Pacific Pidgins and Creoles: Origins, Growth and Development 9783110899689, 9783110169980

Table of contents :
Acknowledgements
List of maps, figures and tables
Abbreviations
Chapter 1: Introduction
Chapter 2: Present-day Pacific Pidgins
2.1. Bislama
2.2. Solomon Islands Pijin
2.3. Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea)
2.4. Pitcairn-Norfolk
2.5. Hawaiian Pidgin English
2.6. Ngatik Men’s Language
2.7. Australian Kriol
2.8. Broken (Torres Strait)
2.9. Nauruan Pidgin English
Chapter 3: Previous theories of pidgin development
3.0. Introduction
3.1. Genesis and general theory
3.2. The genesis of contact languages in Oceania
3.3. Conclusion
Chapter 4: Early days: History of contacts 1788–1863
A. The Australian scene
4.1. New South Wales
4.2. Queensland
4.3. South Australia, Northern Territory, Western Australia
4.4. Tasmania
B. Australia – South Pacific island maritime links
4.5. Summary of recorded South Pacific voyages 1788–1840
Chapter 5: The beginnings: The language situation 1788–1863
5.0. Introductory
5.1. Foreigner Talk and European contact in Australia and the Pacific
5.2. Samples of New South Wales Pidgin 1788–1850
5.3. New South Wales Pidgin glossary 1788–1850
5.4. Examples from Pacific states pre-1863
5.5. Pacific Pidgin glossary 1788–1850 (list of first usages, including Australia and Pacific)
Chapter 6: The plantations: History of contacts 1863–1906
6.1. Introductory
6.2. The overseas plantations
6.3. The sources of labour
6.4. Other Pacific states involved pre-1863
6.5. Plantations at home
Chapter 7: Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863–1906
7.0. Introduction
7.1. Examples from 19th century written sources
7.2. The 1885–1886 Royal Commission
7.3. Queensland Canefields English
7.4. The Vanuatu corpus
7.5. Conclusions
Chapter 8: Colonial days: History of contacts 1906–1975
8.0. Introductory
8.1. Plantations in the New Hebrides Condominium (Vanuatu)
8.2. Papua New Guinea (and Samoa)
8.3. Solomon Islands
Chapter 9: Differentiation: The language situation 1906–1975
9.1. Overall language situation at the beginning of the 20th Century
9.2. New Hebrides (Vanuatu)
9.3. Solomon Islands
9.4. Papua New Guinea
9.5. Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin: differential elements
9.6. Conclusions
Chapter 10: Today’s world: 1975 to the present
10.1. Vanuatu
10.2. Papua New Guinea (PNG)
10.3. Solomon Islands
10.4 Conclusion of Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Conclusion
Appendix I. Konstitusin blong Ripablik blong Vanuatu (Niu Hebredis) 1980
Appendix II. Maps
References
Index

Citation preview

Pacific Pidgins and Creoles

W G DE

Trends in Linguistics Studies and Monographs 132

Editors

Walter Bisang Hans Henrich Hock Werner Winter (main editor for this volume)

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Pacific Pidgins and Creoles Origins, Growth and Development

by

Darreil T. Tryon Jean-Michel Charpentier

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter G m b H & Co. KG, Berlin.

© Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.

ISBN 3-11-016998-3 Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the Internet at .

© Copyright 2004 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover design: Christopher Schneider, Berlin. Printed in Germany.

Acknowledgements

During the course of the many years during which our lives have been closely involved with the Pacific, we have made many wonderful friendships in the islands, the majority of which have contributed in some way to the production of this book. From our early days in the Pacific, especially in Vanuatu and New Caledonia, we would like to thank the members of the various Christian missions for their generosity and support, in particular the late Bishops Pierre Martin (New Caledonia), Louis Juillard and Francis Lambert (Vanuatu) and the members of their confraternity, especially Fathers Charles Verlingue, Jean Zerger and Albert Sacco. In the Presbyterian Church we extend our sincere thanks to the late Bill Camden and his wife Sue, and to Paddy and Nancy Jansen at the former Tangoa Training Institute, as well as to Ken Calvert, longtime missionary on Tanna. Their friendship and assistance in those early days is highly valued. In the Anglican Church we would like to thank Bishop Derek Rawcliffe for his invaluable assistance, especially in the Banks and Torres region. There were many British and French administrators in preIndependence Vanuatu, then the New Hebrides, who provided valuable assistance, especially the late Sir Colin Allen, former British Resident Commissioner, and Keith Woodward of the British Residency. Robert Gely and his team at the Condominium Service Topographique provided much appreciated logistic support. Special mention, too, must be made of the huge contribution made by Reece Discombe and his late wife Jean, whose network of friends and contacts right around Vanuatu was central to our work. In the context of Vanuatu, also, our special thanks to Bernard Vienne, Bob Makin and Paul Gardissart. Among the many Pacific historians who opened their archives to us, we would like to tender our thanks to Dirk Ballendorf, Judy Bennett, Donald Denoon, Niel Gunson, Fran Hezel, Kerry Howe, Brij Lai, Robert Langdon, Harry and Honor Maude, Hank Nelson, Derek Scarr, and Dorothy Shineberg. Thanks also to R.Gerard Ward for his valuable assistance. Among the Pacific linguists there have been many major contributions over a long period. In particular we would like to thank Peter Mühlhäusler, Phillip Baker and the late Stephen Wurm for their suggestions and comments and for the provision of archival materials. Thanks also to Jakelin

vi

Acknowledgements

Troy for providing her huge New South Wales corpus, and Tom Dutton for his invaluable Queensland canefields materials and regular discussions and comments. We also thank Andrew Pawley, and John Lynch for their valuable comments and suggestions, and Malcolm Ross, Meredith Osmond and Margaret Forster for their assistance. Thanks too to Christine Jourdan and the late Roger Keesing for their stimulating discussions and comments, and to Jeff Siegel, both in the context of Vanuatu and Fiji. In Hawaii, we thank Kenneth Rehg and in Pohnpei Damian Sohl and Remikio Frank. In Vanuatu there are hundreds of people who have contributed in various ways. Space is insufficient to acknowledge them all here. However, the friendship and major contributions of the following must be acknowledged here: the late Father Walter Lini, the late Father Gerard Leymang, Donald Kalpokas, Chief Willy Bongmatur Maldo, Sela Molisa and his late wife Grace, and former President Ati George Sokomanu. At the Vanuatu Cultural Centre we would like to extend our sincere thanks to its current Director Ralph Regenvanu and his staff, and to former Curator Kirk Huffman. Of course our greatest debt of gratitude is to the Vanuatu Cultural Centre Fieldworkers, both men and women, for their magnificent contribution over the past twenty years. A word of thanks to goes to Lissant Bolton for her commitment and contribution. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, we would like to thank the hundreds of Pacific Islanders from all over the region, from Guam, the Caroline Islands, the Marshalls, Kiribati, Nauru, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, New Caledonia and the Loyalty Islands, Fiji, Tonga, Niue, Samoa, French Polynesia, Easter Island, and Hawaii. Their contributions to this project, large and small, and their enduring friendships and assistance, make us feel very humble and privileged.

Table of contents

Acknowledgements List of maps, figures and tables Abbreviations

ν xv xviii

Chapter 1: Introduction

1

Chapter 2: Present-day Pacific Pidgins

5

2.1. 2.2. 2.3. 2.4. 2.5. 2.6. 2.7. 2.8. 2.9.

Bislama Solomon Islands Pijin Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea) Pitcairn-Norfolk Hawaiian Pidgin English Ngatik Men's Language Australian Kriol Broken (Torres Strait) Nauruan Pidgin English

7 8 9 11 12 14 15 16 18

Chapter 3: Previous theories of pidgin development

21

3.0. 3.1. 3.1.1.

21 21

3.1.1.1. 3.1.1.2. 3.1.2. 3.1.2.1. 3.1.2.2. 3.2. 3.2.1. 3.2.1.1.

Introduction Genesis and general theory Derek Bickerton: universalist theory and the Bio-program Bickerton' s theories and a priori position The language bio-program hypothesis (LBH) (1981) Peter Mühlhäusler: generalist and Pacific pidginist Mühlhäusler the generalist Mühlhäusler the Pacific scholar The genesis of contact languages in Oceania Ross Clark, an exceptional pidginist Theories of Beach-la-Mar development

22 22 25 26 26 29 32 32 32

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3.2.1.2. 3.2.2. 3.2.2.1. 3.2.2.1.1. 3.2.2.1.2. 3.2.2.2. 3.2.2.2.1. 3.2.2.2.2. 3.2.3.

3.2.3.1.

3.2.3.2. 3.2.3.2.1. 3.2.3.2.2. 3.2.4. 3.2.4.1. 3.2.4.2. 3.2.4.2.1. 3.2.4.2.2. 3.2.4.2.3. 3.3.

Conclusions from the Clark approach Roger Keesing and the preponderance of the substrate in the genesis of Pacific pidgins and Creoles The precursors Bill Camden, a self-declared substrate advocate Jean-Michel Charpentier and the ethno-linguistic approach Roger Keesing and the Melanesian substrate Keesing and the genesis of present-day Pacific pidgins The controversy with Mühlhäusler over the origins of Tok Pisin, and consequently of other Pacific pidgins Tom Dutton and Jakelin Troy: the role of the English target-language in the development of Australian and Pacific pidgins Tom Dutton and Queensland contact languages a) The Queensland Canefields English monograph (1980) b) Queensland Aboriginal Pidgin English c) Queensland Kanaka English (QKE) and other contact languages Jakelin Troy and New South Wales Pidgin Methodology and results The Troy dissertation, the missing link, the concatenation of Pacific pidgins Terry Crowley, Bislama and the genesis of Pacific contact languages An "engaged" researcher, defender and promoter of Bislama Crowley and the development of Bislama and other Melanesian pidgins The nature and duration of the so-called "South Seas Jargon", Beach-la-Mar The questioning of the terminology and stages of pidgin development A relatively "engaged" position with respect to the genesis of contact languages Conclusion

34 37 37 37 39 40 41 42

45 45 46 48 49 50 51 54 55 56 58 58 59 60 61

Table of contents

ix

Chapter 4: Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863

65

A. 4.1. 4.1.1. 4.1.2. 4.1.3. 4.1.4. 4.1.5. 4.1.6. 4.2. 4.3. 4.4. B. 4.5. 4.5.1.

65 67 67 69 69 70 70 71 71 74 78 79 79

4.5.2. 4.5.3. 4.5.4. 4.5.5. 4.5.6. 4.5.7. 4.5.8. 4.5.9. 4.5.10. 4.5.11. 4.5.12.

The Australian scene New South Wales Sydney Port Stephens Bathurst The Monaro district The Port Phillip district Summary Queensland South Australia, Northern Territory, Western Australia Tasmania Australia - South Pacific island maritime links Summary of recorded South Pacific voyages 1788-1840 Detailed record of Sydney-Pacific islands shipping 1788-1840 Sydney-based Pacific shipping Norfolk Island Whaling and sealing Tahiti (Society Islands and Marquesas Islands) Cook Islands Kiribati (Gilbert Islands) Ponape (Pohnpei) New Caledonia and Loyalty Islands New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Solomon Islands Fiji Islands

81 83 83 85 87 93 94 97 107 110 111 113

Chapter 5: The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863

115

5.0. 5.1.

115

5.2. 5.3. 5.4. 5.4.1. 5.4.2.

Introductory Foreigner Talk and European contact in Australia and the Pacific Samples of New South Wales Pidgin 1788-1850 New South Wales Pidgin glossary 1788-1850 Examples from Pacific states pre-1863 Sample texts from New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Ponape and Kosrae

115 117 121 139 139 141

χ

5.4.3. 5.4.4. 5.4.5. 5.4.6. 5.4.7. 5.5.

Table of contents

Ngatik Kiribati, Rotuma and Fiji Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands Loyalty Islands New Caledonia Pacific Pidgin glossary 1788-1850 (list of first usages, including Australia and Pacific)

145 149 150 152 154 155

Chapter 6: The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

173

6.1. 6.2. 6.2.1. 6.2.2. 6.2.3. 6.2.4. 6.2.5. 6.2.6. 6.3. 6.3.1. 6.3.2. 6.3.3. 6.3.4. 6.4. 6.5. 6.5.1. 6.5.2. 6.5.3.

173 174 174 179 194 199 205 207 208 208 211 212 213 214 215 215 218 220

Introductory The overseas plantations Queensland Fiji Samoa New Caledonia Hawaii French Polynesia The sources of labour New Hebrides (Vanuatu) (and Loyalty Islands) Solomonislands Papua New Guinea Kiribati Other Pacific states involved pre-1863 Plantations at home New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Solomonislands Papua New Guinea

Chapter 7: Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

223

7.0. 7.1. 7.1.1. 7.1.2. 7.1.3. 7.1.4. 7.1.5.

223 223 223 228 236 241 243

Introduction Examples from 19th century written sources New South Wales Pidgin New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Solomon Islands Papua New Guinea Samoa

Table of contents

7.1.6. 7.1.6.1. 7.1.6.2. 7.1.6.3. 7.1.6.4. 7.1.6.5. 7.2. 7.3. 7.3.1. 7.3.2. 7.3.2.1. 7.3.2.2. 7.3.3. 7.4. 7.4.1. 7.4.2. 7.4.3. 7.4.4. 7.5.

Other Pacific islands : (New Caledonia, Loyalty Islands, Kiribati, Rotuma, Tuvalu) New Caledonia Loyalty Islands Kiribati (Gilbert Islands) Tuvalu (Ellice Islands) Rotuma The 1885-1886 Royal Commission Queensland Canefields English Examples from Queensland mission literature Queensland Canefields English Tom Lammon Text 2: Origin and Work Peter Santo Text 1: Interview Comments on Queensland Canefields English The Vanuatu corpus Analysis and comparisons: Bislama regionalisms? Discussion of variant forms Comparison with Queensland materials (Dutton 1980) Comparative 1960s/70s Bislama and Queensland Canefields English Conclusions

xi

248 248 250 251 253 253 254 258 258 261 262 265 275 277 279 284 287 288 295

Chapter 8: Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

299

8.0. 8.1.

299

8.1.1. 8.1.2. 8.1.3. 8.1.4. 8.1.5. 8.1.6. 8.1.7. 8.2. 8.2.1. 8.2.2.

Introductory Plantations in the New Hebrides Condominium (Vanuatu) New Hebrides (Vanuatu) plantations 1900-1914 The two World Wars and the period between: 1914-1945 The Great Depression Origins of New Hebridean labour Labour destinations World War II Post-War New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Papua New Guinea (and Samoa) Historical and constitutional matters German New Guinea (Australian Trust Territory of New Guinea)

299 301 305 307 308 315 319 321 323 323 325

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Table of contents

8.2.3. 8.2.4. 8.3.

British New Guinea/Papua Post-1945 Papua New Guinea Solomon Islands

Chapter 9: Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 9.1. 9.2. 9.3. 9.4. 9.5. 9.6.

Overall language situation at the beginning of the 20th Century New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Solomon Islands Papua New Guinea Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin: differential elements Conclusions

330 334 336 349

349 351 367 375 393 398

Chapter 10: Today's world: 1975 to the present

401

10.1. 10.1.1. 10.1.1.1. 10.1.1.1.1.

401 401 402

10.1.1.1.2. 10.1.1.1.3. 10.1.1.2. 10.1.1.2.1. 10.1.1.2.2. 10.1.1.2.3. 10.1.1.3. 10.1.1.3.1. 10.1.1.3.2. 10.1.1.3.3. 10.1.2. 10.1.2.1. 10.1.2.1.1.

Vanuatu Introduction The end of the colonial era The slow death of the plantation era and its linguistic consequences The tardy efforts of the Condominium authorities on the education front The renewal of Bislama The years of the struggle for independence The first stages of New Hebridean nationalism The beginning of politics, the 1975 elections The educational programme of the Vanuaaku Pati and its consequences The Constitution and the place of Bislama, 1979 The draft version of the Constitution The mediation of the linguists The letter and the spirit of the Constitution Independence and the universality of Bislama Bislama, instrument of nationalism and Melanesian identity The ideology of the Prime Minister and the pragmatism of the minister of education (1980-84)

402 402 405 409 409 410 412 415 415 418 422 424 425 427

Table of contents 10.1.2.1.2. 10.1.2.1.3. 10.1.2.2. 10.1.2.2.1. 10.1.2.2.2. 10.1.2.3. 10.1.2.3.1. 10.1.2.3.2. 10.1.2.3.3. 10.1.2.3.4. 10.1.2.3.5. 10.1.3.1. 10.1.3.1.1. 10.1.3.1.2. 10.1.3.1.3. 10.1.3.1.4. 10.1.4. 10.2. 10.2.1. 10.2.1.1. 10.2.1.2. 10.2.1.2.1. 10.2.1.2.2. 10.2.2. 10.2.2.1. 10.2.2.1.1. 10.2.2.1.2.

The task of translating the spirit of the Constitution into reality Towards the standardisation of Bislama, the 1980s The testing of Bislama: its expansion and limits The generalisation of Bislama as a lingua franca (1980-84) The intrinsic and external limits of pidgins 1984 to the present: the difficulty of creating a multilingual Melanesian State 1984-1991: The end of the Lini era and of pan-Melanesianism The coalition governments and Bislama The Korman Government and its attempts to limit the use of Bislama The Vohor Government and the World Bank Thoughts of introducing Bislama into the education system "The Education Master Plan". Towards the teaching of Bislama? The impossibility of the existing education system The choices made by the political leaders and the educational authorities From the conception of the plan to its application: the weight of the heritage of conflict The abandonment of the plan. Counter-proposals Conclusion Papua New Guinea (PNG) The inexorable and unsung expansion of Tok Pisin 1975: Proclamation of independence; sociolinguistic situation The constitutional choices in 1975 Imperatives shared by numerous multilingual nations English, the national language in the absence of anything better Tok Pisin, a written code, and language of instruction The complementary and competing usage of English and Tok Pisin English/Pidgin diglossia in Papua New Guinea Linguistic politics and education

xiii

429 433 435 436 437 439 439 440 440 445 445 446 446 447 449 451 453 454 454 456 458 458 459 460 461 461 462

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Table of contents

10.2.2.2. 10.2.2.2.1. 10.2.2.2.2. 10.3. 10.3.1. 10.3.1.1. 10.3.1.2. 10.3.2. 10.3.2.1. 10.3.2.2 10.3.3. 10.4

Tok Pisin, a written and oral medium The early establishment of an unofficial written norm Factors favouring the teaching of Tok Pisin Solomon Islands Pijin: a long ignored language The victim of British condescension Independence: a new lease of life for Pijin? The failure of an all-English approach; consideration of Pijin Unambiguous evaluative reports Pijin and non-formal education Conclusion: Solomon Islands Conclusion of Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Conclusion

465 465 467 471 471 472 473 473 474 475 476 477 479

Appendix I Konstitusin blong Ripablik blong Vanuatu (Niu Hebredis) 1980

485

Appendix II Maps

489

References

523

Index

551

List of maps (All maps can be found in Appendix II) Map 1 Map 2 Map 3 Map 4 Map 5 Map 6 Map 7 Map 8 Map 9 Map 10 Map 11 Map 12 Map 13 Map 14 Map 15 Map 16 Map 17 Map 18 Map 19 Map 20 Map 21 Map 22 Map 23 Map 24 Map 25 Map 26 Map 27 Map 28 Map 29 Map 30

Australia and the Pacific Aboriginal languages of Sydney and surrounding area Aboriginal languages of Eastern Australia Principal sugarcane-growing areas of Queensland Principal recruiting areas for the Queensland labour trade "Polynesian" labourers in Fiji 1879 "Polynesian" labourers in Fiji January-June 1884 Land alienation Central Vanuatu 1920-1930 Migration to Efate and Espiritu Santo 1942 Kaiser Wilhelmsland German New Guinea Company plantations Astrolabe Bay German New Guinea Company plantations Astrolabe Bay - Dutch New Guinea Gazelle Peninsula plantations circa 1909 Movement of indentured labourers New Guinea 1936 Papua New Guinea historical (Eastern New Guinea 1884—1942) Plantations of the Western, Delta and Gulf Divisions 1940 Plantations of the Central and Northern Divisions 1940 Plantations of the Eastern Division 1940 Plantations of the South-Eastern Division 1940 Shortland Islands Choiseul Western New Georgia Islands Eastern New Georgia Islands Malaita Guadalcanal Santa Isabel San Cristobal (Makira) Savo and Florida Islands Russell Islands Solomon Islands circa 1920

490 491 492 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520

xvi

List of Maps, Figures and Tables

List of figures Fig. 1 Fig. 2 Fig. 3 Fig. 4 Fig. 5 Fig. 6 Fig. 7 Fig. 8 Fig. 9

Pidgin relationships suggested by comparative evidence (Clark 1979) Historical relations indicated by comparative and documentary evidence (Clark 1979) Recorded South Pacific Voyages 1788-1840 Queensland plantation labour 1863-1906 Origins of Vanuatu labourers 1912-1939 Destinations of Vanuatu labour recruits 1912-1939 Indentured labourers on Solomon Island plantations 1911-1940 Employment patterns of male informants, Solomon Islands 1914-1939 Emerging New Guinea Tok Pisin circa 1900

35 36 80 175 304 316 339 340 376

List of tables Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Table 4 Table 5 Table 6 Table 7 Table 8 Table 9 Table 10 Table 11 Table 12 Table 13 Table 14 Table 15 Table 16 Table 17

Sydney-Pacific Island Shipping 1788-1825 Sydney-Pacific Island Shipping 1826-1840 Shipping Routes from Sydney 1793-1861 Number of ships to visit Ponape 1788-1885 Ponape as a hub; extracts from logs Source of crew members (Ponape) Queensland plantation labour 1863-1906 Pacific Islander labour in Fiji Origins of Vanuatu labourers in Fiji Origins of Solomon Island labourers in Fiji Origins of Papua New Guinea labourers in Fiji Origins of Kiribati labourers in Fiji Origins of Samoan plantation labour Non-indigenous population in New Caledonia 1866 New Caledonia: Arrivals and departures from New Hebrides Sources of plantation labour in Hawaii Sources of Tahiti plantation labour

81 82 98 99 100 106 177 183 184 185 186 187 196 201 203 206 208

List of Maps, Figures and Tables

Table Table Table Table Table Table Table

18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Table 25 Table 26 Table 27 Table 28 Table 29 Table 30 Table Table Table Table Table Table Table

31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Table 38

Ni-Vanuatu overseas plantation labour (1863-1906) Solomon Islands overseas plantation labour Papua New Guinea overseas plantation labour Kiribati overseas plantation labour Bislama variant forms 1965-75 Comparative Bislama-Queensland canefields features Comparative NSW, Queensland Canefields English and Bislama forms French plantations in the New Hebrides 1902 Origins of New Hebrideans recruited by British firms 1911-1939 Origins of New Hebrideans recruited by French firms 1911-1939 Origins of New Hebrideans recruited for internal and external labour by percentage Destinations of New Hebrideans recruited by British firms 1910-1939 Destinations of New Hebrideans recruited by French firms 1910-1939 Territory of New Guinea plantation statistics 1922 Indentured labourers in each district at 30 June 1924 Indentured labour movement in 1936 Indentured labour in Papua 1902-1941 Number of recruits in the Solomon Islands 1915-1940 Commercial plantations in Solomon Islands 1941 Lexical differences between Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin Melanesian Pidgin preposition systems

xvii

209 211 213 213 280 287 296 301 309 311 314 316 318 327 328 329 333 343 344 394 397

Abbreviations

1 2 3 ADJ AUS BIS CL COMP CPE CSO CSR DEM DESID DL/PL DUB EMP Eng. EXC FUT INC LOC NGP NHP NP NSW NSWPE NUM NZE OM PM PNG PPE PREP PRON QCE

First person Second person Third person Adjective Australia Bislama Classifier Comparative Chinese Pidgin English Commonwealth Stationery Office Colonial Sugar Refinery Demonstrative Desiderative Dual/plural Dubitative Early Melanesian Pidgin English exclusive Future inclusive Locative New Guinea Pidgin New Hebrides Pidgin (Bislama) Noun Phrase New South Wales New South Wales Pidgin English Numeral New Zealand Object marker Predicate marker Papua New Guinea Papuan Pidgin English Preposition Pronoun Queensland Canefields English

Abbreviations

QKE QLD REL S SIP SPP SSJ

svo SWE TP VP

Queensland Kanaka English Queensland Relativiser Singular Solomon Islands Pidgin Samoan Plantation Pidgin South Seas Jargon Subject Verb Object Sandalwood English Tok Pisin Verb Phrase

xix

Chapter 1 Introduction

The authors of this book first met on the island of Malakula, in central Vanuatu more than thirty years ago. They are both ethnolinguists, one hailing from France and the other originally from New Zealand, but engaged in linguistic research in Australia. Their interest in the languages and societies of what was then the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides, to become the independent Republic of Vanuatu, in 1980, became an abiding one, so much so that they have returned there almost every year since the late 1960s. Tryon first undertook a survey of the vernacular languages of the then New Hebrides, the results of which were published in The languages of the New Hebrides: An internal classification (1976). The research for this study took him all over the New Hebrides in a variety of craft, over a period of six years. Later his attention turned to the languages of Ambrym, Epi and the Shepherd Islands just north of Efate. All the while he was fascinated by Bislama, the English-lexifier pidgin which is the lingua franca of Vanuatu. This interest was stimulated by the work of his pidginist colleagues in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University, men such as Stephen Wurm, Don Laycock, Tom Dutton and Peter Mühlhäusler, all of whom made major contributions to the field of pidgin and Creole linguistics. In those early days Bislama was not just the language of communication between British and French planters and their Melanesian labourers, but even between the British and French themselves, on occasion, or between Europeans and Asians, Vietnamese and Chinese, resident in the Condominium. In 1987 Tryon published a textbook, Bislama: An introduction to the national language of Vanuatu, in response to the growing interest in that pidgin by expatriates working in the newly independent republic. Charpentier was a longtime resident of the island of Malakula, especially the southern half of that island, based as he was at Lamap. He undertook painstaking fieldwork throughout southern Malakula, resulting in a number of publications, the most notable of which were La langue de PortSandwich (Nouvelles-Hibrides) and his much read and timely Le pidgin bislama(n) et le multilinguisme aux Nouvelles-Hibrides, both of which

2

Chapter I

appeared in 1979. Three years later his massive Atlas linguistique du SudMalakula - Linguistic atlas of South Malakula (Vanuatu) appeared. Since that time, he has published numerous articles and book chapters on Pacific pidgins and Creoles. In the true spirit of the Anglo-French Condominium, both Charpentier and Tryon appeared together before the New Hebrides Constitutional Committee on the eve of Vanuatu Independence, when questions on the future role of the colonial languages, English and French, the pidgin Bislama, and the one hundred plus local vernacular languages were being decided. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, as political life in Island Melanesia was gradually emerging from the shade of the colonial administrations, British, French and Australian, which had governed for nearly a century, Melanesian Pidgin, in its three varieties, Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea), Pijin (Solomon Islands) and Bislama (New Hebrides) was fast becoming the language of intercultural communication throughout the islands, not just between expatriates and islanders, but among the Melanesian inhabitants themselves. For although Melanesian Pidgin had existed for more than a hundred years prior to that time, its currency was far from universal, especially among the female population and in the rugged interior of many of the islands. Melanesian Pidgin was attracting increasing attention, not all of it positive, leading to a string of descriptions, dictionaries and articles. Perhaps the most provocative of these was Derek Bickerton's Roots of language (1981), which triggered a host of responses. In the 1980s a keen debate raged around two major themes: the role of universal linguistic forces in the genesis and development of pidgins and Creoles versus substratum influence from the mother tongues of the pidgin speakers. At the same time there was a constant debate about the locus of pidgin development in the Pacific, some insisting on the role of the plantations in pidgin genesis, while others maintained that the key developments took place in a maritime environment. Yet the very early days of pidgin development in the Pacific had largely remained undocumented. On the other hand, the mid 1980s and early 1990s saw a renewed interest in the origins and earliest attestations of pidgin in Australia. Each of these developments is discussed in Chapter 3, below. In spite of this period of heightened activity and excellent detailed studies of individual areas, we felt that there was room for a synthesis, pulling together the threads from right across the Pacific and Australia,

Introduction

3

especially the eastern seaboard and the port of Sydney. This book focusses on the symbiotic relationship which existed between that port and the islands of the Pacific as far east as Tahiti and the Marquesas, and as far north as Ponape and Canton, looking at the movement of people throughout the region, especially in the pre-plantation period, which had its beginnings in the early 1860s. Chapter 2 provides a brief account of all of the English-lexifier pidgin languages spoken in the Pacific today. However, this book concentrates on the three major Pidgin Englishes of Melanesia (Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin). Excluded are present-day Australian Aboriginal pidgins and Creoles (Torres Strait Broken and Northern Territory Kriol, for example), except marginally, as well as Hawaiian Pidgin English, which is treated fully elsewhere (Roberts 1995). Chapter 3 provides a discussion of the major theories of pidgin development, especially those which have made major contributions to Pacific pidgin and Creole linguistics since the 1970s. This sets the scene for the remainder of this study, whose focus is the historical development of the pidgins and Creoles of this region since the first European settlement in Sydney in 1788. Chapters 4 and 5 deal with the period 1788-1863, that is, from the first European settlement of Sydney until the beginning of the Plantation Period in Queensland and the Pacific Islands, 1863. The first chapter of the pair describes the history of contacts between Sydney and the Pacific Islands, looking first at the settlement of New South Wales and the contacts between the Aborigines and the first European settlers.1 Chapter 5 provides representative samples of the emergent pidgins recorded in the literature of the period, followed by a review of first usages in an attempt to provide a preliminary evaluation of the contribution made to Pacific pidgins from Australia, for many Australian examples predate their first usage recorded in the Pacific Islands. Chapters 6 and 7 follow the same pattern, but deal with the period 1863-1906, which corresponds to the beginning of the recruiting of Pacific Islander labour for work on the cotton (and later sugarcane) plantations in Queensland, Samoa, Fiji and New Caledonia. The end of the period roughly corresponds to the end of labour recruiting and the return of the

1. These two chapters were in large part inspired by the work of Jakelin Troy (1994), a former graduate student and member of the research team at the Research School of Pacific Studies.

4

Chapter 1

Pacific Islanders to their home countries. In Vanuatu terms, 1906 marks the establishment of the Anglo-French Condominium of the then New Hebrides.2 Chapters 8 and 9 describe the historical and linguistic situation between 1906 and 1975, from the approximate founding of the British and French colonies in Melanesia until the time when they became independent sovereign states, a key period for the differentiation of Melanesian Pidgins. Chapter 10 examines the development, role and status of the three Melanesian pidgins in the post-colonial period, from about 1975 to the present. The final chapter, Chapter 11, provides a summary and synthesis of what the historical and linguistic data tell us about the complex history of the genesis and development of Melanesian Pidgin Englishes. In terms of the division of labour in the writing of this work, JeanMichel Charpentier composed Chapters 3 and 10 in their entirety. These were subsequently translated from French by Darrell Tryon. Chapters 4 to 9 were written by Darrell Tryon, with comments and additions from JeanMichel Charpentier. The remaining chapters were written jointly. Pacific Pidgins and Creoles owes much to the work of our many friends and colleagues in the field, whose generosity is gratefully acknowledged above. But it is also based on an extensive corpus of written and recorded date personally collected in situ in Vanuatu, by both authors, the critical evidence being recorded in the period 1968-1975. It is extremely fortunate that these recordings were made when they were, for all of the elderly Melanesians who were our consultants have since died. What makes their contributions so valuable is that they are directly comparable with the recordings made with very elderly ni-Vanuatu in Queensland in 1964. It is the bringing together of all this material which has allowed us, we hope, to add a little to the intriguing history of English-lexifier pidgins and Creoles in Melanesia today.

Darrell Tryon Canberra

Jean-Michel Charpentier Paris

2. The New Hebrides became the independent Republic of Vanuatu on 30 July 1980. The terms Vanuatu/New Hebrides are equivalent in this work.

Chapter 2 Present-day Pacific pidgins

What is a pidgin language, and how do pidgin languages come into being? There have been many definitions advanced by various scholars for over a century. Perhaps the most useful one is that proposed by John Holm (1988: 5-6) who states that: "a pidgin is a reduced language that results from extended contact between groups of people with no language in common". This contact occurs in a restricted environment, usually for purposes of trade or commerce, or on ships or in plantation situations where speakers of many languages live and work together. A pidgin language is not the first language of either group, but is born of necessity. How do pidgins evolve? Normally one of the groups (often the colonisers) has more power than the other (often the colonised). Another scenario would be the employer/employee relationship. Members of the less powerful group (speakers of substrate languages) are often, as Holm puts it, "more accommodating", and use words from the language of the more powerful group (speakers of the superstate language), although the form and meaning of the words is often influenced by the substrate languages. Compared with ordinary languages, such as French or German, pidgin languages are usually characterised by a simplified grammar and sound system, and a reduced vocabulary. While in most cases, especially in colonial and post-colonial situations, almost all of the vocabulary is drawn from the language of the colonisers, the grammar is commonly based on the language or languages of the colonised people. During the initial stages of contact, before stabilised rules have become established, the label jargon is used. When the stabilisation process is complete, the jargon has become a pidgin, a language, albeit simplified, with codified norms. When a pidgin language becomes the first language of a group, usually as a result of increased urbanisation and marriage between people of different backgrounds, the grammar and vocabulary of the pidgin undergoes considerable expansion. This is becoming increasingly common in Island Melanesia, where there are hundreds of languages spoken by relatively small populations, and where it is quite common for couples from different islands and different language backgrounds to marry.

6

Chapter 2

The expanded pidgin language becomes more complex in this situation, simply because it is used in all situations, not just in the restricted situations where pidgins are used as a means of communication. This process is called creolisation and the expanded pidgin language is called a Creole. There are over one hundred pidgin and Creole languages spoken in the world today, some French-based (for example Haitian Creole, Mauritian Creole), some Dutch-based (Berbice Creole Dutch, Guyana), some Portuguese-based (Cape Verde Creole, West Africa) and some Spanish-based (Papiamentu in the Netherlands Antilles). In the Pacific area, the vast majority of the pidgins and Creoles derive their vocabulary from English, and are referred to as English-based or English-lexifier pidgins and Creoles. In the Southwest Pacific, the most widespread pidgin languages/dialects are spoken in Melanesia, where they are commonly referred to as Melanesian Pidgin, a term which covers Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea, Pijin in the Solomon Islands, and Bislama in Vanuatu. These are closely related to pidgin and Creole varieties spoken in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities in Australia, for example Kriol, spoken around the Roper River area of the Northern Territory, and Broken, spoken in the Torres Strait. There are many misconceptions about these pidgin and Creole languages, usually that they are not really languages, but rather "broken English" or "baby-talk". Nothing could be further from the truth. These languages all have a formal grammar like all languages, and this grammar is mostly modelled on the mother tongues of the formerly colonised peoples. The various theories of the steps by which pidgins and Creoles emerged in the first place are discussed in Chapter 3. Before doing this, let us first look briefly at the etymologies of the terms pidgin and Creole, and introduce present-day pidgins and Creoles spoken in the Pacific. For a fuller discussion of the definitions and likely etymologies of the term pidgin, readers are referred to the work of Peter Mühlhäusler (1986). The etymology which enjoys the greatest currency at present is that listed in the Oxford English Dictionary, which states that the word pidgin derives from a "Chinese corruption of the English 'business'". According to the OED it is first recorded in 1850. As for the term Creole, an informative and useful etymological account comes from Holm, who states: The origin of the term Creole is more certain. Latin creäre 'to create' became Portuguese criar 'to raise (e.g. a child),' whence the past participle

Present-day Pacific pidgins

7

criado '(a person) raised; a servant born into one's household.' Crioulo, with a diminutive suffix, came to mean an African slave born in the New World in Brazilian usage. The word's meaning was then extended to include Europeans born in the New World, now the only meaning of the word in Portugal. The word finally came to refer to the customs and speech of Africans and Europeans born in the New World. It was later borrowed as Spanish criollo, French Creole, Dutch creol and English Creole. (Holm 1988: 9)

There has been considerable debate in Creole linguistics about terminology, as specialists seek to provide close definitions of terms. This debate is not germane to this book. For a discussion of the issues, readers are referred to Mühlhäusler (1986: 6-12). At this point, we will introduce individual Pacific Pidgins before going on to discuss the history of the development of Melanesian Pidgin and its three constituent languages/dialects (Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin) in later chapters. The cover term for the three partly mutually intelligible English-based pidgins spoken in the southwest Pacific today is Melanesian Pidgin or Melanesian Pidgin English. These speech varieties are mutually intelligible with some practice, although Tok Pisin has a fair proportion of nonEnglish derived vocabulary, which makes it less transparent to outsiders. The major differences between the three varieties are discussed in Chapter 9.

2.1.

Bislama (Vanuatu)

Vanuatu, like the other Melanesian states, has more than one hundred extant local vernacular languages, all of which are members of the Austronesian family of languages. (Tryon 1996). English and French are also spoken, as well as some Vietnamese and Hakka Chinese, and a few Polynesian languages spoken by migrants. The lingua franca of the country is Bislama. Bislama, also known as Bislaman and Bichelamar (the term usually used in French), is the national language of the Republic of Vanuatu (formerly the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides), spoken by approximately 200,000 people (1999 Census). It is the only Englishlexifier pidgin in the world to have been accorded the status of national language, and it is the only national language listed in the Vanuatu Con-

8

Chapter 2

stitution.3 The fact that it is the "national language" does not mean, however, that it is taught in schools or has an official government-ratified orthography. Bislama has been intimately caught up in the political development of Vanuatu, since it is the only language known to nearly all niVanuatu (as indigenous citizens are known). As there are both English and French medium schools throughout the country, most ni-Vanuatu are educated in only one of these languages, although there is a small percentage of English/French bilinguals. Bislama is increasingly written, with a wide variety of idiosyncratic spellings, especially in the fields of health and agriculture. In the early 1970s the Vanuatu Christian Council decided, finally, that Bislama was a worthy vehicle for communicating the message of the Christian Scriptures, and today there is a whole range of evangelical literature available, including the complete Bible. The orthography adopted by the Vanuatu Christian Council has become pretty much the de facto official spelling, although there are competing systems. There are also a number of local newspapers and bulletins published in Bislama, or including a Bislama section. However, even today there is not a well-established reading tradition in Vanuatu. Accordingly, Bislama remains very much an oral medium. Bislama is widely used on radio, and is the working language of the Vanuatu Parliament. It is now used on television, for newscasts and in prerecorded cultural programs. Bislama is also used by government leaders in occasional telecasts of political or national interest. While it is not officially used in schools, Bislama is often used by teachers to elucidate points if the students' mastery of English or French is insufficient.

2.2.

Solomon Islands Pijin

Solomons Pijin is spoken by nearly all of the population of the Solomon Islands, some 400,000 people (1999 Census). It has become the language of evangelisation since the early 1970s, in much the same way as in Vanuatu. Pijin is an integral part of everyday life in the Solomons, especially in the towns and urban centers. However, it is widely used throughout the 3. French and English are the official languages and languages of education, while Bislama is the national language. See Chapter 10 for a detailed discussion of this point.

Present-day Pacific pidgins

9

country, as there has been significant out-migration from the heavily populated island of Malaita and from some of the smaller Polynesianspeaking islands, such as Rennell and Bellona, and Tikopia. The Solomon Islands, like Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea, is a country in which a large number of local vernacular languages are spoken, more than sixty according to Tryon and Hackman (1983), most of which are Austronesian, but six or seven of which are Papuan or non-Austronesian, perhaps distantly related to the languages of highlands Papua New Guinea. English, the language of the British colonisers, is also quite widely spoken. In addition, there is a small Micronesian population, the result of resettlement from Kiribati (formerly the Gilbert Islands). Interestingly, Solomons Pijin, generally used since the early 1970s for evangelical purposes, alongside some of the local vernaculars in some areas, has been the language of one of the Christian missions, the South Seas Evangelical Mission, based on Malaita, right from the time of its foundation on the Queensland canefields in the nineteenth century. Pijin has been the subject of much negative government feeling in the past, as British colonial administrators and senior English-trained Solomon Islander civil servants regarded Pijin as a totally inadequate language of intercultural communication. Much of this stigma has disappeared in recent times, as Pijin has shown that it is an indispensable lingua franca in these troubled times of inter-island conflict. Pijin, along with English, is the main medium used on radio, and to a lesser extent in the local press. It is also the language of the Parliament, although in that forum both English and Pijin are used in varying proportions according to the speaker and the topic of the debate. English has steadfastly remained the language of education in the Solomons. As with Vanuatu Bislama and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin, Solomons Pijin is becoming heavily anglicised in urban areas, especially among young and educated Solomon Islanders, so widening the gap between urban and rural Pijin.

2.3.

Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea)

Tok Pisin is the Melanesian Pidgin with by far the greatest number of speakers today. It is very widely spoken across Papua New Guinea, whose population, according to the 2000 Census, was 5.1 million. It is the lingua franca of a country with approximately 750 local vernacular languages

10

Chapter 2

belonging to two distinct language families, Austronesian, mainly spoken in coastal areas, and Papuan,4 spoken principally in the interior, right along the central mountain range. Both of these language families extend well beyond the borders of Papua New Guinea, east into the Solomon Islands and west into Indonesia. The only other major lingua franca in Papua New Guinea, other than English, is Hiri Motu or Police Motu, a pidginised version of Motu, the Austronesian language spoken in and around the capital, Port Moresby. However, Hiri Motu, spoken only in Papua (the former British New Guinea) and not in the northern half of the island (the former German New Guinea), has considerably receded in the face of the advance of Tok Pisin in Papua since independence in 1975.5 Like the other Melanesian pidgins, Tok Pisin, is very much used in everyday life, on radio and television, in government and the Parliament, and plays a large role in spreading the Christian message. Unlike the other pidgins, it has an accepted written form, based on the Tok Pisin dictionary of Father Mihalic, which appeared in 1957. Tok Pisin is used in the education system, even though English retains its position here as the first language. While English is the language of the urban elite, Tok Pisin is far and away the major language of intercultural communication in this extraordinary linguistic conglomerate (see Wurm & Mühlhäusler 1986 and Romaine 1992). Tok Pisin is the mother tongue of an ever increasing number of Papua New Guineans living in urban areas. Apart from playing an important role in evangelical literature, especially the Bible, written Tok Pisin features in the weekly newspaper, Wantok, while two daily newspapers are written in English. Impressionistically, it appears to be used in written form much more extensively than Solomons Pijin or Bislama, but with many of the same targets, namely health and agriculture. According to Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996: 502), the dramatic development of Tok Pisin in the twentieth century is marked by:

4. While some 500 of the Papuan languages have been demonstrated to be related, as members of the Trans New Guinea Phylum (Pawley 1997), the relatedness of the remaining 250 has yet to be demonstrated. 5. There was also a pidgin, Papuan Pidgin English, spoken in Papua, still remembered until about 1980. It was probably a development of the pearling and beche-de-mer pidgin of the 1880s (see Chapter 7).

Present-day Pacific pidgins

11

a. the continuous growth of the range of functions in which the language is used; b. a rapid expansion of the domains of discourse in which Tok Pisin features; c. a gradual increase in lexical and structural complexity; d. its adoption by a growing number of media; e. change in status from a colonial working language to one of political debate and national identity.

In terms of its rapid spread, some census data are telling. At the first census in 1966, 530,000 or 36% of the population spoke Tok Pisin. By 1971 this had risen to 700,000 or 44%. By 1980, Mühlhäusler and Baker estimate the percentage of Tok Pisin speakers at 50% (1996: 503), with a similar percentage today. This translates to something like 2.5 million speakers. Because of its period of relative isolation from English during its formative years, under the German Protectorate, and its rather different developmental path, through its role in German Samoa, Tok Pisin contains less English lexicon than Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama. It contains a number of borrowings from German, and from the vernacular language of the Rabaul area, Tolai.6 (see Chapter 9).

2.4.

Pitcairn-Norfolk

Pitcaim-Norfolk is spoken today by the 70 or so inhabitants of Pitcairn Island, Britain's last remaining colony in the South Pacific, some 2,160 kilometres southeast of Tahiti. The Pitcairners are the descendants of participants in the famous mutiny on the Bounty on 28 April 1789, when Fletcher Christian, his crew and their Polynesian women cast Captain William Bligh and eighteen others adrift in an open boat near the Tongan island of Tofua. Bligh and his companions miraculously survived, reaching Timor in Indonesia. Christian and his crew sailed back towards Tahiti, and after many adventures reached Pitcairn on 15 January 1790, with eight mutineers, six Polynesian men, twelve Polynesian women and a small girl. By 1800, after a series of bloody massacres, there was only one man, John Adams, left alive. He became the husband of the nine remaining women, and began the task of educating the mutineers' 19 children.

6. Also known as Kuanua.

12

Chapter 2

In 1856 the entire Pitcairn population, which numbered 193 by this time, were resettled on Norfolk Island, 1,675 kilometres northeast of Sydney. At the time, Norfolk was uninhabited, the last of the New South Wales convicts having been transferred to Tasmania earlier that year. However, some of the families pined for Pitcairn, and in 1858 sixteen people returned there, followed in 1864 by four more families, bringing the total Pitcairn population to 43. Their descendants have remained on Pitcairn to this day. The remainder of the original Pitcairn population remained on Norfolk, and constitute the bulk of the Norfolk population today. The older members of the population speak Pitcairnese/Norfolk, a strange mixture of English and Polynesian vocabulary, as well as English. For right from the beginning, English was formally taught on Pitcairn, by John Adams, using textbooks salvaged from the Bounty. Nicoll (1909) after a visit to Pitcairn in 1903, describes Pitcairnese/Norfolk as follows: All the inhabitants of Pitcairn can speak perfect English, but when speaking among themselves they cannot easily be understood by a stranger, as they then clip their words, sounding only the first and last letters. Why they do this it is difficult to say. When questioned, they replied that they were talking their 'own language', adding that this language only differed from English in the above mentioned particular. (1909: 214)

The status of the language has been the subject of much debate. One thing is clear: it is not really a pidgin descended directly from the early South Seas Jargon, although there was probably some influence from the whalers. It has been described by Laycock (1989) as a "cant", for its grammatical base is English, and its lexicon a mixture of dialect English and Tahitian. Readers are referred to Ross (1964), and Buffett and Laycock (1988) for detailed accounts.

2.5.

Hawaiian Pidgin English

It is estimated that Hawaiian Pidgin English or Hawaiian Creole English is spoken, to varying degrees, by more than half of the population of the State of Hawaii, by approximately 500,000 speakers, many of whom have only limited control of Standard English. It is reported (Ethnologue 2000: 366) that 50% of the children in Hawaii do not speak English as their mother

Present-day Pacific pidgins

13

tongue when entering school. Most of these speak Hawaiian Creole English as their mother tongue. Hawaiian Pidgin English is unlike other Pacific Pidgins in that there exists a continuum ranging from the basilect, known as "heavy Creole" right through to Standard English; mutual intelligibility between the extremes barely exists. Speakers of Hawaiian Pidgin/Creole range right across the continuum, some nearer the basilect form and some nearer the acrolect. Hawaiian Pidgin English is accepted by many as an important cultural marker, while by others it is viewed quite negatively. It is used in the law courts, and in schools to facilitate explanations in cases where control of Standard English is not sufficient. Bickerton and Wilson (1987) claim that in the early nineteenth century a pidgin variety of Hawaiian was used as the lingua franca between native Hawaiians and traders, and that this speech variety was also used by Hawaiians throughout the Pacific during the whaling era. During the later plantation era, Bickerton claims that Pidgin Hawaiian was the language used between the plantation labour force and the management. As the numbers of native Hawaiians lessened and the influence of English grew, so Hawaiian Plantation Pidgin became relexified with English vocabulary. This scenario is strongly contested by Goodman (1985) and Holm (1988), who assign a minor role to Pidgin Hawaiian in the history of nineteenth century pidgin genesis. Goodman (1985: 111) states: Although such a language no doubt existed and survived into the early twentieth century, there is no reason to believe that it was at any time the predominant lingua franca of the islands. Goodman is of the opinion that the most important contact medium throughout Hawaii was English-lexified, right from its beginnings in the late eighteenth century. He states that: "This pidgin became the lingua franca of Hawaii's polyglot plantation force during the last quarter of the 19th century." (1985: 193). This is not the place to discuss the merits of the arguments advanced with respect to Hawaiian Pidgin English origins. In any event, according to Holm (1988: 522), Hawaiian Pidgin English stabilised in the 1880s, and was probably most widespread during the first decades of the twentieth century. It was used as a lingua franca between the large numbers of plantation labourers who began to reach Hawaii in the 1890s (Chinese, Japanese, Filipinos, Koreans, Samoans, Micronesians). When they left the plantations and settled in multi-ethnic urban centers, they brought Hawai-

14

Chapter 2

ian Pidgin English with them as a valuable means of inter-ethnic communication. Hawaiian Pidgin English gradually developed into Hawaiian Creole English, peaking in the 1930s. Holm reports that: Although the earliest Hawaiian-born children of immigrant laborers were technically Creole speakers, most were bilingual, speaking (or at least understanding) their parents' language as well as the Creole. Sato (1985) claims that unlike the pidgin, the Creole was uniform among all ethnic groups, a homogenizing of the features peculiar to the pidgin as spoken by various linguistic groups. (Holm 1988: 523)

The speech continuum, ranging from Hawaiian Pidgin English through Hawaiian Creole English to a Post-Creole dialect has been the subject of considerable research, beginning with Reinecke and Tokimasa (1934). As the history of the development of Hawaiian Pidgin/Creole English is outside the scope of this book, readers are referred to such accounts as Reinecke (1969), Carr (1972), Bickerton (1981), Goodman (1985) and Roberts (1995).

2.6.

Ngatik Men's Language

The Ngatikese Men's Language, also known as Ngatikese Pidgin, is spoken on the island of Ngatik, the main island in the Sapwuahfik Atoll, situated some one hundred and thirty kilometers southwest of Pohnpei (Ponape), in the Caroline Islands of eastern Micronesia. Ngatik has a population of approximately 500. Ngatikese Pidgin (see 5.3.3.) is commonly used by the male population, especially when they are engaged in communal activities such as fishing or boat-building. It is understood by Ngatikese women, naturally enough, and is often used as a secret language by Ngatikese people when they are in the presence of Pohnpeian speakers, whose dialect is very closely related to standard Ngatikese. Ngatikese Pidgin owes its origin to an event which took place on Ngatik in 1837, when Captain Hart of the Lambton led a massacre of most of the island's male population in reprisal for an earlier incident. Hart, together with several Europeans and twenty Ponapeans, killed every adult male they found on the island. They installed an Irishman, Paddy Gorman, as chief of Ngatik in return for a regular supply of turtle shell, and sailed away, leaving behind some of the Europeans and Ponapeans, who took the widowed

Present-day Pacific pidgins

15

Ngatikese women as their wives. Their descendants form the bulk of the present-day Ngatik population. The linguistic outcome from this situation was the emergence of a strange pidgin language, the result of a mixing of the South Seas Jargon spoken in the Pacific at that time and a considerable Ngatikese element. Ngatikese Pidgin cannot really be described as an English-based pidgin, as the greater part of its lexicon is drawn from Ngatikese, not English. However, there is still a considerable proportion of the Ngatikese Pidgin lexicon which is derived from English, together with a large number of morpho-syntactic markers which characterise other English-based pidgins spoken in the Pacific. Many of the constructions recall New South Wales Pidgin of the 1820s and 30s. Most noticeable is the absence from Ngatikese Pidgin of long and blong, the high frequency relators which are key elements in all other present-day English-lexifier Pacific pidgins. The morpho-syntactic similarities between Ngatikese Pidgin and New South Wales Pidgin are not really surprising, considering the fact that there was regular maritime contact between Ponape and Sydney as early as the 1820s. The reason why Ngatikese Pidgin has survived so long is probably the isolation of the Sapwuahfik Atoll, outside the main Micronesian shipping lanes.

2.7.

Australian Kriol

Harris (1986: 3) reports that an English-based Creole, known as Kriol or Australian Kriol, is spoken in parts of northern Australia, in a wide band which extends from western Queensland, across the Barkly Tablelands and Roper River basin, throughout much of the top half of the Northern Territory and into the Kimberleys in Western Australia. Kriol is a major language in over one hundred Aboriginal communities, where it is spoken by over 20,000 people, at least 50% of whom speak it as their first language. Harris and Sandefur (1983, 1984) report that in most of these Aboriginal communities it is spoken as a mother tongue by two generations, and in some communities by four generations. At the end of the nineteenth century, a number of varieties of Englishlexifier pidgins were spoken in the northern half of the Northern Territory. These gradually merged into a widely understood language of communication between Aboriginal and European people. Creolisation first took place at the Roper River Mission (Ngukurr) around 1910. Kriol became the

16

Chapter 2

first language of young people at Roper River long before it became a first language in other communities. For some time it was known as Roper Pidgin. A good account of Kriol development is given in Harris and Sandefur, as follows: Over the years which followed, movement of Aboriginal people along traditional lines together with movement in the cattle and other industries, led to a standardisation of Creoles which were not dissimilar to start with. This is not to say there is no variation. Ngukurr, Bamyili and the Kimberleys, for example, have clearly recognisable regional dialects but they are sufficiently mutually comprehensible to all be unarguably Kriol. (Harris & Sandefur 1984: 17)

The history of the development of Kriol is not detailed in this work, although it is briefly discussed in Chapter 4 (4.3). For a detailed account of its origins and development, see Harris (1986). At the present time, Kriol is both an oral and written medium. It has been used in government schools in the Northern Territory, especially at Bamyili and Ngukurr, since the early 1970s. A New testament in Kriol exists since 1991.

2.8.

Broken (Torres Strait)

Broken is an English-based pidgin spoken on the seventeen inhabited islands of the Torres Strait, the stretch of water that lies between Papua New Guinea and Cape York, on the north-eastern tip of Australia. It is also spoken in the Cape York Torres Strait Islander community of Bamaga on the mainland. Broken has a number of alternative names, including: Pizin, Big Thap, Blaikman, Ailan Tok, Torres Strait Creole and Cape York Creole (Shnukal 1988: 3). Shnukal states that Broken is the lingua franca of all Torres Strait Islanders, as many as 12,000-15,000. It is the mother tongue of between 2,500 and 3,000, and has been creolised for as many as four generations. For this reason it is known to many as Cape York Creole. The total Torres Strait Islander population of the Torres Strait Islands and Bamaga (on the mainland) is no more than 5,000, the remainder of the Broken-speaking population living permanently or temporarily on the mainland of Australia. There are two main varieties of Broken, an eastern and a western dialect. Shnukal (1988: 3) reports that the eastern dialect is spoken on the

Present-day Pacific pidgins

17

islands of Erub, Ugar and Mer. This dialect has borrowed heavily from Meriam Mir, a Papuan language spoken in these islands. The western dialect is spoken on Moa, Hammond Island, on the central Torres Strait islands and at Bamaga on the mainland. Much of its lexical borrowing comes from Kala Lagaw Ya, also known as Mabuiag, an Australian Aboriginal language spoken in the central and western islands. The major source of lexical borrowing is, of course, English. The history of Broken goes back to the 1840s, when commercial quantities of beche-de-mer, trochus and pearl-shell were discovered (Shnukal 1988: 5). Those involved in the industry were Europeans, who brought with them South Sea Islanders, Papua New Guineans, Australian Aborigines, Filipinos and Indonesians. They brought with them Pacific Pidgin English, or more likely South Seas Jargon, for in those early years the pidgin spoken was not yet stabilised. Many Torres Strait Islanders learned this Pacific Pidgin as they became involved in the pearl-shell and beche-de-mer industry. However, it was not until the late 1890s, according to Shnukal, that Broken, which had evolved from the imported Pacific Pidgin, became creolised. At that time children on Erub and Ugar, with Pacific Islander fathers and Miriam mothers, spoke the pidgin language of their fathers as their main language. Gradually the creole began to spread throughout the islands of Torres Strait. As far back as 1871 the first Christian missionaries landed on Erub Island, two Englishmen and eight Loyalty Islanders. Evangelisation was carried out in Pacific Pidgin, the lingua franca spoken by the pastors. The missionaries reinforced the Torres Strait Islanders' view that their traditional languages were part of their uncivilised past. Accordingly the use of the two indigenous languages of the Strait was discouraged and even punished. This, combined with the high status accorded to Pacific Islanders engaged in the shell industry, and the fact that they were looked upon very favourably as husbands, contributed to the rapid rise of Broken and the demise of the indigenous languages. Attitudes to Broken (Torres Strait Creole) have changed markedly over the years. In the beginning this English-based pidgin was identified with the Pacific Islanders engaged in the pearl-shell and beche-de-mer industry, who enjoyed special status because of their association first with European traders and later with the London Missionary Society and the church. Then it went through a period, especially after World War II, when it suffered because of the general belief that it was simply a sub-standard variety of English, imposed to keep the Torres Strait Islanders in their place, subser-

18

Chapter 2

vient and inferior to European Australians. Today, Shnukal reports (1988: 10), Broken is viewed very favourably, especially among younger speakers, where it has become a marker of cultural identity for Torres Strait Islanders, setting them apart from mainstream Australians.

2.9.

Nauruan Pidgin English

In 1983 there were 8,042 people living on Nauru, of whom 4,964 were Nauruan, the other 3,078 being mainly phosphate workers from other countries. Many of these were from Kiribati and Tuvalu, while there were also Chinese and Filipinos. According to Siegel (1990), Pidgin English is used on a daily basis in Nauru, mainly in Chinese trade-stores and restaurants. Phosphate mining began in Nauru in 1906. The major component of the labour force there was Chinese, with 500 employed in the industry in 1906, rising to 1,533 in 1953. Siegel reports that present-day Nauruan Pidgin English is a mixture of a Melanesian and a Chinese type of Pidgin English, and that it is probably the result of a merger of two formerly separate traditions. The short text which follows was collected by Siegel and reported in Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996: 514). It is sufficient to show that Nauruan Pidgin English is very different from Melanesian Pidgins. Fiji god, plandi vijibal a, plandi cuken a, plandi mit...plandi god...plandi cuken bifu kumo a.. .mi larki go.. .olegita fiji kem, kabiji olegita, plern kem bak, pope kumo oleguta fiji kem dee a. No god nalu mo.. .yao fiji no kem a nalu no karkai...no kan karkar...srlip srlip loksi tivi...wota no nalu a.. .wota no kan.. .hia wota ostenlra srp kem a.... Fiji is good, plenty vegetables, eh, plenty chicken, eh, plenty meat...very good...plenty chicken, beef, pork, eh?...I want to go there...Everything comes from Fiji, cabbage and everything comes by plane, papaya, pork, everything comes from Fiji, eh? Nauru is no good, nothing...If things don't come from Fiji, there's no food in Nauru...You can't eat...just sleep and watch TV...There's no water in Nauru...no water, you can't do anything. . .water comes here by ship from Australia, eh....

There are other little-known English-lexifier contact varieties spoken in the greater Pacific area, for example, in the Bonin Islands south of Tokyo, settled in the early nineteenth century by a group of Pacific seamen and Polynesian and Micronesian women. There is also a variety known as

Present-day Pacific pidgins

19

Palmerston English, spoken on Palmerston Island in the Cook Islands in Polynesia. These varieties are beyond the scope of this book, which has as its primary focus the English-lexifier pidgins and Creoles of Melanesia and its close neighbours.

Chapter 3 Previous theories of pidgin development

3.0.

Introduction

In this chapter the intention is not to review all the different theories which have flourished since the study of pidgins and Creoles became fashionable during the 1970s. Rather it is to present those which evolved from the study of the genesis of Pacific contact languages or those which have been used to support the arguments of Oceanic linguists. These debates set up an opposition between adherents of a universalist approach to the development of contact languages and partisans of the preponderance of substrate influence. Mühlhäusler, one of the most active research workers in the domain of Pacific pidgins and Creoles, stated in 1978: Those interested in the development of English pidgins and Creoles in the Pacific are in a much less favorable position than those dealing with their Atlantic counterparts for which a considerable body of historical and comparative studies exist (for example Taylor 1963, Hancock 1969, Edwards 1974, and numerous others). (Mühlhäusler 1987: 67)

It is not certain that twenty-five years later this specialist would be inclined to repeat such an opinion, as the last two or three decades have produced many detailed studies of Pacific pidgins and Creoles, their origins and relationships. The relatively shallow time depth (150 years) of the origins of Pacific pidgins means that they are better known historically than their Atlantic relatives (added to which is the close relationship between the majority of the pre-colonial substrate languages). Theories of pidgin development in the Pacific region based on solid evidence have been proposed, with the result that pidgin and Creole linguistics in this region has caught up with the rest of the world.

3.1.

Genesis and general theory

After the first attempts of Churchill (1911) and Hall (1955) in the Pacific region, it is the works of Bickerton, Clark and Mühlhäusler which must be

22

Chapter 3

considered first. This is not because the conclusions of these three scholars can be considered definitive, but rather because the works of others in the field may be defined in relation to theirs, and above all because they are more directly regional in character.

3.1.1. Bickerton, universalist theory and the bio-program It is doubtless paradoxal to give priority to an author who has implicitly relegated the contact languages of the Pacific from his theoretical domain - with the exception of those which appeared in Hawaii - perhaps because they are of only minor relevance to the theoretical framework which he developed. However, the originality of the ideas advanced by this scholar, often extremely provocative, is such that they cannot be ignored. Indeed it is often necessary to define one's position relative to Bickerton's.

3.1.1.1.

Bickerton's theories and a priori

position

While pidgins play a greater role than Creoles (recognised as such by their speakers) in the South Pacific, both in terms of number and usage, the Creoles being present especially on the Australian continent, Bickerton puts forward a very imprecise definition of a pidgin, mixing "pidgin" and "jargon" at least on the Hawaiian scene. In fact, Bickerton (1981: 9-15) enumerates a certain number of quite unstable contact languages which are still known in communities as varied as Hawaiian, Korean, Japanese and Filipino, and applies a cover term ΗΡΕ (Hawaiian Pidgin English) to them all. In addition to the problem of the instability of each of these codes, Bickerton was totally unclear with respect to the meaning of "pidgin", a term whose meaning appears to be universally agreed upon among Pacific scholars. As Mühlhäusler (1986: 8) well demonstrates, a "jargon" is the first stage born of contact between very different populations. It must needs evolve in the direction of a pidgin and then a Creole or directly to a creole. In no case, synchronically, can it be confused with a pidgin. In the Pacific area these distinctions are of the greatest importance since it is precisely this evolutionary path which the major contact languages in use today have followed. Indeed, the dating of the passage from the "jargon" stage to a "pidgin" has been the subject of much discussion, as we shall see. If this distinction could be interpreted as ancillary, in the Hawaiian

Previous theories of pidgin development

23

context, to the demonstration that Bickerton sought to make, his affirmation that the instability of these jargons, and therefore of Hawaiian Pidgin English, was due to the influence of linguistic substrates of the new arrivals is surprising in a scholar who is considered to be the very antithesis of a "substratomaniac". The ΗΡΕ of the older surviving speakers is both highly restricted and highly variable. The main source of instability is first-language influence. (Bickerton 1981:9)

It is worth observing that in the same work Bickerton says: Saramaccan is well known as being, among the three Surinam Creoles (or for that matter, among all the Caribbean Creoles), the one which best preserves African lexical and phonological characteristics... (1981: 121)

For Bickerton, then, only syntax would be completely free of any substrate influence whatsoever; such a strong position cannot be shared by Pacific scholars who all accord a more or less important role to substrate influence in the development of these languages, especially on the syntactic level. It is true, however, that Bickerton was only referring to "creoles" and only to certain of them which fulfilled the conditions required by him to fall into this category. The Bickertonian definition of a "Creole", as idiosyncratic as it may appear, is of great interest for Pacific scholars in that it refers to Tok Pisin and the other contact languages of this region, even if only for the purpose of excluding them. In New Guinea, the percentage of superstrate speakers was low, but the pidgin existed for several generations alongside the indigenous language before it began to acquire native speakers. Thus Tok Pisin was able to expand gradually, through normal use, rather than very rapidly, under the communicative pressure of a generation that had, for practical purposes, no other option available as a first language. The bilingual speakers of Tok Pisin had ongoing lives in their own languages and, perhaps more importantly still, in their own traditional communities; whereas in the classic Creole situation, people had been torn from their traditional communities and forced into wholly novel communities in which the value of traditional languages was low or nil. The two situations are not commensurate, and we would expect to find, as we do, that while Tok Pisin differs from English much more than Reunion Creole does from French, it lacks, again, a number of features found in the classic Creole languages, and possesses a number of features which those Creoles, in turn, do not share.

24

Chapter 3 Accordingly, in the text that follows, I shall use the word creole to refer to languages which: 1. Arose out of a prior pidgin which had not existed for more than a generation. 2. Arose in a population where not more than 20 percent were native speakers of the dominant language and where the remaining 80 percent was composed of diverse language groups. The first condition rules out Tok Pisin and perhaps other (e.g. Australian Aboriginal) Creoles; the second rules out Reunion Creole and perhaps other Creoles also (the varieties of Portuguese Creoles that evolved in Asian trading enclaves such as Goa or Macao are possible candidates for exclusion under this condition). (Bickerton 1981: 3-4)

This very restrictive definition of what Bickerton would consider a Creole therefore excludes all the speech varieties in the Pacific called "creoles" both by their speakers and by the other linguists working in the region. To simplify and to barely caricature the situation, there would be "true" and "false" Creoles in the Pacific. Only the Hawaiian one would fall into the first category and would be one of those which would allow one to explain the genesis of these contact languages throughout the world. Before he reached this most restrictive definition of a "creole", Bickerton had traversed a lengthy path, based on the following: After having studied the Creoles spoken in the Caribbean, in particular that spoken in Guyana, this scholar noted numerous syntactic resemblances, especially among verb systems, between these languages and Hawaiian creole. However, according to this author, Atlantic and Hawaiian Creoles appeared and evolved in completely different ways. He thus came to conclude that there are universale of creolisation, but not in the sense in which Givon (with whom he collaborated) understands them, namely the lowest common denominator, that which remains when everything which is particular to each natural language has been eliminated, but rather because there exists a natural semantaxis situated in the neurons, to which each individual has recourse in learning his or her first language. This hypothesis was developed and documented in Roots of language (1981), based on the example of Hawaiian, universally known under the label "language bioprogram hypothesis (LBH)".

Previous theories of pidgin development

3.1.1.2.

25

The language bioprogram hypothesis (LBH) (1981)

Only a very brief summary of the bases and conclusions of this extreme universalist theory, described in detail in Roots of language (1981), will be presented here. In his quest for the universale of creolisation and by extension the genesis of languages in general, Bickerton distinguished ten similarities shared exclusively by Atlantic Creoles and Hawaiian. All contact languages which did not share or only partially shared these criteria were excluded as they were not "creoles". They were extended pidgins with a completely different theoretical status because they were formed over a number of generations. Melanesian Pidgin Englishes were in this category. However, as Holm (1989: 521) notes, it is the duration of the formation of a Creole which is essential to the pertinence of the Language Bioprogram: The time of formation of a stable English pidgin and its consequent Creole is crucial to the validity of the bioprogram hypothesis.

As he studied the socio-cultural heritage of Hawaiian, Bickerton came to the conclusion that the structures of Hawaiian Pidgin English were different from those of Hawaiian Creole English, and that there would not have been any filiation between the two. He concluded also that the influence of the different substrates which remained important in the case of the former was completely absent in the case of the latter. The similarities between (true) Creoles could only be explained by an innate capacity (situated at neurone level) to "creolise", to generate a basic universal syntax. This hypothesis of Bickerton's provoked many criticisms, which can be grouped into two levels. First, this so-called universal theory rests above all on an analysis of the Hawaiian socio-cultural context, a context in whose analysis Bickerton was sometimes misled. As Holm states (1989: 522): The pidgins that Bickerton studied then, were heavily influenced by their speakers' mother tongues - Japanese and Filipino languages. Their speech contained few of the substrate features which are found in Hawaiian Creole, which had already evolved from quite a different pidgin spoken a quarter of a century earlier. Since Bickerton (1981) apparently did not examine the relevant pidgin, there is no particular significance in the lack of correspondence between the substrate features in the pidgin he examined and those in the creole he assumed grew out of it - the "fact" on which he built his bioprogram theory.

26

Chapter 3

For all South Pacific scholars, the denial of any substrate influence, even in the case of stabilised Creoles is unacceptable, since in all Pacific contact languages proof of the contrary abounds. It is true that Bickerton, as we have seen, excluded all of these languages from the beginning; thus his "universal" theory tends to be based on a particular case, namely Hawaiian. The value of Bickerton's work is to have provided a permanent reminder of the possible presence of universale, even to Pacific scholars more inclined, given the specificity of the context in which they work, to belong to the so-called substratomaniac camp.

3.1.2. Peter Mühlhäusler: generalist and Pacific pidginist

3.1.2.1. The generalist Unlike Bickerton, for whom the South Pacific was marginal as an illustration of the theories he developed, for Mühlhäusler the "South Seas" are at the heart of his research, which spans a period of thirty years. Mühlhäusler received his training at Reading (United Kingdom) under the direction of the dialectologist and sociolinguist, Peter Trudgill. From his early training he has constantly considered languages as "social facts", and that their environment, evolution and variations were just as worthy of study as their composition. He was born in the Black Forest (Schwarzwald) region, and presents himself first as a speaker of Alemanisch rather than German (that is, as a native speaker of a dialect and not of the official High German). Very early in life he was brought face to face with linguistic variation. After a stay in South Africa, where he familiarised himself with Afrikaans and encountered the local contact languages, he joined the original Research School of Pacific Studies in Canberra, where he rubbed shoulders with Stephen Wurm, Don Laycock, Darrell Tryon, Tom Dutton and Jacques Guy, all of whom had experience in Pacific pidgins and Creoles. It was due to this contact, and particularly to the fact of having carried out several periods of fieldwork, in Queensland with Dutton and in Papua New Guinea, that Mühlhäusler consolidated his ideas on the genesis of pidgins and Creoles in general, and on their distribution in the Pacific. His research work, often of a generalist nature, led him to collaborate with scholars working in fields as varied as the Cameroons (with Todd, the specialist of the local pidgin) and the Indian Ocean (with Baker).

Previous theories of pidgin development

27

Among Pacific pidgin and Creole scholars, Mühlhäusler is the only one who came to this field without first having carried out research into the indigenous languages of the region. He is alone, in this company, in making the study of pidgins and Creoles his central and sole concern. It is this distinguishing feature which perhaps explains why he has always shown so much reserve when considering the influence of substrate languages, unlike his colleagues, who used pidgins more or less as auxiliary languages, and thus were continually confronted with the striking similarities between these codes at all levels. The later study of Tolai, from Papua New Guinea, made only a minor impression on Mühlhäusler's ideas on the development of these languages, ideas which had already been outlined in his M.A. dissertation, published in the Pacific Linguistics series in 1974. There in his globalised vision of language (which foreshadowed today's "language ecology") it is the socio-cultural dimension which is stressed (1974: 29), as no fewer than twelve extra-linguistic parameters are put forward as requirements for the emergence of a contact language. According to a summary statement by Mühlhäusler (1978: 95), the similarities between all of these contact languages throughout the world, and in particular in the Pacific, are due to the following factors: However, as the syntax of any incipient Pidgin English is bound to be very simple, and as it is determined by universal processes of language simplification and second-language learning strategies together with substratum and superstratum influences, similarities can be expected and even the identity of constructions may not be proof for their historical connection.

Although partially in favour of universalist theories, Mühlhäusler does not reject any other influence. For him, Pacific pidgins, among others, are permanently expanding in parallel with the situational context from which they have emerged, so rendering synchronic accounts of these languages extremely difficult or even impossible to produce: One might think in terms of restricted and expanded situational context. (1974: 13)

As early as page 5 of his 1974 study, he warned of the dangers of static and thus necessarily incomplete studies of these languages: Nevertheless most descriptions are abstractions from social and regional varieties or take into consideration only a single restricted variety (e.g. Pidgins as spoken by European speakers...). (1974: 5)

28

Chapter 3

In Growth and structure of the lexicon of New Guinea Pidgin (1979), his earlier ideas are further focussed and confirmed. Tok Pisin is presented as the result of a convergence of socio-historical facts and socio-cultural realities. The expansion of the lexicon of Tok Pisin corresponds to an important linear dynamic. From pages 141-155, Mühlhäusler describes the social varieties of New Guinea Pidgin and their setting. Faithful to his initial training, he was certainly the first scholar to place such emphasis on the social variations of pidgins (and by extension, Creoles). In fact he distinguishes four sociolects of Tok Pisin, to which he adds a description of their regional variations (1979: 155ff). These characteristics, which are common to most languages, and in part of other Pacific pidgins, have often been neglected in pidgin studies as the pan-ethnic role of these contact languages has been the major focus. In 1986, Mühlhäusler published a work titled Pidgin and Creole linguistics. This contains a summary of all his work carried out over the previous ten years, confirming the position he took in his earlier publications. Without ever challenging Bickerton's theory of the existence of an innate capacity for creolisation, Mühlhäusler's view is more nuanced: for him there are three types of developmental scenario which lead to creolisation. Hawaiian Creole English is only one of the three (1986: 8). Mühlhäusler's dynamic approach to the analysis of the evolution of these languages argues that the three types of Creole which he recognises can be distinguished according to the history of their development. In this analysis, he recognises that all three types begin with a "Jargon Stage". Type 1 (e.g., Hawaiian Creole English) passed directly from "Jargon" to "Creole"; Type 2 (e.g., Torres Straits Creole English) passed from a "Jargon" stage, first to a "Stabilised Pidgin" stage and finally a "Creole" stage. Type 3 (e.g., Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin), he regards as passing through the following stages: "Jargon" > "Stabilised Pidgin" > "Expanded Pidgin" > "Creole". He maintains that the role of the substrate during this developmental sequence is very limited. It plays a role only at the "Jargon" stage, that is, through vocabulary and phonology (and here Mühlhäusler shares Bickerton's ideas). The notion that the substrate played only a minimal role in the development of these contact languages is not shared by all scholars. Many Pacific linguists have taken a completely opposite view, documenting their case, for example Camden (1979), Charpentier (1979) and others, especially Keesing (1988). The work of Keesing brought about a lengthy polemical debate, with Mühlhäusler's comments on Keesing's ideas provok-

Previous theories of pidgin development

29

ing a series of responses. However, as we shall see, the controversy concerned more the dates at which the evolution of Pacific pidgins took place, rather than the interpretation of linguistic data.

3.1.2.2.

The Pacific scholar

It is in regard to the Pacific, his chosen geographical domain, that Mühlhäusler was most innovative and where he put forward his boldest hypotheses and analyses. His most important contributions concern: the separate origin of Tok Pisin; the existence of a Papuan Pidgin English in British New Guinea (today Papua); and the role of New South Wales Pidgin English in the genesis of present day pidgins. In an article titled "Samoan Plantation Pidgin English and the origin of New Guinea Pidgin", published in 1978, (the major points had been presented during the annual conference of the Australian Linguistics Society in 1975), Mühlhäusler attempts to demonstrate that Tok Pisin is exogenous, born on the German plantations of Samoa, and that it was introduced there by recruits from New Britain and from the Gazelle Peninsula in the former German New Guinea. His demonstration is based on personally collected historical and linguistic data. Before 1884, when Germany took possession of these territories, traders and whalers had already introduced trade jargons. The variant used in Samoa was close to the New Hebrides Bislama of the time, according to Schuchardt (Mühlhäusler 1978: 70). While the first recruits on the German Samoan plantations were Micronesians (mainly Gilbertese [Kiribatese]) at the beginning of the 1880s, the main source of labour quickly became mostly Melanesian. According to Moses (1973: 102) no fewer than 985 New Hebrideans and 425 Solomon Islanders worked in Samoa between 1878 and 1882, while the Gilbertese numbered only 612. It follows that instead of a local pidgin developing from a variant of a Micronesian trade jargon, it is the early form of pidgin spoken at that time in the New Hebrides that became the lingua franca of the Samoan plantations, itself already known by plantation labourers who had already worked in Queensland. After 1884 the prohibition on recruiting Kanakas from New Guinea to work in Queensland isolated the German possessions, while the remainder of Melanesia remained in permanent contact with the northeast of Australia. In fact, recruiting for Queensland from New Ireland lasted only two

30

Chapter 3

years, after which time recruits from the Bismarck Archipelago were dispatched exclusively to Samoa. Once the German administration was in place, from 1887 to 1912, only 1% of recruits for Samoa came from the Solomon Islands, with none from the New Hebrides or the New Guinea mainland. However, the fate of Samoan Plantation Pidgin had been sealed during the previous ten years, as early New Hebrides Pidgin took root there. Present day Tok Pisin had its origins, then, in Samoan Plantation Pidgin, which was different from the local trade jargon or Beach la Mar. Papua New Guinea Pidgin, sometimes called Neo-Melanesian, has an indirect connection with the pidgins which stabilised in Queensland (Bislama and Solomons Pijin), and its expansion would have followed a parallel but independent process. It was only when SPP was taken to New Guinea and the Bismarck Archipelago that it could develop from a restricted plantation pidgin into an extended pidgin serving as a means of communication over a wide range of topics. (Mühlhäusler 1978: 86)

He adds: Among the Pacific varieties of Pidgin English SPP and NGP exhibit the closest structural relationships. Up to 1914 the speakers of these two pidgins constitute a single speech community. (1978: 109)

This assertion, which could just as well be advanced for the relationship between Queensland Canefields Pidgin English and pre-World War I Bislama, as demonstrated in this work, confirmed Mühlhäusler's convictions concerning the genesis of contact languages as expressed in his earlier writings. Substrates would play only a minor role, while simplification and the universale of second-language acquisition would be crucial. As a member of the original research team in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University, Mühlhäusler came to be interested in the pidgins and Creoles spoken on the Australian continent, and of course those spoken in New Guinea, as his colleagues were working in these fields. Fieldwork conducted with Dutton in Queensland and in Papua convinced him of the importance of the acrolect and the manner in which it was learned by adult speakers who were culturally remote. During his fieldwork, Mühlhäusler realised how difficult it was to identify contact languages (a topic which he discusses in Pidgin and Creole linguistics (1986)), and this for two main reasons:

Previous theories of pidgin development

31

1. Local speakers are at first convinced that they are speaking the language of the Europeans. 2. The administration could fail to recognise, for decades, even the existence of a pidgin, considered a bastardised form of English.

It seems that this was indeed what happened in Papua, where the British authorities, prior to 1906, had consciously "ignored" the existence of a pidgin, distinct from the Tok Pisin spoken in New Guinea. Officially the contact language of Papua was Hin Motu, whose use was viewed favourably. However, a Pidgin English had developed first of all in the islands off the south-east coast of Papua, and then on the Papuan coast itself, when labour was recruited there for Queensland during the 1880s. This pidgin was itself heavily influenced by Torres Straits Pidgin, as Dutton and Mühlhäusler demonstrated in 1979 in a joint article "Papuan Pidgin English and Hiri Motu", in Wurm (ed.) 1979: 225-242. The hypothesis that Hiri Motu was a partially relexified version of this pidgin is even considered by the authors. During fieldwork in the 1970s, Mühlhäusler had no difficulty in finding informants who still knew this Papuan Pidgin English, whose existence had long been denied. Even those who did believe in its existence had assumed that it had long become extinct. As previously pointed out, Mühlhäusler, in his quest for new contact languages, favoured certain research directions, alone or in collaboration with members of the RSPS. With Philip Baker he drew up an exhaustive list of all written examples of Pacific Pidgin Englishes. These sources were important in revealing the importance of New South Wales Pidgin in the development of other pidgins, and in particular their early varieties such as South Seas Jargon and Beach la Mar. Through this the crucial role of the acrolect was brought into focus as well as the importance of Sydney as a hub and a dispersal point for the first maritime jargons in the Pacific. The present work, through its historical approach, confirms the first and ancient origins of all these contact languages, which in fact go back to the first permanent contacts between Europeans and Australian Aborigines. Mühlhäusler's scientific contribution, during the last decades, has been as varied as it has been fundamental. What distinguishes him, among other things, is his critical commentaries on the different schemas summarising the expansion of Pidgin English varieties in the South Seas, an area in which Clark has been particularly prominent.

32

Chapter 3

3.2.

The genesis of contact languages in Oceania

3.2.1. Ross Clark, an exceptional pidginist While Mühlhäusler made pidgin and Creole studies his specialty very early in his career, his interest in vernacular languages serving only to verify the hypotheses which he constructed while studying contact languages, Clark was exactly the opposite. As an Austronesianist, specialising particularly in Polynesian languages, he made a sudden but most successful entry into the narrow circle of Pacific creolists when in 1979 he published what has become a classic article, In search of Beach-la-Mar: Towards a history of Pacific Pidgin English. We will only mention certain aspects of this very dense article, scientifically solidly argued and documented, namely the problems it raises and suggested future research directions, together with the results, and the major commentaries thereon.

3.2.1.1.

Theories of Beach-la-Mar development

The title of the article is evocative in itself. The author decided to conduct a piece of research without preconceived ideas, relying on currently available sources. In fact, it is important to situate Clark's article in time. It appeared at a time of renewed interest in Creole studies, never really abandoned since Delgado and Schuchardt, but the subject of a surge in interest for the period of a decade, with the works of Bickerton, Whinnom, Mühlhäusler and Wurm, among others. At page three, Clark details his position and his intentions: The title of the present paper is intended to symbolize this state of affairs, since my research began as an attempt to find out something about "Beachla-Mar". According to various authorities, this language, an "offshoot" of China Coast Pidgin, grew up in the late 18th or early 19th century, and was used in some broad but vaguely defined area of the South Seas, or "Islands between Asia and Australia". (Clark 1979: 3)

This absence of a well-determined geographical area led Clark to extend his research to other Pidgin Englishes throughout the world so as to verify whether, among other things, the English-based pidgins and Creoles of the Pacific are local creations or whether, on the contrary, they belong to a broader world, linked to the history of British colonisation and/or to universale such as those dear to Bickerton.

Previous theories of pidgin development

33

From a great number of written works, Clark selected some thirty features common to Pidgin Englishes, since they were attested in all or some of them, but did not exist in standard English. He studied their distribution and was brought to recognise four "linguistico-geographic" regions, areas whose contours he fixed, largely through historical considerations (maritime exchange) and also through existing contact languages and the scientific hypotheses put forward concerning the relationships of these languages. After the broadest domain, the "World", and the narrowest, "Melanesian", both unambiguous, he envisaged an entity which he called "Sino-Pacific", which shared "features found in CC and most of the South Pacific languages, but not elsewhere" (1979: 19), and a "Southwestern" group, which had "features shared by the Melanesian pidgins and Australian Creoles, but not found elsewhere." The aim of setting up a "SinoPacific" group was to compare Chinese Pidgin with the pidgins of the South Pacific and, if possible, to bring out linguistically the close links, often related, which existed at the commercial level. By dint of bringing together the data collected, both linguistic and metalinguistic (accounts of voyages, ships's logs, etc.), Clark established a chronology for the appearance of Beach-la-Mar and its extensions relative to the activities of the European invaders during the 19th century, so linking up with the historical scenarios established by such scholars as Douglas Oliver. Clark used the now classical periods of the whalers (1800-1830), then the sandalwooders and beche-de-mer fishermen (1830-1865). He innovated by linking the beginning of the "Blackbirding" period with the move from a jargon stage to a pre-pidgin stage, which he called Early Melanesian Pidgin. He even goes as far as setting the pre-pidgin period at precisely 1865-1878. Early writers have been unanimous in ascribing to the labour trade a crucial role in the formation of Melanesian pidgin, and indeed (speaking impressionistically) it is in the 1870s that it develops to a point where the label "early Melanesian pidgin" seems appropriate.

It follows from the above quotation that it is through organised regular recruiting, with three-year renewable contracts, that modern Melanesian pidgins originated.

34

Chapter 3

3.2.1.2.

Conclusions from the Clark approach

Clark was able to provide a scientific account of the Beach-la-Mar in which he went in search. He concluded that: The classic dichotomy of pidgin vs. Creole, according to whether or not the language has a community of native speakers, not only lumps under 'pidgin' systems of quite different types, but may also place unwarranted emphasis on the native-speaker criterion. Recent discussions indicate the need for a typology of at least four categories: 1. Creoles, with a native-speaking community, expanded lexicon, elaborated structure and full functional range;

2. elaborated pidgins such as modern Melanesian, which structurally and functionally may approximate to Creoles, though they remain second languages to the great majority of their speakers; 3. restricted pidgins such as Chinook Jargon, limited to use in trade and contact situations, with minimal lexicon and grammar, highly variable phonology resulting from first-language influence, yet sufficient autonomy and stability to be recognized as distinct languages; 4. interlanguages such as Cocoliche (Spanish as spoken by Italian migrants in Argentina). Though they may be stereotyped for comic purposes, such systems have no distinct grammar, lexicon or phonology of their own. Their form is the product of the structures of the target and substratum languages, and varies widely even within the performance of a single speaker. (1979: 32) Clark concludes that: The documentary evidence suggests that South Seas Jargon (SSJ) was a foreigner-talk/broken language system of this sort, and thus fell somewhere between (3) and (4) in the above typology. On the one hand, most users of SSJ do not seem to have made a clear distinction between it and English. A lack of stability and of communicative adequacy is indicated by the practice of macaronic alternation between SSJ and local vernaculars. On the other hand, it is clear that at least some Europeans made use of a foreigner-talk register in communicating with islanders, and a small number of features existed which were peculiar to SSJ rather than directly derivable from any contributing language. (1979: 32-33) Clark also advanced the idea that the type of language represented by the Beach-la-Mar of the first half of the 19th century might still exist today as the Ngatik Men's Language.

Previous theories ofpidgin development

35

One possible isolated survival of South Seas Jargon exists on the small island of Ngatik, near Ponape, in the eastern Carolines. (1979: 35)7 It is above all the summary diagrams of Clark's conclusions which are the most commonly cited and reproduced, as follows: Pitcaim-Norfolk r- Sino-Hawananr World Sino-Pacific

Southwestern

China Coast Hawaiian Roper River Cape York New Hebrides

— Melanesian Solomon Islands New Guinea Figure 1. Pidgin relationships suggested by comparative evidence (1979: 22) The four groups previously mentioned appear in this diagram, along with an indication of only an indirect relationship between China Coast Pidgin/Creole and Pacific pidgins. This contradicts what appears at the beginning of the article (1979: 3): "According to various authorities, this language [Beach-la-Mar], (is) an "offshoot" of China Coast Pidgin..." This restatement was confirmed by the research of Philip Baker, who in his article "Historical developments on Chinese Pidgin English and the nature of the relationships between the various Pidgin Englishes of the Pacific region" (Baker 1987) states: Since the 18th century, varieties of Pidgin English have been used to a greater or lesser extent, sporadically or continuously, for communication between Anglophones and non-Anglophones in almost all inhabited Pacific islands as well as in various Chinese ports. Only in the few places where there was continuity of interaction between the parties concerned over a period of years do context free (expanded) pidgins seem to have resulted. Two of these are CPE and NSWPE. Neither is a "direct descendant" of the other, but some evidence was presented to suggest that they did exert a modest

7. Investigations by Tryon (2001), see also Chapter 7, this volume, have demonstrated that this is not the case.

36

Chapter 3 amount of influence on each other. Their relationship is thus not one which can be expressed in a family tree diagram. (1987: 199)

The role of the first Pidgin Englishes which appeared with the European settlement of southeastern Australia was restated by Clark, as follows: The problem of the possible influence of Australian pidgin on Melanesian Pidgin has not been illuminated as yet.. .Recently Wurm (1971: 1008-1009) once again mentioned the possibility, but dismissed it with the comment that 'in the modern-time descendants of this pidgin (Beach-La-Mar), i.e. New Guinea pidgin and Solomon Islands pidgin, none of the characteristic features of Australian pidgin are present.' My own investigation suggests that this opinion will have to be reconsidered. Even with a fairly small sample of Australian sources, there is evidence that at least four of the comparative features were present in Australia at least as early as or earlier than in Melanesia. (1979: 43) The key results of Clark's analysis appeared in a diagram, (1979: 48), reproduced below: 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 Pitcairn Norfolk Australian PE

?Nautical Jargon

Roper River Creole Cape York Creole

SWE-*— EMF-

New Hebrides Pidgin

SSJ-

Solomon Is. Pidgin

_SPE

N e w Guinea Pidgin Ngatik Men's Lang. Hawaiian English

China Coast PE

China Coast Pidgin

Figure 2. Historical relations indicated by comparative and documentary evidence In this diagram, many times reproduced, Clark succeeds in situating the majority of Pacific Pidgin Englishes, showing the more or less direct relationships which contributed to their development. The author also provides a time-scale which spans the whole of the 19th century. This diagram, which is particularly clear and easy to read, marks a real advance because of its precision and the number of languages covered, compared with those

Previous theories of pidgin development

31

presented by Hall (1961), Wurm (1971) or Hancock (1971). These diagrams, as well as that compiled by Clark, were reproduced and commented on by Mühlhäusler (1986: 15-18): The principal virtue of Clark is his awareness of changes over time in the relationships between different pidgins (and derived Creoles). His family tree (1979: 48) clearly shows that what was one language at one point may be two or more at a later period.

On the other hand, Mühlhäusler criticises this diagram (and similar family trees) because it fails to take into account historical breaks which have prevented normal transmission, ignores population movements or the role of the convergence and mergers of pidgins.

3.2.2.

Roger Keesing and the preponderance of the substrate in the genesis of Pacific pidgins and Creoles

It is useful to recall that before successfully trying his hand at linguistics, Roger Keesing was a renowned anthropologist, a specialist on the Kwaio people of the Solomon Islands, whose language he spoke. Therefore it was with a very sound knowledge of Pacific cultures, Melanesian culture in particular, that he came to be interested in contact languages, among which was Solomons Pijin, which he used for years in the field. This humanistic background could only draw him towards a comparativist approach and to lead him to be interested in the syncretism which exists between language and culture, so placing pidgins in the heartland of the Pacific cultural universe. This importance accorded to the semio-cultural milieu rather than to external forces superimposed on the substrate had already been underlined by other scholars, for example Camden (1975, 1979) and Charpentier (1979).

