The large weir nets are simply ordinary frameless nets about 3 to 5 yards long, and 1 yard wide, with a fairly small mesh. The smaller ones are hand nets, made in two forms. One of these is made of ordinary fine netting, and is bag-shaped, being strung on a round looped end of cane, of which the other end is the handle, the net being about the size of a good-sized butterfly net. The other form is also framed on a looped cane; but the loop in this case is larger and more oval in shape, and the netting is made of the web of a large spider. To make it they take the already looped cane to where there are a number of such webs, and twist the looped end round and round among the webs, until there is stretched across the loop a double or treble or quadruple layer of web, which, though flat when made, is elastic, and when used becomes under pressure more or less bag-shaped.

The fishers first make a weir of upright sticks placed close together among the stones in the river bed, the weir stretching across the greater part of, or sometimes only half-way across, the river. The side of the river left open and undammed is filled up with stones to such a height that the water flowing over it is shallow, and the fish do not escape across it. In the middle of the weir they leave an open space or sluice, behind which they fasten the big net. [87] Plate 76 shows a weir on the Aduala river, a portion of the open sluice being seen on the left. After forming the weir, but before fixing the net, the fishers all join in a sort of prayer or invocation to the river. For example, on the Aduala river they will say, "Aduala, give us plenty of fish, that we may eat well." This is the only ceremony in connection with the fishing, and there is no food or other taboo associated with it; but here again charms are often relied upon. The big net catches most of the fish which are carried down by the rush of water through the opening in the weir; but a group of fishermen stand round it with their hand nets, with which they catch any fish that leap out of the big net, and would otherwise escape, the ordinary hand nets being usually used for larger fish, and the cobweb ones for the smaller fish. They often have two or three of these weirs in the same stream, at some little distance from each other.

A fishing party will often stay and live for some days at the place where they are fishing, and eat the fish each day as they catch it; so that what they bring home for the village or community may only be the result of the last day's sport. But the women will sometimes come to the fishers, bring them food, and take some fish back to the village or community. Each community has waters which it regards as being its own; but disputes as to this apparently do not arise.

A solitary individual sometimes goes off to catch fish with one of the hand nets above described or with his hands, and eats or keeps what he catches; but this is unusual.

Agriculture.

Agriculture is never communistic, being entirely an individual or family matter, men and households and families having their own gardens and plantations. The trees and plants chiefly cultivated are those already mentioned as being used for food.

The clearing of the ground is done by men, and is begun about the end of June. The trees and their branches are used for fencing, the fencing being also done by men. The clearing away of the undergrowth is done by women, who pile it in small heaps, which are spread over the cleared space, being so close together that they almost touch one another. When these have got quite dry, which may be in a few days, or not for some time, they burn them, and the ashes add fertility to the soil. There is no general digging up of the ground, as distinguished from the digging of holes for individual plants. The clearing of the trees is done with stone adzes, or in difficult cases by fire; but some of the people now have European axes, of which some have been acquired from white men, and some from plain and coast natives. In clearing for planting yam and plants of the yam type they leave the upright stems of some of the trees and shrubby undergrowth for the yams, etc., to trail over. Cultivation of some of the more usual plants is done as follows.

Sweet potatoes and vegetables of similar type are planted by the women in August and September. They make little holes in the ground about 2 feet apart, and in them plant the potatoes, the roots used being the young sarmentose runners, which they cut off from the parent plants, the latter being merely cut down to the ground, and the old tubers being left in it. These runners are left to grow, and in about three or four months the young potatoes are ready for eating, and afterwards there will be a continuous supply from the runners. The digging up of the day-to-day supply of potatoes is done by the women, the work in this, and in all other digging, being done with small pointed sticks, roughly made and not preserved; though now they sometimes have European knives, these knives and axes being the two European implements which they use in agriculture, if they possess them.

Yams and similar vegetables are planted by men in August and September, near to the young tree stems up which they are to trail, and at distances apart of 2 or 3 yards. In this case, however, there are two plantings. In the first instance the yam tubers are planted in pretty deep holes, the tubers being long. The yams then grow, and twine over the tree stems, and spread. After about ten months the men dig up the tubers, which in the meantime have grown larger, and cut away from them all the trailing green growth, and then hang the tubers up in the houses and emone, to let the new growing points sprout. Then in about another two months the men replant the smaller tubers, while the larger ones are retained for food.

There are two curious Mafulu practices in connection with yam-planting. First, before planting each tuber they wrap round it an ornamental leaf, such as a croton, which they call the "sweetheart of the yam." Against this leaf they press a piece of limestone. They then plant the tuber with its sweetheart leaf around it and the piece of limestone pressing against its side, and fill in the soil; but as they do the latter they withdraw the piece of limestone, which they use successively for other yams, and, indeed, keep in their houses for use year by year. In the villages near the Mafulu Mission Station the limestone used is generally a piece of stalactite, which they get from the limestone caves in the mountains. The belief is that by planting in this way the yams will grow stronger and better. Secondly, there is a little small-leafed plant of a spreading nature, only a few inches high, which grows wild in the mountains, but which is also cultivated, and a patch of which they always plant in a yam plantation. This plant they also call the "sweetheart of the yam"; and they believe that its presence is beneficial to the plantation.

Yams are ready for supplying food eight or ten months after planting. They are not, like the potatoes, dug up from day to day, as they can be stored. The usual period of digging and storing is about June or July, and this digging is done by both men and women, the former dealing with the larger yams, which are difficult to get up, and the latter with the smaller ones.

The yam is apparently regarded by the Mafulu people as a vegetable possessing an importance which one is tempted to think may have a more or less superstitious origin-witness the facts that only men may plant it and that it is the only vegetable in the planting of which superstitious methods are employed, and the special methods and ceremonies adopted in the hanging of the yams at the big feast. But I fancy this idea as to the yam is not confined to the Mafulu; and indeed Chalmers tells us of a Motu superstition which attributes to it a human origin; [88] and a perusal of the chapter on sacrifices in Dr. Codrington's book, The Melanesians, leaves the impression on one's mind that among these people the yam is the one vegetable which is specially used for sacrificial purposes.

Taro and similar vegetables are planted by women in August and September among the yams, at distances of 2 or 3 feet apart. For this purpose they take the young secondary growths which crop up round the main central plants during the year. [89] They are ready for eating in, say, May or June of the following year. They are dug up by women from day to day as wanted, as they, like the sweet potato, cannot be kept, as the yams are, after being taken up. There is, however, a method when the taro is ripe and needs digging up, but is not then required for eating, of making a large hole in the ground, filling it with grass, digging up the taro, putting it on the grass in the hole, covering and surrounding it with more grass, and then filling up with soil, and so preserving the taro for future use by a sort of ensilage system. I was told that this was not done on the plains.

Bananas are planted by men, this being done every year, and off and on all through the year, generally in old potato gardens. In this case they take the young offshoots, which break out near the bases of the stems. The closeness of planting varies considerably. The fruit is gathered all through the year by men. A banana will generally begin to bear fruit about twelve months after planting, though some sorts of banana take as long as two years.

Sugar-cane is planted by men off and on during the whole year, generally in old potato gardens, the growing points at the tops of the canes being put into the ground at distances of 5 or 6 feet apart. Each plant produces a number of canes, and these begin to be edible after six or eight months. They are then cut for eating by both men and women.

As regards both banana and sugar-cane, the people, after planting them in the potato gardens, allow the potatoes to still go on growing and spreading; but these potatoes are merely used for the pigs, the people only eating those grown in their open patches.

Beans of a big coarse-growing sort, with large pods from 8 to 18 inches long, are planted by women about September by the garden fences of the potato and yam gardens, and allowed to creep up these fences. They furnish edible fruit in about three or four months from the time of planting, and are then gathered by the women. Only the inside seeds are eaten (not the pod); and even these are so hard that twenty—four hours' boiling does not soften them—indeed, they are usually roasted.

Pandanus trees are grown in the bush and not in the gardens. The ine which is a large form (Plate 80), is always grown at a height of not less than 5,000 feet; but there is a smaller one which is grown by a river or stream. The malage is always grown in the valleys near brooks and rivers.

As regards the gardens generally, they may be roughly divided into sweet potato gardens and yam gardens. In the former are also grown bananas, sugar-cane, beans, pumpkin, cucumber and maize; and in the latter taro and beans, and the reed plant with the asparagus flavour to which I have already referred. The general tending of the bananas and sugar-canes, and to a certain extent the yams, is done by men; but in other respects the garden produce is looked after by women, who also attend to the weeding and keeping of the gardens clean, the men looking after the fences.

