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POKAO.
The inland district south of Hall Sound is a dry, hilly country, with sparse woods and green swards, where grow the aromatic plants so dearly prized for personal wear by the natives of the whole district. The physical conditions of this healthy land of eucalyptus and kangaroos do not appear to be favourable to agriculture, and so the inhabitants have become mainly hunters of the abundant game. On referring to a geological map, it is seen that this is a region of old volcanic rocks.
The Pokao people are an instructive example of the economic defects of a hunting existence. The necessity for getting fresh food every day fosters improvidence, for meat cannot be kept like yams or sago in this tropical climate. Hence these hunter folk are too lazy to send their meat to market. If the Mekeo people will fetch the meat they require, so much the better; if not, to use an expression employed nearer home, they “can’t be bothered.”
A hunting population, all the world over, is liable to periodic famines, and the Pokao people are no exception. But so ingrained is their laziness or indifference that they have been known to refuse to send for food which they could have had for nothing. They preferred to go hungry rather than take a monotonous tramp to obtain food.
Probably in no part of British New Guinea are markets so numerous as in the Mekeo district. As markets are important factors in the social evolution of a people, it would be well if some of the residents in this district were to make a special study of the origin and regulations of the various marketplaces.
Markets are held at Inawaia and Mohu every five days on the banks of the river, and at various intervals at Inawi, Inawa, and Jesu Baibua, to which the Bereina, Abiara, and Waima people come. During the crab and crayfish season in the north-west monsoon, these markets are also held every five days. Inawi and Inawa used
to fight Bereina, and trouble consequently often arose in the villages on market days. To lessen this danger, the Government appointed a market to be held in the forest between Inawa and Bereina. Roro has no regular market, but there is a great market at the mouth of the little river of Oriki, near Abiara.
Owing to the physical features of the locality, the villages have a superfluity of some food, or have access to a speciality, or are experts in a handicraft; these naturally form their stock-in-trade. For instance, the Roro of the coast from Pinupaka, Rabao (Yule Island), Marihau (Delena), and even the villages of Nabuapaka beyond Delena, trade in crabs, crayfish, and mussels, as well as pottery, for the taro, yams, sweet potatoes, sago, bananas, and areca nuts of the Mekeo tribes as far inland as Rarai, at the foot of Kovio (Mount Yule). Waima trade in coconuts; Waima, part of the Kivori, Bereina, and Babiko provide yams and some sago. If a big feast is approaching, the Mekeo people send for wallabies and cassowaries to the villages of the rich game district on the other side of Hall Sound, such as Pokao, Boinamai, Nabuapaka, and Biziu. Even the Waima and Kivori and Bereina will send to Pokao for game, although wallabies are obtained in the grassy plains round Bereina; sometimes they get game from Kaima.
The natives of Rabao buy nose-skewers and arm-rings and other shell ornaments from the Port Moresby villages, Pari, and other Motu villages; feather ornaments, gourds, and forks from Mekeo; petticoats from Kivori; and large bark belts from Toaripi. I believe these are plain bark belts, as the Toaripi men obtain the decorated bark belts which they wear from Vailala and Orokolo. The bows of the district are mainly manufactured at Kaima.
On July 14th a messenger arrived early in the morning, having very kindly been sent overland by Mr. Gors, of Port Moresby, to say that the Alice May had been delayed on her way to call for us; so I decided to make a trip inland, and had a chat with the Archbishop to arrange details. It was settled that Brother Alexis should take us to
Veifaa, and we were to start by boat early in the afternoon with four native carriers, so we hastily got our things together.
Unfortunately there was the usual delay in starting, owing to the carriers not coming promptly from the village, but at last we got away, and then unluckily the wind slackened.
However, in due time we reached Pinupaka, which is the port of this district, owing to the shelter afforded by a sand spit jutting out from a monotonous coast-line of miles upon miles of mangrove swamps.
Pinupaka is a miserable village, and poor Brother George, who had lived in the district for twelve years, looked wan and worn, as well he may, living in this wretched fever-stricken hole. Two months later the devoted Brother died of hæmaturia. At high tide the sea comes up to the mission premises, not a clear healthy sea, but muddy water from mangrove swamps. Brother George offered us refreshment, but being desirous to push on we would not delay, for every minute was precious.
