TROPICAL TRIP

Manawatu Standard, Volume LXVI, Issue 15, 15 December 1945, Page 10

TROPICAL TRIP

(By D. Whyte—Continued)

After our pleasant visit to the jungle waterfall on Mussau Island, we eventually decided that we had better go back to Mrs Fu and kai-kai. We arrived back at the village about 12.35 p.m. Dinner was not quite ready, and so we wandered round the village for a while, followed by many Chinese children. They have a schoolhouse in the centre of the square, the teacher being a well educated Chinese girl. This being Saturday, there was no school, hence our following. Eventually the entourage left us, and after wandering for a while we came on a child of about four years, sitting on an upturned box, grinding the end of a piece of wire on a stone. He was intent on his work, and brooking no interference. However, I managed to get him to pause long enough to take a photograph of him. When all the little children saw this boy having his picture taken they broke loose from their mamas and came over at the double. “Take picher, pleesir!” the eldest cried, and they all gathered in a group for me. I got a great photograph. On the way back to Mrs Fu’s house I saw an ancient, decrepit, and toothless Chinese sitting in lront of his house eating rice from a bowl with chopsticks. It is a sight I’ll never forget. I know at last how they do it. Those chopsticks are just glonged shovels, and do not really do the work of a spoon and fork. Back at Mrs Fu’s we found our hostess still giggling on the doorstep : ‘‘Come ’long. Kai-kai ready.” So in we \/»at, the tablecloth was on again and the table laid with spoons and forks (of sorts). Then she brought in the dinner; a huge plateful each. To describe the contents of, the plate is rather difficult, as is a description of the taste. It was a queer mixture'. The predominant colour was green, with white globules..of meaty-fish here and there. But it tasted delicious. It was very rich, and had a strong, sweet flavour which I cannot compare with anything I have ever tasted. The most tasty parts 'were the little grey, , white, and black globules (there were a few of each). I managed to get through three-quarters of my plateful and was lull. Then came the revelation of what we had eaten. The “fishy suey,” as Mrs Fu called it, contained boiled turtle, parrot fish, snails, chicken, wild beans, rice (pressed) and a kind of fish gelatine. Needless to say we didn’t get this information from the little lady till after we had eaten her concoction, which perhaps is just as well. After this delightful dish Mrs Fu came bouncing in (still giggling) with a brew of tea. We went on talking for a while before taking our leave of the good lady. We left her, after “Thank you much” many times on the front doorstep (or the back doorstep, depending on which way you look at it), still giggling, and calling “See you nex time.” The Navy boys had told us all about one of the Chinese girls, who was supposed to be worth looking at. So, after bidding Mrs Fu and her brood farewell, we started out to see the famous beauty Francie. She lived away from the village in another group of houses on a bill nearby, and we photographed her. She was very nice, and was very Chinese. I would say she was about 19, but you can’t tell; she may have been ten if Mrs Fu was any criterion. She was another giggler—a thousand times worse than Mrs Fu —which I should say would be very disconcerting for her boy friends, of which I believe she has many. NATIVE POLICEMENTime was getting along and so we left her with, “See you nex time,” and started off for a nearby native village, of which I wanted to get some photographs before we left. We arrived at the village about 2.20 p.m. and, not having much time, rushed around to get our pictures. We hustled a group of mothers, infants and fathers together (including the local patriach, a wizened old man). Before we left we took a photograph of three native police boys—beautifully built native men actually! Every time a white man addresses them they spring to attention and say, “Yessir!” I recognised one straight away as a police boy and said, “You p’lice boy?” The look of gratification on his face was wonderful to watch. The fact that I had recognised him without his uniform pleased him immensely. Their uniforms are queer; rather like an old-fashioned bathing suit. They are made of a light woollen material, navy blue in colour with a red band around the shoulder. m They are very loyal to the Crown and would do anything for any white man who treats them as soldiers.

At my request the boy I had spoken to went off to get the rest of the police boys, returning with them, complete with all their paraphernalia. They stood strictly at attention for the photograph, alter which the first boy, who, by the way, was “Number 1 Bosfella” of the outfit, dismissed them in true military fashion. A.s it is forbidden to trade with the natives, I could not give them any money, but I promised “No. 1 Bosfella” to send him a pi'int of the photograph at the first available opportunity. It was then time to get back to the launch, and so we bade farewell to the police boys and* got under way. We arrived back at the launch to find half the population of the Chinese village had turned out to see us off. Half the population included Francie’s two sisters, whom we had evidently had the misfortune to overlook earlier. One of them was an Oriental beauty. We left to the accompaniment of, “See you nex time,” from the gathering on the jetty, and with very pleasant memories of a very kino, hospitable and happy people. A fairly high wind on the way back made the trip enjoyable, if very wet, and it was a. tired and damp crew that arrived back. But the main thing was that for the first time in ages we all felt happy and at peace with the world—including the Tropics.