Papuan Pictures

by H. M. Dauncey

People in England, whether believers in Christianity or not, pay tribute to its founder every time they date a letter. The Papuans now acknowledge Him by making their calculations from His day. The Sabate they call it. The boys all knew that the next day was Sabate, and that we should not travel, but remain at Hisiu. Those who had clothes had managed to keep them fairly clean for that day, and those who had none, borrowed from those who had, with the result that a small singlet fell to the lot of the biggest man of the party. Still he was satisfied, and no one was surprised at his odd appearance.

Soon after six in the morning the people were called to the first service by a bell which they had purchased for themselves. How different the surroundings and the gathering from anything to be seen in England: the walls and the roof of the church supplied by the palm; the floor made from old canoe boards; the reading-desk by the teacher from packing-cases; the seat round the wall also from old canoes. Then the congregation. Our own boys had more clothing than the rest of the congregation all told. In the first few rows sat the children. Behind them the adults, and on the seat round the wall the Church members and those more particularly identified with the Mission. Very few ornaments were to be seen and none in the hair of the men, for the Papuan having no hat to take off as a mark of reverence removes his comb when he enters the church. Of the service little need be said. You could not follow the words, but the bowing of the head by the natives, and the opening of the New Testaments, would mark the times of prayer and of reading the lessons. How often one wishes the Papuans were direct descendants of the Sweet Singer of Israel; but, alas! they are not even distant relatives, and most of the Samoans can claim but little closer kinship, and so cannot help the Papuan much. Tuneful singing cannot be expected from a people with a range of about three notes, especially when they do not always use even these three. They will chant a hymn on one note only. Still they do their best, they are improving; and we always hope for better times in this as in other respects. In one thing the Papuans do not fail. Their behaviour is reverent throughout the service, and they listen to the message given.

During the day there are three services and a Sunday School, all held in the church; but I was most pleased with the evening gathering at the teacher’s house. The few Church members, with thirty or forty children and young people, came to family prayers, and of the young people at least twenty had their own New Testaments, and took their turn in reading a verse, and one of the young men offered prayer. Such a scene makes one realize the change for the better which is taking place. The first time I went to Hisiu there was no teacher living there; no church; no school; not a Church member in the place, and not a soul who could tell which way to hold a book even if he had one.

One advantage of having to stay over the Sunday at a village is the opportunity for good informal chats with the people, during which much can be gathered as to their way of looking at the message the Missionary brings.

Two separate conversations that Sunday revealed the fact that they carry their own ideas of malevolent spirits into their idea of the God whom we regard as the loving Father. To many of them He seems to be a compound of the policeman and the magistrate, seeing that due punishment is inflicted for each given offence.

Rosa came to see us in the afternoon wearing signs of mourning. We had heard that her husband Veata was dead, but did not know the circumstances. It was a long story, for she began at the time when her husband was taken by the teacher to live in his house, and when she, as a young girl, was nurse to the teacher’s children. She recalled what Faasiu had taught them and how after they were married Veata expressed a wish to become a teacher, and how glad she was. Then came the history of the three years during which they lived with us at Delena, which ended in the call of the old village life being too strong, and their giving up the idea of being teachers and returning to their village. At first Veata boasted of what he had done, but afterwards became ashamed, and very sad. He knew he had done wrong, but took no steps to put the matter right.

One day on the way to his garden he saw a snake in the track, and as he could not kill it, got out of its way. It followed him, however, and bit him twice. His friends, knowing the snake was a deadly one, carried Veata back to the village, and began the death wail over him, but he asked them to be quiet and to listen to what he had to say, as he should soon leave them and they would not hear his voice again. The speech was a long one for a man under such circumstances, but Veata was in earnest in his desire that his friends should know that he acknowledged he had done wrong, “in putting out the light he once had within him.” He looked upon the ending of his life by snake bite as a just punishment for his having turned back “after he had put his hand to the plough,” and begged his friends to listen to the teacher “and follow the light.”

On the same day another widow, a much older woman, came to see us. Her husband had been west with Tamate, and later had served for a time as a teacher under Holmes. He too listened to the call of the old life, and at Hisiu took a leading part in reviving the night dancing. He was an elderly man, and probably the sitting about after he was hot from the dancing produced chest troubles. He became ill, and then found that his right hand was affected with what looked like leprosy. Before long he was unable to use it at all, and became so ill that it was only with difficulty that he could get as far as the church. The last time he attended the service he asked the teacher to let him speak to the people. His address followed the lines of Veata’s, but near the end, lifting his maimed hand, he said, “This is the hand that beat the drum to call you to the dance. Look at it now. God has taken from it the power to do anything. He has punished me, and I shall not live much longer. God forgive me, and help you to follow not me but Jesus.”

I heard of these two cases in one day, but often, both before and since, have wondered at the number of those who having turned back from taking part in Mission work have died soon after. When the first wild burst is over, they lose heart and feel there is nothing left to live for, and that the end is near. When a native gets that idea nothing can save him. It is sad to think how little they realize the love that can forgive. Their own idea is vengeance, “An eye for an eye,” and only slowly comes that of an all-loving and forgiving Father.

The next morning saw us again on the tramp. Canoes ferried us across the Aroa River, and then on we went along the sand. Mile after mile with nothing to break the monotony except the great stranded trees that had been washed out of Galley Reach by the last floods, and a solitary pelican that would fly on ahead of us, wait till we were nearly up to him, and then start off again as though to show us the way.