TRISTAN DA CUNHA

Evening Star, Issue 21628, 25 January 1934, Page 14

TRISTAN DA CUNHA

CHRISTMAS SEASON HOW IT IS OBSERVED A MOMENTOUS EVENT Tristan Da Cunha—to most people the name conjures up a vision of desolation and forlornness; a wind-swept island whdse few inhabitants endure a Crusoe-like exile for all time, where poverty is synonymous with life, and pleasure—even diversion—is an unknown quantity. True, to the islanders on,e day is only a repetition of another, and Sunday is perhaps the only day in the week that offers variation. But Christmas is the season that they look forward to through the year. The very monotony of their liyes_ makes this a greater festival than it is in other parts of the world. This is the story of _ Christmas on Tristan as it was described'to me by Donald Glass, a young islander, who came to live at Cape Town four years ago, writes It. W. M'Grane, in the ‘ Cape Times,’ They start Christmas feasts on the island about the middle of December. There are dances and games, and the houses are decorated with flags and lanterns and streamers. Pictures of the King and Queen are trimmed up with crepe paper. It is a solemn, religious time there, but the islanders are a religious people, and they" are no less happy for that. There are no shops, of course, but presents are hoarded 'up for Christmas in the island’s store. When a ship calls the headman keeps back presents for everyone on the island, and a few days before Christmas they_ are given out—toys, sugar, flour, jellies, all prized articles to the islanders. Cattle and sheep arc killed and meat is taken round to all the houses. The stock is “ island property ” —it does not belong to individuals—and everyone gets a share at the killing. Sometimes they draw lots for the presents, and then, if they want to, they can exchange things with one another. For instance, • a man who does not want a clock (time may hang heavily on the island) will change it for another man’s unwanted razor. ■ Quite often the children do not understand how their toys are worked, and fathers are pestered to explain things they have only vaguely heard about. It is a relief when Father Christmas brings a cart and horse, a box of soldiers, or a water-colour outfit instead of a fire-engine or an aeroplane. Even a toy horse and cart is bewildering, for horses have not been seenon the island, and the carts are drawn by bullocks and donkeys. No aeroplane has ever passed over the island, although there is a suitable landing ground. The islanders learn about railways and submarines, and aircraft from the newspapers that are left by passing ships, and the books sent with the occasional supplies keep them acquainted with the doings of the outer world. SHEARED HAIR. On Christmas Eve there is a party in the tiny schoolhonsc. _ Faces arc washed and polished, hair has been trimmed—rather unevenly, perhaps—with tailors’ shears, and best clothes, even if unorthodox, are brought out for the occasion. Young bachelors and elderly women are in the preponderance, but there are young girls and children, too. The Christmas tree is not a real .fir tree, but gay enough with little candles and toys. Everybody is at his ease. There arc no class distinctions and no cliques to spoil the general happiness. The chaplain if there is a chaplain PM the island at Jhe. .time —and . jh©

headman make speeches, and then the toys are dealt out. An elaborate banquet follow's. Most of the usual Christmas dishes are there: —-Roasts, plum puddings, jellies, fruit, desserts, with rich cream, nuts, cake, and sweets. Provision has been made for these feasts long beforehand, and the islanders would rather sit down to spare meals for most of the year than shorten the menu of this banquet. - After the feast the school children give their songs and recitations. There is no piano, hut the- organist accompanies the songs as fast: as he can. Then the floor is cleared and the gramophone is brought in. There are musicians on the island,, and a banjo, a guitar, and an accordion, but their efforts are not considered good enough to take the place of the gramophone at dances. Although they" do not fox-trot, the: islanders dance their own steps to the fdx-trot records—a mixture of barndance and tango, interesting to watch, but intricate to perform. Late at night the children are taken home, but the dancers do not leave the schoolhonsc until, as day is breaking, the scratched record reels out the National Anthem. Christmas morning brings the whole population to church. An empty seat in _the island church; means that something extraordinary is happening; no islander dares to 'stay away without an exceedingly good reason. And the Christmas sermon, like the banquet, is built up of all the finest stuff at the preacher’s command. OLD MEN’S TALES. On Christmas evening the old men tell stories of things long forgotten—how forty' Federal prisoners were landed from the Shenandoah during the Aincri,cau War, with neither food nor clothing, and how the survivors of the Bienden Hall were housed and fed. They tell the history' of the island; how it was discovered by' the Portuguese in 1506, occupied by American sealers from 1790 to 1811, and taken over by the British in 1817, as a base from which to keep watch on Napoleon at St. Helena; and how Corporal Glass and a, few others stayed on after the soldiers were withdrawn. But the sad Christmas of 1885 is never referred to. Although that day brought a national calamity to Tristan, histories give it barely two lines. Not a vessel had been sighted for a whole year; and in those days the islanders relied a great deal on the outside world for their food. On Christmas Eve a sail was sighted. Children ran up and down the narrow strip of beach, screaming with excitement. But the seas ran high and launching the longboat was too dangerous a job. Christmas morning dawned, and the seas showed no signs of abating. The men decided to man the boats and row out to the barque, fearful that she should unfurl her sails and depart. They did not get near the waiting ship, Their frail boats were smashed to matchwood on the rocks. During Christmas night the barque slipped away. Her master realised the tragedy, but he was in a helpless position himself, and could not afford to wait another day; Nearly every man on the island perished' on that terrible 'Christmas Day, and to the inhabitants 1885 is more important than the years of the Great War were to Europe. And that is why the greybeards on Christmas Day refuse to speak of 1885.