Stevenson and my brother were then taken off to another house, while Mrs. Strong and I were escorted to the couch prepared for us—a large pile of soft mats enclosed in a mosquito curtain, with two pillows side by side at the head.
A native house has often been described. It is generally a roof shaped like an inverted boat of wooden beams supported on posts and thatched with palm-leaves. Its size varies greatly according to the position and wealth of the owner. Mataafa’s was a large one and his mats were beautiful. There was only one room, and in a general way no one would have demurred at sleeping all together. However, in this case a large tappa curtain was let down in the centre; the King and his warriors slept on one side, and the other formed the apartment of Mrs. Strong and myself.
Mrs. Strong was a most entertaining companion, and told me stories of American experience before we both composed ourselves to sleep. She was much amused by my one preparation for evening toilet, which was a toothbrush; but I had to go outside the matting curtains suspended between the posts to use it, as all cooking and washing was bound to take place where nothing should spoil the beautiful mats carpeting the house proper. I found guards outside waiting in the darkness, and when he heard of my excursion Stevenson declared that my teeth would become historic. It is not to be supposed that the natives neglect cleanliness—they constantly bathe in the sea and in streams, but all washing takes place outside, not inside, their houses.
THE KAVA CEREMONY
Next morning we adjourned from the private abode to Mataafa’s large new Parliament House, where all his chiefs were assembled for public or King’s kava. They sat round in a sort of circle, each representing one of the royal “names” or tribes.
Without going into the intricacies of Samoan genealogy it may be explained that no Prince could properly be King of the whole group unless he could prove his title to rule over all the “names.” As it seemed that neither Malietoa nor Mataafa could do this, their quarrel was unlikely ever to be decided except by force and by the support given to one or the other from outside. Anyhow, a great number of “names” were represented on this occasion and the scene was very interesting.
This Parliament House was said to be the largest native building in Samoa, and was certainly fine and well constructed. On the cross-beams of the central “roof-tree” were three painted wooden birds, emblems of the King’s house, as his father had been called “King of the Birds.”
The King and his guests again sat on chairs, the chiefs squatted on the ground. This time, being public, the King, with true courtesy, accepted my ostensible position, and gave the kava first to R.L.S.; after the rest of us had drunk, it was carried to each chief in turn, and in several cases curious rites accompanied their acceptance of the cup. In one case an old man had to lie down and be massaged for an imaginary ailment, in another the kava was poured over a stone which stood for one of the “names” whose human representative was lacking. The most dramatic incident was when a fine-looking chief, who was a sort of War Lord in Mataafa’s army, five times refused the cup with a very haughty air before condescending to drink, which he then had to do five times. We were told that this was in memory of an ancestor who had refused water when no supply could be obtained for his king, recalling the story of David pouring out the water obtained at the risk of his captains’ lives.
When all was over some of the chiefs were presented to us, particularly the War Lord, who had laid by his truculent manners and was very smiling and amiable. He had had two drinks, first as Head of the Forces, later on as Headman of his Village—so was in great form.
Poor Mataafa! After we left the Islands war broke out again, his forces were finally defeated, and I believe that he died in exile. My stolen visit to him will, however, be always a most delightful recollection.