KIWAI AND MAWAITA
We left Murray Island at 10 a.m., September 8th, by the _Nieue_, which
the Rev. James Chalmers very kindly sent to us. A small crowd assembled
to bid us farewell, and I know many of the natives were genuinely sorry
that we were leaving. We spent such a happy and profitable time there,
that we shall always have a soft corner in our hearts for this beautiful
island.
We reached Erub (Darnley Island) about 3 p.m., landed, and called on
Captain H⸺, who entertained us with his reminiscences of New Guinea. We
sailed at daybreak next morning, and reached Daru in the early afternoon.
About midday we ran on to a sandbank, but as the tide was rising this
did not much matter; in fact, it was rather convenient, as we were thus
enabled to have a meal on a _steady_ boat, a matter of importance to some
of our party.
At Daru we were boarded by Mr. H. W. de Lange, the Sub-Collector of
Customs. Our little formal business was soon over, and we then called
on the Hon. Bingham A. Hely, the very efficient Resident Magistrate.
He kindly asked us to dinner, and we had an interesting talk about the
natives of his division. Mr. Hely has lately made some observations on
the important subject of totemism. On Sunday, September 11th, we arrived
at Saguane in the forenoon, and Tamate, my old friend the Rev. James
Chalmers, who has been described as the Livingstone of New Guinea, gave
us a hearty welcome.
Unfortunately Mrs. Chalmers was ill with fever, which had prostrated her
for some time. Tamate, as he likes to be called by his black and white
friends, had also been quite ill from the effects of a nasty fall from a
verandah in the dark, and he was scarcely well yet; indeed, it appeared
to me that his health was much shaken, and no wonder, when one remembers
all the hardships and privations he has undergone during his strenuous
life of self-sacrifice.
Saguane is a small village at the southern extremity of Kiwai Island. The
native village is dilapidated, and has a poverty-stricken appearance,
probably owing to the fact that the village is only occupied for part of
the year.
The Mission premises were adequate, but as little money as possible
had been spent upon them, as even then it was by no means certain
that Saguane would remain the permanent headquarters of the Fly River
branch of the London Missionary Society. The buildings consisted of
the Chalmers’ comfortable house, the church, which was also used as a
schoolroom, a good schoolroom for the seniors, a study, and other rooms,
also the South Sea teachers’ houses, the students’ houses, and various
offices.
Saguane was a central and convenient spot for the Mission, but that is
about all that could be said in its favour. The whole island is but
little above sea-level; it is malarial, and the water-supply is poor.
Although the place does not look healthy, Chalmers says it is the
healthiest part of the district, except Daru. A considerable amount of
Mission land had already been washed away by the sea, that end of the
island having been greatly reduced in size of late years; indeed, since
this account was written, the Mission station had practically been
devastated by the sea, and Mr. Chalmers had commenced to build a new
station on Daru.
From many points of view it was a disheartening place, and it was a
wonder Tamate bore up so cheerfully. He had great difficulties with
teachers, South Sea men are often unsatisfactory, and the Torres Straits
islanders are practically useless as native teachers; so Tamate was
endeavouring to educate his own men as teachers, but it was a long and
wearisome task. Tamate had a very large area under his charge, his
district was undermanned, and he was greatly in need of money help, as he
was naturally very anxious to have a steam-launch for river work. Alas!
Tamate will never require the steamer for which he was longing. In order
to keep out as far as possible the gloom which subsequent events have
cast over our memory of Chalmers, I will continue my narrative in the
form in which it was written prior to the tragedies to which I refer.
Like other mission stations, the instruction of the young plays a
prominent, one might fairly say the prominent, part in the work of the
missionaries. Here it is especially needed, as these semi-migratory
natives are ruder in culture than those we had met with in the east,
and even the energy, enthusiasm, and sympathy of Mr. Chalmers can make
relatively little impression on the adult population; but, indeed, this
is pretty much the case with adults everywhere.
There are two schools in Saguane. A lower school for the village
children, who reside with their parents. These are taught in the Kiwai
language by the South Sea teacher and his wife. The attendance leaves
much to be desired, as the children have to follow their parents in their
annual migration to Iasa, and thus they lose two or three months in
the year; and even during the time they reside at Saguane, neither the
parents nor the children sufficiently appreciate the advantages of the
instruction so freely offered to them.
The students of the upper school are all resident, and both sexes
attend; I believe there are about a score in all. The English language
is exclusively used. They learn reading, writing, easy arithmetic,
geography, and Scripture. It is usual with Papuan children for their
writing to be very good, and they have quite a remarkable knowledge of
geography. The highest class can read English fairly well at sight. As
in Murray Island, the change from one subject to another in school-time
is made the occasion of marching and singing, which affords a welcome
opportunity for blowing off steam. The children are neatly clothed,
but wisely they are not overclothed. It is to be hoped that many of
the students will volunteer as teachers to the various stations that
Tamate is anxious to establish. Some will, doubtless, become Government
servants; and there can be no question that they will render the
Government great assistance in the future. Sir William Macgregor has
often referred to the efficiency of the Mission schools.
