his place in the centre to enact the part of the wild boar. Every dancer carries his “kundu” hand drum. It is shaped like an hour-glass of wood with one end covered with pigskin or lizard, the other end is open. All are singing as they beat their drums and dance in a stylised hopping on both feet. The feet are kept flat on the ground and wide apart. The circling men advance toward the “boar” and retreat just as smoothly when he twists and turns in avoidance of their imaginary arrows. Once in a while there are great gatherings of many villages. They create an unparalleled cacaphony as each group works in its own circle monotoning or shouting the special songs and chants it owns either from trading or from ancestral traditions. The most important traders seem to be a group of island people, the Seassi, who compose songs and create dances which they trade for miles up and down the northern New Guinea shores. In return they receive payment of yams, sago, kau kau and other necessities. The dance steps frequently resemble the South American “Samba”, the “Son” and others that have popular equivalents in European ballroom dancing. The habit of chewing betel-nut among coastal New Guinea peoples may have some bearing on the mesmeric almost trance-like quality of their dancing. Betel nut induces a kind of intoxication which when combined with the effect of monotonous rhythm can dull the conscious mind and bring about a kind of elemental frenzy. But the normal dance forms are of a smooth beauty that is a great pleasure to not only the participants, but also to those who watch. The cruel hazing ceremonies for boys when they reach the age of puberty, were formerly widespread and are still continuing in territory that has not as yet been brought under government control. Some of these include the Tambaran ceremonies which seem to be based on black magic and the willing of death. In the Tambaran ceremonies of the coastal peoples, there were dancers with great hunting bows and arrows in place. They came rushing out of the bush toward the large Tambaran house as if to frighten away the Tambaran spirits. The spirits are actually two old men in great masks painted in grotesque colours and patterns. These spirits were heralded by a number of flute players. The musicians, always facing the spirit men, walked backward in an odd dance step, dipping every now and then as low to the earth as their long bamboo flutes would allow. Other men pranced about circling the group as it slowly proceeded from the edge of the jungle to the Tambaran houses. This great building with the sacred pig bones—as well as human ones suspended from its sharp-angled front gable, is for men only. Cannibalism has not yet been entirely stamped out in New Guinea Certain tribes wear enormous head dresses shaped like the spade on playing cards and gorgeously decorated. Even a small breeze makes them so unwieldy that they must have ropes attached so the dancers can hold them on. Of course, the dance steps are necessarily less exciting in proportion to the size and weight of the head gear. Yet small intricate footwork has been developed to make up for less movement of the head and torso.

Beth Dean, the well-known Australian folk dancer and anthropologist, wrote in our last issue about the dances of the Australian aborigines. This time she deals with dances of New Guinea and of the Maori people.

In the 100 mile long Wahgi valley, 5,000 feet up in the highlands the Wari Kanana is a dance by the warriors. Sometimes hundreds of them, forming a rectangle will chant “kwi ro randei ndei” for an hour or more in a loud sing song voice. They do a jog-trot kind of step, in place, turning the whole body from side to side as they face this way and that. Then the whole group moves forward in a great circular path still shouting out as loudly as their powerful lungs can manage while the “kundu” is beaten at odd intervals. This produces a rough and tumble sound that appears to have no definite beat. The beat of rhythm is felt only by the successive intervals of some song, then drumming, then song again. The highland men are sometimes six feet or more in height. Their beautifully built bodies seem like columns of strength from the top of which issues living fire—so glorious are the red and gold Bird of Paradise plumes on their heads. The sight of the tall dancers winding up the slippery narrow trails from the deep valleys as they come in for the sing sing—is almost unbelievable. The heavy green of rain forests contrasting with the red and gold halo of the men's delicate plumage, later the massing together midst the roar of shouting, the tinkling silvery sound of the gleaming pearl shells at their waists—all this grooves itself deep in memory. Long afterwards one's pulse quickens when this picture comes again to exhilarate the mind.

MAORI DANCING The first impact of Maori dance is thrilling excitement as well as beguiling beauty. As seen in concert form the first welcome can be utter calm and quiet strength contained in the potency of beat through such a chant as “Utaina”. Then there comes the delightful lulling of the senses in the girls' pois and the action songs which leave one utterly charmed. Finally, for one who has never before experienced the soul stirring depth of emotion which is a haka, the sudden shattering of the quietude that reigned at its beginning is like the unexpected explosion of a dam as the pressure behind it is unleached in a thunderous roaring.