Tulagi And Its Chinatown.

Plea For More Vigorous Works Policy.

A resident of Tulagi, Solomon Islands, under the nom-de-plume of “Soliloquist ”, discusses an apparently dismal outlook.

BEFORE Resident Commissioner Work man left Tulagi (about 20 years ago) he built himself a memorial in the form of a very useful “cutting” which enables one to pass from one side of the Island to the other without climb ing and descending a stiff little pinch, which was not good for blood-pressure or boiled shirts. One cannot enjoy the cool ness of walking through the cutting with out kindly thoughts of its originator.

Unfortunately, he somewhat dulled such thoughts by leaving, as a second memorial, our Chinatown planted on the only possible harbour-side site where a white township could have flourished and maintained all the little side-line indus tries which go to make a happy little community.

Mr. Workman’s excuse for the blunder was: “As it was a mangrove swamp, it was the best place to put the blighters— What?”

The filling in of such a swamp, of course, was a small item, especially as in this case where there was ample ma terial all round the sides, even to coral boulders on the fore-shore for wall build ing.

But, -as things happened, the place was never properly filled in, and Chinese shacks were thrown up, in places, on rickety piles, over the mud, with their back doors and windows acting as sew erage exits.

The natural effluvium arising from such a locality is bad enough; but when it mingles with the imported aromas of An cient China in the still morning air, it is something to be remembered forever — and avoided.

This hot-bed for epidemic, be it said, is within (almost) a stone’s throw of the Residency, perched on a hill close by.

As the acreage of this locality was re stricted, it soon overflowed with the wel comed, incoming Chinese; and, since then, two further spasms of China have broken out further up the harbour; and, as the last remaining water-frontage blocks, which eventually would have at tracted white activity, have been hand ed over recently for the building of Chinese trading shacks, there is danger that newcomers will be forced to fall back on blocks surrounding the Residency it self.

THE present-day roads of Tulagi are a disgrace, compared with what they were twenty years ago, and to pass along them at night without a torch and a staunch pair of ankles is to gam ble with fate.

There is no hotel as of yore (outside a Chinese “shanty”) where a self-respect ing visitor may put up, nor is there a decent site available on which to build one—bar ground held by one of the lar ger firms which, apparently, cannot see enough inducement for such a project.

Water conservation was mooted many years ago; but that was as far as it got, and a “fortnight’s drought” means that water must be carried. With a dry spell, such, as we have had in the past, it might be cheaper (and probably heal thier) to drink whisky.

There is no public electric light, so no X-ray in the hospital. One of the more philanthropic firms did offer to in

stall a plant, against a guarantee of £5OO worth of light per annum from the Gov ernment, but it was turned down.

We have “Heath Robinson” wireless communication with the outside world, but it has to be relayed before it can reach Australia, so in the event of a Pacific war its usefulness might be some what restricted. Inter-island wireless should have been installed years ago; but there are at last signs of wakeful ness.

True, we have a pretty little golf course for officials and “approved” out siders, and also a cricket ground and

tennis courts, but that exhausts our pre tensions to being an up-to-date centre of a wealthy little community. “Dead

Possum Flat”, away in the Never-never, may boast of a public hall or School of Arts, but if one of its inhabitants visited Tulagi he wouldn’t even find a public convenience.

BUT Time marches on* and we are told that a road is to be built between Tulagi and Sand-fly Passage, or the mangrove swamp bordering it; distance said to be seven miles, by hill-side, swamp and jungle. The sum-total of its useful ness apparently will be a means to give Tulagi people exercise. But the first little obstacle to be surmounted is a bridge and causeway over three-quarters of a mile, or thereabout, of shallow water, which separates Tulagi from the main land. Nothing short of a very substan tial job would be worth a row of pins to 'stand the wash kicked up by strong south-easters down the harbour, nor does the soft sand-stone available lend itself to strength, unless quarried in huge blocks.

Leaving out the two to three hundred yards bridge necessary, this spasm alone would gnaw a nasty gap in our £70,000 surplus.

As for the rest of it, those who have seen the type of country referred to, and have experienced a tropical down pour, can easily imagine the cost of keep ing the proposed road in order, to say nothing of the cost of building it.

What makes the project all the more astonishing is the fact that for months past it has been apparent that our one important industry (copra) is in for an other price drought, which, but for the grace of a short spasm of good prices, is a continuation of the last one, but with this difference. Before the last depres sion set in, most of us had some sort of reserve up our sleeves. That was eaten up and we went well into debt. The im proved price did not last long enough to get us out of it. So this time we start off behind scratch and with the certain knowledge that we will not be allowed to run into further debt. It will be a case of “root, hog. or die!”

During the last depression a number of unfortunate individuals lost their all.

The Government did practically nothing for us—unless a sacrifice of the notorious profits of one year’s rentals can be call ed anything—and it might easily be that it will have to do much more this time.

If, like Mr. Workman, Mr. Ashley is desirous of building himself a memorial before he retires, next year* then he is late in thinking about it; but a review of the foregoing should make it very clear that a much worthier and less Costly pro ject would not be hard to hit upon than this almost entirely useless road. Sand fly Passage holds nothing but a slight change of scenery and, even if this were all-absorbing, a shade over an hour’s run in a medium-paced launch gives a very much better and more comfortable view of it than the proposed road could of fer-—even if it didn’t end in a mangrove swamp.

But perhaps all this is premature and unjust, and possibly it is not Mr. Ash ley’s intention to do more than connect Tulagi with the mainland, with the long headed intention of eventually pushing the various spasms of Chinatown off the island—a most necessary procedure if Tulagi is ever to be the happy and up to-date white settlement it should be.

But we despair of any improvement under the present form of Government.

So long as the Solomons remain under the domination of the far-too-distant and disinterested Fiji, just so long will Tulagi continue to be an El Dorado for Chinese and a nursery for official intertia.