PACIFIC NOTEBOOK

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 72, 14 May 1943, Page 3

PACIFIC NOTEBOOK

By Robin Miller SUVA, FIJI The civilian population of Fiji was waiting from day to clay, with its tongue literally hanging out, for the arrival of "the flour-and-beer ship" when. I landed here. It was bringing other things besides flour and beer, but those, were the two realh r acute shortages, and the lack of the commodities was on everybody's lips.

Suva is an abnormal example of an army town. Its small British population is greatly outnumbered by the American and. New Zealand troops Avho garrison its shores. It> resources for the accommodation and entertainment of soldiers and sailors and airmen on leave are heavily overtaxed. There is a constant overflow from its few hotels, theatres and service clubs. Suva holds its head up bravely, but now and again it staggers under the strain. Too often during my stay here, Suva has not. been a prcttj* sight in the late afternoons. Partly because of the concentration of so many men in so small a space,, partly because the absence of beer has meant that men have, been mixing inferior liquors. The situation has improved since the beer arrived, and also since some restriction has been placed on drinking hours. Discussing Suva's social problems with United States army and civilian policc officials, however, two American correspondents and myself were reassured by the remarkably clean crime sheets of the Allied forces. Serious crime has been a negligible quantity, and all sides were emphatic about the friendly and co-operative feeling that exists between the civilian' and military populations. Although sheer lack of numbers prevents them from doing all they would like to do, civilians have gone out. of their way to help entertain the visiting forces, individually in their own homes and collectively at dances and other affairs. The New Zealand Forces Club, financed by the people of the Dominion and, conducted voluntarily by Suva women,' is the only place of its kind in the town and is almost always: crowded. The Americans, who greatly-outnum-ber the New Zealand troops, are equally welcome to use it. In its turn, the. United States Army has aided, the civilian community by making flour and cigarettes available in times of shortage.

But Fiji has more worrying problems than that of "entertaining servicemen on leave. From the lavish hand of the lowliest private soldier, dollars and cents have fluttered, down like pennies from heaven among the natives of the colony. The standard of living hae jumped, and the average Fijian, to whom money has always been "easy-come easy-go," is finding it easier than ever. There is plenty of work if he wants it, and although labour obtained through official channels is stabilised as far as wages are concerned, no stabilisation can control the unofficial use of native labour, or the open-handed tipping, or the idle enjoyment some soldiers have even found in throw-, ing money into the air in order to watch children scrambling for it. And so normal employers of native labour are understandably wondering to what extent, they Avill have to maintain the new standard after the war or how they will be able to revert to the old one.

The great Indian population of Fiji, the thrifty, hard-working people who run the majority of the little businesses from laundries to taxis, are likewi.sc riding on a wave of wartime prosperity. Whether it is a haircut or a tailored, uniform, the price is high and is good with the military, and the civilian is forced to take second place. The story is an old one.