New Guinea

Sidelights In Papua And

By R. W. Robson, from Notes mode during o Brief Visit to the Australian Pacific Territories in August, 1939

HOW quickly the international scene changes! When we sailed north out of Caims, on the “Macdhui”, Euro pean affairs were quiet—almost placid— but every morning, when the radio bulle tin was posted, we all reacted in our sev eral ways to the news from the Far East.

“How much longer can this go on?” was the general comment, as we read of Japanese insults in Tientsin, and a cheeky move to blockade Hong Kong.

Three weeks later, back in Cairns, the news showed Europe now tensely waiting, or feverishly mobilising, while the ego centric Hitler tried to decide whether to let the balloon go up or not. The Japanese, completely disconcerted by the German-Russian Pact, were once more going into diplomatic reverse, and talk ing of a new friendship with Britain and America. But no one was taking any notice of them.

The greatest trial in the Territories is the absence of connected news. Every radio-owner picks up bits and pieces, in dicating the general trend of world affairs: but it is quite impossible, in the absence of connected and continuing news services, set out clearly in print, to understand what actually is going on. * * ♦ 1 HEARD many new Pidgin gems in New Guinea Here is the best—the contribution of Mrs. Stewart, who still directs operations at the “Top Hotel” in Wau. For the purpose of this story, please know that banus is a fence; that susu is milk; and that a goat is something new to the natives.

There had been a domestic disaster.

The household goat had eaten madame’s new brassiere, and the houseboy was try ing to convey the sad tidings.

Said the boy: “New fella dog he kaikai banus belong susu belong missus.” * * * 117 HEN the “Macdhui” entered Sala- TT maua in August, the report spread that war had broken out. Actually, the “Macdhui” was being re-painted but the great splotches of red and brown and what-not looked much like the camou flage with which merchantmen dis guised themselves in the war days.

Incidentally, what must it not cost The Firm to keep white the Great White Fleet? In Sydney. I noticed the “Macdhui”, “Merkur”, “Malaita” and “Tulagi” all lying together, all shining white, but a very blasphemous bo’s’n told me that the work of maintaining them in shining whiteness was “just nobody’s business”. Most of them prowl around among Islands wharves where tarriness is considered next to godliness, and the deadly work done by the tar is finished by the bumping lighters in the more re mote ports.

“I hope their paint bill will break their blinking hearts”, said one bo’s’n, fer vently. “and then we’ll get back to black ships.” * * * SINCE amalgamation became a live topic up here in the tropics, the folk of Papua and New Guinea have found something new to squabble about. The

“Macdhui’s” smoke-room is just like Ethel’s bar—Papua lads at one end, and the hard-boiled elect of New Guinea at the other, and occasional dirty looks be tween. The ladies, of course, always re spond to atmosphere.

“Pooh”, I overheard. “You can keep your Papuan labourers—l’m sure we can get along without them.”

Madame Papua’s answer was prompt.

“And you can keep your Kong-Kong traders—we don’t want them down here!” ♦ * • ON the “Macdhui”. I met a charming little lady, destined to break many hearts —Miss Desiree Cridland, aged 2 'h, daughter of the R.M. at Cape Nelson, Papua. It was noteworthy that when she played with other children, she displayed an imperious and forthright spirit. She gave orders —and there was the devil and all to pay if she were not at once obeyed Mrs. Cridland apologised to the other mothers. “She has been for so long accus tomed to meeting little native children that she does not know how to behave with children of her own colour. In Papua the children always, as a matter of course, give way to the white child.

and Desiree now thinks it is her right.” ♦ * * ON a cool verandah, on the top of the isle of Samarai, I was neatly and smartly served with morning tea, by a Papuan house-servant so clean and deft that I remarked upon it. “Many

people complain of incompetent house boys”, I said.

Mrs. Aumuller snorted—if so gentle a lady can be held guilty of such a thing.

“House servants are just what you make of them—it is entirely a matter of choos ing the right natives, and handling them properly. You can have admirable ser vants here, if you set about it the right way. If you have a poor servant here, look for a weak or incompetent master.” * * » IN quiet sunny waters, north of Samarai, we passed the place where the German raider “Wolf” captured the “Matunga” in 1917. One of the officers grew remini scent.

