From Notes Made in New Guinea

By R. W. Robson

What Is Waria Synd.

Seeking?

NO one yet seems to have any idea of what actually is be hind the claim of the big American - Swedish - German in terests to a share in New Guinea, based on that pre-1914 grant by the German Imperial Government to the Waria Syndicate.

Owners of mining leases in the Bulolo Valley have ceased to worry.

It was thought at first that the claim was aimed at the remaining riches of the Morobe goldfields; but in recent months the Land Titles Commissioner has given decisions which indicate that, in the opinion of that authority, the mining leases do not come within the area affected.

If the Morobe goldfield is not in the picture, what are these inter national claimants after? They are not fools—in fact, they may be rated among the world’s shrewdest financiers. They would not, for a mere whim, go to the trouble and cost of preparing a case like this.

In due course, no doubt, we shall know the answer.

Sea-Bed Mysteries!

HAVING groped around the harbour floor of Port Moresby, not far from the main wharf, the young members of the PM Spear Fishermen’s Club (now 50 strong) came ashore with what they described as “some very queer things.” ... .

The “things” were neither fish, flesh nor good red herring. They were hollow, cylindrical objects, made of glass, and they made a strange rattle. When broken, it was found that the rattle came from a glass marble, confined in a little chamber at one end.

Middle-aged and older people took one look at the “things,” and stared at the excited fishermen, and laughed very much. The ‘ things were empty lemonade bottles, ex tremely common in the days before crown seals, but completely dis carded at least 20 years ago.

Apparently it was regular practice, in that distant age, to throw the empty bottles overboard from ships lying at the wharf.

It gave one a shock, to realise how time and conditions have moved along. These lads in their early twenties had never even seen the old-style lemonade bottles, which once beset us in millions.

They wanted to make a special display of them in Moresby, for public information!

Pointer From Pir

IN a pleasant place near Moresby —at Taurama, overlooking Boot

less Inlet —I saw the Pacific Islands Regiment under training and, in a chat with Sergeant-Major Colin Wilson, I learned an interest ing thing.

These young natives are gathered from all over both Territories—from many tribal groups, speaking very many different languages. Within a short time, all tribal differences are forgotten—they come together in a happy family in a way remarkable to those Old-timers who have seen racial antagonisms persist through out the years among plantation labourers, etc.

The main obstacle to friendship in the training camp is the absence of a common language. For train ing, the officers use Pidgin at first, with simple English following on.

In a very short time, all the re cruits are talking Pidgin and, on that basis, friendships develop quickly. Sgt.-Major Wilson said that the soldiers were inclined, as they got closer together, to evolve a sort of Pidgin of their own, which the Europeans could not speak, but which actually appeared to be closer to simple English than to Pidgin.

It seemed to me that there might be something here worth the atten tion of those high P-NG officials who are struggling with the cruel problem of how to lift the living standards of a primitive, illiterate population that speaks scores and scores of different languages.

An Outrageous Tax

IF a man gives the best years of his working life to the Papua- New Guinea public service, he becomes entitled to an Australian pension. That is right and proper.

Once retired, the ex-Australian public servant is a free man. He may engage in any occupation, live where he likes. If, for example, he lives in New Zealand he draws his pension from Australia, but pays NZ income tax upon it. But if he lives in Norfolk Island (as many do) he enjoys his full pension: there is no income tax in NI.

All P-NG public servants who have seen the NG Highlands are attracted by that cool and pleasant area. One man I know, near re tirement, said he would like to live there, presently; and so. he was seeking some land.

“Quite an idea,” I said. “Attrac tive life in a new, developing country—and no income (There is no income tax in P-NG — the Administration taxes everyone indirectly, at the Customs-house.) “You’re wrong,” he said. “They will tax my pension at the source in Canberra—if I stay on in NG.

I would not believe it, and checked up. He was correct. If a New Guinea official, on retirement, decides to live on in New Guinea, his pension is taxable —although all other permanent residents in NG are free from income taxation.

