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          <figure xml:id="GraIntr-Fco">
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            <figDesc>Front Cover</figDesc>
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            <figDesc>Back Cover</figDesc>
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      <div type="halftitle" xml:id="_N65636">
        <head>AN INTRODUCTION TO SAMOAN CUSTOM</head>
        <p/>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="ni"/>
      <titlePage xml:id="_N65654">
        <docTitle>
          <titlePart type="main">AN INTRODUCTION TO SAMOAN CUSTOM</titlePart>
        </docTitle>
        <byline><docAuthor rend="center">F. J. H. GRATTAN</docAuthor>
(<hi rend="i">Diploma in Anthropology, Cambridge</hi>)<lb/>
SECRETARY OF SAMOAN AFFAIRS, WESTERN SAMOA</byline>
        <docImprint rend="center"><title><figure xml:id="GraIntr-001"><graphic url="GraIntr-001.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="GraIntr-001-g"/></figure></title><publisher>R. McMILLAN<lb/>
PUBLISHER</publisher><pubPlace>40 President Avenue, Papakura, New Zealand</pubPlace>
COPYRIGHT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<lb/><lb/>
<pb xml:id="nii"/>
<hi rend="i">First Published in <date when="1948">1948</date><lb/><lb/>
Reprinted <date when="1985">1985</date><lb/><lb/>
R. McMillan – Publisher<lb/>
40 President Avenue, Papakura, New Zealand<lb/><lb/>
F.J. Grattan <date when="1948">1948</date><lb/><lb/><lb/>
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without prior permission of the publisher.<lb/><lb/>
ISBN 0-908712-13-8<lb/><lb/>
Printed and bound by Southern Bookbinding<lb/>
Box 313 Papakura</hi>
</docImprint>
      </titlePage>
      <pb xml:id="niii"/>
      <div type="preface" xml:id="_N65760">
        <head>PREFACE</head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">In May</hi>, <date when="1942">1942</date>, shortly after the arrival of American forces in the Territory, the Department of Samoan Affairs was asked to prepare notes on elementary Samoan custom for the information of United States personnel. The pamphlet prepared at that time has since proved useful to visitors and other new-comers, and in view of numerous requests for information, it has lately seemed worth while to rearrange and amplify the material with a view to publication. Visitors often find their arrangements hampered, or much of what they see is unintelligible, for lack of clear and nontechnical information on aspects of custom with which they are most likely to come into contact, and it appeared that, at least in the early stages of the book, an explanation of some of the happenings normally met with on a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> or journey to areas outside Apia would furnish the best practical approach to the problem of providing the information required.</p>
        <p>Although it is hoped that this book may serve as an introduction to Samoan custom for those who wish to take further the study of a fascinating subject, it cannot be too strongly stressed that it is an introduction only. Important features which could not receive attention in a work of such restricted scope as this would make an imposing list, and if there appears to be a demand for this book further stages may be published at some time in the future.</p>
        <p>Every effort has been made to present the subject as simply as possible, although the research and study involved have often been considerable. The approach, however, has not been anthropological, and in many instances the treatment is not complete. Except where the contrary is indicated, references are to present-day conditions, and for the most part there has been little attempt to discuss the culture of old Samoa. The passage of even the last two or three decades has brought some noticeable changes.</p>
        <p>It was felt that a book of this character should be published locally, but the decision to do so raised many difficulties. Much of the type employed has had long service
<pb xml:id="niv"/>
and is in short supply; moreover, it has all had to be hand-set. Printing commenced nearly eighteen months ago, when a few pages were set up; the type was then broken up and re-set for further stages. Shortage of paper has made it essential to employ small type and to set the lines close together.</p>
        <p>Constitutional changes that have taken place while the book has been on the press are noted in the final chapter. The Department of Native Affairs is now known as the Department of Samoan Affairs, and Native Medical Practitioners are termed Samoan Medical Practitioners; but the references in the text are to the old designations. Whereas in the early part of the text statistics are dated <date when="1947-03-31">31st March, 1947</date>, it was possible in a later chapter to record others as at <date when="1948-03-31">31st March, 1948</date>. The passage of time has also rendered the prices of produce mentioned on <ref type="page" target="#n60">page 60</ref> out of date; prices are now even higher.</p>
        <p>As far as possible all material of professional or technical interest that appears in the following pages has been submitted for checking and correction by those best qualified to do so. I am grateful also to members of the staff of the Department of Samoan Affairs for advice and assistance received in the course of preparation of this work, for any points that seemed to require it have been referred to Samoan opinion. Other friends have been good enough to peruse the manuscript and to make suggestions for its improvement.</p>
        <closer>
          <signed rend="right">F. J. H. <hi rend="sc">Grattan</hi>.</signed>
          <mentioned>Mulinu'u,<lb/>
<date when="1948-08-31">31st August, 1948.</date></mentioned>
        </closer>
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      <pb xml:id="nv"/>
      <div type="dedication" xml:id="_N65847">
        <head><hi rend="i">Dedication</hi></head>
        <p rend="center"><hi rend="b">To my Father</hi><lb/>
          <hi rend="i">Who asked to be told something about Samoa</hi></p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nvi"/>
      <pb xml:id="nvii"/>
      <div type="contents" xml:id="_N65883">
        <head>CONTENTS</head>

        <table rows="18" cols="3">
            <row>
              <cell rend="center">CHAPTER</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">PAGE</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">I</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Introduction</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n1">1</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">II</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">The Organisation of Samoan Society</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n10">10</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">III</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">The</hi>
                <hi rend="i">Malaga</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n25">25</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">IV</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">The Welcome Ceremony</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n35">35</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">V</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">A Samoan Village</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n53">53</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">VI</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Quarters for Visitors</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n63">63</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">VII</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Food and Meals</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n69">69</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">VIII</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Ceremonial Presentations of Food</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n88">88</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">IX</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Dances and Entertainments</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n108">108</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">X</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Religion in Samoa</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n126">126</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">XI</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Present-Day Society</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n145">145</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">XII</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">A Miscellany</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n159">159</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="right">XIII</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Conclusion</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n175">175</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Bibliography</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n178">178</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Glossary</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n179">179</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">Index</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <ref type="page" target="#n183">183</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">End Maps</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
          </table>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nviii"/>
      <div type="corrigenda" xml:id="_N66521">
        <head>CORRIGENDA</head>
        <p><ref type="page" target="#n6">Page 6</ref>, line 8, for Searle read Seale.</p>
        <p><ref type="page" target="#n83">Page 83</ref>, line 7, for Searle read Seale.</p>
        <p><ref type="page" target="#n93">Page 93</ref>, line 11, for “in a bush” read “in the bush”.</p>
        <p><ref type="page" target="#n123">Page 123</ref>, lines 30 and 41, for <hi rend="i">aisiga</hi> read <hi rend="i">'aisiga</hi>, and in footnote, for <hi rend="i">aisi</hi> read <hi rend="i">'aisi</hi>.</p>
        <p><ref type="page" target="#n142">Page 142</ref>, line 2 in footnote, for <hi rend="i">Auauna</hi> read <hi rend="i">'Au'auna.</hi></p>
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        <head>CHAPTER I<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Introduction</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">The Territory of Western Samoa</hi>, defined in Imperial Orders in Council as the area situated between the 13th and 15th degrees of south latitude and the 171st and 173rd degrees of west longitude, comprises the two principal adjacent islands of Upolu and Savai'i, the small but politically important islands of Manono and Apolima in the straits between Upolu and Savai'i, and the smaller uninhabited islands of Fanuatapu, Namua, Nu'utele, Nu'ulua and Nu'usafe'e. New Zealand lies approximately 1,600 miles away slightly west of south on the other side of the International Date Line, so that a day is lost or gained on trips between the two countries; Samoan Zone Time is 23 hours behind New Zealand Time. Upolu and Savai'i, about 45 and 46 miles long respectively<note xml:id="ftn1-1" n="*"><p>The distances are variously stated as anything from 45 to 47 miles for each island. Existing lithographs, issued in <date when="1922">1922</date>, are inaccurate and out of date, and cannot be corrected until coastal traverses are completed.</p></note>, lie in an axis with Eastern Samoa running approximately north-west and south-east; Upolu is over 400 square miles in area and Savai'i 700 square miles, while Manono and Apolima total less than two square miles together. The principal town and seat of administration, Apia, located on a bay opposite a break in the reef which can scarcely be dignified by the name of harbour, and nestling under Mount Vaea, the burial place of Robert Louis Stevenson, lies about half way along the northern coast of Upolu. The wreck resting on the inner reef of the harbour is all that remains of the German gunboat “Adler”, driven ashore during the famous hurricane of March 15th to 16th, <date when="1889">1889</date>, when the British “Calliope” was the only warship of seven then in the roadstead to make her escape to the open sea.</p>
        <p>About 70 miles south-east of Apia lies Eastern or American Samoa; the principal island of Tutuila is 18 miles long and is the site of a United States Naval Station. The
<pb n="2" xml:id="n2"/>
administrative centre, Pago Pago, is located on a fine sheltered harbour on the south coast. There is a small adjoining island, Aunu'u, and 50 miles eastwards a group of three islands, Taū, 'Ofu and Olosega, known collectively as Manu'a, and a small uninhabited atoll 75 miles further east called Rose Island. The approximate area of American territory is stated by various authorities to be from 60 to 73 square miles. The small atoll, Swain's Island, north of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, was annexed to American Samoa in <date when="1925">1925</date>.</p>
        <p>All the islands except Nu'usafe'e and the Rose Atoll are rocky and volcanic. Upolu, Savai'i and Tutuila have high ridge areas inland rising in Savai'i to peaks of 6,094 feet, in Upolu to 3,608 feet, and in Tutuila to 2,141 feet. Population is confined mostly to the coastal areas, there being only 11 inland villages out of a total of 192 in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>. Plantations extend in most cases for only a few miles inland. The interior is heavily forested and many parts have not been properly explored although many crater-lakes and waterfalls of particular beauty are known. Tutuila is stated to be the oldest formation geologically, Upolu being next in geological age and Savai'i comparatively recent. A serious eruption of the volcano <hi rend="i">Matavanu</hi> took place on the north coast of Savai'i between 1905 and 1911, covering several villages and ruining many square miles of rich and productive land. The people rendered homeless by this disaster are now located in two areas on the north and south coasts of Upolu at Leauva'a and Salamumu.</p>
        <p>The climate is tropical, the atmosphere humid, the rainfall heavy and the range in temperature, especially at sea-level, small. The latter fact, together with the high humidity, although tempered to some degree by the south-east trade-wind that blows during the drier season roughly from April to September, is undoubtedly the most trying feature of a climate that, while described as mild and equable, is not ideal for people, especially women, born in more temperate regions. The entire Group, although considered by modern meteorologists to be within the hurricane belt, has fortunately experienced very few hurricanes of the degree of severity termed “destructive”.</p>
        <p>The Apia Observatory, founded in <date when="1902">1902</date> by the Society of Natural Sciences of Göttingen for the purpose of taking observations simultaneously with those of an Antarctic Expedition, is located at the end of the Mulinu'u peninsula, a low sandy spit only a few feet above sea-level. The climate there is thus more of the maritime or oceanic type
<pb n="3" xml:id="n3"/>
than that on the true mainland or in the foothills only a short distance away. This fact has a practical and personal significance for residents on the peninsula, but should also be borne in mind by the reader in any critical consideration of the figures quoted in the following paragraphs.</p>
        <p>Observatory records over many years show that the average temperature was 79.29 degrees, the mean daily maximum 84.7 degrees, and the mean daily minimum 73.8 degrees. The record maximum shade thermometer reading is 93 degrees and the minimum 63 degrees. All figures quoted are on the Fahrenheit scale. Residents of long standing in the Territory find temperatures approaching the minimum stated above decidedly cool.<note xml:id="ftn1-3" n="*"><p>One is here reminded of the fact that even temperature has a relative value. In the course of a Government expedition in <date when="1929">1929</date> through the interior of Savai'i, a temperature of 53 degrees F. was recorded one rainy night at a level of approximately 5,000 feet. A member of the party, born in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, was heard to exclaim, “It can't <hi rend="i">possibly</hi> be as cold as this in New Zealand!” There are natives in <name key="name-007773" type="place">Africa</name> who sleep on the top of clay bank furnaces when the temperature falls below 70 degrees F.</p></note></p>
        <p>Temperature figures quoted are computed from observations taken in standard meteorological screens. These wooden structures with double-louvred sides and ventilated bases are not designed to reproduce all the features of European living conditions, which are frequently more trying than meteorological records would suggest. Temperatures taken in the open at grass level show a greater range.</p>
        <p>The recorded hours of sunshine average approximately 2,500 annually.</p>
        <p>The mean relative humidity during the day is about 79 per cent, rising to higher than 90 per cent nearly every night. Some observations have been recorded showing a humidity of 99 per cent.</p>
        <p>The average annual rainfall for the last 55 years is 111.63 inches.<note xml:id="ftn2-3" n="†"><p>The average annual rainfall of <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, Wellington, Christ-church and <name key="name-035893" type="place">Dunedin</name> is 50, 43, 26, and 37 inches respectively.</p></note> The greatest fall in twenty-four hours in recorded as 15.95 inches and in one hour 3.36 inches. During the wettest month on record a total fall of 59.57 inches was recorded at Mulinu'u, while Tapatapao, 1,000 feet above sea-level, registered 52 inches of rain in 48 hours in the same months.<note xml:id="ftn3-3" n="§"><p>It is interesting to note that in this month in the following year only 3.3 inches were recorded. The normal for the particular month in question is 17.74 inches.</p></note> The average rainfall is distributed in the
<pb n="4" xml:id="n4"/>
proportions of about 78 inches from October to March, and 34 inches from April to September. Thus, although there is a seasonal distribution, there is nothing approaching a true dry season as in some other countries, although in some years the precipitation during the drier part of the year may fall below the normal. There is, however, a noticeable difference in the amount of rain in different parts of the country. Observations at Sogi, merely one mile from the Observatory on the neck of the Mulinu'u peninsula, show that the precipitation there is 9.1 per cent higher, while at the Hospital, 145 feet above mean sea-level, one mile from the beach and a little over two miles south-east of the Observatory, where Dr. Buxton in 1924 and 1925 took special observations for nineteen months,<note xml:id="ftn1-4" n="*"><p>This is, of course, too short a period on which to base sound scientific conclusions.</p></note> his figures show that the rainfall is 16 per cent higher. In the mountains the annual precipitation can rise above 200 inches. At one mountain station, Afiamalu, height 2,296 feet, an annual fall of 248 inches has been recorded, while the yearly average for this station is 197 inches. Any part of the country presenting a southern or south-eastern aspect and thus facing the prevailing wind has a correspondingly heavy rainfall. Pago Pago on the south coast of Tutuila, American Samoa, placed among mountains at the head of a deep bay, has a remarkably heavy rainfall of about 200 inches annually, even though it is at sea-level. The influence of locality and the effect of the prevailing wind should be noted because the Observatory is situated both on a peninsula and on the lee side of the island. Rain can frequently be observed in Apia while the Mulinu'u peninsula or the seaward half of it is dry; it is interesting sometimes to see the wet and dry areas marked on a road as plainly as if a line had been drawn across it.</p>
        <p>As the temperature and humidity are always high and steady, it is clear that man's comfort depends largely upon the movement of the air either by day or by night. This problem resolves itself substantially into a question of locality of residence and housing ventilation, the latter point having been admirably solved in the construction of Samoan houses. It does not always receive adequate attention in European housing. One effect of living in the foothills or higher in the mountain ranges is that greater variations in temperature and much cooler nights with land breezes are experienced, with a consequent beneficial effect
<pb n="5" xml:id="n5"/>
on the health and energy of residents in those places. Buxton's observations and conclusions in this connection are of more than casual interest and seem not to have received the attention his careful studies warrant.<note xml:id="ftn1-5" n="*"><p>P. A. Buxton and G. H. E. Hopkins, Researches in Polynesia and <name key="name-006067" type="place">Melanesia</name>, Vol. I, Parts I to IV, London, <date when="1927">1927</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p>The lower rainfall and cooler conditions between approximately April and September, and particularly in June and July, make that period the more pleasant part of the year. Summer in the southern hemisphere brings to <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> a higher rainfall and more cloudy weather with a lower and more irregular range in temperature; it is the winter season, with a more regular and higher daily temperature range, bright sunny days tempered by the trade winds, and clear, cool nights with land breezes, that visitors from temperate countries find attractive. As Buxton has pointed out, under Samoan conditions a difference of a few degrees in temperature minima may make all the difference between a good and a bad night's sleep.</p>
        <p>The Mulinu'u peninsula referred to above, the site of the Apia Observatory and the Department of Native Affairs, has been the scene of many stirring events in Samoan history during the last hundred years. It has been both an armed fortress and the seat of a Samoan Government. It is the burial place of some of the leading Samoan figures in the recent history of the country, and also of British, American and German sailors who lost their lives in action in 1888 and 1899.</p>
        <p>There is no malaria in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, but filaria, which is the early stage of elephantiasis, may be contracted from the attentions of a particular species of mosquito.<note xml:id="ftn2-5" n="†"><p>It rejoices in the name of <hi rend="i">Aedes Scutellaris var. Pseudo-Scutellaris</hi>.</p></note>
 There are very few venomous creatures: no venomous snakes, of which there are two harmless<note xml:id="ftn3-5" n="§"><p>Both Stair and Williams relate that Samoan girls used to twine live snakes about their necks as adornments while dancing.</p></note> and far from common varieties, large and small centipedes, scorpions, hornets and bees. The stings are painful and unpleasant, but except possibly in the case of young children, not dangerous.</p>
        <p>The flora and fauna are interesting. <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> is a very fine field for the botanist and entomologist; between 1893 and 1895 Reinecke found 567 botanical genera and 1,224 species, and among these, 142 were new. Of the 52 kinds of birds,
<pb n="6" xml:id="n6"/>
34 are land birds and of the latter, 16 are found nowhere else in the world. Some of the remainder are found only in <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>, <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name> and <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>. The <hi rend="i">Manumea</hi> or tooth-billed pigeon (<hi rend="i">Didunculus Strigirostris</hi>), now protected, has been considered by ornithologists to be one of the connecting links between bird-life of the present day and the tooth-billed birds of the geological past. Jordan and Searle have described the fish fauna of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> as one of the richest on the globe. In a short stay during <date when="1902">1902</date> they obtained specimens of 475 species, of which 92 were considered at that time to be new to science.</p>
        <p>The principal exports are copra (the dried meat of the coconut), desiccated coconut, cocoa of very fine quality used a good deal for blending, rubber, and dried and fresh bananas. Coffee and native tobacco are produced for local consumption.</p>
        <p>A census of the Territory of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> was taken on the <date when="1945-09-25">25th September, 1945</date>, and showed a total number of Polynesian residents of 62,422<note xml:id="ftn1-6" n="*"><p>The total population of Eastern or American Samoa is approximately 17,000.</p></note> divided as to 43,768 in the islands of Upolu, Manono and Apolima, and 18,654 in the island of Savai'i. Of this total 61,867 were Samoans, with Niue, <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>, the Tokelau Islands, Wallis Island, Rotuma, Futuna and the Gilbert and Ellice Islands and certain others represented in the remainder.</p>
        <p>All Samoans profess some form of Christianity, and the census referred to above disclosed denominations as follows:</p>
        <p>
          <table rows="10" cols="2">
            <row>
              <cell>London Missionary Society</cell>
              <cell rend="right">36,661</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Roman Catholic</cell>
              <cell rend="right">11,786</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Methodist</cell>
              <cell rend="right">10,580</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Latter Day Saints (Mormons)</cell>
              <cell rend="right">2,337</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Seventh Day Adventists</cell>
              <cell rend="right">505</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Church of England</cell>
              <cell rend="right">4</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Congregational Church of Jesus</cell>
              <cell rend="right">548</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Presbyterian</cell>
              <cell rend="right">1</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">———</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">62,422</cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
        <p>Subsequent registrations of births and deaths and immigration and emigration figures give a total Polynesian population as at <date when="1947-03-31">31st March, 1947</date>, of 65,695.</p>
        <p>The total of Europeans of Samoan blood as disclosed by the census in <date when="1945">1945</date> was 5,040, and of Europeans 359.</p>
        <p>Roggewein visited the Group in <date when="1722">1722</date>, and later
<pb n="7" xml:id="n7"/>
<name key="name-019720" type="place">Bougainville</name> in the course of a voyage round the world in <date when="1768">1768</date>, but the first <hi rend="i">Papalagi</hi> or “sky-burster” to set foot ashore was La Perouse in Tutuila in <date when="1787">1787</date>. H.M.S. “Pandora” made calls in the course of the cruise in search of the mutineers of the “Bounty” during the year <date when="1791">1791</date>. Many interesting accounts survive of the experiences and observations of these and other voyagers during the next half century.</p>
        <p>The history of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> is complex and fascinating, and is principally a story of one internal struggle after another. This is not the place for a discussion of this interesting subject, but successive modern political stages may be conveniently and briefly indicated under five principal headings:</p>
        <list>
          <label>(a)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The indigenous Samoan social and political organisation that obtained prior and for some time subsequent to the coming of Europeans.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(b)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The Constitution and system of Samoan Government established in 1873 and 1875 with unofficial European assistance.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(c)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The tripartite supervision by <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name>, <name key="name-008197" type="place">America</name> and <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> instituted by the Treaty of <name key="name-006973" type="place">Berlin</name> in <date when="1889">1889</date>.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(d)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The withdrawal of <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name> in consideration of rights acquired in <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, the <name key="name-140020" type="place">Solomons</name> and elsewhere from <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name>, and the partition of the Group between <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> and <name key="name-008197" type="place">America</name> in <date when="1899">1899</date>. The German flag was hoisted in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> at Mulinu'u on <date when="1900-03-01">1st March, 1900</date>.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(e)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The occupation of German Samoa by New Zealand troops on <date when="1914-08-29">August 29th, 1914</date>, and the Mandate conferred in <date when="1919">1919</date> upon His Britannic Majesty, to be exercised on his behalf by the Government of the Dominion of New Zealand, under Article 22 of the Covenant of the League of Nations.</p>
          </item>
        </list>
        <p>The precise derivation of New Zealand's authority in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> appears not always to be fully understood. The legal sequence was as follows:</p>
        <list>
          <label>(a)</label>
          <item>
            <p>By Article 119 of the Treaty of Peace with <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name>, signed at <name key="name-032512" type="place">Versailles</name> on <date when="1919-06-28">28th June, 1919</date>, <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> renounced in favour of the Principal Allied and Associated Powers all her rights over German Samoa.</p>
          </item>
          <pb n="8" xml:id="n8"/>
          <label>(b)</label>
          <item>
            <p>In accordance with Article 22, Part I (Covenant of the League of Nations) of the above treaty, the Principal Allied and Associated Powers agreed that a mandate should be conferred upon His Britannic Majesty, to be exercised on his behalf by the Government of the Dominion of New Zealand; and His Britannic Majesty, for and on behalf of the Government of New Zealand, agreed to accept the mandate, and undertook to exercise it on behalf of the League of Nations in accordance with certain provisions.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(c)</label>
          <item>
            <p>Authority to govern the Territory of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> was conferred on New Zealand by the (Imperial) Western Samoa Order in Council made on <date when="1920-03-11">11th March, 1920</date>, by virtue of powers in the Foreign Jurisdiction Act, <date when="1890">1890</date>. The same Order, as amended by a further Imperial Order in Council dated <date when="1920-11-09">9th November, 1920</date>, defined the limits of the Territory.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(d)</label>
          <item>
            <p>Paragraph (8), Article 22 of the Covenant of the League of Nations, provided that the degree of authority, control or administration to be exercised by the Mandatory Power, not having been previously agreed upon by the members of the League, should be explieitly defined by the Council of the League of Nations, whereupon the latter body, confirming the mandate, defined its terms in seven articles dated <date when="1920-12-17">17th December, 1920</date>.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(e)</label>
          <item>
            <p>Certain New Zealand Orders in Council making temporary provision for the peace, order and good government of the Territory were made prior to the date of the definition of the terms of the mandate under the authority of the Treaties of Peace Act, <date when="1919">1919</date>, or of the Imperial Order in Council cited above dated <date when="1920-03-11">11th March, 1920</date>. The Samoa Constitution Order, <date when="1920">1920</date>, which came into operation on <date when="1920-05-01">1st May, 1920</date>, formulated a constitution and a legal code for <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, and was later superseded by the Samoa Act, enacted by the New Zealand Legislature on <date when="1921-12-07">7th December, 1921</date>, which came into force on <date when="1922-04-01">1st April, 1922</date>.</p>
          </item>
        </list>
        <p>New Zealand continues to be responsible for the administration of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, subject to the supervision
<pb n="9" xml:id="n9"/>
of the Trusteeship Council set up by the <name key="name-020074" type="organisation">United Nations Organisation</name> in New York in <date when="1946-12">December, 1946</date>. By the provisions of the Trusteeship Agreement for <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> which now takes the place of the Mandate in terms of which the country was previously administered, New Zealand has undertaken to promote the progressive development of the inhabitants of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> towards self-government.</p>
        <p>The Samoan people will be found courteous and hospitable in their dealings with strangers. They will not expect visitors to have at the best more than a superficial knowledge of Samoan custom, and they will be willing to forgive breaches of their own etiquette or custom where it is plain that there is no intention to give offence. Nevertheless, it is not difficult to understand that some knowledge of what constitutes good manners in Samoan society, especially on the part of Government officials or visitors of standing, will add a great deal to the interest and pleasure of initial contacts. Mutual respect for persons and institutions fosters mutual esteem. The Samoans will appreciate a courteous display of interest in their culture, and will be prompt to reciprocate a goodwil that is evidenced by European recognition of the type of conduct that is proper in their own society. It is true, of course, that there are certain differences between what constitutes chiefly or gentlemanly conduct in Samoan and European society, and social ideals are directed towards widely differing goals in the two cultures, but a quiet and dignified bearing is acknowledged and appreciated in both.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="10" xml:id="n10"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="2" xml:id="c2">
        <head>CHAPTER II<lb/>
<hi rend="i">The Organisation of Samoan Society</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">A consideration</hi> of the conditions likely to be met on a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> cannot usefully be attempted without a prior understanding of something of the structure of Samoan society. The fundamental elements of the organisation of the family and the village will therefore be dealt with in this chapter. It will probably be necessary for the reader to refer from time to time to this section in order to render clearer certain points in some of the chapters that follow. It is the basis only of Samoan society that will be discussed here; the explanation will not extend to a consideration of district and what may be termed national political organisation.</p>
        <p>The unit of Samoan social life is the family (<hi rend="i">aiga</hi>). Such a family is not merely a biological group as Europeans understand the term, consisting of parents and children, but a wider family group of blood and marriage or even adopted connections who all acknowledge one person as the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> or head of that particular family.<note xml:id="ftn1-10" n="*"><p>It follows, therefore, that Samoans may belong to many families, since a woman marrying into another family confers on all her blood descendants membership of her own. In Samoan custom relationship may be claimed through female as well as male ancestors.</p></note> Such a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> is a titled person, either a chief (<hi rend="i">ali'i</hi>) or an orator (<hi rend="i">tulafale</hi> or <hi rend="i">failauga</hi>) whose particular duty is the leadership and care of the family under his control, and who is entitled to the services and co-operation of all members of his family in return for his leadership. All members of such a family group need not necessarily live under the same roof or even in the same village but will when occasion requires it assemble, generally at the residence of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, to discuss family affairs or any happenings affecting the interests of the family, or to discharge the duties associated with deaths or weddings. Such an assembly to discuss family affairs is not merely a duty on the part of members of the family,
<pb n="11" xml:id="n11"/>
but is a right which is jealously guarded, and the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> risks the dissatisfaction and displeasure and the possibility of a subsequent complaint to the Department of Native Affairs on the part of anyone to whom he does not extend the opportunity of attending such a meeting or of being represented. It is the duty of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to take care of the family land and to apportion it for the use of members of the family in return for services rendered to him as head of the family.</p>
        <p>Adoption is not an uncommon feature of Samoan family custom; it may occur by reason of relationship, friendship or because of a lack of young people in the family concerned. There is no ceremony or formality associated with the practice. The boy or girl is taken into the family and insensibly with the passage of years and a record of good service comes to be regarded as one of the family.</p>
        <p>It is the usual custom for a girl who marries to become a member of and live with the family of her husband. It is permissible, however, for a husband to live with his wife's family and serve her <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. The status of wife or husband in either of these two cases depends entirely upon acceptance by the family concerned, and the newcomers must be careful that their conduct is submissive and not such as to alienate people on whose bounty they depend. It is the usual practice for a woman whose husband has died to return to her own village; if she remains, her position is not very secure, especially if there are no children of the marriage, and she must be particularly careful to give no offence to the family or to any new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> who may have been appointed.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> bears a family name or title which succeeds from one holder to another. He thus has at least two names, his family name which he assumes only when he becomes head of the family, and his untitled name given to him some time after birth. A <hi rend="i">matai</hi> is addressed always by his title, and different holders of the same title may be distinguished from each other by appending the ordinary or untitled name. Where a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> is referred to by both his names his <hi rend="i">matai</hi> name is mentioned first. Thus a boy may have received the name <hi rend="i">Ioane</hi> (John) shortly after birth. Later he becomes head of one of the branches of the large <hi rend="i">Papali'i</hi> family and is addressed formally as <hi rend="i">Papali'i</hi>. To distinguish him from other holders of the <hi rend="i">Papali'i</hi> title, he will be known as <hi rend="i">Papali'i Ioane</hi>. There is nothing in Samoan custom to prevent a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> holding two or more
<pb n="12" xml:id="n12"/>
titles, as intermarriage through many generations has united many of the leading families.</p>
        <p>A title or family name may be split or shared, and there may be two or more holders concurrently. Indeed, certain well-known titles have been widely divided. Thus a family may remain one unit and look to two or more holders of their family name to protect their interests, or the family may actually break up into separate and distinct branches, each acknowledging as their head one particular <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, and neither interfering with the domestic affairs of the other. The relationship between branches, however, will not cease to be acknowledged, and the whole family will meet and act together if circumstances make this necessary or desirable.</p>
        <p>All outward expressions of the respect and esteem in which a family may be held both by the village and the district or the whole of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, may properly be directed to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. He is, so to speak, the trustee of the good name of the family and the fountain-head to which all ceremonial recognition of the status of his family is due. He is responsible for the proper maintenance of the dignity of his family and the adequate performance of their social obligations. If the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> is not shown proper respect on any occasion, that omission is resented as a slight to the family themselves. On the other hand, if the conduct of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> in any way falls short of the standard expected, the displeasure of the community and the shame associated therewith will be shared by the family.</p>
        <p>The world <hi rend="i">taule'ale'a</hi> in the Samoan language denotes a young man, but any untitled man, however mature his age, is known as a <hi rend="i">taule'ale'a</hi>, and ranks with others of similar status, although amongst themselves the untitled men will respect his greater age and experience. The group comprising the untitled men of the village is known as the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, and the unmarried daughters of chiefs and orators are known as the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, a group which is headed by a girl of rank termed a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, who is guarded by the old widow of some important <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. Many of the customs surrounding the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> are now, however, falling into abeyance, and there are few villages where the conditions of <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> life are maintained with all the old strictness.</p>
        <p>Without going deeply into an interesting and rather technical subject, a short reference may be made to the manner of choosing a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> or family head. Succession is not necessarily from father to eldest son, but all within the wide family group are eligible. The whole family meet and
<pb n="13" xml:id="n13"/>
choose one whose conduct has commended him to them, questions of blood connections and descent, service to the family and previous holders of the title, and personal suitability all being taken into consideration. Even a stranger who has been adopted into the family and who has distinguished himself by unusual devotion and service to the family may be chosen, and there are many well-known instances of this having been done in important families. A woman may be appointed head of a family but this is not common, although there are authentic cases where women have had conferred on them important titles of even paramount political significance.</p>
        <p>It is correct to state that there is no definite known person or heir who is entitled as of right to succeed a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> as the head of the family on the latter's death. As indicated above, it is the family concerned in most cases who decide on the basis of the qualifications already indicated. There are two further points, however, which may properly be referred to here. One relates to an element in Samoan custom termed <hi rend="i">toe o le uso</hi> which may be fairly translated as “the right of the remaining brother.”</p>
        <p>On the death of a <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, if there should be a surviving brother, custom concedes that he has a very good claim indeed to be the next holder of the title. This privilege, however, is not exclusive or rigid, and must be considered in relation to the other qualifications that such a person can adduce in support of his claim. It is fair to say, however, that if such a candidate has served the previous <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and has attended faithfully to the interests of the family on all proper occasions, it is very difficult indeed in Samoan custom to set his claim aside. Thus, if there are many members of the family who possess approximately equally allthe other necessary qualifications, then it would be to the surviving brother that the right of appointment would normally go.</p>
        <p>The other point refers to the custom of <hi rend="i">mavaega</hi>, relating to the practice of important chiefs of nominating their successors before death. Although this right was the prerogative only of the more influential chiefs and depended to a large extent upon the authority the chief had been accustomed to wield during his active years, yet the effect of such a pronouncement was not altogether divorced from acceptance by the family concerned. Acceptance was, however, likely to follow if the nominee was a suitable person and especially if the family felt any reason to fear an expression of dissatisfaction by the unquiet spirit of a
<pb n="14" xml:id="n14"/>
powerful chief in the event of his wishes not being carried into effect after his death. This custom is tending to fall into desuetude in modern times.</p>
        <p>Thus, although there is a sharp difference of status as between titled (chiefs or orators) and untitled persons, progress from untitled to titled rank is the normal aspiration sooner or later of most adult males.<note xml:id="ftn1-14" n="*"><p>Out of a census total in <date when="1945">1945</date> of 62,422, 31,834 were males. 16,486 of the latter were over 14 years old, and of these 3,497 were described as <hi rend="i">matai</hi> or heads of families.</p></note> The higher social grades are thus not closed or exclusive as is the case with certain other Polynesian peoples. There is a mutual interdependence and recognition of titled and untitled people, and each group has its recognised and respected place in the community. Social groups in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> are therefore complementary: on the one hand, respect, obedience and service with the hope of a later improvement in status, and on the other, a prudent appreciation of the essential contribution of the untitled members of society. Where social inferiors feel dissatisfaction at treatment received they are at liberty to withdraw their support and attach themselves to some other branch of their family connections in another part of the country, and thus a large measure of social equilibrium and social justice is maintained.</p>
        <p>When a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> has been chosen by those entitled to do so and for the qualities that Samoan society esteems, he must address himself to preparations for his <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi>, or election feast, which is a ceremony to mark his assumption of his new dignity. This is an opportunity for the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to demonstrate his chiefly status by a lavish distribution of food. For the assumption of an important title, the expenses of the <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi> can be very heavy, and a wait of some months may intervene between election and consecration to afford the new incumbent the opportunity of acquiring the necessary cash or food-stuffs. Bullocks, pigs, kegged or tinned beef or fish, biscuits, bread, seafood, poultry, <hi rend="i">talo</hi>, breadfruit, <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> and other food may all contribute to a total expenditure that would astonish a European inexperienced in these matters.</p>
        <p>Briefly, the <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi> embraces formal acceptance by the family and the village of the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. The village assembles, speeches are exchanged, including respectful references to the genealogy of the family concerned, and the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> takes the kava of his title for the first time. In an atmosphere of dignity and solemnity he is thus formally
<pb n="15" xml:id="n15"/>
received into the circle of the chiefs and orators. The proceedings close with the feast provided entirely by the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and his family.</p>
        <p>Titles in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> do not all rank together as equal in importance. The various grades will be indicated later in this chapter, but it may be stated that the principles of consecration mentioned above are similar for all. There may, however, be some difference in the degree of formality for different titles, and for the more important it may be proper to include the presentation of ceremonial fine mats (<hi rend="i">'ie toga</hi>) in the proceedings. For the ceremony of election to an ordinary <hi rend="i">matai</hi> name, the kava cup would be served to the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> after recognition to the leading chief of the village, but where the new appointment is to the leading title of the village, then the first cup would be served to the new appointee.</p>
        <p>Near the end of a long life of service for the family, a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> may feel the burden of his position pressing too heavily upon his aged shoulders. He may then call his family together and after expressing his wish to retire from the burden of leadership, he may ask the family to choose some other holder of the title. When this has been done the old man will announce his proposal to the assembled village and introduce his successor whose <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi> will of course take place with due ceremony at some suitable time. Thereafter, custom will permit him to take his usual place in the assembly of the chiefs and orators without being troubled to any serious extent in respect of responsibility either as regards the family or the village. His cup will be distributed to him as usual in kava ceremonies, sometimes to him first and then to the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, or <hi rend="i">vice versa</hi>; occasionally he may even receive a place of honour at the end of the entire ceremony. Such a retired <hi rend="i">matai</hi> will wisely leave the greater part of the duties to his successor, putting forward an opinion occasionally without ostentation to help the new <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, who, if he wishes to win the approbation both of his predecessor and the village, will be careful from time to time to show respect and recognition to the old man. And so the latter ends his days in peace and quietness, treated with that peculiar delicacy and consideration of which Samoan custom can be so plesantly capable when the circumstances are favourable.</p>
        <p>Reference has already been made to the possible organisation of a family into separate and distinct branches. Another aspect of family organisation which is very important indeed in Samoan custom, is that which deals with the
<pb n="16" xml:id="n16"/>
male and female lines of descent of a family. A proper consideration of the interplay of rights and duties in two such lines of descent would open up the very wide field of the relationship known as the <hi rend="i">feagaiga</hi>, and lies far outside the elementary scope of this book. The respectful and traditional relationships raised by the <hi rend="i">feagaiga</hi> permeate the whole of Samoan society, and must always be taken into account at the time of the choice of a new <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and on other important occasions including marriages and deaths. This passing reference must suffice here.</p>
        <p>The family land is administered by the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> for the benefit of all members of the family who elect to live thereon and serve the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. Work is shared by the members of the family including the older generation, the bulk of the heavier work being attended to by the young people of both sexes who contribute food products from the land and sea. Samoan custom defines clearly which duties are the functions of males and which of females. The activities of the family are normally under the direction of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, particularly those relating to the use of land and the working of plantations. He also distributes or apportions the proceeds of the work, especially any cash income, although custom in this matter is at the present day suffering in some degree from the stress of modern social and economic changes. Generally speaking, however, until recent times and under normal conditions of social equilibrium, all concerned have contributed their quota willingly enough to a system that is so organised as to hold out the hope of some future improvement in status.</p>
        <p>In theory at least the dignity of leadership of the family may be removed by the same authority that confers it, although in the days that preceded settled government the final resort in social as in political differences was probably that of force. At the present time families who feel that they have good reasons for wishing to change their <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, unless the latter respects their views and consents, usually find it necessary to make a petition to the Native Land and Titles Court for an investigation of their opinion. Their case has of course to be a very good one if the petition is to succeed.</p>
        <p>Women take their position from that of husband or parent and their status in the community changes accordingly with that of their men-folk. When women assemble for the conduct of their share in village organisation, the interplay of respect is the same as that between men, and when kava is distributed at their meetings, the order of
<pb n="17" xml:id="n17"/>
precedence is on a similar basis. Women's-kava is not, however, so common now as it was formerly.</p>
        <p>This short study provides an incomplete and yet perhaps for present purposes a sufficient outline of the basis or ultimate unit upon which Samoan society rests.</p>
        <p>It has been shown that a <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, acting if necessary with the advice and consent of members of the family, controls all the affairs of the family, who look to him for guidance and assistance in their time of need. It is now necessary to consider how the affairs of the village are directed, and the measure of authority excercised by the controlling body. A village comprises groups of families, either claiming descent from a common ancestor, or allied for traditional, matrimonial or other reasons.</p>
        <p>The titular head and representative of each family is the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, and village affairs are controlled and directed by a council of all the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> of the village. This group meets regularly, usually on Monday mornings, and on such other occasions as required, to decide any issues in village affairs or to enquire by a system of taking oaths, called <hi rend="i">tautoga</hi>, into any misdemeanours, and each family or <hi rend="i">matai</hi> acknowledges the authority of any decision reached after full discussion by the village council or <hi rend="i">fono</hi>. Although each <hi rend="i">matai</hi> controls his own family land, the <hi rend="i">fono</hi> normally exercises authority in matters relating to the lay-out and the precincts of the village itself, the reception of visitors, the use of water holes, the drawing up of local village laws or rules, the imposition of “fines” according to Samoan custom, (generally of foodstuffs) for the breach of a village law or rule, the consideration of or adjudication upon the conduct of any <hi rend="i">matai</hi> of the village, and generally speaking any aspect of the communal life that calls for a wider and more general control than that exercised by a <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. Matters requiring decision are debated until unanimity is reached and all signify their agreement. Majority voting or decision in the strict European sense has no place in Samoan custom, which prefers a show of unanimity even if a minority yield a point only as a respectful gesture.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">matai</hi> whose conduct has been called into question or who does not accept the otherwise unanimous opinion of the <hi rend="i">fono</hi> in regard to some decision, may carry his view to the extent of refusing to accept the decision. He may be prevailed upon to retract, but if he persists in his attitude, especially if that attitude covers a refusal to pay a fine of foodstuffs to the remainder of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, then he will probably be expelled from the <hi rend="i">faiganu'u</hi> or the <hi rend="i">fa'alenu'u</hi>
<pb n="18" xml:id="n18"/>
which means in effect that his social status and that of his family are no longer recognised. He is not allowed to attend meetings of the <hi rend="i">fono</hi> or to express his opinion on any matter that has come up for discussion; he is ostracised, and any assistance that he may offer in the maintenance or entertainment of village guests would be refused. He and his family cease to take part in village affairs until the breach is healed by the offering and acceptance of his apology and usually the provision of a pig and other foodstuffs to mark his re-entry into social life.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> may be prepared to concede his fault, but public opinion may be such that he must for a time retire from social life. In such a case he will probably retire temporarily from the village, living with family connections elsewhere, and after a suitable interval he will make enquiries to ascertain whether or not his punishment is regarded as sufficient. If it is, he will return, make his apology and presentation of food, and be taken back into the social life of the village.</p>
        <p>There is no legal compulsion for a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> under sentence as discussed above to leave his village if he does not wish to do so, but neither is there any legal compulsion on a village to take him back into the village life. In many cases, such a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> will accept the sentence and actually leave the village in order to demonstrate his respect for the remainder of the chiefs and orators and as the quickest means of securing forgiveness after a suitable interval has elapsed. A chief or orator who asks for the protection of the law in setting aside a sentence of physical banishmenet imposed by a village, as he is legally entitled to do, will certainly be ostracised for a much longer period and incur far greater displeasure than would otherwise be the case. Humble submission to the will of his brothers is the quickest way to forgiveness and reinstatement, and the wise man adopts that course.</p>
        <p>This point has been discussed in some detail in order to demonstrate an important result. No such chief or orator who has been put out of the <hi rend="i">faiganu'u</hi> can, while his expulsion lasts, act as an effective link between his village and the outside world. He would not, therefore, be a suitable person with whom to discuss matters affecting the village or with whom arrangements should be made for a visit. This fact will be referred to again at a later stage.</p>
        <p>It may happen that a disaffected <hi rend="i">matai</hi> may secure the support of and gather about him a section of the village who are either related to him or closely in sympathy with his
<pb n="19" xml:id="n19"/>
views for some other reason. The village will then organise itself into two sections, each of which will continue to function as a village unit so far as that is possible. Such village divisions may continue for years and care must then be exercised to avoid dealing with one section as if the people comprising it did in fact represent the complete village.</p>
        <p>An orator chief (<hi rend="i">tulafale ali'i</hi>) is one who unites in his person the dignity of both a chief and an orator. The origin of such dual rank in most instances goes back many hundreds of years, and in some cases the holder of such a dignity has a standing and perhaps also a political influence that extends far beyond his own village. An orator chief, if his chiefly rank permits it, will occupy the principal post at the end of a Samoan house rather than the post in the front of a house reserved for a leading orator. It is his chiefly rank that will receive first recognition although his position as an orator will be brought into prominence when it is in his own interests to do so. Strangely enough, leading orator chiefs are usually addressed with the honorifics of an orator.</p>
