Evening star., 1935-05-12

upon his haunches at the mouth of an altar
hut. reached quickly for his bow and arrow.
The pointed shaft drew curved trajectory
against the sky. The birds screech grew
shriller; its wings beat feverishly; it fell, with
a crash like a coconut's, into the clearing.
The Kanaka weighed the dead animal ap-
praisingly: at least four mouthfuls, and the
orange and green feathers of the tail would
replace most satisfactorily the decorative
bunch of ferns that he wore in the small of his
back under the twine that kept his cloth in
place. In the cool of that evening. when the
old men sat in the doorways of the huts and
the young men sharpened their spears and the
children tumbled over one another at their
feet. he staggered slowly through the village,
preening himself as peacock does.
From behind the fencing of the woman's
compound, young girl watched him; her
eyes were fascinated by the gay splash of
color against the ebony smooth skin. How the
muscles of his broad back swelled; how strong
he was. how young, how tall! If only she had
a man like that. instead of sharing with five
other women the scanty favors of the sl,riv-
eled, stiff -jointed, white haired chieftain who
had bought her from her family for the price
of seven pigs. Cooped up behind fence,
working in garden all day; preparing meals;
being ordered about by the older wives; it was
no life for young girl. Just because Koko
happened to own enough pigs to buy up the
women of an entire village. If only young
man like that had had the seven pigs her
parents had demanded for her. But he hadn't;
none of the young men had. It wasn't fair.
She watched angrily, resentfully. the strong.
and forwards before the succession of altar
huts, in the pride of his orange and green
feathers. Soon she would be old: she was
fifteen already. In another year or 50, a man
like that wouldn't bother with her.
II must get away" she thought. before it
is too late. Tonight, this very night, will
escape and return to my village. to my family"
Her return was by no means welcomed.
There had been trouble enough already in the
village with discontented wives. Juria first,
then Matea, and now this. Nor was it as
though Koko would be pacified as easily as
Jurias man had been. Koko was rich. Koko
was powerful 1t would mean war The vii
lage was not prepared for war Besides. it was
a bad example to the rest. What would hap
pen to family life if young women thought
they could run home just because their hus-
bands bored them3 Thus the elders of the
village deliberated in solemn conclave.
IF we send her back" the elders said, 1T
will be the last time that any daughter of this
village goes back upon her parents oath. The
reception she will receive on her return to her
husbands compound will be surety of that"
Her family, who wished to spare her that
final ignominy, advocated different course.
Even if we let her stay, we can be assured
that it is for the last time" they urged. I'VE
can make proclamation. We can say. This
once, but not again."
"Will that be an effective lesson?" asked
the elders.
1T will be more effective lesson" re-
joined the family. THE fear of the known is
less potent than the fear of the unknown. If
the young people do not know what punish
ment will be meted out to deserting wife,
they will be afraid. But if they know. if they
can say, Thus and thus it was, it may be
that they will think that we can endure. So
they deliberated; to the final satisfaction of
the elders.
"She can stay" they said. LET proclama-
tion be announced. Let sentries be set. Let
the warriors be warned. We are at war"