THE SHOOTING-GROUND--HORNBILL DANCE--SECRET SOCIETIES--THE
DUK DUK--INGIET
In the course of these pages reference has often been made to the
native dances which accompany almost every event of importance in
the life of the South Sea islanders. During the last ten days of
my sojourn in New Britain, Queen Emma arranged a Sing-Song for
my benefit. It took place in the “shooting-ground,” where tennis
and archery are the attractions, and where residents generally
assemble about 4 p.m. for coffee and gossip. Picturesquely situated,
bounded on one side by high cliffs covered with vegetation, the
neatly-trimmed lawns and the summer-house compare very favourably
with pleasure-gardens of the kind in Europe. Here Queen Emma presided
over her little court, and very smart were some of the gay muslins
worn by the planters’ wives and one or two others on these occasions,
whilst the gentlemen present were clad in those white suits which
are so suitable for tropical wear. The programme commenced with the
dancing of New Ireland “boys,” who were to be followed by the kanakas
of the Gazelle. All taking part were _employés_ of the firm of
Forsyth, and since the number of labourers employed in their various
undertakings number about one thousand two hundred, there were plenty
at Ralum, the headquarters of the industry, to make a goodly show.
We had taken tea when the noise and dust made by the approaching
natives arrested my attention. Gaily bedecked and happy, they
advanced towards us, carrying all the musical instruments which
compose the native orchestra. They soon found a convenient spot
on the grass, and the crowd which followed on their heels grouped
themselves at the far end under the cliffs in a semicircular ring
behind the musicians, preparing to do their part in the screeching
which accompanies the dancers’ movements. Their countenances
expressed the utmost satisfaction with the arrangements and with
their own appearance, full dress being _de rigueur_. Oiled and
polished, their brown skins shone in the afternoon light to the
last degree of fitness. My hostess, surveying the human menagerie,
remarked that they must have raided her stores for the lubricating
medium so generously employed in embellishing their persons.
The general impression left upon the visitor was that scarlet was the
favourite colour. Magnificent rosettes of the scarlet double hibiscus
were fastened to the top of neatly-trimmed heads, flanked for the
most part with cassowaries’ feathers, or those from the domestic
fowl, and their lava-lavas were of the same brilliant hue.
Presently all eyes were turned towards the garden entrance, and
over the heads of the bystanders masked dancers became visible as
they approached us. It was the first time I had seen these curious
figures, though they are common enough in the Archipelago. These
New Ireland “boys,” who probably came from the north of that island,
where the culture is on a higher plane than in the Gazelle Peninsula,
and where they excel in pantomimic dances, had chosen for this
occasion to perform a totemic dance. It was pointed out that the
painted wooden masks with long beaks represented the hornbill, and
probably some of those present belonged to that locality where this
bird is the sacred emblem of their tribe, or clan. In the dance which
followed, it was decidedly interesting to perceive how carefully the
bird’s motions had been studied by these mimics. On a framework of
bamboo, extending from the waist to the knees, completely hidden from
view, many layers of dried fern leaves were fastened, and the effect
at a distance was that of a ballet-girl’s skirts; the shoulders
and head were completely enveloped in the heavy wooden mask and
ornamented with feathers and greenery. Flowers and grass were thrust
through the carved beaks, and white circles were painted round the
slits left for the wearer’s eyes to look through.
First of all one masked dancer came forward from a group who kept
themselves in the background, with the quick, short running movements
of the hornbill, peering this way and that. In a few moments the bird
was supposed to espy her mate, and shook with excitement at the glad
sight of him, remaining, however, stationary. We looked around us,
and on the opposite side of the garden there hopped out of the bushes
another dancer, who in the same way thrilled with delight at the
sight of his lady-love. With short, sharp movements of the head each
peered around, as if not only shy to approach, but fearing that other
hornbills would note their movements. Then came an advance from the
one nearest us, then a halt and another searching of the landscape,
another quick run and another stop to reconnoitre, till finally the
two dancers met, then taking each other’s hands they danced round and
round in quick, tiny steps, until it was time for another couple to
repeat the procedure, during which they stood with legs apart in a
semi-crouching attitude.
