Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

Some of the ancients among the crocodiles get marvellously cunning: there was one beast of my acquaintance that inhabited a deep pool in a small stream at Wanigela in Collingwood Bay, and he was a great thorn in the flesh of the villagers; for, watch as they would, they could never see him in daylight, whilst pigs and people disappeared at night with unpleasant frequency, and in the morning, no more was to be seen than the trail of his tail and claws. The villagers sent me complaint after complaint about the beast, alleging that it was a devil and no real crocodile. I sent the police to watch for it, but they did no better than the natives. At last the people complained that they did not think much of a Government that could not rid them of such a pest; and I became really annoyed with the crocodile. “Kill a pig, a fat pig, and let it go rotten,” I advised the villagers, “then I will come and deal with the brute.”

I went to Wanigela in about a week’s time; the pig was really high by then and a choice morsel for a crocodile. On to that pig’s corpse I tied about a pound of dynamite, with a yard of fuse attached; then, pulling the whaler into the middle of the hole the beast was supposed to inhabit, I lit the fuse and chucked the pig over the side. We had an exciting time then, for piggy was too far gone to sink and began to drift on the surface towards the houses in the village, where all the inhabitants were assembled to watch our operations; hastily we chased the carrion and tore off the burning fuse; then we got a number of large stones and weighted piggy well, before tilting him over the side again; he sank this time, and we hurriedly vacated the spot. I had fixed a five-minute fuse, time sufficient, I thought, for the crocodile to discover the delicious morsel we had sent him: soon came the explosion, and a few seconds later, out crawled on to the sand-bank an enormous old crocodile, only to be greeted with a veritable hail of bullets, spears and curses, whereupon he flopped back once more into his uncomfortable domicile. “I don’t think he will trouble you again,” I told the Wanigela people, and went off home. The next day they sent and told me that they had found the crocodile’s body and were eating it; I thought that eating your enemy after having destroyed him was certainly the most complete revenge possible. Afterwards I saw the jaw bones, and, to my amazement, discovered that some of the teeth were decayed; I then thanked my stars that I had not the teeth of a crocodile in which to have toothache, for it seemed too awful to contemplate altogether!

Again I find I have digressed; the subject of village constables was always a weakness of mine, and the crocodiles seem to have crept in, just in the same manner as they sneak into villages. Return I now to Oiogoba Sara. This old chief gave me much information about the geography of his district, and the relations of one tribe with another; he also told me a marvellous tale of a strange aquatic tribe inhabiting a huge morass, not more than half a dozen miles from his principal village, who, he declared, were unable to walk on hard dry country. At first I did not believe him, but he stuck to his story, and Giwi of the Kaili Kaili told me that he had often heard rumours to the same effect; accordingly I determined to investigate the truth for myself.

Some time after, about September, 1902, old Oiogoba Sara was released from gaol and returned to his village as Government chief; and just then two friends of mine, L. G. Dyke Acland and Wilfred Walker, arrived on a visit to me. They were both men who were fond of shoving their noses into the little-known parts of the globe: Walker had a mania for collecting strange birds, and had been everywhere on the earth in search of them; Acland possessed a mercurial disposition that led him into all sorts of trouble, from fighting in South Africa and prowling in Siberia, to eventually—after he left me—tiger hunting in India, where he succeeded in getting very thoroughly chewed up by a tiger, and losing an arm. I told them I had little to offer in the way of amusement or sport, but that if they chose to accompany me, I was going in search of a very strange aquatic tribe I had heard of, and then on to a fight with a lot of raiding cannibals. The former appealed to Walker, the latter to Acland; therefore they both decided to come with me.

The people, of whom we were going in search, were styled by Oiogoba Sara, “Agai Ambu”: “Ambu” is the Binandere word for man, “Agai” for duck; therefore the translation of the name “Agai Ambu,” which was used generally among the tribes, is the “duck- or web-footed people.” We went to old Oiogoba’s village on the Barigi River, this time in friendly fashion, and were warmly welcomed. The old chief insisted, much to my disgust, upon his wives cooking my food, and the village women, that of my police; the constabulary got on all right, but Acland, Walker, and I preferred a frugal meal of sardines and biscuits to the feast prepared for us of fat pork and stewed dog! Leaving old Oiogoba’s village, we were guided by him in a westerly direction towards the Musa River and the morass alleged to be inhabited by the strange people.

AGAIAMBU VILLAGE

As we receded from the banks of the Barigi, the country got lower and more marshy, showing signs of prolonged submersion under water. It was, I may remark, the driest year experienced for a long period on the north-east coast. At last we emerged upon the reed-covered bank of a huge shallow lake or lagoon, and within sight of a village built on tall poles, in the midst of reeds and water, some half a mile distant from the shore. “There,” said Oiogoba Sara, “there are the houses of the Agai Ambu, the duck-footed people, whose feet are so tender that they cannot walk on dry land.” “How long have they been there?” I asked. “From a time extending beyond the memory of my father’s father,” he said; which is about the length of reliable native tradition in New Guinea.

The bank of the lagoon, upon which we stood, was in reality neither soil nor earth, but a springy substance composed of decaying humus and marsh plants, upon which one had constantly to shift one’s position to avoid sinking up to one’s knees in water; it fairly hummed with mosquitoes and swarmed with large black hairy spiders. The surface of the water was alive with wild duck, teal, grebe, plover, and geese, beyond counting, and all remarkably tame; it was covered also with water-lilies, over the floating leaves of which, water-fowl ran. Never have I seen a spot so abundant in bird life. The water itself teemed with fishes of a carp-like variety, some of which I caught and sent to the British Museum, where they were discovered to be a species new to science. The name allotted to these by the British Museum authorities is Electris Moncktoni. At intervals there jutted in upon the bank of the lagoon, lake, or morass, whatever one likes to call it, extensive sago swamps. The lagoon is fed by the overflow waters of the Musa River: I had previously been much puzzled, when upon the second Doriri expedition (which, by the way, I refer to later), by finding flooded waters from the river flowing in well-defined streams, and apparently contrary to all known habits of rivers, away from the river proper in a north-easterly direction; and with no known outfall for flood waters on the coast north of the mouth of the river;—flood waters from a river such as the Musa have such a distinct yellow colour, that their advent to the sea could hardly be missed by any passing vessel. Now, this apparently unnatural phenomenon was accounted for; the flood waters of the Musa were discharged into this reedy lake, and there precipitated their mud and sediment, thence finding their way to the sea by many swampy—but clear—streams.

At Oiogoba’s suggestion, I concealed our party in the reeds, as he explained that though the Agaiambu were on friendly terms with his people, they were mortally afraid of every one else, as they were so helpless on dry land, and that if they thought strangers were present nothing would induce them to leave their canoes. Oiogoba’s people maintained trading relations with them, exchanging vegetables in times of plenty, and at other times, stone implements and earthenware pots for sago and smoked or fresh fish. The Baruga natives (Oiogoba’s people) now yelled to them, asking them to come ashore to trade with them; and forthwith several canoes set out from the village to the shore. As soon as the first canoe arrived, containing two men, the Baruga called to me to come up, and they attempted to seize the men to retain them for me, but they struggled into the water, where the semi-amphibious Agaiambu easily escaped from the clutches of Baruga and the police, who had hastily rushed to their assistance; they then swam back through the water-lilies and clinging weeds of the lake to their village, their retreat being covered by other Agaiambu canoes, the crews of which brandished spears, paddles, and poles, and hurried to the help of their friends. The police and Baruga, who were all powerful men—much stronger men physically than the Agaiambu—and strong swimmers, could no more succeed in holding those men in the water while swimming than they could hold a large eel.