3.2.2.1.

The precursors

3.2.2.1.1. Bill Camden, a self-declared substrate advocate Bill Camden, a Presbyterian pastor in the former New Hebrides, could well have remained in the mold of his predecessors who translated the Scriptures and evangelised the local populations through local vernacular languages, no matter what the number of speakers. Camden had studied the language of Tangoa to the south of the island of Espiritu Santo. However,

38

Chapter 3

at the time efficiency and effectiveness were high priorities, and Bislama offered considerably greater possibilities in terms of communication, being understood from the north to the south of the archipelago. Bislama had, up until that time, been considered an unworthy medium in which to convey the word of God. However, Camden and some of his collaborators became convinced that they needed to translate the sacred Scriptures into Bislama. This task, following the study of vernacular languages, led this missionary scholar to the conclusion that Bislama, far from being a distant variant of English, was a language calqued on typically indigenous thought patterns and modes of expression. The agreement is hardly surprising, but indicates that while Bislama lexical structures look basically English to a native speaker of English, it also looks basically Tangoan to a native speaker of Tangoan. (1979: 54)

Camden maintained that he had encountered this same parallelism at the lexical and semantic levels between Bislama and Tangoan, in psychological terms, but also in terms of syntax, in both the noun and the verb phrase, and even in terms of sentence structure itself. These observations were the subject of a paper at a Pidgins and Creoles Conference in Honolulu in 1975, published under the title: Parallels in structure of lexicon and syntax between New Hebrides Bislama and the South Santo language as spoken in Tangoa. After having demonstrated close parallels between the structures of Bislama and Tangoan, resemblances which he considers quite usual within the pidgin-speaking area of Melanesia, Camden moved on to extrapolate his hypothesis on the genesis of Pacific pidgins. His ideas run counter to those put forward by Mühlhäusler at the same period. Rather, Tangoan is regarded as broadly representative of this substantial body of Oceanic type languages, with the implication that a comparison between Bislama and any other such language, while almost certainly differing in detail, would probably show roughly comparable results. (Camden 1979:53)

Later Camden raises the stakes and aligns himself with the defenders of substrate influence and few outside factors, as he saw in pidgin structures the common denominator of the surrounding languages. Rather than supporting a process of "simplification", this evidence suggests that structures unknown in the New Hebridean languages have frequently disappeared, to be replaced by structures similar to those of the New He-

Previous theories ofpidgin development

39

bridean languages, not necessarily functioning at the same level as the English structures which they replace. (Camden 1979: 109)

This article attracted a number of responses, often critical of its uncompromising stance. However, correspondences between the vernacular languages and Bislama at all levels, phonological, morphological, syntactic and semantic, were obvious to anyone who had recorded oral tradition and undertaken a literal pidgin 8 translation of such texts. It was from this same standpoint that in 1979 Charpentier quite independently published a synchronic and comparative study which partially linked up with the Camden paper. 3.2.2.1.2. Jean-Michel Charpentier and the ethno-linguistic approach Charpentier, a linguist trained in the tradition of the old French anthropological school of Mauss and Dürkheim, always viewed languages as "social facts", integral and inseparable parts of the culture of which they are both the expression and the repository. Given this stance, while the analysis of languages in general is unproblematic, as languages are all in a syncretistic relationship with a particular culture, things are different when it comes to pidgins, even when they have become extended as they have in the Pacific. For pidgins may only be associated with a developing culture or with isolated elements of present cultures. Charpentier is a European, born in France, a country where the exclusive choice of a single language of instruction led to the emergence of patois, former regional languages which flourished in earlier times and which became moribund as a result of this policy. He has always been opposed to the idea of promoting a pidgin, to the detriment of indigenous languages and cultures, always bearing in mind the adage of the 19th century French dialectologists: "Today a language which is not being taught is a language which is being destroyed". It was certainly this spirit which was uppermost in a work which he published in 1979, Le pidgin bislama(n) et le multilinguisme aux Nouvelles-Hebrides. This work, written on the eve of Independence, was not at all aimed at a scientific readership, but at local and expatriate communities in Vanuatu. In the first part of the book, a sociolinguistic situation unique in the world is described, inevitably bound to undergo profound changes. At the same time the book warns against any future policy which neglects 8. (the only external language known by older ni-Vanuatu, as a command of English and French remained very restricted in the 1970s)

40

Chapter 3

Melanesian languages and cultures or disadvantages them vis-ä-vis a pidgin which did not even have a regularised orthography at the time. In the second part, "Pidgin and substrate", an attempt is made to demonstrate that Bislama is not a "Broken English" without rules or logic, but rather that synchronically it is adapted to Melanesian thought and mainly calqued on the categories and structures of their languages. In this Charpentier unwittingly linked up with what Camden had written on the same subject. As far as the genesis of pidgin was concerned, a peripheral element in the work, being interested only in Vanuatu Bislama, Charpentier put the accent on the role of the substrate not only during the "nativization" phase after the return of the Kanakas from Queensland, but also during their sojourn on the Australian plantations. This "substratophilia" is closely related to that which emerged from Keesing's Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic substrate, in 1988.

3.2.2.2. Roger Keesing and the Melanesian substrate Although he had written articles referring to the connections between vernacular languages (Kwaio in particular) and Solomons Pijin (Keesing 1986, 1987), the publication of his monograph Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic substrate in 1988 made waves among the "family" of Pacific creolists. In fact, this work became embroiled in the aftermath of the works of Clark, Mühlhäusler and Bickerton. Even if it appeared to be a successor to the writings of Camden, Charpentier and Mosel (1980),9 its geographical extension and its theoretical intent turned it into a generalist treatise on creolistics. Because of this, Keesing could not avoid coming up against one side or the other in this dichotomous world of supporters or opponents of the substratum theory. Although he was in constant contact with Bickerton, the arch enemy of substratum supporters...everywhere...except in the Pacific, it was Mühlhäusler to whom Keesing was opposed. Among other things, he questioned Mühlhäusler's hypothesis of the separate development of Tok Pisin in his reconstruction of the origins of Pacific pidgins. A long debate ensued, expressed in a series of articles, tightly argued, without any final winner or loser.

9. Tolai and Tok Pisin: The influence of the substratum on the development New Guinea Pidgin. (1980)

of

Previous theories of pidgin development

41

3.2.2.2.1. Keesing and the genesis of present-day Pacific pidgins First of all it is worth noting that in the title of Keesing's book, the word "pidgin" associated with Melanesia (Melanesian Pidgin) is in the singular. At the end of his analysis, Keesing came to the conclusion that Tok Pisin, Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama were dialects of one and the same language. These dialects were born of the colonial division of the Pacific during the second half of the 19th century. Previously there had been a single contact language, a maritime one, spoken throughout the Pacific. First used among the whalers, it was then taken up by the sandalwooders, and finally by the labour recruiters, as well as being used on the plantations themselves. Already this linear vision of continuous and increasingly complex development runs counter to Mühlhäusler's ideas. Mühlhäusler's major criticism of Clark's diagram, let us recall, was that it failed to take breaks in transmission into account. By his own admission, Keesing was drawn to pidgin and Creole studies as a consequence of empirically based observations in the field, first as a speaker of Kwaio (a Solomons vernacular) and Pijin: The syntax of Solomons Pijin was essentially the same as the syntax of Kwaio, although somewhat simpler and lacking some of the surface marking; in most constructions, there was a virtual morpheme-by-morpheme correspondence between Kwaio and Pijin. (This was not just an odd local process of calquing: the Pijin I was learning in terms of Kwaio was spoken with only minor variations throughout the southeastern and Central Solomons, although it was everywhere adapted to local phonologies). (Keesing 1988: 1-2)

These similarities, far from being fortuitous, are confirmed by the observations and analyses of other researchers in other parts of the Pacific: Several detailed comparisons between dialects of Melanesian Pidgin and particular Oceanic languages have been published, notably Ulrike Mosel's (1980) comparison of Tok Pisin and Kuanua and Camden's (1979) comparison of the Bislama of Vanuatu and Tangoan. (Keesing 1988: 6)

It was also during fieldwork that Keesing had the feeling of an early unity among the contact languages of the Pacific. Here also it was empirically based observations which stimulated his reflections.

42

Chapter 3 Indeed, old men from Tangoa or Southeastern Malekula in the New Hebrides,10 and old men from the Malaita mountains, who learned their pidgin in the 1920s or 1930s, would still be able to communicate comfortably with one another in what was then still virtually a common pidgin. It was this paradox and puzzle that led me to this book. (Keesing 1988: 88)

After having read the body of works on creolistics published at the time, Keesing asserted that he had no theoretical bias or allegiance to any particular school of thought: In the light of recent syntactic theory, no analysis of the genesis of a pidgin can uncritically invoke the importance of substrate models or ignore the centrality of universal grammatical patterns and faculties of language simplification and language learning in the process of pidgin formation. (Keesing 1988: 5)

On the same page, Keesing adds: I am underlining one of the central elements in a highly complex process. Substrates, superstates and bioprograms (Bickerton 1984) were all passengers of Pacific waters.

So it is not over the nature of the forces which lead to the appearance of a pidgin that Keesing and Mühlhäusler became embroiled, but on the order of precedence of each of them in the Pacific context. 3.2.2.2.2.

The controversy with Mühlhäusler over the origins of Tok Pisin, and consequently of other Pacific pidgins When seeking to support the ideas which he derived in the field with historical proofs, especially those drawn from 19th century literature, Keesing came up against the problem of the scarcity of texts for the whole of the Trade Jargon period (the whalers and sandalwooders), and the difficulty in interpreting the data, based largely on the accounts of English speakers not well disposed towards a language which they despised or which they found amusing. Having recourse to the much later writings of the French missionary Pionnier could not compensate for the lack of reliable data, which forced scholars mainly to personal interpretation.

10. When Charpentier first arrived in southeast Malakula [Malekula] at the beginning of the 1970s the Bislama he learned from elderly villagers contained many features which have become lost in modern Bislama. See endnotes 1 and 2, below.

Previous theories of pidgin development

43

I read the same evidence - and I am forced to rely on most of the same texts that he (Clark) used - as indicating a greater grammatical richness and stability than he concedes to the developing lingua franca in its early stages. (In my view he also radically underestimates the importance of substrate grammars in shaping the emerging pidgin - a question to which we shall return.) (Keesing 1988: 13) Keesing's interpretation of these rare data bring him to consider that Micronesia played a central role in the birth of Pacific Pidgin Englishes. The most likely settings of this first stage in the expansion of a developing Pacific lingua franca appear on the basis of my own research to date to have been a series of interlinked island groups, principally Pohnpei (Ponape) and Kosrae (Kusaie) in the Carolines, the Gilbert Islands, and Rotuma, which were favored venues for whalers, traders, beachcombers and deserters. (Keesing 1998: 15) It is here that the differences of opinion with Mühlhäusler begin. In the absence of adequate data, their interpretations follow two different lines of reasoning: Mühlhäusler, in a sketch of the history of English-based pidgin(s) in the Pacific (1985a: 38), comments that prior to 1860 'Islanders serving on board European vessels, and Europeans deserting to the islands and living among the natives are the exception rather than the rule'. My reading of the evidence suggests that Mühlhäusler is wrong. (Keesing 1988: 22) Keesing's analysis, highlighting the early stabilisation of South Pacific contact languages, due, according to him, first of all to the unity of the Micronesian substrate, has the following corollaries: -

-

-

it leaves in the background the influence of the labour trade and the role which may have been played by native Loyalty Islanders, who were often crewmen on the recruiters' boats; it means that the plantation era, important for the stabilisation of the nascent pidgins (again due to the unity of the substrate), played no role in the birth of these languages; it implies that Tok Pisin was not born in 1884, as Mühlhäusler claims, but was rather the direct descendant of the Beach-La-Mar trade jargon which first appeared in Micronesia.

Morris Goodman (1985: 119) is correct in inferring that in this early period there was a "Pacific-wide nautical pidgin", which, although not yet fully stable, was relatively uniform across this entire area. If we take 1845 (relatively arbitrarily) as a historical baseline, he would also be substantially cor-

44

Chapter 3 rect in inferring that this developing pidgin "became fairly homogeneous and stable within less than three decades" - that is, by the time the Labor Trade of the southwestern Pacific was in full swing, in the mid-1870s. Local dialects of this pidgin began to emerge in the 1870s, when plantations replaced ships and trading enclaves as the main venues for the expansion of the developing regional pidgin. (Keesing 1988: 4)

As everything would have been played out between 1840 and 1870, Mühlhäusler's hypothesis of a separate Samoan plantation origin for Tok Pisin appears to be a false notion, unsupported by any fact. The whole of Keesing's Chapter 5 is devoted to this topic. I will show that there is a much simpler set of explanations: First, that the pidgin initially introduced into Samoan plantations was the same dialect being used by Islanders on ships' crews throughout the central and southwest Pacific - the dialect that was the initial medium of communication to take root in Queensland. That is, in the early 1860s there was a single dialect of Pacific pidgin, largely shipboard-based, which provided the linguistic input into plantations in Queensland, Samoa, New Caledonia, Fiji, the Marshalls, and other areas... Second, that until the end of the 1880s, the plantation speech community of Samoa was continuously connected to the plantation speech community of Queensland. Most of the connections were indirect, representing the speech patterns of the Islanders who served as boats' crews and recruiters on the water pathways connecting the plantations... Third, that until the end of the 1880s, there was close and sustained linguistic contact between Queensland plantations and many parts of the Bismarck Archipelago, so that the dialect of pidgin used in Queensland was already established there when German plantations in New Guinea expanded. (Keesing 1988:53) These few lines are sufficient to illustrate the fundamental cleavage which existed between Keesing and Mühlhäusler. In addition, where the latter distinguishes a separate contact language, a pidgin, on the Samoan plantations, different from the Pacific Trade Jargon of the period, the former sees only a variant with minor differences. While Mühlhäusler highlighted the learning of a second language by adults, implying the key participation of European speakers of the target language, Keesing maintained that it was local speakers of related languages, the only ones who spoke pidgin with ease, who could have spread it, so making the substrate the unifying agent in them.

Previous theories ofpidgin development 45 Two thirds of Keesing's book are devoted to demonstrating the categorical correspondences (predicate, pronominal system), and the syntactic caiques which abound between Solomons Pijin and the local languages, especially Kwaio. While he did not deny these correspondences, in a series of articles in which he and Keesing responded to each other, Mühlhäusler maintained the idea that these similarities were essentially the result of development which took place at the time that pidgin was nativised, that it to say at the end of the cycle, long after its birth. As they remained in disagreement over the interpretation of the data, and on the date at which a stabilised contact language appeared in the Pacific, the "warriors" had to give up their attempts to convince each other, both parties holding onto their own reasoning, supporters and detractors. Whatever its importance in the genesis of contemporary pidgin dialects, the Austronesian substrate today plays a central role in the rapid acquisition of pidgins by Islanders who still do not know it. The syntactic caiques, so thoroughly cited in evidence by Keesing for the Solomon Islands, and easily replicable for the other territories in Melanesia, have meant that pidgins are less and less considered to be foreign languages, and form part of national identities (on the same level as many Creoles).

3.2.3.

Tom Dutton and Jakelin Troy: the role of the English targetlanguage in the development of Australian and Pacific pidgins

3.2.3.1.

Tom Dutton and Queensland contact languages

In this section it is necessary to associate "master and pupil", as Tom Dutton was, together with Darrell Tryon, a supervisor of Jakelin Troy's dissertation. Dutton was the one who - because of his initial training and a judicious intuition which led him to consider that the superstate should also be taken very seriously - provided an early orientation to Troy's research, building on her earlier honours thesis (Troy 1985, published in 1990). With this in mind a historical depth study was required, a study of the first contacts between Aborigines and British colonists, and an examination of how, as inter-ethnic exchanges intensified and expanded, the contact language known as New South Wales Pidgin (NSWP) was born. This research was an element of a general research program on all of the contact languages of the region conducted by members of the Australian

46

Chapter 3

National University. The study of the role of Sydney and the surrounding region and of the emergent contact language provided a perspective for the interpretation of the results of area specific synchronic research. Before embarking upon his university career, Dutton, a native Queenslander and teacher, encountered the problem of linguistic variation and contact languages. His first fieldwork, during the 1960s, on varieties of English in Queensland itself, saw him assemble a corpus of material - a minor one compared to the impressive and multidimensional work of the same author on Papua New Guinea, but a major one in the contribution it makes to an understanding of the genesis of contact languages in the Pacific (the main subject of the present work). We will comment on three publications. a.

The Queensland Canefields English monograph (1980)

The main work which we will consider is the monograph: Queensland Canefields English of the late 19th Century (Dutton 1980), reports on fieldwork carried out by Dutton in 1964, when, as a teacher of English, he was chiefly interested in varieties of English in his native State, Queensland. This partly explains the title ofthat publication. It bears no reference to a pidgin or a jargon. While he was being trained in linguistics, he was not very familiar with works on pidgins and Creoles which were only then coming back into vogue. In his "interview with the last two surviving Kanakas in North Queensland" Dutton saw only one of the many facets of Queensland English, a variety which was irretrievably doomed to disappear. (Dutton 1980: 110-111). Even if one may criticise the interviews with these centenarians in terms of their form and brevity (relative to the data available for the 19th century in general), and Dutton acknowledges these weaknesses in his preamble, the data which he collected are of the greatest importance for understanding the historical unity of Australian and particularly Pacific Pidgin Englishes. Any person, such as the authors of the present work, who listened to and recorded the Bislama of the New Hebrides at the end of the 1960s, on reading the linguistic data and the variations in Dutton's monograph, especially the doublets (variations of a single etymon expressing a single meaning), could not help being struck by the constant almost perfect correspondences between the Queensland Canefields English recorded by Tom Dutton and the Bislama of the same period (see Chapter 7).

Previous theories of pidgin development

47

While in the New Hebrides itself these doublets were often explained as regional variants or to increasing influence from English (the source of some idiolects), the majority of the doublets were in fact introduced into the New Hebrides archipelago of the period by labour recruiters and above all by recruits returning from Queensland at the end of their contracts. The Queensland Canefields English described by Dutton and the Bislama of Vanuatu are but one and the same contact language which has undergone various influences such as Queensland Pidgin English (Aboriginal Pidgin English), itself an extension of New South Wales Pidgin, as we shall see, in addition to Beach-La-Mar, the Jargon of the whalers and sandalwooders already present in the New Hebrides and throughout the South Pacific, obviously only in certain specific areas at the beginning of the "blackbirding" period. Dutton, who had not yet become "the outstanding specialist of Pidgin and Creole languages", had not reached these conclusions, as he hesitated even to give the name "pidgin" to the speech of his two elderly New Hebridean informants, recruits from the country which supplied the majority of Kanaka labour. This speech is not SAE but something in between that and a classical pidgin English like Tok Pisin of Papua New Guinea with which it shares a number of features which are also common to other pidgin and Creole Englishes of the Southwest Pacific. Thus, for example, it has the common vocabulary item savi 'know, understand' as well as the others derived from English 'all, altogether, along, been, belong, catch, fellow, finish, he, no, plenty, suppose, too much, what name', many of which are also markers of common basic syntactic structures in these languages (Clark 1977). But whether these and other non-SAE features are sufficient to enable us to call TL's and PS's speech 'pidgin' or not is a moot point and one which must depend on the definition of a pidgin language, something which is still very much a live issue in linguistics at the present time (Bickerton 1976). (Dutton 1980: 103)

Today, the diagram illustrating the expansion of Pacific pidgins, above, may seem self-evident. It is so only thanks to the enormous amount of work carried out over the past twenty-five years. In 1980, Clark's article, discussed above, appeared to be an isolated production. Nobody would have suspected that it would have opened the way for an immense concentration of effort. For this reason, Dutton's conclusion should be set in context. His classification of the relationships between contact languages can

48

Chapter 3

be appreciated only if it is set back into the scientific context of the period. Thus, he concludes: This result is that when some fifty or so structural features were compared in CE, Papuan Pidgin English (PPE), Solomon Islands Pidgin (SIP), New Hebridean Pidgin (or Bichelamar) (NHP) and New Guinea Pidgin (or Tok Pisin or Neo-Melanesian) (NGP), the results suggest that CE is more like PPE than SIP, then NHP and NGP approximately last. This is a surprising result given earlier speculations about the relationships between these languages and what we know of the labour trade, and one therefore that invites a little further comment. (Dutton 1980: 107)

Dutton attributes these surprising results, given that the majority of the labourers were recruited from the former New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands, to the fact that the descriptions of PPE in his possession were "based on sources which contain material closely linked to QE." He could have added that at the period scientific data on Bislama (NHP) were extremely rare, and almost non-existent for the Solomons. The type of data which could have thrown light on the problem has only become available in the present work, where an analysis is made of Vanuatu Bislama recordings made in the 1960s, at which period the older variants were still in use in the speech of the oldest speakers. b. Queensland Aboriginal Pidgin English In 1983, Dutton published an article titled "The origin and spread of Aboriginal Pidgin English in Queensland: a preliminary account." In this article he showed, by comparing the little data available at the time on the first contact language in the Sydney region at the beginning of the 19th century, and the earliest variety of Pidgin English used in Queensland, that there was a direct continuity of transmission. He observed also that the former had been carried north by settlers, convicts, missionaries and other arrivals who sought to use it in their dealings with local Aborigines. Today, it is recognised that all the Australian pidgins and Creoles of the Northern Territory and the Torres Straits are successive extensions of New South Wales Pidgin. However, Dutton, who based his conclusions as much on historical as linguistic data (these being relatively rare), concluded that there were two migration routes north from Sydney at the beginning of the colonisation of Queensland, but that they had different linguistic outcomes (see Chapter 4).

Previous theories of pidgin development

49

In particular it developed at least two strands initially: a coastal one which was slow to emerge and which was different from NSW PE in its lexical content, and an inland one which was basically transplanted New South Wales Pidgin English with possibly new Aboriginal lexical items taken in. The inland strand spread widely throughout the state and eventually stabilized and swamped the coastal strand. (Dutton 1983: 109)

The relative isolation of the coastal region prefigures the nature of Canefields Pidgin English (CPE) or Queensland Kanaka English (QKE). This variant was the subject of joint fieldwork carried out by Dutton and Mühlhäusler at the beginning of the 1980s. Following this, they wrote an article, published in 1984: "Queensland Kanaka English." c.

Queensland Kanaka English (QKE) and other contact languages

This speech variety, to which the authors appear reluctant to apply the term "pidgin", except in its final phase, appears to them to be primarily very much an independent development. In considering the linguistic background of Kan Ε we have argued that it was shaped mainly by forces from outside Australia. However, we would like to remind the reader that Queensland Kan E, for more of its life cycle, was also in contact with jargonized and pidginized varieties of English which had developed independently in Australia... However, it seems almost certain that neither Chinese nor Aboriginal PE, the most important of these varieties, were involved in the formation of Queensland Kan E. (Dutton & Mühlhäusler 1984: 234)

The independent development of this pidgin links back to Mühlhäusler's claim that each pidgin has its own genesis, often linked to the plantation world. Of course this assertion runs counter to the ideas expressed by Keesing; Dutton and Mühlhäusler even specify the point of origin of Kanaka Pidgin English: By the same token we must presume that many of those recruiting in the early period for Queensland were probably not as "green" as had previously been assumed, and that some kind of Loyalty Island PE was the foundation of Queensland Kan E. (Dutton & Mühlhäusler 1984: 238)

After having shown how the main recruiting thrust, beginning in the 1860s in the Loyalty Islands slowly moved north, to the southern New Hebrides, progressively moving as far as the Northern Solomons by the end of the century, so forming a regular reciprocal exchange infrastructure between

50

Chapter 3

Queensland and Melanesia, the authors came to the conclusion that more than being just a variant of English, Queensland Kanaka English became a true pidgin. In the last years of labour recruiting, the majority of the plantation workers were 'old hands' and thus fully competent in PE right from the start of their reemployment. It appears that by 1900 Kan Ε was reaching the stage of an extended pidgin. (Dutton & Mühlhäusler 1984: 254)

The continuity and intensity of these exchange flows between Melanesia and Queensland explain why the authors of the present study have found a close match between the Bislama of more than thirty years ago and Canefields English as described by Dutton. Doubtless, if recordings of Solomons Pidgin from the same period were available, the same conclusions would be reached. During the 1980s, Philip Baker worked in close collaboration with Peter Mühlhäusler, particularly to put together as exhaustive a corpus of all the contact languages of the Pacific as possible. As he did this, he was struck by the fact that many of the elements which he was encountering in Pacific pidgins were already present in Australia at the beginning of the 19th century. This led him to state (1987) that "New South Wales Pidgin English was a far more important influence on (Pacific Pidgin English).. .than what has often been termed 'South Seas Jargon'". (Cited by Holm 1989: 512). The dissertation of Jakelin Troy, defended in 1994 (Melaleuka: A history and description of New South Wales Pidgin), comprehensively confirms this claim.

3.2.3.2.

Jakelin Troy and New South Wales Pidgin

When she arrived at the Australian National University, Jakelin Troy was naturally associated with the extensive research program on Australian and Pacific pidgins and Creoles directed by the late Stephen Wurm. The task which was assigned to her as a possible research topic, had been envisaged some years earlier by Clark. Building on the suggestions of earlier scholars which he acknowledges (such as Reinecke, Baker, Crowley and Rigsby) Clark demonstrated that Australian and Melanesian pidgins were very closely related (Clark 1979: 21-22, 42-45). He suggested that a detailed study of the genesis of pidgin in Australia would be very profitable in uncovering the history of Pacific Pidgins. This thesis and my earlier researches (Troy 1985, 1990) are re-

Previous theories of pidgin development

51

sponses to Clark's suggestions and those in Dutton's subsequent study of Queensland Pidgin English. (Troy 1994: 438)

This interdependence of English-based pidgins and Creoles in the whole of the Pacific region (Pitcairn-Norfolk excepted) had been underlined by other scholars, particularly Baker. It was difficult to attempt to establish any hierarchy between the universalist and substratist theories by ignoring the historical beginnings of the colonisation of the Pacific and the languages (or language) which could have been born as a consequence. This realisation created an urgent need for research specifically on the beginnings of colonisation in Australia, successfully carried out by Jakelin Troy, through the production of a her doctoral dissertation. Baker recently took up the work of Clark (1979), Dutton (1983) and Troy (1985, 1990) to contend that 'Melanesian Pidgin English derives primarily from...the pidginized English of Aborigines and Pacific Islanders in Queensland' (Baker 1993: 11). Baker reiterates Dutton's earlier speculation (Dutton 1983) that Queensland pidgin is a continuation of 'NSW Pidgin English' (Baker 1993: 12, 62). (Troy 1994: 438)

3.2.3.2.1. Methodology and results In order to collect data on the beginnings of communication between the Aborigines and the British invaders, Troy had to show herself to be a capable historian and ethno-linguist. She had to comb through travel accounts, and reports of colonial administrators, an enormous corpus and a frustrating task as specific linguistic references were quite rare in the early 1800s. However, her analysis provided some very useful information concerning the genesis and development of contact languages. Contrary to general belief, a contact language is not necessarily the result of the interface between a dominant language and a group of dominated languages which are not mutually intelligible. In Sydney there were only two languages involved in sustained contact between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. There was English which was spoken by the majority of colonists and the Sydney Language spoken by the Aboriginal people local to Sydney Cove. (Troy 1994: 428)

This would tend to show that rather than the number of languages involved, it is the nature of these languages and their great semio-cultural differences which lead to "jargonisation". Also, following research which she had carried out in the years prior to her dissertation, she insisted on the fact that the English spoken in Sydney and later throughout New South

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Wales at the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries was far from constituting a single uniform speech variety. Prior to 1800, the large number of Irish already in the colony were stigmatised for both their linguistic and cultural traditions. At that time most of Ireland was still Irish-speaking. The Irish in Australia would have spoken Irish as their first language and English as a second language if they spoke it at all before their arrival in N.S.W. Those Irish who did speak English on arrival and those who acquired some knowledge of it in the colony spoke it with a 'heavy brogue' (Troy 1990a). (Troy 1994: 10) In addition to non-English speakers there were also English-speakers with a wide variety of dialectal and social backgrounds. Soldiers, sailors and transported criminals were particularly important in the development of NSW Pidgin as they were drawn from all the peoples of the British Empire. (Troy 1994: 11)

The duality of languages present in Sydney, then, was more apparent than real. If there really existed a single Aboriginal language at the moment of first contact, the target language, represented by the dominant community, would certainly not have been characterised by any linguistic unity. This would have been a factor in the "jargonisation" process, as the Aborigines would have had no opportunity to learn a "fully-blown" English. This set of circumstances shows that in pidginisation, the importance of the nature of the target language cannot be played down and that the adult learning of a foreign language must also be taken into consideration, as the acrolect (the target language) plays a role at least as important as the substrate language. As she analysed the progress of colonisation in space and time, Troy demonstrated how a more and more diversified and codified contact language was born. Vocabulary, morphology and grammar appeared here with the same developmental tendencies and constants as found in all the processes of pidginisation and creolisation described elsewhere. A specific vocabulary appeared very early, a mixture of Aboriginal terms and English etyma, for example baimbai 'future marker', in 1790; nomo 'cessative', in 1796. The same year ol is attested as a plural noun marker and personal pronoun. Reduplication, used as an intensifier, was in use from the 1790s onwards. The decades which followed saw a gradual territorial expansion, well analysed and cartographically illustrated by Troy. As the colonists spread to new areas they came up against new Aboriginal vernaculars. Apart from new Aboriginal lexical additions, between 1800 and 1825 new English-derived items appeared, such as blakfela

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53

'Aborigine', waitfela 'European' (and a few years later the synonym waitman). Pikanini 'child', plenti 'a lot, much', and stap 'reside' appear in 1825. Characteristics of modern pidgins, such as the suffixing of a transitive marker to verbs, appeared in the Sydney district from the beginning of the 19th century, transitivity being indicated by the suffixes -im or/and -it. The preposition long, typical of modern pidgins, was attested very early in New South Wales, with all its current multi-functionality. In NSW Pidgin the prepositions long 'at, with, to, along, in, about' and its variants longa 'at, in, to, from, with, for, along, to, in' and its variant alonga 'to, at, in, on, about, with, by means of, near' are the most salient forms. (Troy 1994: 434)

The few characteristics of New South Wales Pidgin discussed above, along with many others, which appeared in the first decades of colonisation, are found in Queensland Pidgin English, Queensland Canefields English and in modem-day pidgins. What emerges from Troy's dissertation is that the first English-based elements pidginised were preserved during the course of successive stages of expansion on the Australian continent. The NSW Pidgin data from Bathurst and the inland district from the 1830s and 1840s is very similar to that recorded for the mid to late 1820s in the Port Stephens district. (Troy 1994: 299)

On the other hand, Aboriginal lexical borrowings, always much more numerous, were largely relexified each time that the local linguistic substrate proved to be significantly different. This close relationship revealed by any comparison, lexical, morphological or syntactic (the SVO structure being the norm right from the beginning) between these old pidgins, and between them and present-day pidgins, provides an understanding of the central role played by the "planter society" in Queensland during the second half of the 19th century. As Dutton (1983) showed, Aboriginal Pidgin English was a direct descendant of the New South Wales Pidgin of the years 1800-1820. This contact language, already present in the interior of Queensland could not have been absolutely unknown to recruits from the Pacific Islands, precisely because some of them lived in the interior, employed in pastoral enterprises. Whatever the first recruits understood and could use again was doubtless passed on to their successors. Perhaps it is at this level that the linguistic unity of the Oceanic world stressed by Keesing is fully meaningful. Far from seeing elements lopped off by the "new chums", pidgin was enriched and constantly stabilised further on the plantations.

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3.2.3.2.2.

The Troy dissertation, the missing link, the concatenation of Pacific pidgins Although her research work and results corresponded to the hypotheses on the genesis of Pacific pidgins held by the members of the Research School of Pacific Studies, Jakelin Troy mainly presented her hypotheses against the background of Keesing (1988). Here we will content ourselves with citing Troy's conclusions, set out particularly explicitly at the end of her treatise. Keesing posited that the first pidgin in the Pacific was a pan-Melanesian" language developed on board ships that plied their trade through the Pacific from the 1820s forward (Keesing 1988: 13-25). (Troy 1994: 440) Keesing proposed that by the late 1850s, when the plantation trade began, Melanesian Pidgin was consolidated and stabilised. He explained that his position on pidgin genesis in the Pacific was quite different from that of Mühlhäusler who proposed separate pidgins with differing though loosely connected origins. Mühlhäusler placed more emphasis on plantations as the scenarios for the stabilisation of pidgins in the Pacific. (Troy 1994: 441)

Continuing her criticism of Keesing, Troy focused on a comparison of the criteria selected by him and the results which she had just obtained, which confirmed the Australian origin of these pidgins, and very early at that (end of the 18th/beginning of the 19th centuries). Of the sixteen features Keesing listed as shared between nineteenth century Melanesian pidgin and contemporary Melanesian Pidgin (Keesing 1988: 48-50), NSW Pidgin also shares all but two. Not shared are his predicate marker i feature (Point 13) and the use of se as a complementer (Point 15). (Troy 1994: 443-444).

Note: These two points absent from New South Wales Pidgin do indeed appear to be a more recent development. The predicate marker i was only imposed in the Port Sandwich region of Malakula (Vanuatu) at the very beginning of the 1970s, that is with the death of the oldest speakers, who were already initiated, and so aged about twelve, when the Catholic mission was established there in 1887. These few centenarians (or almost) used to say in Bislama:

11. Note that in the 1820s Keesing does not speak of a "pan-Melanesian" pidgin; he stresses the role played at that time by Micronesia (Keesing 1988: 15).

Previous theories of pidgin development

Yufela, yufela no kam ya. Olgeta olgeta kiaman tumas.

55

'You don't come here.' or 'They lie too much.'

For these same sentences the younger speakers said: Yufela i no kam ya. Olgeta ol i kiaman tumas.

'You don't come here.' 'They lie too much.'

The absence of the predicate marker between the personal pronoun and the verb had been noted by Pionnier (1913: 14-15). As for the complementiser se, contrary to what Crowley says: In the records of Bislama as it was spoken in its formative years on the Queensland plantations, the present writer has seen no examples of sentences in which se has any grammatical role, despite its frequent use as a lexical item. (Crowley 1989: 194)

this se is attested in the speech of one of the two "Kanakas" recorded by Dutton in 1964: ... O, Itlbe olsem nau...yu no se ho 'ona hem olsem se waip O, little bit like that now...you don't say ho'ona, it is like se (grammatical morpheme) wife. (Dutton 1980: 40)

The methodology employed by Troy, establishing a correlation between length of contact, extension of usage and linguistic complexification, borrowed from Dutton (1984) had been successfully used a few years previously by Crowley, who added a comparative dimension to it.

3.2.4.

Terry Crowley, Bislama and the genesis of Pacific contact languages

As with all academics, this prolific author, both an Austronesianist and creolist, is marked by his background, his fieldwork experiences, and the circumstances in which he came to work first in the former New Hebrides and then in the independent Republic of Vanuatu. Once he arrived in the archipelago in 1976, he devoted himself to the study of the language of Paama, about which he published a monograph in 1982. Other language descriptions followed, Näti (S.E. Malakula) in 1998 and the languages of Erromango in 1997. The date of his arrival is important with respect to the other domain of his activities, pidgin and Creole studies.

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By 1976 the world of the plantations had reached its demise. The isolation of certain regions of the archipelago was no longer a factor. While his predecessors were accused of speaking regional varieties of Bislama, such as Guy (accused of speaking Santo Bislama), Charpentier (that of the Catholics of Port-Sandwich) or the radio journalist Gardissat (accused of flooding the radio with the Bislama spoken in the Banks Islands), Crowley escaped these criticisms, often justified, since on Paama there had never been any plantations or harbours where Europeans could settle. On the other hand, Paama Bislama could be labelled as supra-local since for decades Paamese had been engaged on ships which linked Australia, New Caledonia and other destinations to the former New Hebrides. As in 1976 national political life was almost a full-time concern, leading up to independence in 1980, pidgin had become an obligatory medium, effectively wiping out the last of the regionalisms. Unlike Tryon, who had arrived during the previous decade, Crowley only encountered modern dynamic Bislama, exponentially expanding to become the indispensable medium of the independent Republic of Vanuatu. At the beginning of the 1980s he was appointed head of the Pacific Languages Unit of the University of the South Pacific, residing in Port Vila, constantly speaking Bislama in the town and in his professional role, with young people who naturally use "switched-on" vocabulary. Crowley was to become the greatest connoisseur of up-to-date Bislama in the capital and one of the most ardent defenders of the pidgin cause.

3.2.4.1.

An "engaged " researcher, defender and promoter of Bislama

As has just been discussed, the environment seemed favourable to pidgin in Vanuatu. The prime minister declared that he was in favour of promoting its use, his opponents being reduced to silence (see 10.2.2.1, below). Through personal conviction and as director of the Pacific Languages Unit at the University of the South Pacific, it was natural that Crowley be a strong supporter. A conference on the future of the languages of Vanuatu was organised in 1982, under the aegis of the University of the South Pacific, and another in 1984 on the languages of the Pacific, in particular the future of Melanesian pidgins (see 10.2.1.2.). At the same time, Crowley participated on various committees whose role was to oversee the standardisation of pidgin, and signed his name to various recommendations.

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Over a period of years he continued his efforts as a consultant, and as these had come to nothing, he wrote in 1994: In 1987, the committee wrote officially to the Prime Minister's Department (as it is the Prime Minister who was responsible for both Media Services and the Translation Department in Vanuatu at the time) to request that the Council of Ministers give the committee's decisions official status in the country, and to ask that an editorial position be created for the newspaper. The committee never received a response to that letter. One can only interpret this as indicating that the question of standardisation and lexical development in Bislama are close to the bottom of the political agenda in Vanuatu today. (Crowley 1994: 39) This bitter observation made by Crowley in 1994 could be extended in Vanuatu to any language domain and, of course, to pidgins. The final fiasco in the attempt to reform the education system, under the aegis of the World Bank (1997-2000), is sufficient proof (see 10.3.3.4. below). While he was wearing his twin hats of promoter and consultant, Crowley added a third, more classical one of author (still serving the cause of Bislama). In 1987 he produced a work which is probably unique in the pidginspeaking world, a monolingual grammar of Bislama, Grama blong Bislama. By dint of forging, of inventing a terminology which was as far as possible away from the terminology used in European languages, the author showed that it is possible to deal with technical subjects in pidgin, so long as one has the imagination and above all the desire to go to the trouble. This publication, internal to the University of the South Pacific, is not widely distributed, but can always be taken up if one day, impossible to say when, the ni-Vanuatu opted for the teaching in or of pidgin. In 1990, still with the aim of promoting Bislama, Crowley published ΛΛ illustrated Bis lama-English and English-Bis lama dictionary, a much fuller work than the two dictionaries available to that point. Even if this dictionary received a mixed response from the scientific community, it is the only reference dictionary available to the ni-Vanuatu. If the use which they make of it remains relatively low, this has less to do with the intrinsic value of the work than the fact that there is still no tradition of reading and writing. Again, if a program for teaching a standardised spelling for Bislama had been put in place, this dictionary would have seen its use increase tenfold (see 10.3.3.4). While this author is very much "engaged" as a promoter of pidgin, he has shown great circumspection when discussing the problem of the genesis of these contact languages.

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3.2.4.2.

Crowley and the development of Bislama and other Melanesian pidgins

Although he had written numerous articles on pidgins and Creoles previously, it was only in 1989 and 1990 that Crowley became fully engaged in the theoretical debates in vogue at the time. It is this which is of primary interest in this chapter. Two pieces of unequal length written by him will be discussed. First, there is the Review which he wrote of Roger Keesing's Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic substrate (Crowley 1989a) and more importantly the work which he published the following year, Beach-LaMar to Bislama (Crowley 1990a). Whether writing about the chronology of the appearance of these contact languages, or about the terminology which he often considers inappropriate, Crowley shows great restraint. He only departs from this position when at the end of his 1990 book he discusses Bickerton's anti-substrate position, without, however, blindly following Keesing. His profound knowledge of the Melanesian linguistic substrate pushes him towards an attitude which could be described as that of a "reasoned substratophile". 3.2.4.2.1.

The nature and duration of the so-called "South Seas Jargon", Beach-la-Mar Midway between the estimate of Roger Keesing, who situates the stabilisation of a relatively structured contact language in Melanesia very early, around 1845, and Peter Mühlhäusler, who considers that pidgins in the Pacific remained relatively poor and unstable until the 1880s, Crowley is tempted to side with Ross Clark's ideas on the subject: Mühlhäusler has argued that it was structurally and lexically impoverished even into the 1880s, while Tryon is prepared to regard it as a jargon even into the early twentieth century. Clark, on the other hand, argues that at least by 1885, Beach-la-Mar was not really as impoverished in its lexicon as has been assumed in the past, and suggests that it may have been spoken in a relatively stable and well-developed form during the sandalwood era up to 1860. (Crowley 1990: 371)

Confronted by these stances, and unable to be more precise, but not abandoning his extreme cautiousness, he states, a few pages further on that: Although I cannot prove it, I think that by the 1860s in southern Melanesia, a stable pidgin with a reasonably well-developed lexicon was probably fairly widely distributed. (Crowley 1990: 379)

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59

In order to support what was only an intuition in 1990, in 1993 Crowley published an article in which he showed that given the number of items from so-called South Seas Jargon which passed into the different Pacific vernaculars, some 250, this "jargon" must have been quite widespread and fairly stable. Because of this it would have had a shorter life than currently admitted before becoming a pidgin. 3.2.4.2.2.

The questioning of the terminology and stages of pidgin development Although this terminology is commonly accepted, it has certain disadvantages, among others that it leaves room for subjective interpretation. For example, what Bickerton calls a "jargon", Crowley would call a "pidgin". Although the five 'stages' in the development of a pidgin (i.e. jargon, stable pidgin, expanded pidgin, creole, merger with standard) seem intuitively natural, as well as being logically connected in sequence, I find great difficulty in actually applying this terminology. (Crowley 1990: 384)

It is obvious that this "life cycle" is more a purely scientific and analytical taxonomy than a representation of sociolinguistic situations which in each case are always unique. However, one must not focus on speakers individually, as Crowley seems to. He is certainly right when he claims that at all periods, even during the period when these contact languages made their first appearance, certain individuals spoke the "so-called Beach-laMar" as their mother tongue. But the existence of "creolised" individuals living alone is no guarantee of the existence of a Creole, which is always linked to a group. Thus I would argue that it is probably not possible to characterize Bislama at any stage of its development as a jargon, a stable pidgin, an expanded pidgin, a Creole or a post-creole (or post-pidgin) continuum. It has probably been all of this at once, with different speakers having learned the language under different sorts of conditions. Different speakers would have had different competences, arising in part out of varying degrees of access to both substrate and superstrate patterns. (Crowley 1990: 385)

More than just individuals taken separately, because of the immensity of the Oceanic world and the sudden changes of activity which have left abandoned centres which were very prosperous a few years previously, the authors of this work are tempted to claim that isolated pockets preserved an older form of pidgin while the Melanesian countries in general experienced a linear progression towards a "national" pidgin which became more

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and more standardised. What Charpentier describes in endnotes 1 and 2 at the end of this chapter was certainly attested one or two generations earlier at Havannah Harbour and at other important anchorages in Melanesia (in these cases, a pidgin remained in use among the older inhabitants which was closer to the pidgin spoken on the Queensland plantations; it survived alongside the same contact language in its modern fully expanded form). Crowley's criticisms of the positions taken and his terminological concerns should not be dismissed, even if he makes no counter-proposals to remedy these ills. 3.2.4.2.3.

A relatively "engaged" position with respect to the genesis of contact languages During the 1980s, especially in the world of Pacific pidgin and Creole specialists, it appeared mandatory to take a position, whatever it may be worth, in the debate which opposed those who espoused extreme universalist theories (Bickerton) and those who, like Keesing, espoused a strong substratist position. In spite of a praiseworthy concern for objectivity, Crowley inclined towards the vision enunciated by Keesing, without following him in all points, stating that he was not ready to accept that Solomons Pijin was a relexification of Kwaio, as Keesing seemed close to doing (Crowley 1989: 399). In fact, his general agreement with the Solomons specialist has two origins: Crowley knew Bislama and certain of the substrate languages too well not to be convinced that a relationship existed between them. He knew also that Keesing's work would finally allow Pacific pidgin studies to be extended outside Papua New Guinea. In fact for decades Tok Pisin (Neo-Melanesian) had been the contact language, attracting all the attention, while it had made its appearance well after its two southern neighbours. Thus, I would agree with Keesing's (1988) view that in concentrating only on Tok Pisin and excluding chronologically parallel developments in Bislama and Solomons Pijin, earlier studies may have unintentionally resulted in a somewhat skewed view of the history of Melanesian Pidgin.

Doubtless, Crowley's work Beach-La-Mar to Bislama, which appeared two years later, benefited from this new contribution. To a longitudinal, historical analysis, comparable to the work of previous authors, Crowley added a latitudinal comparative approach, apparently on the advice of Peter Mühlhäusler (Crowley 1990: 370). For each element studied, either lexical or grammatical (the two major divisions of the work), Crowley made a chronological (longitudinal) study

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61

from the first known usage down to contemporary usage, and then compared the corresponding elements in the neighbouring pidgins, Tok Pisin and Solomons Pijin. In each case, this method allowed him to evaluate possible substrate influence, not at a given place, at a precise moment, as Camden (1979) and Charpentier (1979) did, which gives no indication of genesis, but does give a pan-chronological, pan-Melanesian context. This method allowed him to respond to the allegations made of Derek Bickerton, who had been reproached (and he was not the only one) for making the Hawaiian scenario, a special case, into the canon, the universal reference to explain the genesis of contact languages throughout the world (Crowley 1990: 385-387). Finally he came to a neutral conclusion, after all, close to the schemas put forward by Mühlhäusler (1978: 95) or Keesing (1988: 5), which recognised that different forces are at work in the whole pidginisation or creolisation process (second-language learning, substrate, superstate, universale). Crowley concludes, summing up the debates: Bickerton, in his substratophobic zeal, will no doubt concentrate on the other explanations. Keesing, in his substratophile mania, sees nothing but substratum. I see no problem, either theoretical or practical, in accepting both possibilities. (Crowley 1990: 390)

However, one can only regret the absence of any reference to the Australian scene (even the works of Troy were not yet in existence). The port of Sydney has at every moment of the history of these Pidgin Englishes played a more or less direct role which should not be omitted.

3.3.

Conclusion

A great deal has been said about contact languages, on their genesis, but perhaps not everything. Whatever the case, the field was so vast and so varied that it was better to distribute the tasks as was attempted in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University. In spite of this, one can only remain puzzled as to why the last contact language described, New South Wales Pidgin, was the first to appear. In fact, all Pacific pidginists, the South Pacific specialists discussed above, are in agreement in recognising that pidginisation is the result of different concomitant processes which build up in greater or lesser proportions according to place and circumstance. It is as if the South Pacific was like an immense kaleidoscope highlighting in turn such and such a process,

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these processes yielding to other processes which become dominant. Everything is linked together, all the elements present, with the substrate in the background, playing its part.

Endnotes 1. When he arrived in Lamap, southeast Malakula, right at the beginning of the 1970s, Jean-Michel Charpentier wished to learn Bislama. He chose as his consultants the oldest members of the community, those who had been born or were very young when the Catholic Mission was established in Port Sandwich in 1887. Unbeknown to him, Charpentier was to be initiated into an obsolete variety of Bislama, one which would soon disappear. Noun plurals were indicated by preposed olgeta (still in existence today in Solomons Pijin), thus: olgeta pikinini 'the children', olgeta woman 'the women'. Totality was always expressed by the post-posed marker evriwan, as in olgeta pikinini evriwan 'all the children', olgeta woman evriwan 'all the women'. One of the major differences from modern Bislama resided in the pronominal system. While the singular pronouns were mi, yu and hem, the first two were always repeated (except in the imperative: yu kakae\ 'You eat!'), thus: mi mi kakae Ί eat', yu yu kakae 'you eat', without apparent emphasis or topicalisation. The third person singular was invariably hem i. This pronominal repetition was required with all other pronouns in simple sentences with a new subject (the only type of sentence observed in the few notes available was the use of the repeated pronoun dropped in cases where the actor did not change in subsequent clauses?). Thus yumi yumi go 'we two go'. Yumi (dual) did not express a plural, as it does currently. The plural was expressed by yumi olgeta, thus: yumi olgeta yumi go 'we go (more than two)'. No inclusive/exclusive opposition was recorded. The alternates yumi/*mifela were not taught to Charpentier, particularly not as pronouns, as the term fela remained a noun as in English. Thus: Tu fela kam 'the two (animate) came'; olgeta fela kam 'the (animates) came'. The second person plural was yu olgeta 'you (more than two)' or yu olgeta evriwan 'you all'. No form appears in Charpentier's notes for a possible second person dual form. The third person plural was olgeta 'they', and the dual tugeta 'they two', which appears to be calqued on the previous form.

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Summary: 1 sg

mi mi go

2sg

yuyugo

3sg

hem i go

lpl ldl 2pl 2dl 3pl 3dl

yumi olgeta yumi go yumi yumi go (you and me/he and me) yu olgeta yu go ?? olgeta olgeta go tugeta tugeta go

It was quite by chance that in 1996 Charpentier rediscovered his notes on this pronominal system indicative of the pidgin spoken by very elderly speakers bom at the end of the nineteenth century. They had at some time been placed in one of his books as a place marker. This was all that remained of notes taken in February 1970. Even the two surviving verb roots are insufficient to indicate whether there was at that time vowel harmony between the verb root and the transitive suffix. It is interesting, however, to very briefly compare these notes with the observations of Father Pionnier, who was the resident missionary at Port Sandwich during the period 1894-1900, exactly the period of Charpentier's elderly informants. In Pionnier's writings plural marking is far from being clearly defined. It was as if it remained to be fixed. In fact, there are only two plural entries in his lexicon, and both bear the English - s final. Thus: doigts: fineguers ('fingers': fineguers); oeuf: enguiss ('egg': enguiss); 'to cook eggs' You koukime en 'guisse. Ol, which is often attested, is never a plural, but rather an indefinite ('any' in English and 'tout' in French). Thus: ol tigne 'things', or ol man 'any man', ol oumane 'any woman'. As for fala, Pionnier defines it as an abstract noun. At the entry fala, he gives the translation 'Member of the Holy Trinity' and shows that it is clearly used as a noun in long big fala Masta ia, i stap tri fala. It is not certain that Keesing is right when he interprets the absence of an inclusive/exclusive opposition in the work of Pionnier as the result of his inability to recognise such a distinction (Keesing 1988: 140). It is strange (for those unaware of the context) that seventy years later, at exactly the same place, an almost identical pronoun system was presented to an expatriate. Was it that the old-timers of Port Sandwich had a tok-boe register, a simplified pidgin, which they used when speaking to 'Mastas'? 2. Before the end of 1970 many young men returned from New Caledonia, where they had been working for six months or a year. Charpentier, tired

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of hearing that he spoke old-fashioned Bislama, decided to bring himself up to date. In fact, 1969-1972 was the time of the "nickel boom", which was the occasion of the interaction of many linguistic groups, leading to the rapid standardisation of Bislama, since thousands of ni-Vanuatu were thrown together in the workplace. If one looks at the historical and socio-linguistic context of the Port Sandwich region, it is easy to understand that a linguistic isolate could have survived there. During the 1880s, French planters became established there (at least four plantations). They rubbed shoulders with another twenty families who earned their living as traders. There was an excellent deepwater anchorage where steam ships could call for coaling. There was even a hotel to accommodate disembarking passengers. The local inhabitants who lived around the settlement must have very early on spoken pidgin with the variously employed Europeans and the soldiers of the French garrison which was there for some years. Then the soldiers left, the steam ships disappeared, the plantations went into decline, and the Catholic Mission, whose national headquarters was Port Sandwich, transferred it to Port Vila, by then undergoing rapid expansion. Opportunities to use pidgin became quite rare for the people of Port Sandwich. The Catholic missionaries spoke to them in their own language and then increasingly in French. As far as communication with neighbouring villages was concerned, this was always carried out in the local vernacular languages, all closely related. In such circumstances it is not surprising that an isolate could have survived for more than half a century. The change-over to "general" pidgin was accomplished in only a few years. The inclusive/exclusive opposition already in use among the younger generation, understood but not used by the older generation, became generalised. The predicate marker i was more and more commonly used, although sometimes it was in free variation with oli, as noted by Charpentier (1979: 310). In addition to all of the precautions required when one finds a pidgin quotation in literature, one has to ask oneself whether it is really representative of the pidgin spoken at the date to which it refers.

Chapter 4 Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863

In this chapter we consider the history of European-Pacific Islander and Islander to Islander contact from the foundation of modern Australia in 1788 until 1863, which date marks the beginning of Pacific Island labour recruiting for Queensland, Fiji, New Caledonia and Samoa (Jourdan 1983). The plantation period, which extended approximately from 1863 to 1906 will be treated separately, in Chapter 6. The year 1906 marks the establishment of the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides, known since 1980 as the independent Republic of Vanuatu. The period 1788-1863 will be discussed mainly in terms of a number of key sites, namely Sydney, Fiji, Tonga, the Marquesas and Society Islands, the Cook Islands, Kiribati, and Ponape, detailing the mostly maritime contacts which flourished increasingly during that period. These areas have previously received little attention in the literature on Pacific Pidgins. The history of European maritime contacts with the Loyalty Islands, New Caledonia and Vanuatu (formerly the New Hebrides), better known from earlier literature (Clark 1979, Crowley 1990, Howe 1977), completes the picture. A. The Australian scene As a locus for the development of Pacific pidgins, Sydney is of prime importance in two respects. First it was an important locus where interaction and communication between the Australian Aboriginal tribes and the new settlers and convicts from England gradually developed. The area of interaction expanded as settlements spread north along the coast of New South Wales and then west and south as new areas were opened up to agricultural exploitation. Secondly Sydney was one of the leading maritime hubs in the southern hemisphere, out of which operated a huge whaling and sealing industry which covered not only Tasmania and the Southern Ocean, but also extended beyond New Zealand right across the Pacific. The size of the Sydney-based whaling and sealing operation was even greater than that operating through Ponape (see below). Apart from the whaling and sealing industries, Sydney was also a hub for a vast Pacific commercial trading network, which extended to the Society Islands, Hawaii and beyond, to say

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nothing of the ships which plied the regular trading routes to China, India, Indonesia, the Philippines and the Cape Colony in South Africa. In the first half of the nineteenth century Sydney became a veritable melting pot where there was linguistic input from Pacific shipping, contributing to the development of an evolving pidgin in New South Wales. In turn the pidgin developing out in the Pacific at the same period, perhaps better referred to as a jargon, received input from New South Wales pidgin as it was developing in Sydney and neighbouring areas along the north coast, up as far as Port Stephens. This symbiosis is one of the key features in understanding the evolution and development of pidgins both in Australia and in the Pacific. The development of an English-based pidgin in New South Wales was a natural consequence of the complex linguistic situation the first settlers encountered among the Aboriginal populations with whom they interacted. Capell (1970) has mapped the Aboriginal languages and dialects of Sydney and surrounding areas, as far north as Awaba, the language of the Awabakal, north of Gosford (Map 2). A glance at this map immediately shows the numerous speech varieties with which the new arrivals had to contend. There were even two different languages spoken in the inner Sydney area, one on the north shore and another on the south. The language distribution maps published by Oates and Oates (1970) (Map 3) show the complexity of the Aboriginal language situation throughout New South Wales.12 The British government had a policy of assimilation of the Aboriginal population, during the first decades of colonisation at least (Troy 1994), and thus early attempts at communication were carried out in English. As in numerous other colonising situations around the world, attempts at communication used a very telegraphic simplified form of English. It was this nonstandard code which slowly developed into what was to become New South Wales Pidgin English, as contact between the Aboriginal and European populations increased.

12. This linguistic diversity is replicated throughout Aboriginal Australia, with an estimated 200-300 languages spoken Australia-wide at the time of European contact (Wurm 1972, Dixon 1980).

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New South Wales

4.1.1. Sydney The colony of New South Wales was founded in 1788 when the First Fleet, led by Captain Arthur Phillip, cast anchor in Botany Bay on 20 January. Because of a lack of a suitable fresh water supply and poor soil in Botany Bay, the fleet moved to Port Jackson in Sydney harbour on January 26 and from that time until 1813 New South Wales encompassed all of the east coast of Australia. However, it was not until 1798 that George Bass and Matthew Flinders established that Tasmania (then called Van Diemen's Land) was a separate island. Coincidentally, the French explorer Jean-Francis Galaup de La Perouse sailed into Botany Bay on 26 January 1788 after a severe attack on his crew on Tutuila, Samoa, an attack which was widely publicised and caused shipping to steer clear of Samoa for many years. La Perouse and his ships sailed away from Sydney a few days later, bound for the South Seas, never to be seen again, as they became victims of a fierce cyclone which dashed the Astrolabe and the Boussole against the reefs off Vanikoro in the far south-east of the Solomon Islands . In the earliest period of the colony, 1788-1792, settlement in New South Wales was confined to the immediate Sydney area. In fact, it spread from around Sydney Cove, Port Jackson, only as far as Parramatta, with exploratory sorties into the surrounding Cumberland Plain towards the Hawkesbury River. In June 1790 the Second Fleet arrived from England, bringing more male convicts, a large number of female convicts, some free settlers and the first detachment of the New South Wales Corps. From this time until about 1830, the main areas settled were the Cumberland Plain, the north coast of New South Wales, around the Hunter River district, and the south coast, focussing on the Illawarra area, the area around Wollongong. Other key areas of settlement established in this period were the Port Stephens and the Bathurst districts. The first settlement outside the Cumberland Plain was on the north coast at Newcastle in 180413 and the Hunter River district. Some Sydney Aboriginal people travelled north with the colonists, but more commonly 13. A penal colony, it remained a place of punishment for locally convicted criminals until the early 1820s.

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Hunter River Aboriginals travelled up and down to Sydney acting as messengers (Troy 1994). In this context it is important to recall that there was quite a large number of Aboriginal languages spoken in New South Wales at that time (see Maps 2 and 3, above). Thus the Newcastle settlement used the incipient pidgin lingua franca developing in Sydney, spreading its currency and ensuring its survival in Australia. Timbergetters moved south into the Illawarra by about 1815, in search of cedar along the Shoalhaven River, and from that time onward land was granted to settlers in that area. By 1830, most of the land on the south coast had been divided up, and the town-sites of Wollongong and Kiama already earmarked. By 1820, then, European settlement had begun to spread beyond the Cumberland Plain, a slow progression until the great land-rushes of the 1830s and 1840s. During this time the early New South Wales Pidgin in use in Sydney became a widely-used vehicle of cross-cultural communication and the spread of the settlement became the vehicle for its gradual stabilisation and expansion. At the same time, there was considerable commercial maritime activity in the South Pacific, much of it centering on Sydney. In this connection it is noteworthy that all of the salt-pork for the new British colony was imported from the Society Islands until 1830 with regular return voyages from Sydney (Maude 1968). At the same time, there is considerable evidence that in the early nineteenth century Aboriginal people often joined the crews of whaling and fishing vessels, operating out of Port Stephens and Boydtown on the South Coast of New South Wales (Troy 1994). Most Aboriginal people participated in the European settlers' economy by engaging in casual employment on farms, assisting in the drawing of fish nets or bringing their own catch to Sydney for sale (Mann 1811 [1979]). Some Aboriginal people had farms where they grew crops such as maize. Others "made themselves extremely useful on board colonial vessels employed in the fishing and sealing trade" (Mann 1811 [1979]: 47). In 1825 a mission to the local Aboriginal population was opened at Lake Macquarie by the Rev Lancelot Threlkeld. He records that the Aboriginal population on the north coast was "connected in a kind of circle extending to the Hawkesbury and Port Stephens" (Threlkeld 1825: 186). He reports too that fishing, sealing and whaling vessels often called in along the coast.

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4.1.2. Port Stephens Robert Dawson, manager Australian Agricultural Company 1824—28, was the first person to establish a permanent settlement in the Port Stephens district. He had a vessel, the Balberook, which made numerous trips between Port Stephens and Sydney. Interestingly, in terms of pidgin development, Dawson appointed Crosely, an Aboriginal, captain of his vessel. In 1825 when Dawson was exploring the north coast of New South Wales there were many Aboriginal people who were assisting colonists. They acted as guides and informants, procurers and preparers of food and general hands on expeditions. Dawson had extremely good relations with the Aboriginal population of the district, such that there was constant interaction between them and the settlers, creating a very favourable climate for the development of a lingua franca.

4.1.3. Bathurst Bathurst was the first inland settlement in Australia, providing a gateway for further settlement of New South Wales. Contact between Aboriginal people and colonists there goes back to 1813 (as the pastoral industry expanded), although the major influx of settlers was not until the 1830s, by which time New South Wales Pidgin was widespread and considerably stabilised. 1830s accounts suggest that most Aboriginal people of the district were affected by the settlement and many developed a symbiotic relationship with the settlers. However, there was sometimes severe conflict between stockmen and Aboriginals, mainly due to the former group's taking of Aboriginal women. Extant literature concerning this area dates only from the late 1830s onwards. In 1823 Governor Brisbane established a penal settlement in the Wellington district, west of Bathurst. However, Governor Darling abandoned the settlement in 1830, although there was ongoing German missionary activity with the Aborigines in the area (Bridges 1978). The successful settlement of the Bathurst district encouraged further exploration of the Murray Basin, and a stock route developed between Bathurst and the Molonglo and Murrumbidgee rivers (see Map 3. Eastern Australia). Between 1826 and 1829 much of the land between the Lachlan and the Macquarie was occupied for grazing.

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New South Wales Pidgin data recorded from Bathurst and the inland districts from the 1830s and 1840s (see Troy 1994 and Chapter 5) are very similar to those recorded for the mid to late 1820s in the Port Stephens area, suggesting continuity of development.

4.1.4. The Monaro district The Monaro was not settled until the 1830s and the data for this district do not provide many new insights regarding New South Wales Pidgin apart from confirming that it was used colony-wide as a lingua franca with only a little regional variation. In the 1840s it was observed that "although the language of the aborigines varies most remarkably in different parts....there is a sort of slang in which communication is held between them and the white people, common to all parts of the colony." (Harris 1849 [1967]: 224). In the early 1830s the south coast of the Monaro was a major whaling and fishing centre for the colony. It employed a number of Aboriginal people at Eden, training them as whaling crewmen. Ben Boyd was one of the leading figures in this industry and indeed in the developing pastoral industry. It was he who imported 65 young men from the Loyalty Islands in 1847 to work as shepherds or labourers on his pastoral properties (Clark 1979: 369). However, their stay there was short-lived, and many drifted to Sydney to seek work as domestics {Australian 1847).

4.1.5. The Port Phillip district In July 1851 the Port Phillip district achieved independence from New South Wales and was declared the Colony of Victoria. As part of New South Wales it was not really colonised until 1836, when graziers settled there. A steady stream of settlers moved to Victoria overland from the north, although other early immigrants arrived from Sydney (and Tasmania) by sea. While Melbourne became the commercial focus, the economy of Port Phillip was based on grazing and agriculture until gold was discovered in central Victoria in the early 1850s. However, Bass Strait and the coast of Port Phillip had provided New South Wales with an important economic resource in the form of whaling and sealing up until that time.

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In the settlement of Melbourne, Aboriginal people from Sydney were taken to help the colonists in their dealings with the local Aboriginal people. Thus there was a strong link between Sydney and Melbourne, so perpetuating the use of New South Wales pidgin throughout what today are the states of New South Wales and Victoria.

4.1.6. Summary Evidence from early Australian literature shows clearly that New South Wales Pidgin first developed in the Sydney district in the late eighteenth and very early nineteenth century. It was expanded and developed in the districts north of Sydney around Newcastle and Port Stephens up until around 1830. From the late 1830s onwards, New South Wales Pidgin was taken into the western and southern districts of New South Wales (where some of the earlier lexical forms were relexified with Wiradjuri borrowings, and later, borrowings from Victorian languages) as new pastoral frontiers were opened up.

4.2.

Queensland

While Sydney and adjacent areas of New South Wales were the locus of the earliest settlement in Australia, there was a gradual move north by colonists into that part of the state which was later to become Queensland. This movement began as early as 1823, with steady activity from that time onward, prior to the beginning of the plantation era in Queensland forty years later. Indeed, Dutton (1983: 109) concludes that what he terms "Queensland Pidgin English" is a direct descendant of New South Wales Pidgin English. However, according to him, it developed its own characteristics in different parts of the state. Dutton distinguishes two strands initially: a coastal one, slow to emerge, diverging from New South Wales Pidgin due mainly to the influence of the Pacific Island labourers who came to work in Queensland from 1863, and an inland variety which was basically New South Wales Pidgin transplanted, with the addition of some new Aboriginal lexical items. By the end of the recruiting period, 1906, (see Chapter 6) the inland variety had stabilised and with the repatriation of the Pacific Islanders it became dominant, even in coastal areas of Queensland. It was from this

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speech variety that modern-day varieties of Aboriginal English developed, such as Cape York Creole, Torres Strait Creole (Broken), Palm Island Aboriginal English, Northern Territory Kriol and Fitzroy Valley Kriol.14 Queensland developed via two main routes, the first via a coastal sea route, populating what is today south-east Queensland from Sydney, and the second via an inland route, settled by squatters coming overland from inland New South Wales. The earliest contact between Europeans and Queensland Aborigines was a mapping trip to Moreton Bay by the explorer Matthew Flinders in 1799.15 John Oxley visited the area in 1823, looking for a suitable site to establish a convict settlement for doubly convicted convicts from New South Wales. Dutton (1983: 95) considers that the pidgin which developed during this early period in Moreton Bay was basically the same as the emergent New South Wales Pidgin, with a possible overlay from Moreton Bay Aboriginal languages. After 1823 conditions changed, with much closer contact between Aborigines and Europeans. In 1824 Oxley returned to Moreton Bay to establish the proposed convict colony at present-day Redcliffe. When that site proved unhealthy, the settlement was moved upstream to where Brisbane stands today. The convict settlement remained there until the end of the convict period, in 1842, gradually developing into the capital of what became the state of Queensland. The local Australian Aborigines had little initial contact with Europeans there, free settlers not being allowed within fifty miles of the convict settlement. They did, however, take care of and live with a number of escapee convicts, some for over ten years. In fact Dutton (1983: 96) reports that some of these escapees were later used as interpreters by the government (Skinner 1974: 10) and by the German missionaries (Gunson 1960-61: 526). In the 1820s and 30s much of the contact between Aborigines and Europeans involved the sexual exploitation of Aboriginal women, and this widespread contact would have been an important element in the development and spread of Pidgin English in Queensland. In 1837 the Reverend J.C.S. Handt, a German missionary of the Gossner Mission, moved from Wellington in New South Wales to Moreton Bay as chaplain to the convict settlement and missionary to the local Aborigi14. These varieties are not treated here as they are outside the scope of this book. Readers are referred to Crowley & Rigsby (1979), Shnukal (1985, 1988, 1991), Harris (1986), Mühlhäusler & McGregor (1996). 15. Apart from Captain Cook's exploratory visit in 1770.

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nes. He had worked with Aborigines in the Wellington area for four years (1832-36). His task was a difficult one, as the Wiradjuri language, which he had been using in his work in New South Wales, was useless in the Brisbane area. In 1838 he reported that 200-300 Aborigines were living in the area, whose knowledge of "English" was much more limited than in the colonised areas of New South Wales. He persisted, however, and was soon able to converse with the Aborigines, using a mixture of what he had learned of their language and their broken English (Bridges 1978: 811). The German missionaries did not speak good English. They admitted themselves that they were only able to communicate with them because they spoke "broken English" (Dutton 1983: 99). The Mission effort was generally a failure, gradually closing down its operations in the Brisbane area between 1841 and 1850. Around this time the convict settlement was closed down and the area opened up for colonisation by free settlers. By the time that Queensland separated from New South Wales, in 1859, most of the land around Brisbane had been alienated. Prior to the end of the convict settlement period, 1842, a squatter reports that he went on an excursion to look for better land with an Aborigine called Jimmy Beerwah, who could speak "dog English" or "blackfellow slang", since he had been at the German Mission in Brisbane. He also observes that this "slang" was difficult to understand, that is that it contained some significant differences from New South Wales Pidgin. It is clear from the records, however, that what was spoken was already a restricted Pidgin English containing many typical Pidgin English features. It was almost certainly based on New South Wales Pidgin, as it contained several vocabulary items of New South Wales origin, for example budgery 'good', bael/bel 'no, not', gin 'Aboriginal woman'. It did, however, contain a number of peculiarly Queensland lexical items such as humpy 'shelter, house',yacca 'work' and kippa 'boy, young man' (Dutton 1983: 101). At the end of the convict period, the Moreton Bay area was thrown open to settlement and the land was taken up rapidly. There was an increasing need for labour to build up the new state of Queensland, and, as settlement spread along the coast, so too did the use of Pidgin English. The Aboriginal content of this pidgin appears to have diminished at the expense of English as European contact around Brisbane increased. Indeed, by the time Queensland achieved statehood in 1859 a fairly standardised Pidgin English had developed there, based on earlier New South Wales Pidgin, which in turn owes much to its extensive maritime contacts with the Pacific Islands, mainly through the port of Sydney, to that point. The major

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characteristics of this Pidgin are exemplified in Petrie (1904), the bulk of which is discussed in Dutton 1983: 102-104. Inland from Brisbane and Moreton Bay there was also a move from New South Wales into western and southern Queensland. Squatters and their recruited Aboriginal helpers drove flocks of sheep up to the Darling Downs, west of the convict settlement, by as early as 1840. Reynolds (1978) records that by the early 1850s most of the good land in the Brisbane, Burnett and Mary River valleys had been taken up. The tolerant relations which had previously prevailed between Europeans and Aborigines degenerated as the Aborigines realised that the Europeans were effectively depriving them of their land and their livelihood. In 1848 a police force was established, a native police force, sections of which were located at different stations throughout the region in order to help control the situation. The sections themselves consisted of a number of Aboriginal troopers drawn from western and north-western New South Wales. In summary, the squatters and police followed an inland route to Queensland, and thus had no contact with the coastal region. Accordingly, New South Wales Pidgin became the lingua franca of the region occupied by the squatters. Because of the speed of settlement in the inland regions, the inland Queensland Aborigines would have acquired Pidgin English much faster than their coastal cousins. Consequently they would have adopted less Aboriginal vocabulary in the inland variety. Dutton (1983: 107) concludes that the coastal and inland varieties of Pidgin were structurally very similar, sharing a considerable body of common vocabulary. There were a few notable exceptions, however, such as the use of -im in the inland variety instead of the coastal variety -it to mark transitivity.

4.3.

South Australia, Northern Territory and Western Australia

As discussed above, the pidgin varieties spoken in the inland areas of Australia followed a different developmental route from the New South WalesQueensland coastal-Pacific pidgin varieties. Accordingly they are not given more than a summary mention in this work, with references to relevant major studies. The history of language contact in South Australia in the nineteenth century is still relatively undocumented, although Dineen and Mühlhäusler (1996), and Foster, Monaghan and Mühlhäusler (in press), have made a significant start. As with other areas of Australia, a major difficulty lies in

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the fact that records rely on European recall of events, committed to writing often some time after the event. The colony of South Australia was established in 1836, with Adelaide as its capital. Dineen and Mühlhäusler (1996: 84) report that there were direct and indirect contacts between the Aboriginal people and the colonists. Even before colonisation, however, there was contact with American whaling and sealing ships, which regularly plied the Southern Ocean, some transporting teams of sealers and their Aboriginal women from site to site. Clark (1996: 3) records that "In 1820, there were an estimated fifty sealers with about a hundred Aboriginal wives and children, living in the Bass Straits to Kangaroo Island region." Many of the Aboriginal women were from Tasmania, although they were also known to have been abducted from the South Australian mainland and Port Lincoln. It is also known that a number of Aboriginal men from Sydney were involved in the sealing industry and that there was at least one who was recorded as living on Kangaroo Island (Cumpston 1970). It would appear that New South Wales Pidgin English (along with the whalers' and sealers' jargon) spread to South Australia. Indeed it is reported that: With the establishment of South Australia, a number of sealers moved from Kangaroo Island to work in the whaling establishment at Encounter Bay. Some were engaged as interpreters and mediators by the South Australian colonists in their dealings with the Aboriginal population. (Dineen & Mühlhäusler 1996: 86)

During the period up to 1860, there were other contacts between the colonists and Aboriginal groups, especially the Kaurna people, the Aboriginal inhabitants of the Adelaide area. Missions played an important role, too, in the south-east of the state, with the establishment there of the Adelaide Mission in 1838 and the German Dresden Mission in 1839. The Anglican Church set up a mission at Port Lincoln in 1850. Significant, too, from the point of view of the spread and development of New South Wales Pidgin English, was the development of the pastoral industry in South Australia. By 1839 cattle were driven overland from New South Wales, along a route which followed the Murrumbidgee and Murray Rivers from Limestone Plains in New South Wales to Adelaide. It would appear that this cattle route was an important vector for the spread of Pidgin English from the eastern seaboard. By 1850 pastoral development covered most of the available grasslands in South Australia, with numbers of Aborigines being employed as stock-

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men on pastoral leases and stock routes, so ensuring some continuity of contact in the cattle industry right across the inland from New South Wales, at first with South Australia, but later spreading north and west as far as the Northern Territory and Western Australia. The development of Pidgin English in the Northern Territory is well documented through the work of Harris (1986), Shnukal (1988) and Sandefur (1979, 1986). Very briefly, the first English-based pidgin in the Northern Territory is recorded at Port Essington, a military garrison, the precursor of Darwin, around 1838, referred to by Shnukal (1988: 154) as perhaps a relexified form of an earlier Macassar Pidgin (developed between Macassan traders from Indonesia to the north, and the coastal Aborigines of the north coast of Australia16). Like its unfortunate predecessors, Fort Dundas and Fort Wellington (1824-1829), Port Essington was abandoned in 1849. After Darwin was founded in 1870, a Pidgin English developed there as a lingua franca between the Larrakia Aborigines and the settlers, many of whom came from New South Wales, Queensland and South Australia. It is this factor, and others adduced by Harris (1986), which ensured continuity of development from the inland variety of New South Wales Pidgin referred to in the preceeding section, above, as the Northern Territory Kriol or Pidgin of today. Shnukal (1988: 155) sums up the situation well: The most important period of pidgin development in the Northern Territory, however, is linked to the increasing European presence that followed the establishment of the pastoral frontier. From the 1870s squatters had begun to move from Queensland into the northern part of the Northern Territory and from there into the Kimberley region of north-western Western Australia. Throughout the 1880s and 1890s permanent European settlement, chiefly on pastoral properties and in frontier towns with their mix of Europeans, Aborigines and Chinese, led to the diffusion of forms of pidgin English throughout most of outback Australia.

Western Australia is home to a number of extinct and extant pidgins, not all English-based, among them Nyungar Pidgin English or Southwestern Pidgin English, pidgin Malay, Broome Pearl Lugger Pidgin, and a variety of Northern Territory or Outback Pidgin. When the first European settlers arrived in Perth in 1830, they encountered a large and fairly homogeneous Aboriginal language group, the Nyungar, whose language/dialects covered much of the southwest of 16. See Harris (1986) and Macknight (1976).

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Western Australia. However, this was never used as a vehicle of communication between Europeans and Aborigines. An English-based contact language did emerge, separate from the New South Wales Pidgin tradition, the result of Nyungar-European contacts in the 1830s. The resulting Nyungar Pidgin English went into decline in the southwest, as the Aboriginal population there diminished, although it did undergo a rebirth as a lingua franca between Aboriginal groups up to 700 kilometres north of Perth, having stabilised in the Rottnest Island prison, where Aborigines from all over the colony were incarcerated. Nyungar Pidgin English was also diffused north along the stock-routes, as cattle were moved from the southwest of the state right up to the Pilbara region in the north. (Mühlhäusler & McGregor 1996: 104). This Pidgin was to become the working language in the pearling industry in the Cossack/Roebourne area in the 1870s.' 7 In the Kimberley region, there were two forms of Pidgin English, one emanating from the south, used in coastal regions, and one emanating from the Northern Territory, used on the cattle stations. This latter variety of Pidgin was a continuation of the original New South Wales Pidgin, which explains the striking similarities between Kimberleys Pidgin and Northern Territory Kriol today. A pidginised form of Malay was used as a means of communication between the Aborigines of northwestern Australia and the Macassarese traders between the late eighteenth and twentieth centuries, but more importantly the use of Pidgin Malay or Broome Pearl Lugger Pidgin coincides with the development of the pearling industry later in the nineteenth century. 18

17. In the 1890s the pearling fleet moved from Cossack to Broome, and Asian labour was introduced. Two pidgins were used, one Malay-based, on board the pearl luggers, and one English-based, on shore. (See Mühlhäusler & McGregor 1996: 105, for further details). 18. By 1900 there were approximately 1,000 Malays working in Broome, largely replaced in the 1920s by Japanese divers. Broome Pearl Lugger Malay is outside the scope of this study. See Hosokawa (1987) for a full discussion.

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4.4.

Tasmania

Contacts between Tasmanian Aborigines, who numbered around 4,000 at the time of first European contact (Crowley 1996: 25), began in the early 1800s. Tasmania was first occupied by colonists in 1803. The following year saw the arrival of 181 persons, including 74 convicts and 40 free settlers, for the establishment of Tasmania as a penal colony was meant to relieve the pressure on Norfolk Island, until then the major convict destination in Australia. Relations between the European colonists and the Tasmanian Aborigines were increasingly hostile, as the Europeans pushed further and further into rural areas. Indeed, in 1828 Governor Arthur attempted to impose a partition on Tasmania, excluding Aborigines from settler areas. Eventually all the Aborigines living in the Tasmanian bush were relocated on Flinders Island, in Bass Strait between 1829 and 1834. By this time the Tasmanian Aboriginal population had fallen from an estimated 4,000 to only "a couple of hundred" (Crowley 1996: 26), as a result of introduced diseases and murder. However, the islands of Bass Strait, between the Tasmanian mainland and Victoria, were not under government control and enjoyed a very different regime of race relations. These islands were rich in seals, and even before the official settlement of Tasmania in 1804, they were visited by sealers from Sydney and the United States of America. By 1810 there was a flourishing trade between the Aborigines and the sealers, so much so that by 1820 there were approximately fifty men and one hundred Aboriginal women, and their mixed-race offspring, living on the islands of Bass Strait. These islands were uninhabited before European contact. By the 1830s seal numbers had declined, leading to a reduction in sealing activity. We know little about the contact language or languages spoken between the sealers and the Aborigines on the islands, except that it had a basically English-derived lexicon, with some vocabulary drawn from the eastern Tasmanian Aboriginal languages. Davies (1846), who arrived in Tasmania in 1831 remarks: The aborigines from the westward, and those from the eastward, did not at first understand each other, when brought to Flinders' Island (the present establishment of the blacks), but they afterwards, in common with the whites, used a kind of lingua franca... The lingua franca before alluded to as spoken at Flinders' Island, is a mixture of English, words from the different tribes, and a number of words from the New Holland tribes, and even from

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other countries; these last have been introduced by the women, aborigines of Van Diemen's Land, who have lived for many years with sealers, and been with them to the continent; even negro words have been introduced... (Plomley 1976: 29-30) In the Hobart area, an Aboriginal girl, Truganini, and her friends, all of whom came from Bruny Island, are known to have consorted with European whalers and sealers and would almost certainly have picked up an early form of Pacific Pidgin, often known as South Seas Jargon. This jargon was fairly widely known in the Pacific by the 1830s, often through the agency of whalers, see below. When the remaining mainland Tasmanian Aborigines were moved into a single community on Flinders Island in the 1830s, they were joined by some of the sealers' women from Bass Strait, who would have been Pacific Jargon speakers. It is likely that this early pidgin would have become the lingua franca of the Aboriginal community, who spoke a number of quite different Aboriginal languages, although there would have been a fair measure of Tasmanian Aboriginal vocabulary in this lingua franca, unknown outside Tasmania, if the account reported by Plomley (1976: 39) may be taken as typical. However, the original Tasmanian Aboriginal race came to a rapid and tragic end. Crowley reports (1996: 30) that of the 135 people who had been relocated on Flinders Island from the mainland of Tasmania in 1834, only 47 survived by 1847, when a decision was made to move them back to the mainland, at Oyster Cove, south of Hobart. The last of the men, William Lanney, died in 1867, while Truganini, the last of the women, and with her the last of the Tasmanian languages, died in Hobart in 1876. B. Australia-South Pacific island maritime links 4.5.

Summary of recorded South Pacific voyages 1788-1840

The following diagram summarises the major maritime links emanating from the port of Sydney from the colonisation of Australia in 1788 until 1840, based on the detailed records prepared by Cumpston (1963) and Nicholson (1977).

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PNG

PON

Figure 3. Recorded South Pacific voyages 1788-1840 Abbreviations: QLD Queensland VIC Victoria PNG Papua New Guinea VAN Vanuatu NCA New Caledonia NZE New Zealand PON Ponape SAM Samoa HAW Hawaii TAH Tahiti

SYD TAS SOL LOY NOR CAN FIJ TON MQA COO

Sydney Tasmania Solomon Islands Loyalty Islands Norfolk Island Canton Fiji Is Tonga Marquesas Islands Cook Islands

HAW

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4.5.1. Detailed record of Sydney-Pacific islands shipping 1788-1840 In addition to the island to island connections charted in the diagram above, detailed year-by-year shipping records of maritime movements to and from Sydney, with routing and often cargo details, are available for the periods 1788-1825 (Cumpston 1963) and 1826-1840 (Nicholson 1977). A summary of these details is presented below, as follows: a. 1788-1825 Table 1. Sydney-Pacific Island shipping 1788-1825 NZE 1792 1793 1794 1795 1796 1797 1798 1799

NCA

FIJ

TON

HAW

MQA

1793 1794

1798

1798

1800 1801

1801 1802 1803

1802 1803 1804 1805 1806 1807

1808 1809

1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821

TAH

1806

1804 1805

1805

1806

1806

1808

1808

1807

1808

1808

1807

1809 1810 1811

1809

1810

1812

1813 1814 1815

1814 1815

1816 1817

1817

1817

1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817

1818 1819 1821

1819 1820 1821

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1822

1822

1823 1824 1825

1823 1824 1825

1822

1823 1825

1823 1824 1825

b.1826-1840 Table 2. Sydney-Pacific Island shipping 1826-1840 NZE 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840

NCA

FIJ

1828

1832

TON 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833

HAW 1826

1829 1830 1831

1834

1834 1835 1836 1837 1839

1838 1839 1840

1839 1840

MQA

TAH 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840

The above tabulations ignore the very numerous coastal shipping movements between Sydney and points in northern New South Wales, for example Newcastle and Port Stephens, one of the earliest areas of pidgin development in New South Wales. Nor do they take into account the constant contact between Sydney, Hobart, Melbourne and right across to Albany in Western Australia. They do not reflect the constant traffic between Sydney and Norfolk Island, and Sydney and New Zealand, focussing here on contacts between Sydney and the islands of the South Pacific.

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4.5.2. Sydney-based Pacific shipping Right from the foundation of modern Australia in 1788 until the end of the period under consideration, 1863, Sydney was the centre of a flourishing maritime industry. The ships of the First Fleet, under the command of Captain Arthur Phillip, reached Sydney in 1788, bringing convicts to found what was initially a penal colony for English deportees. In mid 1790 the Second Fleet arrived from England with a very mixed passenger list: more male convicts, a large number of female convicts, some free settlers, and the first detachment of the New South Wales Corps. There was intensive maritime contact between Sydney and England, the shipping route being via the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa, the source of Australian sheep stock up until the turn of the nineteenth century. There was also extensive contact between Sydney, Batavia, India and China. These maritime contacts have only marginal importance for purposes of this chapter, which concentrates on contacts between Australia and the Pacific region. It should be noted, however, that the British Government, trading as the East India Company, had a exclusive monopoly over these trade routes until 1813 (Maude 1968), after which time private shipping firms were allowed to ply them. This monopoly did not, however, extend to the South Pacific, which was considered part of the Australian "domestic" maritime zone, thus allowing free commercial access right from the founding of the Colony of New South Wales in 1788. The "domestic" zone extended from Sydney eastwards as far as and including the Society Islands.

4.5.3. Norfolk Island The tiny island19 of Norfolk lies roughly 1,600 kilometres east-north-east of Sydney, claimed for Britain almost immediately after the settlement of New South Wales. From 1788 until 1814 Norfolk served as a branch of the penal settlement in Sydney. By 1804 the population there had reached 1,100 settlers and convicts. However, the lengthy and constant sea voyages between Sydney and Norfolk, and the expense of the operation led to its

19. Only 34.5 square kilometres.

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gradual abandonment in 1814, many of the inhabitants being transferred to Tasmania (Van Diemen's Land). Norfolk Island remained unoccupied from 1814 until 1825, when it was set aside as a penal settlement for the "colonially convicted", felons convicted for misdeeds committed in New South Wales. These included the worst of the prisoners from New South Wales and Tasmania. Conditions and the treatment meted out to the convicts were extremely harsh, finally resulting in a decision to close it down as a penal settlement in 1852, the last convicts leaving in 1856. The number of prisoners is estimated to have varied, during the period 1825-1856, between 1,600 and 2,000 {Australian encyclopedia 1927: 210). It is difficult to estimate the possible impact of the Sydney-Norfolk link, in terms of the development of an English-based Pacific Pidgin. However, given the administrative and supply function of these voyages, and the fact that Norfolk had no known prior inhabitants, and that it was abandoned between 1814 and 1825, suggests that it was relatively unimportant. During the "Second Period" (1825-1856) the major traffic between Sydney and Norfolk involved convict transport and administration, again an unlikely locus for contact and communication between Europeans and Pacific Islanders. On 8 June 1856, the Morayshire, a hired merchantman, arrived at Norfolk from Pitcairn Island to relocate the total population of 194 Pitcairners (40 adult males, 47 adult females, 54 boys and 53 girls), the descendants of the Bounty mutineers and their Tahitian wives, who had fled to Pitcairn in 1790 {Australian encyclopedia 1927: 210). The newcomers were given a grant of fifty acres of land per family, and were allowed to use the government buildings. However, many of the Pitcairners were homesick, in spite of their good treatment at the hands of the New South Wales administration. This resulted in sixteen Pitcairners returning to their home island in 1858, followed by another thirty in 1863. This separation of the two groups remains to this day. The Pitcairn/Norfolk population, developed a kind of simplified English, known as "Norfolk", which Laycock (1989) describes as a "cant", rather than a pidgin. This speech variety is still spoken today on both Norfolk and Pitcairn, together with standard English. This "cant" uses a lexicon which is of mixed English and Polynesian origin, making it quite different to the major English-based Pacific Pidgin which is the major interest of this volume. (For a detailed account, see Alice Buffett and Don Laycock 1988: Speak Norfolk today.)

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4.5.4. Whaling and sealing Almost from the foundation of the colony, whaling and sealing were major industries in Australian and New Zealand waters and right out across the Pacific. Eventually whaling was superseded in Sydney by wool, but even long after that time South Sea captains who cruised the Pacific whaling grounds would call at Sydney or Hobart. The American whalers, based in New England (Nantucket, New Bedford, etc.), were as familiar with Sydney and Hobart as they were with anchorages in Honolulu, Ponape or the Galapagos. Indeed, Cumpston (1963) records that there were forty-one American ships in and out of Port Jackson (Sydney) alone between 1788 and 1813. Although British or American whalers were operating in both the Eastern and Western Pacific by 1790 (Maude 1968: 235), they kept to the onshore grounds by the coasts of South America and Australia, and it was not until 1819 that they first reached Honolulu. From that base they began to range far and wide over the Pacific and within a few months had discovered both the prolific Japan grounds and the grounds straddling the equator. Whalers in and out of Sydney ranged far and wide in the decade prior to 1800, with considerable activity around New Zealand (especially Dusky Sound) and Norfolk Island. However, whaling was a Pacific-wide enterprise, even before the turn of the nineteenth century, with Sydney-based whalers travelling throughout the South Seas as far afield as Peru (1791) (Matilda, Mary Ann), New Caledonia and the Loyalty Islands (1798) (Eliza). The first Australasian sealing was done at Dusky Sound in New Zealand20 in 1792-93. In October 1798 the brig Nautilus sailed from Sydney to pioneer sealing in Bass Strait. From Bass Strait, the sealers worked right along the southern coast of Australia as far as the Swan River in Western

20. The "Pidgin English" which was reported from New Zealand was investigated by Clark. He concludes (1990: 108) that "while 'pidgin' in the strictest sense has never existed in New Zealand, at least up to the 1840s there were jargon versions of both Maori and English which were used in communication between the two peoples." The jargon English spoken in New Zealand was a local variety of South Seas Jargon, whose many varieties were to provide "the raw material from which Melanesian Pidgin was constructed." (Clark 1990: 107108).