Shortly after our visit Mr. de Lange was sailing with a native crew from
Kiwai to Daru, when he was overtaken by a squall and his boat capsized.
The boatmen were very plucky, and did all they could to save Mr. de
Lange; but this promising officer was unfortunately drowned. The natives
proved themselves in this emergency to be brave and faithful followers.
In addition to the instruction given in the school, the students are
introduced to a more civilised mode of life; and the raising of the
standard of cleanliness and comfort will of itself tend to improve the
condition of the people. Perhaps the home life of the South Sea teachers
is in this respect of more value than that of the white missionaries, for
the latter are so obviously above the natives, and have access to what
must appear to them to be limitless resources, that a real comparison can
scarcely be made.
That this was the case was proved to me in an amusing, but at the same
time pathetic, manner a day or two later. When I was at Iasa my opinion
was confidentially asked by the chief about the missionaries, as Mr.
Chalmers had persuaded them to accept a South Sea teacher, who was then
at Saguane learning the language. My friends had been describing to
me certain ceremonies they employ for the purpose of making the crops
grow, and they were really anxious about the wisdom of adopting the new
religion, which they fully realised would require them to give up these
practices; for if they did not do as their fathers had done, how could
the yams and sago grow? “It’s all very fine,” they urged, “for Tamate,
as everything he eats comes out of tins which he gets from the store at
Thursday Island; but how about us?”
The native teachers, on the other hand, live largely on “native food,”
and cultivate their own gardens. The students are trained to do the same,
and the girls are taught to sew and make simple garments, and to be clean
and orderly.
Mr. Hely, in his last Annual Report, states that “there has been a
great demand for teachers; in fact, what amounts to a religious revival
has taken place at Mawatta, Tureture, Parama, and elsewhere. It is
to be hoped that it will continue. Mr. Chalmers has been hampered by
the seeming difficulty of procuring teachers for this portion of the
possession. Men of good culture are required at such places as Mawatta
and Tureture.
“At Parama the Darnley Islander, Edagi, has worked hard. He has built a
very creditable church, with the aid of the people, with whom he is very
popular, and has a large school attendance. At Giavi there is a Murray
Islander, but I think that the results of his ministrations are small.”
We spent a quiet Sunday; the rest and comfort of the Mission station was
most refreshing. I showed photographs and rubbings of patterns to some
natives in the afternoon, and obtained a little information from them.
[Illustration: PLATE X
IASA, KIWAI ISLAND
SIDE VIEW OF THE SOKO-KOROBE CLAN HOUSE AT IASA]
These mission stations are oases of kindness and comfort in savage lands.
When one has been knocking about for days in a boat, with uncomfortable,
and often unpalatable meals, and being always wet, and having broken
nights, the rest in a haven of a clean mission-house is delightful.
Ray, Wilkin, and I started next morning in the _Nieue_ for Iasa, the
chief village and virtually the native capital of Kiwai Island, some
twelves miles away. The whole district is very flat, and the shore
fringed with a monotonous row of mangroves, a line only broken at Iasa
by a grove of coconut palms. As at Saguane, the river is eating away the
land which it had previously deposited, and we noticed large numbers of
prostrate coco palms which had been uprooted by the encroaching water.
Also as at Saguane, an extensive flat bank runs out a long way into the
river, and thus the _Nieue_ had to anchor a considerable distance from
the shore.
The village consists of sixteen houses, all of large size. Five of the
houses belong to local natives; the others are owned by natives from
other districts. Each house is occupied solely by members of one clan,
but there were two instances of one clan owning a couple of houses.
We took up our quarters at the west end-room of the longest house. This
house was 285 feet in length, and was built on piles about seven feet
from the ground; there was a broad ladder at each end leading up to the
main entrances. Along the side facing the river were five small doors,
each provided with a slight ladder, and it is only by these that the
women and children may enter or leave the house. There were two doorways
on the opposite side of the house, which at the time of our visit were
not in use, as there were no ladders to them.
There is a separate room at each end of a house, which is evidently
merely the deep verandah of the typical house of the Papuan Gulf walled
in close to the gable. These end-rooms are the men’s quarters, and
correspond to the club-houses and tabooed erections of other parts of New
Guinea.
Over a considerable portion of New Guinea the men have a social life
which is distinct from the family life, and is hedged round with
observances and taboos. In a given community there are usually several
societies or fraternities into which entrance can only be gained by
undergoing certain initiation ceremonies. These are jealously guarded,
and the mysteries are performed in sacred spots in the bush, which are
tabooed to all women, children, and non-initiates, or they may take place
in houses set apart for the purpose, such as the large _erabo_ (_elamo_
or _eramo_) of the Gulf District described by Mr. Chalmers. In these
the sacred emblems are kept, and although I prefer to speak of them as
“club-houses,” Mr. Chalmers was perhaps justified in originally calling
them “temples.” The end-rooms of the Kiwai houses are to be regarded
rather as club-houses than temples, as are also the _marea_ of the Mekeo
District, and the _dubu_ of the Central District.