        <p>In all villages which are a separate entity in the political structure of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> there is an orator or group of orators whose special duty it is to know all the traditional stories and genealogies affecting that particular village. Some villages are so organised politically in relation to the country as a whole that the group of orators referred to suffice for the performance of all necessary functions. In others, however, as a mark of special respect and dignity, the village may choose one of their orators to fill a position known as <hi rend="i">tu'ua</hi>. Not every village chooses a <hi rend="i">tu'ua</hi>. Such a person must enjoy high personal rank as an orator and have a degree of knowledge relating to village and perhaps district affairs which fits him for the position. Considerable deference is paid to him and it is to him that the village looks thereafter for pronouncements on any disputed point. The <hi rend="i">tu'ua</hi> is the one entitled to sit in the middle post of the front of a house and if he should arrive late or unexpectedly at a village meeting and that post is already occupied, the place will be vacated at once and left open for him.</p>
        <p>There are certain villages which are the residences of important chiefs termed <hi rend="i">sa'o</hi> whose titles may be traced back far into the past. Not every village can claim this particular distinction, not necessarily because it is not of the required degree of importance, but because it may be organised socially or politically in an altogether different
<pb n="20" xml:id="n20"/>
manner. Some villages or sub-villages, for instance, may be composed of groups of orators with a very real importance in the political structure of the country. Such differences in structure and of particular customs associated therewith call for a good deal of knowledge and care in estimating the importance of this or that village.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">sa'o</hi> is usually the head of a group of chiefs termed <hi rend="i">usoali'i</hi>, generally united by ties of kinship or tradition, whose common history can be traced back to the foundation of the particular village in question. The <hi rend="i">usoali'i</hi> owe a duty of allegiance and service to the <hi rend="i">sa'o</hi> who is charged amongst other duties with the protection and advancement of the interests of the whole group. All the chiefs of the village are not necessarily members of the <hi rend="i">usoali'i</hi> although it is possible for other <hi rend="i">matai</hi> with the consent of the <hi rend="i">sa'o</hi> and others concerned to be admitted to the distinction of membership of the group. In certain villages there are groups of chiefs sometimes all bearing the same title, known as <hi rend="i">usoali'i</hi>, who are not headed by any particular <hi rend="i">sa'o</hi>, and other <hi rend="i">usoali'i</hi> are composed in some cases both of chiefs and orators. Samoan custom in this, as in other instances, is not rigid; different villages have different constitutions.</p>
        <p>All <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, whether chiefs or orators, join in village discussions but the weight attaching to the opinion of a particular individual or group varies from village to village. There are villages where, for traditional reasons which need not be discussed in detail here, it is the voice of the orators in whom the real power reposes. In others, a certain chief or group of chiefs may be predominant; in others again, the voice of an orator chief may exert great influence. But even Samoan custom allows some play to the personality of an outstanding individual, who in the course of a lifetime may build up the dignity of his particular title to a level not previously reached, and which a less capable person later holding the same title may be unable to sustain.</p>
        <p>An important element in the social organisation and indeed the discipline of the village is the Women's Committee. The division of labour in relation to the sexes and the share borne by the gentler sex in the activities of the family will be dealt with more fully in a later chapter. It is the group activity of the wives of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and their part in village control that are referred to here. The Women's Committee, who usually wear a distinctive uniform that is different in every village, meet regularly and with the assistance in some villages of specially trained nurses devote themselves to baby welfare work. They also
<pb n="21" xml:id="n21"/>
exercise a special jurisdiction in inspecting any equipment such as crockery and glassware that must be at the disposal of all families in the village for the entertainment of visitors, and any instructions they give relating to the replacement of damaged items or shortages are promptly carried into effect by the family concerned, or a fine (generally of foodstuffs) is imposed. They take a large share in the duties relating to the entertainment of visitors and are responsible for the decorations of houses in which guests of the village are quartered.</p>
        <p>Descriptions of the social and economic functions of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> and the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, to which references have already been made earlier in this chapter, will be found in a subsequent section. The status and functions of the Pastors of various denominations may also be considered more conveniently under another heading. Before closing this chapter, however, a brief reference to the duties of Government officials who are likely to be met in outer districts will be of use.<note xml:id="ftn1-21" n="*"><p>∗The notes that follow refer, of course, only to <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>.</p></note></p>
        <p>The assembly (<hi rend="i">saofa'iga</hi>) of the chiefs and orators constitutes the <hi rend="i">fono</hi> of the village, and the persons comprising that assembly are referred to collectively as the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi>. The term <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> used in this sense is a composite one and should always be so employed. This point is stressed, becuse there is another term <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> with a quite different meaning. A <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> is an important official, in receipt of a salary, who is elected by one of the forty-one <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> Constituencies to represent his district in the <hi rend="i">Fono</hi> of <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, which meets the Administrator twice a year at <hi rend="i">Mulinu'u</hi> to present the views of the Samoans on current problems. This <hi rend="i">Fono</hi> brings forward remits of its own touching the welfare of the Territory and considers also remits from the Administrator submitted for discussion and recommendation or decision. In particular, the <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> also have the opportunity to discuss first any legislation which the Administrator proposes to bring forward in the Legislative Council and which affects particularly the interests of the Samoan people. Because a <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> represents a whole district, there cannot be one of these officials in every village. To sum up, a <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> is a Government official of considerable standing in his district, who has some responsibility to represent Government and law and order although he is primarily a representative of the people. The <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> of a village, however,
<pb n="22" xml:id="n22"/>
are not Government officials, but are the controlling authority in every village so far as Samoan custom and village life are concerned. A <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, it may be added, will of course take his accustomed place amongst the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> of a village by reason of his position as a chief or orator of that village as the case may be.</p>
        <p>There is a further official, the <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi>, whose position warrants special description. The <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi> is the direct Government representative in every village, and on the Government pay-roll. Where the village is a large one, or falls into two definitely recognised sections, there may be two <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi>, whose duties are confined to their own sections. The <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi> is charged with the recording of births and deaths and has other statutory duties of a special character which need not be further specified here. The <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi> is the official to whom one would normally look for assistance and for whom one would enquire if there were no <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, who ranks as the senior official. The <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi> is not necessarily the leading chief of the village; indeed, he generally is not so. It is important to bear in mind that if the <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi> or the <hi rend="i">Pulenu'u</hi> has for any reason been excluded from the social organisation of the village as discussed previously, he could no longer act as an effective link with that village, and the co-operation of some other member of the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> would have to be secured.</p>
        <p>Although there may be many chiefs and orators in a village, there is generally one at least who enjoys a certain pre-eminence for reasons of descent, and such a chief or orator would be a proper person with whom to discuss matters affecting the village. Such a person of rank will certainly at some time, in his turn, be elected to the position of <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>. A possible misconception lurks in these statements, however. The right of consultation and discussion, inherent in the organisation of the family, is one that is carried up through the higher grades of social and political organisation also. A <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, dealing with family matters of importance, will consider it prudent to report to or consult with the members of his family; so also a representative of the village approached on important matters affecting the village will wish to consult with and secure the agreement of his brother chiefs and orators, who, being the representatives of their families in the <hi rend="i">fono</hi>, are entitled after discussion to commit their families to a course of action. Thus, although a <hi rend="i">Faipule, Pulenu'u</hi>, leading chief or any other chief or orator may be a suitable person with whom to establish contact or to discuss the initial stages of any matter touching
<pb n="23" xml:id="n23"/>
the interests of the village, the proper course according to Samoan custom is to secure the agreement and confirmation of the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> themselves to whatever is required. It is only in infrequent cases that a chief or orator may be prepared to speak for or commit others than his own family, yet when the village council is duly assembled in <hi rend="i">fono</hi> the opinions of leading chiefs and orators will be listened to with the greatest respect. But considerations that require this degree of careful treatment are unlikely to claim the attention of casual visitors to villages.</p>
        <p>Other Government officials, as distinct from Samoan teachers and other full-time members of the Public Service, are members of the Legislative Council (<hi rend="i">Faipule Faitulafono</hi>), Native Judges (<hi rend="i">Fa'amasino</hi>), Native Plantation Inspectors (<hi rend="i">Pulefa'ato'aga</hi>) and Clerks or Policemen to the Native Judges (<hi rend="i">Failautusi or Leoleo</hi>), but a description of their duties need not be included here.</p>
        <p>It has been shown that there are titles or <hi rend="i">matai</hi> names which, while entitled to general recognition in Samoan custom, yet possess their chief significance within a family. There are others which enjoy a wider degree of dignity or <hi rend="i">mamalu</hi> as holding an acknowledged position in the village organisation itself. Such titles may be those either of chiefs or of orators. There are still others which for traditional reasons have a pre-eminence within an entire district and others again which are so deeply rooted in the traditions of the country as to command a respect and standing that extend to the four corners of the Territory and indeed even to other countries in the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>. In an analogous manner the organisation and constitution of some villages have an important political significance and relationship and they are closely bound up with the political structure of the country as a whole. The distinctions in the ranking of titles are not, however, to be considered as being aboslutely definite and clear-cut. They exist for many practical purposes, but in a loose and ill-defined manner that is rather typical of the whole sociopolitical structure.</p>
        <p>At the very peak of the Samoan official structure stand the <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi>, the heads of distinguished royal families of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, who are appointed by the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> to advise the Administrator. There are three <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi> at present and their term of office is for an indefinite period, all other Samoan nominated officials who are not full-time members of the Public Service being subject to change every three years. The titles of the <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi> are the most
<pb n="24" xml:id="n24"/>
outstanding of those mentioned above as enjoying recognition in all parts of the Territory and in other countries of the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi> and their wives, who all speak English, visited New Zealand late in <date when="1945">1945</date> as guests of the Government. They were well received by the people of New Zealand. Another party comprising two chiefs and two orators, members of the <hi rend="i">Fono</hi> of <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, accompanied by an orator interpreter from the Department of Native Affairs, were also guests of the Government in New Zealand early in <date when="1947">1947</date>.</p>
        <p>These elementary aspects of social and political organisation have been briefly sketched so that visitors may understand the status of officials or of those chiefs or orators whom they may chance to meet. Only the family and the village have been dealt with in some little detail; a full examination of the higher and more complex district and national political organisation has no place in these notes.</p>
        <p>We may now pass on to a consideration of the arrangements for a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> or journey to areas outside Apia.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="25" xml:id="n25"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="3" xml:id="c3">
        <head>CHAPTER III<lb/>
<hi rend="i">The Malaga</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">In the islands</hi> of Upolu, Savai'i and Manono there are some two hundred and seventy miles of coastline which the roads or tracks in most cases follow fairly closely. There are also a number of cross-country tracks, especially in Upolu, one of which during the war was converted by <name key="name-031090" type="place">United States</name> forces into the Cross-Island Road between Leulumoega and the south coast. No road or track is impassable for pedestrian traffic even in the worst weather, except temporarily owing to the flooding of rivers or watercourses that are usually dry, but there are many sections of lava or other types of rough country which at the best of times are negotiable only on foot. Visitors who are travelling merely for interest or pleasure are well advised to arrange if possible for visits to outer districts to take place between April and September, which has already been shown to be that part of the year in which, although there is a considerable precipitation, there is not usually so much rain as in the wet season.</p>
        <p>One's wardrobe should be planned with some regard to the heavy rainfall experienced in the Territory. Sufficient changes should be provided to allow of comfortable walking and dry garments for the evening, as it is sometimes difficult in wet weather to dry clothes under Samoan living conditions. Foot-gear is important, but personal preference, as to which some difference of opinion is shown, is an important factor in this matter. Some walkers prefer heavy boots under all conditions, but with certain experienced patrol officers, rubber-soled tennis shoes (sandshoes) are much in favour. For those who are used to it, this style of foot-gear offers most of the advantages of the Indian moccasin, but for those who are not, there is the undoubted disadvantage that the first few days' walking, if over very broken country, may result in bruised feet. The writer and
<pb n="26" xml:id="n26"/>
other Government officers, however, have found that sandshoes, used with care, are by far the most satisfactory foot-gear. In any case, slippers or comfortable, roomy shoes should be provided for use in the evenings, and for day use the type chosen should be loose enough to permit of the comfortable swelling of heated feet, but not so loose as to chafe the heels or cause blisters.</p>
        <p>Supplies of adhesive tape and antiseptic are well worth the small trouble of taking along. Dispensaries or Hospitals staffed with Native Medical Practitioners and Samoan nurses are spaced at regular intervals, but the application of a little antiseptic and adhesive tape to a chafed heel or other abrasion at the right time can add a good deal to personal comfort and enjoyment of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi>, in regard to which care of the feet is perhaps one of the most important factors. Even if no chafed heels develop, the application of methylated or rectified spirits helps to toughen the skin of bruised or tender soles. Ill cared-for and complaining feet can fill one's entire mental horizon at the end of a long, hard day.</p>
        <p>Loose, khaki clothing is most suitable for walking tours in this country, and particularly in wet weather, shorts for men will be found convenient, as the cuffs of long trousers when soaked and muddy can present a very bedraggled appearance. Ladies will probably avoid unflattering comment if they do not wear shorts. If men who are unused to that form of dress wear shorts, care should be taken not to risk too much sunburn, especially when travelling by boat, as severe sunburn, followed by a week or more of muddy <hi rend="i">malaga</hi>, may result in a troublesome infection. Badly sunburned tissue, especially on the legs, has a tendency to break down under the influence of unusual and sustained exercise, and in particular, infections, abrasions or coral scratches involving the ankle or shin-bone should receive expert treatment with as little delay as possible. Infections in the areas mentioned may develop quickly into tropical ulcers, which are not easy to heal.</p>
        <p>A rain cape or even an umbrella, of which the latter is an item of equipment in great favour with Samoans when supplies are procurable, can be very useful. People unaccustomed to a tropical sun should certainly cover their heads, although sunstroke is not common in this country. An unpleasant headache can, however, result from overexposure of the head or neck.</p>
        <p>Arrangements for the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> itself warrant some care. The length of each day's march should be decided upon
<pb n="27" xml:id="n27"/>
after reference to a map and if possible a discussion with someone who knows well the type of country to be passed over, as in some cases it is imprudent to base estimates of distance or the probable time to be spent in walking merely on references to the existing maps. The first and second days should not be long ones. Regard to this point assists one's own feet to get into walking trim and also helps the carriers to shake down and establish their routine. The luncheon and night stops, should be planned and adequate notice sent forward to the hosts, mentioning both the day and the date.<note xml:id="ftn1-27" n="*"><p>All villages are provided by the Administration with calendars in the vernacular.</p></note> This not only ensures comfort on arrival, but spares hosts the embarrassment inseparable from being required to offer hospitality without having made suitable preparations. This is a genuine feeling on the part of Samoans; they definitely prefer to be given the opportunity to make adequate arrangements and to provide anything special in the nature of local foodstuffs that the district has to offer. It is a pleasant commentary on Samoan custom that a guest has only to announce his intention of paying a visit to have no effort spared in preparations for his comfort and entertainment.</p>
        <p>For those who wish to travel with dignity, a good interpreter, if possible a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and preferably an orator, should be chosen for the trip. An untitled person acting as interpreter or orator would probably be an embarrassment both to himself and to his Samoan hosts (although they would be the last to complain), for in order to support the dignity of his employer he would find it necessary to say and do things that Samoan custom would not permit on his own account. Carriers should also be arranged, allowing a sufficient number to transport what is required speedily and efficiently. Where rivers or inlets have to be crossed, it saves time if word can be sent ahead for a canoe to be in readiness. Current wages for carriers can be ascertained on enquiry at the Department of Native Affairs.</p>
        <p>On <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> it is advisable for the carriers to travel ahead, as the advantages of having a change of clothing available on arrival in a village become very apparent in wet weather. It is also good manners in Samoan custom for all members of the party to come together before an entry is made into the village; in particular, the orator or interpreter, who is known as the <hi rend="i">ta'ita'i malaga</hi> or the
<pb n="28" xml:id="n28"/>
leader of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi>, should not lag behind others of the party. A short halt should be made outside the village to wash off, if possible, any muddy signs of travel, especially in bad weather, as Samoans themselves are careful to do so whenever they can. There are times, of course, when this is not possible, and visitors reaching a village in an unpresentable condition will usually be allowed an interval for a quick bath or wash and a change before the welcome ceremony.</p>
        <p>The carriers are generally well-built youths who are used to carrying heavy loads of food from plantations. Suitcases are placed in specially woven coconut-leaf containers, and two are then slung at the ends of carrying poles or yokes called <hi rend="i">amo</hi>, made of a carefully selected, strong but light wood, usually from the <hi rend="i">fau</hi> tree. The yoke is placed across the shoulders and heavy loads can be carried in this way for many miles. In this, as in most other specialised occupations, there is a trick that calls for careful balancing and a mincing type of step, which together operate to prevent any swaying of the load and a consequent chafing of the carrier's shoulders. Europeans who have not mastered these fine points would not go very far in comfort with a typical Samoan load.</p>
        <p>Incidentally, <hi rend="i">fau</hi> is one of the woods from which fire can be developed by friction. <hi rend="i">Fu'afu'a</hi> is another. A groove is cut in a larger base piece which is held firmly by one operator, and a pointed stick which fits the groove is then drawn quickly backwards and forwards in the groove by another. Considerable pressure is employed to shave off fine rubbings of the soft wood. As these accumulate at one end of the groove they become heated by the friction, and when they have reached a charred stage, a gentle blowing while the operation continues produces fire. Both components of the apparatus must be made of the same kind of wood to produce the best and quickest results. Under competitive conditions the writer has seen a light produced for a cigarette by this method in under two minutes. It is not as easy to accomplish as it looks, and attempts to do so may enliven a rest period by the side of a bush track. Young Samoans engaged in hunting wild pigs, clearing bush land or tending plantations are not yet dependent on the modern box of matches for the preparation of a cooked meal.</p>
        <p>Most tracks in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> are narrow and permit only of proceeding in single file. Young people will step off the track to allow the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> to pass and if they are carrying
<pb n="29" xml:id="n29"/>
burdens on their shoulders they should in strict conformity to custom set these down or lower them below shoulder level while titled people pass by. If working at clearing bush by the side of the track, they should pause respectfully. Chiefs and orators met on the road will stop to exchange greetings and possibly shake hands. It is polite in Samoan custom to express an interest in the destination of a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party and there is usually no reason why this should not be explained. If for any reason it is not desired to do so the answer “Yonder” is quite sufficient. Untitled people do not usually presume to exchange greetings or offer salutations, and one may often judge the status of Samoan travellers met on the track by observing whether or not they propose to speak when drawing near. There is a characteristic air of dignity and quiet assurance about the heads of families in this country and it is a fact that one grows sooner or later to be able in most cases to recognise a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> merely by his appearance.</p>
        <p>Old women have a privileged position in the Samoan community. As previously stated, women take their status from that of their men-folk, but even apart from this it is a fact that an old woman or especially a group of old women may say things that no one else would dare to say. An old woman greeting the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party is probably the wife or widow of a chief or orator.</p>
        <p>It will occasionally happen that a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party overtakes another proceeding in the same direction. Untitled people may be passed without stopping, but it is courteous and proper to greet chiefs and orators who are thus overtaken. After a short conversation the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party may proceed, but in such a case it is polite to excuse the fact that one wishes to go forward first and thus to leave behind the party overtaken. One's orator will attend to the proper courtesies in these circumstances.</p>
        <p>From time to time it may be noticed alongside the track, especially near a village, that certain coconut trees are bound with portions of coconut leaf or <hi rend="i">fau</hi> bark, or they may even have one or two dried mature coconuts hanging from the trunk. This is an intimation that the owners of the trees have reserved the produce thereof for a certain purpose and that they do not wish any of the nuts to be taken for drinking purposes by members of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party. Such a traditional form of prohibition is much more effective in practice than the erection of a fence or the posting of a notice. A <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> should be careful to respect such a prohibition and allow no member of the party to break it.
<pb n="30" xml:id="n30"/>
Where <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> parties proceed regularly round Upolu and Savai'i it will be found that there are recognised resting places, and at these spots it is usual and permitted by custom for the carriers to climb trees and to take drinking nuts where the road is close enough to the sea.<note xml:id="ftn1-30" n="*"><p>The coconut does not flourish at a much greater altitude than 400 or 500 feet, although the tree will grow and produce a poor yield at a higher level. In this country that is tantamount to saying that the coconut is rarely found very far from the coast as the trees are not often planted as high as the marginal level.</p></note> A stick with a sharpened upper end called a <hi rend="i">mele'i</hi> is driven into the ground and the nut husked on it with several deft twisting movements. A few light taps on the nut at the pointed end opposite that which carries the eye-holes, either with another nut or the back of a knife, splits off a circular cap, and the nut is ready for drinking.</p>
        <p>The best nuts for drinking are those that are not fully mature; when the liquid has been consumed, the nut may be cracked open and the soft, jelly-like, growing meat may be scraped off the inside of the shell and eaten, the cap serving well as an improvised spoon. This is a quick, refreshing and strengthening meal that is popular at reststops, especially with the carriers. At the other end of the growing scale is the fully mature nut that has sprouted. At that stage the original cavity of the nut has become filled with a spongy, edible mass and the liquid has all been absorbed. This spongy, sweetish growth is termed <hi rend="i">o'o</hi> and on coral atolls forms an important part of the food of the inhabitants. During its growth it absorbs a good deal of the oil from the meat of the nut which then becomes unsuitable for the preparation of commercial copra.</p>
        <p>To allow a shower or squall to pass, it may be necessary to seek shelter in some isolated house or in a village through which one is passing. The owners of the house may not be expecting the call and will hurry to place mats if these are not in readiness. Chairs will generally not be available in such circumstances. The host or hostess, after the preliminary greetings and some conversation, even if coconuts have been offered for the refreshment of the party, will politely regret in a set form, the fact that no meal or more substantial refreshment is available. They should be warmly thanked for their polite regrets and informed that as the call is sudden or unexpected, the lack is of no consequence. If the wait is likely to be a lengthy one, there may be an offer to prepare kava.</p>
        <p>A large banana leaf, if there are wild bush bananas or
<pb n="31" xml:id="n31"/>
cultivations nearby, is useful as an improvised umbrella for those who are caught in a shower or squall outside a village without a suitable covering. The leaf must be severed with a knife, as any attempt to pull or break it off strips the stem of the plant to ground level. Banana leaves also serve as water-proof wrappings for suitcases in wet weather.</p>
        <p>A travelling party, especially where the members of the party are known, is invited in almost every village through which it passes, perhaps by an individual official or <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, who will come to the roadside for the purpose, to enter a house to rest or to take kava. This is a display of good manners on the part of the person making the offer and may be accepted or not as convenient. Such an invitation should, of course, be courteously acknowledged if it is not accepted. Occasionally it may happen that a village is assembled in council when a party passes through and an orator will turn in his place in the council house and respectfully invite the party to enter. If the village is not a scheduled stop, one's orator may reply that it is advisable to proceed according to the programme laid down, and after thanks and mutual courtesies the party may proceed. During this exchange, any umbrellas in use should be lowered and carriers awaiting a decision should set down their burdens. If a function is in progress, an orator of the village may press the party very strongly to stay for a short time; if that cannot be done, it is likely that a food gift will be presented informally for which of course proper thanks should be rendered before the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> proceeds. When an invitation is called from a house, greetings are fairly informal, but if a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> or orator comes out to the roadside to present an invitation, formal greetings are usually exchanged before other matters are discussed.</p>
        <p>There are numerous courtesies and indications of respect associated with the movement of animals and the carrying of burdens through villages or past assemblies or groups of <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, especially on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, the ceremonial central area of the village. Horses may be employed in visiting some of the distant districts. Care should therefore be employed to ensure that a horse is never galloped across a <hi rend="i">malae</hi> or past a house in which <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> are assembled in <hi rend="i">fono</hi>. It is good manners to dismount and lead a horse through a village and this prohibition must be most strictly observed in certain important villages where it is the custom to lead animals or carry burdens along the beach, rather than to desecrate the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>.</p>
        <p>There are conventional forms of greetings and replies
<pb n="32" xml:id="n32"/>
when meeting people on <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> and when arriving in or departing from a village, but these form part of the study of the language rather than to warrant specific mention in these notes.</p>
        <p>It may sometimes happen that part of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> has to be undertaken in an open Samoan boat (<hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>). These are long narrow clinker or carvel-built vessels<note xml:id="ftn1-32" n="*"><p>Clinker-built vessels are constructed with planks that overlap each other, in the style of weather-boarding; the hull of a carvel-built vessel presents an even appearance with planks that fit smoothly together.</p></note> which in a heavy sea have a rather peculiar motion. They may be propelled by as many as 30 to 40 rowers. Visitors sit usually in the stern, forward of the steersman, and as a loaded <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi> cannot be beached satisfactorily, guests are usually carried to and from the boat. This may be done by either of two methods. One boy may clasp his hands behind him, and into the loop so formed one inserts a knee and clasps the boy round the neck or shoulders. Or two boys may clasp hands and form a seat on which one takes one's place, balancing by clasping each boy round the neck. Any amusement caused to the crew or onlookers on the beach by these means of transportation is legitimate enough and should be taken in good part. A jocular reference to one's weight, if knowledge of the language permits, is not out of place, and is actually part of the fun.</p>
        <p>The interdependence and mutual recognition of the two groups in Samoan society, titled and untitled people, receive a good illustration in boat journeys. The rowing is usually the function of the young men, but from time to time the steersman, or other chiefs or orators on board, will thank the rowers courteously for their efforts, and they will continue with obvious satisfaction, lightening their labours at the oars with typical Samoan songs.</p>
        <p>At the end of the trip it is appreciated if one says a word of thanks to the crew, not forgetting special mention of the steersman, who is deemed to have had the lives of all on board in his hands during the trip, especially if it has been necessary to proceed outside the reef and to negotiate any difficult passages to and from the open sea. Samoan custom is generous in these matters. The skill of a steersman, or even of an automobile or omnibus driver, is always the subject of courteous thanks and is something of a rebuke to our own easy-going European ways.</p>
        <p>It is well to remember that it is possible to develop a
<pb n="33" xml:id="n33"/>
bad case of sunburn or windburn on a boat journey even though the day be apparently dull and the face and neck adequately shaded. This painful result can follow on reflection from the water, especially if one is particularly susceptible, as some people are. The use of dark glasses can furnish relief to the eyes, and the application of Samoan oil or the covering of the lips may prevent an unpleasant form of burn or eruption which may not make its appearance until some days later.</p>
        <p>On the north coast of Savai'i there are stretches of open or sparsely overgrown lava. Travellers who wish to study their comfort will arrange to cross such stages in the cool of the morning; those who attempt them in the heat of the day for the sake of the experience should not expect to enjoy it too much at the time. The heat from the lava is, of course, less unpleasant in the trade-wind season. Visitors who propose to climb the volcano <hi rend="i">Matavanu</hi> should not go without a good guide and should allow ample time for the trip, a full day. On the higher, unclothed slopes of the mountain, one's weight breaks through a cindery crust of ash to ankle depth; boots therefore provide the best form of protection on this particular excursion. A very cool, or even cold wind is frequently blowing at the summit, and if one plans to lunch there an extra wrapping, especially after the exertion of the ascent, can be a comfort. The lip of the crater is crumbly and dangerous, and a descent into its depths to secure a souvenir from the sulphur deposit in the vent should be attempted only with a really trustworthy guide.</p>
        <p>The lava field that flowed from the volcano <hi rend="i">Matavanu</hi> is interesting in that it presents the spectacle of a comparatively recent phenomenon. Very sparse growth is now making its appearance in cracks and fissures, but the general appearance is that of an immense extent of lava that has only lately solidified and which in many places still preserves the imprints of the trunks of fallen palms or other trees. In certain parts, the field presents an eruptive or exploded appearance due to streams having been engulfed; in others it suggests that a swelling, uneasy sea was suddenly frozen solid. The stone walls of churches or other buildings show above the level of the surrounding lava; in one instance the molten mass surrounded a church and flowed backwards through the entrance, leaving untouched a section of land in the rear of the church which is now used as a graveyard. Perhaps the most remarkable freak of the lava which swallowed up the entire lagoon and rolled
<pb n="34" xml:id="n34"/>
on into deep water, forming the present typical “ironbound” coast, was the complete and neat encirclement of a girl's grave to a depth of approximately six feet in such a manner as to follow closely the margin of the grave and yet leave the grave intact.<note xml:id="ftn1-34" n="*"><p>An inspection of the grave while this chapter was being set up disclosed that the lava edges have collapsed as a result of weathering and a recent earthquake. It can still clearly be seen, however, that the lava flow never at any time encroached on the grave itself, although the appearance is now not so spectacular as it was previously.</p></note> This is one of the sights of the lava field, close to the western boundary. At the points of crossing, the field is about five miles wide; the volcano itself lies some five miles inland in a direct line but it is necessary to walk further than that in order to reach the summit.</p>
        <p>Generally speaking, if it can be avoided, it is not good manners to enter a village through the cooking areas or the pig enclosure. On occassion, if a party approaches from the land side, this is unavoidable, in which case it will not cause comment, but where there is a choice, the approach should be made from the front and well cared for part of the village. To enter unnecessarily from the rear is equivalent to a visitor entering the back of a house; this is also not customary.</p>
        <p>On <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> it will probably be found that personal susceptibilities and idiosyncracies differ a good deal; one person may do with impunity what will cause another considerable discomfort. It is possible, however, that attention to some of the hints in this chapter may make all the difference between an enjoyable trip and one that, although affording material for humorous anecdotes at some future period, may prove to be something less than pleasant at the time.</p>
        <p>We are now ready to consider what happens on arrival in a village; some aspects of a typical welcome ceremony (<hi rend="i">fesilafa'iga</hi>) can best be examined in a fresh chapter.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="35" xml:id="n35"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="4" xml:id="c4">
        <head>CHAPTER IV<lb/>
<hi rend="i">The Welcome Ceremony</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Visitors</hi> entering a village where they are expected will usually find the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> waiting for them either outside or within a house. If the occasion is a very formal one, the whole village may have assembled in its various groups, <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, Pastors of different denominations, Women's Committee in distinctive uniforms, schools and young men and women. In such a case, an arch of welcome will probably also have been constructed. The meeting house (<hi rend="i">fale fono</hi>) and other houses set aside for the accommodation of the party, are almost certain to have been painstakingly and beautifully decorated with leaves and flowers.</p>
        <p>Samoans are inveterate hand-shakers and this form of greeting should receive attention before hosts and guests proceed to a house (<hi rend="i">fale</hi>) if the visitors have been received outside. If the party find chiefs and orators waiting for them on entering a house, the hosts may rise to receive them, but this is merely a concession to European custom; Samoan custom does not require it. Samoans receiving Samoans within a house will remain seated and will shake hands with the newcomers from that position, the latter taking their seats as quickly as possible. Europeans, therefore, who are seated in a Samoan house, need not rise to shake hands with newcomers, but may shake hands sitting. Generally speaking, on formal occasions, titled persons get or remain on their feet within a house as little as possible. On entering a house, one's seat in the proper part of the building should be taken as soon as possible, and once seated, one should rise as little as possible until on the point of leaving. If some article at a distance is required, it may be asked for; there will be plenty of attendants able and willing to perform this service.</p>
        <p>Without going deeply into the niceties of Samoan distinctions, it may be stated briefly that the front of the
<pb n="36" xml:id="n36"/>
house is for the accommodation of orators, the ends for the chiefs, and the back for the members of the family and all untitled people. Thus an interpreter or an orator accompanying a party and acting as official orator will sit rather to the side of the front part of the house as near as possible to those members of his party who rank as chiefs, leaving the true front portion for the local village orators, and the European members of the party will take their places near one of the ends, using some care generally not to sit against the principal end post or posts, which are reserved by custom for ranking chiefs of the village or district, and which position one would not improperly or unnecessarily arrogate to oneself, unless it were specifically indicated. The posts reserved for principal chiefs and orators, at the ends and in the front of the house respectively, may often be distinguished either as to size or by the elaborate nature of the coconut sennit design employed in the lashings; such places may even be indicated by double posts. There is another single post, without distinctive marking or appearance, counted fourth from the central post in front towards that end of the house that is occupied by the visitors. The central post is the place of the leading orator. The fourth post referred to is designated the stranger's post and may be claimed by any unexpected titled visitor to functions such as weddings, deaths, election ceremonies to titles and the feasts associated with any of these gatherings. Apart from such special places as these, there is no detailed precedence to be observed in seating, so long as the principles already indicated are applied. A stranger would not usually break into a welcome ceremony but would wait respectfully in another house before joining the assembly for any later function. The front of the house is that part facing the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, or the open ceremonial area of the village. If there are two principal lines of houses in a village with the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> in between, then the fronts of the houses in such a case face inward.</p>
        <p>The seating is arranged in a circle, each person present taking his place as far as possible against or between the posts of the house. But if the house is crowded, certain of those present will have to sit forward away from the posts.</p>
        <p>Untitled people or young men may take up positions at the back of the house in the rear of the kava party, but if the assembly is a large one, all available space may be in use by chiefs and orators, in which case other people will have to seat themselves on the pavement or terraced foundations in the rear of the house. Dogs and chickens
<pb n="37" xml:id="n37"/>
usually enjoy a certain amount of freedom in Samoan houses, but those that intrude in any formal gathering will be driven out with a blow or threatening gesture of a fly-whisk or a handful of coral fragments picked up from the floor.</p>
        <p>It is correct for titled visitors or Europeans to enter or leave a house by the front, not the back, which is for the use of untitled people and members of the family.</p>
        <p>Chairs will generally be provided for the use of Europeans, especially if the visit is expected, since Samoan courtesy is prompt to recognise that any other form of seating for such guests becomes very uncomfortable in a short time. The chairs in such a case will be placed in the position where the visitor is expected to sit. In case of doubt, the interpreter will indicate the proper place.</p>
        <p>If no chairs are available, as can happen if the visit is not expected, one must sit in the Samoan fashion, cross-legged on Samoan mats, which will be placed in readiness if the approach of the party is observed. If the visit is unexpected and no mats are in position, there will be a scurry to procure some when the visitors are seen or announced, and there should be a tactful pause outside to enable this to be done. This obviates standing inside the house.</p>
        <p>Some care should be exercised when Europeans are obliged to sit cross-legged in the Samoan fashion. A lady finding it difficult or impossible to sit correctly could tuck her legs under her to one side without offending Samoan custom, but this is not a desirable attitude for a male. If it is found impossible to adopt a correct or nearly correct cross-legged attitude, one may sit with the knees drawn up closely, probably with the arms clasped round the knees or legs for greater comfort or balance. This is a concession to Samoan custom and will not give offence, the important point being that the legs should not be thrust out forward along the ground, and in particular pointing towards anyone else in the house. If the correct or any variation of the correct sitting attitude becomes too uncomfortable during a protracted discussion, then as a final resort, the legs may be stretched forward, and a mat placed over the offending limbs and feet. One may perform that service for oneself as quickly as possible, and a few words of apology will not be out of place. These will generally be received with a smile, for Samoans realise that the correct attitude soon becomes uncomfortable or painful for Europeans, and the outstretched legs, decently covered, are by a polite a fiction regarded for the time being as having ceased to exist. Even so, they should
<pb n="38" xml:id="n38"/>
as far as possible never be pointed at anyone else in the <hi rend="i">fale</hi>, especially a speaker. So also, if one is resting in a <hi rend="i">fale</hi> before resuming a journey and it is desired to lie down, the feet and body should be stretched out in a direction away from other occupants of the <hi rend="i">fale</hi>. One should not even recline in such a manner that the feet point towards the interior of the house. A breach of custom may therefore most safely be avoided by reclining with the head towards the interior and the feet pointing towards some unoccupied wall post. One would not, of course, lie down in a house filled with people except in a case of sickness, but if it appears or is announced after the completion of business or a meal that a travelling party wish to lie down and rest before resuming a journey, most of the people in the house will politely disperse, and pillows for the comfort of the guests will shortly afterwards make their appearance.</p>
        <p>Visitors may be gratified to find that sitting cross-legged in the Samoan fashion is very easy when the muscles are relaxed after a long walk, but too long a maintenance of this posture, however easy and convenient it may appear at the time, may result in a painful stiffening or cramp when the time comes to resume walking.</p>
        <p>There are two positions for sitting in the Samoan fashion. The first, the familiar cross-legged attitude with a foot tucked under each knee, offers no particular difficulty for Europeans, at least for short periods. The second is extremely difficult and in most cases even impossible for adult Europeans to assume; it requires the training and exercising of the muscles and tendons affected from a very early age. In that form, the legs are crossed, with one folded above and resting entirely along the top of the other, so that one foot rests above a knee and the other beneath the opposite knee. This is a favourite relaxing position for Samoans; an orator making a speech must not be seated in this manner.</p>
        <p>It will be convenient at this stage to describe the kava ceremony, which sets a seal on all occasions of a formal and many of an informal chracter. There are two types of kava,<note xml:id="ftn1-38" n="*"><p>Kava is now the European form; the Samoan word is <hi rend="i">'ava</hi>, in which the initial “break,” similar to the Arabic hamza, has replaced the original Samoan “k.”</p></note> the ordinary kava ceremony and King's kava. The latter, however, is seen only on the occasion of and as a special mark of respect to very high ranking Samoan chiefs or important Polynesian or European visitors, and we need
<pb n="39" xml:id="n39"/>
not further concern ourselves with it here. The form in which it is presented differs a great deal in different districts, although certain principles are common to each form. Not all districts are entitled to prepare it.</p>
        <p>Kava is always taken inside a house and only by titled people, a term which, by the courtesy of Samoan custom, includes pastors of any denomination and Native Medical Practitioners, even though they may not hold the rank of <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. It follows logically that being taken inside a house, it is not good manners to take it standing on any formal occasion. It may sometimes be handed round simply as a beverage to a party of chiefs and orators working in the sun, but there is then no formality in the serving, and the act has no ceremonial significance. It may in such a case be drunk standing. Although it can be used merely as a beverage, and numbers of Samoans and Europeans become addicted to it, its principal function is ceremonial, and one can take part quite correctly in a kava ceremony without drinking at all. Kava is not intoxicating and is not a fermented drink. It is a strained mixture in cold water of the powdered, sun-dried root of the kava plant (<hi rend="i">Piper Methysticum</hi>) and a few hours after preparation it becomes stale and unpalatable. Although it is not an intoxicant, some individuals notice a peculiar effect on the head and eyes or even on the legs; it has certain diuretic properties recognised by the medical profession but over-indulgence during a long period is claimed by some to affected the eye-sight. It is sometimes prepared in a peppery form by adding the juice of fresh chilli pods.</p>
        <p>The kava ceremon itself may be conveniently described in conjunction with the welcome ceremony, or <hi rend="i">fesilafa'iga</hi>, of which it forms an essential part.</p>
        <p>When the visitors are properly seated within the house, all titled people receiving them utter a few formal words of welcome. The visitors may before this have come forward and shaken hands and exchanged a courtesy in the nature of “good day” or a similar greeting. Such a salutation, however, has no formal significance, and visitors must await the ceremonial words of welcome, and recognition before they can properly be regarded as being socially present. The rule, therefore, is that a person entering a house does not speak until he is spoken to, and when the formal words of recognition have been uttered, he replies in similar terms. Such ceremonial forms are used only between titled people. Untitled men or women enter a house by the back and sit quietly until they are noticed and addressed, if they have
<pb n="40" xml:id="n40"/>
come wishing to speak to titled occupants. It may be mentioned that the courtesies of Samoan rank are extended to Europeans.</p>
        <p>The visitors await the formal greetings and then it is the turn of the orator to reply in similar terms on behalf of Europeans, who, if they know enough of the ceremonial requirements of the language, may also join in the greetings if they wish. A short explanation must be inserted here as to the significance and form of the opening greetings. The acknowledgment or recognition of social position is one of the prime psychological needs of the Samoan; this is carried to the length where every person of dignity or position is deemed to know everyone else of similar status, and it is very bad indeed to enquire as to the title or status of any person in his hearing. It is therefore a social necessity for the orator or interpreter attached to a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party to inform himself fully as to the formula of greeting applicable to each village which will be visited. This formula recites in set terms the titles of or respectful references to all those who constitute the leading individuals or families of the village, together with traditional allusions which become intelligible only with special study of the formula in each case. In some instances, recital of this formula (<hi rend="i">fa'alupega</hi>)<note xml:id="ftn1-40" n="*"><p>The Malua Press of the London Missionary Society in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> have published the ceremonial forms of address for every village in a booklet entitled, O le Tusi Fa'alupega o <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>.</p></note> may be considered as a much condensed summary of some at least of the local social, political and historical events of previous centuries. It will thus be clear to the reader that although this part of the welcome ceremony falls into a regular pattern, the details necessarily differ in respect of each village or district. A chief or orator whose title appears in the <hi rend="i">fa'alupega</hi> may be considered an important person in his village and one whose family history can probably be traced back to the time of the foundation of the village.</p>
        <p>If the occasion is a formal one, the hosts will make a ceremonial presentation of one or more club-like kava roots (<hi rend="i">tugase</hi>) or a bundle of the stringy feeder roots (<hi rend="i">uso</hi>), which will be placed before an orator among the visitors by a young man or a girl. If it is intended to present a large number of roots, a mat will be drawn round in front of the hosts, each of whom will deposit his kava upon it. The orator before whom the kava is placed will formally acknowledge the presentation and after appropriate words and
<pb n="41" xml:id="n41"/>
gestures to which the visitors themselves may add a word of thanks, will hand back the root to be taken outside by a boy and there pounded with a stone on a specially placed hollow rock into a state suitable for mixing in the kava bowl.<note xml:id="ftn1-41" n="*"><p>Sir Peter Buck (<hi rend="i"><name key="name-202886" type="person">Te Rangi Hiroa</name></hi>), in Samoan Material Culture, has pointed out that in most cases these hollow stones were originally used for, and worn concave by, the grinding of stone adzes. They have been transported from the edges of streams where they were formerly used because of their nearness to water, which was essential to the grinding process. Adzes have not, of course, been ground in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> for over a century.</p></note> It may happen that when the root is offered for that purpose the hosts may thank the orator politely and return it, stating that kava has already been prepared, or that another root has been pounded in readiness. If there is more than one root, he will hand back one for pounding and apportion the remainder among members of his own party, each man having his kava root laid at his feet and acknowledging it politely. If there should be a large number of roots presented, and on certain occasions the number may reach fifty or sixty, it will be polite for the visiting orator to include certain of his hosts in the distribution, say the ranking chief of the village, the <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, if present, and the Pastor or Pastors in a group if more than one, and at the conclusion of this part of the ceremony there will be a chorus of thanks and appreciation to the orator for the respect shown to all groups present.</p>
        <p>An interesting and important instance of Samoan ceremonial usually precedes the commencement of the speech of welcome on formal occasions. This is the domestic ceremony of <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi>, a period of discussion in the presence of the guests but confined to the orators or orator groups amongst the hosts as to who shall be the one to speak in welcome. This little interlude has a twofold social purpose. On the one hand, it conveys a delicate compliment to the guests by suggesting that the honour of speaking in welcome to them is one for which the orator hosts are eager to contend and a privilege which one or the other will not yield lightly. On the other hand, it has also a much wider social and even political significance. Where only one village has gathered to receive a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party, the question for discussion and decision is as to which of the orator families present shall have the distinction of representing the village and making the formal speech of the day. Such decisions are not taken as a matter of course in Samoan custom. An individual or family that neglects its privileges may find itself in danger
<pb n="42" xml:id="n42"/>
of losing them. Still less is a decision of this character regarded as a matter of course when an entire district is assembled. In such a case, the leading orator of each village will represent his own group and capably put forward their claims to have the speaker chosen from his particular village. Others will reply and gradually drop out one by one. Some will occasionally content themselves with announcing at once that they are satisfied to leave the decision to the remainder, but the important point is that they have taken part in the discussion and kept alive their right to participate in deliberations of this nature. Social and political precedence and recognition are dear to the heart of every Samoan, and no opportunity is lost for claims to status to be put forward or demonstrated, even though in the case of the <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi> it may have been decided before the arrival of the visitors who actually is to have the honour of speaking.</p>
        <p>While the <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi> is proceeding, the visitors wait quietly and enjoy the exchange of delicate courtesy and adroit self-advertisement, each orator's task being to pay due respect to the dignity of adjoining villages and yet to sacrifice nothing of their own social claims. Brevity is not the essence either of Samoan ceremonial or conversation. Titled people do things with dignified deliberation and an absence of haste; the impressive delivery of well-turned phrases alive with traditional or mythical allusion is more to be admired than that European succinctness that operates with one eye on the clock. The writer has known an Administrator to wait three quarters of an hour while this form of Samoan honour was satisfied.</p>
