IV

It will be necessary to give a more detailed account of the actual conditions obtaining in Boyowa with regard to the limits of the various Kula communities in that district. Looking at Map IV, p. 50, we see there the boundaries of Kiriwina, which is the easternmost Kula community in the Northern part of the islands. To the west of it the provinces of Tilataula, Kuboma, and Kulumata form another Kula community, or, it would be more correct to say, some of the men in these districts make the inland Kula with members of neighbouring communities. But these three provinces do not form as a whole a Kula community. In the first place, many villages are quite outside the Kula, that is, not even their headmen belong to the inter-tribal exchange. Remarkably enough, all the big industrial centres, such as Bwoytalu, Luya, Yalaka, Kadukwaykela, Buduwaylaka, do not take part in the Kula. An interesting myth localised in Yalaka tells how the inhabitants of that village, prevented by custom from seeing the world on Kula expeditions, attempted to erect a high pillar reaching to heaven, so as to find a field for their adventures in the skies. Unfortunately, it fell down, and only one man remained above, who is now responsible for thunder and lightning.

Another important omission in the Kula is that of the Northern villages of Laba’i, Kaybola, Lu’ebila, Idaleaka, Kapwani and Yuwada. If we remember that Laba’i is the very centre of Kiriwinian mythology, that there lies the very hole out of which the original ancestors of the four clans emerged from underground, that the highest chiefs of Kiriwina trace their descent from Laba’i, this omission appears all the more remarkable and mysterious.

Thus the whole Western half of the Northern Trobriands forms a unit of sorts in the chain of Kula communities, but it cannot be considered as a fully fledged one, for only sporadic individuals belong to it, and again, that district as a whole, or even individual canoes from it, never take part in any overseas Kula expedition. The village of Kavataria makes big overseas sailings to the Western d’Entrecasteaux Islands. Though these expeditions really have nothing to do with the Kula we shall say a few words about this in the next chapter but one.

Passing now to the West, we find the island of Kayleula, which, together with two or three smaller islands, to its South, Kuyawa, Manuwata, and Nubiyam, form a ‘Kula community’ of its own. This community is again slightly anomalous, for they make Kula only on a small scale, on the one hand with the chiefs and headmen of Kiriwina, and of the North-Western district of Boyowa, and on the other hand with the Amphletts, but never with Dobu. They also used to make long and perilous trips to the Western d’Entrecasteaux, sailing further West and for longer distances than the natives of Kavataria.

The main Kula communities in the South of Boyowa, Sinaketa and Vakuta, have been described already, and sufficiently defined in the previous chapters. Sinaketa is the centre for inland Kula of the South, which, though on a smaller scale than the inland Kula of the North, still unites half-a-dozen villages round Sinaketa. That village also carries on Kula with three coastal villages in the East, Okayaulo, Bwaga, and Kumilabwaga, who link it up with Kitava, to where they make journeys from time to time. These villages form again the sort of imperfect ‘Kula community,’ or perhaps one on a very small scale, for they would never have an uvalaku of their own, and the amount of transactions which pass through them is very small. Another such small community, independent as regards Kula, is the village of Wawela. The district of Luba, which sometimes joins with Kiriwina in carrying on a big expedition, also sometimes joins with Wawela on small expeditions. Such nondescript or intermediate phenomena of transition are always to be found in studying the life of native races, where most social rules have not got the same precision as with us. There is among them neither any strong, psychological tendency to consistent thinking, nor are the local peculiarities and exceptions rubbed off by the influence of example or competition.

