The native is content to cultivate his patch of land with simple implements, such as the digging stick, and is not anxious to work harder than is necessary for his own needs. He is not very ready to work for a European employer, while all his traditions, and the communal system under which he lives, make it impossible for the industrious individual to accumulate any private property.
The cultivation of produce for export is due to the initiative of Europeans, and is largely carried on by the East Indian immigrants who now form a very considerable element in the population. We have already noticed the Hindu women in the streets of Suva. For a few years, during the American Civil War, Fiji exported excellent cotton, but at the present day its export trade consists practically of sugar, copra or dried coconut, and bananas. The sugar-cane is a native of the wet and fertile lowlands of the deltas; but the cultivated kinds are mostly introduced from elsewhere. We find the cane fields covering much of the land along certain parts of the coast, and on the river deltas of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; and these are connected by nearly two hundred miles of steam tramways, which carry the cane to the centrally placed mills. Here is a view across the Rewa, showing a 29 sugar mill; inside the ugly buildings we find the elaborate European machinery for extracting the juice 30 from the cane. Here again we are in the cane fields with Indian women at work. It is all unlike the native 31 agriculture, though it is very profitable to Fiji, since sugar is the most valuable of all its exports.
The coconut industry is far more picturesque; it is chiefly confined to the south side of Vanua Levu and to Taveuni and the other islands. The nut is grown for its kernel, which, when dried, is called copra, and yields the coconut oil which we use for various purposes. The tree grows everywhere in this region, but does not flourish in Viti Levu owing to an insect pest which seems peculiar to that island. The nut has always been much used by the natives for food, but it is now carefully cultivated for the production of copra. Here 32 is a plantation with the bungalow of the planter; notice the hills in the background; here again is a 33 tree carrying its fruit in curious clusters just below the crown of leaves. The natives, who are excellent climbers, swarm up the taller trees to gather 34 any fruit which is wanted in a not quite ripe state, as for eating or drinking; but the bulk of the nuts, intended for copra, are allowed to ripen on the tree until they drop off. The ripe nuts are then cut open, 35 the kernels extracted and dried in great trays and put into bags for shipment.
We will now leave the coast for a short trip inland, to see something of the country and the people in their more primitive condition and less mixed type. We travel up the Rewa river for about twenty miles, and there turn westward across country. We have left behind the steamer and the European trader and planter and plunge suddenly into a strange and wild world. At our first stopping place we are entertained with a display which reminds us that a very short time ago the Fijians were fierce fighters and cannibals. This is the meke or native war-dance and song, now only an interesting survival. First we see the dancers in the distance, entering the village in two lines. Their 36 faces are hideous with lampblack and vermilion, and they wear strange-looking dresses made of leaves. They go through many complicated evolutions. They rush towards us, stabbing with their long spears and swinging their formidable clubs, and as suddenly rush away. They stamp and charge and shout and imitate all the movements of a battle. Finally they subside quietly. 37 The women also have their special dance, of which we have here a picture. The war-dance is now only a 38 game, but it was far different before our occupation of the islands. Though we still utilise the old tribal organisation, and govern them through their native chiefs and councils, we have forced the Fijians to understand that fighting, raids and massacres are an amusement no longer permitted. The constabulary, 39 which we see here with their rifles and maxim guns, serve generally only in the coast regions, where they represent a form of law and order which the Fijians readily understand; but even in the interior certain Fijians, less formally organised into a sort of rural police, keep effective order. Our little trip might not have been so safe or pleasant forty years ago.
We now leave the Rewa and strike across country south-westward. Our road is a mere track, and often we find streams to be crossed but no bridges to help us. To our carriers this does not matter, as they are not overburdened with clothes. They plunge in and 40 wade through the shallows, and they will carry us if necessary. On the wider streams canoes must be used, or a bamboo raft lashed roughly together. We may notice that our carriers have slung our baggage on poles carried on the shoulders of one or two men; this is the regular native means of transport, for carts are only used near the plantations, and by Europeans, where roads are available. In the old time the women would have carried the burdens, as it was thought beneath the dignity of a man to carry anything but his weapons.
Presently we reach a village where we discover an interesting native industry, the making of mats from 41 a kind of reed. Here we see girls at work weaving the mats, and in one of the native huts they are making baskets from the same material. The Fijians are clever at this work, and both mats and baskets are important articles in their daily life. They also used to make a peculiar but very artistic pottery, such as we do not find in the islands of Polynesia further east; but this 42 art is no longer practised except in a few places, and for the production of pots for domestic use.
Perhaps the most noteworthy native manufacture is that of tapa cloth for their dress. Tapa is made by beating out the fibrous bark of the paper mulberry, and sometimes of certain other trees. The art is known in Polynesia generally, and the Fijians, like many of the other islanders, also print the cloth in various patterns and colours.
We continue our march, passing many villages. Here is a corner in one of them; notice the native huts 43 of grass and reeds, very different from the wood and corrugated iron of Suva. Notice, too, the coconut palms growing all around. Here again we have a 44 more elaborately finished house, in the old style; and here is the interior of the home of a chief; it looks 45 somewhat unfurnished to our eyes, though it is cool and airy. At the next village the natives receive us with a solemn presentation of food and yangona in a rather dark hut. Here they are making the yangona. 46 Finally we reach Namosi, a picturesque native town perched up in the mountains. The town lies in a kind of pass between steep rocks, the “Gate of Namosi,” as 47 we see in the picture. The inhabitants are summoned together by the beating of the town drum, a hollow log of wood, and receive us sitting on the ground beneath 48 an ancient tree. We have reached the limit of our journey; but short though it is, it has given us some idea of the real Fijian as he is to-day, away from direct European influence.