        <p>Even on less formal occasions when the full <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi> is dispensed with, an orator in a group will rarely speak on their behalf without a short, whispered exchange or perhaps merely a glance of interrogation to secure the consent of others of his party. Even where an orator may properly be classed as the leading orator of a village with an undoubted traditional right to speak on important occasions on behalf of the village, he will generally make a courteous display of consulting the others.</p>
        <p>A village may have decided to receive visitors in traditional ceremonial costume, and both chiefs and orators may be found attired in bark-cloth (<hi rend="i">siapo</hi>), their bodies oiled, and with necklets (<hi rend="i">'ula</hi>) decked about them. It is good manners for an orator so attired to remove his necklet before he commences speaking in a welcome ceremony.</p>
        <p>Visitors will perhaps observe that throughout the welcome ceremony certain chiefs and orators are busy rolling
<pb n="43" xml:id="n43"/>
together the fibres of coconut husk on their bare thighs to form heavier composite threads. Others may be plaiting the composite threads into Samoan coconut twine (<hi rend="i">'afa</hi>) which is much used for a variety of purposes including the lashings of canoes and houses; the construction of a single house of the better type requires some miles of this twine. This, although a long and tedious operation, is a chiefly occupation frequently performed by those whose chief part in a ceremony is merely to sit and listen, and where a village is accustomed to have many meetings there is likely to be no dearth of <hi rend="i">'afa</hi>. It would of course be highly improper for an orator to busy himself thus while engaged in making a speech. Actually his hands will generally be occupied with his orator's fly-whisk, or <hi rend="i">fue</hi>, which is composed of strands of plaited sennit, affixed to a wooden handle. Two forms of the <hi rend="i">fue</hi> are in general use, a small form and a large. The small <hi rend="i">fue</hi> is usually used by an orator speaking in a house while sitting, and the large one is more often seen in use by an orator making a speech while standing on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, entering the meeting or <hi rend="i">fono</hi> late after ceremonial greetings have been exchanged, must be greeted personally by the others and reply in the proper form. It is wise and polite for him so to arrange his entrance that he does not interrupt a speech, because if he does so the speech must stop temporarily while greetings are exchanged, since he is not socially present until that has been done. An important orator thus interrupted, especially if he is rising to an effective climax, is likely to be gravely displeased by such an ill-timed entrance.</p>
        <p>An untitled person, wishing to speak on a private matter to a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> attending a formal gathering, will not enter the house at all. He will crouch down on the pavement or terrace outside behind the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> with whom he wishes to speak, quietly attract his attention, deliver his message, and depart unostentatiously.</p>
        <p>Present-day kava bowls which are always cut from a solid section of the tree, have anything up to twenty-four legs, but the old Samoan bowls originally had only four. Samoan traditions relate that kava came to <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> from <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>; the Fijian bowls have only four legs also. Four-legged bowls may occasionally be seen even at present. The ancient kava bowl of the Tuiatua, presented by the Falealili district to a former Administrator and now preserved in the Native Office at Mulinu'u, has four legs and the characteristic shallow and wide section. If bowls of this old type
<pb n="44" xml:id="n44"/>
are seen in a few outer villages it will be found that they are highly valued.</p>
        <p>A peculiar, yellowish-green deposit (<hi rend="i">tane</hi>) may be noticed on the upper levels of the inner section of the kava bowl. This is due to long and continuous use of the bowl and good examples are not often seen. This appearance is not due to a stain or a true patina; it is a deposit or encrustation which dries and flakes off if the bowl is not used regularly, and the effect cannot be produced merely by leaving a mixture of kava to stand in a bowl for a long, undisturbed period. A serving cup that has been in use for years may be similarly marked.</p>
        <p>The strainer (<hi rend="i">fau</hi>) is made from the prepared and teased-out, inner bark or bast of the <hi rend="i">fau</hi> tree, a member of the hibiscus family. It is a bunch of ribbony fibre which is drawn through the liquid and traps the solid particles of the kava root which are not consumed. It becomes worn and reduced in size by use, and has to be replaced from time to time.</p>
        <p>An orator among the hosts now commences his speech of welcome, and while he is speaking the young man who has been pounding<note xml:id="ftn1-44" n="*"><p>Until about the end of the last century, the kava root was cut into small pieces and chewed by young girls or boys instead of being pounded. Kava used also to be made from the green, undried root.</p></note> the kava root outside will return with the pulverised kava generally wrapped in a breadfruit leaf. The kava bowl (<hi rend="i">tanoa</hi>) will have been placed in readiness at the back of the house, and behind it will be seated the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, possibly but not necessarily in festal attire. The kava bowl must be so arranged that the perforated lug by which it may be suspended when not in use is on the side nearest to the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>. This girl is a chief's daughter, the ceremonial virgin of the village, who has specific duties on formal occasions and in connection with the reception of visitors. She is one of the few persons who are entitled by Samoan custom to wear the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi>, the ceremonial head-dress of bleached human hair, although it is not often worn for an ordinary kava ceremony within a house. On the right side of her will usually be seated the attendant who will add the water to the bowl, together with the orator who has the task of distributing the kava when prepared, and on the other side there will perhaps be other <hi rend="i">matai</hi> who will take their places there in order to render symmetrical the line of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> or <hi rend="i">agai-'ava</hi>, as this group is called, on either side of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>. If a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> is not available, some other girl, or lacking any
<pb n="45" xml:id="n45"/>
girl, a young man, takes her place. Other boys or girls may be seated in this line or in a line to the rear; they will later assist to serve the kava.</p>
        <p>The pounded kava is now placed in the bowl with the strainer, and after the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> has removed any necklace of flowers that she may be wearing, water is poured over her hands on to the ground by one of her attendants, who, if he is seated on her right, will be careful to use his right hand for that purpose. If seated on her left, he would pour the water with his left hand, the point being that the back of his hand should not be presented to the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> during the performance of his duties. Water is added to the bowl by the attendant with the same care as to use of hands as before, and the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> proceeds to knead the kava with both hands and wring out the strainer with the graceful gestures proper to the occasion. A young man from the rear line of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> now takes his place outside at the back of the house in order to free the strainer of adhering particles of kava, which he does with a motion resembling the cracking of a whip. The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, after a glance backwards, throws the strainer, generally over her right shoulder, with some adroitness, and the young man must be most careful not to drop it when it comes in his direction or to allow it to drag along or touch the ground while he is performing his duties. When each stage of his work is completed he must toss the <hi rend="i">fau</hi> carefully forward to be caught by the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>. This continues until all the larger particles have been removed; the later stages of the straining process are performed unassisted by the girl who turns to her right rear and disposes of the small remaining root fragments with light flicks or shakes of the <hi rend="i">fau</hi>.</p>
        <p>The welcoming orator proceeds with his speech, usually starting in a low voice and gradually rising to his climax. By the time he finishes, his utterance is loud and rapid. On completion, others of his party murmur words of thanks for his capable expression of their sentiments, although his speech has generally followed an almost stereotyped form, including always praise to the Almighty for the safe arrival of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party. There is a short pause, because nothing formal is done in a hurry by titled people, and then an orator of the visitors commences to speak in reply. This orator should not, if it can be avoided, be the person who spoke in acknowledgment of the presentation of the kava root, but if there is only one orator with the visitors, then he may do so.</p>
        <p>According to Samoan custom, such speeches are made
<pb n="46" xml:id="n46"/>
always by orators, the chiefs merely listening and signifying their approval. When a welcome is being extended to Europeans, however, the hosts usually expect that a European shall speak in reply. Officers on regular Government patrol, who are well known in the villages through which they pass, may speak in reply; but it would not be improper for such an officer, if he has nothing to say apart from his ordinary duties, which will come later, to delegate to an orator of his party the task of making a formal reply to a speech of welcome.</p>
        <p>The visiting orator completes his reply, which will also tend to follow a set form, being careful not to do so before he sees that the kava is ready, a stage that is indicated by the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, who raises the strainer on high and allows the liquid to run back into the bowl. This action also enables those making the kava to judge whether the mixture is so strong as to require the addition of more water. There is a little chorus of thanks when the orator finishes his speech, and then another orator seated by the bowl recites loudly the short ceremonial forms of address of all groups present, and announces that the kava is ready and that he will preside over its distribution. All titled persons in the house clap their hands in slow, deliberate fashion on this announcement and the distribution proceeds. No person receives kava unless he holds a title, is a male European, or is a Pastor or Native Medical Practitioner and unless or until his special kava title or his name is called by the presiding orator, who has the delicate task of deciding the order of precedence in which those present are to be served. Women do not take kava except in the rare cases where they have titles; European ladies offered kava may accept it but they are not usually included in such a ceremony even if present and they should not expect it. We now see demonstrated part of the significance of the kava ceremony; it not only formalises an assembly and the accompanying business, besides being the initial form that hospitality assumes even on informal occasions, but it affords a public opportunity of indicating and recognising social precedence and status, a social need that is dear not only to the heart of every titled Samoan but also to the untitled members of his family.</p>
        <p>A word may now be said relating to kava titles, which are special names or terms used to indicate a chief or an orator only for the purposes of the kava ceremony. Not every chief or orator has a kava title; generally, however, most chiefs enjoy this distinction, although it is rare for orators other than orator chiefs to possess them, and even
<pb n="47" xml:id="n47"/>
they prefer in most cases to take their kava as orators without kava titles outside their own districts. Such titles may have been bestowed in previous generations, sometimes centuries ago by a High Chief or King, an important family, or by political groups of orators who in the old days controlled the ceremonial and political activities of the country. If a chief or orator has no kava title, his ordinary name-title is called, but in such a manner as to indicate his status. Thus, the distributing orator will in the case of a chief call out, “This is the <hi rend="i">cup</hi> (or <hi rend="i">drink</hi>) of ———,” while for an orator without a kava title the call will be, “This is the <hi rend="i">kava</hi> of ———.”</p>
        <p>A common misconception calls for correction at this stage. It appears to be often thought that a kava title is the title of a person. That is not so. Actually a kava title is the name of a cup, and for chiefs who have traditional kava titles associated with their <hi rend="i">matai</hi> names or district titles, it is the name of their cup that is called when their kava is served.</p>
        <p>The boy or girl serving the kava must be careful to show the appropriate respect and indicate status with the proper gestures. In serving a chief, the cup is held as high as the server's head, in the right hand, the left being placed behind the back; then the hand with the cup is carried down low near the ground with a sweeping motion from the server's right side to the drinker. It follows that the palm of the hand and the inside of the forearm of the server are presented to the drinker. One finger may be clipped round the lip of the cup in presenting or in accepting it or it may be cupped in the hand. In serving an orator, the cup is held low near the left breast and served at that level from the left. In this case, the back of the hand and the forearm are presented to the drinker. An orator wishing to show respect to chiefs will accept the cup with the hand furthest away from the chiefs concerned, or if there are important people on both sides of him, he may accept the cup with both hands. If the server wishes to indicate that the cup is full, it may be served with the cupped hands, or an aged person may have to accept the cup with both hands for reasons of infirmity. A <hi rend="i">matai</hi> afflicted with palsy to a degree that endangers the cup may have it steadied to his lips by the server who will be careful to stand over the seated person as little as possible.</p>
        <p>The cup from which kava is consumed is a polished half shell of a coconut, either wide and shallow, or smaller and deeper in section, depending upon the size and type of
<pb n="48" xml:id="n48"/>
nut from which it is cut; it may be filled from the kava bowl either by being dipped by the server or by the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> raising the strainer on high and allowing the liquid to run down. For a large gathering there may be more than one young person serving, but the second or any other server will not commence his duties until after all the most important people, to whom it is desired to show special respect, have been served.</p>
        <p>Special respect to persons of high rank can be indicated if the server carries and presents the cup by the longest way round. Thus, if there is a central post to the house, it is more respectful for the server to walk right round the post, even if the person to be served is seated on the nearer side. When the chief or orator has accepted the cup, the server retires, walking backwards, to the centre of the house while the former drinks, as it is disrespectful to stand unnecessarily over a person who is seated. A similar type of respect is seen when a newcomer shakes hands with someone who is seated. The person standing stops at a little distance and bends from the waist, shaking hands in that position, so as not to tower over the one who is seated. Similarly, a person walking through a house or a room of seated people, will crouch or bend a little, and an untitled person speaking to a seated chief or orator will kneel or sit while doing so. Thus, a Samoan sitting down uninvited in one's presence does so out of respect; he does not show an improper assurance or a lack of respect as the uninformed European might imagine. If kava is served by a young man he should be stripped to the waist, unless he is a uniformed Government official when it is correct for him to wear his uniform. A boy stripped to the waist and wearing a necklace should remove that decoration before he commences his duty of serving kava.</p>
        <p>An interesting point arises when two or more holders of the same title are present. The title or kava title as the case may be is called once only, one holder of the title is served, the cup returns to the bowl to be replenished, and is then brought to the other person with the same title without further announcement.</p>
        <p>The server may not be acquainted with everyone present, or if he is, may not know their particular kava titles. If he feels any doubt as to who is next to be served, he may stand in the middle of the house with the cup raised on high and glance about him. The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to be served will then indicate his position with a clap of the hands or a slap of one hand on a knee or thigh. Others may do so in any
<pb n="49" xml:id="n49"/>
case to indicate appreciation of the fact that their turn for kava has been recognised.</p>
        <p>The order of precedence in kava, as indicated by the orator presiding at the bowl, is a matter that calls both for tact and knowledge, as serious offence could easily be given by an inexpert person. Usually the highest chief of the visitors is served first, or if it is simply an assembly of one village, the highest chief of that village. Proper respect having been shown to the visitors, the next cup is served to one of the hosts, usually their ranking chief or perhaps the orator who has spoken, who in any case will receive his cup early in the ceremony as a recognition of his work in speaking. It is the custom in some villages where there is only one church denomination represented, to serve the Pastor his kava first as an indication of the respect in which his spiritual rank is held. Thereafter, the cup goes from one side to the other, the alternation of respect being an important feature of Samoan custom. There is no rigid rule, however, and the principal responsibility of the orator at the bowl is to exercise a sound judgment and to discharge his duty of showing respect where it is most required. His function at a really large and mixed assembly is one that calls for considerable skill, and a satisfactory demonstration of his knowledge and ability will always call forth a word of praise.</p>
        <p>A word may be added on the subject of alternation of respect in relation to distribution of kava. The cups are not distributed in a strict order of precedence that aims at indicating exactly the comparative rank of all present. Such an attempt would not only be difficult or injudicious but might have the effect that all or most of, say, a group of visitors or others in an assembly would have to receive their kava first, a result that, except in unusual circumstances, would be definitely in conflict with Samoan custom. Rather the position is that one group receives one or more cups and the respect shown to that group suffices for the time being; the cup then passes to the representative of another group to show respect to them without regard to the fact that there may still be persons of higher rank in the first group who have not at that stage had their kava. Mutual respect and recognition are the motivating factors that influence the order of distribution, and the elasticity of Samoan custom, which is evidenced here as elsewhere, allows for a nice and discriminating judgment to be exercised by the orator directing that part of the ceremony. Provided that he applies the proper principles, the question is one for his decision alone although a member of the visiting party may sit
<pb n="50" xml:id="n50"/>
beside him to give information relating to the kava titles of the guests. There is thus no rigid degree of precedence such as that recognised and applied by, say, the Royal College of Heralds.</p>
        <p>It is not essential but it is graceful for a person highly placed in the order of precedence to murmur a word of thanks or other respectful acknowledgment when his title or kava title is called.</p>
        <p>If the presiding orator feels some doubt as to where exactly to place some chief or orator in the ceremony, or if he has unfortunately overlooked someone at the proper stage, he may safely place that person right at the end of the distribution which is also a position of honour.</p>
        <p>The visitor may notice very occasionally in certain districts that kava is not served to the leading chief or orator chief in the cup from which others present take their kava. This could only occur where the status of the person so served is very high indeed, although his importance might be merely local and based only upon domestic traditions. In such a case, it generally happens that the common cup is filled as usual from the bowl and then poured into another cup in which it is served. This indicates an almost kingly status of the individual concerned in his own particular district and refers to a feature of the King's kava ceremony in which the kava is thus poured from one cup to another. When outside his own village or district, such a person would take kava in the customary manner.</p>
        <p>Where the gathering is a very large one and the kava bowl is emptying rapidly, the orator presiding at the bowl will take care that everyone of primary importance has partaken. He will then announce that the bowl is empty and make some words of excuse and respect to those who have not participated. This action is correct, and no one who has not been served is properly entitled to object, provided the orator has been careful to include a member or members from every group and has not overlooked someone whose importance is such that he should not have been passed over in the earlier part of the ceremony. Under ordinary circumstances, of course, all <hi rend="i">matai</hi> present participate.</p>
        <p>An interesting point connected with precedence may arise where visitors, for instance, may politely consider that they have been too highly honoured, or at least may make a show of saying so in order to indicate goodwill or to pay a compliment. A kava title may be called and the server proceed to offer it to the person indicated who will remonstrate
<pb n="51" xml:id="n51"/>
politely and indicate to whom he considers the kava should properly have been served next. Either the orator or the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> concerned will gracefully acknowledge such a courteous remonstrance, and a pleasant exchange which has as its object a display of mutual respect will thereupon ensue, ending with a decision as to who shall drink. If the person originally offered the cup is to drink, he will murmur a word of thanks and proceed to do so. If he gains his point and someone else is to drink, the server will return to the bowl, re-charge the cup, the orator presiding will call the new title and the kava will be served. Then, however, the person who originally remonstrated to show respect will be offered a fresh cup of kava without his title being again called, the first call being sufficient.</p>
        <p>The taking of the cup and the drinking of the kava must now be dealt with. The server bends low and offers the cup to the chief or orator who takes it in the manner alredy described. The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> drinking holds the cup before him or to one side and if he wishes may murmur either a prayer or a hope for the successful termination of the business, or some similar sentiment. If he prefers, he may simply say “<hi rend="i">manuia</hi>” or “<hi rend="i">soifua</hi>”, and the others present will respond in similar terms, answering “<hi rend="i">soifua</hi>” to the drinker's “<hi rend="i">manuia</hi>”, and <hi rend="i">vice versa</hi>. Whatever the word or words said, the drinker should pour out a few drops on to the ground as a libation. Although one may sometimes have to do so, it is good manners not to pour direct on to a mat if this can be avoided, either choosing a place where bare stones are showing or shifting the mat a little if that can conveniently be done. The kava is then consumed, the cup being placed to the lips only once, and the amount required being taken at one draught. The whole amount need not be drunk unless it is desired to do so, but the cup should not be replaced to the lips. The dregs or whatever remains may be poured or thrown out on to the stones outside the house and the cup returned to the server. If it is not convenient to empty the cup in this fashion, it may simply be handed back to the server.<note xml:id="ftn1-51" n="*"><p>Until about the end of the last century the empty cup was spun back adroitly by the drinker across the <hi rend="i">fale</hi> to come to rest in front of the bowl. Thi is still done in <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>.</p></note> Quite a number of Samoans do not drink kava, and many Europeans fail to acquire the taste also, but Samoan custom does not make it essential that the kava be actually consumed even in a formal ceremony. It is sufficient to pour the few drops as
<pb n="52" xml:id="n52"/>
a libation, murmur a word, and hand the cup back to the server. Some Samoans take a mouthful and, after returning the cup, turn in their places and dispose of the kava on to the stone pavement outside the house. It is not customary to thank or smile at the girl or youth handing the kava, although that European courtesy on the part of those who actually do so will not, of course, give offence.</p>
        <p>When a Government party is visiting a village, the appropriate kava titles of Samoan officials present may not be employed. Kava is often in such cases served to them after the calling of their official designations.</p>
        <p>Thus the kava ceremony proceeds and is brought to a close by the announcement of the orator who has been calling the titles. After the conclusion of the formal ceremony, the kava that remains in the bowl may be distributed informally amongst the titled members of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> who did not participate at an earlier stage. Water is again poured over the hands of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, and the untitled people who have been assisting at the ceremony may retire, or alternatively they may remain in order to render a similar service later in the proceedings.</p>
        <p>The discussion of the business that has brought the assembly together follows upon the conclusion of the kava ceremony, or those present may disperse in order to permit the guests to take a meal or to retire to the house put at their disposal to bathe and change.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="53" xml:id="n53"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="5" xml:id="c5">
        <head>CHAPTER V<lb/>
<hi rend="i">A Samoan Village</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">In Samoa</hi>, practically within the limits of Apia itself, and certainly in outer districts only a short distance away, Samoan life, with some small concessions to modern methods and standards of living, follows a pattern very little dissimilar from that of generations past. A full study of modern Samoan village life is not possible within the confines of this book, but a description here of a typical Samoan village and some of the daily happenings may contribute to a better understanding of certain other chapters.</p>
        <p>The Samoan people are conservative, and in their adoption of European amenities, highly selective. The structure of social organisation and many of the economic usages have not yet crumbled before the impacts of other cultures. There have been some changes, it is true, because no vigorous culture is static, but Samoans still find satisfaction in the essentials of their own way of life, and the lay-out of a village at the present day is, in its fundamentals, on the old plan. There has been no general adoption here, as in <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, Rarotonga and elsewhere in the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>, of European styles of dwelling or dressing.</p>
        <p>Most villages are coastal, abutting either on the beach itself or lying only a short distance from it. The lay-out follows one of two principal plans. Either a single line of principal houses faces the beach with the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, or ceremonial area, before it, or two lines of houses face inwards with the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> between.</p>
        <p>Each family in the village has its customary house site with an area in the rear for subsidiary buildings. The principal line or lines of houses are guest houses of a type constructed only by artisans belonging to the guild of carpenters, who
<pb n="54" xml:id="n54"/>
are most skilled and respected members of the community.<note xml:id="ftn1-54" n="*"><p>Houses are not erected entirely by the artisan or his assistants; custom prescribes what the share of the family is to be in the undertaking. They cut and transport all heavy materials from the bush when these have been chosen by the head carpenter (<hi rend="i">matai tufuga</hi>) and they must also assist in the erection of the construction scaffolding. When the middle section of the house is complete, it is thatched at once by the builders with material supplied by the family, since breadfruit, from which many of the heavy timbers are cut, is very susceptible to damage from rain; the ends of the house are also thatched promptly when they are erected. The family are also responsible for providing and affixing the blinds, and for building up the floor and the terraces or pavement, if the latter are required. During the progress of the work, the <hi rend="i">matai tufuga</hi> and his assistants must be regaled on the best food obtainable, and certain stages of the construction, especially the completion, must be marked by formal feasts. The head of the family must display the most respectful interest by attending at all stages of the work, lest the head carpenter take umbrage and leave it uncompleted, in which case no other member of the guild will proceed with it. Apart from the good food and lavish feasts provided, the head carpenter is paid for his work with fine mats, bark cloth, and, at the present time, money.</p></note> There are not necessarily skilled carpenters in every village and it may be necessary to engage them from other places when their services are required. Although it is not common, it sometimes happens that the family lives in its own guest house, but this is usually reserved and available at any time for the use of expected or unexpected visitors. Behind the line of guest houses (<hi rend="i">fale tele</hi>) there is a less imposing line of houses (<hi rend="i">fale o'o</hi>) in which the family lives and sleeps. Such structures as these are not the work of the guild but are erected by the family itself. Further behind still is a line of cooking houses (<hi rend="i">tunoa</hi>), which are no more than thatched shelters over the cooking hearths, and a little further inland one is likely to come to a stone wall about four feet high which marks one boundary of the village pig compound. Breadfruit and coconuts are planted at intervals throughout the whole of the village, together with kapok, hibiscus, citrus, mango and other fruit trees, and not far from the houses a few taro, <note xml:id="ftn2-54" n="†"><p>This is the form of the word that has been adopted for European use; the Samoan word is <hi rend="i">taro</hi>.</p></note> <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> and bananas may be seen in small patches. The principal coconut plantations together with larger areas for cocoa, taro, <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi>, bananas and other foodstuffs, are usually located further inland, although confined to a coastal strip of a mile or so that provides ready access and minimises the distance over which heavy loads of produce have to be carried. All such areas have usually been apportioned by the village for the use of particular families or perhaps have been under the control of known families from time immemorial. Customs relating to the allotment of bush land for the use of families vary in different villages. Behind the cultivated area lies the untouched forest extending to the central ridge, and it is from those timber stands that the materials for the building of boats and houses are
<pb n="55" xml:id="n55"/>
obtained. Generally speaking, it is the usual Samoan custom that villages control the areas lying behind their own coastal lands as far as the central ridge. There are, of course, some exceptions based on geographical and other reasons.</p>
        <p>All pigs of the village, except a few young pet pigs (<hi rend="i">fagafao</hi>) are, or should be, in accordance with the law, confined within the village pig area. Pigs of separate families may bear a distinguishing mark, or alternatively, may simply have been taught to come when the owner or a member of his family calls them together for the purpose of feeding them with coconut meat or other scraps. Pigs belonging to particular families are usually fed in separate spots in the pig compound, and if any stranger pig should come for feeding with another group, he will be pushed aside. Regular feeding of pigs is done as much with the object of indicating ownership as for the purpose of nourishing the animals.</p>
        <p>Further on, another stone wall marks the inland boundary of the pig enclosure and both walls have to be negotiated by means of notched coconut logs placed against the fence, forming a rude and, in wet weather, a somewhat precarious type of stile.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">malae</hi> itself, and the environs of the principal houses, are always kept in good order. The grass is cut short and at regular intervals rubbish is collected and burned. The areas in the rear, naturally enough, do not always receive the same attention.</p>
        <p>If there is a good stream running through or near the village, washing of clothes and bathing will take place there. There may be springs, and if so, one will be reserved for drinking purposes and others will be made available for washing clothes and bathing, subject to certain local village regulations made by the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> or Women's Committee. Visitors should always be careful to ascertain and pay regard to such regulations. In some villages, principally along the north coast of Upolu to the west of Apia, there are water supplies piped from good sources in the hills. At many parts of the coast, fresh water seeps out at or near high water level, or there may even be strongly flowing springs. In such cases, water is obtained at suitable stages of the tide and in some instances, springs have been enclosed with concrete walls.</p>
        <p>In most villages the pastors of various denominations conduct what are termed Grade I schools and in many others there is a Government Grade II school. If there is
<pb n="56" xml:id="n56"/>
a Government school, a separate building will usually have been set up by the village, and here a Samoan teacher, either male or female, will conduct classes during the prescribed hours. A neat fence or hedge may enclose the school compound.</p>
        <p>Dotted throughout the village area, or near to it, there may be one or more trading stores operated by Apia firms, in most cases with Samoans acting as traders. Such stores are usually built on native land leased formally from the Administration<note xml:id="ftn1-56" n="*"><p>In terms of the Samoa Act, <date when="1921">1921</date>, all Samoan native land in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> is vested in the Crown.</p></note> for the establishment of a trading station and a copra or cocoa shed, since the purchase of those commodities is an important feature of trading in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> and supplies the income for the purchase of imported goods.</p>
        <p>Apart from the principal hospital at Moto'otua inland of Apia, there are at intervals throughout the islands of Upolu and Savaii 13 subsidiary hospitals and dispensaries staffed by Native Medical Practitioners and Samoan nurses. There are some villages, therefore, that have set aside an area for hospital purposes, usually on the outskirts of the village, for the accommodation of the sick of that particular district. Villages co-operate eagerly in the establishment of new hospitals.</p>
        <p>The village area may be covered in grass or lawns which are well kept, or the entire area may be weeded to present a stretch of clean white or dark sand. Others are situated on lava or are paved with stones, pebbles or similar material. The shore may be a stretch of white or black sand with a quiet lagoon and a passage through the reef opposite the village, or possibly an iron-bound or lava coast against which the waves are dashed with all the weight of the broad <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>. On a sandy lagoon shore, small canoes (<hi rend="i">paopao</hi>), which any one with the necessary energy and skill may make, will be drawn up above high water mark, or the more valuable and complicated bonito canoe (<hi rend="i">va'aalo</hi>), constructed only by members of the guild of carpenters, may be raised on a staging of timbers above the level of the ground. Where the village possesses a long, clinker or carvel-built boat (<hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>), this will be carefully housed in a low, thatched boat-house, with a line of wooden rollers or coconut fronds for the facilitation of launching operations reaching to the water's edge. In many coastal villages wooden privies are built along the beach out beyond high water mark. Where the fishing is good, string nets many fathoms long will
<pb n="57" xml:id="n57"/>
perhaps be seen spread out or hung up and drying in the sun. An iron-bound coast often provides the spectacle of blow-holes, tunnels in old lava flows through which spouts of sea water are driven with tremendous and impressive force.<note xml:id="ftn1-57" n="*"><p>There are also in certain inland areas old lava tunnels, the exploration of which may provide somewhat eerie experiences for visitors who are not subject to claustrophobia. Two such tunnels which are portions of what was originally one channel, may be seen at Falepuga at the western end of Upolu. One is dry, with a broken, rocky floor that proceeds for some hundreds of yards underground until finally blocked by one of numerous falls of debris. The other is smoother and almost circular in section with the explorer soon wading in water which deepens steadily until it reaches the roof of the tunnel. Progress which begins by walking along the floor is possible later only by clinging to the sides, and the final stages can be negotiated only by a swimmer who pushes before him a small wooden float supporting a torch or other form of lighting. Such tunnels are far from rare. They are, in fact, quite a feature of the local geology and have even played a part in Samoan history.</p></note></p>
        <p>No village is complete without at least one church. Indeed, churches are one of the significant features of the local architecture, and are among those concessions most willingly made to European civilisation. The iron roofing of the church or churches often serves as a water catchment area, especially where rivers, springs or water holes are not readily accessible, and a concrete tank may commonly in these days be seen alongside a church. There can be as many as four or more churches in use in a village, one for each denomination represented, and the construction of a new building on another site may be undertaken by one denomination without removing the original edifice. Many other churches may be seen in an unfinished state, as construction sometimes proceeds for years.</p>
        <p>Inland villages follow as far as possible the usual pattern with two lines of houses and the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> in the centre. In any case, local conditions even in a coastal village may require a special disposition of buildings, but there is always the central open area, the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, reserved for formal social and ceremonial purposes.<note xml:id="ftn2-57" n="†"><p>Note that in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> was not a village religious centre, as the <hi rend="i">marae</hi> was in other parts of Polynesia.</p></note></p>
        <p>Graves or impressive burial mounds or terraces (<hi rend="i">tia</hi>) may be dotted here and there about the village, possibly quite close to dwelling houses. Burials in other than approved village cemeteries which are usually located a short distance inland, are not now permitted by law except with the special permission of the Administrator on the advice of the medical authorities.</p>
        <p>It may be noticed that not all the <hi rend="i">fale tele</hi> are of the same height above the ground. Care must be exercised in this matter by families building Samoan houses, as delicate issues of status and precedence may be involved. The
<pb n="58" xml:id="n58"/>
leading chief of the village is the person entitled to have the terrace of his house highest above ground level and it would be possible to secure an injunction in the Native Land and Titles Court against any presumptuous person who raised his house high without proper reason. So also, in a different type of house from the <hi rend="i">fale tele</hi>, a building of long section known as an <hi rend="i">afolau</hi>, the number of principal beams is regulated by custom, and no one whose status does not entitle him to do so should aspire to too pretentious a dwelling house with more than a certain number of principal beams (<hi rend="i">utupoto</hi>). Not all houses are raised high on terraces, or with varying numbers of courses to indicate status, but none are built actually at ground level. Floors are raised sufficiently, even if only a few inches, to provide the conditions necessary in a country with such a high rainfall. The height of the floor must be decided upon before construction commences so that the dimensions of the principal posts may be accurately calculated. The terraces or pavement adjoining a house are often planted with citrus, hibiscus or other small trees or bushes, or perhaps even <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi>, to relieve the bareness of the stones, and a certain variety of <hi rend="i">lautalotalo</hi>, a plant rather similar to a large leek, with long, shiny, flax-like, yellow and green leaves, is much in favour for use as a border.</p>
        <p>The permanent houses themselves which must be built by experts, are either beehive-shaped (<hi rend="i">fale tele</hi>) or longer in section (<hi rend="i">afolau</hi>), with floors of polished and smoothed loose coral segments over which mats of varying fineness are spread as required by the occupants. The walls are wholesomely open to the four winds of heaven except when coconut leaf woven blinds, strung in rectangular sections, are lowered against the elements, and the roof is a thatch of sugar-cane leaf that lasts for seven years if the proper technique is employed.<note xml:id="ftn1-58" n="*"><p>The narrow sugar-cane leaves, about three feet long, are folded in half obliquely and fitted closely over a light rod of cane the thickness of a finger. They are then pinned securely close to the rod with the dry midrib of a coconut leaflet. A special fixation technique ensures that the leaves do not slip off over the ends of the rod. The rods used are from three feet in length, and a completed section of thatch is termed a <hi rend="i">lau</hi>. Vertical rows of <hi rend="i">lau</hi> are bound to the thatch rafters with coconut sennit, commencing nearest the eaves and working upwards. The amount of spacing between the rods of successive <hi rend="i">lau</hi>, and hence the degree of overlap of the thatch itself, determines the effectiveness of the work. The closest spacing possible is achieved when the rods of the upper <hi rend="i">lau</hi> adjoin those of the lower, but this is not often seen. Some Samoans claim that the longest possible life for the roof depends upon the closest placing of the <hi rend="i">lau</hi>, although this method calls for a larger number. There is, however, another opinion that insists that too close a thatching technique results in an earlier rotting of the <hi rend="i">lau</hi> than is the case with wider spacing. Generally, there are two to three finger breadths between the rods, spacing out perhaps to two or three inches or more in the upper levels of the roof. Two to four thousand <hi rend="i">lau</hi> are required for a roof, depending on the size of the house and the closeness of the thatching. This accounts for the fact that if a leak develops in a certain spot, it is usual to replace that portion of the thatch only, giving the roof a rather patchy appearance. The <hi rend="i">lau</hi> are prepared by the women and affixed to the rafters by the men. Pending consolidation, new thatch is frequently weighted with heavy coconut fronds to prevent displacement by breeze or storm.</p></note> The roof components appear to be supported at the sides by posts at intervals of two or three feet; actually, however, the <hi rend="i">fale tele</hi> is supported centrally by one or more heavy posts, and the <hi rend="i">afolau</hi> by a system of principal inner posts in two lines joined by heavy
<pb n="59" xml:id="n59"/>
beams. The outer posts add to the symmetry of the finished building and provide support for the backs of seated occupants and visitors; they also serve as a retaining framework for lowered blinds in boisterous weather. Furniture in dwelling houses is sparse; incorporated in the woodwork of the house itself are beams that serve as shelves, and there are perhaps a bed, rolls of floor and sleeping mats, a kava bowl and a bucket, a cupboard for use as a pantry, mosquito nets and the old style bamboo head-rests or pillows, and usually one or more wooden chests or boxes for personal belongings. Chairs and tables for the use of European visitors can generally be produced when required.</p>
        <p>The expert construction of the best types of Samoan house probably represents the peak of Samoan material culture. They are solid structures, attractive in appearance yet designed within the limits of indigenous technique to resist the effects of winds of gale force, a circumstance that may well be considered remarkable when it is realised that in a genuine Samoan house no nail is employed. The heavy timbers are carefully fitted or supported, the artisans and assistants making use of the scaffolding erected by the family, and then all components are lashed firmly with miles of coconut strand sennit. It is true that from an engineering point of view, there are technical weaknesses in construction, notably where the ends join the middle section. In that region, there is some danger that a strong wind may lift even old consolidated thatch and take a section of the roof with it. Preparations for stormy weather therefore include the straddling of the thatch or ridge with heavy coconut fronds or banana stems; lines of the former may even be seen upended against the sides of the house to protect the blinds from the full force of the wind.</p>
        <p>The day's work begins with the dawn or earlier if special circumstances warrant. Cocks crow at an early hour and light begins to creep through the stirring village. Sheetswathed figures sit or move about sleepily. The old men sit against posts and, especially if there are visitors in the village, perhaps direct the preparation of a bowl of kava to help dispel the heaviness of sleep. The sun rises and a little
<pb n="60" xml:id="n60"/>
later if it is the cool period of the year, the trade-wind begins to stir the coconut fronds.</p>
        <p>Elder children are charged with the care of those who are younger. Others take metal strips curved and sharpened at the lower end (<hi rend="i">taivai</hi>) and with long, swinging strokes expertly cut the grass, for this is best done in the cool of morning or late afternoon and requires almost continuous attention, especially in the wet season. If the day promises to be fine, coconut meat (copra) and cocoa beans are spread out on mats to dry in the sun, and a careful watch is kept for approaching showers or squalls which may spoil the produce or delay its sale. Properly dried copra or cocoa is placed in woven coconut leaf baskets and taken to the local trader for sale, either in cash or for goods.<note xml:id="ftn1-60" n="*"><p>Both copra and cocoa are at present extremely valuable crops. Copra sells in Apia at 25/9 per 100 lbs and in the most remote districts at 25/3 per 100 lbs. Cocoa brings 122/- per 100 lbs in Apia and 118/- in the furthermost villages. A time can be recalled during the last depression when copra in the far districts was worth only 6d. per 100 lbs and that price was paid not in cash, but in goods.</p></note> Even the very young have their trifling tasks, the toddlers keeping watch over the drying copra to ward off marauding hens or perhaps a stray pig.</p>
        <p>Families or individuals may partake of an early snack meal from cold, cooked food left over from the previous day, or tea and bread or rice may be served to the older members of the family. The chiefs and orators, if occasion requires it, especially on Monday mornings, meet for the conduct of village business. The young men will have been early astir. Friday is plantation day and a large store of food must be brought down from plantations inland, especially for use during the week-end. Half way through the morning the boys will return, well laden, and set about preparing the first principal meal of the day, which is taken about an hour before noon. Fish, taro, <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi>, bananas, breadfruit, and coconut cream dishes will be prepared, and the smoke of Samoan ovens heating the stones for the cooking rises above the trees. Others will have departed on fishing excursions and if they are fortunate will return before midday with the catch. The steaming hot food is taken from the ovens and brought by the untitled people for consumption by their elders; this is an important feature of service in Samoan custom. The others eat later.</p>
        <p>The day is wearing on. The wives of chiefs and orators may have spent the morning in conference relating to their own affairs or they may have assembled in the house reserved for all classes of weaving work. Women and girls may have left the village to gather materials for thatching
<pb n="61" xml:id="n61"/>
or weaving, or others have proceeded to the lagoon or reef if the tide is suitable to collect shell-fish or other small sea-foods. Perhaps all return now and after the meal the village becomes quiet during the period of noonday heat, for Samoans feel in regard to the hottest part of the day as did a discerning person who wrote about mad dogs and Englishmen. The sun beats down and the trade-wind sings through the trees; the palm fronds bend to the breeze, the trees themselves leaning always towards the ocean and the thunder on the reef. A squall may approach and the village be drowned temporarily in a smother of flying rain. Blinds are let down to seaward and raised as soon as the squall has passed to allow free passage to the cooling air.</p>
        <p>The village stirs again and man goes about his business. Work on a Samoan boat or <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>, or the erection of a new house by an expert carpenter is resumed. Community fishing under the direction of the head fisherman (<hi rend="i">tautai</hi>) may require the attendance of certain groups or on occasion of every able-bodied person in the village. Tasks suitable for the cooler part of the day proceed. Coconut is grated for expectant pigs and chickens. The shadows grow longer and people who have been employed elsewhere move towards home. Plantations are deserted, for only benighted travellers are found in such lonely places after dark and they do not tarry.</p>
        <p>The long day begins to close. There is activity around the cooking fires and the sharp, pleasant smell of wood-smoke at twilight marks a stage in the dying day. The chiefs and orators finish their labours and the group disperses to separate houses. Lights begin to gleam throughout the village, either pressure benzine or kerosene lamps, or in times of yore or acute present-day depression the burining of oil or the roasted kernel of the candle-nut. Darkness falls and the trade-wind dies away. There is a quiet interval and those free to do so proceed to the bathing pool for evening ablutions. Then the silence is broken by prayers and hymns from each house as the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> leads his family in evening worship. The meal follows prayers, young people waiting until elders have completed theirs, and then assembling for their own in the backs of the same or other houses, while dogs wait patiently for allotted scraps. Elders, replete with good food, make desultory conversation and slap at mosquitoes.<note xml:id="ftn1-61" n="*"><p>It is a fallacious assumption that Samoans become impervious to the attacks of mosquitoes and do not find high temperatures and high humidity trying.</p></note> If the <hi rend="i">alii</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> wish to assemble
<pb n="62" xml:id="n62"/>
again for business they will do so, or families or groups will meet for casual gossip or to make plans for another day. The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> may give his people instructions for the morrow, young people depart for a belated bath or to hunt for lobsters or crabs, and so the evening is spent.</p>
        <p>If the cool land breeze springs up, as it commonly does in coastal areas, attendants will lower the mat blinds on the inland side of the house, and later in the evening will place the mosquito netting about any beds that are in use. Other beds of mats must be made up every night for various members of the family, young people often contenting themselves with sleeping under a wooden bed wrapped in a sheet. If there is a moon, they are permitted by custom to spend a fair proportion of the night hours sitting about, courting, talking, laughing, singing, dancing and playing guitars, after first having attended to any requirements of the elder members of the family. But if the night is dark or stormy the village will retire at not too late an hour, the chiefs and orators perhaps having kava together or taking it separately in groups of families before retiring.</p>
        <p>In many villages a curfew sounds. Children cease their shrill cries and hasten indoors. Quiet figures move from house to house, lights wink out or are turned low, and gradually the village sinks to rest; the last uneasy sounds of man die away. The lights of fishing flares on distant reefs may still shine eerily across the quiet lagoon but the Samoan night has touched with its soft magic a serene world of stately palms etched against a starry sky; the incessant complaint of giant breakers foiled by minute nature<note xml:id="ftn1-62" n="*"><p>Coral reefs are composed of the skeletal remains of vast colonies of many different kinds of coral polyp, an animal related to the sea-anemones which reproduces by a process of budding or division and secretes the carbonate of lime dissolved in sea water. Under the common name coral are included many species which are roughly classed either as the horny corals consisting chiefly of a horny secretion from the polyps, or the lime or stone corals composed almost wholly of lime firmly united in a solid mass; but all possible gradations between these two types are to be found. The growth of reefs is mainly dependent on the stone corals. The calcareous or horny deposition begins when the polyp is single, adhering to a rock or other surface on which the coral grows or is built up; as the individuals multiply and crowd one another closely, the older ones die away and the hard deposits of former generations form the base to which those of their progeny are attached. Living polyps in a large mass are therefore confined to the surface; below that there is “coral rock”. Reefbuilding corals are found in clean fresh sea water which is not over 125 feet in depth and never cooler than 68 deg. F. The polyp does not grow above the level of the lowest tides; in some cases it is no larger than a pin's head and has been aptly described by Robert Gibbings in “Blue Angels and Whales” as an “organism so simple in construction that it consists of hardly more than a digestive cavity fringed with tentacles.”</p></note> is borne more clearly on the still air; the day is ended and the village sleeps.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="63" xml:id="n63"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="6" xml:id="c6">
        <head>CHAPTER VI<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Quarters for Visitors</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Samoans</hi> go to a good deal of trouble to entertain any of their guests, but other than the provision of the necessary foodstuffs, the arrangements for the billetting of Samoan visitors offer comparatively few problems. Special arrangements are necessary, however, for European visitors, because Samoan courtesy requires that the amenities of European living conditions shall be reproduced as nearly as possible as a mark of respect to the guests.</p>
        <p>A Samoan family that has been using the house which it is proposed to make available will move out altogether, or a principal guest house will be prepared for the purpose. The house itself will be beautifully decorated in a manner that may have taken days to prepare. Leaves and creepers twisted into ropes transform the house into a veritable bower. The principal central columns will be encircled with flowers and white, waxy <hi rend="i">lautalotalo</hi> decorations that conceal their lower levels entirely, and the outside posts will be swathed in coconut leaves. One or both ends (<hi rend="i">tala</hi>) of the house will be screened off with curtains of print material or mulberry bark cloth (<hi rend="i">siapo</hi>) marked in attractive designs, or a temporary wooden framework may divide off sleeping quarters. In the orange growing districts of the island of Savai'i and in the proper season, it is the pleasant custom to embower guest houses in orange tree foliage, with hundreds of the fruit pendant from the decorations. The oranges may be used as the guests wish, and those that are unused may be taken away.</p>
        <p>If there are European beds in the village, and most villages now have a few, they will be made available on loan from other families if necessary for the use of the visitors. Pillow slips, colourfully embroidered with good wishes in the Samoan language, and sufficient sheets will be provided. The writer in the course of many years of visiting Samoan villages has never found it necessary to carry his own. Linen is always adequate and very clean. Some beds
<pb n="64" xml:id="n64"/>
may be fitted with mattresses but if they are not, there is no dearth of soft Samoan mats with brightly embroidered borders which make an excellent bed, or piles of mats on the floor are very restful if no bed is available. Mosquito nets are always arranged over beds except in those villages where, because of some local peculiarity, there are no mosquitoes.<note xml:id="ftn1-64" n="*"><p>One such village is Safotu, on the north coast of Savai'i, and this in spite of the fact that there are areas of stagnant water nearby. It has been claimed that the freedom from mosquitoes is due to the growth of a particular grass which has a repellant effect on the insects. Certain villages and districts, especially some inland, are notorious for mosquitoes; one old German chart of the Safata coast bears the inscription “Verlassen wegen Moskitos”, “Abandoned on account of mosquitoes”.</p></note>
</p>
        <p>Tables and chairs, both for dining and relaxing, are collected elsewhere in the village if the family acting as hosts are unable to provide sufficient of them. Fans are placed conveniently to one's hand. Small tables and washing basins, with soap and often a towel, will be found in the sleeping annex, and there may even be a mirror. Fine mats and others of the shaggy type called <hi rend="i">'ie sina</hi> may be draped over tables or easy chairs, and jugs of fresh orange or lemon juice or cordial are often offered at once for the refreshment of thirsty travellers. Everything possible is done to make the visitor, even though perhaps a complete stranger, feel an honoured guest and to demonstrate that the visit is welcomed and that preparations have been made with genuine goodwill.</p>
        <p>Under conditions of everyday life, the pebble floors of houses are not entirely covered with mats, which are taken down from shelves and placed as and when required. A house prepared for occupation by guests, however, is completely floored with mats of different materials and varying degrees of fineness. The coarsest type, <hi rend="i">polavai</hi>, woven from coconut leaf, are usually placed immediately over the stones of the floor which would damage delicate material. Next in order of fineness are the <hi rend="i">papa</hi>, made from <hi rend="i">paogo</hi>, a coarse pandanus, and then <hi rend="i">fala</hi> or <hi rend="i">papalaufala</hi>, made from a narrower variety of pandanus. These are all floor mats. Sleeping mats consist of <hi rend="i">fala</hi> made from narrower strips of the same material than those for the floor, and there is a finer type woven from a softer and much finer pandanus material called <hi rend="i">lau'ie</hi>. Both are often in these days adorned with woollen embroidery, and may sometimes be seen on the floors of guest houses as a special decoration or mark of respect. Fine mats (<hi rend="i">'ie toga</hi>) and shaggy mats, the white <hi rend="i">'ie sina</hi> and the red, brown or black <hi rend="i">'ie fau</hi>, may be referred to very briefly here, although they are strictly articles of clothing, because of a present-day practice of draping them