Compared with the vigorous, intelligent mimicry of the hornbill
dance, that of the Gazelle kanakas was not impressive. It consisted
of a series of bodily movements swaying backwards and forwards, to
the right and to the left, languid and graceful perhaps, but to an
onlooker there was nothing in it. As I watched the performance, I
involuntarily recalled the words I had repeatedly heard, to the
effect that these “natives were born tired.” After the “boys” had
danced some time they were motioned aside, and a party of girls,
belonging to the neighbourhood, had a turn. They wore wreaths of
flowers and carried garlands, waving them to and fro as they sang and
danced, much in the same way as the Gazelle “boys” already described.
Then labourers from the island of New Guinea, enveloped from head to
foot in a huge, outstanding cloak of banana leaves, fastened also on
to a bamboo framework, completely concealed by the thick foliage,
wearing tall, pointed cocoanut masks, painted and adorned with a high
erection, surmounted by pigeons’ and cocks’ feathers, entered upon
the scene. The back view of these dancers was somewhat grotesque,
reminding one forcibly of an archbishop’s cope and mitre. The dance
seemed to consist in hopping round one or two musicians. Some said
it was a devil-dance, which others disputed. Doubtless the Sing-Song
would have been prolonged till next day if it had been permitted, but
at dusk they were dismissed.
It was about this time that Mrs Parkinson arranged for me to see a
Duk Duk dance, which I was also eager to witness, especially as it
may only take place in the month of May. Perhaps it may be desirable,
before proceeding further, to give some idea of the secret societies
which are to be found throughout Melanesia. In New Ireland and in
New Hanover apparently they are connected with a species of ancestor
worship. In Buka, a similar institution is known as Kokorra.
In the Gazelle Peninsula, as far inland as Vunakokor and westwards
to Weberhafen, the Duk Duk and the Ingiet societies include many
members. The former, so far as this locality is concerned, is not
more than sixty years old; its introduction into the Gazelle Mr
Parkinson places about 1850, and the success it has since obtained
may be attributed to ingrained savage cupidity. As a fraudulent
system for acquiring tamboo, it ranks as _primus inter pares_. The
latter, a religious society of unknown origin, has grown with the
people’s growth, and has struck its roots deep down in the life of
the Gazelle kanaka. Little of its doings is so far known, but it may
be defined as the home of magic.
Formerly the Duk Duk was much more in evidence than it is to-day.
Its meetings and dances took place so continuously that in the early
days of the colony plantation labour was often in consequence quite
disorganised, and they were the occasions of so much extortion, with
other evils, that the administration found themselves compelled to
limit the festivities to the month of May. The missionaries also
bring their influence to bear upon the natives, for the suppression
of these secret societies. To them the attendant crimes are nothing
less than the work of the devil made manifest; the result being that
nowadays the Duk Duk is mild when compared with its former character.
After thirty years’ of experience in the Archipelago, Mr Parkinson
considers that none of these secret societies are based on any
deep underlying bond of union, or principle of action, their chief
object being to obtain material enjoyments, better food, greater
opportunities for idleness and love-making.
By encircling their movements with a halo of sanctity, and by
creating a great impression of their power and authority in the
minds of women and the uninitiated, as well as by imposing upon the
credulity of their superstitious brethren, tamboo may be easily
filched from them.
The novice who enters the Duk Duk pays a good sum for the privilege
of membership. He is taught ghastly stories of the spirit world, of
horrible apparitions. In artificially-produced noises he is told
to listen to the spirits talking, and above all he is enjoined to
divulge none of the wonderful things he hears.
The place of assembly where the masks are kept is called Tariau,
and it is held so sacred that death, in pre-German days, was meted
out to the woman who profanely stepped over it--even in these times
an intruder must pay a heavy fine. The persons of the dancers when
masked were also possessed with the same sanctity, and in the costume
of the Duk Duk could rob or murder, without anyone daring to stop
him. Women and children rushed into the bush at their approach, a
circumstance which points to cannibalistic practices being formerly
associated with these dances.
[Illustration: A DUK DUK DANCER]
The Tariau is generally so situated that strangers would never
discover it. Beside the bushes which generally encircle the spot,
on festal occasions native-woven mats screen it from view, and here
the costumes are arranged. Two kinds of masks are used. The Tabuan,
conically-shaped, crowned with a tuft of parrots’ feathers, has
large, white rings painted round the eyes. The Duk Duk mask is
different; it is long and pointed; sometimes it is as much as two
yards high; its ornamentation with feathers, or carvings decorated
with flowers, is according to the taste of its wearer. Strangely
enough, the Duk Duk societies occasionally include one or two old
women in their number. Those entitled to wear the Tabuan hold the
highest office in the institution, which they have either inherited
or bought, and it takes a rich man to discharge its duties in a
satisfactory manner. The idea connected with the Tabuan is that it
represents either a female deity or the feminine principle, but this
is not clear. The Duk Duk are her children.
