CHAPTER XVIBURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES
CHAPTER XVIBURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES
CHAPTER XVIBURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES
CHAPTER XVI
BURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES
The Papuans are not a long-lived race. The mountain people die off about forty: at Googooli, high up on the mountains, we saw one very old man, who may have been sixty years of age—the only example of longevity that we came across. He was a very pathetic spectacle: his features were almost gone, the skin was terribly shrivelled, and the eyes sunken. He was bent almost double, and had a long white beard. His fellow-tribesmen regarded him as a great curiosity, and brought him to see us. Despite the decrepitude of his body, however, there was no trace of senility: his senses were unimpaired; and the poor old creature showed great gratitude for a gift of tobacco.
Of the mountain people’s burial customs I have no precise knowledge, but at Hanuabada we were able to observe a coast funeral. The dead body was wrapped in a net and lashed to a pole, which was borne by two bearers. To the funeral, which was celebrated the morning after death, the whole village turned out, and followed the corpse without any regard to precedence, except that the chief mourner—in this case, the mother—walked immediately behind the bier. The chief mourner is invariably blacked all over with charcoal, but the others wearno token of sorrow. Just as the procession started the women set up a tremendous wailing, which was continued all the way to the grave. On reaching the burial-place, which was some seven minutes’ walk from the village, the corpse was set down, and the mother, seating herself at its head, encircled it with her arms, the hands being clasped below the chin, and began with shrill cries to try to call her son back to life. For twenty minutes, while the shallow grave was being dug, this ceremony proceeded, while the rest of the mourners sat around. The corpse was then lifted into the grave without much reverence and was covered up, the mourners waiting until this was done, whereupon they walked away and, as far as they were concerned, the mourning was over, and far from being a cause of sorrow, it had become merely an interesting topic of conversation. The chief mourner, however, if a woman, keeps the house, and sees no one after the funeral for a space that may extend to three weeks. It is indeed very difficult to persuade a mourner to leave the house. Another method of disposal of the dead is tree-burial. A light framework of bamboo or sticks is laid in the fork of a tree. On this the corpse, wrapped in bark, is exposed. When nature has done its work on the remains, the bones are afterwards distributed among the friends of the deceased.
1.—YOUNG NATIVES’ CURIOSITY ABOUT MY CAMERA.2.—WOMEN CARRIERS ON THE WAY TO PORT MORESBY.
1.—YOUNG NATIVES’ CURIOSITY ABOUT MY CAMERA.2.—WOMEN CARRIERS ON THE WAY TO PORT MORESBY.
1.—YOUNG NATIVES’ CURIOSITY ABOUT MY CAMERA.2.—WOMEN CARRIERS ON THE WAY TO PORT MORESBY.
They do not believe in a natural death, and attribute every decease to poison in a vague and general sort of way. Belief in another world they have none, and the most elementary ideas of religion do not seem to exist. There is not even any definite superstition, but only a sort of vague and particularly childish belief in some kind of magic under the name of “Fi-fi.” This is a sort of divination, and is practised at night by a recognised medium, usually a girl, who is “Fi-fi,” and yet who is, at the same time, believed to represent this mysterious power known as “Fi-fi.”
Fi-fi is supposed to be a spirit always invisible and occasionally audible. It is considered a bringer of both good and bad luck, but although this is so no attempt is made to propitiate it. The cult indeed is so absurd that the wonder is that the people believe in it at all; yet, although there is apparently nothing supernatural on the face of it, the Papuans are willing to credit its manifestations. When a tribe wishes to know its luck, and when a hostile attack is imminent, it has recourse to the rites of Fi-fi; these are always celebrated at night. The crowd gathers round the fire, and the girl who is supposed to be the medium of the power is told off to communicate with Fi-fi; from that moment, by a peculiar confusion in their minds between the spirit and the medium, she becomes Fi-fi to all intents and purposes. She retires to some corner near at hand, where she is not seen, and from there she whistles in different keys. The sound is made entirely at the medium’s discretion, but the moment it is heard the people exclaim that Fi-fi has come, and they judge by the whistling whether the omens are favourable or not. They would seem to have an idea of two Fi-fis, for the girl’s first call is two short notes repeated. No immediate answer comes, and the people round the fire remark casually toeach other that the other Fi-fi has not heard, but they say, “Gua-fua”—that is, “Wait.” The girl whistles again, and in a moment or two answers herself; then the listeners round the fire exclaim, “Oi-kai-yoi, Fi-fi-mai” (“You hear, Fi-fi has come”). Occasionally we have said to them, “Tell Fi-fi to speak,” but they refused point-blank; and when we asked them why they did not bring Fi-fi, they said they could not. The priestess varied her whistle, and then interpreted her own messages. Once a woman is chosen to communicate with Fi-fi, she retains the office for life. This form of divination occurred most frequently at Waley.
