Odd Angles In Fiji

From Notes Mode on a Recent Visit by the Editor of the "RIM"

rSY stared at me in Suva when I said that I liked “the social calm and industrial peace of Fiji.” To many residents, Fiji in February is just a pain in the neck.

But I had flown that day from Auck land; and I had found New Zealand, in an industrial-social sense, rather worse than Australia—and that is saying some thing. When I was a NZ resident, a quarter-century ago, efficiency and cour tesy were the rule in the Dominion. To day, the undependability of its workers, and especially the rudeness and insolence of its public servants, are something to be experienced to be believed.

I encountered more discourtesy to the square yard in the Auckland Post Office than anywhere else in the world. I re member, with affection, the stamp-seller who called me “Bill”, and the cable counter clerk who told me, with a snarl, that if I wanted airmail packets weighed I should get there before the blinking window closed.

This, of course, is the direct result of placing the government of a country in the hands of class-conscious professional politicians and trade union secretaries.

They reverse the old idea that the public service was created to serve the public.

Now, the public servants are encouraged to hate the public, and batten upon us, and push us around.

Fiji Seamen's Union?

INDUSTRIAL discipline may still exist in Fiji; but Fiji need not become all high-hat about it. The plans of the New Order already have reached into this happy South Seas Colony.

I was told that a well-known official of Suva, under Governmental direction, is now engaged in organising a Fiji Sea men’s Union. Heaven—and Whitehall!— alone knows why; but, presumably, in the rose-pink view of the gentlemen who now

run the British Empire, the thought that there may be, even in Fiji, a body of seamen who are contented and unorgan ised and apparently incapable of kick ing up a row, is quite intolerable. . If one may judge by post-war events in Papua-New Guinea, the sight of Big Firms (like BP’s Morris Hedstrom and Carpenters, in Fiji), carrying on happily and making profits, is a constant challenge to Socialist Ministers; so unions must be organised, to keep this “exploitation” in check.

Concerning Suva's Dock-Workers

l r |iHE next development, one presumes, JL will be a move by the Government to “organise” the Suva dock-workers Unorganised, they are a well-paid, very happy body of (mostly) Fijians, whose prowess as loaders and unloaders of ships is literally world-famous. Shipmasters become lyrical whenever they talk about the way in which their cargoes are handled in the port of Suva.

But the Suva watersiders will have a long way to go before they reach the standards set by the Sydney dock-workers That highly-organised Communist-led union is widely-known for (a) the skill and thoroughness of its members in pil laging cargoes; and (b) its success in directing the foreign policy of the Aus tralian Government. Its refusal to handle cargo for the Netherlands Indies Gov ernment contributed to the success of the Indonesians over the Dutch.

The day may come when the organised dock-workers of Suva will refuse to handle any more cargo for the Big Firms until High Authority has granted the claims of the down-trodden Indians. Fantastic?

No more fantastic than the appearance of “good old Billy McKell” in the Governor- Generalship of Australia!

Caught in the Act rOM the top floor of their iiospitable house near Nausori, Mr. and Mrs. ... King Irving (he is the manager in !Fiji of the Colonial Sugar Refining Co.) gave us the lay-out of the wide Nausori flats—and the location of that very con troversial place, the Nausori air-field.

As we went downstairs, I was medita ting upon the navigational risks of a plane trying to find Nausori in misty weather, when there was a sharp cry. A large, handsome dog, which had given us a demonstrative welcome, departed hur riedly, his tail in a position indicating discomfiture and guilt. In the lounge, all afternoon-tea fittings were present and correct—except a silver dish, which had held a luscious kind of biscuit, made es pecially by Mrs. King Irving in honour of our visit. A half-biscuit reposed on the carpet—the remainder was with the rapidly-retreating Rover.

Mrs. King Irving, always charming and well-poised, made a joke of calamity, and everyone was happy—except Rover. A junior member of the household departed privily; and presently there came, from the distant background, a lugubrious ulul ation. Rover was learning, the hard way, that none can escape the law of compen sation.

Harassed Men on Fixed Incomes 117ITHIN three weeks in Fiji' I talked f f to a score of married couples, with children; and became aware that there is no more acute problem in the Colony than that of the status of the European family man.