"When we were pulling out from Sydney the other day, I saw Mr. Lynch on the wharf and, though it happened over 20 years ago, the memory of his language made me laugh. Lynch was chief steward on the ‘Matunga’ and, along with the rest of the crew, he was taken a prisoner to Germany There, officers were not compelled to work, but all others had to work hard. The Germans do not re gard the chief steward as an officer, and so our friend got calloused hands on a pick and shovel or something. That was bad enough. But the part that really up set Lynch was the condition of the bo’s’n. According to the Germans, a bo’s’n is an officer, and so the ‘Matunga’ boatswain did not work, and enjoyed himself (as well as he could) in a prison camp—especially when he watched the labours of his dear old shipmate Lynch.” * * * r’.E south-east was blowing hard in Rabaul harbour, and I got Captain Michie’s permission to go up on the “Macdhui’s” bridge. “I want to see how you are going to get this ship away from that damn wharf”, I said.

They worked her away from the wharf

very ingeniously, in the teeth of the south easter—a long cable out from the stem to a heavy buoy, and then clawing up to the starboard anchor, thoughtfully dropped fifty feet out as they went in to berth. The “Macdhui” finally went out into mid-harbour stern-first, and fast, through the floating pumice—a pretty manoeuvre.

Captain Michie spoke savagely of the Government wharf and the people who built it. “Why was it put there?” he asked.

"Why couldn’t they have rebuilt the old wharf, after the 1924 fire? That was an ideal situation. We could go straight in and straight out in any weather; but the wharf at Malaguna is always awkward in south-east weather. Also, at the old wharf we could keep on working cargo in any weather, just by rigging tarpaulins At Malaguna, when it rains, we knock off ” * * * THE cedar of the Bulolo Valley, New Guinea, deservedly has a great repu tation; but not many people know that the best surfboard on the Australian coast is made of Bulolo cedar. Roy Sowerby, of B.G.D. staff, Bulolo, cut the wood and dried it, and then carved a surfboard 91 feet long, 221 inches wide and 31 inches thick, and took it to Sydney Last year George Connors, at the cham pionship meeting at Bondi, won the championship with this board; and, ac cording to Connors, it is the best board in use in Australia. * * * rERE is talkie equipment on the ‘Macdhui”, and a roomful of old films, and when the ship is lying in an Islands port, the lonely Europeans gather eagerly to hear and see the picture-show.

But the shows have their moments of embarrassment—the pictures are rather tragically dated by ladies’ hair and motor car radiators and so forth. There was one shown aboard recently in which the an nouncer stated, in a voice of happy op timism, “It is expected that this great work will be finished in 1935!”

In another, Joan Crawford appears as a flapper. “That’s making it too hot”, said one gentleman to me. “I think Joan Crawford is now fighting her third hus band!” * * « AS I walked along Port Moresby’s sunny street, admiring the lines of the new Moresby Hotel, there came from said hostelry a shattering burst of sound—a noise like that made by Abyssin ian jaguars in their death-throes. I entered the shaded lounge, and there was Manager Bayer crossing from his office in startled leaps, waving his arms, and I gathered that his demand was the equivalent of “You can’t do that there here”

Six young men, gathered thirstily around seven bottles of beer, stared at him sourly. The concert ceased. There was argument, and then they gathered up their beer, formed fours and marched out. I had seen the 13th Heavy Battery in action.

Port Moresby now is a garrison town, and increasing numbers of troops are to be stationed there. Australian taxpayers will be gratified to know that the lowest ranks of these lads receive each £2OO per annum in pay, and £l2O per annum of tropical allowance—£32o p.a. in all.

Their mess costs them 14/- per week.

They are stuck in this quiet little town with nothing to occupy their spare time, and plenty of money on their hands . . . is it any wonder that the pubs bristle when they see the troops approaching, and that certain vivacious half-caste girls,

in the outlying villages, are enjoying a deal of flattering attention! * * * WHEN I met Vince Smith (traveller for Dewars, Nestles, etc.) on a gold fields aerodrome in New Guinea, he was definitely and distinctly sniffy. I gathered that he had a grievance against one of the air transport companies.

“They have neither sense nor rhythm in their charges”, he declared. “They have just charged me 28 lb. overweight on my luggage. Yet look at me. I weigh eight stone—but do I get any reduction?

I do not! Some of you fellows (eyeing me offensively) ought to be charged over weight. Harold Baker was round here with me a little while ago. He weighs 17 stone. I weigh 8 stone. Yet they charged each of us exactly the same fare.”

As I left, sympathetic friends were trying to induce him to wear an over coat, and carry his luggage in his pockets. * * « RABAUL folk seem to live quite happily in the shadow of their two beastly volcanoes. Both are quiet enough.

