The method of wooing is, as with all primitive peoples, more commercial than romantic. The intending suitor generally comes to the point during a tribal dance which has been arranged by calling from hill to hill. If the woman agrees to the match, the wooer does not think it at all necessary to make overtures to her father, but should negotiations be required he is neither laggard nor bashful. He puts the price in his bag and approaches the house of the sire, entering boldly and sitting down unbidden. Not infrequently the girl also comes in and sits probably in a hammock, listening to the debate on which her destiny hangs. The suitor at once names his price; if the old man thinks this is a promising bargain, he shows himself quite willing to discuss matters. If there is tobacco, the suitor takes up his host’s “Bau-bau,” draws a few whiffs, passes it to the father, scratches his head violently with both hands, and proceeds to haggle. Should the father think the match a good thing, he seldom withholds his consent long, but if he considers the young man is under-bidding, he holds out stiffly till the youth has raised the price sufficiently. As soon as the father consents, the bride is taken away at once and without any fuss. There is no ceremony and no wedding feast.
The women are the agricultural labourers of Papua. Early in the morning they go out to till the gardens and the yam- or taro-patch; they are the hewers of wood and the drawers of water. Every night at Hanuabada we used to watch the long files of them wading across the shallow channels to the villages, carrying the great bundles of wood they had collected. Their families are not large, seldom more than two or three children, and though they treat them quite kindly, there is no demonstrative affection. At seven years old the children are expected to assist in domestic affairs, and begin to take their little part of carrying water and firewood to the village. Their faggots are tied up with wild cane string and are carried home on the women’s backs.
When the women go out to the garden, or when they aid in heavy transport service, as in the case of my expedition, the baby always accompanies them, and I counted at least six different ways of carrying the infant. 1. In the net-bag, slung behind, and supported by the band passed across the mothers forehead; to save abrasion a leaf was placed between the forehead and the knot made by tying the two ends of the bag together. Among many of the women I noted a patch of white hair, just at the point where the knot had pressed. 2. The child on the top of the load, supported by the mother’s left arm. This, of course, refers to the time when they were carrying for us, and had a particularly heavy burden. 3. Astride of one shoulder; this was practised by the men, and the infant was so placed as to face the side of his father’s head. 4. Also a man’s method, pick-a-back, with the little legs round the father’s neck. 5. The child with the arms clasped round the father’s neck and no other support at all. 6. Similar to the last, except that the child in this instance was carried by the mother, who, being blessed with an exceptional spread of “Rami” behind, could allow the little one’s feet to rest comfortably on that.
In the village communities on the hills there was no very regular observance of meal times. They ate when they wanted to, but on the coast a meal was taken in the morning, in the afternoon, in the early evening, and sometimes at night. The cooking was done by the women in the round earthenware pots mentioned in the description of the Hanuabada potters.
In point of dress and appearance the mountain people differ widely from those of the coast. The place of the “Rami” is taken by the cheebee, or perineal band, a simpler garment than even the fig-leaf. They are a shorter people, with better developed legs than the coast natives, which is no doubt owing to the extraordinary exercise imposed on the limbs by the difficulties of the ground.
The women wear fewer adornments than the men, their principal ornaments being the dogs’ teeth necklace and armlet, and on the breast a pearl shell, ground with a stone night and day for three weeks until the outer shell is gone and the mother-of-pearl is left bare and polished. They tie up their hair with bark so that the hair itself can hardly be seen, and sometimes they plait it up into small tails. They carry the customary bag of small odds and ends, and their weapons are distinctly formidable. These consist of the spear and club only. The spear is pointed and jagged, and is made of very hard redwood; the club has a heavy stone top, elaborately hewn into sharp bosses. The Dinawa people do not know how to make these clubs, which are manufactured in the Keakama district, and their presence in the hills proves that there is some system of commercial distribution.
1.—A STONE-HEADED CLUB.
2.—VARIOUS FORMS OF THE BAU-BAU, OR TOBACCO PIPE, SHOWING DIFFERENT KINDS OF ORNAMENTATION.
Note on the left of the pipes the butt of one, showing how the end is closed by the natural section of bamboo.
3.—A STONE AXE.
But the most splendid of all the articles of the Papuan costume is the feather head-dress, 16 feet high, which forms the central point of attraction when it occurs in a tribal dance. This ornament is extremely rare, and is always an heirloom, for it has taken generations to complete. It is a wonderful, fantastic device of feathers, built upon a light framework. The Bird of Paradise and the Gaura pigeon are laid under tribute for its construction, and the feathers of the different birds, and of different species of the same bird, are kept carefully apart, and are arranged in rows according to their natural order. A few lines of Bird of Paradise, a few lines of Gaura pigeon, then a few lines of another species of Bird of Paradise, and so on. The whole contrivance is most fantastic, and looks really impressive in the weird light of the torches as the dancers, decorated with flowing bunches of grass behind, proceed with their revel.
The dances of the hill tribes are not elaborate in form, and consist principally of violent jumping up and down, accompanied by wild singing and noise, but the coast dances, as carried out by the members of the native police at Port Moresby, by permission of the authorities, although less effective in point of costume—for little dress at all is worn—have something of the orderly and progressive arrangement of the ballet of civilisation. On the day set apart for the dance at Port Moresby, a circle of native drummers would seat themselves on the ground, and would begin their monotonous performance—bang, bang, bang; bang, bang, bang—apparently without end, and with a wearisomely monotonous rhythm. Suddenly, to the orchestra and the spectators would enter two members of the Fly River police off duty, carrying a long, thin reed. These would begin the performance. They jumped up and down in regular rhythm, crouching lower and lower as the dance proceeded, their movements getting quicker and quicker as the drums “gave them pepper.” Then, still crouching and still jumping up and down with incredible swiftness, they would back out and disappear round the side of the house. This ended the first figure. For the second figure probably twenty of the force would enter, marching sedately in Indian file, the drums playing a slower rhythm. Suddenly the performers would stop, then they would turn their heads from side to side, and begin to move their legs slowly in time to the drums. Still wagging their heads, and without any increased motion of the limbs, they would proceed right round the ring of spectators and retire, without any perceptible quickening of pace. For the third figure they reappeared in files, moving their heads, the limbs still going in slow time. They advanced and retreated to and from the spectators several times, singing as they went, and finally backed out.