THE HOOD PENINSULA
We started next day, and arrived at Hood Point at 4 p.m., but owing to
the water being very shallow we anchored a long way from the shore. As we
had no boat on board we were obliged to wait till someone took compassion
on us, and it was not till after sunset that we were able to get away
in a canoe with some of our gear. After a long paddle we passed between
the land and the four hamlets of marine dwellings that constitute the
village of Bulaa, or Hula, as it is generally called. These looked very
picturesque. Dark stilted masses, upstanding from the silver-streaked
calm sea, with its changing lights as the swell silently glided
shorewards, the broken outlines of these strange homes were silhouetted
by the bright moonlight, their blackness being occasionally relieved by
the light of a fire.
On arriving at the beach near the London Missionary Society’s Station we
were met and most heartily greeted by the teachers, who proved themselves
most cordial and hospitable. As one always finds in these Mission
Stations, everything was tidy, in readiness, and beautifully clean; the
table was covered with a cloth, and was decorated with flowers in vases,
the four bedrooms fitted with mosquito nets and every requisite. These
good people had not received any notice of our intended visit, but it is
the common experience of travellers that the native teachers, like the
missionaries themselves, are always ready for a casual traveller, and as
invariably give him a warm welcome. It was very refreshing to have food
served in a civilised manner after the rough accommodation of the boat.
We were here much more comfortable and better fed, and vastly more nicely
served, than in Murray Island. Seligmann visited and treated the chief’s
sick boy soon after we arrived, and the chief promised to send a canoe
to fetch off Ontong, but his power was not strong enough to induce the
men to go.
_Sunday, June 5th._—We got up at 6.30, and found the teacher had made tea
for us; the good man had also sent off a couple of boys in a canoe at 4
a.m. to bring Ontong and the rest of our goods. They arrived about seven
o’clock. About 7.30, after a breakfast of hot soup and biscuits, we took
a canoe to visit “German Harry,” who was in charge of Mr. R. E. Guise’s
plantations while that gentleman made a trip to England. He took us in a
two-horse buggy down the Hood peninsula, through the villages of Aruauna,
Babaka, Kamali, to the very large and important village of Kalo.
The Hood peninsula has evidently been formed mainly by the Vanigela
River. It is a low, level spit of sea sand and of alluvium brought down
by the river, deposited in the salt water, and then heaped to leeward by
the indirect action of the prevailing south-east wind. This combination
makes a light, fertile soil. A considerable part of the peninsula
consists of grass land, with scattered screw pines (Pandanus) and small
trees, and here and there a few cycads. Occasionally there are patches
of bush or jungle, and groves of coconut palms. There are also numerous
gardens, which the natives keep in beautiful order.
The peninsula is divided into six lands, belonging to the Kalo, Kamali,
Babaka, Makirupu, Oloko, and Diriga people. The last three villages
were so decimated by sickness some three generations ago that there
were few survivors, and the smaller numbers that still remain have been
driven recently to Babaka by the Bulaa. The Bulaa people have planted
many coconuts on the land, but the greater part belong to the three
tribes mentioned. The Bulaa people now claim the land, and naturally
this has been a cause of friction, as the Babaka and Kamali people
resent the encroachment. The Government has taken the common-sense view,
and recognised that it was necessary for Bulaa to have garden land;
and as the Diriga land, which lies at the end of the peninsula, is
practically unowned, the Government has had it surveyed and given Bulaa
legal possession. The Kamali state they have been in occupation for ten
generations, and that the land was unoccupied at the time of their first
settlement on it.
The town of Kalo—for this is not too grand a term to employ in this
instance—is situated at the base of the Hood peninsula close to the
right bank of the Vanigela (Kemp Welch River) at its mouth. There are
some magnificent houses here—all on piles, some of which are thirty feet
in height and eighteen inches in diameter. It is very impressive to see
great houses perched on such high and massive props. At the front of each
house is a series of large platforms like gigantic steps. Some of the
posts are partially carved, and occasionally the under surfaces of the
house planks are also carved. I saw two representations of crocodiles
and one of a man under a large steepled house. The planks employed for
the flooring of the houses and platforms are often immense, and must
represent a tremendous amount of labour, especially in the old days of
stone implements; many of them are cut out of the slab-like buttresses
of great forest trees that grow inland. The wood employed for the great
flooring planks is so hard that the boards are handed down from father to
son as heirlooms, and the house piles last for generations.
Sir William Macgregor regards Kalo as the wealthiest village in
British New Guinea. The people own rich alluvial gardens, and have a
superabundance of coconuts, bananas, yams, sweet potatoes, and taro.
They also grow numerous areca palms; the nuts of these palms are usually
called betel nuts, and are in great demand for chewing with quicklime,
and so constitute a source of wealth. The Kalo people also absorb the
trade of the interior, as they command the mouth of the Vanigela.
Feathers and feather ornaments, grass armlets, boars’ tusks, bamboos,
trees for canoes, wood for houses, and other jungle produce are retailed
to the coast tribes, and fish, shell-fish, shell ornaments, and the like
are traded in exchange.
It is interesting to note how the material prosperity of Kalo has made
the people very conceited and not amenable to outside influence. Like
Jeshurun of old, they have waxed fat and kicked, and they have readily
listened on various occasions in the past to the counsels of their lusty
neighbours of Keapara to oppose the Government. The story of the massacre
of the Mission teachers in 1881 at the instigation of the chief is told
by the Rev. James Chalmers in _Work and Adventure in New Guinea_; and in
_Pioneering in New Guinea_ he gives an account of how the massacre was
punished by Commodore Wilson of the _Wolverene_, on which occasion the
chief lost his life. The marks of the bullets of the bluejackets in the
palm-stems were pointed out to us.
