Argonauts of the Western Pacific - Bronisław Malinowski (darmowa biblioteka online .TXT) 📖

can be divided into two parts, a small northern portion comprising the Trobriands, the Marshall Rennets, the Woodlarks (Murua), as well as a number of smaller islands such as the Laughlans (Nada), and a far larger southern portion comprising the remainder of the Massim domain” (op. cit., p. 7).

This division is represented on Map III by the thick line isolating to the North the Amphletts, the Trobriands, the small Marshall Bennet Group, Woodlark Island and the Laughlan Group. The Southern portion, I found convenient to divide further into two divisions by a vertical line, leaving to the East Misima, Sud-Est Island and Rossel Island. As our information about this district is extremely scanty, I have preferred to exclude it from the area of the Southern Massim. In this excluded area, only the natives of Misima enter into the Kula, but their participation will play a very small part only in the following account. The western segment, and this is the part of which we shall speak as the district of the Southern Massim, comprises first the East End of the mainland, the few adjacent islands, Sariba, Roge’a, Side’a, and Basilaki; to the South, the island of Wari, to the East the important, though small archipelago of Tubetube (Engineer Group); and to the North, the big archipelago of the d’Entrecasteaux Islands. From this latter, only one district, that of Dobu, interests us more specially. The culturally homogeneous tribes of the Southern Massim have been marked off on our map as district V, the Doubans as district IV.

Returning to the two main divisions into the Southern and Northern portion, this latter is occupied by a very homogeneous population, homogeneous both in language and culture, and in the clear recognition of their own ethnic unity. To quote further Professor Seligman, it „is characterised by the absence of cannibalism, which, until put down by the Government, existed throughout the remaining portion of the district”; another peculiarity of the Northern Massim is their recognition „in certain districts, though not in all, of chieftans who wield extensive powers” (op. cit. p. 7). The natives of that northern area used to practise — I say used because wars are a thing of the past — a type of warfare open and chivalrous, very different from the raids of the Southern Massim. Their villages are built in big compact blocks, and they have storehouses on piles for storing food, distinct from their rather miserable dwellings, which stand directly on the ground and are not raised on piles. As can be seen on the map, it has been necessary to sub-divide this Northern Massim further into three groups, first, that of the Trobriand Islanders, or the Boyowans (the Western Branch); secondly that of the natives of Woodlark Island and the Marshall Bennets (the Eastern Branch); and, thirdly, the small group of the Amphlett natives.

The other big sub-division of the Kula tribes is composed of the Southern Massim, of which, as just said, the western branch mainly concerns us. These last natives are smaller in stature, and with, broadly speaking, a much less attractive appearance than those of the North20. They live in widely scattered communities, each house or group of houses standing in its own little grove of palm and fruit trees, apart from the others. Formerly they were cannibals and head-hunters, and used to make unexpected raids on their adversaries. There is no chieftainship, authority being exercised by the elders in each community. They build very elaborately constructed and beautifully decorated houses on piles.

I have found it necessary for the purpose of this study to cut out of the western branch of the southern portion of the Massim the two areas (marked IV and V on the Map III), as they are of special importance to the Kula. It must, however, be borne in mind that our present knowledge does not allow of any final classification of the Southern Massim.

Such are the general characteristics of the Northern and Southern Massim respectively, given in a few words. But before proceeding with our subject, it will be good to give a short but more detailed sketch of each of these tribes. I shall begin with the southernmost section, following the order in which a visitor, travelling from Port Moresby with the Mail boat, would come in contact with these districts, the way indeed in which I received my first impressions of them. My personal knowledge of the various tribes is, however, very uneven, based on a long residence among the Trobriand Islanders (District I), on a month’s study of the Amphletts (District III); on a few weeks spent in Woodlark Island or Murua (District II), the neighbourhood of Samarai (District V), and the South Coast of New Guinea (also V); and on three short visits to Dobu (District IV). My knowledge of some of the remaining localities which enter into the Kula is derived only from a few conversations I had with natives of this district, and on second-hand information derived from white residents. The work of Professor C. G. Seligman, however, supplements my personal acquaintance in so far as the districts of Tubetube, Woodlark Island, the Marshall Bennets, and several others are concerned.

The whole account of the Kula will therefore naturally be given from the perspective, so to speak, of the Trobriand district. This district is often called in this book by its native name, Boyowa, and the language is spoken of as Kiriwinian, Kiriwina being the main province of the district, and its language considered by the natives as a standard speech. But I may add at once that in studying the Kula in that part, I ipso facto21 studied its adjacent branches between the Trobriands and the Amphletts, between the Trobriands and Kitava, and between the Trobriands and Dobu; seeing not only the preparations and departures in Boyowa, but also the arrival of the natives from other districts, in fact, following one or two of such expeditions in person22. Moreover, the Kula being an international affair, the natives of one tribe know more about Kula customs abroad than they would about any other subject. And in all its essentials, the customs and tribal rules of the exchange are identical throughout the whole Kula area.

