THE “SHIELD GAME,” IN WHICH THE COMPETITORS ENDEAVOUR TO PUSH ONE ANOTHER OVER—TRIBAL DISPUTES ARE OCCASIONALLY SETTLED WITHOUT BLOODSHED BY CHOSEN TEAMS.
[From a Photograph.]
The “Shield Game” is another pastime of the grown-up natives. In this each man is provided with a strong shield made of palm-leaf stalks. Armed with this he faces his opponent. After much preliminary stamping and feigning they close and a mighty struggle commences, in which each man endeavours to push his adversary back. It is a kind of tug-of-war reversed. Besides being a game, it is often used as a means to settle disputes, in which, of course, the strongest man wins. The accompanying photograph gives an excellent idea of the pastime. Occasionally when tribes fall out a whole line of experts are chosen from each side, and the dispute is settled without bloodshed by the success of either side. It will be gleaned from this that the quality of “pushfulness” has an added value in British Guiana.
To go back to the games of children and also to jump a few thousand miles to the west, we find some interesting and curious pastimes among the aboriginals of Australia, where the young idea copies the ways of its fathers and makes games of their serious ceremonies. Amongst other things they play at marriage, taking some of the romantic details prior to the ceremony to make their game. In some parts of Australia an aboriginal has first to catch his wife before he can marry her, and the youngsters have probably heard from their mothers that this was not always the easiest thing to do, for there may have been others anxious to wed her—provided always that she was a good worker, looks being of small account. So the children have taken all these things into consideration and made their game from them.
As these aborigines have no proper villages, but live in shelters thrown together in the most primitive fashion, the children choose a spot in the bush where Nature has made a sort of covering; they then congregate and imitate grown-up people, chattering about nothing in particular, whilst the young man hovers round in the bush. Suddenly he bears down on the players and attempts to abduct one of the girls. This arouses the others, who all try to stop him, and one of the young gallants attacks the would-be abductor and a mock fight ensues, the winner bearing the maiden off in triumph to the bush.
AN AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINAL CORROBOREE
From a Photo. by permission of the Queensland Government.
Amongst the men there are few real games; they all seem to take life rather seriously, and as soon as they are grown up they devote their whole time to obtaining food and taking part in the numerous religious ceremonies, some of which are most elaborate and trying functions. To us these may appear very like games, but to the aborigines they are particularly sacred. Of late years, however, they have turned one or two of these ceremonies into dances or corroborees, but probably this has been done to amuse the whites and extract money from them—like the Maoris, who now dance the “Haka” as if it were a spectacular dance for the benefit of the Pakeha. With the coming of civilization and peace some phases of its serious import have gone. The photograph given above shows Australian aborigines performing the kangaroo dance, which is a modified exhibition of one of their ancient ceremonies. It is not an exciting affair, nor beautiful, as these savages are not adepts at dancing. All they do is to crawl about, stamping and gesticulating, whilst the man dressed as a kangaroo goes backwards and forwards and up and down the line with a sort of high-stepping action. This kangaroo dance at one time had a significant meaning, and was probably danced in connection with an old-time legend, but, like many similar ceremonies, it is now carried on simply because the ancestors of the present generation taught it. This in itself would be quite sufficient to keep the most absurd custom alive, for ancestors are held in great reverence amongst savages.
One of the most amusing games I have ever witnessed in savage lands was in New Zealand, where I saw a crowd of children dancing an imitation “Haka.” The “Haka,” when danced seriously by grown-ups, is a most awe-inspiring and thrilling exhibition which stirs every nerve in your body; but when children dance it, it becomes a grotesque and laughable affair. The Maoris, men, women, and children, have a well-developed sense of humour, which is more than most savages have, and the word “savage” hardly applies to them, for more civilized and Christian beings would be hard to find. When white men first came in contact with them they found them anything but civilized except in their ideas of justice, in which they were able to give us lessons; in hospitality even now they can put a white man to shame. However, for the purpose of this article I will call them savages.
The children from their earliest days begin to laugh. I do not remember ever seeing one cry—and they seem to spend the rest of their days with a smile hovering somewhere near their faces, ready at the slightest provocation to come out. As the “Haka” is composed of a series of body movements, in which facial expression plays a prominent part, the children have plenty of scope to caricature the whole performance, which they turn into a merry pantomime, stamping and shouting, rolling their eyes, and hanging out their tongues in curious imitation of the real performers. The girls, too, have their dances, and these are really both pretty and interesting, for they are handsome creatures who know they are good looking, and enjoy showing themselves off to the best advantage, as one can see by the pretty and fascinating movements of the various dances they practise. The only thing that mars them is their anxiety to make grotesque faces every now and then, but perhaps this too is done by way of contrast. The men have the same failing, and though their expressions are more savage they do not add to the charm of the dances. To perform a dance of welcome in front of a visiting tribe, and pull horrible faces at them the while, is hardly likely to make the visitors feel at home, but the Maoris understand it, and so do not get cross, as you and I might.