Having planted a certain crop in a garden, they let it go on until it is exhausted, the period for this being different for different crops; but afterwards they never again plant the same crop in the same garden. When a crop is exhausted, they may possibly use the same garden for some other purpose; but as a rule they do not do so, except as regards the use of old potato gardens for banana and sugar-cane. When fresh gardens are wanted, fresh portions of bush are cleared; and the old deserted gardens are quickly re-covered by nature with fresh bush, the growth of vegetation being very rapid. Most of the gardens are bush gardens, and, though these may sometimes be close to the village, you do not find a regular system of gardens within the village clearing, as you do in the Mekeo district, the situations of the villages being indeed hardly adapted for this.



CHAPTER XIII

Bark Cloth Making, Netting and Art.

Bark Cloth Making and Netting.

I put the two processes of bark cloth making and netting together, as being the only forms in which material is made in pieces of substantial size.

Bark cloth is used for making perineal bands, men's caps, illness-recovery capes, bark cloth head strings, mourning strings and dancing aprons and ribbons. Netting is used for fishing and hunting nets, sleeping hammocks, the various forms of carrying bags and the mourning vests worn by the widows of chiefs.

Bark Cloth Making.

Bark cloth is made by both men and women out of the bark of three different kinds of tree; but I do not know what these are. They strip the bark from the tree, and from the bark they strip off the outer layer, leaving the inner fibrous layer, which is about 1/8th of an inch in thickness. They have no method of fastening two pieces of bark or cloth together, so every garment has to be a single piece, and the size of the piece to be made depends upon the purpose for which it is wanted. The cloth is made in the usual way by soaking the prepared bark in water for about twenty-four hours, and then hammering it with a heavy mallet upon the rounded surface of a cut-down tree trunk (Plate 79).

The mallet used (Plate 51, Fig. 3), however, differs from the wooden mallet of Mekeo and the coast. It is a heavy black roller-shaped piece of stone, tapering a little at one or both ends, and being broader at the beating end than at the holding end. It varies in length from 10 to 18 inches, and has a maximum width of about 2 or 2 1/2 inches. The beating surface is not flattened, as is the case with the Mekeo beaters, but it is rather deeply scored with a series of longitudinal and transverse lines, crossing each other at right angles, or nearly so. This scoring generally covers a surface space of about 3 inches by 1 or 2 inches, and is done with pointed pieces of similar stone, or with the tusks of wild pigs.

As the hammering proceeds the bark becomes thinner and larger in surface, and when this process is finished, the cloth is hung up to dry.

The colouring of the cloth, if and when this is added, is done by men only, and, like body-staining, is nearly always in either red, yellow, or black. The red stain is obtained from the two sorts of earth used for red face and body-staining, being, as in the other case, mixed with water or animal fat, so as to produce a paste. Another source of red stain used for cloth is the fruit of a wild tree growing in the bush, which fruit they chew and spit out. I do not know what the tree is, but I do not think it is the Pandanus, whose fruit is, I believe, used for body-staining. The yellow stain is obtained from the root of a plant which I understand to be rather like a ginger. They dry the root in the sun, and afterwards crush it and soak it in water, and the water so coloured becomes the pigment to be used. The black stain is obtained in the same way as that used for face-staining. These dyes are put on to the cloth with the fingers, which the men dip into the dye, or with feathers. In making a design they do not copy from a pattern placed before them, nor do they first trace the design on the cloth.

Netting.

In dealing with netting, I should begin with the making of the string; but, as I think the method adopted is not confined to the mountains, it is perhaps sufficient to refer to my previous description of thread-making in connection with the manufacture of leg-bands; though in most netting the strings are necessarily very much thicker and stronger than are the threads used for leg-bands, and they are three-stranded.

Hunting and fishing nets are made by men in a simple open form of netting, worked on the common principle of the reef knot, and having diamond-shaped holes, with a knot at each corner of each hole. I shall refer to this form of netting as "ordinary network." The nets are made of thick, strong material, except as regards the hand fishing nets, which are made of the fine material used for making leg-bands. These nets are never coloured.

Hammocks are made by men. They are sometimes done entirely with ordinary network, and are then, I think, similar to Mekeo-made hammocks; but often only two or three lines of netting are done in this way, the rest of the net being made in a closer and finer pattern of interlacing knotless network, which is never adopted on the coast and Mekeo plains (all nets of this description found there having come down from the mountains) and which I will call "Mafulu network." [90] I have watched the making of one of these nets, and will endeavour to describe the process. The ultimate result of the Mafulu network part of this is shown in Plate 81.

The maker first formed a base line of three strands of native string stretched out horizontally. This base line is marked a b in Fig. 8. He then wound a long length of netting string round a rough piece of stick to be used as a sort of netting shuttle. He next worked the netting string on to the base line by a series of loops or slip-knots as shown in Fig. 8, strand c of each loop bending upwards and becoming strand d of the next loop to the right, and the series of loops extending for the whole length of the base line, and thus constituting the first loop line of the net. The hitches of the loops, which appear loose and open in the figure for the purpose of showing their construction, were really drawn tight on the base line. On to these loops he then worked one line of ordinary network, as shown in Fig. 9, the strings a b c d in this figure being the loops above mentioned, and the knots of this also being, of course, drawn tight, and not made loose and open, as shown in the figure. The base of this line again formed a series made one of these lines of mesh for my instruction; but it is usual in the making of hammocks to have two or three of them, as appears in the figure. The next stage commenced the Mafulu network. The form of this is shown in Fig. 10; and here again the actual network was more closely drawn than is shown in the illustration, though it was not drawn tight, as in the case of the ordinary network. The first line of Mafulu network was worked on to the loops above it, so as to form a continuous line, in which many loops of Mafulu work were attached to each loop of the line of ordinary work above, the former being considerably smaller than the latter. The rest of the network is similarly made in the Mafulu method, each loop of each line being connected with a loop of the line above, until the worker almost reaches the other end of the hammock, which latter is finished off with ordinary network and a final base line, so as to correspond with the commencing end. Often there are only four or five loops of Mafulu network attached to each loop of ordinary network above them; and I have seen hammocks in which the mesh of the ordinary network part is much smaller, so that each loop of the bottom line of this mesh has attached to it only one loop of the top line of Mafulu mesh; and this last variation is common as regards carrying bags.

The hammocks are never coloured; but they are sometimes decorated with a few Pandanus or malage seeds hung from their borders.

The different forms of carrying bags have already been referred to. I will now deal with their manufacture and colouring. They are made exclusively by women; and the fibres used in their manufacture are not the same as those employed for making nets and hammocks. I will deal separately with the five forms already described by me.

Nos. 1 and 2 are made of either ordinary or Mafulu network, and are never coloured. When these, or any other bags, are made of Mafulu network, their elasticity is very great. No. 3 is always made of Mafulu network, and coloured. No. 4 is made of Mafulu network, and is sometimes coloured, and sometimes not. No. 5 is made of Mafulu network, and is sometimes coloured. The string used in making this bag is different from that used for the others, and is obtained from the bark of a small shrub.

The question of manufacture introduces another form of bag (Plate 53, Fig 3), which I may call No. 6. It is used by men for the purposes of No. 4, and No 5 is also sometimes made in the same way. The method of manufacture of No. 6 is, I was told, an uncommon one; and, though I was able to procure one of these bags, I had not an opportunity of observing the process by which it was made. The appearance of the bag, however, suggests a process not unlike that of knitting. Its outer surface displays a series of thick, strong trie ord-plaited, vertical ridges, all close together, and looking very like the outside ridges of a knitted woollen stocking; but on the inner surface these ridges are not to be seen, and the general appearance of this inside is one of horizontal lines. The material of this bag is much closer, thicker and heavier than is that of any of the others.

The colouring of Nos. 3, 4 and 5 is not put into the netting after its manufacture, as is done with bark cloth. The string itself is dyed beforehand, and the lines of colour are worked into the bag in the process of netting. The colouring is confined to the front of the bag only, being the part which is visible when the bag is worn hanging over the back or shoulder. Speaking generally, the colouring is black; but there is often a little red introduced along with the black. The pattern is in the general form of parallel horizontal lines or stripes, which, however, are in places made to recess or turn downwards or upwards at right angles, and subsequently turn upwards or downwards again, and then continue horizontally as before, thus giving variety to the mere design of straight horizontal lines; and these rectangular breaks are often introduced at more or less symmetrical intervals. There are other details in these patterns, which can be observed in the plate. I have one of these bags the lines in which are blue, red and yellow; but I think this colouring is not usual. The pigments are obtained from the sources described above with reference to bark cloth.

The colouring of my specimen of No. 6 bag is also worked into the bag in the process of knitting, or whatever that process should be called. But this colouring merely consists of four faint horizontal lines of pale reddish-brown; and I was told that these bags are generally uncoloured, or only slightly coloured in thin lines.

The mourning vests worn by chiefs' widows are, I believe, made of Mafulu network; but unfortunately I did not see one of these, and so cannot describe them.

Art, Design, etc.

