The Savage South Seas. E. Way Elkington

STATION, PORT MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA.

      The natives themselves run along the poles as quickly as if they were on paved streets, whilst the little kiddies scramble, and slip, and tumble about as if they were on an ordinary floor. A fall through the piles is almost an unknown calamity to them.

      Under the houses, when the tide is out, the natives can be seen cutting out their canoes, making their pottery, repairing their fishing gear and attending to other duties; but they much prefer to loll about on the verandahs of their huts, looking out at the sea, thinking of nothing.

      The whole of Elevera only covers about ten acres, but in that space the huts are crowded together, and give cover to hundreds of healthy and prosperous-looking inhabitants. On the mainland the houses are built on small pile platforms, only three or four feet from the ground, whilst others in the back country are built in trees and look like gigantic birds’-nests. This last custom, however, has quite died out, for with the introduction of the axe the protection of a house in a tree would be of little use, for one blow would fetch the whole construction down. Also the introduction of the police and the work of the Government have so diminished the {22} chances of tribal wars that the native no longer goes to such trouble. In the old days the inmates of these nests kept a supply of stones and spears on their verandahs, and were able to use them with great effect on their troublesome neighbours below. Now such a position would only make them good marks for a rifle shot.

      The bush men, or “men belong bush,” to speak in native parlance, are far more industrious than the “men belong sea,” they who live by the shore. For besides cultivating the land, growing yams, bananas, and taro, they make a fair living by hunting.

      Two distinct tribes inhabit the villages in Port Moresby, the Koitapus and Motus. They live amicably enough together now, but seldom intermarry. The Koitapus were undoubtedly the original inhabitants, and in colour are somewhat darker than their friends, and have narrower heads, otherwise it is very hard to distinguish one from the other; but in their manners, customs, and language there is a marked difference. The Motu tribe consider themselves the superior of the two, though they live in great fear of the mysterious powers the Koitapus are said to possess, and were it not for this superstition the Motus would soon overrule and probably vanquish the other tribe.

      TREE HOUSE IN BRITISH NEW GUINEA

      {23}

      So strong is their superstitious belief in the powers of the Koitapus, that directly one of them falls ill, presents are immediately despatched to a Koitapu man or woman with instructions to remove the evil influence that has brought the sickness or calamity. The weather also is supposed to be in the hands of the Koitapus, and be it wet or fine the Motus have to pay up, that is if they want it changed.

      As a tribe the Motus undoubtedly are superior, especially in such things as cleanliness, cooking, and eating. The Koitapu natives will devour almost anything with a relish unknown in civilised countries, but the Motu is careful and particular both about the cooking of his food and the article cooked. Most of the Motus have their eatables boiled in earthenware jars, whilst the Koitapu cooks his in an earth oven.

      The Motus gain their living chiefly by fishing and making pottery, and they exchange both fish and pots with the Koitapu for animal food, vegetables, and the results of their agricultural pursuits.

      The position of the two tribes is summed up thus:—

      “Yours is the sea, the canoes, the nets,” says the Koitapu man, “ours the land and the wallaby. {24} Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery for our yarns and bananas.”

      It is on this understanding that the two tribes live amicably together in Hanuabada and Elevera.

      Altogether Port Moresby is as quaint and picturesque a spot as ever was seen. A bright blue sky and a sea the colour of which is for ever changing, a stillness only broken by the roaring surf, the hum of insects, the occasional cries of the sea-birds, and the chatter of the natives, make up this delightful haven of rest. No roaring train or smoking chimney is there to distract the wayfarer; no newspaper boy yelling out his “disasters” to cause one a sleepless night. A spot in which to rest and dream, ay, and study the curious customs of one of the most interesting savage races in the world, if you like that sort of employment.

      MOTU VILLAGE, PORT MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA

      CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      Natives who grow crops of hair—A word or two about the women—Duties of married women—How they carry their babes, and the philosophy of childhood.

      The natives of New Guinea are fine specimens of human nature, but taken as a race they cannot be compared to the Maoris of New Zealand or even to the Fijians. The men are infinitely better-looking than the women, and their splendid stock of hair, which they wear bunched up all over their head, sets off their appearance in a remarkable manner. The young women are bright and cheerful-looking, and amongst them there are some striking creatures; but there are many sad-looking specimens, some of the old women are veritable hags, and many fine young girls are quite spoilt by the quaint habit they have of shaving their heads, whilst some of the best specimens of men are disfigured by their yellow, bloodshot eyes, so noticeable in contrast to their dark skins. {26}

      As workers the New Guinea natives are probably in advance of many natives of the adjoining islands. They are, of course, better than the aboriginal of Australia, who would as lief die as do an honest day’s work, but that does not say much for them. There is no doubt about it, they do not love work, though they get through a certain amount.

      In Port Moresby the natives of Hanuabada and Elevera live chiefly by fishing, canoe-building, and pottery-making. The men do the fishing and canoe-building, whilst the women and children loiter over the pottery-making. There is a complete absence of hurry; all the natives work as if they had a lifetime to complete their job; there is a calmness in them that is only rivalled by the sky over their heads and the air that blows over this island, and perhaps it is from nature they have learnt that calm and stolid indifference to just those things over which we believe it is necessary to hustle.

      IN THE PILE DWELLINGS AT HANUABADA, PORT MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA.

      One extremely peculiar trait in the character of the natives of British New Guinea is their dislike to inquisitiveness. You can implore a native to tell you his name, and even offer him coin to pay him for that information, but it has no effect. He {27} will tell you some name, if you press him hard enough, but it won’t be his, as you will discover if you try to find him again. As an instance of this peculiarity, Mr. Norman Hardy was particularly struck by a canoe he saw lying on the sand in the main street of Elevera, and seeing a native standing by, he asked him if the canoe belonged to him, as he would like to buy it. The native smiled blandly and shook his head.

      “Don’t you know whose it is?” asked Mr. Hardy.

      “Don’t know; man over there, p’r’aps,” said the native.

      “What’s his name?” Mr. Hardy pursued.

      “No name.” The native shook his bushy head.

      “Well, show me which is the hut he lives in.”

      At this question the man began to fidget, and then, glancing carelessly at the row of huts, all as like each other as peas, he swept his hand past the whole lot and said:

      “That one.”

      And that was all the information concerning the name and possessor of the canoe that Mr. Hardy obtained. Subsequently he learned that the owner of it was the very man he had been questioning.