Another White Woman In The Papuan Bush.

(Written for The Pacific Islands Monthly, By “Momokeni”.)

I DO not think that “The Diary of a White Woman in the Papuan Bush” (P.I.M. of February) and other art icles by the same writer, quite correctly represents household conditions as they are in Papua. Everything depends on the way in which one runs one’s home.

It was refreshing to read the re marks made by Mrs. Innes when inter viewed by your representative, and they can be applied to Papua as well as to the Mandated Territory.

If one is accustomed to handling na tives and sees to their welfare, the ser vant problem is not serious. Seeing to their welfare does not end with their weekly issue of rations and a dose of quinine or salts occasionally. The woman who desires to have her home well run must actually take a personal interest in her staff, be it of one or more Papuans; there are many ways of doing this without in any way lower ing the prestige which it is so essen tial to maintain. My own daily routine is not at all interesting to anyone liv ing in Papua, but I am sure that it is a great deal happier than that of the writer I refer to.

My staff consists of two big boys and one little boy, who assists at the table.

At 6 a.m.. No. 1 boy lights the Primus, while No. 2 boy attends to the “Icy ball.” 6.15, tea arrives.

By this time the stove has been cleaned and the fire lit by No. 1 boy. 7 a.m. baths are ready, after which I go outside and see what flowers I can gather from my garden. In Papua one can at least grow coloured-leaved shrubs, such as acalapha, crotons, etc.

By this time the small boy has set the table and everything is ready for me to give final instructions for breakfast.

It is really not hard to teach a native to cook if he has a liking for it, pro viding you teach him one thing at a time. I find the best way to do this is to take a chair to the kitchen, quietly telling him what to do while you sit and watch, correcting any mistakes he might make; and even if you are lucky enough to teach a boy to be quite a good cook, you ask for disaster in your kitchen unless during the preparing or cooking of meals you make an inspec tion now and then.

Breakfast over, the boys sweep and polish the house, the small boy help ing me arrange the flowers. The house quite in order, they depart to the boy house for their own breakfast. I spend the rest of the morning sewing, reading or writing. 1 p.m., lunch. After 2 p.m. I rest for an hour. At 4 p.m. tea is served. The boys are then free to play football, cricket, or anything they like till 6 p.m.

As I, like others, live mostly on tinned food, the preparation of dinner is not a lengthy one. However, with a little thought, one can even make tinned food presentable. Our dinner table is always set as daintily as pos sible; it is surprising how charming the table can be made with a few bush flowers or leaves.

As I also live in that part of the Territory where “Gubas” (sudden rain squalls) arrive unexpectedly during the night, I make a point of collecting my pretty cushions and see that my mats on the N.W. side of the house are pulled back out of the way of the driv ing rain accompanying the “Guba.”

I have only been in Papua a few years, but it was from such people as Mrs. Bunting, and Mrs. Dr. Giblin (who, by the way, has a really marvel lous understanding of natives) I learned that if I wanted a well-run happy home I would have to under stand the right and the wrong way to manage my servants, and I can assure you it is not by shouting, “Boy! Do this” or “Do that!” It is by tact, firm ness and kindness —mingled with a keen sense of humour, without which you are lost.

However, I would like to add that one has only to see the delightful and well-run home of Mrs. Arthur Bunting, of Samarai, to understand what is meant by Mrs. Innes’ remarks; “If one is accustomed to handling natives, and sees to their welfare, the servant prob lem is not serious.”