Chapter III

, Div. III) the description "objects of parade" would be much more in agreement with the correct meaning of the words.

Such popular festivities as the one just being described are the occasions on which these objects of parade, some of which astonish us by their artistic perfection, appear in native life. Before I had opportunities to see savage art in actual display, in its proper, "living" setting, there seemed to me always to exist some incongruity between the artistic finish of such objects and the general crudity of savage life, a crudity marked precisely on the æsthetic side. One imagines greasy, dirty, naked bodies, moppy hair full of vermin, and other realistic features which make up one's idea of the "savage," and in some respects reality bears out imagination. As a matter of fact though, the incongruity does not exist when once one has seen native art actually displayed in its own setting. A festive mob of natives, with the wonderful golden-brown colour of their skins brought out by washing and anointing and set off by the gaudy white, red and black of facial paint, feathers and ornaments, with their exquisitely carved and polished ebony objects, with their finely worked lime pots, has a distinct elegance of its own, without striking one as grotesque or incongruous in any æsthetic detail. There is an evident harmony between their festive mood, the display of colours and forms, and the manner in which they put on and bear their ornaments.

Those who have come from a distance, and who would spoil their decorations by the long march, wash with water and anoint themselves with coco-nut grease immediately before arriving at the scene of festivities. As a rule the best paint is put on later on, when the climax of the proceedings approaches. On this occasion, after the preliminaries (distribution of food, arrival of other canoes) were over, and when the races were just going to be started, the aristocracy of Omarakana--the wives and children of To'uluwa, his relatives and himself--withdrew behind the shelters, near the boat shed, and proceeded to put on the red, white and black of full facial paint. They crushed young betel-nut, mixed it with lime, and put it on with the pestles of betel mortars; then some of the aromatic black resin (sayaku) and white lime were applied. As the habit of mirrors is not quite well established yet in the Trobriands, the painting was done by one person on the face of another, and great care and patience were displayed on both sides.

The numerous crowd spent the day without taking much refreshment--a feature strongly differentiating Kiriwinian festivities from our ideal of an entertainment or picnic. No cooking was done, and only a few bananas were eaten here and there, and green coco-nuts were drunk and eaten. But even these refreshments were consumed with great frugality.

As always on such occasions, the people collected together in sets, the visitors from each village forming a group apart. The local natives kept to their own boat houses, those of Omarakana and Kurokaiwa having their natural centres on the beach of Kaulukuba. The other visitors similarly kept together in their position on the beach, according to their local distribution; thus, men from the Northern villages would keep to the Northern section of the beach, those from the South would stick to that point of the compass, so that villages which were neighbours in reality would also be side by side on the shore. There was no mingling in the crowd, and individuals would not walk about from one group to another. The aristocrats, out of personal dignity, humble folk because of a modesty imposed by custom, would keep in their places. To'uluwa sat practically still during the whole performance, on the platform erected for this purpose, except when he went over to his boat, to trim it for the race.

The boat shed of Omarakana, round which the chief, his family and the other villagers were grouped, was the centre of all the proceedings. Under one of the palms, a fairly high platform was put up to accommodate To'uluwa. In a row in front of the sheds and shelters, there stood the prismatic food receptacles (pwata'i). They had been erected by the inhabitants of Omarakana and Kasana'i, on the previous day, and partially filled with yams. The rest had to be supplied by people from the other villages, on the day of the boat races. As the natives came to the beach on that day, village after village, they brought their contribution, and before settling down on their

## particular spot on the shore, they paid a visit to the chief and

offered him their tributes. These would be put into one of the pwata'i. All the villages did not contribute their share, but the majority did, though some of them brought only a few baskets. One of the villages brought one complete pwata'i, filled with yams, and offered the whole to the chief.

In the meantime, the eight canoes arrived, including that of Kasana'i, which had been ceremonially launched that morning with the accompanying magical rite, on its own beach about half a mile away. The canoe of Omarakana had also been launched on this morning (Plate XXX), and the same rite performed over it. It ought to have been done by To'uluwa, the chief. As he, however, is quite incapable of remembering magical spells--in fact, he never does any of the magic which his rank and office impose on him--the rite was performed on this occasion by one of his kinsmen. This is a typical case of a rule very stringently formulated by all informants when you ask about it, yet in reality often observed with laxity. If you inquire directly, everyone will tell you that this rite, as all others of the mwasila (Kula magic) has to be done by the toliwaga. But every time when he ought to perform it, To'uluwa will find some excuse, and delegate it to another.

When all the canoes were present, as well as all the important villages, at about eleven o'clock a.m., there took place the sagali (ceremonial distribution). The food was given to people from various villages, especially such as took part in the races, or had assisted in the building of the new canoe. So we see that food contributed by all the villages before the sagali was simply redistributed among them, a considerable quantity having been added first by the chief; and this indeed is the usual procedure at a sagali. In this case, of course, the lion's share was taken by the Kitavans who helped at the building.

After the sagali was over, the canoes were all brought up to one spot, and the natives began to prepare them for the race. The masts were stepped, the fastenings trimmed, the sails made ready (see Plate XXXI). After that the canoes all put off and gathered about half a mile off the shore, beyond the fringing reef; and at a sign given by some one on one of them, they all started. As said before, such a run is not a race properly speaking, in which the canoes would start scrupulously at the same minute, have the same distance to cover, and which would clearly show which is the fastest. In this case, it was merely, as always, a review of the boats sailing along as well as they were able, a review in which they all began to move, more or less at the same time, went in the same direction, and covered practically the same distance.

