Pay-Back

By W.H.J.

ANTHROPOLOGY has been described as the study of “stones and bones and dirty stories about black people.”

This tale of the Fly River, Papua, 30 years ago may not fulfil all the condi tions, but it is a true one.

The Resident Magistrate felt unsettled He paced back and forth along his verandah, glancing out occasionally at the wall of blackness that, at this hour of the night, was all that could be seen of the daytime view.

It was just after dinner, and the moon was not yet new. After a day of rain and storm the wind had died to a flat calm and the river flowed with a soft murmur, a sound like voices hushed in secret conclave. From the house nothing could be seen except varying shades of darkness. A weird black brightness (if such a thing is possible) showed where the river glided almost silently; and here and there on the subdued gleam showed darker shapes of something moving moving so quietly that even the slight river murmur sounded loud in the silence.

Sometflmg was not quite right. Those must be canoes moving about, and, after all, there was no reason why they should not do so. But it was unusual, and any tning unusual is worth looking into.

“Must find out in the morning who they are and wny they are about at night, moving without the familiar thump of paddles.” With this tnought and a stretch and a yawn the RM went to bed.

ATIFU was making one of his rare visits down river to Kerikaru to re port to the white-man “gavaman” and to collect his yearly pound. He was the Village Constable and a man of weight and influence among his oeople.

Witn his two wise and influential* coun cillors and six of the strongest and bravest of his hunting men, he had set off three days ago from his village high up on the Turamati.

The expedition had been planned for weeks, and the wonderful “moni” he was to receive had been spent, in anticipation, many times. With his councillors and the fathers of the tribe every detail had been gone over again and again. An axe must be brought home, for the village canoes were becoming worm-eaten and were cracked by the sun and new ones must be fashioned. And an iron spear to kill the pigs which escaped so often when the arrows were not driven with the old time force—the coming of the white man had made many changes and, without a doubt, the men of nowadays were not such men as their fathers and grand fathers had been. And red calicoes to tear in strips; and a knife to cut the sago leaves; and the fishlines which saved all the trouble and labour of damming the creeks; and dogs’ teeth for the Buguru head-dress. All these must be brought home.

The pound would not go far and an other year is long to wait. Somehow or other the pound must be stretched, for, so far, no tobacco had been provided for, and “kuku” cannot be done without. True, the women could make sago to fill the canoes, and this can be sold to the “gava men” but the price is small and the canoes cannot carry enough to earn all the “kuku” which is needed. Then, the women could go also. Was it not the law! of the fathers that woman must obey her man in all things, and was it not true that the “gavamen” policemen have no women and hunger for them?

So it was settled and the expedition had set out; Atifu, his councillors and the strong men in one canoe, and three canoes

with the wives of all of them plus the most luscious of the matrons from the village, an old man in charge of each ‘ woman” canoe.

Three days of gentle paddling and drifting with the tides had brought the party to Kerikaru that day. The sago had been sold but the puce was, indeed, small. The “moni” had been paid and spent, but the result was a disappoint ment. True, the axe, and knife, and dogs’ teeth and calico had been bought, but the stock of tobacco was too small to divide among so many.

To-night it was possible to stay at the “gavaman” rest-house, but the long jipurney home must be started when the tide turned in the morning, and there would be sore bellies in the village if they returned with so small a stock of “kuku.”

Therefore, now was the time for wives to carry out their marriage vows, and obey in all things.

The policemen, reasoned Atifu, are hungry for women and have much to bacco. True, the “gavamen” will be angry if it is discovered, but the white man Is easily deceived. So let the women in their canoes cross over to Kerikaru and see if the policemen’s love of “kuku” is stronger than their need for women, IN dead silence, with no sound of paddle beat to betray, the three canoes approached the landing. The white man’s wharf would perhaps not be safe, and the small jetty was also better avoided, so in a blacker shadow cast by a coconut tree the canoes gently grounded.

One of the old men, Pandaius re incarnated, approached the barracks where the whole of the rank and file of the police force were wrapped in virtuous slumber. A gentle scratching on the palm-frond floor, long continued, brought a grunted, “What is it?” from one of the constables within.