The priestess is not above the Delphic trick of framing her oracles to suit political necessity or her own inclinations and likings. One would think that people of such general common sense as the Papuans would see the possibility of deception, but they have implicit faith in Fi-fi’s manifestations.
Certain insects, I noted, were also regarded as “Fi-fi.” When a particular species of fire-fly entered the house at night the natives immediately predicted bad luck, or impending attack and extermination by hostile tribes. This failure of intelligence at one point is paralleled by their inability to grasp the simplest idea of number. Further than three they cannot count, although we often tried, by means of their ten fingers, to instil some notions of a higher calculus into them.
On the march we observed the existence of a curious system of warnings. Now and then a green bough, newly broken off, would be found lying in the path, and the sight of this almost drives the natives outof their wits; for it is the recognised symbol that some one has been there who does not want you to pass. It has a correlative in a friendly symbol, which is also a broken bough, but in this instance it is not entirely severed from the tree.
Another superstition is “Wada,” which, as far as one can ascertain, seems to be a belief in an invisible man who stands near a tree, but is so like it that he cannot be seen. As you go through the forest “Wada” may touch you, and then you are doomed. After this there is nothing for you to do but go home and die; and so great is the power of suggestion, that a person who believes he has been touched by “Wada” generally does die.
Mavai practised “Wada,” but it took a somewhat pharmaceutical form with him. He made an abominable mixture of rotten bananas, and all sorts of decomposing matter. This he kept in his house and gave to persons he wanted to be rid of, generally without any evil effect, but that never shook his belief in the efficacy of his decoctions. It was delightfully comical to see the seriousness with which he sat compounding his horrid messes, and telling you of their dire results. It may be wondered how ever he got the dread substance administered; but then, of course, Mavai was all-powerful, and the person who refused to take his “Wada” drugs would probably have encountered “Wada”—a sure and certain “Wada”—in the person of Mavai himself.
There was also some confusion of “Wada” with a stone or a stick, and therein probably one might find the truth about the real deadliness of the charm.
The Papuans are entirely without history as a people, and of personal tradition they have only the merest scraps. At Port Moresby they had a legend of an eclipse, and referred to it as “Labi labi” (that is, “night”). They have no tales of gods or heroes, and their chief interest is the question, “Where are you going?” and “What are you doing?”
They were very keen to see our photographs, and had no difficulty in understanding a picture: therein they differed greatly from the debased Australian aborigines, who could never grasp the graphic symbol, and in the famous instance, when shown a picture of Queen Victoria, said it was a ship. They picked out their friends’ photographs at once, and recognised them with exclamations of delight. For one of our men, however, our stereoscope proved too much, as the relief of the figures had probably been too realistic; and on being invited to look at a group of our retainers, he no sooner put his eyes to the glass than he howled and nearly dropped the instrument. He ran away, saying, “Mookau meego” (“Man lives there”), and could not be persuaded to look again.
I hope that during my next journey I may be able to pierce more deeply into the psychology of the Papuans, and it may be that, with greater familiarity, they will communicate more of what they know; for it appears improbable that they should be as destitute as they seem of legend or myth.
SMOKING THE BAU-BAU.This curious pipe is made of a length of bamboo closed at each end. Into a small hole at one end is inserted a small green leaf rolled like a grocer’s paper bag. In this the lighted tobacco is placed. The smoker then reverses the tube, and sucks in the smoke until the bamboo is filled. He now takes out the tobacco and inhales a long whiff. The operation is repeated as long as the tobacco lasts.