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Australia. Sea elephants provided a good quantity of good oil and skins, which were transshipped to Sydney and then to England. The Australian whaling industry began in New South Wales as early as 1791 (Matilda, Mary Ann, Britannia, Salamander), the crew of the Britannia killing the first four whales on the New South Wales coast on 10 November of that year. They are recorded (Cumpston 1963) as calling at Port Stephens and Jervis Bay, while the William and Ann was involved in fishery activity at Broken Bay. Early whaling activity is also recorded in 1794 at Bateman's Bay {Speedy). However, the major thrust in the Australian whaling industry began in 1798 when Ebor Bunker, master of the William and Ann, persuaded the whaling firm of Champion to fit out the Albion for him to go whaling in Australian waters. The refitted Albion prospered mightily, taking home to England 155 tons of oil in 1801, 600 barrels in 1803, and 1400 barrels in 1804. On 5 June 1802 Governor King wrote of the whaling and sealing industries as "established". New South Wales, then, developed its own whaling fleet fairly early, having at least forty vessels engaged in the industry by 1833 (Shineberg 1967: 11) and sixty by 1838. In New South Wales Ben Boyd established the whaling industry at Boydtown in Twofold Bay in 1842. By 1848 nine sperm whalers operated from there, netting 500 tons of sperm oil, 200 tons of black oil and 10 tons of whalebone. Australian Aborigines were involved in this enterprise, as were Loyalty Islanders (and Tannese) imported specially by Boyd in 1847. In Sydney, Alexander Berry was the owner of several whalers. Their headquarters were at Berry's Bay in North Sydney. In Sirius Cove (now Mosman Bay) in the early 1840s Archibald Mosman and Captain Bell spent about £7000 in buildings and wharves for their whalers. Another whaling station was started at Gabo Island in the forties by the Imlay brothers. Like elsewhere in the Pacific, however, the whaling industry, while flourishing in the early decades of the century, fell off dramatically from the start of the 1860s, for in 1859 the first oil well was sunk in Texas, triggering the demise of the whaling industry in the Pacific. Tasmania and Bass Strait were also important in the Australian whaling and sealing industry,21 In January 1803 a report from King Island (in Bass Strait) stated that the sealers had killed 50 sea-elephants yielding 6000 gallons of oil. Even at this early stage the Americans were reported as beginning to come to the east coast of Australia, prompting King to issue a 21. See also 4.4., above.

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proclamation banning foreigners from building boats or vessels of any kind in Bass Strait. At that time there were nine London whalers on the station (King Island), employing about 270 seamen {Australian encyclopedia 1927: 660). In 1804 King reported that the Americans were seriously competing with the local men and that some American shipmasters had forcibly expelled the local men from the fishing-grounds of the islands adjacent to Tasmania. The whaling industry continued to grow in Tasmania. In 1841 there were 35 bay whaling stations there, each of them with four whaleboats manned by 7 men. In 1848, 37 whalers were registered at Hobart; their total tonnage was 8,616 and their crews numbered 1,046 {Australian encyclopedia 1927: 661). However, as was the case in New South Wales, the industry was in serious recession by 1860, and by 1870 there were only 17 locally-owned vessels engaged in the trade, and five years later only a dozen. There was, then, steady contact, in the early period, between the whalers and sealers and the Australian Aboriginal population, especially in Bass Strait (see 4.4. above) and on the coast of New South Wales. This early contact also concerned the whalers and Pacific Islanders through New Zealand, right across the South Pacific, providing a suitable environment for the development of contact speech varieties, perhaps best termed "jargons", which provided the foundation upon which Melanesian pidgins were to be built.

4.5.5. Tahiti (Society Islands and Marquesas Islands) It was to the South Seas that the first Australian governors and entrepreneurs looked for trade and provision of supplies. It was the geographical centre of all Polynesia, Tahiti, alone which possessed a surplus economic production sufficient to sustain regular trade in tropical fruits and vegetables, fowls and especially pigs. So it was that in the period 1800-1830, dominated by the Pomare family, the Tahitian pork trade flourished. The Tahitian chiefs were entrepreneurs themselves, with internal trading canoes plying between Tahiti and the many islands which constitute the Society Islands, trading European iron work for pearls and pearl-shell and pigs. Thus they readily accommodated to regular barter trading with the early explorers, Wallis, Cook and company, from 1767 onwards.

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The first commercial shipment from the Pacific Islands to Australia, one hundred live pigs purchased in Tahiti, arrived in Sydney on 20 April 1793, aboard the storeship Daedalus (Maude 1968: 183) on a voyage from the north-west coast of America to Port Jackson. It was not until Governor King, however, that there was much effort to promote commercial enterprise between Sydney and the Pacific (it must be remembered that all Australian external trade was the monopoly of the East India Company from the founding of the colony in 1788 until 1813), such trade with the Pacific being regarded as domestic and thus not infringing the rights of the East India Company. King was anxious to discover an alternative source of supply of pork, hitherto largely obtained from Great Britain. Salt pork was an important item in the ration issue of the civil and military establishment as well as the convicts, 4 lbs per week being the normal allocation. In 1801 he sent H.M. armed vessel the Porpoise to Tahiti to investigate possibilities of supply. The ship returned to Sydney with 31,000 lbs of excellent salt pork. In the meantime Pomare, King of Tahiti, prohibited the killing of pigs in order to build up stocks for the future trade with Australia. Scalding and salting apparatus were set up in Tahiti in a house provided by Pomare and in 1802 the Venus returned to Port Jackson with 123,000 lbs of pork aboard. (Maude records that the salt used in the salting process was obtained from Hawaii). Thus the earliest cargoes of pork were carried in government-owned or operated vessels. In 1802 private enterprise took over, with the Nautilus and the Margaret operating into Tahiti, but finding the going difficult as the price of pigs had risen considerably and their stocks reduced. They subsequently expanded their operation to the Leeward Islands of Borabora and Raiatea, bartering arms for pigs now. Between 1801 and 1805 some 350,000 lbs of pork had been traded between Tahiti and Australia, on an experimental basis, soon to consolidate. The first colonial-built vessel to visit Tahiti was the Hawkesbury, in 1806, chartered by Marsden to take supplies to the missionaries there. It was, however, at 18 tons too small to carry a commercial cargo. In 1807 John Macarthur and his business associate Garnham Blaxcell entered the field. They sent three ships: the brig Elizabeth, the Halcyon and the Parramatta. In 1808 Thomas Reibey sent the schooner Mercury, completing his cargo at Tahiti and the other Society Islands in only two months. Maude (1968: 194) estimates that by 1810 the pork trade with Tahiti was well established, with regular schedules. Ships engaged in the trade ranged

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from the 30-ton Endeavour to the 186-ton King George. The ships used were mainly those built for and employed in the Australian coasting trade, of which twenty-two were recorded by Bigge in 1820 (Bigge 1823: 54) During these years, the Eastern Pacific run was the longest in the islands trade. Seven weeks out, six weeks home, with a stay in the Society Islands varying between two to six months. The route taken was to follow the same latitude as the North Cape of New Zealand until reaching the longitude of Tahiti, at which time they would sail north. On the return journey they kept to the north, making the Friendly Islands (Tonga), Norfolk Island and Lord Howe Island before arriving at Port Jackson. (Bigge 1820: 7211-12). After 1808, pork traders moved away from the island of Tahiti to the Leeward Islands, where Pomare had control, after serious trouble between Pomare and rivals in Tahiti. This problem lasted until Pomare's final victory in 1815, at the end of which time surplus stocks of pigs had to be built up again. In 1807 the first commercial trading in pearl-shell began in the Tuamotus, when Captain Dalrymple in the General Wellesley prospected nine of the islands for shell and beche-de-mer. From that time onwards, the more profitable cargo was pearl-shell. Maude (1968: 199) reports that the ships used in this trade tended to be larger (125-200 tons), and that if they carried pork at all did so only as a space filler obtainable when taking on fresh provisions or engaging and discharging divers in the Society Islands. Marquesan sandalwood was another commodity which attracted considerable commercial attention for a few years, beginning in 1814, when the Seringapatam, captured by the American warship Essex and taken to Nukuhiva in the Marquesas, was recaptured and brought back to Port Jackson along with news of the trade which the Americans had begun to develop. Within a few weeks Australian ships joined the race, ships involved being the Governor Macquarie, the Queen Charlotte, the King George and the brig Endeavour. For a few years sandalwood was the main commodity in the Eastern Pacific trade, although by 1817 both sandalwood and pearlshell trading went into decline there. Once Tahiti became unified under Pomare II, trading conditions changed markedly. Nearly all pork exported to Sydney was carried in the Tahiti-built mission ship Haweis, part-owned by Pomare, launched in 1817, the schooner Endeavour, bought by the London Missionary Society missionary John Williams and the chiefs of Raiatea and the Active, owned by the London Missionary Society. In 1818 the first shipment of coconut

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oil was brought to Sydney on the Active, used for lamps and soap-making. Shortly afterwards cargoes of arrowroot, sugar, molasses and sugar followed. During the 1820s Tonga and Fiji began competing to supply the Australian market with these same commodities. Once more peaceful conditions prevailed in the Society Islands, it became the practice for captains to employ Europeans living ashore as agents, leading to the establishment of resident merchants and an expansion of commercial activity to cater for the needs of the large whaling fleet which began to refit at Papeete from 1824 onwards. In 1825 Captain Richard Charlton, British Consul to the Sandwich, Society and Friendly Islands opined that "the principal trade is with the colony of New South Wales, the natives bartering salted pork, cocoa-nut oil, and arrowroot, for coarse British and Indian calicoes, fire-arms, ironmongery and wearing-appareil."22 By 1825 Solomon Levey, a Sydney merchant, had a large establishment in Tahiti and two brigs of 140 tons in the trade with the Society Islands, purchasing coconut oil, pearl-shell, arrowroot, beche-de-mer and tortoise shell. By this time, the salt pork trade was in decline, a decline from which it never recovered. Indeed Wilkes (1845: II: 36) reports that in 1839 sugar was the main export from Tahiti. During the 25 years of the trade, New South Wales imported about 3,000,000 lbs of pork from Tahiti and the Society Islands (Maude 1968: 221), an appreciable tonnage, although not equal in value to what was traded in sandalwood and pearl-shell. From a Tahitian point of view the trade allowed the Pomare dynasty to conquer the island and unite it for all time, profiting, as the Pomares did, from the superior weaponry afforded them in payment for the pork. Between 1800 and 1830, then, there were over 100 voyages between Sydney and the Society Islands. Recorded shipping includes the following: Arrival

Vessel

To/From Cargo

1801 1802 1802 1803 1803

Porpoise Venus Porpoise Nautilus Dart

Tahiti

Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork

22. Great Britain, Foreign Office 58/14, Consular Dispatches and Papers, Tahiti and Society Islands 1822-1827: 2.

Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863 1805 1806 1807 1807 1807 1807 1807 1808 1808 1808 1808 1809 1810 1810 1810 1810 1810 1811 1811 1811 1811 1812 1812 1812 1812 1812 1813 1813 1813 1813 1814 1814 1814 1814 1815 1815 1815 1815 1815

Harrington Lucy Hawkesbury Elizabeth Halcyon Elizabeth Parramatta Hero Mercury Venus (schooner) Seringapatam Perserverance Hibemia Northumberland Venus (schooner) Mercury Cyclops Endeavour Mercury Trial Cyclops Endeavour (schooner) Mercury Mary Anne Endeavour Mercury Governor Macquarie Endeavour Daphne James Hay Queen Charlotte Governor Macquarie Governor Macquarie Campbell Macquarie Governor Macquarie Governor Macquarie Queen Charlotte Endeavour King George

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Pork

Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork, salt, sandalwood, beche-de-mer Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork Sandalwood, pearl-shell, pearls, beche-de-mer Pork, pearl-shell, pearls Pork Pork Pork Pork Pork, pearl-shell Pearl-shell Pearl-shell, pearls Pearl-shell, pearls, yams Pearl-shell, pearls Sandalwood Pork, pearl-shell Sandalwood Pork, sandalwood Sandalwood Sandalwood Pork, sandalwood

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1816 1816 1816 1816 1816 1816 1817 1817 1817 1818 1818 1819 1819 1819 1819 1820 1821 1821 1822 1822 1823 1823 1823 1823 1824 1824 1824 1824 1824 1825 1825 1825 1825 1825 1825 1826

Governor Macquarie Trial Endeavour Queen Charlotte King George Active Queen Charlotte King George Daphne Active Active Haweis King George Haweis Active Haweis Governor Macquarie Westmoreland Governor Macquarie Endeavour (schooner) Mermaid (cutter) John Bull Queen Charlotte Endeavour (schooner) Governor Macquarie Queen Charlotte Endeavour (schooner) Snapper Governor Macquarie Haweis Endeavour (schooner) Brutus Lynx Dragon Haweis Minerva

1826 1826

Governor Macquarie Haweis

Pork, sandalwood Pork, sandalwood Pork, sandalwood Sandalwood Pork, sandalwood Pork Pork, sandalwood Pork, sandalwood Pork, sandalwood, coir Pork Pork, coconut oil Pork Pork, sandalwood Pork Pork Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot Pork, sundries Pork, sundries Pork Pork, sundries Pork Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, lard Pork, sundries Coconut-oil, arrowroot Pearl-shell, coconut-oil, arrowroot, molasses Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot Sundries Coconut-oil, arrowroot Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, sugar, molasses Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot Pork, pearl-shell, coconut-oil, arrowroot Coconut-oil, arrowroot Pearl-shell, beche-de-mer Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, lard Pork, sandalwood, pearl-shell, coconut-oil, arrowroot, lard, bark Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, sinnet Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, lard, bark

Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863 Rolla 1827 Minerva 1827 Elizabeth 1827 Industry 1828 Darling 1828 Snapper 1828 Haweis 1828 Samuel 1828 Lord Rodney 1828 Snapper 1828 Samuel 1829 Industry 1829 1829 Dart William Stoveld 1830 1830 Tranmere Snapper 1830 Olive Branch 1830 (Source: Maude 1968: 227-232)

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Pearl-shell

Arrowroot, sundries Sundries Coconut-oil, sundries Pork, flax, sundries Coconut-oil, sundries Pork, coconut-oil, arrowroot, sundries Pork, pearl-shell, arrowroot, flax, sinnet

Pork, lard Sundries Ballast Sundries Sundries

4.5.6. Cook Islands Australia's non-government trade with the Pacific really began in 1804 when the first cargo of sandalwood and beche-de-mer came from Fiji on the schooner Marcia. It expanded with the importation of salt pork from Tahiti and pearl-shell from the Tuamotus during the first decade of the nineteenth century and then underwent a decline. This drove Sydney shipowners to seek to extend their operations to discover untapped sources of sandalwood, described by Maude as "the richest cargo" of all. (Maude 1968: 345). In 1811 the first commercial establishment was set up in the Cook Islands when Captain John Burbeck, three other Europeans, an American, a Brazilian and several Tahitians were dropped on Palmerston Island to collect beche-de-mer and shark fin. A year later, in 1812 Captain Michael Fodger of the Daphne left Sydney for Calcutta via the Eastern Pacific, where he sought a cargo of sandalwood and pearl-shell for sale in Bengal. He discovered that a number of those landed the previous year were dead or injured, but declined to rescue them, preferring to sail on to the Austral Group in French Polynesia where at Raivavae he held the chief hostage

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against a cargo of 1.5 tons of sandalwood. Fodger was finally murdered by his Tahitian and Tuamotuan crew. A Sandalwood Company (owners: D'Arcy Wentworth, Blaxcell, Riley, Campbell and W.C. Wentworth) was set up in Sydney to obtain wood for shipment to the China and Manila markets. Accordingly the Cumberland left Port Jackson on 20 January 1814 (Captain Philip Goodenough) bound for what was then known as Walker's Island (Rarotonga). The crew became involved in a major feud (see Maude 1968: 350ff), and what they took to be sandalwood was in fact "yellow dye wood" (Morinda citrifolia), with which the Cumberland was eventually loaded to capacity, landing at Port Jackson on 20 October that same year. Other ships also visited Rarotonga at this time, including the Seringapatam, which arrived back in Sydney on July 1 1814, starting out from Nukuhiva in the Marquesas. In August of that same year the Campbell Macquarie set out from Port Jackson, reaching Rarotonga on 25 August. The captain decided correctly that the "yellow dye wood" was not sandalwood and declined to load it, returning to Sydney via Palmerston Island and Tonga. While the Wentworth Sandalwood Company may have failed in the Cook Islands, they picked up the word, probably from the returning Seringapatam, that there was sandalwood aplenty in the Marquesas. Indeed the Americans had been obtaining cargoes from those islands since 1810, although no word of this activity had percolated through to Australian ships working in the Eastern Pacific previously. Once the word got out, the rush was on. The Governor Macquarie was outfitted and was back in Port Jackson by 23 February 1815 with a cargo of Marquesan sandalwood. Before the year ended five colonial ships were operating in the Marquesas, (see 4.5.5. above). As for the Cook Islands, once it became known that they possessed neither sandalwood nor any other products of commercial value, they were forgotten and abandoned by the outside world.

4.5.7. Kiribati (Gilbert Islands) The Gilbert Islands (as they were known until independence in 1979) remained unknown to the outside world until the development of a new sea route, the "Outer Passage", pioneered by ships of the First Fleet en route

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from Port Jackson to Canton to secure return cargoes for England (Maude 1968: 234). As indicated above, as far as whaling was concerned, British and American whalers operated exclusively on the on-shore grounds close to the coasts of Australia and South America, not reaching Honolulu for the first time until 1819. Thereafter they ranged far and wide over the Pacific in their search for the sperm whale. In 1821 Captain George Barrett began operations in the Kingsmill section of Kiribati and trading began, albeit in a minor way, about that time. Items traded included coconuts and chickens, as well as curios, shells and women, for which the Gilbertese received hoop-iron in payment. The degree of European contact with the various islands varied greatly, depending on the reputation of the island and the nature of the anchorage. The most frequented islands were Butaritari and Nikinau. Maude records that the whaling visits turned the Gilbertese into tobacco addicts, so providing a medium of exchange which soon superseded hoop-iron. All trading transactions were conducted in terms of heads of plug tobacco, apart from simple barter. By the 1830s a number of deserters were living in Kiribati, as well as escaped convicts from New South Wales aided by willing whaling captains. Coulter records that in 1835 there were three European beachcombers living on Butaritari, a Hawaiian on Tabiteuea and others elsewhere (Coulter 1847: I: 234). By 1841 there were at least sixteen Europeans in Kiribati, mainly on Nikinau, the number increasing rapidly to around fifty by the 1860s. Following the war of 1812, American trading vessels combed the islands in search of saleable commodities as the sandalwood trade of the Marquesas and Fiji declined. They discovered that they could turn a profit by dealing in pearl-shell, beche-de-mer and tortoise shell (and even such bizarre commodities for the Chinese market as edible birds' nests and coral moss). While a number of these free-ranging traders visited Kiribati in the 1830s, the only specialist Kiribati trader was Captain Trainer, an Englishman by birth. He traded out of San Francisco in the 200-ton brigantine Hound. The Hound called at Tabiteuea, Abemama, Kuria, Butaritari and Little Makin. Coulter recounts that the Gilbertese were accustomed to trading visits, having accumulated stocks of beche-de-mer and tortoise shell, which they exchanged for tobacco, hoop-iron and clay pipes. There was a beche-de-mer station at Abemama, with sheds for drying and curing on the edge of the reef.

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By the early 1840s new techniques had been perfected for the use of coconut oil in the manufacture of soap and candles, leading to an increased demand and higher prices. In Tahiti the Hort brothers and John Brander commenced operations, while in Sydney trade in this commodity began with the western islands. In the Central Pacific, enterprising whalers collected coconut oil as well as the sperm and black oil brought to Sydney. (In 1847 and 1848 the Empire brought 7 tuns, the Rebecca Sims two shipments of 12 barrels each, the Planter 35 barrels, the Pocklington 421bs of tortoise shell and the Christopher Mitchell 250 piculs of beche-de-mer.) The first resident traders in Kiribati , Richard Randell and George Durant, arrived on Butaritari together in 1846. Durant left shortly afterwards to set himself up on Little Makin, while Randell remained for a quarter of a century, becoming the most famous trader in the history of Kiribati. (Randell had migrated to Australia in 1840, probably as a seaman.) According to Maude, it is likely that he had already visited Kiribati aboard one of the Australian whalers (1968: 246). Randell is reported to have achieved a high degree of fluency in Gilbertese (op.cit. 246). In the first few years he operated on a small scale, collecting coconut oil for sale to visiting whalers in return for tobacco and muskets. In 1850 Randell travelled to Sydney and entered a partnership with financier Charles Smith, resulting in two schooners, the Chieftain and the Supply, being immediately assigned to the Kiribati trade. What became known as Smith's Wharf was purchased at Miller's Point in Sydney and remained the discharging and refitting centre for his own ships and others chartered for the Gilbert Islands trade until 1863. In Butaritari in 1852 the Randell trading station had fourteen European employees and facilities for the watering, provisioning and repair of visiting ships. At that time the foreign community on Abemama numbered nine, including two Hawaiians, nearly all involved in the coconut oil trade. In terms of shipping routes, Maude reports that on the outward journey from Sydney a typical course would sight Lord Howe Island, Norfolk and Hunter Islands, passing to the west of Fiji and from there almost due north to the Gilberts between longitudes 174° and 176°E. On the return journey a direct SW course was taken, passing to the east of the Santa Cruz Group and Chesterfield Reef, making a landfall somewhere about Cape Moreton in Queensland. An alternative route sometimes followed on both the outward and homeward runs passed east of New Caledonia and through Vanuatu, usually sighting Tanna and Erromango. (Maude 1968: 252.)

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The cargo from Sydney consisted mainly of kegs and boxes of plug tobacco, empty oil casks and provisions and spirits for the traders. The only exports from the Gilberts were coconut oil, beche-de-mer, tortoise-shell and coir. All ships reported at Butaritari and spent several months trading throughout the islands. Relief traders were landed, along with trade goods and empty casks, while time-expired traders and oil in casks were taken aboard. There were also considerable commercial contacts between whalers seeking provisions and the Gilbertese themselves. Few whaling captains or their crews ventured ashore except at Butaritari, fearing robbery, violence or being held to ransom. On the other hand, many Gilbertese were recruited as whaling crews, often temperamental (witness the mutinies on board the William Penn (1835) and the John (1855)). In 1847 Benjamin Boyd commenced the Pacific labour trade by sending the Portenia and the Velocity from Sydney to the Loyalty Islands, Vanuatu, Rotuma and the Southern Gilberts, obtaining 22 recruits from the Gilberts (17 from Tamana and 5 from Arorae). In 1863 161 Gilbertese were taken to Peru, and when permission to land them was refused, the 110 survivors were landed on Penrhyn Island. In 1864 recruiting for Fiji began, while in 1868 Gilbertese were recruited for work in Tahiti, see Chapter 6.

4.5.8. Ponape (Pohnpei) Ponape (formerly known as Ascension Island), in the Caroline Islands, is acknowledged as having been the beachcombing centre of Micronesia, with a population of "about 50 Europeans, principally English, on the island" in 1841, according to the log of the Hope, and "upwards of 80 white men on the island" in the same year, reports the captain of the Gypsy. Documentation on Ponape is excellent, thanks largely to the painstaking research of Francis X. Hezel (1979, 1983, 1995) and David Hanlon (1988). Hezel's research, together with the register of Sydney shipping movements compiled by John Cumpston (Cumpston 1963) allows us to reconstruct a fairly accurate picture of life on Ponape from the early 1830s. What emerges from a study of these documents is the fact that Ponape was the major axis through which shipping passed, and where crews took leave or quite often deserted. For a considerable number of ships, after arriving in Sydney from London with convicts, free settlers and cargo, sailed north to

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Canton (and other Chinese ports) to pick up cargoes of tea and silks for the return journey to Europe (see Table 3. Shipping routes from Sydney, below). The great majority of these ships followed a route which took them via Ponape, where most laid over, and took on fresh water and supplies before continuing north to China. However, there were not only trading vessels calling at Ponape, far from it. There were also a large number of whalers, with often very mixed crews. Table 3. Shipping routes from Sydney 1793-1861 (Extracts from Cumpston 1963) Sydney-Ponape-China/Manila-Sydney 1793 1798 1801 1809 1811 1812 1815 1825 1826 1828 1830 1832 1832 1832 1833 1833 1834 1835 1835 1835 1836 1836 1836 1837 1837 1838

Sugar Cane Ann & Hope Lydia Lady Barlow Isabella General Graham Marq. Wellington John Bull Henry Porcher Ephemina Antarctic Albion Nimrod Planter Denmark Hill Nimrod Clementine Waverly Harmony Conway Lambton Avon Eliza Alexander Henry Lambton Mermaid

Sydney-Ponape-China Port Jackson-Ponape-Canton Boston-Sydney-Ponape-Canton Sydney-Ponape-Canton Sydney-Ponape-Manila Port Jackson-Ponape-Canton Sydney-Ponape-Canton Australia-Ponape Sydney-Ponape-China Sydney-Ponape-Canton Ponape-Fij i-Ponape Sydney-Ponape Sydney-Ponape Sydney-Ponape-India Ponape-Sydney Sydney-Ponape Hawaii-Ponape Hawaii-Ponape-New Hebrides lie de France-Ponape Sydney-Ponape Ponape-Sydney Honolulu-Ponape Salem-Ponape Ponape-Sydney Sydney-Ponape Salem-Ponape

Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863 1839 1841 1841 1843 1844 1847 1849 1851 1852 1853 1854 1854 1855 1858 1859 1859 1860 1861

Frances Charlotte Rosa Alert Naiad HMS Vestal Eleanor John Laird Eleanor Eleanor Lady Montague Betah Unicorn Two Brothers Merchant Anon Steamer Anon Progressive Age Brig Anon Norma

99

Sydney-Ponape-Manila Honolulu-Ponape London-Ponape-Sydney Ponape-China Port Jackson-Ponape-Hong Kong Hobart-Ponape-China London-Ponape-China Hobart-Ponape-China Hobart-Ponape-China Aust-Ponape-Hong Kong Hobart-Ponape-China Sydney-Ponape Sydney-Ponape Manila-Ponape-Sydney Sydney-Ponape-Hong Kong Shanghai-Ponape- Sydney Sydney-Ponape-Shanghai Sydney-Ponape-Hong Kong

Ships leaving Sydney sought cargoes from which they could turn a profit on the Sydney-Canton leg of their journeys from Europe to Australia and back. It was this which led them to the sandalwood trade in Fiji, the Marquesas and later the New Hebrides (today Vanuatu). At the same time dried sea-slugs (called by many beche-de-mer) were also a commodity for which there was a ready Chinese market. Thus there were two types of trading voyages (leaving aside the whalers for the moment): direct sailing to Chinese ports such as Canton, via Ponape; and indirect sailing, where ships would first sail to the South Sea Islands, usually Fiji, Tonga, the Marquesas Islands and the Society Islands (Tahiti), collect a worthwhile saleable cargo and sail north to China, again usually via Ponape. Table 3, above, is only intended as an illustration of the persistence of the great northern route. Hezel (1979) has replicated the work done by Cumpston for Sydney, in that he has compiled a register of ships calling at Ponape between 1750 and 1885. Not only this, he has consulted all of the ships logs and published an edited version which is most illuminating. The following are numbers of ships which Hezel has established as calling at Ponape (he is careful to add that there may be additional ships whose records have eluded him):

100 Chapter 4 Table 4.

Number of ships to visit Ponape 1788-1885 (Source: Hezel 1979) pre-1750 1751-1800 1801-1810 1811-1820 1821-1830 1831-1840 1841-1850 1851-1860 1861-1870 1871-1880 1881-1885

3 (explorers) 4 (traders) 6 (traders) 3 (traders, Indiamen) 13 (3 whalers) 51 (18 whalers) 121 (95 whalers) 240 (199 whalers) 108 (54 whalers) 112 (43 whalers) 32 (6 whalers)

A glance at the above table shows that between 1830 and 1860 there were 411 ships visits to Ponape, most of which were whalers. The whalers were just as important as the trading ships in terms of the mixture of Pacific Islanders and crewmen from other places employed, even though they tended to carry a majority of European crewmen. In terms of the establishment and development of Pacific pidgins the European crew were perhaps just as important as the non-Europeans for two reasons: first they worked on a number of different ships during their Pacific career, and second, many of them lived for some time on Ponape, where there was a considerable European population, mixed with Ponapeans and other islanders, deserters and escaped convicts from Australia. Some sample extracts taken from the logs of ships calling at Ponape from the 1830s to the early 1860s (Table 5) give a clear picture of numbers involved and the frequency with which crewmen deserted or were recruited during that period. Table 5.

Ponape as a hub (Extracts from logs: Hezel 1979)

1833

"put ashore nine whites who had been taken aboard at Pingelap." (Nimrod)

1833

"two sick seamen were discharged in Ponape, while three whites living ashore were taken on as crew members." (Spy)

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1833

"several white convicts, probably stowaways from Australia, came off and remained on Ponape." (Vessel: anon)

1834

"several canoes came off with a white man who was engaged to go on as interpreter." (Eliza)

1835

"left five Malays and supercargo on Ponape to trade....shipped a crew of Ponapeans." (Honduras)

1835

"signed on as a crewmember a Ponapean boy of 16. Left three men ashore to trade after ship's departure." (Harmony) "a seaman deserted there." (Conway)

1835 1836

"found 25 whites living on the island; learned that one Ponapean had been on a cruise to Hawaii." (Lambton)

1837

"brought 20 Ponapeans and some white beachcombers to live in Ngatik." (Lambton)

1837

" two Hawaiians & two Mangarevans were also left ashore as companions for Fr Maigret." (Notre Dame de Paix)

1838

"took Fr Desire Maigret off the island after seven months of fruitless work. Two Mangarevan companions of Fr Maigret remained on Ponape to marry local women, and two Ponapean men sailed in their place, eventually settling in Tahiti and establishing families there." (Notre Dame de Paix)

1839

" natives came out to ship with a white man who acts as pilot." (Ohio)

1839

"boarded by four Europeans residing there." (Frances Charlotte)

1840

"Left ashore two natives of the Society Is who were sick, and a Ponapean crew member who deserted." (Ohio)

1840

"Louise Corgat, a native of the Seychelles who had been living at Ponape for some time, assisted the Frenchmen." (Danaide)

1840

" Put a white man ashore." (Friend)

1841

"Found about 50 Europeans, principally English, on the island." (Hope)

102 Chapter 4 1841

"Two foreigners residing on the island offered the crew some liquour that they had distilled and begged for tobacco and empty bottles." (Clarinda)

1841

" upwards of 80 white men on the island." (Gypsy)

1841

"so many men deserted the ship on Ponape that it had not enough hands to get underweigh." (Offley).

1842

"a white beachcomber incited several of his crew to desert ship. This same man, with 400 armed natives, detained two of his boat crews until the deserters' clothes were put ashore." (Magnet)

1842

" Discharged six seamen on the island." (Elizabeth)

1842

"Several of the crew deserted there. May have taken on some native hands before leaving Ponape on Nov 4." (Sharon)

1843

"Shipped five men after several hands deserted. Made sail...with a stowaway kanaka from the Potomac on board." (Omega)

1843

" Many hands deserted on shore." (Potomac).

1843

" Seven men deserted as the ship was preparing for sea." (Fortune).

1843

" Set up beche-de mer curing stations on the island, entrusting them to the care of 14 Palauans and 22 lascars that he brought to Ponape." (Naiad).

1844

"Four of the crew deserted there while the ship was reprovisioning. Left on Mar 19, shipping one man from the island....shipped another man aboard." (William & Henry).

1844

"Several kanaka crewmen deserted. Shipped five white men from the island." (Martha).

1844

"Three men deserted there... Shipped one native of Sandwich Islands and one 'colored' man." (Phebe)

1844

"Took on three whites as passengers to China." (Naiad)

1844

Ngatik: "Found four Englishmen & 20 Ponapeans living there." (Naiad)

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1844

"A sailor (author of the journal) and a black cook deserted." (Cassander).

1849

" One hand deserted and a Rotuma islander was shipped for ten lbs of tobacco a month." (Elizabeth)

1850

"Four seamen deserted but were captured and put in irons. Another three successfully deserted, and so a native and two Portuguese from Ponape were shipped." (Henry Kneeland).

1850

"The ship signed on a white resident and two natives for the remaining voyage." (Cavalier).

1850

"Took on water and shipped a Hawaiian, while several men tried to desert." (Elizabeth).

1850

"Put a seaman ashore at his request and shipped another man in his place." (Venice).

1850

"Found about 150 foreigners living there." (Romulus).

1851

"The ship left seven men on Ponape." (George & Mary).

1851

" One officer deserted." (Harvest).

1852

" Three men deserted." (Canton Packet).

1852

" Two men deserted." (Milton)

1852

"One man deserted." (Emily Francis)

1852

"A seaman deserted." (Mohawk).

1852

Mokil: "found two Americans living there and selling provisions... their native wives wore cotton blouses and smoked clay pipes." (Eugenie).

1853

Pingelap: "Traded with natives who 'spoke broken English'."....Mokil: " found two foreigners living there." (HMS Serpent).

1853

" Shipped three natives." (Indian Chief).

1853

" The steward deserted. Left two men ashore and shipped three from the island, including a Ponapean." (Milton).

104 Chapter 4 1854

" Shipped one man." (Martha)

1854

"One man deserted....a native stowaway found on board." (Philip Delanoye).

1854

" Lost several men through desertion." (Alice Frazer)

1854

" Shipped two natives." (Milton)

1854

"..three crew members deserted. Two beachcombers and a native were signed on to replace them." (Miantonomi)

1854

Mokil: "Found two white men living on the island serted while ashore." (Ellen)

1855

"A few men deserted." (Cicero)

1855

"Two seamen deserted, and two Ponapeans were shipped in their place." (Milton)

1855

" Signed on three new hands, two of them Ponapeans." (Peruvian).

1855

"Landed ten Loyalty Islands natives who were sold as slaves to people on Ponape." (Two Brothers)

1856

"Three men deserted.... Shipped two natives from Wallis Island." (Young Hector)

1856

"Three seamen deserted

Four men de-

a week later six more men deserted

shipped on six men living ashore." (Martha) 1856

" Officer of ship deserted with three seamen." (Kathy McLeigh).

1856 1857

Pingelap: " shipped one native aboard." (Emily Morgan). Pingelap: "the chief spoke pidgin English, asking for 'hatchet, tobacco, file' in exchange for provisions." (Morning Star)

1858

"..took off four Loyalty Islanders who had been brought to Ponape some years before by a Sydney sandalwood trader." (China)

1858

" ...visiting Nanmadohl and the white settlement there. Learned that 5060 whaleships touched at Ponape each year." (Novara)

1859

"Two natives stowed away on the ship." (Jireh Perry).

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1859

"Two Hawaiian crew members deserted by swimming ashore." (Amazon)

1859

" Two native seamen deserted." (Sea Shell)

1859

Mokil: "met the island 'chief, a white who had resided there for five years." (Florida).

1860

" Two men deserted." (Martha)

1860

" ...shipped a Ponapean hand." (Maria Theresa).

1860

"Some natives of Rarotonga were signed on for the season." (Moctezuma).

1861

Mokil: " boat came off with white man and natives." (Gratitude).

1862

"Lost three men through desertion, but recruited three new hands." (Marengo).

1862

Mokil: "boat with a white man and several natives came off." (John P. West)

1865

"A seaman deserted. Ship left for sea on Jan 31 with two native stowaways aboard." (Charles W. Morgan)

1865

"..captured and burnt four whaleships, leaving the crews on Ponape." (Shenandoah)

1867

"One seaman deserted and another was discharged....shipped three men, two of them natives of Ponape." (Elizabeth Swift)

1868

Mokil: " Boat with two white men came out to ship." (Corinthian)

1868

Ponape:'' four men deserted." (Adeline)

1868

"Three men deserted from the ship. The captain shanghaied three natives to take the place of the deserters." (Illinois)

1868

"...left Pingelap with native prisoners of war bound for the Gilberts." (Blossom)

1868

"Discharged four crew members and signed on three whites who were living ashore." (Malolo)

106 Chapter 4 1869

"Two seamen deserted." (Camilla)

1870

" Discharged a sick Hawaiian crew member....two seamen were shipped from ashore." (Helen Snow)

The extracts from ships' logs show just what a hub Ponape was, with crewmen constantly deserting and re-engaging on different ships. At the same time, there was a sizeable, but changing, European population, many attached to Ponapean district chiefs and acting as middle-men in dealings with visiting captains. Such was the turmoil that some Europeans even became chiefs (on Kosrae for example) (Hezel 1983). Of course, ships calling at Ponape did not all come from Australia (Sydney, Newcastle, Melbourne and Hobart). Most of the whalers came from ports in the United States such as Salem, New Bedford, Nantucket, Fairhaven, Newport, Providence and New London. Other shipping calling at Ponape is recorded as having come from Hawaii, New Zealand, Mauritius and London. An examination of ships logs from Ponape reveals that crew members working out of that port were of at least sixteen different nationalities, see Table 6, below. Table 6. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Source of crew members (Ponape)

USA Australia (sailors & convicts) Whites living on Ponape Malays (1835, 1874) Ponapeans Hawaiians (1837, 1844, 1850, 1859, 1870) Mangarevans (1837) Seychelles (1840) Palauans (1843) Lascars (1843) Rotumans (1849) Portuguese (1850) Loyalty Islanders (1855, 1858) Wallis Islanders (1856) Rarotongans (1860) Chinese (1870)

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While Ponape was the principal locus of maritime activity in Micronesia in the pre-plantation period (pre-1863), Nauru is also reported to have been an important regional sub-centre, with a population of 13 Europeans in 1837, for the most part escaped convicts {Sydney Herald 7.9.1837). The fact that Ponape had such a heterogeneous and substantial expatriate population during this period, all of whom were involved in maritime activities of one sort or another, favoured the use and development of a more or less standardised maritime jargon,23 which stabilised to a considerable extent by the 1850s. The fact, too, that Ponape had regular contact with the seaports on the east coast of Australia since the 1820s (O'Connell 1972), along with the Society Islands and other parts of the South Pacific, indicates that there must have been mutual influence, more likely a fully symbiotic relationship between Australia (especially Sydney) and those islands. The linguistic data (see chapters below) do not allow us to be categorical about the number of distinct jargons/pidgins spoken in Australia and the South Pacific up until 1860, but it is certain that because of the constant contact between the constituent communities many of the registers/varieties shared many central morpho-syntactic features. The differentiation and stabilisation of the various varieties of Pacific Pidgin in the recruiting and post-recruiting period will be discussed in a later chapter.

4.5.9. New Caledonia and Loyalty Islands a) New Caledonia In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century there was only spasmodic contact between Sydney and New Caledonia. In fact it was not until the sandalwood industry began on the Isle of Pines in far southern New Caledonia that regular maritime contact with Australia commenced. Sandalwood was much sought-after and used in China as incense and for the lining of wooden chests and trinket boxes. In 1841-42 as the industry got under way, there were numerous ship visits from Sydney (Shineberg 1967), including the following: the Diana, Orwell, Achilles, Jane, Jean, Hind, Martha, Alfred, Piscator, Exporter, Munford, Magnet, Juno, Star, Tyrian, Queen Victoria, Salus, Caroline and 23. By "maritime jargon" we mean the English-based jargon disseminated and developed through maritime activity.

108 Chapter 4

Whitby. All of these vessels were engaged during the heyday of the sandalwood period in New Caledonia (1841-1861) in collecting sandalwood and transporting it to China. An English-based jargon/pidgin in New Caledonia was recorded as early as 1842 (Shineberg 1967: 84), when a number of pidgin-speaking Tannese labourers from the then New Hebrides (later Vanuatu) were taken to work at a sandalwood station on the Isle of Pines for three months. Whether this was a developed pidgin or a form of maritime jargon is not clear. In any event, Crowley (1990: 64) reports that this variety of "English" had become the effective lingua franca right around the New Caledonian coastline by 1846. James Paddon set up a permanent shore station on Aneityum in far southern Vanuatu in 1843. It was from this time onward that ni-Vanuatu began to work outside their own communities, many working at sandalwood stations on the Isle of Pines and on the New Caledonian mainland between 1848 and 1861. Paddon, in fact, moved his headquarters from Aneityum to the Isle of Pines in 1852. In 1853 Paddon had a cattle ranch near Noumea, employing many Europeans and Melanesians, especially ni-Vanuatu. The lingua franca used in all these activities was an early form of Bislama by that time. By 1859, the French planter Jourbet employed fifty-eight Europeans and some forty "Oceaniens", almost certainly ni-Vanuatu, together with some Chinese (Hollyman 1976: 31). By 1866 there were 1,060 Europeans in New Caledonia, together with 335 other immigrants, mostly ni-Vanuatu. Many of these ni-Vanuatu came from the islands of Efate or Sandwich Island, as it was also known at that period. So it was that the early Bislama that took shape on sandalwood stations came to develop in other employment situations, for apart from sandalwood milling there was also considerable trade in dried sea slug, turtle shell, copra, mother-of-pearl and kauri resin, to say nothing of the flourishing agricultural and pastoralist activities on the New Caledonian mainland. The exact nature of Bislama in New Caledonia is not very well known, because of the fragmentary nature of existing records. While its vocabulary was largely derived from English, there appears to have been some influence from French. As Gamier (1867: 171) reports: II est un langage en Nouvelle-Caledonie qui se parle sur toute la cöte et sert de moyen de communication entre les kanaks et les blancs et quelquefois

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entre les blancs eux-memes, quand ils sont de nation differente; ce langage a pour base l'anglais, mais on y rencontre des mots franfais, chinois, indigenes, tous plus ou moins älteres.

However, the fate of the Bislama spoken on the mainland of New Caledonia was very different from its history in the Loyalty Islands after the decline of the sandalwood trade in the mid-1860s, for on the mainland it suffered a sharp decline after this period. Crowley (1990: 66) suggests that the reason for the decline of Bislama on the mainland was firstly that within two years of annexation in 1853 all but one tenth of the land had been expropriated by Europeans, leaving very little in Melanesian hands and favouring the development of large pastoral properties. On the other hand, the Loyalty Islands were declared Melanesian reserve land, precluding any European settlement. While over one thousand Loyalty Islanders were recruited to work on the Queensland plantations at the end of the sandalwood period, with Bislama the lingua franca, the New Caledonian mainland did not become a source for labour recruiting. Bislama did survive, however, to some extent in New Caledonia where ni-Vanuatu workers were, and to this day still are, employed in the mining industry. b) The Loyalty Islands While the Isle of Pines was a major sandalwood centre in southern Melanesia from the early 1840s onwards, reaching its peak between 1848 and 1857, there were a number of unpleasant incidents which led traders to look elsewhere for cargoes of this profitable wood. A number of them traded throughout the Loyalty Islands, between the mainland of New Caledonia and Vanuatu. Andrew Cheyne visited the Loyalties in 1841-42, calling at Lifu and Uvea. His journal shows that he spoke some Drehu (Lifu) and Iaai (Uvea), but his knowledge of South Seas Jargon or early Bislama is evident from his translations of exchanges in the languages of these islands. (Shineberg 1971: 98). Although Bislama went into decline on the New Caledonian mainland after the 1860s, it flourished in the Loyalty Islands. Anderson (1880: 156) reports, for example, that it was widely used on Mare in 1875. Between 1863 and 1875 over one thousand Loyalty Islanders were recruited as plantation labourers in Queensland, where they encountered Queensland Plantation English, a speech variety little different from early Bislama or Sandalwood English, so favouring the development of this lingua franca.

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After this time recruiters moved north, engaging labour only from areas north of the Loyalties (see following chapters). Howe (1977: 15) reports that Loyalty Islanders were also very commonly employed as crewmen on vessels operating out of Noumea. Between 1865 and 1885 there were over 1,000 voyages to the Loyalty Islands by ships with Loyalty Island crews and English-speaking captains. In the 1870s and 1880s Loyalty Islanders were actively involved as recruiting agents in both Vanuatu and the Solomons. Up to 16 per cent of the male population of the Loyalties were employed away from their home islands during this period (Howe 1977: 90). The Bislama spoken by the Loyalty Islanders was very much the same as that spoken in Vanuatu at the time, as the following example from the Loyalties suggests:24 I think God He savey make plenty things. He clever fellow, He no same black fellow belong Caledonia. (Anderson 1880: 157)

4.5.10.

New Hebrides (Vanuatu)

Whaling vessels plied the waters of Vanuatu from the late 1700s onward. However, there was only one shore station established, on Aneityum in the far south of the archipelago in the early 1840s, with a sub-station on Erromango. While the South Seas Jargon was not so much used in the whaling industry in Vanuatu, it was used extensively in beche-de-mer and sandalwood activities. In 1825 Peter Dillon found extensive stands of sandalwood on Erromango. In 1829 the Sophia called at Erromango with a crew of 100 Tongans in order to cut sandalwood. Crowley (1990: 53) reports that relations between the Erromangans and the sandalwooders were not particularly friendly. Later in 1829 some 600 Tongans, Hawaiians and Rotumans visited Erromango. After 1830 interest in sandalwood died for almost a decade. Activity focused on the Isle of Pines (New Caledonia) in 1841, and by 1842 contacts resumed with Vanuatu. The trade in Vanuatu continued actively on a number of islands besides Erromango (Efate, Malakula and Santo) until about 1865. From 1843 onwards there were permanent shore stations in southern Vanuatu. Melanesians from a variety of islands began to work on the sandalwood ships alongside the previously exclusive European and Polynesian crews, so contributing to the develop-

24. Compare with the multiple Vanuatu examples cited in Chapter 5.

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ment and spread of what by this time had begun to stabilise into an early form of Bislama. The first permanent shore station was a commercial colony established by James Paddon at Anelgauhat on Aneityum in 1843. He left New Zealand with 35 European colonists (17 of whom lost their lives on the way), together with 16 Chinese and 6 Maoris. The Chinese may have already spoken China Coast Pidgin. In 1849 there were more than 50 Europeans living on Aneityum. Later Paddon was to move his headquarters to the Isle of Pines in New Caledonia. Shore stations are recorded on Aneityum 1843-1872, on Tanna 1847-1863 and on Erromango 1854-1864. It was the fact that the populations working on these shore stations were linguistically mixed which favoured the development of Bislama, this together with the increasing number of ni-Vanuatu engaged as crewmen on ships around the Pacific, especially between the islands of southern Melanesia and the port of Sydney. By 1860 there were 150 non-local Melanesien plantation workers on Santo, with at least 340 non-Erromangans working on Erromango at that time (Shineberg 1967: 192). From a maritime perspective, there was a brisk trade between Sydney and China via the South Seas during this period, with over 200 voyages recorded between 1841 and 1855. Adams (1984: 37) reports that between 1855 and 1865 there were 47 ships working in the sandalwood trade, with over 100 port calls on Tanna during the period 1842-1858. All of this activity was compounded after 1863 by the recruiting of niVanuatu in great numbers for work on the cotton and sugar-cane plantations in Samoa, Fiji, New Caledonia and Queensland. During the next forty years nearly 40,000 ni-Vanuatu were employed in these endeavours, all engaged on multi-lingual plantations (see Crowley 1990: 88-89).

4.5.11.

Solomon Islands

The first whalers in the Solomons began to appear in the first decade of the nineteenth century, their numbers increasing by the early 1820s and reaching their peak in the 1840s and 50s (Bennett 1987: 24). While Australian whalers were initially involved, increasingly British and American ships operated in Solomons waters, as activity in the Atlantic decreased. Corris (1973: 7) reports that by the time whaling went into serious decline in the 1860s, whalers had visited nearly every island in the Solomons.

112 Chapter 4

The favourite anchorages were Simbo (Eddystone) and Mono (Shortland Islands) in the west, and Santa Ana, Santa Catalina and Makira Harbour (San Cristobal), as well as Sikaiana. Ships were careened, repairs carried out and provisions taken on. Makira Harbour was the favourite victualing spot, with pigs, fruit and vegetables in abundance, traded for metal goods, cloth and tobacco. In some islands, however, relations between the whalers and the islanders were not always good. In fact in 1860, both at Mono and Makira Harbour, whalers were attacked and killed, basically for social misdemeanors (Bennett 1987: 32). The land-based Solomon Islanders, then, did not generally have very close contact with the whalers with some exceptions. A few worked as crewmen aboard whaling ships. They would have acquired the South Seas Jargon, working mostly in the vicinity of their own islands, although a few are known to have travelled to Australia. These same people later acted as guides and interpreters for visiting Europeans. Try on, Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996: 481) record that: the beche-de-mer or trepang beds in the Solomons were rich, and the industry flourished, especially in the western Solomons, around New Georgia, Kolombangara and Simbo, as well as the islands in the far south-east, Sikaiana and Vanikoro. European concentration on these islands both for whaling and for trepang, where considerable contact with the islanders was required, meant that soon there was a cadre of islanders with a considerable experience of these fair-skinned foreigners. Pearl and tortoiseshell were also keenly sought after.

Speaking of the Sikaiana, Andrew Cheyne, a trader of the 1840s, remarked that: They can nearly all speak more or less broken English, which they have picked up through their intercourse with whale ships, who often visit them to get supplies of cocoa-nuts and pigs, of which a plentiful supply can at all times be procured. (Cheyne 1852: 53)

There were some European residents - beachcombers, deserters and castaways - who made their home in the Solomons. It is recorded that there was a Lascar on Malaita in the late 1820s, the only survivor of a British brig, while others were left on shore in the sea-slug trade, collecting trepang and tortoiseshell, on Simbo in the west, and on Ontong Java. Guadalcanal also received visitors. However, as mentioned above, it was San Cristobal which was the most important centre of beachcombing, whaling and trad-

Early days: History of contacts 1788-1863 113 ing activity. By 1860 a dozen or more Europeans had spent time on that island (Corns 1973: 14). European penetration of the Solomons in the fifty years before the arrival of the first labour recruiters in 1870 had been intermittent, selective and tentative. In the western islands, Santa Isabel, Gela and the Polynesian outliers, and of course San Cristobal, there had been a steady trickle. In the heavily populated islands of Malaita and Guadalcanal, in the south-east, however, few islanders had seen Europeans at close quarters. All this was going to change dramatically with the move of the labour recruiters from Vanuatu to the Solomons for the first time in 1870 (Tryon, Mühlhäusler and Baker 1996: 481).

4.5.12.

The Fiji Islands

In the period 1788-1825, the Fiji Islands were second only to the Society Islands, among the islands of the South Pacific, in terms of their maritime contacts with Australia, Sydney in particular. For there was a flourishing sandalwood trade in the Fiji Islands, especially between 1806 and 1811, at the end of which period stands of this lucrative cargo were discovered in the Marquesas Islands, in today's French Polynesia. Prior to the recruiting period (1863-1906), Fiji was very frequently visited by ships on their way from Sydney to China, or as a stop-over on the way further east to the Marquesas and the Society Islands (Tahiti) in quest of profitable cargoes for sale in the Orient. Indeed, Fiji was the only source of sandalwood in the first decade of the nineteenth century. It was also important in the sea slug business, with a number of on-shore drying and smoking stations set up around the Fiji group. However, in terms of contributing to the development of Pacific pidgin, Fiji was not so central. The Fijians had developed their own Foreigner Talk, a simplified Fijian, for use in trading with the neighbouring Tongans (Siegel 1987: 28). During the plantation or recruiting period, we will see too that what developed on the sugar plantations in Fiji was a pidgin Fijian rather than an English-based lingua franca, although some Melanesian Pidgin was of course spoken there, especially among those recruits who had already served on the plantations in Queensland prior to recruiting for Fiji.

Chapter 5 The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863

5.0.

Introductory

In the previous chapter we considered the history of contacts between Australia and the Pacific, and between the Pacific Islands themselves. In summary, one might say that since the first European colonisation of Australia in 1788, there was constant European voyaging throughout the Pacific, almost all in a mercantile context, with whaling beginning in eastern Australia as early as 1794. We have also seen that there was constant voyaging between Sydney, Ponape and Canton, with important implications for the development of Pacific pidgin. For once ships arriving in Sydney from London had discharged their cargoes, human and otherwise, they sought commercially viable cargoes to transport to Canton and Manila, before picking up cargoes of tea and silks for the return journey to Europe. The search for these cargoes, including sandalwood and sea-slug (bechede-mer), as well as whale and seal oil, for example, necessitated regular voyaging around the south and central Pacific in the pre-1863 period (which marks the first recruiting of Melanesian plantation labour). This constant contact with Pacific Islander populations, together with the fact that an increasing number of Europeans, often boats crew, escaped convicts and castaways took up residence in the islands, acted as a catalyst in the development of an English-based lingua franca in the Pacific.

5.1.

Foreigner Talk and European contact in Australia and the Pacific

There has been considerable discussion of the developmental stages of pidgins and Creoles in the literature, see for example Ferguson (1971), Mühlhäusler (1986), Siegel (1987) and Chapter 3, above. This will not be rehearsed here. Before examining samples of early New South Wales and Pacific Islands data, however, it is useful to note that even prior to European incursions into this region, there existed a tradition of "Foreigner Talk", a way

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of simplifying one's mother tongue in attempting to communicate monolingually or with people with only a rudimentary knowledge of one's own language. The simplification may be spontaneous or it may become a more or less conventionalised way of addressing speakers of other languages. This so-called "Foreigner Talk" is believed by many to be the basis for the development of pidgins and Creoles (Ferguson & DeBose 1977). Others believe that it is rather the learners' imperfect attempts to speak the "target language" which constitute the basis upon which pidgins are built. Speaking of the plantation scene later in the nineteenth century Siegel (1987: 19) points out that social conditions restricted the learners' access to the "target language". Input from the "target language" was therefore inadequate and would have only reinforced the learners' "imperfections". Such a scenario applies not just in a plantation setting, but also in almost any early contact situation, where learners were not exposed to anything like a full range of contexts. It is most likely that both factors were involved in the development of Pacific pidgins and Creoles, namely "Foreigner Talk" (a conventionalised simplified form of the "target language") and the "Imperfect Learning" theory just described above. It is easy to imagine that a "Foreigner Talk" or sailors' jargon existed from the very earliest days of European voyaging in the Australia-Pacific region. Indeed, elements such as save, pikinini, maski, no + Verb, and other items known from Chinese Pidgin English and the earlier Portuguese-influenced maritime jargon in the Mediterranean and Africa were almost certainly part of the Pacific tradition. Another factor to be taken into consideration in the development of Pacific pidgins and Creoles is the kinds of English that Europeans brought to interacting with Australian Aborigines and Pacific Islanders. Ward (1958: 44-45) reports that in Australia the majority of the colonists came from England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. Before 1850 more than 50% of all assisted migrants to New South Wales were Irish. The majority of the migrants were uneducated working-class people who would not have travelled beyond the British Isles prior to settling in Australia. Some people who were engaged in maritime or military activities may have served in India, Africa or even the Americas before coming to Australia. Less is known of the origins of Europeans interacting with Pacific Islanders. In Chapter 4 we saw that many of the whalers came from American and Australian ports, while up to a dozen other nationalities were involved in Pacific maritime activities.

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117

Pawley (forthcoming) comments on the colloquial speed and dialectal variations of the working-class British settlers, convicts and sailors. In his opinion it would seem that certain usages of colloquial English in Australia and New Zealand in the early 1800s could have been selected as conventional usages in the developing contact jargon. Many of these usages are still part of colloquial speech today in both of these countries, for example: fella for 'one', this fella, these fellas; he/him ('im) for inanimate referents; got for 'have', no good, orright, calaboose, bugger up, gammon for 'lie'; look out for 'take care o f . Additionally, the various you-plural alternatives youse, you fellas etc. would have provided a platform for developing a single standard you-PL form in Pacific pidgins.

5.2.

Samples of New South Wales Pidgin (1788-1850)

Troy (1990, 1994) has compiled an exhaustive record of New South Wales pidgin as represented in Australian literature from the period of initial European colonisation until around 1850. In her study she canvasses the issues of European representation of Australian Aborigines' attempts to communicate with the colonists, and the later commonality which appeared to characterise New South Wales Pidgin by the 1830s. She is well aware that many of the remarks attributed to New South Wales Aborigines were written down by people without any formal linguistic training, often some time after the events portrayed. With these caveats, however, it must be said that the record of developing New South Wales Pidgin which Troy managed to extract from late eighteenth and early nineteenth century writings is quite remarkable. Even if there are errors and mishearings in the primary sources, the material she has produced provides strong corroborative evidence which is invaluable in tracing the evolution and development of modern day Pacific pidgins. What follows is a small selection of texts showing New South Wales Pidgin usage, beginning with a proclamation made to the Aborigines of Tasmania in 1816. 1816

Why Massa Gubernor said Black Jack, You Proflamation all gammon - how blackfellow read him? Eh! He no learnt him read Book.

118 Chapters 'Why, Mister Governor, said Black Jack, your proclamation is all lies - how can a black fellow read it? He hasn't learnt how to read.' (Governor Davey's proclamation to the Aborigines)25 (Troy 1990: 59) 1817

Where will Black man go to when he is dead? Black man drink rum, fight go down (pointing downwards) 'Blackmen drink rum, they fight and they die.' Samuel Leigh to Dr A. Clarke (Troy 1990: 119)

1818

When Black man die, never no more, never no more. 'When a blackman dies he never never comes back.' Walter Lawry (Troy 1990: 120)

1821

What for you make fire? 'Why are you making a fire?' Ralph Mansefield (Troy 1990: 121)

1825

Well massa, you no believe, what for you so stupid, you come and see.... 'Well, Master, you don't believe it, why are you so stupid, come and see..' Threlkeld 1825 (Troy 1990: 122)

1825

Why Massa you eat plenty maggots in cheese. 'Why, Master, you eat plenty of maggots in cheese.' Threlkeld 1825 (Troy 1990: 123)

1826

Me like the bush best. Ί prefer the bush.' Threlkeld 1815 (Troy 1990: 124)

1827

White fellow kill and eat black fellow. 'Whitemen kill and eat blackmen.'

25. Note: Jean Woolmington (in Stanbury 1977): this was written about a proclamation in Tasmania, but the Aborigine Black Jack could have been from NSW.

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 119 Murry boodgeree, massa, 'pose he rain. 'Master, it would be very good if it rained.' Bel boodgeree kill it pickaninny. 'It is not good to kill children.' Peter Cunningham 1827 (Troy 1990: 124) 1828

Blackfellow killed here, murry long while ago. Ά blackman was killed here a very long while ago.' Roger Oldfield 1828 (Troy 1990: 128)

1828

Me like it pai-alla you gentlemen...Bail Saturday tumble down white fellow, bail Jingulo tumble down white fellow, bail me tumble down white fellow - Tommy tumble down white fellow, sit down Palabbala, bulla jin, like it me, brother. Ί would like to speak to you gentlemen...Saturday did not kill the whiteman, Jingulo did not kill the whiteman, I did not kill the whiteman. Tommy killed the whiteman. He stays at Palabbala, he has two wives, he is like a brother to me.' Sydney Gazette: 2.1.1828 (Troy 1990: 84)

1832

What for you jerran budgerry whitefellow? Whitefellow brother belongit to blackfellow. 'Why are you afraid of good colonists? Colonists are the brothers of Aborigines.' T.L. Mitchell (1832) (Troy 1990: 84)

1836-7 Me catch the rascal directly...Me got him rascal...Come along you rascal, come, come, come. Ί will catch the rascal[koala] soon...I caught the rascal, come, come, come.' William Romaine Govett (1836-37) Goot morning, massa, you catch him fish. Bale...Me want it line...I believe you hook him rock. 'Good morning, Mister, did you catch a fish? No...I want my line...I believe you hooked a rock.' William Romaine Govett (1836-37) (Troy 1990: 96)

120 Chapter 5

1838

This is white fellow, white fellow shoot on Sunday. 'That white fellow, that whitefellow shoots on Sunday.' David Coates (1838) (Troy 1990: 94)

1839-44 Lady there, that Gin 'long o'you? Ay, ay?...Belyou got gin, poor fellow you - you no got Gin! 'The lady over there, is that your wife? Yes, Yes? If you do not have a wife you are a poor fellow - if you haven't got a wife.' Louisa Ann Meredith (1844) (Troy 1990: 97) 1844

Now me go...me bye and by [sic] come back ... blackfellow come good while ago. Ί will go now...I will come back eventually...blackfellows came a good while ago.' David Bunce (1844) (Troy 1990: 99)

1845

No good, all same like croppy. 'It's no good. It's the same as a croppy (convict).' David Dunlop (1845) (Troy 1990: 100)

1845

There, look him boy blackfellow. 'There, look at the Aboriginal boy.' David Dunlop (1845) (Troy 1990: 101)

Troy (1990: 101) points to the following pidgin features of the evidence she adduces: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

No auxiliary verb 'to be' No auxiliary verb 'to do' General absence of auxiliary verbs Use of no more or no as negator. (Aboriginal bael is also used) Conditional indicated by 'pose. Absence of plural markers on nouns. Him or -im as transitive markers for verbs. Him, -im or he as 3rd person pronoun, unmarked for gender. Use of a limited number of pronoun forms invariable for case and gender. 10. Use of me as invariant IS pronoun. 11. used as transitive marker and possibly as a reflexive. 12. Use of belongit to indicate possession.

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121

13. Use of long as preposition indicating possession (not locative). 14. All the same, used to mean 'the same as'. 15.Plenty used as a pluraliser. 16. Use of murray as an intensifier. 17. Bulla (from Sydney language) used as dual number marker. 18. Reduplication used to mark intensity and insistence. 19. SVO ordering (unlike Aboriginal languages) 20. What for used as interrogative 'why'.

21. Use of direckerly, direkaly, directly as time adverb. 22. Absence of articles (definite and indefinite)

23. Use of tumble down for 'die'. 24. Use of sit down and stop as intransitive verbs meaning 'remain, stay'.

In addition to the items derived from Aboriginal languages (principally the Sydney language) listed above, there are also boodgeree or badjaree ' good', jin or gin 'woman, wife' and jerran 'fear, be afraid'. Obviously the recall and hearing of the authors whose writings are the source of these early New South Wales Pidgin forms varied widely. Much would have been missed, as there was no systematic attempt made at that early period to compile any sort of New South Wales Pidgin lexicon. Indeed, the short passages quoted are simply anecdotal passages often inserted by the author to add local colour to the account. However, this impressionistic recording of New South Wales Pidgin is nevertheless invaluable, as it provides striking evidence that a developing Pidgin was alive and well in Australia at the same time as Pacific Islander Pidgin was taking shape in the Pacific. Indeed there are many forms shared by both Pidgins at this early period in regional colonial history. This claim will be documented later in this chapter, in section 5.5.

5.3.

New South Wales Pidgin glossary 1788-1850 26

This glossary of approximately 200 New South Wales pidgin lexical items has been extracted from a larger glossary compiled by Troy (1994), based on early Australian pioneer literature covering the period 1788-1850. The

26. From its beginning in 1788 the Colony of New South Wales covered all of the area which was subsequently divided into three states, New South Wales (1788), Victoria (1836) and Queensland (1859). For purposes of this glossary the name New South Wales pidgin is retained as a cover term.

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full glossary compiled by Troy (1994)27 contains many items whose origins are to be found in the Aboriginal languages of New South Wales. The items listed below are exclusively items which are found in modern Pacific pidgins. The New South Wales Pidgin glossary also includes items from Victoria, founded in 1836, and is complemented by a few additional items found by Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) for Norfolk, Queensland, Tasmania and the Torres Straits during the period under consideration. As stated above, the New South Wales Pidgin glossary will later be compared (in 5.5.) with a Pacific Pidgin lexicon covering roughly the same period, mainly compiled by Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996),28 in order to evaluate the chronology and geographical distribution of the various entries. At the same time lexical items peculiar to Pacific pidgins are listed, together with dates of earliest recorded usage. Abbreviations: NOR Norfolk, NSW New South Wales, QLD Queensland, TAS Tasmania, TOR Torres Straits, VIC Victoria. anada 'another, other' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). anadawan 'another one' NSW: Bathurst (183(MH)); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). bambae (by-and-by) future marker [phrase init/fm] NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1838]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also note that bambae was also recorded for TAS 1824, NSW 1826, QLD 1855.

27. Troy (1994) is a huge corpus, many times larger than her earlier publication on New South Wales Pidgin (Troy 1990), and subsumes material found in that work. 28. Based largely on Baker (1993), which it updates to include material which first appeared in Troy (1994). Baker (1993) surveys much of the same Australian literature as Troy (1990), and also includes material derived from that source.

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 123 bambae future marker[preverbal] Not noted in Troy (1990), but recorded by Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996), as follows: NSW1844, QLD1858. bat 'but' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). NSW: Bathurst (1830-40); bata 'butter' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). bifo 'before, previously' NSW: Bathurst (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). bigwan 'big, large one' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). bin (TMA marker) NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, TAS1828, QLD1842. bisket 'cabin biscuit' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28) blakfela 'indigene' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40), Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1801, TAS1817, VIC1835, QLD 1842, NOR1847. blangket 'blanket' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40). blong (genitive) NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1842]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD1842, NOR1847.

124 Chapter 5

boe ' non-European adult male' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1858. brada 'brother, cousin' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). brekim 'to break' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). bringim 'to bring' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). buk 'book' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). buluk 'cattle/beef VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50); Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1826, QLD1844. bus 'bush, forest' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). but 'boot, shoes' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). dak 'duck' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). dampa 'damper, bread' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). dat 'that, dem.' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). datfela ' that, dem.' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 125 devildevil 'evil spirit' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (183(M0); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1824, TAS1828, QLD 1842. dina 'lunch-time' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). dis, diswan 'this' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). dog 'dog' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). drae 'dry' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). drong 'drunk' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). faea

'fire'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). faendem

'to find'

NSW: Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). faet, faetem

' to fight'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). faev 'five' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); fastaem 'formerly, VIC: ahead'Northern Port Phillip (1840-50) Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1839, QLD1863. fela (adj -fela NOUN) [prop] Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1842, VIC1855, NSW1863.

126 Chapters fela (number fela NOUN) [prop] Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: VIC 1847, QLD1848. fes 'face' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). flaoa 'flour' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). foldaon 'fall down' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). gammon 'lie [n.& v.]' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1842]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1825, QLD1847. gat 'have' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1826, QLD1848. gel 'girl' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). go VERB NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: TAS1820, VIC 1850. grass 'hair, plumage' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1839, QLD1865. gud 'good' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). gud moning ' good morning' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).

The beginnings: The language situation

gudfela 'good' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). gudwan 'good one' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). hae 'high' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). haed 'to hide' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). hameni 'how many' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). handred Ί00' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). hang 'to hang (up)' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). hangkejif 'cloth' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). hantem 'to hunt' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). haos 'house' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). harem 'to hear, feel' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40). hasban 'husband' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). hed 'head' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40).

1788-1863

128 Chapter 5 huk 'hook' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). jen [tjen] 'chain' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). jifWif] 'chief VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). kam 'come' [verb] NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: TAS1820, NSW1835. kamap 'to come up' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). kantri 'country' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). kanu [kenu] 'canoe' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). kapten 'captain' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). kas/em [catch] 'get' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, TAS1828, QLD 1842. kil-im 'hit, strike' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). klosap 'near (by)' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD 1844. krae 'to cry, weep' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28).

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129

krangke 'crazy' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1843, QLD1855. kukum 'to cook' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). kwik 'quick, quickly' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). laekem 'to like, want' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). laf 'to laugh' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). lelebet 'slightly, a little' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: TAS1817, NSW 1826, QLD1870. littlefellow 'little fellow' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1864. Iong [alonga] ' multipurpose prep.' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^10); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1841]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, TAS1828, QLD1843. longtaem

'for a long time'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). longwe

'far, distant'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). lukaot 'search for; hunt' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1842]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD 1858.

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-m (transitive suffix) Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: TAS1820, NSW1826, QLD1842, VIC 1842. maewod 'my word' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1850. masket

'rifle'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). masta 'mister' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50 [1842]). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1797, VIC 1842, TORI 845, QLD1847. mekim [-m] (NP) VP] VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1826. melek 'milk' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). meri 'woman' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1842. mi Τ NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW 1795, TAS1817, VIC1835, QLD-1842-, TOR1845. misis 'European woman' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). mistek 'mistake' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40) mo 'more, and' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 131 mobeta 'better' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD1866. mun 'month' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: WES 1831,29 QLD1845. muv 'to move' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). nalnal 'club, waddy' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). nao 'now, then' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). nara [anada] 'other, another' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).30 narafela NOUN '((a)n)other fellow' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: VIC 1847, NSW-1862-, QLD-1871. nekis [neksnait] 'next' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). neva 'never' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). niu 'new' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). niusam (new chum) 'newcomer' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1835, QLD1857.

29. WES, Western Australia. 30. See also anada, NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28).

132 Chapter5 no (preposed negator) NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^0); Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1795, TAS1820, VIC1835, QLD1845. nogat 'there are not' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). nogud 'bad' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1795, TAS1824, VIC 1842-, TORI 843, QLD1855. nomo 'no more' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^10); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). ol

(plural)

Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: TAS1824, NSW1826. ol 'old' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). olbaot 'everywhere' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^10); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: TAS1824, NSW1825, VIC 1842, QLD1845. olgeta [altogether] 'they' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1858. olman 'old man' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). olsem 'as, like' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1824, TAS1824, VIC1841, QLD1842.

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oraet 'all right' NSW: Bathurst (183(M0). osta [oista] 'oyster' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). ova 'over, more' NSW: Bathurst (183(M0). padel [parel] 'paddle' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). paepklei 'claypipe' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). paoda 'powder' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). pikinini 'young child' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^0); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1816, TAS1817, SOU 183 7,31 VIC 1840, QLD-1842-, TOR 1843. pis 'piece' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). plenti 'very' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: TAS1820, NSW1826, VIC1841, QLD1865. plenti NOUN NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1824, TAS1824, VIC 183 8, QLD1843. plenti (preverbal) Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW 1826, VIC 1835, QLD1858, 31. SOU, South Australia

134 Chapters plenti (post-posed adverb) Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1826, QLD1858. plet 'plate, dish' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). polis 'police' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). putum [putim] 'to put' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). raedem 'to ride' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). rao 'to argue' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). reva [riba] 'river' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). ridim 'to read' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). rusum [rosim] 'to roast' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). saed 'side' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). sapa 'dinner (time)' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). sapos [pos] 'if NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1810, TAS1824, QLD1849, VIC 1855.

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 135 save 'know' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1880, TORI 882. sekan [tjaikand] 'to shake hands' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). sidaon 'reside, be at' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1825, QLD1843, VIC 1844. singaot 'call/shout' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW 1867, QLD1870. sipun [pun] 'spoon' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). skrasem [skratjim] 'to scratch' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0). solwota 'sea; coastal' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1839, QLD1847. spia 'spear' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). sperem [spirim] 'to spear' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). stap 'be, be at a place' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1842. stesen 'station, village' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). stil 'to steal' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).

136 Chapter 5 stingari ' sting-ray' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). ston 'stone' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). strong 'strong' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). sugabag 'honeycomb' NSW: Bathurst (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD1846. sutum [shutimj

'to shoot'

NSW: Bathurst (1825-28); Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). tamiok 'axe' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW1826, VIC1842, QLD1866. taosen [tausan] 'thousand' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). tedei [tudaij ' today' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). tel 'tail' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). ti 'tea' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). ting 'thing' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). ting [tink] 'to think' NSW: Bathurst (1830^0).

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tri 'three' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). 'two' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40). tu

tufela [tupela] 'two, they dual' VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). tumas

(preverb)

NSW: Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: NSW 1826, QLD1849, VIC 1850. tumas

(adverb)

NSW: Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1863. tumas

(noun)

NSW: Bathurst (1830^0); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: TAS1824, NSW1826, VIC1838, QLD1856. waetfela

'European (n)'

Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: TAS1820, NSW1823, VIC1836, QLD1843. wan 'one' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40);VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50).

wanetn (what name) 'what/who' (pronoun) VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) also record: QLD1868. wanem (what name)'why' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1868. wantem [wantimj

'to want'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC:Northem Port Phillip (1840-50).

138 Chapter 5 wasem [washim]

'to wash'

NSW: Bathurst (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). wea 'where' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830-40); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). wok 'work' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28). wokabaot

'wander'

Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW 1828, TAS1828, QLD1863. wota

'water'

NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). wotfo 'why' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1821, TAS1840, VIC1842, QLD1843, TORI 845. yet 'yet, still' NSW: Bathurst (1830-40). yu 'you sg.' NSW: Port Stephens (1825-28), Bathurst (1830^0); VIC: Northern Port Phillip (1840-50). yufela 'you pi' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD 1866. yumi (you and me) 'we' Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: QLD1842, NSW1850. zero copula Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) record: NSW1795, NZE1811, TAS1817, VIC 1840, QLD 1843, TOR1845. It is significant that almost 80% of the 185 items listed in the New South Wales Pidgin lexicon covering the period 1788-1850 are still current in Vanuatu Bislama among present day Pacific pidgins. The figure for both

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139

Solomons Pijin and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin would be approximately in the same range. The percentage would be even higher if one were to consider pre-Independence Bislama (1980), when items such as dampa 'damper, bread', hangkejif'cloth', paepklei 'claypipe' and sugabag 'honeycomb' were still current. In 5.5, below, following a selection of samples of early Pacific Pidgin from a number of Pacific states, we will consider a Pacific Pidgin glossary compiled by Mühlhäusler and Baker (1996) covering both the Pacific and Australia. It covers much the same period as the New South Wales glossary based largely on Troy (1994) discussed at 5.3. This glossary also includes a list of first recorded usage, whether it be in the Pacific or in Australia. The listing will show how close chronologically first usages are in both Australia and the Pacific for many items, resulting from the symbiotic relationship between the two streams, centred on the key maritime locus, the port of Sydney.

5.4.

Examples from Pacific states pre-1863

What follows is a series of Pacific Pidgin samples extracted from early 19th century literature, which, even though few in number for this early period, allows a comparison with what was recorded of New South Wales or Australian Pidgin at the same period.

5.4.1. Sample texts from New Hebrides (Vanuatu) The earliest examples of Pacific Pidgin from Vanuatu, (formerly the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides), date back to 1830. The following is a selection covering the period up to 1863: 1830

Ungka no like play now. 'Ungka doesn't want to play now.' (Source: Bennett 1883: 3)

(Erromango)

1830

You no got barley-sugar? Never mind, here barley sugar. Me no find shilling; never mind, me give garden shilling. You no well, Jane? You say prayers, Jane? You ask God, God make you well! (Source: Bennett 1883: 5) (Erromango)

140 Chapter 5 1831 Plenty fowls, plenty fish, plenty eggs, Erromanga. No put egg in water, make boil, in Erromanga; No got pot, no got kettle, but put egg on fire, make burn egg. Plenty rat, plenty pig, Erromanga. Me wake my eyes and get up early. My mother one very dirty woman; she no wash me. They no cook fish at Erromanga like you - make wrap in leaf, Father dig pit, having made fire there, put fish in, and cover with earth; when done, take out and make eat. They very bad black people at Erromanga, make kill and eat you; no such good people there as in this country; there people make fight and kill; they all very bad black people. The rope-yarn of my shoe untied. Only see what pretty rope-yarns I got on my bonnet. (Source: Bennett 1883: 6) (Erromango ) 1832 Now little girls no can go in the dark. Your gown dirty, what-for you no-more make wash! Look here! Your coat got hole, why you no-more get mend. (Source: Bennett 1883: 7) (Erromango) 1845 No, no; I know missionary. (Source: Turner 1861: 374)

(Tanna)

1846 No fear - no cry - me no eat you! (Source: Gems from the Coral Islands p.73)

(Meie)

1847 He was a quiet, unassuming, intelligent fellow, possessing a sufficient knowledge of broken English to make himself understood on a variety of occasions. In Sydney he said: Man Tanna no wife no nothing. of his wife, at Tanna she had: Plenty bananas, plenty yams, plenty breadfruit, plenty sugar cane, plenty cocoa-nut and plenty pork - but in Sydney no nothing. (Source: Australian December 17) 1850

Very good, come along. (Source: Erskine 1853: 320)

(Tanna)

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141

1851 Me say, One God; God very good; all good; God made you, made me, made everything. You good, God love you. (Source: Hilliard 1970: 131) (Erromango) 1859 "We were urging the natives to receive a missionary, and they were giving their reasons for not wishing one. The conversation was carried on in broken English, many of the natives being able thus to express themselves from frequent intercourse with foreigners". (MacFarlane 1873: 106) You see, (...) no good missionary stop Tanna. Suppose missionary stop here, by-and-by he speak: "Very good all Tanna man make a work". You see that no good: Tanna man he no too-much like work. By-and-bye missionary speak: "No good woman make a work; very good, all man he only get one woman ". You see Tanna man no like that; he speak, "Very good plenty woman; very good woman make all work". Tanna man no save work ~ he too-much lazy; he too-much gentleman! You see, suppose missionary stop here, he tell all man: "Very good, get a clothes ". That no good; very good, white man get a clothes; very good, black man make a paint. Suppose black-fellow get a clothes he no look well; you look this-fellow, he no look well! (Source: McFarlane 1873: 106) (Tanna) 1865 Jehovah Ο very good. He love Black Man all-same White Man. He send Son belonga Him. He die for all Man. (Source: Paton 1894: 7)

(Ambrym)

5.4.2. Ponape and Kosrae While the number of samples of Pacific Pidgin existing in nineteenth century Pacific literature referring to the Caroline Islands is not great, they are

142 Chapter 5

sufficient, especially when complemented by specific historical commentary on the language, its usage and distribution in the Central Pacific. The only samples of actual Pidgin usage which we have managed to locate are the following: 1854

White man take plenty gal go board ship. White man kill some kanakas. Then kanakas take chests, small things ashore; then set fire to ship; burn sails, rigging, spars, casks, everything belonging to ship. Every white man was killed. (The Friend, November 1854, quoted in Hezel 1983: 114).

The above quotation is attributed to King George (Kosrae, Caroline Islands). Keesing (1988) considers that after years of dealing with European captains King George probably spoke something closer to English than the Anglo-Kosraean pidgin. Gulick (1862: 241) gives another version of this text: White man want to get gal go aboard ship. King no like. In night white man take plenty gal go board ship. White man kill some kanakas. Then kanakas take chests, small things ashore; then set fire to ship; burn sails, rigging, spars, casks, everything belonging to ship. Every white man was killed. 1860s Plenty white man speak me, very good tap cocoanut tree, get toddy; me say, no; no good; plenty men get drunk on shore; too much row; me like all quiet; no tap coconut tree on Strong's Island [Kosrae], Me think missionary stop board that ship...Me want to go 'longpilot; look quick. Me no care nothing 'bout 'nother ship; tha's what for I want go; look plenty. Hiram Bingham (1866: 16,35)

These samples of Carolines Pidgin are rather late. Speaking of an earlier period, Ward (1966: 559) observes that in 1843 there were no white inhabitants living on Kosrae, yet remarkably nearly every native could converse in what he terms "good English". Hezel too is of the opinion that most of the population of Kosrae "spoke a kind of pidgin that served adequately as a means of communicating with passing ships". (1983: 117) A chronologically arranged survey of comments on the position of Pacific Pidgin in the Ponape area gives a good picture of its widespread usage, back as far as the 1830s.

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Even prior to this, O'Connell writes of his 1822 stay in Sydney that "the Kanakas [South Sea Islanders] discharged from American and English whalers, at Sydney, supply the Sydney whalers with half their crews. In the Cape Packet, out of sixteen hands, seven at least were Kanakas". ([1825] 1972: 86) Keesing (1988) records that "Richard Henry Dana's encounters with Hawaiians in San Diego in 1835 (Dana 1840) yield some interesting examples of an early jargon English interspersed with pidginized Hawaiian; the English-based segments include some elements pervasive in later Pacific pidgin." Hezel (1983: 113) observes that: By 1835...there were 'not less than thirty runaways on the island [Kosrae]...and many of them convicts [from Australia]'. Riezenberg also comments: Early in 1835 Ponapeans had signed on as members of the crews of visiting ships and had been to Hawaii and Sydney. (1972: 18) while Gulick (1862) adds: Very many of them are quite familiar with that sailor's "lingo", which is almost the only one they have heard. Speaking of the 1830s, Hanlon (n.d.) states: The greater number of Pohnpei's foreign residents were common seamen who had deserted from the whale-ships that began reaching the island in the mid-1830s' and most were English, the beachcombers included 'a Creole from the Seychelles' who had arrived in 1836 and three black Americans. Other Pacific Islanders also found themselves carried by circumstance to Pohnpei. Some deserted from whaling ships while others, brought to collect beche-de-mer,....were abandoned by their white employers. By the early 1840s, maritime traffic at Ponape had dramatically increased (see Chapter 4), with the expansion of the American whaling trade. Hezel remarks that: As ship traffic at Ponape increased, so did the number of desertions and the size of the resident white population. Enticed by the 'temporary fascinations of women' and the promise of a life of leisure, seamen continued to leave their ships and take up living ashore; the white population grew to fifty or sixty in 1840, and to one hundred fifty a decade later. Besides the veteran Englishmen on the island, the foreign colony was composed of Americans

144

Chapters

and Portuguese, largely from New England whaleships, and natives of other Pacific islands: Rotumans, Gilbertese, Maoris and Tahitians. [Hezel 1983: 122-124] Hanlon continues: In the middle decades of the nineteenth century, men from the East Indies, the Loyalty Islands, Belau [Palau], the Gilberts, Hawaii, Rotuma and Mangareva all struggled for survival on the island...Exiles from the harsh life aboard a whaling ship, five Maoris...had established themselves on the island of Rohntiki [where they had taken] Pohnpeian wives. By 1850, deserters from whaleships had raised the number of foreign residents on Pohnpei to approximately 150. Americans replaced Englishmen as the dominant nationality among the beachcomber community. Fishermen from the Azores and Cape Verde Islands...also reached the island aboard American whaling ships. (Hanlon n.d.). Hezel concludes: Meanwhile, ships' masters who found themselves short-handed due to desertions began to sign on Ponapeans as foremast hands. The Honduras, after most of its company was wiped out in a fight in Kosrae, took on practically an entire Ponapean crew before continuing its voyage to Honolulu....As desertions continued, more and more of the islanders left Ponape for a few years to see the world from the fo'c'sle of a trading brig or whaling bark. (Hezel 1983: 122-124, 141). In his book Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic substrate, Keesing (1988: 15) states: I believe, on the basis of the fragmentary evidence available, that a crucial phase in the formation of a Pacific jargon form which pidgin emerged took place in the 1840s as whaling and trading ships began to frequent the islands of the central Pacific. He is partially correct when he adds: The most likely settings for this first stage in the expansion of a developing Pacific lingua franca appear.... to have been a series of interlinked island groups, principally Pohnpei (Ponape) and Kosrae (Kusaie) in the Carolines, the Gilbert Islands, and Rotuma, which were favored venues for whalers, traders, beachcombers and deserters From these islands (along with Hawaii, Tahiti, and other Polynesian islands) emanated a steady stream of crew members for the whaling and trading vessels. (Keesing 1988: 15)

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The available evidence does indeed suggest that the 1840s was a key period for the development of Pacific Pidgin, as substantial standardisation of its early jargon form appears to have taken place by then, to judge by the number of reports of Pidgin speakers in the central Pacific. However, Keesing fails to observe the symbiotic relationship which existed between Sydney and the Pacific, or give due weight to the number and quality of human exchanges between these two regions prior to the 1840s.

5.4.3. Ngatik There is another piece of corroborative evidence from the Caroline Islands which has not previously been noted, namely the existence of another pidgin, Ngatikese Pidgin, also known as Ngatikese Men's Language, whose origins go back to an incident in 1837, when Captain Hart of the Lambton led a bloody massacre of most of the male population of Ngatik, the main island in the Sapwuahfik Atoll, some ninety miles south-west of Ponape. In 1837, Hart took aboard several Europeans and twenty Ponapeans, all armed, and headed for Ngatik. They went ashore and killed everyone they encountered. In all Hart and the landing party from the Lambton killed every adult man on the island. The only males to escape put to sea at the beginning of the slaughter. The Englishmen spared the women, those who had not killed themselves and their infant children and installed an Irishman, Paddy Gorman, as chief of Ngatik in return for a regular supply of turtle shell. Captain Hart and the Lambton sailed away from Ngatik leaving a few of the Europeans and the twenty Ponapeans ashore. Descendants of this community form the major part of the present day Ngatik population. What developed linguistically from this situation was a rather odd pidgin language, known today as the Ngatikese Men's Language or Ngatikese Pidgin, which contains a large number of English-derived lexical items and morpho-syntactic elements, together with a still very considerable Ngatikese element, the dominant element in this pidgin language. What is striking about the English-derived elements is that they include a number of morpho-syntactic features which are characteristic of the New South Wales pidgin of the 1820s and 30s. In July 1997 Tryon undertook fieldwork on Ponape. In the course of this fieldwork, his principal consultant, Remikio Frank, confirmed that Pidgin, as he calls it, is commonly used by the male population of Ngatik

146 Chapter 5 today, especially when they are engaged in communal activities such as fishing or boat-building. Ngatik has a population of some 500 people today.32 In addition to Ngatikese Pidgin, the standard language spoken in the Sapwuahfik Atoll area is Ngatikese, a Micronesian language which is a dialect of Ponapean, marked by significant phonological differences, the most obvious being the replacement of Ponapean Irl by Ngatikese /x/. A brief sketch of the grammatical highlights of Ngatikese Pidgin morphology and syntax appears in Tryon (2000), sufficient to clarify the position of this pidgin in the Pacific context. Most importantly it provides corroborative evidence of the probable state of Pacific Pidgin development in the Caroline Islands in the 1840s. Ngatikese Pidgin is an unusual Pacific pidgin in many ways. It cannot really be described as an English-based pidgin in that the majority of its lexicon is drawn from Ngatikese, a very close relative of Ponapean. However, as noted above, there is still a considerable proportion of Englishderived vocabulary and a large number of morpho-syntactic markers which characterise other Pacific English-based pidgins. Many of the constructions employed are found in the very early English-based pidgin spoken in New South Wales in the 1820s and 30s (Troy 1994), but which no longer figure in 20th century pidgin languages of Melanesia. Most noticeable in Ngatikese Pidgin is the absence of the ubiquitous long and blong, the high frequency relators which are an integral part of all other English-based Pacific pidgins today. There is a great deal of mixing of Ngatikese Pidgin and Ngatikese Ponapean in the data collected. Thus, the same speaker may use both Pidgin33 and Ponapean forms for the same taxon, for example: 'rain' 'hit' 'coconut'

rein (Eng. rain); kotou (PON) hitim (Eng. hit); kama (PON) koknet (Eng. coconut); ehring (PON)

FUT REL

kon (ko) (Eng. going go); nehn (PON) tat (Eng. that); me (PON)

32. Previous ethnographic and historical studies of Ngatik include Poyer (1992) and McClintok (1994). Kenneth Regh, an expert on Ponapean, kindly made available his field notes and assisted with interviews, together with Damian Sohl, Director of Education for Ponape (Pohnpei). 33. In this section English-derived items are written in bold type.

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This may simply reflect a situation in which Ngatikese Pidgin is not in regular use, leading to code mixing due to imperfect recall of the Pidgin forms. On the other hand it may be a regular feature of the language, as the Ngatikese Pidgin pronominal system is obviously English-based with singular pronouns (including possessives), while with plurals and duals the Ngatikese Ponapean forms predominate, for example: mehn 1 Dl/PL EXC, re 3 DL/PL. In fact the only non-singular English-derived pronominal forms are: yumih (Eng. you and me), 1DLINC and ohlou (Eng. all of you) 2DL/PL. Ngatikese Pidgin is unintelligible to other Pacific pidgin speakers without a knowledge of Ponapean, so significant is the role and proportion of Ngatikese Ponapean morpho-syntactic markers and lexicon. Most striking, as noted above, is the absence of the relators long and blong, and the suffix -fela with pronominal forms. A number of features of Ngatikese Pidgin bear striking similarities to early New South Wales Pidgin (Troy 1994). Most striking are the possessives (e.g., hi nihm, 'his name', as opposed to, for example, Bislama nem blong em), and the future tense introduced by kon ko, as opposed to bambai, which retains its 19th century meaning of 'soon, presently'. Also striking is the use of the transitive market -it, as in teikit, 'take', which cooccurs with -im, as it does in the New South Wales pidgin of the 1820s and 30s. Given the fact that Ngatikese Pidgin has its origins in an event which took place in 1837, and that Ngatik (Sapwuahfik) has had little contact with other Pacific islands since the demise of the whaling trade, as opposed to the constant contacts with Sydney during the early years (see Chapter 4, above), it is perhaps not too surprising that some features of Ngatikese Pidgin mirror features of the long-extinct New South Wales Pidgin. What is important, however, is that Ngatikese Pidgin has not been in contact with other Pacific Pidgins for over a century and a half. It is a kind of time capsule which provides decisive evidence of some of the Pidgin morpho-syntactic markers in use in the Caroline Islands in the 1840s. Sample Ngatikese Pidgin text The origin of Paina Island Mahsmahs ket wan pohpohd me nainiki Long ago there was a couple REL have 'Once upon a time there was a couple who had

148 Chapter 5 wan serepein. Ih neim Limenarhleng. Tat a daughter 3S name Limenarhleng That a daughter called Limennarhleng. That ker ih-te ne-rha serepein. Wan teh girl 3S-only CL-3DL daughter. One day girl was their only daughter. One day tat men i tat women tel ne-rha serepein- ο that man and that woman tell CL-3DL daughter-DEM that man and woman (that couple) told their daughter tat irha kon ko laid oh tat serepein en ahpw that 3DL FUT go fishing and that daughter too really that they were going to go fishing and that the daughter should kilang piht me irha kon palang-wei pahn observe pandanus REL 3DL FUT dry-out in look after the pandanus that they were drying in the ketpin. Irha ov en ih prokap wete. Tat serepein sun 3DL off and 3S break up weather. That girl sun. They went off and the weather became inclement. The daughter ih vikit wat irha pwang-o, en piht kau ih wet 3S forget what 3DL say-DEM, and pandanusDEM 3S wet. forgot what they told her, and the pandanus became wet. Tat pohpwohd ih pwur, en ket mat iang ne-rha That couple 3S return, and get mad with CL-3DL The couple returned and became angry with their serepein-o oh irha kaus-la. Tat serepein erhi ko we. daughter-DEM and 3DL banish-away. That girl thus go away, daughter and banished her. So the daughter went away. Ih sapal-sang Ngetik, ih kohkoh-da-la nan sehd oh 3S walk-from Ngatik, 3S go-up-away through lagoon and She walked away from Ngatik, went on up through the lagoon and

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ih vain wan ering. Ih teik tat koknet wawa-la 3S find a ripe coconut. 3S take that coconut carry-away she found a ripe coconut. She took the coconut with her oh vain wan lepinpik. Ih teik tat ering ih and find a sand-bar. 3S take that coconut 3S and (then) she discovered a sand-bar. She took the ripe coconut and saripidi. Tat serepein ih mimi nin bury.it. That girl 3S stay on buried it. The girl remained on that

tat that

lepinpik-o. Tat ering ih wes. Ih tat ering sandbar-DEM. That coconut 3S sprout. 3S that coconut sand-bar. The ripe coconut sprouted. It was that ripe coconut tat wiahda tat deke nihm Paina. that form that island name Paina. which formed the island of Paina.' Of course, while the discussion of Pacific Pidgin development in the central Pacific has focused on the Caroline Islands, simply because of the documentation available for this area, it is important to note that whaling and trading vessels also operated in the Marshall Islands to the east, and Belau (Palau) to the west, to say nothing of Hawaii.34

5.4.4. Kiribati, Rotuma and Fiji Keesing (1988: 26) observes that by the time the sandalwood trade really became important in southern Vanuatu (New Hebrides) and New Caledonia from 1841 onwards, following Peter Dillon's discovery of large stands in Erromanga (New Hebrides) in 1825 (Shineberg 1967: 7), many parts of the Eastern Carolines, the Marshalls, Rotuma and the Gilberts were involved both as ports of call and as providers of labour. Prior to this, in the 34. Hawaii, Hawaiian Pidgin and Pidgin Hawaiian are not treated in the study as they are marginal to the development of the three Melanesian English-based pidgins that are the focus here.

