Tropicalities

ACCORDING to a newspaper report, Mr.

W. C. Groves told the Anthropology section of the Science Congress, in Mel bourne, that “everywhere in New Guinea European representatives were enthusias tic about anthropology. They included planters, judges and miners. Anthropology was beginning to justify itself in the offi cial mind. Only by living with the people and leaving behind European associations was it possible to gain the trust and con fidence of the natives. Thus only was if possible to get at the inner heart of the people and interpret their true spirit.”

True enough. But if ever the spirit of an indigenous people was well and truly “interpreted,” it has been accomplished in New Guinea in recent years. The place has been literally over-run with anthropologists—old and young, male and female, cranks and not-so cranky. Each lady and gentleman seems to produce a new set of theories, and to be eager to ram the same down the throats of a bored and suspicious Administration.

Planters and miners generally are re spectful to the scientists; but the number and variety of the latter have done noth ing to change the local opinion that “coons is just coons, anyway.” * * * THE nations generally are of the opinion that the Japanese, contrary to the letter and spirit of the Mandate they hold, are fortifying the Marshall, Caro line, and Marianne Islands. The Japanese deny it. No one is allowed to go there and ascertain the position. The Man dates Commission of the League of Na tions (from which Japan last year osten tatiously withdrew) suggested that pub lished figures showing expenditure in those Islands was very large. Japan, with equal politeness, said the money was spent on “purely civil and commercial purposes.” There were no details. The Commission rubbed its collective nose, pondered a little, and then said it “would like further particulars.” “Certainly!” said Japan. Nothing further has been heard about it. Everyone concerned seems to be determined that the League of Nations-Mandates farce shall be play ed out to the bitter end. ♦ ♦ * “LUXURY Cruising” in the Pacific is definitely growing, and presently will be included among the staple industries of the Pacific Islands.

Quite apart from the short excursions from Australian ports, extending from four to 14 days, there are huge liners coming into the Pacific in increasing num bers, carrying thousands of passengers on trips embracing many weeks. The “Car mthia,” cruising through Eastern Poly nesia early in 1933, really started it. Then came the “Stella Polaris” and then the ‘Franconia.” The Matson Company, in 1934, organised a “City of Los Angeles” cruise, and when that great liner returned to port from a Pacific wander, she found another load of passengers clamouring for the same trip. It is reported that the Franconia” will bring another load of “cruisers” into Polynesia in 1935.

What Pacific residents think of these rich tourists and their rhapsodising about Pacific Islands Idylls,” had better not be written here. One may say, however, that their influence on the natives is deplor

able; but, fortunately, the tourist ships go only to the well-worn ports, where the indigenes already are accustomed to the ways of festive and irresponsible Euro peans. “Cruising” brings a lot of money into the Islands, for distribution among natives, who provide all sorts of enter tainments, from dancing to hurriedly carved “ancient curios.” The natives nowadays can assemble at a few minutes’ notice, and go through movements that really are a dreadful parody of the old time dances. The “luxury cruisers” shoot off their cameras and are quite happy, however—and the islanders don’t care. * * * Captain R. A. WILLIAMS, formerly well and popularly known as a master of Burns Philp steamers, appears to have settled down happily in his new berth as Captain of M.V. Southern Cross VII., with headquarters in the Solomons.

Not long ago, when the little mission ship, with the Bishop of Melanesia aboard, was bucking a south-easter near Rennell Island, and doing 4½ knots, the Malaita came along, running at 12 knots. The skipper’s old shipmates ran up three flags, reading “Keep me in sight during the night.” In an hour, she was over the horizon. “These little courtesies of the sea!” remarked the Bishop. What Captain Williams said is not recorded. * * * THIS, from “Papuan,” looks like an underhand crack at someone: “Do you think it is right that a man, after retiring on superannuation pension from the service of one Administration, should join the service of another, at a comfortable salary? He was a soldier and he has a soldier’s pension; so that his present income consists of (a) pen sion under superannuation; (b) war pen

sion; (c) present salary. Is it fair that he should keep another good man out of a job?”

A ticklish question; but my sympathy is with the man who is criticised. A man is entitled to all that he can earn, in a fair and legitimate manner. If a man is retired from a Pacific service, while still in life’s prime, and wishes to keep on working, he surely is entitled to do so. If anyone is blameworthy, it is the Adminis tration which fixes the retiring age too low. The fact that a man has a war pension is something between himself, his conscience, and the Pensions Com missioners. Ninety-nine per cent, of war pensions paid to-day were legitimately awarded. * * * THIS is told in a private letter from a shy man who detests publicity— namely, Dr. G. H. Vernon, of Daru, Wes tern Papua—but it is so funny that the good doctor’s feelings must be sacrificed on the altar of journalistic expediency.

There was a wedding anniversary held in Daru; and there was a carefully com piled fruit salad to be served; and to Dr.

Vernon fell the pleasant duty of serving the fruit salad. The doctor served with skill, and poured upon each helping a liberal supply of a thick yellow liquid, which was placed at his right hand by the house boy, when dressing was called for. The fruit salad was passed around.

A few people began to laugh, but the doctor could see no reason for laughter.

“What is the big joke? Is it on me?” asked the doctor. “You will soon find out,” was the answer. The doctor tackled his own share of the fruit salad —and threw down the spoon with a horrid curse.

The liquid was a vinegar and oil salad dressing which had been omitted from a previous course, and which had been care fully placed in the wrong position, in the inevitable way of Papuan house boys. The doctor assumed his most professional manner. “It is an excellent thing for you that you should all have a good laugh,” he said, sententiously.