The lectures from Tuiavii from Tivea (II)

[Guest guest]

The Papelagi doesn't have time.

The Papelagi loves the round metal and the heavy paper (Tuiavii's

description of money), he loves to fill his stomach with a lot of liquids

from dead fruits and with meat from pigs, cows and other horrible animals,

but above all, he loves what isn't tangible and that is time. He makes a

lot of fuzz and foolish talk about it. Although never more is available

than between sunrise and sunset, it is never enough to him. The Papelagi is

ever dissatisfied with his time and accuses the great Spirit that it hasn't

given more. Yes, he is defaming God and his great wisdom, by dividing a day

in certain parts. He cuts it as if one would go with a machete through a

soft coconut. All parts have names: second, minute, hour and one has to

have sixty minutes or many more seconds to fill an hour. That is a

complicated issue I never understood, because I get sick, reflecting on

those childish matters. But the Papelagi makes a big knowing out of it.

Men, women and even children who can hardly go on their feet, are carrying

in their loincloths small, flat, round machine, attached to a thick metal

chain, from which they can read the time. This reading however, isn't easy.

It is practiced with the children, by holding the machine to their ears, in

order to get them into liking it. Such a machine, easily carried on two

fingers, looks in their stomach like the machine in the stomach of large

boats you all know. But there are also large and heavy time machines, they

are standing in the huts or are hanging at the highest gable, so that they

can be seen from afar. When a part of the time has passed, little fingers

at the outside of the machine will point to that and simultaneously it will

cry out, a spirit beats the iron in its heart. Yes, an enormous raging

noise in a European city results, when part of the time has passed. When

this timing noise is sounding, the Papelagi complains: "It is a heavy

burden that another hour has passed." At the same time he puts a sad face,

like a man who is burdened with great suffering, although immediately a

completely new hour arrives. I have never understood this other than it

being a severe disease. "The time is avoiding me!" - "The time is running

away like a stallion!" - "Give me just a little more time". Those are the

complaints of white men. I say this could be a kind of disease; assumed,

the white man likes to do something, his heart is longing to be in the

sun(shine) or to sail with the canoe at the river or to make love with his

girlfriend, this way he will spoil the appetite for it, clinging to the

thought: no time remains to be happy. Yet the time is there, but he doesn't

see it no matter he is trying. He mentions a thousand things taking time,

feeling resentment and complaining about the job he doesn't like, that

doesn't give joy, to which no one is forcing him the way he is doing

himself.

But suddenly seeing that he has time, that it is there nevertheless or that

someone gives him time - the Papelagi are mutually giving each other time,

yes, nothing is so high in esteem - he will fail the appetie, or he is

tired from the unenjoyable job. And frequently he wants to do tomorrow for

which he has time today. There are Papelagi, asserting they never have

time. They are running around headless, like from the devil possessed, and

wherever they come, create havoc and uproar, because they have lost their

time. This mania is a horrible condition, a disease no medicine man can

cure, contagious to many and driving them into misery. As every Papalagi is

possessed for fear of his time, he also knows exactly, and not only every

man, but also every woman and child, how many sun- and moon risings have

passed since he saw the great light for the first time. Yes, this is

playing such a serious role, that it is celebrated in certain, equal

distances with flowers and big eating parties. How often did I notice, how

one was thinking having to be ashamed of me, when asking, how old I am, and

I laughed and said, I don't know. "You have to know how old you are". I

remained silent and thought, it's better I don't know. How old, means how

many moons have been living. This counting and figuring out is full of

dangers, because it has been discovered, how many moons the life of most

people will be. Now everyone is watching carefully, and when quite a number

of moons have been passing by, he will say: "Now I'll have to die soon". He

doesn't enjoy anymore and will die soon.

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