Off we started at a rapid pace along a sand beach flanked by mangroves. The sand was nearly black, and with but few shells or stones. The land here appears to be sinking, as there are stumps of mangroves exposed at low water, and many of the trees bordering the beach are dead. I may say that there are several species of mangroves, and those at Pinupaka are not the kind that encroach on the sea and accumulate land in their wake.
After about three-quarters of an hour we reached the first creek or mouth of a river, but in this part of the world the rivers themselves, far inland, are also called “creeks.” We waded this bare-legged, and continued as fast as possible, for the sun was setting and the tide rising fast, and on a low, sandy, windward shore this combination has a sinister meaning. The second creek was known to be deeper than the first, and the tide was also higher, so we took off our scanty clothing, rolling it up into bundles to hold over our heads. Wilkin and I got along all right, but Ray, being shorter of stature, found himself getting out of his depth, walking on shifting sand and buffeted by breakers; so Wilkin and I each seized one of his arms, and this
enabled him to hold his own, and we all safely gained the opposite side. In all these estuaries crocodiles abound, and we were very thankful to have escaped these brutes. In the muddy water their presence could not be seen, so there was no means of escaping them should they happen to be present; but usually crocodiles avoid noisy or numerous parties. By this time the sun had set, and the short tropical twilight was too quickly passing, whilst we still had a goodish bit of beach yet to traverse.
The tide was quickly gaining on the mangroves, and we had now to watch our opportunity to bolt forward as a wave retreated, and dodge up among the mangroves as it advanced; our progress was therefore slow and laborious, as fallen trees put further difficulties in our way. Eventually the high tide forced us altogether from the beach, and we then took to the scrub and wended our way in the dark till we came to another creek. After crossing this we halted and put on socks and shoes, for the swamp was here crossed by a “corduroy road,” that is, a road made of logs placed transversely and kept more or less in position by upright stakes.
It was a comfort to get on firm earth again, and after a half-hour’s walk through plantations we were right glad to reach the hospitable house of Fathers Cochard and Burke at Mohu.
A glass of white wine kept us going till dinner was ready. We had for dinner a mound bird (Megapodius), which Father Cochard had shot that morning, and we all thoroughly enjoyed our well-earned dinner. In the evening Ray gave a phonograph entertainment. On his visit a few days earlier he recorded a speech by Matsu, the chief, in which he exhorted the people to make the Government road, and finished off with a hunting song. This speech sounded very fine; it begins with the customary loud clearing of the throat, and the sentences come in bursts, the intervals of silence being evidently part of the orator’s art.
As soon as it was sufficiently light next morning I strolled round to have a look at the village. There was a wonderful variety in the style of its houses, perhaps more so than in any other village in British
New Guinea. On his previous visit Wilkin made notes of these and photographed some of them.
The marea had an enormously long projecting gable, which slants upwards. Suspended from various parts of the marea were long grass fringes, and carved and painted wooden boards.
After an early breakfast we again started on our travels. The path we followed was of dry mud and somewhat uneven, showing that it must be very swampy in wet weather. All the country for many miles round is low alluvial soil.
In forty minutes we reached Babiko, but had only time to glance at the interesting marea. Half an hour later we struck the Government road leading from the sea to Veifaa, the Government station of the Mekeo district.
The road passed over a plain covered with a tall, coarse grass, growing higher than our heads, and preventing any little wind there was from reaching us. Fortunately the sky was cloudy, or it would have been simply sweltering. There were numerous scattered trees, a kind of eucalypt, a few pandanus, and occasional cycads. After leaving this grassy plain our road lay through the forest. On first entering the forest we passed through one of the smaller market places which characterise this locality.
PLATE XXII
MOHU, MEKEO DISTRICT
MAREA AT MOHU
Women from different villages or districts meet at appointed places, usually at the boundary between two tribes, and there barter their specialities for commodities from other localities. The bartering is done by women only, but they are accompanied by a few armed men, who, however, do not go amongst the market women, but stand a little way off. The men bring a drum with them, which is beaten at the opening and close of the market.
The “market-place” we passed on this occasion was only a small one, but round about were remnants of the simple booths that the natives erect when trading. After traversing a small patch of forest and a grass plain, we crossed a river by a good wooden bridge, and shortly came to a large forest. There was another small market-place where the road entered the forest.