Art and design among the Mafulu people are only of a simple and primitive type. There is no carving or other decoration on their houses, or even on their emone, nor is there any on their stone or wooden implements. Art and design, other than the arrangement of feather ornaments, is, in fact, apparently confined to the very simple designs scratched upon some of their broad abdominal belts, smoking pipes and lime gourds and perhaps occasionally on one or two other things, and to the plaited designs displayed in the manufacture of other abdominal belts and of arm and leg ornaments and plaited forehead ornaments and feather frames, and to the very simple linear patterns in which some of their network is made, and the ground-staining and pattern-colouring of their perineal bands, dancing aprons and ribbons. As regards the latter, the designs are of a very simple nature, never apparently representing anything either realistically or conventionally, and being confined to geometric designs of straight lines and bands, rectangular and zig-zag patterns with coloured triangles within the zig-zag patterns, and spots. The patterns of the perineal bands and dancing ribbons are very simple indeed; but those of the dancing aprons are more elaborate, covering a considerable surface of cloth, and often displaying a fair variety of design on the same apron.

The Mafulu have no visible method of recording events or numbers, or sending messages, either by marks or notches on sticks, or tying of knots in string, or any other method, and they are quite unable to grasp the meaning of a map.

The limited nature of the ideas of artistic design possessed by the Mafulu people is, I think, a matter for surprise. They are believed to have Papuan or Papuo-Melanesian blood in their veins. But, even if they also have another distinct and more primitive ancestry of their own, not associated with the Papuo-Melanesian types, or even with the pure Papuan types, found on the coast and in the plains, one would imagine that contact with these types would have caused the Mafulu people to learn something of the more advanced art which these other peoples display and that we should not have to record a sudden drop from artistic designs embodying curves and natural imitative art to a system confined to straight lines, zig-zags, and spots. This contact with the coast and plain people, or at all events with the latter, has certainly existed for some time back; for, though the mutual fear and antagonism between coast and mountain natives, which is usually found among savage peoples, has doubtless existed in this case, and is even now not altogether eradicated, [91] direct or indirect trading relationship, including in particular the interchange of the stone implements and feathers of the mountains for the shell decorations of the coast, is not a mere recent development of the last few years only. It seems to me that the existence of this decorative hiatus points to a rather small inherent sense of design in the Mafulu mind. It may be, however, that the absence of imitative art, to which I have already referred in connection with totemism and clan badges, is partly due to the absence of totemism and of the imitative stimulus, which, as Dr. Haddon has more than once pointed out, [92] arises from it.



CHAPTER XIV

Music and Singing, Dancing and Toys and Games

Music and Singing.

The Mafulu people are naturally musical and have good musical ears—much more so than is the case in Mekeo and on the coast, thus conforming to what I believe to be a general rule that music is usually more indigenous in hill country than it is in the plains. Their instruments are the drum, the jew's-harp and a small flute; but the flute is not a true Mafulu instrument, and has probably been acquired from Mekeo.

The drum (Plate 75, Fig. 3) is like the Mekeo drum, but smaller, and its open end is cut in deep indentations. The wooden body of the drum is made from various trees. A pine tree is the favourite one; but others are used, including a tree the native name of which is arive, which word is also the native word for a drum. The membrane is made of the skin of a reptile, probably the "iguana." The maker of a drum must climb up the tree from the wood of which he is about to make it, and there, until the drum is finished, he must remain sitting among the branches, or, if these are inconvenient for the purpose, he may erect a scaffold around the trunk of the tree, with a platform on the top of it, and work upon that. Whilst working, he must always keep the upper or tympanic end of his drum facing the wind, the idea of this being that the wind gets into the drum, and makes it musical. His food is brought to him, whilst in his tree, by some woman, probably his mother if he is a bachelor, or his wife if he is married, and he lets down a string by which he hauls it up; but he is under no special restriction as to the food he may eat. There is no superstition, such as is found among the Roro and Mekeo people, compelling him, in the event of his seeing a woman during the making of the drum, to throw it away and begin a new one.

The jew's-harp (Plate 20, Fig. 2), though seen in Mekeo, is, I was told, as regards its manufacture, an instrument of the mountains. It is made out of bamboo or palm, or some other tree having a hollow or soft interior, from which is cut a piece about 8 or 10 inches long. A portion of this piece is cut away longitudinally, leaving for the making of the instrument only two-thirds or half, or even one-third, of the convex outside stem circumference on one side and the flat surface of the cut-away part on the other, and the latter is then hollowed out, leaving, however, a solid head an inch or two long at one end. The hollow piece thus produced is cut into three longitudinal sections or strips, of which the two outside ones are longer than the central one. The two outside strips are left at their full width from the head downwards to a distance of 2 or 3 inches from the other end, from which point they are cut away, very much as one would cut away the divided nib of a quill pen, so that the actual tips of these two strips are quite slender, being no broader than their thickness. These two ends are tied together with fine vegetable fibre. The centre strip, which is generally narrower than the other two at its commencement by the head, is further reduced in width by a more immediate and gradual process of paring down, and so becomes a very slender vibrating tongue or reed, the tip of which goes almost up to, but does not quite reach, the point at which the tips of the two outer strips are bound together. A hole is bored through the solid head; and through this hole is passed a thick string of native make from 5 to 10 or 12 inches long, secured at one end by a knot on the flat side of the head, to keep the string from slipping out, and having at the other end a large, rough, ornamental tassel. The tassel is generally in part composed of the untwisted fibres of the string itself; but to these is added something else, such as a bunch of feathers, or two smaller bunches of feathers; and among these may be seen such miscellaneous articles as a fragment of dried-up fruit, or a part of the backbone of a fish. For playing the instrument, they place its tail end, with the hollow side inwards, to the mouth, holding the extreme tip of that end in the fingers of the left hand, and keep the tongue of the instrument in a constant state of vibration, by smart, rapid, jerky pullings of the tasselled string.

The flute is merely a small simple instrument made out of a small bamboo stem, with one or two holes bored in it.

All these instruments are played by both men and women; but the jew's-harp and flute are regarded only as toys.

I believe the Mafulu people occasionally sing at dances to the beating of the drums; but this is quite unusual; and they never sing to the music of the jew's-harp or flute. Both men and women sing, generally several or many together, not so often alone. Their songs are all very simple, and are chiefly sung in unison or octaves. I was told that they sometimes accomplish simple harmonies, the notes of which may simultaneously rise or fall either with the same or different intervals, or may rise and fall in contrary motion; or the harmony may be produced by one man or part of the group sustaining a note, whilst another changes it; and I myself heard an example of the latter of these, and also heard singing in which, while a group of men were singing the same simple air, some of them were occasionally singing one part of it, whilst the others seemed to be singing another part, thus producing a very simple catch or canon. I am not, however, quite certain as to this. Their songs are both cheerful and plaintive; but the latter predominate, and are mainly in the minor key. The subjects of their songs are generally sentimental love, and include ditties by young men about their sweethearts; and I believe that some of their songs are indecent, though I am not sure of this. They also have warlike songs; and, when a special event occurs, songs are often composed with reference to it. For example, not long ago a chief was taken by the authorities to Port Moresby, and died there; and songs about this were sung all through his district. Anyone will compose a topical song; in fact, a man will begin singing one in the emone, making it up as he goes on, and the others will join. The men have a very pretty custom of singing together very softly when at the end of the day they have retired to their emone, and have lain down to sleep, the singing being very gentle, and producing what I can only describe as a sort of crooning sound, like a lullaby or cradle song. I once heard one of these songs sung by my carriers the last thing at night as they lay beneath the floor of the building in which I was sleeping; and the effect was absolutely charming.

As an example of Mafulu music I give the following, which, though not, I fear, quite accurate, is I think a substantially correct version of the music of a war song sung by the Mambule and Sivu communities in connection with joint hostilities by them against another community, and I have so far as possible added the song itself.

1st Verse: E! e! e! Si-vu Mambule juju la em u jeka le 2nd Verse: E! e! e! Noul e nul em u ieka la bulu iuju le

It will be observed that the first line is whistling only. I was informed that it is a common practice to whistle the air before singing the first verse; though I did not gather that it was always done. It will also be noticed that simple harmonies occur in the fourth and fifth bars. I cannot say whether the two parts in the music are sustained or taken up by the voices upon any defined scheme, and, if so, what that scheme is. Nor can I say whether the voices which take the lower notes in the music are silent after the word la, or repeat that word in the sixth bar, with or without the upper voices, in order to bring the tune to a full close. I have only given two verses; and, as regards the song in question, I doubt if there were any more. Unfortunately I am unable to translate the words, and can only give the meanings of the following:—

E! e! e! are merely meaningless exclamatory sounds, such as we have in civilised songs. Sivu is the name of a Fuyuge community close to the Mission Station, being, in fact, the one referred to by me in my chapter on communities. Mambule is the name of another of these communities, further away from the station, being, as stated in my introductory chapter, the name of the community from which the name Mafulu arises. I cannot give verbal explanations of any of the other words; but I may say that a rough translation of the second verse is "My village, your village is alike (or equal.)"