150 Chapter 5

first twenty years of the nineteenth century sandalwood had been extensively cut and supplies largely exhausted in Fiji and the Marquesas (see Chapter 4). Shineberg (1967: 21) records that up to 1830 some 600 Polynesians and Rotumans were engaged as crewmen on ships plying the Pacific. Indeed relatively large numbers of them were engaged in cutting and loading sandalwood on Erromanga (Crowley 1990: 53), some 600 recorded for 1829 alone. While the crucial role of Loyalty Islanders in the development of early Pacific Pidgin has received considerable attention (Keesing 1988, Crowley 1990), Rotumans were also extremely mobile as boatscrews throughout the Pacific, right from the 1820s. In 1885 a number of them were resident on Murray Island in the Torres Straits, nearly all of whom had been crewing all over the South Pacific for at least twenty years. As far as Kiribati is concerned, the history of European contacts has been detailed in Chapter 4, above (4.5.7.). Suffice it to recall that in 1847 Benjamin Boyd recruited 22 Gilbertese to work on pastoral enterprises in New South Wales, while from 1863 onwards significant numbers of Gilbertese were engaged for work in Peru, Tahiti and Fiji. Examples of Pacific Pidgin/Sandalwood English from Kiribati and Rotuma are very fragmentary, while in Fiji it played a very minor role compared to the simplified Fijian or "Foreigner Talk" which predominated there. Clark (1979: 29-30) has unearthed a few examples of Pacific Pidgin, as follows: Oh, me live with one mission in Tonga; I learn English, I wash, my wife, he iron. (Tongan in Fiji, 1851) Me too much sick. (Kiribati, 1860) You think carva [kavaj been poison?

(Kiribati, 1860)

5.4.5. Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands Between 1790 and 1870 the whaling trade flourished in eastern Polynesia, the major ports being Papeete in Tahiti and Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas. An early form of Pidgin English was associated with this industry. In 1847, the year that Herman Melville published Omoo (1847), based on his life in the Marquesas in the early 1840s, there were nineteen whalers

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which called at Papeete, one French, one English and seventeen American. Whaling activity remained steady in what is today French Polynesia until the end of the American Civil War. While most of the whalers carried full European crews, they were often short-handed after laying-over in Papeete and Nuku Hiva, and captains routinely made up the short-fall by engaging Polynesians. It would appear that in French Polynesia at that time, an English-based maritime jargon was spoken, which probably never stabilised to the stage of a pidgin. It would have been reinforced to some extent by the arrival in Tahiti of a large contingent of Gilbertese (Kiribatese) to work on the plantation at Atimaono owned by William Stewart in 1865. Few examples of the English-based maritime jargon spoken in the Tahiti and Marquesas area were recorded in traveller's accounts of the period. However, Melville (1846 and 1847), referring to 1842, does provide a couple, as follows: Why you no like to stay? Plenty moee-moee (sleep) - plenty ki-ki (eat) plenty whi henee (young girls) - Oh, very good place Typee! Suppose you no like this bay, why you come? (Typee 1846) Ah, Ideea, mickonaree oee? ('Oh, Idea, are you a Christian?')

Yes, me mickonaree, mickonaree ena ('Yes, I'm a Christian here (pointing to her mouth).') (Omoo, 1847) Good friends, I glad to see you; and I very well like to have some talk with you today. Goodfriends, very bad time in Tahiti; it makes me weep. Pomare is gone - the island no more yours, but the Wee-Wee's. Good friends, you no speak, or look at them ...I spoke more by by. (Omoo, 1847)

Lamont also provides an example from Tahiti, referring to 1852, as follows: Ah! You no like to stay? Too big stoney, by, by, canoe broke; more good go 'shore; bery good eak shicken, man ashore he cook 'im; bery good, ah! By, by, sleepy sleepy, bery good; here too much α-cold, by, by, canoe broke, too much a swim, swim no good! (Lamont 1867: 68)

However, the maritime-based English jargon probably did not survive much longer in Tahiti as the main plantation labour in Tahiti was to come from China, the first wave arriving in 1865-66 (Moench 1963). Chinese labour recruiting continued until 1928, with plantation workers coming from Kwantung Province, the bulk of them after 1909. A pidgin Tahitian, known as parau tinito, literally 'talk Chinese' emerged for communication

152 Chapter 5

between Tahitians and Chinese, as the Chinese set themselves up in various commercial enterprises once their period of indenture was completed. English-based pidgin in French Polynesia, then, was limited to the period up until about 1870.

5.4.6. Loyalty Islands The Isle of Pines in southern New Caledonia was the sandalwood capital of Melanesia from the early 1840s until nearly 1860. At times it was rather dangerous, however, as a result of which traders began to operate in the Loyalty Islands, to the north-east of New Caledonia. The journal of Andrew Cheyne, who visited the Loyalty Islands in 1841-42 is a valuable source of information on the status of Pacific Pidgin at that period. His account of his experiences on Lifii (Lifou) and Uvea (Ouvea) show that he had some knowledge of Drehu and Iaai, the Melanesian languages of those two islands.35 At the same time he clearly had a knowledge of Pacific Pidgin or Beach-la-Mar, as demonstrated in his translations of conversations in Drehu and Iaai, noted by Shineberg 1971: 98, as follows: Aliki, Aliki, Pago nubä meculada - Congazu meculada, Pänäsädu Säpi Häe Troame, Towä da Häe nubä. Chelleda, Chelleda, which was: Chief, Chief do not you go to sleep. No good sleep - By & By plenty War Canoes are coming here to fight your ship, Get up, Get up. I asked him how many War Canoes were coming and at what time, he said: Thabumb Whyanu da Häe - Asäheä Trumman. - Troame Bong Ahu Nacung Gweeath da Dohu - Mesheentie da Häe nubä, which is: Twenty War Canoes full of Men - they are coming tonight, and are commanded by the chief Gweeaths Son. They will Kill your ship.36 (September 1842)

In 1842 Ben Boyd established a whaling factory at Boydtown in Twofold Bay, southern New South Wales as well as having major pastoral interests. 35. There is a Polynesian Outlier language, Fagauvea, spoken also on Uvea. 36. The local vernacular cited here by Cheyne is a mixture of Drehu (Lifu), Iaai (Ouvea) and FagaUvea (a Polynesian Outlier language spoken on Ouvea). The Pidgin features which appear in the translation include: No good sleep, and By & By (Bambae) plenty (War Canoes...). Apparently the speaker of these words, Zeula, had lived some of his early years on Ouvea.

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In 1847 he imported some 150 Pacific Islanders, mainly Loyalty Islanders and Tannese from the southern New Hebrides (Vanuatu). The Australian newspaper of 20 October of that same year goes on to record that the first draft were "usefully and happily employed on the banks of the Murray", engaged in pastoral activities. The Port Phillip Gazette of 6 November 1847 reports that some of the Pacific Islander contingent worked at the residence of Mr Fennell, on the Yarra (Melbourne). It reports that: Mr Fennell has treated these poor creatures with great kindness and is to forward them by the next trip of the Juno to Twofold Bay, where they are to be employed in building a jetty.

Erskine in his Journal of a cruise among the islands of the Western Pacific (1853), referring to the 1849 cruise of HMS Havannah, mentions men from Lifu who had recently returned from New South Wales (where they were working for Ben Boyd). Reflecting on his time there, one of them said: Too much work at Sydney, too little eat! (Erskine 1853: 366)

In the same volume, Erskine, in a footnote, describes an event reported by Captain Oliver of HMS Fly in 1850 concerning a theft which occurred at Fayaoue on Uvea in which the chief remarked: Great fool Uea man, steal little thing he no want, big ship come and kill him. (Erskine 1853: 347)

In 1850, Nihill also recorded utterances in early Pacific Pidgin from Lifu, the largest of the Loyalty Islands, as follows: You see all Lifu man can't swim, by and bye me drowned. Canoe too little, by and bye broke - All man go away, canoe gone, very good me stop. (Clark 1979: 37)

At this early period it is likely that there was in addition to the South Seas Jargon or an early form of Pacific Pidgin, heavily based on English in terms of lexicon, another kind of contact language in use in the Loyalty Islands and on mainland New Caledonia, based mainly on Polynesian vocabulary (see 7.3.6. below). Hollyman (1976, 1978) has identified much of this vocabulary, from such widespread Polynesian languages as Tahitian, Marquesan, Samoan, Hawaiian, Tongan and Uvean. In terms of the Loyalties, two Samoan teachers were in service on Mare in 1841, a Rarotongan on Lifu in 1842, and other Polynesian teachers on Uvea in 1846.

154 Chapter 5

It is doubtful whether this contact language ever developed past the jargon stage before disappearing in the French colonial era. This situation was probably also helped along by the gradual replacement of Polynesian boats' crews in the south-west Pacific by Melanesians, largely from Southern Vanuatu and the Loyalty Islands in the 1850s. Although Beach-la-Mar went into decline on the New Caledonian mainland after the 1860s, it flourished in the Loyalty Islands. Anderson (1880: 156) reports, for example, that it was widely used on Mare in 1875. Between 1863 and 1875 over one thousand Loyalty Islanders were recruited as plantation labourers in Queensland, where they encountered Queensland Plantation English, a speech variety little different from early Bislama or Sandalwood English, so favouring the development of this lingua franca. 1875 marked the end of the period during which the recruiters engaged labour from the Loyalties. Beach-la-Mar was widely spoken by Loyalty Islanders right up until the end of the nineteenth century and beyond (see Chapter 7, below), although after the 1880s it underwent a dramatic shift in functional status, according to Crowley (1990: 75), probably in the face of French. However, the fact that it was still well-known at the end of the nineteenth century is attested by the following remarks by Daville: lis ont fait....une sorte d'idiome baroque, communement appele bichelamare, sorte de langue sabir, dans laquelle il y a surtout de Γ anglais, beaucoup de mots fran?ais et quelques expressions canaques. (Daville 1901:

166)

5.4.7. New Caledonia In New Caledonia the first documented European contact was the Camden in 1840, leaving behind two Samoan teachers on the Isle of Pines. Visits from whalers prior to that time are also likely. Hollyman (1976: 29) states that on the mainland of New Caledonia isolated instances of Pidgin English are found in the literature after 1843, but that is another twenty years, in 1863, that the first Pidgin sentences in New Caledonia appear. He states that after the visit of d'Entrecasteaux in 1793, in search of La Perouse, Polynesian elements are noted regularly, since this made possible for Europeans coming from Tonga or other parts of Polynesia the use of Polynesian as a lingua franca, despite dialect differences. Following on

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from the early navigators, the French missionaries in Balade in 1843 used this same lingua franca as they worked towards gaining a mastery of the indigenous language of the area. Hollyman concludes (1976: 27) that in the Balade area it was European contact which led to the use of Polynesian as a temporary lingua franca. At the same time there was much interaction between Uvea and the east coast of New Caledonia, reinforcing the use of Polynesian since one of the two languages spoken on Uvea, Fagauvea, is Polynesian. Hollyman (1976: 29) notes also that all that remains of this early period is a few short sentences in Polynesian, noted by French navy captains or by French missionaries. Almost all of them are quoted directly from the mouths of real Polynesians. 1848 Goujon, Journal MS:38 (Melanesians speaking): ....ils nous disaient: aliki leilei (chef, c'est bien) 1851 Leconte: 552 (events of 1846, native of Hienghene): Lelei Bouarate, Aliki-Thea, Bouarate etc. 37 1854 Berard: 136 (events of 1850): Belep kai kai poupale! Belep kakino ('The Beleps ate the foreigners. The Beleps are bad.') The first Pidgin English examples date only from 1863 and will be discussed in Chapter 7, below. Even so, Pacific Pidgin English went into decline on the New Caledonian mainland after the 1860s in the face of increasing pressure from French.

5.5.

Pacific Pidgin glossary 1788-185038

In 1996, Baker and Mühlhäusler compiled a glossary of approximately 100 Pacific Pidgin items, including morpho-syntactic markers, extracted from a detailed examination of eighteenth and nineteenth century Pacific and 37. No translation given. 38. The fact that a number of the entries record a first usage post-1850 is of no consequence. What is of significance is that many of the entries were first recorded outside the Pacific, either in Australia or on the China Coast.

156 Chapter 5 Australian literature. An adaptation of this glossary, reproduced here, is extremely useful in that it provides a list of first recorded usages not only in the Pacific, but also in areas outside the Pacific, particularly the China Coast, Australia and New Zealand. The items listed are as follows: Abbreviations: CAR Caroline Islands, COO Cook Islands, CPE Chinese Pidgin English, DNG German New Guinea, FIJ Fiji, HAW Hawaii, KIR Kiribati/Tuvalu, LOY Loyalty Islands, MRQ Marquesas, NAU Nauru, NCA New Caledonia, NOR Northern Territory, NSW New South Wales, NZE New Zealand, PAP Papua, PIT Pitcairn, QLD Queensland, ROT Rotuma, SAM Samoa, SOL Solomon Islands, SOU South Australia, TAH Tahiti, TAS Tasmania, TON Tonga, TOR Torres Straits, VAN Vanuatu, VIC Victoria, WAF Wallis and Futuna, WES Western Australia. bagarap 'spoil' TORI 888-, SOL-1926, DNG-1930, VANmod, PAPmod bambae (by-and-by) [clause initial/final] CPE 1807, HAW1821, NZE1824, TAS1824, VIC1838, SOU1841, MRQ1842, FIJI 845, TAH 1852, QLD-1855-, VAN-1865-, SOL-1874-, WAF1883, NCA-1883, DNG1883, PAP1885, KIR1889, SAM 1890.

NSW1826, LOY1851, CAR1875-, NOR1888,

WES1831, C001852, ROT1879-, TOR1888,

bambae (preverbal marker) (NSW 1844), (QLD 1858-), CPE1878, (NCA-1880-), NOR1888, DNG1914, VANmod, SOLmod, PAPmod beche de mer 'trepang' (HAW) 1836, TORI 884, (QLD 1885), SOLmod, PAPmod, DNGmod bei 'seat of the emotions' SOLI884, (KIR1887), VAN-1900, PAP1919, DNGmod bin (TMA marker) NSW 1826, TAS 1828, QLD1842, KIR1861, CAR-1877-, VAN1877, SOLI888, NOR1888, TOR1888-, SOU1890, PAP1899, HAW-1899-, WES 1900

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bislama (beach-la-mar) 'Bislama' NCA-1870, VAN-1878 blakfela 'indigene' NSW1801, TAS1817, WES1831, VIC1835, NZE1840, SOU1841, QLD1842-, NOR1847, VAN-1865-, SOL-1874-, NCA-1880, SAM 1883, FIJ1886, PAP1887 blong (genitive) NSW 1826, VIC 1842, QLD1842-, (FIJ-1842-), NOR1847, (CAR-1854-), NCA1864, LOY1864, VAN1865, DNG1875, SOLI880, TORI882, SAM1883, (KIR1884), PAP1885, WES1888, NAU1908 boe 'non-European adult male' CPE1831, NZE1840, QLD1858, WES1864, VAN1870, PAP1885, DNG-1887, NOR1928

SOL-1884-,

buluk 'cattle/beef NSW1826, SOU1841, QLD1844-, VAN-1900, SOL-191? bulumakau 'cattle, beef TONI829, FIJ-1840-, SAM-1843-, VAN-1871-, NCA-1883, DNG1886, KIR-1899, PAP 1907-, SOL-1908-, NOR-1939 buy 'recruit (with presents)' VAN1872, SOL-1884-, DNG1930devildevil 'evil spirit' NSW 1824, TAS1828, SOU1841, QLD-1842-, NOR1845, SOL-1874-, DNG1884, TORI 898, VAN1910, PAP-1923em i (him he) 'he' TORI888, SOLI897, VAN-1900, PAP1910-, DNG1924fastaem 'formerly, ahead' NSW1839-, QLD1863, WES 1865, VAN1877, NOR-1888-, TORI 888, SOU1890-, DNG1980-, PAP1910, SOLI912

158 Chapter 5 fela (adj -fela NOUN) [prop] QLD-1842-, VIC1855, NSW1863, WES1864, VAN1871, SOL-1874-, PAP1874, LOY-1880, NCA-1880, ROTI88O, FIJI 882, SAM1883, NOR1883, DNG1884, SOU1890 fela [VERB ADJ fellow] (adverbial) WES 1842, QLD1885, NOR1888, VAN-1914, DNG-1915-, SOL1920, PAP1921, SOU 1923 fela [number fela NOUN] (prop) VIC 1847, QLD1848, DNG1876, VAN1877, NSW-1880-, FIJI 882, TORI 888, NOR1888, PAP 1896, WES 1928

SOLI88O,

finis (postverbal completive marker) SOL-1884-, DNG1893, VAN1904, QLD1907, PAP1923, NOR 1946

WES1942,

flas SOLI 887, DNG1930

PAP 1920,

NOR1923,

gammon 'lie [n.& v.]' NZE1814, NSW1825, VIC 1842-, QLD1847, SOU1851, PAP 1873, DNG1875, SOL1884, FIJ-1886, TOR1888-.

VAN1867,

TORI 888,

'smart' QLD1899,

VAN1910,

gat 'have' CPE1783, NZE1817, NSW1826, RYU1827, FIJ1832, WES1838, ROT1845, QLD1848, CAR1858, MRQ1858, KIR-1861, VAN1871, LOY1873, SOL-1874-, DNG1879, NCA-1883, TOR1888-, HAW1888, SAM1890-, SOU1890-, PAP-1907. go VERB CPE1807, TAS1820, SAM1832, FIJ1845, VIC1850, NCA1852, CAR1854, LOY1864, QLD-1882, KIR1884, MRQ1888, TOR1888, NOR1888, HAW1888, SOL-1897, PAP-1898, VAN1916, WES1954, DNGmod grass 'hair, plumage' NSW1839-, QLD1865-, SAM1883, TOR-1888, DNG1898-, PAP-1912, VAN1916

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i (resumptive) 'he' NZE1814-, HAW1824, CPE1841, FIJ1845, C001852, TAH1852, KIR1861, VAN-1865-, NCA-1868, CAR1874, SAM-1875, DNG1875, QLD1876, PAP 1877, ROT1879-, TORI882, SOL-1883, MRQ1888, SOU 1890-, NOR1908. i-fela (hefellow)

'they'

SOL-1874-, VAN-1886 kaikai 'eat/food' NZE1814-, MRQ1826, ROT1833, NCA1843, SOL1858, VAN1869, DNG1875, FIJI878, QLD1882, SAM1883, TOR-18988-, PAP1896, KIR1899 kalabus

'prison'

(TAH-1846), C001852, NCA1863, VAN1886, MRQ1888, TOR1888-, CAR1900, PAP-1919, DNG-1923-, NOR-1946, SOLmod kaliko

'clothes'

VAN1867, FIJI878, QLD1885, PAP1907-, SOL-1910kam 'come' [verb] TAS1820, NSW1835, SOU1837, FIJ-1842-, CPE1848, (LOY-1850-), NCA 1852, NZE-1860-, WES 1864, VAN1867, CAR1878, ROTI88O, HAW1895, QLD-1909, SOL1937 kanaka 'Pacific Islander' HAW 1794, CAR1835, MRQ1842, C001853, KIR1857, NCA-1864-, LOY1864, QLD1865, DNG1884, VAN1888, TAH-1899-, SOL1929, PAPmod kapsaed

'pour, upset'

NCA-1883, QLD1884, VAN1900, SOL1926, PAPmod, DNGmod kas/em

[catch] 'get'

CPE 1799, NSW1826, TAS1828, ROT1833, QLD-1842-, SOL-1874-, DNG1880, LOY-1880, PAP1884, VAN1888, NOR-1888-, HAW1891, WES-1954

160 Chapter 5

kill 'hit, strike' VAN 1877, NOR1889, WES1895, QLD-1907, SOL-1926, DNGmod

PAPmod,

klosap 'near (by)' NSW 1826, QLD1844, VAN1886, SOL1888, TOR-1888-, NOR-1888-, SOU1890-, WES1911, PAP-1923, DNG-1923krangke 'crazy' NSW 1843, QLD1855-, TOR1886, VAN-1900, DNG1924-, WES1928, NOR-1943, SOLmod, PAPmod lelebet 'slightly, a little' TAS1817, NSW1826, SOU1844, WES1864, QLD-1870-, SOL1884-, TORI 888-, FIJ-1890-, PAP1910-, VAN-1914, DNG1915, NOR-1943 liklik 'little' DNG1898, (SOLI926), PAPmod littlefellow 'little fellow' QLD1864, DNG1895, PAP1899-, VAN1905 long [alonga] multipurpose preposition NSW 1826, TAS1828, CPE1831, VIC1841, NCA1842, QLD-1843-, CAR1857, SOL-1874-, VAN1877, SAM1880, DNG1883, PAP1885, NOR1888, TORI 888-, KIR1889, SOU1890, WES1982, TAH1893 lukaot 'search for; hunt' NSW-1826, VIC 1842, SOU-1860-, WES 1864, QLD-1858-, VAN1884, PAP1885, TORI888-, NOR1894, DNG1901, SOL1908 lukaot 'take care of CAR1853, KIR-1861, NCA-1864-, DNG1875, ROTI88O, QLD-1881, VAN1884, PAP1885, TOR1888-, SQL1908, NOR-1939 maewod 'my word' SOU1841, QLD-1850-, NSW-1880-, VAN1880, NOR1882, FIJ-1886, TOR-1886, PAP 1887, SOL-1888, KIR-1890-, WES1914, DNG-1916

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 161 maet 'perhaps' QLD-1906, NOR-1906-, VAN-1914, SOL1937 man bus (man Epi etc.) NCA1864, VAN1867, LOY1868, DNG1875, SOL-1884-, PAP-1926 maski CPE 1769, DNG1908-

'never mind'

masta 'mister' CPE1784, NSW-1797-, RYU1816, FIJ1827, TAK1830, SOU1841, VIIC1842, TOR 1845, QLD1847, VAN1872, WES-1874, PAP1887, DNG1914, SOLI920 mate

'kill/die'

TAH1769, NZE1772, TON1789, SOL1858, NCA-1864-, VAN1871 -m (transitive suffix) TAS1820, NSW 1826, QLD1842, VIC1842, FIJ-1842-, SOU1845, TONI846, WES1864, VAN1867, SOL-1874-, ROT-1880-, SAMI880, NCA-1883, PAP1884, TORI888-, NAU1908 mekim [-m (NP) VP] NSW 1826, KIR-1861, VAN 1867, QLD-1882, NCA-1883, SOU1890, FIJ-1890-, SOL1908, DNG1908-, PAP1920 meri

NOR1843, DNG1875, KIR1889,

SAM 1883,

'woman'

QLD1842-, SOL-1874-, VAN1877, DNG1898, (FIJ-1900), PAP-1926 mi Ί' NSW-1795-, CPE1811, NZE1814-, TAH1815, TONI 829, WES1831, ROT1835, CAR1840, SOU1841, C001852, NCA1852, LOY1857, SOLI 882, PAP 1885, NOR1888

TAS1817, HAW1819, MRQ1825, SAM1832, KIR-1834-, VIC1835, QLD-1842-, FIJ-1844, TOR1845, WAF1861, VAN1870, DNG1875,

162 Chapter 5 mifela 'we' SOLI874-, VAN1884, QLD1886, TOR1891, DNG1908-, PAP-1920, NOR-1939 mobeta 'better' NSW1826, CPE1831, NZE1843, CAR1852, MRQ1858, QLD1866, ΡAPI 881, VAN1883, NOR-1888-, TOR1888-, KIR1889, SAM-1890-, HAW 1896, WES1911, SOL1912, DNG1914 mun 'month' WES 1831, SOU1841, QLD1845, VAN1871, DNG1883, PAP1884, (FIJ1889), NOR1913 nambawan 'best/chief CPE 1828, CAR1877, HAW-1890-, SAM-1895, DNG-1925-, NOR-1939 narafela NOUN ((a)n)other fellow VIC 1847, NSW-1862-, QLD-1871, VAN1883, SOL1886, NOR1888, DNG1908, PAP-193 8, WES 1954 niusam (new chum)

'newcomer'

NSW1835, QLD-1857, SOL-1884-, PAP-1926, VANmod, DNGmod no (preposed negator) CPE 1743, NZE1793, NSW1795, RYU1816, HAW1819, TAS1820, PIT1821, TAH1821, FIJ1832, SAM1832, ROT1833, WES1833, CAR1835, VIC1835, SOU1837, MRQ1842, QLD1845, NOR1845, TONI 846, LOY1850, NCA1852, C001852, WAF1856, KIR1857, VAN1865-, PAP1871, SOL-1874-, DNG1875, T0R1882 nogat 'there are not' VAN 1831, VIC 1840 nogud 'bad' NSW-1795-, CPE 1807, NZE1814-, RYU1816, PIT1821, TAS1824, HAW1831, WES 1833, TAH1835, SOU1837, VIC1842-, TOR1843, CAR1843, COO 1852, MRQ1852, QLD1855-, KIR-1861, VAN-1865-, WAF1866, ROT1880, SOLI88O, PAP1881, DNG1883, NCA-1883, SAM1883, NOR-1888-

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-J863 163 ol (plural) (CPE 1987), TAS1824,(NSW1826),(TONI829), FIJ1845, LOY1851, KIR1861, VAN-1856-, WAF1866, PAP1875, DNG1875-, ROTI88O, SOLI882, NCA1882, QLD1885, TOR1888, NOR1900 olbaot 'everywhere' TAS 1824, NSW 1825, VIC1842, QLD1845, TORI 884, NOR-1888-, SOL 1911-, WES 1928, VANmod olgeta [altogether] 'they' QLD-1858-, VAN1884, DNG1884, SOL1886, PAPmod oli (all he)

'they'

DNG1908-, PAP1910-, VAN-1914, HAW-1933, SOL-1942, SAM1975 olsem 'as, like' CPE1784, HAW-1805-, RYU1816, NSW1824, TAS1824, TON1829, WES 1832, NZE1835, VIC 1841, QLD1842, NOR1847, MRQ1850, CAR1851-, NCA1852, KIR-1861, VAN1867, TAH1870, SAM-1875, DNG1875, FIJI 878 pijin 'bird' KIR1861, VAN-1872, SAM1883, SOL1884, TOR1888-, NCA-1894, DNG-1901, QLD-1906, PAP-1912 pikinini 'small' CPE 1747, (HAW 1791), MRQ1826, SOU 1836, WES 1842, SOL 1881, NOR-1888-, DNG1911, VAN1919, PAP1921 pikinini 'young child' NZE1814-, NSW1816, TAS1817, TAH-1825, MRQ1833, NOR1835, SOU 1837, VIC 1840, QLD-1842-, TOR1843, COO-1861, NCA-1864, SAM1883, SOL-1884-, VAN1886, WES1886, NAU1908, DNG1908-, PAP1910. plenti 'very' TAS 1820, NSW 1826, WES1831, SOU1841, VIC1841, NOR1843, WAFI856, NZE-1860-, QLD1865, VAN1883, SOL-1883, NCA-1883, KIR-1899, HAW 1904, PAP 1923

164 Chapter 5 plenti NOUN NSW1824, TAS1824, RYU1827, WES1830, CPE1833, ROT1833, HAW 1836, VIC 1838, SOU1841, TAH1842, MRQ1842, QLD-1843-, NOR1845, CAR1851, NCA1852, KIR1857, COO-1861, LOY1864, VAN1865-, FIJI869, PAP1871, SOL-1874-, DNG1875, TOR1882 plenti (preverbal) NSW 1826, WES1831, SAM1832, VIC1835, SOU1844, CAR1853, QLD1858, VAN1867, DNG1875, ROT1879, SOLI884, NOR1888, KIR1899, HAW-1933 plenti (post-posed adverb) NSW1826, WES1831, CAR1853, WAF1856, QLD1858, KIR-1861, SOL1883, VAN1889, SOU1890, DNG1893, PAP-1923, HAW-1972 samting

'thing'

QLD-1880-, VAN-1895, DNG1898-, SOL-1926, PAP-1926 sapos 'if CPE 1800, NSW1810, NZE1818, HAW1820, PIT1821, TAS1824, MRQ1842, FIJI 845, TON1846, QLD1849, C001852, CAR1853, VIC1855, KIR1857, LOY1864, VAN-1865-, NCA1867-, DNG1875, PAP 1877, ROT1879-, SOLI88O, SA,1883, TOR1888, NOR1889, WES 1893, SOU 1923. save 'know' CPE1800, TAH 1848, MRQ1858, HAW1859, KIR1861, VAN-1865-, WAF1866, PAP1871, LOY-1880, NCA-1880, SOLI88O, ROTI88O, QLD1880-, TORI882, SAM1883, DNG1883, FIJ-1890-, WES1893, NOR1913, SOU-1950-. sidaon 'reside, be at' NSW1825, QLD-1843-, VIC1844, NOR1847, SOU1851, DNG1904, PAP1921 singaot 'call/shout' NSW-1867-, QLD-1870-, SOL1888, TOR1888-, NOR-1888-, SAM1890, VAN 1905, DNG1908-, PAP1910-, WES1913, PIT-1964

The beginnings: The language situation 1788—1863 165

singsing 'dance' VAN 1871, DNG1908, SOL-1926, PAPmod smolfela 'small' VAN-1871-, SOL 1880, ROTI88O, SAM1883, TOR1888-, DNG1898, PAP1921 solwota 'sea; coastal' NSW1839, NOR1845, QLD1847, VAN-1869, DNG1875, NCA1880, FIJI885, SOLI 897, PAP-1907 stap 'be, be at a place' NZE1824, QLD1842-, CAR-1850, NCA1852, KIR-1861, VAN-1865-, FIJI 869, SOL-1874-, DNG1875, CPE1878, LOY-1880, ROTI88O, SAM1883, TORI886, HAW1891, NOR1913, PAP1921, WES1986 stil (steal) 'recruit [by force]' ROT1869, VAN1871, QLD1879, FIJ1882, SOL1885, DNG-1910sugabag 'honeycomb' NSW 1826, QLD1846-, WES-1874, TOR-1888-, VANmod ta(m)bu 'taboo, sacred' NZE1814-, MRQ1825, NCA1845, VAN1871, SOL-1874-, KIR-1861, WAF1866, DNG1938, PAPmod tamiok 'axe' NSW 1826, WES1833, VIC1842-, NCA1845, QLD1866, VAN1871, SOLI886, DNG-1887, PAP-1907 tasol (that's all) 'only' PAP1910-, SOL-1911, DNG-1911 tayo 'friend' TAH 1768, MRQ1791, NCA1850, VAN-1900 tumas (preverb) CPE 1787, NSW1826, SAM1832, WES1836, TON1840, SOU1841-, TAH 1842, NOR1848, QLD1849, VIC-1850-, LOY-1850-, MRQ1852,

166 Chapters KIR-1861, WAF1861, VAN-1865-, PAP1877, FIJ-1886, SOL1887, TORI 888-, CAR1896, HAW 1900 tumas (adverb) WES 1842, MRQ1852, CAR-1858, KIR-1861, QLD1863, VAN1870, PAP 1875, DNG1875-, ROTI88O, SOL-1884-, TOR1888-, NOR-1939 tumas CPE1769, TAS 1824, SOU1841, TAH 1842, VAN 1870, HAW1873, TORI 886.

NOUN NSW1826, SAM1832, VIC1838, TON1840, NZE1849, QLD1856-, CAR1857, WES1864, SOL-1874, DNG1875, NOR1882, PAP1885,

'European (n)' waetfela TAS1820, NSW1823, WES 1829, VIC 1836, SOU1841, QLD1843, NOR1847, SAM1883, SOL 1886, KIR1897, DNG-1901, PAP 1907, VAN 1929 wanem (what name) 'what/who' (pronoun) WES 1833, SOU 1839, QLD1868, VAN1871, NCA-1883, DNG1890, PAP 1905, NOR1906, SOL1912 wanem (what name) 'why' QLD1868, SOL1888, VAN1894, TOR1898, DNG1908, SOU1923, NOR1919

PAP1910,

wanem (what name) 'which/what' (relative) VAN 1877, TORI888-, SOL1890, DNG1899-, (QLD1906), PAPmod wea VAN1913, SOLmod

'who, which, that' [REL]

wiwi 'French person' NZE1835, NCA1845, TAH1851, MRQ1852, LOY1864, VAN1875, SOL1884wokabaot 'wander' NSW1828, TAS 1828, NZE1840, QLD1863-, VAN1867, NOR1877, SOL 1895, WES-1890, SOU1890-, TOR1898, DNG1914, PAP1926

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863

167

wotfo 'why' CPE 1796, NSW 1821, PIT1821, RYU 1827, WES 1834, TAS1840, SOU1841, VIC1842, QLD1843, NOR1843, TOR1845, TAH-1848, CAR1853, KIR-1861, LOY1862, VAN1867-, DNG1875, NCA-1880, PAP1885, SOLI888, SAM1890, HAW1891, C001900. yam 'year' VAN-1871-, DNG-1887, SOLI888 yufela 'you pi' QLD1866, TORI888-, PAP1898, SOL-1909, DNG-1911, VAN-1914, WES 1925, NOR-1946 yumi (you and me) 'we' QLD-1842-, NSW 1850, SOLI884-, PAP 1885, HAW 1887, TORI888-, NCA-1894, DNG1898, VAN-1900 zero copula CPE 1743, NSW-1795-, NZE1811, RYU1816, TAS1817, HAW1820, PIT1821, TAH1821, MRQ1825, WES 1829, SAM 1832, SOU 1837, VIC 1840, CAR1840, QLD-1843-, TORI 845, NOR1845, NAU1846, LOY1850-, C001852, KIR1855, VAN-1865-, WAF1866, SOL-1874-, DNG 1875, PAP1877, FIJ1878 The glossary above contains a number of important clues with respect to the chronological development and geographical distribution of many of the most characteristic Pacific Pidgin forms. Before examining these, it is important to remember that dates listed for first usage must not be taken at face value. They indicate simply the year in which each form was mentioned in the literature and journals of the period. Some areas were better served than others in terms of written records and early travellers' accounts, and many items were probably not recorded. Thus the nonrecording of such and such a form in the literature should not be interpreted as a sign of its non-existence. With that caveat, the forms listed by Baker and Mühlhäusler (1996: 585-592) do allow us to draw a certain number of conclusions, among which: 1. A number of forms which later became an integral part of Pacific Pidgin were first recorded in Chinese Pidgin English. These are listed below, fol-

168 Chapter 5

lowed by their first recorded usage in Australia and the Pacific. With some significant exceptions, discussed later in this chapter, the first usages of many of the items in the glossary above are chronologically quite close in Australia and the Pacific. Outside of the China Coast region, many times a specific form is first recorded in Australia while for other items the first record was made in the Pacific, all at roughly the same period. On the other hand there are a significant number of items peculiar to the Pacific which were first recorded at a much later period, often in the post-1863 period. bambae 'by-and-by' boe 'non-European adult male' gat 'have' go VERB kas/em [catch] 'get' maski 'never mind' masta 'mister' nambawan 'best/chief no (preposed negator) ol (plural) olsem 'as, like' pikinini 'small' sapos 'if save 'know' tumas (preverb) tumas NOUN wotfo 'why' zero copula

1807 1831 1783 1807 1799 1769 1784 1828 1743 1789? 1784 1747 1800 1800 1787 1769 1796 1743

TAS 1824 QLD 1858 NSW 1826 TAS 1820 NSW 1826 NSW 1797 NSW 1795 TAS 1824 NSW 1824 SOU 1836 NSW 1810 NSW 1826 TAS 1824 NSW 1821 NSW 1795

HAW 1821 NZE 1840 NZE 1817 SAM 1832 ROT 1833 DNG 1908 FI J 1827 CAR 1877 NZE 1793 TON 1829 HAW 1805 HAW 1791 NZE 1818 TAH 1848 SAM 1832 SAM 1832 PIT 1821 PIT 1821

2. A few forms were first recorded in New Zealand at a period when there was considerable maritime interaction between the east coast of Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand, especially in connection with the sealing and whaling industry. NZE gammon 'lie [n./v.]' i (resumptive ' he') kaikai 'eat/food' stap 'be, be at a place' ta(m)bu 'taboo, sacred' wiwi 'French person'

1814 1814 1814 1824 1814 1835

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863

169

3. A substantial core of morpho-syntactic and lexical items were first recorded in Australia, mainly in N e w South Wales (which strictly speaking included Victoria until 1836 and Queensland until 1859). The items first recorded in the Torres Straits were from a much later period, late in the nineteenth century and are not relevant to the discussion in this chapter. bagarap 'spoil' bambae 'pre-verbal marker' bin 'tense-aspect marker' blakfela 'indigene' blong 'genitive' buluk 'cattle/beef devildevil 'evil spirit' em i (him he) 'he' fastaem 'formerly, ahead' fela (adj-fela NOUN) fela (VERB-ADJ-fela) fela (NUM-fela NOUN) grass 'hair, plumage' kam 'come' (Verb) klosap 'nearby' krangke 'crazy' lelebet 'slightly, a little' littlefellow 'little fellow' long [alonga] PREP lukaot 'search for, hunt' maewod 'my word!' maet 'perhaps' -m 'transitive suffix' mekim [-m (NP) VP] meri 'woman' mi Τ mobeta 'better' mun 'month' narafela NOUN 'another' niusam 'newcomer' nogud 'bad' olbaot 'everywhere' olgeta 'they'

TOR NSW NSW NSW NSW NSW NSW TOR NSW QLD WES VIC NSW TAS NSW NSW TAS QLD NSW NSW SOU QLD TAS NSW QLD NSW NSW WES VIC NSW NSW TAS QLD

1888 1844 1826 1801 1826 1826 1824 1888 1839 1842 1842 1847 1839 1820 1826 1843 1817 1864 1826 1826 1841 1906 1820 1826 1842 1795 1826 1831 1847 1835 1795 1824 1858

170 Chapter 5 plenti 'very' plenti NOUN plenti (preverbal) plenti (post-posed adverb) samting 'thing' sidaon 'reside, be at' singaot 'call, shout' solwota 'sea, coastal' sugabag 'honeycomb' tamiok 'axe' tumas (adverb) waetfela 'European' (n.) wanem 'what/who' wanem 'why' wokabaot 'wander' yufela 'you plural' yumi (you and me) 'we'

TAS NSW NSW NSW QLD NSW NSW NSW NSW NSW WES TAS WES QLD NSW QLD QLD

1820 1824 1826 1826 1880 1825 1867 1839 1826 1826 1842 1820 1833 1868 1828 1866 1842

4. Apart from the items listed above whose first usage was recorded for either Australia or the Pacific, but whose distribution covered both areas, there are a substantial number of items whose distribution is limited to the Pacific. They are listed here as they form an integral part of the list compiled by Baker and Mühlhäusler (1996), although without exception they are much later than the Australia-Pacific items discussed above, and mainly fall into the periods covered in Chapters 7 and 9. They are as follows: beche de mer 'trepang' bei 'seat of the emotions' bislama (beach-la-mar) 'Bislama' bulumakau 'cattle, beef buy 'recruit (with presents)' finis (postverbal completive marker) flas 'smart' i-fela (he fellow) 'they' kalabus 'prison' kaliko 'clothes' kanaka 'Pacific Islander' kapsaed 'pour, upset'

(HAW 1836), TORI 884, (QLD 1885) SOL 1884, (KIR1887), VAN-1900 NCA-1870, VAN-1878 TON 1829, FIJ-1840-, SAM-1843VAN1872, SOL-1884-, DNG1930SOL-1884-, DNG1893, VAN 1904 SOLI887, TORI888, QLD1899 SOL-1874-, VAN-1886 (TAH-1846), COO 1852, NCA 1863 VAN 1867, FIJI 878, QLD 1885 HAW 1794, CAR1835, MRQ1842 NCA-1883, QLD 1884, VAN 1900

The beginnings: The language situation 1788-1863 liklik 'little' lukaot 'take care of man bus (man Epi etc.) maski 'never mind' mate 'kill/die' mifela 'we' oli (all he) 'they' (altogether) pijin 'bird' save 'know' singsing 'dance' smolfela 'small' stil (steal) 'recruit [by force]' tasol (that's all) 'only' tayo 'friend' wanem (what name) 'which/what' wea 'who, which, that' [REL] yam 'year'

171

DNG1898, (SOL 1926), PAPmod CAR1853, KIR-1861, NCA-1864NCA1864, VAN 1867, LOY 1868 CPE 1769, DNG1908TAH1769, NZE1772, TON 1789 SOL 1874-, VAN 1884, QLD1886 DNG1908-, PAP1910-, VAN-1914 KIR1861, VAN-1872, SAM 1883 (CPE 1800), TAH 1848, MRQ 185839 VAN1871, DNG1908, SOL-1926 VAN-1871-, SOL 1880, ROTI88O ROT1869, VAN 1871, QLD1879 ΡAPI 910-, SOL-1911, DNG-1911 TAH 1768, MRQ 1791, NCA1850 VAN 1877, TORI 888-, SOL1890 VAN1913, SOLmod VAN-1871-, DNG-1887, SOL1888

39. It is noteworthy that save, although first recorded for CPE in 1800, was widely recorded in the Pacific, but did not make its appearance in Australia until 1880.

Chapter 6 The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

6.1.

Introductory

The year 1863 marked a turning point in the history of Australian-Pacific Islands contact as this was the first year that Melanesian labourers (mostly ni-Vanuatu up until 187040) were recruited for work on overseas plantations and other agricultural and pastoral ventures in Queensland, New Caledonia, Fiji and Samoa. In the Pacific islands themselves, the sandalwood trade had declined to practically nothing, whaling had dropped off with the sinking of the first oil wells in Texas in 1859, and the sea-slug trade had well and truly passed its peak. In Australian terms, the principal locus of interaction with the Pacific islands had moved north from Sydney to northern New South Wales and Queensland (Dutton 1980, 1983) with the development of cotton plantations in response to a world cotton shortage, linked to the American Civil War. The Civil War, which began in 1861, resulted in the blockading of the cotton ports in the southern United States, throwing 2,000,000 people out of work in the factories in the United Kingdom as supplies of raw material were cut off. The price of cotton quintupled overnight, inspiring the establishment of plantations both in Australia and in the Pacific Islands. In Australia, plantations were developed from about 1863, in Fiji from the early 1860s (mainly cotton), and as early as 1867 in Vanuatu (when Henry Ross Lewin bought 324 hectares of land on Tanna for a cotton plantation). The big problem on all of the plantations, be they in Queensland, Fiji, Samoa, New Caledonia, French Polynesia or Hawaii, was the shortage of available local labour. This led to a massive recruiting campaign, often referred to as "blackbirding", for between 1863 and 1907 more than 100,000 Pacific islanders, speaking literally hundreds of different languages and dialects,41 were re-

40. And greatest in numbers up until 1880. 41. There are currently over 100 languages spoken in Vanuatu (Tryon 1996), over 60 in Solomon Islands (Tryon & Hackman 1983), and at least 40 in the re-

174 Chapter 6

cruited, often against their will, for contract periods of three years (Shineberg 1999: 36ff). This had a tremendous social impact on individual island states. In 1882, for example, there were some 14,000 New Hebrideans working abroad, out of a total estimated population of about 100,000, of whom 7,000 were in Queensland, 3,000 in Fiji, 2,800 in New Caledonia, 1,000 in Samoa and Hawaii, plus an unknown number working on ships. These numbers represent a huge social upheaval on the islands which provided the indentured labour, for many societies were stripped of the majority of their most active members.

6.2.

The overseas plantations

6.2.1. Queensland After Queensland became a separate state in 1859 there were large numbers of immigrants who came to work for landholders or to take up small holdings themselves. The timber industry expanded, and a plantation system developed, first involved in cotton growing and later with sugarcane. One of the major players in the development of plantations in Queensland was the entrepreneur and businessman Robert Towns, who seized the opportunity created by the world cotton shortage occasioned by the American Civil War, and quickly moved to establish cotton plantations. First he sought manpower in India for this labour-intensive industry, but without success.42 His earlier experience in the sandalwood trade in the then New Hebrides (Vanuatu) led him to think of that island group as a possible labour supply area. So he arranged with resident Tanna planter Ross Lewin to recruit on his behalf. This resulted in an experimental first draft of sixtysix New Hebrideans, engaged for just one year, who were successfully repatriated in September 1864. This successful experiment opened the floodgates, as very quickly other recruiters moved in to the labour market in southern Melanesia, recruiting not only for Queensland, but also for New Caledonia, Fiji and Samoa. This development was to have a major impact throughout Island Melanesia over maining recruiting areas, the Bismarck Archipelago of Papua New Guinea, the Loyalty Islands and Kiribati (Tryon, ed., 1995). 42. Aborigines were not much involved in the plantation industry, as they were considered unreliable and unsuited to agricultural work.

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

175

the next forty years in terms of the upheaval it caused to Melanesian society, a society stripped of a high proportion of its able-bodied male population. While cotton-growing proved very successful commercially, the end of the American Civil War at the end of the decade caused a crash in world cotton prices. This resulted in a move away from cotton cultivation in favour of a major new industry, the sugar industry, in this part of the world. This was to result in a major expansion of plantation development northwards along the Queensland coast, over more than 1,000 kilometres.

Figure 4. Queensland plantation labour 1863-1906 The plantations extended all the way up the coast from as far south as Brisbane, up through Maryborough, Bundaberg, Mackay, and Cairns, to Mosman (see Map 4. Principal Sugarcane-Growing Areas of Queensland). Plantations were numerous. In 1878, for example, it is recorded that in the

176 Chapter 6 Mackay area alone there were 34 plantations, many of them small, employing a total of 1,364 Pacific Island labourers. In 1879 there were 80 separate holdings in the Maryborough, Tiaro, Wide Bay area of southern Queensland. It is interesting to observe that in the 1870s Pacific Islanders were employed in roughly equal numbers on sheep stations and sugar plantations (Corns 1973: 74). However, in 1884 a law was passed which required that all Pacific Islanders be employed in tropical and sub-tropical agriculture, which ensured that from that time onward, they were nearly all employed in the sugar industry. By the 1880s the sugar industry was booming. Plantations became much larger, the two largest being the CSR Company's Homebush mill and plantation in the Mackay district, and the A.H. & E. Young Fairymead plantation and milling operation in Bundaberg. In fact Corns (1973: 75) states that "the 1880s were the hey-day of the large plantation in Queensland". Other large-scale operations which began in the 1880s were the CSR Victoria complex (1881-83), the Kalamia plantation at Ayr (1882) and the Bingera plantation and mill in Bundaberg (1883). This move away from small holdings employing only a handful of Pacific Islanders to larger plantations employing hundreds, favoured the relatively rapid stabilisation of Pidgin in Queensland. Added to this was the fact that by this stage most recruiting boats brought a mixture of new recruits, known as "new chums" and old hands, re-engaging a second or third time. Once boats of new recruits came ashore it was common practice to allow them some time with old hands and kinsfolk before they were transported to their assigned plantation. All of these factors, but especially the move to large-scale plantation and milling operations, would have had a very positive effect on the development and stabilisation of Queensland Pidgin during the 1880s and 90s. What had begun as an incipient New South Wales pidgin, enriched as it was by constant contact with the Pacific Islands, mainly through the port of Sydney, had become a coherent and stable plantation language by this time, although there is evidence that Queensland Pidgin was characterised by a number of competing forms which remained as variants even into the late twentieth century (see Chapter 7, below). In terms of numbers of recruits, between 1863 and 1904, a total of 62,463 South Sea Islanders were employed in Queensland, from the Loyalty Islands, the New Hebrides (Vanuatu), the Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea and Kiribati. See, Table 7 (Queensland plantation labour

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

177

1863-1906), based on Dutton (1980), and Moore, Leckie and Munro (1990), below. Recruiting for Queensland began in southern Vanuatu and the neighbouring Loyalty Islands in 1863. This region was the exclusive supplier of plantation labour until the first Solomon Islanders were recruited in 1871. Recruiting ships gradually moved north from the Loyalty Islands and southern Vanuatu, through central and northern Vanuatu to the Banks and Torres Islands and then on through the Solomon Islands. Plantation labour for Queensland was recruited from what is today Papua New Guinea, only in 1883-84, with only 2,809 New Guineans ever recruited. All of the other Papua New Guinea labour recruited was destined for the plantations in German Samoa (see below). Table 7. Queensland plantation labour 1863-1906 Year 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888

Loyalties

—

36 329 280 —

27 292 44 7 47 5 —

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

-

—

Vanuatu Solomons 67 134 148 141 874 625 313 607 978 416 987 1332 1931 1575 1986 1218 1821 1934 1976 2699 2877 1010 1379 1148 1431 1125

PNG

Kiribati

Other

-

—

—

34 33

—

—

—

9

—

82 —

—

124 728 74

17 39

—

240 354 61 641 440 1127 714 533 444 553 1143

5 7 26 1269 1540 4 3 4 23

178 Chapter 6 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 Total

1412 1294 534 229 714 806 519 359 201 455 674 859 530 264 374 19 —

-

—

—

1067

39975

620 1165 516 235 416 945 577 423 733 721 848 884 1151 875 663 59

18217

2809

191

204

The great majority of Queensland plantation workers came from Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides), some 65% of all recruits during the period 18631906, with 30% from the Solomon Islands and a little less than 5% from the Bismarck Archipelago in Papua New Guinea. (See Figure 4. Queensland plantation labour 1863-1906). It is noteworthy that no recruiting for Queensland, nor for any of the other overseas plantation area, was carried out on the Papua New Guinea mainland. Queensland, then, was the major locus for the development of Melanesian Pidgin in the nineteenth century. As we saw in the previous chapter, it appears that the inland New South Wales/Queensland Pidgin English variety continued to develop in one direction on and around the sheep and cattle stations, where Aborigines and Europeans were interacting (eventually giving rise to Aboriginal pidgin varieties such as Northern Territory Kriol). In coastal areas, Queensland Pidgin English came in contact with South Sea Islander pidgin, the pidgin variety which had earlier contributed to New South Wales Pidgin through maritime contact in Sydney. As a result of this direct contact, the developmental paths of the inland and coastal varieties further diverged. The pidgin spoken on the cane-fields gradually stabilised, particularly once large-scale plantations developed after 1880. It is this resultant pidgin variety which was carried back to the small island states in Melanesia at the end of the recruiting period, and

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

179

which forms the basis of a comparative Queensland-Vanuatu pidgin study in Chapter 7, below.

6.2.2. Fiji The plantation scene in Fiji had its beginnings in the early 1860s. In 1864 the Ryder brothers from New Zealand bought Mago island in the Lau Group. Right from the beginning, the local Fijian populations could not provide enough labour for the plantations, especially on islands such as Taveuni. Siegel (1987: 40) describes how, when Ma'afu, the Tongan chief who controlled the Lau Group, removed all the people of Mago to Vanua Balavu, the Ryder brothers went to Ra, in north-east Viti Levu, to recruit labour. The Fiji Times shipping reports from 1869 (the first year of publication) indicate that there were up to twenty ships engaged in recruiting Fijian labour from Ra and the Yasawa Group, transporting them to Levuka, where they were distributed to plantations. For the years 1871-73 a total of 1,130 Fijian labour recruits were brought to Levuka. The language of the plantations was Fijian, unlike the Queensland plantations, where South Seas Pidgin and English were the languages of communication. Accordingly, it was considered necessary for planters to know Fijian language and customs in order to run a plantation successfully. Siegel (1987: 44) reports that: "After the cession of Fiji to Great Britain in 1874, the recruiting of Fijian labour for the plantations was discouraged by the government. However, substantial numbers of Fijians continued to be employed as contract labourers, especially on plantations in Taveuni, Vanua Levu, Rewa, Lau and Lomaiviti outside their home areas and among Fijians who spoke different dialects." It appears from this scenario, then, that the language spoken on the plantations was probably "Standard" Fijian, the language of wider communication.43 While statistics are sketchy, it is clear that significant numbers of Fijians were employed on the plantations throughout the recruiting period. In 1893 there were 293 Fijians so employed in the Ra and Rewa districts

43. There are approximately 300 "communalects" spoken in Fiji (Geraghty 1983: 17-18). These communalects can be grouped into dialects, which in tum may be assigned to one of the two major language/dialect divisions, Eastern and Western Fijian (Pawley and Sayaba 1971: Map 14).

180 Chapter 6

(Siegel 1987: 45); in 1896 there were 154 employed in Macuata, and 127 in Rewa, while in 1898 there were 197 employed in Navua and 111 in Rewa. Of course Fijians were not the only labourers on the Fijian plantations. Labour from other Pacific islands was imported to Fiji from as early as 1865 (see below), while a huge labour force, more than 60,000, was also imported to Fiji from India, the first contingent arriving in 1879. It is interesting to consider the composite nature of the labour force in Fiji. The Colonial Sugar Company (CSR), for example, recruited an average of 99 Fijians, 178 Pacific Islanders and 44 Indians on its Nausori estate between January and June 1882 (Siegel 1987: 46), while in 1887 the Deuba Sugar Company employed 30 Fijians, 58 Pacific Islanders and 199 Indians. In 1865 the first ship brought labourers to Fiji from the Pacific Islands, joining Queensland, Samoa and New Caledonia in the Pacific labour trade. What prompted the trade in Fiji, and indeed in other plantation areas, was the fact that Fijians would only accept a one-year contract, while labour from other Pacific Islands could be signed up for periods of between three and five years. Recruits to Fiji came from Vanuatu,44 the Solomon Islands, Kiribati and the eastern islands of Papua New Guinea. There were many misunderstandings because of language difficulties, and some recruits were signed up by their chiefs, for a fee, while others were actually kidnapped and taken off by force.45 Basically, the recruiters operated in islands where there was no European administration, thus freeing them from any constraints. This situation continued unchecked until Britain was finally persuaded to annex Fiji and exert some control on labour trade practices. Pamaby (1956: 56) recounts that in 1873 there were at least 1,400 British subjects in Fiji, many of whom had come as planters during the cotton rush of the 1860s. Siegel (1987: 47) notes that after the collapse of cotton prices, planters were unable to pay the wages and return passages of the more than 3,000 recruits in the country, and Britain was forced to intervene. In 1874 they accepted Cakobau's offer of cession, making Fiji a British colony.

44. Charpentier (1979) notes that there are some Fijian loanwords which have made their way into Vanuatu vernacular languages, terms for "axe" and "knife" in particular. 45. This type of activity has been well documented by such writers as Corns (1973), Holthouse (1969), Legge (1958), Moore et al. (1990), and Scarr (1967, 1973, 1980).

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

181

The British passed a number of ordinances to regulate the labour trade in Fiji. Siegel (1987: 47) reports that all applications for labour had to be made through the government and recruiting was carried out under the supervision of Government Agents. Hours of labour were regulated and wages set at three pounds a year, which was disadvantageous for Fijian recruiters since wages in Queensland were double, six pounds a year. The Governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, opted to move away from Pacific Islander labour for the plantations, preferring instead to look towards India as a source of labour. As a result of this policy decision, the recruiting of Pacific Island labour for Fiji slumped dramatically, after having peaked in the early 1880s. In spite of this, the recruiting of Pacific Islander labour for work on the Fiji plantations continued, albeit on a smaller scale, for the next twenty-five years. The catchment area of the recruiters was linguistically extremely diverse and it is obvious that they must have had to use some language of wider communication in their recruiting operations. What they would have used was the emergent Pacific Pidgin which, as we have seen, had its origins in the symbiotic trade and maritime contacts between Sydney and a whole network of Pacific islands right from the first beginnings of New South Wales in 1788. In the Loyalty Islands and Vanuatu a Sandalwood English, evidently a dialect or variety of this Pacific Pidgin, was already well established as a lingua franca during the major period of beche-de-mer and sandalwood trading (from the end of the 18th century up until about 1865). Giles (1968[1877]: 41n) quotes a Tannese man talking to the Government Agent on the Bobtail Nag in the following terms: Me no care, me no belong this fellow place, man here no good-rogue.

In the same footnote, Giles also quotes the speech of the recruiter on the same ship, demonstrating that Pacific Pidgin was indeed used as the language of recruitment of labour for Fiji (even though the lingua franca on the Fiji plantations was Pidgin Fijian, see below). Thus: Yes, suppose you let him some boy go along Queensland, we buy him altogether [yams], my word, good fellow. Very good, you let him boy come, good fellow place, -, he no work along a sugar, you savey, he work along ο' bully-me-cow...

Between 1865 and 1911, approximately 27,027 Pacific Islanders came to Fiji as indentured labourers (Siegel 1987: 51). These recruits, men and women, came from all over Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, eastern Papua

182 Chapter 6 New Guinea (the Bismarck Archipelago) and Kiribati. During the first half of the recruiting period, the majority of indentured labour came from Vanuatu, while in the second half, the major contributor was the Solomon Islands. It is useful to reproduce Siegel's listing (1987: 52) of the origins of Pacific Islander labourers in Fiji (Table 8). Although records of women labourers are available only for the period 1876-1911, figures for the period show that female labour constituted only 8 per cent of the Pacific Islander plantation labour force. 36.4 per cent of these came from Kiribati. The majority of Pacific Islander labour working in Fiji, then, came from Vanuatu (52.06%), as was the case in Queensland. In the early years (1864—75) most of the ni-Vanuatu recruits came from the southern islands (TAFEA Province), while in the peak period, from a Vanuatu viewpoint 1876-1887, they came from the two larger islands, Malakula and Santo, in the centre and north of the archipelago. After 1887 Vanuatu recruitment fell away substantially, as more and more Solomon Islanders were employed. This distribution of Vanuatu labour recruitment is detailed in Table 9. After 1887 the Solomon Islands provided almost ninety per cent of Pacific Islander labour in Fiji. In fact, some Solomon Islanders and their families remained in Fiji after the plantation period, known today as Kai Solomone. Even today there are five Kai Solomone villages in the Wailoku settlement near Suva, all tracing their ancestry back to Malaita. However, the last surviving speakers of Solomon languages in this settlement, interviewed by Siegel in the 1980s, have now all died. The home islands of the Solomon Islander plantation workers in Fiji are detailed in Table 10. In terms of the Solomon Islands contribution of labour, the island of Malaita was by far the most important, with 5,149 (or 62.5% of all Solomon Islands labour in Fiji) recruits out of a total of 8,228. During the closing years of the labour trade, Malaita contributed more than 80% of all Fiji plantation labour (Siegel 1987: 53). The Papua New Guinea area contributed only 1,618 labourers to the Fiji plantations, and those only during the years 1882-84. After that period they were deployed on the German plantations in Samoa, see below. None were recruited from the Papua New Guinea mainland. Rather, they came from the islands which constitute the Bismarck Archipelago, New Britain and New Ireland, the Duke of York Islands, Buka and Bougainville, all of

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

183

which were under German control at the time. Siegel (1987: 58) lists their home islands in Table 11. Table 8. Pacific Islander labour in Fiji (Adapted from Siegel 1987: 52) Year 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896

Vanuatu -

180 301 264 381 262 1,348 1,569 1,023 1,232 607 185 247 332 1,058 1,335 911 763 1,022 273 128 50 145 70 71 62 35 79 58 -

Solomons

New Guinea

Other

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

—

-

-

-

-

-

212 336

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

140 155 202 468 1,382 464 502 339 585 245 131 175 209 46 116 153 153 —

-

-

-

-

—

-

467 662 489 —

-

-

115 98

135 136 224 54 427 34 85 66 84 50 236 70 68 —

102 276 64 —

1 28

-

-

—

316 116 —

-

153 -

—

-

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

-

—

—

-

—

—

—

-

—

—

—

24 19

Kiribati

—

—

40 136 1 —

14 67 —

—

—

—

—

_ —

—

Total —

180 301 264 516 398 1,748 2,275 1,566 1,266 692 404 471 537 1,496 1,873 2,361 1,227 2,093 1,550 1,266 295 277 273 280 108 191 368 212 _

14 206 117

184 Chapter 6 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 Total

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

62

-

-

-

69

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

—

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

102 92

-

8 -

7 17 3 12 55 62

105 93 103 184 502 210 361 78 110

-

-

-

-

14,198

-

8,228

1,618

2,398

-

102 100

—

122 96 115 239 564 210 361 78 110

585 27,027

Percentages: Vanuatu Solomons PNG Kiribati Other

52.06% 30.44% 5.98% 8.87% 2.16%

Table 9. Origins of Vanuatu labourers in Fiji (Adapted from Siegel 1987: 55)

Tanna Erromanga Futuna TAFEA Efate Shepherd Is. Epi SHEFA

18641875 1,118 1,118

18761887 24 32 56

18881899 4 7 11

19001911 30 3 33

Total 1,176 35 7 1,218

566 170 736

23 13 200 236

17 17

2 4 19 25

608 17 389 1,014

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906 Paama Ambrym Malakula MALAMPA

185

33 33

42 309 1,636 1,987

19 26 45

9 4 13

42 337 1,699 2,078

6 6

525 299 873 1,697

77 28 82 187

46 6 52

654 327 961 1,942

Santo Malo SANMA

141 141

1,814 230 2,044

8 8

4 4

1,826 371 2,197

Banks Torres TORBA

91 91

297 16 313

88 88

26 3 29

502 19 521

Ambae Maewo Pentecost PENAMA

Province TAFEA SHEFA MALAMPA PENAMA SANMA TORBA

Totals: 1,218 1,014 2,078 1,942 2,197 521

Total UNKNOWN Total

8,970 5,228 14,198

Table 10. Origins of Solomon Island labourers in Fiji (Adapted from Siegel 1987: 57) 18641875 Duff Is. Tikopia TEMOTU

18761887 1 1 2

18881899

19001911

Total 1 1 2

186 Chapter 6 Makira Ulawa Uki Santa Ana S.Catalina MAKIRA

540 10 2 6 5 563

50 9

38

59

38

628 19 2 6 5 660

Guadalcanal GUADAL.

892 892

184 184

138 138

1,214 1,214

Malaita Ontong Java MALAITA

2,695 32 2,727

826

1,596

826

1,596

5,117 32 5,149

Savo Gela Bellona CENTRAL

12 69 4 85

2

2 15

2

17

14 86 4 104

ISABEL

90

13

18

121

New Georgia Ranongga Vella Lavella Mono Choiseul WESTERN

3 5 2 24 27 61

Totals:

TEMOTU MAKIRA GUADALCANAL MALAITA CENTRAL ISABEL WESTERN

2 660 1,214 5,149 104 121 61

Total 7,311 UNKNOWN 917 Total 8,228

3 5 2 24 27 61

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

187

Table 11. Origins of Papua New Guinea labourers in Fiji (Adapted from Siegel 1987: 58) 18641875

18761887

18881899

19001911

Bougainville Buka Nissan Kilinailau N.SOL.

-

112 507 60 31 710

-

-

112 507 60 31 710

N.Ireland N.Hanover Simberi Lihir N.IRELAND

-

393 111 36 8 548

-

-

393 111 36 8 548

N.Britain Duke of York Watom N.BRITAIN

-

311 33 16 360

-

-

311 33 16 360

Total

-

1,618

-

-

Total

1,618

Table 12. Origins of Kiribati labourers in Fiji (Adapted from Siegel 1987: 59) 18641875 Arorae Tamana Onotoa Nikunau Beru Tabiteuea Nonouti Abemama Maiana Abaiang Ocean Unknown Total

-

—

-

1,161 1,161

18761887

18881899

98 25 103 106 332 164 4 20 52 9 37

54 7 13 37 61 66 20

29 979

19001911 —

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

-

-

, ,

258

—

Total 152 32 116 143 393 230 24 20 52 9 37 1,190 2398

188 Chapter 6

Kiribati, formerly the Gilbert Islands, contributed nearly 10% of Fiji plantation labour, with almost 2,400 recruits, mainly from the islands of Onotoa, Nikunau, Beru and Tabiteuea in the southern part of the group. Kiribati labour numbers peaked in the 1870s and early 80s, the last group if I-Kiribati plantation labour arriving in Fiji in 1895. Details of their home islands are presented in Table 12. Pacific Island recruits working in Fiji spoke a total of approximately 180 distinct languages, mainly Austronesian (Tryon 1976, Tryon & Hackman 1983, Wurm & Hattori 1981), although there were some Papuan (Non-Austronesian) languages represented from areas around Bougainville. It is not surprising, therefore, that they had major communication problems. Siegel (1987: 60) cites a very telling passage from the Report on Polynesian Immigration for 1882, as follows: ....every group of islands - sometimes most islands within each group having a different language, and even in one island inhabitants of one portion being unable to communicate intelligibly with the inhabitants of another, the difficulties with regard to interpretation are very great. Large numbers of Polynesians46 arrive annually in depot with whom no communication can be held, with the exception of the use of signs or a word or two of broken English or Fijian... (CSO 2766/1903).

The only exception to this Babel-like situation was Kiribati, where a single language is spoken by the entire population. In terms of recruit numbers, prior to 1875 the majority of recruits in Fiji came from Tanna in Vanuatu (speaking one of five Tanna languages), while from 1868 to 1895 the largest linguistic group were the Kiribatese. From 1895 onwards the majority of labourers came from the island of Malaita in the Solomon Islands, where a series of closely-related languages are spoken. So how did the Fiji plantation labourers communicate with each other? Many of them continued to use their own native languages, as it was the policy on the Fiji plantations (unlike Queensland) to allow recruits from the same home language area or the same island to work together (Forbes 1875: 60-62; Gordon-Cumming 1882: 333). However, although recruits could survive speaking only their native languages in Fiji, they were in the minority simply because of the necessity to work and live with speakers of other languages, including European overseers. 46. In 19th century reports Pacific Islanders were all commonly referred to as Polynesians, whether they be Polynesian, Micronesian or Melanesian.

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906 189 The historical records are not clear as to exactly what lingua franca was employed on the plantations in Fiji. Clark (1979: 62) summarises the situation: The Fijian labour trade is not only less well known in general; there is some uncertainty about the extent to which pidgin English was used there. It seems beyond question that many Melanesian labourers learned some form of Fijian rather than English as a general language of communication on the plantations...On the other hand there are numerous references to individuals who had learned "English" in Fiji...or even "a mixture of English and Fijian" (Wawn 1893: 325). Some later writers identify this form of English as "beche de mer"....

Siegel (1987: 73) examines the situation closely and concludes: Fijian was the language of the plantations where Pacific Islanders were labourers. Not only was it used by Europeans to work their labourers, but also it was used by the labourers among themselves as a lingua franca. This is evident from its continued use by returned labourers.

But what of Pacific Pidgin? Although it has been established that Fijian was the main language used on the plantations, there is evidence that Pacific Pidgin was also known and used in Fiji, at least to some extent. It is perhaps better to consider this question in two historical periods, pre-1888 and post-1888, for it was in this latter period that a large percentage of recruited labourers had already worked on plantations in Queensland or elsewhere, where Pacific Pidgin was the established lingua franca. Pacific Pidgin was certainly known and used in Fiji from the earliest times, for it was the language of recruiting. Siegel (1987: 77) is of the opinion that it may have been used by the recruits once they reached Fiji to communicate with Europeans. He was unable to find concrete evidence that some form of English was used to run any plantation, although he cites some examples taken from 19th century travellers. For example, a Tanna (Vanuatu) man working on Taveuni is reported to have said: Big fellow tree that (Forbes 1875: 70) Another example comes from a plantation in Wailevu, on Vanua Levu: He big feller hen, but no make'm egg (Partington 1883: 197)

190 Chapter 6

However, evidence of the use of Pacific Pidgin on the Fiji plantations pre1888 is very limited. Off the plantations, the most telling testimony comes from Brewster, who recalls the scene in Levuka when he first arrived in Fiji in the 1870s and 80s: Straight-haired olive-skinned people from Rotuma, Samoa and Tahiti passed to and fro jostling their woolly-haired black neighbours from Tanna, the New Hebrides and Banks Groups and from the faraway Solomon Islands. There they met and conversed in the beche-de-mer or pidgin English which with Fijian forms the lingua franca of the Great South Sea. (Brewster 1937:101)

Siegel concludes that pre-1888 Pacific Pidgin must have been known to some extent in Fiji, but that clearly it was not used to run the plantations or as a lingua franca between plantation labourers, unlike the situation in Queensland and Samoa. However, it may have been used when recruits first arrived, supplanted by Fijian as soon as it was learned (Siegel 1987: 81). Between 1888 and the end of Fiji recruiting in 1911, nearly 30% of labourers on Fijian plantations had worked previously either in Queensland, Samoa or New Caledonia (some even in Tahiti and Hawaii). These experienced recruits all knew and used Pacific Pidgin. The great majority came directly from Queensland to Fiji as a result of the "White Australia" policy. From 1907 onwards some 650 ex-Queensland labourers arrived in Fiji, mainly Solomon Islanders from the southeast of the group, the vast majority from Malaita. Many of them lived in urban areas, in Suva and Labasa, and were able to form their own communities. A few previously engaged recruits also came to Fiji from Samoa (Siegel 1987: 83). However, by the time the "old hands" were recruited, Fijian was already well established as a the lingua franca of these islands. Accordingly Pacific Pidgin both in its Queensland and Samoan forms had little impact in Fiji. In spite of this, it was well enough known there in the early 1900s for letters to the Fiji Times to appear in Pidgin English. Incidentally these showed features from both Queensland and Samoan Pidgin. This Pacific Pidgin was widely reported to be known and used, especially by the Solomon Islanders who remained in Fiji after the abolition of recruiting in 1911 (Brummitt 1914, Foster 1927). But what of Pacific Pidgin as spoken by Fijians and Indians? There is only very fragmentary evidence that Melanesian Pidgin English was spoken by Fijians outside a maritime context. For example, Wawn (1893: 143) quotes one of his crew as saying:

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

191

Cappen! man Vila he come. Fijians speaking Pacific Pidgin are also recorded by Grimshaw (1907) and Burton (1910), but not in a plantation context. As far as Indians are concerned, Siegel reports (1987: 89) that he found only one reference to an Indian speaking English with Pacific Pidgin features, an Indian constable who translated Hindustani into English in the courts. One of the main reasons why Pacific Pidgin did not develop on the plantations in Fiji was that in Fiji the plantations were situated in rural locations far away from towns and stores. These circumstances favoured the learning of Fijian. In contrast, the Pacific Islanders working in Queensland had Saturdays off and used this time to go into town and learn some English. However, as discussed below, plantation workers in Samoa worked in rural areas, yet they spoke a variety of Pacific Pidgin and not Samoan. How was this? Siegel (1987: 91) suggests that the language which becomes the language of the plantation is "the one used by the European planters and overseers to communicate with the recruits, not necessarily the one used to communicate among themselves or with the indigenous population. It was the plantation language which was adopted by the plantation labourers as their own common language." It would appear, too, that when former Queensland and Samoan recruits came to work and live in Fiji they continued to use Pacific Pidgin amongst themselves, but not with other Pacific Islanders living in Fiji. The "old hands" quickly learned Fijian for this purpose. The only remaining puzzle in the Fiji plantation scene is why the European planters and overseers chose to speak Fijian rather than English to their labourers. The answer lies in the fact that from the time of earliest European contact, there was an indigenous lingua franca used for communicating with outsiders. It had been used for many years with sandalwood and beche-de-mer traders, and possibly with neighbouring Tongans. A similar situation existed in Hawaii (Reinecke 1969), where beachcombers began to live among the Hawaiians and learned their language. Bickerton (1979: 8) records that prior to 1876 the Hawaiian plantations were staffed by native Hawaiians and that "the language of work, the language of control in these plantations had been Hawaiian". The Fijian spoken on the plantations was certainly not standard Fijian, as Siegel (1987: 98ff) convincingly demonstrates. It was widely known as Solomon-Fijian, and was recognised as sufficiently different from standard

192 Chapter 6 Fijian that special interpreters were provided in some court hearings involving plantation labour. By 1883 the term Pidgin Fijian was coined (Fiji Times, 9 June). The use of Pidgin Fijian was not confined to Fiji, however, for it was transported to the island homes of the returned labourers. Thomson (1896: 32) writes: Throughout the New Hebrides and Solomons, pidgin Fijian will take one anywhere, for the Fijian of the foreign labourers is as different from the classical language as is the English of the Chinaman in Hong Kong from classical English. Indeed, the Catholic Mission in the Solomon Islands in 1898, after an earlier abortive attempt in 1845 which had resulted in the death of Bishop Epalle on Santa Isabel, brought Fijian catechists with them to help with the work of evangelisation among the returned plantation labourers (Laracy 1976). Today, Pidgin Fijian is still spoken, but no longer by plantation labour. Rather it is used as a lingua franca by Indians and Chinese as a vehicle of communication with indigenous Fijians (Siegel 1987: 99). Fiji was rather different from other Pacific plantation areas in that plantation labour for Fiji was not only drawn from the Pacific Islands. Because of abuses in and difficulties with the recruiting a constant supply of Pacific labour, the first governor of Fiji, Sir Arthur Gordon, introduced an indentured labour scheme under which more than 60,000 labourers came from India to work on the Fiji plantations between 1879 and 1916. He had previously served in Mauritius (in the Indian Ocean) and Trinidad (in the Caribbean) and was well versed in the indenture system, which had been established to provide labour in the British colonies after the abolition of slavery. Another motivating force was Gordon's policy of restricting native Fijian labour on the plantations so as to avoid disruption to Fijian society. Indian indentured labour was contracted for five years after which time the labourers could: a) return to India at their own expense, b) stay in Fiji and lease a small parcel of land or c) work another five years, after which they would be given a free passage back to India (Gillion 1962, Lai 1980, 1983). A high percentage of Indian labour was drawn from the modern-day states of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Madhya Pradesh (Tinker 1974, Lai 1983). The majority of the Indian indentured labourers worked on the Colonial Sugar Refining Company (CSR) plantations located initially in the Rewa area and later on the north-west of the two main islands, Viti Levu and Vanua Levu. Because of the high death rate of Pacific Islanders on the

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

193

CSR plantations, in 1882 the company made a decision to employ only Indians on their plantations thereafter (Siegel 1987: 130). The smaller plantations preferred to employ Pacific Islander labour; after 1905 they were allowed to employ up to thirty indentured Indian labourers. These smaller plantations, those employing mostly Pacific Islander labour, were located mainly on Taveuni, on south-east Vanua Levu (Cakaudrove) and in the Lau group (Siegel 1987: 131). The Indians spoke a great range of languages, belonging to two major language families, Indo-Aryan (a branch of Indo-European) in the north, and Dravidian in the south. One of the major Indo-Aryan languages was Hindi, spoken in a wide variety of dialects. However, there also existed a lingua franca, known as Hindustani, spoken over a wide area of India, said to have been carried everywhere in India with the expansion of the Moghul Empire. It was the literary form of this lingua franca which became the official language of the British Raj. There also exists a simplified basilectal variety of the lingua franca, known as Bazaar Hindustani. Once they reached Fiji, the Indian indentured labourers spoke their own regional dialects, but most could also communicate in the Hindustani lingua franca, as many were recruited from outside their home areas, forced to move around in search of work in difficult economic times. Even if they did not speak it on departure from India, the indentured labourers learned plantation Hindustani soon after their arrival (Tinker 1974). When the Indian labourers arrived in Fiji, they required some kind of lingua franca immediately, either Hindustani or Pidgin Fijian, which had become established as the lingua franca of the Fiji plantations since the 1860s. In fact, they used both, for those Indians who worked on the smaller plantations (mainly copra) alongside Pacific Islanders used Fijian, while those who worked on the new larger CSR sugar plantations used Hindustani, since nearly all of the labour on those plantations was Indian (Siegel 1987: 148). Siegel (1987: 149) shows that a substantial number of Indians worked with Pacific Islanders on the smaller plantations, in his table of records for seven plantations in 1888 shows: Plantation Mago Island Co., Mago J.C. Smith, Baulevu C.B. Chalmers, Penang

Indians

Islanders

17 204 50

224 33 43

194 Chapter 6 Taveuni Sugar Co., Holmhurst Rewa Sugar Co., Koronivia J.E. Manson, Alpha and Qila C.L. Sahl & Co., Muanaweni Total Total Fiji 1888

102 403 34 82

65 18 121 23

892 5,251

527 2,088

Siegel concludes (1987: 149) that in 1888 approximately 25% of Indian labourers worked with Pacific Islanders and so were exposed to Pidgin Fijian. As a general rule, however, the majority of the Indian indentured labourers (known as girimityas) were not expected to learn Fijian or English. On the contrary, their European overseers and managers were expected to learn the Hindustani lingua franca. As for the form of Hindustani which became generalised in Fiji, Siegel is of the opinion that it was most probably a basilectal form of the Indian lingua franca which served as the base, together with a large number of English and Fijian loanwords as well as some features of Hindi regional dialects (Siegel 1987: 155).

6.2.3. Samoa In Samoa, plantations began in 1867 with the recruiting of labour from four main areas, Kiribati (Gilbert and Ellice Islands), Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea (German New Guinea). In the early years recruits came mainly from Kiribati (1867-1880), later from Vanuatu (1878-1885) and the Solomon Islands (1880-1885). In the latter part of the nineteenth century and at the beginning of the twentieth, after about 1885 up until the First World War (1914), Samoan plantation labour was recruited exclusively from what was then German New Guinea, today Papua New Guinea. Western Samoa was a German colony from 1899 until 1914, while northern New Guinea and the Bismarck Archipelago were proclaimed a German Protectorate in 1884. This situation had important consequences for the recruiting of labour for the Samoan plantations, unlike Queensland, Fiji and New Caledonia, where Papua New Guinea labour played a very minor role.

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

195

To put this in context, we have to go back to 1856, when August Unshelm arrived in Apia from Valparaiso as the representative of the Hamburg firm J.C. Godeffroy & Sohn. Within five years he had opened trading stations in Fiji and Tonga. So began German commercial activity in the region, leading directly to the establishment of German colonies and protectorates in the Pacific. Norman and Ngaire Douglas (1989: 647) report that Theodor Weber, a Godeffroy manager, was appointed German Consul in Apia in 1861, and that when Unshelm drowned in 1864, he took control of the company, and over the next few years extended the trading business all over the Central and Western Pacific. Weber acquired 30,000 hectares of the best land on the island of Upolu and prepared a major colonisation plan to be operated by Germany in the Pacific Islands. However, Weber's plans miscarried when Godeffroy & Son went bankrupt. Their place was taken by Deutsche Handels-und Plantagen Gesellschaft der Südsee-Inseln zu Hamburg, known as D.H. & P.G. or more commonly "the Long-Handle Firm". From 1870 to 1880 there was considerable international rivalry between Britain, the USA and Germany, and this rivalry spilled over into internal Samoan affairs. Following the death of Malietoa Vaiinupo, king of Samoa, in 1841, there ensued 25 years of fighting between chiefly families. In 1867, the year that plantation labour recruiting began, there were thousands of Samoans under arms, supporting rival "kings", one to the east of Apia and the other to the west. In the early 1870s Britain and the USA used all their influence to try to bring about a peace, concluded in April 1873, with Malietoa Laupepa as king. For the next 30 years there were "incidents" due to the ceaseless struggle of the high chiefs for power, and trade rivalries and jealousies between Britain, the USA and Germany. In 1899 treaties were drawn up under which Germany annexed Western Samoa, the USA exercised sovereignty over Eastern Samoa (today American Samoa), and Britain withdrew all claims in return for German surrender of her rights in Tonga, Niue, and all of the Solomon Islands east and south-east of Bougainville. At the beginning of World War I, on 29 August 1914, a force of New Zealanders under the command of Colonel Logan annexed Western Samoa without a shot being fired. After 1885, recruiting for the German plantations in Samoa was restricted to the Bismarck Archipelago (Tryon, Mühlhäusler & Baker 1996). Between 1885 and 1900, about 2,300 labourers were recruited from that area, mainly from New Ireland. By the end of the period of German con-

196 Chapter 6 trol, a total of approximately 6,000 plantation labourers had been imported to Samoa from the Bismarcks. However, the number of Melanesian recruits in Western Samoa at any one time rarely exceeded one thousand 0Handbook of Samoa 1925: 113-4) Table 13. Origins of Samoan plantation labour (Moses 1973: 102) Kiribati Carolines 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 Total

81 115 40 69 48 358 140 280 101 251 189 115 300 -

8 2 29 124 2,250

Vanuatu

Solomons

PNG

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

—

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

15 80

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

—

95

83 570

-

226 199

-

179 153 29

33 9 -

187

156

103 287 216 45

1,201

618

693

-

37

-

-

Total 81 115 40 69 48 15 438 140 280 101 251 272 718 535 378 264 355 245 512 4,857

A summary of Pacific Islander labour employed on the plantations in German Samoa between 1867 and 1914 is as follows: Kiribati Vanuatu Solomons PNG Total

1867-1885 1878-1885 1880-1885 1879-1914

2,250 1,201 618 6,000 10,069

The plantations:

History of contacts 1863-1906

197

It is noteworthy that until approximately 1891, the number of New Guinean labourers employed on the Samoan plantations exceeded those employed in German New Guinea (see Chapter 8). Firth (1973) provides three important statistics regarding recruiting in the New Guinea area for work on the Samoan plantations: 1. More than 50% of all labourers recruited for Samoa came from New Ireland. 2. About 20% originated from the Gazelle Peninsula (New Britain). 3. No labourers were recruited from the New Guinea mainland. The Godeffroy Company had three major plantations, one at Vaitele on Upolu, six kilometres east of Apia; one at Vailele, just outside Apia; and one at Mulifanua, the largest and oldest plantation, about forty kilometres north-west of Apia. Prior to 1879 there were no recruits from New Guinea. Rather they came from the Gilbert and Ellice Islands, Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands. These workers would have had some Pidgin English, the language of recruiting, even for ships sailing under the German flag. The main stimulus for the stabilisation of the Pidgin was, however, the isolation of the plantations, where the only contact was with other recruits or with their European overseers, plus the fact that they were considered inferior beings by the Samoans. Since there were common recruiting grounds for all of the plantations and a common Pacific Jargon to begin with, at least in its major conventions, it is not surprising that the plantation pidgins which developed in Queensland, New Caledonia and Samoa were very similar. After 1885 the exclusive recruiting ground for Samoa was German New Guinea, especially New Ireland, the Duke of Yorks and East New Britain, a group of closely related Austronesian languages. These languages provided what was to become New Guinea Tok Pisin with some of its distinctive lexicon (see Chapter 9). The earliest Samoan Plantation Pidgin recorded dates from 1883, sixteen years after the start of recruiting for Samoa (Schuchardt 1889: 158162). By this time there had been practically no recruits from the Bismarck Archipelago, nearly all Samoan plantation labour to that time coming from Micronesia (Kiribati and the Carolines), Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands. The data recorded in Schuchardt show that the pidgin spoken in Samoa was very closely related to Vanuatu Bislama and that the pidgin spoken in Samoa was indeed stabilised by that time.

198 Chapter 6 In Samoa, the Germans used a form of Samoan to deal with the Samoans and used German among themselves. But they used a form of Pacific Pidgin to communicate with their plantation labour (Mühlhäusler 1978: 74), presumably because the labourers knew pidgin English by the time they reached the plantations. Once it arrived in Samoa, Pacific Pidgin came in contact with a Micronesian type of pidgin already in use on the Samoan plantations (Mühlhäusler 1985). Since Samoa was a German colony, Pacific Pidgin had less contact with the English superstratum than in Queensland, although even that contact would have been limited there, in terms of the New Guinea variety, as labour from New Britain and New Ireland was limited in Queensland to only 1883-84. Added to this is the point that very few Tolai (Rabaul, New Britain) speakers went to Queensland as labourers. Salisbury (1967: 44-48) believes that they would not have numbered one hundred. There have been many attempts to explain why New Guinea Pidgin developed as a separate variety. It has been claimed, for example, that a variety of pidgin was brought to German New Guinea by imported Chinese labour. However, New Guinea Pidgin was well established before the arrival of the Chinese, who were actually recruited from the then Dutch East Indies and Singapore and spoke a variety of Trade Malay. There was, however, a variety of Chinese Pidgin English spoken in Rabaul (New Britain) after 1900 (Wu 1977: 1047-56). This could have had some influence, as it appears most likely that New Guinea Pidgin developed its own particular characteristics on the home plantations after the end of the Samoan plantation period, post-1914. The same applies to both Vanuatu Bislama and Solomons Pijin (see Chapters 8 and 9). Of course, all three Melanesian pidgin varieties would have achieved a very significant degree of stabilisation and development prior to that time. As noted above, Schuchardt observes that the pidgin which he recorded in 1883 (New Guinea labour really only making its entrance to Samoa the previous year) closely resembled Vanuatu Bislama. This is not really surprising since a significant percentage of labourers had been drawn from Vanuatu (New Hebrides) up to that time, the other significant group being from Kiribati (Gilbert and Ellice Islanders). In another commentary, Ehlers (1895: 23-24) observes that about 1,000 recruits from all over the South Seas were to be found on the plantations in Samoa at that time, and that it was easy to communicate with them because they were all more or less proficient in Pidgin English.

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

199

Examples of Samoan (Pacific) Pidgin as spoken on the plantations are recorded in a number of works dealing with the Central Pacific. These are detailed in Chapter 7 (7.1.5.). Genthe, in Wegener (1908), makes it clear that the plantations acted as a locus and catalyst for the development of a more stable and extended variety of pidgin. Pacific Pidgin, or Samoan Plantation Pidgin as the Samoan variety was called, had evidently achieved considerable currency in Samoa by the end of the German colonial period, 1914, for Mühlhäusler reports that the newspaper Samoanische Zeitung for 1912 and 1913 contained a number of articles deploring the use of Pidgin English. Indeed, by that time the newspapers recorded that the later recruits from New Guinea and the Solomons arrived in Samoa already knowing Pidgin.47 Once German control of Western Samoa ended, it appears that the use of Pidgin rapidly declined there, although it was still used by those some 172 Melanesians who refused to be repatriated (Meleisea 1976). It was, later, to develop back home into the national language of Papua New Guinea, Tok Pisin. There had been, of course, scattered varieties of jargonised English spoken in the main recruiting areas earlier in the 19th century, but a stable generalised Pacific pidgin was brought home by the plantation labourers repatriated to Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands and the Bismarck Archipelago of Papua New Guinea. It was on the home plantations that it was to undergo differentiation into the three distinctive dialects of Melanesian Pidgin English as we know them today.

6.2.4. New Caledonia France proclaimed possession of New Caledonia in 1853. However, the new colony was starved for funds (Shineberg 1999), and relations with the indigenous inhabitants were difficult. Most public works were achieved by troop labour, which limited the ability of the administration to extend its control. At first "pacified" chiefs were pressured into providing labour, and tribesmen were sent to Port de France (later Noumea) to work for a year,

47. By 1890 the plantations operating in German New Guinea (Bismarcks) were more important than the Samoan plantations (Mühlhäusler 1978: 91).

200 Chapter 6

but they had to be fed, housed and paid, and the scheme collapsed within two years due to lack of funds. In 1863 Governor Guillain was charged with setting up a penal colony in New Caledonia. Shineberg (1999) records that Guillain vigourously encouraged private settlement, offering grants of land and other concessions to attract free migrants. However, the penitentiary was to be the pivot of the economy until the end of the nineteenth century. The arrival of the first convicts in 1864 increased the demand for labour rather than meeting it, for Guillain's policy limited the use of convict labour for public works. At the same time, the free settlers, who occupied the region near the Dumbea River just north of Noumea, as well as Canala and Pouebo on the east coast, required labour for their sugar, coffee and rice plantations. Guillain did release some convicts on private assignment, but settlers found the costs of employing them too high. Then the French administration became involved in major conflicts with the Kanaks, in Wagap (1865), Pouebo (1867-68) and Canala-Bourail (1868). Thus the prospect of employing Kanak labour became more and more remote. It would be another two decades before France controlled Indo-China, a later source of labour in both the New Hebrides (later Vanuatu) and New Caledonia. Settlers had imported a number of Indians from Reunion on five-year contracts, but not in sufficient numbers to satisfy the needs of the labour market. So Governor Guillain followed the lead of Queensland and made the decision to import his labour from the neighbouring New Hebrides. However a number of settlers in New Caledonia had already had New Hebrideans in their employ since the mid-1850s. Indeed, since the end of the 18th century traders and whalers had found that Pacific Islanders were "capable and reliable workers" away from their home islands (Shineberg 1999: 15). During the 1840s New Hebrideans had been employed for months at a time working on sandalwood and beche de mer stations. In fact James Paddon, who had earlier set up a station on Aneityum in the far south of the New Hebrides, moved to lie Nou (in Noumea) in 1855, bringing his New Hebrideans workers with him. In 1856 Louis-Theodore Berard, a planter with land at Mont Dore (Noumea) had 40 New Hebrideans working for him. Shineberg (1999: 15) reports that by the 1840s "sandalwood English" was already spoken in the southern New Hebrides and on Espiritu Santo in the north of the group. It was also spoken in the Loyalty Islands, which was the centre of the sandalwood trade from 1843.