It was very enjoyable walking along the shady forest paths, and noting for the first time typical tropical scenery. The trees were tall, but by no means gigantic. Some had slab-like buttresses, which the natives utilise as boards; there were wild bread-fruit trees, with their beautiful foliage of a deep, glossy green, but in this species covered with inedible fruit; half a dozen different kinds of palms; ferns, bamboos, and a great profusion of shrubs and plants.
Our road passed at one point close to the Angabunga (St. Joseph River), a swiftly-running river of dirty water. It is a noteworthy fact that in this district many words have the ng (as in “singing”), but this peculiarity is scarcely found elsewhere in British New Guinea. Although very common in the western tribe of Torres Straits, it does not occur in Murray Island.
We had a short rest at Inawa. Whilst sitting on a platform of a house in process of construction I saw a man cutting wooden arrow points with a boar’s tusk, and bought the lot, much to his amusement.
We reached Inawi at noon, and found there was to be a large gathering of the Sacred Heart Missioners to celebrate an anniversary of the founding of their mission at Inawi. After lunch Wilkin and I went to the village, which consists of one long street, with three rows of houses on each side, and a population of some four hundred people.
There are several different types of houses here. The chief’s house is a picturesque pile-dwelling, built in the form of a cross, and adorned with long fringes of grass and carved and painted boards; from one of the latter, hanging in front of the house, depended a mask. Each chief in the Mekeo district builds a marea, and has his own designs on it, which no one may copy, as this would constitute a valid reason for a quarrel. The chief only has a right to hang a painted board in front of his house; it is, in fact, a sign of chieftainship, since when a chief is appointed he receives a board at the same time.
In the Mekeo district there appear to be two main divisions of family groups, each of which has its chief. I have more than once alluded to a dual division of a community in this part of the world, but here it seems to have been made the basis of a higher social development than has been hitherto recorded in New Guinea. The chief of one division is the war, or administrative chief; the other headman is afu (or taboo) chief. The office of the latter is hereditary.
A somewhat similar division of function has occurred elsewhere. To take two examples only: in ancient Gaul there were war chiefs and peace chiefs; the sachem of certain North American aboriginees was a peace chief. It is not improbable that in the afu chieftainship we have the commencement of a priestly dynasty after the order of Melchisedek, but at the Papuan stage of culture the secret of his power is probably a magical control over harvests rather than the authority due to purely religious functions. The mage has not yet become a priest.
On December 6th, 1897, the afu chief of Inawi put afu (taboo) on the coconuts and areca nuts, as these crops were failing in his district. Brother Alexis, who happened to be there, described the ceremony to me.
A small feast was made consisting of five pigs, five cassowaries, and plenty of native food, i.e. yams, sweet potatoes, taro, bananas, etc.; at about five o’clock Brother Alexis was invited to a place of honour on the marea, and one pig, one cassowary ham, and two banana leaves of native food were given him. The Afu chief of the
village then made a speech proclaiming afu, stating that the coconuts and areca nuts would run short if this were not done. A piece of cassowary and pig meat with native food was placed in each person’s oro, or cooking-pot, and then the afu was planted. This consisted of three bamboos, to the lower part of each was tied a leaf of the sago palm, and coconuts were tied to the bamboos. The bamboos were erected, grouped like a “Prince of Wales” feathers, to the noise of conch shells and a wailing shout sounding like a siren. So far as I could discover, the bull-roarer is not known in this district. Leafy fringes, like women’s petticoats, were put round the supports of the bamboos. (This afu still remained on the occasion of our visit, except that the central bamboo had disappeared.) In the evening there was a dance, and fifteen coconuts and a bunch of areca nuts were given Brother Alexis.
For the three days following the ceremony the nuts might be taken, but on the third day a small feast was held, and thenceforth no nuts could be picked.
F . 28. A , T S , I
Another family than that to which the afu chief belongs (there seem to be only these two divisions or family groups in the village) has the responsibility of seeing that the afu is observed, and some fourteen or fifteen men of this group, called fulaari, form a sort of constabulary. Every evening they go round the village armed with clubs, and disguised either in masks similar to that which was hanging up before the chief’s house, or they were so covered with leaves as to be unrecognisable. At Waima all the enforcers (kaivakuku) of a taboo wear masks (Pl. XXI., B, p. 256); at Inawa and Veifaa they paint the face and cover up part of the body, but they sometimes wear masks; at Aipiana they cover over the whole body with leaves. In the Gulf district there are several important ceremonies at which masks are employed; in the Mekeo district this custom is in the various stages of attenuation and disappearance.
