the god-like visitors on this occasion
was a thing without parallel, perhaps, in modern history, but except
in that one particular the Samoan _kava_ and dancing ceremonies
for distinguished visitors has probably undergone no change
whatever.
It is impossible to write of the _siva_ without mentioning _kava_,
and as the drinking of this almost distinctively Samoan beverage is
an invariable prelude to every dance, reception, parley or any native
gathering of whatever character, it may be in order here to tell
something of what it is and of how it is prepared and partaken.
The _kava_ plant belongs to the pepper family. It is bushy in
appearance, and the leaves, dark green and heart-shaped, are about
the size of one's two hands. The stems are knotted and crooked, with
joints every two or three inches. The plant is useful only between its
third and fifth years, the wood being too pulpy before that time, and
afterwards, too pithy and tasteless. Both stems and root are used in
the preparation of the beverage, these being cut into lengths of three
or four inches and split longitudinally to secure even drying in the
sun. Properly prepared, it is light and pithy and of a whitish colour.
The _kava_ plant grows in nearly every island of the South Pacific,
and two or three generations ago the beverage from it was in universal
use throughout those latitudes. Today it is only drunk by the Samoans
and here and there in Fiji. Why it should have fallen into disuse
elsewhere is not entirely clear, for except in endeavouring to
discourage the preparation of the root by the old method of chewing,
neither officials nor missionaries have actively opposed _kava_ drinking.
The fact that the use of _kava_ has ceased most completely in those
groups in which, like the Marquesas, Societies and Hawaiias, the
natives have become strongly addicted to the use of alcoholic stimulants,
either of their own or foreign manufacture, would point to the growing
use of the latter as the probable reason for the loss of taste for the
former. Although the Fijian native is far from being a teetotaler, the
unusual power of the missionary in that group has undoubtedly
prevented him from giving himself up to the toddy habit as completely
as have his cousins of the Marquesas and Societies. The Samoan drinks
less, and seems to care less for alcoholic stimulants than any other
South Sea native, but whether this is due to the universal use of _kava_,
or whether the universal use of _kava_ is due to the fact that the toddy
habit has never attained a foothold in his island, would be hard to say.
The fact remains that the Samoan is a keen, clean liver, and that his
_kava_, if it has not been an actual factor in developing his splendid
physical powers, at least has been responsible for nothing comparable
to the mental and moral havoc wrought by the insidious toddy in the
other islands.
Although the Samoan drinks _kava_ on any and all occasions that he
can get some one to make it for him, yet the special function of that
beverage is ceremonial. It figures in all formal gatherings, but is,
perhaps, most indispensable to the reception of guests, on which
occasions the prescribed ceremonial procedure varies no whit in the
houses of the highest and the lowest. The moment the visitors to a
native house are seated, the guest of highest rank, or the one whom
it is desired especially to honour, is presented with three or four
pieces of dried kava. These he perfunctorily inspects, pronounces
prime, and tosses to the _taupo_--the official virgin of the village
whose duty it is to look after the entertainment of strangers--who
forthwith commences the preparation of the drink. It is at this
point in the original _kava_ ceremony that the _taupo_ proceeded
to masticate the bits of root and stem to a proper consistency to be
dissolved in water, but this part of the "recipe" is no longer followed
amongst the enlightened natives of the coastal villages, to whom the
risks of spreading infection by such a practice have been thoroughly
brought home. It is customary now to grind the root to a powder
between two flat stones, although on two or three occasions I have
seen ordinary perforated graters used. When thoroughly reduced,
the pulverized root is thrown into the _kava_ bowl and covered
with cold water from a calabash which is held ready by one of the
handmaidens.