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

201

Beche-de-mer and sandalwood traders like J.C. Lewis and Andrew Henry employed New Hebrideans almost exclusively as sailors and boat-crew of their ships trading around the Grande Terre, and as labourers at the trading station on the Isle of Pines. (Shineberg 1999: ibid)

It was Andrew Henry who introduced New Hebridean labour into New Caledonia. It was he who had furnished the first indentured labourers for Queensland in 1863, from his sandalwood station in Erromango when he was working for Robert Towns. At that time Henry already had 250 New Hebrideans working for him on Erromango. Henry went to New Caledonia and negotiated with the administration there to provide New Hebridean labour. Following the murder of his associate, Fletcher, while he was away, he moved permanently to New Caledonia in 1865, settling at Oubatche, near Pouebo, with his family and 30 of his New Hebridean labourers. Between 1865 and 1929 more than 15,000 New Hebrideans were to come and work in New Caledonia. (In the early days the term "New Hebridean" also included Solomon Islander, for the 15,000 indentured labourers working in New Caledonia also included some 1,000 Solomon Islanders, 100 Kiribatese and a few Wallisians [Shineberg, personal communication]). There were two interruptions to recruiting, when the French government suspended the trade; the first suspension ran from June 1882 to February 1884, and the second from March 1885 to March 1890, although there was labour recruited during the last three years of the second suspension. Table 14. Non-indigenous population in New Caledonia 1866 (Source: Savoie 1922: 53): Total: 2340 French Australians Germans Italians Swiss Spanish Dutch Americans Swedish Chileans Belgians Total

770 202 52 10 6 6 5 4 2 2 1 1060

Noumea-Mont Dore-St. Vincent Yate lie des Pins Loyalty Is Canala Wagap Pouebo North-west Total Infantry, artillery, disciplinary Transported convicts Asians, Africans, Oceanians

843 22 11 38 41 30 71 4 1060 706 239 335

202 Chapter 6

Henry's ship, La Lionne, went to Erromango in 1865 and returned with 33 recruits, and in 1866 another 57, mainly from Tanna amd Efate. Within a year there were 239 New Hebrideans under indenture working in New Caledonia. The numbers increased slowly, with some 720 New Hebrideans on mainland New Caledonia in 1870. In 1868 John Higginson entered the recruiting business. It was he who played a leading role in the development of the mining industry in New Caledonia and in the famous Compagnie Caledonienne des NouvellesHebrides. With the discovery of mineral deposits there was a quickening in the demand for cheap labour. Agriculture was still a competitor, but by 1872 the New Hebridean intake had climbed to 349, 847 in 1873 and 900 in 1874. Shineberg (1999) reports that the number of recruits increased steadily by about 600 a year until 1882, when recruiting was suspended for two years. All the time the "passage money" or price per landed recruit had risen from 25 francs to 400 francs by the beginning of 1882. This price was comparable to the Queensland price, and the recruiting business became attractive to numerous entrepreneurs. Even ships from the Fiji trade were attracted to Noumea. By 1869 the normal length of the indenture was two years, but by 1874 labourers could be engaged for periods of between two and five years, the most common period being three years, as in Queensland. The main recruiting ground for New Caledonia up to 1890 and after 1912, was the northern New Hebrides (Shineberg 1999). There, the "graded society", where status was acquired through the taking of rank through accumulation and distribution of wealth, primarily in the form of tusker pigs, lent itself to recruiting, for it provided an opportunity to obtain trade goods or even pigs, which were demanded before recruits would enlist in certain islands, for example Epi, Ambae and Santo. Yet firearms were the most sought-after trade goods. As the competition for recruits increased, one Snider rifle was given to the "bigman" or chief for each labourer recruited. Indeed it is commonly believed that recruits were induced to enlist by those who stood to gain most by beach payments or entitled to claim a share of the returned recruit's box. Recruiting for New Caledonia was carried on all over the New Hebrides, although Tanna labour, in the south of the archipelago, was the most sought-after. Up to 1875 recruiting ships for New Caledonia did not carry government agents and did not require a licence to recruit. Even when regulations

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

203

were imposed, the personnel of British ships, which New Caledonian labour vessels were almost without exception, were immune from French law. While there had been great hopes for a strong agricultural development in New Caledonia in the 1860s, hopes were dashed by drought in 1868-69 and plagues of locusts. However, in the 1870s mining became the mainstay of the economy, especially with the discovery of nickel in 1873. During these years the need for imported labour increased dramatically. After the defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian War and the overthrow of the Paris Commune in 1871, New Caledonia had to endure an even tighter administrative budget, leading to the withdrawal of a number of military posts, so that as colonial control over local labour diminished the need for imported labour increased. By the 1870s recruiters extended their catchment areas north of Efate, in central Vanuatu, to northern Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands (from where 1,000 labourers were recruited for New Caledonia). The main areas in the Solomons involved were San Cristobal (Makira), Malaita and Nggela. A point worth making is that the New Caledonian trade was not conducted by Frenchmen, but by foreigners, including Englishmen who could not engage in these activities so easily in Fiji on account of the British Navy. Table 15. New Caledonia: Arrivals and departures from New Hebrides (Source: Shineberg 1999: 239-240) Year 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879

Arrival 61 92 151 485 299 336 187 349 847 902 674 566 805 495 613

Departure 38 112 76 120 376 176 128 176 184 582 209 417 197 314

204 Chapter 6 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919 1920 1921 1922 1923 1924

671 379 393 4 189 338 13 183 456 482 488 306 144 308 243 9 15 138 326 144 44 110 234 117 83 126 106 156 86 130 174 125 211 76 63 77 91 140 101 101 77 100 61 51 64

330 124 56 6 172 285 83 184 88 77 59 33 101 176 254 132 80 132 143 53 15 15 102 53 55 74 74 92 128 88 69 36 62 51 51 47 43 38 63 68 71 39 50 46 32

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 Total

90 116

170 155 151 15,478

205

32 57 31 86

31 7,372

In New Caledonia a form of Pacific Pidgin was used on the plantations run by English speakers. But when the French started gaining control and used their own language to run their plantations, labourers spoke French among themselves and pidgin French developed. The two pidgins, English and French, co-existed for 15 years, until the French, and pidgin French, took over completely (Hollyman 1976: 44). As mentioned in Chapter 4, above, although Pacific Pidgin began to decline on the New Caledonian mainland, it remained strong in the adjacent Loyalty Islands, since more than 1,000 Loyalty Islanders worked on the Queensland plantations between 1863 and 1875 (see above, 6.2.1.). Indeed, as has already been discussed, the Loyalty Islanders and the inhabitants of southern Vanuatu formed the nucleus upon which Sandalwood English developed into a fully fledged pidgin on the plantations. It should be noted, in addition, that Loyalty Islanders also played an important role as ships-crew both in the New Caledonia area and in the wider Pacific, especially in the early years of the plantation-recruiting period. As noted in 4.5.9, between 1865 and 1885, for example, there were over 1,000 voyages to the Loyalty Islands. Howe (1977: 15) records that the crews involved were Loyalty Islanders and the captains Englishspeaking. Loyalty Islanders were also employed as recruiting agents in Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands. Bislama was still spoken in the Loyalties at the end of the period under consideration here, 1906, as demonstrated by Daville (1901: 166): lis ont fait lamare.

une sorte d'idiome baroque, communiment appele

biche-

6.2.5. Hawaii Although Hawaii is only marginal in terms of the principal focus of this book, it is interesting to compare the plantation scene there with Queen-

206 Chapter 6

sland and the other Pacific Islands which recruited Pacific Islander labour up to the end of the nineteenth century. In Hawaii there were approximately 12,000 acres used for sugar-cane production in 1874, increasing to 60,000 acres in 1889. Numbers of native Hawaiians dropped from the 49,044 of the 1872 census to only 34,346 in the 1890 census. This meant that planters sought labour wherever they could find it. The Hawaiian government wished to recruit Indian labour, but the British government refused. So in 1877 the Hawaiian administration turned its attention to the Pacific Islands. This preference resulted from good reports of Melanesian labour from Queensland and Fiji. In Hawaii, the initial burden of plantation labour was carried by the Hawaiians themselves, in sharp contrast to the plantation experience elsewhere in the Pacific. The language of the plantations during that period was naturally Hawaiian or Pidgin Hawaiian, which Bickerton and Wilson (1987: 62-63) claim goes back to the first decade of the 19th century, and that it developed to facilitate communication between the native Hawaiians and the whalers and traders. Until 1876 the workforce on the sugar plantations was composed almost entirely of Hawaiians, Chinese and Micronesians (Roberts 1995: 1). In 1876 the ratification of the Reciprocity Treaty with the USA, guaranteeing the Hawaiian government tax-free trade, brought about massive immigration of Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, Puerto Rican and Filipino labourers. As the number of Hawaiian labourers lessened, plantation Pidgin Hawaiian became relexified with English vocabulary, although it remained unstable when in the 20th century Japanese and Filipino immigrants formed the main plantation workforce (Roberts 1995). Table 16. Sources of plantation labour in Hawaii China Japan Japan Portugal Pacific Islands Puerto Rico Philippines

1852-1899 1885-1899 1908-1924 1901-1923 1864-1885 1900-1901 1907-1929

56,720 68,279 49,616 5,392 2,444 5,203 102,069

(Glick 1980: 12) (Beechert 1985: 86) (Schmitt 1977: 100) (Schmitt 1977: 100) (Bennett 1976: 26-27) (Noboa & Curt 1988: 6) (Teodoro 1981: 17)

Bennett (1976: 17) reports that in all there were between 2,383 and 2,403 Pacific Islanders introduced to Hawaii on immigration ships from the Gil-

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

207

berts (Kiribati) and the New Hebrides (Vanuatu) during the period 1877— 87.48 These included a few from the Ellice islands, Rotuma, Samoa and the Tokelaus, as well as the Marshalls, Santa Cruz, New Ireland and Bougainville. Thus:

1877-87

Gilberts 1,900

Ellice

Vanuatu 550 (1880)

Rotuma

6.2.6. French Polynesia As discussed at the beginning of this chapter, a world cotton shortage was occasioned by the American Civil War (1861-65), due to a blockade of the cotton ports in the southern USA. Two million people were thrown out of work in Britain by the beginning of 1862. Cotton prices quintupled in a very short time. In this context, William Stewart arrived in Tahiti in 1862, leading to the founding of a huge cotton plantation at Atimaono, on the south coast of Tahiti. However, Stewart's dealings with the Tahitian population and the Administration were such that the local Polynesians refused to work on the plantation. In 1864 he was allowed to import 1,000 Chinese labourers, but he was impatient and borrowed the government gun-boat to go to the neighbouring Cook Islands, where he recruited 96 Cook Islanders on a twelve-month contract. These labourers began the plantation, followed by the first contingent of 329 Chinese from Hong Kong on 28 February 1865. A second contingent of 342 Chinese arrived on December 8, followed by 339 more on 6 January 1866. The plantation was a remarkable success, expanding to some 17,000 acres. Langdon (1968: 189) recounts how: The buildings included a cotton ginning mill, engine and boiler house, cotton drying house, sugar mill, coffee cleaning house, boat houses, a hospital, substantial quarters for the employees, and a comfortable house for Stewart himself. Three schooners were employed to ship the cotton to Europe and bring back machinery and supplies.

By the end of 1868 the American estates were recovering quickly after the end of the Civil War and cotton prices dropped steadily. Stewart decided that the only course was to increase production, so he sent out for further 48. For a detailed account of Hawaii plantation recruiting from the Pacific Islands, see Bennett 1976: 27.

208 Chapter 6

recruits, as a result of which several hundred Gilbert, Ellice and Cook Islanders were brought to Tahiti between 1869 and 1872. In April 1869 the Moaroa, which had picked up about 180 natives from the New Hebrides, met the Anne, whose captain sold 159 further "recruits" for transportation to Tahiti (originally destined for Fiji). The Moaroa had not cleared the New Hebrides when the recruits revolted. The affair ended in a bloody massacre, with all the recruits killed. In Tahiti no punitive action was taken against the captain. The cotton market deteriorated to such an extent that the Atimaono plantation collapsed and Stewart declared bankrupt on 23 September 1873. The Gilbertese recruits were finally repatriated on a French warship in 1877. The Chinese stayed on and became the hub of commerce in Tahiti to this day. Table 17. Sources of Tahiti plantation labour

1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870

6.3.

Cook Islands 243 [96]

Kiribati

Vanuatu

China

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

2054[700J -

241

-

671 339

-

The sources of labour

6.3.1. New Hebrides (Vanuatu) (and Loyalty Islands) Locally, ni-Vanuatu were employed in smallish numbers on the plantations established on Efate (see Chapter 9). As Crowley (1990: 87) remarks, the employment of ni-Vanuatu on trading vessels from the mid-1800s, and the recruitment of island labour to work on the plantations of central and southern Vanuatu might well have been sufficient for the establishment of an English-based pidgin in these areas, even had the major recruiting drive beginning in 1863 not taken place. As it was, however, there were more than 69,000 ni-Vanuatu who served as labourers outside Vanuatu between 1863 and 1906. Data pro-

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

209

vided by Crowley (1990: 88-89) and Shineberg (1999: 239-240) provide the breakdown in Table 18 below. In terms of recruitment for work on the overseas plantations, operations began in the southern islands of Tanna, Aneityum and Erromango in the early 1860s, the first recruits being already experienced in the sandalwood trade and to a lesser extent on ships. At the same time just over 1,000 Loyalty Islanders were recruited for work in Queensland, while numbers of them were also employed as crewmen on ships, particularly between Noumea and the Loyalties, but also further afield, even as recruiting agents in later years. Recruiters gradually moved north through the islands of Vanuatu, up to the Banks and Torres Islands in the far north of the archipelago, reaching the Solomons in the early 1870s. Until that time, then, the sole recruits were either ni-Vanuatu (New Hebrideans) or Loyalty Islanders. It is not surprising, therefore, that Vanuatu played such an important role in the development of Pacific Pidgins, particularly when one takes into account the fact that Vanuatu provided something like 50% of all plantation labour in Queensland and Fiji, and in Samoa in the first half of the recruiting period. Table 18. Ni-Vanuatu overseas plantation labour (1863-1906) FIJI 1863 18641865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880

—

134 180 301 264 381 262 1348 1569 1023 1232 607 185 247 332 1058 1335 911

QLD 67 148 141 874 625 313 607 978 416 987 1332 1931 1575 1986 1218 1821 1934

NCAL -

61 92 151 485 299 336 187 349 847 902 674 566 805 495 613 671

SAM

HAW

FPOL

—

—

—

-

-

—

—

-

-

—

—

-

-

-

—

—

-

—

—

—

—

—

-

73

-

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

83 570

210 Chapter 6 1976 1881 763 379 179 35 1022 2699 1882 393 153 273 2877 4 29 1883 1010 189 1884 128 1379 338 187 55049 50 1885 145 1148 13 1886 70 1431 183 1887 1125 456 71 1888 13350 1412 482 62 1889 1294 35 488 1890 534 306 1891 79 144 58 229 1892 714 308 1893 1894 806 243 24 519 9 1895 359 15 1896 19 1897 201 138 455 1898 326 674 144 8 1899 859 44 1900 7 530 110 1901 264 234 1902 17 374 117 1903 1904 3 19 83 12 126 1905 55 106 1906 62 156 1907 Total 14,198 39,975 13,067 1,201 550 241 (Sources: Fiji (Siegel 1987: 52), Queensland (Dutton 1980: 112), New Caledonia (Shineberg 1999: 239-240), Samoa (Mühlhäusler 1978: 78), Hawaii (Bennett 1976: 9, 17), French Polynesia (Newbury 1958: 29)). -

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49. This figure covers the period 1882-1887. 50. This figure covers the period 1884-1892.

The plantations: History of contacts J863-1906

211

6.3.2. Solomon Islands Recruiting from the Solomon Islands began in 1870, but did not really reach any significant level until around 1875. More than 18,000 Solomon Islanders worked in Queensland, with a heavy concentration in the Mackay area. A further 8,000 worked on the sugar plantations of Fiji, and in fact after about 1895 Solomon Islanders supplied almost the totality of Melanesian Islander labour on the Fiji plantations. The great majority of Solomon Islander labour, especially in Fiji, came from the island of Malaita, followed by Guadalcanal. In fact in the 1980s there were still communities of Malaitan descendants living at Wailoku near Suva. Several hundred Solomon Islanders also worked on the German plantations in Samoa between 1880 and 1885, and in the last decade of the plantation period many of the Solomon Islanders employed in Fiji had served previously in Queensland and Samoa. Some Solomon Islanders from as far north as Nggela were also recruited to work in New Caledonia, in the mines and on pastoral properties (Shineberg 1999, Pentecost 1998). Recruiting statistics are unfortunately not available for Solomon Islanders working in New Caledonia. However, for Queensland, Fiji and Samoa, they are as set out in the table below. Table 19. Solomon Island overseas plantation labour Queensland 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882

1883 1884 1885 1886

82

124 728 74 240 354 61 641 440 1127 714 533 444

Fiji 212 336

140 155 202 468 1382 464 502 339 585 245 131

Samoa

226 199 37 156

New Caledonia

212 Chapter 6 1887 553 175 1143 209 1888 1889 620 46 1165 116 1890 516 153 1891 235 153 1892 416 1893 945 1894 577 115 1895 98 423 1896 1897 733 102 721 1898 92 848 1899 884 1900 62 1151 1901 875 1902 663 105 1903 93 1904 59 103 1905 184 1906 502 1907 210 1908 361 1909 78 1910 110 1911 8228 Total 18217 [Sources: Queensland: Price/Baker 1976: 110-111; Fiji: Siegel 1987: 52; Samoa: Mühlhäusler 1978: 78] -

-

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6.3.3. Papua New Guinea In the years prior to 1885, labour recruited in Papua New Guinea (more precisely the Bismarck Archipelago) was of modest proportions, with fewer than 3,000 working in Queensland and slightly more than 1,500 on the plantations in Fiji. A summary of details is presented below. In addition to these figures, after 1885 recruiting to the German plantations in Samoa was restricted to Papua New Guinea, to the Bismarck Archipelago in fact (Tryon, Mühlhäusler & Baker 1996). Between 1879 and 1914, when Samoa ceased to be a German protectorate, nearly 6,000 New Guineans were recruited to work there on the plantations, the largest group

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

213

Table 20. Papua New Guinea overseas plantation labour Queensland 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 Total [Sources: Queensland: Price/Baker Mühlhäusler 1978: 78]

Fiji

-

-

-

-

-

-

1269 1540 2809 1976:

Samoa 33 9 -

467 662 489

103 287 216 45 1618 693 110-111; Fiji: Siegel 1987: 58; Samoa:

from New Ireland. Of course there was also a flourishing plantation industry in German New Guinea itself during the period 1884-1914, with important consequences for the development of Tok Pisin, the Papua New Guinea variety of Melanesian Pidgin (see below).

6.3.4. Kiribati The Gilbertese (Kiribatese) constituted a significant element in plantation labour percentages in Fiji, Samoa and Hawaii, especially in the early years. However, their numbers tailed off markedly after 1880, as shown in the table below. Table 21. Kiribati overseas plantation labour QLD 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875

Fiji 135 136 224 54 427 34 85 66

Samoa 81 115 40 69 48 358 140 280

Tahiti

2054

Hawaii

214 Chapter 6 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885

84 50 236 70 68

101 251 189 115 300

102 276 64 -

8 2 29 124

1886

1

1887

28

1888 1889 1890 40 1891 136 1892 1 1893 1894 14 1895 67 Total 191 2398 2250 2054 2444 Grand Total; 9337 [Sources: Queensland: Munro 1982: 271; Fiji: Siegel 1987: 59; Samoa: Moses 1973: 102; Tahiti: Delbos 1987: 72-72; Hawaii: Bennett 1976: 17, 26-27]

The Kiribatese worked mainly in Fiji, Samoa, Hawaii and Tahiti, and to a much lesser extent in Queensland. Sometimes other Micronesians, for example Caroline Islanders, Marshallese and Tuvaluans were lumped together with Kiribatese under the rubric "Micronesian". It is known, for example, that 95 Caroline Islanders arrived in Samoa in 1872-73 (Moore, Leckie & Munro 1990: xliv). 210 Kiribatese were also recruited for work on the British plantations in Samoa (Macdonald 1982: 56) in addition to the 2,250 known to have worked there on the German plantations.

6.4.

Other Pacific states involved pre-1863

In Chapter 4, Tonga, the Cook Islands, the Marquesas Islands, Nauru, and especially Ponape and the Caroline Islands, were discussed as points of

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906 215 cross-Pacific contact and loci for the development of earlier forms of Pacific Pidgin in its various manifestations. They were significant points of contact in terms of the whaling, beche-de-mer and sandalwood industries. These loci became less important once the "plantation era" began. For once cotton and sugarcane plantations, and still later copra plantations, became established, the maritime locus of pidgin development yielded to the plantations as the principal sites on which what were to become Melanesian Pidgin English developed and stabilised. Accordingly they have not been the subject of discussion in this chapter.

6.5.

Plantations at home

6.5.1. New Hebrides (Vanuatu) While plantations in Queensland, Fiji, Samoa and New Caledonia were by far the greatest employers of Pacific Islander labour in the nineteenth century, there were also important plantation developments in the main countries supplying the labour for those plantations, namely Vanuatu (New Hebrides), the Solomon Islands and the islands of the Bismarck Archipelago in today's Papua New Guinea. In the New Hebrides (today known as Vanuatu) the first plantations were established on Tanna (Ross Lewin 1867) and Efate, 51 about the same time as the first recruits left for Queensland and other overseas plantations (see Chapter 5). Lewin "purchased" 324 hectares of land to establish a cotton plantation, in response to the world cotton shortage occasioned by the American Civil War, the cotton being processed in Noumea. In 1873 he is recorded as employing 120 Efate labourers or "Sandwichmen", as they were known. At the same time, Tannese labour was used on Efate. Right from the beginning, the custom of employing "off-island" labour was invoked, with obvious consequences for the need for and development of a lingua franca. On Tanna, as on other islands, there were often serious misunderstandings and fighting about land "sales", in this case leading to the death of Lewin in 1874. 51. Strictly speaking, the first plantation was established on Aneityum, where in 1863 the Reverend John Inglis put together funding for the New Hebrides Cotton Company Limited, in which each family had a cotton plot within their individual garden plots. The scheme failed, however, and the company closed down in 1868.

216 Chapter 6

Interest in developing plantations and agricultural enterprises, especially cotton, maize, and sugar, then centered on Efate, especially the Havannah Harbour area on the northern side of the island. The early settlers who established plantations there (Glissan, Macleod etc.) were mainly of British extraction, from Australia and New Zealand. The first planters on Efate were Donald Macleod and his partner Trueman, who settled on north Efate in 1868. By 1872 there were 400 plantation labourers working in the then New Hebrides and Scarr (1967) reports that by 1874 there were 16 plantations on Aneityum, Tanna, Erromango and Efate. On Efate in that year there were 31 European settlers, of whom 29 were British (Adams 1986: 42). Even at this early stage, it was the practice to employ labour from other islands rather than to recruit locally, a practice which favoured the development of Bislama. Already in 1874 the 10 plantations on Efate employed nearly 300 labourers from outside Efate. Indeed, and significantly for the genesis of Pacific pidgin, Macleod recruited labour from Mare,52 in the Loyalty Islands, for his plantation on Efate and his beche-demer station in the Maskelyne Islands, just off southern Malakula. This link was further reinforced by major traffic between Noumea-the Loyalty Islands-Vanuatu as Tiby Hägen and his son Richard Pentecost established major plantation operations in the then New Hebrides. Initially the labour force on Efate was drawn from Tanna, with Efatese labour employed on the Tanna plantations, probably because Macleod had plantations on both islands, shipping his cotton and that of the other planters, to Noumea for processing. However, with the end of the American Civil War cotton prices collapsed and in the late 1870s there were a number of severe cyclones, resulting in great hardship for planters. This was exacerbated in 1874 when the British High Commission ceased issuing recruiting licences and showed great reluctance to register land titles, knowing from its experience in Fiji that permanent alienation of indigenous land was not possible in Vanuatu culture. As British economic interests declined in Vanuatu at the end of the 1870s, French interest began to blossom, both as a source of labour for the nickel mines in New Caledonia and for plantation development. In 1880 the French planter Ferdinand Chevillard established a plantation in Vila Bay, on Efate, known as Franceville. By 1882 he had thirty hectares under

52. There was also labour from Lifou, Loyalty Islands, recorded on Lifou in 1872 (Adams 1986).

The plantations:

History of contacts 1863-1906

217

maize, as well as 15,000 coffee bushes and 12,000 coconut trees, employing 33 Melanesian labourers. In that same year he bought another property on Vanua Lava in the Banks Islands, which he had registered in Noumea. Within a short time French planters purchased most of the failed British plantations on north Efate and established themselves throughout Vanuatu, especially on Epi, Malakula and Santo. A leading figure it this period was John Higginson, an English-bom Anglophobic Irish entrepreneur, who took French citizenship and worked tirelessly for the French annexation of Vanuatu. Having come to New Caledonia from Australia in 1859, he played a leading role in the development of the mining industry. In 1882 he founded the Compagnie Caledonienne des Nouvelles-Hebrides with the aim of bringing about French control in Vanuatu through the acquisition of land which would be granted to French settlers. In 1882 the Compagnie Caledonienne des Nouvelles-Hebrides purchased some 95,460 hectares of land on the islands of Epi, Malakula and Efate (8% of the total land area of Vanuatu), registered in New Caledonia. An Australian company, the South Sea Speculation Company, set up by the brother of Higginson's partner, John Morgan, in 1884, bought huge tracts of land on Epi, Ambae, Pentecost, Ambrym, Malakula and Santo, registered their claims at the Western Pacific High Commission in Suva and then proceeded to sell them to Higginson. In 1883 the Societe Fran^aise de Colonisation was established in France and between 1885 and 1887 twenty-eight families were sent out to settle in Vanuatu, having been allotted 680 hectares of land by the Compagnie Caledonienne des Nouvelles-Hebrides. The Presbyterian Mission was concerned at the increasing economic importance of France, fearing ultimate French political control. In order to counter this the Presbyterians of Victoria and New South Wales worked for the creation of an Australian company to compete with the Compagnie Caledonienne des Nouvelles-Hebrides. A group of wealthy businessmen contributed to the establishment of the Australasian New Hebrides Company (ANHC) in 1889. Among these were Burns and Philp, of Burns Philp & Co. to whom the New South Wales Government gave a subsidy of £1500 per annum for a monthly postal service to the New Hebrides. The Presbyterian Mission gave another subsidy to Burns Philp, enabling them to send a steamer throughout the group on a regular basis. This service was the salvation of British interests in Vanuatu and the Australasian New Hebrides Company built up a very successful business. With the blessing of the Presbyterian Church the Australasian New Hebrides Company began to

218 Chapter 6

purchase large tracts of land on Santo and Epi. Yet the Presbyterian Church remained opposed to French land purchases, ostensibly because they refused to limit the sale of alcohol and firearms, which limitation the Australasian New Hebrides Company did observe. Australian settlers were placed on south Santo by 1891, but the British policy on labour recruiting and land title registration posed grave problems for the planters, so great that the land reverted to the Australasian New Hebrides Company after an agreement to cancel the debts which they had incurred. Despite the failures and difficulties endured by both French and British settlers, the numbers of Europeans in Vanuatu increased steadily, with 51 non-mission British settlers recorded in 1891 and over 70 French settlers. There was much violence between ni-Vanuatu and Europeans throughout the Vanuatu, nearly always occasioned by land disputes. Indeed, in the 1880s the number of deaths moved the British and French governments to institute a system of naval patrols in order to protect the lives and property of their citizens.

6.5.2. Solomon Islands By the late-1860s modern copra-making techniques, already in use in the Caroline Islands in Micronesia by 1865 and Samoa in 1869, were moving the economy of the Solomons away from coconut oil production. Bennett (1987: 47) reports that while in 1874-75 only 10 tons of copra were produced, by 1879 the Solomons production had increased to 379 tons. The early traders in the Solomons included Neil Brodie and Alexander MacKenzie Ferguson. As early as 1869 Brodie employed resident traders at Gizo, and during the 1870s he established resident European agents at Savo and Marovo Lagoon, as well as at Uki ni Masi and Makira Harbour in the southeast. Ferguson also had a thriving business, and in 1877 he went into partnership with the Sydney merchants and shippers Colishaw Brothers. By 1880, they had European traders resident at Marau and Tadhimboko on Guadalcanal, at Uki ni Masi, at Savo, and at Roviana in New Georgia. Regular shipping between Sydney and the Solomons became a fact of life, the Colishaws introducing steam-powered vessels, while the smaller traders continued to use sailing vessels. Throughout the 1870s there was regular two way shipping between the Solomons and Sydney, with copra

The plantations: History of contacts J863-1906

219

and beche-de-mer reaching their highest levels in 1878-80. With the exception of copra, which increased to an export tonnage of 1900 tons in 1900, prices for most other products declined between 1880 and 1900, making copra the major export by far (see Bennett 1987: 48-49). Sydney dominated as the port of entry for most South Pacific produce, and trade remained almost exclusively Sydney based and financed, hugely outstripping ports such as Fiji and Auckland. Traders came from other parts of the Pacific as well, for example Eduard Hernsheim, who came to the Solomons from Jaluit in the Marshall Islands, later moving on to establish stations in the Bismarck Archipelago. The number of resident traders while not large, would have had a significant impact in terms of the Solomon Islander labour employed. Bennett (1987: 59) records the following statistics: Year 1870 1875 1880 1885 1890 1893

Traders 7 4 6

10 14

20

The location of resident traders in the Solomons between 1860 and 1900 may be summarised as follows: Location Shortland Islands Ontong Java Choiseul W.New Georgia E.New Georgia

Year 1885,1886,1893, 1889,1899, 1900 1897, 1898 1869. 1870, 1873, 1860, 1869, 1870, 1890, 1891, 1892, Santa Isabel 1877, 1878, 1879, Russell Islands 1900 Guadalcanal 1876, 1877, 1878, 1888, 1889, 1890, Nggela/Savo 1869, 1876, 1877, 1888, 1890, 1891, San Cristobal 1868, 1871, 1876, 1884, 1885, 1886, Santa Cruz Group 1898 (Source: Bennett 1987: Appendix 5)

1895, 1896

1896,1898, 1900 1877, 1880, 1881, 1883, 1886, 1887, 1893, 1894, 1896, 1900 1880, 1882 1879, 1891, 1878, 1894, 1877, 1887,

1880, 1892, 1879, 1895, 1878, 1889,

1881, 1885, 1886, 1887, 1894, 1895, 1896, 1900 1880, 1882, 1883, 1886, 1896, 1900 1879, 1880, 1881, 1882, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1895

220 Chapter 6

6.5.3. Papua New Guinea In terms of the establishment of plantations in German New Guinea, the first, established in 1876, was the Godeffroy Trading Station on Mioko Island, one of the Duke of York Islands situated between New Britain and New Ireland (Mühlhäusler 1978: 82). Mioko was the commercial centre of the Bismarck Archipelago until the 1880s, as larger enterprises emerged on New Britain. After 1885 it became the major recruiting centre for the plantations in German Samoa and the New Guinea Company, both in New Britain and the mainland of New Guinea. In 1878 there was another important development, namely the establishment of trading stations and plantations on Mioko (the Queen Emma and Farrell Trading Company) and the neighbouring islands, and in Blanche Bay on New Britain. It is estimated that about half of the labourers who worked on these plantations were returnees from Samoa (Jung 1885: 298). Other plantations were set up on Matupi Island in Blanche Bay (the Hernsheim Bros), and by 1886 Kerewara Island was an important recruiting station for the New Guinea Company. Mühlhäusler (1978: 83) reports that Zöller (1891: 438) laments the fact that Pidgin English had become a necessity of life in the Bismarck Archipelago by the late 1880s. Indeed, he points out (1978: 84) that when the Protectorate over German New Guinea was proclaimed in 1884, the language of the proclamation was Pidgin, concluding with: Bye and bye you kill white man, man of war kill you (Finsch 1888: 140). By 1890 the plantations operating in German New Guinea were more important than the Samoan plantations. E.E. Forsayth & Co. had had a plantation laid out on the Gazelle Peninsula in 1882, which grew cotton and produced copra. Other plantations were established on the Gazelle Peninsula in the 1890s, the largest owned by the New Guinea Company, which was given a land grant of 50,000 hectares and 4,000,000 marks in cash by the German Imperial Government to compensate it for its pioneering work in Kaiser Wilhelmsland between 1885 and 1899, during which period they enjoyed sole recruiting rights in the Bismarck Archipelago (Firth 1973: 21). Prior to the handover of power to the German Imperial Government, the New Guinea Company's plantations were on the harsh coastline of north-

The plantations: History of contacts 1863-1906

221

east New Guinea (see Maps 11 and 12, Appendix II), rather than in the Bismarcks. When the expected flood of German settlers failed to materialise, the German New Guinea Company was forced to rely on plantation agriculture, the main crops being cotton, cocoa, coffee and tobacco. Labour for these plantations came from the Bismarcks, but also from Singapore and the Dutch East Indies. Firth (1973: 22) records that smaller firms in the Bismarck Archipelago, more successful, concentrated on trading, working on coastlines where there were enough coconut palms to provide the New Guineans with a trade surplus. In 1899 there were 49 trading stations spread throughout the archipelago. In summary, Mühlhäusler (1979) has demonstrated that because of the colonial realities operating in the Pacific at the time, what was to become New Guinea Pidgin or Tok Pisin, underwent a period of development not shared by the other major English-based pidgins, Vanuatu Bislama and Solomons Pijin. The reader is referred to that work for a full account of the development of Tok Pisin and Samoan Pidgin. In fact what happened was that the loosely generalised Pacific Pidgin of the early part of the nineteenth century entered a kind of closed circuit in the German-controlled islands after 1885, when New Guinea recruits no longer went to Queensland and became the sole recruits for Samoa. Indeed, as we have seen, there were only 2,809 New Guinean recruits who ever worked on the plantations in Queensland, in 1883-84. It must be made clear, however, that Pacific Pidgin was known and spoken in the Bismarck and Louisiade Archipelagoes prior to the sending of New Guinea recruits to the plantations in Samoa (1879-1914) or to Queensland (1883-84). The testimonies gathered during the 1885 Queensland Royal Commission are specific about this (see Chapter 8). Nelson (personal communication) reports too that the first church service held in New Ireland in 1875 was partly held in Pidgin. Other accounts also indicate that the area around the Duke of York Islands was frequented by numerous traders and visitors at this early period, and that a variety of Pacific Pidgin was spoken there, which gradually stabilised, first on the Samoan plantations, and then back in the Bismarcks, with the development of plantations on New Britain and New Ireland (Valentine 1958: 73-74). In the post-1890 period there was a rapid increase in the number of New Guineans working on plantations in German New Guinea, while numbers of recruits going to Samoa remained steady. Because of the German Protectorate over New Guinea, pidgin began to be used in a wide va-

222 Chapter 6

riety of social settings, not just on the plantations. This gave it new life, while in Samoa it was limited to New Guinean plantation labour, the Samoans having no interest in either working on the plantations or having much intercourse with the New Guineans working there. It was this which led Samoan Plantation Pidgin to stagnate, while it blossomed back home in New Guinea.

Chapter 7 Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

7.0.

Introduction

In this chapter is we present and discuss pidgin language data from the period 1863, the date of the first recruiting of Melanesian plantation labour for Queensland and Samoa, until 1906. The latter date marks the end of the recruiting period and the establishment of the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides, later to become the independent Republic of Vanuatu. The data which will be discussed here come from five principal sources, as follows: 1. 19th century accounts of traders, missionaries and travellers. 2. The 1885 Royal Commission (recruiting Polynesian labourers in New Guinea and adjacent islands), court records, newspapers. 3. Letters and correspondence. 4. 19th century plantation speech recorded by Tom Dutton in 1964 with Tom Lammon and Peter Santo, two extremely elderly (centenarian) speakers of Queensland Canefields English (Dutton 1980). 5. Comparative materials recorded in Vanuatu during the late 1960s and early 1970s.

7.1.

Examples from 19th century written sources

7.1.1. New South Wales Pidgin As was noted earlier, Chapter 4, an important locus for Pidgin development in the years following the European settlement of Australia was Sydney and northern New South Wales. For Sydney was the principal Pacific port in Australia from 1788 onwards, the hub from which voyages emanated out into the Pacific, while at the same time the major receiving centre for crewmen and goods, such as whale oil, salt pork, sandalwood. The pidgin developing in the Pacific was also in a symbiotic relationship with an

224 Chapter 7 emerging New South Wales Pidgin, through the port of Sydney, as settlers moved north and west. Queensland, and ultimately the Northern Territory, was settled and developed along two main routes, a coastal route north from Sydney, and an inland route, followed by settlers and squatters. The coastal variety of New South Wales Pidgin began to diverge from the inland variety due chiefly to increasing contact with Pacific Island labourers after 1863. It was this pidgin which stabilised in the latter decades of the 19th century as what was then a rather generalised Pacific Pidgin, which was to crystallise out as the three current varieties of Melanesian Pidgin English in Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu in the twentieth century (Tok Pisin, Solomon Pijin and Bislama). This crystallisation was to take place in Island Melanesia, as the three British colonies were established at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, helped along by the establishment of plantations and the need for plantation labour in the home countries of the original recruits. On the other hand, the inland variety of New South Wales Pidgin was transported up to Queensland via an inland route, unaffected by contact with Pacific Islander Pidgin. It maintained its Australian Aboriginal features, and continued to add new Aboriginal lexical items as it progressed. It was from this inland variety that modem-day varieties of Aboriginal English and Aboriginal Pidgin have developed, for example Broken (Torres Straits), Cape York Creole (Queensland), Kriol (Northern Territory) and Fitzroy Valley Kriol (Western Australia). These varieties are not discussed in this study, except to show how they differ from what have become Melanesian Pidgin varieties. The history of the development of present-day Australian Aboriginal pidgins is fully treated by such scholars as Harris (1986) [Northern Territory Kriol], Mühlhäusler (1998) [Western Australia], Foster and Mühlhäusler (in press) [South Australia] and Crowley (1996) [Tasmania]. Examples of Australian Aboriginal Pidgin from eastern Australia from the second half of the 19th century are presented here to illustrate the rather striking differences from the Melanesian Pidgin which was forming on the sugar-plantations in Queensland and which was transported back to Island Melanesia in a mostly stabilised form later in the century and at the beginning of the twentieth century. Consider the following brief sample:

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

225

1850s/60s You got him bacca? 'Do you have any tobacco?' W.H. Suttor (1887: 111) (Bathurst & Lachlan River districts 1850s/60s, Appendix 8, Troy 1994) 1850s/60s Νebber you mind now, missis; we'll find him that one now, baal gammon. 'Never mind now, Missus; we'll find it; I'm not kidding.' W.H. Suttor (1887: 126) 1850s/60s You see it that one? Little Jimmy been scratch him face along a that one. 'Do you see that one? Little Jimmy scratched his face on it.' W.H. Suttor (1887: 126) 1850s/60s You hear him that one, that fellow find him little boy. Baal gammon! Jim sit down there where that one cattle make it that one row. That one 'gindie' (play around) along a little Jimmie. We find him now, my word! Budgeree that one! Baal gammon! 'Did you hear that that fellow found the little boy? No kidding! Jim sat down where that cow made a noise. It played around with Jimmie. We found him. That's good. No kidding!' W.H. Suttor (1887: 128) 1850s/60s A/e work. Little bit baccy, me work. Merri-jig. Me smoke, me work. Merri-jig. 'I'll work. A little tobacco and I'll work. Good. I smoke, I work. Good.' (Edgar 1865: 8-9) (Melbourne, Appendix 20) 1850s/60sA/e beeg one sulky, yes'day, meesis; me bad fellah; beeg wan sulk. Ί was very sulky yesterday, Missus; I was bad; very sulky.' (Edgar 1865: 13) (Melbourne, Appendix 20) 1850s/60sA/e like to go to Hobart Town....good one place that good one place! You know Meesis Mitchell? ...Oh, me beeg one sorry!...Carbon goodfellar, Meesis Mitchell. Me beeg one sorry! 'I'd like to go to Hobart Town....it's a good place. Do you know Mrs Mitchell?...Oh, I'm very sorry...Mrs Mitchell was very nice. I'm very sorry.' (Edgar 1865: 111) (Melbourne, Appendix 20)

226 Chapter 7 1850s/60sita/e me take 'um ttipe!....Noder blackfeller been gib it....Bale. Maroo blachfeller - murra wicked blackfeller, wild feller long ο' hills! Ί did not take the knife! Another blackfellow gave it....No. Maroo is the blackfellow - a very wicked blackfellow, a wild man in the hills.' That noder blackfeller been gib it. Gib Jackey nipe, 'spose Jackey go get 'lum. 'That other blackfellow gave it. (He) gave Jackey the knife if Jackey (would) go and get rum.' (De Boos 1867: 203-204.) (Port Stephens, Appendix 7) 1850s/60s Plenty croppy feller tumble down (die) long ο'hut. One croppy feller shoot noder croppy feller....One croppy feller make it long ο 'knife; one croppy feller shoot. 'Many convicts died in the hut. One convict shot another. One convict did it with a knife; one convict used a firearm.' (De Boos 1867: 351-352) (Port Stephens, Appendix 7) 1870 Master, you yabber that good fella yabber, long a my ear, you yabber more master. 'Master, say something nice, in my ear, say something else, master.' (Mathews 14.4.70) (Lower Murray, Appendix 16) 1879 Bel, any fellow rain, like it little-fellow Moon up there. Keep him dark; by-and-by grow big-fellow Moon: make it all the same day at night. 'No, there will not be any rain; like the small moon up there; keeping in the dark; it will grow into a big moon, as if there were daylight at night.' (Blair 1879: 690) (Edward River, Appendix 13) 1884 Mine tink em you tumble down and no come barlee, pickaninny b 'longing to me. Ί thought that (if) you had died or never returned, I would have taken this child for my own.' (Hinkins 1884: 15) (Lower Murray, Appendix 16) 1884 Borakyou drink it dat one, d 'reckly you tumble down like it captain. 'Don't drink it or you will die like the overseer.' (Hinkins 1884: 50) (Lower Murray, Appendix 16)

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

227

1893 No good that fellow, too much break 'um bengee. 'That is no good; it gives one a stomach ache.' (Phillips 1893: 102) (Edward River, Appendix 13) 1893

Too much big one rogue that fellow Zarraman; baal more mine man him. 'That horse is very fractious; he's too hard to catch.' (Phillips 1893: 108) (Edward River, Appendix 13)

1895 Poor fella Doctor! I believe you go like it that fella. 'Poor old Doctor [a horse]. I believe you like him.' What, is the horse not dead? Baal, that fella altogether broke him bone; I believe you take him pistol. 'No, he has broken all his bones; you should get a pistol.' (Ranken 1895: 189) (Lachlan River, Appendix 10) 1895

That fella-two piccaninny-boodgera little white fella Williamastown. 'Those two nice little white girls at Williamstown.' (Ranken 1895: 204) (Lachlan River, Appendix 10)

Mary-alonga

1890s Where my people?-dead-all dead-Coommee soon die too-then all gone....Why my people die? What for you wanter know? ...Me tell you. Long tam ago me lit' picaninny, plenty black feller sit down longa big camp. Him eat native food all same like old wild myall feller. 'Where are my people?- dead-all dead-Coommee will soon die toothen we will all be gone....Why did my people die? Why do you want to know?...I'll tell you. Long ago (when) I was a little child many Aborigines used to live at a big camp. They ate native food like the old wild blacks.' (Milne 1916: 304) (South Coast, Appendix 12)

A comparison of the above sample with the Pacific Pidgin sample utterances below reveals some significant differences. In the Australian Aboriginal Pidgin extracts there is a constant use of Aboriginal lexical items such as the following: baal budgeree

'no, negative' 'good'

gindie merri-jig

'play around' 'good, pretty'

228 Chapter 7 carbon barlee bengee myall

'very, big' 'again' 'stomach' 'Aborigine'

yabber borak zarraman

'say, talk' 'don't'; 'negative' 'horse'

There is also English-derived vocabulary that does not occur in Pacific pidgins, such as: bacca sulky tumbledown croppy

'tobacco' 'brooding' 'die' 'convict'

cattle wicked rogue

'cow' 'evil' 'rogue'

Note also the -it transitive suffixes in the following (instead of Pacific -im):53 see-it gib-it

'see' 'give'

make-it like-it

'make, do' 'like'

7.1.2. New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Given that the Australian Aboriginal pidgins of today and Pacific pidgins had a shared heritage, but that they diverged at an early point in their history, let us now turn our attention to Pacific Pidgins as they evolved and eventually developed into the three English-based Melanesian pidgins which are the primary focus of this study. There are a number of questions which recur concerning their development. First is the chronology of the geographical spread of early and later stabilised forms of the language in the nineteenth century. Most Pacific Pidgin scholars distinguish a slow evolution from an early South Seas Jargon stage through what became known as Sandalwood English. This Sandalwood English, spoken mainly in southern Melanesia, gradually stabilised in terms of its morpho-syntax, before emerging as a generalised Melanesian Pidgin in the last decades of the nineteenth century (Clark 1979, Mühlhäusler 1974, 1978, 1986, 1996, Keesing 1988, Crowley 1990). As we will see in Chapter 9, the real differentiation of the three Englishbased Melanesian pidgins (Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin) oc53. There are also a number of verbs in the sample utterances where the transitive suffix is -im. The -it suffix is unknown in Melanesian Pidgin, however.

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

229

curred in the twentieth century in the home countries from which nineteenth century plantation labour was drawn. What follows is a representative selection of Pacific pidgin, in its various largely unstabilised forms, chiefly from Vanuatu (the former New Hebrides), Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea and Samoa. The examples, drawn largely from the writings of later nineteenth and early twentieth century authors, covers the period of recruitment of plantation labour in Queensland, Fiji and Samoa. Much of what has been recorded appears anglicised and unstable, although we will be able to discern an increasing number of pidgin features as we approach 1900. In fact, it appears somewhat strange that when we inspect the pidgin specimens from around the turn of the century, they suddenly bear a very strong resemblance to modern-day Bislama (Cromar 1935 [reflecting pidgin from around 1884], and Pionnier 1913 [reflecting the period around 1900], for example). One gains the impression that the more the authors were everyday users of Melanesian Pidgin, as opposed to passing travellers and occasional writers, the more their Pidgin seems "authentic" or un-anglicised. Let us consider the following selection of examples: 1867 Adams (1984) discussing the Tannese reaction to the proposed appointment of Thomas Neilson at Port Resolution observes that when Nouka - now the principal yani en dete at the harbour and bitterly anti-mission since the bombardment of his village in 1865 - gave his consent....his people demurred, and with a mixture of wit and resentment remonstrated loudly: One said: Suppose missionary come here, white man go away, where man Tanna get tobacco?. Another: Suppose missionary come here, he want man Tanna put on clothes; no good man Tanna he wear clothes; very good white man he wear clothes, all the same as you. Look at that man, he look well, he no want clothes. A third: Look here, Tanna man he lazy, he plenty lazy, he no like work, he like walk about. Suppose missionary he come here, he say, Very good man he work; no very good woman do all the work; man Tanna he lazy, he plenty lazy. A fourth: Suppose missionary come here, he say, Very good man Tanna keep only one woman; man Tanna he no like that, he like to have two, three, four woman. A fifth: Suppose missionary come here, man Tanna go work for him, he give him calico; man Tanna he no want calico, he want tobacco and powder and musket. What for missionary no keep tobacco? A sixth: What for Mr Paton bring man-of-war here, fight man Port Resolu-

230 Chapter 7 tion. Mr Paton come here make plenty good talk, then he go away make plenty bad talk,bring man-of-war here, fight man Port Resolution; man Port Resolution no fight Mr Paton man belong a bush he come make fight, he come burn house belong a missionary, missionary he go away bring man-of-war he no fight bush, he fight man belong a Port Resolution - you go away, man Tanna he no want missionary. (Adams 1984: 173-174) (Tanna) 1867 What for you make paper about man Aniwa? Missi make him bokis sing! Plenty man come hear you make him bokis sing. (Paton 1894: 77) (Aniwa) 1869 Man belong-a-me, man belong-a-me no, no like go ship. You no go long way. You stop Tanna, by-and-byyou come back. (Watt 1896: 369-370) (Tanna) 1869 By-and-by you savi too-much talk man-Mai. (Steel 1880: 267) (Emae) 1870 White man give-him me. Captain of Jason, I 'pose. He buy-him four men belong-a-me, and give me a musket for 'em. Yes, but some of 'em all-the-same boy. (Kay 1872: 79) (Nguna) 1871 Man-Api all fool before. Now him go Brisbane, Port Dennison, Maryborough, and learn to speak English altogether. No more fight white man all-the-same before; Every man now speak English altogether and not fool now like man belong bush. (Thurston 1871: 46) (Epi) You see this-fellow man-bush no good. He get knife and tomahawk longway. All-same Barcoo. No good give him tomahawk. You see him all-same one black-feller! (Thurston 1871: 54) (Ambrym) Captain no dead. By-and-bye night come, you take him ship. (Thurston 1871: 134) (Efate)

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

231

1871 You likee come work Fiji? Me no savvy. Fiji very good. Plenty kai-kai bull-y-macow; Big-fellow yam, big-fellow cocoa-nut; very good Fiji. How many yam? Too-muchy work Fiji; no good. S'pose you come by-and-by? Tanna man plenty trade, muskets, powder, plenty sulu. Me go; very good. Small-fellow ship-a-ship no likee; me go next time. (Forbes 1875: 251) (Tanna) 1872 Black man savey well the schooners and suppose they like to stop they stop, if they like to go they go. White man no steal black man now. He buy black man and plenty black man like go. (C083/2: 275) (Banks: Santa Maria) 1872 Well, Master, man Makura he no want missionary. (Don 1927: 121) (Shepherd Is: Makura) 1875 What-name ship? Stanley. What-name cappen? Cappen-Wawn Where you come from? Maryborough Mallybulla, very good. You buy boy? Yes; you got boy? He like come? P'raps, by-and-by. You buy yam? Yes; we buy yam altogether - all you have. Boy he like go. (Wawn 1973: 10-11) (Tanna) Cappen! Man Vila he come. (Wawn 1973: 143) (Efate) 1877 Me savy; me want big-fellow yam. This boy belong-o '-you? You too-much like go Sydney. (Inglis 1887: 129) (Aneityum) 1877 You wantem yam Massa?

232 Chapter 7 Me bin work long-α Maryboro. Misse White my Massa. You savee Misse White, my word me plenty work long that fellow Massa long-a-soogar. Misse White no good he plenty fight, too much kill-em me; he bin give me small fellow box, no good, me fine fellow man, very good you give me tambacco, me too much like-em-smoke. (Giles 1968: 37) (Tanna) You want to buy-him boy, what-name you give it belong-a boy? Suppose you give me one-fellow musket, me give you one-fellow boy. (Giles 1968:41) (Tanna) You see Massa, you bin tell me altogether man fool put im red longa face. Me no fool, me put im blue. (Giles 1968: 57) (Buninga, Shepherd Is) 1878 Very good you go look chief belonga me; he like speak you. Suppose chief he want to speak me, very good he come here. Chief he old man. No savey walk good. (Wawn 1973: 143) (Efate) Chief, he speak - how much you pay belong stop along Vila? Me no pay chief belong stop along Vila. You been broke ship belonga me! By-an-by man-o '-war come; me speak Cappen belong man-o '-warMan Sandwich make big wind, big wind broke ship belonga me! (Wawn 1973: 144) (Efate) Me want to go Mallybulla. You gimme pipe; me want to smoke. (Wawn 1973: 174) (Malo, Santo) 1880 Me speakee English, my name belong Black-John, me been PorterMackai, too-muchee wark, my word, me no sleep all-er time, plenty wark, big-fellow wind he come, me plenty sick, my-word, me no likee Porter-Mackai, plenty sugar he stop, me carry him plenty time, me get one-feller bokus, one-feller gun, plenty tambacca. Me stop threefeller year, my-word, too-muchee wark, me no sleep, me carry sugar, my-word, me no likee him, now you give me tanbacca, you come

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

233

England? Me savvy England, plenty far, good-feller man he belong England, feller-man belong Porter-Mackai he no-good. (Coote 1882: 142) (Torres Is.) 1884 Mi no savais, voilä mes mamans. (Lemire 1884: 242) (not specified) 1884 My word, master, suppose you drink- 'em up khava, you no feel your heart no more. (Rannie 1912: 77) (Tanna) 1884 Me-fellow keep him. By-and-by me-fellow buy'em gun along man-we-we and German man. (Cromar 1935: 117-118) (not specified) He no-more come back now. Me-fella fight all the time. (Cromar 1935: 161) (Tanna) Me can't go back no-more, Jocko. This man here make'm me tambu and s 'pose me break 'em tambu, me die. (Cromar 1935: 167) (Malakula) 1884 You no like'm me? Me like'm white man. You come. (Cromar 1935: 181)(Malo) 1880s Tanna belong a English. Tanna belong a big fellow Queen England. Me sabe, one big fellow man die; big fellow woman he stop, plenty piccaninny. (Thomas 1886: 246) (Tanna) You like him this? Very good. She no make him fellow mate any more. (Thomas 1886: 271) (Tanna) You come back by-and-by. Suppose you come stop help man α Tanna fight Wee-wees. (Thomas 1886: 295) (Tanna) Me no go boat's crew, me too much lazy. (Thomas 1886: 314) (Aneityum)

234 Chapter 7 What name black man work at Queensland? Me no want to work alonga sugar cane. Me want work alonga house. (Thomas 1886: 359) (Aneityum) 1886 Me belong Sandwich Island close-up now; me belong Government boat on Young-Dick; me sawie arrow strike me long-α arm long Malayta two-fellow arrow shoot at me when we pull-um boat; twofellow boys fire, one shoot long-α bush, but me no see anyone long-a bush. (C0225/26) (Efate) 1887 Man Malakula he no like French missionary, he no got boat, he no got wife, he no got piccanniny, he no got nothing. (Watt 1896: 274) (Malakula) 1890 You come house belong-a me, me take-im tings belong-a you, makeim no-goot you top here; plenty tanna man he look you all man he go belonga bush make-im plenty fight-fight, bye-and-bye make-im plenty singsing. (Frazer 1895: unpaginated) (Tanna) 1890 He and another boy and myself go along-a ship... He no want to go back long-α island. He want to stay long-α Mr.Cran. Me Savee father belong-a him. He no savee Meltabasoos come long-α Queensland. Meltabasoos no work along-a white man at island. He no work long-α missionary. He signed paper long-α ship. Me tell him what paper say. Me no savee boy named Samuel. I know boy named Molikoro. That-fellow come along-a Roderick Dhu at Malo. That fellow go ashore again at Malo. He no come along-a Queensland. Meltabasoos go out long-α reef, then swim to boat to Mr. McAlpin and then go long-α Roderick Dhu. He yabber long-α brother, "Me go long-α boat". Big-fellow brother say, "No-good go along-a boat". Meltabasoos then run long-α scrub to another passage, and swim long-α boat. (C0225/37) (Malo) That fellow kill-him Mary belong him. (C0225/37) (Pentecost) 1891 The boss, he kill him along bush yesterday. (Lamb 1905: 51) (Ambrym)

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

235

Hullo, master; what name you walk about all same? Ah, you one good fellow? You been along Queensland? Yes. Salt water he kaikai calico belong me; boat all same. Eh! Plenty calico stop along me. Very good you come, master? (Lamb 1905: 155) (Ambrym) 1895 I belong to Aoba, my Passage called Lullu 'Soorie in Bush long way from salt water.... I have husband at Lullu'Soorie...I no like thatfellow, he talk, he hit me, he talk too-much, I know "Drauda " at Aoba he no my husband there, he sleep along me first time on ship, he no buy me along Aoba, before me catch ship me savee that "Drauda " stop along ship, I tell government my husband stop along ship...Ilike stop along "Drauda " now. (Scan 1967: 17) (Ambae) 1896 Me-fella want copra man, me-fella no want missionary. (Guiart 1956: 124) (Tanna) Very good you go work along money, by-and-by you go along big fire. Me work along Misi, me want to go heaven. (Guiart 1956: 125) (Tanna) 1900 I stap onetap Big fala Masta. I mekem ol-tigne: Claound, Sane, Moune, Solouara, graon,...ol tigne. Big fala Masta ia, Masta bilong ol man, ol oumane. I louk ol tigne, man i mekem. I peillme ol tigne i goud; I kilim ol tigne i no goud. You save man no ol seme dog; man i got bei bilong heme. When sikine bilong hem i ded, bei bilong heme i go onetap, goud piece long Bif fala Masta, goud piece long goud man i ded. Bel i goud, very goud, long ol tai'me no finish. When man i mekem no goud, suppose man ia i ded, bei bilong heme i kapsai'll daoune, piece i no goud. Big fala Masta i koukime bei bilong hem long faia, long ol tai'me no finish. You ouandeme i go piece i goud, long man i goud, long big fala Masta? Yes. Ol raight. Hareme naou. (Pionnier 1913: 18-19) (Malakula) 1904 Head belong him, he break plenty. He tell me takeum cutter big-fellow hospital, Ambrym. We tell: "What-name we go Ambrym, you no good, you dead". He tell: "No, all-right". By-n '-by he speak wantum one-fellow water; we give. No wantum now. By-n '-by he go finish. (Grimshaw 1907: 225) (Malakula)

236 Chapter 7 1905

That the fire-place, hear-um sing-out! By- 'n-by hear-um plenty smell. (Grimshaw 1907: 309) (Tanna)

Without wishing to comment at this point on the most likely date by which Pacific Pidgin could be said to be "stabilised", the selection of examples just cited shows that it was widespread throughout Vanuatu by the early 1870s, at which time recruiting moved further north to the Solomon Islands. This is confirmed by remarks from a number of observers, including Cromar, who has the following to say concerning the use of pidgin in Melanesia at the time of his first trip to Vanuatu in 1882: The Emae islanders were a good-looking well set up people, similar to the Nguna and Sandwich Island inhabitants, but did not appear to be a war-like race like the Eromanga and Tanna peoples. In all these islands it was never necessary to carry interpreters, for so many men had been to Queensland that beche de mer English, the pidgin of the Pacific, was already the lingua franca of the beaches (Cromar 1935: 36).

7.1.3. Solomon Islands "Jock" Cromar (1935) provides a detailed and graphic account of his voyages to the Solomon Islands and the New Hebrides (Vanuatu) between 1882-1886. Cromar was obviously a fluent pidgin speaker. As recruiters moved north from the New Hebrides to the Solomons, so too did the knowledge of the recruiting lingua franca. On a trip to Malaita aboard the Madeline he recounts: Some of the men could speak a little beche-de-mer, but one was very fluent, and said that he had been to Queensland. He asked if I had previously been to 'Maratta' [Malaita], and I told him that I had not. (1935: 137)

It is not surprising that Pacific Pidgin was not widely spoken in Malaita at the time of the Madeline's visit, for although the recruiting of Solomon Islander labour for Queensland began in 1871 (with just eighty-two recruits), the great majority of Solomon Islander labour was recruited after 1880.54

54. Recruiting for Fiji began in 1870, with 212 recruits (see Chapter 4).

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 237 Although the available sample pidgin texts from the Solomons are much more restricted than for Vanuatu, the quality of the Solomons material recorded was probably much nearer to the actual pidgin produced than that which occurs in the writings of missionaries and travellers in Vanuatu55 Cromar is the source of the following extracts: 1884

"Maratta not all-'e-same 'nother island", he explained; "you must look out". S 'pose you try for tak'm mary, man Maratt must kill you. (Cromar 1935: 137) (Malaita)

1884

"Me savvy", he replied. "You all right. You new-chum along Maratta ". You buy 'em boy along shoota (Musket)? Me think you can't catch'em boy....S'pose German man and manwe-we pay'em shoota, him catch'em altogether boy. Man Maratt like'm shoota too much. You can't catch 'em boy along tabac. (Cromar 1935: 138-139) (Malaita)

1880s Me ready for man Maratta now. (Cromar 1935: 204) (Makira) You got 'em piggy-pig? (Cromar 1935:210)

(Malaita)

No, Jocko. You no shoot. This no business belong you and me. Belong them bushmen. They catch 'em that man by and by. (Cromar 1935: 211) (Malaita) 1880s Man Maratta He stink little bit. Man Maratta come; now me kill'em finish altogether. (Cromar 1935: 252-253) (Makira) Fish! Fish! Plenty fish he stop. (Cromar 1935: 285) (Nggela) Alligator tambu. (Cromar 1935: 288) (Malaita) 55. Cromar's pidgin is seemingly much closer to present-day Solomons Pijin than that of other early observers, just as Pionnier's was for Vanuatu Bislama.

238 Chapter 7 No good you spoil'em fashion belong me. (Cromar 1935: 301) (Malaita) Which way you do 'em this fashion, Jocko? This fellow head, he tambu belong me. (Cromar 1935: 303) (unspecified) You shoot'em one boy last night, Jocko. No, my son....Might boat's crew shoot'em. I fire, but I think bushmen stop too far. Boat's crew no got 'em small musket, Jocko. You shoot 'em yourself. (Cromar 1935: 316) (Malaita) Other writers provide Solomons Pidgin samples from areas outside the Malaita-Nggela axis, for example: 1880 The Hailey, king belong Coolangbangara, big feller fighting man; me speak you; me kai kai ten one feller man belong Esperanza; me take him altogether trade - musket, powder, tobacco, bead, plenty; me take everything; me take big fire, ship he finish.... White man allsame woman, he no savee fight, suppose woman plenty cross she make plenty noise, suppose man-of-war he come fight me, he make plenty noise, but he allsame woman - he no savee fight. (Coote 1882: 206) (Kolombangara) Bennett (1976), provides further examples. She has unearthed the following: 1882

White man, he savey too much. Poor black man, he no savey nothing. (Bennett 1976: 6) (Alu, Shortlands)

1886-7

Man belong ship he plenty ki ki grog. Man no look out. By and by big fellow wind he come. Ship he go down. By and by he finish. (Woodford, cited in Bennett 1976: 6) (Marau Sound, Guadalcanal) Belly belong me he full up. (Woodford, cited in Bennett 1976: 6) (NW Guadalcanal)

1889

My God! Alec, they kill boy belong you. (Bennett 1976: 6) (Marovo)

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 239 1890

[Me/I] not afraid of man-war: man-war good fellow. (Bennett 1976: 6) (Simbo)

Also from Simbo, a favourite whaler's lay-over: 1887 Paddy no good, heflashfellow, he savey too much lie. (Rannie 1912: 292) (Simbo) 1893 Long time before, one fellow man, name belong him he Tasa, him he go along Tomba, along canoe catch him fish along spear. Bye and bye one fellow makasi he come, him he catch him, him he put him along canoe. Close up another fellow makasi he come, he put him head belong him out of salt-water, he sing out, "What name you shoot him woman-makasi belong me? Bye and bye altogether picaninny belong me he die suppose he no catch him kaikai belong him. " Tasa, him he talk, "What name you talk him, suppose picaninny belong me he no kaikai makasi, he all ο 'same picaninny belong you, altogether him finish, he die. " Man-makasi he sing out: "All right, you look out, me go talk him shark, bye and bye he kaikai along you. " Him he go away along salt-water. Tasa he go, he shoot him plenty fish, sun he go down, he put him up sail, he go quick along Mungeri. Big fellow wind he come, rain he come, plenty thunder and lightning he come, canoe he capsize, canoe he broke, Tasa he swim, he swim along. Shark he come, crocodile he come, Man-makasi he come, shark he catch him Tasa along head, crocodile he take him along leg, he pull, he pull plenty hard. Tasa he sing out, no man he come, bye and bye he broke, he finish. Makasi he laugh: him he go place belong him, he catch him another fellow woman: picaninny belong him he no die. Long ago, a man named Tasa went to Tomba in a canoe to spear fish. After a while a makasi (fish) came and he caught it and out it in the canoe. Then another makasi came and put its head out of the water and called out: "Why did you spear my makasi-wife? All my children will die if she doesn't get their food." Tasa said: "But in relation to what you said, if my children don't eat makasi they're just like your children, they'll die." The makasi husband shouted: "Well watch out, then, because I'm going to go and tell a shark and he'll eat you." He disappeared into the sea. Tasa went on and caught a lot

240 Chapter 7 of fish, and when evening came he raised the sail to get back to Mungeri quickly. A strong wind came up, it started to rain, there was lots of thunder and lightning, and the canoe capsized and broke, so Tasa had to swim for his life. The makasi husband came, bringing a shark and a crocodile. The shark seized Tasa by the head, the crocodile seized him by the leg and pulled, pulled really strongly. Tasa called out, but before anyone could come he was torn in half, and that was the end of him. Makasi laughed and went to his place; he took another wife; so his children didn't die after all. (Somerville 1897:436—453) (Marovo Lagoon, New Georgia) Keesing (1988: 138) reports, inter alia: 1896 Altogether along shore fire gun at me fellow... Barton sing out along me fellow he say, "Ted he die; me fellow pull up alongside. " (Court Disposition, Queensland 189656) (Tikopia)

From the beginning of the twentieth century, we have the following text, discovered by Bennett (1976: 24): 1902 Name belong me Charlie. Me stop three year along Queensland. Place belong me Talisi, close up along Moli. Me come back along Queensland along Coquette. Five moon he finish now. Me go ashore along Tiaro. Me want to go ashore along Talisi. Big fellow wind, big fellow sea, Captain he speak me go ashore along Tiaro. Me stop Tiaro now along Sika. Me go ashore along Sika. Me eight fellow boy go ashore along Tiaro same time. Me catch em one fellow musket. Me catch em along Cairns. Me pay em along Misi Macmillan along Cairns. Me pay three pound thirteen shilling altogether along musket and one hundred cartridge. Misi Macmillan he no got store along Cairns, he sell musket no more. He sell plenty musket along boy all time. Me put musket along Coquette along down below underneath. Me take out one piece timber me put em below. That time me go ashore along boat along Tiaro no white man he look em musket. Me put em along box. Me take em out [take to pieces]. Me put em along box. No more boy he go ashore along Tiaro he got musket. Me Sika two fellow no more. K. Charlie 22nd December 1902. 56. Cited by Keesing 1988: 138.

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241

7.1.4. Papua New Guinea Pidgin data for Papua New Guinea for the period under consideration (1863-1906) is derived from a number of sources and is presented in a number of different sections, so as to maintain the geographical integrity of the Papua New Guinea pidgin sources at that time, namely what today is Papua New Guinea itself (7.1.4.), data from German Samoa (7.1.5.) and material drawn from the Queensland Royal Commission of 1885-86 (7.2). It should be noted that recruiting from what is today Papua New Guinea, for the various plantation areas was as follows: Queensland: Samoa:

Fiji

1883-1884 1879-1885 1885-1900 1900-1914 1882-1884

2,809 693 2,300 3,000 1,618

(Louisiades and D'Entrecasteaux) (German New Guinea) (German New Guinea: N.Ireland) (German New Guinea) (Bougainville, N.Britain/N.Ireland)

The recruits who worked in Queensland nearly all came from the Louisiade Archipelago and the D'Entrecasteaux Group, around the south-eastern tip of today's Papua New Guinea. They were south of the area of German influence (in fact they were part of British New Guinea), and many of the recruits had previously been engaged as beche-de-mer fishermen in their home area, often by Chinese. It is their testimony which is presented in section 7.2. As far as German New Guinea is concerned, the first commercial enterprise, the Godeffroy Trading Station, was set up on Mioko Island (Duke of York Island, between New Britain and New Ireland) in 1876 (headquartered in Samoa). It was to become an important trading and commercial centre (Mühlhäusler 1978: 82). In 1878 Queen Emma and the trader Farrell also established themselves on Mioko, soon afterwards expanding to the neighbouring islands and to Blanche Bay in New Britain. However, a variety of Pacific Pidgin had been established in the area well before the arrival of the German planters and the establishment of German New Guinea in 1884, even before the first German trading station was set up on Mioko in 1876. Nelson (personal communication) has established that the first church service held in New Ireland in 1875 was partly in Pidgin English. Indeed there were two streams of Pidgin development in what was later to become the sovereign state of Papua New Guinea: the D'Entrecasteaux and the Louisiades; and contemporaneously and later, the German plantations

242 Chapter 7 in both German New Guinea and German Samoa. It appears most likely, therefore, that the major characteristics of what was to become Tok Pisin in the twentieth century (the general Pacific Pidgin spoken in various varieties throughout the Pacific) were already in existence in the islands to the east of the mainland of Papua New Guinea at the time of German colonisation.57 Examples of New Guinea pidgin in the literature of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries are very limited. A selection of brief sample texts is as follows: 1884 Bye and bye you kill white man, man of war kill you. 'If you kill white men, a warship will kill you.' (Finsch 1888: 140) (Duke of York Is) 1884 We too close already; by and by when that fellow finish dance they fire up along you and me. (Rannie 1912: 53) (Lihir Group) 1884 What for that Government Agent no let boat's crew help-'em boys when altogether want go Queensland? Suppose we been have'em good fellow Government, we full up now. (Rannie 1912: 53) (Lihir Group) 1884 He belong Buri-Burrigan; he know he come along Ceara; he come three years, work alonga sugar cane....When he go alonga sugar cane in Queensland, he too much work; no like him; suppose he work strong fellow, white fellow no hit him; suppose he lazy, he hit him a little fellow. Sun he come up, he go work; sun he go down, he go sleep, no get him plenty ki-ki; plenty boy die; he think he die, too, wants to go alonga home. Wawn [1893] 1973: 349) (Louisiade Archipelago) 1885 Cappen, you been take me along three year. Me, Sandfly, both speak, three year. By-and-by, boy belong island he speak: "What for you speak three year? Very good, you speak three moon. Suppose you no speak three moon, altogether boy, he stop Queensland three

57. Nelson (pers. comm.) states that the English-based pidgin spoken in the D'Entrecasteaux and Louisiade Groups later died out, replaced by a number of mission languages in Milne Bay. However, it appears to have survived on the mainland as Papuan Pidgin English (see Mühlhäusler 1978b), and had strong links with Torres Strait pidgin (see Lee 1998: 69-83).

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243

year. No good". Me think all the boy want to kill me; then me, Sandfly, go back and speak we come along three moon. (Wawn [1893] 1973: 373) (Milne Bay) 1887 The recruiter asks them in classical South Seas English: "You like go Samoa? " There is confusion among the people present. He continues: "Me like plenty Kanakas; you give me plenty boys. One boy, me give you one musket, plenty powder, ball, cap, tomahawk, tobacco, beads...." "You go three yam! Plenty kaikai! By and by you come back". (Parkinson 1887: 29) (New Ireland)

7.1.5. Samoa Mühlhäusler (1978: 71) maintains that Samoan Plantation Pidgin was in use in Samoa before 1883 and that it was used at that time by recruits from Kiribati and from the Solomon Islands. In support of this claim, he cites Ehlers (1895: 134), as follows: "Since the inhabitants of individual island groups and even of individual islands speak different languages, they avail themselves of an idiom similar to Chinese Pidgin English for the exchange of their thoughts", (translation PM). In fact recruiting for German Samoa begain in 1867, but assumed major proportions only in the mid 1870s. From 1867-1877 nearly all of the Samoan plantation labour was recruited from Kiribati, nearly 2,000 (with about 100 from the Caroline Islands) (Mühlhäusler 1978:78). Between 1878-1885 there were 1,200 ni-Vanuatu (New Hebrides) and roughly 600 Solomon Islanders employed there (along with nearly 700 from German New Guinea). After 1885, the recruiting of labour for the German plantations in Samoa was limited to the Bismarck Archipelago. Examples of Samoan Plantation Pidgin as spoken in German Samoa are as follows: 1887

"You like go Samoa? " Me like plenty Kanakas; you give me plenty boys. Me give you one musket. You go three yam. Plenty kaikai. By and by you come back. Do you want to go to Samoa? I would like many Kanakas, you give me plenty of men, I'll give you a rifle. You go for three years. Plenty of food. Later you will return home. Parkinson (1887: 29)

244 Chapter 7 1890 Fanny, awfully hove-to with rheumatics and injuries received upon the field of sport and glory, chasing pigs, was unable to go up and down stairs, so she sat upon the back verandah, and my work was chequered by her cries. "Paul, you take a spade to do that - dig a hole first. If you do that, you 7/ cut your foot off! Here, you boy, what you do there? You no get work? You go find Simele; he give you work. Peni, you tell this boy he go find Simele; suppose Simele he no give him work, you tell him go 'way. I no want him here. That boy no good". (Colvin 1911: Vol III: 198) / wake um my devil. All right now. He go catch the man that catch my pig. By and by, that man plenty sick. I no care. What for he take my pig? (Colvin 1911: Vol III: 224) White man, he come here, I marry him all-e-same Kanaka; very well! then, he marry me all-e-same white woman. Suppose he no marry, he go 'way, woman he stop. All-e-same thief, empty hand, Tonga-heart - no can love! Now you come marry me. You big heartyou no 'shamed island-girl. That thing I love you far too much. I proud. (Booth 1968: 357) 1891 Two big fellow man he stop, six fafine, and two ten and four small fellow piccanini. 'There are two boars, six sows and twenty-four piglets.' (Lentzner 1891) [Mühlhäusler 1978: 101] 1895 You sabi this fellow on top? 'Do you know this fellow on top (God)?' You speak fellow on top he make finish rain. 'You say this fellow on top stopped the rain.' (Baessler 1895: 23-24) 1895 Kiss him, kiss him. 'Catch him, catch him.' White man coconut belong him no grass he stop. 'The white man's head is bald.'

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Whatfore you no speak me: Calabos belong raty, suppose you speak me all the same me savee.

'Why didn't you say to me: rat trap, if you said that I would have known.' Master, him fellow white man, he no savee speak English, suppose me speak along you, you savee me no speak lies.

'Master, that white man can't speak English, if I tell you, you know I don't lie.' (Governor Solf 1895) [Mühlhäusler 1978: 70] Mühlhäusler (1978: 72) provides a translation of an extract from the diary of Governor Solf (1895), which provides many telling pidgin phrases, such as: Kiss him (kisim) He kill him finish House belong me Two fellow horse Whatfore you no speak me?

'to grasp' (restricted today to NGP) 'he killed him' 'my house' 'two horses' ' why didn 't you tell me?'

Speaking of Pacific Pidgin, Governor Solf was of the opinion that "In this intelligent way the blacks can communicate over the whole South Seas, both among themselves and with the whites, and even if it is by no means the Queen's English, it fully serves its purpose " (Solf 1895), cited in Mühlhäusler 1978: 72. Development of Samoan Plantation Pidgin was reported to be almost at a standstill by the end of the 19th century, at a complete standstill by the end of the First World War, when Germany ceded Samoa to New Zealand. It's raison d'etre ceased to exist with the end of the plantation labour system in Samoa, although it was spoken on a decreasing scale until the 1930s. Mühlhäusler (1978: 87) considers that Samoan Plantation Pidgin represented an earlier stage of New Guinea Pidgin, certainly at an earlier stage of stabilisation and development. It certainly was a major, but certainly not exclusive, contributor. In his analysis of Samoan Plantation Pidgin data, Mühlhäusler concludes that in terms of lexicon, there are two points to be made: first, that the Samoan Plantation Pidgin lexicon reflects lexical information from a number of substratum languages in the Duke of York- Blanche Bay area;

246 Chapter 7 second, that many of the semantic properties of Samoan Plantation Pidgin/New Guinea Pidgin are not shared by any other Pacific pidgins. Mühlhäusler (1978: 89-90) notes some Samoan lexicon in Samoan Plantation Pidgin: matau lango puamo manu pisup sasa nofoa toi kavale

'axe' 'fly' 'egg' 'bird' 'tinned meat' 'whip' 'saddle' 'axe' 'car, carriage'

NGP tamiok NGP lang (ex Tolai-Blanche Bay) SAMfuamo 'a; NGP kiau SAM manu; NGP pisin NGP timmit (orig.'peasoup') SAM sasa; NGP wip SAM nofoa; NGP sadol SAM to 'i; NGP tamiok SAM ta-avale 'carriage'; NGP kar

Some items of unknown origin: bami saksak mamiok muluk

'umbrella' 'breasts' 'female genitals' 'home country'

Tellingly, Mühlhäusler (1978: 90) notes some Samoan Plantation Pidgin items found in old New Guinea Pidgin, but not modern Tok Pisin: bilinat gokabaut lilebit poldaun bresprut kabora manis tri

buai wokabaut, limlimbur liklik pundaun kapiak kopra mun diwai

'betelnut' 'walk, stroll' 'a little bit' 'fall down' 'breadfruit' 'copra' 'month' 'tree'

It is significant that generalised Pacific Pidgin items such as lilebit 'a little bit' were current in Samoan Plantation Pidgin, but were later replaced as Tok Pisin developed its own characteristics back home in the Bismarck Archipelago. English-derived items not found in New Guinea Pidgin:

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 247 bakbak draiimap lai laim pusim singsing wumen waif

singaut mekim drai giaman kambang subim kalabus meri meri bilong mi

'bark' 'to dry up' 'to lie' 'lime (for betelnut chewing)' 'to push, shove' 'prison' (kalabus also in SPP) 'woman' {meri also in SPP) 'wife'

Items shared by Samoan Plantation Pidgin and New Guinea Pidgin exclusively: taberan muruk pukpuk kakaruk matmat lotu

tambaran muruk pukpuk kakaruk matmat lotu

'ghost, spirit' 'cassowary' 'crocodile' 'chicken, fowl' 'cemetery' 'church'

Other items from Samoan found only in Samoan Plantation Pidgin/New Guinea Pidgin: kamda from SAM malolo from SAM taro from SAM popi from SAM mumu from SAM

tamuta malolo taro pope mumu

'carpenter' 'to rest' 'taro' 'Catholic' '(bake in) earth oven'

Mühlhäusler (1978: 96) also notes the following pronominal forms for Samoan Plantation Pidgin: Pronouns Subject Person sg. 1 mi 2 yu 3 em, him, hi

pi. mi ol yu ol em, him, ol

248 Chapter 7

Pronouns Object 1 (bilong) mi 2 (bilong) yu 3 (bilong) em (him)

(bilong) as (bilong) yu ol (bilong) dem

Samoan Plantation Pidgin, then, underwent a marked decline after 1914, as most of the labourers returned to New Guinea, from whence they originated. All subsequent development of New Guinea Pidgin to Tok Pisin took place back home in the Bismarck Archipelago. For a further sample of the New Guinea variety or varieties of Pacific Pidgin, see below, 7.2, testimony from the 1885-86 Royal Commission given by recruits from the Louisiade Archipelago and the D'Entrecasteaux Group.

7.1.6. Other Pacific Islands: New Caledonia, Loyalty Islands, Kiribati, Rotuma, Tuvalu 7.1.6.1.

New Caledonia

As Hollyman observes: II nous reste de cette premiere epoque quelques courtes phrases en Polynesien, notees par des capitaines de la marine fran9aise ou par des missionnaiies franfais, mais mises presque toujours dans la bouche d'authentiques Polynesiens. Le premier texte Polynesien profere par un Melanesien date de 1848. On trouve des 1843 des mots de pidgin anglais isoles, mais il faut attendre 1863 pour avoir les premieres phrases en pidgin anglais. (Hollyman 1976: 29)58

The following are a few selected examples: 1863-6

Tayos, lookout blongfaial 'Friends, be careful of the fire!' (Gamier 1867: 171) (all Gamier texts refer to 1863-66).

58. Translated as: There remain from this first period a few short sentences in Polynesian, noted by French naval captains or missionaries, but almost always put into the mouths of real Polynesians. The first Polynesian text spoken by a Melanesian dates from 1848. Isolated Pidgin words are found from 1843 onwards, but it is not until 1863 that one finds the first sentences in Pidgin English. (Hollyman 1976: 29)

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Boat belong you? 'Is that your boat?' (Gamier 1867: 186) Onine bad man, longtime he kill father, after that he eat him. Onine was a bad man, he killed his father long ago and after that ate him.' (Gamier 1867: 194) My want matemate casi belong me. Ί want to die in my house.' All same grass. 'Just like grass.' (Gamier 1867: 198) Allsame man ouioui belong boat matemate kaikai. 'Like that the Frenchmen from the boat were killed and eaten.' (Gamier 1868: 42) Gondou he no allsame man he allsame poika; he look one Kanak he houo-houo; he kai kai plenty man. 'Gondou is not like a man, he is like a pig; he sees a Kanak, he hohos; he ate many people.' (Gamier 1868: 48) Frenchman ol same pouaca: supposite I look one, I vomite. 'Frenchmen are like pigs; if I see one, I vomit.' (Patouillet 1873: 48) [refers to period 1867-70] Mi toupai, popine - finish kaikai - beaucoup lele. Ί killed the woman and ate her, very good.' (Lemire 1884: 98) [refers to period 1874-82] Lemire (1878: 312) also records the following Pidgin vocabulary in use in New Caledonia: farawa him kaikai lele louki

'bread' 'yes' 'eat' 'good' 'see, look'

250 Chapter 7 manou mate paipi pullaway takata tomaok tamion tayo

'cloth' 'sick' 'pipe' 'go away, depart' 'doctor' 'small axe' 'small axe' 'friend'

7.1.6.2. Loyalty Islands Although Pidgin went into decline on the New Caledonian mainland after the 1860s, it flourished in the Loyalty Islands. Anderson (1880: 156) reports, for example, that it was widely used on Mare in 1875. Between 1863 and 1875 over one thousand Loyalty Islanders were recruited as plantation labourers in Queensland, where they encountered Queensland Plantation English, a speech variety little different from early Bislama or Sandalwood English, so favouring the development of this lingua franca. After this time recruiters moved north, engaging labour only from areas north of the Loyalties, beginning with the New Hebrides (Vanuatu). Howe (1977: 15) reports that Loyalty Islanders were also very commonly employed as crewmen on vessels operating out of Noumea. Between 1865 and 1885 there are over 1,000 voyages to the Loyalty Islands by ships with Loyalty Island crews and English-speaking captains. In the 1870s and 1880s Loyalty Islanders were actively involved as recruiting agents in both Vanuatu and the Solomons. Up to 16 per cent of the male population of the Loyalties were employed away from their home islands during this period (Howe 1977: 90). The Bislama spoken by the Loyalty Islanders was very much the same as that spoken in Vanuatu at the time, as the following example shows: I think God He savey make plenty things. He clever fellow, He no same black fellow belong Caledonia. (Anderson 1880: 157)

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7.1.6.3. Kiribati (Gilbert Islands) As we saw above, 7.1.5., Kiribati labour was very important in the early years of Pacific Pidgin development, not just in a maritime context, but especially as Kiribati furnished the major source of plantation labour in Samoa, with more than 2,000 Kiribatese working there in the decade 18671877. Most of the literary references to Pidgin spoken in Kiribati itself come from the works and correspondence of the writer Robert Louis Stevenson, and his cook MacCallum, who visited the archipelago for two months in 1889. The following is a selection of examples: 1889 Me, I got power,... Tembinoka, I think I like fight him. (MacCallum 1934: 252) (Makin: ["King" Tubureimoa]) 1889 Me got plenty powa, just like Victoreea. (MacCallum 1934: 262-263) (Abemama: ["King" Tembinoka]) 1889 1 likum mobetta, my cook no savee how, bimby cook he come my outchhe, get good boone (wife)... ...I likum, how much? Cheat too much mo plenny. (MacCallum 1934: 268, 277, 278) (Abemama, cited in Keesing 1988: 46) 1889 Him fella along hole flenny sick, catchem die. (MacCallum 1934: 47) (Abemama, Binoka, cited in Keesing 1988: 47) 1889 Here, in my island, I 'peak My chieps no 'peak - do what I talk.... See Kanaka 'peak in a big outch. (Stevenson 1900: 286) 1889

Tuppoti mitonary think "good man": very good. Tuppoti he think "cobra ": no good. I send him away ship. (Stevenson 1900: 286)

1889 I think he good; he no 'peak. (Stevenson 1900: 287)

252 Chapter 7 1889 I look your eye. You good man. You no lie. Tuppoti I see man, I no tawy good man, bad man. I look eye, look mouth. (Stevenson 1900: 288) 1889 I think he tawy too much. (Stevenson 1900: 305) 1889

"The king, he good man ? ", I asked. "Suppose he like you, he good man," replied Te Kop: "no like, no good." (Stevenson 1900: 318)

1889

"I very sorry you go, " he said at last. Miss Stlevens he good man, woman he good man, boy he good man; all good man. Woman he smart all the same man. My woman he good woman, no very smart. I think Miss Stlevens he big chiep all the same cap 'n man-o '-wa'. I think Miss Stlevens he rich man all the same me. AU go schoona. I very sorry. My patha he go, my uncle he go, my cutcheons he go, Miss Stlevens he go: all go. You no see king cry before. King all the same man: feel bad, he cry. I very sorry. "Last night I no can 'peak.: too much here ", laying his hand upon his bosom. "Now you go away all the same my pamily. My brothers, my uncle go away. All the same." (Stevenson 1900: 341)

According to Crowley (1990: 31): "King Binoka's speech should reflect the South Seas Jargon that was spoken in Kiribati in the 1870s, though there is still an outside possibility that it could reflect the speech of an earlier period." Robert Louis Stevenson's cook, MacCallum, had the following to say about Binoka's variety of "English": The King spoke English, but a variety entirely his own. It was quite different to the Beche-de-Mer of the wild islands, or the pidgin English spoken by the Asiatic Polynesians. (MacCallum 1934: 262-263) A comparison with the Pidgin examples cited from other areas from an earlier period, above, suggests that MacCallum may well have been right in his assessment, for by the mid-1880s Pacific Pidgin was becoming a much more recognisably stable code (cf. the quotations from Cromar for the New Hebrides (Vanuatu) and the Solomon Islands, 7.1.2 and 7.1.3.).

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

7.1.6.4.

253

Tuvalu (Ellice Islands)

Mühlhäusler observes that numerous examples of Pidgin English as spoken in the Ellice Islands (Tuvalu) are contained in a book by Mrs Edgeworth David (1899). The following short conversation, reported in Mühlhäusler illustrates some of the linguistic characteristics of the language: Boy: Me: Boy: Me: Boy:

Misi, you wantee fua-moa? (eggs, or lit. 'the fruit of the hen') Io, me palenti likee good fua-moa. Ee palenti hoot, ee new born a! Me tinkyou palenti lie.. .you give me fuamoa palenti pooh! Me no lie, misi, me tink ee koot, me no lookee in-a-side! (Cited in Mühlhäusler 1978: 71)

Edgeworth David also stresses the strong mission links between Samoa and the then Ellice Islands, reflected in the use made of Polynesian vocabulary in both Samoan and Ellicean pidgin.

7.1.6.5. Rotuma Rotuma was also played a significant role in early Pacific Pidgin development, as many Rotumans were employed as boatscrew on traders and whalers, as well as in the sandalwood trade in southern Vanuatu. The few late examples of Pidgin spoken by Rotumans which have come to light seem rather anglicised, perhaps due to the recorder, as in the following: 1873 No mister Thurston, me know Mr Thurston he very good man. (Scarr 1973: 19-20) (Riamkau, chief of Rotuma) 1880 Me all same brother you. The time Mr. Romilly stop Rotumah me look out all same you when he stop England. Me wish me savey you, but think be no good. Suppose ship go you write me. Suppose Mr. Romilly go you sorry me. Send letter. This me letter you. Time Mr. Gordon stop Rotumah good too much. Mr. Romilly all same. Mr. Romilly same my boy, you same my brother. Suppose you wish something Rotumah you write your brother. Me make him.... Me savey you got three son, two daughters. Me got three son, three daughter. Myfam brother your fam, all same you brother me. (Romilly 1893: 101) (Albert, letter dictated to Romilly)

254 Chapter 7 Suppose man do good, give plenty copra mission, he go heaven too quick. Suppose do bad, Devil catch him, take him Hetty. (Romilly 1893: 109) (Albert)

7.2.

The 1885-1886 Royal Commission

In 1885 there was a Royal Commission held in Queensland into Recruiting Polynesian Labourers in New Guinea and Adjacent Islands, addressed to Sir Anthony Musgrave, Governor and Commander-in-Chief of the Colony of Queensland and its Dependencies. The charter of the Commission was to "inquire into the circumstances under which diverse Labourers, natives of New Guinea and of other Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean, including the D'Entrecasteaux Islands and the Louisiade Archipelago, who have been introduced into the Colony under the provisions of The Pacific Island Labourers Act of1880, have been engaged". (1885: xvi). The labourers were employed on sugar plantations situated on the Johnstone, Herbert and Pioneer Rivers and on the Burdekin Delta. The Royal Commission was served by interpreters, mainly from Teste Island, who allegedly spoke English, the language of the court, and pidgin as spoken on the plantations. The recruits who gave evidence had all arrived on the following ships: Ceara, Lizzie, Hopeful, Forest King, Heath and Sybil. A number of the recruits had been engaged in the beche-de-mer trade in their home islands and so "had acquired a certain knowledge of pigeon English" (1885: xxiv). Details of the "Polynesian Labourers in New Guinea and Adjacent Islands" are as follows: The Ceara (Inman) arrived at Townsville on 17 February 1884 with 107 recruits on board from the Louisiade Archipelago. The Lizzie (Wawn) arrived at Townsville on 17 February 1884 with 126 recruits (Mewstone, Redlick Group, Joannet, Grass, Sud-Est, Piron, Brierley, Garden Islands). The Ceara (Inman) arrived at Townsville on 28 April 1884 with 137 recruits, some of whom had been employed by a Chinese called Ah Sim, who had a "smoke-house" at Karaura for the purpose of curing beche-de-mer (Teste, Bentley, Moresby, Tubi-Tubi, Nuakata, Tarrahvara). The Lizzie (Wawn) arrived at Townsville on 2 June 1884 with 67 recruits (Teste, Moresby, Normanby, Little Woodlark).