All the time the fulaari are in office they may not chew the betel nut, nor drink coconut water, lest the areca and coco nuts should not grow. They may not live with their wives; indeed, they may not even look at a woman, and if they pass one they must keep their eyes on the ground. Women must not go outside their houses whilst the fulaari are going their rounds, but if a woman is seen, the fulaari places his club at her feet, and she must remain standing there until a fine has been paid for her. If the fulaari convict a man of eating the tabooed nuts he is tied to the tree from which he gathered the forbidden fruit, and is only released on the payment of a pig as a fine.
The village from time to time gives presents of food to the fulaari.
When there is again a good show of nuts the afu chief proclaims that on a particular day the restriction will be removed. We were at Inawi on July 15th and 16th, and the 18th the taboo would be removed from the nuts, after an interval of thirty-two weeks.
We saw the preparations for a big feast, for which eighty-six wild boars had been caught, besides numerous kangaroos and a large supply of native food. We were very sorry that we could not stay to witness the feasting and dancing.
During the afternoon and evening the missionaries arrived in detachments, and our unexpected party of four rather complicated Father Vitale’s arrangements, but he was so hospitable and friendly and all were so kind that we did not feel de trop. We had two interesting phonograph exhibitions in the afternoon and evening, and one chief made a speech into it amid great excitement.
During our short stay at Inawi we bought a fair number of ethnographical objects, especially lime gourds with burnt designs and stone blades of the now obsolete stone adzes; no handles of these were to be had. These stone adze heads were ruder than any I had previously seen from New Guinea. The Papuan stone implements are usually characterised by being neatly ground and finely polished. These implements were roughly hewn and polished only at the cutting edge.
We also bought some whipping-tops; these are common here, and the following game is played. Two rows of four or five boys stand a considerable distance apart; each lad spins his own top, and they gradually increase the severity of the lashing, till the tops career in mid air across the space between the two rows, the object being to hit one of the opponent’s tops. When this is accomplished the conqueror cries out, “Ango ango angaia!” (“My top has bitten you”). The tops (ango ango) are conical pieces of wood about two and a half to three inches in length.
The whips (ngapu ngapu) are ordinary pieces of stick or cane to which a lash is attached composed of a three-ply plat of strips of bark-cloth from the ipi tree. It is pretty certain that the whipping-top has not been brought to New Guinea by the white man, for Dr. Lawes has previously found it among the Kabadi tribe, where the natives had not been under the influence of the foreigner.
The following day, July 16th, some of the missionaries arrived, and all went to High Mass in the morning. We had so much else to do that we thought it was not necessary to show our sympathy to the extent of going to the service. We had quite a feast in the middle of the day, and all were very merry. Just before grace after meat, Brother Philip left the table, and in another part of the verandah
played the air of our National Anthem in honour of the guests. This act of courtesy pleased us much.
In the afternoon we separated. Our party walked to Veifaa, a distance of forty minutes only, making a slight détour on the way to visit the village Aipiana. Veifaa was reached in good time for the evening meal. The boys’ schoolhouse was placed at our disposal, and three beds were put up for us in the inner room.
Sunday, July 17th.—We all went to early morning Mass, and Ray afterwards exhibited the phonograph to a very large audience of demonstrative, excitable natives and delighted missionaries. I was particularly struck with the calm, strong, sweet face of the Sister Superior. She is a Parisienne, with a narrow face and a finelyshaped nose. The two Savoyarde Sisters contrasted with her in having round faces and snubby noses; their more homely countenances were brimful of simple-hearted kindliness. An instructive demonstration of two European races when I was on the look-out for a lesson in Papuan ethnology! The phonograph selection was decidedly mixed, but that did not matter in the least. The Sisters appeared most pleased with the European orchestral marches.
The people about here wear native clothing almost exclusively, and it is, fortunately, quite rare to see a man or woman in European garments. The men of the Mekeo district wear a wider perineal band than is worn in the other places we visited, and these belts are here prettily painted in a manner quite new to me, and we were fortunate enough to secure several of them.