Pandarus gently murmurs, “We of the Turamati people have taken pity on your loneliness. Come to the river bank where our wives are waiting and let your woman-hunger be appeased.”

Policeman Mainati sat up and rubbed his eyes, and finding that his ears had, in deed, heard aright and had not deceived him, quietly roused his companions. Two could not rouse themselves sufficiently to fully take in what was toward, but Mainati and ten others crept quietly to the shadows where the argosies of dusky Venus waited in silence. A few whispered sentences and the whole party embarked and again crossed to the rest-house kindly provided by the “gavamen.”

Arrived there, by the flickering light of smoking fires the assembly made closer acquaintance, and each policeman made his own arrangement with the husband of his chosen Amaryllis. Much kuku changed hands and the village men-folk grunted with satisfaction that they would not now heed to feel shame when they returned to their people.

All was quiet and well-ordered and nothing would have gone amiss were it not for Mainati. He, with his six-years of “gavaman” service, held all village people in contempt. He selected the younger of the two wives of Atifu, and commenced to bargain for her favours. Atifu said that, truly, she was the belle of all the village and he knew he had been wise in bringing one of such attractions with him.

But she was superior to all these others, and the second wife of the village con stable to boot, and, therefore, the charge was three sticks of tobacco. Mainati snorted with scorn. Did not Atifu know that one and a half sticks was the proper “gavamen” fixed price?

To which Atifu replied, “Certainly I know the usual “gavamen” price is one and a half sticks but I am not bound to accept it. It is true that both you and I wear “gavamen” clothes but I also

know the law. You have given me this one and a half sticks but I want the full three sticks, otherwise I shall report to the sergeant.”

Mainati was adamant; he demanded the return of the “kuku” but Atifu re fused this, for the village people must not see a poor return for the expedition, and every stick counted. So Atifu withdrew apparently defeated. And had Fate cast him into another environment, doubtless he would have comforted himself, albeit sourly, that half a loaf was better than none. But being Papuan, nurtured in the law of Pay Back, he stood in the darkness brooding.

True. Mainati and his men were pro viding the village tobacco supply. But should he allow the shrewd-headed big mouthed policeman to get away with victory over Atifu? No!

Atifu again crossed the river and this time went to the house of the sergeant.

Rousing him, he said, “Do you know all your police have crossed to the rest-house and have made trouble with my people 9”

The sergeant went to the barracks and found his police to be only two instead of the thirteen who should have been there. He told Atifu to return but not to allow anyone to know he had crossed to Kerikaru, which Atifu had no inten tion of doing anyway.

THE RM tossed restlessly about and got up to look at the time. It was just after one, and he gazed out at the night, to see still another silent, black shadow creeping across the river. Cer tainly there was something not quite right.

At seven o’clock parade of the police the sergeant saluted the young Patrol Officer and reported “Taubada, ’alf-pas’ leven I look ’long barracks. Only this two man stop. Altogether this other man go ’long rest-house look round woman.”

At nine o’clock the RM found the names of eleven of his thirteen police on the charge-sheet. Fine—five shillings each.

The tide turned at ten o’clock and four canoes left the river bank and started down with paddles beating a rhythmic tune on the canoe sides. The RM turned to the PO and said, “I’m glad to see the last of those Turamati people. I had a feeling all last night that there was some thing not quite right.”

Atifu is still the village constable and, along the Turamati, is a man of weight and influence, much enhanced by the success of his recent trip to the “gava men” at Kerikaru.

Another trans-Pacific voyager was in Suva in early September. He was Mr. A, T. Harrison, who had sailed his 26 ft. yawl, “Springbok,” from Los Angeles via Honolulu, Danger Island and Apia, since February. He planned to spend a few weeks in Suva and then sail on to Aus tralia by way of Noumea, and eventually return under his own sail to his native land, South Africa. He was joined in Honolulu by Mr. Philip Heurrel, of the Seychelles (Indian Ocean).