  Supposing some man from inland lives in Kiriwina or in Luba or in one of the villages nearby; he wants a katudababile. He would request an expert fisherman who knows how to dive for kaloma. This man agrees; he dives, he dives … till it is sufficient; his vataga (large folding basket) is already full, this man (the inlander) hears the rumour; he, the master of the kaloma (that is, the man for whom the necklace will be made) says: “Good! I shall just have a look!” He would come, he would see, he would not give any vakapula payment. He (here the Sinaketan diver is meant) would say: “Go, tomorrow, I shall break the shell, come here, give me vakapula.” Next day, he (the inlander) would cook food, he would bring, he would give vakapula; he (the diver) would break the shell. Next day, the same. He (the inlander) would give the vakapula, he (the diver) would break the shell. Supposing the breaking is already finished, he (the diver) would say: “Good! already the breaking is finished, I shall polish.” Next day, he (the inlander) would cook food, would bring bananas, coco-nut, betel-nut, sugar cane, would give it as vakapula; this man (the diver) polishes. The polishing already finished, he would speak: “Good! To-morrow I shall drill.” This man (the inlander) would bring food, bananas, coco-nuts, sugar cane, he would give it as vakapula: it would be abundant, for soon already the necklace will be finished. The same, he would give a big vakapula on the occasion of the rounding up of the cylinder, for soon everything will be finished. When finished, we thread it on a string, we wash it. (Note the change from the third singular into the first plural). We give it to our wife, we blow the conch shell; she would go, she would carry his valuable to this man, our relative-in-law. Next day, he would yomelu; he would catch a pig, he would break off a bunch of betel-nut, he would cut sugar cane, bananas, he would fill the baskets with food, and spike the coco-nut on a multi-forked piece of wood. By-and-by he would bring it. Our house would be filled up. Later on we would make a distribution of the bananas, of the sugar cane, of the betel-nut. We give it to our helpers. We sit, we sit (i.e., we wait); at harvest This narrative, like many pieces of native information, needs certain corrections of perspective. In the first place, events here succeed one another with a rapidity quite foreign to the extremely leisurely way in which natives usually accomplish such a lengthy process as the making of a katudababile. The amount of food which, in the usual manner, is enumerated over and over again in this narrative would probably not be exaggerated, for—such is native economy—a man who makes a necklace to order would get about twice as much or even more for it than it would fetch in any other transaction. On the other hand, it must be remembered that what is represented here as the final payment, the karibudaboda, is nothing else but the normal filling up of the yam house, always done by a man’s relations-in-law. None the less, in a year in which a katudababile would be made, the ordinary yearly harvest gift would be styled the ‘karibudaboda payment for the necklace.’ The giving of the necklace to the wife, who afterwards carries it to her brother or kinsman, is also characteristic of the relation between relatives-in-law. In Sinaketa and Vakuta only the necklaces made of bigger shell and tapering towards the end are made. The real Kula article, in which the discs are much thinner, smaller in diameter and even in size from one end of the necklace to the other, these were introduced into the Kula at other points, and I shall speak about this subject in one of the following chapters (Chapter XXI), where the other branches of the Kula are described. IVNow, having come to an end of this digression on kaloma, let us return for another short while to our Sinaketan party, whom we have left on the Lagoon of Sanaroa. Having obtained a sufficient amount of the shells, they set sail, and re-visiting Tewara and Gumasila, stopping perhaps for a night on one of the sandbanks of Pilolu, they arrive at last in their home Lagoon. But before rejoining their people in their villages, they stop for the last halt on Muwa. Here they make what After this is over, they return to the village. Each canoe blows its conch shell, a blast for each valuable that it contains. When a canoe has obtained no vaygu’a at all, this means great shame and distress for its members, and especially for the toliwaga. Such a canoe is said to bisikureya, which means literally ‘to keep a fast.’ On the beach all the villagers are astir. The women, who have put on their new grass petticoats (sevata’i) specially made for this occasion, enter the water and approach the canoes to unload them. No special greetings pass between them and their husbands. They are interested in the food brought from Dobu, more especially in the sago. People from other villages assemble also in great numbers to greet the incoming party. Those who have supplied their friends or relatives with provisions for their journey, receive now sago, betel-nuts and coco-nuts in repayment. Some of the welcoming crowd have come in order to make Kula. Even from the distant districts of Luba and Kiriwina natives will travel to Sinaketa, having a fair idea of the date of the arrival of the Kula party from Dobu. The expedition will be talked over, the yield counted, the recent history of the important valuables described. But this stage leads us already into the subject of inland Kula, which will form the subject of one of the following chapters. |
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