SMOKING THE BAU-BAU.This curious pipe is made of a length of bamboo closed at each end. Into a small hole at one end is inserted a small green leaf rolled like a grocer’s paper bag. In this the lighted tobacco is placed. The smoker then reverses the tube, and sucks in the smoke until the bamboo is filled. He now takes out the tobacco and inhales a long whiff. The operation is repeated as long as the tobacco lasts.
SMOKING THE BAU-BAU.This curious pipe is made of a length of bamboo closed at each end. Into a small hole at one end is inserted a small green leaf rolled like a grocer’s paper bag. In this the lighted tobacco is placed. The smoker then reverses the tube, and sucks in the smoke until the bamboo is filled. He now takes out the tobacco and inhales a long whiff. The operation is repeated as long as the tobacco lasts.
Over the “Bau-bau,” or social pipe, I trust there may be some discoveries in store for me. The Papuan pipe is itself a most interesting instrument, not only in its everyday use, but in its construction and in the method of smoking. It is made of one joint of bamboo, closed at both ends by the natural section of the bamboo. In the side of the cylinder near one end they drill a hole by applying a piece of hard wood made red-hot. They press the red-hot wood to the bamboo, and blow it to incandescence, repeating the operation until a hole is pierced. They next knock a hole in the opposite end of the bamboo, so as to admit a current of air. The red-hot wood is now applied again to the original hole, and they blow through the hole knocked in the opposite end until the small hole in the side is gradually enlarged. The “Bau-bau” is now complete, except for its ornamentation. Elaborate patterns are scratched on the hard enamel of the bamboo with glass, a knife, a stone, or red-hot wood, and the speed with which this decoration is accomplished is extraordinary.
In the accompanying illustration I show some of the prevailing patterns. On the march our men would cut a bamboo, and on reaching camp would borrow some suitable tool from us, and make a pipe in a very short time. They were sufficiently accomplished smokers, however, to like an old “Bau-bau” best, and gave the reason, which will be appreciated by every smoker, that tobacco is not good in a new one.
The method of smoking is elaborate. They roll a leaf into a little horn, and insert it in the smaller hole on the side of the “Bau-bau,” within this leaf is placed the charge of tobacco which they light, and then placing their lips to the end hole they draw. The little horn, or cigarette as one may call it, is now removed from the hole in the side, and if the pipe isnew they blow away the first charge of smoke, by placing their lips to the hole in which the cigarette was originally inserted. Again the cigarette is placed in the small hole, and the pipe is drawn from the end hole. This time the smoke is intended to be used, so the cigarette is removed from the small hole, and the smoker applying his lips thereto inhales the whole charge. Again the cigarette is removed, and the pipe is filled by a long pull at the end hole, but this time the smoker does not inhale the charge himself, but removes the cigarette and politely hands the charged pipe to his neighbour, who punctiliously rubs the mouthpiece, and enjoys the long whiff. Very often there is one drawer for an entire party, whose duty it is to fill the pipe with smoke, and pass it so filled to each of his companions in turn.
They usually sit in a circle for these smoking parties; and in camp the “Bau-bau” is continually used. They grow their own tobacco, which is very rank, and not good smoking at all. In fact, the natives themselves cannot inhale much, as it makes them giddy; and they are not infrequently seized with severe fits of coughing when the fumes have proved particularly suffocating.
The supply of tobacco is carried in the armlet or behind the ear—this last method being not unknown to the festive Cockney, who, on Bank Holiday, is seldom complete without a cigarette so worn.
The pipe at the end of the day’s march was invariably well earned, for the heartiness and endurance of my carriers were almost incredible. On one occasion I despatched a party to one of my camps, thirty milesdistant, through an almost inaccessible mountain region. They left at eight o’clock in the morning, and came into camp again at five in the afternoon of the following day, having accomplished the whole journey of sixty miles, and the latter half while they were burdened with their loads of rice, tinned provisions, tobacco and hardware, and all the other miscellaneous articles known as “trade.” The women’s loads weighed about 50 lbs., the men’s somewhat less, for the women are the great burden-bearers in New Guinea.