The long central portion of the house constitutes the dwelling of all
the members of the clan, each family having its own compartment with a
separate fireplace. Owing to the absence of windows, it was difficult
to see any details when looking down the tunnel-like house; for the
doorways let in but very little light. At night, when the family fires
were burning and there was plenty of smoke reflecting and dispersing the
lights, one could more readily gather an impression of the weird scene.
Into, and out from, the sombre shadows there passed lank women and jolly
children, whose bronze skins were picturesquely lit up by the flickering
yellow flames.
We traded a little with natives, and Ray gave some tunes on the
phonograph. At night-time we found much difficulty in getting back to the
_Nieue_, as it was low water and a strong tide was running. We waded out
a long way on the mud-flats, till the water was nearly up to our waists,
and the breakers completely drenched us. After getting into water deep
enough to float our boat we had a long wearisome pull to the _Nieue_, but
we feared we should have to put back for land after all, as the current
was strongly against us. However, the captain of the _Nieue_ noticed
our difficulties and, weighing anchor, sailed to meet us, but for this
we should not have been able to get aboard. Dry clothes and a meal soon
restored us to comfort.
Next morning we returned to Iasa. Wilkin made a careful study of the
long house. I measured ten men and did some trading. We were allowed to
appropriate the eastern end-room of the long house, and towards evening
lighted a fire, sitting by which we had our dinner, a crowd of natives
watching our every action with great interest. We afterwards bought some
specimens, whilst Ray gave a phonographic exhibition, and secured two
good records. The pungent wood smoke was very trying to the eyes, but
this was preferable to returning to the boat; later we wrapped ourselves
in blankets and passed the night on a native mat.
The following morning we took some photographs, and I sketched the
interior of the long house. Whilst the others were embarking I sent the
small boys away, and had a confidential chat with the men about several
of their customs, and obtained some most interesting information from
them. We became very friendly, and the men expressed sorrow when it was
time for us to leave. One man said to me, “You master good master; you
master no same other master.” By which he meant to express his gratitude
for the sympathy I had given them and the interest I had taken in their
affairs. I must confess that I was much touched by this unconsciously
pathetic revelation of the apartness of the two races. Altogether they
were very nice to me, and one or two of us walked to the boat with arms
round one another.
The Kiwai people are somewhat different from the Torres Straits islanders
in appearance and customs; their skin is very slightly lighter, and
the nose is more arched; they do not use ceremonial masks except for
the final stage of initiation, and they build long houses. There are
other differences which need not now be mentioned. I think it is very
probable that they came down the Fly River and drove some at least of the
pre-existing population before them.
A very interesting feature about the Kiwai natives is that they are still
in a totemistic stage of culture; in other words, their social life is
bound up with a reverence for certain natural objects. A community is
composed of certain clans, each of which is associated with a particular
class of object; it may be a crocodile, a croton, or a pandanus tree.
The animal or bird, or even an inanimate object, is the _nurumara_, as
they call it, of every member of that clan, and a representation of that
nurumara or totem is often worn on the person or carved on objects or
otherwise employed as a kind of armorial bearings.
The following is a list of all the totems I have been able to record from
Kiwai Island:—
_Sibara_, crocodile.
_Diwari_, cassowary.
_Demauru-uru_, a catfish.
_Soko_, nipa palm.
_Abiomabio_, mangrove.
_Oso_, croton or dracæna.
_Oi_, coconut palm.
_Dudu-mabu_, a reed.
_Korobe_, a crab that lives in the nipa palm.
_Mabere-uru_, a tree.
_Bud-uru_, a kind of fig tree.
_Gagari-mabu_, a small variety of bamboo.
_Duboro-mabu_, pandanus.
_Nowai-dua_, Polynesian chestnut.
_Noora_, a stone.
There is a remarkably disproportionate number of plant to animal totems,
which is very unusual, and even one of these, _korobe_, is associated
with _soko_, the nipa palm being the main totem, while the crab that
inhabits it appears to be subsidiary.
I have previously drawn attention to the large number of decorative
designs on objects from the Fly River and neighbouring coast of New
Guinea that are derived from plants. As we had then no information on the
subject, I did not venture to offer an explanation, though I did suggest
that the decorative employment of animals in Torres Straits and in the
Louisiades and neighbouring islands was due to totemism. The distinctive
character of the decorative art of this region can now be similarly
explained.
Totemism has a restricted distribution in British New Guinea. We could
find no trace of it in the Central District either among the Motu
stock or among the hill-tribes that we visited. Sir William Macgregor
has recently stated that it is prevalent all over the east end of the
Possession, but it disappears at Mairu or Table Bay. There is no true
totemism in the eastern tribe of Torres Straits. It is true that there
were dog and pigeon men in Murray Islands, but the dog and pigeon dances
during one of the Malu ceremonies were admitted to have been introduced
by ancient culture heros from the western tribe, where I discovered
totemism twelve years ago.
