Debt to Fuzzy-wuzzy

Manawatu Times, Volume 68, Issue 49, 27 February 1943, Page 3

Debt to Fuzzy-wuzzy

(By Vince Kelly in “Sydney Sun”) Daily, Australian and Allied soldiers recount stories of native Papuan heroism, of bare shoulders rubbed raw by handles of litters on which they are carrying out the wounded. So the troops in Papua gratefully murmur. “We must do something for these fuzzywuzzies. ” They talk about it in letters home in interviews with war correspondents * ‘What can we do for these chaps who risk their lives for us? We must do something big for them, Australia owes it to them.” The debt creates a problem not easily solved. The gulf between the Australian and the Papuan is as wide as the centuries could make it, even though a 60 fathom submarine upheaval could once again attach New Guinea to Australia. To their amazement. Australian and American troops have found Papua an anthropological museum, where time, apparentlV, has stood still since the days of Adam and Eve—certainly since d’Abrou sailed along the frowning coastline and christened it Papooa— Malayan for frizzy. Across this gulf between our civilisation and their happy, almost complete paganism, what gangway can we throw down which is going to make the native 1 Papuans happier than they were before the Japs arrived? Probably the man who understood them best of all—and loved them most of all —was my old chief, the late Sir Hubert Murray. But, significantly, Murray never attempted to alter them, nor their habits, except when their primitive hostility to intrusion went to the lengths of killing the white patrol officers and their native corps, generally designated “police boys.” I would point out that this is the difference between our grateful and appreciative troops in New Guinea and that lanky, tough, lieutenant-governor. The difference between his outlook and that of our harassed troops, is one which must be recognised if Australia is to repay a mounting debt to the natives of Papua and New Guinea. To our troops the natives are an incidental in a fight to a finish with the Japanese. That the native will risk his life for our men is appreciated at its. full value. But it is still an incidental. Our troops will return to Australia, most of them hating Papua and New Guinea with a loathing which they will never attempt to efface, because of its malaria, humidity, its swamps and mountains, and general threat of the primitive. If Australia wants to repay her debt to the Papuans, the work must be guided by the men who were taught by Murray. I talked to an old friend of mine who has tramped Papua from one end to the other, rising from patrol officer to resident magistrate. Incidentally, he is a Digger of the 1914-1918 war, and his record is fine. He said: — “The mind of the Papuan is a curious make-up. Fear he has —fear of snakes, spirits, sorcery, and all mysterious things, but I have never once seen a native in a tight corner afraid to die. Their belief in a future life is universal, and I think they regard the actual passing from one life to another as a much less terrible thing than we usually do. If you want to see a native really scared, pick up a freshly-lcilled

snake on a stick and chase him with it. I have seen a native’s skin actually resemble goose flesh under such a test. But the same boy will face death with a confident, rather puzzled expression, in which there is no sign of fear.” From a friend’s notebook I have taken a few extracts of real bravery of the Papuan: —Sir Herbert Murray tried to get ashore at the Vailala bar in a whaleboat. The boat capsized, and Sir Hubert was thrown into the water. Two native boat’s crew boys supported him in the water for three hours. At last Murray said to them, “Let me go. Look after yourselves.” But they stuck to him, grimly, eventually saving his life. Tlic late J. 11. Ryan, R.M., on a patrol from the Turama to the Baniu, was ambushed by savages. In tlie fight which followed, Ryan was shot through the wrist and shoulder, and was forced to his knees, dropping his revolver on the raft. A prisoner from Kikori station, by the name of Pandava, who was acting as a carrier, swam out to the raft and, crawling along the deck in a shower of arrows, recovered his master’s revolver and placed it in his good hand. This action saved Ryan’s life and tlio lives of his party. Pandava later became a famous member of tlio nativo constabulary, and A. C. Rentoul, R.M., told me liow, when raiding a “long house ” on the Turama River with a party of native police, it was necessary to rush tlio front entrance through a shower of arrows. The front platform, the only entrance was a low door about four feet high. As the officer dived for the. door, Pandava, .now a corporal, dashed forward and, pushing the officer aside, got through first. Fortunately, no axeman was waiting inside, or Pandava would have given up his life for his white boss. The Papuan is not really strong physically, but lie is wiry and lias enormous powers of endurance on little food. But, and I say it with all apologies, the native Papuan is not the type who can be slapped 011 the back with a “Good on you, Joe.” Australia will have to go to the trouble and expense of understanding this problem before it can pay its staggering debt to the native Papuan. In the name of humanity, as well as gratitude, this job should be started right away.