The difficulties of our march were heightened by certain natural features, particularly the stinging trees, which occurred close to Madui. The tree in shape, size, and foliage resembles a sycamore, and has a leaf of which the under side is extremely rough and covered with spines. These possess a stinging power like that of the nettle, only much worse, and the irritation lasts far longer. The slightest touch is sufficient to wound. First a white blister appears, then redness, covering about a square inch around each pustule; rubbing aggravates the irritation, which shortly becomes maddening. The pain is not allayed for at least twelve hours; and I have never observed any natural antidote growing in the vicinity of this stinging-tree, as the dock-leaf grows near the nettle. Needless to say, the natives take the utmost care to give these trees a wide berth.
A smaller stinging-plant, resembling our nettle, only larger, with a rough under side of pale pea-green, is also found at intervals in the forest; both sides of the leaf possess the power of irritation. The nativesuse it as a universal specific for all ailments. As soon as they come on a clump of this plant the women discard their loads and gather bundles of the leaves, which they carefully preserve for future requirements. It is also applied probably for the sheer pleasure of it when they have no actual disorder, and it is quite common for them to rub their bodies lightly with the leaves. This causes violent irritation, followed by a feeling of pleasant numbness, like that which results from the application of menthol. For a mosquito bite this is a most admirable remedy, since the irritation of the bite is allayed and goes down long before the irritation of the leaf has passed. It is a curious example of the old medical practice of counter-irritation. Although we were glad to resort to it for mosquito bites, no European would without that cause risk the irritation for the sake of possible future benefits.
While on the subject of Papuan sovereign remedies, I may mention a curious form of bleeding which is in use among the tribes, especially among the younger men. The bleeding is performed by two persons, who sit opposite to each other. The operator takes a small drill, or rather probe of cassowary bone brought to an extremely fine point, and this is attached to the string of a tiny bow about 4 inches long. Holding the bow as if he were going to shoot, the operator aims the little probe at the patient’s forehead, draws the bow slowly, and lets the string go; the probe is thus brought into sharp contact with the patient’s skin, and the operation of drawing the bow and letting fly the arrow isrepeated again and again until blood is drawn. It should be remembered that the probe or arrow is always attached to the string and never escapes. The patient now leans forward, and the blood is allowed to flow profusely on to the ground.
I have often seen as much as half a pint allowed to escape. When faintness supervenes the wound is staunched with ashes or any convenient styptic, and the patient sits up. If the ashes fail to act, cautery with a hot cinder is practised. Headache is the usual trouble for which this remedy is applied, and this frequency of bleeding may be the reason why there is no heart disease or sudden death among the natives. This may probably lend colour to the theory of some physicians, that the increase of heart disease and sudden death in civilised nations is due to the entire abandonment of bleeding, once certainly carried to excess.
Although the women do all the hard work of the house and in the field, they are nevertheless regarded with affection. It is erroneous to suppose that they are compelled to be burden-bearers because they are lightly esteemed. As far as my own observation goes, the men are left free of loads, or are given lighter loads, in order that they may be ready to protect the women from the sudden raids of other tribes. Their gardens are often a considerable distance from the village, and the women never go to gather yams or taro, or to till their patches, without an escort of young men as protectors.
On the other hand, the men are not idle, but perform their part in the economic system byacting as hunters. Their chief game is the pig, the cassowary, and the wallaby. They hunt this quarry with spears, and drive the game into nets which have been spread between the trees and posts in the forest over a considerable area, forming a corral, approached by a long decoy, two long lines of nets gradually converging. When the nets have been set the drive commences. The beaters extend themselves for a considerable distance, and, with the assistance of dogs, gradually force the game towards the nets. The game is plentiful, and as it closes towards the corral, birds and beasts are forced into the centre in crowds. At length the hunters close round the opening, a final rush is made, and the victims are despatched with spears. These hunting bouts occur only at long intervals, and on the lower slopes of the mountains. After a successful drive there is a great jollification. Fires are built in the camp, the game is roasted, and in an incredibly short space of time every portion has disappeared, and the people are lying around gorged.
