The second day was not only devoted to the sports but to the second of the Christmas feeds. The provisions were not native, so the method of serving differed from that of the previous day. Under the shadow of the Mission house mats were spread upon the grass, and round them plates and all the drinking-vessels we could muster, whilst in the centre, amidst gay decorations of flowers and leaves, were dishes of cakes and sandwiches. Decked in all their best the guests arrived, and by close packing all managed to get a share of the edge of the mats. A curious restraint seemed to keep most very quiet and prevent them helping themselves freely, but Paiti, one of the jolliest teachers we ever had, soon put an end to that by jumping up and stepping into the midst of the decorations and the dishes. A more energetic waiter was never seen. A plate was no sooner empty than he filled it again, and the little eager hands that were stretched out by the children nearly hidden behind their parents did not escape his notice and soon had something to close upon. Paiti saw all, and attended to all, while from the outside of the ring the cups were replenished at a wonderful rate. Some of these people must have belonged to Dr. Johnson’s tribe, to judge by the amount of tea they could put out of sight. We had requisitioned every kettle, pot and pan we could find, but it was a question whether we should not have to make the announcement “No more.” Fortunately that humiliation was spared us, and when all the remains of the solids had been packed in handkerchiefs—for it is etiquette not to leave anything—Paiti made a speech.
Taking his stand in the middle of the mat, he began in English: “My father and my mother. We very glad you say we come here this day. We very glad we live one more year. We very glad all man and all woman and all boy and all girl be no sick——” Then either his memory or his English failed him and he broke into native speech, thanking us for the spread, and remarking that we had shown true hospitality in not only providing all they could eat, but more.
I have written that the gathering lasted a week, but please do not imagine that the whole of that time was devoted to feasting and sports. Meetings with the teachers had to be held to arrange for the work of the new year. Advice and encouragement had to be given, and difficulties adjusted. Long descriptions of mysterious sicknesses had to be listened to, and medicine, that idol of the Samoan, concocted to meet each individual case, and then came the STORE.
The word is printed in capitals to show how large it looms in the eyes of the teachers and their wives. Fancy how important the word would be if your mothers and sisters (I do not include your fathers and brothers, for they may have the same objection to entering a shop as I have) had only three chances of shopping during the year. How much talking and arranging would there not be before-hand, so that nothing might be forgotten, and the necessary things procured first. This is the teacher’s weak point. He is like a man who wants a suit of clothes covered with gold lace, and is so intent on the gold lace, that he forgets he has to pay for the cloth and the making. They all want the special things first, and then begin to wonder how they are to pay for the food for the next four months. To adjust matters so that each teacher shall be sure of food, light, matches, clothes, and other necessaries, and still keep within the limits of his salary, is not an easy matter, but it is not so trying as having to get down every piece of print in the store before a teacher’s wife can decide which colour suits her style of beauty best, or every pair of trousers before the man can decide whether he wants them dark or light.
A fair allowance of good temper is needed if matters are to go smoothly till the end of the third day of this kind of thing, in an iron store almost as hot as a baker’s oven. Still we all survive, and interesting and happy groups are seen at the bottom of the store steps discussing each other’s purchases. Despite all attempts to arrange matters before-hand, there are many supplementary visits with such appeals as “Please, Donisi, I have forgotten the blue,” or “How am I to sew my new dress, for I have forgotten the needles?”
By the end of the week all the requests have been attended to, and we hope all the teachers, if not satisfied, are at least well fitted out for another four months’ work at their stations, but before they leave we meet for the Communion of the Lord’s Supper, and then with mutual good wishes, and plenty of handshaking, we separate.
Most of the parties leave during the night, and signalize their going by firing guns, or beating their hollow logs of drums. That part of the performance could be dispensed with, for it usually comes soon after we have settled down at the conclusion of a very long day.
How much of all this is like your Christmas experiences at home? Not much; but it is the way we spend our Christmas at Delena.