[Illustration: FIG. 7. NATIVE DRAWINGS OF SOME OF THE NURUMARA (TOTEMS)
OF KIWAI
_Oi_ (coconut palm), _oso_ (croton or dracæna), _soka_ (nipa palm),
_korobe_ (the crab that lives in the latter), _sibara_ (crocodile),
_diwari_ (cassowary). The crocodile is represented by a leg only, and the
cassowary by its footprint.]
There do not appear now to be any ordinary totem restrictions on Murray
Island, as there certainly were till very recently in Tut, Mabuiag, and
other of the western islands of Torres Straits, and as certainly there
are still in Kiwai.
In Kiwai a man may not kill or eat his _nurumara_. The children inherit
the father’s _nurumara_, and the wife assumes that of her husband, as she
has to go and live with him in the clan house. This custom accounts for
the exchange of women when a man marries; thus it is usual for a man’s
family to give a suitable girl in exchange for his bride, and so the
balance of the sexes is approximately maintained.
Dedeamo, my interpreter, was a croton; his wife was originally a coconut,
their little boy was a croton. When I asked Dedeamo what was his wife’s
name he refused to tell me. One frequently finds that people in a low
stage of culture decline to tell you their own names, lest you should
obtain power over them, but one can generally get from them the names of
other people; this good man evidently thought it was wiser to be on the
safe side.
The Hon. B. A. Hely, the Resident Magistrate of the Western Division,
has recently published a memorandum (Annual Report B. N. G., July, 1897,
to June, 1878, C. A., 119-1898) on totemism in Kiwai and elsewhere in
the neighbourhood, in which he says that when a tree is the _nurumara_
of a clan, the members of that clan do not eat the fruit of that tree or
use it for building or other purposes. For instance, the _soko_ people
roof their houses with sago leaves instead of the customary nipa palm.
He adds: this custom is broken through in Kiwai villages, but it is
maintained on the mainland. The _duboro-mabu_ people make their mats
of banana leaves instead of employing the leaves of the pandanus. The
_gagari-mabu_ people do not use bamboo. It is believed that the killing,
eating, or using for any purpose of a _nurumara_ would result in severe
eruptions on the body.
Mr. Hely also informs us that in fighting or dancing the representation
of the man’s _nurumara_ is painted on his chest or back with clay or
coloured earth, and it is a fixed law in battle that no man should attack
or slay another who bore the same cognisance as himself. A stranger
from hostile tribes can visit in safety villages where the clan of his
_nurumara_ is strong, and visitors from other tribes are fed and lodged
by the members of the _nurumara_ to which they severally belong.
At Iasa we bought an oval board about three feet in length that has a
face carved on one side. It is called _gope_, and is hung up in houses
to bring good luck; it is sometimes placed in the bow of a canoe for
the same purpose. During the evening we spent there a similar but much
smaller one (seventeen and a half inches in length) was pointed out to
me by a native in the east end-room, and I managed to secure it also;
but in the course of my confidential talk the following day I discovered
that this was not a _gope_, but a _madubu_, or bull-roarer; they had
previously spoken of it as a _gope_ as some boys were near, and these
were not permitted to know about the _madubu_. In my memoir on _The
Decorative Art of British New Guinea_ I had hazarded the suggestion that
the _gope_ is derived from the bull-roarer, and the evidence now appears
fairly conclusive on this point.
One function of the _madubu_ is to ensure good crops of yams, sweet
potatoes, and bananas. I was not able to find out the whole ceremony,
but gathered that a fence is made in the bush—one man goes first and
makes a hole, and others come later with the _madubus_. When the natives
were telling me about this I asked to be allowed to see a _madubu_, and
one was brought. It was a thin ovoid slat of wood, very roughly made.
I offered a round metal looking-glass for it, which was accepted. Two
others were brought me on the same terms, one being a smaller specimen.
I was particularly requested not to let women or children see them, and
not to show them to the Saguane people, as “they no savvy that thing.” Of
course, I carefully kept my promise to this effect.
A few years ago Chalmers sent a bull-roarer to England from the mouth of
the Fly River, which was labelled “_Buruma-maramu_, a bull-roarer: when
used, all women and children leave the village and go into the bush. The
old men swing it and show it to the young men when the yams are ready for
digging (May and June).” The name evidently signifies “the mother of the
yams,” _buruma_ being a variety of yam, and _maramu_ is “mother.”
The bull-roarer is also employed in the initiation of boys into manhood.
I gather that there are two initiation ceremonies; at the first the
_madubu_ is shown to the initiates in a tabooed and fenced-in portion of
the bush. The second _moguru_ ceremony takes place in the rainy season
or north-west monsoon. The boys to be initiated, _koiameri_, are taken
to the bush, and the _orara_ is shown to them. This is a wooden image
of a nude woman, which was described to me as “god belong _moguru_”; a
smaller form of it is known as _umuruburo_, this is a thin flat board
cut into the shape of a human being. During the ceremony the men are
decorated, and wear a head-dress made of cuscus skin; or some wear on
their heads long, doubled-up strips of the skin, decorated with feathers.
The skin head-dresses, _marari_, like the images, must not be seen by
women. I managed to secure both forms of headgear.
