Some Pictures of Life
UME AND THE CROCODILE
Ume Nou was at one time a teacher at Orokolo, but his wife died and he
returned to his native village of Delena. When the picture was taken
he had not turned scientist and found part of one of those wonderful
creatures with the wonderful long name, that lived so long ago, but was
holding the lower and part of the upper jaw of one of their relations.
Crocodiles are too plentiful for comfort round Delena, and a long chapter
could be written about the people they have carried off. One morning I
saw a great brute snatch away two girls who were bathing in front of the
Mission house, and though after a couple of hours chase the bodies were
recovered, the crocodile got away. Later two of the Mission boys were
fishing at night. There was a rush, a splash, and the one boy saw his
companion snatched from the canoe by a crocodile.
Crab-hunting seems a sport without much danger in it, but one day when
some Delena women were chasing the crabs amongst the mangroves which come
to the water’s edge on one side of the village, they heard one of their
party scream, and turning saw that a crocodile had managed to get hold of
her. The struggle was desperate, but they could do nothing to help and to
their dismay saw their companion carried into the water in a deep hole.
As quickly as possible news was brought to the village, and Ume went out
armed with a shot gun. He could see no trace of either the woman or the
crocodile, but while standing on a log so as to get a better view of the
pool, had a surprise that would have made most men lose their heads.
Right at his feet the head of the crocodile shot up out of the water,
and the wicked-looking jaws made a snap at him. There was no time to
bring the gun to his shoulder, and as he lowered it the muzzle struck the
forehead of the crocodile. Ume pulled the trigger and, I should imagine,
for the first time a big crocodile was killed by No. 4 shot fired from an
ordinary fowling-piece. The discharge blew away the top of the creature’s
head, and that accounts for Ume having only part of the top jaw in his
hand.
FIRE
Think of a cold, raw morning at home and a fire wanted in the kitchen,
but before you can have it, or the cup of tea you are after, two
suitable pieces of wood have to be found, cut into the required shape,
and then the one rubbed on the other till a spark is obtained. The spark
has to be transferred to something that will readily burn, and then blown
into a flame. Slower work this, even, than the flint and steel and the
brimstone match of our ancestors, but it is the way the Papuan has to get
his fire, if his own has gone out, and he cannot beg a fire stick from a
neighbour.
In the picture you can see Miria going through the first stage of the
process, and judging by the tension of the muscles, and the compressed
lips, he finds it none too easy.
The story of the origin of fire varies in different parts of the country,
but as far as I know, man is always indebted to the dog for procuring it.
The Motu people say he got it by swimming out to sea, but at Delena the
story is that he had to go inland for it.
Haiavaha was a great creature with long reaching arms, who lived in the
hills where he jealously guarded the fire. The men living on the coast
knew they could not steal the fire for themselves so called a meeting of
the animals. Who the spokesman was is not known, but he first addressed
himself to the pig—
“Will you go and steal some of Haiavaha’s fire?”
“It is no good my going. You know I always grunt when I find a root fit
to eat as I am walking through the bush.”
“Will you try, wallaby? You can jump well, and when Haiavaha tries to
catch you you can jump over his arms.”
“I cannot go, for he would hear me long before I got near the fire. Each
time I jump I come down with a thud on the ground. I cannot go quietly.”
“Cassowary, can you help us?”
“No, I cannot, for I stand so high that Haiavaha would see my head above
the grass long before I got to the fire.”
As a last hope the spokesman turned to the dog, and appealed to him to
make the attempt.
“I will try,” said the dog, “and I might succeed but for my habit of
crying out. If I find nothing on the way to make me break my resolve to
keep my mouth shut, I hope I shall return with the fire.”
Fortunately he was able to keep his mouth shut, till he opened it to
close upon the end of a fire stick. Then Haiavaha awoke, and out went his
long arms in a wide sweep to the right and then to the left, but the dog
had been too quick, and with a mocking howl (they cannot bark) he shouted
out, “I have your fire. You should not have gone to sleep.”
The people on the coast were of course delighted, and told the dog that
as a reward he should always live with them in their houses and sleep by
the fire. Most seriously they say it must all be true, for to this day
the dog is man’s companion and does always sleep by the fire.
DRUMS
Who knows what led to the invention of the blow-pipe in the old world?
Did our remote ancestors want to hollow out a log to make a drum, in the
days before Sheffield tools were made, and have to invent some means of
doing it?
The Papuan made his drum from the solid log before he had seen steel
tools, and now that he has seen them he still uses his blow-pipe.
The picture shows the drum in the process of making, and the completed
article.
A piece of a particularly hard wood is cut and stood on end, and on top
a few pieces of live charcoal are placed. With the help of the reed
blow-pipe the charcoal is kept glowing, and the fire directed, while a
shell of water is handy in case the burning proceeds more rapidly than is
required in any one direction.
The process is repeated at the other end, and when complete the inside
of the log looks like an hour glass. That accomplished, the shaping of
the outside is a simpler matter, but, before the introduction of steel, a
laborious one, as all the cutting had to be done with stone implements.
Hatchets and knives now expedite matters, but the old native file is
still used. A strip of shark skin is, while wet, stretched round a
piece of wood, and when it has dried and shrunk it looks like an emery
stick, and rasps away the wood in fine style. For the final smoothing
off nature has provided the Papuan with a complete substitute for glass
paper. A long lance-like leaf grows plentifully near the village, and has
a surface equal to No. 1 glass paper and just as useful and lasting.
