“THIS FAIRYLAND”

Press, Volume LXXII, Issue 21966, 15 December 1936, Page 18

“THIS FAIRYLAND”

BEAUTY OF WESTERN SAMOA MR C. A. BERENDSEN’S DESCRIPTION ADDRESS TO ROYAL SOCIETY OF ARTS CraoM our own correspondent.) LONDON, November 21, “This fairyland, one of the few remaining isles of romance in a truly troubled and perplexed world”— Western Samoa—was the subject chosen by Mr C, A. Berendsen, Permanent Head of the Prime Minister’s Department and Secretary for External Affairs for New Zealand, when he addressed the Royal Society of Arts. Lord Bledisloe was in the chair, and many New Zealanders were present to hear Mr Berendsen read his paper, which was illustrated by lantern slides. Mr Berendsen dealt fully with the position of Western Samoa, its geographical characteristics, and its history, The period of administration by New Zealand under mandate, he said, had not been without difficulties, many inherited, others inherent in the situation, and perhaps some of New Zealand’s own making. The situation had been difficult to handle, and had often caused considerable anxiety. “The Samoan,” said Mr Berendsen. “has always been reluctant to submit himself to external authority, and here he is not alone or demonstrably wrong. The Germans during their period of administration had entirely similar difficulties to those faced by New Zealand, though they met them in a different way. In 1908, for example, the German administration was faced by a serious uprising known as the Lauati rebellion, which was crushed only by drastic action by Governor Solf, who banished many Samoans to the Carolines, whence they returned only on the New Zealand occupation at the beginning of the war. “New Zealand’s troubles in Samoa have to a large extent been psychological, and the actual grievances of the disaffected section of the people have been very difficult to ascertain. At the same time, the New Zealand administration has much good work to its credit. Goodwill Mission “The present Government of New Zealand, which took office only last year, has recently dispatched to the territory a goodwill mission, including a prominent member of the Government, and this visit is believed to have done much to remove misunderstandings and to create good feeling between all sections of the people. “The Samoan lives a happy, natural, and contented life, sheltered, as far as this lies in the power of the New Zealand administration, from the more serious and detrimental impacts of the economic and social system which we Europeans call civilisation,” continued Mr Berendsen. “Indeed. I venture to assert that in some important respects the civilisation of the Samoan is superior to ours. Largely because of the kindly nature of the land in which he dwells, the Samoan is bound to no economic system. He is not obliged to and generally speaking does not. work for wages, and practically every normal want is supplied at his door by a beneficent providence with but little activity on his part. “The social system —a kind of benevolent family autocracy—is of the simplest and the gentlest. What property there is, including the land —the base of all—belongs to the family and its fruits are shared by all without question or quarrel. Family life is gentle and affectionate, and children are adored. Melody and song are universal, and on the whole it is fair to say that the Samoan lives as happy a life as any human being on this planet. Economic Diversification “During the economic depression the administration of Western Samoa and the New Zealand Government made great efforts to find new products which would be suitable to the territory and thus to diversify the industries of Samoa which at present, we feel has its eggs in too few baskets. A start has been made with the production of essential oils, which appear to be present in some quantity and in some value, and enquiries have been, or are in course of being, made into the possibility of producing on a payable basis cotton, coffee, annatto, ground nuts, pepsin, kapoc, cattle food (from copra), imber, and many other products. Unquestionably the exceedingly fertile soil can produce a large variety of useful products, but it is unfortunately a fact that in nearly every case the world market is at present glutted, and the prospects appear to be dubious unless and until the as a whole settles its economic problems. “Labour on European plantations in Samoa is, generally speaking, not Samoan. The Samoan has no need to work, and though he will occasionally take a contract as a family, for example, to split coconuts, he does not need to, and generally will not, work regular hours on regular days. On a fine day he prefers to go fishing. As a result the large European plantations of the territory have, both in German times and in ours, been staffed by imported labour. The Germans in the early days brought over Solomon Islanders and in later days both the Germans and ourselves have brought in Chinese coolies, “The coolies come under the supervision of the British Government at Hong Kong and the administration of Western Samoa on n undertaking to serve for three years. Large numbers of Chinese are always available for this work, but the New Zealand Government heartily dislikes the principle, even though the Chinese are on arrival entirely free to choose their own employer, are in every possible way protected by the administration from exploitation, and are carefully returned to their homes on the completion of their period of ser ice. During recent years the number of coolies so imported has been greatly reduced, and the present New Zealand Government intends to accelerate this reduction as much as possible. “Romance of Reef and Palm” “The romance of reef and palm is, of course, known to all by a large and interesting branch of literature, but no description that I have seen suffices to convey a real picture of the beauty of these islands of the Southern Seas,” said Mr Berendsen. “The coconut palm itself is a most stately and beautiful object, and at a distance the impression is one of feathery lightness. Indeed, when approaching an atoll, which in many cases is no more than a few feet above the sea, it is very difficult except with a practised eyj, to discover when the delicate green of the horizon has changed from the sky to the palms. “Samoa, of course, is not an atoll, and one’s first glimpse of this land is of high mountain peaks. But as one approaches, usually at daybreak, the romance of the tropics becomes a very real thing. The coconut palms crowd down to the waterfront in and among the dwellings and the public and commercial buildings, charmingly diversified by the dark and majestic mango trees, the vividly crimson flamboyant trees, the yellow and white frangipani and the multi-coloured, if smaller, hibiscus, while the town appears to curl itself peacefully in a little nest of verdure. “About 600 feet above sea level is the old residence of Robert Louis