In one particular delicacy favoured by the Papuans I was, as an entomologist, very much interested. The natives are exceedingly fond of the larvæ of a large tropical beetle, one of thePassalidæ, which are found in decayed tree trunks. Whenever the natives noticed the presence of the borings made by the larvæ, they seized a native instrument, probably one of their stone axes, dug out the dainty, which is about five inches long, and ate it raw. Should a fire be handy, they would sometimes throw the larvæ into the ashes, give it a turn or two, and then enjoy it: the flavour is said to resemble that of a lemon. I could never, however, bring myself to try it.
A PAPUAN HUNT.The natives drive their game, chiefly the pig, the cassowary, and the wallaby (a small kangaroo) into a corral, and then despatch the quarry with spears.
A PAPUAN HUNT.The natives drive their game, chiefly the pig, the cassowary, and the wallaby (a small kangaroo) into a corral, and then despatch the quarry with spears.
A PAPUAN HUNT.The natives drive their game, chiefly the pig, the cassowary, and the wallaby (a small kangaroo) into a corral, and then despatch the quarry with spears.
The Papuans are a jovial, light-hearted people, and when a stranger has once won their confidence they are hospitable and friendly. Their trust when once gained will stand even rather severe tests, as I found to my great satisfaction and advantage after a stay of some months at Mount Kebea. I was anxious to push farther into the interior, but found myself absolutely without beads, which are the journey money of the explorer. It would have delayed me too long to have waited for the return of my messengers, who had been sent to the coast for a further supply, so I hit upon the expedient of trying how far my credit with the natives would go. I called the tribe—men, women, and children—together, and in a lengthy harangue I explained the situation to them; finally asking them if they would lend me their beads, which every one of them wore on his or her person in considerable profusion, promising them that on my return I would pay them double the quantity. This tribe, be it noted, was not to accompany me farther, and the beads would have to be given to other bearers, whom I should engage as I proceeded. These ornamentations are to the Papuans as precious as her pearls are to agrande dame, but, nevertheless, every man, woman, and child immediately consented to the loan. This appreciation of the idea of credit—one might almost say of banking—denotes a considerable receptivity of mind, and shows that the Papuan cannot be inaccessible to civilisation.
I cannot pass from the subject of the Papuan athome without saying something about his children, who are the merriest little creatures imaginable. Without being very demonstrative, the parents like them well enough, and the child is not at all hardly used—although, be it remembered, the family pig has a deeper place in the adults’ affections. In times of stress it is to be feared it is the pig that is first considered, probably because it is so important an article of diet. The devotion to this animal goes far further than that of Pat, for it is not unusual to see a Papuan woman acting as foster-mother to a young pig.
But to return to the children; up to the age of seven their life is one long holiday, and they very early begin to practise the use of weapons. Spearthrowing is their favourite sport; for this they use a long stick of grass with an enlarged root. They pull off all the leaves until the shaft is clean, and the root is allowed to remain to represent the heavy head of the spear. Their targets are each other, and at a very early age they have acquired a marvellous dexterity, hitting each other with nicest accuracy even at 40 feet range. Every hit is registered with a delighted jump and a howl. The amount of cleverness and dexterity required for this spear practice was realised by my son, who tried it, and found that not only could he not hit, but he could not make the spear carry. Very small girls play also at spearthrowing, but they give it up early.
We were very much amused to find the presence of “Cat’s-Cradle”; we had thought to amuse the little ones by teaching them this game, but we foundthat they were already more than our masters therein; for they no sooner saw what we were after than they let us know that they were well acquainted with it, and whereas we had just the old stereotyped process to give them, they showed us thirty different ways. They did not, however, play in pairs as we do, the players taking the string from each other’s hands in turn, but each child sits by himself or herself and works out the pattern. It is really amusing to see how they effect the different changes and the regular routine of forms by the movement of the fingers alone, without the aid of another pair of hands.
The dogs at Epa and Port Moresby were highly favoured animals. Not only had they the run of the house, but each house had an entrance sacred to the dog. To this access was given by special dog-ladders 9 inches wide, with the rungs quite a foot apart, up and down which the animals ran like monkeys.