A TRUE STORY BY PHOTOGRAPHER JUTTA MALNIC TO ACCOMPANY THE EXHIBITION OF THE SAME NAME
MWAGA
BUDDY-BUDDY
ABOUT JUTTA MALNIC
Buddy-Buddy is an atoll of six low islands. In the vastness of the Solomon Sea it is hard to find, unless you sight it from Cannac Rock. The islands are just four meters above sea level. In legend, and to the people of the mainland of Papua New Guinea, Buddy-Buddy is known as The End of the World, or The Seat of Tranquillity.
Jutta Malnic is a Sydney-based photographer who was born in Berlin to a German father and Australian mother. She went to photo school and acquired her first work experience as a photo-journalist in Berlin.
Jutta Malnic also learned from Indigenous people in various regions of Australia. Over the years, her work was shown in several exhibitions in Australia and Germany. She published several books.
In 1948, her family moved to Australia, where she began to work as a photo– grapher at social events. Thanks to her attention to detail and her unique talent for storytelling, she was in high demand, and soon hired by a shipping line as on-board photographer.
Mwaga, a Bird at the End of the World is as photographic series captured on a small island in the East of Papua New Guinea in the 1980s. It shows the near-synergic relationship between the people on the island and the Mwaga gannets, a bird species locally referred to as ‘navigator birds’. Ancient Polynesian seafarers used these birds’ behaviour and movements as a navigation guide.
Surrounded by an eternity of ocean, a gentle, part-Polynesian people craft their livelihood from the sea. Gardens can’t prosper on the sandy soil, but coconut palms provide these people with most of their needs. Innocently, they now also welcome the Taiwanese fishing fleets that venture into their water to bag the flesh of giant clamshells. Buddy-Buddy people are lenient towards them as the Taiwanese bring cotton fabric, tinned beef, sugar, rice, flour and tobacco. The islanders build their slender fishing craft, outrigger canoes, with the wood of coconut palms, and of bamboo. They also construct stronger, shell-decorated voyaging vessels, called Nagega, for long cultural trading expeditions, being the outer-most point in the Kula Ring exchanges around Milne Bay islands.
Between 1950 and 1969, Jutta Malnic worked on 72 cruises around the South Pacific Islands and developed deep relationships with the people of the region. Talking to the islands’ Chiefs, fishermen, women and children, she was taught about the culture and legends in the Pacific Islands — and captured her impressions through the lens of her camera.
More than 20 years after her first appearance at the Goethe-Institut in Sydney, Jutta Malnic returns with the world premiere of Mwaga, a Bird at the End of the World. At the time of the opening, Jutta Malnic is 93 years old.
MWAGA, A BIRD AT THE END OF THE WORLD IS A STORY WRITTEN BY JUTTA MALNIC. ALL MAJOR ELEMENTS OF THIS STORY, AS WELL AS THE NAMES OF BIRD AND PEOPLE, ARE TRUE.
Goethe-Institut Australien www.goethe.de/australia
Goethe-Institut Neuseeland www.goethe.de/newzealand
Photos and Story © Jutta Malnic / Exhibition and Brochure © 2017 Goethe-Institut
A BIRD AT THE END OF THE WORLD
THE MWAGA SONG CYCLE Some old men on Buddy-Buddy, called the ‘Keepers of the Word’, still hold the full text and story of the Mwaga Song Cycle. The collection is a navigational guide from ancient times, telling the seafarers how to navigate by the stars, the currents, changes in water temperature, and by observing the behaviour of birds and fish.
TO THE PEOPLE OF PAPUA NEW GUINEA, BUDDY-BUDDY IS KNOWN AS THE END OF THE WORLD… THE SEAT OF TRANQUILITY
Jutta Malnic transcribes elements of the song as follows:
Semko neko nivinai Yaulelei mwage Yaule mwage mwaga Semko neko nivinai Yau yelele mwali Yau eleye mwali Semko nekoi nivinai
TOMASI AND KUMULUWA
The refrain in an archaic, Buddy-Buddyrelated language resonates words and songs cradling images and meaning. They speak of a bird-child of woman, a Mwaga taking feathers, and being undressed, becoming a Mwaga man. They speak of feathers, the sound of chicks under the wing of their Mother Hen, safe, nurtured, protected and happy. As the feathers are taken away, there is a boy leaving the security of his mother’s protection, turning into a man, being initiated, taking over responsibility. He is now free to pursue adventure, establish his own image, grow — and enter Kula.
KUMULUWA APPEARS CANNAC ROCK
When you sail past all the big and small islands in Milne Bay into the open, seemingly endless Solomon Sea — look to the right! On a good day, you will see a tiny speck there breaking the horizon. Set course towards it, due South-South-East. Coming closer, that speck will turn out to be a high, solitary rock rising from the waters like a white sun: round, gleaming, surprising. No trees on this island, even at close range — only soaring, guano-tinted cliffs pounded by a long swell. This is Cannac Rock. There are no beaches to land your boat. So you sail past. And in passing you may observe that afternoon shadows carve a sinister image from the Southern cliffs — the image of a Black Witch. She has hollow eyes and a split beard that flows right down to the sea. You will instantly know that Cannac is a very powerful rock indeed. The surrounding waters of the sea are luminous and teeming with marine life — sharks, barracuda, yellow fin, Spanish mackerel, coral trout, turtles and sea snakes, all feeding on a myriad of smaller creatures that slide and quiver, flurry and hump through the coral gardens deeper down. High up, where the cliffs flatten to a plateau, winds reign over the shrieks and wing-whirr of untold thousands of birds — gannets, frigate birds and gulls. This is the place from where, not so long ago, a strange story had its most inconspicuous beginning.
