LAW AND ORDER

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 77, 7 October 1942, Page 6

LAW AND ORDER

THE COURT AT MILNE BAY EXPERIENCES OF A MAGISTRATE As Resident Magistrate, writes Hicnard Humphries in "The Sydney Morning Herald," I was "going down the bay.” In Samurai, this, of course, means that I was going to Milne Bay. In the despatch box was a list of the usual cases for hearing—adultery, small debts, assault, etc. The work would occupy me lor nearly a week, but 1 lie bay was a pleasant place, and I was glad to get away from the small island oJ Samara! l’or a while. A short run of IB miles through part of the China Straits and the launch , turned N.E. into the bay, a deep natural harbour about 20 miles in length, with an average width of about five mlies. Milne Bay is the only large harbour on the mainland betwefen Port Moresby and Buna with safe anchorages for large vessels. The hills around the bay rise in places to 2000 feet. They are nearly all covered with jungle; and between them and the sea are large areas of righ agricultural lands containing many native gardens and coconut plantations. In normal times there were about 5000 natives at Milne Bay. My work amongst these people commenced at Mai warn, a village of 800 people, where the Court list was particularly heavy owing to the number of c&tses brought in from other parts of the bay. CASE OF “FIXING” The first case was a claim for 10s, money lent by a lad named Bariana to the village “doctor.” Bariana, giving evidence, said: “I decided to go to Port Moresby to work for the white man. My people were afraid that I might die of some sickness. They went to the doctor and he agreed to ‘fix me up’ so that 1 should not find the sickness” R.M.: “Did he ‘fix you up?’ ” “Yes; he rubbed my body all over with his hands and held my arms above I my head. Then he looked right into my eyes, and I felt something leaving my body and running into the doctor’s arms. Presently the doctor vomited. Then he said: ‘Go now to Port Moresby. Do not be afraid. I have taken away the seeds of the sickness.’ ” R.M.: “Did you pay him for this?” “Oh, yes. My father said that he was a very clever man and he paid him one tin of tobacco, one girl’s dress, and a looking-glass. After twelve months in Port Moresby I came home with my wages—£l2—and I gave the doctor 10s. Now I want it back. I did not give it to him to keep. It was a loan.” While the plaintiff was talking the “doctor” stood silent. A tall, finelooking man, he viewed the plaintiff as though he were a fretful child. He said: “He came back from Port Moresby with plenty of money, and when I asked him if he was feeling well he said he felt beautiful. And he gave me this 10s note. I did not ask him lor it. He was very pleased, and said, 'You are a clever man.’ I took the 10s as payment for my successful work.” He then put the note on the table. When I gave judgment in his favour

there was a murmur of approval from the crowd in and around the courthouse, which, by the way, was the verandah of a house overlooking the street. And I could not but notice the quiet, dignified way in which the “doctor” took up the note and put it in his pouch. I said to him: “If I came to you, would you 'fix me up’ too?” He gravely said: “No, Humpiii, you are a white man, and white men do not believe.” And so it was a case of “by your faith alone ye shall be healed.” WORTH A MONTH I next called for a woman named Dubo, who had laid a charge of assault against a man named Tobou. She emerged from the crowd below and came up on to the verandah Her daughter, it appeared, had run away with Tobou, although her parents had arranged for her to marry Jeremiah. The mother with some relatives had followed the guilty pair to the man’s village. She asked for the girl. When her request was refused she promptly seized the girl, and there was a scene. Tobou came to the girl’s assistance,

pulled off the old lady’s dress and pushed her naked into the river in front of the fascinated spectators, who love this sort of thing, and who were prejudiced in the girl’s favour. Tobou was found guilty of an assault, and was ordered to be imprisoned in the Samarai gaol for a month. The mother as soon as she left the “court” grabbed her erring daughter and dragged her off, shouting triumphantly: “You belong to Jeremiah, and to him you shall go!” For a few moments the babble was indescribable. I asked the Court assessors what they thought about it all, and one said in effect: “You have only sharpened their appetite. She is very beautiful and worth more than a month in gaol!” Years ago in Papua daughters were more amendable to parental discipline. The warfare that resulted from disobedience in marriage matters was too serious a thing to provoke lightly, for several clans might be involved. The girls knew this and behaved appropriately. Moreover, then, though not so much now, brothers and sisters were married by the exchange system, and one “unwilling horse’ ’could cripple a whole team ol' proposed marriages. A brother can still say to-day to his sister: “If you refuse to marry Moses I CEfn’t marry his sister Laila, and if I can’t marry Laila, Laila’s other brother can’t marry our cousin Ruta,” and so on, one family giving a daughter and the other giving a son. But in these days a brother cannot bring a stick or other violent

form of persuasion to bear on the subject, for the Government is everywhere. The girls know all about this, and so are emboldened to “sin against the parents” for the sake of their heart’s desire. For better or worse, it is a part of that “breaking down” of age-old customs, which with the passing of time are doomed to extinction. Both boys and girls resort to all manner of dodges to outwit their parents in these matters, Didiwalu wants to tell the Court something. He walks up the steps and the usual tale is unfolded. “So and so’s daughter has come to me. 1 didn’t ask her; she came herself, like. She wants me and is staying in my father’s house now.” R.M.: “Why do you tell me this?” I want you to know, so that you will understand that I have not stolen her.” In other words, lie, like others before him, wanted me to .back him up against the parents who are opposed to the marriage. If I, declined (as I usually did and as I did in this case) he would probably test his luck with some other officer. The parents also are not above suspicion in matters of this sort where an intractable daughter is concerned. When threats have failed to move the girl they leave home for a few days with a great show of anger and disgust, first letting the whole village know that they are “fed up” with their daughter’s disobedience, and that they are going in to see the Government about it. On their return, not having been near the “Government,” they go

straight to the girl and declare; “Well, we have been to Humpiii, and he says you have got to marry Tamu”—the man they have chosen for her. So it was that they dragged me into these things. By using my name in this manner more than one father has fastened an unwilling girl on to the man of their choice, but afterwards I noticed the girls did not help me to expose the deception. An old man came to me in Samarai, and, while his friends were outside, talked to me about everything under the sun, except his daughter, and then went -home and told her of a conversation he was supposed to have had with me touching her future. But as time goes on the girls will know too much for the old people, and subterfuge of this sort will be quite useless in affairs of the heart. THREE IN ONE All day and well on into the afternoon of the next these and other matrimonial troubles kept me fully occupied at Maiwara. Then I walked down the bay to Waga Waga, and through other villages whose names elude me just now. At one village I entered the school where over a hundred children were at work. The single room was divided into three classes, and a different language was being taught in all of them. Suan, Wedau, and English, I think they were. While the children in one class were reciting from a blackboard in Suan, those a few feet away in the other classes were competing in loud voices in Wedau and English. To me the noise was chaotic, but apparently I was the only person who felt concerned about it. During a lull in that Tower 6f Babel, when I asked the head teacher, a full-blooded Papuan, how the children managed to learn one language in a room where three were being spoken at the same time, he smiled gravely and said: “They do very well, sir.” I spoke to the children for a few minutes in English, and then departed to the launch that was awaiting me. Going down the lovely path leading to the beach I heard the clamour break out in the school again. They were hard at it, and I managed to pick out “The dog killed the pig,” “Agaio dinana torea,” “Agutoi sina to asolamu.”

I turned to my orderly and said: “Do you understand all that?” He replied: “No, it sounds like cockatoo talk to me. 1 no savee this Milne Bay fashion.”