Category Archives: Pacific

The comforts of the village are not to be decried when compared to what I have just been thru. The past week I’ve lived under the same inadequate roof with about 2 dozen men, women & children without adequate bathing facilities and a latrine in the bush that no one dared venture into at nite for fear of snakes. You had to save your shits for the day time and piss on the beach (10 feet away) at nite. We didn’t have a floor so we had to shake out sand before laying out our mats at nite.

The compensation for all this was the sam (< Jabim) (= Nu. bada Eng. ‘festival, market’). I performed in a war singsing (mock) when our guys singsinged our way down the beach before maybe 1000 people encamped in about the same style we were (but most with floors). During the day there were other singsings, people to meet, stores to spend money carefully reserved for the occasion, church meetings. But most of all, at least for the younger people it was singsing time. There was almost always one going on somewhere until the Saturday of the major meeting word went out that singsings were prohibited until the meetings were over. People who joined the Numbamis from town were disappointed but they managed to squeeze one in between the end of the meetings on Sunday and the time the [M.V.] Sago came to carry them to town.

After my initial frolic I had had enough of being stared at and sat out the rest of the singsings, especially after I burnt my foot, broke the blister singsinging and then tore off the skin & washed it in methylated spirits (for starting Coleman lamps) & had difficulty walking on it for several days. I began to suffer from lack of privacy and quiet after about 3 days and it got acute before we left the sam. All the time I was hearing Numbami spoken around me. It wasn’t the language so much as the vast quantity of it. If the culture is aperture-oriented [referring to the fact that the names of body parts with holes all end in awa ‘hole’ (> -owa), as in tanganowa ‘ear’, nisinowa ‘nose’, etc.], it’s mainly concentrated on the oral one. Everyone was in a festive mood and the time not actually spent singsinging was often spent singing the lyrics & beating the drums.

When I was informed we wouldn’t go back directly but that we would stop at Kela (with whom we helped host part of the visiting delegates) for a post-celebration singsing and feast, I was in a foul, foul mood. Constant noise is something I don’t endure well in any culture. It’s odd how my feelings toward the people I was with changed. At first, and usually, I felt the greatest affection for them all and consider them a remarkable bunch in general. But, after being worn down a bit, I began to dwell on all their bad points: their compulsive talkativeness (with some notable & much appreciated exceptions), their demandingness, the persistence of some in addressing me as bumewe ‘masta, whiteman, foreigner’ rather than by name. [And here I was doing the same to “them”!]

When compared to the Kelas, who were unfamiliar with me, the Numbamis interact with me much more naturally–sometimes I’m even allowed to blend into the woodwork. One time, I was even forgotten when food was served out and didn’t get the first plate as I almost invariably do. Believe me, for two or three days I was doing my best to blend into the woodwork. What happened at Kela (Kila, Keila) was that they said they wanted to buy the #1 favorite Nu. singsing–the baluga, a slow, somewhat stately, and very impressive singsing that the Numbamis perform very well. It’s a favorite of mine too. The Numbamis bought it (for the price of a feast–and no ordinary meal either) from the Garainas (some of whom performed it at the Lae Show and of which I have photos). They, in turn, sold the rights to perform it to the Ya (also Kela speaking) people (who were said to perform it badly) and now the Kelas bought it for vast quantities of taro and two pigs–enough for all of us and the people left back in the village too. It’s kind of like a royalties payment so that performances will be official and, supposedly, of better quality than just a singsing nating [‘nothing singsing’].

Funny thing about the sam–a meeting of the Yabim district–where Yabim should be the lingua franca if any–is that all the program was in Tok Pisin. Yabim was only unofficially the lingua franca of the older set.

I believe I’m at a point now where things I had to concentrate on to hear several months ago I can hear ‘at a glance’ now. A lot of the language worked its way into my subconscious or spontaneous memory/capacity while I was in Mosbi [Port Moresby, the capital]. It is as if my subconscious is where my conscious was two or three months ago. Analysis is a language production device, I think, only or mostly for the conscious mind. Rote formula thinking handles a hell of a lot of the production at the level of daily transactions.

The local stages of language learning are:

A. ‘Ulongoni wai/Yu harim pinis/You know the language’, i.e. you can carry out basic exchanges of betel-nut, food, going and coming and the like. By these rules it’s true that people learn Numbami in a month.

B. ‘Unenela i/Yu winim mipela/You know it better than we do’, i.e. you know some pretty esoteric vocabulary: the archaic/nonborrowed word for ‘to buy’, words like ‘thump’, ‘saliva’, ‘spouse of one’s cross-sibling’ [= sibling of the opposite sex]; words people seldom use because the things they designate are seldom talked about or because the native vocabulary has been replaced by borrowings.

