Territories TALK-TALK

With Tolala

Not so long ago 1 was reading a well-featured story in the women’s section of a Sydney morning newspaper all about the lonesome life led by a plantation manager’s wife on Bougain ville.

THE staff reporter, travelling on BP’s Malekula, went ashore when the vessel called at Arigua and there met up with Mrs. Leslie Crofts, the manager’s wife. Her mother from Roseville, NSW, was also there.

She had only “one or two women as near neighbours”. . . . Despite the hot and humid climate, the loneliness and isolation, the lack of entertainment, the long-distance grocery shopping with deliveries dependent on ship arrivals, and the task of learning pidgin, she was ‘attractive in a crisp, pink, gingham shift”, her toe-nails were carefully lacquered and she had crazy sandals 3n her feet.

No TV, No Movies Poor Mrs. Crofts! I sympathised vith her as I read of her loneliness: ‘No TV, no movies”, with only radio md the nearest radio transmitting «t 12 miles away, I sympathised with her, I say, be muse back home in suburban Rose dlle she would have had all these hings—and more; and she now, laturally, misses TV. cinema and ;upermarkets around the corner.

Perhaps I had better explain that \rigua was my pride and my home )ack in the dim ages before World Var I—over 50 years ago.

I arrived there in 1913 with my vife from the coral island of Buka, vith its gleaming, clean, white-sand reaches, to the black, drab sand reaches of volcanic Bougainville, vith Mount Balbi looming up in the linterland, blowing cold winds down n the early morning, and acres upon icres of the estate, seemingly, pure )umice and rotted vegetation.

Anyway, in went the coconuts and n went the kau kau as a cover-crop, md most prolific the kau kau proved o be, although planted the lazy way; i hole in the ground with a stick, a ew kau kau stalks stuck in, and in hree months’ time a sweet potatoes :rop.

And what a crop! Never have I

seen them so large. ... It is in teresting to note that this pumice land is still producing good copra and still reckoned as one of CPL’s highest-producing estates. It proves that pumice ground will carry crops for at least 50 years and more.

Certainly, it was isolated in 1913, too. To the south, the nearest Euro pean was at Arawa, some 20 miles away—not far in a speed boat today, but a long way in a whale boat with a head wind.

Then came the Government station at Kieta, with the Commissioner, Capt. Doellinger. and his wife; also Dr. Kroening, later with his wife, who was the attractive Francis Highley, of Toboi, recently arrived from finishing school in England, come to join her mother, Mrs.

Calder.

To the north of Arigua. our nearest neighbours were Arthur Booth and his wife at Numa Numa.

Mrs. Doellinger had a charm of her own and rated full marks as an island hostess; her hospitality was widely known. She was a daughter of Mary Ann Horgren, a half-sister of Queen Emma, who lived at

Dawaun along the Rabaul-Kokopo

road.

"Missus All-The-Same"

Mary Ann was usually referred to by the natives as “Missus All-the- Same”. Some years before she had had a stroke and her face was distorted. Natives would call the nick-name and then mimic the dis

figured features.

She was a charming woman and most popular with everyone. The native names and action were made only in a manner of respect and endearment.

Arigua in 1913 naturally had no radio or transmitting stations within a few miles; it had not even re frigeration.

It is one of life’s maxims that you never miss what you have never had. And radio broadcasts of news

ind entertainment were not even nade in England until 1920.

Self-Sufficiency: So what happened n the isolated areas in the days >efore radio was that people just earned to be self-sufficient. The aethods were various, according to he individual.

Some took on practical anthro iology, collected folk lore, compiled ocabularies of the local dialects; ome took on botany, butterflies, sea hells, tortoise-shell work, writing, ketching—to name but a few in vests that keep you from counting our buttons or climbing up the /all; others took to grog or native /omen, or both. Some were happy, ome were not.

The absence of refrigeration was nother matter, and meant living on inned meats (we had not then pro ressed to the US phraseology of canned foods”) when pigeons, oultry, fish or pig were unavailable.

Our supplies at Arigua usually rrived from Sydney every six weeks y steamer, coming up through the olomons, cargo being collected at 'aisi and from there by schooner.

At the end of July, 1914, the ystem broke down.

World War I was on the launching ad and for nearly six months we ad no supplies. We were enemy liens and put on parole.

It gave us a wonderful lesson in ow to live off the land, as well as tie experience of being prisoners; but tiere were no complaints of the treat lent we received from the Germans, i marked contrast to the behaviour f the Japs in the next war.

Bear well, old Arigua. No doubt be Kasipauwea is still a dry river nd Balbi breathes out cold winds at awn each day as it shoots a whiff f smoke upwards.

And let’s hope Mrs. Crofts does ot suffer too much from the lack •f suburban amenities. There are ompensations away from the rat ace if one looks for them.

A Matter Of Taste

WHITE women marrying natives

of Papua or New Guinea are becoming more or less common these days, yet invariably they make the news in the Sydney papers.

