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.