The _kava_ bowl is an important factor in the ceremony. It is hewn
from a single piece of wood, and is usually between eighteen inches
and three feet in diameter and from three to five inches deep. It
preserves its equilibrium with the aid of a periphery of legs running
around the outside, these varying in number from four on a small bowl
belonging to a person of no especial consequence to ten on the bowl
of a chief. They are made on the island of Savaii, there being no trees
of a suitable nature on any of the other islands of the group. Just as a
pipe gathers "colour" from smoking, so does a _kava_ bowl accumulate
a rich layer of golden enamel through frequent use. A deeply enameled
bowl, on account of the traditions associated with it, is almost
priceless. The true _kava_ bowl is severely plain and unornamented; a
carved or "beaded" border is a sure sign of manufacture for the tourist
trade.
When there is sufficient water in the bowl to make enough drink for all
present, the _taupo_ dips in with both hands and begins squeezing the
ground _kava_ through her fingers in order that all of the strength
will pass into solution. This operation continues until the floating
particles are tasteless when dabbed on the tip of the tongue of the
_taupo_, who then proceeds with the straining. This is accomplished
with the aid of a sheaf of fibre from the inner bark of the hibiscus
tree, called a _fau_. This contrivance, which is very similar in form
to that invaluable aid-to-beauty called a "switch," though somewhat
complicated to manipulate, seems to accomplish its purpose very
thoroughly. The fibres are swept around the surface of the liquid in
the bowl and brought down from all sides at once to a bunch at the
deepest point, where it is folded over onto itself in such a manner as
to gather and hold all of the root particles with which it comes in
contact. After the liquid is squeezed back into the bowl, the _fau_
is passed by the _taupo_ to an attendant who shakes out the fibre
with a single quick flirt under a raised coco-leaf curtain. Three or
four repetitions of this operation clear the liquid in the bowl, and
after giving the _fau_ a final shake--a sinuous spiral swish above her
head--the _taupo_ casts it aside and informs the host that the _kava_
is ready.
Upon this announcement the host passes the news on to the guests by
striking the palms of his hands together with a long stiff-armed swing.
This is at once taken up by every one in the house, and for a few
moments there is a round of dignified and somewhat perfunctory
clapping. Then the _Tulafele_ or "Talking Chief," who acts as a sort of
toast-master, launches into a flowery speech extolling the virtues of the
guests, which he concludes by calling for an _epu_ of _kava_ for the
visitor first in rank. The _epu_, a cup made of the half of a coconut
shell, is then held over the bowl by the head handmaiden, whose duty
it is to act as cup-bearer. The _taupo_ takes up the _fau_ with another
flourish, sops it into the _kava_ and squeezes out the saturated fibres
over the waiting _epu_. Holding this head high, the bearer advances
across the mats to the personage designated by the _tulafele_ and puts
it, with a scooping gesture, into his hand. As the proffered cup is
accepted, she steps backward to her original station beside the _taupo_.
The guest, on receiving the _kava_, bows to the Chief and other
dignitaries, and, with the word "_man'uia_,"--the equivalent of
"To your health"--drinks it at a single draught. The _epu_ is then
returned to the bearer by spinning it across the mat to her feet.
The _Tulafele_ now calls the name of the guest next in rank, and the
ceremony is repeated, this continuing until all have been served.
There are no "second helpings."
The genealogy and rank of all Samoans are so well known that,
amongst themselves, there is no question in determining the order of
precedence in drinking. With foreigners present, however, the matter
of rank is a complicated one. Unless a native of supreme rank, like
Maatafa of Apia, who was nearer our idea of a king than any other
Samoan, is to be served, it is customary to offer the first drink of
_kava_ to the most distinguished of the visitors, the next to the
highest chief, the next to the second most important visitor, and so
by alternation. When the almost sacred Mataafa was present, however,
etiquette required that he be served first, and always from his own
special _epu_, out of which no other was ever allowed to drink.
The hitting off of the correct order of foreign visitors, especially
where several different nationalities are present, is a trying task
for the _tulafale_, and, except on very formal occasions where inquiry
is made beforehand, many amusing "reversals" occur. Several times,
probably because I happened to bulk somewhat more largely against
the sky-line--the Samoan, unless he stops to think, is almost sure to
place brawn before brain--I was presented with the initial _epu_ of
_kava_ in advance of the Commodore, and at one informal little party
the both of us were passed over in favour of our gigantic bo'sun, Gus,
who, with the easy, indolent assurance of the Viking from whom he was
descended, was leaning against the post of the house, a passive
spectator. On this, as on all other occasions, however, the Commodore
and I had the consolation of being served before the Mater and Claribel.