Dancing.

The Mafulu people, like other New Guinea natives, are fond of dancing, and indulge in it extensively, especially in connection with feasts and ceremonies.

Their dancing is of an exceedingly active and lively character. The movements of the feet are lively and jumping, often half a hop and half a run; and, whilst dancing, their heads are actively moving backwards and forwards and to both sides. The general progressive movement of a dancing party is slow, but not a crawl; and the progress along the village enclosure is usually accomplished by a series of diagonal advances, by which they zig-zag backwards and forwards across the enclosure, and in this way gradually travel along it. Very often the dancers divide themselves into two parties, which in their zig-zag progress alternately approach and recede from each other. The dancers are always facing in the direction in which at that moment they are moving. Men and women never dance together, except at the big feast, where they do so in the way already described.

This method of dancing is in striking contrast to that of the Mekeo people, whose movements are generally very gentle and slow, those of the feet, which are accompanied by a corresponding genuflexion, downwards and outwards, being a slow slight step, usually barely more than a shuffle, the feet being hardly lifted off the ground, and those of the head being confined to a slow and sedate backwards and forwards nodding. Also the progress of a party of Mekeo dancers is generally very slow,—a crawl,—so much so as often to be barely perceptible, perhaps two or three inches being accomplished at each step, and the line of progress of a dancing party is usually a straight line down the village enclosure; and more commonly, though not always, the position of each dancer is sideways to the then actual direction of progression. And in Mekeo women and men often dance together in one group.

Another difference between Mafulu and Mekeo dancing is that among the Mafulu, though the drum-beating and dancing go on simultaneously, the singing, in which all the dancers and non-dancers of both sexes join, does not usually take place during the actual dancing, but only during periodic pauses, in which the drum-beating and dancing cease; whereas in Mekeo the drum-beating, dancing and singing all go on continuously and simultaneously. As regards these Mafulu pauses in the dancing, I should explain that these are quite distinct from the resting pauses (in which there is neither drum-beating, dancing, nor singing) which are customary both among the Mafulu and the Mekeo people.

A further difference arises as regards the dancing decorations. Both Mafulu and Mekeo natives have elaborate high framework head feather decorations, which are worn by some, but not necessarily all, of the dancers; and they are much ornamented about their bodies. But the Mafulu people generally wear their finest and most beautiful feathers on their backs, whereas among the Mekeo natives the head ornament is the chief feature of the decoration; and in Mekeo any man who has not a framework head decoration generally has sticking in his hair a tall, upright feather, which sways slowly backwards and forwards in response to the slow nodding movements of his head.

The special dancing ornaments worn by the Mafulu are the aprons worn by women, the ribbons worn by men and women, the forehead ornaments worn by men, the long shell nose ornaments worn by both, and the huge head feather erections. But for dances the people generally wear all the decorative finery they possess or are able to borrow; and they usually with special care paint their faces in various colours, and their bodies red.

The comparison above given between the dancing of the Mafulu people and that of the people of Mekeo brings me to a suggestion, made to me by Father Clauser, that the Mafulu mode of dancing had its origin in an imitation of that of the red bird of paradise, and the Mekeo mode in an imitation of that of the goura pigeon. In support of this suggestion he gave me the following information concerning the dancing of these birds, which may be compared with the description given above of the dancing of the Mafulu and Mekeo natives respectively:—

The movements of the red birds of paradise, when dancing, are remarkably lively, the birds hopping and jumping about the tree branches and from branch to branch, and bobbing their heads backwards and forwards and from side to side, almost as though they had gone mad. The progression along the branches is fairly rapid; but there is not apparently any continuous line of progression in any given direction, and the birds seem to have a curious way of approaching and receding from each other as they do so. The birds always face in the direction in which they are at the time moving, and do not dance sideways. Moreover, the dance is an alternation of wild dancing and intermittent pauses; and during the dancing both the males and females are silent, but during the pauses they are uttering their songs or cries.

The dancing movements of the goura pigeons are a gentle slow shuffle, and are accompanied by a slow bowing or nodding of the head. The progressive movement is exceedingly slow, and is always a continuous one in the same direction, and it is usually a sideways movement. The dancing and accompanying cooing of the pigeons go on continuously and simultaneously, and the rhythm of the latter is curiously like the more usual rhythm of the Mekeo drums.

I have unfortunately never had opportunities of observing the dancing of either of these birds, and so cannot personally vouch for the correctness of the above descriptions of them. But Father Clauser has often watched them, and he is undoubtedly a careful observer, upon whose testimony we may rely; and I may add that my efforts since my return to England to obtain evidence, confirmatory or otherwise, of these descriptions have produced confirmation of some of the facts stated, and have not produced any contradictions.

Then again attention must be drawn to the fact that the magnificent feather decoration of the bird of paradise is mainly upon or springing from its back or body, whilst the goura pigeon's sole projecting decoration, and perhaps its chief beauty, is the crest upon its head, to which the Mekeo single upright head feather may be likened.

My efforts to obtain light from native sources upon this question of imitation in Mafulu were fruitless, as the natives questioned knew nothing of it; and on my return from Mafulu to the coast I did not again pass through the Mekeo villages. But on reaching the coast I made further enquiries upon the subject from the Fathers there of the Mission, and obtained three interesting pieces of information. First, I was told that the Mekeo clan Inawae of the Mekeo village Oriropetana, whose clan badge is the goura pigeon, and who are not allowed to kill and eat it, and whose bird totem it appears to be, say that they are descended from the goura pigeon, and that an ancestor of theirs, though himself a man, had all the powers and faculties of movement of those birds, and that he used to dance with them, and so learnt the dance and taught it to his people. Unfortunately no enquiry had been made as to the question of any imitative character in their present dancing, and the information only emanated from a particular clan with a particular association with the bird. I therefore do not attach undue general importance to this case. [93]

Secondly, I was told that the Pokau people, whose dance is practically the same as that of the Mekeo people, themselves say that their dancing is an imitation of that of the goura pigeon. This certainly tends to support Father Clauser's suggestion as regards Mekeo. Thirdly, some natives of Kuni, who are undoubtedly very similar and closely related to the Mafulu, and whose dancing is very similar to that of the latter, were questioned on the subject in my presence, and under my direction. The question put was, "When Kuni people are dancing, are they in their dance imitating anything, and if so what?" (no mention or suggestion being made of a bird or of anything else). The answer was that they were imitating the dance of the goloala, which I was told was not the red bird of paradise, but was another small species of that bird with a yellowish-white body, yellow head and yellowish-white wings. The leading question was then put to them, whether they were sure the bird was the yellow one described by them, and not the red one; which question was answered definitely in the affirmative. And subsequently, when, in order to test their definiteness and certainty in what they had told me, I showed them a few postcard pictures of birds of paradise, which included the red one and others, but not one such as is above described, and almost invited them to recognise one of these as being the bird they meant, they were firm in their insistence that the bird to which they referred was not shown in any of the pictures. This, I think, helps to support Father Clauser's suggestion as regards the Mafulu, subject of course to the question of the variety of bird of paradise which is imitated.

Dealing with this question of imitation as a whole, and taking into consideration the apparently marked similarities between the dancing of the two tribes of natives and the two genera of birds, and the further element, perhaps not so strong, as to the similarities in distribution upon the bodies of their decorations, and bearing in mind the evidence obtained from native sources, which, though obviously only fragmentary and insufficient in character, is so far as it goes distinctly confirmatory, I am impelled to suggest that Father Clauser's theory is not without foundation, and indeed amounts, subject to the question of the species of bird of paradise, to a very substantial possibility. And it is undoubtedly an interesting one. [94]



Toys and Games.

The Mafulu children have neither dolls nor other toys, and do not make cat's-cradles. The young boys amuse themselves with small bows and arrows and spears, which they make themselves. One common sport is for the boys, armed with their spears, to stand in a row and for another boy to roll in front of them a ball, made out of the root of a banana tree, with its many rootlets intertwined, and for the boys to try to hit it with their spears as it passes them. A similar game is played in Mekeo and on the coast; but there the ball is often made out of the outer fibre of a cocoanut. Small boys and girls amuse themselves with glissading down the steep grassy slopes. There is also a sort of fighting game for boys, in which young men sometimes join. A number of them divide themselves into two opposing groups, all armed with little darts, made of reeds on which a few leaves are left at the head ends; and these two groups mutually attack each other, advancing and retreating, according to the fortunes of the fight. Boys, and men also, play at tug-of-war, using long canes for ropes; and boys and girls have swings, constructed either by looping two flexible rope-like tree stems together at the bottom, or with a single rope, with a loop at the bottom, in which to place their feet. But there are no racing or jumping or gymnastic games, and no group or singing children's games.