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The Hopeful (Shaw) arrived at Dungeness on 17 July 1884 with 123 recruits (Morseby, Basilisk, Killerton). The Sybil (Meeny) arrived at Mackay on 6 October 1884 with 48 recruits (Santa Maria, Malo, Torres, Solomons, Normanby). The Forest King (Dickson) arrived at Brisbane on 31 October 1884 with 21 recruits (Sud-Est, Teste). [The Forest King then returned to Brierley Island, where a lad named Moses, in the employment of Nicholas Minister, a beche-de-mer fisher, was engaged as interpreter] 1885:xxxiv). The Heath (Wawn) arrived at Townsville on 25 November 1884 with 19 recruits (Landed returns at New Ireland; Duou, Marshall Bennett Group). The Royal Commission held twenty-nine sessions during which evidence was taken. The same basic questions were asked of most recruits, including the following: "Why did you leave your island?" "In what ship did you come?" "For how many moons did the whiteman say you would stop in Queensland?" "For how many moons?" "How many moons are there in three years?" "Do you get plenty food here?" "Have you been beche-de-mer fishing, and with whom?" The answers to these and similar questions form the great majority of the corpus which emerges from the Royal Commission transcript. Interestingly, many of the recruits had previous experience working for Europeans or Chinese as beche-de-mer fishermen. A sample selection of answers to the standard 1885-86 Royal Commission questions is as follows: White man speak, but me no savez English. (1885: 1) White man give me plenty ofkaikai.... (1885: 2) Plenty moons; me no count him. (1885: 2) White man say "Suppose you like tomahawk you go, no like no go ". Me like me go. (1885: 3) New Guinea boy very good; white man no good. (1885: 4)

256 Chapter 7 You go two fellow moon then you go back along a island. (1885: 7) Snipe, you go along work, by-and-by you get two pounds, three ten moons you get two pounds. (1885: 7) Suppose you gammon, me no go, me stay. (1885: 7) Captain gammon me; he say I work on ship, by-and-by he tell me sugar. (1885: 9) When I come along Townsville, captain say three fellow yams; before that he said three moons. Plenty fellow work along sugar altogether. (1885: 9) Ifeel him no good. (1885: 10) Some boy got him Mary; some fellow plenty cry; I no got Mary, I no cry. (1885: 11) Very good you come along ship to my island - three fellow moon you come back. (1885: 11) Me no likee stop. (1885: 12) Me no want to go. Me want to go island belong a me. (1885: 12) Boatswain too much gammon. (1885: 15) Boatswain came along a boat. He say "Come up along a ship ". He gave me "trade". He been gammon. He promise me box, gun, shirt, trousers, knife and "picaninny gun". (1885: 15) What name you want him?. Tobacco. (1885: 19) White man persuaded me; he talk plenty. I went in boat, and lost my Mary. (1885: 29)

In addition to the short answers to the standard questions asked by the court, there are a few examples of longer connected speech sequences. The first is by Sandfly, Sudest Island: What do you want to say? I have been frightened about Mr Cowley first time me speak; I say three fellow yams. Dixon frightened too; Dixon and I belong to same place. We took canoe with coconuts, taro, and sugar-cane to "Lizzie". We wanted to buy tobacco. Captain said, "You two fellows come up on deck. " By-and-by he say, "You two fellow go work along sugar-cane and I give you some tobacco - you two fellow no go back in canoe ". One little boy took back canoe; I plenty cry, I no want to stop in ship. Me had a gun before ship came in; me want him powder, and me say to captain, "Give me powder"; captain say "No, you come along ship and you get gun, and box and everything." I had been in Cooktown before, where I

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got gun. Me say, "How much moon "? Captain say, "Three fellow moon "; by-and-by captain say, "You stop work along sugar three fellow yams". Captain send me down below and shut him door; two fellow white man with snider stood at door; me want to go up, but altogether white man say, "Me shoot you ". When ship was in deep water the door was opened. Dixon was with me altogether time. Boatswain say along my island, "You go place belong white fellow two moons ", but when we come to Townsville big white fellow say, "Three yams ". The boatswain also say, when along deep water, "You stop three fellow yams". At another fellow island captain say, "Suppose you get plenty boys, when me get to Townsville me give you one pound, but if you no get plenty boys me give you nothing". The captain gave me nothing. Mr Cowley told me, "By-and-by big fellow master come up, me hear him good you fellow talk". (Sandfly speaking; Lizzie, 1885: 32) The second is by Cago, from Burra Burra: Where was the ship? A good way from shore; away from big stone. By-andby sun went down; we went back to ship with water; we sleep that night. Next morning, man-of-war came; anchored close up. Captain came in boat, he asked for the boys, when it was found that a lot had deserted in the night; they had swam away. That finished, they were sent below; the ladder was hoisted up, and they were shut down. The next morning the ship sailed for Queensland. Before we got to Dungeness, captain called me in twice, and said "Directly big fellow come up, you look after me, my boy, and as I say to you, you talk to him. Suppose he ask you if captain steal boy, you say "No". If he ask you "Did he shoot boy?" You say "No". Suppose he ask you "Good captain? " You say "Yes. " Suppose he ask you, you tell him like that. Suppose he ask you "How long all boys work?" you say "Three years. " If he ask "Are the boys satisfied to come? " you say "Yes; they no like, they no come, they like, they come. " I said "All right". " At Dungeness we went ashore to get water, then steamboat came out. Master (Capt. Pennefather) take boat; he said to me "You come up and talk to me on steamer. " He asked "Captain no steal him boy?" I said "No." "Did he shoot him boy? " I say "No. " He asked "Good captain? " I said "Yes. " He asked "How long have the boys come for? " I say "Three years. " "Suppose you work one year, how much? " I said, "Six pounds. " He asked if I knew, "How many moons in three years? " I said, "I don't know. " He said, "You no gammon? " and I said, "No, no gammon. " Then I went back in launch, after picking up captain on shore, to schooner. (Cago, Burra Burra, New Guinea, interpreter on Hopeful·, 1885: 36-37) Saunders (1979) also presents evidence referring to the period of the Queensland Royal Commission, which provides a useful complementary

258 Chapter 7

example of Pacific Pidgin, also emanating from an inquiry into the treatment of plantation labour: 1884 Mi see him overseer that time he been hit him Cao first time. He been kick him long boot. Overseer say "What name you? No work quick. " When he kick him, Cao, mi say, "What for you hit him?" Cao no savey talk. New chum....He then hit me first time long face two fellow time. (Saunders 1979: 170)

7.3.

Queensland Canefields English

7.3.1. Examples from Queensland mission literature The development of Melanesian Pidgin, while owing most to the sugar industry, where Melanesian plantation labourers adapted and expanded a pidgin which originated in New South Wales,was also aided by the evangelical work of a number of Christian missions on the canefields, as large numbers of the Island labourers were converted to Christianity. The first report of mission work is given by Fussel (1871: 46—48). His translation of the Ten Commandments into Pidgin is as follows: 1871

I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X.

Man take one fellow God; no more. Man like him God first time, everything else behind. Man no swear. Man keep Sunday good fellow day belong big fellow master. Man be good fellow longa father mother belonga him. Man no kill. Man no take him Mary belong another fellow man. Man no steal. Man no tell lie bout another fellow man. Spose man see good fellow something belong another fellow man, he no want him all the time. (Fussel 1871:48-9, reported in Dutton & Mühlhäusler 1984: 246-7)

Florence Young founded the Queensland Kanaka Mission in 1882, near Bundaberg. The QKM, as it soon became known, spread throughout Queensland and northern New South Wales, and later to the Solomons, where since 1907 it has been known by the name South Seas Evangelical

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 259 Mission (SSEM). This important mission has always used Melanesian Pidgin as its language of evangelisation, and continues to so use it today in the Solomon Islands. Some examples from Florence Young and the Queensland Kanaka Mission follow: 1880s He no like- 'im school, because he no savee. By-and-by he like- 'im plenty, he come all the time. (Bundaberg 1886: 46; Young 1926) Me no want- 'im school. Suppose me come along school, by-and-by me no savee fight. Me go home along Island, man he kill- 'im me. Along Island altogether man he row, row, row all the time. Man he go sleep along bed, he hold-'im spear, bow and arrow, gun along hand. Suppose he go got- 'im gun, some-fellow man he come, he kill him quick. (Bundaberg 1886: 47, Young 1926) 1892 Mackay, October 24th, 1892. Me lead em boys all time. Me get em 24 boys baptized. Temptation along Mackay plenty strong. Me like em altogether. Christian boys pray for me. You remember Charlie Api, he work close along Bundaberg before. He boy belong you. Poor Charlie, he murdered on Saturday night when he came from school. Charlie been leading plenty boys to Jesus. We plenty sorry he died. We try to get Mahratta boys come along school, but they will not come. One day we had class. Α Mahratta boy come with tomahawk, smash door to pieces. He throw bottles at us. We no angry with him. We pray for him. When he smashed door we kept singing. We ask God make him good. He go away. He no more stop. We plenty glad. God hears our prayers?' (Letter to Rev. Mr. Johnson, Bundaberg, Presbyterian Mission in Smith 1892: 29) (Dutton & Mühlhäusler 1984: 252) 1890s At 2 o'clock we assembled again, and with open Bible Edwin Maratta read out his text. "Friends ", said he, "Me want to speak today of what God say here. One time along Island, we like plenty bad things - bows and arrows, spears and "taku " (shield), we like fight, we like kill plenty; we plenty fright along devil-devil; but we no savee God. Bye-and-bye we come along Queensland, we like all same fight, swear, drink grog, because heart belong us black, bad altogether - these "old things. " "By-and-bye we come to school. Master teach us God savee we poor sinners, God love us. He send Jesus to save us, to die along cross for us, and we must believe in Him. Now very good you come to Jesus, you take Him. You no good, but suppose you trust in Him, He wash

260 Chapter 7 heart belong you. He forgive you because He die for you, He come stop along your heart, He make you altogether new man by His Holy Spirit: then you no fight and drink and swear, you love one another, you like pray to God and to read His word. All things are become new ". "One more thing. You think suppose you come to school you all right? Suppose you savee about Jesus - that save you? No. Plenty white men savee Jesus along head, that no good - we must believe in Jesus along heart, we must trust in Him, and take Him for our Master. Jesus He good fellow Master. We no strong, but Jesus He plenty strong. He keeps us, He no lose us - we belong to Him. We ask Him teach us to please Him, do what He say, we ask Him teach us to catch men and bring them to Jesus. He love us plenty and we love Him. We no see Him now - bye-and-bye He come again and then we see Him. Missionary she stop along Sydney. We no see her, but all the same we savee she stop there. By-and-bye she come here, we look along face belong her, we very glad. All the same Jesus, we no see face belong Him yet, but we savee all same He stop along Heaven - by-and-bye He come, we look along face belong Him, and then we plenty glad. " (Sermon in Pidgin English (Cumming 1910: 196-198) in Mühlhäusler 2000:37) 1890s Dear friend, me fellow very glad master he been ask me talk along you fellow; me want to talk along altogether boy; plenty time along this week, me been think, very good; suppose I told you what me been see one time: me fellow work along sugar, me been see plenty egg, he stop belong "chuck-chuck", he keep him hot; me been see one fellow egg, he stop long way; "chuck-chuck" he no keep him, very good; bye-and-bye long time egg he been stop along "chuckchuck" stop, new fellow like he come up. Soon egg he stop long way; he break too, he altogether lose along ground; no new life stop along him, he all same along you fellow; suppose you trust Jesus, you stop up along him; bye-and-bye, body belong you break all same shell, new life stop. Suppose you all same egg he stop long way, body belong you break too, soul belong you lose, finish. Very good you come to Jesus, He savee give you new life, He strong, He savee keep you all time; this all I speak, God bless you, for name's sake. (Sermon at Kalkie by Edwin Ambrym; Not in vain 1905) Finally, Churchill (1911) reproduces the so-called "Eden Sermon", from London (1909), but referring to an earlier period, together with the following explanation:

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 261 Some years ago large numbers of Solomon Islanders were recruited to labour on the sugar plantations of Queensland. A missionary urged one of the labourers, who was a convert, to get up and preach a sermon to a shipload of Solomon Islanders who had just arrived. He chose for his subject the Fall of Man. (Churchill 1911:31). Here is an extract: 1890s Altogether you boy belong Solomon you no savvy white man. Me fella me savee him. Me fella me savee talk along white man. Before long time altogether no place he stop. God big fella marster belong white man, him hella he make'm altogether. God big fella marster belong white man, he make'm big fella garden. He good fella too much. Along garden plenty man he stop, plenty coconut, plenty taro, plenty kumara, altogether good fella kaikai too much. Bimeby God big fella marster belong white man, he make'm, one fella man and put'm along garden belong him. He call'm this fella man Adam. He name belong him. He put him this fella man Adam along garden, and he speak, "This fella garden he belong you." And he look'm this fella Adam he walk about too much. Him fella Adam all the same sick; he no savee kaikai; he walk about all the time. And God he no sawee. God big fella marster belong white man, God say: "What name? Me no sawee what name this fella Adam he want." (The Eden Sermon; Churchill 1911: 32)

7.3.2. Queensland Canefields English (Dutton 1980) In 1964 Tom Dutton interviewed two of the last surviving Kanakas who had worked on the Queensland canefields late in the nineteenth century (Dutton 1980). The two men interviewed, both from Vanuatu, worked as indentured labourers somewhere between 1885 and 1890. When they came to Queensland they were teenagers who knew no English. They came to Queensland at different times and independently of each other. Following the practice in vogue during the recruiting period, they were named after their home islands. Thus Peter Santo (PS) was named after the island of Espiritu Santo in the north of Vanuatu (formerly the New Hebrides), and Tom Lammon (TL) after the tiny island of Lamenu off the north-west tip of Epi in central Vanuatu. Dutton (1980: 9) reports that "both men came to Queensland as "new chums" and worked on different plantations and in different mills through-

262 Chapter 7 out the sugar belt, and, except for a brief sojourn by TL in his own village after his first period of indenture, both remained in Queensland for their entire working lives". At the end of the recruiting period, both men remained in Queensland and married there, Tom Lammon to a ni-Vanuatu woman from Toga in the Torres Islands, and Peter Santo to a partAboriginal part South Sea Island widow from Townsville. They eventually met and became friends. At the time of the interviews in 1964, Tom Lammon was said to be 95 years old and Peter Santo 103, although it was not possible to substantiate their ages. Both spoke the kind of English recorded in the interviews as their everyday language until their deaths in 1965 and 1966 respectively. The texts which Dutton recorded, in spite of their rather disjointed nature, have proved vital for our understanding of the evolution and development of Pacific pidgins, especially Melanesian pidgins for two reasons. First, they are the only recordings of Queensland canefields English in existence, and secondly because they are directly comparable with the pidgin Bislama recorded with elderly ni-Vanuatu in the then New Hebrides during the 1960s and early 1970s. The comparison of the Vanuatu and Queensland materials is the chief purpose of this chapter, for it will help in piecing together the most likely scenario for the development of Melanesian pidgins, taking into account the major maritime contribution in the first half of the nineteenth century. In terms of the corpus analysed, the Queensland material consists of six short interviews (of which two are reproduced here), made by Dutton in Ayr, Queensland, in 1964, as part of a survey of variation in Queensland English being conducted at that time by the Queensland Speech Survey of the Department of English at the University of Queensland. In order to establish a picture of the nature and characteristics of Queensland Canefields English, edited versions of Tom Lammon's second interview (Dutton 1980: 18-26) and the interview recorded with Peter Santo are reproduced here. The major features of Tom Lammon's and Peter Santo's speech (Dutton 1980: 68-78) will later be compared with interviews made with elderly speakers in Vanuatu (New Hebrides), also in the 1960s.

7.3.2.1. Tom Lammon Text 2: Origin and Work (Dutton 1980) TD:

Where did you come from Tom?

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

TL:

Ai kam prm Epi. Ί come from Epi.'

TD:

Where? Where? What time was this?

TL:

Ε...ma...mai kantri i kolim a...Lamen. 'My country is called Lammon.'

263

TD: Lammon. What time was this? 1800? Was this 1860 or 1900? When did you come into Australia? TL:

Ο ai...ai...no...ai dano. Ai dano dat. 'Oh I don't know. I don't know that.'

TD:

Yes. Were you a big man or a small man or....

TL:

Ο (Oh)

TD:

Or a young boy or?

TL:

Ο yes, mi...mi we ma..big man. E...mi onli kamap hia a...man i kibm mi long haus. I no...i no wok. O h yes, I was a big man. Er...I arrived here and the man kept me in the house. It wasn't work.'

TD:

Yes.

TL:

Olgetha bigbla man i go aut, wok. Mi stap houm. A...mi onli lukaut kau, hosis. Mi bringim ap lo haus. An den...milkim pinis orait mi tekim bek gen long... 'All the big men went out to work. I stayed around the house and looked after the cows and horses. I'd bring them up to the house and then after they'd been milked I take them back again to...'

TD: Ah yes. TL:

A...leitam(?) baimbai ai tingk i wen i krasen taim orait iputim mi go wokem en mi pairap long wanfala pies i mekim shuga. 'Ah...later(?) I think when it was crushing time he'd put me to work to light up the fires in the place where they make sugar.'

264 Chapter 7 TD:

Oh, in the sugar mill. Oh yes. You make the boiler boil did you? You make the water boil or you make the ah...

TL:

No, no, no poila. Samting yu openim laik dat i stap ausaid en i klinepela(?) mil, i no big mil. No big mil. 'No, no, not a boiler. Something you open like that which is outside in(?) the clean(?) mill. It's not a big mill; not a big mill.'

TD:

Yes.

TL:

Samwe klosap a...Painia. Bili, klosap Paiania wot dat mil? '[It was] somewhere near Pioneer Mill. Billy, what's that mill?'

TD:

Yes.

TL:

Α..Jen im a...dis thing yu open i stap. Orait mi pairap belong hia, boilem shuga. Wen i boil i sim orait nau i letim go in tangk then i go kel long nada pies. 'Ah...then...this thing that you open is there. So I lit the fire associated with that to boil the sugar. When it boiled it steamed and then I'd let it go into a tank and it'd go and cool in another place.'

TD: Ah yes and a... TL:

I letim go long big tangk len baimbai i kere...dis man i boilem nau, ye no, bigpla ting, laikshuga bol en leni baimbai ipinish ipo go long shuga bola i e...i boilem leni kam daun nau long tangk i pinish. A...mi keriu(?) pairapomagas, purum wut pastaim len yu putum magas. Then e...o...we...we...mi stap de wan yia dat smal mil yu no i no bele big mil, smol wan, e then e...wan yia pinish. Orait yumi go...yu go Kleimia nau an stop e tu yia. 'It was let go into a big tank then later it...then this man boiled it, you know, in this big thing, like a sugar bowl, and then when it was finished he poured it into the sugar boiler...it boiled then it came down into (this) tank and that was it. Ah...I carry(?) burn the magass, you put wood first then the magass. Then er...I stayed there for one year at that small mill, you know, it wasn't a very big mill, (just) a small one, and then er...at the end of one year we went...I was told to go to Kalamia and stayed for two years.'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

TD:

How long did you stay there?

TL:

Hau long stei we?

265

'Stayed where for how long?' TD: Kleimia. Kalamia. TL:

Kleimia. Tuyia.

TD: Ah. And what did you do there? TL:

Mi wokim blaksmit. Mi halapim blaksmit ploim datpaia. Ί worked as a blacksmith. I helped the blacksmith blow that fire.'

TD: Ah, yes. TL:

Den i...wen i poilem pig aien rere orait i singaut mi. Mi liftimap big hama, o, o, beng, beng, beng. 'Then when the pig iron was heated up ready he called out to me and I lifted up the big hammer. Oh, oh (it went) bang, bang, bang.'

7.3.2.2. Peter Santo: Text 1: Interview (Dutton 1980) TD:

You talk to him and...

PS:

In dea? 'In there?'

TD:

What's your name?

PS:

Wotsi mai neim? 'What's my name?'

TD:

Yes.

266 Chapter 7

PS:

Ε: neim wot. Mai neim ai bin hia no taun yet, hia. No hia yet. Mi wok hia long hatem gras. 'What's Ayr's (?) name? My name...I was here before there was a town here. There was no town here yet. I worked here cutting grass.'

TD:

(laugh)

PS:

Mi wok along dis wok. Ί did that work.'

TD: Yes. PS:

Olgeta i go daun finish. 'They've all died.'

TD:

Yes, down. You tell the man your name now.

PS:

A, dasfala? 'Ah...this fellow?'

TD:

Yes, your name, yes.

PS:

Misas Pako i go daun finish e? Mista Pako... 'Mrs Pako died eh? Mr Pako...'

TD: No, Mr Pako... PS:

I go daun pinish. 'He has died.'

TD:

Yes, he went down.

PS:

Olgeta i go daun, mi no yet. 'They're all dead except me.'

TD:

Yes, you tell me your name, Peter. Peter S...

PS:

Sposim yumi badman yumi (?) go daun finish. E...a...i gudfala. 'If we'd been bad, we'd be dead. Er...a...that's good.'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

TD:

Oh, he left a long time ago.

PS:

Mi olsem kot.

267

'I'm just like God.' TD:

Yes, that's right.

PS:

(Laugh)

CJ:

You talk about Mr Taylor. He's going to take this back to Mr Taylor in Brisbane. You know, Mr Taylor in the courthouse.

PS:

Ye.

CJ:

He's going to take this back to Brisbane.

PS:

Maiwod. 'My word.'

CJ:

You tell Mr Taylor.

PS:

Dasfala? 'This chap?'

CJ:

He ΊΙ start in a minute.

PS:

Mista Wait. 'Mr White.'

CJ:

Mr White died...

PS:

Yu no Mista Wait? 'Remember Mr White?'

CJ:

Yes, yes.

PS:

I sei i go... i wanta tekim mi go daun Towomba. 'He said he was going (?)...he wanted to take me down to Toowoomba.'

268 Chapter 7 CJ:

Yes.

PS:

Ise "O no, o:l fala no gudgud hia. " 'He said: "Oh no, it's not very pleasant here old chap".'

CJ:

Too cold. (To TD): Yes, Mr White used to be in business here and he wanted to take him (PS) down to Toowoomba.

PS:

0:...mi wokm longem longtaim, bos. O h , I worked for him a long time, boss.'

CJ:

Wokem longem long while, huh. Yes.

PS:

Olgeta man hia... 'All the men here...'

CJ:

That'd break it too (?)

PS:

I wok hia. Plisman i telim se "Yu go daun...go lo:... 'worked her. The police would tell them, "You go down...go to...'

CJ:

He worked for Mr White for a long time. He was an undertaker and a builder.

PS:

Yu wok along rout. Yu go daun stap (?) klos pain. 'You work on the road. You go down and stay near the point (?)/ near Pioneer Mill (?)'

CJ:

Yes.

PS:

Longtaim. 'For a long time.'

PS:

An mi no dedyet. 'And I'm not dead yet.'

CJ:

What about Mr Boyce? Do you know Mr Boyce?

PS:

Wat? 'What?'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation J863-1906 269 CJ:

MrBoyce. Charlie Boyce.

PS:

O.yes. O h yes.'

CJ:

The auctioneer.

PS:

Maiwod. 'My word!'

CJ:

Where did Mr Taylor go?

PS:

Misas hu? 'Mrs who?'

CJ:

Taylor, courthouse.

PS:

O: yes, maiwod. 'Oh yes, my word!'

PS:

Mi wok hia. Ί worked here.'

CJ:

Yes.

PS:

Yu go long... long eishan tri:k. Man... 'You go to...to Plantation Creek. Man...'

CJ:

Plantation Creek was where he worked because there's a sugar station there, an old wharf. They used to bring barges up there.

PS:

Olgeta man we? Olsem mi olgeta (?) go daun finish. Onli wanfala isanapyet. Ο yu yangfala yet, Mista Dzebsen. 'Where are all the men? All of those like me have died. Only one is still living. Oh you're young yet, Mr Jacobsen.'

CJ:

Yes.

PS:

Yu yangfala yet. 'You're still young.'

270 Chapter 7

CJ:

Yes, the place was like a village in those days.

PS:

Yu mo yang den mi. Yu... 'You are younger than I am. You...'

CJ:

I am, more definitely, yes. Not a hundred yet.

PS:

ham hia. '

came here.'

TD:

Ask....

PS: CJ:

Eiti... bincountry dis kantri. 'I've eiti beenyiain ai this for 80 years.' Eighty-eight he came to this country. Yes, eighty years in this country.

PS:

Nau mo eiti nau. 'It's more than eighty now.'

CJ:

Now, you 're a hundred now. What about Bundaberg?

PS:

Wea? 'Where?'

CJ:

When you landed in Bundaberg?

PS:

Ο Yes O yes. h yes, yesmaiwod. my word!' How long ago?

CJ: PS:

Maiwod. 'My word!'

C J:

Young fellow then ?

PS:

Mi savi haus bilongyu (?)..long Mista Wait. Ί know your house at/to/of(?) Mr White.'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

271

CJ:

Yu no savvy me (laugh).

PS:

We Tela? Tela i go long Brisbn? 'Where's Mr Taylor? Did Mr Taylor go to Brisbane?'

CJ:

Yes, Mr Taylor's in Brisbane. Yes, he's a police...stipendiary magistrate down there now.

PS:

Planti mani. 'Plenty of money.'

CJ:

Getting plenty of money. Yes.

PS:

Olsem mi. Olsemyu. 'Like me. Like you.'

CJ:

Oh, I've got no money.

PS:

A:. A: 'Ah, go on with you.'

CJ:

He gives his money away this fellow.

PS:

Yu tu: 'You too.'

TD: Eh? PS:

Yu planti mani tu. 'You've got plenty of money too.'

TD: Nogat (laugh). PS: O: Maiwod. 'Ohye. word!' TD: No, Iyes. giveMy it all away. All my friends and...

272 Chapter 7 PS:

Plenti kantri dei wonte teik it aut a Kwinslan. Ei, kan teik em. Tu mash mani. 'Plenty of places/compatriots(?) want to take it out of Queensland. Hey, they can't take it. Too much money.'

CJ:

No (laugh).

PS:

Yu kan teiken. No, yu kant. 'You can't take it. No you can't.'

TD:

Take what?

PS:

Tshe:man... 'Chairman...'

TD:

Oh, yes.

PS:

Tshe. man i se: "Ai danoyu kan, yu kan teik em ". 'The chairman said, "I don't know. You can't...you can't take it".'

CJ:

You can't take em, no. You can't have it up there either.

PS:

Kais, yu go ap yo: finish. 'Christ, when you go up you're finished.'

CJ:

Yes (laugh).

PS:

Hia mistat. 'Here. Moustache.'

CJ:

Moustache eh?

PS:

Yu gro mistash nau, mastash finis. 'You're growing a moustache now.'

CJ:

How many children have you got?

PS:

Movoai (?) yet. '?....yet.'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation J863-1906

CJ:

How many boys you got?

PS:

O: mi...ai dano...mo. 'Oh, me...I don't know...lots.'

CJ:

How many grandchildren have you got, Peter?

PS:

E? 'Eh?'

CJ:

How many grandchildren? Longa yu?

PS:

Sampla man i stap hia. I stap hia. 'Some men live here. They live here.'

CJ:

Nn.

PS:

Wen yu did binyou kamcome hia? her?' 'When

CJ:

How many children has Peter got? Peter Malaita.

PS:

O: i gat erere(?) bikfala boi. 'Oh, he's got lots of big boys.'

CJ:

Bigfellow boy, his son.

PS:

Wanfala go daun finish. O n e has died.'

CJ:

Yes.

PS:

Wanfala i stap. Torta i stap long Nembo. 'One is still alive. A daughter lives in Nambour.'

PS:

Yu lukim finish, bifo yu go long Nembo? 'You saw her when you went to Nambour before, didn't you?'

TD:

Yes.

273

274 Chapter 7

PS:

Ο: ai no Kwinslan longtaim. 'Oh, I've known Queensland for a long time.'

CJ:

Yes, know Queensland long time.

PS:

Mi no go long Boun. Aulfala nogud long wokabaut. Mo beta go daun, mo beta. Ί didn't go to Bowen. An old chap (like me) is no good for roaming about (the country). It would be far better to be dead, far better.'

CJ:

You go?

PS:

Yu go faia agein. 'You go back to the fire again.'

TD:

Who did you work for in Bundaberg?

PS:

Ο yutufala yangfala yet. Oh, you two are young yet!'

CJ:

Mr Young...

PS:

Narafala (?) tu. else (?) besides.' 'And somebody Fairymead Mill?

CJ: PS:

Ye. 'Yes.'

CJ:

You cut cane down there? Bundaberg?

PS:

Ei, we datfela bos blong mi go? I go long Inlesfel. 'Hey, where did that boss of mine go? Did he go to Innisfail?'

CJ:

Innisfail?

PS:

Mista Kap(?) 'Mr Carp(?)'

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 CJ:

He finished

PS:

Ai wok long em ol taim.

275

up in Innisfail.

Ί worked for him all the time.' CJ:

Work

where?

PS:

Yu go long Brisbn (?) ol dem yu wok long

wotila.

'You go to Brisbane. All the time you worked for (?)'

7.3.3. Comments on Queensland Canefields English (Tom Lammon and Peter Santo) The reason why Dutton conducted these interviews in English is that he was researching varieties of Aboriginal English in Queensland at the time, well before he became interested in pidgin languages per se. The "Canefields English" spoken by both Tom Lammon and Peter Santo had probably been quite adulterated by their long interaction with European Australians, but nevertheless contains many typical pidgin structures and lexical items. The Dutton (1980) corpus represented by the six interviews he conducted is certainly sufficient to allow us to be reasonably confident in making comparisons with other Pacific pidgin varieties, especially Vanuatu Bislama. Dutton considers that the speech of Tom Lammon and Peter Santo agrees in essential details (Dutton 1980: 103), but that there is greater variation in Tom Lammon's speech than in that of his Santo compatriot. He describes their speech as: not SAE [Standard Australian English] but something in between that and a classical pidgin English like Tok Pisin of Papua New Guinea with which it shares a number of features which are also common to other pidgin and Creole Englishes of the Southwest Pacific (1980: 103).

Dutton was not sure whether the speech he recorded represents a pidgin or not, stating that it all depends on the definition of a pidgin language. He simply observes that the English of both Tom Lammon and Peter Santo has many pidgin English-derived vocabulary items, many of which are also markers of the basic syntactic structures of Pacific pidgins (Clark 1977).

276 Chapter 7 One thing that Dutton comments on, with some puzzlement, is the random fluctuation in Tom Lammon's speech, where he uses alternate forms with the same function and/or meaning. He cites, for example: 'all' 'bad' Τ 'thus' 'understand, know' 'ship, boat' 'ask' 'big' 'plough'

ol, olgeta bad, nogud ai, mi dzesaswim, olsem no, sabi, andasten, si ship, stima ask, askim big, bigpla plau, plaum

(Dutton 1980: 104)

There is also a good deal of phonetic variation in Tom Lammon's speech (fairly evenly distributed throughout his five interviews), between [p] and [f], for example, in sampela vs. yangfala. There is also considerable variation in the vowels appearing with the transitive suffix -m. In terms of variation, there are three dubitatives (ating, meibi, maita), all three of which exist in modern Bislama. However, the form ating does not appear to be fully lexicalised, as there are two competing forms: ai thing and mi ting, in Tom Lammon's speech. Another variable noted is the inconsistency in the use of long (locative) and blong (possessive/purposive), a phenomenon noted in nearly all of the nineteenth century texts. As noted above, the variation in Tom Lammon's speech was considered by his relatives to be due to his working with white Australians. Peter Santo's speech, on the other hand, is much more homogeneous. Dutton considers that Lammon's speech may have been affected by his close association with Anglican ministers, Lammon ultimately becoming a lay preacher to other Melanesians. In Tom Lammon's case, a least, the speech used in the interviews was probably more Standard Australian English-like than what he spoke earlier in life, when he was a "new chum". Given that the language of the canefields in the pre-1890s was probably a collection of more or less stabilised varieties of pidgin, it seems reasonable to assume that those aspects of his

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 277 speech that are non- Standard Australian English and are also common to Peter Santo's speech represent the main core features of those varieties. Apart from the considerable variation noted in the speech of Peter Santo and Tom Lammon, and indeed in the evangelising material from the missions working with the caneilelds recruits, it is clear that quite a number of the standard features of the three modern Melanesian Pidgin English varieties developed in the home countries after the end of the overseas recruiting period. Take, for example, the Bislama demonstratives ia and pies ia, and the yumi/mifala inclusive/exclusive pronominal distinction for first person plural. This point will be further developed below, and in Chapter 9.

7.4.

The Vanuatu corpus

It is fortunate that during the 1960s and the early 1970s, extensive tape recordings of interviews with aged ni-Vanuatu were made by Darrell Tryon (throughout Vanuatu), Bernard Vienne (Banks and Torres Islands), JeanMichel Charpentier (especially Malakula, but throughout Vanuatu), Paul Gardissat and Ken Calvert (Tanna). Like their Queensland counterparts, all of those persons interviewed in Vanuatu are now deceased. The Vanuatu corpus consists of the following: 1. Bernard Vienne Bernard Vienne, a distinguished French ethnologist, who worked in the Banks and Torres Islands of Vanuatu in the 1960s and 70s, very kindly made available his field recordings. These consist of 50 cassette tapes varying in length from 60 to 120 minutes, mainly in Bislama, more than 50 hours of recordings made during research leading to the publication of his monumental Gens de Motlav (1984). These recordings may be grouped as follows: Bernard Vienne: Banks Islands: Banks Islands: Banks Islands: Banks Islands: Banks Islands: Banks Islands:

Motalava (Nerenigman) Motalava (Ra) Ureparapara (Leqarangle) Gaua Vanua Lava (Mosina) Vanua Lava (Vatrata)

1969 1969 1975? 1975? 1970s 1970s

(John Young) (Godden) (John Mun)

278

Chapter 7

2. Jean-Michel Charpentier Jean-Michel Charpentier has worked throughout Vanuatu since 1970. He has specialised in the languages of Malakula, although his corpus was recorded on islands throughout the archipelago. His Bislama recordings, all made at the beginning of the 1970s, and analysed here, include the following: J-M Charpentier Torres Islands Banks Islands: Motalava Banks Islands: Merelava Banks Islands: Vanua Lava Ambae Santo: Wusi Santo: Malo Pentecost: Central Pentecost: South Malakula: Mae Malakula: North Malakula: Big Nambas Malakula: Orap Malakula: Southwest Bay Malakula: South Malakula: Maskelynes Epi Efate: North Efate: Nguna Efate: Mataso, Mosso & Leleppa Efate: Meie Erromango Tanna Aneityum

1 cassette 1 cassette 1 cassette 0.5 cassette 2 cassettes 1 cassette 0.5 cassette 1 cassette 0.5 cassette 1 cassette 1.5 cassettes 0.5 cassette 0.5 cassette 0.5 cassette 2 cassettes 1 cassette 1.5 cassettes 1 cassette 1 cassette 1 cassette 1 cassette 0.5 cassette 1 cassette 1 cassettte (23.5 hours)

3. Darrell Tryon Darrell Tryon has worked in Vanuatu since 1968, when he began a survey of the languages of the then New Hebrides, this research taking him to every island in the group from the Torres Islands to Aneityum. During this initial work (1968-75) he recorded interviews in Bislama, especially custom stories. His early Bislama recordings concerned chiefly the islands of Ambrym and Epi, totalling approximately 25 hours. Subsequently he has

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

279

recorded over 200 hours, between 1976-2001. These later recordings have been invaluable as comparators with those made prior to 1975. 4. Ken Calvert The Reverend Ken Calvert was resident at the Presbyterian Mission at Whitesands on Tanna during the 1960s and up until Vanuatu gained its independence in 1980. He has kindly made available Bislama stories and interviews recorded on Tanna in 1974 (1 hour). 5. Paul Gardissat Paul Gardissat was a radio journalist in charge of Bislama broadcasts on what was formerly Radio Vila (later Radio Vanuatu). He has a very extensive collection of Bislama recordings, mostly dating from the 1960s and 70s. Some of this material has been consulted.

7.4.1. Analysis and comparisons: Bislama regionalisms? During his research into the languages of Vanuatu, Tryon had previously noted what he considered to be Bislama regionalisms, that is words and expressions which were limited to certain geographical areas, for example the southern islands, or parts of central Vanuatu (Tryon 1988). However, the geographical distribution of none of the putative regionalisms was ever really clear-cut, in terms of isomorphs, although very suggestive that these regionalisms were archaisms reflecting an earlier stage in the development of Bislama, perhaps the period when recruiting was abolished, about the time of the creation of the Condominium of the New Hebrides in 1906. Further research to try to pin down the isomorph/isogloss boundaries of certain forms and expressions was undertaken over a fairly lengthy period. The results of this research showed without doubt that what had previously been considered to be regionally defined relics or archaisms were spread, albeit unevenly, throughout Vanuatu. This suggested that there was a pool of forms, some competing, which may have reflected the earlier linguistic situation on the plantations in the nineteenth century, in Queensland for example. After taking into account the recorded Bislama corpus from the 1960s and early 70s (see 7.4 above), the following competing forms (variants) have been observed in the Vanuatu materials:

280 Chapter 7 Table 22. Bislama variant forms 1965-75 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

baot bat bin dae dataem dis/dat disfela disfela distaem en hameni hao havem hia/dea VB i stap ken laek laek lukim mebi na nating olgeta olgeta i onli PM omitted propa risen se tasol wande wataem watnem wiswe witaot

Examples of usage:

vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs.

samwe long be 0 ded taem ia ia ia Ν + ia taem ia em hamas olsem wanem gat long pies ia i stap VB save wantem olsem luk maet mo nomata (we) ol olgeta ol i nomo PM obligatory stret stamba 0 nomo wantem long wanem taem wanem olsem wanem i no gat

'approximately' 'but (adversative)' historic past 'dead, unconscious' 'now, then' 'this, that, DEM' 'this, that, DEM' 'this (person)' 'now, then' '3SG OM' 'how many, how much?' 'how?' 'to have' 'here, there' present continuous 'can, be able to' 'to want to' 'like, similar to 'to see' 'perhaps' 'and' 'although' plural '3PL SM' 'only' predicate marker 'real, correct' 'reason, cause' 'that (cognitive verbs)' 'only' 'to want, want to' 'when?' 'what?' 'how?' 'without'

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281

1. Sipos yu spenem baot toti,fotifatom. [Banks & Torres59] vs. 'If you spend about 30, 40 fathoms.' Sipos yu spenem samwe Ions toti, fotifatom. 2. Bat mi save sidaon witem olgeta. [Banks & Torres, Efate, Tanna] vs. 'But I can sit down with them' Be mi save sidaon wetem olgeta. 3. Em i bin go long Tanna long 1942. [Banks & Torres, Efate, TAFEA] vs. 'He went to Tanna in 1942.' Em i go long Tanna long 1942. 4. Hem i dae finis. [Banks & Torres] vs. Hem i ded.

'He has died.'

5. Dataem hem i smol boeyet. [Banks & Torres, Efate] vs. 'He was still a small boy then.' Taem ia hem i smol boeyet. 6. Hem i kambak disyia. [Banks & Torres, Efate] vs. 'He came back this year.' Hem i kambak long yia ia. 7. Givim long disfela man ia. [SE Pentecost, Ambrym, Tanna] vs. ' Give it to this/that person.' Givim long man ia. 8. Mi givim finis long disfala. [Banks & Torres] vs. Ί already gave it to this chap.' Mi givim finis long man ia. 9. Distaem hem i singaot. [Banks & Torres, Efate] vs. ' Then he called out.' Taem ia em i singaot.

59. The Banks and Torres Group appears to be very conservative in that the data collected between 1965-75 also contain such items as: kaikai 'eat', siling 'money', salem 'send', baim 'pay for', and a generalised transitive suffix -im, all of which have been replaced in modern Bislama.

282 Chapter 7 10.Nem blong en. [Santo, Malakula] vs. Nem blong em

'His/her name'

11. Yu gat hameni sista? [Banks & Torres, Santo, Malakula] vs. 'How many sisters have you?' Yu gat hamas sista? \2.Mi no save hao nao ol i mekem. [SW/NW Malakula, Efate, Tanna] vs. 'I don't know how they did it.' Mi no save olsem wanem ol i mekem. \1.Hem i no havem buk. [Banks & Torres, Efate] vs. 'He does not have a book.' Hem i no gat buk. 14.Hem i stap dea. [Banks & Torres] vs. Hem i stap long pies ia.

'He lives there.'

15 .Em i slip i stap. [Ambrym, Epi] vs. Em i stap slip.

'He was sleeping.'

\6.Mi no ken givhan long em. [Banks & Torres, NW Malakula] vs. Ί cannot help him.' Mi no save givhan long em. M.Tufala i laek kakae. [Banks & Torres, Maewo, Erromango] vs. 'They two wish to eat.' Tufala i wantem kakae. 18 .Em i mekem i tok laek man. [Banks & Torres] vs. 'He made it talk like a man.' Em i mekem i toktok olsem man. \9.Mi no lukim man ia bifo. [Maewo, Malakula] vs. Ί haven't seen that person before.' Mi no luk man ia bifo.

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 283 2 Q.Mebi hem i havem wan finis. [Banks & Torres, Pentecost, Epi] vs. 'Perhaps he has one already.' Maetem i karem wan finis. 21 .Ol boe na gel. [Banks & Torres, Santo] vs. Ol boe mo gel.

'The boys and girls'

22.Noting hem i mekem fastaem. [Banks & Torres, SE Pentecost, Malakula] vs. ' Even though he did it first' Nomata we em i mekem fastaem. 23.Olgeta man ol i resis, olfala i blokem olgeta. [Malakula] vs. 'The men ran, but the old man stopped them.' 01 man ol i resis, olfala i blokem olgeta. 24. Olgeta blong solwota olgeta i kamdaon. [SE Malakula] vs. 'The coast people came down.' Olgeta blong solwota olj kamdaon. 25 Mi onli givim wan tu datsol. [Banks & Torres, Epi] vs. Ί only gave a couple.' Mi givim wan wan nomo. 26.Mitufala wok nating nomo. [Banks & Torres, Santo, Epi] vs. 'We two just worked.' Mitufala i wok nating nomo. 27. Yu mas askem propa man oltaem. [Banks & Torres, Malakula] vs. 'You must always ask the right man.' Yu mas askem long stret man oltaem. 28.Risen blong hem olsem. [Banks & Torres, Efate, Tanna] vs. 'The reason for it is this.' Stamba blong em i olsem. 29.Hem i ting se samting ia i no stret. [Malakula] vs. 'He thinks that's not right.' Hem i ting samting ia i no stret.

284 Chapter 7 30 .Em i danis long tamtam datsol. [Banks & Torres, Santo] vs. 'He just danced to the drum.' Em i danis long tamtam nomo. 31 Mi wande tekem wan samting. [SE Pentecost,Ambrym, Epi, Efate] vs. Ί want to take something.' Mi wantem tekem wan samting. 32. Wataem vu tingyu mekem lafet? [Banks & Torres, Ambrym, Malakula] vs. 'When do you think you will party?' Yu ting se bae yu mekem lafet long wanem taem? 33>.Watnem i stap long smol basket blongyu? [Banks & Torres] vs. 'What is in your little basket?' Wanem i stap long smol basket blongyu? 34. Wis we vu no wokem kakae? [Banks & Torres, Malakula, Efate, Tanna] vs. How come you haven't prepared the food?' Olsem wanem vu no wokem kakae? 35.Hem i go brasem witaot mi. [Banks & Torres, Epi] vs. 'He went and slashed the garden without me.' Hem i go brasem garen, em wan nomo.

7.4.2. Discussion of variant forms When we first encountered these variant forms, we thought that some of them (especially those listed as the first alternative) may have been due to recent intrusions from Tok Pisin or from Solomons Pijin (for a number of them are characteristic of those pidgin varieties), or that they had been introduced through increasing inter-communication within island Melanesia. Another possibility was that they may have been due to interference from English. These hypotheses were quickly rejected, however, for two main reasons: a. The forms listed first, in the table above, were observed mainly in the speech of elderly ni-Vanuatu often living in remote parts of the country.

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285

These people have had little opportunity to travel and little or no knowledge of English. b. Many of them are also recorded in the nineteenth century literature on Vanuatu. An isomorphic analysis also revealed that all of the forms used were, in the main, observed throughout Vanuatu and not restricted to any particular set of islands. There were some restrictions, however, in that many of the forms found were present in the recordings made in the 1960s and early 70s, but have not been observed in post-independence Vanuatu, in other words, since 1980. These involve the items listed in the left-hand column of the table of variant forms above (Table 22. Bislama variant forms 1965— 75). There were also age limitations, for a number of the items in that lefthand column occurred only in the speech of elderly ni-Vanuatu and are no longer much in evidence today. The analysis of variant forms, then, certainly points to the fact that while some of the putative "earlier" alternative forms still remain in modern Bislama, the majority of them are no longer functional today. These forms are, however, crucial in the search for a better understanding of the evolution and development of Pacific pidgin varieties, and especially Bislama, for, as we are about to see below, many of these same forms occur in the Queensland Canefields English recorded by Tom Dutton, referred to above. In other words, the Bislama recorded in Vanuatu in the 1960s, when Bislama was much less standardised than it has become since the advent of politics and independence (Charpentier 1979), still contained morphosyntactic and lexical forms found in the Queensland interview material but no longer extant in modem Bislama. Thus the connection with the material recorded with Tom Lammon and Peter Santo (Dutton 1980) in Queensland in 1964. The Bislama spoken in the field recordings made by Bernard Vienne in the Banks Islands with older ni-Vanuatu in the 1960s, while less anglicised than the "Canefields English" of Tom Lammon and Peter Santo's interviews, is immediately recognisable as very similar to their speech variety. (Indeed, when one of the authors (Tryon) was undertaking fieldwork in the Banks Islands in 1970 he met a man on Gaua who was born in Queensland, and learned pidgin there as a boy before returning to Vanuatu.) The recordings made by Tryon, Charpentier and Calvert, covering the same period for other areas of Vanuatu, show many of the same features. Without pre-empting the results of the analysis and discussion to follow, it became clear that the reason why earlier attempts to determine isomor-

286 Chapter 7

phic boundaries for the features of Bislama listed above failed was simply that up until the late 1970s there was basically the descendant of Queensland pidgin spoken with its competing forms (for there is quite some variation in the speech of both Tom Lammon and Peter Santo) throughout Vanuatu, and that nearly all of the competing forms have disappeared in recent years, as Vanuatu Bislama has become pretty well standardised due to its use on radio for sixteen hours a day. The special connection between Vanuatu Bislama as a direct descendant of Queensland Canefields English is not at all surprising when one considers that in terms of percentages of South Sea Islanders working in Queensland between 1863 and 1904, up until 1880 there were approximately 90% New Hebrideans (ni-Vanuatu), with a good 50% up until 1895 (Dutton 1980: 112). By 1901, 50% of the South Sea Islanders working in Queensland were returnees (Corris 1970: 54). These figures and circumstances explain the special link between Queensland (Pidgin) Canefields English and Vanuatu Bislama. The Solomon Islanders and Papua New Guineans who followed the first New Hebrideans to Queensland continued the same linguistic development, and in all likelihood spoke the same "Canefields English" as Tom Lammon and Peter Santo. For there must have been considerable dialect levelling by the mid-1880s, after the establishment of the Queensland Kanaka Mission in 1882 and the subsequent evangelisation of the South Sea Islanders working on the plantations. Indeed, many of the distinctive features of Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin and Solomon Islands Pijin (tasol, brava, laek, etc.) were still present in the Vanuatu Bislama recordings of the 1960s and 70s. These have become the preferred forms in those other island Melanesian states in the twentieth century, once the recruiting period had ended, and once plantations were developed within Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu.60 For what favoured the continued development and use of pidgins in that scenario is the well attested fact that even within island Melanesian countries plantation labourers normally worked outside their home area.

60. Of course there were also plantations in all three states in the late nineteenth century, although major development occurred in the twentieth century, together with colonial rule (see Chapters 5 and 6).

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 287 7.4.3. Comparison with Queensland materials (Dutton 1980) A comparison of the Bislama forms characterised as "older" (1960s) and "more modern" (1980s), with the forms which occur in the interviews conducted by Dutton, see Table 23 below, shows that of the thirty-five "older" forms recorded in the Bislama of the 1960s, some twenty-five are found in the Queensland Canefields English material. Table 23. Comparative Bislama-Queensland Canefields features 1960s 1. baot 2. bat 3. bin 4. dae 5. dataem 6. dis/dat 7. disfela 8. disfela 9. distaem 10 .en W.hameni

vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs.

1980s samwe long be 0 ded taem ia ia ia Ν + ia taem ia em hamas

12 .hao 13.havem \4.hia/dea 15.VB istap 16 .ken \l.laek 18 .laek \9.lukim 20. mebi 21.«α ll.nating 23. olgeta 24.olgeta i 25. onli 26.PM omitted

vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs.

olsem wanem gat long pies ia i stap VB save wantem olsem luk maet mo nomata (we) ol olgeta ol i nomo PM obligatory

Dutton (80) 'approximately' 'but (adversative)' historic past 'dead, unconscious' 'now, then' 'this, that, DEM' 'this, that, DEM' 'this (person)' 'now, then' '3SG OM' 'how many?, 'how much?' 'how?' 'to have' 'here, there' present continuous 'can, be able to' 'to want to' 'like, similar to' 'to see' 'perhaps' 'and' 'although' plural '3PL SM' 'only' predicate marker

bat bin dai/ded dis/dat dasfala PN distaem haumeni haumash hao havem hia/dea ken/savi laik/wona laik/olsem lukim meibi/mait

ol/olgeta olgeta i onli both

288 Chapter 7

27 .propa 2S.risen 29.se 30 Jas ol 31 .wande 32 .wataem 33.watnem 34. wis we 35 .witaot

vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs.

stret stamba 0 nomo wantem long wanem taem wanem olsem wanem i no gat

'real, correct' 'reason, cause' 'that (cognitive verbs)' 'only' 'to want, want to' wana, 'when?' 'what?' 'how?' 'without'

se datsol wandern

wishwe

7.4.4. Comparative 1960s/70s Bislama and Queensland Canefields English Note that examples follow the same order as that found in Table 23 (Comparative Bislama-Queensland Canefields features, above). 1. baot/samwe long

Not found in Dutton (1980).

2. I no ol man bat i dzes laikyu nau. 'He wasn't old the was just like you.'[TL4] vs. Bat mi save sidaon witem olgeta. 'But I can sit down with them.' [DT:Tanna, 1970]

Comment: Bat occurs both in the Queensland material and in early and current Bislama, although it is less common than be, which is not present at all in the 1960s Bislama materials. 3. Wen yu bin kam hia? Ai thing i bin go. vs. Em i bin go long Tanna long 1942.

'When did you come her?' [PS1] Ί think he went.' [TL1] 'He went to Tanna in 1942.' [DT:Tanna, 1970]

Comment: Bin is used sporadically throughout Vanuatu to mark a historic past, although in many areas it is not used at all. This reflects the situation in the Queensland material also.

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 289 4. Nau olgeta i dai. Kwin Biktoria i dai. An mi no ded yet vs. Hem i dae finis. Hem i ded finis.

'Then they died.' [TL1] 'Queen Victioria died.' [TL4] 'And I'm not dead yet.' [PS1] 'He has died.' [BV:Banks 1969] 'He has died.' [BV:Banks 1969]

Comment: The only usage of ded in the Queensland material is from Peter Santo, and may have been influenced by English. Normally dai is the Queensland usage, as it is in the earlier Vanuatu Bislama material. Today ded is used universally in Vanuatu, but note that dai is used in Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin and in Solomons Pijin. 5. dataem/taem ia

Not found in Dutton (1980).

6. Mi wok along dis wok. Ί perform this work.' [PS 1 ] Mi no tok Inglish wen mi kamaut dis kantri. Ί didn't speak English when I arrived in this country.' [TL1] vs. Hem i kambak dis via. 'He came back this year.' [BV:Banks, 1969] Comment: In modern Bislama dis is still heard occasionally with time expressions, such as dis taem, dis wik. In other contexts ia is normally used, and in some areas disfela or even disfela Ν ia. 7. disfela/N + ia

Not found in Dutton (1980)

8. A. dasfala? vs. Mi givim finis long disfala.

Oh, that fellow?'[PS 1]

9. O, mi, distaim nogud. vs. Distaem hem i singaot.

'This period was bad for me.' [TL1]

Ί already gave it to this chap.' [BV:Banks, 1969] Comment: The pronominal use of -fala with dis/dat with a human connotation is no longer found in Bislama, with the exception of olfala, as in olfala ia 'this old fellow'.

Comment: See previous comment.

'Then he called out.' [KC:Tanna, 1974]

290 Chapter 7 10.en/em

Not found in Dutton (1980).

11. Haumeni heka yu wonem? Haumash mani wana pei mi?

'How many acres do you want?' (TL4) 'How much money do you want to pay me?' (TL4)

vs. Yu gat hameni sista?

'How many sisters do you have?' [BV:Banks; 1969] 'How many sisters do you have?' [BVrBanks, 1969]

Yu gat hamas sista?

Comment: Hameni has largely been replaced by hamas as the general quantifier interrogative. In the 1960s and 70s, hamas and hameni were almost evenly distributed. 'How do you stand?' [TL3] Ί don't know how you cook them.' [TL4]

12.Hau yu stan? Ai kan sabi hau vu kukum. vs. Mi no save hao nao ol i mekem.

Ί don't know how they did it.' [JMC:Malakula, 1970]

Comment: While hao or hao nao is heard around Vanuatu, it is largely replaced by ο Is em wanem. 13. Wi one havem kwin. vs. Mi laek hem i havem tut blongpig.

'We only have a Queen.' [TL4] Ί want him to have the pig tusk.' [BV:Banks, 1969]

Comment: Havem is hardly used at all in modern Bislama, gat or karem being preferred, while in both the Queensland material and the Bislama recorded in the 1960s it was normal usage. 14.Mi onli kamap hia.

Ί only arrive here.' [TL2]

Go katim kein dea.

'Go and cut cane there.' [TL2]

Hem i stap dea.

'He lives there.' [BV.Banks, 1969]

Comment: Hia/dea have been replaced by long pies ia in modern Bislama.

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 291 15. Vb i stap

Not found in Dutton (1980).

16. Yu ken mekem bet. 'You can make the bed.' [TL4] Yu wona go houm, yu ken i go houm. 'If any of you want to go home, he can.' [TL4] Ai kan sabi hau yu kukum. Ί don't know how you cook it.' [TL4] Mi savi haus bilongyu. Ί know your house.' [PS 1 ] vs. Mi no ken givhan long em. Ί cannot help him.' [DT:Malakula, 1969] Mi save sidaon wetem ol blong kakae. Ί can stay with them to eat.' [BV:Banks, 1969] Comment: The form ken was rare in the 1960s Vanuatu material, found only in the Banks & Torres, and Malakula. Normally save was preferred. In modern Bislama save is universally used. In the Queensland material both ken and save occur, although more often ken. Π.Αί laik go. Ί want to go.' [TL1] Eni ov yu laik ί stap, hi ken i stap. 'If any of you wish to stay, you can.' [TL4] vs. Mi laek hem i havem tut blong pig. Ί want him to have the pig tusk.' Comment: This use of laik, characteristic of Tok Pisin and Solomons Pijin, is no longer used in Bislama today, although it was still present in the 1960s and early 70s. 18. Yu openim laik dat. Ho 'ona hem olsemse waip. Mi olsem Kot. vs. Em i mekem i tok laek man.

'You open is like that.' [TL2] 'Ho'ona is the same as wife.' [TL3] 'I'm just like God.' [PS 1 ]

'He made it talk like a man.' [BV:Banks, 1969] Wisweyu mekem faia olsem ia? 'How come you made a fire like that?' [BV:Banks, 1969]

292

Chapter 7

Comment: Laik, rather than olsem, with comparative force, is found in both the Queensland and the early Bislama materials, but not in modern Bislama. Olsem is found at all periods. 19. Yu lukim finish, bifo yu go long Nembo. vs. Mi lukim man ia las wik. Mi luk long Malakula tu sem ting.

'You saw him before you wenttoNambour.' [PS1] Ί saw that chap last week.' [DT:Maewo, 1970] Ί saw the same thing on Malakula.' [BV:Banks, 1969]

Comment: In Bislama the normal form prior to 1980 was luk, with lukim having found favour after the visit of the Papua New Guinea Kumul Force about the time of independence. However, forms such as lukim and lukum (quite separate historically from the post-1980 lukim) were recorded in the 1960s and 70s Vanuatu material. 20. Meibi ova siks yia. 'Perhaps more than six years.' [TL 1 ] Pateita, i maet wan ai thingk. 'Potatoes, maybe one I think.' [TL4] vs. Mebi hem i havem wan finis. 'Perhaps he has one already.' [BV:Banks, 1970] Maet em i kambakfinis. 'Perhaps he has come back already.' [DT:Epi, 1970]

Comment: While maet is common in modern Bislama, meibi or mebi are hardly ever heard. In the 1960s Bislama material, meibi is of considerably greater frequency than maet. 21. na/mo

Not found in Dutton (1980).

22. nating/nomata

Not found in Dutton (1980).

23. Olsem olgetha waitman yu si. Kadim daun ol tri. vs. Olgeta hariken i kilim olgeta.

'Like Europeans you see.' [TL3] 'Cut down the trees.' [TL4] 'The cyclones struck them.' [JMC:Malakula, 1970]

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906

293

Comment: In the centre of the archipelago in 1970, totality was indicated by the obligatory use of evriwan. 24. Nau olgeta i dai. Nau olgetha i tok. Olgetha i go daun. vs. Olgeta blong solwota olgeta i kamdaon.

'Now they have died.' [TL1] 'Then they talked.' [TL2] 'They died.' [PS1] 'The coastal people came down.' [JMC.Malakula, 1970]

Comment: In the Queensland material and in the older Bislama material, the form olgeta i VB was almost universal, while in modern Bislama the form olgeta oli is heard very commonly (in some areas, e.g., Malakula, olgeta i VB still remains the only possibility). 25. Mi onli wok araun lilibit lo yad. Mi onli vangfala. vs. Mi onli givim wan tu datsol.

Ί just walk around a little in the yard.' [TL1] Ί was only young.' [TL1] Ί only gave a couple.' [BV:Banks, 1969]

Comment: Onli is common to both Queensland Canefields English and 1960s Bislama, but has been replaced by nomo in more recent Bislama. 26. Sampla waitman askem. Sam boisj tok Inglish. vs. Mitufala wok noting nomo. Mitufala i talem.

'Some Europeans ask.' [TL1] 'Some boys spoke English.' [TL2] 'We two just worked.' [BV:Banks, 1969] 'We two said it.' [BV:Banks, 1969]

Comment: In modern Bislama it is extremely unusual to drop the predicate marker between subject and verb (predicate). In older Bislama and in the Queensland material it was the norm to form verb phrases without predicate marker, with the exception of 3S pronouns. 21 .propa/stret

Not found in Dutton (1980).

28. risen/stamba

Not found in Dutton (1980).

294 Chapter 7 29. Ho 'ona hem olsem se waip. Mi se, mi telim hauyu stan?

'Ho'ona, it means wife.' [TL3] Ί said, I said "How do you stand"?' [TL3]

vs. Hem i ting se samting ia i no stret. 'He thought that's not right.' [JMC:Malakula, 1970] 30. Ai laikim datsol. Datsol. vs. Em i danis long tamtam datsol.

Ί just like it.' [TL4] 'That's all.' [TL2] 'He just danced to the drum.' [BV:Banks, 1969]

Comment: Datsol or tasol are unknown in modern Bislama, but were common to both the Queensland interviews and to the recordings made in the late 1960s and early 70s by Bernard Vienne. 31.7 wanta tekim mi go daun Towomba. Mi woni stanap samtaim. vs. Mi wande tekem wan samting.

'He wanted to take me down to Toowoomba.' [PS1] Ί want to stand up sometimes.' [TL1] Ί want to take something.' [DT:Epi, 1970]

Comment: Wande as opposed to wantem preceding a verb is still found in the Bislama of many rural speakers. 32. wataem/long wanem taem

Not found in Dutton (1980).

33. watnem/wanem

Not found in Dutton (1980).

34. Ε wiswe. Bili?

'Hey, how do you do it, Billy?' (TL2)

vs. Wiswe yu no wokem kakae?

'How come you haven't prepared the food?' [DT-.Pentecost, 1970]

Comment: Wiswe is still used in Bislama, as is hao nao, although both occur much less frequently than olsem wanem. 35. witaot/ i no gat

Not found in Dutton (1980).

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 295 7.5.

Conclusions

A comparison of the Queensland recordings with those made in Vanuatu during the 1960s and early 70s reveals that of the thirty-five features which serve to distinguish the 1960s and 70s recordings from post-independence Bislama (see 7.4.1. above) twenty-five of those "earlier" features are found in the Queensland Canefields English recorded by Dutton in 1964 (Dutton 1980). These features are as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

bat bin dai dis/dat disfela distaem haomeni hamas hao havem hia/dea ken laek laik lukim meibi olgeta olgeta i onli PM omitted se tasol wände VB wataem wiswe

'but' past historic 'die, dead' DEM 'this, that' 'this one' 'then' 'how many?' 'how many, how much?' 'how' 'to have' 'here, there' abilitative, 'can' DESID, 'want to' 'like, as, COMP' 'to see' 'perhaps' plural 'they...VB' 'only' PM omitted REL (that) 'only' 'want to VB' 'when?' 'how'

The presence of these features in both Queensland Canefields English and Vanuatu Bislama spoken thirty years ago suggests that what was spoken in Queensland at the end of the nineteenth century (in spite of the obvious

296 Chapter 7

interference from contact with modem-day English in the speech of both Tom Lammon and Peter Santo, and the fact that both showed serious comprehension problems during interviews due perhaps to old age, deafness or an imperfect recall of the Canefields English they used to use, or to a combination of all these factors) was not much different to some registers of Bislama up to the end of the 1960s. At the same time, the presence of diagnostic markers such as datsol (Tok Pisin), dai (Tok Pisin and Solomons Pijin) and laek (Tok Pisin and Solomons Pijin) suggests that in the first decades of the twentieth century there was a common Pacific Pidgin pool, with variant forms (such as laik/olsem, onli/nomo) which gradually differentiated into the three sister dialects Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin, at the end of the recruiting period, when labourers from Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu returned home, had little or no inter-state contact, and worked on plantations in their respective home countries. This, then, is the legacy of the Queensland plantation and pastoral experience, grafted onto the Australian-Pacific maritime experience during the first half of the nineteenth century. For it is the cumulative effect of these two significant forums which have created the three modern-day Englishbased pidgins spoken in Island Melanesia and it is this shared heritage which makes them distinctive from other English-based pidgins spoken in the Pacific today, such as Hawaiian Pidgin and Pitcairn-Norfolkese. Table 24. Comparative New South Wales, Queensland Canefields English and Bislama forms

Forms 1. ken save 2. disfela ia 3. wande wantem 4. VB is tap i stap VB 5. bin 0

1850 NSW

1900 QCE

1960 BIS

1985 BIS

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+ +

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

Gloss 'can' 'can' DEM DEM DESID DESID CONT CONT PAST PAST

Jargon to pidgin: The language situation 1863-1906 6. hao (nao) olsem wanem 7. olgeta i olgeta oli 8. laek + VB wantem + VB 9. mi mi mi 10. en em 11. lukim luk 12 .tasol nomo U.bat be 14. havem gat 15. watnem wanem 16. mebi maet 17.«a mo 18. nating nomata 19. dis/dat ia lO.propa stret 21. hameni hamas 22. dae ded 23. dea/hia pies ia 24. wiswe olsem wanem

+ +

+

+

+ +

+

+ +

+ + + + +

+ +

+

+ +

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+ +

+ +

+

+ +

+

297

'how?' 'how?' 'they..' 'they..' DESID DESID 1SG 1SG 3SG 3SG 'see' 'see' 'only' 'only' 'but' 'but' 'have' 'have' 'what?' 'what?' DUB

+ +

+

+

+

+

'and' 'and' 'although'

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+ +

+

+

+

+

+ +

+

+

DEM DEM 'really' 'really' 'how many' 'how many' 'die'

+ +

+

+ +

+

+

+ +

LOC LOC 'how?' 'how?'

298 Chapter 7 25. distaem/dataem taem ia 26. onli nomo 27. laek olsem 28.baot samwe long 29. witaot i no gat 30. PM omitted PM oblig. 31. risen stamba 32. dis/datfala Ν + ia 33. wataem long wanem taem

+

+ +

+

+

+ +

+

+ + + + +

+ + +

+ + +

+

+

+ +

'then' 'then' 'only' 'only' 'like a' 'like a' 'roughly' 'roughly' 'without' 'without' PM PM reason reason PRON PRON 'when?' 'when?'

Chapter 8 Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

8.0.

Introductory

In 1907 the recruiting of South Sea Islander labour for work on the plantations in Queensland came to an end, with most Melanesians repatriated to their home islands in Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands and the Bismarck Archipelago of Papua New Guinea. By that time, more than 100,000 Pacific Island labourers had been transported from their home islands for work not only in Queensland, but also in Fiji, Samoa and New Caledonia. While the overseas plantations were a critical locus for the development of Pacific pidgins, as indeed was the maritime milieu in pre-plantation days, the particular character of each of the Melanesian pidgins: Vanuatu Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin was established and set on the plantations which began to flourish in the Melanesian homelands almost co-terminously with the abolition of recruiting for work on the overseas plantations.

8.1.

New Hebrides Condominium (Vanuatu)

In 1886 the Governor of New Caledonia dispatched two French warships to Vanuatu following the murder of several settlers, following land disputes. French troops landed on Efate and Malakula and appeared reluctant to withdraw. There was considerable concern in Britain and in Australia over this incident. Presbyterian influence was so strong that the Colonial Government protested to the Colonial Office in London, which resulted in the signing of a Convention in November 1887 setting up a Joint Naval Commission charged with maintaining order and protecting the lives and property of British subjects and French citizens in the New Hebrides. The Presbyterians realised that if the French became sole owners of the archipelago, they would be expelled, just as the London Missionary Society was expelled from the Loyalty Islands in New Caledonia. Thus the constant tensions and recriminations between the two parties.

300 Chapter 8 Even after the signing of the Convention, the major problems still concerned land. Higginson's company was on the verge of bankruptcy and the French Government was obliged to come to his assistance. In 1894 they took over the company and renamed it the Societe Fran?aise des Nouvelles-Hebrides (SFNH), assuming a majority interest in the company. Properties were divided on maps into 50 hectare blocks and offered to French settlers. Many arrived only to discover that their allotment included villages or village gardens. Such was the outcry that there was a call for a new and more effective administration to be established. This led to the confirmation on 27 February 1906 of a convention establishing the AngloFrench Condominium of the New Hebrides, which state endured until the New Hebrides achieved independence on 30 July 1980 as the Republic of Vanuatu. Under the Condominium, the High Commissioners of Fiji and New Caledonia were responsible for the administration, acting through Resident Commissioners in Port Vila. Separate police forces were established under the control of each Resident Commissioner, and each government agreed to finance its own administration. Expenses of a joint nature would be paid for out of local taxes. There were two National Courts, presided over by a British and a French judge, respectively, for the hearing of criminal cases involving French or British nationals. There was also set up a Joint Court, which had jurisdiction over all land and civil cases, and cases between Europeans and ni-Vanuatu. The first President of the Joint Court, nominated by the King of Spain, was Tomas Alonso y Zabala, Conte de Buena Esperanza (1910— 1913, 1914-1916, 1926-1932). There was also an agreement that the validity of land deeds registered before 1 January 1896 could not be questioned. This meant that the 300,000 hectares of land which Higginson had bought from other Europeans between 1882 and 1887 could not be contested. In addition, the 400,000 hectares which he had bought from ni-Vanuatu and registered before that date were also unassailable. The 1906 Convention was unsatisfactory from many respects, not the least of which was its inability to deal satisfactorily with land registration matters, especially registrations post-1906. This led Britain and France to sign what is known as the Protocol of 1914. It was this Protocol which carried the administration of the New Hebrides through to independence in 1980.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

301

8.1.1. New Hebrides (Vanuatu) plantations 1900-1914 By 1900 there were 40 colonial plantations and agricultural properties (French and British) in Vanuatu, with 6000 hectares under cultivation (Bonnemaison 1986). All of these properties employed ni-Vanuatu labour, normally from another island so as to avoid ongoing land disputes. The main crops were coffee, cocoa, maize and copra. The French planters tended to have mixed crops, while the British concentrated their efforts on copra, very often marketing native-grown copra as well as the copra which they produced themselves. This practice went back to the 1880s, for there were very few large coconut plantations, copra prices were high, and this was the best means of optimising profits. In fact, in some areas niVanuatu became agents for local European traders. Others attempted direct marketing themselves, cutting out the copra-traders. They often pooled their resources to purchase whale boats to pick up copra which they then fed directly to inter-island steamers .Adams (1986: 48) notes that by 1902 there were so many of these co-operatively owned vessels that they were considered a navigational hazard. By 1906, when the Condominium of the New Hebrides was established, and European settlement and plantation agriculture expanded rapidly. The plantation scene could be summed up as follows: French citizens 401 British citizens 228

Area Under Cultivation 8,000 ha Area Under Cultivation 3,000 ha

This is reflected in the Table of French plantations in 1902, by Picanon, cited in O'Reilly (1957: 262-264), as follows: Table 25. French plantations in the New Hebrides 1902 Name Ancelin & Bougeault Beaujeu Beaulieu Berger Beynet, Mile Biancheri & Javelier Blanc Blanchard Bourdois

Island Epi Efate Epi Epi Epi Malakula Epi Efate Efate

Settlement date 1899 1899 1899 1901 1899 1901 1899 1899 1887

Hectares

Labour

50 25 50 75

48 6 9 3

50 500 100 3100

48 12 19

302 Chapter 8 Bourgine Bourgine Bousquet & Lancon Bouyer Brenier Briault & Caillard Chaise Chevillard Claudel Collet Facio, Mme Faucher Fortolis Frisson Frouin Grosjean Hennequin Sen. Hennequin Jun. Hoaru Jego Largeau Laurenceau Le Peltier Lecaisme Leplantenier, Mme Leveque Mathieu Mercader Meriau Morache Naturel Parise, Mme Patche Paugam Payet Ratard & Russet Robin-Masse Rolland Rosiers

Efate Efate Epi Efate Santo Aore Efate Efate Efate Epi Epi Efate Epi Epi Efate Efate Efate Efate Efate Malakula Efate Epi Efate Efate Efate Efate Efate Efate Efate Efate Epi Efate Efate Efate Efate Santo Epi Efate Efate

1898 1899 1894 1901 1890-1902 1887 1882 1887 1902 1898 1897 1899 1901 1890 1885 1893 1899 1901 1897 1901 1894 1897 1899 1898 1900 1899 1899 1896 1902 1890 1881 1886 1894 1901 1897 1887 1893

25 25 75 250 25 2500 25 1000 6 50 100 18 25 50 50 10 100 20 200 25 250 25 60 10 185 25 37 25 25 80 100 30 30 62 20 50 25 32 70

4 23 20 1 40 5 40 6 6 10 7 5 9 3 11

35 6 7 6 6 8 12 12 13

8 4 11 11

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 Salducci, Mile Salvin Sicard Stuart-Peterson Tristani

Ambrym Efate Efate Efate Efate

1902 1895 1885 1886

500 125 60 3500 125

303 52 13 4 100 37

Because the British specialised in marketing "native-grown" copra, their export tonnage was much higher than their acreage under coconuts would suggest. Of the 705 tonnes exported on British ships in 1910, 55% was grown by New Hebrideans, while by 1914 that figure had grown to 80%. From its earliest days in the 19th century the plantation industry suffered acute labour shortages. In the beginning these were caused by competition from overseas recruiters. In spite of the difficulty in finding labour within the New Hebrides, it is remarkable that more than 30,000 men and women were engaged for plantation work there between 1867 and 1922 (Adams 1986: 59). Indeed Bedford (1973) records that between 1912 and 1939 there were approximately 32,000 labour contracts involving New Hebrideans within Vanuatu. 8,000 of these worked for British and Australian planters, while 24,000 worked on French properties. (Of the 24,000, some 4,700 were women employees.) In terms of Bislama development, Bislama could well have developed fully even if the recruitment of labour for work on the overseas plantations in Queensland, Fiji, and Samoa had never taken place. Numbers recruited varied between 1,000 and 2,200 until the early 1920s, when New Hebridean recruitment fell off sharply, as local Melanesians preferred to produce and market their own crops (pushed by the Presbyterian Church and encouraged by high copra prices). At the same time, French planters introduced a system of Vietnamese indentured labour to the New Hebrides. By 1930 it is estimated that one-sixth of the total New Hebrides copra exports came from local Melanesian production. The bulk of the recruits came from the central islands, where there had been less contact with Europeans, the main purpose of recruiting being to purchase weapons during this period of ongoing inter-tribal hostility. (See Fig.5 below.) Between 1900 and 1922 the number of colonial plantations/agricultural properties had increased from 40 to 80. While in 1909 there were 6,547 hectares under cultivation, in 1920 this figure had increased to over 8,000. This expansion had taken place largely outside Efate, on Malakula, Epi and

304 Chapter 8

Maewo, Ambrym, Paama, Epi

ca>

y

Q.

Aoba CENTRAL ISLANDS Pentecost

Malekula SOUTHERN ISLANDS Alt islands south of Epi 1913

1915

1917

1919

1921

1923

1925

1927

1929

1931

1933

1935

1937

1939

Figure 5. Origins of Vanuatu labourers 1912-1939

Santo. It is estimated that the labour force working the 8,000 hectares of plantation was between 3,500 and 4,000, a fairly stable figure right up until the 1970s. The cessation of recruiting for work on the overseas plantations had no significant effect on the scene at home. Instead of providing a workforce for the newly developed plantations and farms, Melanesian labour became more and more difficult to engage.The ni-Vanuatu were not greatly involved in a cash economy and did not hesitate to withdraw their labour when colonial planters became harsh and overbearing. At this time less than 10% of alienated land was under cultivation, with little hope of further development in the absence of an available Melanesian labour force. Indeed, there was ill-feeling between the Christian missions, particularly the Presbyterians, and the French colonists. Bonnemaison (1986) goes as far as to claim that the Presbyterians encouraged the ni-Vanuatu to produce copra on their own account rather than go and work for French colonists and colonial companies such as the French New Hebrides Com-

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 305 pany (SFNH). This indeed did mark the beginning of indigenous copra production in Vanuatu. However, at the same time it is important to reiterate that throughout the colonial period a significant ni-Vanuatu labour force of 3,500-4,000 was engaged in copra production on expatriate plantations.

8.1.2. The two World Wars and the period between: 1914-1945 In 1914 there were some 300 British settlers and 700 French resident in Vanuatu. The British settlers were for the most part fairly well-to-do. They were agriculturalists and small traders and nearly all small independent owners. As discussed above, the two greatest forces on the British side were Burns Philp & Co, and the Presbyterian Church. The greatest number of British lived in Vila, mainly officials associated with the Residency. The remainder were settlers and missionaries, scattered fairly evenly throughout the archipelago. The French population at that time included a number of liberes from New Caledonia, and a number of traders, together with a body of Catholic priests, who lacked the financial backing of the Presbyterians. The largest number were planters who had settled on land granted them by the French New Hebrides Company (SFNH). Nearly all were mortgaged to one of two French trading firms, CFNH (Comptoirs Fran^ais des Nouvelles-Hebrides) or de Bechade. The French New Hebrides Company claimed land to the extent of 780,800 hectares, but had no real plantations of its own. In Vila most of the smaller trades were in the hands of the French. Most construction work was carried out by French contractors. There were of course a considerable number of French officials. The 120 other nationalities not English or French included: 24 Germans, 26 Japanese, a few Spaniards, Dutchmen, Americans, Norwegians, Danes, Belgians and Swiss. 75 chose to be classed as British and 46 as French. Jacomb (1914) estimated that in 1914 of the 3,500,000 acres in Vanuatu, the French Company owned 2,000,000 acres and British planters 400,000 acres, while 1,000,000 acres remained in ni-Vanuatu hands. Because of the outbreak of the First World War, the 1914 Protocol between Britain and France was not ratified until 1922, and the Joint Court did not begin dealing with land claims until 1927. Applications for land registration were very cumbersome to deal with and when the President of the Joint Court left for leave in 1932 it had taken him four years to deal with 200 applications on Efate. He estimated that it would take fifty years

306 Chapter 8

to register all lands claimed. Although the Joint Court was thoroughly bogged down administratively, neither the French nor the British would increase funding to expedite claims. By the time the Court ceased work in 1941 following the outbreak of the Second World War claims had been dealt with on Efate, Epi and the southern islands of Erromango, Tanna and Aneityum. During all of this period the interests of ni-Vanuatu landholders, nominally protected by the Native Advocate, were most inadequately served. In 1919 the French Governor of the Pacific, Guyon, obtained the agreement of the Government of Indochina to recruit Vietnamese labour for work on French plantations in Vanuatu and New Caledonia. (British planters were excluded from this scheme by their own government.) The first group of 145 Vietnamese labourers arrived in Vila in 1921, provoking dock strikes in Australian ports as the Australians and British believed that the recruiting of Vietnamese labour would allow the French to develop all of their land, instead of just 10%, and that France would dominate the country. All in all, 21,915 Indochinese labourers entered Vanuatu between 1921 and 1940. The arrivals of Vietnamese labourers to work on French plantations and agricultural enterprises in the New Hebrides may be tabulated as follows: Year

1921 1923 1925 1927 1930 1931 1937 1939 1940 145 437 1623 4293 5413 3372 1630 2130 2872 (Source: La Documentation Fran?aise (1954); F. Doumenge (1966)

Total 21915

The Vietnamese (known locally as Tonkinese) were introduced in response to French frustration at being unable to recruit sufficient New Hebridean labour, for a variety of reasons, ranging from harsh treatment at the hands of French plantation owners to the unwillingness of New Hebrideans to engage for more than a few months at a time. At the same time, the cost of importing Vietnamese labour, engaged on five-year contracts with the option of re-engagement on short-term contracts or repatriation, was advantageous as costs could be absorbed over a longer period and provided a stable labour force, since Vietnamese labour was bonded to a certain plantation or plantation-owner.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

307

8.1.3. The Great Depression Between 1920 and 1930 land under cultivation increased from 8,000 to 16,000 hectares, and copra production quadrupled, going from 3,000 to 14,000 tonnes. (In 1952 land under cultivation reached 23,000 hectares, and by 1980 it had fallen to 22,000.). During these years the major produce apart from copra was coffee and cocoa. However, by the end of the 1920s the "good life" was coming to an end. First the Vietnamese organised themselves into trade unions. There were complaints, then riots about their treatment at the hand of the French planters. In 1928 there was a major fire which destroyed Ballande & Co., with 16 dead and 20 seriously injured, imputed to the dissatisfied Vietnamese. Added to this was the Great Depression, which saw the price of copra fall from 2,250 francs per tonne in 1928 to 675 in 1932; cocoa and cotton prices fell proportionately. The situation continued to deteriorate. In 1929 there were 797 French and 205 British in Vanuatu, with 69 French properties and 16 British, many of which were managed by Bums Philp. By 1934 many of the properties were for sale, but buyers were few. As the Second World War approached the picture in Vanuatu was one of deep gloom, from which the plantations never really recovered. When the Depression came and markets collapsed, the importation of Vietnamese labour was suspended, between 1931 and 1935, during which time there was a corresponding increase in New Hebridean labour on the French plantations. The Vietnamese population fell from 5938 in 1929 to just 2300 in 1932 (Bonnemaison 1986) as many of the larger companies (and major employers of labour) disappeared. On the smaller French plantations mainly Vietnamese were employed, while on the larger ones numbers of Vietnamese and New Hebridean labourers were just about equal, as shown in the following table for the year 1931: Surface Area -50 ha. 50-100 ha 100-500 ha 500-1000 ha 1000+ha

No. of Properties 3 8 28 11 4 54 (Source: Bonnemaison 1986: 74)

Vietnamese 16 23 805 476 477 1797

Melanesian 12 60 149 76 450 747

Total 28 83 954 552 927 2544

308 Chapter 8

The main crops on the New Hebrides plantations were coffee, cocoa and copra, whose production acreage is summarised in the following table: Product 1909 1934 Coffee 2035 ha 2317 ha Cocoa 302 ha 2822 ha Copra 4210 ha 10988 ha (Source: Bonnemaison 1986: 70).

1952 300 ha 2000 ha 21000 ha

1980 Oha 500 ha 22000 ha

As discussed above, in 1920, before the introduction of Vietnamese labour, there were 8000 hectares under cultivation in the New Hebrides, for 35004000 Melanesian labourers, that is, a ratio of one labourer for every two hectares planted. This is roughly comparable to the 5284 Melanesians recorded by Panoff (1979) for 11102 hectares planted in the Bismarck Archipelago in Papua New Guinea in 1906-07. Interestingly, the plantation labour force in the New Hebrides and now in Vanuatu has remained steady at about 3,500-4,000 ever since that period. The days of the professional recruiter were over by this time, as each planter took to the sea and did his own recruiting. Another noteworthy phenomenon is that New Hebrideans have become more and more attracted to making and selling their own copra since the 1920s, encouraged by the churches both as a hedge against further land losses, aided by the well-known antagonism which existed between missionary and planter, especially the Presbyterian mission and the French planters.

8.1.4. Origins of New Hebridean labour In the period between the First and Second World Wars there was significant development on the plantation scene. In terms of labour, it was then and still is the practice that plantation labourers usually come from another island or at least from some distant point on the same island within the larger islands. During this period just over half of all labourers went to work on plantations on Efate. The major sources of this labour were Pentecost, Ambae and Maewo (35%), although there were large numbers from Malakula (16%), Ambrym and Paama (17%) and the Banks Islands (15%) (Bedford & Schlomowitz 1987). During the 1930s there was a major shift

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

309

in recruiting patterns as more than two-thirds of all labour recruits went to work on plantations on Santo, Aore and Malo. Labour recruiting was most successful in the central islands of the archipelago, for there contact with Europeans had been infrequent and intergroup hostility ensured that weapons were highly prized and sought after. In fact, in north Malakula the sale of arms to New Hebrideans was prohibited, such was the unrest. This had little effect, however, as planters realised that this was the most efficient method of attracting Big Nambas labour. The only other area affected by recruiting regulation was the Torres Islands, where the recruiting of women was banned following a dramatic fall in population numbers. Table 26. Origins of New Hebrideans recruited by British firms 1911-1939 (Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988) Island Torres Banks Santo6'

1911 1912 3 8 11 29 14 46

1913 42 24 31

1914 1915 18 25 34 111 42 39

1916 47 35 31

1917 40 87 40

1918 22 50 32

1919 1920 10 8 92 33 34 17

North:

28

83

97

94

175

113

167

104

136

58

Ambae Maewo Pent.

8 9 26

23 9 68

41 11 52

22 32 77

9 21 121

33 6 76

14 16 127

20 12 127

13 17 34

25 17 32

Malak. Ambrym Paama

34 5 0

50 36 15

101 54 12

56 40 5

27 13 8

35 61 10

43 66 8

39 33 29

50 27 14

41 45 16

Centre:

82

201

271

232

199

221

274

260

155

176

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity.

3 13 0 38 1

45 30 10 37 16

17 37 9 11 16

36 17 0 6 3

89 9 1 11 8

46 2 2 3 0

24 5 2 6 1

33 5 2 20 12

36 12 0 13 5

37 8 13 11 13

61. Includes a few recruits from Malo and Aore.

310 Chapter 8 South:

55

138

90

62

118

53

38

72

66

82

Other62

10

1

0

13

1

13

4

7

8

9

Reengag.

12

13

13

22

24

21

36

22

21

42

175

436

471

423

517

421

519

465

386

367

Total Island Torres Banks Santo

1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 14 37 19 40 45 23 19 1 13 6 33 77 56 84 53 46 73 63 9 23 34 47 54 30 35 25 23 40 6 3 125

145

123

141

107

138

88

116

16

32

27 27 46 34 39 11

10 27 90 32 57 41

24 9 74 45 60 12

40 24 63 83 53 3

28 23 56 45 33 10

16 21 34 32 30 33

10 14 0 17 4 16

22 16 4 7 12 11

18 0 14 11 4 0

3 0 6 0 0 26

Centre:

184

257

224

266

195

166

61

72

47

35

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity.

19 6 1 11 10

35 10 2 45 16

53 12 8 27 6

97 10 0 28 2

24 5 2 44 1

24 8 5 38 5

11 4 0 14 1

4 20 4 27 4

9 3 2 6 0

1 4 3 4 0

South:

47

108

106

137

76

80

30

59

20

12

Other Reengag.

22 4

44 36

44 44

48 35

28 61

12 9

16 73

1 34

0 3

1 18

382

590

541

627

467

405

268

282

86

98

North: Ambae Maewo Pent. Malak. Ambrym Paama

Total

62. Lopevi, Tongoa, Tongariki, Emae, Makura, Mataso, Nguna, Emau (Shepherd Islands and N.Efate small islands).

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 Island Torres Banks Santo

311

1931 1932 1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939 ALL 0 10 476 0 0 0 7 1 10 8 18 2 15 11 1241 12 17 63 67 13 2 702 5 6 5 7 44 2 30 7 30

105

114

20

19

24

8

20

23 2449

Ambae Maewo Pent. Malak. Ambrym Paama

0 1 2 1 1 2

0 19 9 6 0 1

0 16 13 2 1 2

11 8 8 6 0 0

4 10 14 4 1 0

0 0 6 14 11 0

13 1 9 8 3 0

11 0 5 12 12 10

10 455 0 366 3 1196 15 850 1 702 7 302

Centre:

7

35

34

33

33

31

34

50

36 3871

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity.

0 0 0 0 0

1 0 0 0 0

14 0 0 1 0

1 2 3 1 1

0 0 0 3 0

1 0 0 0 0

2 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 3 0

2 2 0 1 1

South:

0

1

15

8

3

1

2

3

6 1488

Other

0

0

1

2

4

2

0

0

2

293

21

21

8

7

8

4

2

2

0

616

70 67 Total 58 162 172 (Source: Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988: 71)

62

46

75

North:

Reengag.

664 224 69 409 122

67 8705

Table 27. Origins of New Hebrideans recruited by French firms 1911-1939 Island Torres Banks Santo North:

1911 1912 1913 1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919 1920 24 6 49 43 26 21 80 8 72 42 27 3 15 9 9 54 49 73 164 131 24 44 51 58 50 43 83 43 58 76 33

108

121

91

85

113

217

139

279

250

312 Chapter 8 27 19 42 51 41 0

172 34 202 171 71 9

137 24 81 100 41 3

186 55 119 136 246 46

134 25 125 133 65 9

184 80 126 345 130 7

190 80 155 197 105 24

179 39 114 168 57 44

132 68 294 189 113 90

Centre:

180

659

386

788

491

872

751

601

886 1021

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity.

26 46 0 16 0

124 22 2 4 0

32 7 10 4 7

11 62 2 22 0

11 6 3 28 3

33 10 2 15 1

46 4 3 42 2

35 18 3 28 3

63 11 2 16 2

33 13 2 14 1

South:

88

152

60

97

51

61

97

87

94

63

Other

0

1

0

0

1

3

9

1

24

27

41

3

98

117

102

152

160

194

295

272

301

923

Ambae Maewo Pent. Malak. Ambrym Paama

Reengag. Total Island Torres Banks Santo

665 1093

148 100 338 290 124 21

732 1201 1234 1022 1579 1633

1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 14 33 53 58 10 7 32 16 1 5 60 154 33 13 87 139 39 17 90 59 26 37 17 19 22 16 8 13 1 7

North:

146

229

165

88

89

202

63

60

15

29

Ambae Maewo Pent. Malak. Ambrym Paama

205 65 141 198 76 1

284 54 286 251 121 18

169 51 154 156 117 1

67 30 130 160 43 0

78 19 58 37 67 1

96 76 87 233 71 10

62 15 42 28 16 0

66 20 40 28 10 0

11 8 14 13 0 1

0 8 0 14 9 0

Centre:

686 1014

648

430

260

573

163

164

47

31

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

313

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity.

8 7 1 19 2

33 11 1 29 0

4 4 0 12 3

2 3 1 16 2

4 8 0 21 4

1 14 2 3 1

14 7 2 27 1

0 14 0 7 0

0 8 0 8 0

0 4 0 8 1

South:

37

74

23

24

37

21

51

21

16

13

Other

10

36

7

19

2

1

3

0

0

4

338

308

282

159

91

62

34

11

0

26

1217 1661 1125

720

479

859

314

256

78

103

Reengag. Total Island Torres Banks

1931 1932 1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939 4 4 3 9 12 9 11 1 1 32 18 96 151 313 203 158 107 51

ALL 655 2354

Santo

12

9

15

9

26

31

31

13

18

85

North:

47

31

120

172

343

243

200

121

70

3869

Ambae Maewo Pent. Malak. Ambrym Paama

22 8 13 7 26 0

44 20 44 58 12 0

85 43 168 168 57 22

165 69 275 182 128 108

120 0 239 249 184 205

79 55 220 276 102 16

89 35 313 270 53 8

59 33 285 125 33 14

29 4 77 126 26 12

3219 1137 4182 4359 2144 670

Centre:

76

178

543

927

997

748

768

549

274 15711

Epi Efate Erro. Tanna Aneity

1 3 2 3 0

10 11 6 30 2

65 10 0 42 5

69 6 2 52 4

80 6 1 76 0

34 4 11 69 1

14 7 3 6 0

4 5 0 12 3

4 4 1 13 5

761 335 62 642 53

South:

9

59

122

133

163

119

30

24

27

1853

314 Chapter 8 Other

7

11

63

82

24

16

8

3

18

380

Reengag.