So independent are the Kalo folk that they will not meet the Keapara
people half-way for trade; so the women of the latter village have to
trudge all round Hood Bay with their fish or other marine produce to
barter for garden produce, and any day one may see Keapara women sitting
in the village square of Kalo.
Hearing that there was to be a dance at Babaka, we walked there early
in the afternoon of Monday, June 6th, accompanied by several boys and a
couple of girls who carried our bags and cameras, and we were further
escorted by four native police and a corporal. It was a hot walk down the
peninsula for four and a half miles, across grassy plains, through the
gardens and plantations of the natives. The bananas here are planted in
regular rows, more evenly, we were informed, than anywhere else in the
possession. We greatly appreciated the cool shade when the path meandered
through the luxuriant bush.
On arriving at Babaka we climbed on the platform of a house, and rested
in the shade and drank the cool, refreshing coconut water. A very
disreputable-looking, dirty, aged ruffian came up and shook hands with
Mr. English; his face was misshapen through disease, and one eye was
bunged up. As is the custom here, his clothing consisted simply of a
string. He has the reputation of being a successful dugong fisher and
a great blackguard; the tattooing on his back shows that he has also
taken human life. By the time I had copied his tattooing the dancing had
commenced.
The men, carrying their drums, approached the dancing-ground with a
prancing gait. Most of the men had a more or less yellow string as a
garment; some had a nose skewer as well. In the crown of their black halo
of frizzly hair was inserted a bunch of feathers, the most effective
being a bunch of white cockatoo feathers, above which were reddish-brown
and green, narrow feathers; from the midst of these arose a vertical
stick covered with scarlet feathers. From the hair, and fastened to their
armlets and leglets, streamed long ribands of crimped strips of pale
yellow palm leaves. The cylindrical drums were also decorated with the
same streamers and with seed rattles. They formed a brave show.
In the first figure the men stood in three rows, the outer rows facing
inwards; the third and middle row faced one of the other rows, and stood
nearer to it than to the other. The men danced by slightly bending the
knee and raising the heel, the toe not being taken off the ground,
and as they bent their bodies their head-dresses nodded. A couple of
girls danced at the end of two columns, facing the men. These girls
were clothed with numerous petticoats of sago palm leaf dyed red,
with flounces of white pandanus leaf; numerous shell necklaces with
boars’-tusk pendants hung down their backs, and shell ornaments adorned
their heads. They placed their hands on their abdomen just above their
petticoats, and swayed the latter from side to side without shifting
their ground. I cannot describe the singing. The music consisted of
paired drum-beats.
[Illustration]
In the second figure, the central row of men all faced one way down the
column except one end man, who faced them. The movements were the same as
before; four girls now danced.
[Illustration]
Next, the central men all faced the same way.
In the fourth figure the central men shifted their ground from side
to side. The four girls at the one end grouped themselves into two
couples, each pair took hold of hands, and all swayed their petticoats
rhythmically from side to side. One or two girls had by this time joined
the opposite end. Some girls swayed their petticoats more than others,
and as the petticoats are fastened on the right side, the movement
displays more or less of the thighs. A flighty girl often takes care
that the two ends of the petticoat do not quite meet where they are
tied, so as to increase the effectiveness of this swaying movement.
Some girls kept their feet entirely on the ground, heels together, and
toes separated; others moved the feet a little. They swung their arms
backwards and forwards.
The fifth dance was a repetition of the first, and was repeated more than
once, as were also some of the others.
Later, the men fell into seven rows of from four to six in each. All
except those at one end faced one way, and these faced them.
There were now eight girls at one end, who stood in a row and faced
inwards, like the odd row of men. Two or three girls were at the other
end dancing in the same way as girls, but one sidled up to a man
and placed her arm round his, and danced demurely. I saw this done
at Kăpăkăpă, and later on I saw it at Bulaa and Port Moresby. It is
evidently the usual practice in ordinary dances, but I imagine the girl
was not in order in introducing this style into this particular dance.
All the men and the girls advanced and retreated slowly, moving their
feet about three inches at a time; they covered only about a couple of
feet of ground. In this figure the girls swung their petticoats forwards
and backwards; the music consisted of a uniform series of beats.
In the next figure one end row of men defiled to the right of the others,
and either danced up and down the column once and back to their places,
or (as in B) they zigzagged up and down. The drums during most of this
dance were held high up by the five or six men who were actively dancing.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: B]
The girls had rearranged themselves as in the diagram, and swayed their
petticoats from side to side.
In the last figure the two end rows left their places and faced one
another as in the diagram, and after a little dancing all dispersed.
[Illustration]
At the end of every figure the drums were beaten about a dozen times
with relative rapidity, this being the signal that it was over. The same
occurs in Torres Straits. The women’s dancing appears to be subsidiary. I
do not think that their exact position matters much. The variable number
was, perhaps, due to their not being ready before.
This dance was one of a series which had been held in this village and in
Kamali and Kalo. The last of the series was held the following morning.
After the dance a pig was caught by causing it to run its snout into a
coarse net, and then it was thrown down, several men sitting on it while
others held its legs, which were next tied. The screaming and squealing
of the pig and the shouts and laughing of the men were terrific;
eventually the pig was fastened to a pole and left to await developments.
