Our Next-Door Neighbour—Beautiful, Tropical Fiji

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1052, 16 August 1930, Page 17

Our Next-Door Neighbour—Beautiful, Tropical Fiji

[STY rain quickly shut out the view of a sodden wharf as the Aorangi. snapping the streamers that contributed the only touch of colour on that grey winter’s day,

moved slowly out. Less than three days later the scene had changed with a completeness that invested it with an air of unreality. Neither the occasional glimpses of flying fish ekimming the waves nor the gradual change from the pale green seas of the Auckland coast to the turquoise blue that matches the tropic skies succeeded entirely in preparing the mind for such a transition. Only last night, It seemed, one went to bed in Now Zealand, and it was winter. Morning brought Suva and perpetual sunshine. “Suva is a queer place,’* wrote Rupert Brooke. Such indeed is a first impression steaming in through the narrow opening in the reef. Across the bay a background of jagged purple hills recalls Brooke’s graphic description: "Inky, sinister mountains,

over which there are always clouds and darkness .... forbidding and terrible like the entrance of the other world. ...The sunsets here! the colour of the water over the reef! the gloom and terror of those twisted mountains! and the extraordinary contrasts in the streets.” Suva is indeed a town of colour and contrasts. Up above the town red roofs peep through the thick green foliage that seeks to smother every available space. It would be monotonously overpowering this thick green

mass °aly for the profusion of tropical Plants that blaze in every garden and riot of hibiscus that throws its 'fimson splash over the landscape. In t * le streets sturdy-framed natives '''h massive heads of hair greet the VB hor with friendly smiles. Happy, People these to whom one 411 instinctive liking. Big. flat r °*n feet take a firm grip of the soil with a full swing of the arm from e Moulder they move with free and 'srslesa grace. Sulus, spotlessly t ean ’ 861 off their carriage. In the °f complete civilisation one att * lar< *' y l ma g'ne them. Not so Is the Indian coolie. He n e trousers of the European, Picturesque, and scarcely enn ® his appearance when worn jjj. a shirt hanging outside them. 'lothi' 8 turl)an an< i gaily coloured UUn * o£ his heavily-bangled

womenfolk add colour and variety to the streets. The Europeanised Indians affect white duck suits and pith helmets, but like the tillers of the soil they are of characteristic types—short and corpulent or tall and weedy. Here and there among the higher casts are better types, but the standard generally is low. Mother India is too prolific. The women, when young, are rather attractive but, to

the casual observer, it would appear that their beauty wears none too. well. Tall, powerful Samoans: small but alert Solomon Islanders; bland Chinese, penetrating into the retail business with the characteristic pertinacity of their race; English tourists; horn-rimmed Americans, complete with cameras and helmets; Colonials, Germans and Frenchmen —all help to swell the varied throng that on boat days passes along the picturesque streets that form Suva town. Visitors passing through on the mail boats find little difficulty in obtaining conveyances with which to see something of the surrounding country, and it is well worth while. The whole of Suva's taxi business appears to be in the hands of the Indians. There are 434 Indian-owned motor vehicles in the Colony and 1,554 licensed drivers. At first sight Suva seems to be popu-

(Written for THE SUN by F. I. RYAN)

lated almost entirely by Indian taxi drivers, all pressing their claims for patronage. Indeed it is difficult to imagine how they all make a living, but they drive good cars and the motor traders appear to regard them as "good marks.”

A Tropical Garden

Driving out of the town and on the way to Rewa along a well-formed road one obtains an excellent impression of tho near country. To the New Zealander, accustomed to large areas of pastoral or agricultural country dotted hgre and there with the usual clump dr trees sheltering the conventional square and rather ugly farmhouse, the contrast is very marked. The first and lasting impression is of a huge market garden, rather overgrown. Everywhere there is vegetation, whether in the native bush through which oue frequently passes and which is not unlike that of New Zealand, even to a native kauri, or in the cultivated patches -which border the roadside. Tall sugar-cane fringes the road; bananas, destined foe New Zealand markets, cluster thickly on their trees; Indians hoe industriously around their pineapple plants or mill their rice garnered from the paddy fields nearby. There are bread-fruit trees, paw-paws, picturesque ferns and palms, and the citrus fruits abound.

