The island of stone money

by William Henry Furness

The women, in groups about the yard, had all brought their work with them, and, sitting cross-legged on the ground, from time to time, in subdued funereal whispers wherein sibilants always seem to predominate, they gossipped with one another and kept their fingers busy, some by plaiting little pouches to hold cigarettes and tobacco, some by repairing their leafy skirts, and others by making new betel baskets; but all were solemn and subdued in the presence of death and sorrow.

It was one of those gorgeous, lazy, tropical days when the very air is idle and a sabbath stillness holds everything; there was not even the hum of an insect or the piping of a seagull to break the quiet, and only every now and then was there a breath of air strong enough to make the palm leaves rustle softly. Once, the silence was rudely broken by the thud of a ripe coconut falling to the ground, which for a brief period diverted the solemn contemplation of death to thoughts of commerce. A hush brooded over everything, even the irrepressible “tomboy” Kakofel, sat demurely beside a group of women, rolling a store of cigarettes for herself; Fak-Fintuk, Libyan, Gumaon and the other obstreperous boys were, for once, unseen. The presents consisted of six or more good sized fei of fine quality, six or seven baskets full of shell money, and numerous single strings of the same; really quite a fortune. All gifts were deposited with a good deal of display by the donors at one end of the yard in front of the house; for this service they were allowed to enter the yard, but were expected to withdraw as soon as their offering had been deposited and duly appreciated. After an hour or more waiting, five very solemn men of the Pimlingai tribe filed into the yard and sat down quietly in the background; then there was a little stir among the women as they shifted their positions to get a better view of the side of the house whence the funeral procession was to set out, and after a short pause,—for no move must be made suddenly, the Pimlingai brought forward a litter of bamboo poles covered with matting of woven coconut fronds. This they carried into the house and on it they placed the emaciated body of Mafel with his knees drawn up and tied together and his hands folded across his body. The side wall of the house of reeds and matting was taken down and through the opening the litter bearing the corpse brought out and placed upon the ground. Gyeiga’s chant grew louder and louder within the house and was no longer a mere sing-song, but a passionate wail of sorrow, when, accompanied by her two sisters-in-law (I think), she followed the litter out of the house and took her place beside it on the ground. The eyes of all three women were streaming with tears, but Gyeiga was the only one who wept aloud. The Pimlingai again retreated to the background, and Gyeiga, sitting cross-legged beside the corpse, placed two large pearl shells upon his chest, talking to him in a pleading, plaintive voice and looking directly in his horribly disfigured face. The old women in the listening and sympathising crowd, from time to time seemed to mutter an approval of her sentiments, and the wrinkled, parchment cheeks of many of them were wet with tears. Then she arose and brought two more equally fine shells from the house and placed them on top of the others with another short speech to the corpse. As soon as this was done, the Pimlingai came forward and wrapped the matting completely round the body, leaving only the top of the head bare. Two of them picked up the burden and the third placed a pole on their shoulders and to this tied the sides of the litter so that the weight was distributed evenly between their shoulders and arms. They wheeled around and rapidly walked out through an opening in the bamboo fence back of the house; Gyeiga and her two chief mourners and three or four other women followed, wailing loudly.

GYEIGA PLACING TWO PEARL SHELLS ON HER FATHER’S CORPSE

With Vincenti (Friedlander’s Christianised servant from Guam) I followed after them, barely able to keep up with their rapid pace over the slippery and irregular boulders of stone and coral with which the side paths of the island are paved. The wailing was kept up continuously by the different members of the party; when one became tired, the next took it up, and so on, until each had wailed in turn, and then Gyeiga began anew.

In and out we wound through jungle paths, now overarched with grey-green bamboos, now hemmed in with hedges of tall, variegated crotons; past small clusters of houses where the people stared to see a funeral party followed by a staggering leather-shod white man and a lad with a queer looking box on a stick over his shoulder. Then down to the flat lands, past the taro patches and plantations of yams, and through a deserted tapal, or village, of small houses used as a maternity-ward,—strange place for a funeral procession to invade. There were no inmates at that time in the little houses except numerous small grey lizards with brilliantly blue tails, that darted in all directions like little electric sparks in the sunshine on the thatched sides of the houses.

We seemed to double on our tracks and zig-zag hither and thither, until at length we passed through a Pimlingai village where three or four more women and eight or ten children of the village silently joined the procession. A short distance beyond this village, the men bearing the litter turned off the path directly into the thick undergrowth, and pushing through after them, we came out into a clearing about a hundred feet in diameter. At one side there were several young coconut palms just sprouting above the ground and scattered here and there were low mounds and piles of moss-covered stones, six or eight perhaps in all, graves of those who had gone before. The Pimlingai put down the litter bearing the last remains of Mafel close to one of these mounds, which appeared to have been very recently made and whereon still rested the decaying remnants of a similar litter; they told me afterward it was the grave of his wife who had died only a few months before.

As soon as the litter rested upon the ground, Gyeiga sat down beside it and tenderly unfastened the matting which covered the body and once more exposed it to view, and with a palm leaf began again her untiring fanning and low wailing, constantly repeating “O Mafel! O my poor one!” The Pimlingai disappeared for a minute or two in the thick jungle and undergrowth, and then emerged with long poles sharpened at one end with which they proceeded to loosen the ground at the far side of the litter with its half reclining corpse.

The chief mourners who had accompanied Gyeiga set to work plaiting rough baskets or hampers of coconut fronds, and in these the loose earth was gathered up in handfuls by the Pimlingai, and piled to one side or carried off and scattered in the jungle. After making these baskets, the women busied themselves collecting stones and flat pieces of coral rock wherewith to line and to cover the grave.

While this was going on, the women and children, twenty-five or more, who had joined the procession at the last Pimlingai village, sat silently, quite far off at the opposite side of the graveyard; I was trying to get my camera in position so as to get a view of the grave-diggers, but the only available spot placed them directly between me and the declining sun, so I was forced to refrain from the attempt. While I was testing my position, I frequently heard the female spectators of the Pimlingai whispering Tokota, Tokota, the name by which I was known to them. It was an attempt at “Doctor,” which they had heard Friedlander call me. Glancing up, I noticed one of the women looking at me and making motions up and down her arm. Then I comprehended that they wanted to see the Japanese tattooing there. I went over to her and, having rolled up my sleeves, received a liberal palming and rubbing; amazed at the various colours, she and the others could not believe they were not mere paint which a vigorous rub, aided by moisture from the tongue, would remove. The sight of a Japanese carp tattooed on the calf of my leg called forth such loud expressions of admiration, that I was afraid I was sadly interfering with the proprieties of the mournful occasion, so I drew up my stockings and hastily retired.