The fantastically dressed-up men who had been dancing collected on a
sacred platform, or _dubu_, in the centre of the village; each carried
a bunch of areca (betel) nuts. They then chanted a few sentences and
finished off with a yell; and this was repeated two or three times, and
an areca nut was thrown on the ground. This was a challenge to the other
division of the village to make a similar dance next year.
This village, like so many others, is divided into two sections, each of
which has its _dubu_. At these annual festivals only one division dances,
the members of the other being spectators. If, for some reason, such as
the death of an important man, a challenge is not taken up, there will be
no dance the following year, which is a local misfortune.
A man of the other division stepped forward and picked up the areca nut;
then those on the _dubu_ broke up the bunches of the nuts and threw them
among the spectators for a scramble, and a scene of hilarious excitement
began. I joined in the scramble, and secured one or two nuts.
[Illustration: FIG. 25. IRUPI DANCE, BABAKA]
Shortly after this seven recently tattooed girls walked in a row up and
down the broad open space in the village in front of the _dubu_. The
_irupi_ or _iropi_ dance was to be performed by them, and the pigs for
the feast had been provided by their relatives. The girls walked in a
somewhat stately manner, and gracefully swung a cord of about three feet
in length, to which a small netted bag was attached; the other end of
the cord was attached to the waist-belt of the petticoat at the back.
They swung it with the right hand, causing it to make a graceful sweep
behind the back round to the left side, where it was caught by the left
hand. During this manœuvre the whole body made a half turn. The action
was then repeated with the left hand, the tassel being caught with the
right hand. Up and down the little damsels walked, well pleased with
themselves, and fully conscious that they were the centre of attraction;
it was an elegant dance, and really quite charming. During the _irupi_
dance some women sat on the _dubu_ and beat the drums; this is the first
time I have anywhere seen women beating drums, and it is only on this
occasion that women may mount on a _dubu_. The movements of the girls
were regulated by the staccato beats of the drums.
The same girls next ascended the _dubu_ and stood in a row facing the
village square. Two men then carried the pig, which was tied on to a
pole, and stood in front of the girls. An old woman came and stood
beside them; she was not ornamented in any way, whereas the girls wore
numerous swagger petticoats; round their necks were as many necklaces
and ornaments as they could muster, and some had wonderful shell
head-dresses. The girls next took off all their petticoats and were
anointed by the old woman, who dabbed each girl with a mixture of coconut
oil and water by means of a bunch of wild thyme. As soon as the anointing
was completed a drum was beaten, and the girls quickly dressed themselves
and jumped down from the _dubu_. This ended one of the most interesting
ceremonies it has been my lot to witness.
It is evident that the latter part of the ceremony is the most important,
and that it is a fertility ceremony. I was told that it brought good luck
to the plantations. It is interesting to note that here, as in India, and
indeed in many parts of the world, the ceremony for ensuring a bountiful
harvest is performed by the women.
The next day the pig was killed for the feast, and there was renewed
dancing.
[Illustration: PLATE XIV
GIRLS OF BABAKA DRESSED FOR THE ANNUAL CEREMONY
GIRLS ON THE DUBU AT BABAKA FOR THE ANNUAL CEREMONY]
Mr. R. E. Guise, who has resided for over ten years in the Hood
peninsula, has recently described this ceremony in the Journal of the
Anthropological Institute (xxviii., 1899, p. 215). Apparently the second
and principal part of the ceremony (_kuiriga_) was somewhat abbreviated
on the occasion when we witnessed it. As soon as the girls on the _dubu_
have thrown their petticoats behind them, married women advance and place
in front of each girl a basket containing a quantity of areca nuts, on
the top of which are a few yams and a small knife. After the anointing,
each girl takes a yam in her left hand and the knife in her right, and at
each beat of the drum cuts off a piece of the yam, bends her knees, and
slightly bows her head, causing the weighted head-dress to sway forwards.
The whole effect is described as being wonderfully pretty. After each
girl has cut up half a dozen yams the female orchestra give two sharp
taps, and the drums cease beating. The girls immediately take up the
baskets and pelt the crowd with the areca nuts; this part of the affair
is much appreciated by the onlookers, who scramble for the nuts, tumbling
over one another like children.
The girls quite enjoy the position, and do not show any shame. Very few,
if any, men seem to care to look on the ceremony, old women, widows,
and married women who have daughters constituting the majority of the
bystanders.
I had previously known about this ceremony and understood that it was
of an indecent character, but my experience quite corroborates these
statements of Mr. Guise. I must confess to feeling surprised that the men
took no notice at all of the girls, and it was perfectly evident that
this was regarded by them as solely a woman’s ceremony.
One day we started in the early morning to visit Keapara (Kerepunu). Mr.
A. C. English, the Government Agent for the Rigo District, had followed
us to Bulaa, and he took us in his whale-boat. After rowing for a long
time in a heavy sea against a head wind Mr. English found that the wind
and tide were too strong for us to cross Hood Bay; so the sail was set,
and we ran down the bay to Kalo. To windward of the mouth of the Vanigela
is a sand-bar, which deepens as it projects into the bay, and over this
the breakers came rolling in with any amount of surf and flying spray.
We had a few anxious moments as the boat was carried along through the
seething water, but we got safely through into the quiet water beyond,
and then rode into the mouth of the river, a vision of fairy calm and
beauty. Nipa palms erected their rigid fern-like leaves directly from
the water; they were banked by varied tropical foliage, and shooting
skywards were the slender white stems of the coconut palms with their
waving leafy crowns.
