INDIANS are swarming into Fiji, so that these fair islands, but recently delivered from heathenism, are fast becoming orientalized and heathenized again. Over half the population are Indians, there being 50,000 already in the country, with an annual immigration of 3,000. They are indentured to work in the vast sugar plantations and refineries in various parts of the group. Among the recruits are young girls probably between the ages of sixteen and twenty, also young men who have run away from home influences and restraint.
One of the saddest and most depressing sights is the coolie line in Fiji. The coolie line, I may explain, is where the indentured Indians dwell on the plantation. Vice, misery, and open wickedness abound. Dirt, filth, and vile stenches greet one at every turn. Coarse, evil looking women throw their gibes at criminal faced men, or quarrel with one another in high, strident voices, and with wild, angry gestures. Little children, naked save for a piece of string, often covered with sores and flies, play cheerlessly in the squalid spaces. The beholder turns from the scene, debating whether disgust or pity is uppermost in his mind. We have established a mission for the uplifting of these benighted and needy people. Three workers are devoting their time to this work, one being a graduate nurse from our Australian sanitarium. While no pen can describe the darkness, superstition, and skepticism that one meets among this priest-ridden people, encouraging progress has been made, and we are of good courage in our labor for them, rejoicing in the hope of a rich harvest.
