III.
Towards the end of my stay in Papua my special work was translation, chiefly of the Scriptures, and there was a big pile of manuscript awaiting revision. This was generally done by one of the mission clergy and myself, assisted by intelligent natives who possessed a quick ear for mistakes. The little boy seen in the first photograph was known as “the Pundit,” because, although only fourteen years old, he gave us great assistance in the difficult work of translation. He had a wonderful memory, and was very discriminating in his choice of words. He would sometimes volunteer opinions as to the style of the sacred writers, and considered the Prophet Jeremiah, on the whole, “easier” than Isaiah—in which I agree with him, so far as concerns rendering the books into a native dialect. Perhaps it was for this reason that our youthful “Pundit,” when he was baptised and formally discarded his heathen name of Bonagadona, chose that of “Jeremiah,” by which imposing cognomen he is now known.
Before long the revision work came to a standstill, however, for my fellow-reviser had gone far north to a pioneer station called Ambasi. It was finally decided that, accompanied by our mission nurse, I should take the MSS. to Ambasi and finish the revision there. So we set out on our long journey up the coast in the little fourteen-foot schooner. I am not a good sailor, and I found the journey very uncomfortable; I was only able to admire Nature when we anchored.
“THE PUNDIT”—THIS LITTLE LAD, THOUGH ONLY FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, RENDERED THE AUTHORESS GREAT ASSISTANCE IN THE DIFFICULT WORK OF TRANSLATING THE SCRIPTURES.
From a Photograph.
We spent a very interesting time in Collingwood Bay, where only two white women had ever been seen, and that within the year. The women here wore strips of tappa cloth from waist to knee, instead of the grass skirts of the more eastern tribes, and the houses were of a finer and larger type.
The villagers, after they had got over their surprise at seeing us, gave us almost too hearty a welcome. We were implored to pull down our hair, and great was the astonishment expressed at the sight when we did so. They also failed entirely to understand our hairpins, hats, and, above all, our long noses and small waists! The Papuans’ methods of hairdressing, however, would certainly cause almost equal astonishment in civilization. Look, for instance, at the following photograph, which depicts the coiffure of a man belonging to the dreaded Doriri tribe, a people living inland from Uiaku, whose warlike instincts have not yet been subdued. It will be noticed that the hair is allowed to grow long, divided into plaits, and elaborately braided until it looks like a collection of rope-ends.
A NATIVE OF THE DREADED DORIRI TRIBE—THE HAIR IS DIVIDED INTO PLAITS AND BRAIDED, UNTIL IT LOOKS LIKE A COLLECTION OF ROPE-ENDS.
From a Photograph.
At Wanigera, a few miles away, where a mission station had been in existence longer than at Uiaku, we met with a quieter reception, though one old woman, after a long look at me, asked a child if I were really a woman. I wondered what strange creature she imagined I was, for surely, in a white muslin frock, she could hardly have taken me for a man!
During our stay at Wanigera a great hunt took place, and some of the warriors called on us before setting out. Their ornaments were very striking, and the colours almost dazzling. Altogether they looked a very fine set of men, and would, no doubt, prove enemies much to be dreaded in the day of battle. On this occasion, however, they only waged war with the brute creation, and they told us at the close of the day that the bag was a very good one.
The interior of the great church on Sunday was a fine sight, being filled with from two to three hundred natives, all decked out in feathers, shell ornaments, gay tappa cloth, and vivid flowers. Not less striking was the almost military precision with which each row of worshippers left the building in turn at the close of the service. If these natives went in for such amenities of civilization as church parades, the spectacle would be a striking one indeed.
In a neighbouring village to Wanigera there is a remarkable tree house, prepared by the tribesmen as a place of refuge from marauding enemies. From the heights of this arboreal retreat they were able to hurl down stones upon the attacking party.
PAPUAN WOMEN DECORATED FOR A DEATH-DANCE.
[From a Photograph.]
A fine specimen of Papuan womanhood may be seen in the middle figure of the next photograph reproduced. These women are natives of Nonof, a village not far from Wanigera. They were profusely ornamented in order that they might take part in a dance held after the death of a chief. It is almost an unheard-of occurrence for women to don such decorations, which are regarded as the exclusive property of the men, and it looks as though the ladies were beginning to agitate for equal privileges in the way of finery with their lords and masters. A native, on being shown my collection of curios, which included some ornaments, remarked that I was me oroto, or “like a man,” because of my many possessions.
PREPARING LIME FOR USE IN BETEL-CHEWING.
[From a Photograph.]
The natives of Papua are very much addicted to betel-chewing. Areca palms are plentiful up the coast, but pepper-leaf and lime are required as well. The lime—which in some districts is prepared from coal—is obtained in Collingwood Bay by burning shells. The above photograph well illustrates the primitive process in use for slaking the lime after the burning of the shells. The lime is then stored, and ladled out from a calabash when required.
A HUT IN THE FOREST—OBSERVE THE REMARKABLE ROOF.
[From a Photograph.]
Our stay at Wanigera having come to an end, we embarked once more on the little schooner and set off again. We anchored each night, for the native captain was not very certain of his bearings, and reefs were plentiful. On the third day after leaving Wanigera, however, he was either influenced by the crew or had a sudden impulse of recklessness, for after the sun had set he tried, in the uncertain light, to bring the boat into harbour on a particularly reef-bound part of the coast. There was a strong wind blowing, and the waves were slapping angrily against the sides of the vessel, when suddenly, without a moment’s warning, there was a grating shock, and we realized that we had struck a reef. It was almost dark by now, and the lights of the settlement could be seen two or three miles away.
