Tahiti

Memories Of Old

WHEN the writer was a very young boy he acquired a set of books by the African explorer, Paul Du Chaillu.

These volumes told of adventures among savage and cannibal tribes, 'of expeditions through trackless equatorial forests and, most fascinating of all, of encounters with giant gorillas that stood like men and beat their breasts with their fists, and roared until the wood land quaked.

Almost were we persuaded to discard our ambition to become a locomotive engineer and to seek fame and glory in following the footsteps of Du Chaillu.

Years passed; and, with their passing, our plans and ambitions crumbled into dust. We never became a locomotive engineer, and we were destined never to see a creature that beat its breast with its fists and roared —until we came to Tahiti . . .

At that period, the Hotel Tiare was the meeting place in Papeete of Eng lish-speaking residents and visitors.

Lovina —enthroned on a big divan behind a long table on the back veran dah, whence she directed the activities of her numerous attendants —presided over our assemblies, as a queen over her court. Indeed, to most of us, Lovina was the uncrowned Queen of Tahiti. She spoke English fluently and the conversa tions were in that language, with occa sional footnotes in Tahitian to keep her attendants informed.

Oftentimes, especially when the steamer “Mariposa” was in port, a few strangers would join the company, as interested listeners.

The talk, one day, turned to the west coast of North America. The writer,

innocently enough, expressed his disillu sionment at the blighted hills and parched valleys, where brochures and lithograph advertisements had led him to expect lush meadows watered by tinkling brooks, and hillsides glowing with blossoms of many colours.

Immediately, one of the passengers from the “Mariposa” rose to his feet and began beating his breast with his fists, letting out staccato roars that made the windows rattle. Noisily and bitterly, he hurled back the reflection upon his beloved Western State.

We were delighted and fascinated. This was like a chapter of Du Chaillu.

Later, when the storm and fury had abated, we ventured an opinion on the superior qualities of the Florida coast as a winter resort. This was followed by a tempest of such violence that Lovina intervened.

She said that it was all right for us to amuse ourselves; but we must take into account that houses in Tahiti were not so substantially built as are those in more rigorous climates, and that henceforth we must leave out all refer ence to Florida.

But nothing lasts forever. Great move ments of population began, that filled the West Coast with alien people who thought of other things than “The Fair Fame of Our Glorious State”. Steadily, they have overwhelmed the Old Guard until the militant Native Son of the Golden West bids fair to share the fate of those other Native Sons who, now a meagre remnant, hold sanctuary among the volcanoes of the Mufumbiro Moun tains. And so perished one of our most exhilarating pastimes of the old days.

A.C.R.

A son was born to Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Hill, of Tavua, Fiji, in May.