It is good publicity for the

desegregationists; it emphasises Aus

tralia’s disregard of racial discrimina tion: in fact, it highlights many things that do not actually exist. But it is good window-dressing and ... we let it go.

So we come now to a lass of 25 summers, born in Manchester.

England, who came to Australia at

the a B e of 10 and B oes to New Guinea as a mission nursing sister.

Last August she married a “sub sistence farmer” (whatever that term may imply in our present modern euphemistic lingo) and lives in a village some 60 miles out of Madang.

You can’t beat these women, can you? On the one hand we have Mrs. Crofts, living on one of the best of plantations, tinting her toes with lacquer yet longing for the supermarkets round the corner and bewailing the fact that “there was no place to go where she could dress up”.

On the other, we have the newly

married mission nursing sister cutting herself adrift from her old life and going to live in a primitive village on the banks of the Ramu River.

If that’s what she wants; well she’s got it. But surely Love must be a yery Splendid Thing. 1 cannot agree with those mixed marriages that breed mixed race :hildren, who are destined to live /ery mixed lives. It just doesn’t work lut. It’s not the colour, but the :ulture that counts.

Reminiscences Of

An Historic Spot

Izabakaul Plantation Was

I' a focal point in German 4ew Guinea in 1914. It was the inly area in the territory where hooting took place—when Australia anded her troops there. These roops were the first to be blooded n World War I.

It is indeed worthy of a place in iur history books.

There is at least one historic ecord of Kabakaul of which I now; An oil painting by Charles tryant, ROI, who spent some months i NG in the early ’2o’s as official 'ar artist.

The other day I had a note from Iscar Rondahl enclosing some snaps f the Kabakaul house before and fter World War 11.

Oscar is the only surviving son f the original owner of Kabakaul, aptain J. M. Rondahl, a sturdy wedish sea captain who was on

Queen Emma’s staff for some years and married her half-sister, Grace.

The “before” photo was taken some time in 1939 when Oscar was in residence there; the other was taken in early 1946. Oscar writes: “At the time I was endeavouring to build a temporary shelter from the ruins after the war”.

The group consists of (from left) Jimmy Joyes, Vic Pennefather, Tex Roberts, Oscar and Jack Allen.

And a good crowd they were, too.

Jimmy Joyes, teller in the Common wealth Bank, Rabaul, in the twenties, became later a Bougainville planter —lwi and Kekere—retired after World War II (in which he gave good service) to Queensland, and was killed in a motor accident in May, 1961.

Enthusiastic Sportsman

Vic Pennefather, the veritable Daddy of them all, served in the Boer War, was with the AN&MEF in NG in 1914 and District Officer in various areas, and in the late twenties acquired Tokua plantation in the Kokopo area. Always an enthusiastic sportsman, he was one of the Territory’s best bats and a keen supporter of horse-racing there.

Since World War II he has been in retirement on Sydney’s North Shore and for the past six months has been a patient in a private hospital at Turramurra.

Tex Roberts was another fine character and a constant companion of Vic’s. (At one period back in the forties and fifties you’d never see one without the other in Ushers or the Carlton). Tex was one of the few men in NG of whom I never heard an unkind word. He came first to the Territory with the AN&MEF as a telegraphist, then to AWA. He later opened a garage and car-hire service in Rabaul, acquired plantations in the Baining and on the south coast of New

Britain. He retired to Sydney after World War II and died in 1964.

Oscar Rondahl was born in NG 60 years ago. He was educated in Australia and travelled extensively in Europe before settling down to plantation life in the Kokopo area.

He served with the RAAF during World War II and now is living in retirement in South Australia.

Jack Allen was another old AWA man. Most of his time was spent in Rabaul. When he retired he acquired Gilalum plantation in the Kokopo district. Jack was noted for his interest in sport, especialy the ponies.

He was an enthusiastic member of the Rabaul Turf Club, and at one time was a successful owner-rider.

Jack passed on a few years ago.

I hope Kabakaul is not to be added to those Forgotten Places, which our casual interest in things historic seems to indicate as a common trend in this nuclear-atomic interplanetary world of ours.

Gone To Rest

MARJORIE Ann Washington, widow of H. J. Washington, of Rabaul and Kabaira. A kindly lady whose husband was an early Rabaul businessman and was lost in Montevideo Maru. . . . Frank Irvine Patten died as a result of a fall at Kavieng. A long time resident of NG, plantation inspector and planter, latterly owner of Tomlabatt planta tion, which I believe he sold shortly before his death. . . . And, of course, dear old G. A. V. Stanley, whom I knew from when he arrived in TNG as a geologist for Oil Search in the thirties. With a tendency for the unconventional, in post-war years he leaned too far backwards in his endeavour to prove the practical ability of destroying racial prejudices . . . After a long illness, Phyllis, wife of John Lew Froggatt, of Campbelltown, New South Wales’ in Liverpool Hospital on October

n the Kabakaul House site, 1946. From Ft: Jimmy Joyes, Vic Pennefather, Tex Roberts, Oscar Rondahl, Jack Allen.

Kabakaul House, 1939.