The great majority of European men in

Fiji are middle-class—that is, they are public servants, professional men, or busi ness executives, who are accustomed to live comfortably on a salary of between £3O and £5O per month. Until they were struck by the post-war readjustment, they had no serious economic problem. They paid no income tax; and they could keep a couple of Fijian or Indian servants, maintain a car, count on a holiday in Australia or New Zealand every couple of years, and send their children to a good school in a colder country.

Now, the situation is much changed.

The cost of everything has gone up, and they are taxed, but their incomes are about the same. Most of them have made grim and difficult adjustments in the family budgets; but the one thing they cannot cope with is the greatly increased cost of sending their children away to school. Yet, for the sake of the children, as well as for prestige, they cannot let their children live on under present con ditions in Fiji, once they reach the age of ten or twelve.

It is a matter for the Government, and for all big employers. Secondary edu cation must be provided—either by est ablishing educational institutions of the right type in suitable locations in Fiji, or by recognising that men there on fixed salaries, if they are not to be harassed to the point of inefficiency, must have their incomes • increased, so that they can take care of their family responsibilities.

Coastal Beauties

mHERE was a twinkle in the bright blue J. eyes of “Tui” Johnson, and honey in his voice.

“I want to run-in a new car,” he said, “I’d like to show you the South Coast’s lovely beaches, and the North Coast’s

hospitality, and Nadarivatou. We can carry a hundredweight of ice in the boot —and so forth.”

No one would miss that kind of week end picnic. We took with us Len Usher, to convince me that, when Pacific Tourism is under discussion, there is nothing like Viti Levu; and Jerry '’Adams, Lautoka’s argumentive mayor—probably as an anti dote to any pro-Suva tendencies developed by Usher.

“Tui” knows his Fiji. I will admit that I never saw tropical beaches more beauti ful than those between Navua and Siga toka. We had a cold beer at each beach, as we sat in the cooling wind. Each beach seemed to me more lovely than the last!

By comparison, the coast between Nadi and Tavua is less colourful. But, while the new car did her modest 35, along those dusty roads, I sat beside Jerry Adams, and I am now persuaded that there is no more invigorating climate, or more exciting lagoon-fishing, than is offered oy the much-maligned “sugar belt”.

Adams got in some deadly work on this publicist while our guileless Usher was telling funny stories to the driver.

A Cool Mountain-Top Nadarivatou —i do not know which I found more stimulating: Learning the pronunciation of the name (com plete with the Fijian “n” before the “d”); or that steep and tortuous road up nearly 3,000 feet of (presumably) gold-laden mountain; or the swim in the jungle hidden bathing-pool, near the hotel, at the top.

When “Tui” Johnson went into Com merce, Art registered a loss. The mar vellous pictures, in all the pastel shades, presented by the reef-begirt North Coast, as we climbed that mountain, stirred “Tui” to fervent phrases ... and gave us some thrills.

“Tui” (guiding the car with one hand, and waving the other out over a frightful precipice): “Look, fellows—did you ever see anything more beautiful than that?”

Harsh chorus of fellows; “Keep your eye on the bloody road!”

It was not a nice way to treat a gracious host—but you should have seen that abyss!

“Tui” would drive along humbly for another quarter-mile; and then his en thusiasm would again carry him away.

“Wouldn’t that beat your Bulli Look-out or your Grand Corniche Road?” he would chant—until howls and bleats from his tortured passengers would remind him that “Alice” (the car) was literally poking her nose out over a hairpin bend.

It is quite a journey up to Nadari vatou; but the contrast between the thick, enervating February heat, on the coastal belt, and the cold invigorating air of the pretty township, on its bush-clad moun tain-top, made any kind of effort worth while. The licensed hotel there is well conducted by a young veteran of World War lI—I cannot understand why the resort is not patronised more numerously by Fiji’s Europeans. Perhaps it is too far from the main centres of population.

