Memories of Pre-

War N. Guinea

By Old-Timer

FOLLOWING the arrival of the Expropriation Board in New Guinea, after World War I, many Germans were given jobs, whilst awaiting repatriation to their homeland. Two of them were en gaged helping on the stocktaking at the HSAG store at Rabaul. One was up the ladder counting the stock on the shelves, whilst the other sat at a desk entering the items in the stock book. The one at the desk asked his more edu cated partner: “How do you spell beef?”

“B-O-E-F,” said the scholar.

After lunch they changed places, and the scholar was sitting at the desk when his mate brought along a tin and slowly pointed to the letters

“B-E-E-F.”

“Ah!” said the scholar, “that is boiled beef. The other is roast beef!”

His Bad Day

WHEN Sir Charles Marr was Minister for Home and Terri tories, he made a visit to New Guinea and expressed a wish to visit some of the outlying goldfields areas.

On one such trip Mr. Marr, as he then was, visited the Police Post at Surprise Creek, on the edge of the Kuku-kuku country, and decided to have a talk on the job with one or two of the alluvial miners.

Old Sam was on his claim, trying to shift a few huge stones at the bottom of a new head-race he was making. The language was a bit sulphurous, as the boulders refused to be shifted.

The Minister stopped at the top of the deep trench arid coughed, and Sam looked up.

“I am the Minister for Home and Territories,” Mr. Marr said.

“Well,” snarled Sam, “you’ve got a bloody good job—you stick to it!”

One-Act Tragedy

According to the “Pidgin”

Glossary, “Maa” is a goat; “Su-su” is breast or milk; “Banis” is a fence; and “Kai-kai” is To eat.

In the days Before, in a wel known Goldfield hotel in Ne Guinea, the wash-boy came i holding up the remnants of a lady brassiere. With a warranted loc of apprehension on his face, 1 said; “Missus, Maa ’e kai-kai ban

belong su-su belong you!”-

B.

They Made Paper For

Three Years

Recruiting of native labour New Guinea has lost much i the romance and effort th attended it in years gone by. successful recruiter then had to 1 more wily and plausible than political leader at election time.

In those days, boys could elect “make paper” for one, two, or thr* years, and the fee paid to the r* cruiter varied accordingly. Whi( reminds me of the time I w making my way, per boot, fro Madang along the beach tracks ( route to the wild kanaka count: past the end of the electric lig] posts, somewhere towards tl Ramu.

I left the bush and came into village clearing, where I saw one the present leading lights of Ne Guinea giving his brand new r emits a lesson in civilisation.

He had them sitting on tl ground, lined up in front of hii On display were three heaps commodities, desirable in the ey of kanakas. The first consisted a tiny heap of rice, and nothii else; the second heap was a bigg heap of rice, plus a stick of t bacco; the third heap was a migh pile of rice, plus many tins of me* numerous sticks of tobacco, colour* lap-laps, bush knives, tomahaw and everything that the bush k naka holds dear.

The recruiter was pointing to tl first heap and saying, “One yea] The bush kanakas would repeat after him. Then, pointing to t] second heap, he repeated, “T\ year.” The kanakas would grave speak their assent. Pointing to tl third heap, he kept on sayir “Three year.” The kanakas agree with enthusiasm. It was their fii lesson in English and they seem to approve.

When they were taken to Madai for signing on, and the DO ask them for how long they wished “make paper”—whether for o: year, two years, or three years—wi one voice they yelled “Three yea] It was reported from London la in September that Corporal Sinn Siapu and his cousin, Corpoi Henry Parakoro, of the Solomi Islands police establishment, hi arrived in Britain to study Briti methods of detecting and prevents crime. They are to go to Hendc Police college for six months, ai then will do duty on London beai