PLEASE, DON’T FORCE!
Over the distant horizon loomed the shape of a dimdim wam.
Yes, it’s that too familiar sight again bringing both excitement of trinkets
aboard but tinged with a slight foreboding warning to be alert and beware of
the dimdim trickery and abuse. And already Bou village, almost located at the
easternmost tip of mainland New Guinea, in the mid 1850s, was fully awake to
watch the approaching dimdim waga. The
crowd of villagers swelled along the hiaga covered little inlet beach. In
hushed tones, the womenfolk reminded each other of the dire warning of violence
against Bou women by the visiting dimdim be they misinale, trader of cheap
goods or the dreaded blackbirders from the fledgling state of Queensland in the
British colony of Australia.
Mothers added more warnings to their teenage daughters as
well as the tutuma to keep well away from the traders when they beached their
dinghies on the beach. Some village
lasses had opted for the safety of the bush behind Bou, and were peering down
from a strategic village communal coastwatchers’ hideaway.
Kako, the self-appointed leader of Bou to welcome the
vistiting dimdim, was in his element as he calmed down the frightened women. He had done the master of ceremonies job
for several years now after having had a
spell on board the blackbirding vessel , the Serious, and had become quite an
expert. On the coastwatchers’ hidden lookout Wawaulo Deliwata primmed and
teased her hair and took her first step – the most vital one with serious
consequences to come in her young life – to come out of hiding and face the
dimdim world headon despite her mother’s repeated warnings to refrain from the
attractions of the approaching Western influence and the traders, missionaries
and manstealers’s abuse including sexual harassment and rape.
With Kako’s encouragement Wawaulo – only her parents and
siblings called her that – helped clear away driftwood and other flotsam on the
Bou beach shadowed by the overhanging boughs of the towering hiaga to prepare
space for the traders to market their goods.
“I told you so, they are Malaysians, and they are harmless. They only
want to trade for vegetables…..huni ma bihia ma goila,’’ Kako soothed Wawaulo. She nodded her agreement and trained her sight
on the approaching oarsmen.
The Bou customers had almost bartered all the beads,
tomahawks, bushknives , mirrors and cheap calico from their Asian visitors
when, after a closely-guarded exchange with the captain of the vessel, Kako
convinced Wawulo that together, she and him, must board to inspect more dimdim
dresses – those respectable ones with sleeves covering the arms and ended at
the wrists ringed with thrills…….Oh, if
I should own one, Wawaulo had coverted ,when she had earlier , several years back, saw for the first time the wife
of the Samoan South Sea Island mission teacher, Maanaima, proudly inched her
way into the crowded thatched chapel , and fanning herself with a plaited
coconutleaf fan - and a brolly to match!
The dimdim women look, she had mused, and if only she could own one for
herself!
Deep in exchange conversation and lost in Kako’s translation
trade talk Wawaulo failed to realize movements above the cargohold that
involved the hauling up of the anchor and the flapflapflapping the the bulging
sails as they inhaled the bauli didiwaga and moving the vessel away from her
home-sweet-native home of Bou. It wasn’t until the Malaysian vessel was halfway
across the entrance to Milne Bay and closer to China Strait that when Wawaulo emerged
from the hold and onto the deck that she realized Kako’s wicked deception. From then on Wawaulo immediately rearmed with
her defence system by avoiding eye contact, let alone conversation with Kako,
and her famous last words to him: “U koeameu!” (You lied to me!).
A short stopover at a
small hamlet of Dopualotau near Kanakope
the vessel traded for fresh water and
sailed on towards China Strait that showed the path to Samalai island surrounded
by Saliba, Logea, Kwadou which in the local dialect means ‘You cry”, and the
lesser islands of Ebuma amd Dekadeka.
Dusk was falling when the Malaysian vessel, after purchasing provisions
and trade tobacco pulled anchor – bound for the protective haven of the narrow
channel separating Logea and the neighboring island of Kwadou.There the captain
explained in sign language to Wawaulo who was kept a prisoner in the locked and
guarded cabin – a most marketable and marriageable commodity - that they were
overnighting in the channel before departing for their next destination. Yes, the
captain had captured with the sly Kako , Wawaulo for the captain’s wedded
bliss! Kako, who had made several visits
to the Queensland town of Townsville and schemed with the Malaysian captain,
had disembarked at Samalai and loaded with goodies - gifts from the captain for
his part in the kidnapping of Wawulo!
May be at midnight when most on board the vessel were deep
into dreamworld, Wawaulo rose, quietly grabbed her red callco – a gift from the
captain – found the key to the locked cabin and sneaked out gingerly. Oops, she
almost tripped on the pile of ropes!
She took a deep breath. Surveyed the vessel from stern to
aft for any sign of life. Cocked her ears to detect noises from the sleeping
captain and crew. And slowly, but very slowly, lowered body and soul, to the
damuni that was now rising to help her swim across to Kwadou. Wawaulo had earlier at Keleteni island London
Missionary Society station numa tapalolo had heard Londoner Charles William
Abel preach and thought he seemed to be a nicer person than
her Malaysian captors.
She reached the white beach.
She shivered. Goose pimples. Her teeth complained of the cold dip…..she
plucked up courage and started fording a bog that confronted her in the waning
light of a crescent moon. Mugaia? She
shivered with terror – the dreaded crocodile jaws and claws! She found a tiny singlefile path that
meandered up the steep gradient. And she
started climbing. She turned back and
stared at the only light from her floating jail. Then she saw another, flickering below her
but on dry land……the beach where she had swam ashore! Wawaulo retraced her footsteps back to
starting point then detoured to what she discovered was a roughly built hut
lighted with a single hurricane kerosene lamp. Unsure of the occupants, Wawaulo
opted for the safety of the bush where she had been up the gradient. There she slept,
wet and shivering.
Wawaulo kept her presence on the island to herself while she
dried herself and the red calico. The sun had risen. She heard footsteps
eureka! Wawaulo spoke in Tawala and her
founder spoke in Suau. Somehow they
understood each other with the added aid of sign language. Shy and with her head bowed low she followed
her founder a Logea woman to the Kwadou LMS house to meet the dimdim lady who
happened to be Beatrice Abel, wife of Charles William Abel.
Wawaulo Deliwata had finally arrived after having taken her
first step ever away from the Bou village coastwatchers hideaway almost a week
earlier in Milne Bay. Was she forced to
leave Bou?
Credits: This article is based on oral history and
historical facts gathered from copies of
the report on the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Blackbirding in Queensland , gathered and compiled by
family friend Australian journalist Mark Davis of Warrandyte, Victoria,
Australia, a former editorial staff of the Papua New Guinea Post-Courier, for
the author’s ongoing research into the history of his two relatives who were blackbirded in the 1880s. Thanks also go to Goini Doilegu Loko for access to her computer setup and Lydia Loko for her secretarial
assistance and patience in making me to become computer literate, in Davara
Road Port Moresby.
Photo - Cutesy of the Elsey Family- Joan Elsey, Polini & two un named children 1953, Kwato Island
Copyright: EaWasa NiusAgency by Biga Igewalu Lebasi C 2012. PO Box 921 Alotau Milne Bay Province Papua New Guinea . For further inquiries: Digicel 73264037. Eawe – do!
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