Here, between tufts of hard grass, a special little bird slipped from the shell of its egg. It was a gannet chick, a Mwaga, in the language of BuddyBuddy, the nearby Laughlin Islands. When the little Mwaga bird had grown into a fledgling, it happened that a fishing party from Buddy-Buddy came to Cannac Rock. One man, Talibuloka, swam across to the rock. He climbed to the top and caught this little Mwaga chick. He took it back to Buddy-Buddy for his son, Tomasi, who named the bird Kumuluwa. The bird liked the care it was given by eight-year-old Tomasi. Every evening, after bringing the best of the days’ catch to the old people in the village, the boy fed his bird with plenty of good, small fish. There was an order of rank and duties on the island in which the bird had a place. Kumuluwa became a full member of the clan. Tomasi’s uncle, Elami, built a fine birdhouse for him at the beach, above the high waterline, where Kumuluwa spent the nights. Soon, the children included the bird in their games. When they chased him along the beach, he let himself be caught and tossed back into the water. In the shallows of the lagoon, he would twirl around in the middle of their circle while the children splashed and frolicked. Tomasi’s sister wanted the bird to dance.
Kumuluwa watched attentively and then, like her, he swayed from side to side like dancing. Tomasi liked talking to Kumuluwa. He nestled him on his lap and could not help laughing when the bird looked at him down-beak with a cross-eyed stare, as if he understood every word.
TOWARDS CANNAC ROCK
But then came the day when the young bird’s wing feathers had grown long and strong. He saw a flock of birds circling high in the early light of the morning. They were riding the winds of the rising sun, out to sea towards Cannac Rock. Perched on the roof of his house, the Mwaga suddenly felt a surge of great joy. Hey, he could also fly! Had he not swum and fished, got strong running through the sand with the children, the chickens and the pigs? He spread his wings and fluttered until the wind caught under his wings. And the wind took him higher and higher until he was circling and gliding effortlessly with the other birds. The children saw him disappear in the brilliant light of the morning.
When the sun stood high, a strong breeze had carried him to Cannac Rock. His yellow, webbed feet touched the warm stone of the cliff and clung firmly. He shook the air from his plumage and pulled feather after feather through his beak, grooming with preening oil. He swooped down to the sea, for he felt hungry. Surfacing with a catch, he threw back his head and jiggled the fish until it smoothly slid down his gullet. At last, he felt full. Night came, and Kumuluwa remained on the plateau. The Rock now was his natural home, and he forgot the children at Buddy-Buddy.
ELAMI AND THE TURTLE
There also lived another animal at the Rock, a giant turtle — an extraordinary creature. She was absolutely huge, and dark red due to her age. Kaniku, our skipper, had seen this turtle. He described her head as being “half the size of a fishing float, the kind that break loose from the nets of a big fishing fleet”.
This turtle lived — and in all likelihood still lives — behind a slab of rock that overhangs the water. When high tide closes the air space under the slab, the water level does not reach the higher parts, the turtle’s lair. One day, some outrigger canoes from Buddy-Buddy came to fish at the Rock. One belonged to Uncle Elami, who had built the birdhouse. When Elami saw the huge turtle paddling close to his canoe, he was delighted. This turtle would be just great for a village feast. He tied a rope around his waist and looped the other end around the turtle’s neck. But — oh! Feeling the noose, the frightened turtle quickly turned and pulled the man from his outrigger. They both disappeared into the water, not to be seen again. The men in the other canoes saw it all happen. They dived and searched for Elami all day. When sunset approached, they finally set sail for the homeward journey, crying for the lost clansman. The people at the atoll went into mourning. They were certain that Elami was dead. There would be no great fishing expeditions for another four to six months. The people on Obulaku and the other islands were now preparing for Elami’s Sagali, the great feast and food exchange at the end of mourning.
Elami was dazed. He crawled from the water to where the cave was dry. Exhausted, he just managed to loosen the rope before falling asleep. When he woke up, the turtle was not there. Faint daylight filtered from high above. The cave extended up into a narrow chimney. Could this be a way to the outside? Wearily, he braced himself up on sharp, inner, ledges, and onto an open plateau. He could see his faraway island like a tiny irritation on the horizon, where his clansmen were mourning his drowning. For a long time, Elami was doomed to stay alone on the Rock. He sheltered inside, under a ledge. He found tinderticks and twirled them until the glow set fire to some dry grass he had nested around himself. He took care to keep the fire going, occasionally cooking lizard or fish, which he speared with a stick. On the plateau there were plenty of bird eggs, and fresh rain water could be found everywhere in rock puddles. In his lonely abode inside the Rock, Elami would sing the Mwaga Song of the Polynesia Voyagers: the old song that accompanied every activity in the group of Laughlin islands.
DOOMED ON THE ROCK
One day, a bird came inside through a narrow hole in the rock wall and waddled close to him. We don’t know if Elami recognised Kumuluwa, the gannet he had once built a birdhouse for. But he reached out and lifted the bird onto his lap, stroked and fondled it gently. From then on, they both remained in constant company. It seemed a long time — about four months — until the next fishing party came to Cannac Rock. Elami’s beard had grown and he looked like a wild man as he jumped into the sea and swam to their canoe. Little fishing was done on that day! They kept hugging each other and crying in disbelief over the miracle of finding their lost clansman. As they turned the canoe for the homeward journey, two gannets skimmed across the water, Kumuluwa and a female companion, to perch on the craft for the journey back home to Buddy-Buddy.