It is doubtful if in the native mind the idea of doctoring has yet been separated from that of sorcery. An ulcer may have been eating away the flesh for months, but if the doctor will put his “muramura” (medicine) upon it just once that will be enough; and one dose of medicine should cure an attack of pleurisy even though the patient will sit out in the rain at night to get cool.
The white man may work the cure, but the native leaning towards sorcery is again shown in the patient going quietly away to the sorcerer, and paying a good price to have the restoration to health approved and made secure. Unfortunately the two systems do not always agree. After months of attention I had nearly cleared up an ulcer that was eating a man’s face away. A little more and the cure would have been complete, but the patient went to the sorcerer for the finishing touches, and weeks later returned to the village to die, with his face plastered with red clay.
One day some boys breathlessly announced that one of the numerous Aisis in the village had been badly torn by a wild pig while hunting. Fortunately the Government Doctor was in the village at the time, and he took the case in hand, and despite all Aisi’s objections stitched up all the wounds. For days the patient’s condition was critical, but he had all the care I could give him and at last was out of danger. For at least three months his wounds demanded daily attention, and during the whole of that time I went to the village each day, and used up my whole stock of lint and bandages. Doctors at home speak of their grateful patients. Aisi would never qualify for that class. One day we were launching the boat, or rather trying to, for we wanted just a little more help before we could get her into the water. Aisi was standing looking on, having quite recovered from his wounds, and I asked him to help us. I suppose I ought not to have been hurt by his answer, but it had a sting in it he little suspected, for looking at me he said, “What payment shall you give me?”—and that after more than three months attention. It was one of those times when words do not readily come. I said nothing, but thought the more, and was relieved that one of the other men turned and reminded Aisi of what I had done for him.
However, no matter if the Papuan does sometimes connect our medicine with his sorcery; no matter if he is ungrateful according to our standards, there is no doubt about the help given him in his time of need. It is a bit of real practical Christianity he can understand and profit by, and by its means it is possible to get into close personal touch with him, and show him something of the spirit of Him who went about doing good to the unthankful as well as the thankful.
CHAPTER XIV
Peace-Making
In 1887 the natives of Moviavi made a raid upon the coast village of Motumotu. Amongst those killed were Tauraki, the Rarotongan teacher at Motumotu, and his child. Papua was then a British Protectorate and the Government sent a party to Moviavi to inflict punishment for the raid and murders. At the end of the next year Chalmers went to live for a time at Motumotu, and Walker and I went to visit him. Till then there had been no communication between Moviavi and Motumotu, though Chalmers had been pleading for peace.
So much by way of introduction. Now for the story. One evening Lahari, the fighting chief of Motumotu, and in those days one of the finest built men I had ever seen, came to the house and had a long talk with Tamate (Chalmers). Not knowing anything of the language we had to wait till Lahari had gone, and then Tamate told us we were in for a good thing, as an official “peace making” had been arranged between the two villages, and we were invited to attend. The Mission teacher had been killed, so the missionaries must be present at the burying of the hatchet, and join in the peace. Details had to be arranged, but they would all be arranged in a few days, and we should be informed when the day had been officially settled.
It was something for new arrivals in the country to have the opportunity of being present at such a function, and I for one looked forward eagerly to the day. The notice duly arrived, and early one morning, accompanied by the peace-loving old chief Hori, we started up the Williams River in the whale boat. We were to take the “short cut,” and so soon turned out of the main river into one of the many small streams which drain the Delta. This narrowed so quickly that before long the boatmen had a difficulty in keeping their oars clear of the banks, and the wonderful vegetation, not content with the land, reached out over the stream till meeting overhead it formed the nave of one of nature’s cathedrals. Sago palms with fronds forty feet long predominated, but where the ground was a little dryer cocoanut and areca palms abounded, and underneath them flourished crotons, hybiscus, pandanus, all wreathed together by vines of many kinds.