After a short spell we walked for eight miles along the sand beach round
the bay till we came to the entrance of Hood lagoon, over which we
were ferried in a canoe, and on arriving at Keapara we were hospitably
received by Tau and his wife, the L.M.S. South Sea teacher, who gave us
afternoon tea before we visited the village.
The sand beach in front of the village presented a busy scene; until
now I had not come across such activity as was here displayed. Several
canoes were being made, and not only was there a continuous succession of
chopping noises, but the sense of smell was also affected, partly by the
smoke of the fires, but mainly by the very disagreeable odour given out
by the soft wood as it is chipped by the adzes.
The trees of which the canoes are made grow up the Vanigela River; they
are cut down, and their trunks are floated down the stream to its mouth.
The Kalo men sell the lumber to the Keapara men, who tow it to their
village. The outside of the canoes is cut with steel tomahawks obtained
from the white man, but the logs are hollowed out with stone adzes, the
stone blade of which can be shifted round to any angle by turning the
holder on the shaft. It seems strange that these primitive shipwrights
should prefer stone implements to iron ones for hollowing out the canoes;
perhaps it is because they are frightened lest the sharper iron blade
should inadvertently cut through the thin side of the hull. After the
canoes are dug out and trimmed down they are charred by fires lit outside
and inside them; the effect of this is to harden the wood, and I suppose
to somewhat fill up the pores so as to make the craft more seaworthy. I
believe that one result of applying fire to the canoes is to make them
open out more widely. Probably in precisely the same manner, save that
no metal tool was available, our Neolithic ancestors manufactured their
canoes. It was an unexpected pleasure to have this glimpse into the Stone
Age.
[Illustration: PLATE XV
HOLLOWING OUT A CANOE WITH STONE ADZES AT KEAPARA
A BULAA GIRL BEING TATTOOED]
Sitting on the sand beach was a man chipping out a wooden bowl from a
piece of the same kind of wood as that of which the canoes were made. He
employed a small adze, constructed on the same principle as that of the
large adzes used in canoe making. In this instance the blade was made
of iron, but so fashioned as precisely to resemble the original stone
blade; subsequently I procured a small stone adze. We photographed the
man at work, and, as we have experienced often, he took no notice of us;
but he appeared to be much surprised when I bargained for his implement
and the unfinished bowl. A native cannot in the least understand why one
wants to purchase an unfinished article and the tool with which it is
being made.
The Keapara natives buzzed round us like flies, offering for sale
“curios” of all kinds and sea shells; often the former were broken and
worthless specimens. One did not know which way to turn, so persistent
were they, and the din was deafening. Well did they maintain their
reputation for being keen, and whenever possible, unprincipled traders;
still we did very well and got our things reasonably enough. I understand
that they live principally by barter, not only locally, but also doing
some trading up and down the coast.
Next morning we paid a visit to the adjoining fishing village of Alukune,
or Harukune, which is situated on the other side of the point of land
on which Keapara stands. The natives, as is usually the case with
fisher-folk in Europe, keep very much to themselves, but here they have
good reason for this aloofness. The more powerful Keapara men have for
generations been in the habit of levying toll from them in the shape of
fish and other marine produce. The Alukune possessed no land, and were
not allowed to acquire any, though the Keapara had more than enough for
their own wants. Vegetable food being a necessity, the Alukune women
either had to go to Kalo for it or had to buy it from their Keapara
neighbours, giving fish in exchange, but the latter, being the stronger
tribe, were able to obtain the fish at a very cheap rate. They were not
only oppressed in this and other ways, but their women were seized and
taken as wives by Keapara men. Some thirty-eight years ago half the
village, driven to desperation by the oppressions of their neighbours,
left in a body and settled at Hood Point, and built the village of Bulaa.
The other half who remained were still held in subjection by Keapara, and
their condition was but little improved since the old days until very
recently, and even now they do not appear to be in a happy or thriving
condition.
Although the inhabitants of Alukune are fisher-folk, they obtain their
canoes from Keapara, and in return they have to pay half the catch; in
other words, they have to trade on the half-profit system. We obtained
very little in this village, but I cut some samples of children’s hair,
to the amusement of the unlocking crowd and to the great perplexity of
the children themselves. The children were playing with toy miniature
bows and arrows made from the mid-ribs of palm leaflets.
Just before we started in the whale-boat English arrested a man for petty
larceny, and we had an exhibition of native grief. Men and women rushed
up to the prisoner as he was being handcuffed and led off to the boat,
rubbing noses and applying their mouths to his cheek, but I did not hear
any actual kissing. On all sides was weeping and wailing; many clawed the
sides of their heads and faces either on one or both sides; some beat
their heads and faces, clasped hands were wrung alternately on each side
of the head at the level of the ear, frequently the clasped hands were
held at the back of the head. There was a great deal of tragedy for very
little cause, as the man was going for only a week’s imprisonment, or
rather a week of forced labour on roadmaking. The comic element was that
he had picked a policeman’s pocket.
We had a spanking sail across the bay, and had a second breakfast on our
arrival soon after eleven. About 12.30 Wilkin and I walked over to Babaka
to take some more photographs. Ray worked that afternoon at languages,
and Seligmann had a very profitable time testing the keenness of the
eyesight of the natives.
During the next few days we got through a fair amount of anthropological
measurements and other work. We persuaded some girls to demonstrate the
process of tattooing, which we photographed. The girl to be tattooed lay
on the ground, and the operator held a special clay vessel in one hand,
in which was a black fluid paste made from burnt resin; this was applied
on the skin by means of a little stick. When the design was finished a
thorn was held in the left hand, while in the right hand was a small
stick round which strips of banana leaves were wound. The thorn was
lightly tapped with the stick until the pattern had been well punctured
into the skin.
