THE COPRA MAKERS

Evening Star, Issue 21748, 16 June 1934, Page 2

THE COPRA MAKERS

• A COCONUT PLANTATION IN SAMOA Under the tropical sun wisps of vapour rise slowly from the clearing, tho fastevaporating shower of tho early morning (writes “W.T.,” in an exchange). Tho tall coco 1 paiihs 1 nod in the faint breeze from the sea. Tho humid noonday heat urges the merits of tho idle life traditional to the islands of the South Pacific. But from within the thatch-roofed, wall-less “ factory ” which occupies tho clearing come signs of furious activity. Natives of both sexes and all ages are labouring with , the concentrated diligence that spells “ piecework ” tho whole world over. Dominating the scene is a maguiflcenllybuilt Samoan of middle life. On a roughlybuilt log platform in the foreground he wields a great axe, slashing open cocoannts with force and accuracy—force to drive the axe head through tho yielding mass of fibre which protects the harder but more brittle shell beneath; accuracy—and confidence, too —to swing his blade again and again to meet the logs within a lew inches of his naked feet. Fountains of cocoanut milk spurt, upwards and around him as he works, and the same liquid oozes everywhere about the, platform and trickles between the logs to the ground beneath. Bathed .with sweat and cocoanut milk, and spattered with crumbs of the White kernel of the nut, a number of native men and women are seated on a bench near by. They talk but Uittlo as they Work. Unremitting attention is called for in manipulating the broad-bladed, double-edged with which they gouge out the kernels from the .shells. Some of them are incredibly skilful at this monotonous task. A lightning jab and two deft twists of the wrist and the job is done. Without pausing they reach down and toss another half-cocoanul on to the bench before them.

- Their faces wear a certain hot and sticky grimness, for protracted work is alien to the Samoan nature. But fitful effort will earn them little at this job. At a rate of threepence per hundred nuts only highpressure work will bring their day’s wages to an appreciable figure. WORK AND WAGES. These are not, as one might think, outcasts of Samoan society who, having no food plantation of their own, must degrade themselves by working for a living. The Sarhoan of to-day is learning a new respect for money for the sake of the luxuries of the white man which it can buy. Thus one may see grass huts lit by electricity, and even boasting a telephone or a sewing machine. And while the native still walks abroad in his lava lava) the one-piece garment reaching from the waist to just below the knees, ho-carries with him the umbrella of sunless English cities. But that work can be regarded as ap end unto itself is as yet beyond the native’s comprehension. The diligent workers in the “ factory ” to-day will all he gone a week from now. And the natives who replace them will, in their turn, work only while the spirit (or tire desire for some purchaseable object) seizes them. The handsome South Sea Islander makes a picturesque but unreliable workman. 1

Hence it is not surprising that in the diving shed across tho clearing one finds a native of another and more dependable, if less attractive, race. Here, before the doors of a mighty oven, built like the safe deposh vault of some city bank, stands a diminutive Melanesian. Five feet nothing of black ugliness, ho takes his work seriously and conscientiously. Between peeps at the thermometer he will open the great oven doors and, peering in at shelves upon shelves ol slowly-baking oocoanut kernels, he will ex plain in his short-slipped pidgin-English, ” No catcliee full dry yet.” ■ From time to time a young Samoan boy will trundle from the “ factory ” to his shed a fresh supply of kernels. Fuel foi his furnace is supplied by the husks and shells. And in one corner of his shed he will point out to the visitor a heap of wrinkled, shapeless, pale-brown, worthlesslooking objects, the commercial copra ready for export and tho be-all and end-all of the whole plantation. - . v , “This,” he will explain with gravity and pride, “ this catcheo full dry now. This ready for ship.”