<pb n="65" xml:id="n65"/>
over chairs or tables or even of providing fine mats on beds. The <hi rend="i">'ie sina</hi> is made of the bast or inner bark of a particular species of <hi rend="i">fau, 'ie fau</hi> is the bast of a different kind of <hi rend="i">fau</hi> dyed as required, and the <hi rend="i">'ie toga</hi>, most ceremonial of articles, is painstakingly woven from peeled and carefully prepared fine strips of the <hi rend="i">lau'ie</hi>. The <hi rend="i">'ie toga</hi> will be referred to in greater detail in a later chapter.</p>
        <p>The wife of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> who owns the house, together with the girls of the family and others who may have been co-opted to help, will be available during the entire stay of the party to minister to the comfort of guests. They will superintend the preparation and serving of meals, bring water for washing, prepare the beds and mosquito nets in the evening, put down the house blinds facing inland at night and raise them again in the morning, and perform generally any small service that is required. The duty, moreover, is pleasantly discharged and the guest never feels that he is a source of trouble. Hospitality is a high virtue with Samoans, one of the outstanding features of their way of life, and inculcated right from the time they are old enough to understand. One's own carriers and the attendants of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party should of course be instructed to make themselves as useful as possible. This is more than a desirable courtesy; properly done, as it should be, it helps to earn the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party a good name.</p>
        <p>Arrangements for European visitors extend frequently to the provision of special privy accommodation, either on the beach or in the rear of the houses. These are usually screened and indicated with coconut leaf decorations. Occasionally, also, a temporary bath-house is set up for the more convenient performance of ablutions in private.</p>
        <p>European visitors often find bunches of ripe bananas hanging in houses placed at their disposal. These are a mark of particular respect since they require special preparation. Samoans do not usually consume ripe bananas in quantity,<note xml:id="ftn1-65" n="*"><p>Certain types, ripened by a special process in pits, are provided for use as fruit at formal Samoan feasts. The normal use for other bananas in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> is to cook them green in a Samoan oven for consumption as a vegetable. In that form they are an excellent starchy food.</p></note> but they know that Europeans enjoy them, and where a bunch is found to have been provided, it is obvious that it must have been cut and set aside for ripening some days previously. It will be graceful in those circumstances to thank the lady of the house particularly for that courtesy.</p>
        <pb n="66" xml:id="n66"/>
        <p>Where visitors are occupying a house that has been set aside for their exclusive use, they may enter and leave it either by the back or front as is most convenient, since the house for the time being is regarded as their own. But the same visitors, entering another house in the village for a formal reception or a casual call, should enter and leave by the front only, since in such a house and at such a time they rank as guests.</p>
        <p>Although the most courteous and thoughtful concessions are made to ensure the comfort of European visitors to Samoan villages, they should always remember that little actual privacy is prescribed in Samoan custom itself, and it is not unlikely that they are being watched, probably by children, even if they think they are unobserved. This should never be forgotten, and hence every care should be taken to ensure that conduct in a Samoan village is not such as will give rise later to unfavourable or disrespectful comment. Guests in this country, no less than elsewhere, are ambassadors. It is quite in order to change articles of clothing without going to the trouble of ensuring such absolute privacy as is usual in European custom, especially if the guests be male, but it should be remembered that, although the Samoan standard appears to be a little different, they are most careful that no offence be given in these matters. They are most adroit in changing apparel in full view of onlookers. In proceeding to and from bathing places, normal European bathing costume may be worn, or indeed even the Samoan lower garment (<hi rend="i">'ie lavalava</hi>) in the case of males, with possibly a towel draped round the shoulders. In various villages there are regulations relating to the use of bathing pools, and these should be ascertained so that there is no conflict with the local rule; in particular, the greatest care must be exercised not to use a drinking pool for the purposes of bathing or washing clothes. These points are important to people who do not draw their water from a piped supply.</p>
        <p>The chiefs and orators of the village may express a wish to call and spend an hour or so in conversation after the evening meal. They are always pleased to hear stories of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> and particularly to receive some news of the outside world. Even if one is tired with a long day's walk and the work after arrival in the village, it is well to remember that such a visit is probably a considerable event, especially to the older members of the community, and breaks the monotony of their normal daily existence. It is therefore gracious and certainly much appreciated for
<pb n="67" xml:id="n67"/>
the visitor to receive the village and chat on any topic that is brought forward. Provided the guest-is patient and courteous no one will be offended if after an hour or so of talking he expresses a wish to retire and regain strength for the further walking the next day. Chiefs and orators of the village will generally be pleased if the visitor shows an interest in the old stories of their village or district, or, indeed, in any aspect of Samoan custom, but there should, of course, be no attempt to pry into the details of the genealogies or any of the more private traditions of the local community. It may also be remembered as a useful hint that one method of securing additional information is carefully to display a little knowledge on one's own account. A well-timed display of the right sort of interest is always pleasantly received and often enough leads to further, perhaps unexpected, knowledge. There seems always to be something fresh to learn about Samoan custom. It may be mentioned in passing on the subject of genealogies that it is a grave offence in Samoan custom to “open” or recite genealogies without authority. This is so important that it has actually been written into the statute law of the Territory.</p>
        <p>A word may now be said on the subject of recognition of hospitality received. The very open hospitality in Samoan custom is based entirely upon a fundamental feature of the local culture. The principle ultimately governing Samoan domestic hospitality is that of reciprocity. In other words, a Samoan may proceed from one end of the country to another and be gladly given shelter and food wherever he stays. Custom operates, however, to the effect that he himself on return to his village is just as willing to afford hospitality to any visitors who care to present themselves. In the case of Europeans, there cannot conveniently be the same reciprocity, and although Samoan hospitality is extended openly and freely to Europeans, it is only elementary fairness that the latter should provide something before departure by way of recognition of courtesies received. This should on no account be represented as a payment. It is more properly described as a gift expressive of satisfaction and pleasure at the thoughtfulness displayed by one's hosts, and offered in the right way will afford real gratification to the recipients. There is no need to be over-generous, but on the other hand it is better to be a little generous rather than to acquire a reputation for meanness. Cash is the most practical and useful form of gift since it may serve as a reimbursement of
<pb n="68" xml:id="n68"/>
probable expenditure for European foods occasioned by the visit, but in the event of hosts being respectfully unwilling to accept anything of this nature, arrangements could be made with one of the local stores to provide goods in the nature of rice, flour, sugar or soap, or alternatively, some gift of more personal significance could be despatched on return to Apia. Again it should be stressed that a great deal depends on the manner in which such courtesies are offered. Samoans are not inn-keepers and there should never be any suggestion of payment as such. Whatever is offered should be presented in the course of a graceful speech delivered without haste. Such farewell courtesies in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> should not be hurried; European custom in similar circumstances is brusque in comparison. The speech of thanks, although perhaps addressed to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, should not omit reference to the trouble to which the ladies of the family have been put by the visit, and a word of appreciation in regard to the decorations does not go amiss.</p>
        <p>The carriers sometimes leave a village more heavily laden than when they arrived, since it is the pleasant custom of the country to present gifts of food either to sustain the party as far as the next village, or at the final stop, to convey home. The kava presented must also be carried forward, for it would be discourteous to leave it behind, and in any case, it is useful for consumption or further presentation by the recipients. Such gifts are termed the <hi rend="i">oso</hi> or <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi> of the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi>, and are sometimes pressed on visitors by generous people even on short or casual visits to villages.</p>
        <p>Before leaving the village, the party will perhaps meet the chiefs and orators for farewell kava with short speeches if time permits, or, especially if an early start is to be made, the village fathers may line up at a convenient point for leave-taking. Then the party moves slowly through the village, old men or women calling farewells from houses or hastening out belatedly to shake hands. In mutual cordiality the last good wishes are exchanged, the carriers wriggle their loads into comfortable positions and the party moves out along either a bush track or a stretch of sandy coast on the next stage of the trip.</p>
        <p>Even if the weather should be unkind, the people make a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> a very pleasant experience.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="69" xml:id="n69"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="7" xml:id="c7">
        <head>CHAPTER VII<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Food and Meals</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">There</hi> is something distinctive and interesting about the foods and cooking methods of every people. In the course of centuries, special techniques are evolved and improved which make, according to local taste, the best possible use of the simple things of life provided by nature. Long before the time of European contacts, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> had developed its own culinary response to a tropical environment, and now more than a century of experience with another culture has left the basic foodstuffs and methods of preparation substantially unchanged. Some concessions, of course, have been inevitable, and imported food in tins admittedly has its place even in ceremonial life; but the land and sea can always be relied on for their bounty and it is of interest to examine the extent to which the people still depend upon what nature provides, and the ingenuity with which such things are employed for man's nourishment and enjoyment. The subject of food and its preparation is of more than passing interest to us all; it is of special interest in the case of a people whose lives are so different from our own.</p>
        <p>The method employed for cooking most Samoan foods involves heating over hot stones; this avoids a good deal of the loss inseparable from European boiling or roasting. The Samoan earth oven is actually not a true oven at all. In the rear of dwelling houses there will usually be seen a roughly thatched shelter, constructed without blinds or a built-up floor, over a heap of well-fired stones. This is the cooking hearth where the daily oven (<hi rend="i">umu</hi>) is prepared and where certain other cooking with European utensils also takes place.</p>
        <p>The oven is not constructed in a pit. It is formed either on the level ground or in a very shallow depression. To keep the fuel and stones together, four logs, banana stems or coconut leaf midribs which do not burn readily, are arranged in the form of a square. The fire is lighted and when it is burning well the oven stones are arranged
<pb n="70" xml:id="n70"/>
over the flaming wood, the handling and placing process being facilitated by the use of home-made tongs (<hi rend="i">i'ofi</hi>), a folded section of coconut leaf midrib, which are also useful later in disposing the heated stones about the food. The cooking stones themselves are carefully selected basaltic specimens collected from the beds of streams and beaches,<note xml:id="ftn1-70" n="*"><p>Ordinary porous lava stones are unsuitable for this purpose, as they crumble under the influence of heat.</p></note> in size approximately that of a small, closed fist. There are many good firewoods, some like <hi rend="i">tufaso, toi, lopa</hi> and <hi rend="i">'o'a</hi> which are better than others, and a few woods to be avoided, like <hi rend="i">moso'oi</hi> and <hi rend="i">pu'a</hi>, that will not burn at all. The mangrove, <hi rend="i">togo</hi>, which grows on tidal flats, is a famous hard and hot firewood which may be used as soon as cut; there is no doubt of the efficacy of the cooking process when this fuel is employed. As the only function of the fuel is to heat the stones, the speed with which it burns, wet or dry, and the heat produced, are important. Fuel that is poor or slow burning fails to heat the stones sufficiently, in which case the cooking takes a good deal longer, or may even fail altogether of its purpose. This bad result the boys, who are responsible for oven cooking, naturally try to avoid, because this work is an important part of their service to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and the family generally. This method of cooking is untitled men's work and is far from being considered menial. It is a dignified occupation and something of an art.</p>
        <p>The collection of firewood or any rubbish that will serve as oven fuel becomes something of a problem to the urban dwellers around Apia. All rubbish suitable for cooking fuel is carefully put aside for that purpose, and children are sent to the beaches and mangrove swamps to collect heavier material. Two rivers, the Vaisigano and the Mulivai, discharge into Apia Harbour, and in times of heavy rains they bring down large logs from the upper reaches of the rivers. These dot the discoloured harbour water in all directions or are cast up by high tides and collected eagerly. Small boys enjoy riding the longs and paddling them ashore.</p>
        <p>When the hottest stage of the fire has passed, unconsumed fuel ends are raked away, and when the red glow of the hot stones has faded, they are spread out evenly on the floor of the hearth, the retaining logs being drawn aside. The levelling and careful placing of the stones to produce a regular distribution of the heat calls again for the use of the coconut tongs. A layer of leaves is sometimes arranged over the heated stones to prevent the food charring or
<pb n="71" xml:id="n71"/>
burning, especially if it is being merely reheated, or if there is a pig to be cooked, but more often the food rests direct on the stones, a few of which are distributed at intervals through the food layers themselves. Water is not sprinkled over either the stones or the food, the Samoan method being different in this respect from that employed in the Maori pit oven. The food and entire oven mound are then lightly sealed off with several layers of leaves, first green banana; breadfruit or <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> leaves, second a layer of similar leaves from a previous oven, and finally an over-all covering of leaves, sacks or old mats sewn or joined to make a large blanket. Soon the steam from moisture in the food itself begins to filter through, and the cooking proceeds. In approximately an hour ordinary cooking processes are complete and the oven may be opened, but the cooking of a large pig will call for good fuel, a careful heating of the stones and a longer period in the oven.</p>
        <p>Yams (<hi rend="i">ufi</hi>), taro and <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> are tubers, and breadfruit, varying in size with different varieties from a large green cricket-ball to a small football, is the fruit of a tree, of which the reddish timber is highly prized for house-building. All these foods except <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> are scraped with utensils (<hi rend="i">'asi</hi>) made from half coconut shells sharpened along the edge, large specimens being divided as required for facility in cooking. The skin of <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> is sliced off with a knife. The skins are removed from yams, taro and <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> because of irritant or astringent properties in those parts of the tubers. All these foods are placed direct in the oven without wrapping, although there is a method of cooking taro (<hi rend="i">talo fa'ataisi</hi>) in which the root is cut up into a number of smaller portions and cooked in a banana leaf. This produces white cooked taro of good appearance for certain ceremonial purposes.</p>
        <p>There are over twenty local varieties of yams which are not as freely used as other starchy foods but are valuable in periods of shortage of other crops. They are an excellent famine food as they may remain in the ground and continue to grow until required. Propagation is secured by planting portions of the tuber showing eyes or growing shoots. <hi rend="i">Ta'amu</hi>, a large relative of the taro, is very popular and is also a good stand-by food since it may remain in the ground and continue to grow, the tubers perhaps reaching several feet in length. A fair proportion of the growth takes place above ground level. Taro, the most popular tuber of all and important for ceremonial purposes, of which there are between thirty and forty local varieties, comes to maturity
<pb n="72" xml:id="n72"/>
in six to eight months and must then be harvested, as too long in the ground softens the root and destroys its keeping qualities when harvested. It does not exceed a few pounds in weight and grows below ground level, rather like the European swede turnip, although with a much larger crown of leaves. In any case, the tuber cannot be kept unused in the best condition for very much longer than a week or ten days. Both taro and <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> are propagated by replanting the severed growing head of the tuber itself; this is trimmed short by cutting off the large green leaves, left lying on the ground in the shade for a few days and then replanted. These crops also develop side shoots alongside the parent tuber and if the shoots are allowed to make growth for a few weeks they may be transplanted.</p>
        <p>The breadfruit is a seasonal crop, but the different varieties, of which there are over twenty, come to harvest twice or three times annually in different months of the year. New trees are established by severing and replanting the shoots which develop from the roots of the tree.</p>
        <p>Bananas (<hi rend="i">fa'i</hi>) of different varieties are placed whole and green in the oven, either in their skins or after having had the skin split off; old people sometimes like them cooked in their skins. Small wooden or bamboo utensils called <hi rend="i">fofo'e</hi> are always used to peel off the banana skins. There are approximately thirty varieties of banana named by the Samoans, only one of which is preferred for export, although two are actually suitable, but for various purposes most of the local varieties are used by the people. The banana is a large herbaceous plant which when full-grown can attain a height of from ten to twenty or more feet, surmounted by a crown of glossy green leaves six to ten feet long and two or more feet broad. The plant is actually for the most part leaf, for the pillar or stem really consists of leaf-bases enswathing one another. It has a perennial root which produces buds developing into shoots or suckers from which the plant is propagated; growth is so rapid that the fruit under good conditions is usually ripe within ten months of planting the offshoots. The flower bud or spike develops in the base of the plant and passes up the centre of the stem until it emerges from the crown of leaves; the flowers are arranged in whorl-like clusters along the spike, females at the base and males at the apex. When the flower emerges from the crown it droops sideways on a long stalk, and the bunch in most varieties is pendulous, but in three local varieties, the <hi rend="i">soa'a, soa'ase</hi> and <hi rend="i">puputa</hi> or <hi rend="i">sulasula</hi>, the bunches develop upright. In another, similar in appearance to the type that is
<pb n="73" xml:id="n73"/>
exported, the plant throws two or three bunches at once, the fruit being rather smaller than is usually the case with single bunches. When bananas are harvested, the plant is cut down and left lying where it falls to rot back into the ground. This encourages the growth of the young shoots or suckers. The average weight of a good bunch of the export variety, bearing up to 200 bananas, is 40 to 70 pounds, but an exceptional bunch may turn the scales at 90 pounds. The ripe banana is a nutritive treasure of carbohydrates, the energy value per pound being about 480 calories. The Samoan cooking process employs the leaves both for wrapping food and for covering the lower levels of the oven. They are also useful as emergency umbrellas in wet weather. The juicy stem produces a deep ineffaceable brown stain, and sections of the dried leaves are used for rolling Samoan cigarettes of the local tobacco.</p>
        <p>Kumeras, of which there are several local varieties, are not especially popular and would never be offered at a formal feast, but some families plant small areas from time to time for personal use. The introduced manioc is not a staple food but is eaten if other tubers are in short supply. There are two principal varieties, the red, coarse root with a thick skin, and the white, palatable type with a thin skin. The white variety is the one more usually consumed; the red is very useful for the manufacture of washing starch. There is also a local arrowroot or starch plant, <hi rend="i">masoa</hi>, from which is prepared the edible starch that is employed in the preparation of dishes to be mentioned later in this chapter.</p>
        <p>The coconut palm (<hi rend="i">niu</hi>) of which about ten of the 35 known species are found in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, is one of nature's outstanding contributions to the Samoan way of life; perhaps it would be just as true to say that the tree has played a part in moulding the Samoan way of life. The tall stem is surmounted by a crown of between twenty and thirty pinnate leaves up to sixteen or more feet in length. The butt end is so heavy as to constitute a danger in a high wind and was formerly used in the old sport of club fighting. It is a year-round, not a seasonal crop, and flowers and nuts in all stages of development may be seen on the same palm. Flowers commence to appear about the fifth year. It begins to produce at the age of 6 to 8 years, reaches full commercial production in the ninth year, may ultimately reach a height of up to 60 feet and if growing at a low elevation near the sea, say not above 300 feet or more than two miles inland, it continue producing for upwards of 100 years. Production begins to decline,
<pb n="74" xml:id="n74"/>
however, after 50 years. On an average in favourable circumstances, a tree produces one to two nuts a week, or 20 to 40 pounds of dried copra a year.<note xml:id="ftn1-74" n="*"><p>The drying process results in a shrinkage of about 46 per cent. The commercial copra that remains has an oil content of up to 70 per cent.</p></note> Under commercial plantation conditions 48 trees are planted to the acre.<note xml:id="ftn2-74" n="†"><p>Lines are laid out with thirty feet between each tree. The Germans planted blocks with 25 trees to a line. Fallen nuts were collected in donkey baskets which held 25, with the intention in theory that one collection along each line once a week would fill one to two baskets.</p></note> A ripe fallen nut puts out a shoot and takes root under suitable conditions even if it is not deliberately planted. Samoans use every portion of the tree, the trunk, all parts of the leaves, the husk, the kernel, the shell, the milk, the growing head,<note xml:id="ftn3-74" n="‡"><p>This is the so-called “million-dollar” salad, enjoyment of which involves the death of the tree.</p></note> bark, roots, and flowers for many purposes that cover house-building and other forms of construction, curios, tools, weaving, cooking, planting, fighting, road-building, carrying water, medicine, cleaning, ceremonial purposes, annointing the body, fishing, baits and lures, lighting, heating, fuel, clothes, games, toys, adornments, decorating, equipment and food. The total number of its separate uses extends to something not far short of two hundred.<note xml:id="ftn4-74" n="§"><p>The author is indebted to Mr. D. R. Eden, General Manager of the New Zealand Reparation Estates, for statistical information relating to the coconut printed in this chapter. The following figures averaged from a number of nuts are also of interest. The weight of a nut as it dropped from the tree was 43.01 ozs, of the husk and shell, 31.475 ozs and of the green copra extracted, 11.625 ozs. The thickness of the meat adhering to the shell was .50 inches. The longitudinal diameter inside the shell was 4.015 inches and the transverse diameter 3.57 inches. Allowing for a shrinkage of 46 per cent, these figures would require 5,709 nuts for the production of one ton of dried copra but from a young plantation in good production, only 4,556 nuts are required. Experiments to take out these figures were conducted by Mr. Alistair Stewart of Vailele Plantation.</p></note></p>
        <p><name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> has brought the preparation of foods that employ the expressed cream of the coconut meat to a fine art. A ripe nut is husked and opened and the half-inch layer of white meat adhering to the inside of the shell is grated out. This is folded into a bundle of fibres made of <hi rend="i">laufao</hi> (the leaf of the wild banana) or coconut husk, and then twisted strongly until the cream is expressed from the meat. The cream (<hi rend="i">pe'epe'e</hi>) is rich in the fats that many other Samoan
<pb n="75" xml:id="n75"/>
foods do not provide and must be distinguished from the milk of the coconut which is simply the refreshing, cloudy liquid that fills the cavity of the nut.</p>
        <p>The first such dish that warrants description is the greatly esteemed <hi rend="i">palusami</hi>, which includes the only green vegetable consumed by Samoans. This is stated by Krämer to have been invented by <hi rend="i">Malietoa Vaiinupo</hi>, who died in <date when="1841">1841</date>, so that if this is so, the dish is not much more than a hundred years old. It is compounded of young taro leaf shoots, salt water and coconut cream, and there is a growing habit in these days of adding lemon juice or sliced onions. The coconut cream, into which a hot stone may have been dropped to bring out the flavour, is mixed with salt water and then the young taro shoots or tender ends of the leaves are added. Portions of the mixture are placed in not too mature taro leaves, termed a “dress” (<hi rend="i">'ofu</hi>), and then the dress itself is wrapped in sections of heated banana leaf which is impervious to liquids. Finally, the whole bundle is folded into a breadfruit leaf. The <hi rend="i">'ofu</hi> are placed in a cooler part of the oven as it does not require a fierce heat to reduce the taro shoots and leaves to a soft, pulpy mass. The coconut cream sets like a custard under the influence of the heat of the oven. A simpler preparation of the taro leaf shoots, without coconut cream, may be cooked in the same way. This is not so well liked as <hi rend="i">palusami</hi>.</p>
        <p>Another coconut cream dish is <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>, literally “brain”, which the finished product closely resembles in appearance. There are various forms of <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>, the simplest of which is cooked <hi rend="i">pe'epe'e</hi>. One is a mixture of coconut cream with starch which is added before the mixture is poured into banana leaves and baked in the oven. Another employs grated yam or taro in place of the starch, and still another seaweed. Young octopus (<hi rend="i">fe'e</hi>), properly cleaned and prepared, and divided into sections, a few pieces to each dress, makes a very palatable dish with <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>.<note xml:id="ftn1-75" n="*"><p>Young octopus, well cooked, especially the portion round the head, tastes a good deal better than it sounds to Europeans unused to such delicacies. The tentacles are perhaps a little rubbery unless well cooked. Canned octopus, especially the smaller varieties, may be purchased in <name key="name-007453" type="place">Mediterranean</name> countries; it is surprisingly good. Both men and women catch the octopus, but by different methods. Men operate from canoes in deep water alongside the reef and entice the victim to take hold of a lure which is lowered into the water. Women wade about the lagoon and reef at low tide and induce the octopus to take hold of a stick twirled about in the crevices of rocks and coral. But both men and women kill the catch by the same method—a quick bite in the region of the eyes. This is more entertaining to watch than to emulate. The octopus, it may be added, occupies a position of some importance in the mythology of the country.</p></note> Another
<pb n="76" xml:id="n76"/>
tasty form of <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi> is compounded with a root that is a relation of the ginger plant. All the above dishes are cooked in the Samoan oven.</p>
        <p>A different method of Samoan cooking is that which employs hot stones dropped into liquids in wooden bowls. Starch is mixed in a bowl with water and glowing hot stones from the oven added and stirred about. When the starch is sufficiently heated, coconut cream is mixed in. When the whole is cooked together the stones are removed and the fairly solid mixture cut into pieces. This is called <hi rend="i">piasua</hi>.</p>
        <p><hi rend="i">Vaisalo</hi> is a starch soup that is served hot in coconut shell cups. The juice or water from young nuts is placed in a bowl. The soft half-ripe coconut meat from the same nuts is rubbed small with strips of the skin of a coconut leaf midrib (<hi rend="i">alava</hi>) and a liquid is then wrung out of the meat with the <hi rend="i">alava</hi> into the bowl. The small solid particles of coconut that may remain are rejected or not, as desired. Hot stones are added until the mixture boils, and last of all starch is stirred in until it is well cooked. The dish is palatable and nourishing, and is regarded as especially suitable for sick people and nursing mothers.</p>
        <p><hi rend="i">Fa'ausi</hi> is the term for hot taro dumplings served in individual woven baskets or platters. Raw taro is grated and cooked in banana leaves in the oven. Coconut cream is heated in a wooden bowl with hot stones until an oil separates from the solidified mass; the taro is then cut into cubes and served in the woven platters with the coconut cream oil poured over it.</p>
        <p>Large sections of taro may also be cooked with coconut cream. Raw slices of the tuber are wrapped in banana leaves with a dressing of cream and are often allowed to cook in an oven all night. This dish is called <hi rend="i">loloitalo</hi>, and is frequently prepared to mark the completion of a village fishing net and before it is used for the first time.</p>
        <p>Grated or whole, skinned bananas may be placed in wrappings of banana leaves with coconut cream and cooked in the oven. This is termed <hi rend="i">loloifa'i</hi>.</p>
        <p>Grilled or roasted breadfruit cooked direct over the hot stones without any covering of leaves may also be specially prepared with coconut cream or eaten simply after being dipped into the cream. Hot breadfruit straight from the oven is skinned and pounded or mashed in a bowl. Sea water for flavouring may be added or not as desired, but if not, hot stones are often placed in the bowl for flavouring purposes after coconut cream has been added generously. Two forms of this dish are therefore distinguished, the first,
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<hi rend="i">taufolo sami</hi>, to which sea water is added and in which the lumps of the breadfruit are pinched off with the fingers, and second, <hi rend="i">taufolo niu</hi>, to which hot stones have been added, in which the portions of breadfruit are divided off with stiff sections of <hi rend="i">alava</hi> used as tongs. Both forms of the dish are served hot on breadfruit leaves, well garnished with the cream. It is very popular when chiefs and orators are assembled, and when visitors are being entertained. It is always offered as a special refreshment between meals and not as part of a regular meal.</p>
        <p>Some of these dishes may be prepared also with yam but they are not so common.</p>
        <p>Banana <hi rend="i">poi</hi> is very popular with gat erings of chiefs (being frequently called Samoan ice cream). Ripe bananas are peeled and crushed in a bowl until reduced to a smooth pulp. Lemon juice and fresh water are added and mixed well, and finally coconut cream. It is a rich and nourishing dish which is consumed in large quantities between regular meals, either from coconut cups or glasses. Samoans who live near Apia add ice whenever it can be obtained.</p>
        <p>There are two other fruit dishes, <hi rend="i">suafa'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">suaesi</hi>, made respectively with bananas and papaya, or mummy apple. Either ripe bananas or papaya are cut up small and boiled in a cooking pot with water. Starch flour is stirred in and finally coconut cream is added. It may be served hot or cold.</p>
        <p>A process of ripening certain varieties of bananas by artificial means for use at Samoan feasts is termed <hi rend="i">fa'avevela</hi> and has a respectful significance because of the trouble and preparation involved. A pit is dug some three or more feet in depth, lined with banana leaves, and the bunches of bananas which are sometimes dipped first in sea water are then arranged in such a manner as to leave a space for heating material in one corner. Coconut husks and other materials that smoulder well are then lighted and deposited in the space provided. Sticks and leaves are arranged over the bananas and finally a covering of earth seals off the ripening chamber. The process is complete in approximately five days, and produces ripe ceremonial fruit at exactly the time required.</p>
        <p>Both banana and breadfruit conserves (<hi rend="i">masi</hi>)<note xml:id="ftn1-77" n="*"><p>In these days cabin bread or biscuit is also called <hi rend="i">masi</hi>.</p></note> were made a good deal in the past. Pits were dug and lined with banana leaves and peeled ripe or mature green bananas or whole or split breatfruit thrown in and pressed down with
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weights. The mass was then allowed to ferment and was ready for use in about a month, fruit being added to replace portions that were used and the leaves being also changed regularly to prevent rotting. Such conserves could be kept for upwards of a year, but the practice is not now greatly resorted to. It was previously useful to provide for times of expected shortage of food, or to store a surplus. In preparing <hi rend="i">masi</hi>, portions were shaped in the form of cakes or biscuits and then cooked in the earth oven. Another method was to wrap it in leaves with the addition of grated coconut or coconut cream. In the simple form, it emerged hard and biscuity, and by reason of its keeping qualities, it must have been valuable in the past on long canoe voyages. Another old fruit preserve, not now made, was <hi rend="i">sai fa'i</hi>, ripe peeled bananas dried in the sun. Packets of these were made up in banana leaves and bound tightly with continuous turns of coconut sennit, the final appearance being similar to the present-day <hi rend="i">sai</hi> of Samoan tobacco.</p>
        <p>Fresh fruits are consumed casually rather than at regular meals. Pineapples, mangoes, <hi rend="i">nonu</hi> (the Samoan apple) and <hi rend="i">vi</hi> are all eaten in season. Bananas and <hi rend="i">esi</hi> (papaya) are eaten casually, especially by young people working in plantations; but the ceremonial banana referred to above is important on more formal occasions. Sugar cane often has a place in feasts and at other times is eaten particularly by children who tear off the rough, outer skin with their teeth. Samoan children are much addicted to eating mangoes and <hi rend="i">vi</hi> in their green state, a practice that is due in part at least to the fact that flying-foxes attack the ripe or nearly ripe fruit. Lemon, lime and orange drinks and prepared cordials are all coming into increasing use, especially in entertaining visitors, Samoan taste in this matter, as in regard to the use of tea, cocoa and coffee, leaning towards heavily sweetened liquids. The Samoan diet contains more than a sufficiency of carbohydrates without sweet drinks and it is perhaps significant that the people are beginning to recognise an illness that they correctly term <hi rend="i">ma'i suka</hi>, the sugar sickness, or diabetes.</p>
        <p>Pigs are usually killed by strangling immediately before preparation for cooking by the pressure of a wooden bar across the throat. The blood and abdominal and intestinal fat are carefully collected and cooked in banana leaves over hot stones, and are greatly prized as a delicacy. Other internal organs such as the heart, liver or kidneys, are sometimes chopped up, dressed in banana leaves and cooked similarly. There is a common but incorrect impression among
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Europeans that Samoans prefer pork poorly cooked but this overlooks the fact that large animals are partly cooked for presentation and facility in ceremonial division with the intention that the distributed portions should receive additional cooking later. After killing, the pig is scalded with hot water and scraped clean of hair. The insides are then removed and the whole carcase placed in the oven after the abdominal cavity has been filled with mango, <hi rend="i">fau</hi> or <hi rend="i">'o'a</hi> leaves and hot stones to assist the cooking process.</p>
        <p>Samoans eat poultry but not the eggs, although there is a growing practice of eating the latter, which are used freely enough in any case for the baking of cakes. Fowls may be boiled in the European fashion, cooked in a Samoan oven, or grilled direct over the hot stones. Pigeons are extremely popular in season and are cooked in the same way as fowls, except that many portions of the entrails are cooked with the bird and consumed, being considered to be “clean”. Pigeons in a good season can become so fat that on hitting the ground after being shot, they frequently burst.</p>
        <p>Samoans term the turtle (<hi rend="i">laumei</hi>) a fish, although some recognise the technical difference.<note xml:id="ftn1-79" n="*"><p>The turtle is, of course, a lung-breathing animal belonging to a sub-class of reptiles, the meat rather resembling a coarse beef. The choice portions for Europeans, if they are properly cooked, are fillets from the fore-flippers. The well known turtle-shell of commerce is taken from sections of the carapace of a particular species, the hawk-billed turtle (<hi rend="i">Chelone imbricata</hi>). The commoner variety is the green-back, but both are edible. Turtle eggs, which are laid only in a few localities, are deposited some hundreds at a laying, and resemble soft greyish-white billiard balls. A peculiarity of the turtle egg is that the white, or albumen, does not solidify on boiling. The heart of the turtle continues to beat for some hours after it is taken from the body, even against the pressure of a closed fist. Turtles are caught in large nets, generally as the common effort of an entire village or village section, working with a considerable number of canoes.</p></note> The turtle has high ceremonial significance, being termed an <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi>.<note xml:id="ftn2-79" n="†"><p>See <ref type="chapter" target="#c8">Chapter VIII, Ceremonial Presentations of Food</ref>.</p></note> Before cooking, the entrails are drawn, and the turtle is then placed on its back over the hot stones. The blood is carefully saved and with the fat and certain of the organs and entrails is made up into packets in banana leaves and cooked in the oven. Any developing eggs found within a female are treated likewise. Hot stones are placed inside the carcase from which the abdominal or ventral plate is not removed, to assist the cooking process as in the case of the cooking of pigs. The intestines are carefully cleaned and also cooked. During the cooking process a gravy collects in the
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shell of the turtle; this is the reason why it is placed on its back. The gravy is much relished while hot and is dipped out with coconut shell cups.</p>
        <p>The sea-foods are very popular with Samoans, fresh fish being that form of flesh which is most inexpensively obtained and commonly consumed. Small fish, unscaled and ungutted, are wrapped in banana or breadfruit leaves, and the bundles termed <hi rend="i">afi</hi>, while large fish in the same condition are plaited into coconut leaf dressings termed <hi rend="i">laui'a</hi>; both are placed in the oven in that form. <hi rend="i">Afi</hi> may also have coconut cream added to prepare <hi rend="i">fai'ai i'a</hi> or fish <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>. These words, <hi rend="i">afi</hi> and <hi rend="i">laui'a</hi>, are the terms employed in describing the fish in any ceremonial presentation. Certain varieties such as the bonito, the mullet, the flying fish and the <hi rend="i">atule</hi> are enjoyed in a raw state, sections of the fish being served in coconut cups of sea water mixed with a little blood, coconut cream or lemon juice, and then consumed. Fish that are consumed raw may also be cooked if desired, and the <hi rend="i">miti</hi> sauce, <hi rend="i">pe'epe'e</hi>, to which sea water or perhaps lemon juice has been added, is also a favourite flavouring for foods other than raw fish. Fish are cooked ungutted because certain of the cleaner parts of the entrails are also consumed. Octopus, crayfish, lobsters, shrimps, fresh-water and sea eels, oysters, many kinds of crabs, <hi rend="i">faisua</hi>, (a variety of Tridacna), smaller shell-fish and cockies are all popular. The entrails of other marine animals are greatly relished, particularly <hi rend="i">sea</hi>. Octopus, lobsters, crayfish and crabs are cooked but other sea-foods are consumed in the raw state. Sea-eggs and an edible mud worm (<hi rend="i">ipo</hi>) are eaten raw, and the famous <hi rend="i">palolo</hi>, a coral worm that rises to the surface for breeding purposes on only a few mornings in the year, is cooked in leaf “dresses.” Crabs, lobsters and crayfish may be boiled in European fashion but may also be placed in a Samoan oven in the upper levels of the leaf coverings, not too near the hot stones.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">palolo</hi> (<hi rend="i">Eunice viridis</hi>) is an edible annelid, a segmented sea worm that lives in the crevices of coral reefs. At dawn eight days after full moon, in October or November, the rear portion of the worm, perhaps three quarters of its length, breaks off from the head, and, full of egg-cells or sperm-cells, bursts or breaks into fragments in the water. The swarming is therefore a wedding journey during which the cells are fertilised; the male is reddish brown in colour and the female bluish green. The head portion, of which the average diameter is about one-sixth of an inch, remains in
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the coral and grows a new body which is much finer, not exceeding in diameter one third or one quarter that of the head. The total length of the worm before it divides and bursts is from 9 to 18 inches. The body is cylindrical, tapering slightly at both ends, divided into many hundreds of nearly equal joints, each of which has a small tuft of gills on either side. There is a periodical internal change in the worm when it becomes reproductive and restless, and in a manner that is not yet clearly understood, this is somehow connected with external changes, especially the time of year, the phase of the moon, and the sunrise. Each segment in the rear free-swimming portion of the worm bears on its abdominal surface a prominent pigmented spot, an abdominal eye, and it has been suggested that the swarming may be due to thermotrophic or heliotrophic influences on that organ.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">palolo</hi> is not peculiar to <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>; it is known also in <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>, <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, the <name key="name-140020" type="place">Solomons</name>, Gilberts, <name key="name-021361" type="place">New Hebrides</name>, Moluccas, Banks Islands, <name key="name-019920" type="place">New Britain</name>, <name key="name-021362" type="place">New Ireland</name>, the Trobriand Islands, Bermuda, the Malay Straits and <name key="name-002006" type="place">Japan</name>. It may be found other than at the prophesied times in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> by breaking off sections of the coral rock in places where it normally swarms, and it is a local peculiarity that the major risings in the islands of Upolu and Savaii usually occur at intervals of four weeks.</p>
        <p>A checked list of edible Samoan fish, which is probably far from exhaustive, totals 265 varieties. A dozen or so others are either poisonous in whole or in part, and either in certain localities or different times of the year, or stages of growth. It is claimed that some fish are poisonous in certain localities because of the local prevalence of the <hi rend="i">'ana</hi>, a small coral-like seaweed on which the fish concerned are stated to feed. Others are not eaten from a feeling of repugnance derived from their habits, and the dolphin goes free for traditional reasons.</p>
        <p>Shark, cooked in the usual manner, is a popular food as well as being a fish of ceremonial significance, although in common with other types of fish prepared in that fashion, it is a little dry to European palates. This great fish of ill repute is caught from a canoe; by a system of lures and changed baits at different stages it is induced to enter a rope noose which is drawn tight in the region of the dorsal fin. The shark is then allowed to tow the canoe until exhausted, at which stage it is drawn half out of the water and clubbed on the nose, which is the region of the nerve centres.</p>
        <p>Another seasonal delicacy, although not restricted to
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such a short period as the <hi rend="i">palolo</hi>, is the <hi rend="i">inaga</hi>, the young fry of the fresh water fish <hi rend="i">apofu</hi> which ascends the rivers about the time of <hi rend="i">palolo</hi> in October or November. These may be termed the Samoan “whitebait,” and, although black in appearance, are quite as much a delicacy as the New Zealand variety. They may be seen in season at the mouths of the Vaisigano or Mulivai rivers in Apia, and in particular ascending the Falefa Falls, some 18 miles east of Apia.<note xml:id="ftn1-82" n="*"><p>In <date when="1945-11">November, 1945</date>, a catch of <hi rend="i">palolo</hi> and specimens of <hi rend="i">inaga</hi> from Falefa Falls had the distinction of being flown to England, preserved in formalin and glycerine, for scientific dissection and examination at Reading University.</p></note> Wherever the rock of the falls is moist with water or spray, they make their progress up the face of the thirty-foot wall by short active jumps. For assistance in gripping the rocks, there is one sucker on the under-surface of the fish. They are cooked in leaf “dresses” like <hi rend="i">palolo</hi>.</p>
        <p>We may digress here to discuss an even more remarkable fish, from two to five inches in length, and one of the most interesting known to science, the mud-skipper or mangrove-hopper (<hi rend="i">Periophthalmus barbarus Linnaeus</hi>). This is one species of the three living mud-fishes or lung-fishes which may be seen in large numbers in the mangrove swamps at Mulinu'u or at the base of the retaining wall about Apia Harbour. It is abundant also in the sluggish and brackish waters in the mouths of streams in the Territory.</p>
        <p>This extraordinary little fish constitutes one of the few living links between ordinary fishes with a two-chambered heart and amphibians in which the heart is three-chambered. These double-breathing fishes, or <hi rend="i">Dipnoi</hi>, breathe both by gills and by a lung which has arisen as a transformed swim-bladder; they have a pulmonary circulation involving blood vessels to and from the lungs. The heart is almost three-chambered, for there is an incomplete partition in the receiving chamber or auricle. There is also a single large vein bringing impure blood back to the heart from the posterior body; this is called the <hi rend="i">inferior vena cava</hi> and is present in all animals including amphibians from the mud-fishes to man. The <hi rend="i">Dipnoi</hi> have also many-celled glands in their skins, unlike most of the skin glands in other fishes which are single goblet-like cells making slime.</p>
        <p>The mud-skipper freely leaves the water to climb bushes or to mount high up on trees, particularly the mangrove, and jumps about the rocks or skips through the
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grass, hunting small crustaceans, insects, snails and slugs. The strongly developed pectoral fins and tail are used as limbs on which it raises the front portion of the body, gazing about with strangely protruding and very mobile eyes. The species is markedly variable, both as to coloration and habit. It is exceedingly quick of movement and very tenacious of life. Jordan and Searle have recorded that specimens placed in a pail of formalin escaped when the lid was raised. The Samoan name is <hi rend="i">talae</hi>, but it is not eaten.</p>
        <p>This is perhaps sufficient on the subject of types of food and their preparation to give a general idea of the methods employed. We may now pass to the question of custom relating to actual meals themselves.</p>
        <p>Samoans who live in or near Apia and particularly those who are in receipt of a regular income, are rather more addicted than their fellows to the use of bread, butter, various forms of buns or cakes, sausages, onions, salt meat, and tinned meat, fish and biscuits; but whenever bread, biscuits and tinned meat or fish can be obtained in other parts of the country, they are much in evidence at Samoan functions like weddings, election feasts to titles, funerals, Church gatherings or openings of cricket pitches.</p>
        <p>As mentioned elsewhere, <hi rend="i">matai</hi> eat first and are served by the women of the family or the young people. Where a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and his wife are alone without guests, they may eat together, but this is not strictly the old custom. Old Samoan custom prohibited absolutely the use by immediate members of the family of any food left over from the <hi rend="i">sua</hi> or meal of an important chief. The remains of the meal were always taken to the chief's orator and the family had perforce to be satisfied with whatever ordinary food was otherwise available for them. This custom is still observed in some families but in many others it is not now rigidly enforced. Young people wait until the elders have completed their meal and then eat together in the back of the house or in another building. If for any reason, either in a house, or on a journey, it is desired to save time, the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> may give permission to others of inferior status to eat at the same time as he does, but they will not do so without express permission. If such permission is given, the young people will retire to a respectful distance before eating.</p>
        <p>Samoan meals are served on woven mats or platters of coconut leaf termed <hi rend="i">laulau</hi>, some two to three feet long and a foot wide. The same word is used to designate the European table. Generous helpings of whatever food is
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available are placed on the mat, say portions of pork if the occasion is important or formal, fowl or fish, <hi rend="i">palusami</hi> or <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>, and one or two taro or a breadfruit. There may be other sea food or shell-fish. Samoans eat with the fingers of both hands; there is no restriction as to the hand or the number of fingers to be employed as in certain countries in the East. The old practice was to convey <hi rend="i">palusami</hi> to the mouth with a coconut leaf midrib used as a fork, but this is not commonly seen at the present time, although the midribs are occasionally supplied for the use of important guests. <hi rend="i">Palusami</hi> is now usually scooped up with pieces of taro or breadfruit held in the fingers; it would be wrong to take it up directly with the fingers. Wings or legs of chicken or portions of pork are not carried to the mouth and pieces detached with the teeth until as much meat as possible has been stripped from the bone with the fingers and conveyed separately to the mouth.</p>
        <p>Although a Samoan will take food if it is available and eat whenever the fancy moves him, especially if there is cooked food left over from a previous meal, there are generally only two organised meals of the day, one late in the morning on return from the plantations or other excursion, and the second or principal meal after the fall of darkness and the holding of evening prayers. There is now, however, a growing habit, especially amongst Samoans in employment who have to conform to European hours of work, to take a light meal early in the morning, a cup of tea or Samoan cocoa with bread, or a plate of rice.</p>
        <p>A formal Samoan feast, whether for the entertainment of guests, a wedding, a death, a Church or other village function, is usually on a more elaborate scale than an ordinary meal. It may be set out either in a guest house, or in a specially erected shelter of coconut leaves (<hi rend="i">falelauniu</hi>) in an open space in the village. Pork, fresh beef, poultry, pigeons in season, chop suey (of which Samoans are very fond), crayfish, crabs, fish of all descriptions, taro, <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi>, breadfruit in season, ripe ceremonial bananas,<note xml:id="ftn1-84" n="*"><p>Cooked bananas have no ceremonial significance and are not deemed suitable for use at a formal feast.</p></note> the excellent Samoan potato salads which are growing in favour, tinned meat, fish or biscuits, shark, turtles, cakes, lengths of sugarcane or any other Samoan delicacy that is available may all contribute to a lavish display. The Samoans have an eye for colour on these occasions; yellow bananas and crimson lobsters or crabs add to the appearance of the tables. All
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guests are seated on the ground for a feast of this description, every person's name being called when his or her turn comes to be seated. Each guest has piled before him portions of all the major foods provided. There is no possibility whatever of eating the whole of an allotted portion; indeed, it is not intended that this should be done. Samoan custom provides that a guest may take away for his later enjoyment whatever he does not consume at the time of the entertainment itself, and coconut leaf baskets are usually made available to guests for that purpose. Guests usually have boys of the family in attendance to pack and take away their baskets. This custom applies only to a feast and not to a casual meal. At a well organised Samoan feast each guest is provided generally with enough food for half a dozen people, and such a function may well require weeks of careful preparation. The provision of sufficient fish on the exact day required constitutes a problem to which Samoan ingenuity is equal. Fishing commences some days in advance, and as they are caught, the fish are wrapped in leaves or plaited into sections of coconut leaf as their size dictates and then cooked in a Samoan oven. The bundles are then re-cooked on each subsequent day until the day of the feast. An important part of the preparation for such a feast is therefore the collection of a sufficient quantity of firewood.</p>
        <p>On completion of that portion of a meal that is consumed with the fingers, a Samoan, if the meal is taken from a separate leaf platter in a house, will, without waiting for others to reach the same stage, push it away a few inches and hold up his hands to show that he requires washing materials. If he is seated at an outside feast there will be plenty of attendants to note that he has finished. Basins of water and a towel are then forthcoming, the hands and lips being washed with characteristic movements and gestures. A cup of water or a coconut pierced through one eye-hole called the <hi rend="i">mata</hi> will then be presented, for Samoans do not drink during the progress of that part of the meal that is consumed with the fingers. Other courses such as tea or cocoa and bread or cake, or rice, eaten with a spoon, will then follow. Nuts pierced through one eye-hole must be consumed by a special intermittent sucking method termed <hi rend="i">mimiti</hi>.</p>
        <p>During the progress of the earlier part of a meal that is taken during the day from platters, the type of food consumed is likely to attract flies. Girls, including perhaps the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, therefore sit down before each of the more important
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guests and with steadily waving fans see that the food is not contaminated.</p>
        <p>Samoans say grace before a meal taken inside a house or at a formal feast, although not usually before a casual meal taken in the bush or elsewhere in the course of a journey in the open. They prefer a European not to eat unless grace has been said, even if he is the only person before whom food has been placed. It is not essential that he should say grace for himself, and a Samoan will be pleased to deputise for him if asked to do so.</p>
        <p>An opened drinking nut will probably be offered to Europeans at the conclusion of the first stage of a meal taken in the Samoan style. This may be drunk or not as desired, but in no circumstances should the nut be cracked and the meat inside consumed. Such an action is proper enough on a journey when a stop has been made in the open for a drink and a rest, but to eat coconut meat either before or after a meal in a house is a grave reflection on the hospitality of a host, since it is properly eaten only when other food is lacking, and to do so in a house would be to suggest that the refreshment provided has been inadequate, or is lacking altogether.</p>
        <p>Eating utensils will be provided for Europeans where the meal is served on a table. If one has to be seated cross-legged, the meal will be taken from a plaited table mat and may have to be eaten with the fingers although there are few villages where cutlery is not now available. It is correct to use cutlery if that is provided, even if one is taking the meal otherwise in the Samoan fashion. It is not essential to eat everything that is served, and satiety is indicated by pushing away the mat a few inches and holding forward the hands for washing materials as explained above.</p>
        <p>One's Samoan hosts will be gratified if a healthy interest is shown in the food provided. Sucking pigs, poultry, pigeons, crabs and lobsters generally come to the table whole for purposes of display and as a mark of respect. Girls will be in attendance throughout the meal, and one of these will, if requested, divide poultry or crack crabs or perform any other service that is required. Where European guests are expected, the most elaborate preparations will probably have been made for them. Samoans recognise that their modes of cooking are different, although they genuinely still prefer their own methods themselves. They take pride, however, in preparing for European guests as nearly as possible what they would prepare for themselves.
