Head-hunters, black, white, and brown

by Alfred C. Haddon

TREE HOUSE AT GASIRI

POTTERY-MAKING AT HANUABADA, PORT MORESBY

The villages of Port Moresby are composite in character, as two tribes, the Koitapu and Motu, live side by side, but apparently with extremely little mixture.

There is no doubt that the Koitapu are the original inhabitants; they are allied to the Koiari and other inland tribes, and hence are a branch of the true Papuans—that is, the essentially narrow-headed indigenous population of New Guinea. At the present time there is not much difference in appearance between many of the Koitapu and Motu, as doubtless intercourse has taken place at various times. The former are somewhat darker in colour, but there are quite a number of Koitapu, for example, who clearly have racial affinity with the hill tribes of the interior, while the Motu exhibit an equally strong resemblance to the main element in the coast population from Yule Island to Aroma.

The Koitapu are tillers of the soil, and the Motu are fisher-folks and potters. Chalmers says: “By no conquest do the Motu live here, but simply because the Koitapu allow them, saying, ‘Yours is the sea, the canoes, the nets; ours the land and the wallaby. Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery for our yams and bananas.’”

There are many differences between the Koitapu and Motu that point to a difference of origin. The language is markedly different; Dr. Lawes long ago pointed out that there were very few words in common between these two tribes, and probably most, if not all, of these were borrowed. Ray, too, found that the affinities of the Koitapu language were with those of the true Papuan languages; while those of the Motu were unmistakably Melanesian. The Koitapu cook by means of the earth-oven, but the Motu mode of cooking by boiling in earthenware vessels is largely practised now. This is a borrowed custom. The Motu are more careful and nice in their diet, whereas the Koitapu devour anything edible. Their ornaments also differ, as do their mats and other handicrafts.

The Motu folk certainly look down on the Koitapu, but at the same time they fear the power of the sorcerers of their neighbours, and Lawes informs us: “The first thing a Motu man does, when anyone belonging to him is dangerously ill, is to go to a man, or oftener a woman, of the Koitapu, with large presents, that they may loose the power of the evil spirit over the sick man.” As the Koitapu were the aboriginal inhabitants, they claim power over the elements, and rain and sunshine, wind and calms can be granted or withheld by them; consequently the Motu have to pay heavily for the weather that they happen to require. This is a very interesting example of what has often occurred elsewhere and at various times—a dominant people being dependent upon the magicians of the people they have subjugated.

Lawes also states that “The Motu are afraid to go out at night for fear of ghosts. The Koitapu have no such fear, but often travel inland at night. The coast tribes fear the gods of the land, and in case of calamity appeal to the owners of the soil to propitiate the gods, or wreak upon them their vengeance in revenge for what they have suffered.” Chalmers says that he has “never heard of the two tribes fighting, but often the Motu has helped the Koitapu against their enemies, especially have they prevented the Hula (Bulaa) making raids on them.”

We are not yet in a position to say definitely where the Motu originally came from.

The twenty-seventh of June was a red-letter day, as I received my first home letters since our departure from London on March 10th; these were forwarded from Thursday Island by the gunboat Goldfinch, which arrived in the morning. I was packing ethnographical specimens in a shed when she arrived, but I went off with Ballantine just as I was to hear the news, and we stayed to lunch. It was very pleasant to have fresh people to talk to, especially travelled men. Few things are more refreshing than intelligent chatting, when one is in one of the world’s backwaters. We heard the news, not much more than we knew before, except the death of Gladstone. In the afternoon I continued my study of Ballantine’s unique collection of stone clubs. After dinner we all, with Dr. Blaney and Ballantine, called at the Goldfinch, and took the captain and officers to Hanuabada to see a dance; the moon was young and the sky was cloudy, and there were no fires, so very little could be seen; indeed, we could smell more than we could see.