Women and uninitiated boys may not see an _orara_, nor an _umuruburo_.
These, together with the _madubu_ and _marari_, are carried at night-time
from the house to the bush, and returned to their hidden receptacles in
the end-rooms of the long houses. Between the _moguru_ ceremony and the
yam harvest the men make pandean pipes, and every young man carries and
plays one.
[Illustration: FIG. 8. AGRICULTURAL CHARMS OF KIWAI
(One-sixth natural size)
Three _madubu_ (bull-roarers) for yams, and two _umuruburo_ (female
effigies) for sago]
I was informed of one fact which may throw some light on initiation
ceremonies. The human effigies “look after” sago in the same way as the
bull-roarers “look after” yams, sweet potatoes, and bananas. According
to some notes made by Ray, the _orara_ is shown to the initiates during
the north-west monsoon, at the time when the sago is planted; but the
_madubu_ is swung and shown to the initiates when yams are planted in the
south-east monsoon.
When food is scarce or of bad quality, if, for instance, a sago palm
is split and found to be “no good,” the natives make _moguru_ and put
“medicine along _moguru_ for _kaikai_” that is, perform _moguru_ magic
for food. Unfortunately there was not time for me to follow up this line
of inquiry, but probably it will be found that the _moguru_ ceremony is
primarily a fertility ceremony, perhaps originally agricultural, and
later social. The younger members of the community had to be initiated,
some time or other, into the processes necessary for producing a good
harvest. The time when the lad was growing into a man would suggest
itself as being a suitable time for this, and for being instructed about
his _nurumara_, and being recognised as a member of the clan.
In several parts of the world certain rites connected with agriculture
were, or are, performed by nude women, and it is possible that these nude
female effigies may have an analogous significance. Later I shall allude
to the association of girls with the annual agricultural ceremonies in
the Hood Peninsula. Probably a secondary sexual element has crept into
the significance of these effigies in Kiwai. Similar effigies were said
to have been employed as love charms in Murray Island, and I did not
find out that there they had any agricultural significance; but this may
merely have been due to the fact that a specialisation had taken place,
owing to insular conditions.
[Illustration: FIG. 9. NEUR MADUB, OR LOVE CHARM]
It is, however, significant that the name of the Murray Island love charm
was _neur madub_, that is “girl _madub_.” When I was in Erub in 1888 I
obtained a _neur madub_ (Fig. 9), which originally came from the island
of Masig; it is a wooden image of a girl with scarification markings; the
length is eight inches. I was informed when a young man wanted to marry
a girl who would have nothing to say to him, he would go to a magician,
and the latter would apply “poison medicine” to this figure and the girl
would become insane. The _sugob madub_ was a slat of wood, roughly shaped
into a male figure, which was used to make tobacco (_sugob_) grow. In
Mabuiag wooden human effigies, called _madub_, were kept in a small
hut along with bull-roarers (_bigu_). The Madub used to “turn devil”
(_tartaian markai_) at night-time, and go round the gardens and swing the
bull-roarers to make the yams grow. They also danced and repeatedly sang—
“_O ari ina, ina dauaiia mule._”
(“Oh! the rain is here, here by the bananas it passes along.”)
In the daytime the _madub_ turn into wood.
A wooden image, called _Uvio Moguru_, is used, according to Mr. Chalmers,
at the initiation of the young men, and it must not be seen by women
or children. He says it is also called _Oraoradubu_ (which is usually
translated as “God.”) I suppose this is the same sort of image as that
which was given to me as _orara_, but of the male sex (_dubu_ means
“male” or “man”). “_Oraoradubu_ makes everything grow, and they bring
him presents of food when the planting season comes. They place food
alongside of him, and then return and carry it away and eat it. He is
always consulted before fighting, and presents are given to him, and he
is appealed to for help to enable them to secure heads. If anyone is
sick, food is given to Uvio, who is placed on the top of a big house
(_darimo_), and he is addressed, ‘Oh, Uvio, finish the sickness of our
dear one, and give life.’ The food is left there. Uvio is also taken and
placed on the sick one when asleep, and he or she will get better. Uvio
is always brought at night, because he is then a living being; during the
day he is only a piece of wood. He cannot cause the dead to live.”
Until very recently these people were head-hunters; when an enemy was
killed, the head was cut off with a bamboo knife and carried home on a
rattan sling, which was inserted under the jawbone. The head was hung
over a fire and all the hair singed off. During this process all the
young girls of the village assembled and danced in a ring near—but not
round the fire—singing all the while. The head was then taken away and
all the flesh removed; after the skull was washed a carved peg was
stuck in the skull, by means of which it was hung up on the main post
of the house. This information was obtained from Mr. Chalmers, who also
states that a young man could not marry if he had not a skull trophy, as
no young woman would have him. Sometimes a young man would go to his
friends at a distance—say to Mawatta or Tureture—and would remain there
some months. On his return home he would bring with him several skulls
which he had bought from, or through, his friends, but whatever his
relatives might have been told in confidence, they gave out that he was a
great brave, and the lady he loved would soon be his. A canoe has often
been given in exchange for a skull.