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If there is a Mission nearby, the hosts will probably arrange for assistance in the preparation of European foods, vegetables, salads and cakes, or perhaps the kitchen of a local trader may be requisitioned so that nothing will be lacking for the comfort and entertainment of a European guest. The writer has even known ice-cream to be transported on ice many miles from Apia over the ridge to the south coast of the island. Even when reduced to Samoan methods of cooking, however, Samoan hosts still do remarkably well for their European guests.</p>
        <p>Fowls have a rather special usefulness, for Samoan custom, if strictly interpreted as it so often is, requires that the casual guest, even though unexpected, should be provided with a meal. Other food may be hard to obtain at short notice and in any case requires a fair amount of time for preparation. The fowls belonging to each family, however, wander freely about the village and can quickly be brought low with a well-aimed stone,<note xml:id="ftn1-87" n="*"><p>A stone in the hands of a Samoan is a deadly weapon, and children learn at an early age to bring down fruit such as the mango out of a tree by this means. Stone-throwing to the danger of persons, apart from coming within the category of technical assault, is a specific offence under The General Laws Ordinance, <date when="1931">1931</date>.</p></note> so that the guest who is pleasantly pressed to await a meal may see a squawking hen chased around the house and in an incredibly short space of time be regaled with chicken soup and a boiled bird. This can be amusing, but an understanding of the people suggests a more discerning view than this. It is a warming thought that in this commercial age and after two world wars there are still pleasant isles with people whose hospitality is so genuine and eager that it refuses to be denied.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="88" xml:id="n88"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="8" xml:id="c8">
        <head>CHAPTER VIII<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Ceremonial Presentations of Food</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">It is</hi> perhaps natural enough in a society where so much of ceremony is combined or concludes with feasts that the highest forms of traditional respect should become associated with the ceremonial presentation of food. In communities like the Samoan, it is the simple things of life that become invested with formality and dignity for ceremonial purposes.</p>
        <p>Presentations of food fall into two broad categories which are not, however, clear-cut or distinct. The first embraces presentations by a group, either a district or a village, or by a family, for the purpose of showing respect to unrelated visitors; the second covers instances of what may be termed domestic respect, either to highly placed relatives or resident dignitaries, where a family or village habitually acknowledges the status of a particular leading chief either of a village or district by the regular presentation for his personal consumption or distribution of food grown or reared by them or of certain types of fish or other produce of the sea whenever taken. The first comprises a group of observances and a form of courtesy, the non-observance of which could well cause disstisfaction; but it merely involves the goodwill of people who may concede or withhold a courtesy as they wish. The second involves in some cases at least a rather more rigid aspect of custom the and what may be termed traditional rights. To withhold the presentation of certain prescribed things of the sea, for instance, to the individuals or groups whose rank entitles them to such acknowledgment as of right would constitute an insult in Samoan custom. For purposes of convenience we may also include under this second heading the practice of presenting certain first fruits of the land to the chiefs and orators of villages, to the heads of families or to any other individual with whom a special relationship of respect exists, and certain other customary courtesies of a similar nature, although the omission of these latter would not
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always constitute the same degree of offence against custom as in the case noted specially above.</p>
        <p>We will examine first in detail the general group of food presentations to visitors.</p>
        <p>The highest form of ceremonial food presentation under this heading at the present time is that associated with the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, in which an entire village or even one or more districts may take part in order to show a special degree of respect to a distinguished visitor or visitors. A <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> is always performed during the hours of daylight and from its nature must always take place in the open, never within a house. The village or district concerned assemble out of sight, the visitors awaiting them either within a house or on one side of the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>. The concourse then approaches, not in a line or procession but in a close crowd, singing the appropriate songs, and led by <hi rend="i">taupou, manaia</hi> or chiefs arrayed in all the dignity of the traditional head-dress or <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi><note xml:id="ftn1-89" n="*"><p>The wearing of the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi> is a very painful business, the composite parts being tightly bound about the forehead. This accounts for the strained expressions frequently seen on the faces of leaders of a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>.</p></note> of bleached human hair, embellished with the modern addition of small mirrors. The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> will probably be dressed in a fine mat (<hi rend="i">'ie toga</hi>) and an upper garment of leaves and flowers made especially for the occasion. The arms and legs of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and the torso of the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> or the chiefs will be agleam with Samoan oil; some or all may be armed with a typical hooked Samoan knife or an axe, and all will advance and retire in front of the slowly approaching village assembly with the queer jerky little hops and steps that are the traditional mode of progression for the leaders of the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> on these occasions. The leaders are sometimes accompanied by clowns or buffoons, old men or women who inject a light note into the proceedings, and who act as foils to the formality and dignity of the leaders.</p>
        <p>The right to wear a <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi> and to lead a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> are jealously guarded privileges restricted to properly appointed <hi rend="i">taupou, manaia</hi> and certain well-known chiefs of the villages or districts concerned. This is an aspect of custom sufficiently important to warrant a petition to the Native Land and Titles Court if a dispute arises and if satisfaction can be obtained in no other way. that Court has jurisdiction to hear evidence and make pronouncements on all such questions of Samoan custom.</p>
        <p>While the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> is approaching, young men attached to the visiting party lay down coconut fronds for the
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reception of the food, and then sit down on the grass to take charge of any eggs or poultry that may be brought. An orator of the party may also seat himself there to thank and congratulate the village for their generosity. The thanks at this stage are short and informal and other titled members of the party seated behind him may also join in.</p>
        <p>The village or district is thus led by <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and others to a point on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> opposite the house where the visitors are waiting, frequent pauses being made to allow the leaders to advance and dance with the characteristic twirling movements of knives or axes. With a final acclamation the village then advance and young men will deposit before the visitors on the grass or the terrace of the house the cooked pigs or turtles prepared as a respectful offering. Turtles are especially significant for this purpose but pigs are more usual because they are easily bred and available when they are required. Live fowls may also be presented. A pig that is so big that it must be transported on a litter is particularly well received and will be referred to later by the visitors in special terms of respectful appreciation. The bulk of the village will deposit husked drinking coconuts in a pile alongside the other offerings and while the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and chiefs in head-dresses shake hands with the visitors, the people of the village will retire to the opposite side of the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> and seat themselves on the grass or sand.</p>
        <p>At a convenient moment later in the proceedings young men attached to the visitors' party will open a supply of the drinking nuts presented and the guests will partake to show their appreciation.</p>
        <p>Before the concluding acclamation and presentation of fowls or coconuts, there is generally a final pause for dancing. If an important chief who has taken part in the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> joins the leaders and himself dances in this final phase, that is a high and unusual compliment to the visitors.</p>
        <p>Where a gathering comprises a whole district, they may present one <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> on behalf of all jurisdictions represented, or alternatively, a separate <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> may be decided upon by each village. If the entire function concerns only one village, they may arrange one massed <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> as described, or they may prefer to bring separate offerings from distinct groups in the village. Thus the chiefs and orators, the Ladies' Committee and the schools may all make separate presentations, and in such a case will approach from different directions one after another, led if possible
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by at least a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>. The titled group-would probably present pigs or a turtle if they have been fortunate enough to secure one, and the ladies and the schools, poultry and eggs and perhaps even fans, baskets or other gifts. On special occasions, fine mats and bark cloth are also included.</p>
        <p>No <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> is complete without a speech, and the orators either of the village or the district rise and stand forward in a row, usually unclothed above the waist and with bark cloth girdled about them, with their staffs (<hi rend="i">to'oto'o</hi>) in their right hands and their long fly-whisks (<hi rend="i">fue</hi>) over their shoulders, for the purpose of taking part in the ceremony of <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi> described in an earlier chapter. As this speech is delivered on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, the ceremony of <hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi> and the subsequent speeches on both sides are conducted standing. The orators engage in this preliminary discussion in the same way as during a <hi rend="i">fesilafa'iga</hi>, and one by one those who wish to do so drop out of the line and seat themselves with others of the village or district. The orator who remains then stands forward facing the visitors and commences his speech, his feet apart, his <hi rend="i">fue</hi> draped over a shoulder, one hand behind his back and the other clasping his staff, the tip of which is placed firmly on the ground before him. There it must remain during the speaking, although the upper part of the staff may be moved to and fro. It would be highly improper for the orator to raise it from the ground and gesture with it. In the course of his remarks, the generally asks the visitors to excuse the inadequacy of the food that he now formally presents, and makes such other statements of a respectful nature as are most calculated to please the guests, being prompted from time to time by the orators seated behind him if they consider that he is likely to overlook any point of importance. This, of course, is done as unostentatiously as possible. On completion of his speech, he retires and sits down, usually a little in advance of the other orators.</p>
        <p>If the visitors are Samoan, an orator must then stand forward and make a speech in reply thanking the hosts for their courtesy and expressions of respect. If the visitors are European, one of their number should speak. Where the visitors are seated in a house and even though they be European, no speaking in reply must be done from within the house or even from the eminence of the terrace. The speaker representing the visitors should step forward on to ground level outside the house and be careful also to stand aside if necessary so that neither food nor people intervene between him and the hosts while he is speaking. He too must
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be provided with a staff, and he addresses the orator who has spoken first and the other dignitaries present. If no proper staff is available, a walking-stick will suffice. If speeches are expected to be long and there is no natural shelter from a hot sun, attendants may cut and plant saplings or hold them in position to provide some protection.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, may be presented by people of either sex or both, and may include titled and untitled people; but in another ceremony, <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>, or <hi rend="i">avataeao</hi>, as it is often termed by the orator in charge of the proceedings, the food is presented only by titled males, that is, chiefs and orators, usually on the day before the visitors are due to depart. This is a very important method of demonstrating respect for visitors because every family in good standing in the village must contribute. Baskets of cooked food containing whatever has been decided upon by the chiefs and orators in council are gathered together on the side of the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> opposite to the visitors, the donors seating themselves round about the food. The baskets may contain a cooked chicken, taro, large and small fish or other produce of the sea wrapped in leaves, or tinned meat or fish. On rare occasions the <hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi> may even decide that each basket shall contain a small cooked pig, in which case the form of presentation is known as <hi rend="i">amo'ulu</hi>. The method of presentation is as follows. An orator of the village or district stands forward and baskets are brought to him in succession in order that he may display and announce whatever each one contains. He calls out the name of the family concerned, lifts up the food to display it, and refers to it in ceremonial terms.<note xml:id="ftn1-92" n="*"><p>Fowls (<hi rend="i">moa</hi>) are referred to as <hi rend="i">ta'a paepae</hi>, literally, “to wander about the house pavement.” Packets of fish are termed <hi rend="i">afi</hi> or <hi rend="i">laui'a</hi>, according to the size of the fish, and taro are <hi rend="i">fuauli</hi>, literally, a taro shoot, a term that must be most strictly employed in Falealili, where the title of one of the leading orators is <hi rend="i">Talo</hi>. A cooked pig, presented during a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, is always alluded to respectfully by the recipients as <hi rend="i">manu fata</hi>, “an animal on a litter,” suggesting that the offering is of such proportions that it cannot conveniently be transported in any other manner.</p></note> The food is replaced in the basket which is then carried forward at a run across the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> by young men of the village and placed before the visitors, who from time to time call thanks across to the donors. If several villages have assembled in order to present a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>, the work of one orator in announcing and displaying would be unduly prolonged, and so perhaps three or four may undertake this duty. In that case they call out together loudly and there
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is a constant coming and going of the young men who hurry forward the baskets with an air of goodwill and pleasant bustle. Although a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> has as its serious purpose an intention to convey respect, there is a tradition of humorous licence about this ceremony of which the announcing orators are permitted to take full advantage. This often takes the form of pleasantly derisive comments on the nature of the food contributed. Fowls may be referred to as skinny, or taro as very poor specimens. A cooked pigeon may be held up and described jokingly as a rat, or as something that was found dead under a tree in a bush. Other orators may praise the food effusively and wave it about until laughing thanks are called by the visitors across the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> may be associated with a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, in which case it will precede the speeches, and all the food presented will be placed alongside the pigs or other gifts that formed a part of the earlier ceremony. A <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> can also be presented during the day or after dark within a house following a welcome ceremony. In that case an orator sits in the back of the house where the visitors are assembled and the baskets are brought to him from the rear of the building. He calls out the names and displays the food before the guests.</p>
        <p>Whether the ceremony is conducted on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> or within a house, young men sort the different kinds of foods into separate baskets; thus all the cooked fish will be placed together and the taro and other foodstuffs will be treated similarly. This is done in order to estimate quantities and to facilitate the distribution.</p>
        <p>Before the food is distributed, it must be acknowledged and proclaimed according to custom by the recipients. An orator of the visitors or an untitled member of the <hi rend="i">malag a</hi> party therefore stands forward and announces in loud tones the numbers and kind of all gifts of food received, the language employed being always on these occasions that of ceremony and courtesy. Others of his party who have counted the food will prompt him as required. There is a pleasant tendency also to exaggerate to some extent the numbers of fish, taro and other similar things presented, although the count of important items like pigs is rather more careful. This feature of Samoan custom termed the <hi rend="i">folafolaga</hi> ensures that all people within hearing are duly apprised of the generosity of the hosts. If the presentation is made within a house, the public acknowledgment takes place just in front, whether by day or by night.</p>
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        <p>The proceedings close with the distribution of the food presented, a stage in which Samoan custom operates to demonstrate mutual regard and respect. In theory, food presented to the visitors could be retained by them, but it is invariably apportioned by a visiting orator in such a manner that every group present, including both the hosts and the guests, receives a share. Particular attention is always paid on these occasions to allotting a share to pastors of all denominations. As the shares are announced they are carried away by the boys and presented to those entitled to receive them. The distribution of food is a duty that is always discharged by orators.</p>
        <p>Without going into details at this stage, it may be mentioned that food like pigs, turtles and certain fish are divided in a very particular manner, the portions of chiefs and orators being different and certain parts having a peculiar value for the purpose of showing respect. Before the distribution can proceed, the correct divisions must be made by the young men, who require to be well versed in this aspect of their work lest ineptitude give offence.</p>
        <p>The practice requiring all families in a village to contribute to the entertainment of guests and to provide when called upon to do so a basket of food for a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> or other food presentation is referred to as the <hi rend="i">monotaga</hi>. All families recognized socially in the village are expected to make this contribution, and any failure to do so would bring down on them the dissatisfaction of the chiefs and orators and the imposition of whatever fine was considered proper in the circumstances. Any family which is for the time being excluded from village affairs would not offer such a food contribution, and would not be allowed to do so even if it wished. Indeed, such an offer from a family excluded from village affairs would be regarded as an impertinence. Even if a family has no <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and the family title is for the time being vacant, it is still incumbent on the members of the family to maintain the <hi rend="i">monotaga</hi> and so preserve their right to participate in village affairs. So also if a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> should be absent for any length of time from his home village, he usually arranges for other members of the family to remain in occupation of the family land, and to be most careful to maintain the <hi rend="i">monotaga</hi> in his absence. No rights can be claimed in Samoan society unless proper attention is also given to the corresponding duties that society imposes.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, whether or not it is followed by a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>, usually concludes with dances contributed by various groups in the village or district, either the schools, the girls or the
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young men. A full description of Samoan dances will be found in a later chapter. Where such dances are organised for the entertainment of guests following a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, they precede the distribution of the food.</p>
        <p>There are certain other food presentations which in some respects at least bear a resemblance to a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>. Baskets of food containing whatever has been prescribed by the village authorities, brought by the young men and girls to guests within a house at night just before the time of the evening meal, constitute what is known as an <hi rend="i">'aiava</hi>. This is in effect a night <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> presented by untitled people. An orator announces the contents of each basket as in the case of a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>, and the food gifts are then counted and proclaimed in front of the house before distribution.</p>
        <p>When guests of the village are seated within a house and a meal-time approaches, a line of ladies, bearing woven coconut leaf eating mats (<hi rend="i">laulau</hi>), may enter and place a mat before each guest. This method of serving a meal is termed <hi rend="i">si'ilaulau</hi>. The mats will be heaped with all types of ordinary Samoan foods, together with any of the special delicacies for which the district may be well known. The meal commences without formal announcement or proclaiming of the food. The <hi rend="i">si'ilaulau</hi>, however, is occasionally seen in a more ceremonious form to show a special degree of respect, in circumstances in which it includes some at least of the features of a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> presented by ladies. A food offering brought to the members of United Nations Mission to <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> in <date when="1947">1947</date> during a week-end stay in the district of Falealili furnishes a good example of this elaboration of a <hi rend="i">si'ilaulau</hi>. One hundred and thirty wives of chiefs and orators and members of the Ladies' Committees of the district assembled on the Sunday morning, dressed uniformly and each bearing a <hi rend="i">'laulau</hi> on which was placed taro, fish, <hi rend="i">palusami, fai'ai</hi>, tinned fish and meat and husked coconuts. Two ladies in the rear carried a cooked pig suspended from a pole. The long line circumambulated the village to display the food and on return the pig and the platters were deposited on the platform of the house in which the members of the Mission were seated. The food was presented in a few simple, informal words and acknowledged as quietly. It was then counted, proclaimed in a very low voice, and distributed in a decorous manner. It demonstrated a form of <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> presentation that is very appropriate for a Sunday with its prohibition of noise and bustle and public joking.</p>
        <p>The ladies of the village, either the wives of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> or
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younger people of different social status, may combine to present an offering of fowls and taro during the daytime to guests who are seated within a house. Each lady carries a taro, and certain of them will present fowls to the number that has been decided upon. The fowls and taro may be cooked or uncooked as arranged. The food is presented without anything elaborate in the way of formal speeches and then the ladies mingle with the guests within the house. This presentation is termed <hi rend="i">talotasi</hi> and is made by the ladies of the village to the men of the visiting party.</p>
        <p>A presentation of a similar nature termed <hi rend="i">taliga</hi> may be made by the boys and untitled men of a village to the ladies of a visiting party.</p>
        <p>Both these presentations are rather more characteristic of days when entire villages would decide to visit another village, than of the present day when <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> parties on such a large scale are not so common. But they may still sometime be seen when large groups from one part of the country visit another village, say for the purpose of attending a wedding.</p>
        <p>The pig has a general significance for the display of respect even apart from its formal importance in ceremonies like the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>. The host or a Government official with whom the guest may have a special relationship, may at any period of the stay, but usually on the first day before the evening meal, present a cooked pig without formality beyond a bare announcement. The pig is a most valuable animal for such purposes since it is always available at short notice for use when required.</p>
        <p>Brief reference has been made in a previous chapter to the practice of presenting food to departing guests to sustain them as far as their next stop. Considerable quantities of food are usually presented at a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> on the day before departure, and from these gifts sufficient may be reserved to provide the <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi>. A Special <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi> of raw food is sometimes brought just before the party leaves and this can be taken to the next stop to assist the new hosts or conveyed to the home village if it is not too far away. It would be niggardly, however, to convey it beyond the next stop. These presentations may be made by the entire village or merely by the family with whom a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party has been billeted. The term <hi rend="i">oso</hi> is also applied to food taken by a person from his own family or village to help his hosts in the village where he proposes to stay.</p>
        <p>A food presentation of very high ceremonial importance, which is not often seen at the present day and which is
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difficult to fit satisfactorily into either of the-two principal categories specified at the beginning of this chapter, is known as <hi rend="i">talo pa'ia</hi>. This was characterstics of the times of the ancient Samoan kings and the Samoan Government during the latter period of the last century, and was seen also early in the German regime when the leading chiefs were in residence at Mulinu'u with their bodyguards and retainers. An entire district or districts owing allegiance to such a king or chief would decide to go <hi rend="i">en masse</hi> and present food in ceremonial form to assist in the maintenance of the retainers and to demonstrate their continued support and respect. Large baskets of uncooked taro always figured in this presentation, together with cattle or pigs, possibly one of the latter from each <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, and other foods such as fish, fowls, <hi rend="i">palusami</hi> and <hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>. These were presented in a form similar to that of a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, led by <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and chiefs in head-dresses and full ceremonial regalia.</p>
        <p>Food presentations of the type of the <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> or <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> are brought by large groups like villages or districts, or assemblies like schools or a group of pastors of various denominations. There is another type falling into both categories of domestic respect and that accorded to certain visitors, and known as the <hi rend="i">sua, sua taute</hi> or <hi rend="i">sua ta'i</hi>, which is presented by a smaller group or unit such as a family. One form of the <hi rend="i">sua</hi> is a respectful food presentation to a distinguished visitor who is connected by blood to the particular family concerned. It has the double object of showing respect to the recipient and of demonstrating relationship to an important chief. A <hi rend="i">sua</hi> is made more usually to a chief, but occasionally also to an orator chief or the class of orator known as <hi rend="i">tu'ua</hi>, if the latter's social or political status warrants that distinction. It consists of a cooked pig, a cooked fowl, a coconut in which one eye-hole has been pierced, a taro or yam cut in pieces and cooked in banana and breadfruit leaves, and a fine mat or bark cloth (<hi rend="i">siapo</hi>) worn by the girl, possibly a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, who leads those carrying the food. Occasionally a boy heads the procession. It is only to a high ranking chief and as a mark of unusual respect that a fine mat is presented. More usually it is a piece of <hi rend="i">siapo</hi> only. The gifts presented are symbolic of the respectful service tendered by the family, that is, food, drink and clothing.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">sua</hi> may be presented to the chief seated either inside a house or on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> during the day, or within a house at night. A girl draped in a fine mat or a <hi rend="i">siapo</hi>, and carrying a husked, pierced nut, leads the procession of those
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bearing the food. She halts before the chief, removes the <hi rend="i">siapo</hi> from about her, kneels sideways and hands over both the <hi rend="i">siapo</hi> and the drinking nut. The chief's orator seated nearby will probably take charge of both. The lady then retires. Another girl or boy then brings forward a <hi rend="i">laulau</hi>, or woven food mat, on which are arranged the fowl and taro or yam. This is placed before the chief but not too near. Finally, the pig is brought in by another bearer. The chief and orator give thanks, briefly and not too formally, to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> of the family making the presentation, who will attend during the proceedings.</p>
        <p>The nut is drunk by the orator by the sucking method which is essential if one is to consume the liquid of a nut in which only one hole has been perforated. The empty nut is then cracked open on the stone foundations of the house and the pieces flung outside. This is a noisy advertisement of the dignified ceremony that is proceedings within. The pig is divided by the orator according to custom, and the fowl and taro are set aside for later consumption as required. There are no formal speeches. It is usual for the chief's orator to receive the <hi rend="i">siapo</hi>, and if he is fortunate, he may even receive the fine mat if one has been presented, but that is for the chief to decide.</p>
        <p>As in the case of a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> and a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>, the food presented in a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> is announced loudly from the front of the house in which the presentation has taken place. This duty is usually discharged by the orator, who, if he has been given the <hi rend="i">siapo</hi>, will wear it draped about him. He must then publicly acknowledge the gift of the <hi rend="i">siapo</hi>, which he does by calling loudly three times with a peculiar intonation the name of the donor. This form of acknowledgment is termed <hi rend="i">ailao</hi>.</p>
        <p>An important guest visiting a village and accompanied by only a small party would, if he were related to families in the village, receive a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> or various <hi rend="i">sua</hi> rather than a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, but if his party should be a large one, the whole village would be likely to combine to present a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>. Even in this latter case, however, the related families in the village would probably not be content until they had presented a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> to show personal relationship.</p>
        <p>A wish to show particular respect or to pay a compliment may be expressed in the presentation of a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> even where there is no actual blood connection. An unrelated chief of high status in a village that is entertaining a distinguished visitor may also bring a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> to show goodwill and to associate himself personally with the arrangements
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made to entertain the guest. A Samoan official acting as host to a European official who has come to assist him in his work could correctly present a <hi rend="i">sua</hi>. The large <hi rend="i">sua</hi> pretented at Lepea in <date when="1947-08">August, 1947</date>, to the members of the United Nations Mission was of a special character, for in addition to the three main presentations of pigs and fine mats, it included also extra <hi rend="i">taisi</hi> (cooked chickens, taro and drinking nuts) from the large concourse of chiefs and orators present.</p>
        <p>As mentioned above, the <hi rend="i">sua</hi> comes also within the category of a domestic food presentation, and demonstrates the difficulty of drawing precise or exclusive distinctions in explaining some aspects of Samoan custom. It is the question of relationship that is important in this ceremony, whenever or wherever it is performed, although as already explained, there are some exceptions to this rule. It may therefore be presented to important chiefs from time to time by families or individuals connected to him in his own village, and in cases where a chief enjoys unusual social or even political pre-eminence, with relationships to many other families, this may become a regular or even a weekly show of respect. In respectful parlance it is customary to term any meal of a high chief a <hi rend="i">sua</hi>.</p>
        <p>A chief who has just assumed an important title will probably in the course of his <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi>, or election feast, receive a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> from his family as indicative of their acceptance of him as head of the family. If his title is so important that many other <hi rend="i">matai</hi> connected to him have gathered together to take part in the proceedings, it is courteous for him and his family to prepare a <hi rend="i">sua</hi> to the visiting chiefs. A new appointee who omitted that courtesy would deal a blow to his own dignity and give an impression that he was perhaps not the most suitable person to hold the title.</p>
        <p>A chief who is obliged to enter either the main hospital at Apia or any of the outstations will be presented with <hi rend="i">sua</hi> by his relatives during the progress of his illness, and if he is to undergo and operation, they will congregate on the day appointed to show their sympathy in a practical manner. The chief and his family must reciprocate by providing good food for those who have come to see him, and for this reason it is a heavy expense for an important person with many connections to enter hospital. The present system, incidentally, requires members of the family to enter hospital with the patient to cook for and attend to him.</p>
        <p>Orators or others who enter hospital will be tended
<pb n="100" xml:id="n100"/>
similarly by members of their families, and relatives will visit them from time to time. It is not customary to go empty-handed, whatever the status of the patient may be. Their offering generally takes the form of a <hi rend="i">taisi</hi>, a cooked chicken, taro in banana leaves and a coconut, which is termed on this occasion a <hi rend="i">tauga</hi> if taken by members of the family, or <hi rend="i">asiga</hi> if taken by others. There are various forms of <hi rend="i">tauga</hi> for different purposes. There is <hi rend="i">tauga o le ma'i</hi>, described above, food taken to the sick. Food presented to a doctor or a pastor, either on a visit to him or in receiving him in one's own home, is also <hi rend="i">tauga</hi>, with descriptive words added defining the circumstances. Food presented in such cases as these is not given straight into the hands of the recipient. The donor should send a member of his family to convey the food to its destination. It is not absolutely essential that food be given on such occasions, but if there is sufficient available, one's own store of good things may be shared if desired.</p>
        <p>Food taken by a young man just before the time of the evening meal to the family of a girl he is courting is also <hi rend="i">tauga</hi>, but with this difference: he would be badly received if he went with empty hands, and what he does take must be better than ordinary food. If his offering is refused, he judges that his suit is not prospering; if it is accepted, he is encouraged to continue. His gift may include something he has grown or caught himself, but tinned goods purchased at a store, and designed to tickle the palates of the girl's parents, are also correct on such occasions.</p>
        <p>Somewhat similar was the <hi rend="i">tauga</hi> taken by young men who visited the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, the daughters of the chiefs and orators who were accustomed in the past to live together in one of the principal guest houses of the village. Here again the food gift was obligatory if the boys hoped to be well received.</p>
        <p><hi rend="i">Matai</hi> visiting a village on business that concerns all the chiefs and orators may meet them duly assembled for the purpose of discussing it, and if the business is prolonged, families are often instructed to prepare a basket of food and send it to the place of meeting. The assembly then takes a meal together and continues the discussion. Even domestic gatherings of the village itself may share a common meal in this fashion. All food prepared for such occasions is <hi rend="i">tauga</hi>.</p>
        <p>One other instance is the food taken by chiefs and orators of a village to show respect to a head carpenter constructing a house for one of their number. This will help to keep the artisan in a good humour, a service that
<pb n="101" xml:id="n101"/>
will not be forgotton by the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> most concerned when he entertains the carpenter and the village on completion of the building.</p>
        <p>When a chief or orator has been away from his village for some time, or if he has actually been absent from the Territory, custom requires that on his return he should acknowledge the assembling of the village to greet him with a suitable presentation of food. This at the present time frequently takes the form of tinned biscuits, fish or meat, or kegged salt beef. Probably the person concerned will also make such arrangements as his dignity and status dictate for his family to provide either pigs, bread, taro or other foods. The food that he brings with him is termed the <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi> or <hi rend="i">oso</hi> and the assembling of the village to welcome him back is the <hi rend="i">usuga</hi>. In the case of an important chief, his return to his own village and district may cost him and his family anything up to £100 or more. Again the purpose of such a lavish distribution of food is two-fold, both to show respect to those awaiting the return, and to demonstrate personal and family chiefly status. A high chief on return to his village after an absence would receive presentations of <hi rend="i">sua</hi>.</p>
        <p>It is usual for land lying behind a village and extending as far as the central ridge of the island to be under the control either of the village or of families in the village. Bush land may be recognised as land of a particular family, but if it is not, the village will meet and decide upon how it is to be allotted when this is required. Certain areas may be made available for cultivation by the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>,<note xml:id="ftn1-101" n="*"><p>Note that this word has two meanings, namely, that given here and its significance in the kava ceremony.</p></note> or the untitled men of the village, who work under the direction and control of the head <hi rend="i">taule'ale'a</hi>. When it is decided to plant a new <hi rend="i">maumaga</hi>, or taro patch, the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> will work together and the setting out of the taro heads will proceed day by day until a sufficient area has been planted. A <hi rend="i">maumaga</hi> that is common property in this sense is termed <hi rend="i">taloloa</hi>. The area decided upon will be determined by expected events in the village during the period of six to nine months hence, since taro is not a crop that can be stored either in the ground or after it has been harvested.</p>
        <p>Whenever new land is brought into cultivation in this fashion or land that has been lying fallow is replanted, it is proper in Samoan custom for the first fruits to be taken with some ceremony and presented to the authority in whom
<pb n="102" xml:id="n102"/>
ultimate control of the land is vested. When the taro is ready for lifting, the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> will notify the chiefs and orators, and on the day appointed, each member will bring the number of taro roots they have agreed to present, together with various imported goods from the local store if possible, in order to provide a feast for the chiefs and orators of the village. The ceremony of bringing first fruits in this instance is termed <hi rend="i">talomua</hi>. Thereafter, each <hi rend="i">taule'ale'a</hi> may take taro from his own section for the use of his own family.</p>
        <p>In any case where the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> of the family has apportioned land for the use of its various members, it is proper for such people to present to him with some ceremony the first fruits from the planting of that land, quite apart from the regular offerings of produce which they should later bring as part of their normal service to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>.</p>
        <p>We pass now to the question of the <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi>, the sacred or forbidden fish, which no fisherman may retain for his own private or family use without risking the grave displeasure of the local ranking chief and of the whole community; such an offender would be punished as custom provides either by a heavy fine of foodstuffs such as pigs and taro, or even by banishment for a time from the village. Such <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi> are the turtle (<hi rend="i">laumei</hi>), the shark (<hi rend="i">malie</hi>) and the <hi rend="i">ulua</hi> which is the name applied to the <hi rend="i">malauli</hi> when it is full grown.<note xml:id="ftn1-102" n="*"><p>It is Samoan practice to apply different names to fish at various stages of their growth. For instance, the common gray mullet, <hi rend="i">anae</hi>, which when full grown does not usually exceed a foot and a half in length, is known by five different names before it attains its full size. The <hi rend="i">filoa</hi>, perhaps three feet long when full grown, is also known by five names at different stages of its growth, and the <hi rend="i">ulua</hi>, which can attain a length of about six feet, has a similar plurality of designation. There are many other instances of fish being known by three or four different names. In Samoan custom it is important to adopt a nomenclature that defines size, just as it may be useful to us to be able conveniently and intelligibly to refer to an animal as a colt, a yearling or a two-year-old.</p></note> When the personal catch includes any of the <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi>, these must be set aside and presented formally to the leading chief for distribution by the orators to the whole village as represented by each family. Where a title of a great chief has status in the whole of a district, any <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi> caught in that district should be taken formally and presented to him. He or his orators will probably then direct that the fish be apportioned in such a manner as to make suitable acknowledgment to the village to which the successful fisherman belongs. When a ranking chief is absent
<pb n="103" xml:id="n103"/>
from his village or district, <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi> must still be presented to the village when caught rather than retained for personal use by the fisherman or his family. Frequently turtle or shark fishing is arranged as a village activity and then the catch is divided amongst all the families concerned.</p>
        <p>The ceremonial divisions of food may now briefly be referred to. The portions can be understood satisfactorily only with the assistance of diagrams, or, better still, by seeing the divisions in the actual flesh, but a statement of the method of division and the allocation must suffice here.</p>
        <p>Foods which are divided ceremonially and distributed to specified individuals or groups include the pig, fowl, occasionally the pigeon, turtle, shark, bonito, <hi rend="i">malauli, ulua</hi> and generally speaking any other large fish.</p>
        <p>The ultimate number of portions into which a pig is divided for respectful distribution depends upon the number of groups of individuals present to whom special deference must be shown. There are, however, certain principles to apply both in cutting up the carcase and in distributing the portions. The cooked animal is turned on its back and the forequarters (<hi rend="i">alaga lima</hi>) and hindquarters (<hi rend="i">alaga vae</hi>) excised with deep cuts that penetrate to the shoulder and hip joints; when the flesh is severed the legs are twisted out. These are then laid aside on coconut leaves or in baskets, as no distribution takes place until the cutting up is complete. The barrel of the carcase is divided with three cuts, one across the neck, another across the rump in front of the clefts from which the hindquarters were removed, and the third which separates the saddle over the shoulders from the portion in the rear of it. These are termed respectively the head (<hi rend="i">ulu</hi>), the saddle (<hi rend="i">o'o</hi>), the prime portion from the back or loins (<hi rend="i">tuala</hi>) and the rump (<hi rend="i">nofoi or muli</hi>). All these cuts are carried straight across the carcase, bones being severed with a chopping action of the heavy knife. In preparation for cooking, the belly flap (<hi rend="i">alo</hi>) has already been removed and it is not included in any public ceremonial presentation.</p>
        <p>These are the basic divisions of the carcase which often suffice to permit the display of respect to embrace all present, since in many instances respect shown to a group satisfies all the individuals within that group. It sometimes happens, however, that the distribution must be on a wider basis than the above division provides for, in which case it must be carried to a further stage. The legs, however, are always presented complete. Another narrow cut may be made at the back of the severed head, taking off a portion
<pb n="104" xml:id="n104"/>
termed the <hi rend="i">'ivi muli ulu</hi>. The <hi rend="i">o'e</hi> and <hi rend="i">tuala</hi> may both be cut in half along the sides, leaving the upper half circle including the vertebrae complete, but neither of these two portions which are termed respectively <hi rend="i">'ivi o'o</hi> and <hi rend="i">'ivi tuala</hi>, may be divided further. the other halves that remain, called respectively <hi rend="i">itu mea tele o le o'o</hi> and <hi rend="i">itu mea pale asu o le tuala</hi>, may be presented whole or cut again into as many portions as are required. Finally, the rump or <hi rend="i">nofoi</hi> may also be divided further as circumstances dictate. It has already been explained in the previous chapter that the heart and entrails are usually removed before cooking and presentation, but occasionally in the case of a very large pig, the heart may be cooked in half sections with blood in an <hi rend="i">'ofu</hi> and termed the <hi rend="i">'ofu o le fa'afaleolo</hi>.</p>
        <p>We may now consider the distribution of the various protions. The most important is the <hi rend="i">tuala</hi>, or where it has been divided further, the <hi rend="i">'ivi tuala</hi>, which is allotted to the highest chief or chiefs present, or possibly to a pastor or pastors if it is desired to show them special respect. Next comes the <hi rend="i">o'o</hi> or the <hi rend="i">'ivi o'o</hi>, apportioned similarly. Chiefs or orators may be allotted the <hi rend="i">alaga</hi>, the hindquarters ranking higher than the forelegs, and then the under portions of the <hi rend="i">o'o</hi> and <hi rend="i">tuala</hi> respectively are next in order of importance. These and the rump and the <hi rend="i">'ivi muli ulu</hi> may be divided and distributed as circumstances may require. The <hi rend="i">alo</hi>, or belly flap, is removed when the animal is being prepared for the oven. That part is cooked and presented earlier, apart from the ceremonial distribution, to the ladies of the village or perhaps the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>. The head, if the function concerns only one village, is usually allotted to the cooks, or <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, for their trouble in preparing the animal. Occasionally, however, if the gathering is a very large one that concerns the whole country, the heads of the two largest pigs may be apportioned to the two important political districts of <hi rend="i">Aiga-i-le-Tai</hi> (The Family in the Sea) and <hi rend="i">V a'a-o-Fonoti</hi> (The Ship of Fonoti), the areas from which the fleets were maintained in the times of the old Samoan wars. Finally, the large heart, prepared inthe form of <hi rend="i">'ofu o le fa'afaleolo</hi>, is produced at the Sunday morning or another conveniently-timed meal of the important visitors or the chiefs of the village.</p>
        <p>It is thus seen that the parts of the pig regarded as important for ceremonial presentation to show respect are the <hi rend="i">tuala</hi>, the <hi rend="i">o'o</hi>, all the <hi rend="i">alaga</hi>, and very occasionally, the head; but any one who is allotted part of a formally presented pig should be satisfied, provided no deliberate affront
<pb n="105" xml:id="n105"/>
or ill-considered distribution has figured in the ceremony. Cutting up of pigs takes place either on the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> or in the back of a house.</p>
        <p>Fowls or pigeons are always divided with the hands. They are presented whole in the course of functions and distributed similarly, never in portions. The division is required only when a meal is being preapred. There is only one respectful portion of a fowl or pigeon, that is, a leg with the part that carried the tail feathers (<hi rend="i">no'o</hi>) attached.</p>
        <p>As already indicated, the turtle is so imprtant as a food presentation that individuals may not use it personally when it is caught. The major divisions in cutting up are the head (<hi rend="i">ulu</hi>), the forequarters (<hi rend="i">sagamua</hi>), the hindquarters (<hi rend="i">sagamuli</hi>) and the rest of the carcase (<hi rend="i">tua</hi>) that remains. If it is not cooked before being presented, it will be cooked before it is divided and distributed. The important parts are the flippers (<hi rend="i">'apa'apa</hi>) from both the forequarters and hindquarters, presented to the chiefs. The head is allotted to the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>. The remaining parts of the forequarters and hindquarters, together with the rest of the carcase, are divided and distributed amongst the chiefs and orators. The juice (<hi rend="i">suapeau</hi>) that collects in the shell during cooking is highly prized, being dipped out and consumed by the chiefs and orators or divided amongst all the families of the village.</p>
        <p>When the heads of bonito and <hi rend="i">ulua</hi>, the full-grown <hi rend="i">malauli</hi>, are removed, strips of flesh maybe removed along the back and sides, and then divided further if that is necessary. The heads are <hi rend="i">ulu</hi>, the strips along the back <hi rend="i">io tua</hi> and those along the sides <hi rend="i">io alo</hi>. The tail is <hi rend="i">i'u</hi>. The back and side strips are the most important and are allotted to chiefs, the heads to the orators and the remainder as is convenient.</p>
        <p>The shark is treated differently. There are two portions which are important for the purpose of showing respect, first, the tail (<hi rend="i">i'u</hi>) and second, the part with the dorsal fin attached (<hi rend="i">gogo</hi>). These could be presented either to individuals or groups to pay a compliment. Both the stomach and the liver are pirzed as delicacies, and may be presented specially in the course of the distribution. A large fish like a shark is divided and distributed before cooking, each family in the village receiving a portion. Smaller fish of substantial proportions are usually presented cooked and whole in plaited wrappings of coconut leaflet.</p>
        <p>In the <hi rend="i">palolo</hi> or <hi rend="i">inaga</hi> seasons, and if there have been
<pb n="106" xml:id="n106"/>
good catches, it is the custom to send baskets of cooked <hi rend="i">'ofu</hi> to friends or relations in other parts of the country where these delicacies are not available. Cooked portions of bonito are often despatched similarly. Such food gifts as these are called <hi rend="i">gapia</hi>, a term that also covers fish brought back by a member of a family returning from a <hi rend="i">malaga</hi>, if he has been fortunate enough to pass through or be staying in a village when good results have attended their fishing. In those circumstances, the term <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi> could also be applied to food carried back to the home village.</p>
        <p>There are certain other food presentations that have not yet been discussed that are mostly economic rather than social in their significance. It is not proposed to refer to them in detail here since such a discussion belongs more properly to an examination of other features of Samoan custom, but for the sake of completeness they may be briefly referred to. Some of them are feasts rather than food presentations.</p>
        <p>A chief desiring to open negotiations with a house or boat builder will either go himself or send an orator to interview him. In either case he must provide a pig, termed <hi rend="i">tauga</hi>, or possibly a fine mat to open the discussions. Certain stages of the buildings are also marked by special food presentations, and when the work is completed there is a final lavish feast, termed an <hi rend="i">umusaga</hi>, which friends and relations are invited to attend. Such guests are expected to contribute either fine mats or cash to help to pay the carpenters.</p>
        <p>Election feasts to titles have been discussed in previous chapters, and meals and feasts connected with Church functions will receive attention in a chapter to follow. At a Church opening, or <hi rend="i">fa'aulufalega</hi>, beasts are sometimes presented alive to assist in the entertainment of all how attend. Live presentations of animals, either pigs or cattle, are called <hi rend="i">ta'iola</hi>; in the past a very large living pig was the form it usually assumed. Large groups from one village visiting another could in this manner be presented with something by way of a <hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi> which would be useful on return to their own village and which did not require to be immediately consumed or shared with the donors.</p>
        <p>A brief discussion of property exchanges associated with Samoan weddings will appear in a later chapter. It will suffice to state at this stage that food presented by the bridegroom to the family of the bride at the time of the wedding is called <hi rend="i">'ai</hi>. A very large wedding <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> will be
<pb n="107" xml:id="n107"/>
received with the show of respect and food presentations appropriate in the particular case, including-probably a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi> on the day before departure; but if the wedding is that of a member of the family of an important chief, other <hi rend="i">matai</hi> of the village will bring baskets of food to assist him, somewhat in the manner of a <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>. The presentation on such an occasion is termed <hi rend="i">talifaufau</hi>.</p>
        <p>It is customary to celebrate the completion of all types of village community fishing nets, either of the string or bag type, in a feast termed <hi rend="i">avasa</hi>. <hi rend="i">Loloitalo</hi> often figures in such a celebration to which the whole of the village contributes, and all participate, the groups of different status, <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, women, or young people eating separately in different houses. An unusual feature of Samoan custom in a feast of this kind is that none of the food left over is held for a later meal or passed on to anyone else. It is collected and thrown into the sea.</p>
        <p>Any attempt to draw too rigid a line in regard to some of the principles relating to food presentations and their distribution enunciated in this chapter may possibly lead one into error. Cases and principles sometimes shade into one another, and practices vary occasionally in different parts of the country. Sometimes one finds a conflict of opinion as to the allotting of certain protions when divided. But it is a common feature in most cases that when food is presented ceremonially it is shared at once in such a manner as to include the donors, who have shown adequate respect by relinquising control of valuable food or property. Apart from cases which involve the surrender of <hi rend="i">i'a sa</hi>, obvious exceptions to this rule include live presentatoins or those clearly offered for the purpose of being taken away.</p>
        <p>An outstanding fact in regard to what might at first appear to be a very humble tuber is the importance and high significance attaching to taro both as an ordinary and as a ceremonial food. It is correct for so many ceremonial occasions and is also so highly regarded as an habitual article of diet that Samoans who have left their own country often have it sent to them abroad. Many of them claim that they feel weak if deprived of it for any length of time.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="108" xml:id="n108"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="9" xml:id="c9">
        <head>CHAPTER IX<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Dances and Entertainments</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">A discussion</hi> of dances and other entertainments is likely to include so many references to the groups of young people and others in the village that it will be useful to examine first the constitution of some village organisations and the status of certain individuals. References have already been made to the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> and the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, and it is now necessary to explain these terms a little more fully.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> is usually the daughter of a chief. Not all chiefs, however, are entitled to make such appointments which in most cases date from a time far in the past when some old king or political organisation gave this privilege to selected chiefs as a reward for services in war or to mark the occasion of an important marriage. One does not, therefore, find a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> in every village. The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> title passes on the marriage of the holder to some other girl who is usually, but not necessarily, another daughter of the chief but who should at least be a member of the family in question. Where, however, the chief has a daughter of suitable age she would normally have the best claim to the appointment. Although it is likely that a young girl of grace and modesty will already have been selected quietly and trained for the position, the family must meet to decide formally on whom the title is to be conferred, for this is not an honour that the chief can bestow personally. When agreement has been reached and after the necessary preparations have been made, a day is fixed for the <hi rend="i">saofa'i</hi>, just as in the case of the election of a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to any other family title. Those concerned assemble in the guest house of the chief, and, in the course of speeches and a kava ceremony, in which the cup is served first to the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, the title is conferred and a feast follows. Representatives of the village are also present; they are interested because as a ceremonial figure the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> enjoys a status and undertakes
<pb n="109" xml:id="n109"/>
duties that are recognized by the entire community. The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, dressed in ceremonial costume but without the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi>, sits on this special occasion in the place in the house reserved by custom for either a leading chief or orator, depending upon the practice in the particular family and village concerned. The feast is, of course, supplied by the chief and others of his family, the village attending this part of the function merely as guests.</p>
        <p>After this ceremony the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> is free to assume her title or <hi rend="i">sa'oaualuma</hi> name. She ranks thereafter as the head of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, wears the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi> on the prescribed occasions and leads the various sections of the village when they present <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>. She also takes her place in the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> for the preparation of king's kava if her village and district are entitled to perform such a ceremony and in any case will prepare ordinary kava whenever the importance of the visitors or of the occasion warrants her appearance. After her appointment she comes under the special care of an old lady who is either the widow of a chief or the wife or widow of an orator. Sometimes this old lady actually lives with the family of an important <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>, sleeping with her and accompanying her on any work walk or other excursion or on visits to the bathing pool. The guardian is responsible for the virtue of her charge and has also special authority to give intructions to the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> about activities of that organisation. She is the practical, and the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> is the ceremonial, leader of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>.</p>
        <p>Although some features of the old ceremonial have now yielded to Christian influence, marriages in important families provide widespread interest even at the present day. In the past the union for political purposes of a wellknown <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> with a leading chief or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> furnished the setting for a degree of ceremony that often required the active co-operation of the whole village. A famous <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> might be courted for years by parties from many villages, each vying with the other for the distinction of the match and the distribution of valuable property that invariably accompanied the wedding itself. The various stages in the courting were marked by lavish presentations of food. The chief or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> anxious to win the favour of a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> sent food gifts with courting parties from his village, the principals generally remaining behind at first, but gradually increasing the amount of the food sent and the importance of the orators pressing the suit until it appeared good policy to appear and urge it in person. As circumstances required, orators or others were left behind in the lady's village to
<pb n="110" xml:id="n110"/>
report progress and protect the interests of their principal, and to judge the time that would be suitable for the launching of a visit of the entire village with gifts to support the claims of their chief or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi>. Such a respectful and expensive step as this was decided on only after the most careful consideration of the family connections both of the suitor and the lady, and was required only in those cases where the village and family of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> felt that, in view of their own social status, they could safely hold out against the earlier proposals. The wedding itself called for the co-operation of all members of both families in different parts of the country if they wished to seize the opportunity of demonstrating their relationship to such distinguished principals. In the old days, groups of orators related to important chiefs deliberately searched out eligible <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> for the purpose of arranging political alliances with families whose contributions on the female side often amounted to many hundreds of fine mats. These were passed over to the male side for distribution amongst the orators and others who had been instrumental in arranging the match or furthering its progress.</p>
        <p>Under the old conditions the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, drawing its membership from the daughters of chiefs and orators, generally lived with the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> in the principal guest house of the village. When this was required for the accommodation of numerous or important visitors, the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> broke up temporarily, and the girls, then living in their separate families met for the purpose of arranging hospitality and entertainment for the guests. While the girls were living together in the guest house they were visited from time to time by unrelated young men or small parties of visitors from other villages who, in accordance with custom, brought food to assist in the maintenance of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>. At night, dancing, singing and stories whiled away pleasant hours. If a large <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party visiting a village included another <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, the latter were entertained by the local young men in a separate house while the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> hostesses devoted themselves to the male guests. The old lady in charge of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> and <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> was always present at these gatherings. As stated in a previous chapter, there are now few villages where the conditions of true <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> life are maintained with all the old strictness.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> under the direction of their elderly leader and the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> engage together in feminine activities including fishing for shell-fish and the small things of the sea termed <hi rend="i">figota</hi>, the collection of thatching and weaving
<pb n="111" xml:id="n111"/>
materials, the making of <hi rend="i">lau</hi> and <hi rend="i">pola</hi>, or house-blinds, for village purposes, and the manufacture and dyeing of bark cloth. All these things that are made under communal conditions are for village rather than for family purposes. These activities usually take place in the <hi rend="i">fale lalaga</hi>, the house where all the weaving work is done. Occasionally the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> may even work on the manufacture of fine mats which are put aside when completed for the use of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> on ceremonial occasions in which the whole community are interested. The <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> also assist in meeting the various demands that the entertainment of guests imposes on the village, and in the old days, when ceremonial and political weedings of <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> were more common than they are now, they had a great deal of group work to do.</p>
        <p>Although the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> usually joins in all activities or excursions of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, she does not, in order to preserve as far as possible the fairness of her skin, expose herself unduly to the sun and the wind; and although she must be careful to participate in all group activities, especially those that relate to the entertainment of visitors, she enjoys a certain exemption from the type of heavy work that would be likely to detract from her appearance or roughen her hands. These are kept soft by the application of coconut oil.</p>
        <p>Girls join the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> at the age of about 13 or 14 years, and leave it on marriage. They then become members of the Women's Committee, an organisation which, in the last two decades, has gradually taken the place of the old assembly of the wives of chiefs and orators (<hi rend="i">faletua ma tausi</hi>), or even of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> itself. Since the institution of the Native Medical Practitioner system, the Women's Committees have assumed some at least of the functions of public health and baby welfare organisations and they do a great deal of useful work in this respect. They take their full share also in the provision of food for and the entertainment of visitors, often providing separate <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> and dances.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> is a chief's son chosen in circumstances somewhat similar to the appointment of a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> except that the occasion does not call for the same degree of ceremony, and there are no personal <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> titles, although there are certain customary modes of referring to the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> of different families. Any chief who for traditional reasons is entitled to have one of the girls of his family appointed as a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> may also call a selected son a <hi rend="i">manaia</hi>.