“A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM”
It was just an ordinary stone about the size of a swede turnip, with
nothing particular in size, shape or colour to distinguish it from many
another in the bed of a mountain stream, but it had held a whole village
in terror, and would have compelled all, men women and children, to spend
at least one night in the bush but for Matareu the teacher.
The village was Groi at Nara, and late one afternoon Poe Ava, wanting
some food, went to his garden, but found some one had been there before
him, and had cleared off with what he and his family had expected to
eat. Poe had no intention of taking that quietly, so hastening back to
the village he began a long oration about the wrong he had suffered, and
wound up with the threat that he knew where to find the sorcery stone
which had belonged to his family for so long, and he would bring it to
the village and call upon its spirit Aikaika. He was the master and
maker of the thunder, and would send it with lightning and rain and
demolish the village, as a punishment for the theft.
Excitement soon reigned in the village. Women gathered food and valuables
into their kiapas (the large netted bag) and got ready to hide in the
bush. The children catching the spirit of fright began to cry, and the
dogs joined in with their dismal howl. They always do when there is any
excitement.
Queen Koloka carried to Matareu the teacher news of the terrible threat,
but it made little impression on him, and in a few minutes he was in the
village trying to prevent the exodus, and put courage into the people. By
promising that he would go and see the stone he so far succeeded that few
of the people left the village, but that night there was no laughter, and
no children were playing round about the houses.
Poe tried to magnify the size of this terrible stone, as he had the evils
that would follow its introduction into the village. He was sure it was
far too heavy for Matareu to lift, but when he found Matareu determined
to see the matter through, he promised to take him to the hiding-place in
the morning.
When the morning came, of all in the village only one, a young fellow
who had lived with the teacher for some years, had courage enough to
risk seeing the stone. Matareu, Poe and this boy started off, and in
time halted near a big tree. Then exaggeration number one was exploded,
for the stone was found to be small enough to be put into a cracked
cooking-pot.
“There is the stone,” said Poe, “but you must not touch it, if you do
your hand will shrivel up; but if that boy touches it he will die on the
spot.”
“We will see,” answered Matareu, and going to the pot he turned the stone
out on the ground.
That was too much for Poe, and he took to his heels, but from a distance
seeing that nothing dreadful happened to Matareu, and hearing him
calling, he returned.
Matareu is a real believer in prayer, and, there under the shadow of the
big tree, with the broken cooking-pot, and the sorcery stone at his feet,
and Poe and the boy standing by, he offered a prayer that light might
come to Poe and that he might know there was but one God, not Aikaika,
but Jehovah.
The stone came to the village, but it was Matareu who carried it. The
people were again ready to run when they saw it in his hand, but he
called that it had done him no harm and would do them none, and with
that sent it bounding over the uneven ground. He was in his element.
Determined to show that the stone was a stone, and nothing more, he
put it in the fire where his food was being cooked, and still nothing
dreadful happened. Later he placed it on the verandah of his house, but
the house remained safe and those in it were not sick, and gradually the
fear of the people wore away, and they would sit on the same verandah
with this representative of Aikaika, but none would touch it.
Matareu’s baby girl succeeded where her father had failed. She had no
fear of the stone, and as it was fairly round she started it rolling
along the boards, until it rolled off the verandah. The little one
followed it to the ground, and her little playmates there joining in,
they rolled that much-feared stone all over the place, and had a grand
time. Their parents called to them to leave the stone alone or it would
hurt them, but their reply was, “It had not hurt Matoakana, and will not
hurt us.”
The little child had led the rising generation at Nara out from the
bondage of fear of the stone and its master the dreaded Aikaika.
THE KAIVA-KUKU
What would you say if you saw the original of the above picture doing
the rounds in your town instead of “The Gentleman in Blue?” and yet I
do not know any better description of the Kaiva-Kuku than to say he is
the village policeman. It is his duty to look after the cocoanuts when
they have been gathered and are accumulating in the village for a feast,
and like the policeman at home he has his beat. You could not find him
further east than Hisiu, nor further west than Maipua.
But who is he, or what is he? The who is a man. The what is a big mask.
The “who” gets inside the “what” in the club house so that no one in the
village can identify him. He then struts about armed with his big stick,
and uses it freely if he finds any one stealing cocoanuts. The people
cannot retaliate for the Kaiva-Kuku is sacred, and they do not know who
is inside, and so cannot spot him when he has not got his uniform on.
The women and children are all very frightened when the Kaiva-Kuku
is seen, and the men at Hisiu took advantage of this, and sent the
Kaiva-Kuku out when they saw women and children coming along the beach
from fishing. In their hurried flight the fish was all dropped and Mr.
Kaiva-Kuku picked it up and took it to the club, where the men enjoyed
it; but that was the end of the Kaiva-Kuku at Hisiu, for the Magistrate
ordered the masks to be burnt and no more made.
NATIVE SURGERY
For most ailments the Papuan uses the old-fashioned remedy of bleeding.
All sorts of pains in all parts of the body are supposed to be relieved
by blood-letting, and the operation was usually performed by slightly
cutting the skin with a shell, but now they have taken a step in advance
and use a piece of glass. For headache, however, another instrument is
used. Tima had been walking in the sun all day, and said his head ached,
and Aisi acted doctor. He made a little bow and arrow, tipping the latter
with a fragment of glass, and then, at very close quarters so that he
did not miss his mark, nor lose hold of his arrow, he repeatedly fired
at Tima’s forehead. In this case not much blood was lost, but I have
heard of cases where half a pint has been withdrawn before the cure was
considered complete.