The Solomons

By “Solomonoo”

UNLIKE the man who said he was walking about to save funeral ex penses, we in the Solomons just could not afford to give a kitchen cock roach a decent burial, just now.

As a sign of the times, the two big European stores in Tulagi were never at a lower ebb in the matter of supplies, and a ghost-like appearance litters their shelves.

The other day—around Xmas time — an old-timer entered one of the stores to make a few purchases and, after being turned down over meat, rice, bacon, potatoes, onions, flour, biscuits, benzine, kerosene, sugar, and a number of other necessities —not to mention beer —he asked what sort of storekeeping it was that allowed of such laxity at such a time. “Well, you see,” said the manager, apologetically, “the reason is that Ah Fat (as we will call the Chinese store keeper alluded to) missed out on his last orders to Sydney, and all his customers have been coming to us, and have cleaned us up!”

At this point, the old-timer put his hands in his face and burst out crying, after which he proceeded to Chinatown and procured most of what he needed.

To him there was a sort of sorry humour about the fact that it was largely the spoon-feeding and preferential treatment that Ah Fat had received at the hands of at least one of the Big Stores, all through the long depression, that had built him up to his present stage of opposition.

Still, there is always something to be thankful for. If a German raider nosed into Tulagi, looking for supplies, and saw the state we were in, he would probably be moved to pity, and leave us something to go on with.

White traders, of course, are numbered with the nast. But their shades, in these days, find amusement in marvelling as to how the numbers of Chinese traders who have replaced them can scratch out a living. Surely there must be a valuable lesson to be learned from them in the matter of balancing budgets, which even Treasurer Johnson and his staff could profit by. And, with the continued influx of cadets and officials generally, one is left in amazement as to how he (the Treasurer) manages to pull the ends together.

The Hat Came Off!

The state of Mission finances was in dicated the other day when a Bishop met a gold miner in Tulagi, and asked him how the gold-mining was going.

“Haven’t you heard the good news?” said the miner.

“No,” said the Bishop.

“Well, one of our local experts, who claims to be one of the three leading geologists of the world, has examined the field and declares that we are sitting on a bare 56 millions of pounds’ worth of gold, and that that is only the start of what lies behind. So.” continued the miner, “in future I will expect you to take your hat off when you speak to me.”

The Bishop removed his hat, turned it over and held it out in a significant manner, and said: “I certainly will!”

Mining And Miners

Talking of mining, several unfortunate copra-catchers whom circumstances have brought to a state of poverty, took it up as a final resort. Soon, moans were heard about “unnecessary restrictions”, and demands for “guarantees” against payment of labour.

One gave the Mines Department a guarantee and, when labour was being

signed on for him, the Labour De partment demanded still another one.

Rumour has it that at this point the doctor had to be called in to extract a ball of red tape from the victim’s throat; but this has not been confirmed.

This was under the “old” Mining Rules; but, now that the “new” ones have at last come to hand, after being many years on the way from Fiji, God help us! After a glance over them, one greatly fears that if he feels like shedding tears over his adversities, he will first have to fork out 7/6 for a “water licence” and then another 7/6 to cancel it, after the well of tears dries up.

Strange Weather

“Is there a weather cycle?” asks December “PIM”.

Well, I don’t know —but, over the last 35 years, I cannot recall a milder Nor’-west season (so far as we have gone) than the present one. Once, you could set your watch by a blow, arriving in the early part of January, and there would probably be a few pipe-openers during December; but, so far this year, all the “blitzing” seems to have been reserved for the other side of the globe. May it soon blow the taint of war—and Hitler —clean off this unhappy sphere!

Mr. R. H. French, assistant manager of the Pqndo establishment (factory and plantations) in New Guinea, died very suddenly on February 22, while super vising the loading of a steamer. He was only 41 years old. He had been 18 years in the Territory and was highly esteemed.

Miss Jean Wilson has been transferred from the Rabaul to the Salamaua (New Guinea) branch of Messrs. Burns, Philp and Co. Ltd.

Mr. E. Roenfelt, vice-president of the Seventh Day Adventist Mission, accom panied by Mr. R. Adair, treasurer, arrived in Rabaul by air from Sydney in mid- February to make a tour of inspection of their mission stations both in New Guinea and in the Solomon Islands.