Fine dress is a passion, and makes
a Samoan festival a thing of beauty. Song is almost ceaseless. The
boatman sings at the oar, the family at evening worship, the girls at
night in the guest-house, sometimes the workman at his toil. No occasion
is too small for the poets and musicians; a death, a visit, the day's
news, the day's pleasantry, will be set to rhyme and harmony. Even half-
grown girls, the occasion arising, fashion words and train choruses of
children for its celebration. Song, as with all Pacific islanders, goes
hand in hand with the dance, and both shade into the drama. Some of the
performances are indecent and ugly, some only dull; others are pretty,
funny, and attractive. Games are popular. Cricket-matches, where a
hundred played upon a side, endured at times for weeks, and ate up the
country like the presence of an army. Fishing, the daily bath,
flirtation; courtship, which is gone upon by proxy; conversation, which
is largely political; and the delights of public oratory, fill in the
long hours.
But the special delight of the Samoan is the _malanga_. When people form
a party and go from village to village, junketing and gossiping, they are
said to go on a _malanga_. Their songs have announced their approach ere
they arrive; the guest-house is prepared for their reception; the virgins
of the village attend to prepare the kava bowl and entertain them with
the dance; time flies in the enjoyment of every pleasure which an
islander conceives; and when the _malanga_ sets forth, the same welcome
and the same joys expect them beyond the next cape, where the nearest
village nestles in its grove of palms.
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