3

10

3

0

67

32

0

0

4

2864

142 289 851 1314 1594 1158 1006 Total (Source: Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988: 73)

697

393 24639

In the late 1920s employment of fellow islanders was not at all uncommon, especially on Ambae, with offers to hire labour already working on European plantations at a higher wage. In the twentieth century labour recruiting from Tanna, a heavily populated island in the south of the group, was much reduced compared to the previous century. This was largely due to the Presbyterian Church, which actively discouraged its converts from leaving their home villages. Thus the contribution of labour from the southern islands during this period was quite limited. The Church of course actively promoted cash cropping, the direct selling of their produce to traders, with the result that in years where the copra price was high it was much more difficult to attract contract labour. In short, New Hebrideans were happy to engage as contract labour during periods where copra prices were relatively low, but demonstrated a marked preference to work on their own account when prices were high. Table 28. Origins of New Hebrideans recruited for internal and external labour by percentage Island Torres Banks Santo

Internal (1911-1939) 3.8% 12.0% 5.3%

External (Qld & Fiji) (1863-1907) 2.3% 12.6% 13.1%

North:

21.1%

28.0%

Ambae Maewo Pentecost Malakula Ambrym

12.3% 5.0% 18.0% 17.4% 9.5%

8.8% 1.8% 6.0% 9.5% 7.8%

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

315

Paama

3.3%

1.7%

Centre:

65.5%

35.6%

Epi Efate Erromango Tanna Aneityum

4.8% 1.9% 0.4% 3.5% 0.6%

11.1% 4.8% 2.5% 11.1% 6.5%

South:

11.1%

29.9%

Other

2.3%

6.5%

100.0% Total (Source: Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988: 75)

100.0%

8.1.5. Labour destinations The majority of recruits worked on Efate or Espiritu Santo (see Figure 6). While Efate had been pre-eminent in the 19th century, its importance declined as plantations were established on other islands. Epi was an important centre for both copra and cotton production up until the Depression, with large plantations such as Valesdir and Walavea on the western side of the island. The Banks Islands, especially Vanua Lava, were important in terms of British plantations until the 1930 Depression, but after that time labour recruitment in the Banks ceased (see Figure 6). Malakula was of only limited importance as a labour destination until the end of the 1930s, major plantation development in this area coming only after World War II. By the end of the 1930s contract labour came mainly from the interiors of Malakula and Pentecost - areas where alternative means of obtaining desired non-indigenous goods, through the sale of crops, were not yet available.

316 Chapter 8

Ο

L_J I L 1 1 L_1 I I L_J I I I I I 1 1 I 1 I I I I I 1913 1915 1917 1919 1921 1923 1925 1927 1929 1931 1933 1935 1937 1939

Figure 6. Destinations of Vanuatu labour recruits 1912-1939 Table 29. Destinations of New Hebrideans recruited by British firms 1910-1939 1912 1913 1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919

Island

1910

1911

Banks

14

34

42

42

118

38

124

25

67

30

Santo

76 52

47

6

9

45

38

63

35

80

103

57

Malo

54

1

50

48

41

69

54

71

75

56

68

North:

182

62

90

99

128

225

155

230

180

226

155

Malak.

109

87

77

86

39

55

57

76

55

41

7

57 1

21

10

6

10

0

0

3

0

3

116

58

108

87

92

49

55

57

79

55

44

Epi

42

20

44

44

Efate

82

130

189

241

74 111

145 91

103 102

57 146

37 164

18 81

36 130

Other Centre:

1920

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

31'

6

2

5

0

0

0

6

2

5

6

ή

South:

130

152

238

285

185

236

211

205

206

105

16ί

Total

428

293

436

471

405

510

421

492

465

386

36'

1924 54 86 96

1925 46 93 74

1926 58 97 28

1927 31 99 46

Other

1928 1929 17 0 102 15 1 10

1930 0 18 5

Island Banks Santo Malo

1921 36 126 27

1922 31 99 130

1923 29 105 73

North:

189

260

207

236

213

183

176

120

25

23

Malak. Other

44 6

47 0

50 9

60 8

53 20

49 5

23 0

23 0

28 11

35 0

Centre:

50

47

59

68

73

54

23

23

39

35

Epi Efate Other

27 114 2

64 195 24

61 206 8

108 208 7

18 163 0

15 148 5

2 67 0

1

135 3

2 14 6

0 38 2

South:

143

283

275

323

181

168

69

139

22

40

Total

382

590

541

627

467

405

268

282

86

98

Island Banks Santo Malo

1931 0 17 0

1932 3 147 0

1933 0 152 13

1934 0 19 8

1935 0 20 0

1936 0 25

1937 0 7 1 3

1938 0 11 0

1939 ALL 0 915 13 1780 0 1102

North:

17

150

165

27

20

26

10

11

13 3803

Malak. Other

3 33

10 0

0 0

18 0

25 10

26 0

30 0

39 0

28 11

1330 174

Centre:

36

10

0

18

35

26

30

39

39

1504

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

918

Epi

318 Chapter 8 Efate Other

5 0

2 0

7 0

17 0

12 0

10 0

6 0

25 0

15 2854 0 91

South:

5

2

7

17

12

10

6

25

15 3863

58

162

172

62

67

62

46

75

67 9191

Total

(Source: Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988: 72) Table 30. Destinations of New Hebrideans recruited by French firms 1910-1939 Island Banks Santo Malo

1910 1911 1912 1913 :1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919 1920 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 3 0 55 22 183 160 125 591 664 53 121 195 15 7 11 21 2 0 0 16 45 33 23 7

North:

62

135

216

17

55

22

199

205

158

614

671

Malak. Other

75 1

55 10

38 39

17 2

74 64

55 13

82 8

51 21

21 1

33 0

121 0

Centre:

76

65

77

19

138

68

90

72

22

33

121

Epi Efate Other

116 919 0

111 380 0

111 519 0

46 583 0

83 801 0

80 562 0

270 643 0

161 640 0

150 692 0

140 792 0

137 704 0

South:

1035

491

630

629

884

642

913

801

842

932

841

Total

1173

691

923

665 1093

Island Banks Santo Malo

1921 0 431 2

1922 0 733 16

1923 0 462 27

1924 0 206 3

1925 0 8 0

1926 0 327 24

1927

North:

433

749

489

209

8

Malak. Other

57 0

26 0

57 0

62 0

7 10

732 1202 1078 1022 1579 1633

0 0 0

1928 0 72 2

1929 0 0 0

1930 0 0 0

351

0

74

0

0

7 13

1 0

0 0

0 0

0 0

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

319

Centre:

57

26

57

62

17

20

1

0

0

0

Epi

83

124

113

65

75

160

48

0

0

0

Efate

644

762

466

384

379

328

264

210

78

103

Other

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

South:

727

886

579

449

454

488

313

210

78

103

Total

1217

1661

1125

720

479

859

314

284

78

103

Island

1931

1932

1933

1934

1935

1936

1937

1938

1939

ALL

Banks

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

29

Santo

15

133

511

891

884

720

723

495

251

8766

Malo

0

0

0

0

40

6

25

0

9

319

North:

15

133

511

891

924

726

772

495

260

9394

Malak.

0

0

10

57

30

4

17

52

27

1036

Other

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

182

Centre:

0

0

10

57

30

4

17

52

27

1218

Epi

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

2073

Efate

128

156

331

366

640

428

217

150

106

13375

Other

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

128

156

331

366

640

428

217

150

106

15449

Total 143 852 1314 1594 289 (Source: Shlomowitz & Bedford 1988: 74)

1158

1006

697

393

26077

South:

8.1.6. World War II World War Two transformed life in Vanuatu, for between May 1942, when the American fleet arrived in Meie Bay on Efate, and 1945 it is reckoned that some 500,000 troops were quartered in or passed through Vanuatu in their struggle with the Japanese in the Solomon Islands.

320 Chapter 8

Although there are no official statistics about New Hebrideans working for the Americans, it appears that most adult New Hebrideans were involved at some stage. The Resident Commissioners allowed compulsory conscription of New Hebrideans on 3-month contracts. By the end of 1942 1,300 New Hebrideans from most islands in the archipelago went to work on Santo or Efate. This pattern continued until 1945. So great was the exodus of men that gardens were neglected, with many families becoming dependent on relatives in the employ of the Americans (Allen 1964: 28). However, there was no need for conscription as working for the Americans was much sought after and seen as a boom time. The Americans quickly built a bomber airstrip, Bauer Field, in Vila as well as two fighter strips in north Efate. A large military hospital was built at Bellevue on Efate, and a road built from Vila to Havannah Harbour via Klehm's Hill, as well as the redevelopment of roads to Teouma and Devil's Point. In Santo the Americans built the equivalent of a small city, with five airfields, six wharves, a patrol torpedo boat base, a huge dry dock, fifty kilometres of roads, and an immense base which housed a large telephone system and fifty-three cinemas. In the Segond Channel, protected by the islands of Tutuba and Aore, as many as 150 ships were anchored, for Santo was the forward base for the war in the Solomons. During the war, some 10,000 ni-Vanuatu were conscripted on threemonth contracts to assist the American troops, who were supported also by Australian and New Zealand armed forces. The impact on the ni-Vanuatu population was naturally dramatic. Never had they seen such wealth, equipment and sheer numbers of people. The ni-Vanuatu were also amazed to see black Americans working alongside their white brothers in arms. In terms of the Condominium administration, World War Two had the effect that staff was reduced to a point where many Condominium services closed down altogether. The Joint Court had no President between 1939 and 1953. Even the British administration was severely understaffed. There was no British District Agent for Central District No.2 (Malakula, Ambrym, Pentecost), for example, between 1948 and 1962. On the credit side, the wealth which poured into Vanuatu with the presence of the American troops between 1942 and 1945 was matched for the planters by a very sharp rise in copra prices during the Korean War (1950— 1953).

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

321

8.1.7. Post-War New Hebrides (Vanuatu) Post-war, between 1945-1950 average plantation wages rose by 250%, but even so New Hebrideans would not agree to contracts of longer than 6 months. Just over 2,000 were working on such contracts in 1949 and there was a fluctuating supply of casual workers. Informal agreements between planters and individual communities on neighbouring islands was pretty much the order of the day. Thus, for example, North Efate planters had agreements with Tongariki in the Shepherd Islands, Epi with Tongoa and SE Santo with Pentecost and the Banks Islands. New Hebrideans accepted only short-term contracts so that they could maintain their gardens at home. Interest in cash cropping was also a factor, as by 1948 roughly 50% of all New Hebrides copra exports came from New Hebridean owned and run plantations, compared with 15% in the 1930s.(By 1980, 71.8% of all copra was ni-Vanuatu produced.) New Hebridean coconut plantations were located, even from pre-1945, on Ambae, North Pentecost, coastal Malakula, the Shepherd Islands and Tanna. In terms of area under cultivation, by 1945 it is considered to be almost the same as that occupied by European-owned plantations. Because of the high copra prices and the strong preference of New Hebrideans to work on their own account, there was always a shortage of plantation labour after 1950, resulting in the importation of foreign labour. French-owned plantations employed 30 Tahitian and 192 Wallisian labourers, and one Santo plantation even imported 28 agricultural workers from northern Italy. As for the British, they imported 200 Gilbertese (I-Kiribati), mainly employed on plantations on Efate. All these efforts were ineffectual, however, as plantations wound down in the years leading up to independence in 1980 and commercial interest moved towards greener pastures. As for the Vietnamese, those remaining finally won the right to repatriation. 1,547 of them left the New Hebrides in 1953, the remainder in 1963. Those who chose to remain, some 411 in all, were mainly Catholics opposed to the Vietminh. Ultimately they all became French citizens. Apart from the plantation industry, New Hebrideans were also employed post-war in the frozen-fish industry on Santo, from 1958, and in manganese mining at Forari on Efate after 1962. Between 1957-1959 there were 438 New Hebrideans employed by the South Pacific Fishing Company. This venture was, however, unsuccessful, and later Gilbertese labour

322 Chapter 8

was used. Later SPFC attempts reintroduced ni-Vanuatu labour in the longline fishing industry, but with only mixed success once more. As for the Forari manganese operation, ni-Vanuatu were very much involved in working for the Compagnie Franfaise des Phosphates d'Oceanie until 1968, when the mine closed due to a collapse in world prices. The bulk of the labour employed came from the Shepherd Islands. When the mine reopened in 1969 it was on a very much smaller scale, thus requiring little ni-Vanuatu labour. The biggest change since the War came, however, with the development of urban centres, especially Port Vila and Luganville. The population of Vila more than doubled between 1955 and 1967, while Santo's increased by 80% during that period. More significant, however, is the fact that the ni-Vanuatu population in Vila and Santo increased by 630% and 820% respectively over the same period. Year

ni-Vanuatu Vila

Other

ni-Vanuatu Santo

Other

1955 1965 1967 1972

200 1,317 1,459 2,090

1,140 1,304 1,613 2,200

170

1,364

?

?

1,534 2,729

1,030 1,153

In fact, Bedford (1973: 45) estimates that in 1972 at least 20% of all niVanuatu were in temporary or permanent residence in the urban and periurban areas of Vila and Santo. Bedford further considers that at that stage it was a question of circular movement, rather than permanent movement out of the islands towards urban centres, and that the same applied to the relatively large numbers of ni-Vanuatu who found employment in New Caledonia beginning with the nickel boom in 1968. In 1968 there were around 500 ni-Vanuatu working in New Caledonia, this number rising to 1,500 by 1969, and 3,000 in 1971. Nearly all had contracts of only six months, again driving a circular migration movement.63 While in 1960 there were 90 French properties as opposed to 10 British, by the end of the 1960s copra plantations were in decline. Only one plantation, PRNH at Norsup on Malakula, employed over one hundred workers 63. In 2000 it was estimated that the ni-Vanuatu population in New Caledonia was roughly 5,000.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

323

The French no longer encouraged immigration to Vanuatu. The only new development was in the direction of cattle production. This required the clearing of much previously uncleared bush, especially on Santo, which operation met with considerable resistance and protest from the niVanuatu, already incensed by the vast tracts of land under European control, giving rise to the formation of the Nagriamel movement, see below, the first element in what was to become the political life of Vanuatu, culminating in independence in 1980.

8.2.

Papua New Guinea (and Samoa)

8.2.1. Historical and constitutional matters What is today the sovereign independent state of Papua New Guinea (independence being attained in September 1975) has had a complex history. The major details of this history, which have significant implications for the development and present day usage of Tok Pisin (or New Guinea Pidgin), will be briefly outlined here. What is today Papua New Guinea was originally two different territories, German New Guinea, proclaimed as a German Protectorate on 3 November 1884, and British New Guinea, a protectorate proclaimed by Britain on 6 November 1884. The borders between German and British New Guinea were officially defined in 1885. German New Guinea, also known as Kaiser Wilhelmsland, included all of north-eastern New Guinea east of the West Irian border (formerly Dutch New Guinea) and the islands of the Bismarck Archipelago (New Britain, New Ireland and surrounding islands). (See Map 10.) To these were added Buka and Bougainville (from 8 November 1899), and Choiseul, Santa Isabel, the Shortland Islands and Ontong Java in the western Solomon Islands. Germany also incorporated three island groups from Micronesia in 1899, namely the Marianas, the Carolines and the Marshall Islands. At the same time Samoa was largely under German control as a result of commercial interests there dating back to 1856, major plantations having been established on Upolu. There was, however, considerable international rivalry in Samoa between Germany, the USA and Britain, dating back to the early 1870s. Samoa officially became a German colony in 1899 and remained so until 1914.

324 Chapter 8 The German government entrusted the administration of Kaiser Wilhelmsland to a private syndicate, which in 15 May 1885 became the New Guinea Company. This company sought to market the land to potential settlers from Germany, expecting a rush of colonists which failed to materialise because of the harsh conditions and the hostility of the indigenous population on the main island of New Guinea. They did, however, have more success in the Bismarck Archipelago, where plantations and trading stations were established. The Bismarcks were also to provide much of the labour for the plantations in German Samoa. The German New Guinea Company's administration was an abject failure, and in 1899 the administration was taken over directly by the German Government. In the early days the administrative capital of the colony had been on the mainland, at Finschhafen, then Stephansort (Bogadjim) and finally Madang. The new Governor moved the capital to Rabaul (Kokopo). Plantations and trading stations progressed significantly, see below, until the outbreak of World War I in 1914, when, the German administration surrendered on 14 September. For the next seven years German New Guinea was governed by an Australian military administration. In 1920 Australia was given a mandate by the League of Nations, the precursor of the United Nations, to govern the former German colony. This mandate was carried out by the Australian government until 21 January 1942, when the Mandated Territory of New Guinea was invaded by Japan. In the southeast of the mainland of New Guinea, a British Protectorate had been proclaimed in 1884 and the territory known as British New Guinea. This was done at the request of the then unfederated Australian colonies for security against perceived external threats. It became an annexed British possession in 1888, with the arrival of Dr (later Sir) William MacGregor. In 1901 the Australian states federated, creating the Federal Government of the Commonwealth of Australia. Australia eventually took over responsibility for British New Guinea, changing the name of the territory to Papua through the Papua Act of 1905. The constitutional arrangements for the government of the Territory of Papua remained in force until 1949, although a military government took over in Port Moresby in 1942, when civil administration was suspended. The Japanese forces landed in Rabaul in January 1942 and soon overpowered the Australian civilians and the small army garrison stationed there. They made Rabaul their headquarters and went on to establish them-

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

325

selves on the mainland of what was to become Papua New Guinea, both in Papua and the Australian Trust Territory of New Guinea. After World War II, the Australian administration of the two territories was gradually combined into a single administration, known as the Administration of Papua and New Guinea. The United Nations, which replaced the League of Nations, approved Australia's mandate to govern the combined territories in 1946, while in 1949 the Australian government passed the Papua New Guinea Act, allowing for the full integration of the two territories. Australia progressively handed over power to the indigenous Papua New Guineans. Self-government was achieved in December 1973, and full independence on 16 September 1975.

8.2.2. German New Guinea (Australian Trust Territory of New Guinea) German interests in the South Pacific date back to 1856, when August Unshelm arrived in Samoa as a representative of J.C. Godeffroy & Son of Hamburg. Within five years he had expanded the Godeffroy's commercial operation to Tonga and Fiji, the direct forerunner of German colonial interests in the Pacific over the next fifty or sixty years. It was in this context that Mrs Emma Forsayth, known as "Queen Emma" arrived in New Britain, in the Bismarck Archipelago, from Samoa in the 1870s and became New Guinea's first planter. She and other planters established themselves around the Gazelle Peninsula and on the nearby Duke of York Islands. The Bismarcks served two important functions, both as an important German trading and plantation centre, but also as a source of labour for the German plantations in Samoa. (See Chapter 6, above, for details of the pre1900 period of German administration.) After 1899 rising copra prices and a more efficient administration led to rapid plantation expansion, and by 1914 the trading economy had been transformed into a plantation-based economy. In the Bismarck Archipelago and the German Solomons the area under plantation cultivation multiplied ninefold between 1900 and 1914, and on mainland German New Guinea by a factor of five. Pehaut (1990: 78) reports that in 1913, the last full year of German rule, there were 32,224 hectares (80,560 acres) of plantations in German New Guinea, employing 15,116 labourers, of whom 1,377 were Chinese and 163

326 Chapter 8

Malays. He also records that in the same year there were 172 German planters out of an expatriate population of 968, of whom 660 were men. Moore, Leckie and Munro (1990: xlvii) have calculated that between 1884-1914 there were a total of 85,000 indentured labourers employed in German New Guinea, as well as approximately 15,000 day labourers. Between 1908-1914 alone Firth estimates that there were 41,938 indentured labourers in the "old protectorate", mainly on three-year contracts (Firth 1973: 24). It is important to note that during the whole of the German administrative period, 1884—1914, all New Guinean indentured labour was recruited in the Bismarck Archipelago and did not involve mainland New Guineans. In the post-1914 period, when German New Guinea became the Australian Trust Territory of New Guinea, there was a significant increase in plantation acreage, rising from just over 80,000 acres to 134,000 in 1918, distributed as follows: New Britain New Ireland Admiralty Islands Bougainville New Guinea mainland

42,848 acres 34,796 13,008 13,372 29,936 (Report to League of Nations: 1914-1921)

By 1921 the number of New Guineans working in the former German New Guinea had risen to 31,000, double the number reported for 1913. Many new plantations were established on the New Guinea mainland, where the principal plantation centre was in the Madang district. Along the Maclay coast there were two or three plantations, and between Astrolabe Bay and the mouth of the Sepik there were a dozen more. Plantations were also established in the Morobe district. Apart from European plantations, the Australian government encouraged New Guineans to engage in planting and trading: Government protection removes the dangers from hostile tribes against which every village had formerly to prepare, and the native finds himself with not enough to do. To counteract this, natives are being encouraged to engage in planting and trading. (Report to League of Nations 1921-22: para 397).

This was the beginning of what was to become a situation characterised by considerable population mobility, for although the Report for 1921-22

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

327

states that "natives are averse to leaving their own district", it also states (when discussing the Morobe district) that 2,000 of them were employed in other districts of the Territory (1921-22: para 436). This labour mobility had obvious consequences favouring the spread of New Guinea Pidgin English. In the Territory of New Guinea at 30 June 1922 the Report to the League of Nations records the following plantation statistics, covering all plantations except native: Table 31. Territory of New Guinea plantation statistics 1922 Area Rabaul Kavieng Kieta Madang Manus Namatanai Aitape Morobe Talasea Gasmata Total (Table X: Appendix A) (p. 137)

102,043 acres 49,626 acres 74,122 acres 44,441 acres 25,893 acres 19,469 acres 16,725 acres 9,384 acres 8,914 acres 8,116 acres 358,733 acres

Labour employed (native) 4,898 3,227 2,236 2,922 2,032 1,633 971 594 1,124 518 20,155

In 1923-24 it was reported that the Aitape district was the scene of the most active recruiting in the Territory and that the Sepik River provided the most populous field, and that with the return of indentured labourers upon the completion of their contracts new recruits were readily forthcoming. (1923-24: 49). However, the same report states that Rabaul (New Britain) was the principal distributing centre for native labourers from all parts of the Territory, just as it was in when the Territory was under German control. The fact that New Guineans had a strong preference to work as indentured labourers near to their home areas is reflected in the following table:

328 Chapter 8 Table 32. Indentured labourers in each District at 30 June 1924: District from which recruited Ra-

Kavi-

baul

eng

Kieta

Madang

Ma-

Nama.

Aitape

Moro-

Ta-

be

lasea

nus

Gas.

Total

District where employed

1

1

6

15

3

2

1090

9

Gas.

93

10

5

-

3

1

6

27

3

363

511

Kav.

128

3331

95

146

67

106

315

33

113

70

4404

Kie.

11

4

2327

11

9

4

14

12

22

5

2419

Mad.

6

2

2

2853

1

4

684

120

3

5

3680

Man.

97

60

65

230

1014

8

924

30

33

22

2473

Mor.

1

-

-

15

-

42

776

1

Nam.

70

52

23

21

4

978

34

7

16

8

1213

Rab.

1932

375

814

754

138

773

955

597

771

417

7526

Tal.

15

1

6

18

1

95

98

734

8

976

2344

3836

3343

4063

1240

4159

1709

1696

898

25164

Ait.

-

-

1876

1127

835

-

It is interesting to note that in 1924, ten years after the Australian take--over of the administration, the main plantation areas were still in the Bismarcks, as the following table demonstrates: Native plantation areas 30.6.1924: (in acres) Rabaul

Kavi-

Kieta

Madang

Manus

Nama.

Aitape

Morobe

Tala.

Gas.

Total

26276

12394

5330

8875

6776

6884

1000

4600

109779

eng 30471

6773

(Table XVI, p.75.) As late as 1924—25, copra still accounted for 98.15% of all Territory exports, with more than 40,000 tons. This was to change when the goldfields in Wau and Bulolo became operational in 1926. By 30 June 1936, there were 36,927 natives employed under contracts of service in the Territory. The numbers engaged in each class of employment were:

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 329 -

18,773 6,816 1,210 3,677 843 5,608 36,927

Plantations Mining Administration Domestic service Shipping Commerce/industry TOTAL

(.Report 1935-36: 30)

Those engaged came from the following districts: -

2,684 3,586 1,377 13,121 9,688 5,323 1,137

Kieta Madang Manus Morobe New Britain New Ireland Sepik

{Report 1935-36: 31)

The table below illustrates the great labour mobility which has come to characterise the situation in modern-day Papua New Guinea, showing, for example the large numbers of labourers from the Sepik district working in the Morobe area. This phenomenon is further illustrated in Map 14. Movement of Indentured Labourers in 1936. Table 33. Indentured labour movement in 1936 District of birth Kieta

Madang

Manus

Morobe

N.Britain N.Ireland

Sepik

Total

District where employed 2,483

2

11

20

10

4

154

2,684

Madang

6

2,745

8

92

32

6

697

3,586

Manus

7

100

624

12

84

2

548

1,377

Kieta

Morobe

45

1,606

90

6,058

837

309

4,176

13,121

N.Britain

522

798

115

100

5,558

749

1,846

9,688

N. Ireland

150

310

63

146

313

2,705

1,636

5,323

5

18

3

5

4

1,102

1,137

Sepik

330 Chapter 8

In the last report before World War II, the number of New Guinean labourers employed had risen to a steady 40,000, of whom some 20,000 were involved in plantation work as indentured labour, while the number employed in the mining industry was steady at around 7,000. The Report to the League of Nations for 1939-40 provides a good summary of the plantation situation just before the War, as follows: At 30 June 1940: Number of plantations

Area Labour

N. Ireland Madang

Kieta

Morobe

Manus

Sepik

63

61

19

41

22

49,318

25,419

28,280

4,524

14,015

10,005

4,405

4,159

2,561

575

1,207

520

Total

N.Britain

517

147

164

212,855

81,294

20,477

7,050

(Report to League of Nations 1939-40: 84) We will return to a consideration of the post-War situation and the expansion of the use of New Guinea Pidgin after an examination of what was transpiring prior to World War II in the other half of what is today Papua New Guinea, namely British New Guinea, which later became known as the Territory of Papua. To sum up, New Guinea Pidgin was initially confined to the Bismarck Archipelago in German New Guinea, and of course German Samoa. Its spread on the New Guinea mainland was slow and gradual, corresponding initially to the establishment of government posts in the Aitape, Morobe, Manus and lower Sepik areas after 1900. It began to spread quite rapidly on the mainland in the 1920s and 30s, as a plantation culture became established there.

8.2.3. British New Guinea / Papua As outlined above, the British Government established a Protectorate over south-eastern New Guinea and adjacent islands in 1884 to satisfy the need of the still unfederated Australian colonies for security. The Protectorate

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 331 became an annexed British possession in 1888 with the arrival of Dr William MacGregor as Administrator (Lewis 1996: 20). No major plantation planting took place in British New Guinea while it retained that name. However, MacGregor did send prisoners to Daugo (Fisherman's Island) outside Fairfax Harbour in 1890 to plant coconuts. In 1894 he introduced a regulation for the compulsory planting of coconuts throughout the Possession in an effort to induce the Papuans to produce on their own account. This did not meet with great success, and the settling of Europeans and their families as early as 1890 was very problematic because of law and order problems. In fact it was law and order problems which led MacGregor to set up a police force, which ranged all over British New Guinea. The lingua franca of the police was a simplified or pidgin version of Motu, the indigenous Austronesian language of the Port Moresby area. This Police Motu, later known as Hiri Motu, was the preeminent lingua franca in Papua, being supplanted by Tok Pisin only in the post-independence years. For a detailed discussion of Police Motu and its history and development, see Dutton (1985). The earliest plantation of any size in British New Guinea was that of Walter Henry Gors, first manager of Burns Philp & Co, Port Moresby. Gors acquired a crown grant of 440 acres in 1894, at Dedele on Cloudy Bay, which he worked in partnership with Thomas Andersen, a Norwegian trader. In 1896 Henry Wickham set up a copra plantation in the Eastern Division, 1,800 acres on Panasesa, an island in the Conflict Group, seventy miles east of Samarai. However, it was extremely difficult to find willing settlers. The government of British New Guinea was transferred to the new Commonwealth of Australia on 18 March 1902, and the name changed to Territory of Papua. There was some early development in the Milne Bay area apart from Wickham. Charles Abel, an LMS missionary, set up Enesi Plantations Ltd in 1910, after having established Killerton. Another plantation in the area was Ramaga, set up in 1902 by John Clunn. Commercial plantation developments were very modest during this period. The European population of Papua was still very small, 573 in 1904. Concentrations were on the goldfields and at Samarai and Port Moresby. The Native Labour Ordinance (1892) permitted the casual employment of the "natives of British New Guinea" within 25 miles of their villages for

332 Chapter 8 periods up to one month. However, a new ordinance was passed in 1906, permitting terms of indenture of up to three years. Between 1906 and the beginning of the First World War in 1914, there was a big push to encourage the commercial development of Papua, especially copra and rubber production. Two large government plantations were established in 1911, one copra and one rubber. With the boom dozens of white miners, traders and recruiters, long or newly resident in the Territory, applied for leases in large and small parcels at many points along the Papuan coast and in the islands of the Eastern and South Eastern Divisions (see Maps 18 and 19). The area under cultivation on land owned or leased by Europeans had risen from 1,500 acres in 1906 to 44,447 acres in 1914^15. By 1920 the cultivated areas amounted to 62,162 acres (Lewis 1996: 105) or about 100 square miles in the 90,000 square miles of Papua. The number of plantations rose from 76 in 1908, with an average of 65 acres to 259 in 1922 and an average area of 232 acres under cultivation. In 1907 Kitchen & Sons set up the Commonwealth Copra Company to develop 5,000 acres at Giligili, for a time the largest copra plantation in the South Pacific. This was taken over by Lever Brothers in 1916. Also in 1907 the Papua Rubber Plantations Proprietary Ltd was registered in Melbourne, working 5,000 acres at Galley Reach. The bubble burst, however, and by the 1920s the situation for all planters had become desperate. In 1921 rubber tapping in Papua became uneconomic, and copra prices also began to fall rapidly as in an international recession the extent of over-capacity became apparent. After October 1921 the public companies underwent reconstruction or offered their plantations for sale. Only the absence of purchasers served to keep most of them going. Trader-planters subsisted, their losses concealed by poor accounting. Because of low copra prices, the Administrator, Sir Hubert Murray, tried to persuade the Australian federal government to undertake to buy all of Papua's copra production until prices rose above £18 a ton. In 1926, only 12,000 tons of copra was produced in Papua, compared with 50,000 tons in the Mandated Territory (Lewis 1996: 207). By the 1930s, copra had dropped as low as 8 pounds a ton, and the industry was in deep trouble, the Territory saved only by other industries such as rubber and mining. Shlomowitz (1986: 178) records that in terms of indentured indigenous labour in Papua, there was a total of 279,598 internal indentures for the twenty years 1920^0.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

333

Between 1894-1914, Newbury (1980: 6) calculates that there were approximately 80,000 internal indentured labourers, while Shlomowitz (1988: 72) gives the following breakdown for the period 1902-1941, totalling 248,229 indentures: Table 34. Indentured labour in Papua 1902-1941

Year ended 30 June

Number employed

Year ended 30 June

Number employed

1902-3 1903-4 1904-5 1905-6 1906-7 1907-8 1908-9 1909-10 1910-11 1911-12 1912-13 1913-14 1914-15 1915-16 1916-17 1917-18 1918-19 1919-20

2114 2193 2089 1783 2093 2531 2296 5585 7806 7963 6975 7681 6769 6686 7892 7059 8610 6397

1920-21 1921-22 1922-23 1923-24 1924-25 1925-26 1926-27 1927-28 1928-29 1929-30 1930-31 1931-32 1932-33 1933-34 1934-35 1935-36 1936-37 1937-38 1938-39 1939-40 1940-41

7495 4590 6083 6814 6879 9672 8315 8411 6725 7274 6144 5244 5059 5167 5964 6952 7965 9648 9759 9827 9817

Unfortunately no information is available which indicates the sources of Papuan labour, nor really to detail the different employment categories which would allow a comparison with the statistics available for the former German New Guinea. In terms of numbers of plantations, however (see Maps 16-19), Lewis (1996: 305-8) provides a detailed inventory of the 131 copra and 25 rubber plantations which existed in 1940, all employing Papuan indigenous labour.

334 Chapter 8 The area of land occupied by plantations at that time is not detailed by Lewis, although he does state that in the 1930s some 50,000 acres were under plantation cultivation (1996: 206).

8.2.4. Post-1945 Papua New Guinea As was the case throughout Melanesia, World War II corresponded roughly to the gradual demise of the plantations and plantation labour, as the economies of the Melanesian states diversified in a post-war redevelopment climate. In what was to become Papua New Guinea, the plantations and the migrant labour system upon which they depended were the single most important vector for the spread of Tok Pisin. In terms of plantation workers, in 1906 only 15% of recruits came from the mainland, as operations were largely confined to the Bismarck Archipelago. However, by 1936 some 60% of plantation labour was recruited on the mainland, particularly from the Sepik, Madang and Morobe provinces (Eckert 1938: 122). Apart from the plantations, other avenues of employment for Papua New Guineans opened up, when, for example, the goldfields at Wau and Bulolo became operational in 1926. Other industries also developed and increasingly Papua New Guineans were employed in the administration, in shipping and as domestic servants. The relevant statistics have been detailed above. The wokboi culture was characterised by the high degree of regional mobility of employees, as labour recruits moved from one area to another on completion of their contracts. At the same time, Tok Pisin, the language of communication of the new cash economy, grew in prestige and came to be seen as a medium for entry into this new and desirable way of life. Mühlhäusler also reports that Tok Pisin was learnt by young boys from returned labourers in their home villages, making for the development of more stable and grammatically complex varieties (1979: 87). Another instrument for the promotion and spread of Tok Pisin was the Catholic Church, whose missionaries regarded it as a language in its own right, and were actively involved in language standardisation as they saw Tok Pisin as a valuable medium of evangelisation, especially in linguistically complex areas. More significant, perhaps, was the fact that gradually Tok Pisin changed from being a medium of communication between New Guineans and Europeans to a major medium for intertribal communication.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 335 World War II had a significant impact on the development and spread of Tok Pisin in that for the first time the administration took it seriously as a medium of wider communication. It was obviously an important vehicle, too, for fostering solidarity between the Australian and American troops and the local population, and spreading Tok Pisin to areas which until then had not been in contact with the language. However, World War II did have some negative effects on the development and spread of Tok Pisin, especially for young men who were unable to go to the plantations during this period, but were too young to work for the Australian and American forces. However, the disruptions caused by the War did not significantly affect the spread of Tok Pisin, although they certainly disturbed the continuity of its development. The years immediately following the War were years of significant social change in Papua New Guinea. The pre-War caste system of expatriate superiority was gradually broken down, and the Australian government mounted an English-language primary education program, giving New Guineans access once more to Tok Pisin's original lexifier language. In the New Guinea Highlands real development did not come until after the War, as a large number of Europeans settled in the area. At the same time the urban centres of Mount Hägen and Goroka were developed. In 1950 the Highlands Labour Scheme was introduced. This involved the recruiting of Highlanders for work in coastal areas, mainly on plantations. The number of Highlanders recruited was considerable, Ward reporting that between 1950 and 1974, the eve of independence, approximately 128,168 Highlands labourers were involved (Ward 1990: 285). This scheme not only provided an opportunity for Highlanders to visit the coast, but also was a major vector in the spread of Tok Pisin throughout the Highlands. After World War II, there was a marked increase in the number of urban centres which sprang up, since prior to that time the only real urban agglomeration was in Port Moresby, the capital. After the War, towns such as Madang, Lae, Wewak and Rabaul became important centres, as did Mount Hägen and Goroka, referred to previously. The rural areas and plantations were still important, but the opening up of urban centres offered new employment and life-style opportunities for Papua New Guineans, especially for those with some knowledge of English. So was created a new generation of younger people whose household language was Tok Pisin and

336 Chapter 8 whose children typically spoke Tok Pisin as their first language (Mühlhäusler 1979: 100). Since independence in 1975 Tok Pisin has continued to spread across the country, and has even displaced Hin Motu as the major lingua franca in Papua, in the south-east of Papua New Guinea. It has developed a number of regional variants, see Mühlhäusler (1979) and is spoken and understood even in some of the remotest areas, with a rapidly increasing number of female speakers. For a fuller discussion of modern-day Tok Pisin and its roles, see Mühlhäusler (1979, 1986), and Wurm and Mühlhäusler (eds.) (1985).

8.3.

Solomon Islands

Prior to the end of overseas recruiting in the first years of the twentieth century, the British Government declared a Protectorate over the Solomon Islands in 1893, on the condition that the administration be self-supporting financially. The first Resident Commissioner, Charles Woodford, sought ways to raise revenue. In 1896, the only internal source of revenue in the Solomons was the traders who had been operating there from the 1870s, clearly insufficient to fund an administration. Woodford decided that the development of plantations in the Solomons was the only viable solution, through the introduction of a series of taxes. He was confident that he could encourage investment and raise capital if he could provide land and labour. Labour was in abundance, as there were already thousands of Solomon Islanders who had worked overseas in the labour trade, chiefly in Queensland and to a lesser extent in Fiji. However, land had to be alienated and secured. Pacification was both slow and piecemeal (Bennett 1987: 104). To this end the government put together an array of unofficial forces, made up of traders, missionaries, planters and Solomon Islanders. Bennett records that Woodford facilitated the acquisition of land by European planters by resumption under Waste Lands regulations, by freehold purchase, and later by government purchase for leasing (1987: 126). Prior to 1896, when Woodford first arrived in the Solomons, there was not much in the way of plantations, just minor developments on Nggela and on Guadalcanal because of both a lack of land and labour, not to mention security. In 1906 Lever Brothers, Sydney soap manufacturers, purchased 80,000 acres of freehold land in the Solomons, having obtained a concession for

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

337

999 years instead of the usual 99 (1987: 129). Bums Philp, which conducted most of its business in the islands from the trade-room of its ship, had acquired 800 acres of plantation land in the western Solomons in 1904, under threat from a German competitor, Eduard Hernsheim. In 1908, on the understanding that a substantial land grant would be made by the Resident Commissioner, Burns Philp formed a new subsidiary company, the Solomon Islands Development Company with a capital of £100,000 to develop plantations. (1987: 133). In this context, the Resident Commissioner tried to find an unoccupied stretch of 10,000 acres for the company on Guadalcanal, preferred because it was closer to Australia. However, there were difficulties, not helped by the signing in 1912 in England of amendments to the land laws forbidding direct purchase of land from the native owners by non-natives. Any purchases henceforth had to be made by the Resident Commissioner who could lease them to suitable tenants (1987: 136-7). Burns Philp were finally granted the land they wanted on Guadalcanal, Ngalimbiu, the river reserve, and Gavaga, the seafront reserve, under Certificates of Occupation for 999 years, along with an adjoining block, Muvia, under special legislation in 1918. Bennett is of the opinion that the years 1905-1913 were the peak years for plantation development in the Solomons. (1987: 138). There was much promotional activity in Australia, with the result that by 1912, before the embargo on purchasing land from native Solomon Islanders directly, a number of companies had been registered with the aim of establishing plantations in the Solomons, for the production of copra and also rubber. Apart from Levers and Burns Philp, about twenty smaller companies were registered in Australia. These included: Company

Location

Bugotu Plantations Ltd Domma Plantations Ltd Fairley Rigby & Co.Ltd Fatura Island Development Co. Gibson Island Ltd Gizo Solomons Plantation Pty (F. Snowball)

Bugotu, Santa Isabel Ndoma, Guadalcanal Boroni, Waimasi Papatura Island, Suavanu Nasaburuku Rendova Harbour Agana & Vangoro Is. Mbukimbuki

338 Chapter 8

Hamilton Plantation Bay Co. Ltd Hivo Plantations Ltd Kindar Ltd

Lavoro Plantations Ltd

Mamara Plantations Ltd Malayta Company Ltd

Molie Plantation Ltd Mundi Mundi Co.Ltd Phil Dickenson & Co.Ltd Gatere Plantations Ltd Solomon Islands Rubber Plantation Ltd Union Plantation & Trading Co. Vella Lavella Plantation & Trading Co.

Kenelo & Banyatta Buka Buki Veuru Choiseul Haevo Kinda Barakai Samarae & Repi Taievo Nughu Lavuro Hoilava Mamara West Malaita Mbanika Ruavatu Mbara Island Guadalcanal Mundi Mundi Waimarae Ghatere Ghojoruru Liapari

For the locations of the plantations listed above, see Maps 20-29, below, based on Bennett 1987. Many of the major purchases of plantation land were made before 1912. For example, Oscar Svensen, a trader and pearler, had managed to buy a total of 51,000 acres on Guadalcanal, Nggela, the Russells, San Cristobal and Santa Cruz, which he sold to Levers in 1907 for £40,000 (Bennett 1987: 143). Levers also acquired land in the western Solomons from Norman Wheatley in 1911, while Burns Philp bought land on Guadalcanal in 1909 from Justus Scharff.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

339

Many of these early purchases were approved by Woodford and the British Administration, especially in areas of low population density, since they were convinced that the Melanesian population of the Solomons was about to die out. In 1909 he wrote to the British High Commissioner Sir Everard im Thum, telling him that "the whole population of the British Solomons...will disappear....Nothing...can prevent the eventual extinction of the Melanesian race in the Pacific" (Bennett 1987: 146-7).

Under the 1912 regulation the land purchased was leased to Europeans for 10 to 99 years. Under these arrangements land was leased for agricultural purposes, mainly on San Cristobal, Santa Isabel and New Georgia. The main reason for the move to a leasehold system was so that the government might benefit financially, rather than for any protective motives.

340 Chapter 8

SAN CRISTOBAL

(126.33 years; 33 men; average number of years worked = 3.82) Indentured

Plantation employment

i ] Casual Domestic

Plantation shipping Europeans J Chinese ~] Ships

Trading ships

Mission work

Teaching/Priest 1 Services Ships

Government work Miscellaneous MALAITA

•

(201.50 years; 27 men; average number of years worked = 7 46) Indentured

Plantation employment

Casual Domestic

Plantation shipping Recruiting ships Trading ships Stevedores Mission work

• Ο Chinese 0 [ Teaching • Services

Government work

j Domestic

Miscellaneous GUADALCANAL

(315.45 years; 32 men; average number of years worked = 9.85) :

Plantation employment

Domestic

— * indentured

Plantation shipping Recruiting ships Trading ships

Γ~1 Europeans [ J Chinese

Stevedores Mission work

|

| Ship; J Teaching Services Ships

Government work Miscellaneous

~~1

SHORTLAND ISLANDS Plantation employment Trading ships

(113.58 years; 17 men; average number of years worked = 6.68)

a

Indentured Casual Domestic Europeans Chinese Ships

Mission work Governmentwork

| Teaching i Ships J Domestic

Miscellaneous 10

20 I

30

40 '

50 —I

Percentage of working years of sample

Figure 8. Employment patterns of male informants, Solomon Islands 1914-1939 (Source: Bennett 1987: 186)

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

341

By 1914 some 463,425 acres, or 5% of the land, had been alienated in the Solomons, most of it on accessible coastal land. Woodford had been successful in attracting over £1 million in capital during his tenure. He was justifiably proud of his record, stating that "during the last six years a larger area has been brought under coconuts in the Solomons than in any other group of islands in the Western Pacific" (Bennett 1987: 148-9). While plantation land was acquired relatively easily, there were serious labour problems. It was even proposed that Indian labour be introduced, as it had been in Fiji. This move was, however, eventually vetoed by the British government. In fact the shortage of Solomon Islander labour brought about greatly improved conditions of indenture by the 1920s, as the country's economy depended on a satisfactory labour supply. However, the labour shortage remained acute. By 1923, Levers had only managed to cultivate 20,000 of its 400,000 acres, unable to expand because of this problem. Further requests were made to import Indian or Chinese labour, opposed by the Australian government afraid of having any large numbers of Asians close to their shores. From the beginning, in 1897, labour contracts were limited to two years, all employment licences being issued by the Resident Commissioner. However, up until the 1920s labour conditions were far from satisfactory, with much brutality on the part of the European overseers. In addition, before 1914 there was no judicial commissioner to try such cases. Labour recruitment for Queensland had ended in 1906, and for Fiji in 1911. In the early years returnees were unwilling to engage to work in "Roviana", as the western Solomons were generally known at that period. Their place was taken by adolescent boys, mainly from Malaita, happy to work for as little as from 5 to 10 shillings a month. The old hands had been earning up to £50 a year at the end of the colonial recruiting period, and were understandably disgruntled and unhappy to re-engage in the Solomons. From 1921 to 1923 the government introduced a head-tax of £1 per year on all able-bodied men between 16 and 60, which tax was regarded by many Solomon Islanders as simply a means to guarantee the maximum labour supply by forcing men from poor areas like Malaita to seek employment on the plantations. Labour numbers were fairly steady, see Figure 7 (Indentured Labourers on Solomon Islands plantations 1911-1940), reaching 6,000 between 1910 and 1920 and rising to about 6,500 in any one year. The majority of then

342 Chapter 8 were drawn from the poorer areas, Malaita and southern Guadalcanal, as indicated above. The first census of the Solomon Islands, conducted in 1931, showed that Malaita, which supplied 68% of plantation labour, had a population of 40,000. As about 4,000 men were away working on plantations, 10% of the adult male population was absent in any one year. This figure was unacceptably high, since at the same period the Papua New Guinea government limited the percentage to 7% in order to preserve village life (Bennett 1987: 165). During the period 1913-1940, Malaita provided 68% of plantation labour, Guadalcanal 16% and San Cristobal 6%. The main incentives for recruits were trade goods and cash, which were brought home and distributed to the family, who in turn would provide shell money and traditional valuables to pay the bride price so that the returnee could marry. This pattern had been long established during the overseas labour trade. Bennett remarks (1987: 173) that there was a Malaitan at the centre of almost every dispute, naturally enough as they constituted over two-thirds of the labour force in the Solomons. They constantly tried to impose their values on labourers from other islands, especially married men from Guadalcanal and San Cristobal who took their wives with them to plantations in northern Guadalcanal and the western Solomons. Indentured labourers had limited contact with villagers, except for markets, which were generally held at the plantation rather than in the village. However, casual labourers would often bring indentured men home with them at the weekends. The lingua franca on the plantations was, of course, Solomons Pidgin, well-established even before the end of overseas labour recruiting. Bennett reports that "at least two-thirds of the people of the Solomons had to rely on the plantations and associated activities for getting the money they wanted to buy trade goods and, after 1921-1923, to pay their tax" (1987: 185). Figure 8 (Employment patterns of male informants) shows that men from San Cristobal and Guadalcanal worked on ships more than three times as often as men from Malaita. Nearly all of them came from coastal villages and were familiar with the sea. The majority of the Malaitans came from bush villages and migrated to the coast as they converted to Christianity. Their only real employment possibility was working on the plantations.

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

343

Table 35. Numbers of recruits in the Solomon Islands 1915-1940

Year

Labour at start of year

Recruits for year

Total labour employed

1915 1916 1917 1918 1919 1920 1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 1931 1932 1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939 1940

1,403

2,855

4,255

—

2,303 2,898 3,462

—

1,967 1,888 2,028

—

4,270 4,786 5,490 —

4,182 3,743 3,964 3,704 3,509 3,703 3,755 3,840 3,166 3,454 3,189 2,187 2,430 3,410 1,871 2,109 2,059 2,560 2,478 2,278

2,668 2,400 2,188 2,062 2,232 2,665 2,360 2,176 2,005 1,909 1,112 1,726 1,103 1,163 1,122 1,146 1,264 1,129 1,015 1,023

6,796 6,143 6,152 5,766 5,741 6,368 6,115 6,016 5,171 5,363 4,301 3,913 3,583 3,578 3,096 3,457 3,607 3,993 3,796 3,459

(Source: Bennett 1987: 176, derived from Chapman & Pirie 1974)

The plantations were an important locus for the development and spread of Pidgin. From the beginning the Pidgin brought back from Queensland was the lingua franca, reinforced by the employment of Queensland returnees along with new recruits. Gradually Solomons Pijin stabilised and took on its distinctive characteristics, used as a daily language by thousands of Solomon Islanders on the plantations and on inter-island shipping, and also

344 Chapter 8 as a lingua franca by the South Sea Evangelical Mission (SSEM) and by some members of the Catholic mission. While copra was the predominant industry in the Solomons prior to World War II, it underwent a period of great difficulty during the Depression of the 1930s, as did the industry in Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides ). The indentured labour force was reduced by almost 50%. Many plantations closed down, especially the smaller ones, while the larger operators such as Levers consolidated, working only their most productive plantations. The small holders gradually went to the wall, their leases being in many cases taken over by large companies such as Burns Philp and Carpenters (who set up as wholesalers and retailers in the Solomons in 1922) or heavily indebted to them. As Bennett records: "The day of the small planter was all but past" (1987: 225). In 1940 85% of all alienated land in the Solomons remained uncultivated. In 1941, at the outbreak of World War II in the Pacific, the following commercial plantations were listed for the Solomon Islands: Table 36. Commercial plantations in the Solomon Islands 1941 Plantations of principal owners Burns Philp

Levers

Others Carpenters

Smaller companies

Shortland Islands Alu Balalai Bambagiai Faisi Harapa Kamaleai Kepiai Kokonai Lagugu Laomona Lofang Nusave Orlofi Parolang Piru Saeghangmono Taukuna

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975 Choiseul Luti

Choiseul Bay

Salakana

Nananggo

Vaghena

Tambatamba

Western New Georgia Emu Harbour

Logha

Aena

Malosova

Popomuana

Bagga Joroveto Jurio Liapari Mundi Mundi Panapagha Ruruvai Turovilu Island Turovilu Point Vori

Eastern New Georgia Tetepare

Arundel

Hamarae

Kenelo

Kinda

Kerekana

Karungarao

Lukuru

Lady Lever

Lalauru

Mbanga

Pauru

Lilihina

Seghe

Rendova Hbr

Mahoro

Stanmore

Mbareho

Vila

Ngarengare Salakalala Tinge

Russell Islands Faiami

Nasan

Kaylan

Nono

Linggatu

Talina

Loavie

Yandina

Mbanika Pepesala Samata Ufaon West Bay

345

346 Chapter 8 Guadalcanal Hoilava

Kukum

Aruliho

Lavuro

Lungga

Gavaga

Nughu

North I.

Ivatu

Rere

Ruavatu

Kaukau

Ruaniu

Symons I.

Kokomuruka

Taievo

Taivu

Mamara

Tavanipupu

Manisagheva

Tenaru

Maraunia Mberande Muvia Ndoma Paruru Tambalego Tanaemba Tenavatu Tuvu

Santa Isabel Estrella Bay

Ghatere

Floakora

Fera

Ghojoruru

Guguha

Haevo

Papatura

Huhurangi

Suavanao

Papari

Malaita Baunani Fulo Manaba Su'u San Cristobal Boroni

Cape Surville

Maru

Hawa

Waimarae

Maro'u

Three Sisters

Waiae Waimamura Waimasi

(Source: Bennett 1987: 233-235)

Colonial days: History of contacts 1906-1975

347

World War II had a profound effect on the Solomons and on Solomon Islanders. In March 1942 the Japanese occupied the Shortland Islands and by May of the same year they had reached as far south-east as Tulagi and northern Guadalcanal. Thousands of Allied troops were engaged, Americans, Australians and New Zealanders, with Americans by far the most numerous. In two days, 7-9 August 1942, for example, 10,000 US troops landed on Guadalcanal. Malaita, San Cristobal and Santa Cruz were not invaded, and many of the recruits for the Solomon Islands Labour Corps were drawn from those islands. Recruiting began in mid-1943 and recruit numbers reached a maximum at any one time of approximately 2,500. Many other islanders worked as coast-watchers for the Allied forces. The intense and sustained interaction between Solomon Islanders and the Allies reinforced the value of Pidgin as a language of wider communication, quite apart from its preeminent role among Solomon Islanders involved in the War effort. After the War, the plantations were never the same again. As the administration gradually put itself together again, many Solomon Islanders were encouraged to take over and work some of the smaller copra plantations, and copra production gradually rose. But the War changed the Solomons forever, in that the Solomon Islanders no longer in awe of their erstwhile British masters became pre-occupied with establishing their own identities, gradually moving towards self-government and ultimately independence in 1978.

Chapter 9 Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

9.1.

Overall language situation at the beginning of the 20th century

By the beginning of the twentieth century, English-based Pacific pidgins had achieved a fair degree of stability right throughout Island Melanesia. While there was a commonality in terms of morpho-syntax,64 significant lexical differences had developed between the three main regions. For New Guinea Tok Pisin incorporated quite a number of lexical items not shared by the pidgin varieties spoken in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu, reflecting their somewhat different histories (discussed below). Laycock (1970: 115) estimates that Tok Pisin acquired roughly four per-cent of its lexicon from German and ten per-cent from Tolai, the Austronesian language spoken around Rabaul in New Britain (the hub of the labour trade between German New Guinea and German Samoa). It should also be remembered that present-day Papua New Guinea supplied very little labour to Queensland (roughly 3,000 men over two years in the mid-1880s). (For details see previous chapters.) In fact, these labourers, drawn largely from the islands off the the south-eastern tip of Papua (but not exclusively) are considered to have spoken a variety of pidgin known as Papuan Pidgin English (Mühlhäusler 1978b), which was gradually replaced by Hiri Motu in Papua, and merged with Tok Pisin in the German-administered Bismarck Archipelago. There was, then, a generally uniform Pacific Pidgin spoken throughout Island Melanesia by the time that labour recruiting stopped, in 1906 in Queensland, and as late as 1911 in Fiji and 1914 in Samoa. This linguistic situation was exemplified at length in the previous chapter and will not be treated further here. What is noteworthy is that in spite of increasing uniformity, there was still some variation, competing forms within the same idiolect, for example tasol and nomo 'only', tumas and very 'very'. Some common competing forms/variants noted in the language data from that period are as follows (see also Chapter 8):

64. And also some differences, detailed below, 9.5.

350 Chapter 9 meri tumas disfala tasol

woman w< very ia nomo nc

'woman' 'very' 'this, that' 'only'

What is significant is that Vanuatu Bislama, Solomons Pijin, and to a lesser extent Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin differentiated from one another principally in the twentieth century after the overseas recruiting period had finished. As we saw in Chapters 6 and 8, above, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw the development of plantations in all three areas (New Hebrides, Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea) as European colonies were established there. And in the colonies the principle of not working as plantation labour on one's home island or home region was almost universally invoked. Slowly increasing numbers of Melanesians were employed in a variety of occupations which brought together speakers of a great variety of mother-tongues, so creating an environment which fostered the development and expansion of the three major English-based Pacific pidgins. There was a notable lack of communication between Vanuatu, the Solomons and Papua New Guinea between World War I and the 1970s, so providing an environment which resulted in different linguistic choices being made in the three areas. This led to a differentiation between the three pidgins, to the point that they became individually quite distinctive. Indeed at times they lost their mutually intelligible status in certain contexts. While there were still competing pidgin forms right throughout Vanuatu, the Solomons and Papua New Guinea at the beginning of the twentieth century, as the generalised Pacific Pidgin was brought home from overseas in that state (witness the recordings of the last two New Hebrides labourers in Queensland, Peter Santo and Tom Lammon, see Chapter 7), regionalisms began to emerge in certain areas, largely as a result of local isolation (Tryon 1988). These regionalisms have been largely neutralised today with the much more extensive use of the pidgins on radio, and latterly on television. In the same vein, the three pidgins have been deliberately used as vehicles for nation-building in the newly emergent independent states of Vanuatu, Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea, adding pressure for standardisation.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 351

9.2.

New Hebrides (Vanuatu)

As we saw in Chapter 6, by 1900 there were already forty colonial plantations and agricultural enterprises, mainly run by French planters, in operation in what was then the New Hebrides, with 6,000 hectares under cultivation. At that time the major crops were coffee, cocoa, maize and copra. At the same time many ni-Vanuatu (indigenous New Hebrideans) produced copra on their own account, and even acted as agents for European planters. The language of plantation and associated maritime life was Bislama, which Pionnier's work65 demonstrates was not only a stabilised code by well before the turn of the century, but was very much recognisable as Bislama. During the twentieth century, Bislama was to continue to take on a character of its own and further differentiate from Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin in what is today Papua New Guinea. The Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides was established in 1906, accompanied by a rapid increase in European settlement and plantation development. However, the plantation industry in the then New Hebrides had always suffered from a shortage of labour, due previous to this period to competition from overseas recruiters. Nevertheless, Adams (1986: 59) reports that more than 30,000 New Hebrideans had provided labour for the plantations between 1867 and 1922. For the period 19 Π Ι 939 there were some 32,000 indigenous New Hebrideans involved as labour on French and British plantations, the majority of whom worked for the French. At any one time there were between 3,500 and 4,000 New Hebrideans engaged in plantation work for expatriates, steadily, right up until the 1970s. Yet there was always a shortage of labour, in spite of the numbers of niVanuatu (New Hebrideans) recruited, as many refused anything but shortterm contracts, or chose to produce copra on their own account. In response to this situation, in 1919 the French obtained the agreement of the Vietnamese to provide labour for Vanuatu and New Caledonia. Between 1921, when the first indentured labourers arrived in Vanuatu, and 1940, 21,915 Vietnamese were employed on five-year contracts (Bonnemaison 1986). Because of the Great Depression and the crash in commodity prices, the recruitment of Vietnamese labour was suspended between 1931 and 1935, with a corresponding surge in ni-Vanuatu labour on the French plantations.

65. Pionnier (1913), reflecting Bislama spoken in the late 1890s.

352 Chapter 9

As mentioned above, it was the practice of plantation labourers to work outside their home islands. In the period between the two World Wars (1919-1942 in Vanuatu), the majority of plantation labour was engaged for work on Efate in central Vanuatu. However, by the late 1930s there was a major shift, as more than two-thirds of all recruits were engaged to work on the northern islands of Santo, Malo and Aore. In terms of the sources of plantation labour in Vanuatu, Bedford & Schlomowitz (1987) record that 35% came from the islands of Pentecost, Maewo and Ambae, 16% from Malakula, 17% from Ambrym and Paama, and 15% from the Banks Islands in the far north of the group. A detailed account of the destinations of ni-Vanuatu plantation recruits was given in Chapter 8. All that need be said at this point is that there was a great mixing of labourers from all over Vanuatu, with the exception of the southern islands, Erromango, Tanna and Aneityum, which area had been principally involved in the pre-Condominium days. This situation created a favourable environment for the further development of an English-based pidgin distinct from those crystallising in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. There was no single dominant recruiting area in Vanuatu corresponding to the Bismarck Archipelago in today's Papua New Guinea, whose languages contributed more than 10% of the lexicon of Tok Pisin. However, in Vanuatu there developed a large number of indigenous terms for local flora and fauna, kinship and address terms, body parts, food items and cultural items, perhaps 5% of the vocabulary of Bislama (see Crowley 1990: 151163). These items are unique to Vanuatu pidgin and play an important role in establishing the distinctiveness of Bislama, more so perhaps than morpho-syntactic peculiarities.66 Some typical examples: nabangga nakaria nakato nakavika namalao namalok namambe namarae

'Moreton Bay fig, Ficus sp.' 'peace leaves, Codiaeum variegatum' 'hermit crab' 'Malay apple, Eugenia malaccensis' 'megapod, Megapodium freycinef 'kava, Piper methysticum' 'Tahitian chestnut, Inocarpus edulis' 'freshwater eel'

66. Morpho-syntactic differences between Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin will be discussed later in this chapter.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 353 nambembe namele nandao nangae nanggalat naora narave natalae nasiko natanggura natongtong navara nawimba nawita

'butterfly' 'cycad, Cycas circinalis' 'Lychee fruit, Litchi chinensis' 'Canarium almond, Canarium indicum' ' stinging nettle, Dendrocnide spp.' 'crayfish, prawn' 'hermaphrodite pig' 'giant clam' 'kingfisher, Halcyon chloris' 'sago palm, Metroxylon warburgiV 'mangrove, Rhizophora spp.' 'sprouting coconut' 'Pacific pigeon, Ducula pacificcC 'squid, octopus'

It will have been noted that all of the above items begin with na-, the definite article in most Vanuatu vernaculars. While the majority of Bislama borrowings from the vernaculars are prefixed with na-, there are many forms which never take it, as for example: konkon lisefsef malmal masing slou tawian tuluk

'bitter' 'leprechaun' 'naked, wearing traditional dress' 'love magic, sorcery' 'carved wooden dish' 'in-law' 'individual puddings containing meat'

Crowley (1990) has made valiant, but largely unsuccessful, efforts to identify the individual source languages for the Vanuatu-derived lexicon of Bislama. He has shown that there was major input from the languages of north Efate and the neighbouring Shepherd Islands, an important plantation centre up until the 1930s, with Maewo, Ambae and Pentecost languages a significant potential secondary source (Crowley 1990: 169), although the forms in the latter group generally lack initial na-. Nineteenth century records suggest strongly that the Melanesian contribution to the Bislama lexicon in all probability took place in the twentieth century, as only very rare and late examples occur in the literature prior to that period.

354 Chapter 9 French was another important contributor to the Bislama lexicon, some estimates putting the figure as ranging between 6% and 12%, depending on one's interpretation of whether certain items have a French or English source. Indeed, sometimes there are English-derived and French-derived synonyms for the same item in Bislama. But first, let us consider the unequivocally French-derived borrowings. These fall into a number of categories including machinery, food, house-keeping, commerce, and maritime terms. Some examples will give the flavour: Bislama arier busi kamiong kaojuk lapul lasi masut moto sude laglas lakrem lasos ragu sobe sos tomat

French arriere bougie camion caoutchouc Γ ampoule la scie mazout moto souder la glace la creme la sauce ragoüt sorbet sauce tomate

'(go in) reverse' 'sparkplug' 'truck' 'rubber' 'light globe' 'saw' 'diesel' 'motor-cycle' 'to weld' 'ice cream' 'icing, filling' 'sauce' 'stew' 'sorbet' 'tomato sauce'

kabine kokot pubel rato rido robine tapi

cabinet cocotte poubelle räteau rideau robinet tapis

'toilet' 'saucepan' 'rubbish bin' 'rake' 'curtain' 'tap' 'carpet'

avans debi farmasi lakes lape profile

avance debit pharmacie la caisse la paie profiter

'advance on salary' 'charge goods to an account' 'chemist shop' 'cash register' 'salary, wages' 'take advantage'

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

karong kokias lagon manggru pilot

carangue coquillage lagon maquereau pilote

355

'trevally' 'shellfish' 'lagoon' 'mackerel' 'pilot'

It is fairly clear that nearly all of these items, and the same may be said of French borrowings into Bislama in general, entered Bislama in the early twentieth century, probably by 1930. Again, this is part of the general pattern of twentieth century differentiation of the generalised Melanesian Pidgin of the late nineteenth century. It is interesting to observe that there are more and more English-derived synonyms for French-derived borrowings in Bislama, especially since independence in 1980, as the role of French has diminished in Vanuatu. Consider, for example: Bislama ariko avoca broset farmasi kokot pubel robine

French haricot avocat brochette pharmacie cocotte poubelle robinet

Bislama bin batafrut stik-mit dragstoa sospen tin doti tap

English bean butter+fruit stick+meat drugstore saucepan tin + dirty tap

French influence on Bislama has declined since Vanuatu attained its independence in 1980, due perhaps to exclusively anglophone governments between 1980-1991, perhaps also reflecting the greater number of Englishmedium schools throughout the country. Bislama, then, had pretty much developed its major morpho-syntactic characteristics by the beginning of the twentieth century, but went on to add a significant number of borrowings from local Vanuatu vernaculars and French as the century progressed. Let us examine a few samples from the written record to see what the literature tells us about its development. Of course one must constantly bear in mind that the quality of the observations varies enormously, from excellent Bislama speakers and daily users such as Jacomb, to passing travel writers whose recall of Bislama is at times rather fanciful. The first citations reflecting twentieth century Bislama come from Beatrice Grimshaw, as follows:

356 Chapter 9 1907: Head belong him, he break plenty. He tell me takeum cutter big-fellow hospital, Ambrym. We tell: "What-name we go Ambrym, you no good, you dead. " He tell: "no, all-right. " By-n '-by he speak wantum one-fellow water; we give. No wantum now. By-n '-by he go finish (died). (1907: 225) (Malekulan) Mary belong Malekula man, she carry yam all-a-time. Yam he break very quick, suppose you no put him down very good. You make him capsize, that fellow yam; All-α Malekula man he say "That-fellow Mary he no savvy carry yam ". He plenty laugh. (1907: 239) Very good, you no go firs'; that-fellow stop behin'. By-n '-by he go on, then you coming. (1907: 240) He plenty good ki-ki, one-fellow man. Plenty good, Misi. All-same one-fellow chicken. (1907: 245) Yes, Ikillum all-right. (1907: 250) I think you wantum one-fellow head? Oh, he all-right, he right (....) plenty all-right, I tell you! Pappa belong me, he go finish yes 'erday, and I bring-him head; I think you give me big-fellow tobacco! (1907: 260) (Whyd'you want arrows?) For killum man. (1907: 272) I no think that-fellow he make bad misinari: I think he plenty cross that schooner no take-him come him friend. (1907:273) (Beatrice Grimshaw: From Fiji to the Cannibal Islands (1907)) Grimshaw provides this sample of Bislama, just after the turn of the century, attributed to a speaker from Malakula, in central Vanuatu. While it approximates to samples from, say, the 1880s, see Chapter 7, it represents a much more literary version of the language than Pionnier, whose Bislama67 of the 1890s, also from Malakula, very closely resembles late twentieth century varieties.

67. See Chapter 8.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 357 1908: The following is a letter written by a Tanna man who had been to Queensland, published by the Rev. Campbell Nicholson: The man came to me with his plausible explanation of his conduct, which was to the effect that he was merely trying to teach the people a new fashion in regard to getting a wife. He wanted the custom of giving a feast and presents to the wife's relations abolished. Said he, in pigeon English: People he no like me because I teach them fashion of God. You savee God? He make one fellow man, Adam. He want to give woman along Adam. He make one fellow woman along bone belong Adam. He make woman finish. He give him along Adam; but He no speak along Adam and say "Very good. You pay one fellow pig, you make one fellow kaikai (feast) along woman." No. God He no speak all the same. He give woman along Adam belong nothing. Very good; man Tanna he make him all the same. With our united kind regards, Yours sincerely, J. Campbell Nicholson 14 May 1908. Quarterly Jottings No.62 (Oct 1908): This text, published in the 1908 edition of the Quarterly Jottings of the Presbyterian Church in the New Hebrides, very much recalls both the style and the content of similar letters and sermons from the Queensland canefields, the Queensland Kanaka Mission, cited in Chapter 7, rather than twentieth century Bislama. 1914: The following are a series of Bislama examples written by Edward Jacomb, who acted as interpreter at the Joint Court in Port-Vila. That he was a daily and competent speaker of the language is evident from the selection of sentences he uses to illustrate the major characteristics of Bislama in a chapter devoted to that topic in his book France and England in the New Hebrides. This, and his 1929 work, The Joy Court, reveal that the Bislama of the early years of the century was essentially modern Bislama, a Bislama far removed from the romantic imaginings of some other writers with only a passing acquaintance with the language and the country. The following is a selection of his illustrative sentences: Me go.

'Igo.'

You go.

'You go.'

358 Chapter 9

'Im e go.

'He goes.'

Woman e go.

'The woman goes.'

Me feller go. Altogether e go.

'We go.' 'They go.'

You feller go.

'You go.'

Bye and bye me go.

Ί will go.'

Me go finish.

Ί have gone.'

You me go.

'You and I go.' Me two feller go. 'We two go.'

Might me go.

Ί may go.'

(1914: 92)

Long way little bit (Longwe lelebet) Long way too much (Longwe tumas)

'Quite far.' 'Very far.'

(1914: 93)

Kai-kai 'estop. Master 'e no stop.

'Dinner is ready.' 'My master is out.'

Altogether man 'e look 'im arm belong 'im 'e sore: 'e stop. 'Everyone's arms were hurting them, and remain sore still.' What name boy 'e make? Έ no make something; 'e stop. 'What work does that native do? He remains at home and attends to his own private business.' Me no want 'im. Ί don't want it.' (1914: 93)

You 'ear 'im good? 'Do you understand me thoroughly?' Capsize 'im milk 'ere long jug. 'Pour this milk into the jug.' (1914: 94)

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 359 Me throw 'im away all money long store. Ί have spent all my money in the shops.' (cf. Solomons torowe) Me me break 'im. 'Im 'e broke. Ί broke it. It is broken.' Master 'e kill 'im boy long 'and all time. 'My master is continually striking all his labourers with his hand.' Man 'e fight 'im one nail long 'ammer. 'He is knocking in a nail with a hammer.' (1914: 95) Lanish 'e races more. 'The launch runs at a good speed.' Altogether 'e plant 'im finish. 'He has already been buried.' Έ no got. 'There is none.' All 'e talk talk. 'They all talked together.' Me me catch 'im pay belong me finish. Ί have been paid.' (1914: 96) Man 'ere 'e long feller too much. 'This man is extraordinarily tall.' (1914: 97) Plarnty rice, plarnty all thing. Ά lot of rice and other things.' Me me missionary: nother feller man 'ere 'e man belong darkness. Ί am a Christian; this other person is a heathen.' (1914: 98)

360 Chapter 9 You go take 'im one feller something 'e stop along room belong me, 'e stop 'long big feller bokis close up long window. 'Im 'e belong make mark long paper: 'im 'e black: 'im 'e small feller; all time you look 'im me make mark along paper along 'im. 'Go and get my pen out of the chest of drawers in my room.' (1914: 99) Me sign belong one yam no more. Ί have only engaged for one year.' Master 'e pay 'im me feller long moon all time. 'My employer pays us once a month.' (1914: 100) What name you make 'im all same? 'Why did you do it like this?' Which way? 'Why?' (1914: 101) Me me sign back again. Ί re-engaged.' (1914: 102) Jacomb's attitude to Bislama is conveyed in his closing statement: As has been stated above, Pidgin-English does not pretend to be a complete language. It is merely a makeshift to enable persons talking widely different languages to converse together on common matters of business and everyday life. This function it fulfils admirably, and every official - senior or junior alike - in the New Hebrides services should be compelled to learn it thoroughly. (1914: 104) (E. Jacomb: France and England in the New Hebrides, 1914) 1923: The following is a selection of extracts from a comic skit, which appeared as an appendix to Bohun Lynch's famous Isles of Illusion : Letters 1912-1920. In spite of its comic intent, the dialogue gives a fair impression of Bislama as it was spoken in the islands outside the main centre, Port Vila, in the decade 1910-1920, as follows:

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

361

A: W: A:

Goude Master. Goude Aboh. You go where? No. Me walk 'bout no more. You, you go where?

W:

Me come long Ambrym longa lannitch. Me want pay 'im some somethin' longa store longa Mis Collins. Oright. Gooby. Me, me stop.

A: W: A: W: A: W: A: W: A: A: W: A: W: A: W: A: W:

'Ere. Which way longa Mis Collins? 'Im 'e no stop. Yiss. Missis b 'long 'im 'e no stop? Yiss. Two feller'e go where? Two feller 'e go Vila finish. Which way you no bin tell 'im out? Me, me bin go longa store. Me sing out, me sing out. No. Me no sabby. Two feller 'e go long picnini man-war. Capman 'e bin take 'im 'e go? Yiss. Longa what? You no bin haar 'im? Yiss. Me no harra nothin. Me come now 'ere no more. Mis Collins 'e bin make wha 'name? 'Im 'e bin killa one boy. 'Im 'e kill 'im dead finish?

W:

Mis Collins 'e bin kill 'im long hand b 'long him? No, 'e bin kill 'im longa one wood?

W: A:

Wha 'name white man? Έ no got white man longa Liro. No. Έ got. 'Im 'e no white man all same you-feller. 'Im 'e black. 'Im 'e no boy.

W:

Me no sabby talk Frennich. Me no man oui-oui.

W: D:

You stop long time longa Liro? Yiss; 'e long time little bit. Four moon 'e go finish now.

362 Chapter 9

W: D:

You you stop where beefore? Me me stop Vila beefore. Me bin work two yam longa Ballande.

W:

You you stop time Mis Collins 'e bin shoot 'im Jack?

D: W:

Yiss; me bin stop long house long Harry. Oright; you tell 'im out; you storyan.

D:

Oright. More better you me two-feller sit down.

D:

No; 'im 'e no fright. Έ got big-feller sea longa beach. 'Im 'e no sabby come ashore. 'Im 'e sing out "You wait. Byumby to-morrer me come talk long you back again. You wan — too. " (Bohun Lynch: Isles of Illusion·.^ Letters 1912-1920)

1927: In Alexander's From the Middle Temple to the South Seas (1927) there appears a letter from a ni-Vanuatu associated with the Presbyterian Mission at Burumba on Epi, dated 1907. The Bislama in the letter reflects a very anglicised style compared with the extracts from Jacomb and Lynch cited above. A letter from a New Hebridean to his father in Fiji. Burumba Mission Station, Epi 10/7/07 Dear Jimmie Moariki, Me want you to come home quick but ifyou no savvy come you send me one letter. If you send one letter you send it to the missionary at Burumba. One man name belong him Vaka he been send one letter along you he want you stop Fiji but we all want you to come back. Wife and your children belong you want you to come back quick. Me Salii been stop Santo me come home now and me send this letter to you. From Your true son, Salii. (1927: 215) (G. Alexander: From the Middle Temple to the South Seas)

1929: In 1929 Edward Jacomb published a hilarious play, The Joy Court, which was a parody of the judicial system under the Anglo-French Condominium government of the then New

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 363 Hebrides. While it was trenchant at times in its comments on the colonial administration, Jacomb has a sympathetic attitude to indigenous New Hebrideans (ni-Vanuatu), and to Bislama, which, as we saw above, he regards as indispensable for living in the country. Here is a very brief extract: Name belong me Tom. Me belong Umba. Me belong Frenchis polis. Commandan' belong me feller been go kai kai long ouse belong one fellow master. Me two feller Jack been go widim Commandan'. Time me feller altogether been come back Commandan' e gammon sick. Ε gammon e sick along belly belong im. Ε stop. Byambye im e race e go long small feller ouse belong Mr.Hughes. Byambye im e sing out long me two feller. Me two feller go. Im e slack im matches. Ε speak me feller look look. Me feller look look me feller no look im something. Byambye im e speak allez me feller go. Me feller go. Commandan ' e speak tin e full up. Ε gammon. 'My name is Tom. I am from Ambae. I'm a member of the French police. Our commandant went to eat at the house of a European. Jack and I went with the commandant. When we all came back, the commandant pretended he was sick. He pretended he had stomach trouble. Time passed. After a while he rushed to Mr Hughes' toilet. Later he called out to us. We went. He struck a match and told us to look. We looked but we didn't see anything. Then he said all right we'll go. So off we went. The commandant said the can was full. He was lying.' (Jacomb 1929: 29) Me feller no savvy nother feller something. 'We don't know anything else.' (Jacomb 1929: 30) 1933-35: In 1937 the British anthropologist Tom Harrisson wrote Savage civilisation, being mainly an account of his experiences on the northern island of Espiritu Santo. Regrettably, he views Bislama as an amusement rather than a wellestablished lingua franca, as is reflected in the following: Belly belong me feller 'e sing out, 'e 'ear 'im no good, 'e want 'im kaikai 'e go long 'im. Ί am hungry.' (1937: 145)

364 Chapter 9 Έ good, you me give 'im one something along belly belong you me, allsame belly belong you mi, 'e no sing out back again. 'We should eat.' (1937: 145) Me want 'im kaikai. Ί am hungry.' (1937: 145) Έ no close up, 'e no long way too much. 'It's not near and it's not far.' (1937: 145) Man 'e no can savvy. Might you me catch 'im quick time. Might sun 'e dead along road. 'One can't know. Maybe we will reach there quickly or maybe the sun will go down on the way.' (1937: 146) You me no savvy. Might you me find 'im one place belong sleep along road. Might you me go go go go long road where 'e dark too much. My word, suppose allsame me no like 'im. 'We don't know. Maybe we'll find a place to sleep along the way. Maybe we'll go along a very dark road. My word! If that's the case I don't like it.' (1937: 146) (Tom Harrisson, Savage civilisation 1937) During World War II, which began for Vanuatu in May 1942, some 10,000 ni-Vanuatu were conscripted to work with the allied troops on short-term contracts, mainly in Efate and Espiritu Santo. This had a marked effect on traditional life. With the mass exodus of men from the villages, gardens were often completely neglected, with the result that many families depended on the pay packets of relatives working for the Americans. The War was considered a boom time by the ni-Vanuatu, propelling many of them into a permanent cash economy. However, its effect on Bislama was not significant. A few new items of wartime origin found their way into the Bislama lexicon, words such as jiptrak 'jeep', hanbom 'hand-grenade', sikis wil 'military truck', Poen Doti 'Million Dollar Point' and Namba Sikis

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'prison' (from the area in Port Vila known during World War II as Number In the first few years of the post-war period, copra prices were high, with plantation wages rising steeply. Ni-Vanuatu preferred to work on their own account, with roughly 50% of copra exports coming from ni-Vanuatu owned and run plantations. This brought about an acute shortage of labour, leading to the importing of foreign labour from Tahiti, and Wallis and Futuna (for the French plantations) and from Kiribati, the former Gilbert Islands (for the British plantations). Gradually copra production gave way to other industries, such as cattle raising and fisheries, with a major surge in the development of the two major urban centres, Port Vila and Santo (Luganville) during the 1960s and 70s (see Chapter 8). Before we move on to the modern period and a consideration of Bislama today, it should be observed that Bislama was not only a lingua franca between ni-Vanuatu in this Pacific island state of more than one hundred local vernaculars. During the days of the Condominium it was also used as a means of communication between French and British planters especially, and also between British and Vietnamese. Since independence in 1980 nearly all of the expatriate planters have either retired or left the country, as land reverted to the traditional land-owners. The following is a letter written in the early 1950s by a French planter to his English-speaking planter friend on holiday in Australia: Santo Le 2.5.51 Master Robbie, Me wantim thankim you too much for cigares where you present long me. You good fella man for him you not forget long me. Long time me no look you. I thing all girls and scotch whisky he holding you tight too much long Sydney him ere which way you no come look me fella long place here. By by me fella send him goe some breadfruit more yam more taro withim Master Ο 'Keefe along Morinda for im he no get chance blong sendim along avion. Piconini blong you he salt meat too much along A i'sse me thing he no long you one grandmama.

68. The normal Bislama word for 'prison' is kalabus\ namba sikis is current Bislama slang.

366 Chapter 9 Bill he good fella man, he no drink noting, him he savy work too much. Now here him he stop work him one place belongfoul for him he want kai'ka'i egg more I wait long small fella rooster blong come back all same me savy come look you blong me want him walkabaut small long Sydney. Me give him Master Kiss Solway letter him blong girl too you. More him he savy tell him all storay blong Santo. Τ. H. him he more jew than before him he robe him mi fella plenty. Big fella shak hand A.M. Masta Robbie, 'Thank you very much for the cigars which you gave me as a present. You are a good man because you haven't forgotten me. It's a long time since I've seen you. I think maybe the girls and the Scotch whisky are keeping you in Sydney. That's why you haven't been to visit us here. We will send some breadfruit and yams and taro with Mr. O'Keefe on the Morinda since I haven't had a chance to send them by plane. Your lad is playing up on Aisse. I reckon it won't be long until you're a grandfather. Bill is a good man. He doesn't drink and he works hard. At present he's building a fowl-yard because he would like to eat eggs. I'm waiting to get a rooster and then I can come and visit you as I'd like to take a little trip to Sydney. I have given Kiss Solway the letter. He is with your daughter. So he can tell you what's going on in Santo. T.H. is more of a Scrooge than before. He is robbing us blind. Warm greetings A.M.' Since the 1970s Bislama has been called upon to fill an expanding variety of roles, with the development of politics, independence and government. Today it is the first language of several thousand ni-Vanuatu in urban areas. It continues to expand and develop to meet the increasing needs of the population. A final specimen will serve as an illustration of modern Bislama: 69 69. No commentary on the morphology and syntax of Bislama, Solomon Pijin or Tok Pisin is provided here as it is not germane to the main purpose of this book. Readers are referred to detailed analyses by Charpentier (1979), Tryon (1987) and Crowley (1990) for Bislama; Keesing (1988) for Solomons Pijin; Mühlhäusler (1979) and Wurm & Mühlhäusler (1985) for Tok Pisin.

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Mifala i go wok antap long pies blong Chapuis long pies blong plen nao. Mifala i katem wan nambangga, hem i bigfala samting! Mifala i katem ol rus blong hem i go i go i go i kasem wan wik. Kasem wan wik nambangga ia i brok. Nambangga ia i brok i foldaon olsem ia, rus blong hem i go antap. Wan man hem i klaemap i go stap antap long rus blong hem be ol Amerika ia oli kam nao, ale oli tekem pija blong hem. Taem mifala i brekem finis i foldaon long graon olgeta oli kam, oli putum danamaet long hem. Danamaet ia i faerap i brekbrekem olgeta nambangga ia i flae wanwan smolsmol pis. Finis, ale buldos i kam i pusum i go longwe. Oli kapsaetem bensin long hem. Oli bonem i laet. (Joshua, Malakula) Lamont Lindstrom & James Gwero (eds.), Big Wok: Storian blong Wol Wo Tu long Vanuatu (1998: 62). 'We went to work up at the Chapuis (plantation), at what is now an airstrip. We cut down a banyan tree, it was a giant! We cut away at the roots of the tree for a week. After a week the banyan gave way. The banyan was broken and fell down like so, its roots were sticking up in the air. One man climbed up and stood on top of the roots and the Americans came and took a picture of him. When we had broken down the tree and it had fallen on the ground they came and put dynamite under it. The dynamite exploded and blew the banyan into small pieces which flew all over the place. After that a bulldozer came and pushed it out of the way. Then they poured petrol on it and set fire to it.'

9.3.

Solomon Islands

The recording of twentieth century Solomons Pijin, especially the earlier decades, has been left mainly to travellers and adventurers such as Jack London, Hopkins, Collinson and Mytinger. As we will see, their recall is far from perfect, as was their control of the language. Consider the following examples: 1907 Harry he gammon along him all the time too much. I like him 6 tin biscuit, 4 bag rice, 24 tin bullamacow. Me like him 2 rifle, me savee look out along boat, some place me go man he no good, he kaikai along me. "Peter" 'Harry lied to him all the time. I would like 6 tins of biscuits, 4 bags of rice, 24 tins of corned beef. I would like two rifles, I can look after boats, some places that I go people are evil, they could eat me.' (London: The cruise of the Snark; 1911: 274) (Santa Ana)

368 Chapter 9 Me fright along you too much. Ί am very frightened of you.' (London 1911: 275) (unspecified) What name you sing out along me? 'Why did you call out to me?' (London 1911:276) (unspecified) 1910s All Mala belong of me. Me very great king, and me look after you so no man-o '-bush kill you. 'All of Malaita belongs to me. I am a very great king and I will look after you so that no bushmen kill you.' (Hopkins 1928: 155) (Malaita) 1920s You savvy, Master - me want him this fella something along make him white fella trouser belong you stand up strong fella - all-thesame stove-pipe. 'You know, Master - I want that product that will make your trousers stand up stiffly - like a stove-pipe.' 'Oh', I said - 'you mean "starch" do you?' Yes! Master, grinned the little imp - me talk all-the-same first time "tarch." 'Yes, Master, grinned the little imp - that's what I said the first time: starch.' (Collinson, Life and laughter 'midst the cannibals·, 1926: 85) (unspecified) 1930s Yas, Mastah? Goddam, fetch-em pickaninny palm leaf. Quick time. 'Yes, Master? Goddam, fetch a small palm-leaf. Quickly.' All right...now fight-em mosquito 'long table strong fella. 'All right.. .now hit the mosquito on the table hard.' (Mytinger, Headhunting in the Solomon Islands around the Coral Sea; 1942: 58) (Malaita) Marie no fright 'long you fella. Him-he fright too much 'long horse. 'Marie is not frighetned of you. She is too frightened of the horse.' (Mytinger 1942: 155) (Guadalcanal)

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Missus savvy pilenty too much. 'Missus knows a great deal.' (Mytinger 1942: 184) (Guadalcanal)

It is not until we come to Horton, whose book The Happy Isles (1965) reflects Solomons Pijin spoken in the late 1930s, that we have any indication of more than a passing familiarity with the language by the author. Even so, the Pijin appears quite anglicised, reflecting something like the Tok Masta variety spoken by expatriate administrators in Melanesia. However, Horton was, in fact, a longtime District Commissioner with a long and sympathetic connection with the Solomon Islands. Shortly after his arrival in Tulagi (the former capital of the Solomons) in the 1930s he reports on a conversation his expatriate host had with a domestic servant: 1937

"Labu", he said, "go long cabin blong altogedder mastah, catch bokkus, take im quick time along Residency ". 'Labu, he said, go to the Europeans' cabin, pick up their luggage and take it quickly to the Residency.' (Horton 1965: 5) (Tulagi) Which way coffee im e no come? Oh, Mastah - me sorry too much - arse piece blong coffee pot im e bugger up finis! 'How come the coffee hasn't come?' 'Oh, Master - I'm very sorry - the bottom of the coffee pot is broken.' (Horton 1965: 16) (Tulagi) Im orright, Mastah - me savvy for look out longa im. 'That's all right, Master - 1 can look after him.' (Horton 1965: 17) (Tulagi) Mr Horton - im e new fella Mastah blong Guberment - im e want im one fella boy blong Bugotu savvy cookie wash im clothes look out im altogedder something good fella - you go look out im one fella boy quick time - savvy? 'Mr Horton - he is a new Government officer - he wants a boy from Bugotu who knows how to cook, wash his clothes and look after

370 Chapter 9 everything properly - go and find him a boy quickly - do you understand?' (Horton 1965: 18) (Tulagi) Where you catch im dis fella, Simeon? Im e stop close up along mission, Mastah, name blong im Robert. Im e savvy cookie likkle bit. Im e say head blong im fas - savvy wash im clothes quick time! 'Where did you find this fellow, Simeon? He lives close to the mission, Master. His name is Robert. He knows how to cook a little. He said that he is smart - he is very quick at washing clothes.' (Horton 1965: 18) (Tulagi) Later Horton began his duties as a touring officer, and provides numerous examples of Solomons Pijin conversations as he recalls them. In fairness it must be said that with the passing of time, and as Horton's exposure to Pijin increases, so to does the quality of his accounts, which begin to approach modern varieties of this lingua franca. Thus, for example: Me fella stop longa Buena Vista tonight! Why you want for stop longa Buena Vista? Im no good catch im Bugotu longa dark too mus reefs! 'We will stop at Buena Vista tonight. Why do you want to stop at Buena Vista? It's no good arriving at Bugotu in the dark, too many reefs.' (Horton 1965: 30) (Tulagi) 1938 What name that one? Name blong im Beilama - im one fella ship blong Gubment - im loose long time over now! 'Which one was that one? That was the Bellama - it is one of the Government ships - it was lost long ago.' (Horton 1965: 36) (Santa Isabel) "Corporal", I said, "take im altogedder horse back along place blong im and make im fence e stop fas. Spose im e break more, you corporal mus take im altogedder horse back longa place blong im ".

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'Corporal, I said, take all the horses back to their proper place and make sure the enclosure is secure. If it breaks again, you, Corporal, will have to take the horses back again to their enclosure.' (Horton 1965: 42) (Santa Isabel) One fella man bin come from Funaba Village, Mastah! What for im e come? Im e say one fella man bin kill im nother fella man. Ά man has come from Funaba village, Master! Why has he come? He says a man has killed another man.' Orright, Corporal, you me fella go catch im this man. Go call im two fella constable - you me four fella go long canoe quick time! 'All right, Corporal, we'll go and catch this man. Go and call two constables - then the four of us will go quickly by canoe.' (Horton 1965: 44) (Santa Isabel) 1938 Mastah, two day over me fella bin find im one fella mary, name blong im Pahesia, im e die finis. Me tink im one fella been kill im finis. What name place dis one bin stop? Im close up longa Sa 'a - might you me look im longa morning? Yes. Im he die long time over? Long time too mus - im stink. You savvy who bin kill im? Me no savvy dat but me fella bin thinkit longa one fella name blong im Saraku. You me talk more long morning. 'Master, two days ago we found a woman called Pahesia; she had died. I think somebody killed her. Where abouts did she live? She lived close to Sa'a - maybe we can have a look at her in the morning? Yes. Did she die long ago? A very long time ago - she stinks. Do you know who killed her? I don't know, but we think it was a fellow called Saraku. We'll talk more about it in the morning.' (Horton 1965: 83) (Malaita)

372 Chapter 9 Mastah - you me talk-talk last night me forget for tell im you dis man Saraku im e die finis. Die finis! Which way e die finis? Altogedder man bin tell im me Saraku go look out flying fokkus along night - now foot blong im e slip - now e fall down neck blong im break. Me been go look im - place im e fall down no good too mus, spose man no look out goodfella im e fall down. 'Master - when we were talking last night, I forgot to tell you that this man Saraku is dead. Dead? How come he is dead? The people told me that Saraku went hunting flying fox at night and his foot slipped - then he fell down and broke his neck. I went to have a look - the place where he fell was very dangerous; if one wasn't careful he could fall down.' (Horton 1965: 113-114) (Malaita) As noted above, Horton's Pijin, in the later exchanges, while a little anglicised, is reasonably close to modern Solomons Pijin, bearing out the principle advanced on a number of occasions in this study, namely that the quality and exactness of the pidgin utterances reported depends very much on the level of competence and experience of the reporter. This brings us to the modern period, for which transcriptions of Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation news broadcasts have been selected as specimens of Solomons Pijin, as follows: 1980 Hem nao national news long SIBC where me bae bae readim come.70 First time, me tallem oketa big samting inside news. Olketa passim budget for next year go through long second reading long Parliament. Oketa sailor and people long Makira oketa i worry about oketa outside ship where oketa lulukim long area. Oketa tallem wan fala member long Parliament for payim fine where hemi 25 dollars. And wan fala group long local people oketa tekem over wan fala plantation.

70. There is no official spelling for Solomons Pijin, nor for Bislama nor Tok Pisin, although a de facto official spelling for each country follows that established by the council of churches in the Solomons, Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea.