It is an outrageous arrangement, without either logic or justice, and the organisation which looks after the members of the P-NG Public Service should fight it.

It Was Off In 1952

FOR some considerable time, the Rabaul planters have been contending that, in fairness to the industry, driers for copra, coffee and cocoa—such as Chula driers —coming in as a unit, should be free from Customs duty. Their arguments are sound —and they must have impressed high official dom, because there was a favourable reaction.

Now it has been discovered that the duty actually was removed in October, 1952; but, owing to some oversight, the change was never gazetted. There are red faces in a Moresby Department, and some slight talk, elsewhere, of refunds.

Sparrows Could Be

Dangerous

1WAS informed in Moresby that, to assist in the work of estab lishing a common language—the Territories’ biggest single problem— the Education Department has dis tributed no less than 5,000 Sparrow receiving sets (supplied by the Crammond firm, in Brisbane) to native villages. They are on a fixed wave-length, and the plan is that from 4.30 to 6 p.m. each day the villagers can listen to a half-hour of Pidgin, and an hour of Motuan, or any other selected language, broadcast from the Moresby station.

Some people are wondering if it is more than coincidence that a powerful Indonesian station should be broadcasting regularly on what is approximately the Sparrows’ fixed wave-length, and in Pidgin. So far, the monitors have heard no recog nisable Red propaganda — only apparently harmless social stuff.

Port Moresby officialdom is aware ! of the danger. Indonesia is drifting ; steadily under Communist influence. .

By Appointment

A MORESBY business man, one £ Sunday, telephoned for “Bill” ' Groves, the Territories Director i of Education. A Pidgin-speaking ? boy answered.

“Masta ’e stop?”

“Masta ’e no stap.”

“Masta ’e go where?”

“Masta ’e go Chris’ Jesus.” (Hee. has gone to church.) Later that day, the business mann encountered the Rev. D. E. Ure„9

head of the LMS organisation there.

He repeated to the clergyman the boy’s description of Mr. Grove’s whereabouts.

“H’m,” said Mr. Ure. “Not very happily phrased. But perhaps Bill had a special appointment.”

Where Are Those Legs?

IN Rabaul, one evening, some Old timers wondered what became of the 8-legged billiard-table which Bill Cameron established in Salamaua in the roaring goldfields days of 1929.

That week’s tramp over the mountains, from the coast in to the new goldfield, and the equally deadly climb back again, meant that only the really tough survived When those tough lads, after a spell in the Bulolo valleys, came out to Salamaua for relaxation, they demanded real entertainment.

That was why Bill Cameron de cided on a billiard table. They formed each of the eight legs out

of concrete; and in each leg they placed bottles of choice liquor.

There was fretfulness and despair over the fixing of the cloth, and bitter arguments over levels; but eventually it was judged fit for play. By raffling the right to the first game, they raised £ll/10/-.

Hector Wales won it—and promptly passed the cash along to Allen Innes for refreshments to mark a momentous occasion.

When the Jap occupation and the American-Australian bombardment of Salamaua were finished, the billiard table had gone, of course.

But the Old-timers still wonder wistfully what became of those richly-packed concrete legs.

Planters’ Turnover

A LITTLE bird in Mango Avenue told me that the Planters’ Asso ciation, which has its head quarters in Rabaul, had a turnover in the year just ended of over £lOO,OOO, and placed a neat little sum

on the right side of the P/L Account.

The merchants don’t like it much of course, but the Association dis tributes its favour fairly, and induces goodwill. It has 130 mem- Ders. It has had some success in selecting energetic presidents—Don Barrett, for several fruitful years, and now Ted Fulton. Both have a solid back-stop in secretary w R Paul, appointed years ago.’

U Mr A. w. Jefford, an engineer on the staff of the Papua-New Guinea Agricultural Department, is visitmg Germany and Panama to study fibre decorticating equipment Approval was given for these official visits while Mr. Jefford was on recreation leave in Britain. In Germany he saw demonstrations of decorticating equipment given by the manufacturers, and on his visit tq Panama will study the produc tion and decortication of manila hemp.