The Samoan is not exactly a Turk in the matter of women, but he takes
care that they never stand in his own light.
The _tulafale_ never calls a guest by his name in designating him for a
drink of _kava_, but by some euphemistic appellation that is intended
to be, and usually is, complimentary. The Commodore was always some
variation of "The Great One Who Comes in His Own Ship." The Mater
was usually something akin to "The Bright New Moon of the Great One,"
but once, when we brought her in to a _talolo_ at Apia after a stormy
passage from Tutuila, she displayed so much individuality as to inspire
the observant _tulafale_ to bestow a title all her own. "Take the _kava_
to 'The Beautiful One Who is Sad Because of the Rocking of the Boat,'"
ordered that autocrat of the _epu_, the translation of which so tickled
the risibilities of the ever-resilient Mater that the look of sadness
passed and the title lost its point forthwith. Claribel drew down an
assorted lot of titles, among them being "The Watchful One," "The
White _Taupo_" and, one day when she was wearing her _pince nez_,
"The Four-Eyed One."
Whenever the Commodore was present--except on the two or three
occasions when they mixed us up and served me first--I was always
hailed as some kind of satellite of the "Great One." When appearing
independently I was served under a number of nondescript titles, the
most notable among which was one bestowed at a small village on the
leeward side of Tutuila which I visited with my friend, Judge Gurr. The
first cup on this occasion was presented to the Judge, the second to
the village chief, and as the third was filled the single magic word,
"Tusitala!" fell from the lips of the "Master of Ceremonies."
"A cup to the memory of the beloved Stevenson!" I told myself, a
possible explanation of which flashed to my mind with the dawning
recollection that the village, Fauga-sa, under a slightly altered name,
had figured as the scene of one of the novelist's best stories. Athrill
with interest, I waited expectantly, keen on missing no detail of the
pretty observance, when, lo!--the brown Hebe of the _kava_ cup came
mincing across the mat and, with a sweep and flourish of her graceful
arm, held the _epu_ poised in front of my vacantly grinning face.
'"What's this for? Do they take me for a reincarnation of Stevenson?" I
cried excitedly to the Judge, quite forgetting in the excitement of the
moment what the etiquette of the occasion demanded.
"Drink the _kava_!" he admonished in an anxious undertone, not a little
embarrassed by so flagrant a _faux pas_ on the part of one for whom he
was standing sponsor; "I'll explain in a moment."
I drained the coco shell of its spicy contents at a gulp, twirled it
back to the _taupo_, and, as the latter began filling it for the next
drink, turned inquiringly to my companion.
"No, they didn't confuse you with Stevenson," said the Judge dryly.
"I merely explained to the _tulafale_, when he asked, that you were a
scribbler of sorts, and because the nearest equivalent to that in the
Samoan language is a 'Teller of Tales,' he hailed you as _Tusitala_
when your turn for the _kava_ arrived."
* * * * *
Every Samoan child begins to practise some of the simpler _sivas_ as
soon as it is old enough to notice what is going on about it, and
although only the _taupos_ and their maids are schooled in the more
intricate movements of the dance, the girls of almost any household can
furnish a very diverting evening's entertainment on a moment's notice.
For these to refuse to dance for a stranger, even a passing wayfarer
who has dropped in for an hour's rest, would be as bad as refusing him
a drink of _kava_, and that is unthinkable. _Kava_ and the _siva_ are
the Samoans' symbols of hospitality, from the lowest to the highest.
