Shall The Native Cure His Own Copra?

From a Special Correspondent.

KAVIENG, January 7.

A MATTER that is giving rise to much discussion, for and against, is the recent development (encouraged, it is thought, in local administrative circles) of the natives in their villages drying and preparing for market the copra produced from their own coconut groves.

The development is a natural out come of the policy pursued by the ad ministration for some years, of eu couraging the extension of native owned plantations. Practically every village from Kavieng to Karu, along the east coast road, has its village plantation, communally worked and

cleaned (when cleaned at all!), the rows of palms generally being owned by the individuals who planted them.

With the coming into full bearing in the next year or two, of these small “plantations,” in addition to the copra from old native-owned clumps of palms, the amount of the production of copra by natives will be greatly increased.

Now the native, who, in spite of con tact with European influences over a long time, does not understand the causes or consequences to him and the coconut industry of world economic crises, fluctuating prices, and uncertain markets, practically ceased a year or two ago to sell his coconuts to the trader at the then ruling price—a price which, as we Europeans appreciate, is ent on the market conditions, etc., overseas, over which the producer has no control whatever. So that “trade” in copra has languished, stores have been closed, plantations have allowed their licences to lapse. Even the thrifty Chinese trade-store lessee has found it almost impossible, and certainly unprofitable, to carry on.

One result of this state of affairs was that the flow of money into the villages through “trade” was stopped, and it appeared that the natives in many cases would this year find difficulty in “meet ing” the annual head-tax, a fact that caused some concern in native circles, and, it is believed, in official quarters also.

The facts, then, in summary, as fairly

as the writer is able to put them, were something like this: The price offered for native coconuts in the trade-store dropped (as did the world-price of copra); the natives, accustomed to the high price formerly ruling and not un derstanding the change, ceased to sell coconuts to the trader (who, in many cases, maintained a trade-store in con junction with his plantation, more as a small and unimportant side-line than as an important business, and did not, therefore, worry much at the falling off in his trade-copra returns); money ceased to flow into the villages; the possibility of collecting the head-tax was remote under the circumstances; coconuts lay sprouting on the ground; officially-encouraged village plantations (“peasant proprietorship” it is euphe mistically called) became neglected; pests began to increase, to the detri ment of local plantations: the local planter, in most cases, put a little more than his customary bitterness or venom into his oft-reiterated and only partlytrue assertion that “the kanaka is lazy” (not always quite so free of adjectival embellishment as that innocent looking sentence).

And so “something must be done.”

Something was done. Soon, in nearly every village, there appeared a sun drier, constructed on a common design (and a very satisfactory design, too); the luluais (head men) and their assist ant tul-tuls whipped the native men up into a new and unaccustomed activity.

Coconuts in all stages of development began to mount into large heaps in front of the driers. One or two (more or less itinerant) “traders” sought the favour of the natives’ custom in dis

posing of their copra, and things appeared satisfactory (to some people).

The local branch of the Planters and Traders’ Association lodged its cus tomary objection. I say “customary” with all due deliberation. It was con fidently believed—even rumoured wildly —that the Administrator (who has al ways courteously listened to, but not always granted the requests of the abovementioned organisation) would immediately intervene to stop the new idea.

But the natives still dry copra—and, from what I have seen of it, it has been good quality copra, though it would be foolish to expect all native-dried copra to be of high quality. The “itinerant traders” still press their suit, offering varying prices; the banking account of the villages grows—in one case it is above £20 in a few months, the average of copra dried being 5 bags a week.

Within a month or two the “Kiap” (government representative) will be along to collect the tax.

The one noticeable result of the move ment is the new air of prosperity about the villages. This writer believes that it is through such new interests (with tangibly profitable results) that the sal vation of this people and their rehabili tation (which is ultimately in the in terests of the white man permanently settled here) will be found.

Say what we will, and forgetting per sonal animus against the native, the important facts remain—(a) that the interests of European and native in this country are inter-dependent, and must be reconciled (remember the story of the goose and the golden eggs!); and (b) that, in the terms of the Mandate, we are officially adjured “to promote to the utmost the . . . material well being of the native.” The government dare not—that is, openly—legislate to prevent or frustrate any effort at de velopment of the native by himself.

Now, what is against the proposal? is it so bitterly attacked in cer tain quarters? First (and in this one feels a very great sympathy for the man struggling along with a young plantation not yet in bearing or only partially bearing, for to him trade copra meant a good deal), there is the loss in “trade” receipts of the regular "trade-store.” In most cases of older

plantations this amounts to very little, for, as before said, such trade is only a small side-line. The argument, how ever, is regularly advanced, But the trump-card of the opponents is this: That Rabaul sun-dried copra is held in high regard on the Lon don markets for its consistently good quality, and brings always a better price than other copra; in consequence, the shipping from Rabaul of native cured copra—always, it is assumed, of poor quality—will interfere seriously with the market and diminish the market esteem for the old product, This, it is admitted, is a powerful argument, but not an unanswerable one.

The solution is this: If it is true that the copra dried by natives is of poor quality, its export as a high-grade pro duct will be prevented by the fact that all copra is subjected to examination for grading purposes by a Government copra inspector.

And, secondly, surely it is the busi ness of the Administration, it having encouraged the extension of native coconut plantations and (allegedly) this native drying scheme, to provide means of an educational nature (“education” not implying book-learning, but of a much wider connotation) to overcome this defect; to teach the native, that is, to dry copra properly, “But you can’t teach him anything!” comes the persistent single-melody re frain. Some day it will be recorded on a gramophone!

Meanwhile, the fight is on; though at present there is only an exhibition of light sparring. An onlooker can only hope that neither party is knocked out on a foul. The Administration must be the referee.