It is to the Tabuan to whom the father or uncle applies for the
admission of a son or nephew to Duk Dukship, and a lengthy notice
beforehand is requisite to ensure the necessary payment being
forthcoming on the day appointed. The signal which commences the
proceedings is the loud cry of the Tabuan resounding through the
bush. The candidates are then brought to the Tariau, when they form a
circle round the presiding Tabuan who, in full dress, howls, dances
and uses the switch he holds over the shoulders of the neophytes,
whilst others standing outside assist in the castigation. This task
completed, the entrance fees are collected from the parents, the lads
being regaled meanwhile with roast fish and roast taro; after this,
the Tabuan, once more the centre of an admiring circle, takes off all
his attire and shows himself to the candidates, making them believe
that the spirits keep the leafy covering fastened to his body.
They are now instructed in the steps and evolutions of the Duk
Duk’s dance. Then a wide circle is formed and an official presents
everyone with three or four yards of shell-money. This renders the
birth of the Duk Duk complete. The following day each of these
newly-made members sets out to visit the neighbourhood and to collect
tamboo, repairing every night to the Tariau to sleep, and this daily
pilgrimage lasts for a month. At the end of the period a great feast
is prepared, after which the Duk Duks are all considered dead, and
depart to their respective homes.
On the shore at Herbertshöhe during May, one of the quaintest sights
is to be seen, when a number of natives push off to accompany a
Tabuan with the newly-born Duk Duks who, wearing their leafy dress
and heavy masks, dance from end to end of their frail canoes.
This was what the Danish lady and myself were invited to witness from
Mrs Parkinson’s residence. That lady being privileged to visit the
Tariau, had asked for the performance on our behalf. Torrential rain
prevented a large gathering, and since those present alleged that
their leafy costumes would be spoilt, we, too, thought it would be a
pity to wash the paint off the masks, and returned to Herbertshöhe as
quickly as an ancient pony and a tropical storm permitted.
Of far greater importance, on account of its deeply magical nature,
is the working of the society known as Ingiet, in the life of the
kanaka of the Gazelle Peninsula. Owing to the secrecy which the
native preserves with regard to its dealings, it is difficult for
the European to gain much exact knowledge with regard to the special
kinds of witchcraft practised.
The Government may legislate against the Duk Duk, and the
missionaries’ influence can go a long way to lessen its criminal
extravagance; but the widespread Ingiet societies’ magic is so firmly
rooted in the nature of these Melanesians, that it is a problem
whether time and Christianity will ever wholly eradicate it.
Mariwot is the name of the place where the members assemble, and it
is always surrounded with a thick hedge, so that women and children
shall not be able to watch the proceedings, which include many
objectionable practices. These spots are generally selected in the
depths of the forest, and figures supposed to represent sharks,
snakes, dolphins, etc., are carved out of the bark of the trees and
painted black, white and red. A small sum of shell-money admits to
membership, and quite young boys are admitted. The secrets of the
society may only be divulged by one of its chief officials, and all
undergo instruction from their appointed instructor. Their dances are
accompanied by simultaneous stamping of the feet, and such precision
must be attained, that it takes much practice to become expert. Many
of the accompanying songs are sung in falsetto.
The mysteries of Ingiet appertain solely to the region of witchcraft.
Spells and incantations, with the accompanying ceremonies of
gesticulation to procure material benefit, protection from bad
spirits, from sickness, are taught, also those which bring about the
death, the illness, or ruin of an enemy, and on these occasions, the
number of evil spirits invoked is legion, almost every object within
the native’s sphere of cognisance being possessed with devilships of
varying degrees of malevolence.
In the Duke of York Islands, in St George’s Channel, Ingiet is
universal, and possibly the natives are even more superstitious than
in the Gazelle, yet Australian Methodists, with their Samoan and Fiji
catechists and helpers, have worked there for thirty years!
There is nothing of a totemic character about this secret society,
although in the group just mentioned the inhabitants show more
traces of totemism than those of the peninsula, where only the most
elementary forms of it exist, firstly, in the two moieties which in
the north-east of the Gazelle are distinguished on the one part by
the use of _we_, and on the other by the use of _they_; secondly,
in their exogamous marriages; and thirdly, in the children always
belonging to the mother’s family.