I cannot say very much about the inland Kula in other regions besides the Trobriands. I have seen it done in Woodlark Island, at the very beginning of my work among the Northern Massim, and that was the first time that I came across any of the symptoms of the Kula. Early in 1915, in the village of Dikoyas, I heard conch shells blown, there was a general commotion in the village, and I saw the presentation of a large bagido’u. I, of course, inquired about the meaning of the custom, and was told that this is one of the exchanges of presents made when visiting friends. At that time I had no inkling that I had been a witness of a detailed manifestation, of what I subsequently found out was Kula. On the whole, however, I have been told by natives from Kitava and Gawa, later on whilst working in the Trobriands, that the customs of Kula exchange there are identical with those obtaining in Kiriwina. And the same I was told is the case in Dobu. It must be realised, however, that the inland Kula must be somewhat different in a community where, as in Kitava, for instance, the strands of the Kula all come together in a small space, and the stream of valuables, which has been flowing through the broad area of the Trobriands, there concentrates into three small villages. If we estimate the inhabitants of the Trobriands with Vakuta at up to ten thousand, while those of Kitava at no more than five hundred, there will be about twenty times as many valuables per head of inhabitants in Kitava as compared to the Trobriands.

Another such place of concentration is the island of Tubetube, and I think one or two places in Woodlark Island, where the village of Yanabwa is said to be an independent link in the chain, through which every article has to pass. But this brings us already to the Eastern Kula, which will form the subject of the next chapter.

1 An example of this ill-judged attitude of interference is to be found even in a book written by an exceptionally well-informed and enlightened missionary, “In Far New Guinea,” by Henry Newton. In describing the feasts and dancing of the natives, he admits these to be a necessity of tribal life: “On the whole the feasting and dancing are good; they give excitement and relaxation to the young men, and tone the drab colours of life.” He himself tells us that, “the time comes when the old men stop the dancing. They begin to growl because the gardens are neglected, and they want to know if dancing will give the people food, so the order is given that the drums are to be hung up, and the people settle down to work.” But in spite of Mr. Newton’s recognition of this natural, tribal authority, in spite of the fact that he really admits the views given in our text, he cannot refrain from saying: “Seriously, however, for the benefit of the people themselves, it would be a good thing if there could be some regulations—if dancing were not allowed after midnight, for while it lasts nothing else is done.—The gardens suffer and it would help the people to learn self-restraint and so strengthen their characters if the dancing could be regulated.” He goes on to admit quite candidly that it would be difficult to enforce such a regulation because “to the native mind, it would seem that it was the comfort of the white man, not the benefit of the native which was the reason for the regulation.” And to my mind also, I am afraid!

The following quotations from a recent scientific work published by the Oxford Press—“The Northern d’Entrecasteaux,” by D. Jenness, and the Rev. A. Ballantyne, 1920—are also examples of the dangerous and heedless tampering with the one authority that now binds the natives, the one discipline they can be relied upon to observe—that of their own tribal tradition. The relations of a church member who died, were “counselled to drop the harsher elements in their mourning,” and instead of the people being bidden “to observe each jot and tittle of their old, time-honoured rites,” they were advised from that day forth to leave off “those which had no meaning.” It is strange to find a trained ethnologist, confessing that old, time-honoured rites have no meaning! And one might feel tempted to ask: for whom it is that these customs have no meaning, for the natives or for the writers of the passage quoted?

The following incident is even more telling. A native headman of an inland village was supposed to keep concealed in his hut a magic pot, the “greatest ruler of winds, rain, and sunshine,” a pot which had “come down from times immemorial,” which according to some of the natives “in the beginning simply was.” According to the Authors, the owner of the pot used to descend on the coastal natives and “levy tribute,” threatening them with the magical powers of the pot if they refused. Some of the coastal natives went to the Missionary and asked him to interfere or get the magistrate to do so. It was arranged they should all go with the Missionary and seize the pot. But on the day “only one man turned up.” When the Missionary went, however, the natives blocked his path, and only through threats of punishments by the magistrate, were they induced to temporarily leave the village and thus to allow him to seize the pot! A few days later the Missionary accordingly took possession of the pot, which he broke. The Authors go on to say that after this incident “everyone was contented and happy;” except, one might add, the natives and those who would see in such occurrences the speedy destruction of native culture, and the final disintegration of the race. ↑