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Updated: June 2, 2025
In the days of Captain Cook The first Spanish missionaries Difficulties of converting the heathens Wars over Christianity Ori-a-Ori, the chief, friend of Stevenson We read the Bible together The church and the himene. Captain Cook barely escaped shipwreck here. The Bay of Tautira is marked on the French map, "Mouillage de Cook," the anchorage of Cook.
"I used to fetch him oranges and mangoes, and climb for drinking nuts, of which Rui was fond," said Paiere. Paiere was a deacon or functionary of the Protestant church, as was Ori-a-Ori, and I went with the entire family to the Sunday evening service. For weeks preparations and rehearsals for a himene nui, a mammoth song service, had been agitating the village.
The Arearea in the pavilion Raw fish and baked feis Llewellyn, the Master of the Revel; Kelly, the I.V.W., and His Himene The Upaupahura Landers and Mamoe prove experts The return to Papeete. The company was assembled in the pavilion when I walked through the streets of Faatoai again, and the food was on the bamboo table.
He gives credit to the bleedin' beach-combers. If I meet that dirty Hobson, I'll beat him to a pulp." From under the thatched roof of our bower came the sounds of: Faararirari to oe Tamarii Tahiti La Li. The himene was in its hundredth encore.
The guests disposed themselves at ease to wait for the call to meat, the bandsmen lit cigarettes and tuned their instruments or talked over their program, while they wetted their throats with the rum, as admonished by the "Himene Tatou Arearea." I strolled down the road along the shore of the lagoon. Here was erected the first Christian church in this archipelago.
The former himene-house, which had been the dance-hall of Kelly, the leader of the fish-strike, was vacant, but I heard in imagination the strains of his pagan accordion, and the himene which will never be forgotten by the Tahitians, "Hallelujah! I'm a bum!" Kelly had gone over the water to the jails of the United States, where life is hard for minstrels who sing such droll songs.
There were no speeches, but much laughter, and much singing of the himene written by the king, "E maururu a vau!" The tune was an old English hymn, but those were all the words of the song, and they meant, "I am so happy!" They were verses worthy of monarchy anywhere, and equaled the favorite of great political gatherings in America, "We're here because we're here!"
I could almost trace the imposition of the religious strain upon the savage, the Christian upon the heathen, like the negro spirituals of Georgia, and I sat back in my chair, and forgot the scene in the thoughts induced by the himene. The souls of the Tahitians were not much changed by all their outward transformation.
"Let us sing and make merry, For we journey over the sea!" It was the Himene Tatou Arearea. Kelly, the wandering I.W.W., self-acclaimed delegate of the mythical Union of Beach-combers and Stowaways, was at the valves of the accordeon, and about him squatted a ring of joyous natives. "Wela ka hao! Hot stuff!" they shouted.
He had the barrel containing the quartbottles between his legs while he sat at the table, and each was doled out only after earnest supplications and much music. "Horoa mai te pia!" "More beer!" they implored. "Himene" said the inexorable master of the brew. Up came the brass and the accordion, and forth went the inebriated strains.
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