Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

On looking into things at Mekeo Station, I found that a vast number of economic plants had been planted by Kowald, who was an expert botanist, for experimental purposes; and that there was a strict order from Sir William MacGregor that they should receive every care and attention. I knew nothing about them; cinchona was the same to me as cocoa, a rubber plant as a coffee plant; vanilla, hemp, and the rest were as Hebrew, and not a man in the detachment—-as was naturally to be expected—knew any more. Also I found that I had not a man that could read or write, or who was really fit to be in charge of the Station during my absence; accordingly I sent a loud wail to Blayney that I must have a Station-keeper, with a knowledge of plantation work and capable of keeping books, otherwise I should chuck the work at once. Blayney promptly sent me Basilio, a Manilla man, an excellent fellow, who immediately flung himself into his new duties with great zeal. By the time he arrived, I had got my police as sharp as terriers, and ready for anything in the way of work.

Basilio brought me a mail from Hall Sound, the port of the Mekeo district; among the letters I found one from a German trader and copra buyer in the Gulf of Papua, stating that he was constantly being robbed and threatened by the natives, and went in constant fear for his life; he also referred to several previous letters, and said that if his present complaint was not attended to, he would shortly be a murdered man. I looked through the Station correspondence, and found several letters from the man, making complaints against the natives, the letters being marked in Bramell’s writing with “rot,” “more rot,” “bunkum,” “sheer funk.” I read them all, and thought to myself, “This chap may be merely crying wolf when there is no wolf; but if he does happen to get killed, his Excellency will want some one upon whom to vent his wrath, and it strikes me I shall be the victim.” Therefore I prepared to go into the Gulf in the whaleboat: when I remark that it was the South-East season, and meant a trip against a heavy sea, current, and head wind, with a big surf to land through every night, it will be seen that the prospect was not cheerful.

For some days the police nearly pulled their insides out, forcing the whaleboat in the teeth of the south-easter; for several nights regularly, whaler, police, and myself were capsized in the surf, when we were landing to camp, and rolled up upon the beach in a heap, all our belongings, which were lashed to the boat, being soaked with salt water. Blistered by the sun, hands raw from tugging at the oars, and bruised all over from the bumps as we rolled upon coral beaches, at last we made the complaining German trader’s Station, and I asked him what all the trouble was about, as his Station appeared quite happy and peaceful, and the natives very friendly. “A few months ago I had a few cocoanuts stolen,” he said. “Well,” I asked, “what about all your stories of imminent battle, murder, and sudden death?” “I thought that it was time the Government looked me up, and I had better pitch things a bit strong, or they would not bother,” he had the ineffable impudence to remark. “You German swine,” I said, “you have made me risk my life, and the lives of a dozen men, coming here, merely to pander to your sense of importance; if I can get the slightest excuse, I’ll gaol you.” Unfortunately I could get no excuse for doing so; accordingly, I had to content myself with blackguarding him up hill and down dale before leaving, and telling him that the natives could eat him, before I would move a man to his assistance again. If he had been a native, I could have given him a fortnight’s gaol for sending a lying report, but unfortunately that law did not apply to white men.

MASKS OF THE KAIVA KUKU SOCIETY, MEKEO

Whilst in the Gulf, I received constant complaints about the doings—or rather misdoings—of a strange nomadic inland tribe, called by the coastal natives Kuku Kuku; people who apparently appeared unexpectedly, and hovered about the coastal villages, snapping up stray men, women, and children, and cutting off their heads; then vanishing into the unknown. I promised the villagers that, in the near future, the Government would deal with the Kuku Kuku people, but that I had too much other work at present; in any case, my whaler’s complement was not sufficient for an inland expedition.

I also heard of the existence of a secret society called the Kaiva Kuku, the members of which assembled fully disguised in strange masks and cloaks, and went through secret ceremonies and ritual; branches and agents of it also existed in every coastal village. I did not like this at all, thinking that probably many of the murders and crimes alleged against the Kuku Kuku were offences committed by this secret society. I did not stay long enough in the Mekeo district to have any dealings with the Kaiva Kuku, but, from what I heard of the society whilst I was there, I believe that they were a set of blood-thirsty, terrorizing, and blackmailing scoundrels, badly needing stamping out. In later years, when Captain Barton was R.M. of the Division, I gave him my views about native secret societies, and the Kaiva Kuku in particular; but he held they might be a benevolent organization, created for the suppression of immorality and vice. My own opinion was, that they were bad, and existed merely for the purpose of carrying out unnameable rites and beastliness, this being borne out by the history of all native races among which secret societies were established; also I held that the morality and conduct of a village or tribe were better maintained by a Government Chief, or village constable, acting openly, than by secret tribunals.

Secret societies—to the extent of my experience—only exist in British New Guinea west of Yule Island; and bestiality, human sacrifice, incest, and other abominable crimes, have never been heard of out of the regions in which such societies hold their sway; the natural inference, therefore, is that there is some connection between them. I can see no reason to justify any Government official in permitting the existence of such societies in any district over which he holds control, unless he means to shirk his responsibilities and abuse the powers entrusted to him by Government in favour of an organization of which he can know nothing. I do not wish to dogmatie; but I hold—after many years’ experience and intimate connection with natives—that a magistrate is fully justified, once he finds any man or body of men pretending to esoteric, occult or supermundane powers, in smashing that man or society, even if he has to use force to do it. Secret societies can do no possible good amongst any race of people, and they possess tremendous potentialities for harm and injustice. Every Englishman would rise in horror at the thought of having the old Spanish Inquisition established again; therefore let every Englishman see to it that, among the native races he governs, no similar thing can possibly exist.

Returning from the Gulf, a storm compelled me to beach the whaleboat at Maiva, a collection of villages just east of Cape Possession, where I found a violent epidemic raging among the people, and was told that it was spreading like wildfire amongst all the villages of the Mekeo district. Here I hauled up the whaleboat and had a house built over her, as I saw I must quickly get to my Station in order to procure fresh police and be able to devote my whole attention to dealing with the sickness, which I could see was going to be no light undertaking. Leaving my whaleboat safely housed to protect her from the sun, I marched my police as rapidly as possible overland to the Station; we arrived there a couple of hours after nightfall on the second day, the whole squad of men accompanying me being—like myself—utterly tired and worn out.

Basilio came to my house whilst I sat waiting for Poruta to prepare some food for me, and, after watching the tired Poruta for a few minutes, he volunteered to make me a Malay curry and let him go to the barracks to sleep. Poruta accordingly was sent off to bed; whilst I—after listening for a short time to an unusual and angry hum from the native village of Veipa, situated a short distance beyond our gate—also dropped off to sleep. Basilio woke me up a little later, and directed my attention to a table spread in Malay fashion with food, consisting of an excellent curry and the choicest of the Station’s garden fruit; he then sat down and waited until I had finished.