Two Years with the Natives in the Western PacificSpeiser, Felix
History
Two Years with the Natives in the Western Pacific
Speiser, Felix
Ethnology -- Vanuatu; Vanuatu -- Description and travel
I now paid my carriers the wages agreed upon, but they claimed that I
ought to pay the men extra, although their services had been included
in the price. I took this for one of the tricks by which the natives
try to get the better of a good-natured foreigner, and refused flatly,
whereupon the whole crowd sat down in front of the house and waited
in defiant silence. I left them there for half an hour, during which
they whispered and deliberated in rather an uncomfortable way. I
finally told them that I would not pay any more, and that they had
better go away at once. The interpreter said they were waiting for
the chiefs to get through with something they had to talk over, and
they stayed on a while longer. My refusal may have been a mistake,
and there may really have been a misunderstanding, at any rate,
I had to suffer for my unyielding way, inasmuch as the behaviour of
our hosts immediately changed from talkative hospitality and childish
curiosity to dull silence and suspicious reticence. The people sat
around us, sullen and silent, and would not help us in any way,
refused to bring firewood or show us the water-hole, and seemed most
anxious to get rid of us. Under these circumstances it was useless
to try to do any of my regular work, and I had to spend an idle
and unpleasant afternoon. At last I induced a young fellow to show
me the way to a high plateau near by, from which I had a beautiful
view across trees to the east coast of the island, with the sea in
a blue mist far away. As my guide, consumptive like all the others,
was quite out of breath with our short walk, I soon had to return,
and I paid him well. This immediately changed the attitude of all
the rest. Their sullenness disappeared, they came closer, began to
talk, and at last we spent the afternoon in comparative friendship,
and I could attend to my business.
But the consequences of my short visit to the gamal became very
noticeable. In my hat I found a flourishing colony of horrid bug-like
insects; my pockets were alive, my camera was full of them, they
had crawled into my shoes, my books, my luggage, they were crawling,
flying, dancing everywhere. Perfectly disgusted, I threw off all my
clothes, and had my boys shake and clean out every piece. For a week
I had to have everything cleaned at least once a day, and even then I
found the loathsome creatures in every fold, under straps, in pouches.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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