The women wear short black leaf petticoats, shorter than any we had previously seen. I was informed that their dress in the mountains is even scantier, as it consists merely of a broad perineal band.
The missionaries, wisely, do not care about introducing European clothing into ordinary use, but they expect the women and girls to wear calico gowns when attending the services. It was very comical to see the women and girls, just before a service, go to the girls’ schoolhouse, bring out their gowns, or throw gowns to other women waiting outside, and then proceed to dress themselves in the courtyard. It was still funnier when, after the service, the reverse
process was gone through, and their native dress alone remained as the garments of civilisation were doffed. Here, as in most other parts of New Guinea, the women are extremely modest and virtuous, another of the many examples that the amount of clothing worn bears no relation whatever to modesty, though prudery is usually developed in direct proportion to dress.
Our host knew I was very anxious to obtain ethnographical specimens from this place, and made no difficulty whatever about our trading on Sunday, as “ours were not commercial transactions.”
Indeed after service the good Father told his congregation to bring us things for sale, and thus we obtained a fair number of specimens, chiefly lime gourds and belts. Father Bouellat persuaded two girls to stand still whilst I copied their tattoo patterns.
In the afternoon I made friends with the children, who played some of their own games for us. For the first time I saw children playing games that mimicked the hunting expeditions of their fathers. In this instance a pig hunt and a kangaroo drive were very vividly acted. The “kangaroos” hopped about on the grass, some hid under bushes. They were stalked and surrounded by “men,” and a rush was made, and the flying kangaroos were chased all over the ground. “Man” and “kangaroo” would tumble about in a close embrace, the latter giving characteristic vigorous backward kicks with his legs.
The “pigs” walked about on all fours, hands and feet. They were chased by “men” with sticks to represent spears. When the men came close to the pigs, the latter jerked their heads sideways with an upward movement, as if trying to rip up the men with their tusks. One pig was eventually captured, and two boys got a pole and the pig clasped it with his hands and hooked his knees ever it, his body hanging down, and so, like a tied-up pig, he was carried to a place where some boys had laid sticks across one another to represent a fire. The pig was placed on this amid much laughter. The shouting and noise during these games was considerable.
F . 29. B V F
Various other games were played, and towards the end of the afternoon several boys ran off and stayed away some time. When they returned they presented a remarkable appearance. They had bound round their bodies and limbs green or sere banana leaves, and looked for all the world like miniature knights of old in leafy armour. The head was entirely covered, the leaves in some cases being prolonged above into a long spike, like certain helmets. Flaps hung down from all the head-pieces like frilled capes. One or two boys had a fringe round the waist, and all had leaves radiating from their ankles; which gave them a very curious appearance, so that they looked like Cochin China fowls. Usually the hands were swathed in green strips, and the bandaging of the right arm was continued in some on to a stick held in the hand, so that it was uninterruptedly swathed.
The boys thus grotesquely accoutred chased the girls about and made them scream. These naughty little fellows were mimicking the fulaari of Aipiana!
I was immensely pleased to see an existing important social function imitated by children, and the game presumably also gave us an idea of what the real costume was like. We measured a few men in this village, and altogether had a most enjoyable and instructive time.
We started about 7 a.m. on Monday, July 18th, after breakfast, intending to visit Waima (Maiva) viâ Bereina; but at Inawi we received an urgent message from Yule Island that the Alice May had arrived there, and would sail on the 19th. This necessitated our giving up the much-desired visit to Waima, and returning instead to Yule Island. We therefore retraced our walk of Friday, except that we kept to the Government road leading direct to the sea. As it was low water the three creeks we had to cross presented no difficulties, but Brother Alexis was very exhausted when we reached Pinupaka at 4 p.m., after our eighteen miles’ walk, as he was suffering from an attack of fever.
Brother George gave us a good meal, and we then had three and a half hours’ beat to windward in the small Mission cutter, not arriving at the Mission on Yule Island till after 10 p.m. All had gone to bed by that time, but a frugal supper was somehow raked together, and we then retired, fairly tired out by our long day.
