Land Titles!

What Happens To An Unwary Buyer In Tahiti

Prom Our Own Correspondent.

Papeete, June 1.

LAND tenure in French Oceania is a weird and bewildering problem.

Under native law, the ownership of land descended to the Matahiapo, or eld est child—somewhat after the manner of the entail of property in English prac tice—who was obligated to care for the needs of the younger children and their

families in the distribution of the pro ducts from the estate.

European law changed all that, and de creed that inheritance should pass to each child in equal measure. After the lapse of several generations, with own ership vested in numerous direct descen dants, collateral heirs, cousins germane, minor children, step-children, adopted children and every other possible rela tionship, a situation has developed which regularly congests the court calendars and has raised our legal profession to the state of plutocracy.

The phrase “caveat emptor” should be, but often is not, shouted into the ear of the unwary buyer of native land.

We have a friend who once blithely bought a tract of land, as a residence site, in one of the districts of Tahiti.

Now, years ago—after long and bitter ex perience with human contumacy we had abandoned the giving of advice to anyone on any subject. In this case, however, the information had come to our ears that the vendor of the parcel of land was merely a caretaker on the property, whose ownership was vested in a one-twentieth share.

We warned our friend: “Do not lay the foundation of your house or mend a fence or cut a blade of grass until you have cleared your title beyond all question”.

“My title is already clear”, replied our friend. “Monsieur So-and-So, who knows all things about natives and lands, has assured me that it is so”.

“Very well”, we rejoined. “You will have a quiet and pleasant season of peace and tranquility, until your house is fin ished, your fence built, and your land well planted. Then, one day, an old na tive whom you have never seen before, will ooze into your place. His face will express the nadir of desolation. He will rub his hands, shake his head, and mur mur, “Mea Rahi Peapea” (there is great trouble). Finally, he will reach under the waistband of his Pareu and produce a paper which is a registered copy of the true title deed, and that title deed will show the real owners of this property”.

“Ha” laughed our friend. “Do you know more about land than Monsieur So and-So?”

Time passed. Our friend built his house, erected his fences and planted lavishly his land.

Then one day he came to see us.

“Truly”, he said, “A prophet is not without honour save in his own coun try. If what you told me had been writ ten down and rehearsed, the scene could not have been more perfectly acted than it has been. An old scoundrel, whom I had never seen before, oozed into my place last week. His face expressed the nadir of desolation. He rubbed his hands, shook his head and murmured, ‘Mea Rahi Peapea’. Then he reached under the waistband of his pareu and produced a registered title deed. I am in for it, and I deserve it because I would not listen to advice”.

Such has been the experience of many a buyer of land in these Islands.

Land titles are so involved that the only safe procedure is to purchase land that has been put up at auction.

Rev. and Mrs. W. G. Wiedemann left

Sydney for Rabaul, N.G., by the

“Macdhui” on June 1. Mr. Wiedemann who has been on furlough in Sydney will resume his duties as mission worker for the Melanesian Mission at

Sag Sag, New Britain.