A Fijian mandarin, plucked from the tree, makes delightful eating on a warm day, and the Tahitian orange is also delicious in flavour. Lime and grape fruits also thrive well, and, to add further variety to this Pacific Eden, an abundance of taro, yams and other varieties of root foods that form such a substantial portion of the native menu. Coming nearer to the coast the tall waving coconut palms provide food, drink, copra, thatch and basketware. Surely in Fiji the means of existence are not hard to find. Can one blame the Fijian if he would idle through the long sunny days rather than labour in the fields?

Also in strange contrast to the New Zealand country roads is the multitude and variety of life oue encounters. At frequent intervals one passes little native villages clustered

“Three Days to Paradise ”... Dure of Palm and Reef ... Happy Children of the Sun . . . Life Presents Few Problems in Fertile Viti . . .

in an orderly fashion in well-kept clearings and strung out between, in twos and threes, the meagre liuts of the Indian cultivators. From the Fijian villages merry brown children run out carrying the inevitable stick of sugar cane in lieu of sweets. For the young ones a shirt generally s fiices. Occasionally it is dispensed with, but nobody worries; least of all the children. They are filled with eager curiosity and take in every detail of the visitor's appearance; also with commercial appreciation of liis value to the community. In a very limited English vocabulary the word “mon-” occupies pride of place. Every stop in the country brings eager vendors to the car with food commodities ranging from baskets of mandarins to bags of native prawns—much bigger than the usual variety and better flavoured.

Indian children shouting their shrill salaams and displaying pearly white teeth in response to a friendly nod or, better still, a handful of sweets, trudge blithely along the highway, either to or from the Indian schools, or dragging at the end of a rope the inevitable cow without which —and a few fowls of a very mixed variety — no Indian home seems complete.

At every turn of the road one meets either pedestrians padding barefooted along the dusty road or truck loads of natives, Suva bound. Scrawny Indians and smiling Fijians seem to be eternally coming and going—whence, where and why it is difficult to imagine. But Fiji is a small place with a big population. Although it consists of a group of about 250 islands, SO of which are inhabited, the area is only 7,400 square miles, equal to half the size of the province of Canterbury, and in that area no less than 70,996 Indians and 91.02 S Fijians reside.

“Old Alan River”

A very enjoyable trip which gives a comprehensive idea of the potentialities of Vitilevu, the main island of the group and on which Suva is located, is up the Rewa River to Nausori, a thriving little town which owes its importance to the fact that one of the Colonial Sugar Refining Company’s large mills is situated there. The floods experienced along the banks of the Rewa at the end of last year were not appreciated at the time but the river was, at the time I saw it—a few weeks ago—proving the truth of the old adage of the “ill wind” in the form of a good crop of sugarcane along the banks, the result of a heavy deposit of silt in the fields. The mill had just begun crushing for the season and from the pontoons on the river big bundles of cane were being dragged by grabs and conveyors into its hungry maw.

The Rewa, a broad noble stream, running through part of the earliestsettled district of Fiji, Is the Mississippi of Fiji. Winding up from the sea through luxuriant tropical growths, and fringed with fields of cane, banana plantations and coconut palms it presents a picture of life and plentj\ “Old Man River” indeed plays an important part in the life of the district. Native villages cluster

on its banks from which brownskinned children, often naked, rush out to wave at the passing launch. In the shallows native women wash clothing and bathe. From their attire, or lack of attire, it is obvious that beach inspectors are not known on the Rewa. On the broad waters of the river barges pass continually up and down, laden with sugar-cane for the mill or make way for launches and rafts Suva-bound with fruit and other produce, mostly, so it seemed, for Auckland markets. In the Rewa district., also, dairy herds are to be seen reminding one of a new and growing industry in which Fiji is nowtaking part. From Suva there are many trips that can be taken each openiDg up new and interesting impressions of the Fijian group. To Levulta, the old capital of Fiji; Lautoka, on the beautiful Eastern coast of Vitilevu; Labasa, on the island of Vanua Levu, second largest island of the group; the fertile happy island of Rotuma; Navua; Nukuiau; Makuluva; Ba; the mountain village of Nasarivatu; Kadavu, with its glorious scenery and fine fishing; Beqa, the home of the firewalkers; and to Namosi, probably the most interesting excursion that can be made in Fiji—these are only a few of the delightful trips that are available for tourists.