CHAPTER XV

Counting, Currency and Trade

Counting.

Mafulu counting is accomplished by the use of two numerals (one and two) and of the word "another" and of their hands and feet [95]; and with these materials they have phraseology for counting up to twenty as follows:—

1 = Fida (one).

2 = Gegedo (two).

3 = Gegedo minda (two and another).

4 = Gegedo ta gegedo (two and two).

5 = Gegedo ta gegedo minda (two and two and another) [or Bodo fida (one hand)].

6 = Gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo (two and two and two).

7 = Gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo minda (two and two and two and another) [or Bodo fida ta gegedo (one hand and two) ].

8 = Gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo (two and two and two and two) [or Bodo fida ta gegedo minda (one hand and two and another) ].

9 = Gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo minda (two and two and two and two and another) [or Bodo fida ta gegedo ta gegedo (one hand and two and two) ].

10 = Bodo gegedo (two hands).

11 = Bodo gegedov' u minda (two hands and another). [Note the "v" at the end of gegedo. The full word is really gegedove; but it is shortened to gegedo, unless the next word is a vowel. Also note the "u." There are two words for "and," namely ta and une. The "u" here is the une shortened, and put instead of ta for euphony].

12 = Bodo gegedo ta gegedo (two hands and two).

13 = Bodo gegedo ta gegedo minda (two hands and two and another).

14 = Bodo gegedo ta gegedo ta gegedo (two hands and two and two).

15 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari fida (two hands and one foot).

16 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari fidari u minda (two hands and one foot and another). [Note the "n" at the end of fida. The full word is really fidane, and the "n" is introduced here for euphony.]

17 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari fida ta gegedo (two hands and one foot and two).

18 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari fida ta gegedo minda (two hands and one foot and two and another).

19 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari fida ta gegedo ta gegedo (two hands and one foot and two and two).

20 = Bodo gegedo ta jovari gegedo (two hands and two feet).

As regards these numerals it will be seen that in some cases alternatives are given, whilst in other cases, where corresponding alternatives would appear to be equally applicable, they are not given; the reason is that in these latter cases the alternatives do not in fact appear to be used.

There is no numerical phraseology to indicate any number above twenty; and in the ordinary affairs of life, although numeration can be carried in this cumbrous way up to twenty, they rarely use the numerals beyond ten, and anything over that will be referred to as tale, tale, tale, tale (which may be translated "plenty, plenty, plenty, plenty").

Important counting, such as that of pigs at a feast, is accomplished by the actual use of the hands and feet. The fingers stretched open mean nothing; Closing down the thumb of the right hand indicates one; closing down also the first finger of that hand indicates two; and so on with the other fingers of the right hand, till you reach the closing down of the thumb and all the fingers of the right hand, which indicates five. Then, keeping all the right hand closed, they begin with the left hand also. Closing down only the thumb indicates six; and so on as before, until the thumbs and all the fingers of both hands are closed, which indicates ten. [96]

Then they go to the feet. They keep both hands closed and together, and with the right fist they point to the toes, beginning with the big toe of the right foot, and so along the other toes of that foot, and then go to the big toe of the left foot, and so along the other toes of that foot, thus reaching the enumerative total of twenty. They do not, when wishing to indicate a number, simply place their fingers and hands and feet simultaneously in the requisite position for doing so. They always go through the whole process of finger and toe counting from the beginning. For example, to indicate eight, they turn in the thumb and all the fingers of the right hand, and afterwards the thumb and two fingers of the left hand, separately, and one alter another, until the right position is reached; and similarly as regards numbers over ten, they solemnly turn down all the fingers one after another, and then point to the toes one after another, until they get to the right one for indicating the desired number. When the fingers and toes of the person counting are exhausted, he has recourse to those of another person, if he wishes to count further, although he has then passed the limit of numerical phraseology. For the purpose of counting big numbers they are always sitting, and as in counting they exhaust hands and feet, the latter are put together, If, for example, they reach eighty, there are four men sitting, with all their hands and feet crowded together; and if the number be eighty-three, there is also a fifth man with a thumb and two fingers of his right hand closed up. Sometimes a number above ten, but not over twenty, is indicated with the hands only by counting up to ten in the ordinary way, and then opening all the fingers and counting again, until they reach the requisite amount in excess of ten.

I do not think it can be said that these people have in their minds any real abstract idea of number, at all events beyond twenty. Each finger turned down and toe pointed to, in succession, seems to represent to their minds the article (e.g., a pig) which is counted, rather than a step in a process of mental addition. But this is a matter upon which I can only express myself in a very general way; and indeed the mental stage at which the mere physical idea of the objects counted has developed into the abstract idea of numbers would in any case be exceedingly difficult to ascertain, or even, perhaps, to define.

They never use pebbles or sticks or anything else of that kind, and have no method of recording numbers or anything else by notching sticks; and they have no weights or measures.

Currency and Trade.

The Mafulu people have no currency in the true sense, every transaction being one of exchange; but nevertheless some specific articles, especially some of the dearer ones, can only be acquired by the offering of certain other specific articles, and certain things have definite recognised relative values for the purpose of exchange.

As examples of the former of these statements, I may say that a pig used to be always paid for in dogs' teeth—though this practice is not now, I think, so strict—and that some of their finer head feather dancing ornaments and ornamental nose pieces can still only be paid for in dogs' teeth; also that there is a special kind of feather ornament, composed of many small feathers fixed in a line on a string, which can only be obtained in exchange for a particular sort of shell necklace.

As examples of recognised relative values, I may state that the proper payment in dogs' teeth for a pig is a chain of dogs' teeth equal in length to the body of the pig, the latter being measured from the tip of its nose to the base of its tail; and that the payment for the special feather ornament is its own length of the corresponding shell necklace.

Exchange and barter is generally only engaged in between members of different communities, and not between those of the same community. An apparent exception to this arises in the purchase of pigs at certain ceremonies above referred to; but in this case it is really a matter of ceremony, and not one of ordinary barter. There are no regular markets, such as exist in some other parts of the country, the exchange of goods being effected by one or more individuals going with their articles of exchange to some other community, where they hope to get what they require. The nearest approach to a market arises intermittently when there is to be a big feast. Then the communities giving, and invited to, the feast require a large supply of ornaments, especially for those who are going to dance, and probably do not possess a sufficient quantity. They therefore have to procure these ornaments elsewhere; and the natural place to go to is some other community, possibly a long way off, which has recently been in the same want of extensive ornaments for a feast, and has procured and used them, and now has them, so to speak, in stock, and will be glad to dispose of them again. Thus ornaments used for feasts are sold and resold and travel about the country very extensively.



CHAPTER XVI

Language

I have been fortunate in having had some interesting and valuable linguistic material placed at my disposal for publication by Father Egedi and in having had further material added to it by Dr. Seligmann and Mr. Sidney H. Ray. I have thought it better to deal with it in five appendices, and I am greatly indebted to Mr. Ray for having undertaken the laborious task of their compilation. I give the following explanation concerning these appendices.

(1) Is a grammar of the Fuyuge language. The original manuscript is the work of Father Egedi, the, materials from which it was prepared by him having been collected in the Mafulu villages. The appendix is Father Egedi's Grammar, translated and edited by Mr. Ray.

(2) Is a short note on the Afoa language prepared by Dr. W. M. Strong, when he was Government Agent in Mekeo, and handed by him to Dr. Seligmann for publication. To this note Mr. Ray has added a footnote.

(3) Is a note on the Kovio language prepared by Dr. Strong, and handed by him to Dr. Seligmann. This note refers to the languages spoken in the neighbourhoods of Inavarene and the Inava valley and of the Upper Lakekamu river, all of which were found by Dr. Strong to be somewhat similar. The footnote is by Mr. Ray.

(4) Is a comparative vocabulary, prepared by Mr. Ray, of the languages of some of the different Papuan-speaking people of the mountain districts of Central British New Guinea. The words in the "Mafulu" column are taken from a very lengthy MS. vocabulary compiled by Father Egedi in Mafulu. Those in the "Kambisa" column were all collected by the Rev. P. J. Money in the Kambisa villages of the Upper Chirima valley during Mr. Monckton's expedition, referred to in my introductory chapter. Most of these words are taken from the New Guinea Annual Report for 1905-6; but to them have been added other words, which had been collected by Mr. Money. The words in the "Korona" column are taken from an MS. vocabulary prepared by Dr. Strong at Korona, also mentioned in my introductory chapter, and handed by him to Dr. Seligmann. Those in the "Afoa" column are taken from an MS. vocabulary prepared by Dr. Strong in connection with his Afoa notes, to which are added in square brackets some other words taken from Father Egedi's vocabulary in Anthropos II., 1907, pp. 1016-1021, this vocabulary being there called by him Tauata. The words in the "Kovio" column are taken from an MS. vocabulary prepared by Dr. Strong in connection with his Kovio notes, to which are added in square brackets some "Oru-Lopiku" words collected by Father Egedi, and published in Anthropos II., 1907, pp. 1016-1021. As regards this column I must explain that Dr. Strong's words were all collected within the districts to which his notes refer, but that Father Egedi's words, though in part collected there, were, I believe, in part collected further to the east.

