Way as they often greeted Ratu Lala, in a kind of chanting shout that
sounded most effective. It was a Fijian farewell!
Among Ex-Cannibals in Fiji.
CHAPTER 3
Among Ex-Cannibals in Fiji.
Journey into the Interior of Great Fiji - A Guide Secured - The Start
- Arrival at Navua - Extraction of Sago - Grandeur of Scenery -
A Man covered with Monkey-like Hair - A Strangely Coloured Parrot
- Wild Lemon and Shaddock Trees - A Tropical "Yosemite Valley" -
Handclapping as a Native Form of Salute - Beauty of Namosi - The
Visitor inspected by ex-Cannibals - Reversion to Cannibalism only
prevented by fear of the Government - A Man who would like to Eat my
Parrot "and the White Man too" - The Scene of Former Cannibal Feasts
- Revolting Accounts of Cannibalism as Formerly Practised - Sporadic
Cases in Recent Years - An Instance of Unconscious Cannibalism by a
White - Reception at Villages EN ROUTE - Masirewa Upset - Descent
of Rapids - Dramatic Arrival at Natondre ("Fallen from the Skies").
Toward the end of my stay in the Fijian Islands I determined to make
a journey far into the interior of Viti Levu (Great Fiji), the largest
island of the great Fijian archipelago. Suva, the chief town in Fiji,
and the headquarters of the government, is on this island, but very few
Europeans travel far beyond the coast, and my friends in Suva declared
that I would have a fit of repentance before I had travelled very far,
as the interior of the island is extremely mountainous and rough. After
a great deal of trouble I managed to get an interpreter named Masirewa,
who came from the small island of Bau. He was a fine-looking fellow,
and, like most Fijians, possessed a tremendous mop of hair. His stock
of English was limited, and we often misunderstood each other, but he
proved a most amusing companion, if only on account of his unlimited
"cheek."
I ought here to mention that Fijians vary a great deal, both in colour
and language. Fiji is the part of the Pacific where various types meet,
viz., Papuan, Malayan, and Polynesian. The mountaineers around Namosi,
which I visited, who were all cannibals twenty-five years ago, are
much darker in colour than the coast natives, and they are undoubtedly
of Papuan origin.
I left Suva with Masirewa on the morning of October 12th, and after
a short sea voyage of three or four hours on a small steam launch,
we arrived at the village of Navua. I had a letter to Mr. McOwan,
the government commissioner for that district. He put me up for the
night, and we played several games of tennis, and my stay, though
short, was an exceedingly pleasant one. The whites in Fiji are the
most hospitable people in the world. They are of the old REGIME that
is dying out fast everywhere.
The next day I set out on my journey into the interior, Masirewa
and another Fijian carrying my baggage (which was wrapped up in
waterproof cloth) on a long bamboo pole. We followed the course of
the Navua River for some distance. In the swamps bordering the river
grew quantities of a variety of sago palm (SAGUS VITIENSIS) called by
the natives Songo. They extract the sago from the trunk, and the palm
always dies after flowering. After passing through about four miles
of sugar cane, with small villages of the Indian coolies who work in
the cane fields, we left behind us the last traces of civilization. We
next came to a very beautiful bit of hilly country, densely wooded on
the hills, though bordering the broad gravelly beaches of the river
were long stretches of beautiful grassy pastures. Darkness set in
as we ascended some thickly wooded hills. The atmosphere was damp
and close, and mosquitoes plentiful, and small phosphorescent lumps
seemed to wink at us out of the darkness on every side. I had to strike
plenty of matches to discover the track, and continually bumped myself
against boulders and the trunks of tree-ferns. It was late when we
arrived at the village of Nakavu, on the banks of the Navua River,
where I was soon asleep on a pile of mats in the hut of the "Buli,"
or village chief.
The next morning I resumed my journey with Masirewa and two canoe-men
in a canoe, and we were punted and hauled over numerous dangerous
rapids, at some of which I had to get out. We passed between two
steep, rocky cliffs the whole way, and they were densely clothed
with tree-ferns and other rank tropical vegetation, the large white
sweet-scented DATURA being very plentiful. The scenery was very
beautiful, and numerous waterfalls dashed over the rocky walls with
a sullen roar. Ducks were plentiful, but my ammunition being limited,
I shot only enough to supply us with food. I felt cramped sitting in
a canoe all day, but I enjoyed myself in spite of the continuous and
heavy rain.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at the small village of Namuamua,
on the right bank of the river, with the village of Beka on the
other side. We were given a small hut all to ourselves, and we fared
sumptuously on duck and boiled yams. The next morning I was shown
a curious but ghastly object, viz., a man covered with hair like a
monkey, and I was told that he had never been able to walk. He dragged
himself about on his hands and feet, uttering groans and grunts like
an animal.
I hired two fresh bearers to carry my baggage, and after we had
crossed the river three or four times we passed over some steep and
slippery hills for some distance. I managed to shoot a parrot that I
had not seen on any of the other islands.
