Administrator & High Chief

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 883, 29 January 1930, Page 8

Administrator & High Chief

YVTHEN I boarded the Tofua at Auck- * ' land in April last it was to find, besides many other interesting companions in travel, no less a distinguished personage than Colonel Allen, the Administrator of Samoa, accompanied by his little son. He had made a hurried trip from Samoa to New Zealand, and was returning by the same boat. They kept themselves very exclusively aloof from the other passengers. Seeking an introduction from one of his officials, I was told it was useless, because he only answered in monosyllables, and let every interviewer do the talking until they all had left it to him, writes “S.C.R.” in the Sydney "Morning Herald.” However, our Samoan missionary introduced me, and we had a pleasant quarter hour’s chat when I guessed the reputation for reticence came from "sticky-beaks” who only "talked shop.” One night later he and I sat in deck chairs, after most others had retired, and talked for nearly two hours on many things. He was not so tactiturn that he could not enjoy a laugh at my story of my own grandfather, who had tackled the Administrator’s job some 60 years ago when he went there under the London Missionary Society, and tried to pacify these turbulent Samoans by rushing into noman’s land between the two contending armies and haranguing them in English, a language as foreign to them as Samoan was to him, calling upon them to lay down their arms and love one another. They did cease firing—that day; while he returned to finish his course of teaching the heathen at home as the Sydney City Missionary. Colonel Allen is tall, gentlemanly, quiet in demeanour, and yet bearing the stamp of his military work in the war. His political and legal experience in New Zealand, as well as, his knowledge of the Maori —first cousins to the Samoan—should constitute in him the very characteristics required for his difficult position, if only he had the confidence of the people. Three trips after our interview, I went on to Samoa by the same boat In which Tamasese —“the leader of his Majesty’s Opposition,” the head of “The Mau”—returned to his own land after his exile. Tamasese made himself approachable and affable to all the passengers and gave them all an invitation to his reception home. Of course we went. When we steamed into Apia the place was in gala array. A dozen royal barges hoisted in salute some thirty oars apiece at his coming, and escorted him to the beach, where a native brass band headed the procession of some four or five thousand natives through the town to the native village a mile inland. ' Not wishing to take any part in the

Two Interesting Impressions

affair I spent the morning in a pilgrimage to Vailima and the grave of "R.L.S.” But in the afternoon I joined the crowd, and was personally presented to the King as he sat in one of the native houses, with all its walls relied up, in public reception, with his wife, and attendants, passing round their “loving cup” of kava. He was, no doubt, a princely fellow, this Tamasese, over six feet, well proportioned and athletic. He was dressed in a grey coat and trousers, silk shirt and starched collar, with a purple tie, the colours of the “Mau.” His silk stockings and polished shoes were quite European. His big leather belt carried his watch, and he carried no arms. He spoke English well, and bore his part with dignity and reverence, attending the chapel nearby for service before the ceremony. What a pity such a man with such a following—Bo to 90 per cent, of the people, so they said —could not have been used to guide these people for their good instead of being shot down —the tragedy of it!—just after Christmas Day. Before me, as I write, hangs a purple paper wreath which was placed around my shoulders on the day of festivity in Samoa by the Tougan wife of an English trader, as I was talking to him on Samoan affairs. By my side is the expensively printed tome of evidence justifying, before the League of Nations, the New Zealand control; and at my feet are two pieces of native cloth presented to me by tlie late Tamasese, the hereditary King of Samoa, on the day of his public reception home after six months’ exile. I asked one of the native masters of ceremonies at the fete if there was going to he any fighting. He laughed with a boyish ring, and said: “No fighting, just feasting.” He handed me over to the chief, who presented me to the King, then found a place for me at the feast tables spread on the lawn under the improvised booths. The remaining time of the steamer’s stay was spent among the missionaries, who are doing splendid work with self-supporting schools for technical, agricultural, boat-building, carpentering and sewing classes, as well as schools for secular and religious education; the while finding the whole of the funds for expenses locally. This work is handicapped by the political unrest, and it is by no means easy for them to remain neutral. One missionary was asked publicly to state whether his people should pay taxes to the Mau or to the New Zealand Government. His astute reply was: “You know the Scripture, ‘Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,’ ” but he refrained from saying which was the Caesar. That seems to be the crux of the matter.