<pb n="112" xml:id="n112"/>
If there is no son of the chief available, the appointment will fall on another boy from the same family.</p>
        <p>It is a prime duty of the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> to attend most diligently to serving the chief. He must join in the preparation and cooking of ordinary foods, but must be particular also to see that there is plenty of special hot food, cooked by him personally, available for the meals of his chief. During the stay of visitors, he extends his service to include the comfort of the guests, that the latter may think well of their hosts, and it is he for instance who should make <hi rend="i">taufolo</hi> for any titled visitors who are assembled with other chiefs and orators of the village. He is a member of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> although he does not lead it, and it is part of his duty to assume ceremonial dress including the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi> when leading a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> of the village or district. If his community is entitled to prepare king's kava, he will be a member of that <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>. With others of the village he is also responsible for his personal share in the entertainment of visitors and the provision of sufficient foodstuffs for their comfort.</p>
        <p>Even before they reach the age of puberty and for the greater part of their lives, Samoan custom enjoins on brothers and sisters the practice of a ceremonial avoidance. In these circumstances the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> has no personal responsibility for the care or protection of his sister who is a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> but he would, of course, be prompt to defend her good name if this ever came into question. This custom of avoidance as between brother and sister will be discussed more fully in a later chapter.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> is the assembly of all the young men and untitled males in the village however old the latter may be. The leader of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> is termed the <hi rend="i">sao'aumaga</hi> and is the son of the leading orator of the village, not the <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> or other son of a chief. Under the old conditions of life in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> a young man joined the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> after he had been tattooed; in earlier custom an untattooed young man was not regarded very seriously either by his fellows or the girls of the village. There are still some communities that adhere to this rule, but now that the practice is less general, the young men join the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> in their middle or later teens. Although this organisation has always been an extremely potent factor in village affairs, there is no formal initiation ceremony. This is worthy of note in a society that makes so much of ceremonial. Even in the days when tattooing was considered essential, the preliminary arrangements and the operation itself, during which women could
<pb n="113" xml:id="n113"/>
be present, were informal. No segregation was required at any stage.</p>
        <p>The members of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> were never accustomed to sleeping together in one particular house as was the practice of the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>. Small groups of the younger members, however, often slept in one house called the <hi rend="i">fale moe</hi>, and larger groups at the present day, if they propose to make an early morning start on a fishing or other excursion, may sleep in the same house as a matter of convenience. The whole <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> assemble in order to perform those duties that are required for village rather than for family purposes. They fell bush for new taro land and make the <hi rend="i">taloloa</hi> or village taro patch, and when the first fruits are ready they must co-operate in bringing taro and other foods for a feast to be enjoyed by the chiefs and orators of the village. Thereafter, the young men of each family may use taro from their allotted sections of that plantation to meet domestic requirements. When special circumstances call for a common effort, the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> fish together for village purposes under the leadership of the head fisherman (<hi rend="i">tautai</hi>); usually the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> themselves are pleased to join in such a communal activity. Indeed, there are times when every able-bodied person in the community is called upon to help. The <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> also assist with the building of churches, pastors' houses or any other village houses for school or similar purposes. They take care of the village <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi> and build or repair pig fences or those enclosing the cemetery area. Like the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, they must bear their share in the entertainment of village guests; they supply dance items to follow <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi>, and must fish and cook for functions such as church subscription lists, and at any time when the village is full of people from distant parts of the country.</p>
        <p>But there is a right of the <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi> that has a political and sociological, rather than a merely social or economic significance. The members of this organisation have the right to attend any important <hi rend="i">fono</hi> or meeting of the chiefs and orators. They sit quietly either in the back of the house, if there is room, or crouch down outside on the house pavement if there is not. They are available to assist in serving kava or to perform other services as required, but a more important and far-reaching result of their attendance is that they are thereby enabled to learn something of the “words” or traditional stories and genealogies of their village and district. They study too the forms of Samoan rhetoric and styles of address, and on
<pb n="114" xml:id="n114"/>
other occasions when they meet on their own business, individuals may model their style of speaking on that of some orator or other speaker by whom they have been impressed.</p>
        <p>Dancing and its concomitants, music and singing are recreations to which a light-hearted people like the Samoans could be expected to turn naturally. Both sexes participate, either together or in separate groups, and there are no bars save those that very high rank or infirmity impose; indeed, in the humorous aspects of dancing, some of the oldest performers can be, by local standards, the most diverting. There is little or no formal teaching of the basic principles involved; inexperienced performers learn by watching the evolutions of those who are older, either by joining in the informal dancing of young people on moonlight nights, or at larger gatherings in guest houses when visitors are present. The order and co-ordination essential for group performances are achieved in the course of painstaking rehearsals.</p>
        <p>It is a characteristic of Samoan custom that attractive aspects of an introduced or contiguous culture are quickly assimilated into the local background with significant modifications. This shaping of new elements into something with typical Samoan features has occurred with religion, games, music and dancing Even generations ago observers noticed and recorded an early and a late style in Samoan dancing. In watching dancing, it is especially difficult for the newcomer to be sure whether or not he is seeing something typically Samoan. Because the people themselves find them entertaining, Hawai'ian and Tokelau items have tended in recent years to creep more and more into local dancing programmes arranged for Europeans. Krämer tells us that a song he sang personally in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> in <date when="1894">1894</date> was in <date when="1896">1896</date> used extensively by the Samoan concert party in <name key="name-006973" type="place">Berlin</name> in an almost unrecognizable form. Even at the present day, rednerings of the national Anthem are occasionally a little difficult to recognize. Churchward has written that shortly after the adoption about <date when="1884">1884</date> by Samoans in Apia of the English game of cricket, both sexes all over the country were playing it with enthusiasm, but in a somewhat different form. Other innovations are occasionally absorbed with less modification. An English tune or some of the words may survive, or perhaps even gibberish be incorporated into a song or dance if the result can be made to appear sufficiently amusing.</p>
        <p>This peculiar Samoan genius for modification should not be held to suggest any inherent incapacity to absorb
<pb n="115" xml:id="n115"/>
new things in a given form; the tendency is rather the active expression of a vigorous and often dominant culture. Custom itself is far from being static, but some degree of Samoan form or structure is still considered to be the hallmark of worth.</p>
        <p>Since most Samoan dancing, and indeed Polynesian dancing generally, depends for effect on mass movement as nearly as possible exactly synchronized, dances in which each individual plays a different role are comparatively unusual; but solo items in a fairly set pattern, or others of several individuals performing independently, are a common feature of the later phases of certain group dancing. Even in the latter type, however, there is opportunity for individual virtuosity if the grouping focuses attention on a central performer such as a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>. Clowns or jesters, amusingly bedecked in whatever will call attention to their efforts to entertain, may go through a travesty of the graceful gestures of other performers.</p>
        <p>If they follow a common procedure, the dancers form in two or three straight lines facing either the spectators or each other, but circular figures and movements in the later phases of the dance are now becoming increasingly popular. Gestures of the hands, arms, head and upper part of the body are rather more emphasized than steps. Some of the oldest and most typical present-day dances are performed seated, and even in standing dances of the older type the performers often do not change position a great deal once they have taken their places. Samoan dancing is graceful, and however rapid some of the movements may be, they are always under control. While the dancing of girls leans more to the decorous and dignified, the boys prefer vigorous movements that include the difficult co-ordination required for rapid rhythmical slaps on unclothed portions of the body.</p>
        <p>Singing also finds its chief expression in group performances although part singing in which one or more voices commence in the higher registers and others join in a lower key are a characteristic feature. There is nothing, however, in the way of solo performance that matches the European. A few individuals may acquire reputations as good singers by local standards, or others may adopt this medium for transmitting traditions and stories in an easily memorized form. But it is in the true group singing with its outstandingly effective harmonizing, especially of male voices, that Samoan music achieves perhaps its finest expression. Songs are often composed by specially talented
<pb n="116" xml:id="n116"/>
individuals for particular occasions, welcome, praise, politics, mild ridicule or perhaps even the punishment of an offender supplying themes. Pantomimic movements may illustrate the words.</p>
        <p>Dancing and music in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, like all the other popular activities of the people, are thus seen to be social rather than individual means of expression or entertainment.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> in festive attire is a striking figure. Round her waist is wound a fine mat or a brightly coloured short kilt-like garment, together with a <hi rend="i">fau</hi> or leaf girdle or ribbon or paper streamers. In the past she appeared unclothed above the waist except for a necklace of flower or of the highly prized whale's teeth if her rank warranted it; such necklaces are still seen occasionally. Nowadays, however, she wears a bodice of leaves, bark cloth or brightly coloured material. Her wrists and ankles are adorned with shells, seeds, flowers or leaves, and her hands, arms and legs shine with coconut oil. Often, in place of the rare necklace of whale's teeth, the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> wears one of pigs' tusks or imitations made of a certain kind of long flower petal or the more usual type of commoner blossoms. In her hand she may carry a Samoan beheading knife or club.</p>
        <p>The costume is surmounted by the spectacular head-dress composed of five main parts. These are the base (<hi rend="i">laulau</hi>), the fuzzy decoration (<hi rend="i">lauao</hi>) of bleached human hair, the frontlet, orginally of nautilus shell (<hi rend="i">pale fuiono</hi>), the sticks (<hi rend="i">lave</hi>), originally three but now up to six in number, and the ornamentation of red parrot's feathers (<hi rend="i">'ie'ula</hi>). The sticks from a framework in which are inset numbers of small mirrors in place of the plaques of pearl shell previously used.</p>
        <p>If the girl has long hair, this is piled on top of the head and the hair is then held down with a close wrapping of black bark cloth (<hi rend="i">laulau</hi>) or other material drawn up into a knot or “post” (<hi rend="i">pou</hi>). The human hair is first treated with coral lime and then rubbed with citrus juice before being bleached in the sun and rain in the various stages of a process that may take months or even a year. Small bundles of the finished article are tied together and then strung closel on a cord in a bunchy mass. Sections of the Tongan nautilus shell used to be ground carefully for the frontlet and fixed to a cloth base. These are rarer nowadays and pearl shell, buttons or other adornments are usually seen in their place. The bluish pearly lustre of the Tongan shell looks well, especially at a little distance. The sticks, worn upright and fanning out from the forehead, prevent
<pb n="117" xml:id="n117"/>
the masses of hair from falling over the eyes. They are made of coconut leaflet midribs or small strips of timber wound about with bark cloth, adorned with brightly coloured rosettes or streamers of cloth or crepe paper and fixed to a base plate of wood or turtle-shell worn on the forehead. Closely strung lengths of the red feathers are draped over the hair and secured at one end to the base of a stick; but as the feathers are not easy to procure in these days this detail is often omitted.</p>
        <p>The components of the head-dress are bound very tightly about the forehead in the order in which they have been described, building up a heavy and cumbersome structure that makes it inadvisable for the wearer to risk leaning far forward.</p>
        <p>For ceremonial purposes, the chief or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> dresses similarly except that he is unclothed above the waist; flower necklaces hang about his neck and he too is smeared with coconut oil wherever it can be applied. A heavy axe is frequently carried in place of the beheading knife, but short kilts are worn in the bright colours and materials that are favoured-by the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi>.</p>
        <p>The dresses and adornments assumed for dancing or similar entertainments have little ceremonial or traditional significance; they are for decorative purposes only and to lend an air of festivity to the proceedings. There is therefore no restriction on new ideas, and anything fresh that is likely to look well is eagerly adopted and often makes its way in a short time to adjoining villages and districts. Girls residing in a convent dance in their school uniforms.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> appears in her regalia for any dances that follow <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> or similar presentations, but generally without the <hi rend="i">tuiga</hi>, which is painful enough to wear at any time and makes spirited dancing difficult or impossible. Women and girls wear the usual lower garment of bright colours (<hi rend="i">'ie lavalava</hi>), or perhaps the younger ones may appear in specially made kilts or bodices of uniform pattern assumed only for the dance. This basic dress is varied as much as possible to produce novel or striking effects. Girls will spend hours sewing leaf and flower bodices that serve their purpose for one entertainment only. Arms, ankles and wrists are bound with leaves or flower petals, and necklaces, girdles and chaplets are made of cotton material, leaves, paper streamers or sweet-smelling flowers like the frangipani. Anklets made of the hard bean-like <hi rend="i">tupe</hi> seeds are popular since the effect is both decorative and musical. Occasionally, special bodices are cut and sewn from
<pb n="118" xml:id="n118"/>
print material or bark cloth. Girdles (<hi rend="i">titi</hi>) made from coconut leaflets or plain white or brightly dyed <hi rend="i">fau</hi> bast lend a colourful effect, and occasionally heavy kilts of similar material are worn to set off swaying or turning movements. Necklaces of imitation whale's teeth, flowers in the hair and black or blue moustaches or cheek daubings contribute to a festive appearance. One district makes a specialty of head-dresses somewhat in the fashion of the chieftain's head-dress among the North American Indians, with fowl or small birds' feathers fluttering from coconut leaflet midribs. The feet of the performers are, of course, bare. All are uniformly dressed and adorned since this adds to the effect which it is the purpose of the dance movements to achieve. The old practice of twining live snakes about the neck is not seen at the present day.<note xml:id="ftn1-118" n="*"><p>They were yellowish-green grass snakes, sluggish and harmless.</p></note></p>
        <p>Sticks or staves or split coconut fronds are carried either by boys or girls for various evolutions and these are sometimes decorated with leaves and streamers. Heads may be bound with strips of cloth or adorned with paper hats.</p>
        <p>The dressing for night dances inside a guest house may be less striking, since leaf bodices worn for an afternoon performance may be no longer serviceable; but whatever is possible by way of adornment is assumed for the occasion.</p>
        <p>Male dress is less elaborate than that for girls. Uniformly coloured or designed waist cloths with necklaces, girdles and anklets are usual, and the faces are often blackened or marked with moustaches <note xml:id="ftn2-118" n="†"><p>The forms of the moustaches resemble the heavy style of the nineteenth century.</p></note> or the hair whitened with coral lime. The boys are generally bare above the waist and sometimes wear turbans.</p>
        <p>Singing to guitars or to time beaten on tins, boxes, oil drums or rolls of mats by special assistants, clapping with flat or cupped hands and the tapping or rapping together of sticks, stones, tin plates or half sections of coconut shells held by the performers themselves help to achieve the desired synchronization. Most dances fall into a regular pattern and proceed through several phases, but there is still room for novel effects to be introduced and in the later stages at least an opportunity for a certain amount of individual expression by a few of the more accomplished performers.</p>
        <p>The form of dancing now to be described is the type
<pb n="119" xml:id="n119"/>
that takes place on the open <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, generally in front of a guest house in which visitors are assembled and following on a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> or similar presentation. The performers usually sit on the grass or sand, but occasionally mats are laid out for this purpose. They may take their places after marching on informally, or perhaps enter walking, running or hopping to time beaten on sticks, stones, tins or coconut shells. The older dances are performed sitting or standing; others of comparatively recent origin call for more changes of position.</p>
        <p>No single Samoan dance is likely to include all the figures or movements noted here; this is a composite description based on a careful analysis of many different items. They are all typical, however, of this particular kind of dance.</p>
        <p>The dance commences with the girls seated cross-legged and facing the audience in two parallel lines, the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> in the middle of the front row. Split sections of coconut frond midribs (<hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi>) for a later phase of the dance are laid on the ground before them. Old ladies walk up and down admonishing and encouraging. A song may be sung to the tune of a guitar and then the sitting dance commences. The rhythm is supplied from a roll of mats beaten with two short sticks by one girl seated out in front, two bottles within the roll of mats adding to the resonant effect. The performers themselves clap hands in regular beats to which movements of the crossed legs and knees correspond, slapping the hands or clenched fists on the ground and also on the knees and other parts of the body. A variation consists in pointing the fingers or in touching them lightly to various parts of the body in time to nodding or turning movements of the head.</p>
        <p>A change of movement is heralded by a double beat on the mats, and arm and head movements are followed by turns of the body through a full circle ninety degrees at a time. The performers then recline sideways on one arm and stretch out the legs and the other arm in a further series of movements in time to the rhythm. They face in pairs rise on their knees, continuing the weaving and oblique arm movements, and after going through other figures while seated on their knees, they repeat the whole series leaning towards the other side. They then all rise to their feet, stamp in unison, clap hands in fast time and the first phase of the dance ends with a shout or acclamation.</p>
        <p>In the second phase, the two lines stand and face each other after taking up the <hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi> or split coconut fronds.
<pb n="120" xml:id="n120"/>
To the beat of the rolled mats, the girls mark time, stamp, hop and jump on one or both legs, and strike the clattering <hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi> against the disengaged hand. The lines open out and then close in, the dancers hopping and slapping the hands, legs and ankles and sides of the feet with the <hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi>. There is some changing of places, moving in circles and marching in and out and this phase concludes with another acclamation. Similar dances of boys or girls either with <hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi>, striking of sticks or clapping of half sections of coconut shells may introduce numerous variations of this theme. These and other evolutions supply the themes for successive phases.</p>
        <p>In dances such as these, there may be one or more leaders who call the various figures to the dancers, and nearly always some old lady or ladies in comical dress who encourage or admonish the performers and cause much amusement with exclamations, comments or gestures addressed to the audience. Such observations are followed with delight and applauded loudly.</p>
        <p>Most dances of this nature conclude with a special item of a different character termed the <hi rend="i">taualuga</hi><note xml:id="ftn1-120" n="*"><p>This is the same word as is used for the ridging of a house.</p></note> or finale. The majority of the performers retire to the rear and sit in a close circle with musical instruments or a roll of mats in the centre, and with singing and hand clapping supply the time for individual dancing. This affords the opportunity for solo performances that are frequently of more than ordinary merit or, indeed, even virtuosity. If a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> has figured in the previous stages of the performance, she or he will come forward now with a little bow to dance again, and a few others, including the clowns or buffoons who mock the principal performers, will join in. This type of dancing consists of arm, hand, finger, leg and foot movements, largely in the one position, but there is no attempt at co-ordination as in true group dancing. Facial gestures also figure in this display and some performers make a hissing sound. Others bend at the knees or over backwards, or stand on one leg while performing some of the evolutions, while a few add a clever display of knife twirling.</p>
        <p>The tempo of the music or clapping and the excitement of the performers rise as this dance nears its end or climax, and when the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> or other central figure considers that it has gone on long enough, she bows and retires and the dance concludes. The clowning by this time has become
<pb n="121" xml:id="n121"/>
very exaggerated in an endeavour to set off the dignity and grace of the principal performer.</p>
        <p>A question often asked is whether the hand and finger movements particularly have any special ceremonial or traditional significance. If there were meanings in the past they have been forgotten now; it would seem, however, that they have never had any special significance, probably merely developing as individuality or virtuosity in dancing became appreciated.</p>
        <p>There is more vigorous action in the dances of young men and boys although they are broadly along the same lines, except for the more masculine accessories such as axes and knives. The first phase of the typical sitting dance described above is, however, performed more usually by women and girls than by males. Boys often carry sticks and staves and fight mock battles, crouching and striking at each other in time to the rhythm or music. The typical axe or knife dance is exclusively masculine. The boys are armed with medium axes, bush knives or the Samoan steel, copper-bound, hooked beheading knife called <hi rend="i">nifo 'oti</hi>. Double or multiple lines, possibly led by a <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> or <hi rend="i">manaia</hi> and flanked by leaders who call encouragement or instructions, approach from both sides of the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>, crouching, stamping, gesticulating and brandishing axes or other weapons in both hands with the appropriate twirling movements. Suddenly, on a shouted instruction from the leader or a double beat on the tin from which the whole party are taking their time, they all step forward and, raising their arms on high, strike their weapons hard into the ground. They kneel and salute, rise and resume their weapons. The lines of dancers extend arms and axes to check their positions, and then face inwards and approach each other on guard, changing sides, side-stepping and performing exercises of offensive and defensive movements to time beaten with two sticks on a tin. After a series of twisting, guarding and striking movements in pairs, including feints or thrusts at partners who dodge or kneel to allow the axes to pass over their heads, the whole company make a pretence of cutting their own throats and then hop or march off with their weapons held at the present. A few may return at once to stage the <hi rend="i">taualuga</hi> or final item.</p>
        <p>It is not easy to convey in a mere description an accurate impression of the effect achieved in such dances as these by the singing, the rattling of seed anklets and the synchronization of sound and spirited action.</p>
        <p>On very rare occasions indeed, in order to pay a special
<pb n="122" xml:id="n122"/>
compliment, chiefs may take part in singing or even in dancing in the open air. If they do so, the orators in the visitors' party should come out and join the dancers to express their appreciation.</p>
        <p>There are other dances either by boys or girls that consist largely of marching or the formation of figures or poses. These are interspersed with hand clapping in time to beaten tins or slapping movements executed in pairs.</p>
        <p>Singing and dancing at night for the entertainment of visitors or a large <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party that has arrived in the village for the celebration of a wedding or a church function take place in the largest available guest house. The visitors seat themselves on one side and their hosts on the other, the various groups in each party, young girls, boys and their elders, arranging themselves conveniently together. Those for whom there is not room within crowd round outside.</p>
        <p>The home team commences with singing to the tune of guitars or to time beaten on rolled mats, and later, when the crowd has warmed up, hand clapping will presage individual dances by several performers. Various home groups contribute singing and dancing items, the appreciation and excitement growing until the visitors also join in. They may be invited to do so by a dancer moving over to their side and placing his or her own necklace of flowers over the head of the person selected, a boy to a girl and <hi rend="i">vice versa</hi>. This is a complimentary invitation to dance and should not be declined. These are the times when individual dances achieve their chief expression. Reserve is put aside as the evening wears on and any shyness or diffidence falls into the background.</p>
        <p>It is not only the virtuosity of an accomplished performer whose personal style has come to be well-known that is appreciated in this setting; the precocity of youngsters receives here one of its early and rare outlets. Generally speaking, individuality and precocity are frowned on in Samoan custom, which in most cases requires personal standards to conform to a type, but here a mere toddler may be willingly thrust forward to perform for a laughing and applauding audience. Even if very young children do not take part, one can see their bright eyes following every movement, hands clapping and bodies swaying to the music or the beaten time. The young, in these as in other cases, learn by looking on and observing, and, as occasion offers, by imitating. Informal dancing by young people on moonlight nights also gives them an
<pb n="123" xml:id="n123"/>
opportunity to study the various arm, hand and finger movements and the other refinements of body slapping in an uncritical atmosphere.</p>
        <p>The clowns and buffoons seen to such advantage in daylight group dancing are not so much in evidence in houses at night, the space being rather too restricted to permit of their caperings. But some old lady with a leaf or twig switch will be in charge and on the watch to press forward too diffident or unwilling a performer, or to check any rowdyism or lack of reserve that seems out of place in these days. Before the coming of Christianity there was a good deal more licence on these occasions.</p>
        <p>There is another form of entertainment that allows expression to individual accomplishment although those who attain the necessary degree of skill are comparatively few. This is the individual knife dance, usually performed in the open air after a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> or similar food presentation. Great skill is required for such an exhibition item if the exponent is to avoid appearing ridiculous and especially if the figures he attempts expose him to danger. This is a more than usually good display of knife twisting, twirling, throwing and juggling, particularly a movement that calls for the weapon to be thrown high in the air and caught behind the back. Some performers kneel or lie down flat on the ground<note xml:id="ftn1-123" n="*"><p>They are careful while lying on the ground not to stretch out their legs in the direction of the principal spectators if this can be avoided.</p></note> while continuing their evolutions or pass the spinning knives through their legs. Others link two by the hooked ends and twist or juggle with the pairs. Good displays of this type are rare and are always well applauded.</p>
        <p>A comparatively recent development in Samoan entertainment is the <hi rend="i">aisiga</hi>.<note xml:id="ftn2-123" n="†"><p>From <hi rend="i">aisi</hi>, to beg.</p></note> It is a village activity and considered a legitimate means of raising funds for any special purpose, such as, for instance, the building of a church or <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>. The entertainment consists of a comparatively short programme of songs and dances and is especially popular at festive seasons like Christmas or New Year when carol singers operate on a similar basis. Occasionally, however, if the programme is an extensive one, the party may stay in the village overnight and continue their performance in the evening. They would not expect to do this without giving proper notice.</p>
        <p>The <hi rend="i">aisiga</hi> has recently assumed the more elaborate form of a concert party, a phase which is becoming increasingly
<pb n="124" xml:id="n124"/>
well received and on which the promoters often expend a considerable sum of money in preparation of costumes, effects and musical instruments. Notice is certainly required for the visit of such a party as this whose entertainment is usually given at night by the light of benzine or kerosene pressure lamps. The items include songs and dances but the <hi rend="i">piece de resistance</hi> usually takes the form of a play, possibly even a rendering of <name key="name-008222" type="person">Shakespeare</name>, although with some typical Samoan twists not to be found in the original version. The costumes and effects are elaborate, and the performers act with an almost entire absence of self-consciousness. These shows are much appreciated and the performers who often travel by <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>, are fed by the village during the time, generally a night and a day, that they spend at each stop. After the performance, a collection may be taken up, or the party may leave it to the generosity of the village to give what they consider is proper. If this is done, the chiefs and orators will deliberate as to how much each family should contribute.</p>
        <p>Samoan cricket has been popular for many years and is now assuming important social and economic proportions. English cricket started in Apia in the eighties of the last century, and with typical Samoan modifications, spread rapidly over Upolu, Savai'i and Tutuila. Both sexes participated and Churchward<note xml:id="ftn1-124" n="*"><p>W. B. Churchward, My Consulate in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, London, <date when="1887">1887</date>.</p></note> relates that the game soon became a guise for political meetings or even the movements of war parties. Most villages now have their cement cricket pitches, and the opening of a new pitch is generally the occasion for a grand competition in which large teams from all over the country compete. Heavy entrance fees are charged and the prizes take the form of cash, banners, cattle, pigs, beef or tinned biscuits, the losers being required to pay a forfeit in the nature of singing and dancing items for the entertainment of the victors. More than one thousand pounds may change hands at a large gathering, for defeated teams are not debarred from paying further entrance fees and competing a second or even a third time. Formal notice of the competition is usually given well in advance, and the people of the village then have to work hard to provide all the food necessary for a meeting of three or four days' duration. The evenings are spent in singing and dancing.</p>
        <p>Singing is not restricted to formal or premeditated entertainments. Rowers in a <hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>, groups of young
<pb n="125" xml:id="n125"/>
people on picnic excursions in buses or others proceeding to and from work in trucks or similar conveyances break easily into song. This is typical of a happy, laughing people whose easy-going ways thus lighten the burden of work or of what to those of different temperament might seem a monotonous existence.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="126" xml:id="n126"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="10" xml:id="c10">
        <head>CHAPTER X<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Religion in Samoa</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">No review</hi> of contemporay Samoan society, however cursory it may be, can be considered adequate if it does not include some discussion of church life and activities, since these constitute an interest that extends into every phase of Samoan life. They are, indeed, part of the social organisation that might well have been included in an earlier chapter, but the place enjoyed in the consciousness of the people is such as to merit separate treatment. This chapter does not, however, include more than passing references to Mission activities. It is intended to be merely an examination of some elementary aspects of Samoan custom that have their basis in the religious lives of the people.</p>
        <p>There must be few new fields in which Christianity has been more readily embraced and where missionaries have had to face less wide-spread and personally dangerous resistance than in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>. Stair,<note xml:id="ftn1-126" n="*"><p>Rev. John B. Stair, Old Samoa, London, <date when="1897">1897</date>.</p></note> one of the pioneers, considered that even before the coming of Christianity the local religious system had been subject to change. Just prior to the arrival in <date when="1830-08">August, 1830</date>, of the famous missionary John Williams, the assassination of the notorious tyrant <hi rend="i">Tamafaiga</hi> who had claimed demoniac or spiritual powers ushered in a period that was opportune for further innovation. The degree of opposition met expressed itself in attacks on converts rather than on missionary leaders, the respect felt for Samoan gods and the local priesthood attaching itself in some degree to these other “sailing gods” from over the horizon. Those who adhered to their old beliefs quickly became known to the converts as “devil men”,<note xml:id="ftn2-126" n="†"><p>The old mode of hairdressing for males was to wear it long over the shoulders or twisted into knots of various shapes on the crown, front, back or sides of the head. Christian Samoans quickly adopted the style of cutting theirs short to distinguish themselves from the heathen. Females wore the hair short in various styles or shaved bare in certain places.</p></note> thus affording one further excuse for the internecine strife that was to continue for generations.</p>
        <pb n="127" xml:id="n127"/>
        <p>The question of whether or not to adopt the new faith was discussed in <hi rend="i">fono</hi> in typical Samoan fashion, and although as a result there were whole villages and even districts that remained aloof for a time it soon began to spread rapidly; in less than a decade the greater part of the people were professed adherents. Within a few years the London Missionary Society, commencing their work with Tahitian teachers, had established mission stations and schools throughout the entire Group.<note xml:id="ftn1-127" n="*"><p>The question of which mission was actually first in the Samoan field seems not yet to have been satisfactorily settled.</p></note> The arrival of other denominations allowed an outlet for the Samoan propensity for organisation into opposite camps and facilitated conversion on a large scale. Indeed so eager were the people to receive instruction in some form of Christianity that certain unscrupulous whites and even Samoans were able to pose as teachers of new doctrines, and extorted a comfortable living until exposed. Dumont d'Urville found Faleata not yet won over at the end of <date when="1836">1836</date> and no doubt there were other villages or districts in a similar state, but Krämer considered that the year <date when="1840">1840</date> marked the end of the old heathen <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>. Pritchard, <note xml:id="ftn2-127" n="†"><p>W, T. Pritchard, Polynesian Reminiscences, London, <date when="1866">1866</date>.</p></note> writing in the eighteen sixties, presumably of conditions as he had known them nearly a decade before, could say that although the effects of the old customs were still apparent, all Samoans were at that time nominally Christian.</p>
        <p>Although the Samoans were probably just as religious as other Polynesians and religion had its definite place even in their social life, theology and ritual were clearly not so highly organised as a separate and distinct institution. The priesthood were not a powerful body deriving their authority solely from their priestly status; they held an acknowledged position in society which was based essentially on their rank as <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. Religion was merely one aspect of a highly developed social and political organisation with which it was closely identified, and the respect paid to the priesthood, although based on a wholesome enough fear of the element they represented, was in fact merely a part of a wider secular authority. Deprived of a power that had never been exclusively spiritual, their position as <hi rend="i">matai</hi> secured their places in family and village life, and they had only to embrace the new faith to become elders in the church and to regain a large measure of their former religious place in the community.</p>
        <pb n="128" xml:id="n128"/>
        <p>Christianity was therefore much less of a cultural shock in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> than it proved to be in other parts of the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>. It called for no significant changes in the social or political structure. Certainly it brought an entirely new doctrine; it introduced prohibitions some of which were good and some that were unfortunately destined to pave the way for certain of the evils of civilisation, but in the final analysis it changed amazingly little that was fundamental in Samoan society. It took away comparatively few things that it did not immediately replace with something equally if not more satisfying. This was due in part to the able handling of the situation by the misionaries, but not least to the Samoan genius for stamping something fresh with its own imprint. Respect for age and properly constituted authority, the recognition of Samoan pastors, even though untitled, as <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, the status of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> as elders of the church and leaders of evening prayer in their own households, together with the fact that the London Missionary Society, whose adherents have always far outnumbered those of any other denomination, quickly developed a system of control based on the old political organisation of villages, sub-districts and districts, all contributed to a situation in which the new was made as rapidly as possible to resemble the old in essential structure. Even the diversity of Christian sects provided an analogy with one aspect at least of the old beliefs: there was an opportunity for some choice or difference of opinion as to the details of what converts actually were to believe, and leading figures in many a village were early to be found in different religious camps.</p>
        <p>A brief description of the more significant features of the old beliefs will contribute to a better understanding of the present-day attitude to religion in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> and of the success achieved by the early missionaries in grafting Christianity on to the existing social, political and religious system. It will show that even a century ago the social element in religion was of great importance. No attempt is made here to set out any details of genesis or mythology. Readers desiring this information should consult the appropriate authorities.</p>
        <p>The old system while similar in type to that in other parts of Polynesia and sharing a common acceptance of some of the traditional deities and more fundamental concepts, had yet developed local details and its own peculiar structure. The absence of a highly organised ritual and of a priesthood whose functions were exclusively religious, the absence too of some of the major gods of Polynesia and the
<pb n="129" xml:id="n129"/>
appearance of others unknown further east, the importance of the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> as a social and political rather than a religious centre and the almost casual siting of temple buildings theron, the lack of a common national god or gods in the same sense as elsewhere in Polynesia, the importance of kava even in non-secular affairs, the adoption of the Melanesian Hades, and the respect and importance accorded the sister in life and death were all significant differences. As Sir Peter Buck has pointed out,<note xml:id="ftn1-129" n="*"><p>P. H. Buck, Vikings of the Sunrise, New York, <date when="1938">1938</date>.</p></note> these were explicable in terms of the divergences following naturally from early separation from central Polynesia and proximity to <name key="name-006067" type="place">Melanesia</name>; but some at least were to prove vital in helping to ensure the survival of the existing social and political structure.</p>
        <p>Although certain village temples housed venerated objects the Samoans appear never to have worshipped idols; such objects as they possessed were merely representations or abodes of the gods or spirits. Buck states that only one image is known in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>.<note xml:id="ftn2-129" n="†"><p>Krämer illustrates an image on Page 207, Volume II, <hi rend="i">Die Samoa Inseln</hi>, Stuttgart, <date when="1903">1903</date>. There is some doubt as to its origin.</p></note> So far as is known they did not adopt the practice of human sacrifice; their system seems to have been far from ever becoming so institutionalised. In spite of the absence of such primitive features, the people today feel diffidence about speaking freely of their pre-Christian beliefs even if they do not lack the detailed knowledge, and for such accounts as exist of the indigenous religion we are obliged to turn to the writings of early missionaries and other residents or visitors. Much of the following summary has been drawn from such sources. Material has been selected in order to present an outline rather than to include all details, as to which slight differences of opinion are evident.</p>
        <p>The Samoans acknowledged several superior divinities, some of which they shared, under slightly different names, with others of the Polynesian peoples, and a much greater number of inferior deities of varying grades. They were accustomed also to deify the spirits of deceased chiefs of high rank, <note xml:id="ftn3-129" n="§"><p>This subject opens up a most interesting field for research. The stories surrounding <hi rend="i">Tamafaiga</hi>, reputed to be half human and half demon but an undoubted flesh and blood individual who terrorised <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> in the early part of the last century, and the older traditions relating to the mysterious activities of <hi rend="i">Nafanua</hi>, goddess of war, in the sixteenth century enable us almost to be witnesses of the process of deification.</p></note> and local tradition, with its miraculous claims
<pb n="130" xml:id="n130"/>
and significant stories of swimming or feats of exploration by progenitors who often returned with food gifts from the gods, is a good example of the change, over a long period, of history into mythology. Old Samoa entertained a respect amounting to veneration even for recent ancestors of outstanding distinction or personality, and this feeling was on occasion transferred to famous war-clubs that renowned warriors had wielded in battle. A few families<note xml:id="ftn1-130" n="*"><p>These were particularly the families of <hi rend="i">Mata'afa</hi> of Amaile and <hi rend="i">Leiufuga</hi> of Safotulafai. Turner states that it is possible that the practice may have dated from the time of <hi rend="i">Alei</hi> and <hi rend="i">Pata</hi>, said to have been the founders of the Aleipata district. They were very good-looking and left instructions that they were to be buried standing with their faces uncovered that their people might still be able to see them.</p><p>The embalming operation was performed by women. The viscera were removed and buried and the body was then annointed with repeated applications of oil and aromatic juices, the fluids being drawn off through numerous punctures with fine needles. Desiccation was complete in about two months and the abdominal cavity was then packed with bark cloth. The hair was removed before the operation commenced and later replaced carefully with resin.</p><p>Stair saw several mummies at Aleipata in <date when="1841">1841</date>, and Turner describes four others in a remarkable state of preservation seen in the eighteen sixties; these he considered to have been embalmed for upwards of thirty years. They were laid on a platform raised on a double canoe in a house built for the purpose. Such remains were referred to respectfully as “sun-dried gods.”</p></note> carried their regard to the length of practising the mummification of distinguished male members. In all cases the spirits of deceased ancestors were deemed to be powerful forces for good or evil and the proper steps were regularly taken to propitiate them.</p>
        <p>It is not altogether unexpected that in a society like the Samoan there should be grades of deities and lesser spirits. In Stair's classification, which gives the clearest account but which differs slightly from others, there were four classes, those of prime importance being the <hi rend="i">atua</hi>, or original gods who dwelt in the heavens (<hi rend="i">lagi</hi> or <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi>), the Samoan Elysium. They were responsible, either in person or through the medium of messengers or representatives not limited to those in human form, for the creation of the earth and its inhabitants. They were also the progenitors of certain lesser deities. Chief among this lordly group was the far-famed <hi rend="i">Tagaloa</hi>, who seems to have been the possessor of many attributes that were often represented as other selves under variations of his name.</p>
        <p>Next in order of rank were the deified spirits of chiefs, <hi rend="i">tupua</hi>, including some of the rare embalmed bodies, but
<pb n="131" xml:id="n131"/>
more usually blocks of stone or coral or constellatios reputed by the local mythology once to have been ancestors. They were also supposed to dwell in <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi>.</p>
        <p>Perhaps the commonest and widest class of all were <hi rend="i">aitu</hi>, including many descendants of the original gods, although this term later covered a much wider field than its original connotation suggested. These were deities comprising war or district and family gods and the protectors of the various trades and employments, whose aid was invoked on special occasions or whose anger or vengeance might be denounced by the various classes of priesthood. Some of these were both war and family gods. Outstanding in this class were the famous <hi rend="i">Saveasi'uleo</hi>, Lord of <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi>, and his daughter <hi rend="i">Nafanua</hi>, powerful goddess of war, both virtually of national significance and unknown further east in the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>, together with the infamous <hi rend="i">Nifoloa</hi>, a vindictive long-toothed demon whose bite caused death, and whose social influence is not yet a thing of the past. The spirits of war gods and others were supposed to manifest themselves through the priests representing them but they were reputed also to be able to take the forms of birds, fish, reptiles or of human beings. In time of war a keen watch was kept for any action of the bird or animal venerated that suggested a portent.</p>
        <p>Some of these <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> inhabited <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi> (the Melanesian <hi rend="i">Bulotu</hi>) and others the <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi> or Hades, or <hi rend="i">Sa-le-Fe'e</hi>, while one of the most famous, <hi rend="i">Mafui'e</hi>, from whom <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> is reputed to have derived fire and the first cooked food, lived in the volcanic regions below.</p>
        <p>Every family had its particular <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> which was supposed to inhabit some well-known or familiar object such as a tree, fish, bird, reptile or other animal. These were regarded with particular veneration by the family concerned who were prohibited from consuming them even if edible.<note xml:id="ftn1-131" n="*"><p>Stuebel states that the penalty for a breach of this strict prohibition was the cooking of the offender in the same oven as that in which the object venerated had been prepared before eating. Other writers suggest that the cooking was merely symbolic.</p></note> They could look on unmoved, however, while others to whom the object concerned was not sacred, consumed it. Regular intercessions including feasts, other food offerings and kava libations were made by the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to their <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> to ensure protection from war, punishment, disease or death, but the object of these solicitations could expect to be roundly cursed and abused by the indignant priest if there
<pb n="132" xml:id="n132"/>
was any failure to produce the desired results within a reasobable period. The place of even the family god in the affections of his people rested in the last analysis upon his usefulness.</p>
        <p>Besides the ability to assume human form, <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> were also distinguished by other characteristics of mankind. They were social beings who sometimes travelled in parties. Their temperaments ranged from the mild and inoffensive through the playful and mischievous to the vindictive, malevolent or oppressive. The worst of the latter were sometimes guilty of acts of great violence, individuals being carried away and not seen again or even beaten to death on the spot. Such beliefs as these must often have cloaked personal rancour or vengeance.</p>
        <p>There were certain localities, and indeed there still are, that were considered to be the traditional haunts of <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> of greater or less propensity for mischief or evil. These beings could, however, be propitiated with suitable shows of respect or offerings of food either by people who lived nearby or by <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> parties passing the spot. Their supernatural qualities also seemed to be subject to some limitations since their apparently average intelligence could be outwitted by ordinary human tricks. Nevertheless, any clearly expressed wish of an <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> was usually complied with if possible and if this had any relation to the use of coconuts, the girdling of one or more trunks with leaves of the palm was sufficient to ensure that the nuts, even when they fell, remained untouched. This form of prohibition is still effective against most people at the present day if it is desired to reserve crops for the use of particular individuals or for special purposes.</p>
        <p>Samoans in their heathen state firmly believed themselves to be surrounded with potentially dangerous influences and agencies. Sickness and pain were deemed to be due to the power or the actual presence of <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> and certain old Samoan medical treatments were based on this belief. Even in these days of universally accepted Christianity the belief in the existence of <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> is very widely held. They are not family gods, of course, as they were in the past, and naturally no active intercession is made for their good-will. Actually, the present-day connotation is a little different from what it was for this class of being in the past.<note xml:id="ftn1-132" n="*"><p>It is of interest to note that the Masonic Lodge, whose nature is not understood by the Samoans, is referred to as the “<hi rend="i">Lotu Aitu</hi>.” <hi rend="i">Lotu</hi> means church.</p></note>
<pb n="133" xml:id="n133"/>
Nowadays, <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> are generally malevolent beings to be avoided, and if one does not in these Christian times concede them their old status by actively seeking their goodwill, there are many who would not go out of their way to arouse an active resentment, since even Christianity admits the concept of an ever-present and hard-working devil. Politeness costs nothing and there is nothing to lose by taking reasonable precautions. There are not a few Europeans who think along the same lines.<note xml:id="ftn1-133" n="*"><p>Incidentally, an interesting paper could be written on the subject of ghosts and ghostly manifestations in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, strangely enough in many cases on the authority of European witnesses, who, without attempting to explain a number of curious incidents, will vouch firmly for the facts as they relate them.</p></note></p>
        <p>The last class of <hi rend="i">sauali'i</hi>,<note xml:id="ftn2-133" n="†"><p>Pratt states this is a respectful term for <hi rend="i">aitu</hi>.</p></note> scarcely to be differentiated from <hi rend="i">aitu</hi>, except that Stair states that the former appear not to have been represented by any class of priesthood or to have had any special dwellings sacred to them, included ghosts and apparitions, an inferior order of spirits, who apparently favoured some at least of the mischievous propensities of certain kinds of <hi rend="i">aitu</hi>.</p>
        <p>Pritchard's classification is, if anything, rather too simple. He groups the various deities as personal, family, village, district and national. The personal <hi rend="i">aitu</hi> was decided upon by repeating names from a list and choosing the deity whose mention coincided with the moment of birth. Turner says that personal gods were supposed to appear in a visible incarnation which then became an object of veneration with the usual prohibitions as to harming or eating to the person concerned. He lists a large number of local gods.<note xml:id="ftn3-133" n="§"><p>G. Turner, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> a Hundred Years Ago and Long Before, London, <date when="1884">1884</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p>Old Samoa believed in a soul or disembodied spirit (<hi rend="i">agaga</hi>). In Stair's opinion the three abodes of spirits, <hi rend="i">Pulotu, Fafā</hi> and <hi rend="i">Sa-le-Fe'e</hi>, seemed to have something in common, or at least the distinctions, like so many others in Samoan custom, were not clear-cut. <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi> was apparently the entrance both to <hi rend="i">Sa-le-Fe'e</hi>, the lower regions or place of punishment, and to <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi>, the Samoan Elysium or abode of the blest. Spirits of the dead were supposed to retain the identical images of their former selves and to commence at once a journey westwards towards the <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi>. Some at least of the human limitations persisted, the spirits having to walk across all intervening land and swim from island to
<pb n="134" xml:id="n134"/>
island before reaching the final jumping-off place at the western end of Savai'i known as <hi rend="i">Fatu-osofia</hi>. Here the last long swim was undertaken to the <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi>.</p>
        <p>Stuebel<note xml:id="ftn1-134" n="*"><p>O. Stuebel, <hi rend="i"><name key="name-204620" type="work">Samoanische Texte</name></hi>.</p></note> states that the <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi> was a hole; that is what the word itself suggests. He adds that there seems to have been some difference of opinion amongst the people themselves as to whether there was only one underworld or two, one for chiefs and another for the common people. Churchward<note xml:id="ftn2-134" n="†"><p>W. B. Churchward, My Consulate in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, London, <date when="1887">1887</date>.</p></note> tells us that the spirit leaped from a stone into a circular pool, the entrance to Hades or <hi rend="i">Pulotu</hi>, while Krämer has recorded that the site was reputed to be on a small, low, rocky headland between Falealupo and Tufutafoe at the western end of Savai'i.</p>
        <p>The spirits of those who had died natural deaths were tranquil and proceeded at once on their journey to the <hi rend="i">Fafā</hi>, but those who came to a violent end were believed often to frequent the places of death. This habit which was much feared because of its potential danger, applied particularly to those beheaded in war. Relatives therefore went to great trouble to endeavour to recover the heads in order to bury them with the bodies, lest the dead man should become a source of trouble or danger to the living by reason of his restless endeavours to perform this service for himself. There were various small rites or methods to lay such ghosts.</p>
        <p>The war clubs of renowned warriors were regarded with superstitious reverence and were the objects of special rites and ceremonies before being used in battle.</p>
        <p>There were various classes of priests (<hi rend="i">taulaitu</hi>) who performed functions of a differentiated character. The most important were those who invoked the assistance of the leading war-gods, chief among these being <hi rend="i">Auva'a</hi> and <hi rend="i">Tupa'i</hi> of Falealupo, representatives of the powerful goddess <hi rend="i">Nafanua</hi>. There were other war-gods and priestly representatives in other districts.</p>
        <p>Another class of priest was charged with the care of symbols of the war-gods, particularly those venerated by districts that maintained fleets. Such objects assumed a number of different forms, perhaps a drum, mast-head pennant, conch shell, chest, box or even a broom tied to the mast-head. The office of village priest was often hereditary in the sense that it was vested in a certain title or titles.</p>
        <pb n="135" xml:id="n135"/>
        <p>The most numerous class were the family priests, the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> who interceded with the family gods in times of trouble or adversity. The god was supposed to enter into the priest who fell into a trance-like condition. These were the times when the priest, or head of the family, received what purported to be the commands of the god or his complaints relating to lack of proper treatment or respect; if he were pleased, he promised his protection and good-will. In such ways the work of the whole family could be commanded for the building of houses, canoes, the laying out of new plantations, or any other similar activity that called for a common effort. It also ensured a steady flow of food or other property for special occasions. The head of the family always appealed for assistance to the family god in the case of serious illness. Family support for such intercession frequently took the form of scenes of wild emotion and even self-inflicted wounds; but the god was not exempt from abuse if all measures failed to achieve the desired result.</p>