Stevenson. ‘Vailima,’ which, with some additions, was used in German times, and still is used by our administration, as the residence of the head of the Government. This is an ideal spot, watered by a delightful stream, surrounded bv fruit and shady trees, with a magnificent view over the harbour and the open sea, and sufficiently high to get all the breezes even on the hottest day. Stevenson Memories “No talk on Samoa could, of course, be complete without a reference to Stevenson—indeed, I think that to many people Stevenson is Samoa—and practically every person who enters the territory visits ‘Vailima’ and makes a pilgrimage to Stevenson’s grave on the top of Mount Vaea, which rises about 300 feet above and alongside ‘Vailima’ itself. A small rectangular stone, carefully preserved by the New Zealand administration, marks the spot, with inscriptions in Samoan and in English. Tusitala. the teller of tales, is Stevenson’s Samoan name. Of Tusitala they still speak with affectionate memory and the ‘Road of Loving Hearts,’ constructed by Samoans, remains as a living token of their regard. “Everywhere one goes along the sea coast one finds delightful Samoan villages. 10, 20, or 30 houses, usually surrounding a village green or marae, and the houses themselves are certainly not the least admirable of the many charming aspects of Samoan life. Anything more completely suited to the climate and to the conditions it would be impossible to discover. About 40 or 50 feet long, of elongated beehive shape, with a thatched roof extending down perhaps half the height, the sides are completely open except for the necessary supporting poles, but are provided with blinds, on the Venetian principle, which can be let down if necessary to keep out the wind and the rain. The floor is of stone pebbles, easy to clean, covered by locally-made mats. The furniture is sparse—the Samoan pillow, which consists merely of a raised pole, perhaps an odd chair, perhaps a table, perhaps merely a box as a table, perhaps in some very exceptional houses a European bed; usually mosquito curtains. Simple Lite “Everything else—what little the Samoan needs or desires—is rolled up out of the way on top of the rafters,” continued Mr Reveresen. “Even on the hottest day these houses are deliciously cool, and their open construction enables the breeze to flow through from whatever direction it comes. Every house is scrupulously clean, every village is scrupulously clean, each village has a fixed time at which all concerned busy themselves in cleaning the locality. Leaves are swept up. scraps are disposed of and burned, and the marae and its surroundings are as clean and orderly and cared for as an English lawn. “The people themselves are extraordinarily clean, both in their persons and in their clothing, which again is simple and most admirably suited to the conditions of their life. The customary garb for a man is merely one garment—the lavalava—a piece of vividly coloured material—now usually cotton print, but in the past locallymade cloth—wound round the waist and reaching to the knee. The women wear a similar garment of even brighter colours, but reaching from the armpit to the knee. Both men and women, the young people at any rate, almost invariably have brilliantly coloured flowers in their hair or wreaths of flowers, leaves or shells around their necks. The chiefs on important occasions wear a more ceremonial native dress, and on Sundays every man who can afford it dresses himself most charmingly in a white lavalava and a white jacket for church, to which it is customary to carry an opened umbrella. “Among many treasured memories of this delightful spot one retains little photographic images on the brain—the sweet perfume of dry copra, the pellucid clarity of the streams, the swish of the gentle trade winds in the palms, the continuous low murmur of the surf on the distant reef, the stalwart forms of the men and the grace of the women, the loud and happy laughter of the children, the tropical moon rising over the lagoon, the splashing lights by night of fishermen’s torches, the song of hymns at eventide in the fates (or houses), the subdued pad of Samoan bare feet, the bright yellow sands, the warm, silent, fragrant, friendly night.”