Apolima: The Hollow of the Hand.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 18, 4 May 1910, Page 44

Apolima: The Hollow of the Hand.

(Specialty 'Written for the “ Weekly Graphic ”

by

James Cowan.)

FAR down iii the tropic zone of th<? South Seas it lies, the *tr.uig ■ and beautiful little mountaini<le of Apolima, which, in th*' San - i'i to!i.y;p, means the “llullov of the hirnl.’’ A truly appropriate pla - name thi-». Winn [ fir*t set eye- on Apolima, fr.qn the deck of a New Zealand w— 1, I thought with the Polynesians that in its general outline it resembled nothing so much as a huge cup with one side broken out of it, or the upturn* <1 hollowed palm of the hand wiih the thumb and the lingers forming its curving walls. Apolima is a email island in the Samoa Group, that rich cluster of volcanic island mountains which through Brithdi supine-s has pa-sed into German han.ls. It lies in the Straits of Manono. a narrow l.i i • cd blue water dividing historic Upolu from high and' cloud-capped Savaii, an inland more than forty-miles in leiigdi and about twenty in width—the largest of the SamoaiS. Just a little idand is this Apolima. not much more than a mile in diameter, but a delightfully fairy spot, one of tho<c tropic nooks where it seems “alwaxs afternoon, ■which uiii! beholds but on •* or twice in the span of life, and which once seen linger* for over with a haunting pleasure lx*fore the eye of memory. Imagine a great volcano cone submerged in deep o.ran unril only a few him-

dr« d i'" t * - i’ s ciii ui.ir pi-ak rcm.u::~ above water. One side of this de-p irl jmTTo in t o t he - ■ 111 d 1, .1 . . el II tha tla-h with the sini *. r g’.i- i of oh Elian. Hi with g: •.at \. I.i.itv. .ml only nativ ■ 1 o jin/ a . > ii "-ho. ' the \p.din's pi' ■ - Bago in <- i:'. v. On the outer ro< k w i'l the rv.ru! ir swell of the billows, impelled by tho vigorous t rad ra-eh !y •urges mid thunder-. l ue exterior < i this half drowned volcano is a precipitous . ..ig.vv rampart, too sleep for tree «e .limb a mats of blm k and ri d ro. k. its l i .> in the perpetuil tumble and fjam of the breiikeis. l»ut wiihui the viand ba-in, what a eontra.-t to t’.e ari l ring whi h forms the out-ide of the Ilan l! rhe hollow is a garden oi bright

vend u re —waving groves o bread fruit, cultivations of bananas an taro, and tropic trees all crimson wit! the guv bloi«*oms whi-ch the I-laml gii loves to twine in her glossy black hail The hill slopes within the rocky pa! re lu-h wish vegetation, an I alive wit: the songs ami the whirring Hight of man a brig’nt-plumagi d bird. Ou the JittL rim of beach-land that steals to nice the placid blue of the landlocked lagooi are the thatch* d high-roofed dwelling of the brown people—a tiny village com inunity living in arcadian simplicity, lit tie troubled by the outside world, am Seldom leaving their inland home. On the white sand of the water-id small dug out canoes with outriggers ar. i\in* r : larger canoes and one or tw< long boats are protected from the, floret sun bv shelter sheds thatched with coco palm’leaves. Hot as is the glare of tin noonday on the dancing outer water and on "the polished face of the lagooi and its dazzling sandy rim. all is pleas ant and shady and cool under the tai ( lustering palms. The village is at it siesta, perhaps, and if you walk up th. hard clean lieach you will hoar but th. gentle breathing of the tide-way on tin sand, and the swish of the drooping coco fronds in the breeze. But the visit of a papalangi soon stirthe lotus-eaters. “Talofa. ali i! “Lov< to you. O chief'.*’ i< the musical greetin; from the village women. The islander

c<nne out to re; rive you in the truly courteous fashion of the Samoan —noblelooking men. with the torses of ILirkens< hmidt. and handsome giawful women, their only clothing perhaps a tapa kilt ol native doth (made from tin* bark of a tre< ) 01 .1 lavalava of print cloth girded round the waist and falling to the knees; sometimes a loose blouse is added! or liny perhaps wear the long loose gown < f print fa-shionable throughout Polynesi i. They lead you to the tribal guestli< ii-e. a large oval building supported by ma--i\o ironwood pillars ami open at the sides. The kava bowl is set Ik* fore you, and straight way you are pledged a friend by the < pen hearted people, and join with th in in the am ient and pretty ceremony of pouring a libation to the gmirdi’n spirits of the household—the Ait u of the And this is Apolima, one of the least known but none tin* ]< ss one of the most interesting of the countless island dots on the map of the I‘acilie.