        <p>A particular class of priest specialised in prophesies or curses, recovering stolen property or assisting with plans for vengeance. Sick people were frequently taken to them to discover whether or not the ailment was due to a curse imposed by a priest in the employ of some evilly disposed person. Their services, especially if successful, were very highly rewarded.</p>
        <p>Some gods or spirits were deemed to reside in temples, but these were not of the striking appearance that use of this term might suggest. They have been described as being merely ordinary Samoan houses complete with blinds, often enough of poor or even mean workmanship,<note xml:id="ftn1-135" n="*"><p>If the illustration on page 227 of Stair's Old Samoa is an accurate guide, the temples were of unusual design and appearance.</p></note> or perhaps only trees of venerable appearance or areas of land set aside as sacred on which growth was allowed to proceed unchecked. Here were housed conch shells or such other sacred objects of wood or stone with head coverings or wrappings of bark cloth as the village possessed and to this place also repaired the priests concerned to make offerings of food, kava and sweet smelling things on the days appointed or when other special services were required. Such offerings were sometimes made by the community as a whole. Once a house was built or set aside as a temple, it was not used for any other purpose even if no sacred object were set up therein. They were usually but not exclusively
<pb n="136" xml:id="n136"/>
on or near the <hi rend="i">malae</hi> and generally were built on a platform surrounded by a fence. One method of propitiating an angry god was to add to or re-build the platform.</p>
        <p>The social aspect of the old Samoan religion found expression in regular festivals or feasts in honour of certain district gods. Religious forms had practically no place in these gatherings. One important annual gathering in honour of the war-god <hi rend="i">Fe'e</hi>, the octopus, lasting for several days and attended by people from all over the country, took place at Leulumoega in A'ana, followed then by two festivals in Atua, in honour of <hi rend="i">Tupualegase</hi>, at Falefa and Lufilufi respectively. The districts concerned contributed large quantities of fish, pigs, taro and other food, and the days were spent in club fights and other bouts, wrestling and night dancing. Teams and individual champions issued challenges and competed in trials of strength and skill. Manono celebrated similar festivities, and there were lesser gatherings elsewhere.</p>
        <p>The adoption of a new faith called for a revision of certain aspects of the social code, and practices which appeared repugnant to European views quickly became an object of attack. Marriage customs were modified and much of the initial effort of the early missionaries, in days when there was no form of settled or responsible government, was directed to the preservation of life and property and the modification of any custom that endangered these things. Personal intercession was often required in particular cases. Apart from the insecurity inseparable from a state of intermittent war, some of the old forms of punishment for domestic or civil offences included death, shameful forms of assault and the destruction of houses, plantations and other property. There was also a system of trial or punishment by various forms of severe ordeal. The missions endeavoured to uphold the authority of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and village council as far as possible; but, while conceding the right to impose reasonable punishments, they discouraged unnecessary harshness involving death, assault or wanton destruction. Fines of valuable property such as fine mats and pigs were substituted and for lesser offences payment of the humbler forms of produce was prescribed. The innovation came quickly to have the authority of immemorial custom and although it now cuts rather sharply across the official system of administration of justice, it at least represents a substantial and voluntary advance on old methods. It is a pleasing instance of situation incompatible with Christian doctrine being handled with understanding and delicacy.</p>
        <pb n="137" xml:id="n137"/>
        <p>Reference has already been made to the fact that the chiefs and orators meet every Monday morning to discuss matters of common interest and to make whatever decisions are required. If any theft or other misdemeanour that affects the whole village has taken place during the previous week, the ceremony of <hi rend="i">tautoga</hi>, or the taking of an oath, is conducted in an attempt to discover the culprit. This custom is now Christian in form but it is much older in origin. Turner<note xml:id="ftn1-137" n="*"><p>G. Turner, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> a Hundred Years Ago and Long Before, London, <date when="1884">1884</date>.</p></note> and Churchward tell us that in the past the people would assemble and, each in turn touching or laying a handful of grass on the sacred object in the temple, would declare their innocence and invite swift punishment if they lied.<note xml:id="ftn2-137" n="†"><p>Churchward states that in his time this oath was not effective in the case of theft if the despoiled person was a foreigner.</p></note> The grass, shortly to wither, was symbolic of the dying out of the family and the ruin of their habitations. According to Stuebel, the chiefs and orators met for a kava ceremony and each when taking the cup called upon his particular family god to exercise his power by revealing the offender. Nothing further was done at the time if all disclaimed knowledge of the offence in this fashion; but an unexpected death or any other misfortune befalling an individual or family in the future was considered to be retribution exacted by an outraged god.</p>
        <p>At the present day all oaths are taken on the Bible but some villages have a more formal or even dramatic ceremony. The <hi rend="i">tautoga</hi> is regarded as very important in Samoan custom and people who are unwilling for reasons of conscience or less worthy motives to take an oath incur the grave displeasure of their village.</p>
        <p>Missionaries, pastors and catechists of all denominations occupy a most respected place in the community. Few graduates are fortunate enough to be offered work for the church in their own villages and when on completion of their training in the colleges and institutions maintained by the various missions an appointment takes them elsewhere, they are housed in good surroundings and pretentious dwellings made available by their congregations. Land is allotted to them for plantations either by a family or the village and regular offerings of cooked food are provided to assist in their sustenance. This takes various forms. A share of food reaches them from all village functions, and families who have a surfeit of crops or have experienced
<pb n="138" xml:id="n138"/>
good fortune with their fishing always set aside a portion for their own pastor. In addition to these casual offerings the families of most congregations take turns in supplying a daily portion of cooked food from their own ovens. European missionaries living in or near villages are also the recipients at regular intervals of fish or fowl to mark the important or chiefly status they enjoy in the community.</p>
        <p>In Samoan custom pastors are treated as <hi rend="i">matai</hi> even if they do not enjoy this status in their own right,<note xml:id="ftn1-138" n="*"><p>The London Missionary Society and the Methodist and Catholic Missions require their pastors and catechists to resign if they wish to take titles. The Seventh Day Adventist Mission does not.</p></note> and special terms of respectful address are applied to them. In the assembly of the chiefs and orators they occupy a very special place, particularly if they are of mature years. As a matter of courtesy and good manners they would not interfere in the discussion of purely village affairs unless their opinion were asked or unless some question of morality or good conduct were involved. Their order of precedence in a kava ceremony is high, and in certain villages where there is only one church denomination the pastor may be served his kava first.</p>
        <p>It is the custom of the village pastor or catechist to dress formally and visit members of his congregation in their own homes some time on Saturday. This gives him an opportunity to get to know his people personally, and allows them to discuss privately any small troubles by which they may be embarrassed. If he is offered anything in the nature of food, this will be conveyed to his house by some young member of the family. He generally offers up a prayer before departure, especially if the family is in trouble.</p>
        <p>Samoans are punctilious in their recognition of the Sabbath and all unnecessary activities are suspended. The day is devoted to church observances, congregations arraying themselves in their best, including hats in the case of the ladies.<note xml:id="ftn2-138" n="†"><p>According to Churchward, women used to struggle into shoes and stockings for church services, but this practice has now been abandoned.</p></note> No journeys are undertaken except in cases of emergency, and Europeans are expected also to conform to this rule. Government patrols or <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> parties rest in a village over Sunday, unless there is some special reason for wishing to proceed. Even if other visitors do not understand the Samoan language, their courtesy in attending
<pb n="139" xml:id="n139"/>
either the morning or the afternoon village service is always greatly appreciated.</p>
        <p>After the Sunday morning and afternoon church services, special meals called <hi rend="i">to'ona'i</hi> are taken in groups. The chiefs and orators, the women and later the young people meet in central houses, each with their basket of cooked food including perhaps some special delicacy purchased from a store. This is set out on leaf platters and consumed together in a pleasant atmosphere of gossip and relaxation.</p>
        <p>For some time after the introduction of Christianity care was taken to prepare food for Sunday on the Saturday evening, thus giving rise to the name for Saturday, <hi rend="i">aso to'ona'i</hi>, the day on which food is cooked for the morrow, but it is now the more general practice for the boys to rise early on Sunday morning and do the cooking then. The first stage of this development was a rule that no smoke should actually be seen on the Sabbath, the heating of the oven stones having in these circumstances to be completed before daybreak; but now even this requirement is often dispensed with.</p>
        <p>The materials of a Samoan church are usually cement mixed with burnt coral lime, with iron for the roofs and wooden columns, beams, ceilings and other interior furnishings and fittings. The congregation either seat themselves on mats on the floors, or if sufficient funds have been contributed, pews or forms may be provided. The young people of the village provide the choir and meet regularly for practice. They are hearty singers and this duty is not a burden.</p>
        <p>It is significant of the respect shown to the church and the clergy that missionaries and pastors deliver their sermons from an eminence. The only other exception to the rule that there shall be no speaking from a level higher than that of the audience operates during sittings of the High Court where the bench is raised in accordance with the usual practice. A speaker other than a missionary, pastor or deacon addressing a church congregation generally speaks not from pulpit level but in front of and below it, although there are special occasions when lay addresses are delivered from the pulpit.</p>
        <p>Under the old system of religious belief the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> acted as the family priest. He poured the libation to the family god when taking his kava and acted for his own people in the old form of <hi rend="i">tautoga</hi>. In these days he performs similar duties. He leads the family in evening prayers and from time to time takes office as a deacon of his church, delivering
<pb n="140" xml:id="n140"/>
to the whole congregation the occasional sermon that this appointment requires or perhaps even conducting a service if this should be necessary in the absence or illness of the pastor. Deacons attend meetings or special services of the organisations that control church districts or subdistricts, and they may be appointed members of the delegations representing their groups to attend the annual central <hi rend="i">fono</hi> or synod that is organised along distinct lines for different Missions. There is, however, a growing habit of appointing untitled men as deacons if they are suitable.</p>
        <p>Those attending an annual <hi rend="i">fono</hi> or synod are not limited to delegates or official representatives. Chiefs and orators are also present to listen, and women and young people go along to perform essential services. There are the usual dancing and entertainments but these are subject to certain restrictions. The Methodists prefer that there should be no dancing after about sunset and there is no night dancing in the compound of the London Missionary Society Theological College at Malua. Those who wish to dance move out in the evening to adjoining villages.</p>
        <p>As hymns and prayers are usual in every Samoan family prior to the evening meal, the village pastor or pastors may make an appearance or send a message to the effect that they would be glad to conduct a short evening service for European visitors. This is a well-meant courtesy, and a return compliment in the shape of a request that the <hi rend="i">malaga</hi> party be remembered in the prayers of the village and the pastors after departure will be received with gratification.</p>
        <p>There are no collections of offerings at Sunday services but it is customary for families to make a cash donation to the pastor once a month to constitute a personal fund from which he may purchase such things as cannot be provided easily from the land or the sea. In some villages this contribution is levied more frequently.</p>
        <p>Samoan offerings to the funds of the missions or churches as organised institutions are contributed and collected in a different manner. Once a year European representatives of the London Missionary Society and Methodist Missions make a circuit (<hi rend="i">Me</hi>) of each island, conducting examinations, awarding prizes and collecting village contributions. These are termed <hi rend="i">taulaga</hi> and are on a purely voluntary basis but villages take a pride in making their offerings as substantial as possible. If there are large sums of money in circulation because of high prices for Samoan produce, the Samoans give accordingly. The
<pb n="141" xml:id="n141"/>
Catholic Mission does not make collections in this fashion and the Seventh Day Adventist Mission operates on their usual system of tithes.</p>
        <p>There is a growing practice amongst the Samoans to treat Christmas much in the same way as do Europeans, but the outstanding day in the year for Samoan children of the London Missionary Society and Methodist denominations is Children's Sunday. This custom dates back about sixty years in the case of the London Missionary Society and is celebrated by both missions on the second Sunday in October<note xml:id="ftn1-141" n="*"><p>The Methodist Mission adopted the custom later and used to hold their celebration on the second Sunday in September. This practice was altered in <date when="1941">1941</date>, and the functions in both Missions now coincide.</p></note> but preparations must be put in hand some time beforehand. As soon as children are old enough to understand and even for a few years beyond the age of puberty they take part in the celebration. For weeks previously the pastor conducts special classes teaching them passages from the Scriptures which they are required to repeat in the presence of their parents at a special service on the day itself. The passages to be memorised are of course graded according to age, and at the time of the examination the parents take great pride in a well-dressed child who repeats his or her portion of Scripture without error. The children are presented by their parents with special gifts of new clothes worn at the service, in the course of which the children contribute to a collection. This money is then usually handed to the pastor but it may with the consent of the donors be devoted to some other special purpose. After the service there is a meal taken separately in families; at this time the children are served by their elders, significantly reversing the usual procedure. Special delicacies are provided and portions of these are of course set aside for the enjoument of the pastor who again assembles the children in his own house for the evening meal. The whole day is thus organised to express the appreciation of the elders for the services of the younger generation during the previous year and to demonstrate a recognition of their important place in the family and society.</p>
        <p>The social aspect of present-day religion is well demonstrated in a function that is favoured by all denominations. This is the <hi rend="i">tusigā-igoa</hi> or subscription list, literally the “writing of names.” It is a comparatively modern development, having achieved its greatest popularity during the last decade. Its pricipal purpose is to afford
<pb n="142" xml:id="n142"/>
an opportunity to people in all parts of the country who are related to families in a particular congregation to contribute to the cost of building, re-building or repairing a church or providing or renewing its furnishings. An interesting feature is the fact that congregations of different denominations in the same or adjoining villages occasionally hold a combined function, the funds contributed by particular families being recorded separately and applied of course to work on their own church.</p>
        <p>The first step is to advertise the proposed programme in the Government Gazette or a church publication.<note xml:id="ftn1-142" n="*"><p>Publications in the vernacular are the <hi rend="i">Savali</hi> (Official Gazette), the <hi rend="i">Sulu</hi> (London Missionary Society), the <hi rend="i">Auauna</hi> (Catholic), the <hi rend="i">Fetu Ao</hi> (Methodist), the <hi rend="i">Tala Moni</hi> (Seventh Day Adventist) and the <hi rend="i">Malamalama</hi> (Congregational Church of Jesus). All are issued monthly except the Methodist paper which appears quarterly and the Congregational publication which is irregular.</p></note> This is sometimes done as long as a year in advance, in which case a reminder is published later. The notice recites the ceremonial form of address of the village or the more important members of the congregation and makes respectful references to their royal and other connections in the four corners of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>; it often ends on the significant note that true relatives will be known, and presumably remembered, by the appearance of their names on their names on the subscription list in due course. In the meantime the hosts address themselves to the task of planting taro and other crops; young pigs and chickens are collected for fattening and even cattle may be acquired. Nearer the day of the function the preparations rise to a climax of harvesting, fishing, and later, cooking.</p>
        <p>The proceedings are divided into stages which extend over two or more days. On the first day the visitors meet and mingle with their own families, discussing their contributions and all assembling later for a church service. The evening is spent in singing and dancing in the course of which separate families present their own items, after which collections are taken up and the cash handed in to the secretary of the church to be carefully recorded to the credit of the family concerned. The following morning there is another combined service and then all assemble again in a large house like that of the pastor to hand in their contributions. The amounts are duly recorded and the totals announced. For a large gathering of this kind the grand total may exceed one thousand pounds. This evening is also devoted to entertainment in addition to farewell
<pb n="143" xml:id="n143"/>
speeches and prayers, and the guests begin to depart the following day.</p>
        <p>The visitors are feasted royally during the entire period of their stay but there is a special distribution of food, generally at mid-day, on the day before departure. This is partly a show of respect and partly a <hi rend="i">quid pro quo</hi> for what has been contributed in cash, and the guests take the greater portion of it away. Occasionally families may even present fine mats to distinguished relations who have contributed handsomely. The food is not presented formally by means of a <hi rend="i">ta'alolo</hi> or <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi>. It is merely assembled, either by separate families or as a joint offering of the village, and then shared out. The presence of an important family or well-known pastor or a group who have contributed liberally may receive recognition per medium of an exceptionally large share of food including the most respectful portions. Any carpenters present who have been employed on the building or repairs will not be overlooked.</p>
        <p>Another ceremony, rather similar in its nature but earlier in origin, marks the completion and formal opening of the church. This is called a <hi rend="i">fa'aulufalega</hi>, or church opening. Cash is again contributed to pay off debts incurred during the period of construction. Due notice is given and all assemble as for a <hi rend="i">tusiga-igoa</hi>, except that the church services are of a rather more formal character and include the consecration of the new building by a competent authority. This is also an important day for the carpenters, especially if they are Samoan, for they then receive their final payment for many months or possibly years of work.</p>
        <p>A <hi rend="i">tusiga-igoa</hi> is sometimes arranged for the purpose of collecting money for the establishment or repair of a village water supply.</p>
        <p>It is a common practice of Samoan families to hold memorial services, or jubilees commemorating the commencement of such services, to mark their adoption of Christian beliefs. In some cases this has been done at intervals during the last sixty or more years. Such services afford an opportunity for a family with branches in many parts of the country to meet from time to time if other domestic business has not brought them together.</p>
        <p>Although gatherings such as some of those mentioned above present their own peculiar problems, from the economic point of view at least they function with a smoothness uncommon in our own type of society. Socially-minded people with the family organisation of the Samoans
<pb n="144" xml:id="n144"/>
derive a psychological satisfaction from, and actually welcome the opportunity for, family gatherings, and in any case the economic principles involved operate on a reciprocal basis. Assistance in proper cases is gladly forthcoming when donors can be sure that they have only to ask in their own time of need to receive the help they require; and the opportunity to proclaim relationship perhaps to some of the leading families in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> lends added zest to the proceedings.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="145" xml:id="n145"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="11" xml:id="c11">
        <head>CHAPTER XI<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Present-Day Society</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">A comprehensive</hi> study of Samoan society in relation to the social and economic changes of the last few generations would extend far beyond the confines of a single chapter; nevertheless, an introduction to Samoan custom should not neglect an examination of some at least of the stresses that society is undergoing at present. This section is therefore intended to be not so much a full study of all the forces that are at work, as a statement of certain facts, followed by an examination of some of the effects that are now becoming apparent and an estimate, so far as that is possible, of probable social results that may be expected in the future. It will be less a study of some of the effects of the war, although that aspect will necessarily receive attention, than a consideration of part of the social and economic environment of a new generation, which the writer has been able to observe personally almost from the time of its birth.<note xml:id="ftn1-145" n="*"><p>The author has been a member of the Administration service since <date when="1929">1929</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p>Although it has already been stated that most of the fundamentals of Samoan society remain materially unchanged, a number of influences have been and are still at work which, while restricted in their single scope and effect, are yet in the aggregate of interest and importance. Official roading, hydro and building projects will provide skilled and unskilled work for years even in the outer districts. Government and commercial positions in Apia offer a limited amount of employment, and afford a temporary or sometimes even permanent means of escape to those youths who for any reason find the monotony and restrictions of the old order irksome. Taxi, omnibus and lorry driving, and the very considerable amount of casual labour employed in handling and lightering<note xml:id="ftn2-145" n="†"><p>All overseas vessels anchor in the roadstead.</p></note> all imports and exports, together with the transport of bananas for shipment, provide even in normal times a more or less steady income, and these, even if they are not all available every day in the week, at least encourage a certain class of urban population. A certain amount of employment as servants that can be
<pb n="146" xml:id="n146"/>
offered to Samoan girls by Europeans living in and around Apia is also an incentive to some to leave their own homes.</p>
        <p>But it was during the presence in the Territory of American troops that the local economic situation changed dramatically, for a time at least. From early in <date when="1942">1942</date>, until development of the attack on Japanese outposts in the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>, hundreds of young men from all parts of the country flocked to the airport and military reservation some twenty miles from Apia, where for a time nearly a thousand were employed. Some villages both in Upolu and Savai'i accordingly concentrated on the growing of their own foodstuffs for sale at high prices to those in employment in Apia or at the airport. Laundering for many thousands of servicemen kept hundreds of people of both sexes in full-time occupation. Work on ships and wharves attracted others to Apia, although here it was significant that even husky lads preferred to be at the airport, where the work was easier. In this, as in other instances, the Samoans, like any other people in similar circumstances, showed themselves to be selective, and one bad result was not so much the amount of money that could be earned, as the fact that in many cases very little had to be done in return for it. This was the fault of the employers, of course, rather than of the servants. All this was perhaps legitimate enough, but food like fish, poultry, eggs and fruit quickly began to change hands at incredible prices; even luke-warm water or coconuts were sold when troops first landed. Curios of a poor standard of workmanship that deteriorated progressively found ready sale at ever increasing prices; beer, wine and spirits were manufactured in defiance of the law, and even more questionable catering to the local demand brought in greater amounts of cash. This again was the fault of the purchasers rather than of the suppliers. The sharp increase in the amount of money in circulation due to the spending of servicemen coincided with a much enhanced return for tropical products which followed the loss of <name key="name-007464" type="place">Malaya</name> and the <name key="name-019988" type="place">Philippines</name> to the enemy and consequent better prices on the American and European markets.</p>
        <p>The presence of large numbers of eager, interested young men with ample funds and a willingness to spend was naturally appreciated, but there was more in it than that. The Americans are an amicable people, and many Samoans of both sexes formed friendships which they valued highly not alone for the gifts that servicemen dispensed so freely. Contact with a larger and friendlier
<pb n="147" xml:id="n147"/>
English-speaking section of the community, however temporary, led to a rush to all schools for the purpose of learning English. Many young Samoans have shown considerable aptitude for the language, and interest in the subject is far from abating. One may feel that it is not an increased circulation of money that is likely to have the most lasting effect on the local economy — it is the English language. During the war, men or boys who spoke English found themselves in demand as foremen, and for some time after the departure of the garrison, there was some unwillingness on the part of many of them to hire out their services at the rates that previously ruled. Even poultry, fish, eggs, fruit and vegetables are still very much more expensive than they were before the war, and are likely to remain so.</p>
        <p>Since the Samoan people value money for what it commands rather than for the satisfaction that its accumulation may provide, and because society is organised on the basis of reciprocal assistance and the subjugation of individual to family interests, Samoans have a natural enough tendency to be quick spenders and much of this money found its way rapidly to the local firms. It is true that there were some who quietly opened Post Office Savings Bank accounts, the total of which showed a large increase during the war. There was inevitably, due in part at least to the presence of Americans, a marked increase in gambling games, and interest in these has not subsided. But it should be noted particularly that the enormous increase in the amount of money available did not result in any real change in the Samoan way of living. Naturally many were able to buy certain things they had not previously been able to afford, and they did so. Actually, however, most of them spent more money on the type of activity that had given them satisfaction in the past. In the words of an official report,<note xml:id="ftn1-147" n="*"><p>Twenty-second report of the Administration of the Mandated Territory of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, <date when="1945">1945</date>.</p></note> “The Samoan reaction was that they undoubtedly enjoyed the ability to spend, yet there are signs that the fundamentals of Samoan culture were not upset. The money was freely spent, but not so much on luxuries of European style as in a greater indulgence in Samoan forms of social intercourse. Now that the tide of money is receding to normal, the Samoans are fortunately not in a position of having adopted a different standard of living while money flowed.”</p>
        <pb n="148" xml:id="n148"/>
        <p>An opinion heard a good deal while American forces were stationed in the Territory was that the Samoans would find it difficult to return to their old ways of life when prosperous conditions ceased. Conditions now are not quite the same as they were, but it cannot yet be said that the tide of money has receded to normal; there are still large amounts in circulation due to steadily rising prices paid for local primary produce and a vigorous programme of development. Even during the war, however, one could feel that the opinion expressed above overlooked the fact that the cycle of prosperity and depression is not unknown or new to the Samoans. Whatever the prices realized for primary produce, the land and sea still produce as bounteously as in the past, and Samoans are unlikely ever to lack the basic necessities of life. They do not know poverty as we Europeans unhappily understand the term; having no need of them, they are not even aware of artificial forms of social sercurity; and many who realize that their culture is less vulnerable than ours to economic fluctuation derive not a little satisfaction from the thought. The most that a depression can really do to embarrass Samoans is to make soap, kerosene and clothing more difficult to obtain, and there are substitutes available for all three. One result of changed conditions, however, is undoubtedly that some young people have found the attractions of town life a more or less permanent inducement to remain away from their villages.</p>
        <p>It is idle to attempt to deny that the war has left a mark, but it is possible that some at least of the conditions observed today are not due entirely to the war. For a generation or more, there have been young men who have either renounced the control of the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> altogether (which is rare) or, more usually, have continued to belong to the family while living in the town. Those whose village is nearby may even return there every night. A regular wage-earner, particularly before the war, was and still is, a considerable asset to the family, for where he retains his connection it is a significant fact that Samoan custom is in many cases still strong enough to induce him to hand over a large proportion of his earnings to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. A steady income greatly enhances the importance of the member of the family contributing it. Young men are not unaware of this; they realise the influence it may carry when the time comes to appoint a new <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, and some become a little arrogant in consequence. It is proper that a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> who is responsible for the welfare of the family and bound
<pb n="149" xml:id="n149"/>
by custom to accede to any reasonable request for assistance, should be able to demand the services of his group when required; this preserves the equilibrium of society and his own authority, but the position is a little different when an otherwise insignificant member of it becomes a substantial provider. He must be encouraged to continue his good offices. His importance to the family has to be recognized and a certain deference paid to him, otherwise there is no reason why he should not relinquish a position that may involve considerable physical exertion with poor immediate returns or tiresome restrictions. In an ultimate analysis there is nothing for nothing in Samoan society; obligations incurred must be discharged at some time in one form or another. Prestige, however, is dear to Samoan hearts, and this perhaps explains why many have been prepared and even eager to hand over a substantial portion of their earnings, although one hears nowadays occasional murmurs of dissatisfaction. But whereas under the old order the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> commanded a special respect as the principal provider and source of desirable things, his importance has in recent years come to be shared in some cases by more humble members of society. The latter, instead of suing for favours, have been in times of economic depression almost in the position of granting them. That perhaps is one of the present influences that may ultimately effect some levelling of society in this country, although one result of high prices for produce is temporarily to delay or conceal its workings.</p>
        <p>Some at least of the essentials of Samoan society are based upon the respect paid to age and knowledge of Samoan affairs. The <date when="1918">1918</date> epidemic thinned the ranks of those well versed in the higher details of Samoan tradition and family lore who would normally have passed on more of their knowledge to their successors. There are of course still numerous chiefs and orators whose deep knowledge of such things receives general recognition, but others, whose families lost many of the older members, through no fault of their own, have not had the chance to equip themselves to meet all the demands made upon them; armed, therefore, with a less effective authority than their forebears, they have lived to see the rise of an independent spirit among their young people. This movement has assumed fairly serious proportions; the remnants of the old life and death power of the high chiefs, seen now in the right to administer physical correction to an offender, sometimes call forth the greatest resentment and a threat to complain to the police. The <hi rend="i">matai</hi> themselves are sadly aware of the new spirit that is
<pb n="150" xml:id="n150"/>
emerging, especially where the new generation has been influenced by town and wartime conditions, and both in American and <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> they have asked Government to pass laws upholding their authority, overlooking the point that legislation is rarely effective in curbing the spirit of a people. This cultural change, due in part at least to the epidemic, is even more apparent now than when Keesing drew attention to it.<note xml:id="ftn1-150" n="*"><p>F. M. Keesing, Modern Samoa: Its Government and Changing Life, London, <date when="1934">1934</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p>The drastic thinning out of the group whose duty it would normally have been to pass on much of value in the old culture, and the rise to maturity of the generation that has been the greatest sufferer in consequence, has coincided with a quickening of Samoan interest in learning the English language, particularly during and since the war, and a development in the education system. The result is inevitable and already we see its beginnings. Young people are flocking to Apia in the hope of learning English, or going into the service of Europeans for that purpose. A generation is therefore emerging that has less knowledge of, and hence tends to place less value on, some aspects of the old culture, and has, or is anxious to acquire, a much greater knowledge of European institutions; and so for the time being at least, some members of it claim a greater interest in and attach more importance to, European things. This may be the stirring of a spirit that some writers claim is world-wide, but in the present instance it is believed to be a typically Samoan reaction. Young people have seen new things that they have liked and valued, and they are taking the quickest means of getting them, per medium of a knowledge of the English language and European institutions. Some of this is inevitable enough following on an appreciation of new, attractive features of life brought into sharper focus by a war, but some at least of the fault, if fault there be, must be laid at the door of the old chiefs and orators who are at present the loudest in their denunciations. They sent their young people from all parts of the country to earn money and bring it back to their families. Some of them did not return. Many that did so came back with a new sense of power and a feeling almost of equality with their elders due to familiar relationships with European servicemen; they had discovered that they were not such humble members of society after all. If they did return
<pb n="151" xml:id="n151"/>
and bring their offerings, for many at least the former spirit of humility and unquestioning service had gone for ever.</p>
        <p>From the point of view of the Samoan hegemony this must appear a somewhat gloomy picture, involving scant appreciation of the fact that the office of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> involves very real responsibility; caring for a large and possibly scattered family is not always an easy task. Cases are known where young men in Government and commercial positions have refused to accept titles as involving too great a demand upon their time or resources. These are, however, comparatively few. More frequently it is the other way round. The fact that an aspirant to a title is in a good position may ensure his appointment as being economically useful to the family, and one sees gradually the rise of a class of chiefs who, out of their villages for much of the time, are not always personally present to discharge their duties in the manner of the chiefs of the past. They are careful to arrange, of course, for members of their families to remain in residence to supply the <hi rend="i">monotaga</hi> and attend to other basic social requirements of village life. This class includes a group who have had some degree of European education, acquired at a time when otherwise they would have been sharing in the social and economic activities of their own people, together with a few part-Europeans who, by application to the Court,<note xml:id="ftn1-151" n="*"><p>Any European of one half or more Samoan blood may petition the High Court to be declared a Samoan, and a Samoan not of pure Polynesian descent may apply for inclusion in the Register of Europeans. Up to <date when="1948-03">March, 1948</date>, 545 part-Samoans had been granted European status and 30 Europeans had become Samoans.</p></note> have been declared for the future to have Samoan status with the right to assume <hi rend="i">matai</hi> names and to take an effective part in Samoan family affairs. The ideas of such people are naturally to some extent shaped by a knowledge of a foreign culture in place, in part at least, of the more exclusive regard which they would otherwise entertain for their own. This is not necessarily an undesirable social and political development, although the process is attended by growing pains and naturally enough does not always earn the unqualified approval of the older members of society if their personal status and interests are too closely involved. There is a price to be paid for social and political advancement and often it is the older generation that has to pay it. They at least are the group who feel the innovations most keenly. Nevertheless, it is a fact that Samoan custom still has a very strong hold.</p>
        <pb n="152" xml:id="n152"/>
        <p>The assumption of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> names or titles by people who have not spent a large part of their early lives in a village, is, from one point of view at least, perhaps the most effective means of increasing their knowledge of Samoan affairs. It is noticeable and is often the subject of comment by the older generation that at the present day there are young people who appear to lack a knowledge of what constitutes proper conduct; many have been unable in examinations to answer correctly questions on quite elementary Samoan custom; and it is not rare to observe a lad who obviously does not know, for instance, how to serve kava respectfully. Even under the changing conditions of life in modern <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, a sound knowledge of custom is still a good thing for young Samoans to possess, and one hope for those who have spent long periods out of their villages is that after they have driven an omnibus or a taxi for a time they may realize what they risk losing. Some do so, and hasten back with cash offerings with which they endeavour to purchase arrears of service. But physical effort and service as exemplified by honest sweat are still important qualifications in candidates for Samoan titles, and some young men find that they have remembered their social aspirations too late.</p>
        <p>The practical decay of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> system has reduced the duties and to that extent the social significance of one class of <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, the orator or <hi rend="i">tulafale</hi>. Under the old political organisation, the marriage of the <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> was a valuable means of effecting alliances between villages and districts, and it was the duty of the <hi rend="i">tulafale</hi> or groups of <hi rend="i">tulafale</hi> to arrange for an important chief as many such unions as possible. Altered political conditions and social changes like monogamy and church and life marriage render a plurality of these no longer necessary or possible, and although <hi rend="i">tulafale</hi> and <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> may both be seen discharging other ceremonial duties and clothed in the traditional manner, they have lost something of their former importance in this respect at least. The status of the orator as a <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, as the head of his own family and as the repository of the traditional stories of the family, the village or the district, has not, of course, greatly altered as a result of this, but in regard to certain relationships between himself and his chief, his duties and hence his importance, are now rather restricted. In spite, however, of there being less activity along these lines, much of the social life of the village community still centres about the orators, and many old customs still flourish. Leading orators of political areas still
<pb n="153" xml:id="n153"/>
wield great authority when their entire districts assemble in <hi rend="i">fono</hi>.</p>
        <p>While Samoan society is organised as it is and gives the satisfaction that it does at present, the subject of marriage is one that is always likely to bring young people back into the social fold. It is true that there are informal run-away marriages (<hi rend="i">avaga</hi>), often of an impermanent character, but sometimes followed by a reconciliation and church ceremony with the consent of the families concerned, that are regarded as irregular by Samoan society itself. There are inevitably rebels and misfits in every community, however rigid some aspects of custom may be, although the run-away marriage occurs so often that it might even be considered to be a part of actual Samoan custom. But members of important families who wish to marry well, with all the formality and prestige and exchange of property that custom requires at such times, can do so only within the family itself and with the good-will and practical co-operation of all its members.</p>
        <p>This is not the place for a full discussion of all the social and economic considerations that Samoan marriages entail. Two principal groups are, of course, involved, those of the bride and the groom. Briefly, the girl's family provide for the boy's family as many fine mats, <hi rend="i">fau</hi> bast mats, mulberry bark cloth, fans, oil, sleeping mats and other similar things as it is possible to gather together and the members of the family may be willing to contribute. The greater the number and the importance of the mats collected the higher is the prestige of the girl's family and the more clearly have they demonstrated their chiefly or royal connections. It is then incumbent on the boy's family to collect from all their relatives as great a sum of money as possible in order to signify and maintain their own prestige. Money is the contribution of the male side at the present day where previously it was valuable property like houses, canoes and equipment, weapons, tools, utensils, nets, head-dresses and food. Nowadays both sides co-operate in providing the food required for the festivities. The mats are then passed to the family of the boy and the money to that of the girl, and distributed to members of each group in the proportion in which they themselves contributed. For an important wedding the mats may total many hundreds and the money involved may amount to something in the region of one thousand pounds. Such exchanges allow full play for the display of mutual respect and recognition which is so satisfying and significant an
<pb n="154" xml:id="n154"/>
element in Samoan custom. The young man who does not maintain his family connections cannot expect to appear as one of the central figures at such a function.</p>
        <p>The fact that the expense and duties involved are not a serious deterrent to candidates for appointment as <hi rend="i">matai</hi> is seen in the growing practice of splitting titles. Titles are known in which there are two, three or four holders, others with eight or ten, and one at least with over twenty. Such multiplicity results from the division of a family into separate branches or because of a formula adopted by the Samoans themselves to resolve disputes between contending candidates for titles. Two important results follow: the status of particular titles is detrimentally affected but the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> system itself is temporarily strengthened. Undoubtedly the splitting of titles is reflected in the lessening of the importance of, and hence the respect shown to, each holder of the particular title, except one perhaps who is recognized by reason of his years or personality as the elder or senior <hi rend="i">matai</hi>. It would appear at first as if the practice would result in a steady diminution of chiefly authority. The present rate of increase of the population, however, may be expected to go on as European methods reduce infant and maternal mortality. The increase in the size of families is accompanied by a corresponding reduction in the chances of young men to receive titles, and if the number of titles available were not augmented in the manner described, the new generation would have proportionately less encouragement to continue support of a system that had little to offer the more outstanding among them. This practice, therefore, far from striking a blow at the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> system as such, would seem to be something of a factor in ensuring its continuance for some time at least. It is true, however, that there is a greater proportion in these days of younger <hi rend="i">matai</hi>, and although each appointee grows older as the years pass, an immediate effect of the present situation is to take the levelling of society a step further. It is a natural and possibly a painless process, a development sprung from the culture itself.</p>
        <p>Keesing considered this social formula a stabilising factor but published no figures to show what actually was taking place, probably because insufficient data were available when he wrote for purposes of comparison. The following tables are therefore of interest. A number of titles are vacant and the proportion of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> would be slightly higher if all vacancies were filled. The acceptance by Samoan custom as of chiefly rank of Native Medical
<pb n="155" xml:id="n155"/>
Practitioners and Pastors of all denominations, whether or not they have titles, raises a little higher the proportion of actual privileged individuals. Percentages have been calculated on the basis of age groups over 14 years because census figures are grouped and published in that form; to extract more suitable figures for present purposes would have required weeks of statistical work.</p>
        <p>
          <table rows="9" cols="5">
            <head>(1) Analysis of Figures relating to Status of Males<note xml:id="ftn1-155" n="*"><p>The author is indebted to Mr. P. W. Glover, B.Sc., F.R.A.S., Secretary to the local Chamber of Commerce, for the suggestion that percentages in this table be computed only to the nearest integer, as also for the useful figures in the second table. Mr. Glover was good enough to point out that taking the calculations to decimal points involved the assumption of absolute accuracy in the census counts.</p></note></head>
            <row>
              <cell>Date of Census</cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1921">1921</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1926">1926</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1936">1936</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1945">1945</date>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Number of Males</cell>
              <cell>16,568</cell>
              <cell>18,641</cell>
              <cell>26,468</cell>
              <cell>31,834</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Number of Untitled Males over 14 years</cell>
              <cell>5,884</cell>
              <cell>6,522</cell>
              <cell>10,149</cell>
              <cell>12,989</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Number of Untitled Males over 14 years expressed as Percentage of Total Number of Males</cell>
              <cell>35</cell>
              <cell>35</cell>
              <cell>38</cell>
              <cell>41</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Number of <hi rend="i">Matai</hi></cell>
              <cell>2,654</cell>
              <cell>2,985</cell>
              <cell>3,100</cell>
              <cell>3,497</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Total number of Males (<hi rend="i">Matai</hi> and Untitled) over 14 years</cell>
              <cell>8,538</cell>
              <cell>9,507</cell>
              <cell>13,249</cell>
              <cell>16,486</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="i">Matai</hi> Figure expressed as Percentage of Total Males</cell>
              <cell>16</cell>
              <cell>16</cell>
              <cell>12</cell>
              <cell>11</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="i">Matai</hi> Figure expressed as Percentage of Untitled Males over 14 years</cell>
              <cell>45</cell>
              <cell>46</cell>
              <cell>31</cell>
              <cell>27</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="i">Matai</hi> Figures expresed as Percentage of Total Males (<hi rend="i">Matai</hi> and Untitled) over 14 years 31</cell>
              <cell>31</cell>
              <cell>31</cell>
              <cell>23</cell>
              <cell>21</cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
        <p>
          <table rows="6" cols="5">
            <head>(2) Table showing the Average Number of Untitled People per <hi rend="i">Matai</hi></head>
            <row>
              <cell>Date of Census</cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1921">1921</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1926">1926</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1936">1936</date>
              </cell>
              <cell>
                <date when="1945">1945</date>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Total Population</cell>
              <cell>32,953</cell>
              <cell>36,688</cell>
              <cell>52,266</cell>
              <cell>62,422</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="i">Matai</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell>2,654</cell>
              <cell>2,985</cell>
              <cell>3,100</cell>
              <cell>3,497</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>——</cell>
              <cell>——</cell>
              <cell>——</cell>
              <cell>——</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Untitled Population</cell>
              <cell>30,299</cell>
              <cell>33,703</cell>
              <cell>49,166</cell>
              <cell>58,925</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Average Untitled Persons per <hi rend="i">Matai</hi></cell>
              <cell>11</cell>
              <cell>11</cell>
              <cell>16</cell>
              <cell>17</cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
        <pb n="156" xml:id="n156"/>
        <p>The percentages based on the census figures of 1921 and 1926 show a marked similarity; it is during the last twenty years and notably in the decade between 1926 and 1936 that some apparently significant changes have taken place. The small steady increase in the percentage of untitled males over 14 presumably reflects the increased birth rate which is now showing itself in the higher age group. It is significant that the actual number of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> has increased, particularly during the last decade. This would not necessarily be so unless titles were divided or new titles created; and the latter is not common. The process also appears to be becoming accelerated; the increasing population is perhaps having an influence on social ambitions, as suggested earlier in the text. There were 115 additional <hi rend="i">matai</hi> between 1926 and 1936 but nearly 400 between 1936 and 1945. Nevertheless, it is clear that the proportion of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> to other sections of the community listed above is not keeping pace with the rate of increase of the male population. Although the splitting of titles may at one stage have operated as a temporarily stabilising influence, it seems not to be adequate now, and the next decade or so may see either new titles come into existence or the practice of splitting titles will have to be carried still further. If something of this sort does not happen, a greater proportion of the population, as the years pass, will see their social ambitions go unsatified; perhaps it is significant that already the numbers of Court disputes relating to titles show an increase. If the acceleration in number of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> can be maintained, and this may well be doubted, the influence and importance of the divided titles will presumably decline.</p>
        <p>The figures in the last row of the first table are possibly the most significant of all; these refer to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> figures expressed as a percentage of the total males, titled and untitled, over 14 years. Whereas in <date when="1921">1921</date> <hi rend="i">matai</hi> represented nearly one-third of this group, they now represent a little over one-fifth. It seems that society as at present organised has less to offer young men than it had a quarter of a century ago, and if the population continues to increase at the rate shown in the second table, the percentage of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> will progressively and steadily decline. The number of untitled males over 14 years has almost doubled between 1926 and 1945 but the increase in numbers of <hi rend="i">matai</hi> in the same period has been only approximately one-sixth. In these circumstances, it is likely that the next few decades
<pb n="157" xml:id="n157"/>
will witness some important, and possibly fundamental, social developments.</p>
        <p>In spite of the economic and social changes that are proceeding, the view is sometimes expressed by visitors that because of the retention of what they claim to be bad institutions and undesirable features, Government should either encourage cultural changes or actively plan a reorganisation of Samoan society. The writer does not agree with this view. In any case, such criticisms are rarely helpful on the subject of the employment of displaced members of such a reconstructed society. Government already has had some experience of the disasters that can follow ill-timed social and economic innovations too hastily applied. Cultural change is not something that can safely be contrived by European opinion and applied overnight. Democracy, or any other form of cultural development, is a sensitive growth that does not transplant well; the seed is most likely to flourish and come to fruition where it sprouts <hi rend="i">in situ</hi>, and any natural process should, unless it offends the law, be allowed to take its course without interference. There are influences at work in Samoan society at the present day which it will be as impossible to obstruct effectively as it would be imprudent to endeavour to force in some other direction. Aspects of custom that have given social, psychological and even aesthetic satisfaction for centuries do not alter dramatically over short periods. Changes are proceeding and already we see signs of them, but for the present it would seem that Samoan society is not as bad as some superficial observers, sbocked by unexpected differences, have represented it to be. It has, indeed, many inherently good qualities. <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> has weathered more than one depression; the war has come and gone but, although we still see some of its effects, the social fundamentals of the country were actually far less affected by that cataclysm than by some of the changes that have been proceeding quietly and to some extent unnoticed for a generation or more. It is true that there seems to be a present resilience about Samoan custom, something that one observer has called its bamboo-like quality, its ability to give without breaking and to spring back into place to all appearances undamaged; but this, of course, cannot go on indefinitely. If Samoan custom is a rock that has weathered many storms, and reappears above the waves apparently unscathed, a day may come when portions of it may be seen at last to have broken away. That will be a natural cultural change that we cannot prevent, but it may
<pb n="158" xml:id="n158"/>
well be doubted whether we should attempt to hasten any of these processes. Change is inevitable in the nature of things, but the price to be paid for the quick imposition of new and foreign institutions might not be trifling, and much of real worth could be lost in the process.</p>
        <p>Samoan society is possibly not unique but it is undeniable that it has many features that other societies lack, and the young generation, although interested at present in its search for something that seems to glitter attractively, may come some day to recognize that some at least of the gold is, after all, bound up in the security of their own way of life. There may be much in Samoan society that democracy deplores: features like communal or free and easy ownership, the rights of privileged groups, the subjugation of the individual to family or village claims, and the almost complete denial of privacy. One does not make a plea for those things in themselves. But they are part of a society that has developed differently from our own, and although there is much that we can give <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> in health and education, there is also something that we can learn. Health and education are technical matters with which <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> is at present ill-equipped to deal alone, and in these things we should give of our best. We may well beware, however, lest we teach too much of other things. Our own society is not, after all, without its defects, and while criticising social and moral institutions here, European visitors or newcomers may reflect on the horrible ingenuity with which our world wages war, or the confusion of a situation which for want, apparently, of a better word, we ironically term peace.</p>
        <p>A society in which one person may on occasion take with impunity what belongs to another is admittedly different from our own; from certain points of view it may even be considered peculiar. But this is the society that without the horrors of revolution or even a general election has achieved the social miracle that knows neither poverty nor the stigma of illegitimacy; whose warm laws of courtesy and hospitality embrace even the unheralded stranger within its gates; a system that, in the present disordered state of world society, is, with all its faults, something that is rare and rather wonderful.</p>
        <p>We of another way of life do well to ponder on these things.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="159" xml:id="n159"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="12" xml:id="c12">
        <head>CHAPTER XII<lb/>
<hi rend="i">A Miscellany</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">A book</hi> such as this, in which an endeavour is made to present within the compass of a few chapters an introduction to the more fundamental features of a subject as wide as that of Samoan custom, is likely, if the heading of each chapter is substantially adhered to, to leave undiscussed a number of minor and unrelated, but at the same time, interesting facts that are important and should properly be included. And so this chapter will be of a miscellaneous nature, a sort of pot-pourri, a method that may appear untidy but which one may hope will nevertheless prove informative.</p>