[Illustration: PLATE XVI
A NATIVE OF BULAA
A BULAA YOUTH WITH RINGWORM]
When a Papuan has a headache, or indeed any other kind of ache, an
attempt is generally made to alleviate the pain by letting blood. Usually
this is done by cutting the part affected with sharp shells or fragments
of glass, or with anything handy that has an edge; but here, and in a
few other places, the phlebotomy is also performed by shooting with a
diminutive bow and arrow. The bow is made of two or three pieces of the
mid-rib of palm leaflets tied together, the string being a strand of
vegetable fibre. The arrow is also a mid-rib of a palm leaflet tipped
with a splinter of glass (originally a thorn formed the point); the shaft
passes between two of the components of the arc of the bow, and the butt
is tied on to the bow-string. Owing to this arrangement the arrow, when
it is pulled rhythmically and let go, punctures the skin on or about the
same spot.
Whilst in Bulaa I added very largely to my collection of samples of the
hair of the natives. The Papuan belongs to the group of men who have
dark skins and black woolly or frizzly hair. The hair is very much like
that of the true negro, but it grows much longer. In some parts of New
Guinea the hair is usually worn rolled into numerous cords, which hang
down all round the head like a thrum mop, but among most of the people
of the south-eastern part of the Possession the hair is combed out so as
to form a very characteristic aureola, which is the glory of a Papuan
dandy. It is astonishing, however, the number of people one finds in
this part of New Guinea with curly, and even wavy hair. In a few cases
the hair is almost quite straight, whereas, as I have remarked, the hair
of the typical Papuan is frizzly or woolly, and so far as I am aware
it is universally so among the hill tribes of the interior, among the
inhabitants of the Papuan Gulf, and indeed all over the western portion
of British New Guinea. This variability in the character of the hair
evidently points to a racial mixture here. I was also surprised to find
in this district the tips of the hair vary from dark to quite a pale
brown or a tan colour, though the roots are black. I naturally put this
down to bleaching, owing to the use of lime for sanitary purposes; but
Mr. English assured me that it is a natural colour, a fact of some
interest and perplexity.
The marine pile dwellings of the village of Bulaa probably present,
at all events at a distance, much the same appearance as did the lake
dwellings of Central Europe in prehistoric times. People have wondered
how the primitive Swiss drove in the piles that supported their houses.
This question can only be answered approximately by noting what people
do nowadays. I therefore asked Mr. English to arrange to have the
process of pile-driving exhibited.
A post was procured, one end of which was roughly pointed, and to the
other extremity two long ropes were tied. One man scooped a hole on the
reef at low tide with his hands; the pile was then propped up in the hole
by several men. Two or three men steadied the post, while several caught
hold of each guy and gently swayed it to and fro; the men who clasped the
pole prevented it from overbalancing. Gradually by its own weight the
pile is thus wormed into the ground. I was informed that when a pile is
sunk actually in the sea a light staging is erected near the top of the
post; two or three men stand on this framework, so that by their extra
weight the pile may sink more readily.
One day we saw Neolithic men making canoes at Keapara, and here at Bulaa
we saw the pile-dwellers at work with a marine pile-village in the
background.
I spent a fair amount of time on various occasions in getting a number of
small boys to make toys and play games, several of which we photographed.
Very little is known about the toys and games of the children of savage
peoples, and judging from the interest and anthropological value of
the study of the amusements of our own children, these will prove an
important field for research when more facts are available. I played a
good deal with the children, to their and my amusement. I also showed
them one or two of our games, such as cock-fighting and hand-slapping;
but I think they were not sufficiently impressed by them to adopt them. I
mention this, however, in case a future traveller should find them still
practised.
Toys made of leaves were common. The small boys cut off pieces about
ten to twelve inches in length from the origin of the leaves of a tall,
coarse grass that is used in thatching houses. The blade is split off
from each side of the mid-rib for about half its length; the two flaps
are twisted round the index finger of the right hand, and the cleared
mid-rib is held between the thumb and middle finger; the hand is jerked,
and the tearing off of the remaining portion of the blade of the leaf
gives a considerable impetus to the mid-rib, which thus flies away like
a miniature javelin. This was the simplest method of playing, but there
were three others, two of which necessitated the use of both hands; the
principle of gaining the impetus was the same in all.
I was informed that this game is also played at Mawatta, a village on the
Torres Straits coast of British New Guinea, but I do not know whether it
occurs throughout the intermediate coast.
Rushes are twisted into diamond-shaped objects named _kuru_, they are
said to be stuck in houses for play. A Mawatta man claimed that his
people also made them, and said, “We look at hill, and make him all the
same.”
The following are all made of coconut palm leaves.
_Lauga_ consists of two strips, each with three slits in them; the puzzle
is to make or to undo the interlacing as shown in the figure (p. 226).
The simple whirligig _make_ is a very widely spread toy. It is also found
in the Solomon Islands in Melanesia, and in Funafuti (Ellice Group) and
Rotumah in Polynesia.
A toy wind instrument is made of strips of palm leaf wound spirally so as
to form a hollow cone or funnel, which varies from three inches to about
a foot in length. Inserted in the cavity are two long narrow strips of
leaf, or one long piece doubled upon itself; in either case two similar
ends project through the narrow orifice to form a “reed.”