The beautiful symmetry of development which characterizes all Samoan
girls--and especially the _taupos_--is due to the fact that their only
exercises are dancing, walking, swimming and paddling, in all of which
the muscles are used in long, easy, sweeping movements. In no Samoan
dance is there anything comparable to the stiff-muscled toe-work and
the frozen posturing of the modern French ballet, nor yet anything
similar to the frenzied acrobatics of the Russian. There is abandon at
times--reeling, rollicking, riotous abandon--but the motion of it flows
and undulates and ripples in fluent rhythm like the current of a swift
but unbroken river rapid. Who has not seen the _siva_ has not realized
the full meaning of the expressions "Poetry of Motion" and "Enchantment
of Gesture." The grace of it is so complete, so perfect, so satisfying,
that one cannot but feel that the Samoan, having failed to develop the
arts of painting and sculpture, has concentrated all of his being in
expressing his soul through his body.
The _siva_ is natural because it expresses things that are natural. The
heave of the sea, the rush of the surf, the rocking of a canoe, the
swaying of the trees, the ripple of a stream, the movements of swimming
and paddling and the ecstasies of love, all of which are reflected in
the _siva_, are things of the dancers' daily life. The gyrations of the
_première danseuse_ on the tips of her toes suggests nothing of heaven
or earth, but because the Samoan has taken his inspiration from himself
and his surroundings, his dances are beautiful and normal. And as the
dance, so the dancer. Because the movements of the _siva_ are natural,
the body of the _taupo_ is natural. She is one fluent ripple of lithe
flexibility from toe-tip to finger-tip, with no suggestions of the
knotted muscles which disfigure the back and legs of a ballet dancer.
On the occasion of great feasts or celebrations, where large crowds
are present, it is customary to dance the _siva_ out-of-doors and in
the daytime. The performers at such times are usually numerous and as
spectacles the dances are, perhaps, more striking than the in-door
_sivas_. This does not compensate, however, for the fact that most of
the seductive charm of movement is lost in the glare of the sunlight,
for what in the flickering torch or lamp-light is subtle allurement, in
the daytime becomes bald suggestion. To catch the spirit of the _siva_,
then, one should see it by torchlight or moonlight, or in a blending of
them both.
On formal occasions the _siva_ is danced at the conclusion of the
_kava_ ceremony. At these times there is usually a battery of
deep-toned wooden drums provided, and to the pulsing throb of these
and the sounding slaps of open palms upon bare thighs, the _siva_
begins. The opening number is almost invariably a "sitting-down" dance,
which is led by the _taupo_ with a flanking of three or four of her maids
on either side. For the first few moments it strikes you only as queer,
the odd posturing of the garlanded, cross-legged figures, with their
weavings and inter-weavings of arms and the rhythmic writhings of
the glistening brown bodies. But presently it is as though the pulse
of your being is beginning to beat to the throb of the drumming, and
there comes a feeling of having breathed the seductive atmosphere of
oil-steeped gardenia blossoms since the dawn of time. Unconsciously
your hands begin striking upon your not unresponsive duck-clad thighs
in unison with the blows of your neighbours, instinctively you try to
blend your tremulous hum with their chesty chanting, and presently
you have caught the spirit of the _siva_, and begin to yield yourself to,
then to delight in, and finally to exult in its subtle seductions.
Then you realize that every muscle, every fibre, every nerve, every
drop of blood in the gleaming red-bronze figure in the penumbra of the
lamp glow is dancing. Then you know that the pirouette of that shapely
chorus lady who entranced you so that last night at the Winter Garden
was only a kick, a thrusting out of a snugly-stockinged, well-turned
calf. But here where a member is moved it is dancing on its own account
as it goes; there is motion within motion, and still more motion within
that motion. Those gently swaying knees are only beating time to the
throb of the drums, but in that rippling run of plastic muscles beneath
the glistening skin there is a message that not the sprightliest and
plumpest of Broadway favourites could kick across the foot-lights in a
whole evening.