In this island a number of very large, well-shaped, polished stone
implements are found in the bush; the largest I have seen was in Mr.
Chalmers’ house—it measured 18¾ inches in length. These stones are now
placed at the head and foot, or all round the graves, and the natives
do not appear to know anything about their former use. A small stone
adze-head (_tapi_) was bought at Iasa, and when I asked who made it, I
was gravely informed, “He make himself, he stop along ground all time.”
The large implements are so cumbersome and heavy that it is difficult
to understand how some of them could ever have been used, and I suspect
the largest ones were in reality symbols of wealth or possibly of
authority. As no stone occurs _in situ_ for a distance of many miles,
and none of this kind is known in the district, the implements have in
all probability come down the Fly River. It is quite possible that stone
implements have been out of use in this district for perhaps a century,
owing to natives getting iron from wrecks and passing ships, and then
bartering it to their neighbours; thus in two or three generations the
knowledge of the use of stone implements would easily die out.
The natives say that Kiwai was first a small sandbank, but grew large;
eventually trees and other vegetation sprang up on it. The first man came
from a bird’s egg. The bird left the egg in the nest, and a maggot came
out of it, which developed into a man.
Mr. Chalmers also tells the following legend concerning the origin of
fire. At first it was not known how to make fire, and all the animals,
and then the birds tried in turn to bring it across from the mainland.
Eventually the black cockatoo succeeded, but dropped it at Iasa, as he
burnt himself with it; and he bears the mark of his accident to this day
in the red scar round his bill.
Fire is usually produced by the groove method, as is commonly done in
Eastern New Guinea and Polynesia, but it is also got by friction of
a strip of cane, as among the Koiari of the Central District. In the
islands of Torres Straits it is produced by the drill method.
Although the Kiwaians cultivate the soil, they do not always live in the
same spot. During the “nor’-west” most of the islanders live at Iasa,
which appears to be regarded as the original home of the natives of the
southern portion of the island. The temporary migrations are due to the
collection and preparation of sago, the people having to go periodically
to the places where the sago palm grows, and elsewhere they have gardens
of yams and sweet potatoes. This fact renders it difficult for the
missionaries to make much headway among the natives here.
On our return to Saguane we found that Seligmann had arrived. He had
made several interesting trips in the Rigo and Mekeo districts, and
had acquired a good deal of valuable information; he had fortunately
escaped fever or other illness. Rivers had employed his time mainly in
psychologising the Kiwaians. As Ray wanted to gain some information about
the Kiwaian language, he decided to remain at Saguane for a fortnight,
and to join us at Mabuiag, accompanying Mr. Chalmers when he paid his
promised visit to that island.
We left Saguane shortly before midday on September 15th, had a roughish
spin across the mouth of the Fly River, and early in the afternoon we
glided through the narrow mangrove-bordered channel between Parama and
the mainland of New Guinea. We ran on a mudbank at the western entrance,
and as we had to wait till the tide rose we all went ashore at Old
Mawatta. Here we found a temporary village of simple huts built on the
ground. The people had come over from Parama to make gardens, and among
them was the only Murray Island teacher in New Guinea. We soon purchased
a decorated bamboo pipe, and by dumbshow and pidgin English I asked for a
shell hoe. D’Albertis obtained some of these very primitive implements at
Katau, or New Mawatta, and I bought one from the same village ten years
before; but Mr. Hely told me that they had since then gone out of use.
But to my joy one was brought to us, for which I gave a fish-hook; and in
a very short time we had half a dozen on the same terms. Hardly anything
pleased me more during this trip than to secure some specimens of this
very rude and primitive agricultural implement, especially as there
seemed previously no chance of obtaining it. The blade is made from part
of a bailer-shell (_Melo diadema_), which is jammed into the perforation
in the handle and wedged tight with pieces of wood.
[Illustration: FIG. 10. SHELL HOE
Used by the natives of Parama. About one-seventh natural size.]
We bought several petticoats and some bows and arrows. A living cuscus
was also offered for sale in a basket, and was bought for two fish-hooks
and a stick of tobacco; so now for the first time we had a pet. The
cuscus is the New Guinea representative of the Australian phalangers,
or “opossums,” as they are popularly called, and is a gentle nocturnal
creature that feeds mainly on fruit. It has a face something like a
lemur’s, and a very long prehensile tail, the terminal third of which is
pink and destitute of fur. The dense fur is of a creamy yellow colour
mottled with dark brown.
Formerly most of the men of Torres Straits produced scars in elaborate
patterns on their shoulders, and the practice is still maintained by
certain tribes on the neighbouring coast of New Guinea. I had paid some
attention to this kind of form of scarification, and was always on the
look-out for fresh examples. On inquiry I found that the custom had quite
died out, but there was one old man left who had this mark, and he was
much amused when I sketched it.