It may not be amiss to explain that there are two main groups of simple
wind instruments that are blown by the mouth. In one the lips are applied
to the simple orifice, and it is their vibration intensified by the
sounding chamber of the instrument that produces the noise. The conch
shell and the trumpet are familiar examples of this group.
In the second group there is a vibrating arrangement which is technically
termed a “reed.” This group is divided into two classes: (_a_) the “oboe”
or “shawm” series in which the fixed or removable mouthpiece is a tube,
the ends of which are pinched together; (_b_) the “clarinet” series which
has a single vibrating tongue. The Bulaa toy may be regarded as a kind of
oboe.
I was delighted to find this musical toy, as I remembered that my friend
Henry Balfour, the curator of the Pitt-Rivers Museum at Oxford, had
recently written a paper on a very similar instrument, the “whithorn,”
which was made of spirally wound strips of willow bark. I have since
learned from Mr. Balfour that in Somersetshire these are called
“Mayhorns,” and very similar spirally twisted rude oboes (also of
bark) have been recorded from France, Germany, and Finland in Europe.
A spirally twisted palm-leaf trumpet(?) is found in West Africa, and
similar instruments from Flores, Sumatra, and Celebes, but I am not quite
certain of the exact nature of these latter. The Bulaa name for this
instrument is _vili vili_. A Mawatta man at Bulaa told me his people made
it, where it was called _upa_, but I was not able to check this statement.
[Illustration: FIG. 26. PALM-LEAF TOYS, BULAA]
The occurrence of a reed instrument in this part of the world was so
surprising that further inquiries were necessary, and Mr. English found
out, after much questioning, that the toy was introduced by Johnson, a
West Indian negro.
Hereby hang two useful warnings, whether this fact be true or not.
First, not to assume an object is native to the district because it
is found there, but always to make inquiries. Secondly, the need for
investigations, for in a few years all knowledge of the origin of this
particular toy would be forgotten. These reflections hold good for other
objects in all parts of the world. A few months later I found that at
Mabuiag, in Torres Straits, a bent leaf of the _karbe_ tree is used as a
whistle by blowing with it between the lips.
Once I thought I was on the track of a bull-roarer, and was much excited
thereby, as that remarkable implement has not been recorded south-east of
the Papuan Gulf; but _kwari kwari_ proved to be a new kind of toy that
makes a noise like a fly buzzing, or the flying of a large grasshopper.
It is made of a strip of palm leaf bent upon itself, one end of which is
tied by a short bit of fine fibre to a long thin mid-rib. The two flaps
of the strip are kept apart by a thin bent mid-rib of a palm leaflet. The
whole is then whirled round.
A modification of the _lauga_ puzzle is one in which the same strip of
palm leaf is cut into two links. On looking closely, one finds that it is
made thus: cut a piece of leaf (cardboard will do, but then the method
of manufacture is too evident) right through the thick lines in the
accompanying figure; cut half through the thickness of the leaf, or card,
along the dotted lines, then split the material between these lines, and
separate the upper and lower surfaces; the white portion will come away
from the shaded link, as in the second figure; the two projecting spurs
can be cut away if thought desirable. I cannot imagine how the natives
found this out—that is, if it is their own invention; and they assure me
such is the case.
Small cone shells are spun between the thumb and fingers like a teetotum.
Our old friend leap-frog is also a diversion for Papuan boys, as it
occurs at such widely-spread places as Bulaa and Kiwai. A row of boys
stand in a line some distance apart on their hands and feet; the last boy
leaps over the others in succession, putting his hands on their backs in
the usual way. He then takes his place in front of the others, and the
now “last man” follows. This appears to be a very widely-spread game. In
Korea and Japan it is called “jumping over,” and the same attitude on
all-fours is taken there as in New Guinea. In England we stand on our
legs only, and “tuck in our tuppenny.”
We also saw the children indulging in the familiar pig-a-back
(_pĕkĕkau_), hopping (_kaikai_), jumping (_puri_), and skipping.
In the game called _evanena_ two rows of boys face one another. Each boy
takes hold of the arm of the boy opposite him at or immediately above
or below the elbow with one hand, with the other hand he clasps his own
arm, right hand may grasp the left arm or _vice versâ_. This position
is similar to our “king’s chair” or “queen’s chair” with the exception
that we clasp the wrist and not the arm. As all the boys stand close
together they form a double row with a platform of arms between them. A
small boy is placed standing on the arms of the last pair of boys, and he
walks forward on those of the boys in front. As soon as he has left the
last pair of boys they rush forward and place themselves in front of the
others, and clasp their arms as before. In this way a continuous platform
is maintained, and the game continues till the walker tumbles off. This
game is also played at Elevara, Port Moresby.
A variant which I saw played at Elevara is called _omoro_, or “frog.” In
this case the boy, instead of walking on the arms, lies full length on
his stomach, and is jerked up and down and at the same time forwards. Ray
also saw this game played at Saguana, Kiwai Island, where it is called
_mere kereme beretsi_ (“boy-throwing”).
The prettiest revolving game was that known as _maki gegelaki_. Four boys
laid at full length on the ground at right angles to one another, so as
to form a cross, with their feet touching; usually they placed a large
piece of the husk of a coconut in the centre, against which they tightly
pressed their feet. A small boy crouched on their feet to steady them.
Four other boys stood between those lying down; they caught hold of their
hands; this raised the arms and bodies of the latter. The standing boys
walked round and round (right hand to centre), and the whole contrivance
revolved like a four-spoked wheel.
