CHAPTER VIII
UAP FRIENDSHIPS
A good method of learning a language, where there is neither dictionary, textbook, nor grammar, is to begin, in the primary class, with the children. Accordingly, to the children I devoted my earliest attention; in the guise of a playmate, I let them unwittingly instruct me. One game, with its marvellous amplifications, I found to be exceedingly popular: our nursery game of cat’s-cradle. It is, indeed, a game and pastime not only of the children, but also of youths, maidens, matrons, and old men. All were familiar with figures which, at first made my head swim by their intricacy and the lightning rapidity of the wriggling brown fingers. I was already familiar with one or two figures which I had learned from a delightful paper in The Journal of the Anthropological Institute, by my friend, Dr. A. C. Haddon, and I was keen for more.
My first lesson came from the hands of Kakofel, the young daughter of Lian, Chief of Dulukan. Curly-headed, little Pooguroo was my earliest and most faithful friend; and Kakofel came next. Her father brought her with him, or rather she trudged after in his train, the first morning after Friedlander and I arrived at his village. We were busy getting our various “traps” ready for the day’s work; Friedlander with his merchandise, and I with my photographic outfit, when Lian, a handsome man with a somewhat negroid face, but light in colour, solemnly ascended the ladder and silently squatted cross-legged on the floor a short distance from the door. Directly behind him a closely cropped little head arose; at first, just on a level with the threshold; next, there cautiously peered forth a pair of wide open, wondering, snappy black eyes, framed all round in long, jet-black lashes, making the whites look larger and whiter; then uprose a little brown body girdled with a straggly skirt of dried leaves hanging down to the knees; last of all two little brown legs, and lo, there stood Kakofel! She immediately seated herself cross-legged beside her father, conveniently near the doorway, however, in readiness for an instant retreat down the ladder at a second’s notice. Not a word did the dignified, impassive Lian utter; Friedlander took no notice of him, and I, like “Br’er Rabbit,” kept on saying nothing. Greetings are not “good form” in Uap, and nowhere is it diplomatic to blurt out at once the object of a visit. A row of little brown heads, following Kakofel’s example, now appeared on the level of the threshold, but remained there, motionless, like little tropical cherubim with the wings moulted. Of course, Lian had his betel basket with him, and so did Kakofel, and the embarrassing pause was bridged by the preparation of a bolus, which they both performed mechanically, while their eyes narrowly examined us and every corner of the room. The little maid was about twelve years old, an exceedingly round and healthy little body for one brought up on coconuts; according to the Uap standard of beauty, the little girl gave promise of a highly attractive future belle.
GURUNGEN. MATENAK. POOGUROO.
“GAGAI,” OR CAT’S CRADLE
At length Lian spoke, and just as though he were of the highest culture and fashion, began with the weather and the prospects of rain, just then much needed for the coconut trees and the tanks, or rather water holes, on the island; then, of course, the next subjects broached were coconuts, copra, and trade; I could not understand what was said, but Friedlander, always courteous and kind, included me in the conversation by translating from time to time. The peculiar appearance of the little damsel’s cheeks was, however, what I was most anxious to have explained. She looked as if she were suffering from an extraordinarily severe attack of mumps combined with jaundice. At the earliest opportunity I begged my host to permit me to ask by what mysterious malady she had been attacked; and I extended my hand to touch the strange excrescences; she shrank back timidly with a little cry and her feet darted for the first rung of the ladder; thereupon all the cherubim instantly disappeared. I at once tried to make amends by stepping back a few paces; her father then explained that what I had mistaken for mumps were merely the halves of a coconut shell worn to protect her poor, little ears, which had been recently punched in conformity with the feminine fashions of Uap. These shell protectors had been scraped smooth and powdered thickly with saffron, or reng-reng, an ornamental cosmetic in universal use and the stain had been so smeared over the little girl’s neck and cheeks that the skin and shells were all the same colour.
KAKOFEL, THE DAUGHTER OF LIAN, WITH COCONUT SHELLS TO PROTECT HER RECENTLY PERFORATED EARS
When she saw, however, that my interest was friendly, she loosened the strings that held the coconut shells in place and showed me, as a special favour, her terribly swollen ears, whereof the lobes had been punctured and a wad of oily green leaves, as thick as a dentist’s thumb, inserted in the wound to keep it from closing up. Her spirits were not, however, in the least depressed by her afflictions, and after I had, as a fair exchange, displayed to her some elaborate Japanese tattooing on my arms and she had contributed to it many smudges of black and yellow from her inquisitive fingers, we became excellent friends. To change the subject, I produced a string and inquiringly showed her one of my cat’s-cradle figures. She watched my awkward movements with open-mouthed wonder and then, taking the string, made a figure, which she called melāng,—coral,—representing a stalk of coral with two side branches; of course, I was eager to learn it, and in my attempts I increased my vocabulary with several words or phrases,—dakafel, meaning “not right,”—kafel, “all right,” and piri amith, “very painful,” which I was told to say when she nearly twisted my fingers out of joint in forcing them through tight loops or in hooking them over each other at impossible angles. Manigil, “excellent, very good” was the last word I learned.