        <p>There is probably a good deal of misconception about the nature of the tree and the process that produces bark cloth. At the stage of growth when used for this purpose, the cultivated tree is little more than a sapling without branches six to eight feet tall, and does not usually exceed an inch in diameter. Larger saplings are unsuitable as further growth renders the bark too tough. The bark is stripped off from the butt end and the bast or inner bark peeled away from its coarser outer covering. Water is poured over the bast which is then scraped and rasped to remove portions of outer bark or interfibrous material that may be adhering. The soft remaining material is smoothed and dried as far as possible by pressure, and in the next stage several folded strips in bundles are beaten evenly on an anvil with either a smooth or grooved wooden mallet. Each piece is then stretched and dried in the sun. The bark cloth at this stage of the process is dotted with holes and these have to be carefully patched with other pieces, natural glues like breadfruit or arrowroot being used for this purpose. Pieces are then joined by a similar process to produce the sizes required.</p>
        <p>The cloth is dyed by dipping, painting by hand, or stencilling, and dyes of various colours and types, both vegetable and mineral, are employed.</p>
        <pb n="160" xml:id="n160"/>
        <p>Bark cloth was not commonly in use in the past as clothing, as is often erroneously supposed. The old dress was a kilt or girdle made of <hi rend="i">Cordyline</hi> leaves. Bark cloth was reserved for use by restricted groups like orators and <hi rend="i">taupou</hi> for ceremonial occasions, and it was only in the last century after the arrival of missionaries and before print materials were available in sufficient quantity that it became popular as an article of ordinary dress. Until comparatively recently, however, it was commonly used as mosquito protection for beds; but as it makes the air it encloses very stuffy, the European style of mosquito netting is now in universal use.</p>
        <p>It is probable that the casual references made from time to time to the clothing of men and women present a picture that is far from complete or clear. Men wear a singlet and shirt or possibly only one of these, with drawers in many cases. A <hi rend="i">lavalava</hi> is wound round the waist, usually outside the shirt, and secured either with a tuck or a belt or both. The genuine <hi rend="i">lavalava</hi> is not merely a length of material but has a piece machined along the upper section for better fitting. In some cases it is very carefully fitted and pockets are inserted, this style having been introduced by Native Medical Practitioners returning from <name key="name-021562" type="place">Suva</name>. This garment is not buttoned or fastened down the front or sides but falls into its own natural folds. Ties and coats, either of white drill or of dark heavier material, may be donned for more formal wear. The feet are mostly bare but in a few cases shoes or sandals are worn; quite often home-made sandals of sections of motor tyre are popular with those who have adopted foot-gear.</p>
        <p>Women may adopt either of two styles of dress, the European or the Samoan. The former, with the short frock, is usually accompanied by the usual European under-garments, those who favour this style being of the younger generation rather than the old. In the Samoan form of dress a slip may or may not be worn with the <hi rend="i">lavalava</hi> wound about the waist. An over-all garment is then drawn over the shoulders and reaches to the knees. In this mode of dress there is not the same need for European under-garments and they are often dispensed with. In both, the feet are bare and hats are worn only at church.</p>
        <p>The Samoans are not lovers of the hot sun; they prefer to wear hats or use umbrellas to ward off its rays. People working in plantations, fishing in the lagoon or on the reef or rowing a boat wrap their heads with cloth or leaves or plaster their hair with coral lime. Walking-sticks are much
<pb n="161" xml:id="n161"/>
in use by titled men; but it is a breach of custom for un-titled males to affect them.</p>
        <p>Reference has been made in previous chapters to the division of labour as between the sexes, the organisation of social and economic activities into men's work and women's work. The subject may now be treated in a little further detail. The classification has been drawn into various groups but the lists that follow are not intended to be exhaustive. They are merely indicative of the spheres into which the work of the sexes is seen to fall.</p>
        <p>The broadest classification is the division into types of work performed exclusively by men or by women. Men are builders of houses, household furniture, plank boats and dugout canoes and their gear, and makers of oars and sails. They make bowls and the various types of wooden drums and all kinds of tools, wooden combs, head-dresses and whale's teeth necklaces, and in the past practised medicine and manufactured the weapons such as knives, clubs,<note xml:id="ftn1-161" n="*"><p>Stone was not employed in the manufacture of any part of a Samoan club. The material was heavy hardwood.</p></note> spears and slings. Men practise the arts of circumcision and tattooing and make the required implements, as well also as the equipment necessary for fishing: nets, hooks, lures, spears, traps and pots. They are responsible for the final stages of manufacture of coconut sennit and in the old days ground patiently at stone adzes. Some of these occupations are superintended or undertaken only by titled males: for instance, the construction of the best types of houses and boats, and the making of sennit. When presented in the course of wedding celebrations, the things that men make are termed <hi rend="i">'oloa</hi>. The boys do the cooking in the earth oven, although the girls must deputise for them when they are not available. Boys also constitute the general labour corps for work in the village and the plantations. They clear bush land, lay out plantations and plant taro and other crops, climb trees for nuts and husk them when these are required. They cut copra and bring it down in baskets from the plantations for drying. They cut the grass with the <hi rend="i">taivai</hi>, weed the taro and <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> and keep the banana patches clear from creepers and other growth. Youngsters bring salt water for the preparation of dishes like <hi rend="i">palusami</hi> and <hi rend="i">taufolo</hi> as described in a previous chapter.</p>
        <p>Women make the things that are termed <hi rend="i">toga</hi>, including all classes of weaving such as fine mats, <hi rend="i">fau</hi> bast mats, sleeping mats, fans, modern types of baskets and house
<pb n="162" xml:id="n162"/>
blinds, bark cloth, arrowroot, dyes, various kinds of Samoan oil, the old style of comb made from pieces of the coconut leaflet midrib, candle-nut soot and charcoal for heating the heavy imported irons. They look after the house, and make stiff brooms of coconut leaflet midribs<note xml:id="ftn1-162" n="*"><p>The distinction between the leaf and leaflet midribs should be noted. The former (<hi rend="i">lapalapa</hi>) is the heavy midrib of the complete leaf, large and solid enough to have served formerly in the sport of club fighting. The leaflet midrib (<hi rend="i">tuaniu</hi>) is only about two feet long and a tenth of an inch or less in thickness. It is the backbone of one pinnule of the coconut leaf.</p></note> from materials collected by the boys, sweeping the floor, shaking the mats, sweeping the grass clean outside, making the beds or rolling away the piles of mats that have been in use for that purpose. They dismantle and put away the mosquito nets and raise the blinds of the houses, wash and iron clothes, tend the children, and fan the flies away from food when others are eating. They cook or help the boys with this work if their assistance is necessary. They tend the long, thin saplings and prepare the bark of the paper mulberry tree, but men make the implements for beating the bark and marking the patterns. Girls make flower and leaf decorations and necklaces, weed the grass on the house sites, carry fresh water for cooking or washing purposes and perform the restful administrations of massage (<hi rend="i">lomilomi</hi>).</p>
        <p>Women also act as midwives and previously practised a number of specialised medical techniques. Another of their special provinces relates to the care of the dead. They perform the last personal services and lay out the bodies, some of the particular offices coming under the special duties of the relationship known as the <hi rend="i">feagaiga</hi>. Women attend to the grave after the burial ceremony and weed the cemetery area, and in the past in the few families concerned were responsible for the embalming operation and the care of the sun-dried mummies.</p>
        <p>A further division of labour involves the performance both by men and women of similar types of work but with a restricted application of different methods. Fishing is a case in point. Men and boys are responsible for practically every form of fishing, including net and torch-light fishing on the reef at night. The women, however, fish for the small things of the sea and invertebrates (<hi rend="i">figota</hi>), going at low tide to the reef and the lagoon. This involves poking into holes in the rocks and coral with the bare hands or sticks, and some women become remarkably proficient at determining what is in a hole merely by touch. They also
<pb n="163" xml:id="n163"/>
collect all types of shell-fish. As mentioned in a previous chapter, both men and women catch the octopus, the women in shallow water with the aid of a stick, although not all of them attain the same high degree of proficiency, and the men in deep water alongside the reef in a canoe, using a special lure. They both, however, kill it with a quick bite in the region of the eyes. It should be noted particularly as an important distinction that women do not fish from a canoe in deep water; that is reserved for the men, although occasionally women may poke about with sticks from a canoe in shallow water. There is, however, one well-recognized exception to this rule noted in a later paragraph.</p>
        <p>There are a few types of fishing that men and women and even those of the younger generation perform together. There are certain methods that require the co-operation of the entire village, notably that termed <hi rend="i">lau</hi>, in which a whole section of the lagoon is enclosed with nets or coconut leaf strips suspended from lines. The enclosure is then gradually reduced to a point where a long plaited bag prepared by the women receives the catch. Men perform the heavy work of handling the nets. The women stand behind the line of the net enclosure and beat the water to frighten the fish towards the trap; but any that jump the wall or succeed in making their escape through it and are caught by the women in hand nets or scoops may be treated by them as a personal catch. The principal haul, however, is divided between all the families participating.</p>
        <p>Another instance in which both sexes fish together is at the time of the annual <hi rend="i">palolo</hi>; and as the method is to gather up the swarming worm in scoops of mosquito netting or cheese cloth, the catch is taken from a canoe or other boat. Women in this case fish together with men from a canoe but the whole proceedings are rather in the nature of a picnic.</p>
        <p>While on the subject of fishing it may be mentioned that most villages have a head fisherman (<hi rend="i">tautai</hi>) who may or may not be a titled person. His authority while controlling a communal fishing effort or distributing the catch which is first counted into heaps of ten is absolute and he receives implicit obedience. His considerable knowledge relating to tides, habits of fish and feeding grounds has probably been handed down from father to son for generations; and it is claimed that an able fisherman of this class can often state the nature of the catch many fathoms below the surface of the water merely by holding a line attached to a certain type of net sunk in the reef entrance. His judgment is based on the movements or struggles of the
<pb n="164" xml:id="n164"/>
fish. His authority extends only to fishing excursions, and he does not sit with the chiefs and orators for other business unless or until he possesses a title.</p>
        <p>There is another economic classification covering employment that is the occupation of women at one stage and men at another. The sugar cane for thatch is planted and tended and when mature and dry it is harvested by women; they take the leaves and fold them on to cane-like sticks of other wild plants (<hi rend="i">lafo</hi> or <hi rend="i">mautofu</hi>) to prepare the <hi rend="i">lau</hi> for attaching to the frame-work of the roof. The men, however, perform the actual work of thatching. Similarly, women prepare the materials for making coconut fibre sennit but the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> do the actual twisting, plaiting and coiling. Boys gather the coconut leaf material but women make the blinds and hang them in the houses.</p>
        <p>Samoans are able to grow and cure their own tobacco and many prefer this to the imported article. Some villages even make a business of cultivating it in fairly large quantities for sale within the Territory. Women grow the plant inland in sheltered localities and when the leaves are picked they string them on sticks which are carefully placed under the thatches of houses for the drying and curing process.<note xml:id="ftn1-164" n="*"><p>Surplus quantities of ripe oranges treated in the same way will remain sweet and juicy for months.</p></note> This takes some weeks. When it is complete, bundles of leaves are twisted by the women into lengths called <hi rend="i">fili</hi>, and eight to ten of these twists, folded into sections of <hi rend="i">paogo</hi> leaf and bound tightly with <hi rend="i">fau</hi> fibre lashings, form a wrapping or container called a <hi rend="i">sai</hi>, rather similar in shape to a belaying-pin or a skittle. Men prepare the lashings and perform the task of binding, straining the lashing on tightly with one end usually tied to a post of the house. A man and his wife often co-operate to produce the finished article. Women may often be seen in the township of Apia selling it by the <hi rend="i">sai</hi> or the <hi rend="i">fili</hi>. For consumption, leaves are untwisted from the <hi rend="i">fili</hi>, dried over a match-flame or a glowing section of coconut husk and then rolled into cigarettes with strips of dried banana leaves (<hi rend="i">sului</hi>). The whole cigarette is called <hi rend="i">utufaga</hi>.</p>
        <p>Many passages in previous chapters have included references to coconut fibre sennit. The process of manufacture is not a short one. Men or boys husk the special nuts of which there are a number of preferred varieties with long fibres, particularly the <hi rend="i">niu'afa</hi>, and then women soak the husks in fresh water to soften the interfibrous
<pb n="165" xml:id="n165"/>
portion. The husks from mature nuts must be soaked from four to five weeks, or perhaps even longer, and very mature material is best soaked in salt water, but the green husk from a special variety is ready in four or five days. It is a fact worthy of mention that soaking is considered to improve rather than to deteriorate the fibre. Old men or women then beat the husk with a mallet on a wooden anvil to separate the fibres which, after a further washing to remove interfibrous material, are tied together in bundles and dried outside the thatch of a roof. When this stage is completed the fibres are handed to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> for manufacture into sennit. He rolls together a few at a time into heavier strands on his bare thigh, and lays these aside as completed for later conversion into a three-ply plait that is the finished sennit. It is then coiled in bundles or wound tightly in very neat cylindrical rolls. As mentioned previously, this is a chiefly occupation that may be performed while listening to discussions in a <hi rend="i">fono</hi>, and on very rainy days it helps to pass the time away when little else can be done.</p>
        <p>Before the advance of maturity defines the sexes too clearly and raises bars of conduct and behaviour, young people are accustomed to perform many of the more trifling tasks in common. They spread out cocoa or copra to dry in the sun or cut the grass before the guest houses or about the <hi rend="i">malae</hi>. They dance together, weave coconut leaf baskets for casual use (although it is the boys who cut down the green leaves from the palms), make <hi rend="i">'aulama</hi>, or torches, from bundles of the dry leaflets for reef or lagoon fishing, or catch crabs on the beaches or in the swamps at night. The older grades of both sexes make kava as required.</p>
        <p>Children, particularly girls, have even more important responsibilities where there are younger children in the family; this is how the Samoans solve what local problems there are in regard to the care of large families. There are few girls who have not at some early period of their lives been responsible for a younger member of the family, as soon, probably, as they were strong enough to carry an infant. The method of carrying is characteristic. The youngster is held about the waist and then supported sideways on the elder child's hip, the former learning very quickly to curl his little legs tightly about the other's body. It is one of the duties of children who are older to keep the young quiet by any reasonable means, especially within the hearing of gatherings of adult people. A complaining child who cannot be quieted must quickly be taken elsewhere.
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Thus in a country where there is no such thing as poverty and no real problems associated with the care or rearing of many children, each addition to the family is welcomed both for itself and as a potential social and economic advantage.</p>
        <p>Men and women adopt different methods of carrying loads. Wherever possible boys will so arrange their burdens as to enable them to be supported at both ends of a carrying pole (<hi rend="i">amo</hi>) slung across the shoulders, the load itself being termed <hi rend="i">amoga</hi>. This method is not employed by women. They carry loads either in baskets in the hands, under the arms or in bundles slung across the back or supported on a hip, as girls carry children. There need be no dependence on twine or coconut sennit for tying materials for either method. Strips of coconut leaf are quite suitable, or further up in the bush or plantations strips of <hi rend="i">fau</hi> or other sapling bark are well-known for their great tensile strength. A thin branch or sapling is cut off short and strips of the fresh bark started with the teeth. <hi rend="i">Fau</hi> bark is so strong that it suffices for the lashings of the scaffolding erected in the course of constructing Samoan houses.</p>
        <p>The place assumed by fine mats in the social and economic life of the Samoan people is such as to warrant a much fuller description than has appeared in previous chapters. Actually the name “fine mat” is a misnomer, as the true use of this article is for ceremonial clothing. It is never used on the floor of a house, but at the present day is frequently draped over tables and chairs as a mark of respect to distinguished visitors. In the old form of Samoan marriage it was the only article of dress worn by the bride.</p>
        <p>The weaving material is carefully prepared from one of the smaller varieties of the pandanus termed <hi rend="i">lau'ie</hi> which is specially grown and cultivated for the purpose. The leaf of this type of pandanus is armed with serrated edges and there are spines along the under-surface of the midrib. Average leaves are about five feet long and approximately three inches wide. The serrated edges and spines are first removed, and the duller under-surface of the leaf is peeled off. In order to bleach it the portion that remains is exposed to strong sunlight for several days and it is then cooked in a Samoan oven, but protected from actual contact with the hot stones, for approximately half an hour. The shiny upper skin layer is then very carefully peeled off, separating easily from the remainder after the sunning and
<pb n="167" xml:id="n167"/>
cooking processes. This layer which constitutes the weaving material is soaked for a fortnight in sea water to bleach it further, and it is then dried in the sun.</p>
        <p>The next stage in the process is to divide the leaves longitudinally and the duller inside surfaces of each portion are then scraped with shells to remove unwanted material. Finally, the pieces are very carefully split into the thin strips that are used for the actual weaving operation itself; these may vary from a twentieth to a tenth of an inch or more in width. The degree of softness of the finished mat depends, of course, upon the fineness of the weaving strands. In the past mats were known of such fine material and expert technique that complimentary references compared the thinness of the strips to the hair of the head. The plaiting or weaving material is always used double with the dull surfaces facing together, as this technique ensures that the smooth shiny outer surface of the leaf always shows to the outside on both sides of the finished mat.</p>
        <p>The process of weaving a single mat is one that in the majority of cases occupies many years of careful and pains-taking effort, and it is only the most skilful girls and women who are able to work with the finest materials. When a girl reaches the age of puberty she commences a fine mat or may continue work on one already started by her mother or other members of the family some time after her birth. The weaving is completed along the borders by a careful finishing technique that leaves an unwoven fringe, and the lower border is finally ornamented with a strip of the red feathers of the Fijian parrakeet. These feathers were originally brought from <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>, but at a later stage the Samoans imported the birds themselves and kept them in captivity, plucking the feathers for use as required. They are not seen nowadays. The strip of red feathers should be without gaps, but as they are now difficult to get, one often sees mats in which the line of feathers is discontinuous; there are some, indeed, with a strip of red material in place of the feathers.</p>
        <p>Fine mats have often been referred to as Samoan currency, and this is a correct use of the term to the extent that although they commenced merely as indicating ceremonial rank, their special value for this purpose resulted in their becoming adopted as a general standard of value for use on other occasions. Gradually wealth and social position came to be indicated by the possession of these articles, and the development of the system of political marriages and the natural desire of orator groups to acquire
<pb n="168" xml:id="n168"/>
as many mats as possible added further impetus to this tendency.</p>
        <p>Mention has already been made of the use of fine mats on the occasion of marriages. They may be presented at the time of births and are also of the first importance to demonstrate relationship when deaths occur, particularly at a ceremony termed <hi rend="i">lagi</hi> that takes place in many families some time after the death. In the past the presentation of one or more fine mats formed an essential part of a ceremonial form of apology (<hi rend="i">ifoga</hi>) and they often figured in the imposition of fines or punishments. They may also change hands at the time of election to important titles, the building of houses, the construction of bonito canoes and the tattooing operation. Thus the fine mat in times before the introduction of a coined currency had reached the stage of setting a standard of value for certain transactions that involved the display of special skill, as well as indicating rank or changing hands regularly for purely ceremonial purposes.</p>
        <p>When worn as clothing the mat is folded in two to display the fringes and feathers to advantage and is then secured about the waist with a fold or belt of bark cloth.</p>
        <p>Krämer has recorded the names and histories of a number of very old fine mats that during the last century enjoyed a political rather than a mere social and economic significance. It is recorded that even wars were fought for some of them. Such mats as these bore distinguished names, and the family in whose possession they happened to be for the time being was always well-known. Even if they became brown and discoloured with age or fell into disrepair or a state of decay, their value did not grow any less with the passing years. They were highly prized and often typical Samoan tactics were employed to secure them. Although these mats were termed generally <hi rend="i">'ie o le malo</hi>, or state mats, they were often presented to a king or head of a royal or distinguished family on special occasions like weddings, births or deaths. Such a gift demonstrated alike the dignity of the donors as well as the respect shown to the recipients. Many of these famous old mats still exist although their purely political use is now necessarily restricted.</p>
        <p>Since it is not possible to repair a rent or hole in a mat with the same technique employed in weaving it, such repairs as are necessary at the present day are made with pieces of silk material or with silk thread. The material is carefully matched with the colour of the mat and repairs
<pb n="169" xml:id="n169"/>
are difficult to detect at a little distance since the mats themselves have a silky sheen.</p>
        <p>In a society organised on the basis of respect to age and the titled members of the community, it always strikes the newcomer as unexpected to hear children address their parents by their names or titles as the case requires. There are terms, of course, to designate mother and father, and there are precise differences of vocabulary for use in different circumstances, but these are not employed by a child addressing a parent. A <hi rend="i">matai</hi> bearing the name of <hi rend="i">Papali'i</hi> will be addressed as such by his child or other children, with the probable addition of a respectful prefix in the case of the latter.</p>
        <p>References to “father” or “son” by Samoans can be misleading due to the custom of informal adoption or the assumption of a temporary relationship of service that has no basis in blood connection or even the acknowledged Samoan form of adoption. A boy serving a <hi rend="i">matai</hi> and living in the latter's family, whether related or not, will refer to the <hi rend="i">matai</hi> as his father, and the latter will term him his son. Where the details of a legal or quasi-legal enquiry turn upon blood relationship it is necessary to exercise care to ascertain whether the relationship is genuine in our own sense or merely one that is assumed in terms of Samoan custom.</p>
        <p>A child may be known by different names at various periods of its existence, introducing possible complications so far as subsequent reference to the registration of the birth is concerned. The infant may be known for some time merely as <hi rend="i">pepe</hi>, meaning baby, until some chance remark or event, or an action of the child may suggest a name. In such cases, names are obviously not limited to regular names of the type normal in our own society. A child, for instance, picking up a coin may be known hence-forth as <hi rend="i">Pene</hi> or <hi rend="i">Seleni</hi>,<note xml:id="ftn1-169" n="*"><p>Meaning penny or shilling.</p></note> or an increase in salary scales may brand a newly born infant as the Samoan equivalent of “Pay” or “Allowance”.</p>
        <p>Naming is carried beyond the human sphere. Pieces of land and often boundaries have names, this custom operating as a system of registration in a society that before the arrival of Europeans and the establishment of settled government had nothing formal in the nature of survey. Springs, caves, waterfalls, reef passages, and sometimes trees or other natural features are also named.</p>
        <pb n="170" xml:id="n170"/>
        <p>The custom of referring to produce, fish or animals by a special local name in districts where a chief or orator bears a title in similar form has already been referred to. The whole question of names, titles or ceremonial references is one of considerable importance, as a chief of standing may be referred to in courteous terms by a designation that does not resemble his title at all but is based on tradition or some well-known historical occurrence. Similarly, the names even of food or animals may change for reference on formal occasions and a special vocabulary is usually employed in the ceremonial counting of such things.</p>
        <p>When meeting chiefs and orators, the visitor must be careful to secure the names correctly if it is desired to repeat them, as the mis-pronunciation of a title may either give offence or cause amusement or embarrassment. Samoan is a language in which the greatest care must always be exercised in pronouncing words. Lack of care with vowels, for instance, and the language employs them largely, may convert an appropriate word into an inaccurate, unsuitable or even most indecent term.</p>
        <p>A small peculiarity of the language must be recognized at an early date by those employing Samoan servants who speak English, even if there is no intention to learn Samoan. The Samoan answer to a negative question to which a negative reply is expected in English is affirmative. An enquirer who asks a Samoan “Aren't you going to Apia to-day?” will receive the answer, “Yes,” meaning that the person addressed is not going. Samoan thinking in this respect is rather more precise than that of Europeans; the Samoan affirms the negative assumption inherent in the form of the question. If these points are noted carefully as they occur they afford valuable assistance in learning the language, as a peculiarity of English in the conversation of a Samoan frequently indicates the structure of a Samoan idiom.</p>
        <p>Readers seriously interested in learning the language must refer to other publications for assistance in regard to that subject. In the minds of many people who do not speak it, however, there is a common misconception in regard to the language that may be corrected here as a matter of general interest. This has reference to the so-called “chiefs' language.” There is no such thing. There are not even any localised dialectical differences in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> although there are some local instances of specialised vocabularies, particularly in Manu'a and to a much less extent in Savai'i. Still less is it true to say, as a recent writer has
<pb n="171" xml:id="n171"/>
done, that “there is one vocabularly of words for the chief and his family, and another for the same things applied to a common man.” There are occasions when this could be partly correct, but the statement as it stands is inaccurate and misleading and gives an entirely wrong picture of Samoan society. There are no separate languages or differences of structure but merely specialised vocabularies of courtesy and ceremony for use on appropriate occasions. This usage of courtesy and ceremony is not even equivalent to a court language; it has to be understood and regularly employed by the humblest members of society as a matter of ordinary good manners. There are specialised vocabularies for reference to different groups in society, special words for referring to the same things or conditions as applied to different persons, and often special terms, particularly for referring to death, in certain distinguished families. There are many misconceptions about this important and somewhat complicated subject.</p>
        <p>One of the strictest rules in this matter is that which forbids the use by any person, however high in rank, of the language of courtesy in regard to himself or his own family; but it is properly and habitually employed in addressing or speaking of titled people or any others, however humble their status, to whom one wishes to show the forms of politeness. In certain circumstances custom requires the use of respectful terms or expressions in describing animate or inanimate things in the presence of chiefs or orators, and not merely in speaking to or of such people. Again there are words the apt choice of which define the rank or social group of the person or his wife who may be addressed or referred to, or a reference of personal or individual significance may involve an explanation reaching far back into the early traditions of the village or district.</p>
        <p>The gesture of beckoning is different from that employed by Europeans; indeed, unless understood, it is likely to give a contrary impression to that intended. Our gesture is made with the arm extended, palm facing inwards with the fingers up, and the fingers and palm are then motioned inwards, perhaps also with a movement of the arm. The Samoan form might appear at first sight to be almost the reverse. The arm is extended with the palm outwards, and the fingers, palm and arm are then motioned downwards and backwards. After a warning, it is of course easy enough to recognize the Samoan variation for what it is intended to be; a more important point is to remember to do it oneself when the need arises. This form of the gesture
<pb n="172" xml:id="n172"/>
is not, of course, peculiar to the Samoans. It is quite wide-spread.</p>
        <p>Respect in accepting a present is indicated by placing the object lightly against the forehead if that is convenient. This is not obligatory; whether to do it or not depends a good deal upon the circumstances, but such a courteous acknowledgment and display of good manners is essential in accepting a fine mat, however exalted the rank of a distinguished guest may be.<note xml:id="ftn1-172" n="*"><p>Even His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester and more than one Governor-General of New Zealand have acknowledged such presentations in the traditional manner.</p></note> In a formal ceremony in which a fine mat is presented to a person of high rank, it is usual for an orator representing the person honoured to take the mat, fully extended, into his hands. He will then, however, bring it to the recipient himself who should lean forward so that the mat may be placed for a moment lightly against his forehead. The orator then takes the mat aside and it is handed over later.</p>
        <p>The subject of insult is of some importance in Samoan society but a full discussion could not be condensed into a very small compass. It is not proposed to treat it in detail here. Certain points, however, that enter into every-day life can be made clear very briefly. Any plant or tree belonging to one person, and deliberately and offensively damaged by another, is held to represent the actual body of the person so insulted. The removal without proper authority of a bunch of bananas from a growing plant is merely theft, and the simple cutting down of the plant in the customary manner adds nothing to the offence. But the lopping off of the crown or the hacking to pieces of the stem adds dire insult to injury. Similarly, the offence of theft of taro or <hi rend="i">ta'amu</hi> can be gravely aggravated if the growing heads are so carelessly or offensively removed as to render them useless for further propagation. In the past it was the practice on the death of an important chief to do ceremonial damage to valuable trees, particularly bread-fruit, as indicative of the calamity that had overtaken the family; but this custom is now far from common.</p>
        <p><name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> at present<note xml:id="ftn2-172" n="†"><p>Printed in <date when="1948-07">July, 1948</date>.</p></note> is enjoying a wave of unprecedented prosperity, and natural substitutes for imported goods are not required. The time may come, however, when they will again be needed, as they so obviously were during the depression in the early nineteen thirties. Samoans in or
<pb n="173" xml:id="n173"/>
near the municipal area prefer electric light and in the outer districts benzine or kerosene lamps, but if necessary they can light their houses by means of coconut oil or the candle-nut. The oil lamp is easily prepared. A mature nut is cracked in half across the middle section, one of the receptacles thus formed is filled with oil without removing the white meat and a wick of bark cloth twisted around a coconut leaflet midrib is inserted. It gives a good light, but the meat must be left intact to prevent the inflammable shell from bursting into flame. The candle-nuts are roasted, and the kernels are removed and then threaded on coconut leaflet midribs or other thin sticks driven into suitable bases. They burn with a clear, smokeless flame.</p>
        <p>Traditions and genealogies of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> were in early times necessarily communicated by word of mouth, and the latter may in certain outstanding instances be deemed to be reasonably accurate as far back as 1000 A.D. The traditions, if one applies the necessary corrections and interprets them in the light of scientific understanding, suggest, however, a much greater antiquity for Samoan society than the date quoted above. Such oral methods explain why even today the older people can repeat with remarkable accuracy the details of a conversation years past. But a new method has made its appearance in recent years. Family record books are coming into greater popularity, especially amongst the younger generation, many of whom live either away from home or under conditions that do not encourage or facilitate the passing on of oral traditions and genealogies. Possibly the present practice is born of a determination not again to be set back in this matter by a national calamity of the nature of the epidemic of <date when="1918">1918</date>; but even if it be regarded simply as an inevitable result of the development of literacy, it at least suggests a changing generation that is leaving behind the unhurried, dignified ways of the past. Many of the record books are remarkably complete and some deal with traditions and genealogies of national as well as family significance.</p>
        <p>The special relationship which was usual in the past between brothers and sisters has yielded something to modern ideas, but a discussion of the old custom is of interest since there is one aspect which is still important. The original restriction was in force between those who thought of each other as brother and sister, whether this relationship was genuinely due to common birth or based merely on marriage or adoption. Krämer states that the restriction endured not only during youth but that it
<pb n="174" xml:id="n174"/>
continued throughout the whole of the rest of life. Mead says that in Manu'a it remained in effect until those concerned were old and decrepit.<note xml:id="ftn1-174" n="*"><p><name key="name-035847" type="person">Margaret Mead</name>, Coming of Age in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, London, <date when="1929">1929</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p>The restriction was exceedingly wide in its scope. After relations of opposite sex had reached the age of 12 and upwards (Mead says upon reaching the age of 9 or 10), they could not touch each other or sit close or eat together. They were debarred from addressing each other familiarly; it was wrong for one to mention any salacious matter in the other's presence, to be guilty of an unseemly look, or even to discuss together their honest love for someone of the opposite sex. They could not walk or bathe in company or remain in any house other than their own unless there were many others present. Dancing or employment together in the same activities was also strictly forbidden, as was the use of each other's belongings. This explains why young men wishing to visit the <hi rend="i">aualuma</hi> of their own village had to be careful to ascertain first that none of their own relations would be present. Mead, speaking of Manu'a where the social organisation differs slightly from that in other parts of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, says that these rules applied to all individuals of the opposite sex within five years above or below one's own age with whom one was reared or to whom one acknowledged relationship by blood or marriage; but elsewhere it appears that they applied to all such relations whatever the difference in ages.</p>
        <p>Krämer explains this strictness as an endeavour of the parents to impress mutual respect on the children with a view to preventing inbreeding, which was held in particular abhorrence. He states that it applied even as between the children of brothers and sisters and suggests that it explains why the adoption of children was so much in vogue amongst the Samoans.</p>
        <p>The position at the present time is that in some families the rule is still strictly enforced; in others much less regard is paid to it. Everywhere, however, it is still considered particularly improper for brothers and sisters to make doubtful remarks in each other's presence. This, although it may be said that personal standards in family relationships are now in many cases much more lax than they were formerly, is the only significant remaining aspect of this custom at the present day.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="175" xml:id="n175"/>
      <div type="chapter" n="13" xml:id="c13">
        <head>CHAPTER XIII<lb/>
<hi rend="i">Conclusion</hi></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Constitutional changes</hi> of great importance have taken place in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> since the introduction to this book went through the press early in <date when="1947">1947</date>, and it is now necessary to add something to what was stated in the latter part of that chapter in order to record the more significant developments that have succeeded the Mandate.</p>
        <p>The draft Trusteeship Agreement for <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> submitted to the <name key="name-020074" type="organisation">United Nations</name> by the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> was placed before the General Assembly of that body for consideration and approval in <date when="1946-10">October, 1946</date>. Approval accorded on <date when="1946-12-13">13th December, 1946</date>, brought <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> under the International Trusteeship system.</p>
        <p>In the meantime, however, the Samoan people, consulted regarding the terms of the draft agreement, had submitted a petition praying for immediate self-government under the protection of New Zealand. This the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> duly forwarded to the Trusteeship Council with a request that a United Nations Mission should visit <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> to investigate the petition. The Mission arrived on 4th July and left on <date when="1947-08-28">28th August, 1947</date>, its complete report being released in October of the same year.</p>
        <p>The Government's proposals relating to constitutional changes in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> were outlined in the House of Representatives by the Acting Prime Minister on <date when="1947-08-27">27th August, 1947</date>, and were later found to differ in very few particulars from the recommendations set out in the report of the Mission.</p>
        <p>An Act of the General Assembly of New Zealand giving affect to the Government's proposals was passed in <date when="1947-11">November, 1947</date>, and brought into force on the <date when="1948-03-10">10th March, 1948</date>, by Governor-General's Proclamation.</p>
        <pb n="176" xml:id="n176"/>
        <p>The significant provisions of that Act are as follows:</p>
        <list>
          <label>(1)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The Administrator is in future to be known as the High Commissioner.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(2)</label>
          <item>
            <p>A Council of State is established consisting of the High Commissioner and the Samoan leaders for the time being holding office as <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi>.<note xml:id="ftn1-176" n="*"><p>The death of the Honourable Mata'afa on <date when="1948-03-27">27th March, 1948</date>, is recorded with regret. There are now only two <hi rend="i">Fautua</hi>.</p></note> The High Commissioner is to consult the Council of State on all proposals for legislation, matters closely relating to Samoan custom and any other matters affecting the welfare of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> which he considers it proper to refer to the Council of State.</p>
          </item>
          <label>(3)</label>
          <item>
            <p>The old Legislative Council is abolished and a new legislature termed the Legislative Assembly, over which the High Commissioner or his nominee presides, is constituted consisting of:</p>
            <list>
              <label>(a)</label>
              <item>
                <p>The Samoan members for the time being of the Council of State:</p>
              </item>
              <label>(b)</label>
              <item>
                <p>Eleven Samoan members nominated by the <hi rend="i">Fono</hi> of <hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>:</p>
              </item>
              <label>(c)</label>
              <item>
                <p>Not more than five European elected members:</p>
              </item>
              <label>(d)</label>
              <item>
                <p>Not more than six official members, of whom three are nominated by the Governor- General and three by the High Commissioner.</p>
              </item>
            </list>
          </item>
        </list>
        <p>There is thus an effective Samoan majority in the new legislature, whose powers are wide, but do not extend to the making of laws relating to defence (except in regard to the taking of land for defence purposes), external affairs, or affecting the title to Crown lands. The Assembly is not competent to make any Ordinance repugnant to the provisions of any enactments declared in or pursuant to the Samoa Amendment Act, <date when="1947">1947</date>, to be reserved.</p>
        <p>On <date when="1948-06-01">Tuesday, 1st June, 1948</date>, in the course of celebrations that lasted the entire week, the new Samoan Flag<note xml:id="ftn2-176" n="†"><p>The Samoan Flag is red, the first quarter blue and bearing five white five-pointed stars representing the Southern Cross, the size and disposition of the stars being as gazetted.</p></note> and the New Zealand Ensign were raised together on the historic <hi rend="i">malae</hi> at Mulinu'u, and the next morning the Legislative
<pb n="177" xml:id="n177"/>
Assembly was formally opened by the High Commissioner. The Council of State has functioned regularly since its inception.</p>
        <p>The establishment of the <name key="name-020074" type="organisation">United Nations Organisation</name> has furnished the occasion for the development of a legal substitute for the Mandates system and in terms of the Trusteeship Agreement the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> assumes direct responsibility for the administration of the trust Territory. <ref type="page" target="#n7">Pages 7</ref> to <ref type="page" target="#n9">9</ref>, in relation to successive modern political stages and the derivation of New Zealand's authority in <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, must therefore now be read in conjunction with the note of constitutional changes set out in this concluding chapter. The book thus closes with the commencement of a new political era in the lives of the people of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>.</p>
        <p>It has been shown that Samoan society, although tenacious of its own culture in the past, is now subject to stresses that may possibly lead to sweeping social reforms within a comparatively short period. Ignorance can be a country's greatest enemy, and there are many Samoans who recognize that their progress to ultimate self-government is inevitably bound up with education, particularly that of the younger generation. Progress and education will bring changes in their train, but at the moment there is much of beauty and dignity in Samoan custom that links the present with the past. It has been one of the purposes of this book to describe some of the interesting differences that still exist between Samoan society and our own.</p>
        <p>The aspirations of an intelligent people for self-government may properly command our respect and earnest assistance. Although a period of preparation is inevitable, it has been stated on behalf of the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> that the steps taken recently are only the first in a process that will not end until the people of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name> are able to assume full responsibility for the control of their own affairs.</p>
        <p rend="center">THE END</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="178" xml:id="n178"/>
      <div type="bibliography" xml:id="b1">
        <head>BIBLIOGRAPHY</head>
        <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="b1-1">
          <head>LITERATURE CITED</head>
          <list>
            <label>1.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-202886" type="person">Buck, P. H.</name></author><title><name key="name-204606" type="work">Samoan Material Culture, Bulletin 75</name></title>, Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Honolulu, <date when="1930">1930</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>2.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-202886" type="person">Buck, P. H.</name></author><title><name key="name-204242" type="work">Vikings of the Sunrise</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-120382" type="place">New York</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1938">1938</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>3.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203005" type="person">Buxton, Dr P. A</name></author>. (Assisted by G. H. E. Hopkins). <title>Researches in Polynesia and <name key="name-006067" type="place">Melanesia</name>, Vol. I, Parts I-IV</title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1927">1927</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>4.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203006" type="person">Churchward, W. B.</name></author><title>My Consulate in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1887">1887</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>5.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author>Dumont d'Urville</author>. <title><name key="name-204609" type="work">Voyage au Pol du Sud, 4 volumes</name></title>, <date when="1938">1938</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>6.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author>Gibbings, Robert</author>. <title><name key="name-204611" type="work">Blue Angels and Whales</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1946">1946</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>7.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-035683" type="person">Jordan, D. S.</name></author> and <author><name key="name-203010" type="person">Seale, A.</name></author> <title>The Fishes of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, Bulletin of the Bureau of Fisheries</title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-202800" type="place">Washington</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1906">1906</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>8.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203011" type="person">Keesing, F. M.</name></author><title><name key="name-204613" type="work">Modern Samoa: Its Government and Changing Life</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1934">1934</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>9.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author>Krämer, Dr. A.</author><title><name key="name-204615" type="work">Die Samoa Inseln, Volume II</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-019547" type="place">Stuttgart</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1903">1903</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>10.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><publisher>London Missionary Society's Press</publisher>. O le Tusi Fa'alupega o <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, Malua, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, <date when="1946">1946</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>11.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-035847" type="person">Mead, Dr. Margaret</name>.</author><title>Coming of Age in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1929">1929</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>12.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-121542" type="person">Pratt, Rev. G.</name></author><title><name key="name-204617" type="work">Grammar and Dictionary of the Samoan Language, 4th edition</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1911">1911</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>13.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203016" type="person">Pritchard, W. T</name></author>. <title><name key="name-123799" type="work">Polynesian Reminiscenses</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1866">1866</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>14.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203017" type="person">Stair, Rev. John B.</name></author><title><name key="name-204619" type="work">Old Samoa</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1897">1897</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>15.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203018" type="person">Stuebel, O.</name></author><title><name key="name-204620" type="work">Samoanische Texte</name></title>. Edited by F. W. K. Muller, Publications of the Koniglichen Museum fur Volkerkunde. Vol. IV, Parts 2-4.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>16.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-203019" type="person">Turner, Rev. G.</name></author><title><name key="name-204621" type="work">Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and Long Before</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1884">1884</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
            <label>17.</label>
            <item>
              <p>
                <bibl><author><name key="name-200573" type="person">Williams, Rev. John.</name></author><title><name key="name-204622" type="work">Missionary Enterprises in the South Seas</name></title>, <pubPlace><name key="name-120382" type="place">New York</name></pubPlace>, <date when="1837">1837</date>.</bibl>
              </p>
            </item>
          </list>
        </div>
        <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="b1-2">
          <head>REPORTS</head>
          <list>
            <label>1.</label>
            <item>
              <p>Twenty-second Report of the Administration of the Mandated Territory of <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, Wellington, N.Z., <date when="1945">1945</date>.</p>
            </item>
            <label>2.</label>
            <item>
              <p>Report to the Trusteeship Council by the United Nations Mission to <name key="name-005889" type="place">Western Samoa</name>, <date when="1947">1947</date>.</p>
            </item>
          </list>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb n="179" xml:id="n179"/>
      <div type="glossary" xml:id="g1">
        <head>GLOSSARY</head>
        <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="g1-1">
          <head>A</head>
          <list>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'afa</hi>, sennit</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">afi</hi>, package (cooked fish)</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">afolau</hi>, long house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">agaga</hi>, soul, disembodied spirit</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">agai'ava</hi>, the kava <hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi></p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'ai</hi>, a form of food presentation</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aiava</hi>, a form of food presentation <hi rend="i">aiga</hi>, family</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Aiga-i-le-Tai</hi>, The Family-in-the Sea, a district of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name></p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">ailao</hi>, public acknowledgment of gift</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aisi</hi>, to beg</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aisiga</hi>, party of entertainers</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">aitu</hi>, spirit</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">alagalima</hi>, forequarters of pig</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">alagavae</hi>, hindquarters of pig</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">alava</hi>, coconut-stem fibres</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Alei</hi>, an ancestor of Aleipata</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">ali'i</hi>, chief</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">ali'i</hi> and <hi rend="i">faipule</hi>, chiefs and orators</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">alo</hi>, belly flap of pig</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">amo</hi>, yoke</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">amoga</hi>, burden</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">amo'ulu</hi>, a form of food presentation</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'ana</hi>, a small seaweed</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">anae</hi>, mullet</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'apa'apa</hi>, fin, flipper</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">apofu</hi>, a fresh-water fish</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'asi</hi>, coconut-shell scraper</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">asiga</hi>, a form of food presentation</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Aso To'ona'i</hi>, Saturday</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">atua</hi>, a class of gods</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">atule</hi>, a fish</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">aualuma</hi>, unmarried daughters of chiefs and orators</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'Au'auna</hi>, Catholic Mission publication</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aulama</hi>, coconut-leaf torches</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, untitled men of village</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'aumaga</hi>, kava party</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Auva'a</hi>, one of the priests of <hi rend="i">Nafanua</hi></p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">'ava</hi>, kava</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">avaga</hi>, run-away marriage</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">avasa</hi>, feast celebrating the completion of a fishing net</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">avataeao</hi>, another term for <hi rend="i">laulautasi</hi></p>
            </item>
          </list>
        </div>
        <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="g1-2">
          <head>E</head>
          <list>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">esi</hi>, papaya</p>
            </item>
          </list>
        </div>
        <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="g1-3">
          <head>F</head>
          <list>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'alenu'u</hi>, social organisation of village</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'alupega</hi>, ceremonial forms of address</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fa'amasino</hi>, Judge</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'aoso</hi>, food for a journey</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'atau</hi>, discussion to choose speaker</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'aulufalega</hi>, church opening</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'ausi</hi>, grated taro cooked with coconut cream</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'avevela</hi>, method of ripening bananas</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fafa</hi>, Hades</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fagafao</hi>, pet pig</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fa'i</hi>, banana</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fai'ai</hi>, brain, cooked coconut cream</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fai'ai i'a</hi>, fish cooked with coconut cream</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">faiganu'u</hi>, social organisation of village</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">failauga</hi>, orator</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Failautusi</hi>, Clerk</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Faipule</hi>, representative of District</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Faipule Faitulafono</hi>, Member of the Legislative Assembly</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">faisua</hi>, clam</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fala</hi>, mat</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale</hi>, house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale fono</hi>, meeting house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale lalaga</hi>, weaving house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale moe</hi>, sleeping house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale o'o</hi>, subsidiary house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fale tele</hi>, guest house</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">falelauniu</hi>, coconut-leaf shelter</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">faletua ma tausi</hi>, wives of chiefs and orators</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fatu-osofia</hi>, jumping-off place for spirits</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fau</hi>, a tree</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fau</hi>, kava strainer</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fautasi</hi>, Samoan long-boat</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fautua</hi>, Adviser to High Commissioner and Member of Council of State</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">feagaiga</hi>, agreement, a specific ceremonial relationship</p>
            </item>
            <pb n="180" xml:id="n180"/>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fe'e</hi>, octopus</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fe'e</hi>, a war-god</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fesilafa'iga</hi>, welcome ceremony</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">Fetu Ao</hi>, Methodist Mission publication</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">figota</hi>, general term for shell-fish, molluscs, crustaceans, etc.</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">fili</hi>, twist of Samoan tobacco</p>
            </item>
            <item>
              <p><hi rend="i">filoa</hi