But the "sitting" _sivas_ are essentially dances of the arms; and never
were seen such arms as in Samoa. Plump without being fat, muscled
without being muscular, all contour, softness and dimples, no fitter
or fairer instruments of physical expression were ever fashioned. The
_taupo_ takes the lead and her motions are followed by the others as
though reflected in mirrors. Now the arms are fluttering out to one
side like twin streamers whipping in the wind, now they are pressed
close together along the side as though wielding a paddle, now they
are upraised as in supplication, now opened in invitation, now thrown
out in rebuff. The firmly-moulded breasts twinkle out and disappear
again behind the swishing flower garlands and the froth of flying arms.
[Illustration: THE SITTING _Sivas_ ARE ESSENTIALLY DANCES
OF THE ARMS]
[Illustration: "NEVER WERE SEEN SUCH ARMS AS IN SAMOA"]
The lamp glow flashes on the glistening undulant bodies, high-light and
shadow playing hide-and-seek in the dimples of cheek and shoulder and
bosom as they bend and sway to the drone of the drums. Swift lances
of light dart across thigh and shoulder, fluttering pennons of light
streak down the tremulous arms, coruscant streamers of light shimmer
along the lacquered leaves of the garlands. It is a poem of light and
motion, the incarnation of a transcript from a volume of ancient verse.
Describe the _siva_! Not till I've proved my right to attempt it by
painting the lily and gilding refinéd gold. It is a perfect thing of
its kind, and that is enough to know.
So far as I know the Samoans do not attempt anything in the way of
mimetic dances on the elaborate scale of those I have described as
"staged" in the ancient crater in Tahiti. They do, however, have dances
descriptive of harvesting coconuts, canoe races and swimming, while
"duel" dances, in which the performers go through the motions of combat
with native war knives, are features of nearly every _siva_. The Samoan
is no less ready than the Tahitian to take advantage of the theatric
effects at his disposal, and in the "standing" dances no _taupo_ ever
fails to make the most of the allurement of flitting in and out of
patches of moonlight or torchlight and piquing the interest of the
audience by pretending to reveal more of her charms when sheltered by
the translucent curtain of the shadows.
My one most haunting memory of South Sea dancing is of the
"swimming" _siva_ as performed by a tantalizing minx of a _taupo_ in
the ghostly half-light of a grotto on the leeward shore of Tutuila. With
a single native boy to act as guide and interpreter, I was proceeding by
canoe and on foot from Judge Gurr's plantation at Mala-toa to Leone,
on the opposite side of the island, to witness a game of native cricket.
Wet, cramped and tired from three hours of steady bailing with my
camera case in a dilapidated "outrigger" which had threatened to
disintegrate at every lurch, we landed late in the afternoon at a tiny
hamlet near the west end of the island and sought the Chief's house
for rest and refreshment. Adept in the art of reviving flagging warriors,
an elderly dame--the duenna of the _taupo_--took my tired head in her
motherly lap after the native custom, made a few passes along neck
and shoulder muscles with her soft magnetic fingers, and I dropped off
into a deep sleep which was not broken till a round of clapping
announced that _kava_ was ready. I had heard of the magic of
_loma-loma_ in Hawaii, but this was my first opportunity to verify the
claim that an hour of sleep induced by it was equal to an ordinary
night's rest.
Feeling refreshed and fit but still drowsy, I called to Tofa to put
my things together and get ready to take the road to Leone as soon
as the _kava_ drinking was over, hoping by a prompt start to avoid
being caught in the bush after nightfall. The boy heard, but did not
move from his Buddha-like pose against the rose-violet flare of the
sunset.
"Fanua say that she will make swimmin' _siva-siva_ on beach by'n'by if
you stop tonight," he remarked inconsequentially, with his eyes fixed
dreamily where the distant peaks of Upolou were thinning in the
evening haze. "Fanua ver' fine gal."
"Who's Fanua?" I queried sleepily, beginning to drowse again as the
magic fingers renewed their caressing pressure on my brow.
"Fanua _taupo_ this villige. Ver' fine gal," Tofa replied, with the
suspicion of a smile lurking at the corners of his handsome month.
My sleepy gaze wandered across to the mistress of the _kava_ bowl.
