It Was Green, With A Black
Head And Yellow Breast.
The rain came down in torrents, and I got
well soaked.
We went for miles through woods with small timber, but
full of bright crotons, DRACAENAS, bamboos, and a very sweetscented
plant somewhat resembling the frangipani, the flower of which covered
the ground. We passed under the shade of sweet-scented wild lemon
and shaddock trees, but we got the bad with the good, as a horrible
stench came from a small green flowering bush. A beautiful pink and
white ground orchid (CALANTHE) was plentiful.
We travelled along a steep, narrow strip of land with a river on
each side in the valleys below. We met no one until we arrived at
the village of Koro Wai-Wai, which is situated on the banks of a
good-sized river at the entrance to a magnificent gorge of rocky peaks
and precipices. Here we found the "Buli" of Namosi squatting down
in a miserable, smoky hut where we rested for a few minutes, and the
hut was soon filled with a crowd of natives, all anxious to view the
"papalangi" (foreigner). The "Buli" agreed to accompany me to Namosi,
although his home was in another village. Continuing our journey,
we had hard work climbing over boulders, and along slippery ledges
overhanging the foaming river many feet below. Steep precipices rose on
each side of us, and the gorge grew more narrow as we proceeded. The
scenery was grand, and rather resembled the Yosemite Valley, but had
the additional attraction of a wealth of tropical foliage. Steep rocky
spires topped by misty clouds towered above us and little openings
between rocky walls revealed dark green lanes or vistas of tangled
tropical growth which the sun never reached. We met many natives,
who sat on their haunches when the "Buli" talked to them, and clapped
their hands as we passed. This was out of respect for the "Buli,"
who was an insignificant looking little bearded man and quite naked
except for a small "Sulu."
We soon arrived at Namosi. It is a large town situated between
two steep walls of rock, and was by far the prettiest place I had
seen in Fiji, and that is saying a good deal. The town is on both
banks of the Waiandina River, with large "ivi" and other beautiful
trees overhanging the water; brilliant coloured crotons, DRACAENAS,
and other fine plants imparted a wealth of colour to the scene,
and many of the grand old trees were heavily laden with ferns and
orchids. During many years' wanderings all the world over, I do not
think I have ever come across a more beautiful and ideal spot.
The "Buli" was greeted with cries of "m-m-ka-a" in shrill voices by the
women, for all the world like the caw of an old crow. I learned that
the "Buli" had not been here for some time, but I seemed to be the
chief object of interest, and was followed everywhere by an admiring
and curious crowd of dark brown, shiny boys and girls, the former just
as they were born and the latter wearing a strip of "Sulu." We put up
in a chief's house, and after getting through the usual boiled yams,
I went on a tour of inspection around the town, but I soon found that I
was the one to be inspected. There was a hum of voices in every hut,
and doorways were darkened with many heads. Groups of young men,
women and children assembled to see the sight, but scampered away
if I approached too near. No white man but the government agent had
been here for several years, I was told. Thirty-odd years ago they
would not have been satisfied to "look only," but would have wished
to taste, and many of the present inhabitants would have made chops
of me, and were no doubt peering out of their huts to see if I was
fat or lean, and wishing for days gone by but not forgotten. Isolated
cases of cannibalism still occur in out-of-the-way parts of Fiji, and
it is only fear of the government that stops them, otherwise these
mountaineers would at once return to cannibalism. Masirewa came out
and stood with folded arms among a large crowd talking about me, and no
doubt taking all the credit for my appearance, and staring at me as if
he had never seen me before, so that I felt much inclined to kick him.
In the evening, as I skinned the parrot I had shot, Masirewa told
me how one man had said that he would like to eat the parrot, and
that he had replied: "And the white man too." There was a large and
very interested crowd around me as I worked, and they were very much
astonished when told that the birds in England were different from
those in Fiji, and I was inundated with childish questions about
England. Masirewa seemed to be trying to pass himself off on these
simple mountaineers as a chief, and was clearly beginning to give
himself airs, so that when he started to eat with the "Buli" and
myself, I had to snub him, and told him sharply to clean my gun and
eat afterwards.
I slept the next morning till seven o'clock, and Masirewa told me that
the natives could not understand my sleeping so late, and that they
thought I was drunk on "angona," of which I had partaken the night
before. "Angona" is the same as "kava" in Samoa, and is the national
beverage in Fiji. Masirewa now only wore a "sulu" and discarded his
singlet. I suppose it was a case of "In Rome do as Rome does," but
he certainly looked better in the dark skin he wore at his birth. I
was shown the large rock by the river where more than a thousand
people had been killed for their cannibal feasts.
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