There is no evidence that ability to tell a good story (or tell a story well) is considered a language ability.

Oct. 13-16 I added about 50 words a day to my dictionary. That puts my major entries at over 1000. (I tend to have rather more minor/subentries than I will in the final product–all the parts & life cycle of a coconut under coconut etc.). People have been very cooperative. I’m going to have to collect some tapes before boredom sets in again.

Diseases seem to be partly seasonal here. August was fever time; people have depleted my cold tablet supply now and a lot of people seem to be plagued with carbuncles though they may be off and on the year throughout. The only thing that can be done for them is lancing to drain off the pus. Some get to be several inches in diameter and so painful that walking is difficult if they are on the leg (as they frequently are).

I’ve gained a bit more insight into the possible causes of the kaunsil‘s election. Not only does he have well-placed & educated children and a good (Yabim) education himself but he has an extensive network of relatives thruout the village and controls with his wife very large land holdings (from a coconut plantation all the way to the waterfall; all the mtnside his garden is on–about a hundred meter wide swath all the way up (& over?) the ridge; another garden just across the river and one off this end of the village). Phillip, his relative, was elected first, but relieved shortly & his opponent in the last election was S. (Daniel), his cross-cousin.

Today had every prospect of being a good workday (though it’s Sunday–or maybe since it is Sunday & everyone is around): one guy volunteered to give me vocabulary, the kaunsil promised a tape. Then last nite the kaunsil‘s oldest sister came by and reported an illness that wasn’t apparent but which blocks her wind passages so she can hardly breathe at times [asthma?]. Then this morning she had a bad attack of it and the whole village is waiting to see whether she’ll pull thru or not.

Later in the day, people dispersed, I got to elicit some vocabulary and hear a good deal of conversation (half was in Tok P. because some ausländer Sepiks were involved) and, in the evening, the kaunsil gave me my first text–a really perfect specimen. It is about sago palm food [starch] producing and begins with the different kinds of sago palms–which are distinguished only by their thorns, or lack of them–then, separated by a heading, continues with the whole process, from tree-cutting to division of the food [starch]. It is vocabulary rich, discourse structure rich, clear, slow, intonation contours mostly unambiguous and thus well punctuated–which, in a language with more than one inflected verb to a [simple] sentence [or clause], is very important for defining [complete] sentences. I now have my hands full transcribing but the tape is so good that I’ll be able to transcribe easily words I’m unfamiliar with. (It only goes from 1-70 on the cassette.)

Well, I’m glad I stuck around for the Lae Show. It was mostly like any big state fair with games of chance and exhibits of various groups. But it only had one or two mechanical rides and no strip shows. And, on Sunday, it had a huge singsing performance in the middle of the big arena with about 2 dozen groups of various sizes performing simultaneously. I can see how the ‘throb of the jungle drums’ could strike terror into the hearts of even the likes of Jungle Jim. In the show it all seemed somewhat more pedestrian but still very impressive. When the performance for the crowd and judges was over, the singsingers continued in a huge empty field outside of the showgrounds. They were much more accessible to photographers there but also capable of demanding payment for photos taken. I shot up two rolls (2 x 20 exp) before they finished (in someone else’s camera so I don’t know how they’ll come out but I didn’t want to risk mine not coming out again).

After a quick tour around the show Saturday I set out for the boat dock where the [M.V.] Sago comes in to help the guy that looks after my mail drink up a case of beer I had deposited with him. I was late and he and some other wantoks had already started. He scolded me, which I was glad he felt free to do, bought another case, and we all set ourselves to the task at hand on good terms, especially after J. came by and joined us for longer than he planned.

In many ways my return to the village after nearly two months away paralleled my original trip. I got to the dock at about 9:30 only to find out the boat wouldn’t leave before about 1:00. When it finally took off about 3:30 it was crowded like all the other boats after the Lae Show weekend. It was dark by the time we got to Salamaua, pitch dark by the time we made our first stop at Lababia. It looked like rain ahead for a while but then the stars appeared and the moon rose out of the sea like a huge egg yolk and made the rest of the trip more visible. After a stop at Kuwi we got to Siboma in the middle of the nite–after the cocks had crowed the first time.

The big difference was that I was much more at ease with the people on the boat or in the village and they with me and I could speak the language. And I didn’t have to take a wicked piss for the last 3 hours of the trip like the first time I came when I was unsure about whether I could just hang it over the side & do my business or not. [The men could just stand at the back of the boat facing into the dark.]

