BY PHILIP FITZPATRICK
HISTORY IS AN incredibly boring subject, ask any school kid.
Unless you have an avid interest, it is usually dry and lifeless. I’ve found the only way to effectively enliven it and to get the message across is to mix in a liberal but considered dose of fiction. Then, of course, history loses its authority.
How does a history of the resident magistrates of British New Guinea, presented in 488 pages with maybe a dozen fuzzy black and white photographs, inspire you? Imagine having to slog through that for a week. It has the appeal of a dead fish.
However, Jim Sinclair wrote about that topic in 1979-80. I don’t know whether he tried to get his book published then but, if he did, I suspect the publishers entertained the same thoughts. Who on earth is going to read and buy this stuff?
That was before he had cemented his reputation as the pre-eminent chronicler of things colonial in Papua New Guinea. It was written quite sometime after Behind the Ranges, The Outside Man and Wings of Gold but before the crowning glory of Kiap and that incredible series on the aeroplane in New Guinea, Balus. Jim Sinclair has since filled up nearly a whole shelf in my little library.
I guess it was on the basis of such success that Tony Crawford decided it was time to finally publish Gavamani: The Magisterial Service of British New Guinea.
If you’ve read any of Sinclair’s works, you know that his research is always meticulous and that he is a dab hand with a camera. He also seems to have a wonderful collection of historical photographs. When he combines those things with his workman-like prose he really hits his stride. This one, however, is mainly words.
Strangely enough it is riveting.
I think the reason for this is that the Kipling-esque characters are so big and bizarre and out of the ordinary and because they are allowed to speak for themselves. The book is liberally sprinkled with great chunks taken verbatim from their reports, letters, official correspondence and books.
There is the Administrator, William MacGregor, with his iron will and mind like a trap. He reminds me of that other dogged and determined Scot, John McDouall Stuart. MacGregor was just the man to quell the savagery of Papua and drag it to the brink of the 20th century - and on a shoe string budget to boot.
And of course there is Resident Magistrate, Charles Monckton, the trigger happy and opinionated Kiwi with a perchance for village maidens and a very wry turn of phrase.
And poor old Christopher Robinson who blew his brains out on the front lawn of Government House after being unjustly hounded over the Goaribari affair by missionary Charles Abel after James Chalmers, Oliver Tomkins, Nagari and ten of their young students were killed and eaten in the Gulf.
The resident magistrates became known to the Papuans as “outside men” and their lonely graves litter the countryside; mostly the victims of malaria and blackwater fever but also the occasional spear or arrow and, sadly, sometimes their own hand.
Ironically, the first outside man was Frank Lawes, the son of the pioneer missionary. Frank liked a drink and sometimes discreetly dallied with Papuan ladies, but he was an effective and dedicated officer who, unfortunately, died young.
Alongside the outside men are the graves of their loyal police. The Armed Native Constabulary began with men brought from Fiji but by the turn of the century they were all Papuans. Some of the Fijians stayed on; the influential Tabua family on Daru are the descendants of a Fijian policeman for instance.
With their antiquated Snider rifles and deadly bayonets the police carved their way through history with such renown that they earned the epithet “Royal” before their name.
They were with MacGregor when he sailed headlong into the massed canoe fleet of Tugeri headhunters from Dutch New Guinea and routed them in a decisive blow, they manned lonely police posts everywhere and they were on the Yodda and other goldfields protecting villagers and miners.
Even those tough men were moved to tears when they came across the depredations of some of the tribes. William Armit RM described one incident thus.
The bones of the leg had been excised and the pelvical bone removed. The ham had been neatly cut off. The boneless leg was wrapped carefully round a three foot stick…
The girl’s left side and arm and hand presented a heartrending spectacle as it lay on the ground … the head had evidently been removed, the spine cleft, and the side cut off below the diaphragm ... the partly developed mama remained in situ, the sternum had been cut through, and the inside of the pectoral cavity was perfectly clean and bright ... the whole incident was horrible beyond description…
In Gavamani, fact trumps fiction every time. I think the book is easily Jim Sinclair’s most accomplished work. It is part of what was intended as the first of an historic trilogy on the work of the patrol officers, resident magistrates and district officers of the British and Australian colonial administrations. The succeeding two volumes have yet to be written. We can only wait in hope.
Gavamani ends with the savage acrimony displayed in the Royal Commission requested by the failing English administrator, Francis Barton, and the appointment of Hubert Murray as the first Lieutenant-Governor of Papua.
This acrimony had basically been a battle between the old British colonials and the new Australian administrators. With Murray in their ranks the Australians won. Sinclair says, “With his appointment, a new era began. A legend was in the making – but that is another story”.
If you only read one book about colonial Papua read this one.
Gavamani: The Magisterial Service of British New Guinea by James Sinclair, Crawford House Publishing, Adelaide. Check the Pacific Book House advertisement in the current January issue of PNG Attitude magazine