Going round by Lautoka, or by Penang, the journey to Nadarivatou is admittedly long and wearisome—too far, perhaps, to be of any use as a weekend resort. But, if a road could be built from the Suva- Nausori area, straight up the Rewa Valley, Nadarivatou would be a practicable proposition—and the ability to get there, for two or three cold days every week or two, would make a big difference to the life of Europeans in Fiji. Nadarivatou is only 50 miles in a direct line from Suva.

A Plea for Hill-Stations

rE reluctance of Europeans in the chief Islands centres, like Port Moresby, Lae, Rabaul, Noumea, Suva, Apia, Papeete, Rarotonga, to establish

cool hill-stations within a negotiable distance has always puzzled me. Near every one of those humid seaside towns there are mountains, upon which could be built health stations and weekend resorts, at a height of 2,000 or 3.000 feet.

Life in the South Sea Islands ports is quite tolerable, from about June until October; but there come spells of hot weather, around mid-summer, when white people feel that they just cannot endure the heat and discomfort for another day.

Their health deteriorates and their nervous system goes to pieces. To be able to make a break, and spend a few days in a place where one at least can “sleep cool”, would take half the undesirable features —especially for women and children—out of all-the-year residence in the tropics.

The French—realists always—now have a delightful resort on the mountains be-

hind Papeete, opened less than two years ago. I understand they also have a simi lar place in preparation near Noumea, v Apia, Suva and Port Moresby are three important places which should have suit able hill-stations, at whatever cost. If Suva cannot run a road through the in terior mountains to give easy access to Nadarivatou, then the Fiji Government should look around in the mountains nearer Suva for a site for a suitable hill station. That, in fact, may be the answer to the present growing problem of how to provide Fiji’s fixed-income middle-class Europeans with school ac commodation in a cool climate. w . . .. T , VYiiar the load Mas Done 117ALKING back to the Grand Pacific, f f one night, I stepped squarely on a toad; and so was reminded that,

entomologically, Viti Levu is one of the most interesting places in the South P&ciHc Ten or fifteen years ago, the man who tried to establish a good garden in Suva

was reduced, in a few weeks, to a cursing wreck. Every kind of plant would grow rapidly in that fertile, rain-soaked soil; and then every kind of pest, known and unknown, would come out of the lush undergrowth to eat every kind of plant.

The pests did not spare even the precious sugar-cane.

So, not long before World War 11, they brpught from Hawaii a gentleman of (I think) South African extraction, called the Giant Toad, and turned him loose in Viti Levu. My first meeting with him is still a lively memory. I had chased a golf-ball down into a kind of gutter, and there I met a monstrous thing, with horns and goggling eyes, and as big as an un gainly hen. The GT had found food so abundant in Fiji that, in a few genera tions, he had multiplied exceedingly, and his average size increased incredibly.

To-day, in Suva, one may grow flowers and vegetables to one’s heart’s delight, undisturbed by nibbling beetles or sneak ing thrip. Gardening is a pleasure—when one becomes used to the battalions of toads which form up in the evenings on the lawns and beds, and hop around busily all night.

But no longer are they Giant Toads.

The rapid increase in toad population, plus the steady decrease in pests, meant that the creatures now are obliged to work hard for their living, so that they have slimmed off, and probably they are con siderably smaller than their progenitors from Hawaii. The average is about half the size of one’s clenched fist—a very different reptile to the one I disturbed with a golf-ball, some ten years ago.

Because of what he has done to the in sect pests, he is regarded by all Suva residents with a friendly eye; but he is so numerous and hungry now that he possibly may develop some evil trait, and become a pest himself.

Scientists and Pests

ON this subject, I was interested to read in one of the excellent publications of the Department of Agriculture that “Fiji occupies a high-ranking place among countries where biological control has been successfully employed in check ing insect pests.” Here, briefly, are some of Fiji’s more notable successes:— In 1925, a Malayan fly was brought in to control the Purple Moth (Levuana) and was most successful. Thus, countless thousands of coconuts were saved.

In 1928, the Trinidad Ladybird was in troduced to check coconut scale; while in 1930-31, a Java fly and beetle were let loose on the spike borer.

Within the next few years, another Java wasp, and a Java beetle were brought in to control the leaf miner and a banana weevil.