Surely that was not a "ver' fine gal," I told myself. I blinked and
looked again. She was middle-aged and fat. Then I rubbed my eyes hard
and tried to recall where I had seen that broad, good-natured face
before. Ah--the duenna whose lap held my head when I dropped off to
sleep! But how could that be when her lap was still under my head and
her fingers stroking my temples? Perhaps she had a twin. I gave my eyes
a final dig and turned them upwards. A lady's lap is not the point of
vantage that a connoisseur would choose from which to get the most
favourable view of her face, but--yes, Tofa undoubtedly was right.
Fanua was certainly a "ver' fine gal," quite the finest I had seen in
all these "Isles of Fair Women."
"We will start for Leone at sunrise," I directed Tofa, and sat up and
emptied the proffered _kava_ cup according to the dictates of Samoan
etiquette.
It seems that the duty of _loma-loma_-ing the brows of tired
wayfarers is a duty of the _taupo_ which takes precedence even of
_kava_-making, so that on the arrival of the hastily-summoned
Fanua--I being then asleep--the transfer of laps was made, the
duenna substituting as drink-mixer.
We pooled the contents of my knapsack and the chiefly larder and
dined sumptuously on canned salmon, breadfruit-_pate-de-foie-gras_
sandwiches, boiled taro, shrimps and bananas. This over, we smoked
cigarettes--mine, all of a three-day supply--and when darkness had
fallen, guided by a hunchback with a torch, set out for the dancing
place by the sea. We did not stop on the smooth crescent of beach, as
I had anticipated, but continued along to where it joined a cliffy
promontory and gave way to a jumble of crags and rocks, against
which dashed the full force of a tumultuous surf.
The night was starry but moonless. By the light of the sputtering
candle-nut brand in the hand of the dwarf and an occasional spurt of
phosphorescence from a shattering wave, we followed the well-worn
path up among the crags to where it seemed to come to an end at an
opening in the rock scarcely larger than the man-hole of an underground
conduit. The hollow mutter of the sea welled up from the cavernous
depths, but without pausing the hunchback dropped confidently in,
showering his knotted bronze shoulders with sparks in the quick
descent. Just long enough for me to clamber down beside him he held
the torch, then sent it spinning, trailed by a comet-like wake of
embers, over a ledge to be doused in the water which plashed below. In
Stygian darkness, I was listening to the soft thuds of the feet of my
companions as, one by one, they dropped down from above, when
suddenly there came a crash against the seaward side of the grotto,
a swirling rush of phosphorescent water rushed in and, against the
fluttering waves of blue-green light that played upon the rocky walls,
appeared the lithe brown body of Fanua weaving in the undulating
sinuosities of the "swimming" _siva_.
I had just time to note that the lovely little _taupo_, unadorned
by official head-dress or garlands, was dancing only in a scant
_lava-lava_ of _tappa_ which encircled her waist in a precarious
fringe, when the light died down and the swimming _siva_ became for
the moment a dusky silhouette against the jagged patch of star-studded
purple which marked the seaward opening of the grotto. Then a soft
hand sought mine and I was led through the darkness to where a thick
stack of smooth mats had been piled, upon which the members of our
little party were beginning to settle at their ease. As I lounged back
luxuriously upon the springy pandanus, Tofa came wriggling in on one
side to "make talk" for me, as he explained, while on the other gentle
fingers--the mates of the guiding ones that still held my right hand
in their unrelinquishing clasp--patted my cheek to soft and iterated
murmurs of "_alofa oi_," "I like you."
"Tell the young lady on my right," I began to Tofa--and then, all
unheralded, the wonder befell.
Fanua was still swimming in graceful pantomime across the purple
star-patch, when a crash louder than the previous one sounded against
the outer wall and the mouth of the opening was blotted by the
advancing wave. Again came the flutters of tremulous light upon the
dark walls, quickly to be followed by a deep-mouthed gurgling growl
from immediately beneath the ledge on which we reclined. Then there
was a quick rush of damp air in the grotto, and, with a great "whouf!"
a bright fountain of phosphorescent spray was projected from a small
hole in the rocky floor immediately in front of the swaying _taupo_.