(5) Is a series of notes by Mr. Ray upon the matter contained in the previous appendices.

I am perhaps open to criticism for introducing into a book of my own notes on the Mafulu people such extensive material written by others, and relating to other mountain districts as well as to that of the Mafulu; but my belief as to the probable similarity in many respects between the Papuan-speaking natives of these central mountain districts, and the obvious value and importance of the matter which has been so kindly placed at my disposal, justify me, I think, in introducing it; and indeed I should be doing but ill service to New Guinea ethnology if I did not take advantage of these opportunities which have been offered to me.

Though I am not qualified to discuss these materials from the grammatical and scientific linguistic point of view, there are a few matters to which I should like to draw attention, as affecting statements appearing in this book, and which were written by me before I received this linguistic material.

Regarding the question raised in my introductory chapter as to the extension of the Fuyuge linguistic area so far south as Korona, it will be noticed that a large number of the words in the Mafulu and Korona columns are the same, or very similar. Dr. Strong, in some unpublished MS. notes in Dr. Seligmann's possession, to which I have had access, says as regards the Mafulu and Korona languages that "there is nothing to show that the two languages may not be for all practical purposes identical," and Mr. Ray in his concluding notes classes Mafulu and Korona together as dialects of Fuyuge. The village of Sikube, mentioned by Mr. Ray, is, I believe, on the Upper Vanapa river and north of Mt. Lilley, and so is well within the Fuyuge-speaking area as defined by the Fathers.

Concerning the Kambisa (Upper Chirima valley) column, the similarity of many of the words contained in it to those in either the Mafulu or the Korona column is obvious; and it is curious that some of these words appear to resemble the Korona words more than they do those of Mafulu. I also think I may say that the similarity between Kambisa words on the one hand, and those of either Mafulu or Korona on the other, is almost equal to the similarity between Mafulu and Korona; and Mr. Ray classes Kambisa along with Mafulu and Korona as dialects of Fuyuge. So the statement in the introductory chapter that the valley of the Upper Chirima river is included in the Fuyuge area has, I think, stood the test of some detailed linguistic comparison.

The note by Dr. Strong upon what he calls the Kovio language and his Kovio vocabulary both relate to a district which is within the Fathers' Oru-Lopiku linguistic area; and I venture to repeat the suggestion, made in my introductory chapter, that for the present should adopt the term Kovio for the two areas which the Fathers call Oru-Lopiku and Boboi, though eventually we may be able to distinguish between these two areas.

The Afoa or Tauata area is the Fathers' Ambo area. The Afoa column discloses a very few words which resemble the Fuyuge words; but it seems obvious that the Afoa language does not belong to the Fuyuge group, and this is the view taken of it by Mr. Ray.

There are two matters in Mr. Ray's classification in the fifth appendix which I wish to mention. It seems to have been already assumed that the Rev. James Chalmers' Kabana language could not have been collected on Mt. Victoria; and I would point out that this mountain is quite outside what now appears to be the Fuyuge area. As regards the Afoa language the references by Dr. Strong to Mt. Pizoko and Mt. Davidson bring me back to my observations upon the point in my introductory chapter. If the Fathers are right in putting Mt. Pizoko within the Fuyuge area, it is hardly correct to say (see introductory chapter) that the Afoa language is spoken in the villages on Mt. Pizoko; but it might well be, as quoted by Mr. Ray, that a Fuyuge native in a Mt. Pizoko village spoke Afoa fluently, as this mountain is close to the Fathers' Fuyuge-Afoa boundary. Also Mt. Davidson is according to the Fathers in the Boboi area; but Dr. Strong seems to have regarded it as Ambo, and to have treated vocabulary matter collected from a native who came from a village "apparently on the slopes of" that mountain as having been taken from an Ambo native. In this case, however, there seems to be some doubt as to where this native did in fact come from; and the eastern slopes of Mt. Davidson are not far from the Fathers' Afoa boundary.

I think that these linguistic materials, taken as a whole, are, so far as they go, well in accord with the delimitation by the Fathers of the Fuyuge area, except as regards their view concerning Korona, as to which they did not profess actual knowledge, and merely expressed a doubt, and subject to the point that, for linguistic purposes at all events, the Fathers' use of the word "Mafulu" as representing the whole Fuyuge area is perhaps not desirable, and would be better replaced by the term "Fuyuge," with subdivisions of "Mafulu," "Korona," and "Kambisa," as given by Mr. Ray; though probably Sikube might be included in either Mafulu or Korona, as geographically it is evidently between these two.



CHAPTER XVII

Illness, Death, and Burial

Ailments and Remedies.

All serious ailments occurring up to certain ages, and except in certain cases, are generally assumed to be the work of someone acting in connection with a spirit; but, speaking generally, no efforts appear to be made by imprecation or other supernatural method to propitiate or contend against these spirits, except by the use of general charms against illness, and except, so far as the propitiation or driving out of the spirit is involved, by one or other of the specific remedies for specific ailments mentioned below. The natives have, however, for common diseases cures of which some are obviously purely fanciful and superstitious, but some are probably more or less practical.

The chief ailments are colds and complications arising from them, malaria, dysentery, stomach and bowel and similar complaints, toothache and wounds.

Dysentery has recognised and accredited curers, both men and women. The operator chews and crushes with his teeth the root of a vegetable (I do not know what it is) which they grow in their gardens, and then wraps it up into a small bundle in a bunch of grass, and gives it to the patient to suck. This remedy does not appear to be effective.

There are men who are specially skilled in dealing with stomach and bowel troubles. The operator takes in his hand a stone, and with the other hand he sprinkles that stone over with ashes. He then makes over it an incantation, in which, though his lips are seen to be moving, no sound comes out of them; after which he takes some of the ashes from the stone, which he still holds in his hand, and with these ashes he rubs the stomach of the patient, who, I was told, generally at once feels rather better, or says so.

There are also women who deal with cases believed to be caused by the presence in the stomach of a snake, which has to be got out. Here the operator takes a piece of bark cloth, with which she rubs the front of the patient's body, but without any incantation. Then, as she removes the cloth from the body, she makes a movement as though she were wrapping up in it something, presumably the escaped snake; and afterwards she carries the cloth away with her, and the cure is thus effected.

A man with toothache will say that "a spirit is eating my teeth." The people seem to have a knowledge of something inside the teeth, the nature of which I am not able to state definitely, but which apparently is, in fact, the nerve, and they recognise that it is in this something that the pain arises; but I could not ascertain the connection between this something and the spirit which is supposed to cause the trouble. If the aching tooth can be got at, they adopt a method the native explanation of which was translated to me as being a drawing or driving out of the mysterious something from the tooth. This is done in some way with an ordinary native comb, without extracting the tooth itself; but how it is done I could not ascertain. There is no incantation connected with the operation. Another cure is for the patient to chew the leaf of a certain tree (I do not know what tree), so that the sap of it gets into the hole in the tooth, and thereby, as they think, draws or drives out this nerve, or whatever the something may be. The Fathers of the Mission told me that both these two remedies do really appear to be effective.

Wounds are the speciality of many healers with special knowledge of the curative properties of various plants, and who gather the plant, make an incantation over it, boil it in water, and then with that water wash the wound. There are also men who operate surgically on wounds with knives made of stone or shell or bamboo.

Charms, probably of a poisonous nature, are used generally for the warding off of sickness, these being carried in the little charm bags.

A general and universal cure for all ailments is a piece of bark, tied with a piece of string to the neck or head, all neck ornaments having been first removed.

I regret that as regards all these matters I am only able to indicate shortly and generally the methods of cure, and can give no further explanation concerning them.



Death and Burial.

(Ordinary People.)

When a man or woman is regarded as dying, he or she is at once attended by a woman whose permanent office it is to do this, and who has other women and girls with her to assist her, these others including, but not necessarily being confined to, the females of the dying man's own family and relatives. The house is full of women; but there is no man there. This special woman and the others attend the dying man, [97] nursing him, washing him from time to time, and keeping the flies away from him; but they apparently do not attempt any measures for curing him, their offices only beginning when he is regarded as dying. In the meantime they all wail, and there are also a number of other women wailing outside the house.

