When Sari Was

Troubled

The Gona-Buna Invasion, as Seen Through Native Eyes

By “Daika”

SAPI was a Papuan native, old in years and experience. Some grey hairs were showing in the fuzzy hair, now thinning.

He sat in his house on the hilltop, and looked over the trees towards Buna, where some big boats were in sight, and aeroplanes were flying. Loud explosions, and smoke, were also over there.

Sapi was troubled. These must be the Japanese the Government had told them of. Well, the Government would put them in gaol, as it did to all evil-doers.

Sapi was old now, but he could remem ber when he had gone to gaol for hit ting his wife with a stick. That she had died from it was by the way. She was weak. But Sapi learned the white man’s law, and now was a respected member of the community. He looked across to where his present wife was gathering some firewood, helped by his son’s wife and three children.

This was Sapi’s garden house. He had left the village, long ago, when the first aeroplanes began to fly over every day.

Why, he could not say, but the village was near the beach, and Sapi could hide in the bush.

His son was with the Government at Buna. Sapi was troubled. Only four Government men were there, and some police. They had rifles, but the Japan ese had rifles, too —big ones, by the

sounds coming across the clear air, for so many miles.

He looked the other way and saw the mission station of Eroro, with its sprawl ing buildings. The missionary and his wife were still there. Perhaps they would go away now.

Night fell, and the little community could still hear the battle going on. The women were frightened and covered the fire over.

Other natives went past, going to more remote spots, but Sapi stayed. He was too old to walk far, and his garden was too small to be worth anything to others.

His few pigs were well hidden, THE days went on, and to Sapi came some villagers with strange tales —of how the much-respected Govern ment had gone away; of hundreds of Japanese; of motor lorries and horses; of big guns and strange natives; of how the Japanese had gone to Sangara and the whites had disappeared; of more hun dreds of Japanese, and more boats; of aeroplanes and bombs; of pay for natives working for the Japs; of the be-littling of the old Government by the Japs, for its running away.

There were a lot of Japanese, and more were coming. Sapi had been to Port Moresby, and had seen a lot of white people, too —but not as many as this.

The Japs might be right, and really be here to stay. Perhaps he could get some bananas and go to see them for himself.

He would have liked to have spoken to the Government men before they went.

The Government had been strong, and just, but now—well, it was beyond him.

The missionary had said he should pray, and had given him medicines; but this seemed no time for prayer.

He looked to his hunting spears and clubs. It was as well to be prepared.

The missionaries had told the teacher to stay but then had gone off themselves.

Perhaps the white Taubadas were not going to be strong anymore. Ai! Ai!

SAPI gathered his small clan, and some food, both for themselves and as gifts to the Japs, and set out to see for himself. If the Japs were really come to stay, then Sapi would be better off. going to them early.

He walked from his secluded place to the village. It was deserted, and the houses were in need of repair. A few hungry pigs ran to the bush at sight of the party. The main garden was being over-run by pigs: the fence was down.

The next village was deserted; but, from the bush, came several ex-residents, to compare notes. Their information added little to what Sapi already knew, but they joined his party. The women went to the bush to wait their return.

SAPI and his new friends plodded on until they came within sight of Buna, Numbers of men were moving about.

Natives were working, but they spoke a language strange to Sapi. They came from Rabaul. Several motor lorries were moving stores.

Then came Sapi’s most terrifying experience. Some aeroplanes flew over and guns began to go off, and some ter rific explosions took place.

Sapi had not thought there could be so much noise at once. His old legs— weak and shaking for years—gained strength as they rapidly bore him away deep into the bush. Whole coconut trees flew into the air and dust and smoke covered everything.

He thought of his hilltop house, and peace and quiet, and instantly decided to return there. This was a white man’s war.

Before leaving, he saw the Japanese coming out of holes in the ground and working again. The natives came back

and, except for a lot of new holes and a few mangled bodies, all was peace again.

ONCE again, in his own home, Sapi was welcomed, and was visited by the local natives, and decided to set up a type of Government to at least keep order among the young folks.

He was convinced that the Japs had come to stay. There were so many of them. In his heart, he mourned the old Government, but what could black men do against the big guns and the aero planes of the whites?

The young men welcomed the new freedom, and several fights had already taken place. Some had been killed.

Before the Japs came, the Government settled such matters, but now .

Sapi conferred with others of the elders. Rumours had come through that even at Kokoda the Japanese were vic torious.

THEN Sapi heard that some of the white people from Sangara had come to a village, and the natives had decided to take them to the Japan ese. Were not the Japanese strong, and might they not reward them for taking in the people they were fighting against?

That some of the people were women had not stopped them. A few of the younger, wilder men had let their heads go and had committed insults on these people, and had taken their clothes away.

But the Japs did not reward them.

They only visited their villages, so other natives grew frightened, and did not come out of the bush.

RUMOURS persisted. Policemen with out their rifles and clothes came home. New gardens were made.

Aeroplanes dropped bombs. Big guns fired at the planes. Some planes fell down. Small new villages were made in secluded, well-hidden spots.

Then, one day, strange men, Americans, were reported at a village on Oro Bay.

And, suddenly, policemen came about, looking for boys to work. They said the old Government had come back, with a lot of men. Sapi wondered if they had more than the Japs, who had a lot. Well, time would tell. It was their war, and, not Sapi’s. Hadn’t they run away before?

Then, as the young men went down to work, a Government man came along.

Sapi listened to his talk. It sounded true; but every time Sapi looked towards Buna he had doubts. But it was good to see the old Government again, AS the days drew on into weeks, Sapi saw more and more Americans, and was told that plenty of Government men were coming along from Kokoda.

He knew then that the Japs were doomed, and that the old Government was really “strong.”

But why couldn’t they have been strong, like this, at first. So many young men—and old—now would go to gaol. So many people had been killed.

He mourned -for the lost Sangara people; but the Government had run away after promising to protect them from the Japs. There must be a reason for it; but white men were peculiar.

Sapi gathered together his clan, and some fruit and vegetables, and set off to see the Government. It was as well to be early, in such official visits, and tell one’s own story first.

The veteran pioneer Methodist mis sionary, the Rev. J. F. Goldie, who is now over 70, hopes soon to return to the Solomons. He was formerly in charge of his Mission’s headquarters station at Roviana, New Georgia—afterwards devel oped by Japs as the Munda airfield, and subsequently blown to pieces by the Americans.