Apolima is a natural fortress—the Gibraltar of Samoa. Amongst such a war-like race as these Islanders, whoso greatest diversion is a skirmish with Winchester repeaters and great “headknives*’ for close quarters, the suitability of their country for defence was, ami still is, an important matter. The clan who settled Apolima long ago by virtue of the strong right arm are masters of it yet, and nothing but a bombardment will shift them. For the outer rock-p»a lisa de is unseale i !•!<*; the narrow boat-entrance into the lagoon was so barred by booms in w..r-tiine as to ho inaccessible to the ho-.ile canoe-Heets of Savaii and I'polu, and the rock-girt passage, where* it was neces-.trv to steer with the utmost precision, could be defended by a few rilhumn again-t an army. So Apolima has come to be regarded as impregnable, and its primitive folk were left unmolested to pursue their fishing and their taro-planting and the kava-drinking, for little else is there, indeed, to break the serene laziness of life in Do-Nothing -Land. Now and again when ennui began to weigh somewhat on their spirits, and the ti*h, pork, and sweet potatoes and bread fruit seemed to have lost their flavour, the tribal council met and the kava cup went round from hand, and the men of Apolima said with one accord, “Let’s go and fight someone.” So off they all went, very picturesque and withal very rowdy young backs and irrey-moustached veterans, decked in their best war panoply. Out through the hiss and boil of the breakers, paddle and sail, the big canoes and the long boats in a miniature war fleet, wet blades flashing in the sun and dipping again, and a will war-song chanted in time to the paddle strokes. West they steered across the blue strait, and up north and east to the far-stretching palm-fringed coast that bends in to the harbour of Apia. Just such a stalwart company of “pretty num.” in the true Highland sense of the term, a- I have seen on the maro i around Aria, when the wars of Malietoa and

s<*t nil Sunwa > Hiuiihooil —.Xilcl not a 1"W woincii—daneing out on the warpath. A little army of more than half-naked. I'y. good-natured fellows, tali am! athletic, ami 'skilled in all active pas imes, of which thej reckoned xvarthe < :>i< test in enjoyment. Each man prou l ami s.-ii-cimli |< nt. an in.le-.. ib.il le &wagg< i in his mien, a merrv arrogance in tha ■ aiil.-s hamiliiig of his gun, and th’ jaunty girding ■ 1 h - airy lavalava—looped up on one side to show the intiieate and elaborate thigh-tattooing which is the Samoan's pec vanity. Well filled cartridge belts fore and aft, a good Mar-tini-Henry or Winch, st. r rille in one h.iml (and as often as not a fan or fly-whisk in the other), and a long murderous headknife (nifo-oti) in his Islt, dabs of warpaint, blue or black, on cheeks and chest —an.l the lighting man is before you in full uniform, fa'a Samoa. He lopes out through the bu-h to the debatable ground as though to a picnic, blazes away with a grand disregard for hia ainintUM-

ttwn supply, and is never so happy m when he ean get to close quarters, make an opportune slash with his heavy knife and march ahorewards in triumph waving in time to a ringing battle-chant the grisTy head of a foeman. What matter that the head be that of his eousin or his brother-in law? it's all in the game. In the return of such a war-party, and, their evening gathering over the kava, there is a fine barbaric touch that takes one back to Homeii.-, Ossianie days. Picture inimagination the landing of these South Sea island braves, giant in stature, very children in their emotions and most of al! in merriment—the high and musical weieome-song of the village girls, the feasting and the hanging up of the treasured weapons and the trophies of the fight—the laving of the heroes’ wearied forms as Oddysseus was bathed in tha home of Nausieaa. Then the evening council, when the refreshing breath ot ocean steals in with the coming of the dark, and the island lamps arc lighted in the talking-house, and the men, all tattooed adults who have seen war. squat in a grave circle round the big fale, leaving the centre dear for the tribal orator. In comes the kava, in a great polished bowl, borne by the taupo of Apolima, the highborn May Queen of the village girls. A daughter of the gods is great-eyed Salefa, the enp-bearer to the heroes. A young girl, with the full development of figure that eomes early to the Island women. A wreath of scarlet flowers round her shapely head, a shell necklace and some simple trinkets hanging down upon her bosom, and a gaily patterned waistclotli of print- falling to her knees—this is all the. dress adornment that cumbers our South Sea beauty. She is a model of unblemished physical symmetry, perfect in her contour of face and form. Just such superb creatures as Salefa I have seen heading the march-out of Malietoa’a musketeers; vivandieres of good birtli lead the warriors to the battle-ground and carry eocoanut bottles of water for the wounded. And I have never seen a, woman, white or brown, walk as do thesa nymphs of Samoa. They march like queens—or as queens are popularly supposed to march—yet w’ith a gliding, airy swimming gait that is the very poetry of motion. But the kava is waiting. “Kava for the chiefs, kava for the victors! ’ The ~Up —half a- coconut shell—goes round, with deep-voiced cries of “Skald I ’ or its island equivalent “Manuia!” In florid hinguage and fervid oratory the battle is fought o’er again. So, quite in O.seianie style, goes on t.he "feast of shells.’ And as in all ages, the arms of the fan* reward the brave. Fishing a little, planting a little, fighting a little and resting a good deal—this is the life-story of the dwellers in the "Hollow of the Hand.'’ Fishing ii indeed their principal labour, but a labour which the Islanders, as may be imagined, contrive to make a pleasure. Shoals of tisn often enter the lagoon and their netting is a ta-k for the whole commune. Flying fish catching at night is the favourite Samoan Islands sport. \\ hen the cool evening time comes, all the available canoes are launched, and with blazing torches they paddle to and fro. the crews with their hand nets capturing the foolish flying fish as they come leaping towards the light. In fine weather all round the eoasts of these i-les of Polynesia, as you sail along outside the fringing reefs, you will see inshore the torchlights of the fishing canoes, dancing like so many fireflies in the gloom of the splendid tropic night. So. Tofa. Apolima! ’Twas but at glimpse, but one that will ever remain, the memory of that "hollow lotus land'’ we saw one halcyon day—a South Sea. areadie.