In Suva there is much that is diverting and interesting. On Saturdays the chief attraction Is Rugby football, a game that appears to be growing in popularity, not only among the Europeans, but also the natives, who, playing bare footed, enter with great zest into the spirit of the game. The decidedly unorthodox methods employed by the Fijians are diverting. With their powerful limbs and cast iron feet they kick with good length and direction, but their greatest delight is to Bet off with the ball under the arm and attempt to run through the other side single-handed. But to the visitor the most intriguing feature of their play is their place-kicking in which they kick the ball with the big toe and first toes widely extended around the end of the ball. Watching this performance for the first time one can scarcely repress a shudder.

Fascinating Rhythm

The Fijian is a natural musician and his singing is always delightful to listen to. Like that of all Polynesian and Melanesian races it takes the form of a rhythmical monotone, striking effects also being obtained by the use of the hands and the body. The boys at the Sawpni Provincial School are excellent performers in songs and mekes. Their concerts, together with liberal offerings of kava contribute to a very pleasant afternoon. AH too soon comes their beautiful farewell song, followed by the sunset bugle that marks the hauling down of the flag as small sulu-clad figures stand rigidly to attention around the ground Then the homeward journey down a winding bush-fringed road.... down into the cool fragrant shadows of evening reaching up from the sea below.

On Sunday evenings the deep drumming tones of a lali call the natives to worship at a little church oil the outskirts of the town. Here excellent singing is heard, the deep bass and rich baritones of the men being particularly good. The service is sung in Fijian and although one cannot follow it there is no mistaking the devotional effect obtained by the singers. Although Brooke described Suva as being "full of English People who observe the Rules of Etiquette, and call on third Thursdays” it is hardly au adequate description of its social life. Bridge appears to be the ruling passion, but dancing, usually at the Grand Pacific, a very modern and up-to-date hotel which appears to be one of the centres of social life and gaiety, is also very popular. Everywhere is to be met the open-handed hospitality always so enthusiastically referred to by those who have visited the Colony. Almost every event from the arrival of a boat to the celebratiou of the national festivals appears to be the occasion for a dance at the Grand Pacific, all of which tho town and officialdom attend with almost religious regularity. . . . And dancing at the Grand Pacific, or sittiug-out in the hluo tropical moonlight where gentle waves lap at the feet of the tall rustling palms, is indeed a very pleasant thing.

Not the least interesting part of the island trip is the three to three-and-a-halC days spent between Auckland and Suva. The comfort of a sea trip undertaken on a seventeen thousandton liner and the opportunity for rest that follows such a complete change of surroundings makes the Island trip an ideal one for the tired man who

cannot afford the time for an extended holiday and also for those who desire a holiday out of their native country at a reasonable cost. For the landsman ships have ait almost irresistible attraction. A tour of the Royal Mail Motor Liner Aorangi, a form of exercise that should not be confined to a single day, is rather a unique experience. Down to the mighty pulsing heart of the big liner, down below the water line, one drops suddenly in a small electric lift —so abruptly that when one steps out of tho lift and descends a steep steel ladder to the engineroom floor and arrives slap-bang into the midst of the noise and commotion resulting from the operation of some 20.000 indicated horse-power the effect is rather disconcerting. Facing one are four long rows of huge cylinders, si* in each row, and rows of glistening cams and popping valves. Inside their casings massive pistons drive ceaselessly up and down, and the result of it all—four shining revolving shafts turning silently along the cool tunnels beneath the water line; down

