Nara Village and Church.
Queen Koloka.
I remember once being told at a bacon-curing factory that three hundred pigs were often killed before breakfast, and that no unpleasant traces of the slaughter remained. Dispatch of that kind would not suit the Nara folk, nor would they care for so few traces of the slaughter. Under the club house lay the twenty-three pigs, their legs fastened together so that a pole could be passed through, and each pig carried head down. Much to the disgust of our boys we left the village as soon as the squealing of the pigs began, but those who remained behind to receive our share described how all the due formalities were observed. Koloka’s eldest son, Naime, is always master of the ceremonies. When all the pigs have been put in a row no one can lay a hand on them till Naime, with his fighting stick, has killed his pig by a blow on the side of the head. His cousin must then kill his and then the village men can kill theirs. Naime must also take the lead in the cutting up and distribution of the joints. The women and children are allowed certain small portions, but all that is considered best is appropriated by the men.
Great preparations had been made for this feast, and what was the occasion of it all? Five young men were to be invested with the Garter. Not the elaborately bejewelled Garter so much coveted by those of high degree, but a neat little pair of string garters made like the macramé work. Not much to look at, but to the native the sign that the wearer was now a man, and had a man’s place in the village. Five mothers had worked the garters for their sons, and when the day arrived, the sons were taken outside the village, and for once in a way their bodies were really cleaned and then carefully oiled before the garters were placed below their knees. They must not be seen, however, till after the feast, so that the legs are carefully swathed round with strips of bark cloth, and coated with red clay and oil. These five young men were the centre of the feast, and they were conscious of it. So fond of praise are they at such times, that they actually pay for it. As they strut round a friend will say, “Naime, you do walk grandly. Mine is a wallaby”; and Naime will later on go and catch the wallaby and give it to the friend who praised him before others. Another will tell Naime that he handles the drum well, and mention that he is fond of fish, and Naime is in honour bound to supply the fish within a reasonable time. One can well understand that too many friends may at such a time become a serious burden, but it is a burden that the praise-loving young fellow is quite willing to shoulder.