The special woman watches the dying person; and when she thinks he is dead she gives him a heavy blow on the side of the head with her fist, and pronounces him dead. She apparently does not feel his heart, or do more than watch his face; and I should think it may often be that in point of fact he is not dead when the blow is given, and might perhaps have recovered.

Then the women inside the house say to one another that he is dead, and communicate the news to the people outside; whereupon the men in the village all commence shouting as loudly as they can. The reason given for this shouting is that it frightens away the man's ghost; but if so it is apparently only a partial intimidation of the ghost, who, as will be seen hereafter, is subjected to further alarms at a later stage. The men communicate the news in the ordinary way adopted by these people of shouting it across the valleys; and so it spreads to other villages, and even to other communities. The man being dead, the wailing of the women inside and outside the house is changed into a true funeral wailing song; but this latter only continues for a few minutes. The special woman and some others, probably relatives only, remain in the house; but they do not touch the body at this stage. The other women, probably non-relatives, go out. The relatives of the deceased, both men and women, immediately smear their bodies with mud, but no one else in the village does so.

This is the situation until the first party of women, generally accompanied by men, begin to come in from other villages of the same, and probably of one or more other, communities. These people have been laughing and playing and enjoying themselves on their way to the village, and do so freely until they get close to it. Then they commence wailing (not the funeral song) and shouting, calling the deceased by a relationship term, such as father, brother, etc., though they may never have heard of him before; and, doing this, they enter the village, and go to the house. The incoming women, but not the men, all arrive smeared with mud. The women crowd into and about the house, still wailing as before, but not the funeral song. They all see the body; and each woman, after seeing it, comes out and sits on the platform of the house or on the ground outside. The party of outside village women then cease their first wailing, and commence the funeral song, in which they are joined by the female relatives of the deceased and other women of the village. But again this only lasts for a few minutes, the period being longer or shorter according to the importance of the person who has died.

Other similar parties, coming in from other villages, go through the same performance as they come into the village; and in each case, as the women of each fresh party come out of the house after seeing the corpse, there is a fresh outburst of the funeral song on the part of all the women present, but always only for a few minutes. This goes on till the last batch of visitors has arrived. The people of the village know when this last batch has come, because they have been told by cross-valley shouting which villages are sending parties. The total number of women in the village is then generally very large. After the last batch of visitors has arrived, and until the funeral ceremony, all the women again break out into the funeral song for a few minutes about once an hour in the daytime, but not so often at night.

The funeral takes place probably about twenty-four hours after death. The body is now wrapped up by the special woman attendant, helped by the female relatives of the deceased, in leaves, especially banana leaves, and bark of trees, and remains so wrapped up in the house.

It is placed with the knees bent up to the chin, and the heels to the buttocks. In the meantime men of the village dig a grave 2 or 3 feet deep in the village open enclosure. When all is ready the funeral song begins again, the singers this time being the female relatives of the deceased and the women who have come from outside villages, but not the other women of the village of the deceased. Men of the village then carry the corpse, wrapped and doubled up, and place it, lying on its back, in the grave. There is no real procession from the house to the grave, though all the people assemble at the latter; but during the whole of the time, until the body is in the grave, the singing by the women of the funeral song continues. As soon as the body is in the grave, all the men, both villagers and visitors, shout again as before, and for the same purpose. The grave is then filled up, the women in the meantime singing as before; and when this is done the funeral is over.

The relatives of the deceased now go into mourning. The widow or widower or other nearest relative wears the mourning string necklace already described. He or she, and also the other near relatives, smear their faces, and sometimes, but not always, their bodies, with black, to which, as regards the face, but not the body, is added oil or water. Some more distant relatives, instead of blackening themselves, wear the mourning shell necklace. And all this will continue, nominally without break, until the mourning is formally removed, in the way to be explained hereafter. As a matter of fact, the insignia of mourning are not worn without interruption, and the black smearing is by no means so retained; but on any special occasion the person would take care to appear in mourning. There is a custom under which the widow or widower or other nearest relative may, instead of wearing the mourning string necklace, abstain during the period of mourning from eating some particular food, of which deceased was most fond. [98]

In connection with mourning, I should also mention a curious custom, which I understand is common, though not universal, for a woman who has lost a child, and especially a first-born or very clear child, to amputate the top end of one of her fingers, up to the first joint, with an adze. Having done this once for one child, she will possibly do it again for another child; and a woman has been seen with three fingers mutilated in this way. [99]

The family of the deceased invite men and women from some other community, but only one community, to a funeral feast, which is held after an interval of two or three days from the day of the funeral. On the day appointed these guests arrive. They are all well ornamented, but, with one exception, they do not wear their dancing ornaments. One of them, however, usually a chief or the son of a chief of the community invited, comes in his full dancing ornaments. All the guest men bring with them their spears, and perhaps adzes or clubs.

When they arrive the following performances take place, the village enclosure being left by the villagers empty and open:—First two guest women enter the village enclosure at one end, and run in silence round it, brandishing spears in both hands, as at the big feast; but they make no hostile demonstration. When these two women have reached their starting point, they again do the same thing, brandishing their spears as before, and all the guest men, except the specially dressed one, follow them by advancing with a dancing step along the enclosure, they also brandishing their spears, and also being silent. Thus the whole group goes to the other end of the village, passing the grave of the deceased as they do so; then they turn round, and come back again in the same way, but on their return they stop before they reach the grave.

Then the specially ornamented guest man enters alone, without his arms, but with his drum, which he beats. He dances up the village enclosure in a zigzag course, going from side to side of the enclosure, and always facing in the direction in which he is at the time moving; and during his advance he beats his drum., but otherwise he and all the other people are silent. When in this way he has reached the grave, the chief of the clan of the village where the funeral takes place, who does not wear any dancing ornaments, approaches him, and removes his heavy head ornament. This ends the first part of the ceremony; and the villagers and guests then chat and conduct themselves in the ordinary way.

Plates 82 and 83 illustrate scenes at a funeral feast in the village of Amalala. In the former plate the grave is very clear, and the remains of an older grave are visible behind the post a little to the left. At the upper end of the village enclosure are the visitors, who are about to dance along the enclosure past the grave, and then back again up to it. The figures in the emone behind are Amalala men, watching the performance. In the latter plate the visitor chief is seen dancing along the village enclosure towards the grave.

In the meantime the members of the family of the deceased bring in one or more village pigs and some vegetables. A number of sticks are laid upon the ground over the grave, the sticks crossing each other so as to form a rude ground platform (this is not done by any particular person), and these sticks are covered with banana leaves. [100] The pigs are placed on this platform, and are then killed by the pig-killer and cut up, and the vegetables and pieces of pig are distributed by the chief of the clan, helped perhaps by the family of the deceased, among the male visitors. The one specially dressed visitor, being the only one who has really danced, gets much the largest share. For example, if there be two or more pigs, he will get an entire pig for himself. Then the ceremony is over, and the guests return home. The wood of the platform is not removed from the grave, but is left to rot there. The killing of the pigs at this ceremony is regarded as the act which will, they think, finally propitiate or drive away the ghost of the departed.

It will be noticed that, though representatives from several communities may be invited and come to the funeral, only one community is invited to the subsequent funeral feast, just as only one community is invited to the big feast, which latter we must, I think, associate with the general superstitious idea of laying the ghosts of past departed chiefs and notables. I cannot say what is the reason for the confinement of these invitations to one community only, but it must, I think, have had some definite origin [101]; and as to this I am struck by the similarity of the Massim idea, referred to by Dr. Seligmann, that an individual's death primarily concerns the dead man's hamlet and one other hamlet of his clan, with which certain death feasts are exchanged, other members of the clan being comparatively little affected. [102]

As soon as possible after the funeral pig-killing, they catch some wild pig or pigs, and kill and eat them, and sweep down the village by way of purification ceremony, very much as they do in the case of the big feast, except that it is on a very much smaller scale, and that the people do not afterwards leave the village.

The ceremony of removal of the mourning may take place after an interval of only a week or two, or of so much as six months, the date often depending upon the occurrence of some other ceremony, at which the removal of the mourning can be carried out without necessitating a ceremony for itself only. Visitors from some other community attend. The ceremony only applies to the nearest relative—the person who wears the string necklace; but, on his or her mourning being ceremoniously removed, the mourning of all others in respect of the same deceased ceases automatically. [103] This nearest relative has to provide a village pig. There is a feast, and dancing and pig-killing and distribution of food and pig, in the usual way, and this may be in the village of the deceased or in some other village of the community. The pig-killing is done by the pig-killer under the platform of a chiefs platform grave, or on the site of it. The pig, specially provided by the nearest relative, is bought and paid for by some person, as in the case of some of the ceremonies already described, and this person, after the killing of the pig, without special ceremony, cuts off the mourner's string necklace, dips it in the blood of the pig, and throws it away; then he takes some coloured paint, usually red, and with it daubs two lines on each side of the face across the cheek of the mourner, who of course at this ceremony will still have his black paint. If the mourner has been refraining from food, instead of wearing the necklace, the ceremony is confined to the paint-daubing. Then the mourner pays this ceremonial pig-buyer for his services, probably in feathers or dog-teeth, and the mourning is at an end.