past the great thrust blocks to disappear suddenly through the tight packings in the stern plates. On their tapered ends a few feet away one could hear the blades of the mighty five-and-a-half-ton propellers threshing the blue waters of the Pacific into foam. On the modern motor liner electricity plays a very important part. On the Aorangi, with its plant capacity of 14,000 k.w., more electricity is used every day than that used by many fair-sized towns in New Zealand. Apart from the power used in feeding the oil to the engines there are 5,000 lights, electric fans in the cabins, and an extensive arrangement of electrical pumps for supplying fresh air to all cabins. There is electricity for everything, from helping to drive the ship to toasting bread in the kitchen. For use in the tropics If the boat happens to be lying near an unhealthy spot there are also electrical appliances situated in the main ventilators which kill all germs, and even mosquitoes, as they pass through in the air. This, however, is an appliance rarely ever needed. All told

there is 35 miles of electric wiring on board, and sufficient work to keep a number of electricians busy. Looking down from the top bridge of the Aorangi the ship seemed -curiously dwarfed. Perhaps it was an illusion brought about by the height of the bridge and the rolling of the vessel accentuated at that height. Or, more likely, the contrast provided by the rolling grey waste of water; a grey endless plain over which the

white horses tossed and scampered. Grey everywhere, except for the last rays of a setting sun lingering on the very fringe where the low sky mates with the sea.

The bridge of the Aorangi at sea recalls to mind Sutton Vane’s “Outward Bound.” There is no helmsman. Certainly there is always an officer on watch, and down near the propellers the big rudder block is moving left and right keeping the vessel steadily on its course.... The vessel is steering, and steering well, but without any human agency. The helmsman has been superseded by a gyro-compass, or, as it is sometimes termed, the gyro-pilot or “Iron Man.” This keeps the vessel accurately on its course. Movement off the course is corrected by positive and negative motors. If either of these fail to function a warning sound is automatically given. The bridge is essentially the nerve centre of the vessel. Prom here it is possible to close all watertight compartments throughout the ship within two min utes, lights showing above each door number on the plan as the actual doors close. if this were done in an emergency it is possible that members of the crew would be cut off in

various parts of the vessel. Provision is made where by pressing a button on these doors they will slide open and shut again automatically allowing anybody an opportunity for passing through. The shutting of these doors is recommended as a precaution to be taken in foggy weather. Then there is also a wonderful device which constantly gives at a glance the depth of water the vessel is drawing and also her stability. It is an automatic chart of the vessel equipped with tiny weights. As stores, cargo, mail or passengers are taken on or discharged or fuel is consumed the weights are altered accordingly on the chart and on a table at the side the required information is at once registered. Not so popular with the engineers, but very convenient to the officers on the bridge, is a device which indicates the lapse of time between the giving of an order to the engineroom by telegraph and its execution. Thorough checking is a constant precaution. Incidentally it is interesting to note that an order from full ahead to full astern can be executed In ten seconds, and that the engines, started on air, can be full on in six seconds.

Floating Hotels

Catering for a big passenger list on the voyage from Sydney to Vancouver and back is a big task. In reality these vessels are floating hotels and the catering staffs, butchers, cooks and stewards, far outnumber those actually engaged in the actual sailing of the vessels. Some slight idea of the work entailed may be gained from the fact that on such a voyage the following stores are used:—27,ooo!bs. of fresh beef, 25,000 of mutton, 10,000

of lamb, 9,000 of pork, 7,000 of veal, 4,000 of sausages, 8,000 of chicken, 7,000 of turkey, 9,000 of game, 7,000 of fowl, 4,000 of duck, 5,000 of butter, 600 cases assorted fruit, 50 tons of potatoes, 55 sucking pigs, 10,000 dozen eggs, 600 quarts of cream, 2,500 gallons of milk, 400 gallons of Icecream, 35,0001b5. of fish and 27 tons of groceries. On both the Niagara and the Aorangi comfort and convenience are continually studied. The service, maintained at a very high standard, is excellent and notable for the efficiency and cheerfulness with which everything is done. As on the voyage across it is at Suva that the through passenger first comes into contact with the outward and visible signs of tropical life. So it is at Suva that he leaves them behind. It is at Suva, at this time of the year, that the ship’s officers and stewards change into white. Summer, as it were, comes in overnight. And it is the morning after leaving Suva, New Zealand bound, that blue once again appears. Three days later one is again shivering in overcoats. And snow is reported on the high levels and in Karangahape Road!