_Rapurapu._ Four boys sit on the ground and interlock their legs in the
form of a square in such a way that the instep of the right foot hooks
over the pit of the knee of the boy to the right. They then stand up
and hop round on the left foot, clapping their hands rhythmically and
singing:—
“_Rapu rapu tabai manu_
_Roroiatĕ atĕ atĕ_
_Roroiatĕ bada raita_
_Eaiimo eai eaiimo._”
As in Europe, the children have singing games, some of which I have
observed are:—
_Kwaito pinupinu._ A number of boys form a circle, catching hold of each
other’s hands, facing inwards. Two run into the circle and under the arms
of two other boys; when all the others have run under, the last two twist
themselves under their own arms, and the circle is now complete again,
but all the boys face outwards. They then revolve sideways as fast as
they can, gradually accelerating their speed till one boy tumbles down.
They all sing during the evolution:—
“_Maru gĕno o, ana kwaito o, pinupinu o, kwaito pinupinu o,—ai!_”
[Illustration]
_Mota ĕrĕmpto._ A number of boys stand in a circle, each boy catching
hold of his neighbour’s wrists. One boy stands in the centre with arms
folded over his chest. The encircling boys sing:
“_Mota erempto erempto_
_Bariva derempto derempto_
_Mota tim_
_Bariba tim_
_Pekuluoa waiau—o._”
This sounds like a challenge, and immediately the rhyme is finished, the
central boy rushes at the joined hands of any two boys and tries to burst
through. The game is finished when he succeeds.
_Korikini._ Some half-dozen boys sit in a circle very close together;
each holds the first or index finger of his hands upwards, closing the
thumb and other fingers of one hand on the extended index of the other,
or on that of another boy; in this way a column of hands is made, the
uppermost having its free index finger pointing upwards. One boy alone
has his right hand disengaged; with the forefinger he taps the uppermost
index finger crosswise. The following is sung during the operation:—
_Korikini korikini_, _papa raurirauri marire_
Stick up finger crossing one another
_Agiana_ _korikoana_ _karigămuai_.
I look take away finger under armpit.
The top hand is then removed and placed under the armpit of the nearest
boy. The tapping song is repeated for the next hand, which is similarly
placed under the armpit of the boy that happens to be nearest. When all
have their hands placed under the armpits, the same boy as before gently
scratches each hand in rotation while singing:—
_Pika pika kiaka pa_
_Gaule aule kiaka pa._
The first hand to be released is placed in the middle of the player’s
palm uppermost, and each succeeding hand is placed upon it in the same
manner; sometimes the two hands of a player are placed side by side; the
whole pile of hands is raised up and down. One boy with a disengaged hand
gently taps the uppermost of the pile of hands three times, holding his
index finger vertically downwards while he sings:—
_Toitoi tutumu; keanai nunapakau._
Three times tap ear hold him.
At the end of the refrain the tapped hand is removed, and the nearest ear
of the next player is held by it. When all the hands have been released
and every ear is held by a hand, the players swing their bodies backwards
and forwards, and pulling each other’s ears with more or less vigour, all
sing:—
_Mekeri aria_
Pull one another.
_Kiko aria._
This continues until one of the players gives in.
The words for the ear-pulling may apparently be varied, as some children
once sung:—
_Wapuri poto_
_Kaia poto_
_i i i._
Mr. Ray saw the _korikini_ game played at Saguane, where it is called
_kuke_.
_Kinimali._ This is a very similar game to the foregoing. The players,
however, pinch up the skin of the back of each other’s hands, the
slightly flexed hands being placed one on the top of the other. The whole
column is swayed up and down to the following song:—
_Kinimali lĕkwa lĕkwa_
Pinch flesh let go
_Malawa_ _kĕta kĕta_
(name of a yam) (name of a yam)
_Ana olio malauli_
Run a little boy
_Polaia polai._
Yellow
When this is finished, the top hand is placed at the bottom of the
column, palm uppermost, with extended fingers. The song is repeated until
all the hands are placed the one on the top of the other. The Toitoi
phase then finishes the game.
There appears to be considerable variation in these songs; we found it
very difficult to write them down, and when we did, it was still more
difficult to get a satisfactory translation; indeed, as with us at home,
some words do not appear to have a meaning. This is also the case with
many of the men’s legendary songs, the meaning of which is now completely
forgotten.
During our stay at Bulaa, we had one or two opportunities of seeing the
young people amuse themselves by dancing on the sand beach. All those
young men who had drums held them in their left hands and beat them with
their extended right hands; one man rhythmically tapped the inside of
his lime gourd with its spatula. The girls edged themselves between the
men, linking their arms within those of the men. The drum-beats were
in triplets ([Illustration]). There was very little movement in the
dancing. The men flexed their knees slightly, and the girls swayed their
petticoats laterally; in some figures they swayed them backwards and
forwards.
There were numerous figures, or separate small dances, in the Bulaa
dances. In one that was often repeated the majority of the dancers formed
a [Illustration] shaped group, lads and lassies alternating; all these
remained in their places. Other dancers, men only, advanced in couples,
beating their drums and capering up the central space. In some figures
the dancing men zigzagged across the space in a prancing manner as they
proceeded up and down; in others they formed two parallel rows, all
facing one side of the hollow oblong, and pranced sideways a few steps
up and down the space. Then they jumped right round, so as to face the
opposite way, and repeated the same process; then back again, and so on.
In this dance the girls swayed their petticoats backwards and forwards.
In one figure groups of three—a man and two girls—stood in a series of
rows. The active dancing men with drums came up and stood in a row along
one side facing the others, and sang a song to the beats of the drums.