The captain let go the anchor at once, but the boat began to roll so violently that we felt doubtful as to whether the cable would stand the strain. Meanwhile the boys scrambled into the dinghy and rowed around to investigate our position. Strange though it may seem, no harm appeared to have been done to the boat, but we were so surrounded by reefs that we did not dare to move from where we were anchored. So there we pitched and rolled about all night, though the strength of the wind abated later on. What with one thing and another, I felt like a very frightened tennis-ball, and I was extremely thankful when, at sunrise, we were able to make for the shore, where we spent the day and night at the house of a friendly magistrate.
A FISHERMAN’S HOUSE AND CANOE.
[From a Photograph.]
We were now only thirty or forty miles from our destination, and the next afternoon arrived at Ambasi. No white women had ever been there before, and for many days we were visited by parties of natives, all eager to see the strange white ladies. Women carrying their babies astride on their shoulders, old men leading little boys, and married couples, with or without their families, would pay us long visits, wanting to know what a sewing-machine was, to look at our bedrooms, and, above all, to taste our food. The nurse had her hands full soon after she arrived, for the people had great faith in her remedies, and patients presented themselves in shoals for treatment. Her pet patients appeared to be old men, who became frightfully jealous of one another if she appeared to devote more attention to one than another. They would glare fiercely at the patient who was being rubbed or otherwise treated, and were only partly mollified when their own turn came.
During our stay at Ambasi we dispensed with such luxuries as mirrors and sheets, and rolled ourselves in blankets, to sleep contentedly in hammocks slung on the veranda. We could not, however, do without mosquito nets, for without them rest would have been quite impossible. At night we were surrounded by the pale sparks of fireflies, and far below, on the beach, the natives’ flaring torches would flicker for hours as they fished, standing patiently in the sea. In the early morning the sweet notes of a bird would wake us from some lofty tree at the edge of the thick forest close by, behind which rose in majesty the great Owen Stanley range, standing out distinctly in the clear morning air. The highest peak, Mount Albert Edward, over thirteen thousand feet high, had not long before been ascended for the first time by a magistrate and one of the mission staff.
We could not always keep dry under our roof, which allowed the rain to penetrate it in many places. One memorable night I piled nearly all my belongings in a heap covered by a mat, and at last sought shelter from the prevailing showers under the table, which was, I am glad to say, rainproof. But it would not have done to be without rain, for it was our only water supply, the spring on the beach being too brackish to drink.
The Ope, a small river, was only three miles distant, within easy reach of the station by boat or beach. I visited it one Sunday morning, taking with me a village boy who knew a little broken English. It was a glorious walk on the hard yellow sand, for the tide was out, but the return journey was most fatiguing, for the waves had covered the firm portion, and at each step I sank ankle-deep in the yielding sand.
When we reached the Ope no canoes were to be seen, except on the farther bank. We called and beckoned, and after a time a small boy brought one over to us, on which we embarked. There were no paddles, a very slender stick being our only means of propelling it, and we naturally made poor progress. Our little ferry-man, however, was not disconcerted. Kneeling down and putting his right leg overboard he obligingly paddled with that, and most successfully.
It was at the place to which I was going that the launch had once been wrecked, and where, some years before, the Bishop of New Guinea and one of his laymen had spent the night in peril of their lives, after escaping from drowning and from a shark. It was with some anxiety, therefore, that I looked forward to our arrival.
I am bound to say, however, that no one could now accuse the villagers of evil designs on us, for I was presented with a young coconut to drink, and saw nothing amiss in the behaviour of the natives, unless a request to take down my hair can be regarded as such.
A chief had died the week before, and the dead man seemed to have been related to the majority of the people, for many were daubed with light yellow clay, which is their form of mourning. The widow herself was seated on her husband’s grave, which was situated inside the house. There, according to tribal etiquette, she must remain until she had finished making her mourning jacket of netted string trimmed with “Job’s tears.” I was glad the poor thing had something to occupy her mind, for the horror of the situation was increased by the presence of two old crones who, one on each side of her, wailed incessantly.
Burial in the house in more settled parts of Papua has been forbidden by the Government, and where the missions are located graveyards have been set aside and fenced in.
When my work at Ambasi was over the little schooner arrived once more to take us back. It was now the calm season, and our progress was decidedly slow. The little cabin below, where the nurse and I slept, was stuffy in the extreme, and it was delightful to get on deck in the early morning, though I was seldom able to do more than lie there with a bit of sail or a blanket stretched above to keep off the rays of the sun. Then it would become unbearably hot, and I would retreat to the airless cabin once more until the cool of the evening approached. All day long the sails flapped aimlessly and the blocks thudded loudly on the deck, for the breeze was usually too light to help us. Towards evening a wind sprang up, but too late to enable us to make for an anchorage among the reefs in the treacherous half-light. Matters improved as we got farther down the coast, however, and though on the last day we saw a waterspout in the distance we met with no mishaps, and finally reached our journey’s end in safety.
Though there are marked differences in the Papuans themselves, as well as in their dwellings and languages, the time will come, no doubt, when, under the influence of the white man, they will abandon their primitive Stone Age ways for twentieth-century ones. Then, probably, much of their charm will vanish. They may reap many benefits, but, as with so many other savage races, it is more than likely that the change will not be altogether to their advantage. At any rate, I am glad that I have lived with them and known them at home, while they are still unspoiled children of Nature.
My Experiences in Algeria.
By the Baroness de Boerio.
The Baroness’s husband, an officer in the French army, was ordered to Algeria, and took his wife and children with him. There, located at a tiny post far from civilization, in the midst of fierce and unruly tribes, the authoress met with some very strange adventures, which she here sets forth in a chatty and amusing fashion.