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National Geographic : 1966 Jun
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Blowgun Hunters of the South Pacific the day when the people, by order of the Aus tralian Government, were supposed to work on community projects, such as cleaning up the village and clearing forest trails. Monday became something more to the villagers: a day to go visiting, to talk, to trade, to collect debts, to settle arguments and to start new ones. While the adults talked, quarreled, and often had a fist fight, the children played games. A favorite was "killing wild pigs," in which the youngsters threw sharpened sticks at rolling disks of banana stalk (page 803). Bamli's Visit Causes an Uproar On one memorable Monday I was chatting with a group of villagers in the shade under my stilted house when a stranger approached on the path from the forest. He bore all the signs of a "finish-time," one who has com pleted a work contract on one of the coastal plantations near Rabaul. He wore a bright- red cotton skirt fastened with a shining new leather belt. On his broad feet were rubber sandals. In one hand he carried a padlocked wooden chest, in the other a bulging sack. Without a word the stranger calmly climbed the ladder into my house. Ningbi, my No. 2 houseboy and cook, followed him. "That's Bamli," Ningbi said in passing. I listened as Ningbi and Debli, the No. 1 houseboy, conducted Bamli on a tour of the house. First he inspected the living room, then the houseboys' bedroom, the kitchen, the storeroom, and finally my private quarters, a bedroom and washroom. Then there was silence. Mystified, I made inquiries. Bamli, I was told, belonged to the village of Iombon, had been away two years, and was just passing through on his way home. Bamli did not come down to join us, nor did any villager move to join him. I be came aware of something unusual in the peo ple's behavior toward this man. 805
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