After a while, you hear the engine start and the truck starts off. Above the sound of the engine you begin to hear other noises - rustling, voices and animals calling.
It is all very different to the noises of the city that you come from. After about half an hour of travelling, the truck stops. You are bundled out, and come out blinking
as you see the sun for the first time in this strange new environment.
Th old man is there, talking to a young fat Polynesian, in English, but of course you cannot understand this.
"They have just come over from Madras", the old man is saying. "A fine set of coolies. With the right treatment, they could last many years here and give you good
service on the plantation. Mind that you watch them - they are sharp and argumentative."
"I do not want sharp and argumentative coolies", replied the Polynesian. "But they have good muscles for work. I will see that their temperament is made more
appropriate for the work that they are doing. I can get Indians any day of the week. I am not wasting my money on good treatment. With their body fat, they
should live for another year, maybe eighteen months, before they die of exhaustion.
"But now, we must train them for their new life here."