My reception in the village was easier too. When I got up I made the rounds visiting–at least at my end of the village–and found out all were waiting for the kiap (government officer) to come hear their complaint against two Paiawas who beat up a Numbami man. When the kiap finally got here he came on a bit too strong trying the time honored tradition here of shouting orders at loudmouths and talking before listening. Intimidation used to work here and still does many places but not here in Siboma now. I sat on the sidelines and listened to the various stories & arguments. The kiap finally changed his tactics and said he would take depositions and arrange a court case. It is a coup for the kaunsol that the thing is going to court rather than being resolved (or just aggravated really) by a Numbami-Paiawa brawl which a lot of men in the village seemed to want. The kiap‘s initial approach really antagonized a lot of men who were ready to go at him and then take on the Paiawas. The arguments & tactics of the older men though showed a great deal of sophistication in the handling of gov’t officials who see the world thru quite different eyes, whether or not they are blue. Their arguments appealed, for instance, to gov’t and church law and they either shouted down or quietly allowed the kiap to hear the disgrunts of the more impassioned men whenever either suited the point they were making. A lot of the antagonism is not really at the Paiawa but at the timber company whose camp the beating occurred in and whose rotten deal for Siboma timber is constantly ready to be added to the flame of any other grievance at all connected to the timber co.

After the kiap left the young men of the village invited me to join them for a singsing practice. They’re going to perform at the upcoming church meeting of the whole district near Salamaua. I got a good glimpse at what goes into their bilas (adornment, make-up, decoration) and they helped me bilas as well. Then we snuck around to the other side of the village (we got ready near the washing hole) and made our entrance after heralding it with drum beats. We danced the same sequence of movements (to different drumbeats sometimes and different lyrics/chants) for probably 2 hours so by the end I had it down pretty well. I may have gotten myself into performing with them (before a large crowd I’m afraid). I’m oddly unconcerned about whether I join them or not. They think it would be quite a spectacle and, though flattery may enter into it, I am assured that I perform quite adequately. We performed until food was brought for us (though we weren’t sure it was coming for a while). I worked up quite an appetite and an even greater thirst.

I couldn’t have asked for a better first day back in the village. There was even a warm beer or two to be had that evening.

Dear S,

By the grace of good saint Quinine the Deaf, I have found myself in a village of about 150 people, 4 of whom are deaf. Since your morbid interest in the subject is well known I thought you might be interested. I am also wondering if there might be any questions I could answer or look into on the subject while I’m here.

(There is also a full-fledged crazy who wanders around in a blanket exposing himself from time to time and calmly enduring abuse when he comes where he is not wanted. And then of course there’s that odd foreigner so addicted to books & paper who actually jumps at the chance to do physical labor in between his alchemizing. In a community of only 25 houses the ratio of oddities to normal people is almost as high as that of L.A.)

All of the deaf are men between the ages of about 30 and 45. One, my roommate, is profoundly deaf and his father too was apparently deaf. The two of them used to communicate in sign I hear tell. Now though, the son of my hosts is the only one fluent in his home sign and the only one who communicates with him extensively with much effectiveness. I am probably the second most familiar with his signs and I am so often in the the dark that, if it wasn’t my job to spend a good deal of my time listening to unintelligible conversation like a dog under the table hoping a juicy scrap will be thrown my way, then I would probably give up in despair like most of the village and pay him little heed.

The other three deaf men more recently lost their hearing and people still shout at them from time to time. There is no sense of community among the deaf people and no attempt to develop a home sign of their own. The three more recently deaf can still speak (in a monotone and often too softly) so the ones that suffer the most frustration are the ones who want to communicate with them, particularly the spouse of one of them. Since clearing forest, building canoes and houses and catching fish are not tasks requiring good hearing, except when done cooperatively, all of their lives are less unproductive than increasingly solitary.

Though those three are fairly well acculturated and share pretty much the same reality as the other people in the village (except for one who won’t forsake Pidgin when communicating with me–usually to trade betel nut for tobacco. He irritated me till I found out the reason whereupon my knee jerked and my heart bled but he still irritates me.), but I have recently come to realize that one of the troubles I have in following the really deaf guy is that he makes reference to worlds I do not expect. It hit me rather forcefully one day when he was telling war stories (many probably came from his father or perhaps from people who have signed to him since they match what others tell me about the mountains of food & tobacco of the American troops, etc.; others he got from a trip to the Lae Military Barracks where his manucommunicant worked). He, in the midst of describing weapons of various sorts, described one sort of pliers-like contraption which he indicated was used to snip off people’s noses, ears, and pinch out their eyes (sorry, gentle reader, if thy sensibilities are offended). I looked rather puzzled and asked who. He described their skin color as being, after searching around for some time to find an example of the color, purple! Combining that with another story of a flying submarine I can only conclude that he is a bit too credulous of the comics he looks at (he’s an avid reader but absolutely illiterate) or of whatever movies he’s seen.