Vulcan steams a little and Matupi smokes and gurgles, but there rarely is a guria nowadays. But both are highly unpleasant neighbours—Matupi stinks abominably, while the south-east wind carries from Vulcan, over the country side, large quantities of the finest pumice dust, which irritates some throats almost beyond endurance.

When the ship got in. this very foul odour from Matupi led me to a grievous misunderstanding. There was a fat pas senger whom I cordially disliked; and there came a moment when I gazed upon him thoughtfully and with calculation.

“Well, well”, said I. “It is what I might have expected”, and I moved ostentatiously around to windward of him. But there the perfume was more marked; and so I tracked it to the wind which blew off Matupi. Sulphuretted hydrogen!

The Rabaul wits have been at work.

They have The Mother and Two Daughters (peaks near Rabaul) and The Father and Two Sons (peaks 90 miles away). But what should they call the new peak—the yellow monstrosity which ap peared in the night of May 28. 1937? The answer is apparent. Officially, he is Vul can. Locally and colloquially, he is The Bastard. * * * THERE was a rather lively disturbance on the verandah of the Rabaul hotel where I was staying. A woman from New Ireland was holding court. (She was the sister of a planter, and she said she had come into Rabaul to escape, for a while, “this everlasting talk of bluddy coconuts”.) The lady held up a badly scorched skirt, while before her there wriggled the culprit—a native washboy.

She pointed out, with excusable ferocity, that her skirt was ruined—all scorched.

The boy was an optimist. He indicated one little patch that was not scorched.

“Tm ’e good fella ’ere, missus”, he pleaded.

The New Ireland lady opened her lips to say the only words that would fit the occasion, noticed that I was listening, and went inside and banged the door. * * » IN Salamaua, I was surprised to hear that a man I had inquired for was dead. “What did he die of?” I asked.

The other man leaned forward and tap ped the bottle.

“Victoria Fosteritis”, he replied . . .

In Wau, I was told that the consumption of canned beer has grown beyond

expectations.

“Why?” I asked. m?ttlr m how tight stflfcan

fllf

home. You can't do that with bottles."

Also, in Wau, they told me about the local “home-brew”.

They said: “You pour it into an iron pannikin, and then drink it quickly, so that it won’t break the pannikin. * ‘ * * AFEW years ago, in New Guinea, when a man’s hair grew to untidiness, he prowled about wisi fully, begging his fellows to operate—although he well knew the horrid result. Or else he waited the arrival of the steamer, and submitted

his locks to the ministrations of a cyni cal steward. But, to-day, thanks to the ladies, all is changed. The modern woman demands hair treatment once a

on^woman 11 hahdressfr.

S ™U man's hair ™th neatness and 0 f “ hi “°‘ r Redness in his ear at i eas t not without encourage ment. ’ * * * tjj New Guinea, they call Salamaua «j^ r Field’s sick headache”. Mr. Field is director of public works, and ap parently is a competent and conscientious engineer. To-day under the instructions politicians and near^ pohticians—who knew nothing about engineering the un happy man is trying to. 1. Find some way of filling in the

bottomless Salamaua swamp, at a price less than a quarter million or so; 2. Devise a method of preventing the erosion on the sea side of the isthmus town, where the waves are always nibbling at the backyards; 3. Find a route, straight up over the vf rom 1 ? alar ? aua Wau > for a n ? C u St more an So?,’ 000 il? mld ’ and re .P r , esen t less than a king s ransom in maintenance. 4. Provide deep-water wharfage for shipping.

One imagines that tbP trouble r»f ivrr Field in rpbHnn tn M outstanding l examnlP nf l what ’ oiiLstancung example of what happens when Australia's pin-headed politicians interfere with the administration of a haVe neVW Seen and Cannot understand. N the ramshackle old building which is called the Hotel Salamaua, and in the

adjoining shacks which take the “over flow”, there are women and children liv ing-cheerful souls who are standing by while the husbands carry on their jobs with the administration, or the airways, or the big stores.

No European family should be allowed to live indefinitely in a hotel in the tropics—and especially in a place like Salamaua. The decencies and comforts of family life are possible only in a spacious bungalow.

But, in Salamaua, they can do nothing about it. Ever since the irresponsible Mr.

Hughes arrived, and decided that the new capital should be built on Sala maua’s swamp, and ever since the wretched surveyors began to crawl around the mountain sides, seeking a route for Mr. Hughes’ snap-decision road, housing accommodation has been at a premium.