III

Let us imagine that we are sailing along the South coast of New Guinea towards its Eastern end. At about the middle of Orangerie Bay we arrive at the boundary of the Massim, which runs from this point north-westwards till it strikes the northern coast near Cape Nelson (see Map II). As mentioned before, the boundary of the district inhabited by this tribe corresponds to definite geographical conditions, that is, to the absence of natural, inland fastnesses, or of any obstacles to landing. Indeed, it is here that the Great Barrier Reef becomes finally submerged, while again the Main Range of mountains, which follows up to this point, always separated from the foreshore by minor ranges, comes to an end.

Orangerie Bay is closed, on its Eastern side, by a headland, the first of a series of hills, rising directly out of the sea. As we approach the land, we can see distinctly the steep, folded slopes, covered with dense, rank jungle, brightened here and there by bold patches of lalang grass. The coast is broken first by a series of small, land-locked bays or lagoons; then, after Fife Bay, come one or two larger bays, with a flat, alluvial foreshore, and then from South Cape the coast stretches in an almost unbroken line, for several miles, to the end of the mainland.

The East End of New Guinea is a tropical region, where the distinction between the dry and wet season is not felt very sharply. In fact, there is no pronounced dry season there, and so the land is always clad in intense, shining green, which forms a crude contrast with the blue sea. The summits of the hills are often shrouded in trailing mist, whilst white clouds brood or race over the sea, breaking up the monotony of saturated, stiff blue and green. To someone not acquainted with the South Sea landscape it is difficult to convey the permanent impression of smiling festiveness, the alluring clearness of the beach, fringed by jungle trees and palms, skirted by white foam and blue sea, above it the slopes ascending in rich, stiff folds of dark and light green, piebald and shaded over towards the summit by steamy, tropical mists.

When I first sailed along this coast, it was after a few months’ residence and field work in the neighbouring district of the Mailu. From Toulon Island, the main centre and most important settlement of the Mailu, I used to look towards the East end of Orangerie Bay, and on clear days I could see the pyramidal hills of Bonabona, of Gadogado’a, as blue silhouettes in the distance. Under the influence of my work, I came to regard this country within the somewhat narrow native horizon, as the distant land to which perilous, seasonal voyages are made, from whence come certain objects — baskets, decorated carvings, weapons, ornaments — particularly well formed, and superior to the local ones; the land to which the natives point with awe and distrust, when speaking of specially evil and virulent forms of sorcery; the home of a folk mentioned with horror as cannibals. Any really fine touch of artistic taste, in Mailu carvings, would always be directly imported or imitated from the East, and I also found that the softest and most melodious songs and the finest dances came from the Massim. Many of their customs and institutions would be quoted to me as quaint and unusual, and thus, I, the ethnographer working on the borderland of two cultures, naturally had my interest and curiosity aroused. It seemed as if the Eastern people must be much more complex, in one direction towards the cruel, man-eating savage, in the other towards the finely-gifted, poetical lord of primitive forest and seas, when I compared them with the relatively coarse and dull native of Mailu. No wonder, therefore, that on approaching their coast travelling on that occasion in a small launch I scanned the landscape with keen interest, anxious to catch my first glimpse of natives, or of their traces.

The first distinctly visible signs of human existence in this neighbourhood are the patches of garden land. These big clearings, triangular in shape, with the apex pointing uphill, look as if they were plastered on to the steep slopes. From August to November, the season when the natives cut and burn the bush, they can be seen, at night, alight with slowly-blazing logs, and in daytime, their smoke clings over the clearings, and slowly drifts along the hill side. Later on in the year, when the plantation sprouts, they form a bright spot, with the light green of their fresh leaves.

The villages in this district are to be found only on the foreshore, at the foot of the hills, hidden in groves of trees, with here and there a golden or purplish bit of thatch showing through the dark green of the leaves. In calm weather a few canoes are probably not far oft, fishing. If the visitor is lucky enough to pass at the time of feasts, trading expeditions, or any other big tribal gathering, many a fine sea-going canoe may be seen approaching the village with the sound of conch shells blowing melodiously.

In order to visit one of the typical, large settlements of these natives, let us say near Fife Bay, on the South coast, or on the island of Sariba, or Roge’a, it would be best to go ashore in some big, sheltered bay, or on one of the extensive beaches at the foot of a hilly island. We enter a clear, lofty grove, composed of palms, bread fruit, mangoes, and other fruit trees, often with a sandy subsoil, well weeded-out and clean, where grow clumps of ornamental bushes, such as the red-flowering hybiscus, croton or aromatic shrub. Here we find the village. Fascinating as may be the Motuan habitations standing on high piles in the middle of a lagoon, or the neat streets of an Aroma