Next morning we spent in packing, as Captain Inman wished to start early in the day, and we left the good Fathers and Brothers, with very pleasant memories of the kindness and hospitality of all the members of the Sacred Heart Mission.
Before we left Yule Island for our little inland trip a Sister from Veifaa arrived very ill indeed. She was carried in a hammock by some natives, and shielded from the sun by a Sister holding an umbrella. So far as Father Guis could tell, she suffered from acute rheumatism, dropsy, and malarial fever. It seems a pity that with so many missionaries of both sexes there should not be one qualified medical man, or at all events one who has especially studied medicine. Father Guis has a very good practical knowledge of diseases and their treatment, but it is scarcely fair to expect an accomplished literary man to be responsible for the health and lives
of his colleagues in so unhealthy a district. It would also seem desirable that the Brothers, who are often untutored working men, should be ordered to take more precautions, and especially to be careful as to the quality of their drinking water.
CHAPTER XVIII
JOURNEY FROM KUCHING TO BARAM
We left Singapore at ten o’clock of the morning of December 10th, on the Vorwärts, and arrived at Kuching about 1.30 on the 12th. The voyage up the twenty-three miles of the Sarawak river was charming as the steamer glided along between the fringe of nipa palms and other luxuriant vegetation.
Immediately on landing I called on the Honourable C. A. Bampfylde, the Resident of the division, and who was acting for the Rajah, who was then in England. He kindly invited us to stay with him for a few days, and we had luxurious quarters in a most lovely garden, with a lawn that would not disgrace a Cambridge college, surrounded by choice shrubs and trees, conspicuous among the latter being a kind of areca palm that has a brilliant red stem.
The various members of the British population were very kind and hospitable, and did their best to render our stay in Kuching enjoyable, and we look back upon our visit to Kuching with considerable pleasure.
Dr. A. J. G. Barker, the principal medical officer of Sarawak, entertained Seligmann, and the two doctors had great talks about the tropical diseases in which they were both so keenly interested. Sarawak is to be congratulated on having so able and enthusiastic a medical officer as Dr. Barker unquestionably is. Seligmann took advantage of his stay in Kuching to visit a friend in the Land Dayak country.
Ray stayed at the hotel and spent most of his time in studying the Malay language.
Mr. R. Shelford put me up, and we both enjoyed talking about Bornean natural history and over mutual Cambridge friends. As there was no chance of our getting away from Kuching for nearly three
weeks, I devoted my time to work in the museum and in laying a foundation for a study of the decorative art of the natives of Sarawak. I photographed nearly a hundred Sea Dayak fabrics, and recorded the names of a large number of the designs on them.
The Resident gave his customary usual Christmas Eve dinner to his colleagues and friends, to which we were invited, and Mr. Smith, the then Manager of the Sarawak branch of the Borneo Company, invited us to his usual New Year’s Eve dinner, when we again met “everybody,” and saw the old year out in the orthodox fashion. Mr. Smith’s garden is on a height that overlooks Kuching and the river. In a township of beautiful gardens this was noted for its orchids, and the plants in Mr. Smith’s garden truly were a sight to behold, especially one avalanche of the trailing flower spikes of an Arachnanthe Lowii, which reached a length of some fourteen feet.
The annual regatta took place on Monday, the 2nd of January. The poop deck of the Vorwärts was the grand stand, and most of the white inhabitants were there.
It was a very gay and animated scene, on the shore crowds of quiet people in all kinds of gay dress and undress. On the water were boats of every size, from a tiny dug-out canoe that could scarcely support even a light native to canoes cut out of giants of the forests that would hold fifty to sixty men two abreast. These darted about hither and thither, smoothly gliding like fish or rampaging with flashing paddles and spurting spray.
The natives in the boats gave themselves up to exuberant pleasure, and there was no lack of shouting and merriment. There were large numbers of roofed boats in which one could get occasional glimpses of bedecked and bejewelled women and girls; nor were they ill provided with good things to eat. We could imperfectly see one gorgeously dressed woman in one of the covered boats eating her tiffin with a metal spoon. Some native nurses on board the steamer, who were looking after the children, were greatly interested to discover who could be showing off in this way by eating like a white woman, and they threw pieces of cake at the boat in order to attract the attention of the woman, who was
hidden under the low roof of the boat. At length their tactics were successful, and on her showing herself they made grimaces at her.