No one will build, and there is no land for building—and there will be none so

long as uncertainty remains regarding Salamaua’s fate. * * * THE town of Wau may insist that it is gloomy and depressed; but in the smart little town of Bulolo—the dredg ing centre, a few miles away down the Bulolo Valley—there is plenty of optim ism and gaiety. Established originally as a barracks for the early dredge hands, it now is the social centre of all the B.G.D. operations, and this well-organised concern sees that the little town has all the amenities of life—electric light, re frigeration, radios, locally-grown fresh food, a cinema, and so on. Burns. Philp and Co., opened a new store there last September. There now are nearly 100 European women living in Bulolo. * * * THE Government Secretary, Mr. Page, took me to see the new native village schools near Rabaul. There was fas cinating interest in this new admini strative activity, and in studying the methods by which the European teachers and Malaguna-trained native lads are giving small native children a knowledge of English and European wavs; but I was even more interested in watching Mr Page’s absorption in the work of the schools. Many people regard the Govern ment Secretary as a fierce disciplinarian and a “routine hound”; but here I think I discerned the true administrative exe cutive, who could see, beyond these rows of bright-eyed, eager, little native child ren, the New Guinea of 1970 or so, in which the people are a little more able to take care of themselves, and to adjust their crumbling stone-age culture to in evitable “Europeanisation”. * * * I WALKED about Rabaul, looking for pumice and broken trees and ruin, but the town was even more beautiful than when I saw it last (before the erup tion). Evervone coughs and sneezes and curses over the pumice dust, which comes in on the south-easter, from the volcanic mounts: but otherwise the town is green and gorgeously b Q -flowered—much as be fore No one believes now that the ad ministrative establishment will be re moved. Escape roads to the north and east have been built, an emergencv camp prepared, and a 3-point vulcano logjcal observatory is being installed, to keep watch on the hellish forces now al most asleep under the southern fringe of the town. The Government that will try to move the capital, in the face of these precautions and the general complacency will be bold indeed. ♦ * * ACCEPTING an invitation to attend a general meeting of the Labour Party in Wau, I expected to hear wage rates deplored and capitalism vilified. But it was not so. I wish a talkie record had been taken of this meeting, for exhibition in Australia, to show Australian Labour ites where and how they have lost the right track. The matters they discussed in Wau had to do more with the advance ment of the Territory and the improve ment of living conditions, than with petty selfish interests. They reminded me of the Australian Labour Party of the old days, when it was controlled by the A.W.U., and was a real force in Aus tralian affairs. Wau Labour Party is a misnomer nowadays—it should be Wau Vigilantes or Wau Progress Association. « * * ONE of the main pastimes in Wau is the telling of stories about the more picturesque characters of the gold fields. Here is one about the late Edmund

(Continued On Page 57).

Mr. Eric Ernest McGowan, formerly of Labasa, Fiji, married Miss Nina Myra Jackson, of Savu Savu, at Holy Trinity Pro-Cathedral, Suva, in August. The bride until recently was a member of the Suva staff of Brown and Joske Ltd. They will make their future home at Lakeba, in the Lau Group, where Mr. McGowan has been appointed manager of Morris. Hed strom Ltd.’s trading post.

Major E. Oughton, an English con sulting engineer, arrived in Sydney from London late in August on his way to New Caledonia to study chromite depos its for the French mining concern. So ciete la Tiebaghi. He told the Sydney newspapers that Japan is opening up considerable iron ore deposits in the French Colony—in four months recently they removed 35.000 tons and hope to take away each year more than 300,000 tons.

Coakley, a successful miner who was found to have had bank accounts all over the place, and all of them carrying large credits.

Mr. Coakley was a good Roman Catho lic, and he decided to send a very large nugget to Archbishop Mannix, to assist a certain building project. The nugget was duly despatched: and there duly came back from the Archbishop of Melbourne a letter of warm thanks. Mr. Coakley was puzzled by the fact that the letter was signed “Head”, whereas he understood the name of the Archbishop was “Mannix”.

His delighted friends explained. He had addressed his gift to “The Archbishop of Melbourne”, and, of course, it had gone to the Anglican Church, and not to the Roman Catholic prelate.

Poor Mr. Coakley became so unhappy over it that his friends feared for his health. Archbishop Head was communi cated with, the circumstances were ex plained, the gift was forthwith handed over to Archbishop Mannix, and Mr.

