When the fire had gone out, and the stones heated to the requisite degree, the pig and the fruit were laid upon them, a few other heated stones placed on the top, and the whole covered up with green branches, dry leaves, and earth.
During the time that the victuals were cooking, the table was laid.
A straw mat was placed upon the ground, and covered with large leaves.

For each guest there was a cocoa-nut shell, half-filled with miti, a sourish beverage extracted from the cocoa-palm.
In an hour and a half the victuals were dug up.

The pig was neither very artistically cooked nor very enticing, but cut up as quick as lightning, being divided by the hand and knife into as many portions as there were guests, and each person had his share, together with half a bread-fruit, handed to him upon a large leaf.

There was no one at our rustic table besides the officer, his mistress, the old Tati, his wife, and myself, as it is contrary to the custom of the country for the host to eat with his guests, or the children with their parents.

With the exception of this ceremony, I did not observe any other proof of love or affection between the father and son.