These were good examples of insects being used to check insects. But selected insects have been used to check noxious weeds. A Mexican seed-fly was brought in in 1910 to check lantana; followed, in

1930, by the far more successful liberation of the Trinidad “Liothrips urichi”, against Koster’s Curse.

There is a fine enthusiasm behind the skilled and experienced officials of the Department of Agriculture, and they are giving Fiji most valuable service.

It is to be hoped that, when the South Pacific Commission functions, the know ledge gained by this Department will be made available to all South Seas Terri tories.

A Long Way From Fleet Street

"piLEET STREET, especially the merci £ less battles which range around space-filling, seemed a long way from Suva; yet in a neat lagoon-side bungalow, sipping Ken Witherington’s potent rye whisky, I caught once again the glitter and fury of Britain’s press barons.

There I saw a cabinet, crammed full of silver trophies. Their inscriptions recorded the facts that one K. Wither ington had won nearly every kind of golf trophy made available for competition by newspaper men in London in the golden period between World Wars.

But there came a day when KW got very tired of press battles and London’s grey and weeping skies. So he packed up his innumerable trophies, and took his attractive wife by the hand, and they headed off, south by east, in quest of sunshine and a cleaner world. They found both in Fiji; and KW now is a happy and prosperous import agent, in dulging, without fear or favour, a foul taste in neckwear and radical inclinations in politics.

But, while he told me about London’s weeping skies, it was raining in Suva— and had been raining for three days and four nights. Outside of London, I think Suva must be the wettest capital city in the Empire. Maybe, that is why KW and his trophies feel at home there.

Lautoka To-day

1 SPENT an hour, wandering around Lautoka—scorched and unattractive in the February heat—yet a tidy place with concrete streets and fresh water running always through the gutters.

One gets the impression that it now is mostly an Indian town —all the little shops are run by Indians. The hotel and the two leading stores (BP’s and MH) are the chief European institutions.

I was surprised to learn from friend Adams, as we enjoyed his generous hos pitality, that the Lautoka Club has 300 European members. The membership lists must extend over the far horizon.

Indians' Hideous Habitations

NO man who likes orderliness and beauty can drive through the sugar belt, between Lautoka and Tavua, without agony of soul. There can be few things of human creation more hideous than the habitations of the Indian sugar growers, scattered here and there among the endless grey-green acres of growing cane.

In the great majority of cases, the cane grower’s home is simply a hut, built un tidily either of native materials or, more ugly still, of corrugated iron. Sometimes, there is a shade-tree near; more often, there is nothing except the bare ground around the hut, and a couple of hideous sheds—no hedge, no garden, no attempt at beautification. There are a few miser able animals, the inevitable half-Cebu cow, and swarms of children.

Leftists will come yelping in at me to ask what I might expect, seeing that these are “the poverty-stricken slaves of the soulless sugar monopoly” (I quote from an American publication). To that I can reply that the CSR Co. has done

everything within reason to encourage these people to house and feed themselves comfortably—but they simply are not in terested.

And, by contrast, here and there — mostly in green places beside streams — are the villages of the Fijians—clean, tidy, orderly, and almost always set among shade-trees, palms, green lawns and flower-beds. So far as building materials are concerned, the Fijians have less than the Indians—their neat little houses are made of grass, reeds and bush saplings. It is all a matter of inclina tion and spirit.

Battle of Fiji

ONE of my friends sat himself down in the large hall that formerly was the American officers’ club-room at Nadi (northwestern Fiji), and which now is used by the NZ Air Force as part of a hostel for Trans-Pacific travellers.

“Here”, declaimed my friend, his mind running back to the black days of 1942- 43, “here were fought out some of the sternest engagements of the Pacific War.”

“Very true,” agreed another friend.

“Some of those girls only escaped with their lives Mr. Norman Lee, previously manager of Teopasinao Estate in Bougainville, was in Sydney in March. He has now been discharged from the Army, and is seeking available arable land in the Territory— so far unsuccessfully.

Among the passengers on the flying boat “Corialanus,” which left Brisbane on April 16, were Mr. and Mrs. J. Att neave and their young son, Jim. They were on their way to their future home in Noumea. Mrs. Attneave, a French girl, met her husband when he was serv ing with the AIF in New Caledonia during the war.