Note on the Murder of Ow-bow’s Brother
One evening we heard a woman wailing down in the village and knew that something was wrong. Shortly afterwards the natives began calling, and we learned that some one had been killed. A messenger came up to tell us it was Ow-bow’s brother who had been murdered. The latter man was much disconcerted, and tried to persuade himself that it could not be so. Later on, however, the messenger came up with indisputable news, and we heard that the murder had been occasioned by a proceeding that was to some extent romantic.
It seemed that Ow-bow’s brother had some time before stolen the murderer’s wife, and taken her away to his own village and kept her there. After a time it occurred to him that having got her he might as well pay for her, after the native manner, and accordingly he visited the husband in order to settle his account. The husband, however, was not disposed to receive compensation of this sort, and accordingly he killed and ate the other. There is no doubt that he had heard of the man’s intention to come and see him, and that he laid wait for him. The victim was either speared or clubbed.
The wailing for the dead man lasted about four or five hours, which is about the limit of Papuan mourning. After that time a murder becomes merely an interesting subject of conversation, and the people gathered around the camp fires, eagerly conversing in low tones until far into the night. At first their disposition was to demand a life for a life, that they might slay and eat, although, curiously enough, they would not have committed cannibalism in the presence of a white man or a native woman!
HARRY PRATT.
Next day our people and the villagers held a conference; they did not meet, however, but simply contented themselves with calling from ridge to ridge. Gradually the idea of the vendetta wore out of their minds, and at last it was proposed that the murderer, instead of paying a life for a life, should simply pay a pig for the murdered man.
Accordingly two messengers brought in the compensation, slung on a pole. The pig was solemnly slain and eaten, and the incident was closed.
The next extract from my son’s diary is more important, for if his journey close to the Kebea was risky, it was not nearly so sensational as one he had afterwards to make back to Ekeikei in order to relieve our higher camp from the pinch of hunger. His own account, however, scarcely gives a hint of the peril he was in.
“July 30th.—All the boys engaged to go to Ekeikei for the sago have run away, as they say that the natives at the village of Madui are hostile. Sam has gone out carrier hunting and obtained only two.
“July 31st.—I left this morning (as we are out of trade and provisions) at 6 o’clock for Ekeikei, arriving there at 4.30, but it was 2 A.M. before I could rest.
“Sat., Aug. 1st.—Left Ekeikei early about 7 A.M., and reached Madui about 4 o’clock. Had a bad night; it was very long, and I had no sleep at all. The mist very thick over the Madui hills. A good night for moths had it not been so light.”
“Aug. 2nd.—Reached the Kebea at 3 P.M.
“Aug. 3rd.—Very busy making sago boxes.
“Aug. 4th.—They killed another man at Madui the night I was there—they are killing a lot of men, women, and children.”
The incident here outlined by my son may well bear a little further amplification. Trade and provisions had all but failed us, and I could not possibly go back myself to our base at Ekeikei without serious loss of time. It would have been out of the question, too, to take back the whole party. There were sufficient indications of the unrest among the natives at the time, and consequently it was nothing but the direst necessity that induced me to accept Harry’s offer to go down himself with a few carriers to bring up what we required. I had great confidence in the lad’s common sense, he knew the language, and he seemed to have the knack of dealing with the natives. After serious consideration of the risk, therefore, I agreed to let him go. At first it was not easy to get our carriers to undertake the journey, so evil was the reputation of the village of Madui through which the party must pass, but after persuasion we got the consent of a sufficient number, and not without serious misgivings, which I was careful to conceal, did I watch the little party set out. The matter, however, was urgent. Starvation, rebellion, and desertion of my followers threatened us had we been left absolutely destitute. On the way down Harry and his party got through Madui safely. They reached Ekeikei, procured what they wanted from our stores, and began the toilsome ascent once more. At Madui trouble awaited them. There had been a native fracas, a man had just been murdered, and the blood-lust was strong in the people, who, on Harry’s arrival, demanded that he should give up one of his boys to be killed and eaten. My son, though well armed, had the wisdom not to make any parade of force, and resorted to persuasion. After much argument, he persuaded the Madui people to forego their demand, but it is not surprising that during the night, in the course of which another murder was committed, he kept the strictest watch, allowing himself not a wink of sleep. One can well believe he found the vigil “long.” In the morning they got clear away with their loads, and the same evening I was, needless to say, relieved and delighted to welcome them back to my camp on the Kebea. No youth of my son’s age has ever, I am sure, undertaken so hazardous a journey among the New Guinea cannibals.
“Preparations to leave the Kebea for Foula.
“Aug. 8th.—Left the Kebea at 9 A.M. Left eight loads behind me. Reached Coo-lu-coo-lu at 11 A.M. We ascended a hill 4000 feet high, then descended 2000 feet, very steep, then up again to Coo-lu-coo-lu. Many of the inhabitants are absent making sago.
“Aug. 11th.—Kept two days for our relays. Only by studying the daily routine of this journal can any one realise the difficulty of getting about in New Guinea.
“Reached Babooni after three hours’ walk, and then descended 1000 feet to the river Aculama.
“Aug. 12th.—We arrived at Amana at 10 A.M. There is a tree-house here, 40 feet above the ground—used as a look-out station. A small village, and the people bad. About two months ago the chief murdered a man and a boy close to our yesterday’s camp. We heard of five other recent murders. There is a lunatic here, the first and only lunatic we saw in New Guinea. We sent an armed native to call Foula to our aid for carrying.”