The Samoans, amongst whom he lived for the last four years of his life, called him Tusitala, a writer of tales: Robert Louis Stevenson.
I found this book while rambling through this morning's Moruya Country Markets. Its author, Gavin Bell, retraces the voyage of Stevenson's Casco and his arrival in what is now Western Samoa which became Stevenson's island home, thereby fulfilling his own prophecy:
'Few men who come to the islands leave them; they grow grey where they alighted; the palm shades and the trade winds fan them till they die, perhaps cherishing to the last the fancy of a visit home, which is rarely made, more rarely enjoyed, and yet more rarely repeated.'
I lived and worked in Samoa in 1978 and Gavin Bell's description of Apia, its capital, brings back lots of memories:
'Apia is a colourful little town, bustling with good-natured crowds in a setting which evokes its history of traders and adventurers and squabbling colonial powers. The predominant building materials are still wood and iron, which with their tendency to rot and rust in the tropics give the place an agreeably run-down look. Its costume of once elegant colonial structures has become threadbare; in places it is coming apart at the seams, and haphazard attempts to patch it up make it all the more charming.'
Now that I have reached the age where regrets take the place of my dreams, I wonder whether I should have let the palm shades and the trade winds fan me for a little longer ...
