OVER CELEBES

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 79, 12 January 1944, Page 2

OVER CELEBES

WITH OUR BOMBERS SCENES IN PICTURESQUE MACASSAR “Our bombers attacked enemy objectives in Macassar, on the island of Celebes, during a daylight raid yesterday.” Frequently we read reports such as this 5f air attacks against enemy shipping and dock installations in Macassar, against the nickel mines of Pomella or some other part of the island of Celebes. All Australians feel a thrill of elation at the good news (writes “W.P.” in the Melbourne “Age.”) But the. words Celebes, Macassar, present ncApicture of living reality to many min A, They remain mere geographical egression. To some few, however, conjure up a vision of blue skies, mother o' pearl seas, an all-enveloping haze struggling with brilliant sunlight, the air trembling and agitated with the heat of the struggle. A palm-girt shore looms out of the haze as we sail towards Macassar harbour. To starboard a couple of ghostly praus glide silently past our bows; to port a rusty, disreputable tramp belches black smoke from a blackened funnel —a blot on the seascape. THE SMILING HUMAN MEDLEY Entering the harbour, we glide past scores of gaily-painted Buginese praus, sea-going native vessels, their high poops making them look like 17th century East Indiamen, built, carved, painted and rigged to the fanciful designs of a Bakst or a Lichine. From different galleys savoury smells are wafted across the water, smells of native food, pungent with spices, being prepared. Native voices call to each other. They grow louder and more distinct as we approach the docks. We berth between an island schooner and a luxury liner. Below us on the docks hundreds of wharf labourers form a motley, picturesque crowd brown, muscular torsos, glistening in the sun, eyes gleaming and white teeth flashing a smile of welcome. On their heads they wear a black or purple velvet tarboush. token that they are faithful followers of the Prophet Mahomet. Instead of trousers each wharf labourer wears a sarong made of cotton tartan, its brilliant colour combinations a product probably of the same exotic imagination that designed the praus. Parallel with the long rows of cranes, docks and sheds lies the commercial quarter of Macassar, its “godowns” crammed with the products of the island —coffee, rubber, kapok, buffalo hides, crocodile and snake skins, trochus shell and tortoise shell, dried fish, timber, copra, nutmegs and other spices, waiting to be loaded for the ports of Java for consumption there, or for transhipment to Europe. America, Singapore or Australia. To-day, these docks, sheds and “go-downs” are in ruins, destroyed by our bombers over Celebes. To save the people from injury or death, they are regularly urged through shortwave broadcasts from Australia by their own people in their own tongue to keep away from military objectives. At the centre of the town stands the old Fort Rotterdam. This is a 17th century building, originally Portuguese, captured and rebuilt by the Dutch. It is difficult to imagine that it was a fort. It resembles more some quaint, old Dutch country mansion, 'its architecture influenced by the old farm houses of France, with its high, narrow windows and rectangular court yard. To-day Fort Rotterdam lies in ruins, destroyed by our bombers over Celebes. THE ADJUSTABLE SARONG In the main thoroughfare sarongclad cyclists catch the eye. The only other visible means of transport are native carriages drawn by ponies. Harness glitters in the sun with burnished bits of brass and little bells. As the carriage rolls along the tinkling bells sound their warning to pedestrians leisurely crossing the road. The clangor of the Lei Is blends not inharmoniously with that of the cycle bells and the calls of street vendors. Except for a sprinkling of red-faced Dutchmen dressed in whites, both male and female wear sarongs. The men sport one only; the women, two. One serves as a skirt, the other is worn over the head as a protection against the sun, a slit being left for the eyes. Where necessary, the .second sarong also serves as a hold-all m which a baby of two are bundled. At times it does service as a shopping basket also. Past the Dutch club, past the hotel and past the church, we enter the European residential quarter. This consists of a few streets of brick-built villas, everything neat and scrupulously clean and tidy; a bit of Holland tucked away in the tropical East. Further on, we come to the native quarter, a maze of brick or bamboo cottages roofed with thatch. Many stand in their own little gardens, in which brown-skinned children play hide-and-seek between the white washing hanging in the sun. On the road to the beach we pass the Yacht Club. Its modern swimming pool beckons invitingly. But not as invitingly as the shady verandah overlooking the shimmering waters of the Java Sea. There we can watch two or three native anglers standing waistdeep m the water. Patiently they wait in the sun and water, hoping, with the childish faith of that credulous fraternity the anglers, for a bite. UNIQUE HORSEMANSHIP No part of the island is further away from the sea than about 80 miles Shaped like a starfish, Celebes is composed of a central area, with a number of peninsulas jutting out into the sea. The interior of the country is rugged and mountainous, green with tropical growth of infinite variety. Many waterfalls tumble down the mountain sides into deep ravines. Some of them are harnessed to hydro-electric plants. These provide light and power to town and industrial plants. Dutch engineers have covered the island with more than 5000 miles of good, modern roads. But the Buginese, Macassarese or Minahassan rarely drives a car. Instead, he travals by one of the many bus lines or on horseback. Unlike most equestrians, he docs not straddle his horse. Instead he sits his saddle with one leg dangling’the foot of the other resting on the saddle tne knee supporting his chin This attitude seems to be not only highly comfortable, but a rider in this position cannot be dislodged easily. North-east of Macassar, on the Gulf of Bone, lie the nickel mines of Pomella source of war material to-day for the Japanese invader. Mines and installations, however, have probably been seriously damaged, if not put out of action, by our bombers over Celebes.