Samoa Illustrated [pp. 245-253]

Overland Monthly
mieanor. She watched over her hypochondriacal husband with the most devoted
care, made lace pillow-slips for his couch,
and even saw that his mats were covered
with well-aired sheets. He was the only
Samoan I ever knew to sleep between
linen; as a general rule, a mat and a piece
A Market- Girl
of greasy siapo make a sufficient bed.
Moli's European trip had ruined him, and
instead of being thankful for these unusual luxuries, he behaved with singular
ingratitude to his wife. Of course, the
responsibility was fixed on the village; but
then we all knew that MIoli was really to
blame.
It appears that the chiefs of the town,
who form a kind of municipal council, arrived at the conclusion that the village
could not do without some fine mats and
rolls of siapo. The natural deduction
from this was that ALoli, being the highest
chief, should get a new wife. Moli pro tested; he pretended he did not
want a new wife, he was quite
satisfied with Tinamo, and was
too old for further matrimonial
experiences. His feeble objections
were of no avail; the village coun cil was of adamant, and the word
went forth that the faithful Ti namo was to go, whilst negoti ations were to be opened with the
taupo of a rich village some
twenty miles north. The real
meaning of this proceeding will
be understood when it is ex plained that a Samoan marriage
is very largely a matter of barter.
The bridegroom goes courting
with presents of salt beef, biscuits,
and other valued articles of Euro pean trade. The bride, if the
match be arranged, brings back
with her as dowry a large number
of costly, fine mats, siapo, in huge
rolls, and other things of native
manufacture. A fine mat is the
most precious of all possessions in
Samoa; it is a kind of family
heirloom, and is valued according
to its age and pedigree. It is a
unique article of currency, not to
be bought with European coin,
and its value, as expressed in na tive equivalents, may be anywhere
from two to five hundred dollars.
The mats brought by the bride are
divided amongst the people of the
village, so that of course they have
every inducement to arrange mar riages as frequently as possible.
The faithful Tinamo was sent
away, and at the same time we
left, feeling that further life with Moli
was insupportable. But months later,
when I called at the village, Moli was
still an unconsoled bachelor. Three
times had he taken the big boat of
the village and laden her with salt beef and
biscuit. Three times had he called on the
coy taupo and feasted her people, but each
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