From Notes Made In
p. 38 · Read in the full issue
Wau
By R. W. Hobson
TF you are interested, you may see in A the Bulolo Hotel, at Wau, a fine bronze figure of a New Guinea police-boy carrier, with his pack up. This is called “The Real Pioneer,” and it is a tribute paid by the late Mr. C. J. Levien, gold fields pioneer, to those brave and hard working native carriers who made the opening of Morobe possible. Mr. Levien presented the figure for competition at the Wau Easter sports.
I was surprised to learn that, despite the great air-transport services, parties of carriers still walk in from the coast with freight. The freight is detonators, which may not be carried in aeroplanes.
The walk, with all modern improvements thrown in, still takes 3i days. * * ♦ AN old-timer in Wau showed me where store stood, in the days when Wau was merely a cluster of shacks among the Kunai. Mr. Ainsworth kept the store. It was not lawful to sell beer m quarts or pints, yet beer was the ar ticle of merchandise most frequently asked for. Ainsworth got over the trouble simply he stored his beer in tins. Cus tomers asked for “a bully-beef tin.” Ains worth duly handed over the tin and re ceived payment. The fact that the tin was full of beer was a happy accident.
Thus was the law honoured and the Non conformist conscience salved. * * * T WAS impressed by the sartorial excel lence of the pilots in the New Guinea air-transport services. Some of the pilots show originality and artistry in arrang ing their costumes. The one I like best comprised white shirt, white shorts, and white socks daintily turned down over black shoes. But their hats are an ab omination in the face of the Creator.
Never have I seen such foul old felts.
Now I know where all the discarded old hats go in spring-cleaning-time. ♦ * * THE fertility of the Bulolo Valley, on the Morobe goldfield, is something beyond belief. The soil will grow any thing, and the situation close to the equator, but 3500 feet above sea level— gives a climate that is a sheer delight to gardeners. In front of Mrs. Stewart’s Hotel I saw vivid red roses growing be side hibiscus and frangi-panni, while English peaches flourished alongside mango-trees. Nearby, surrounding a bun galow in which Dr. and Mrs. Giblin (late of Port Moresby) have settled down, there was a glorious display of English flowers—all the sorts that they say will not grow in the tropics. These flowers had come from seeds in less than three months—an almost incredible thing.
There was not a speck or a blemish to be seen anywhere—another incredible thing—the garden pests of civilisation have not yet found this clean new town among the New Guinea hills.