These Western Papuans have such very dark skins that ordinary tattooing
would not show on them. Like the Negroes, Australians, and other very
dark peoples, they produce large and often prominent scars which, being
lighter in colour than the skin, are fairly conspicuous. It is evident
from the appearance of many of these scars that the process of producing
them must have been very painful.
Wilkin made notes of and photographed a number of the huts, which were
very simple in construction, and which I at once saw were very like the
former dwellings of the Western Torres Straits islanders. The islanders
have all adopted the kind of house introduced by South Sea men, so the
evidently very primitive character of these huts and the diversity they
exhibited was of especial interest to us, as they gave us an idea of what
had elsewhere passed away. The leaf petticoats also of the women of these
primitive people were quite the same as were the petticoats of the Torres
Straits women before they adopted the hideous calico gowns they all wear
now.
We parted on the best of terms with our new friends, and a number came
off in canoes and swarmed aboard the _Nieue_, peering into the cabin
whilst we ate our dinner.
This place is called Old Mawatta, as it was the home of the original
inhabitants of Katau, or Mawatta, as it is more generally called. These
people were driven from their home by the hostility and constant raids
made on them by more powerful tribes from Kiwai and Parama, so they
established themselves some thirty miles to the west, as they found the
proprietors of the district to be friendly disposed.
When I visited Mawatta ten years previously, I accompanied Mr. H. Milman,
who was Acting Resident Magistrate of Torres Straits. On landing we were
met by Mr. E. Beardmore, who employed natives in fishing for pearl-shell
and bêche-de-mer, and by a host of natives, all of whom came up and
shook hands with us. Amongst these was the chief, or Mamoose, as he is
termed. The title was engraved on a crescentic brass plate, and hung on
the old man’s chest like the label of a bottle of wine. This strange
outward and visible sign was given to the man by Beardmore as a symbol of
chieftainship. There was at the time a dispute as to the office of chief,
the candidates being Billy, the son of the late chief, Gamea, a young
man, who did not appear to be very popular, and Gabia, whom the majority
wanted. I believe that Gabia’s chief distinction was that he was the most
successful hunter of wild pigs in the neighbourhood.
We adjourned to Beardmore’s house, shaking hands _en route_ with men,
women, and children. Everybody was “decently” clothed, the women wearing
long calico gowns, a disappointing sight, as the previous year when
Mr. Milman was here the women wore only their characteristic small
fore-and-aft leaf petticoat.
On coming out of the house all the people were marshalled. Those of the
upper portion of this double village were on one side, those of the lower
village on the other, while a few totally unclothed Masingara, “bushmen,”
who happened to be there, formed a group by themselves. These latter
were absolute savages who lived a few miles inland, whereas the natives
of Mawatta have been in contact with Europeans for twenty-five years or
more.
Then Mr. Milman made a speech to the assembled people. I did not write
it down, but this is part of what he said: “No good you fellow have two
Mamooses. Good thing you have one Mamoose, one man, Gabia; him Mamoose
of two villages.” Then Mr. Milman formally presented him with a staff of
office, which was a carved Japanese cane walking-stick, in the handle
of which a shilling was inserted with the Queen’s head uppermost, and
the Union Jack, which Billy had hitherto flown, was given to Gabia.
The ejaculations and remarks of the crowd were expressive, but quite
unintelligible to me.
The new chief was then told to build a court-house in the middle of the
village, and a quantity of tobacco was given him to help pay for labour
and materials. When it was built the staff of office was to be kept
inside, and the flag was to fly on official occasions from a pole on the
roof, and when there were any disputes the people would have to go to the
court-house, and it would be the chief’s business to settle the quarrels,
aided by the advice of the old men of the village.
The people in New Guinea usually bury their dead in very shallow graves,
close to, or even underneath, the dwelling-houses. The Government puts a
stop to this unhealthy arrangement, and so Gabia was told to prevent this
in future, and to fix on a spot for a cemetery some distance off.
Next a social matter demanded attention, which strangely resembled a
situation that is common enough at home. There was a young man named
Kasawi, a fine industrious young fellow, who wanted to marry a certain
young girl, and she wanted to marry him; but Kasawi was poor, and the
parents of the girl tried to force her to marry a richer man.
Here also it is the custom for the man to give his own sister as a wife
to the brother of the girl whom he wants to marry, but Kasawi had no
sister. The old people were firm, but the girl would not do as they
wished and marry an elderly Malay man who lived there, and who could
afford to give good presents to her parents.
For a long time there had been considerable excitement in the village
about this little love affair, as no one would give way. Mr. Milman told
Gabia to decide in this matter, and there was a great palaver. Then the
chief proclaimed that Kasawi might marry the girl, but when he was paid
off by Mr. Beardmore, for whom he was then working, he would have to
give the parents of his bride certain presents from his wages. A murmur
of applause went round the crowd, who appeared to highly approve of this
decision, and so the young people were made happy.
After the meeting broke up I took several photographs. The first business
was to get the women to exuviate, and to appear in their native dress,
for, as I explained to them, if I wanted to photograph calico I could
do that at home. After a little time they retired to their houses with
much laughing and giggling, and reappeared dressed solely in the national
costume. Many of the women had a raised scar which extended from breast
to breast—this is said to be made when a brother spears his first turtle
or dugong; some had cicatrices on their upper arms and shoulders; most
had scars on various parts of their bodies, but these were the result of
cuts made for the purpose of removing pain by bleeding.
