A few days after my arrival in Torres Straits in 1888 I visited Nagir, and recalling the fact that when H.M.S. Alert was surveying the district six years previously Dr. Coppinger had obtained at this island two decorated skulls, I tried to get another. My inquiries after “head belong dead man,” aided by a sketch and emphasised by a promise of ample remuneration, elicited in time the information from Aiwŏli that he “savvied” and that he “got ’im.” Forbidding me from following him, Aiwŏli disappeared round the corner, and in a very short space of time returned with a basket containing a skull wrapped up in two very old and dirty red cotton handkerchiefs. ([Plate XII., B, No. 1, p. 139.])
The skull was that of a young, unmarried man, Magau, whose English name was “Billy,” and who died about the end of 1887. His death was firmly believed to have been caused by the telepathic magic of a maidelaig, or sorcery man, then residing at Cape York, some twenty-five miles away.
When Magau died, Kuduma, his uncle, and Aina (“Harry Nagir”), his foster-brother, agreed, “Very good, we make him same as man long-time fashion. We take him head, but leave him body in ground.” So they buried him. On the fourth day after interment all the mariget, or men whose particular duty it was, went very quietly in a crouching manner to the grave. When they arrived there they all suddenly and simultaneously stamped on the ground, clapped their hands once, and cried “Ah!” Then the mari, or spirit, finally departed from Magau, and his head would come off easily from his body. The earth was removed from the body, and one particular man took hold of the cranium and another seized the jaw, and the head was easily severed from the trunk. A special mariget kept the skull, washed it in the sea, and when it was quite clean and sweet he painted blue marks over the eyes, inserted pearl-shell eyes, and moulded a nose out of wood and beeswax, which he painted red. The length was accurate, for it was the custom to measure the length of the nose of a dead person with a piece of stick, which was carefully preserved to this end. The deficiency of teeth was supplied with half a dozen pieces of wood, the jaw was lashed on to the cranium, and seed and calico ear-pendants were attached. So it was made “flash.”
After about three months a death-dance was held (“made him merkai”), at the same time a big feast was made, but in addition to the yams, sweet potatoes, coconuts, bananas, and so forth, of olden time this feast was said to be reinforced with four bags of flour, one case of gin, and one of schnapps. The adorned skull of Magau was placed on a mat in the middle of the assembly. The father and brother prepared food for the other mariget, and put food in front of the skull; the mariget also made food ready for the father and brother of the deceased, and placed it likewise before the skull. Then “all got d—d drunk all night; if woman sleep, wake him up, no make row.”
Before the feasting commenced the skull was handed over to the father; at night-time it was covered over with a mat, and later on the family slept around it in memory of old times. After three nights the father kept the skull in its basket close by his pillow.
Magau’s skull was sold to me by Aiwŏli, and another foster-brother, for one tomahawk and three fathoms of calico print. It is now in the Christy Collection at the British Museum.
It does not sound to us a very cheerful custom for people to keep the skulls of their friends, but it must be remembered that they could not make pictures of their dead friends and relations, and, since they loved them as we love ours, they liked to have something to remember them by. In the Murray Islands and Darnley they even modelled the whole face in black wax so as to represent their dead friend still more closely. I have previously stated how pleased the natives were to see photographs I took ten years ago of their friends and relatives who had since died, and both at Murray Island and Mabuiag we had to photograph a dead baby, as the father wanted a likeness as a memento.
Whenever they were in trouble they used to take the skull of a relative, put fresh paint on it, and cover it with scented leaves, then they would speak to it and ask advice from it. When they went to bed they would put the skull on their sleeping-mat beside their heads, and if they dreamt they thought it was the spirit of their dead friend talking to them and advising them what they should do. As they believed all this, it was by no means strange that they liked to keep and preserve the skulls of their dead relatives. This is a very different matter from collecting the heads of dead enemies, which was very common in many parts of New Guinea and was also done in Torres Straits.
In the early part of November, 1888, a few natives from Nagir and Muralug, then resident on Thursday Island, got up a dance to inaugurate the approach of the rainy season, or, as it is usually termed, the “nor’-west.” Night after night they practised their chant, and in the daytime they manufactured their masks. These were all of the same pattern, and consisted of a lower portion in the form of the usual conventional crocodile’s head, surmounted by a human face surrounded by a sort of frill of tortoise-shell fretwork; below was a fringe of frayed leaves. This portion entirely covered the head of the wearer, the mask being held solely by the teeth, which gripped a stick extending across the central cavity. Above the face was a representation of a sawfish five feet in length. Towering above its centre was a long, narrow, erect triangle covered with turkey-red and flanked with white feathers. Feathers from five different kinds of birds, from a bird of paradise to a pigeon, adorned this remarkable structure, which attained to a height of 4 feet 6 inches. The masks were painted with red, white, black, and a little blue pigment. In olden times such masks would be made of tortoise-shell; these were constructed out of pieces of old packing-cases and kerosene tins.
The dancing-ground was in front of a small screen (waus), behind which the performers retired in rotation for rest and refreshment. The first dance began on Saturday afternoon, and was continued nightly till the following Thursday. The date of the ceremony was fixed by the rising of a particular star. There was a great sameness in the dancing, which was practically confined to one man appearing on each side from behind the screen; the pair advanced forward with a sedately capering step, crossed to the opposite side of the dancing-ground, and ultimately retired to the end of the screen: then they crouched down and slowly waved their grotesquely masked heads from side to side. As soon as the chant was finished they disappeared behind the screen, when their places were taken by two other performers. A free translation of the sawfish chant is as follows:—