Evidently this phenomenon, which occurred only with the largest
waves, had been awaited by both audience and dancer. Rhythmic smiting
of thighs began as the growls broke out below, and to this, and the
beating of a drum improvised from a rolled mat, Fanua leapt into the
jet of spouting golden mist and, for the four or five seconds during
which it played, lashed out in that climacteric movement of the
swimming _siva_ in which the dancer is supposed to be riding the crest
of a rushing comber. Flailing arms and flying hair represented the
eddying foam, while quick, jerking forward movements of the shoulders
gave the suggestion of impulse to a body that never moved from the
heart of the floating cloud of luminous mist. One supreme flutter of
tremulous movement, rippling up from the toes and running out at the
finger tips as a series of waves of motion pulse down a shaken rope,
told that the swimmer had slid from her wave-crest to the waters of the
still lagoon. The jet died down as the pressure from below was released
by the receding wave, but the swaying body, lined with glittering
runlets of pale phosphorescence, continued to vibrate in silhouette
across the star-gleams shot from the patch of heavens beyond the
grotto's seaward mouth.
The jet of spray was due to the presence of a "blow-hole" in the
grotto. Under the ledge which we occupied was another cave--a cavern
within a cavern--and when the latter was filled by the wash from a
wave the compressed air forced a jet of spume up through the small
vent opening into the main grotto. The unusual brightness of the
luminous fountain was due, doubtless, partly to the darkness and
partly to the fact that a heavy scum of phosphorescence had
accumulated in the lower cavern.
[Illustration: FANUA, WHO DANCED THE SWIMMING _Siva_
BY THE LIGHT OF THE PHOSPHORESCENT WAVES]
[Illustration: DANCER WITH HEAD KNIFE]
Fanua reeled on through some of the quieter movements of the swimming
_siva_ in the weird blue-green glow of the half-dozen waves that came
before another one big enough to start the "blow-hole" spouting arrived
again. As the latter gave its premonitory growl, the shadow of a second
figure appeared beside her and Tofa announced that "Fanua now dance
'Shark-he-chase-her' _siva-siva_."
Into the jet of golden mist launched "shark" and "swimmer" as the
fountain began to play, weaving about each other in the movements of
flight and pursuit. The "shark" darted and dashed and strove to seize,
and the "swimmer" ducked and doubled and eluded, all within the circle
of the drifting particles of glowing spray. Under, over and around each
other they floated like frightened gold-fish in a globe, arms, legs
and bodies weaving evanescent webs of shimmering brightness but never
seeming to touch. Till the last luminous puff from the "blow-hole" they
danced thus, and then, as the flickering jet died low, there came a
ringing shriek, the lambent light streaks of the reeling bodies seemed
to meet and mingle, and--whether by accident or intent I could not
tell--went plunging over the ledge into the receding welter of light
below.
My gasp of consternation was not echoed by the rest of the company.
Most of them were laughing and chattering as though the "plunge to the
depths" was the regular finale, and Tofa seemed to think that his laconic
comment of "He shark he take her," was all that the occasion called for.
And so it proved. Before another jet had spouted there came two soft
thuds on the floor of the ledge, while a ripple of silvery laughter and a
shower of dewy drops from a couple of vigorously shaken heads told
that "shark" and "swimmer," having circled around through the surf to
the beach and dropped down to the grotto through the back entrance,
were waiting for the cavernous growl from beneath to sound the cue
for the next number.
* * * * *
As in its sister dance, the _hula_, there always comes a stage in
the _siva_ which is not subject to the restraining influence of the
presence of dignitaries, where even impressionistic description must
cease, so on this occasion I have deemed it meet that the "dead-line"
should be drawn at the finale of the "Shark-he-chase-her" number. I
trust I have recorded enough, however, to make it clear that Tofa's
suggestion to stay over and see that "ver' fine gal," Fanua, dance the
swimming _siva_ was not an unwarranted one.