There will at a later date be a purification ceremony, at which wild pigs will be killed, such as has already been described. [104]

Death and Burial.

(Chiefs.)

A dying chief is attended by the special woman and others in the way above described, except that many women of the clan are there, and that this special attendance and its accompanying wailing begin earlier, perhaps two or three days earlier, than in the case of an ordinary person, and that all the women of the clan who are not in the house wail outside it.

In this case, however, there is a special ceremony for ascertaining whether or not the chief is in fact going to die—a ceremony which is usually performed at his own request. Some vegetable food, probably sweet potato, or perhaps sugar-cane or taro, is given him to eat; and this he will do although he may be very ill, and may not have been taking food, though of course, if he were insensible or unable to eat, this special ceremony could not be carried out. The inedible portions of this food, e.g., the peel of the potato or the hard fibres of the sugar-cane, are then handed to certain magical persons of the community, whose special duty it is to perform the ceremony about to be described, but as to whom I was unable to ascertain who and what they are, and whether they have any other special functions besides those of this ceremony. Some of these portions of food may even be sent to some similar magic person of high reputation in another community, in order that he also may perform the same ceremony. Each of these magic persons also has handed to him a portion of a perineal band belonging to, and recently worn by, the ailing chief.

Each of the magic men then wraps up the portion of food which has been given to him in the piece of band; and this he again wraps up in leaves, and continues doing so until the parcel has become a round ball 4 or 5 inches in diameter. The men then separate, and each of them goes off alone to a spot outside the village, where he collects some very dry firewood, and heaps it up against the trunk of a tree to a height of, say, 6 feet. He then engages in an incantation, after which he puts the ball inside the bottom of the wood pile, and lights the pile at the bottom. Then he lies down by this fire and closes his eyes. After an interval of perhaps two to five minutes he gets up, as though awakening from a bad dream, and hears the wailing in the adjoining village, and asks himself what all this wailing is about; and he then appears to remember for what purpose he is there, goes to the fire, and takes out the ball. If the fire has burnt or scorched the food wrapped up in the ball, it is an indication that the chief is to die. If not, it indicates that he will live. These magic men then return to the village, and report the result. If their report be that the chief is going to live, the people cease their wailing, but if it be that he is to die, the wailing continues.

Pausing here for a moment, I may admit that, though I have told the tale of this ceremony, with its private cogitations—real or pretended—of the magic men, as it was told to me, the tale is open to obvious questions. How can a magic man from a distant community hear the wailing? What would happen if the results of the ceremonies of the various magic men were to differ? What would be the situation if a chief whose death was indicated by the ceremony lived, or if one whose recovery was foretold became worse and died? All these points I tried to elucidate without success; but possibly the answer to the query as to divergence of results may be that the men take care that the results of their experiments shall not differ.

It is believed by the natives that, if a hostile community can secure some of the food remnants and band, and hand them to their own magic man, for him to go through the same ceremony, he may maliciously bring about an unfavourable result, and thus may cause the death of the chief. If the belief that such a thing had happened arose, it would be a casus belli with that other community; and a case is known in which an inter-community fight did occur on this ground.

If the report be that the chief is to die, the special woman attendant will give him the blow on the head, as in the case of the ordinary villager. The shouting of the men outside when the chiefs death is announced is much louder than in the case of a commoner; and as they shout they brandish their spears, and strike the roof of the chiefs house with the spear points, and some of the men strike it with adzes and clubs. The spreading of the news to other communities is on a wider scale, and the number of people who respond to the news and come to the funeral is very great, and includes a larger number of chiefs and prominent men; there are more, and much larger, parties of them. The funeral song of the women, commenced on the announcement of death, lasts much longer—indeed for hours. In fact, as numerous large bodies of people keep coming in, and some of these coming from a distance may not arrive until just before the funeral, and as the funeral song has to be recommenced as each fresh party comes in, and lasts so much longer each time, it follows that this funeral song practically continues without ceasing from the moment when death is announced until the actual funeral. The immediate smearing by men and women of their bodies with mud is done by all the members of the entire community. When the guests reach the village, they are all, both men and women, smeared with mud, and they loudly call on the dead chief by his title amidi, or as babe (father). Also the various chiefs' wives among the guests remain in the house after seeing the body, instead of coming out with the other guest women.

The funeral does not take place till thirty-six or forty-eight hours after the death. The various chiefs' wives take part in the wrapping up of the body; and to the ordinary wrappings are added large pieces of bark cloth.

The grave [105] is quite different from that of a commoner. There are two methods of sepulture adopted for chiefs, the grave being in both cases in or by the edge of the open village enclosure.

The first of these methods is a burial platform, a very rough erection of upright poles from 9 to 12 feet high, the number of which may be four, or less or more than that, at the top of which erection is a rude wooden box-shaped receptacle, about 2 or 3 feet square, and from 6 inches to a foot deep, and uncovered at the top, in which receptacle the corpse is placed. Sometimes the supporting structure, instead of being composed of a number of poles, is only a rough tree trunk, on which the lower ends of the branches are left to support the box.

The second method is tree burial. The tree in which this is done is a special form of fig tree called gabi, the burial box, similar to the one above described, being placed in its lowest fork, or, if that be already occupied, then in the next one, and so on. [106] A tree has been seen with six of these boxes in it, one above another. This tree is specially used for such burials. The natives will never cut it down. In selecting a village site they will often specially choose one where one of these trees is growing; and indeed the presence of such a tree in the bush raises a probability that there is, or has been, a native village there. [107]

If a burial platform afterwards falls down through decay, the people throw away all the bones, except the skull and the larger bones of the arms and legs; and these they deal with in one of three alternative ways. They either (1) dig a shallow grave in the ground under the fallen platform, and put the skull and special bones there, and then fill in the grave with soil, on this put a heap of stones, and on these put the wooden remains of the collapsed platform, planting round them tobacco or croton, or some other fine-leaved plant, or (2) they put the skull and special bones in a box on the gabi burying tree, or (3) they take them to the emone, and there hang them up till they are wanted for a big feast. In the same way, if a tree box falls, they retain only the skull and large arm and leg bones, and replace them in a new box in the same tree.

We have already seen a chiefs burial platform in the two plates 69 and 70 relating to the big feast at Seluku, and the following plates are additional illustrations:—Plate 84 is the grave of a chiefs child in the village of Malala. The supports of the grave rise from the village enclosure fence behind, and are quite distinct from the underground commoner's grave, which is seen in front. The positions of the two graves can be seen in the general view of the village (Plate 58). Plate 85 is a group of graves of chiefs and chiefs' relatives in the village of Tullalave (community of Auga). Plate 86 shows the grave of a chiefs child in the village of Faribe (community of Faribe). The form of this grave is quite different from those of the others, and is not, I think, so common, but a grave somewhat resembling it is seen in Plate 60.

Plate 87 is a gabi fig tree, used for tree burial, near to the village of Seluku, and Plate 88 shows the remains of an old burial box in one of its forks. The bones are still in this box, and indeed one of them may be just discerned at the extreme left, close to the upright stem of the tree.

Plate 89 illustrates what I have said as to what is done when a burial platform falls down from decay. The skull and larger arm and leg bones of the body have been buried underground, and upon these have been heaped first stones and then the remains of the collapsed platform, and one little foliage plant and dried-up looking specimens of others can be seen around it. This picture was taken in the village of Seluku, and the actual position of the grave in the village enclosure is seen in Plate 55. Plate 90, of an emone in the village of Voitele (community of Sivu) illustrates the alternative plan of hanging the skull and bones up in the emone.

At the funeral all the women present, those of the village and of the whole community and the guests, join in singing the funeral song; but here again there is no actual procession, and the carrying of the body is not necessarily entrusted to any particular person. When the grave, whether on a platform or on a tree, is reached, all the men present begin to shout loudly, and there is a terrible noise. They all have their spears, but there is no brandishing of them. Then some men (anyone may do this) climb up to the box, and others hand the wrapped body up to them, and they place it lying on its back in the box. This ends the actual burial ceremony.

The black mourning face, and sometimes body-staining is then adopted by all the people of the community, and perhaps also by chiefs from other communities who have been friends of the dead chief. The special string necklace worn by the nearest relative and the other family emblems of mourning are the same as in the case of an ordinary person, except that the chiefs widow will probably also wear the special mourning network vest already described, and that the mourning shell necklace, which in the case of an ordinary man is only worn by distant relatives, is worn by all the married men and women of the clan who have or can procure it.