I’ve also just come to realize that he has a reputation (well deserved) for thieving. He has been pilfering my stuff shamelessly.

NEW GUINEA COASTAL VILLAGE HOME SIGNS

RAIN – arms raised pointing back over shoulder, fingers spread and hands fall repeatedly in unison facing back as if rain falling on shoulders (never falls on face).

WIND – hands rotate in front of face clockwise blowing air toward face & chest.

EAT – fingers in letter O touch lips as teeth champ several times.

BISKITS (flat, unleavened, hard ship biskits) – B-hand pulled away from mouth as teeth clamp together.

PEPPER PLANT (eaten with betel nut) – single finger (index) pulled away from mouth or dipped into palm of left hand as if dipping into lime powder (culturally transparent) (the dipping into ‘lime’ and putting finger toward mouth also indicates lime itself).

BEATING SAGO – both hands held together as if holding a golfclub (actually a sago beater) and pounded up & down (culturally transparent)

SLEEP, NIGHT, 24 hr period – head inclines toward palm of hand which acts as pillow. Three nites would be SLEEP – 1 – SLEEP – 2 – SLEEP 3

DAY, SUN, TIME OF DAY – pointing at place sun comes up, the hand follows the arc of the sun until the appropriate location is reached. As far as I know, orientation is always to actual sunrise & sunset, not to conventionalized location in relation to body.

STUDENT – writing with index finger on open palm of left hand. (‘School’ in the local language is, roughly translated, ‘house paper’.)

In addition, this congenitally deaf fellow can pronounce two words which, significantly I suspect, both involve labials.

mou ‘none, no’ [mou] (I’m not sure how much actual nasalization)

bamo ‘a lot’ [ba-a] (the [a] ends up creaky voiced and long; it is almost always rather long when hearers say it)

Many signs are commonly used or known, especially those pertaining to work, like line-fishing, beating sago palm and betel nut paraphernalia. But I have never seen any Siboma use an action like his INTENSIFIER. On the other hand his numbers match the Siboma numerical metaphors.

5 = nimateula (‘half hand’) = ENUMERATION + HAND

10 = nimabesua (‘both hands’) = ENUMERATION + BOTH-HANDS-TOGETHER

20 = tamota te (‘one man’) = ENUMERATION + HANDS-AND-FEET-TOGETHER

Let me know if there are any particular signs you are interested in.

Em tasol,

P.S. MORE NEW GUINEA VILLAGE HOME SIGNS

KAUNSIL – indicates badge on chest (which kaunsil never wears)

DEAD – palms facing front, arms slitely bent at sides, bead thrown back turned to one side, eyes closed

WHITES – salute

SAILOR – round hat on head indicated

JPNSE – big head/helmet

CHINESE – flatnose

REEF, ISLAND – circle drawn horizontally at chest level from above

HOUSE – palms parallel or straight w/ fingers making roof

OLD – beard

AFRAID – draws arms into chest and withdraws to one side

REFERENTS-PEOPLE – indicated by house [location] or outstanding physical trait

INTENSIFIER – turns face to one side, drawing shoulder up to chin, and closing eyes. Maintained for about 1 sec or more.

PUNISHMENT, INCARCERATION – one wrist over the other in front of chest as if hands tied, both wrists facing down, hands in fists

CHURCH – hands clasped, fingers interlaced, in front of neck

POLICE – arms come up to chest as if marching

LINE FISHING – arms bent at elbow before chest, raised alternately as when pulling in a handline

M.V. SAGO (the village diesel-powered fishing boat) – hands rotate back & forth an imaginary steering wheel

(M.V. SAGO, LINE FISHING & POLICE are a near-minimal trio: all have alternate arm movement but different end points and orientation)

Yesterday, Friday the 13th, was no worse than the rest of the days of August, which is month of 31 Fridays the 13th by reckoning of the people along this coast. Em taim nogut: planti sik i kamap, solwara i sulukim nambis, pik i kaikai man, pis i siutim man, bikpela ren i kam wasim bris, kano i go lus, kainkain samting nogut [‘It’s a bad time: many illnesses arise, the sea erodes the beach, a pig bites a man, a fish stings a man, a big rain washes out a bridge, a canoe drifts loose, every kind of bad thing’]. And it’s all true. A fever is going around and has found me among its many victims. It really laid me low and I still haven’t fully recovered. I would advise anyone else doing fieldwork along the coast south of Lae to spend August in Lae or Ukarumpa or something. The SILers working on Kaiwa told me in July they planned to stay in Ukarumpa until September to avoid these hazards.