113 
Tlkopla, British Solomon Islands Protectorate October 31, 1972 
Don, John and I have walked with a huge crowd of youngsters to the 
three hamlets that comprise Namo, the final settlement of Tikopia on the 
south eastern coast, along the far end of the lake, called Te Roto. 
The Tikopian children remain so strangely inconsistent, aggressive, lewd, 
3 d jeering — more at each other than at ourselves, shrewdly operative 
ong clearly defined lines of self interest, and, basically so much alike 
to each other, that I am a bit baffled, and can only wonder how it is that 
they resemble so much American children. Jokingly, I have said that 
after six months on Tikopia I would perhaps no longer like children. They 
are intimidated by adults and in turn intimidate adults whom they rule 
with their knowledge that adults want them, value them, and live for them. 
In their wild inconstancy, their sudden selfishness, their unsentimental 
brutishness, and willfullness they are charming. And adults often say 
that such is childhood. It is not, most emphatically not, childhood in 
all cultures, not Melanesian childhood. In its very freeness it is a 
stereotyped pattern more enslaving to the adult personality that emerges 
than the restrained and more patterned childhood of the French or Melanes- 
ians. I must saji that although I find all patterns of childhood enchanting 
and loveable, I do not try to be without value judgement, and in my personal 
prefei^ences I cannot be... I prefer the Melanesians. Yet, as they intended 
to do, these kids have seduced us. They set out to do so willfully, know 
the techniques, whether they be cuddling, di^;rect erotic aggression, coy 
withdrawal, teasing aloofness, manipulation of jealousies, or others. They 
feel confidently that they have a right to win in all such encounters and 
an intention to do so. Their rewards are transient and small... for it is 
only the immediate they seek. Herein they differ from the French or 
Melanesians, whom I have used as contrasting examples, in that a long, long 
delay for a more wildly anticipated and more extravagant, often still un- 
formulated reward is common motivation for these latter groups. We were 
soon given their all and anything we would take from the kids here, and 
we shall soon be forgotten! That is Polynesia. 
Anuta was calmer, less aggressive, less sophisticated or more naive, 
and less mercenary than Tikopia. Many on Tikopia clearly are concerned 
with not missing any opportunity to make material gains in cash sales of 
curios, or in any chance of eliciting a gift or a hand out. Some show 
considerable loyalty and devotion as long as the reward seems clearly in 
sight, and that reward is in my eyes often trival. Thence I call the 
behavior mercenary. 
Ralph Wycliff Rltia and Mathew Taromaori were on both visits very 
close to me, but not willing to compete with the younger kids in my en- 
tourage. They were substantial, rather dependable youths of about 16 or 
17 years of age whom I wish I had more time to know well. Harry Jim Tafoa 
Oklni, Henry and George Goroa slept out with us and helped us devotedly 
for all three days. Judah Ariki, son of the fourth chief at Boti , 
and Fraser Pare Vaione devoted today to us with great enthusiasm and 
gave us a great deal of help and sudden, spontaneous friendship. Yet, the 
four Anutan boys going to school here latched onto me more firmly than 
did any Tikopian, except perhaps George Goroa, who found it difficult to 
