Polynesian Playtime

By Edwin Gold

ALTHOUGH writers, have had a lot to say about the manners and customs of the adult natives of Central Poly nesia, the fascinating pastimes of the Cook Islands village children seem to have been entirely neglected. I have al ways enjoyed watching the games that are played, on the grassy swards outside the village huts, here on the cliff, and am not above taking a turn myself!

I think dragon-fly-fishing is the most amusing native play. The equipment is simple, and consists merely of a stick with a yard of thin string tied to it; the bait is a tiny piece of kapok lint, at the business-end of the line.

The fisher stands in the wind and al lows the piece of fluff to float upon the breeze. Big. red and black dragon-flies are always passing over the trees and bushes, like a fairy Air Force, and these are not slow to observe the wavering white object. A dragon fly makes a swoop and grasps the piece of down, but, alas! it tangles his feet, and the big in sect becomes a captive! Thereafter, he is the finest of toy aeroplanes, droning around in a circle for hours. In the end. the insect tires, and refuses further duty; he is then released, and flies away. But as soon as one aeroplane is let go, an other is caught.

Another favourite game is the tupe, which has been handed down from the old heathen days, when Mangaian war riors whiled away the long hours before battle by playing it. The tupe set consists simply of six discs of woods, 3 inches in diameter, and two little pentagonal mats. The mats, which are about as large as a man’s two feet, are woven

from palm fronds, and the discs are cut from the thick, woody stump of the same frond.

The game of tupe looks very easy— the two mats are placed 40 feet apart, and the player stands on one mat and endeavours to skim the six discs, one after another, on to the other. In prac tice. it is most difficult to land even three discs in the limited area of the goal—one must allow for the wind, op tical illusion caused by the gleam of the material in bright sunshine, and other factors. For killing time, this game has no equal; and the patience of the players is also remarkable!

There is another game, very like our hop-scotch, but more complicated, played in the village street. This, though, is too vigorous for the summer months.

Marbles, however, are played at all times, using the European glass article (two a penny, in the stores). Coconuts, in the dry stage, are also accepted as payment (Pacific marble games often end in London margarine!).

The writer introduced glass marbles, away back in 1928, and these super seded the round nuts formerly used, which were the same size but much lighter. It must be pointed out that no European child has ever lived in this district, so the game, though identical in every detail with the old. English one, is genuinely native—a little fact that ethnologists who could learn more from the children than adult Polynesians, have entirely ignored.

THE pastime called a’e, to which we give the name of cat’s-cradle or a string game, is very ancient indeed; and the various spiderweb designs pro duced with 10 digits and a piece of string are so numerous as to be capable of an almost infinite number of variations.

These all have names, and an efficient player must know every one.

Some of the names of the designs are historic, relating to events in the an cient Polynesian canoe voyages from Havaiki (the lost Atlantis of the south ern, warmer ocean); others are humor ous —the one called Moko’s Wedding” particularly, as this design disintegrates at its conclusion, like the unhappy event it commemorates!

Tops are a common toy. A dried-out seed-coconut is ideal in form for a whip top, and the same old handy palm frond provides the whip. As far as I know, this also is a purely Polynesian plaything: and by piercing a hole in the side of the nut, sound effects are added.

The favourite test_ of skill is to bomb an opponent’s top by leaping one’s own on it—the resultant smash is quite spectacular, fragments flying all over the road. Replacement is no difficulty; there are dozens of nuts at the roadside, so the game is not productive of any dis putes or outlay of Saturday pennies!

In the country districts, where the land is are many smooth, gentle slopes, covered with dryish grass. The shank of a dry palm frond becomes there a toboggan! Astride it. the children glide down the slopes, and have great fun— but I have never cared to try that, in these days of rationed trousers!