After doing this three times, they ran round one end of the stationary
column, and repeated the song on the other side, facing the others as
before.
[Illustration]
In another figure all the men and girls formed numerous short rows; this
was, I believe, a Motu dance. The men in some of the figures formed a
parallel row facing one another, with four others in the middle facing
towards one end; the girls were at one end of the short avenue, and they
swayed their petticoats laterally. The men then grouped themselves into
two rows facing one another at right angles to the previous row. Then
the first figure was repeated, only the two rows of men faced outwards
instead of inwards, and the central pairs also reversed their previous
position.
[Illustration]
It is characteristic of some of the dances in the Hood peninsula for
the girls to be, as it were, appendages to the dance rather than active
participators in it. They make the minimum amount of movement, usually
standing their ground, or else slowly advancing and retreating with the
general movements of the men. They sway their petticoats sideways, or
backwards and forwards; the latter is only a slight movement, but the
former is more energetic, and (owing to the petticoat being tied on the
right side and the two ends scarcely meeting) exhibits portions of the
person which are ordinarily never exhibited, but the tattooing, which
is liberally distributed all over the body, gives a half impression of
clothing.
I noticed that one figure often merges into another, in which the
positions of the dancers are reversed. It is difficult to follow and
record all the various movements, but I received the impression that if
one could become familiar with the various figures one would find that
there is a regular and fairly logical sequence of figures in each of the
sets of dances.
[Illustration: PLATE XVII
THE DUBU AT KAMALI
DUBU DANCE AT GOMORIDOBO]
There is a dance-leader, or master of ceremonies, and when he gives the
signal the drums are rapidly beaten many times in succession to show
that set is finished. The character of the dancing was quite similar to
that we saw at Babaka, but it is entirely different from the dancing in
Torres Straits and the neighbouring coast of British New Guinea. In the
west, according to my experience, men and women never dance the same
dance together; the single exception known to me was in the case of a
particular war dance, _kawaladi_, at Mabuiag, after a successful foray.
Only one or two drums are beaten, and that, so far as I saw, never by
those actually engaged in dancing; indeed, the drum-men sit down to beat
their drums. Further, only certain people have the right to beat drums,
whereas in this part of New Guinea every male dancer may have a drum,
which he holds in his hand and often flourishes about when he is dancing.
Although probably every religious ceremony has its appropriate dance or
dances, I do not believe that all dancing has a magical or religious
significance. I think it would be impossible to prove whether all dances
arose from magical or religious dancing; if it be so, this must have
been hundreds, or perhaps thousands of years ago; and all record, or
even all suspicion of their origin must in some cases have long since
disappeared. Here, as in Torres Straits, there are certainly play or
secular dances—dances for pure amusement and without any ulterior design.
Some of the men looked very effective with their lithe figures and
supple limbs of a bright, warm brown, almost copper-coloured skin, with
shell and bead frontlets and a tall stick of scarlet and orange feathers
starting up from their dark, bushy hair. Some had shell nose-skewers,
most painted their faces in various devices with black paint; round their
necks were bead and shell necklaces, sometimes with a pendant boar’s
tusk, and armlets and leglets decorated the limbs. The sole article
of dress, in the usual acceptance of the term, is a narrow, yellow
waist-belt, which also passes between the legs; streamers of a whitish
leaf fluttered from various portions of the body.
The girls in these ordinary dances were not specially decorated, at all
events in comparison with the men.
During our stay at Bulaa, Ray gave several phonograph demonstrations
and recorded some of the local songs. The natives were never tired of
listening to the machine, and fully appreciated singing into it, and were
very delighted at hearing their songs repeated by it. Altogether we had a
very pleasant and profitable trip to this district.
We left Bulaa on June 15th about 9 a.m., and had a fine sail to Kăpăkăpă,
arriving there at 12.30. All of us went to call on Dr. and Mrs. Lawes at
Vatorata in the afternoon, and received, as before, a kindly welcome.
Had afternoon tea, and then on to a small neighbouring Ikoro village
of Tagama Keketo, but there was not much to be done there. We saw here
a tame white cockatoo, fastened by the leg to a ring chipped out of a
coconut which slid along a horizontal pole; subsequently we found this
was frequently done in New Guinea. As I have previously stated, the
natives are very fond of decorating themselves with feathers, and they
wear great bunches of white cockatoo feathers in their hair when dancing.
These unfortunate tame cockatoos are periodically plucked to supply
feathers for these occasions. After dinner, Ray exhibited the phonograph
in the schoolhouse to the students, and continued his philological
studies.
We got up early next morning, and Seligmann, Wilkin, and I went to
breakfast with Mr. English. We saw his station, which is placed on a
hill, and all around are thriving plantations of economic plants that
he has introduced into the district, such as coffee, sisal agave, and
rubber; the _makimaki_ rubber has been named _Ficus rigo_ by Mr. Bailey,
the Queensland botanist.
Then we walked to Gomoridobo, where Wilkin took some photographs, one
of which was of a man carving a post for their new _dubu_. We bought a
few things, and I obtained two samples of hair; even here the wavy hair
occasionally occurs, and there is a yellowish and brownish tinge in the
hair at its tips, especially in young children. The wavy hair proves that
there has been racial mixture at least five miles from the coast, or more
probably a mingling with coast people, who must have been of mixed origin
when they arrived.
Got back to Vatorata at 11.15, and shortly afterwards Dr. Lawes drove us
down to Kăpăkăpă, and after a pleasant sail we reached Port Moresby at
sunset.