Coakley slept in peace. * * * DWELLERS in the Morobe goldfields towns may curse their costly aero plane transport—but the system has its compensations. For example, they all get fresh milk, every day, from Australian dairy cattle originally carried in in aero planes. Mr. J. W. Barker has established a dairy farm just outside Wau, and the air companies distribute fresh milk free of charge. The Mandated Airlines ’plane in which I travelled in the early morning up from Salamaua was en route to Wau to pick up the milk supply for “the beach”. ■* * * WEDDINGS in Wau are of frequent occurrence. Girls who arrive to fill jobs, or on holidays bent, are whisked off in matrimony literally before they can get their fingers crossed. Wau’s young men (unmarried) are rather bitter about it; and. one Sunday morning in whimsical mood, they interviewed me.

“Do you think you could do a bit of recruiting for us down South?” they asked. “You can pick them —you ought to know Territory tastes by now. Don’t forget to send along a few spares. Ship them through Carpenters, marked Tf any complaints, refer to C. E. Parker’ ” —the latter being a cruel allusion to the well known rubber stamp of the big firm’s in defatigable inspector. * * * WHEN the New Guinea Administration arranged to buck up the Treasury with a new issue of postage stamps— a time honoured device of impecunious Islands Governments—it decided to mark the achievements of aerial transport in the Territory by putting upon the stamps a picture of an aeroplane.

But the gratified purring of the staunchly British air companies turned to startled yelps when they saw the finished stamps. It was an aeroplane, all right— a large, clear ly-recognisable Junkers!

There are British and American ’planes aplenty on the field: but the unhappy wight who selected the picture for re production must choose a photograph of a German machine. The stamp issues have been withdrawn; but the cynics in Wau are still sneering about it. * * * A THIN, red-headed man whom I met on the Wau hotel verandah enter

tained mo with stories of misfortune. A sour Fate had danced upon his neck so often that he regarded his ill-luck as something really funny.

His memories of the field went back so far that I got curious about him—and then I discovered he was none other than Ernie Dover, who went into the Koranga Creek (a mile north of where Wau now stands) with Shark-Eye Park and Nettleton in August, 1922. (Park, Preston, Mat Crowe and G. Auerbach found the gold there before 1914, but were chased out by the German officials. They returned as soon as the war was over.) Dover followed Nettleton and Park in; “and”, said Ernie, “they gave me a job there to induce me to keep quiet about the gold. Sloane followed me in—he arrived with one boot on and the other round his neck. The natives then were hostile—they kept away

from us, inside their barricaded villages.”

Dover should have made several for tunes, but he still is chasing the elusive metal. That day. he had returned from

evemhins “anato”

« That old bag ’ in that room there is the Q W bi C h I carried in in 1922, when I t r{ , P t Pr QVmrk- ” trac , Shark-Eye. . .. n 1 f aS o^ d f 4 er v? lo^6o^ mi/ D that Shark-Eye Park is now I l ™® in B^ s l^ ) j ne ’ '* oe ,, Sloane, he thought, was on . a . fa ,l m - 111 Qoo. ensla^d ; while Nettleton is in England his mother anc * im a I(^y httle property .

I>ETWEEN Wau and Lae I sat in an 13 aeroplane beside a Brisbane woman, who was having her first real glimpse of up-ended New Guinea. For ten minutes, she gazed out over torn and twisted moun

!*“?• SnJ- all !r 0f , l i lcr ,?? ib !t stee ? nes !

You know , she said, if they iioned this country out. it would be as big as AfripJi ** , , if wc. ii 115 ’Plane, it was queer to see how the Baiune water- Bulolo Gold Dredging, Ltd., to feed its second power-house— made the grades and found its way down from the dam to the power-house (now being duplicated). It crept along the knifelike edges of the twisted and serrated hiiic e cages oi me twisted and serrated hills

“ th e most extraordinary way-a really clever feat in engineering —.

T N Madang, a couple of years ago, there J. was one motor-road, one motor-vehicle and one policeman. The policeman took action against the motorist, and he was properly and satisfactorily fined for running his car without a tail-light ’

Tbprp ovo

w™ Inf a of mofor S'™!

w ’ a “® a lot ot motor-vehicle*. The police test the brakes of the motor vehicles, as is lawful and proper. But there is no co-ordination. Lads who have been tested one day by one policeman a re held up, a few days later, by another policeman, for another test; and their bitter complaints are of no avail.

A T Wau, 1 asked after an old-timer,

? Wa ? te S *°

interview about New Guinea timbers, But I was told that he Was down near Salamaua and, with a few native “ ers 'l s holdout the Creeks m the foothills, at the back Of Kila, to keep going. That shows the enormous possibilities of this countrv if for the individual miner. There is gold all over this Morobe area, in sufficient quan tity to support many, many prospectors an d miners, provided always that the men are given practical help and encourage ment.