The Latter Part Of The Journey Was Through
Bushy Country Dotted About With Many Large Orchid And Fern-Laden Trees.
We arrived toward dusk at the large village of Serea, on the Wainimala
River, which is a branch of
The Rewa River, and I put up in the large
hut of the "Buli." I began to feel like an ordinary mortal again,
as the people here did not exhibit any great surprise on seeing me,
no doubt because, being in the Rewa district, they see a few Europeans
from time to time. After a change into dry clothes and a supper off one
of the large pigeons I had shot EN ROUTE, I had a large and interested
crowd to watch me skin my dove, and there were roars of laughter
during the process, especially when Masirewa told them it would be
made to look like a real bird with glass eyes. Masirewa at one time
spoke sharply to the "Buli" who, I thought, looked a bit annoyed,
so I asked Masirewa what he said. "Oh," he said airily, "I told him
to keep his pig of a child away from the white chief." Masirewa, was
a character, and evidently had no respect for chiefs and princes,
etc., as he treated all the "Bulis" as his equals, which was very
different from the generally cringing attitude of the Fijians to their
chiefs. Even the high and mighty "Buli" of Nabukaluku[10] seemed to
like his cheek. Masirewa liked to show off his English, though no
one understood a word, and his favourite way of addressing them when
he was annoyed was "You all black devil pigs." Whilst I was skinning
my dove, the people brought in a horrible-looking carved figure with
staring eyes.
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