As to the time table of the events, the sagali was over before mid-day. There was a pause; and then, at about one p.m., the natives began rigging the canoes. Then all hands had a spell, and not before three p.m. were the races started. The whole affair was over by about four o'clock, and half an hour later, the boats from the other villages started to sail home, the people on the shore dispersed, so that by sunset, that is, about six o'clock, the beach was almost deserted.

Such was the tasasoria ceremony which I saw in February, 1916. It was a fine sight from the spectacular point of view. A superficial onlooker could have hardly perceived any sign of white man's influence or interference. I was the only white man present, and besides myself only some two or three native missionary teachers were dressed in white cotton. Amongst the rest of us there could be seen sparsely a coloured rag, tied round as a neckerchief or head-dress. But otherwise there was only a swarm of naked brown bodies, shining with coco-nut oil, adorned in new festive dress, with here and there the three-coloured grass skirt of a woman (see Plates XXX and XXXI).

But alas, for one who could look below the surface and read the various symptoms of decay, deep changes would be discernible from what must have been the original conditions of such a native gathering. In fact, some three generations ago, even its appearances would have been different. The natives then would have been armed with shields and spears; some would have borne decorative weapons, such as the big sword-clubs of hard wood, or massive ebony cudgels, or small throwing-sticks. A closer inspection would have shown many more decorations and ornaments, such as nose-sticks, finely carved lime spatulæ, gourds with burnt-in designs, some of which are now out of use, or those used of inferior workmanship or without decoration.

But other and much deeper changes have taken place in the social conditions. Three generations ago both the canoes in the water and the people on the shore would have been more numerous. As mentioned above, in the olden days there would have been some twenty canoes in Kiriwina, as against eight at the present time. Again, the far stronger influence of the chief, and the much greater relative importance of the event would have attracted a larger proportion out of the then more numerous population. Nowadays, other interests, such as diving for pearls, working on white man's plantations, divert the native attention, while many events connected with Missions, Government and trading, eclipse the importance of old customs.

Again, the people on the shore would have had to adhere in olden days even more closely to the local distribution, men of the same village community keeping together still more strictly, and looking with mistrust and perhaps even hostility, at other groups, especially those with whom they had hereditary feuds. The general tension would often be broken by squabbles or even miniature fights, especially at the moment of dispersing, and on the way home.

One of the important features of the performance, and the one of which the natives think perhaps most--the display of food--would also have been quite different. The chief whom I saw sitting on a platform surrounded by a few wives only, and with small attendance would, under the old conditions, have been the owner of thrice as many wives and consequently relatives-in-law, and as it is these from whom he derives most of his income, he would have provided a much bigger sagali than he is able to do nowadays.

Three generations ago the whole event would have been much more solemn and dramatic to the natives. The very distance to the neighbouring island of Kitava is nowadays dwarfed. In the past, it would not, as now, be quickly obliterated by a white man's steam-launch. Then, the canoes on the beach were the only means of arriving there, and their value in the eyes of the natives must have, therefore, been even higher, although they think so much of them now. The outlines of the distant island and the small fleet of canoes on the beach formed for the natives the first act of a big over seas expedition, an event of far deeper significance to them then than now. A rich haul of arm-shells, the arrival of many much-coveted utilities, the bringing back of news from the far-off land, all this meant much more in older days than it can mean at present. War, dancing, and the Kula supplied tribal life with its romantic and heroic elements. Nowadays, with war prohibited by the Government, with dancing discredited by missionary influence, the Kula alone remains, and even that is stripped of some of its glamour.

II

Before we proceed to the next stage, we must pause in following the events of a Kula expedition, and consider one or two points of more general importance. I have touched in the narrative, but not dwelt upon, certain problems of the sociology of work. At the outset of the preceding chapter it was mentioned that canoe-building requires a definite organisation of work, and in fact we saw that in the course of construction, various kinds of labour were employed, and more especially towards the end, much use was made of communal labour. Again, we saw that during the launching ceremony payment was given by the owner to the expert and his helpers. These two points therefore, the organisation of labour and communal labour in particular, and the system of payment for experts' work must be here developed.

Organisation of Labour.--First of all, it is important to realise that a Kiriwinian is capable of working well, efficiently and in a continuous manner. But he must work under an effective incentive: he must be prompted by some duty imposed by tribal standards, or he must be lured by ambitions and values also dictated by custom and tradition. Gain, such as is often the stimulus for work in more civilised communities, never acts as an impulse to work under the original native conditions. It succeeds very badly, therefore, when a white man tries to use this incentive to make a native work.

This is the reason why the traditional view of the lazy and indolent native is not only a constant refrain of the average white settler, but finds its way into good books of travel, and even serious ethnographic records. With us, labour is, or was till fairly recently, a commodity sold as any other, in the open market. A man accustomed to think in terms of current economic theory will naturally apply the conceptions of supply and demand to labour, and he applies them therefore to native labour. The untrained person does the same, though in less sophisticated terms, and as they see that the native will not work well for the white man, even if tempted by considerable payment and treated fairly well, they conclude that his capacity for labour is very small. This error is due to the same cause which lies at the bottom of all our misconceptions about people of different cultures. If you remove a man from his social milieu, you eo ipso deprive him of almost all his stimuli to moral steadfastness and economic efficiency and even of interest in life. If then you measure him by moral, legal or economic standards, also essentially foreign to him, you cannot but obtain a caricature in your estimate.

But the natives are not only capable of energetic, continuous and skilful work; their social conditions also make it possible for them to employ organised labour. At the beginning of