A native dance was got up for our benefit; owing to the shortness of time
at the disposal of the dancers their costume was not so elaborate as is
usually the case. On this occasion only the men danced, and of these
there were about twenty or thirty. The usual dress consisted only of a
pair of short pants; in the belt a tail was fastened behind, either of
leaves or a flap of red or gaily coloured calico. The head was ornamented
with a head-dress of white or black feathers or a band of bright-coloured
calico; sometimes leaves or flowers only were inserted in the hair. Some
put flowers in the large holes they make in the lobes of their ears. On
their arms they wore woven cane armlets or bands, generally decorated
with tassels or the gaily coloured leaves of the croton; on the left
fore-arm they wore a long cane arm-band, which is used to protect the arm
from the bow string when they shoot with bow and arrow, a long bunch of
cassowary feathers was usually stuck in this arm-guard. Finally, there
were bands of pale yellow leaves on their legs.
It is very difficult to describe the dancing, which was always
accompanied with the beating of drums. Sometimes the men danced in
a circle in single file, going either from right to left or the
reverse, there was a pause after each turn. One figure was somewhat
more complicated: the men advanced in a line up each side of the
dancing-ground, the first pair who met retreated a little in the middle
line, still facing the spectators; when the next two arrived, the first
pair separated to allow them to pass between, and the new-comers took up
their position behind the former, and so on, until the last pair passed
between the gradually lengthened avenue of standing men. Several of the
dances imitated actions in real life, such as planting yams or picking up
pearl-shell from the bottom of the sea, or animals were represented, and
a man would mimic the movements of a crab, a lizard, or a pelican.
The Pelican dance was the last; a couple of men came forward, jumped up
into the air, and alighted on the tips of their toes. As the drum-beats
became more rapid, so was their jumping quicker; so active were they,
that we could hardly follow their movements. When they were tired other
pairs came up, until all had danced. It was really a fine sight, and, of
course, we duly clapped each set of dancers, and well they deserved it.
Mr. Beardmore said that his men often broke off in the middle of their
work to practise a favourite step, and work might be knocked off for
an afternoon in order to have a dance; sometimes one was carried on
right through the night. Where missionary influence is strong enough,
the native dances are discouraged or altogether stopped. I once saw
an illustration of the change that has taken place in Warrior Island.
Some of the younger performers were rather ashamed to dance, others
were imperfectly acquainted with the steps, but the old women danced
splendidly, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The natives were beginning to care
less for their old customs and more for trade, as the men can earn quite
a lot of money by fishing.
After the dancing we gave scrambles for tobacco, first to the children
only, then to the women only. It was amusing for all of us, and there
was great screeching and laughing. Then the barter commenced, and I was
fortunate enough to obtain a number of interesting objects.
For a scrub-knife, that is, a knife with a very long blade that is used
for cutting down the underwood when they make their gardens, I obtained a
mask in the shape of a crocodile’s head made of tortoise-shell. This mask
was worn during certain religious dances, and when I asked the man from
whom I bought it to put it on in order that I might see how it was used,
he refused, as he said if he did so he would die by a slow and painful
illness, and he did not want to run the risk of this to please me, nor
even for a stick of tobacco. Evidently it would be regarded as sacrilege
to wear a mask of this kind on any other occasion than the sacred
ceremony to which it belonged.
Below one of the large houses there were clusters of human skulls hanging
like bunches of grapes or strings of onions; these were the skulls of
enemies killed in battle, and they were hung up as trophies.
The possession of skulls is a sign of bravery, and so the men like to
have them, and the women are very proud of their husbands if they have
several. In fighting they use the bow and arrow and stone clubs. The most
common kind of stone club is that which has a perforated disc of hard
stone, finely polished and brought to a sharp edge, which is mounted
usually on a short length of rattan, but there are others which have
knobbed or star-shaped heads. Some of the skulls I obtained had holes in
them that clearly showed with which kind of club the men had been killed.
After a man is killed his head is cut off with a bamboo knife; the blade
is made of a split piece of bamboo, the handle being bound round with
plaited string. When the knife is to be used a nick is made on the edge,
close to the handle, with a small shell; then a strip is peeled off from
the other end, the nick preventing the handle from splitting.
[Illustration: FIG. 11. BAMBOO BEHEADING-KNIFE AND HEAD-CARRIER, MAWATTA
One-fifth natural size]
The rind of bamboo is full of minute flinty particles, so much so that
a freshly-cut edge is very sharp, and will cut off a man’s head; but it
will suffice for only one occasion, and a fresh edge has to be made for
each head that is cut off. One knife I bought had five nicks, which means
it had been used for the purpose of cutting off the heads of five people,
and another had nine notches.
Along with the knife I bought a cane loop, or sling; this is used for
carrying home the heads after they have been cut off.