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This time me tallem oketa big samting inside news. (Transcript of SIBC News 17.11.1980) 'Here is the national news from the SIBC read by First we begin with the headlines. The debate on the 1981 budget passes through its second reading in Parliament. Sailors and people living on the Makira weathercoast express concern about foreign ships sighted in the area. A member of Parliament fined twenty-five dollars. A group of local people takes over a plantation. Now the news in detail.' 1980 Oketa people who i work long oketa ships long Makira Province and oketa people long weathercoast long Makira ia oketa i worry tumas long oketa ships blong nara country wea oketa i lukim always long area blong oketa. Captain blong ship ia Waimarau, Mr Herbert Lui, hemi talem this one long SIBC long today. Hemi talem that oketa i been lukim plande long oketa ships blong nara country or place starting long this fala year. Hemi talem too that oketa people inside long area i barava worry long this time behind oketa i lukim one fala big fala sabmarine or ship wea hemi save go long underneath sea. Mr Lui talem that oketa i lukim this fala ship wea hemi save stap long inside sea long Thursday long week i go finis. Hemi talem too that time oketa i go long ship ia hemi go under long sea and oketa no save lukim nao. Mr Lui talem too that oketa i no happy that patrol boat blong country i no save go long area blong oketa. Hemi talem that patrol boat ia hemi kasem area blong oketa one time nomore behind hemi kasem country. Hemi talem that patrol boat ia must sam time go long area ia. Hemi likem too people who work blong oketa i deal witim this kind samting for lukluk long hem and doim samting about. 'Sailors and local people around the weather coast of Makira are very worried about foreign ships seen around the area. The Captain of the ship Waimarau, Mr Herbert Lui, told SIBC about this today. He said that these foreign ships have been seen around the area from the beginning of this year. He said that people are more worried about a submarine that has been constantly seen in the area. Mr Lui said that the last time people saw this submarine was on Thursday last week. He said that when they got close to it, it submerged and went away. He complained that a Solomon Islands patrol boat had been to their

374 Chapter 9 area only once since its arrival in the country, and he stressed that it should go there more frequently. He also said that the persons concerned should take note of this matter and do something about it.' (Transcript of SIBC News 17.11.1980)

For Vanuatu Bislama, above, and Tok Pisin, below, it has been shown what the elements were which contributed to their distinctive characteristics during the course of the twentieth century, but especially in the early years of that century, as a common Melanesian Pidgin, brought home from the canefields overseas differentiated into three separate and distinct pidgins, almost but not quite mutually intelligible. As we have seen, Bislama contains a generous leavening of French- and locally-derived lexicon, while Tok Pisin has a good percentage of lexical items derived from Tolai and from German, in addition to the base English-derived lexicon. (We will make some detailed comparisons between the three pidgins later in this chapter.) What, then, is distinctive about Solomons Pijin? How is it immediately recognised as different from the other two English-based Melanesian pidgin languages? The answer is partially negative in that Solomons Pijin contains no vocabulary derived from French, German,71 Tolai and neighbouring New Guinea indigenous languages, nor from the vernacular languages of Vanuatu. Solomons Pijin has, therefore, a higher percentage of English-derived lexicon than either Bislama or Tok Pisin. It does, however, contain a few loanwords from the languages of Malaita, such as araikwao 'European', liu 'idler, layabout', nana 'pus', mamana 'in front of and a number of others, mainly flora and fauna terms, trees and fish species mainly, as well as kandora 'possum', and bina 'hornbill'. It also contains a number of characteristic English-derived words not used in Tok Pisin or Bislama, for example staka 'many' (presumably from "stack of', probably acquired from the American troops during World War II). Other items which are characteristic are: seleni 'money', waka 'work, to work', duim 'to do' (as opposed to mekim/mekem elsewhere), fogud 'very', sek wantaem 'suddenly', waswe? 'how?, how come?'. There are a number of morpho-syntactic markers, too, which make Solomons Pijin 71. There are a few German borrowings, the most obvious one being raos 'to chide, expel' from German raus. This is a result of the fact that the western islands of the Solomons belonged to Germany until 1900. However, since the major local input came from Malaita, foreign influences are very slight.

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immediately distinguishable from Bislama and Tok Pisin, especially the use o f f o , indicating purpose, as in mi hapifo kam Ί am happy to come.' It is not surprising, therefore, that many observers conclude that Solomons Pijin is closer to English than the other two Melanesian pidgins also considered here. As noted above, such a conclusion is true only insofar as Solomons Pijin has a higher percentage of English-derived lexicon than Bislama and Tok Pisin.

9.4.

Papua New Guinea

The twentieth century was crucial for the development of Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin, as it was during this period, particularly the period 1900-1940, that Tok Pisin took on its real distinctiveness, building on its earlier Pacific heritage shared with Solomons Pijin and Bislama, as well as the Samoan plantation experience. Mühlhäusler (1985: 180) sums up the factors influencing the emerging New Guinea Tok Pisin around 1900 as shown in figure 9 below. He considers (1985: 102) that in New Guinea a stabilised variety of Pidgin72 first developed in the New Britain-Duke of York area in the late 1880s. This would correspond grosso modo with evidence for stabilisation in other parts of Melanesia and the overseas plantations. At the same time it is clear that stabilisation was not achieved until some time later in areas of the country such as the interior of the New Guinea mainland. At the beginning of the twentieth century, plantation activity in German New Guinea was flourishing, with forty-nine trading stations recorded in the Bismarck Archipelago in 1899 (Firth 1973: 22). It was in that year that the German Imperial Government took over from the New Guinea Company as administrators of German New Guinea, instituting more efficient business practices, aided by rising copra prices. By 1914 the trading econ-

72. He defines a stabilised pidgin as "a pidgin which is governed by social rules and conventions in a limited domain of human discourse. Its primary function is that of a tool for exchanging information (referential function) rather than expressing the full range of individual feelings and relationships between individuals and society as is the case in more complex languages. Because of its limited functional range a stabilised pidgin is reduced in its lexicon and its grammatical possibilities when compared to languages spoken natively or pidgins used for more complex purposes." (1985: 102)

376 Chapter 9

omy of the earlier years had been transformed into a fully-fledged plantation economy. As we saw in Chapter 8, in the post 1914 period, when German New Guinea had become an Australian Mandated Trust Territory, there was a significant rise in plantation acreage, and by 1921 the number of New Guineans working in plantation and other enterprises had risen to 31,000, twice as many as there were at the outbreak of World War I. Between the Wars, the numbers increased steadily to a constant 40,000 at the beginning of World War II, most being engaged either as plantation or mining labour.

Figure 9. Emerging New Guinea Tok Pisin circa 1900.

There were similar developments in the former British New Guinea, whose government was transferred to the Commonwealth of Australia in 1902, accompanied by a name change, as British New Guinea became the Territory of Papua. Between 1906 and 1914 there were major developments in the copra and rubber industries. However, they were not nearly as successful as on the former German New Guinea side. In 1926, Lewis (1996: 207) reports that only 12,000 tons of copra were produced in the Territory of Papua, compared with the 50,000 tons in the Mandated Territory. However, by 1940 there were 131 copra and 25 rubber plantations operating in

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Papua, all employing indigenous labour. All of these developments created a favourable environment for the spread of Tok Pisin across much of the future Papua New Guinea in the period from roughly 1900-1940. The pidgin spoken during this period has two significant characteristics: it was stabilised, in Mühlhäusler's terms, and it had already integrated many of the features which distinguish Tok Pisin from Solomons Pijin and Bislama. This was due, of course, to its partially separate history (the German and German Samoan experience), but also to the fact that it was retaining features from the more generalised Melanesian pidgin brought home from the overseas plantations, which gradually disappeared and/or were replaced in Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama. Some examples of stabilised New Guinea pidgin from the pre-1920s period are presented as illustrations: The first comes from the papers of the distinguished German linguist and medico, Otto Dempwolff, who has left us some invaluable specimens of early New Guinea Tok Pisin. The first cited here is an anonymous account of a threatened raid: 1911 Night he finish, all kanaka he take-him spear, he take-him banara he go shore, he pull-him canoe along saltwater, he come Madang. All whitemen belong Madang he no save, he stop nothing. Doktor he stop Beliao, he limlimbur nothing. One fellow kanaka belong Beliao name belong him Nalong, him he before boy belong doktor, he run he come along house belong doktor, he sing out: "Doktor you come quick, you look-him all kanaka along canoe, he come he like kill-him whiteman. " Some fellow he work along store, some fellow he stop house, kiap he make-him paper along house paper, police master he eksait policeman. Doktor he speak: "Nalong me think you gamon. " "Doktor, me no gamon, he true, you come, you look-him canoe first time." Doktor he look-him canoe plenty too much, he look him kanaka along canoe, he no look him mary along canoe, he run,, he run along shore, he kis him boat belong him, he two fellow Nalong he pull he pull he come along shore, he two fellow run along house paper. Doktor he sing out: "Kiap, you look him kanaka he like fight. "

Chapter 9 Kiap he speak "What name you two fellow you like-him?" Policeman he take-him masket he shoot-him kanaka along canoe. Kiap he sing out "Me no like all policeman he shoot him all kanaka. Mi no hear-him good. Me think Nalong he gamon. Suppose me hearhim true talk, allright, policeman he shoot-him all kanaka. " Maski, kanaka he afraight, he turn-him canoe belong him, he pull, he pull he run away finish. (Dempwolff, ms. 1911) (Madang) 'Night was over, the natives took spears and bows and arrows and went ashore, they dragged their canoes into the sea and came (over) to Madang. The Europeans living in Madang knew nothing of it, they were just sitting at home. The doctor was at Beliao, he was just taking it easy. A native of Beliao called Nalong, who used to be a medical orderly, ran to the doctor's house and called out: "Doctor, come quickly, look at the natives in canoes who have come to kill the Europeans." Some of them were working at the store, some were at home, the government agent was working at the office, and the police chief was exercising the police. The doctor said: "Nalong, I think you are not telling the truth." "Doctor, I'm not lying, it's true, come and take a look at the canoes." The doctor saw very many canoes, he saw the natives in the canoes, he didn't see any women in the canoes, he ran, he ran along the shore, he took his boat, he and Nalong rowed ashore, they ran to the office. The doctor called out: "Kiap, look at the natives who want to fight." The government agent said: "What do you two fellows want?" The police chief took his rifle and shot at the natives in the canoes. The government agent called out: "I don't like the police shooting natives. I don't feel good about it. I think Nalong is lying. If I discover it's true, then it's all right for the police to shoot the natives." Anyway, the natives took flight. They turned their canoes around and paddled away.'

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 379 Dempwolff was obviously a skilled speaker of Tok Pisin (as other materials among his New Guinea papers also show). This account is immediately recognisable as very close to today's Tok Pisin. At the same time, typical Tok Pisin features, not found in Solomons Pijin or Vanuatu Bislama, are already present, for example the underlined banara, limlimbur, kiap, mary, and kisim. Another text discovered among the Dempwolff papers, dated 1911, perhaps written by Dempwolff himself as an early family-planning pamphlet, for his primary reason for being in New Guinea was medical.73 It runs as follows: 1911 Some fellow man he make him plenty picanini too much. Me think he no look him one fellow light all same one fellow night alltime he puspus. Now mary alltime talk cross belong him. One fellow picanini he sleep belong ars belong him, other fellow stand up belong backside belong mary, some fellow all he around him, some fellow he stop belong belly belong him. He speak belong man: "What name you make him plenty picanini too much? Now you fellow go wash him all picanini, all he got plenty sore; you carry him alltime two fellow one time. " Supposed mary he work belong bush, man he look out all picanini. Sometime all he cry plenty, now man he fight him galamut, now mary he come quick belong make him finish cry belong him. All he no like him house, plenty picanini stop belong him. Two fellow he drink belong susu belong mary; all other fellow cry belong hungry; one fellow talk he cry, you no sabe hear him. Plenty fly stop belong house; all he come belong sore belong picanini, he stop belong hand belong picanini, he plenty stink too. (Dempwolff, ms. circa 1911) (unspecified) 'Some people have very many children. I don't think he had any idea. So every night he copulated all the time. His wife was cross with him. One child was sleeping behind him, there was another one behind his wife, some were all around him, and some were in front of him. She said to her husband: "Why do you procreate so many children? Now you can go and wash the children; they have many sores; take two at once." If the woman works in the garden (bush), the man looks after the children. Some of them cried a lot, so the 73. However, the indiscriminate use of belong (rather than belong 'possessive' and along 'locative'), and a number of other infelicities, suggests that it may have been penned by another writer.

380 Chapter 9 man beat the drum and the woman came quickly to calm them down. Two of them drank at one time from the woman's breast; all the others were crying because they were hungry; one of them cried so loud that you couldn't hear. There were many flies in the house; they landed on the sores on the children's hands; they smelled very bad too.' Another early example is a piece of evidence, given by a New Guinean at a murder case at Kokopo, regarded as the earliest example of Tok Pisin used in a court case, as follows: 1912 Bell belong me hot me like fight all the same place belong me, me make him all the same place belong me, me shoot him finish one fellow master, now me like die behind. Me like shoot past time you, by and by me die, you catch him other fellow man. Me no look him good that fellow master, me shoot him bell belong him he big fellow, I think me shoot him master Kolbe. Eye belong me too dark me no look him good. Me die now. Ί was very angry, I wanted to fight (as is the custom) in my village, I acted as is customary in my village; I shot one European dead, and now I am ready to die. First I shoot you, then I die and you catch the other man. I did not recognise this European properly, I shot him, he had a big belly, perhaps I shot master Kolbe. I was blind, I did not recognise him. Now I die.' {Reichskolonialamt Records, Vol. 29ff.) (Kokopo) Mühlhäusler (1985: 103) has unearthed the earliest example of a letter written in Tok Pisin by a New Guinean, which dates from 1913. The writer hails from New Hanover. In spite of the idiosyncratic spelling and word divisions, the actual Tok Pisin used is immediately recognisable as very similar to the modern day variety, as follows: 1913 Masta Vaitman: Tividele mi ispikiu log mani bolog mi log tain bolog mipipo. I finish (25) tupala ten mun na paip. Mi laik pabai iu givemi long en, papai mi kam bek. Mi vok mani bolog paim samtig bolog mi, samtig bolog mi istap log pepa pipo mi kissim. I pinis tasol. Tasol me tokimiu log gem i pinis. Pos you no laik, iu givimi tupaou bolog paim samtig. Mi nogot samtig bolog go peles, papai mi givim kandare man bolog mi log peles. Mi tokiu olosem mi laik save tok bolog iu. Namem iu no kan givim mi olosem. I pinis. Gutbai mi go. Siara mi go log gem.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 381 'My name is Tividele, I am talking to you about the money which I earned before. This was twenty-five months ago. I would like you to give it to me, then I will come back. I worked for the money to buy things for myself, things for myself as (written) on the paper before which I have. That's all. I am just talking to you about it. If you don't like (it), then give me two pounds to buy things. I have nothing to take home, I will give it to my clansman at my village. I am saying this to you in expectation of your answer. Never mind if you can't give it to me. It is finished. Good-bye, I am going. I am going to Siara.' (Koloniale Rundschau, Vol. 4, 1912: 504-505) (New Hanover) At the beginning of World War I, the German Government created a number of official documents directly related to their administrative responsibilities. Among these was a translation of the Geneva Convention into Tok Pisin. This translation, in almost impeccable modern day pidgin, is probably the work of Dempwolff, certainly the work of a fluent Tok Pisin speaker: 1914 Supposed white men he make him big fellow fight, all time he shoot him only that fellow man he got musket; he no shoot him missis, he no shoot him mary, he no shoot him piccanini. All the same all white man he no kill him men supposed he sick; he no kill him men supposed he got sore belong fight; he no kill him men he look out him sick fellow men. All white men he make him tabu belong fight all house sick; he make him tabu belong fight all place he got sick fellow men. He make him one fellow mark belong this fellow tabu belong fight: one fellow flagg all the same: - Vorzeigen der Rotekreuzflagge74 Name true belong this fellow tabu, name tru belong this fellow mark, name true belong this fellow flagg "red cross ". Supposed some fellow Englishmen belong man of war he come ashore, he look him "red cross ", he no shoot him house belong "red cross ", no fight him place belong "red cross ". All the same, supposed me you fellow policemen me you look him this fellow mark belong place belong Englishmen, me save finish, 74. Red Cross flag design.

382 Chapter 9 him here place belong sick fellow men, me no can shoot him that fellow place, me no can kill him sick fellow men. All place he got "red cross ", he tabu belong fight. Entwurf einer Instruktion über die Genfer Konvention in Küstenenglisch (Geneva Convention in Pidgin English) [Dempwolff] There is another historical document which was produced in the same year, 1914, the famous Proclamation of the British (Australian) take-over of German New Guinea as a result of the fighting at the beginning of World War I. It is not clear who the author of this document was, apart from the fact that he was probably an Australian with only a fleeting acquaintance with Tok Pisin. It is quite idiosyncratic, perhaps a precursor of the Tok Masta75 which was to become so familiar to Papua New Guineans after World War II. It is valuable to compare the Tok Pisin of this text with the Geneva Convention document just cited. 1914 All boys belongina one place, you savvy big master he come now, he new feller master, he strong feller too much, you look him, all ship stop place; he small feller ship belongina him. Plenty more big feller he stop place belongina him, now he come here he take all place. He look out good you feller. Now he like you feller look out good alonga him. Suppose other feller master, he been speak you "You no work alonga new feller master," he gammon. Suppose you work good with this new feller master he look out good alonga you, he look out you get plenty good feller kai-kai; he no fighting black boy alonga nothing. You look him new feller flag, you savvy him? He belonga British (English); he more better than other feller; suppose you been making paper before this new feller master come, you finish time belonga him first, you like make him new feller paper longa man belonga new feller master he look out good alonga with you; he give good feller kai-kai. Suppose you no look out good alonga him, he cross too much. British (English) new feller master he like him black feller man too much. He like him all same you piccanin alonga him. You get black feller master belongina you, he all same Police Master. You look out place alonga with him he look out place alonga with you. You no fight other feller black man other feller place you no kai-kai man. You no steal Mary belongina other feller black man. He 75. The anglicised variety of Tok Pisin spoken by Europeans in their dealings with Papua New Guineans.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

383

finish talk alonga with you. By and by ship belongina new feller master he come and look out place belongina you. You look out him now belongina place belongina you, you speak him all the same. Me been talk with you now, now you give three good feller chers belongina new feller master. NO MORE 'UM KAISER. GOD SAVE 'UM KING. (Mackenzie 1936: 76) (Proclamation: Sept 12, 1914)

Apart from first the German, and then the Australian administration of the future Papua New Guinea, another domain important for the development and spread of Tok Pisin was the evangelising activity of the German Catholic missions. Not only did they play an active role in the late nineteenth century, but more importantly they remained in New Guinea after the handover from Germany to Britain and Australia at the time of the First World War and used Tok Pisin as a medium for evangelisation. The German contribution to Tok Pisin was not insignificant, and will be discussed in a separate section below. However, what is important at this point is that the German missionaries took Tok Pisin very seriously, so much so that Father Karl Borchardt produced a grammar, a learner's guide (Anleitung zur Erlernung des Tok-boi (1930)) a short grammar (Kleine Tok-Boi Grammatik, n.d.) and a 101-page lexicon of Tok Pisin for mission purposes. A selection of sample sentences gives something of the flavour of his work: 1930 Examples from Borchardt's Anleitung zur Erlernung des Tok-boi (1930) Vatpo jutupela i sindaun long haus na jutupela i krai? 'Why are you two sitting at home crying?' Jutupela i no kam bihaen? No, mitupela i go long solovara. 'Didn't you two follow? No, we went down to the sea.' Vanpela gras bolong kakaruk-man i stap long giraon. 'There is a rooster feather on the ground.' Vataem baembaiju go Karavia?16 'When are you going to Karavia?' 76. Even as late as the 1930s, the use of the preposition long before a place name is still not obligatory. Note also that Karavia has taken on the meaning of 'quarantine' in Tok Pisin.

384 Chapter 9 Ol manki na ol liklik meri ol i kam arasaet na sindaon arasaet. 'The boys and girls came outside and sat down.' Vanpela pikpela kapiak i stap long tesin. 'There is a big breadfruit tree at the station.' Kiau bolong muruk i moa hebe long kiau bolong kakaruk. Ά cassowary egg is heavier than a fowl's egg.' Jutripela vusat i limlimbur? Mitripela tasol. 'Who are you three taking it easy? Only us.' Kandre bolong ju ipondaon. pinga bolong lek bolong em i gat bulut. 'Your clansman has fallen down, his toe is bleeding.' Man i sabe kijaman em i sabe sitil tu. Ά person who lies can steal too.' Ol gutpela man baembai ol i hamamas tumas long peles-antap. 'Good people will be very happy in heaven.' Maski. em tasol i kaikai kakaruk bolong em! 'Anyway, he just ate his own fowl!' Mi lukim pinis vanpela labun: krismas bolong em naenpelaten. Ί saw an old man who was ninety years old.' Sipija i hangkamap long hapsaet bolong haus. 'The spear is hanging up outside the house.' Ol man i sanap klostu long haus-lotu. 'The people are standing near the church.' Ju wokabaut olosem man i longlong. 'You are walking like a crazy man.' (Borchardt 1930: Anleitung zur Erlernung des Tok-Boi) Apart from the Germanic orthography (/j/ for modern Tok Pisin /y/, and /v/ for /w/), it is evident that by the time Borchardt wrote his handbook, the many Melanesian-derived vocabulary items in Tok Pisin had well and truly been integrated into the language (kakaruk, liklik, kapiak, kiau, muruk, limlimbur, lapun, longlong, for example), as well as the characteristic

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

385

hamamas, maski and manki. At the same time English-derived forms such as sindaun, husat, tasol, kandre and pondaon, not found in modern Solomons Pijin or Vanuatu Bislama, had for decades been part of the Tok Pisin heritage. Borchardt's Kleine Grammatik uses very much the same types of examples and structures as the Anleitung zur Erlernung des Tok-Boi, with a couple of noteworthy differences, namely the use of /y/ for the German /j/, yielding forms like yu, and yufeloApart from this, the interrogative form wotnem 'what? how?' is still employed in the 1930s, rather than the current wonem or waneml Examples: Wotnem man i stop? Mifelo. 'Which people are here? Us.' Disfelo buk hir bilong huset? Bilong mi! 'Whose is this book? Mine!' Wotfor yufelo no hirim tok bilong misinare, em i laikim yufelo? 'Why don't you listen to the word of the missionary? He likes you.' Wotnem yu mekim? 'What are you doing?' (Borchardt 1930: Kleine Grammatik, typescript)

Before going on to discuss the development of Tok Pisin during and after World War II, it is useful to consider the composition of its lexicon, a lexicon which contains a significant proportion of vocabulary derived from a number of sources not shared by Solomons Pijin or Bislama. Laycock (1970: 115), cited in Mühlhäusler (1985: 179), analyses the sources of the Tok Pisin lexicon as follows:78 English Tolai Other New Guinea languages

77% 11% 6%

77. It is strange that the final vowel in 1PE and 2P pronouns appears as /o/ in this short grammar, as opposed to the standard /a/ in the learner's handbook. The expected -a form is also replaced by -o in disfelo 'this.' 78. The fact that this total adds up to 102% is unimportant. Figures are only approximate.

386 Chapter 9 Malay German Latin

1% 4% 3%

Apart from English, Tolai, the Austronesian language of the Rabaul area of New Britain, is the most important contributor of vocabulary. This is not surprising, considering that Rabaul was the principal distribution centre for labour, both during the period of German administration and even after the First World War. Mühlhäusler (1985: 212) remarks, however, that it is regrettable that there is no clear identification of the precise New Britain/New Ireland source language for many items.79 In addition, he adds that there have often been semantic shifts between the original Tolai and the meaning of Tolai borrowings in Tok Pisin. He cites (1985: 99) for example: Tok Pisin mau tubuan

Tolai mau tubuan

'ripe banana' 'old woman, mask of old woman' ubene 'fishing net' virua 'victim, human flesh' kabag 'white, lime' pagagar 'to be open'

umben birua kambang pangangar

'ripe,mature' 'wooden mask, carving' 'net (in general)' 'enemy, warrior' 'lime' 'to be in a position for copulation (of female)'

Some of the most frequently used Tok Pisin lexical items borrowed from Tolai and other New Guinea languages include:

balus bembe birua bung diwai garamut kapul kiap kiau

'pigeon, aeroplane' 'butterfly' 'enemy' 'market, to meet' 'tree' 'wooden drum' 'possum' 'district officer' 'egg'

79. Although he does cite Mosel's (1980) important contribution in this domain.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

kulau kuria liklik longlong luluai marsalai muruk pekpek pipia pukpuk purpur tambaran tultul

387

'unripe coconut' 'earthquake' 'small' 'mad, insane' 'village headman' 'evil spirit' 'cassowary' 'excrete, excrement' 'rubbish' 'crocodile' 'flower' 'ghost, spirit' 'interpreter'

All of these items are peculiar to Tok Pisin and thus not found in the other two English-based pidgins spoken today in Melanesia. For a full account of Tolai and other New Guinea borrowings in Tok Pisin, see Mosel (1980: 25-40). It is important to note that many of the New Guinea-derived items listed by Mosel are unlikely to have been introduced into Tok Pisin until the twentieth century. Mühlhäusler (1985: 213), cites, for example, the case of snek bilong wora, rather than maleo 'eel', and smok bilong graun, rather than tobon, 'dust', the older forms not being replaced by Tolai equivalents until the 1920s, according to written records. At the same time, a number of items refer to institutions introduced by the Germans after 1900, such as luluai 'village headman' and tultul 'interpreter'. Yet other items, such as liklik 'a little bit' and diwai 'tree', are known not to have been introduced until after the foundation years of Tok Pisin, as in Mühlhäusler's own Samoan materials the corresponding generalised Pacific pidgin forms lelebet and tri are used (see Chapter 7). Other items were introduced by the German missions in the 1920s, as Tok Pisin became established as a mission language, see the work of Borchardt referred to above. Again, semantic shifts were involved, as in the following: Tolai tambu ruru vinamut vartovo

Tok Pisin 'taboo' 'to fear, respect' 'silence, peace' 'to teach; lesson'

'holy' 'to honour' 'retreat' 'doctrine'

388 Chapter 9 tematan 'member of different tribe' kurkurua 'beads, necklace' [Source: Mühlhäusler 1985: 214]

'heathen' 'rosary'

German is another important source of Tok Pisin vocabulary, some of it dating back to the German colonial period, but much of it introduced right up until World War II, as there was a large and active German missionary presence. Most of the German loans provided terms for new semantic domains, such as carpentry, school and Christianity. An exhaustive list of German borrowings into Tok Pisin has been compiled by Mühlhäusler (1985: 201-204), several hundred items. A selection of the most common German-derived Tok Pisin vocabulary is as follows: Tok Pisin bilt bruder gabel gumi kakalak katopel langsam maisil pater raus! sis an! spigel spinat tepik tinte

German Bild Bruder Gabel Gummi Kakerlake Kartoffel langsam Meissel Pater raus stillgestanden Spiegel Spinat Teppich Tinte

'picture' 'brother (religious)' 'fork' 'rubber, tube' 'cockroach' 'potato' 'to go slow, slow' 'chisel' 'father (religious)' 'get out!' 'stand still!' 'mirror' 'spinach' 'carpet, rug' 'ink'

Again, these German-derived lexical items are peculiar to Tok Pisin, not playing any role in either Solomons Pijin or Vanuatu Bislama. Tok Pisin has also been influenced by Malay, but to a much lesser extent than by the languages of the Gazelle Peninsula and by German. The reason for this is that Malay was only spoken on the mainland of New Guinea, and also because contact took place only after Tok Pisin had stabilised in the Bismarck Archipelago. Apart from the incursion of bird-ofparadise hunters from the former Dutch New Guinea, and a few trade links with villages near the Papua New Guinea border, the main reason for Ma-

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

389

lay influence was the fact that numbers of Malays and Malay-speaking Chinese were employed on several German plantations on the New Guinea mainland. For a brief period, Coastal Malay was the plantation lingua franca there. However, after 1900 the Malay population was gradually replaced by New Guinean labour, and the influence of Malay all but disappeared. Malay loanwords still in use in Tok Pisin today include baret 'ditch, groove' and lombo 'red pepper'. For a full discussion of the role of Malay as a lingua franca in Papua New Guinea, see Reed (1943) and Seiler (1982). World War II was an event which was to have a huge impact on the lives of all Pacific Islanders, particularly those living in Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, but also those living in the then New Hebrides (Vanuatu) who were also caught up in the Pacific War. Between December 1941, when Japan struck, and August 1945, when they surrendered, the lives of New Guineans were changed as very many of them had to endure hardship, suffering, captivity and death. Prior to the War there had been rather slow steady development under the Australian Administration. Much the same could be said of the spread and development of Tok Pisin. However, World War II really alerted the Australians to the necessity of a lingua franca which could provide country-wide communication. Suddenly the administration took Tok Pisin seriously and instructional books were produced to teach Tok Pisin to American and Australian troops. Suddenly Tok Pisin took on two new functions. The first was to promote solidarity between the occupying troops and the New Guinean population, between white and black, against a common enemy. Tok Pisin was also a means to achieving wide-ranging social control. There was a national propaganda campaign using techniques never previously seen in this part of the world. This included air-drops of millions of pamphlets, written in Tok Pisin, by American and Japanese aircraft over all parts of New Guinea. The following are examples of these pamphlets: 1942-5:

'OLOGEDA MAN BILONG SEPIK, YU HARIM: Mi Taunsen. Yu save me. Bipo mi nambawan bilong yupala ologeda. Gavman isalim mi gifim yu dispala tok. Japan i bilua bilong yumi. Taem im ikam pait sitil long Rabaul yumi no save long ol. Biaen mipala hatwok long balus nau bikgan nau manua nau laenim soldia. Taem Japan i laik kisim Posmosbi yumi sitrong pinis nau bagarapim ol. Nau dasol ol ilaik kam long Wau nau yumi kilim ologeda. Mipala

390 Chapter 9 bomim ol balus bilong ol long Lae nau Salamaua nau balus i ronowe. Nau ol ilaik sitdaun long Wiwiak. Nau mipala laik bomim Wiwiak ologeda. Morbeta yupala kilia. Wokim gaten nabaut nabaut long bus nau hait gut. Amerika imi halipim yumi wantaem soldia nau balus. Sapos balus bilong mipala nau Amerika i sitdaun long bus yupala mas halipim ol. Japan ilaik kisim ologeda Niugini. Yumi mas wok long rausim. Mi Taunsen. GA VMANISALIM DISPALA TOK. (PM 10) ALL MEN OF SEPIK, LISTEN TO THIS: This is Taunsen. You know me. I was your No.l. The Government has sent me to give you this talk. Japan is our enemy. She came to steal Rabaul and we did not suspect. Then we started to build aeroplanes, guns and ships, and collect our soldiers. When Japan tried to take Port Moresby we were strong and buggered them up. Just now they tried to get Wau but we killed them all. We bombed their aeroplanes at Lae and Salamaua and they had to run away. Now they want to go to Wewak. Now we are getting ready to bomb Wewak altogether, so do not go there. Make your gardens about in the bush and live in them there. America is helping us with soldiers and aeroplanes. If our aeroplane comes down in the bush you must help the crew. Japan wants to keep New Guinea. We must work to remove them. This is Taunsen. THE GOVERNMENT SENDS THIS TALK (Official translation) 1942-5:

OL LULUAINA TULTUL NA LAPUNΝΑ BOIBILOG GUVMAN YU PELA SAVI MI PELA KISIM PINIS SALAMAUA Ν A LAE Ν A FINSHAPEN Ν A KARIM ΡΑΙΤ LONG MADANG. BALUS BILOG MI PELA OLTAIM BOM IM RABAUL NA KEIVIENGNAMANUS. DIS PELA BALUS ISTAP LONG NUKINI, PLANTI TUM AS. SOLDIA BILOG YUMI AMERICA KOSUA PINIS LONG BIK BUKA, NA BANIS IM OL JAPAN LONG BUIN. SOLDIA BILOG YUMI KOSUA PINIS LONG ARAWE BILOG KARIM ΡΑΙΤ LONG NUBRITIN.

Differentiation: JAPAN I LAIK NOGUT NOGUT.

The language situation 1906-1975

NAU.

YULUKIM,

OLTAIM I

391

GETAP

YU MAS HAIT IM GUT OL MASTA SIPOS I KAM DA UN ONTAIN BALUS NA UMBRELA BILOG OL. YU NO KAN SAKIM TOK BILOG GUVMAN, SIPOS SOMPELA BIKET, IM ILUKAUT BIHAIN. GUVMANI

SA VI

(PM 54)

ALL LULUAIS, TULTULS, OLD MEN AND GOVERNMENT NATIVES. You know we have recaptured Salamaua, Lae, Finschhafen and are fighting towards Madang. We have crowds of aircraft in New Guinea and they are always bombing Rabaul, Kavieng and Manus. Our American soldier friends have landed in Bougainville and hemmed the Japs in Buin. Our troops have landed at Arawe and are therefore on the offensive in New Britain. Japan is on the spot now. You can see for yourselves how uneasy they are. You must conceal any members of our Air Crews. Do not disobey Government instructions. If some stupid one does so, he will be punished for it later. The Government knows what is going on. (Official translation)

The pamphlet drops were an effective means of communicating with the New Guinean population, especially in the areas occupied by the Japanese. At the same time, the Japanese themselves were making every effort to master Tok Pisin, taught to them by the local villagers. By the end of World War II the functional range of Tok Pisin had been very much broadened and spread to new areas across the country. One of the vectors for this spread was the recruitment of tens of thousands of New Guinean carriers by the military, over 50,000 according to some estimates (Mühlhäusler 1985: 58). It would seem, too, that highly increased mobility among New Guineans did much to neutralise the regional variants of the language. There was, however, a downside to all of this activity, namely a decline in Tok Pisin language proficiency in the years immediately following the War in some groups, especially young males who were too young to be recruited by the Americans and Australians. A number of commentators have pointed out this decline, which covered a large area, including Manus

392 Chapter 9

and Rabaul (Orken 1954, Mead 1956). The decline noted was due chiefly to the disruption of the plantation system during the War, as well as the absence of administrative and mission infrastructure during that period. However, all was not lost. Mühlhäusler (1985: 59) sums up the situation between 1945 and 1953, the year of the United Nations fact-finding mission to New Guinea, as follows: The events of the years 1945 to 1953 did much to accelerate the change from classical to modern Tok Pisin. New modes of transmission became important, a drastic acceleration in social change could be observed, and the rapid increase in public expenditure, together with a new mood of goodwill between the races, began to weaken many of the barriers that had separated whites and blacks before the war.

Indeed there was a breakdown of the caste system which operated in New Guinea prior to World War II. Upward social mobility was now possible for some New Guineans, English language education was promoted in schools, making the original lexifier language available once more as a source of linguistic growth. Another factor favouring the development and spread of Tok Pisin, apart from the Highlands Labour Scheme discussed in Chapter 6, was the development of the urban centres Port Moresby, Madang, Lae, Wewak and Rabaul and the growth centres of Mount Hägen and Goroka in the Highlands. The locus of Tok Pisin development changed as education and employment opportunities changed. As a reflection of these rapid changes Tok Pisin underwent a period of diversification, with the emergence of a number of social and regional varieties or dialects (Urban Tok Pisin, Tok Masta, Rural Tok Pisin [Highlands, Coastal Mainland, New Guinea Islands varieties]). Of these varieties, perhaps the only one in danger of disappearance is Tok Masta, the variety used by expatriates to communicate with New Guineans, based on the erroneous belief that Tok Pisin is but a debased form of English. Since independence in 1975 New Guineans have replaced expatriates in almost all areas of administration and professional life. Urban Tok Pisin has flourished and is the first language of increasing numbers of Papua New Guineans, especially in the larger urban centres, leaving little but romantic memories for those Europeans who have had the privilege of living and working in that country.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975

9.5.

393

Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin: differential elements

How different are the three English-derived Melanesian pidgins today, after a century of separation from one another? Strictly, they should be considered three dialects of a single language, for there is considerable mutual intelligibility between them. There are orthographic differences between them, but this can be ignored for purposes of the present discussion, as Melanesian pidgin is essentially an oral medium. During the Vanuatu Cultural Centre annual Fieldworkers' Workshops,80 there have on occasions been observers from the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea, who have participated in the discussion. In the main, there has been significant intercomprehension among speakers of the three dialects, although there were frequent misunderstandings, brought about by not just the lexical, but also the occasional significant morpho-syntactic differences between the three varieties. This was particularly striking when discussion centered on points of detail concerning topics such as land tenure and inheritance, traditional subjects, which one would have imagined to be unproblematic in such a forum. Let us briefly examine some of the differences among Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin. In terms of lexicon, we have already seen that Bislama has a significant number of borrowings from French, and also a sizeable vocabulary derived from Vanuatu vernaculars, particularly in the area of flora and fauna, but also involving a number of domains central to daily life. Solomons Pijin's lexicon is much more heavily English-derived than the two other Melanesian pidgins, while Tok Pisin has a large input, lexically, from Tolai and other Papua New Guinea languages, together with a German input, of decreasing importance since World War II. A few of the lexical differences are indicated in table 37. These items are only indicative of some of the lexical differences between the three varieties. In total they are quite numerous, in spite of the hugely dominant English-derived wordstock in all three pidgins. In terms of morpho-syntactic differences, there are two problems: first, identical forms and processes in the three pidgin varieties can mask gram-

80. The Vanuatu Cultural Centre Fieldworkers' Workshop has been held annually in Port-Vila for the last twenty years, bringing together ni-Vanuatu men and women for training on aspects of linguistics, anthropology and archaeology relevant to community life in the villages.

394 Chapter 9

matical differences, while second, some grammatical processes are conveyed by entirely different morphemes or morphological processes. Table 37. Lexical differences between Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin

Bislama

Solomons Pijin

Tok Pisin

tri pijin natanggura smol mostik tekemaot woman flae harem harem sitsit faol eg krokodael per

tri pijin segopam smol moskito tekemaot mere flae filim herem sit kokorako eg aligita patere

diwai balus saksak liklik natnat rausim meri lang pilim harim pekpek kukuruk kiau pukpuk pater

Meaning 'tree' 'bird' 'sago' 'small' 'mosquito' 'to remove' 'woman' 'fly' 'to feel' 'to hear' 'excrement' 'hen' 'egg' 'crocodile' 'RC priest'

As Crowley (1990: 10) points out, many of the differences in the first category involve central aspects of the syntax of the language, such as the tense-aspect-mood system for verbs, the preposition system, and the marking of subordination. Major differences occur in the usage of, for example, stap and save, which are found in all three varieties. Stap occurs in all three varieties as a main verb, meaning 'to exist, to be, to stay'. It is also used as an auxiliary in Bislama and Tok Pisin, albeit in a different way in the two varieties, to indicate continuous or habitual action. Stap does not play this role in Solomons Pijin. In Bislama stap is used preverbally to express either the continuous or the habitual, for example: Hem i stap kakae.

'He/she eats/is eating.'81 81. Examples in this section are adapted from Crowley (1990: 10-14), based on both authors' field experience.

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 395 In Tok Pisin stap occurs post-verbally to indicate the continuous, but not the habitual, preceded by the predicate marker /, thus: Em i kaikai i stap. 'He/she is eating.' However, the habitual aspect in Tok Pisin and in Solomons Pijin is indicated by save, used pre-verbally, as in: Em i save kaikai. 'He/she eats.' In Solomons Pijin, the continuous is indicated by gohed fo, rather than save, thus: Hem i gohed fo kaikai. 'He/she is eating.' Continuous aspect in Solomons is also commonly conveyed by initial CV reduplication, as in: Hem i lalaf. 'He/she is/was laughing.' Save is also used in Bislama and Solomons Pijin, normally expressing permission or ability, although it is also used to convey the habitual aspect, not just limited to "verbs of consumption or indulgence" as Crowley (1990: 11) suggests. For example: Yufala i save kam insaed. 'You (pi) may come in.' Hem i save dring kava. 'He is a kava drinker.' Hem i save swea long woman blong hem. 'He habitually swears at his wife.'

396 Chapter 9 Crowley indicates that permission or ability is conveyed in Tok Pisin by the use of inap or ken pre-verbally, as in: Em i ken dring. 'He may drink.' Em i inap dring. 'He is able to drink.' (Crowley 1990: 11) In Solomons Pijin, this would be communicated either by inaf fo or fitim fo, used pre-verbally, as in the following: Hem i inaf fo dring. 'He can drink.' Hem i fitim for dring. 'He can drink.' However, in Solomons Pijin, save may indicate ability also, as in: Hem i save motum kaikai. 'She can bake the food.' In Solomons inaf fo and fitim fo, more commonly correspond more closely to 'to be adequate to a task, to be up to it', although they can also cover the abilitative. Another area of difference between the three Melanesian pidgin varieties concerns the prepositional system, which is well summarised by Crowley in table 38. Some of the differences are illustrated by the following examples: i. Purpose Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

Mi kam blong katem gras. Mi kam fo katem garasi. Mi kam bilong katem gras. Ί have come to cut the grass.'

Differentiation: The language situation 1906-1975 397 Table 38. Melanesian Pidgin preposition systems (Adapted from Crowley 1990: 13)

-

-

Possession (man's dog); Part-whole (roof of house) Characteristic (church-going woman) Purpose (cup for tea) Place of origin Cause Destination (to, towards); Source (from); Goal (give it to me) Instrument (with) Accompaniment (with) Similarity (like, as)

Bislama blong

Pijin blong

Tok Pisin bilong

blong

fo

bilong

blong blong from

fo from long

bilong bilong long

long long/wetem wetem olsem

long long long/weitem long/wantaim weitem wantaim olsem olsem

ii. Cause Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

Mi sik from fiva. Mi sik long malaria. Mi sik long fiva. Ί am ill because of malaria.'

iii. Characteristic Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

Hem i man blong giaman. Hem i man fo giamon. Em i man blong gammon. 'He's a liar.'

iv. Origin Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

Mi blong Santo. Mi from Malaita. Mi bilong Madang. Ί am from....'

398 Chapter 9

Another grammatical difference between the three pidgins occurs with the way in which subordination is marked. In current Bislama, relative clauses are marked by we, while in Solomons Pijin the relativiser is wea, and in Tok Pisin it is unmarked.82 For example: Mi lukim83 man we hem i stilim sot blongyu. Mi lukim man wea hem i stilim sote blongyu. Mi lukim man 0 em i stilim sot bilongyu. Ί saw the man who stole your shirt.'

Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

In Bislama, cognitive and quotative verbs usually introduce complement clauses with se, and occasionally we, while in Solomons Pijin the introducer is dat, wea or 0. In Tok Pisin the introducer used is 0 or olsem. Thus: Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

Hem i talem long sista blong hem se hem i no save kam. Hem i talem long sista blong hem dat/wea/ 0 hem i no save kam. Em i tokim sista bilong em 0/olsem em i no ken kam. 'He told his sister he cannot come.'

Bislama Pijin Tok Pisin

9.6.

Mi ting se ansa blong hem i no stret. Mi ting dat/wea/ 0 ansa blong hem i no tru. Mi ting 0/olsem ansa bilong em i no stret. Ί think that his answer is incorrect.'

Conclusions

The three English-derived Melanesian pidgins discussed here, Vanuatu Bislama, Solomons Pijin and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin, had a long shared history in the nineteenth century, with the caveat that Tok Pisin had a partially separate history because of its German and Samoan heritage in 82. In all three varieties subordination may remain unmarked, especially in the speech of older people. In this case it is not uncommon to bracket both ends of the subordinate clause with the demonstrative ia. 83. The form lukim 'to see' is now current in most areas, gradually replacing the older luk.

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399

the last quarter of the nineteenth century. That heritage was not completely separate, however, as there was an overlap between what has been termed Papuan Pidgin English and Tok Pisin, as Papuan Pidgin English84 shared the Queensland canefields experience with what were to become Solomons Pijin and Bislama, albeit for only two years, 1883-84. All three pidgins underwent a process of differentiation and development in the twentieth century, although most people still consider them sister dialects of a single Melanesian Pidgin English today. The process of differentiation and to a large extent the adoption of a significant number of lexical items from the local vernaculars took place at the end of the overseas recruitment period, as European colonies were established and plantations and agricultural enterprises set up in today's Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. Some of the pidgins, especially Bislama, could have developed even without the overseas plantation experience, as first cotton, then agricultural and later copra operations were established in Vanuatu as early as 1867.

84. As mentioned previously, Papuan Pidgin English speakers came not only from the Louisiade Archipelago and the D'Entrecasteaux group, but also from New Britain and New Ireland and the small islands to the north-east, Lihir, for example.

Chapter 10 Today's world: 1975 to the present

This chapter looks at the role of the three Melanesian pidgins in the postcolonial era, its role in politics and education, and the often conflicting attitudes to pidgins in the modern world.

10.1. Vanuatu 10.1.1.

Introduction

Of the three Melanesian countries in which extensive use is made of an English lexifier pidgin, Vanuatu is doubtless the one in which pidgin enjoys the greatest prestige. While it has been rejected by some and idolised by others, it has been the subject of bitter debate during the period under consideration in this chapter. In spite of everything, Bislama is the only pidgin with any constitutional standing in Melanesia, and because of the presence of the two ex-colonial languages, English and French, the only languages of education, the role of Bislama as a lingua franca has been enhanced and its use even further extended. The beginnings of the rise of Bislama are not difficult to date for anyone who frequented the New Hebrides during the 1970s. 1975 was undoubtedly the watershed year. The world which had been created during the first contacts with Europeans, now obsolete and so more and more contested by the young nationalists, was disappearing, as a new world was emerging in which Bislama was becoming an indispensable tool and cultural reference. While at the beginning of the 1970s the New Hebrides were still living in an environment of colonial paternalism, in later times much more accommodating, the end of the decade was marked by a number of violent confrontations which were to leave lasting traces, even in the field of language policy itself. Nothing similar could be said of the two other soon to be independent states, Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands. The position of Bislama during the last twenty-five years, then, is of particular interest to us, and will therefore require a detailed commentary.

402 Chapter 10 10.1.1.1. The end of the colonial era 10.1.1.1.1. The slow death of the plantation era and its linguistic consequences The economy of the country was based essentially on the production of copra, cocoa and "cattle under coconuts". While the Melanesians had established small plantations near their villages, often young and fully productive plantations, it was quite a different situation on the large European holdings. These old plantations required a significant labour force, so much harder to fund and retain as copra prices fluctuated continuously (in 1973, the price per tonne of copra fell from 19,000 New Hebrides francs to 1,900 francs in the space of a month). The "plantocracy", headed by the white "Masta" and his black employees, a stratified world which provided the conditions for the appearance of a pidgin, had run its course. The late importation of labour from the former Gilbert Islands (today Kiribati) and from Wallis would change nothing. Pidgin had ceased to be a lingua franca used for vertical communication, employed as it was by Europeans with their Melanesian subordinates. It had become the exclusive property of this latter group, and only they would be the major players in its future development. Both in Papua New Guinea and in the Solomons, the end of European ownership of ancestral Melanesian land was nigh, but in the former New Hebrides the disappearance of the last planters was not without direct consequence for Bislama. In fact, the great majority of the planters scattered throughout the islands were of French origin. They all spoke Bislama on their plantations, but also sometimes at home. As they did not speak English, Bislama was often the lingua franca they used with the British residents they met. Their lack of knowledge of English, together with that of the great majority of their employees, prevented Vanuatu pidgin from drifting towards a "Bislamanenglis" through massive borrowing, gradually losing the majority of its own characteristics. 10.1.1.1.2. The tardy efforts of the Condominium authorities on the education front British missionaries were the first to establish themselves in the archipelago, dividing up the country between themselves. The Anglican Church, locally called the Melanesian Mission, occupied the north, while the Presbyterians controlled the centre and the south. All of these missionaries, native English speakers, set as a priority the evangelisation of the Melane-

Today 's world: 1975 to the present

403

sian masses, education and conversion going hand in hand for the neophytes. The equation of "christianisation" and "education" still appears today, where the word skul in Bislama signifies both 'church' and 'school'. The expansion of the knowledge of English proceeded slowly, as the Melanesian Mission chose Mota, a language of the Banks Islands, as language of education, English being learned later by the Melanesian pastors, for whom it was useful. The Presbyterians had quite another approach. They taught literacy and taught English right from the beginning, the study of local languages being often used only as a means of better access to the Melanesian populations. Even if, still at the start of the 1960s, the Presbyterians could legitimately claim direct control over 51% of the population, with the Anglicans appropriating some 24%, this certainly did not mean that 75% of New Hebrideans at the time could understand and express themselves in English. The great majority of Presbyterian converts remained semi-literate. While Bible reading was the goal, this was achieved only by the best educated, while the number of those who could write in English was infinitesimally small. The Marists, mainly French-speaking Catholics, appeared on the scene only thirty years later. They could only establish themselves in areas which had not already been converted. So it is today that while there is a geographical continuity in terms of areas of Anglican and Presbyterian influence, the Catholic mission is discontinuous, dispersed around the archipelago. The geographical distribution of the churches and the linguistic and educational implications of that distribution continue to be of prime importance in terms of the decision-making of the various Vanuatu governments. The blending of the different missions throughout the islands works, in fact, in the direction of national cohesion. No area or island in the archipelago can claim unity of church affiliation or the presence of a single language of education harking back to colonial times. Thus neither English nor French may hope to achieve a separate political destiny. The mix of churches and therefore of schools was to become more complex when the two Condominium colonial powers decided to withdraw from the missions their monopoly in the education field. At the start of the 1960s, the British, whose clear political objective was to withdraw from all colonies east of Suez, noted that the level of education achieved through the missions was inadequate, quantitatively if not qualitatively in the case of the Anglicans. The British Residency took charge of education programs, teacher training and pedagogical development. The avowed aim of this change was to rapidly develop a corps of executives and so allow the

404 Chapter 10 country to attain independence at the same time as the other British territories in the Pacific. This undertaking was naturally carried out with English as the sole medium of instruction, pidgin and the vernacular languages being ignored. The French Residency, whose official language, French, was used as the medium of instruction among the Catholics, some 22% of the population, and the New Caledonian Protestants, less than 1%, whose presence was due to the planters and a large European and mixed race community in the two urban centres, realised that the apparent linguistic equilibrium was about to be destroyed permanently. Already, in the Condominium administration, which should have had an equal proportion of English and French language staff, only two departments operated with French as the major language (public works, and the lands and survey department). In all of the other departments (the post office, civil aviation, agriculture, ports authority, etc.) English was used more or less exclusively. Given the historical distribution of the missions, any extension of French language education could only take place in areas where English-speaking missions were already established. The few people still living a traditional custom life continued to be reticent about any form of skul, unaware that non-sectarian schools could exist. The French authorities in the Condominium decided to fund the construction of boarding schools where the children (mainly Anglicans or Presbyterians), "recruited" from villages sometimes quite distant, and even from other islands, were brought together, fed and clothed. They returned home only during the school holidays (see Charpentier 1979: 94-98). From 1966 onwards, many young French nationals arrived to fulfil their military service obligations, deployed as teachers and attached to other parts of the administration. They taught all over the country, wherever French schools were requested by the tribal leaders. This educational policy, which lasted just fourteen years (1966-1980), partly achieved the linguistic catch-up sought by its proposers. On the eve of independence, the numbers involved in the French and British education systems were approximately equal. However, the statistics included students only just recently enrolled in the recently constructed French schools. Although the students' control of oral French was adjudged better than the English of their compatriots in British schools, due to the presence of mother-tongue French teachers, these evaluations, so often publicised, did not touch on the mastery of either written French or English. They masked the minute coverage of French education at the secondary level, to say nothing of higher levels.

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405

This French educational policy had many side effects, often unexpected. First, in addition to the tangled distribution of missions, there was a similar picture in terms of schools, as in many Anglican and Presbyterian areas public schools were built, funded by the French government. In many villages in the islands there are still both English and French language schools, with the result that within a single family some children attend a French-medium school, while others receive an English-medium education. In fact, all this infrastructure, and the blending of English and French systems, had succeeded in turning the archipelago into a bilingual country.85 Any social scientist who was present in Vanuatu during this period, and who was bold enough to undertake as objective a socio-linguistic analysis as possible would have said that this bilingual (English/French) nation would remain this way. Future events were to confirm this. The French boarding schools, which suddenly brought together children from different linguistic communities, created a favourable environment for Bislama to be learnt early, leading to the impoverishment of the students' knowledge of their own ancestral languages and cultures. Even the teachers, paid to teach French, were obliged to speak pidgin to the children, at least when they first arrived at the boarding school. In addition, all communication with the students' parents could only take place in pidgin, as the French teachers did not speak English well, which was very much the case for most of the parents too. Much more than the Marist fathers, who spoke French above all in their respective missions, the young French teachers gave back to Bislama, which they all spoke well, the role which it had practically lost with the end of the plantations, namely a contact language between European and Melanesian. It was only in the context of educational competition between the French and the British that such an education system could be countenanced, so artificial and culturally destructive. 10.1.1.1.3. The renewal of Bislama New political and religious imperatives were to take over from the economic ones which saw the birth and prospering of Bislama. These imperatives, together, ensured its survival and then its upward progression. During the 1970s the Pacific did not escape the shock wave which led to the emancipation of most of the territories colonised during the previous century. In 1962 Western Samoa became independent, Fiji in 1970 and 85. Perhaps better referred to as "dual-lingual".

406 Chapter 10

Papua New Guinea in 1975. It was at that period, in 1969, that a number of young New Hebrideans, both English and French educated, met at WalaRano in north Malakula, namely George Kalkoa, Donald Kalpokas, Gerard Leymang, Walter Lini and Aime Malere. This first-named was to become President of the Republic, three of them Chief Minister or Prime Minister, and the last-named, Aime Malere, Speaker of the House and then Vanuatu Consul in New Caledonia. At the beginning of the 1970s, they established nothing less than a "Cultural Association for the Emancipation of the New Hebrides". This episode, little known today beyond the participants themselves, was the start of the birth of Vanuatu. This was not a simple claim to land linked to a messianic cult such as the Nagriamel movement of Jimmy Stephens. It was a declaration, a plan for independence within a given period. If ultimately history retained only the name of Walter Lini as the "Father of Independence", it is less because it was his personal initiative, but because it was he who demonstrated the greatest determination, the greatest self-confidence. During this meeting, considered by most of the participants as the real beginning of the political life of the country, all of the discussions were held in Bislama, as no representative of the two colonial powers had been invited. Leymang was the only one capable of expressing himself both in English and French (the language of his schooling). The sacrosanct Condominium French-English nexus, pushed to its limit, even in the field of education, where even a minimal bilingualism might have seemed a priority, suddenly led to the universal use of a lingua franca which until that time had been confined to circumscribed domains. If there is any area in which the Condominium could be described as an abject failure, it is its failure to put in place a policy of bilingual education, which would have allowed the future State to function, and above all else so that its citizens, whatever their educational background, could understand one another. The spirit of that first meeting, representing Melanesian unity in the face of a Condominium duality, was still-born. The personal ambitions of some, and the quest for gain of others, created a duality which was as fallacious as it was pernicious, leading to an opposition between the socalled Francophones and the not less pseudo-Anglophones. During the first half of the 1970s other factors were moving in the direction of a greater and greater crystalisation of nationalist tendencies, which all led to recourse to Bislama, the only lingua franca really available in the former New Hebrides. Young New Hebrideans were attending the universities in Suva or Port Moresby, the capital cities of part-Melanesian

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 407 nations which had already achieved their independence. How could these young future professionals not dream of a similar emancipation for their country? The British Residency in Port Vila did not hide its objectives. As expressed many times before, the intention of the British was to withdraw as rapidly as possible. Their departure was supposed to be accompanied by the arrival of Australian and New Zealand advisers, who would oversee the transition to independence of a country which was economically and politically stable. The role of Australia in the Condominium was not new, as it already had a presence through its small group of planters, its business houses, its missionaries and even a number of contract administrators in the British Residency. In the early 1970's, leftist Australian politicians, visibly trying to shed their image of colonisers and oppressors of the Aboriginal population, were all the more strident in their condemnation of apartheid in South Africa and French colonialism in the Pacific. When the left won power in Australia in 1972, under Gough Whitlam, they sought to project themselves as a Pacific nation (even an Asian one). It was logical, then, that they could only encourage or even assist the "Brother Peoples" of the Pacific to achieve emancipation. The young New Hebridean nationalists, especially the most anti-French among them, found in Australia unshakeable support right up until independence in 1980. Australian influence, when it was not directly political, was exerted through the Presbyterian church, long established in the then New Hebrides and far and away the most active in terms of evangelical activity. On the eve of independence, this church claimed that its influence extended to 51% of the population, and thus that its adherents had the theoretical right to run the country. After they had begun by learning the local languages in order to convert the people and translate the Scriptures into the different vernaculars, the Presbyterian missionaries gradually moved over to English to work with their senior pastors and to Bislama so as to communicate with the population at large. Even if the Presbyterian Church had provided an environment for the emergence of local lingue franche, through the establishment of "District Schools" in regions were languages were closely related, such as Ngunese on Efate and Aulua on the east coast of Malakula, the Presbyterians were forced to use Bislama at their annual meetings, since the participants (pastors and elders) came from areas as far apart as Aneityum in the south and Santo in the north. The majority of the delegates had a far from perfect command of English. Gradually, realising that it was indispensable to the cohesion and smooth running of their Church, the

408 Chapter 10 Presbyterian leaders stopped rejecting Bislama as an unworthy evangelical medium, and accepted it, in the first instance, as a working language. So in the former New Hebrides, the Catholic Church (if one excepts the New Caledonian Protestants, who arrived much later, at the beginning of the 1950s) was the only one to use French and to show French sympathies. However, this orientation ran counter to the decisions of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), the first such open to non-Catholic observers, which had as one of its first recommendations the unification of the Churches. In the New Hebrides, therefore, the Catholic Church, which was alone in its political and linguistic orientation to that point, was invited to enter into dialogue with and even to become closer to the English-speaking Protestant churches. Within what was to become the Vanuatu Council of Churches, the Catholic Church was to become one of the strongest supporters of the generalised use of Bislama as a liturgical language. Following the retirement of Bishop Julliard (of French origin), who was considered unsuited to submit to such changes, Father Francis Lambert, a former missionary in Lamap (Malakula), and later Provincial of the Marist order in Suva, became bishop. Bishop Lambert (born in New England, of French origin as his name indicates), in spite of being bilingual, did not believe in the future of French in the South Pacific, influenced as he was by his home area, where hundreds of thousands of Quebecois had been incorporated into the anglophone melting pot that was North America. One of his first decisions was to replace the Italian nuns, all French-speaking, by monolingual English-speaking New Zealand sisters. The result was disastrous, as the Catholic populations, such as those at Wala-Rano (Malakula) refused to speak to these sisters who, in despair over this ostracism, asked to leave the country. In the same spirit, during the annual priests' retreat, Bishop Lambert announced directly: "It is time that English also be learnt in Catholic schools". This change of direction, certainly not without common sense, was quite premature. Given the heritage of the Condominium, many of the European fathers were shocked. As for the Melanesians present, they could not understand that their church should suddenly become Protestant. Only the late Bishop Lambert could say whether he was obeying a policy directive from the Vatican or whether he was acting out of personal conviction. During the sorry events which happened at independence, he had no comforting words for the fathers who were imprisoned or for the Melanesian faithful from his church who, shut up in camps, were subjected to rough treatment. As a consequence of this attitude, several priests left the country, while Bishop Lambert remained until his retirement in the mid-1990s,

Today 's world: 1975 to the present

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broadly disapproved of by a significant number of his own religious, and not understood by the grassroots members of his church, who had remained francophone and often francophile. This incomprehension, or even this opposition to what he had done, brought them to support the use of Bislama, instead of imposing English. Bishop Lambert supported the Council of Churches in its efforts to translate the Bible, favouring Mass in Bislama rather than in the vernacular (which he had done when he was a young missionary in the archipelago). On the eve of independence, all the Churches were in favour of an increased use of Bislama, both written and oral. This religious blessing conferred on Bislama a prestige which it had never previously enjoyed. The birth of political life, locally and nationally, was to increase its role beyond the traditional uses which had allowed it to survive to that point.

10.1.1.2. The years of the struggle for independence 10.1.1.2.1. The first stages of New Hebridean nationalism While several years earlier Jimmy Stephens had founded the Nagriamel movement, a messianic group which challenged colonial land alienation, in 1969, as discussed above, a group of young Melanesians met at Wala-Rano in north Malakula. Their claims had a much more political flavour about them. They demanded that they be recognised both as a people and as citizens. Most of them had travelled abroad and had seen that the "travel documents" issued by the Condominium authorities were of very limited value outside the immediate Pacific region. Holding a passport was the first thing claimed by these young New Hebridean intellectuals in search of an identity. It is very important to note that they were the product of both French and English-medium schools and that they were members of the three major churches present in the country, Presbyterian, Anglican and Catholic. One of them was even a francophone Presbyterian. As for their language of education, religion and professional status: one was an education adviser at the British Residency at Lakatoro (Malakula), another was an assistant administrator at the French Residency at Norsup (Malakula), which explains the fact that the meeting was held on Malakula. All these divisive factors had been overcome more easily by a nascent nationalism than by any consideration of the deep social belief of the people of this country, that no matter what the circumstances one had to reach consensus, perhaps as a prelude to a unanimous vote. Unfortunately the spontaneous

410 Chapter 10 and natural unity of this group, consisting exclusively of future ministers and even future prime ministers, was to collapse under the pressure of foreign interests, among other things. 10.1.1.2.2. The beginning of politics, the 1975 elections During the 1960s, neither the Nagriamel and its leader (who never failed to express himself in Bislama rather than in English, his language of education) nor the messianic John Frum movement on Tanna, could be assimilated into the classic political parties. At the beginning of the 1970s, following the example of Asia, Africa having been decolonised for already a decade, the New Hebrides experienced a political awakening brought about by the conjunction of the nationalist aspirations of the young New Hebrideans and the stated wish of Great Britain to withdraw from territories which were expensive for the Crown to maintain. So it was in great haste that the first elections were set up. These were municipal elections which concerned only the two urban centres, Port Vila and Luganville. Naturally electoral rolls had to be established for the Melanesians, whose only papers were their baptismal certificate... for those who were Christians. These elections marked the entry of Bislama into the political life of the country. In order to register the future voters, they had to be visited and spoken to by government officials. Not everyone understood English or French. Rather, a much greater number knew Bislama, since they used it in the workplace or with their compatriots from other islands. In order to forestall any denigrating campaign between the different parties, the Condominium authorities prohibited the use of vernacular languages. Thus the electoral campaign was conducted in the two colonial languages (it was not every expatriate who understood Bislama, far from it) and in Bislama. In this case Bislama was again accorded a semi-official status; as an oral medium it was on the same level as the European languages. These local elections, the first held in the country, sounded the death knell of Melanesian unity which had manifested itself several years previously. Elections (in the western sense) suppose at least two opposing parties. This western rule reinforced the division which had appeared in 1973, among the group of young Melanesians which had formed the Melanesian Cultural Association four years earlier, and which in 1971 became the Nasonal Pati. The fragmentation of the group whose language of communication was only Bislama, since only one of its members was bilingual in

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 411 French and English, was, according to the surviving members due to the following: 1. The problem of who would be eligible to vote, some accepting that foreign minorities be allowed to vote, while others refused to admit them. 2. The personal ambition of Father Lini, who already considered himself the sole "charismatic leader" of the country. 3. The deep seated opposition, in the islands, by the Presbyterian members, to anything French. So appeared two factions. On one side were those who remained in the Nasonal Pati, which had become very heavily anglophone and anti-French, and on the other side a group of parties, some of which, for example the ΜΑΝΗ and UCNH parties had as leaders Catholics who were very good French speakers, renegades from the Nasonal Pati. The UCNH, a partisan conglomerate, chiefly French educated, was distinguished by its pro-French stance. Long hidden by a dualist political system split into two water-tight sub-systems, the split among the New Hebrideans of that time was patent in educational terms. It was about to degenerate into open conflict. While the Condominium authorities wanted to use these first elections as a test run, so that democratic elections could eventually be held, covering the whole country, the fact that expatriate public servants were allowed to vote, provided they had been residents for three months, rightly exasperated the young members of the Nasonal Pati, especially as, under these rules, they lost the election. The bridges between the Condominium administrations and the most ardent nationalists were destroyed. Linguistic problems were only discussed marginally, and then in secret, within the Nasonal Pati, which took the new name Vanuaaku Pati in 1976. During the whole gestation period of the new State, electoral campaigns on Radio Vila and the various meetings held in the suburbs were mostly all conducted in Bislama. This pidgin showed itself to be an indispensable tool, although everybody thought that its expressive capacity was fairly limited. The French Residency had been the first, in 1961, to use Bislama in its Bulletin d 'Information, and the French District Agents did not hesitate to use it in their dealings with the local population, even though pidgin, as well as the local vernaculars, remained forbidden in the French schools. The British, although less attached to their language than the French are to theirs, used pidgin with distaste, in the absence of anything better.

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Nothing at that time indicated that Bislama would be at the heart of debates and controversies which would last a whole generation, indirectly preventing any far-reaching reform of the education system, and threatening the survival of the Melanesian vernaculars. 10.1.1.2.3. The educational programme of the Vanuaaku Pati and its consequences The Vanuaaku Pati, introverted and expecting nothing more from negotiations with the Condominium authorities, could only follow the sometimes extreme ideas of its most intransigent members. Naturally, as with other parties, discussions were held in Bislama, which as an oral medium showed that it was a completely satisfactory language of inter-group communication. When the problem of which kind of education system to put in place after independence arose within the party, naturally pidgin was accorded a prominent and unexpected role. It would replace French. At the beginning of 1977, during the Tanna congress, the Vanuaaku Pati announced its education programme. During a transition period, Bislama would be taught in all schools. Later, only English would be retained. Ideology had won the day over all other considerations. Nobody had thought that there were no trained teachers, that no pedagogical methods had been developed, and that Bislama was far from being standardised. The recurrent theme was to chase out the French and all things French. Bislama would fill the bill. This attitude, which some might consider irrational, had its origins in the colonisation of Vanuatu itself. The Presbyterian pastors were anti-French and anti-Catholic, and their adherents had learnt to hate the French without knowing them. For their part, the French authorities were in no position to be reproachful, since in the recent past they had covered up the criminal acts of some French planters. In 1966 the French education service had launched a programme to catch up with the number of English-medium schools, and in 1979 they claimed that they had caught up and even passed the number of English-medium students in the country. They did this out of chauvinism, but also so as to obtain an increase in funding from France. The young nationalists, members of the Vanuaaku Pati complained endlessly about the opening of the new French schools. Hilda Lini, the sister of the leader of the Vanuaaku Pati, rightly challenged the published percentages in her newspaper, Nasiko, arguing that the French figures (unfortunately reproduced many times over) included kindergarten children, which indeed is the truth of the matter. However, the figures published covered a more nuanced situation, as we shall see. The

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fatal mistake of the French authorities was not to have learnt the lessons of their colonial past. Rather than ignoring the nationalists of the Vanuaaku Pati, and above all their leader, they should have held discussions with them and flatter the megalomania of Father Lini rather than pillorying him. The announcement of the "Tanna Programme" had immediate and long term consequences. On 25 June 1977, the country experienced demonstrations without parallel until today. The parents, teachers and students from the French schools poured down into the streets of Port Vila and Luganville. Protest marches were also held on Tanna and Malakula. The protests were about the maintaining of English/French bilingualism in Vanuatu, and therefore about the maintaining of French schools. The slogans and placards brandished about were in French, English and Bislama. These demonstrations were orchestrated by "the anti-independence sector", as Robert Early (1999: 17) states. At the head of the procession were the Melanesian Director of French Education, a member of the Vanuaaku Pati, and indeed the majority of the parents of students from the "public" schools were Presbyterians or Anglicans in Luganville (Santo), mostly sympathisers of the Vanuaaki Pati, for whom they voted. In fact, Melanesians, like all people closely linked to the land, have a cultural identity which could be described as consisting of concentric circles, which may of course vary from individual to individual: first comes the clan, then the ancestral land, the island, the ancestral language, religion and...language of education (in Vanuatu long linked to religion). To claim as Robert Early does (1999: 25), that "In Pacific countries, the value of an international language is primarily functional or instrumental...." is primarily a Pacific expatriate view. It denies any cultural element in language learning and supposes that language is a neutral instrument. In the Pacific, as elsewhere, it is not, and English is not Esperanto, far from it. Just as was the case with the introduction of western religions, the languages of education of the former New Hebrides had entered the cultural identity of the people. Therein lies the real cause of the demonstrations, much more than in any partisan manipulation. How could the multiple minority parties have mobilised such numbers? On the other hand, in terms of the cultural identity of the islanders, Melanesian vernaculars linked to a common cultural base are very easily interchangeable. When a language declines, one can easily become bilingual in two vernacular languages, gradually abandoning the lesser spoken one, as its associated micro-culture has already become extremely impoverished. This relative indifference with respect to ancestral languages (confirmed during recent discussions between Charpentier and the late Grace

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Molisa, author, politician, and founding member of the Vanuaaku Pati) certainly played an important role in the linguistic choices made by the Vanuaaku Pati. None of those present at the Tanna Congress dreamt that language could be such a critical factor, and produce such violent reactions. Father Lini, a little nonplussed for a moment, claimed that the teachers from the French schools had supported the demonstrations out of fear of losing their jobs. Nevertheless, the party renounced its programme to close those schools, and partially abandoned the programme itself. Contrary to what Thieberger (1997: 2), cited by Early (1999: 17), says: Early policy documents in 1977 envisaged an English-only education system and provisions giving equal status to French only found their way into later drafts of the Constitution as a result of orchestrated protest from the anti-independence sector which feared that their language would not be accommodated in the new nation,

the following must be said: first of all we should recall the chronology of events in order to set the record straight. The demonstrations in question took place in mid-June 1977, and the writing of the Constitution began in the last quarter of 1979, long after the Vanuaaku Pati had got over the "Tanna Programme". It is indeed a curious democracy proposed by Thieberger who suggests that the constitution must have been in conformity with the programme of a single party. In fact, as we shall see, the Constitution was written by a very broad and representative committee, which, according to Melanesian democracy, was completely accepted consensually, that is, unanimously. The "Tanna Programme" was a notable political mistake whose consequences are still being felt. Political opposition to the Vanuaaku Pati, to that point very divided and lacking any real philosophy, found one, namely absolute hostility to Bislama, seen after the Tanna Congress as the Trojan horse of French. While Bislama, a lexically English-based pidgin, did not hinder the learning of French in the slightest, nor the later mastery of that language (Charpentier cites as proof the large number of ni-Vanuatu capable of holding a telephone conversation in French without being perceived as non-native speakers), the Vanuaaku Pati programme had arbitrarily linked the fate of these two languages. It would seem that it was at that period that the specious and ambiguous concept of "the Francophones" appeared. In 1977 Bislama moved from playing a unifying role, even if lacking in prestige, to constituting a singularly divisive factor within the country.

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10.1.1.3. The Constitution and the place of Bis lama, 1979 10.1.1.3.1. The draft version of the Constitution In 1979 the principle of a progression towards independence was more or less accepted, even if its exact timing remained to be fixed. All participating parties were in agreement that the drafting of the constitution was a priority. In order to achieve this, two legal experts, one British and one French, were appointed by their respective governments. Neither of them knew anything about the archipelago nor its extremely complex sociolinguistic situation. This was the best possible guarantee of neutrality, as their remit was to provide assistance to the Constitutional Consultative Committee where needed. This committee was made up of members of the main political parties and church organisations. There were no kastom or chiefly representatives. It was as if kastom, more and more appealed to, had become a reified myth. Nating, long saed long kastom iumi brata nomol (It doesn't matter. Our ancestral custom makes us all brothers.) This slogan set aside the real divisions between the Melanesian leaders. The membership of the committee reflected a priority of "national" over "local", and in terms of language, Bislama over the local vernaculars. The initial drafting of the constitution regarding language was as follows: The national language of the New Hebrides is Bislama. The working languages of the New Hebrides are English, French and Bislama. The Republic will protect the different local languages which are part of the rich cultural heritage of the Nation and may raise one of these languages to the status of national language.

A reading of this paragraph shows that Bislama, recognised as the "national" language, was so chosen as there was nothing better on offer, and that one of the local languages could possibly take its place. This corroborates the poor standing that it enjoyed in the "Tanna Programme" two years before, a programme in which Bislama was supposed to serve as a springboard to English and then disappear. Robert Early (1999: 29) states, exactly twenty years later, that: ...the Constitution should be amended to read simply: 'The Republic shall protect the different local languages, which are part of the national heritage'. This amendment deletes the original continuation, which said: '...and may declare one of them the national language'. This strange inclusion contradicts the article stating that the national language is Bislama, and so

416 Chapter 10 action taken to declare one of the vernaculars to be the national language would be unconstitutional. There are several facts of which this scholar is apparently unaware. On the eve of independence, the language of Nguna served as a lingua franca for all of Efate, in the Shepherd Islands and in the capital. In the north of the group, Mota, formerly chosen as the language of the Anglican Church, continued to be widely used. These languages, as unifying languages, had more prestige than Bislama. The choice of a national language from among the Melanesian languages posed no constitutional problem. The proof of this is the text of the Constitution written in Bislama to be read during the campaign which took place throughout the islands at the beginning of 1980 to explain it (see Appendix).There it is specified without ambiguity, jenisim Bislama 'take the place of Bislama'. 3.(2) Ol netiflanwis blong Nyuhebridis oli hafblong ol gudgudfala samting blong bifo long kantri ya, mo gavman blong Ripublik bambae i lukaotgud long olgeta blong oli no lus. Sipos gavman ya i wantem mekem olsem, bambae hem i save jusumaot wan long ol lanwis ya blong i jenisim Bislama, i kam lanwis blong Ripablik blong Nyuhebridis. Although it was supervised by two legal experts, this first version of the Constitution, in its reference to language in the first paragraph, was both ambiguous and incomplete, and what is more failed to take into account the semantic differences which often exist between English and French words of similar appearance. Thus "national language" in English is not the same thing as "langue nationale" in French. In most English-speaking countries, which very often do not even have a declared official language, the United States for example, the term "national language" simply means language used by everyone. Certainly there is this element of generality in the term "langue nationale", but this purely sociological concept - as with the term "nation" - has no intrinsic judicial value in French, except that it is sometimes confused with the term "langue officielle". After the independence of several former French colonies, the term "langue nationale" took on a particular meaning in Africa. There it means a local language of wide currency which may serve as a regional lingua franca. At the period, in the former New Hebrides only Mota, Nguna and, in a lesser measure, Aulua, fulfilled that function. For French education specialists these were "langues nationales" or "langues vernaculaires vihicularisies" (vehicularise 'fulfilling the role of a lingua franca', an untranslatable term in English). In the same vein, the term "vernacular" in English, which may be an adjective or a

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 417 noun, is not the semantic equivalent of "vernaculaire" in French, which may be employed only as an adjective. "A vernacular" covers a semantic domain much broader and less well-defined than "langue vernaculaire". This latter term means solely a mother tongue, spoken at home, as opposed to "langue vehiculaire", a second language, spoken in the work-place or in the street. For persons with a French education, the Melanesian languages are "langues vernaculaires" and Bislama is a "langue vihiculaire" (which may become a "langue vernaculaire" if it becomes a mother tongue). On the other hand, for persons with an English education, both the Melanesian languages and Bislama are "vernaculars". The profound differences between the two colonial languages in terms of linguistic terminology seem to have escaped the two legal experts. Worse, no "official" language was included for the new State. The first version of the Constitution stipulated that: "The working languages of the New Hebrides are English, French and Bislama", with no "official" language. However, every independent country should have at least one official language, if only to communicate with international organisations or to establish diplomatic relations with other States. Moreover, it is in the official language(s) that the laws are written. The appellation "working language", curiously included in the constitution, had no legal status: a working language is a language which is chosen as a lingua franca, during a symposium, for example, so that speakers of different languages can communicate. At the end of the symposium this temporary status ceases (today nobody is able or willing to say what lay behind the formulation of such a term). The lack of precision in all this had not escaped the notice of the members of the Constitutional Committee opposed to the Vanuaaku Pati, who saw in all this a trap or snare aimed at according Bislama a special place at the expense of French. They brought this to the attention of the French legal expert who, rather embarrassed, finished by advising them to consult someone who was at least familiar with the country. Jean-Michel Charpentier, who was in Port Vila at the time, was given a mandate as an "expert" by the Constitutional Committee as a whole. As he had spent ten years in the archipelago, mainly with the Melanesians (chiefly Presbyterians, but also Catholics and traditional kastom people), having just completed an extensive socio-linguistic study throughout the group, this ethnolinguist was more than ever convinced of the propensity of the people to be "Condominium minded". Once the principle of independence was accepted, the principle of a Condominium government was not so much criticised in the

418 Chapter 10 villages as was the way it functioned: "Tufela ia, we oli gud...oli gud be oli rao ol taem, bastet!". ('These two [governments] were good,...they were good, but they argued all the time, b...!'). This Condominium mentality appeared in the way Melanesians spoke to Europeans. As soon as an English-speaker was identified, to please him they would make statements like: "Ol Franisman oli no gud, oli man blong stilim graonl" ('French people are bad; they are people who steal land!'). The same individual, having identified a French-speaker would say to him to open the conversation: "Ol Englisman oli no gud, oli kriri tumas!" ('The English are bad. They are too tight-fisted!'). These aphorisms, which no longer carried much meaning, were symbolic of the demeanour of the New Hebrideans who, although apparently without means, divided to rule. However, bad-mouthing "the other side" was reserved for them (and mainly still is today). That a Frenchman denigrate the "Pokens" (a diminutive of 'English spoken'), was expected, and elicited no further comment from his interlocutor. The same thing happened when an English-speaker took pleasure in denigrating the "Frogs". There again they secretly regretted the absence of consensus. Charpentier, who had often observed such behaviour as a spectator was convinced that he, a "Frog", as sole "expert" before the Constitutional Committee, could achieve nothing (any more than a sole English-speaking "expert" could). After having discussed his concerns with the by then internally autonomous government he went to Canberra to seek as his alter ego, Darrell Tryon, of the Australian National University, whom he had previously met carrying out research in the islands. 10.1.1.3.2. The mediation of the linguists Conscious that any dissension between them would be an inhibiting factor, and only too aware of the dysfunctional Condominium, the two "experts" prepared hand-outs in which were explained what a "langue officielle" was, what a "langue nationale" was, and the differences between that and a "national language"; how a "dialecte" was different from a "dialect"; that a "langue vernaculaire" was not the same thing as a "vernacular"; that a "langue vehiculaire" had no English equivalent, etc. These definitions were provided in both English and French. As was discussed in the previous paragraph, above, the section which referred to the local languages and to protecting them, requested by Maxime Carlot, was retained unaltered.86

86. Maxime Carlot, a French-educated Presbyterian, was the only Melanesian who regularly attended the meetings of the Board of Management of the Vanuatu

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The two linguists summoned, the authors of the present study, each speaking the language of the other, pointed out the need to choose at least one official language. They stressed the fact that since Bislama had no standardised spelling at the time, it would be prevented from being an official written language. It was recalled that the rise of a pidgin, when it becomes a mother tongue and so becomes creolised, comes at the expense of the Melanesian vernaculars, which disappear, and with them a large part of the culture with which they are associated.87 At the end of the Condominium period, with many ni-Vanuatu working for Europeans, especially unmarried young people from different geographical areas, inter-island marriages were increasing rapidly, as was creolisation. Following a sociolinguistic survey which he had just conducted, Charpentier estimated that creolisation had reached approximately 8% of the population, while the number of Bislama mother-tongue speakers was as high as 11% among those who attended secondary schools. The creolisation of Vanuatu youth was on the march. These figures were presented to the Constitutional Committee, with all necessary qualifications. In particular it was recalled that teaching in the local vernaculars was the means to arrest rampant creolisation. This only served to raise again the topics which had surfaced during radio debates and the six public meetings which took place in English, French and Bislama at the Cultural Centre in 1976-77, while Charpentier was curator there. The main topics debated at that time appear in Charpentier (1979). Teaching in the vernacular for the first three years of schooling was recommended in that work (1979: 238). The purpose of the presentations by the two "experts" was therefore simply to stimulate discussion among an already informed public. If the remark made by Crowley (1989: 111): .. .because in the past, some "experts" with whom ni-Vanuatu may be familiar, have rather unfortunately presented their views quite pompously, which has served only to alienate their audience, making people respond to the form of their message, rather than its - often quite legitimate - content,

was directed at the authors of this work, then his remarks are quite without foundation, since only New Hebrideans were involved in the debate, and, Cultural Centre. His English-educated compatriots never attended. This makes one question the myth that French-educated New Hebrideans (and ni-Vanuatu) were somehow acculturated and thus less Melanesian. 87. The example of Roper River Creole, Australia, was cited.

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since independence was close at hand, it was scarcely possible for Europeans to be "pompous". The discussions with the Constitutional Committee were far from difficult. Almost a "gentlemen's agreement" had been reached out of session, before each meeting. They concerned the lack of an official language. A first proposition came from the benches of the Vanuaaku Pati, as follows: The Official International languages of the New Hebrides Republic are English and French. The Official Internal language is Bislama.

If the first part of this text was word for word one of the numerous proposals for discussion put forward by the two linguists, the second part, immediately translated into French as 'Ία langue officielle interne", was obviously unacceptable to opponents of the Vanuaaku Pati, who saw in this the shadow of the unfortunate "Tanna Programme". If such a formulation seemed adept in many respects, with the colonial languages presented as foreign (international), as opposed to Bislama (domestic) seen as part of the Republic, so avoiding the terms national/national, which were potentially confusing, it clearly made Bislama a language which could be taught immediately. This fact did not escape Maxime Carlot, then Minister of Lands, who stated his absolute opposition to Bislama in education in any shape or form. He was of course unanimously supported by all the opponents of the Vanuaaku Pati. Thus Mr.Carlot spoke to Donald Kalpokas, his colleague and Minister of Education (in Bislama naturally, as neither was bilingual in English and French) within the Government of National Unity. Everyone in the country knew that if the probable victory of the Vanuaaku Pati in the next elections became a reality, then Donald Kalpokas would be reassigned the Education portfolio. The Minister of Education was invited to state whether Bislama would have a place in the education system. It was a question, now, of an official public renouncement of the "Tanna Programme", which had been on hold for two years. In spite of the denials of the minister, and the absolute silence from the Vanuaaku Pati front bench, Maxime Carlot and Aime Malere demanded that the future languages to be used in teaching be written into the constitution. It was decided that "English and French are the languages of education". This was a step back from the many suggestions made by the linguists, one of which stipulated: "English and French are the chief languages of education/ / 'anglais et le franqais sont langues principales d'education". These latter formulations recognised the role of the colonial languages, but provided for the introduction of other languages in education, such as the vernacular languages which

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Charpentier had constantly promoted since the beginnings of political life in Vanuatu five years previously. It was at this point that Barak Sope, the young and dynamic secretary of the British cooperatives, challenged the two "experts": "You tell us that Bislama puts at risk the disappearance of our languages in the future, but who says that your European languages will not put them in the same danger?" He immediately requested that the adjective "principal" be included in the text. One of the most thorny questions remained to be resolved, namely the formulation of a description of the place of Bislama. The opponents of the Vanuaaku Pati categorically rejected "national language/langue nationale", since to admit these qualifiers would be to ignore the absence of a standardised Bislama spelling and allow the possibility of teaching it in the Republic. During informal discussions the following were proposed: "langue vehiculaire de la nation hebridaise", "la langue vehiculaire nationale des Nouvelles-Hibrides", "le parier commun des NouvellesHibrides", "la lingua franca de la nation Hebridaise", "la langue de communication orale des Nouvelles-Hibrides", with their approximate English equivalents: "The vehicular language of the New Hebrides", "the lingua franca of the New Hebridean nation", "the common spoken language of the New Hebrides", "the pidgin of, the contact language of...", etc. Just as discussions seemed to have reached an impasse, Sethy Regenvanu, then a simple Presbyterian pastor, took the floor and said: "Mi luk, yufela i wantem putum bislama long wan smol kona nomo!" ( Ί see that you want to relegate Bislama to a small comer'88). The result of his intervention was to bring his party to choose "the national vehicular language", a formulation in which the national character of the language was put first, a choice which was made in spite of the warning of the reservations expressed by the two linguists as to the acceptability of the term "vehicular" with this meaning in English. The official translators of the Constitutional Committee confirmed that "vehicular language" was meaningless in English. The opponents of the Vanuaaku Pati said that they wished to retain '7a langue vehiculaire nationale". This word order, a deliberate choice, insisted on the oral character of Bislama rather than its national dimension, which would have appeared in "la langue nationale vehiculaire As always, during the drafting of the Constitution, members could not close proceedings without reaching a consensus. As the Vanuaaku Pati had 88. All the details of the debates are taken from the journal of J-M.Charpentier, written on the day of each sitting and retained by him.

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just publicly renounced the "Tanna Programme", and accepted that English and French be the principal languages of education, its opponents agreed to retain "the national language" in the English version of the Constitution, while in the French version it is specified that: "La langue vehiculaire nationale de la Republique est le Bichelamar". In case of disagreement, it was unanimously agreed that the French version of the Constitution would prevail. 10.1.1.3.3. The letter and the spirit of the Constitution The final version of the constitution accorded an important place to Bislama. It was a "national vehicular language", in other terms a "spoken language, common to the whole country". In addition it was declared an "official language". Thus Bislama has the status of "official spoken language", while English and French are "official languages", and thus official written and spoken languages. In order to elaborate on the practical consequences of these differences, article 62 of the constitution adds: Any citizen may obtain the services which he may lawfully expect from the administration of the Republic in any of the official languages which he speaks.

Article 62 implies that any citizen who speaks to any public servant in English, French or Bislama has the right to demand a reply in one of the three official (oral) languages of his choosing. If, on the other hand, the same citizen writes to the administration in one of the three languages listed above, the administration is only required to reply to him in English or French, according to his schooling (even if he has written in Bislama). So the Republic of Vanuatu has three official languages: two written and spoken (English and French) and one official oral language (Bislama). As its socio-linguistic situation is unique in the world, so too is its Constitution. As was stated above, all the details of the constitution were immediately explained throughout the country. The newspapers of the period record the event very well. The place accorded to the different languages satisfied the great majority of the population. Only a few people harking back to the "Tanna Programme" (probably including the future Prime Minister, Walter Lini, and a few Frenchmen nostalgic for the Empire), were unhappy with the compromise reached. Their lack of dialogue and their refusal of mutual concessions were to lead to an independence attained in chaotic circumstances.

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In 1980, the constitution was revised in conformity with Articles 82 and 83, which stipulate the conditions required. Article 84, in particular, was revised. It stated: A bill for an amendment of a provision of the Constitution regarding the status of Bislama, English and French....shall not come into effect unless it has been supported in a national referendum.

This text was objectively of French inspiration, since of the two colonial powers only France uses such a form of consultation. This origin explains its suppression at the time that relations with France were at their lowest, although it should be noted that care was taken not to touch the status of Bislama: official spoken language. In this Constitution, Bislama, because of its extensive usage, was accorded a much higher place than any of the vernacular languages. Certainly, the phrase "The principal languages of education are English and French", with the adjective "principal" added at the last minute, allowed the possible future teaching of the vernacular languages. So it would be possible for one of them to become a national language, only thinly veiling their real role, namely the recording and transmission of the ancestral cultures. Pidgin was the present and even the future (once standardised); the vernaculars were the past.89 Fortunately the text of the constitution, in particular Article 3, was both precise and flexible enough to respond to any socio-linguistic change, as the future will show. A few days after the special sitting of the Constitutional Committee dedicated to language, Charpentier met Gerard Leymang, then Chief Minister of the Government of National Unity and did not hide his surprise at the lack of reaction from the Lini clan (Father Walter Lini, his sister Hilda, and brother-in-law Kalkot Matas Kelekele). His reply was: "Walter does not care about the Constitution. Once he is in power, he will not be bothered with it!" This prophecy turned out to be false. At least as far as language issues are concerned, the Constitution has always been respected, both in spirit and in form. It was only violated in one area, in 1980, following the rebellion which erupted on Santo. At Article 5, the constitution states: c) everyone charged shall be informed promptly in a language he understands the offence with which he has been charged.

89. There was a certain Euro-centric logic about all of this.

424 Chapter 10 d) if an accused does not understand the language to be used in the proceedings he shall be provided with an interpreter throughout the proceedings. The rebels, accused of secession, had their sentences handed down to them in English (a language which the great majority of those charged did not understand) by a former British District Agent, whose mastery of pidgin was lacking, even after more than a decade in the service of the British Residency. The work of the two "experts", the authors of the present work, as simple advisers, in no way "alienated" the members of the Constitutional Committee, who were already very much aware of all these problems. A demonstration of this fact is that the two linguists called before the committee were decorated together for service to the Republic by the Vanuatu Government seven years later, on the recommendation of the President of the Republic of the time, Ati George Sokomanu, with the agreement of the Prime Minister, Father Walter Lini. It was less for their scientific contribution or their presentations as "experts" than for the spirit in which they worked, their teamwork and neutrality that they were rewarded. No lesson was learnt from this gesture. Later, certain of their colleagues, more concerned with pleasing the ruling powers of the time made unwelcome and untimely criticisms of their political opponents. All that this achieved was to contribute to a tense socio-linguistic situation. By dint of this, they indirectly contributed to preventing a start being made on the teaching of vernacular languages.

10.1.2.

Independence and the universality of Bislama

Independence was achieved in chaotic circumstances, and the Condominium government completed its mandate in ridicule. Detachments from no fewer than three foreign powers were sent to bring under control a few hundred dangerous secessionist rebels armed only with bows and arrows. As is almost always the case in the decolonisation process, local culture, in this case a deep Melanesian culture, took the upper hand. Accession to independence had been more a passing crisis than a rupture, at least linguistically. Today's newly independent ni-Vanuatu were still culturally yesterday's New Hebrideans. Expatriate advisers, who thought they would change everything in the 1980s, dealing only with the ruling party, failed because they had omitted undertaking the most elementary anthropological

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 425 analysis. In Vanuatu, and it may be useful to repeat it, the golden rule for all change, of whatever order it may be, had then and still has today consensus as its prerequisite. There would be no change in language policy which would upset the consensus officialised by the Constitution.

10.1.2.1. Bislama, instrument of nationalism and Melanesian identity The confrontation between the nationalists (no Melanesian was against the principle of independence), which pitted against each other those who wanted independence immediately and those who preferred a more staged process, was taken up by the planter lobby and encouraged by the divisions existing between the two colonial powers. While the British Residency wished to have done with the matter, the French Residency used delaying tactics. The tragic confrontations which were to occur as a consequence, although there were only three deaths, but thousands of detentions, would leave a mark in people's minds, and give rise to a myth, a linguistic myth, as erroneous as it was hard to eradicate, namely that the Francophones were opposed to the Anglophones. The leader of the so-called Francophones was none other than Jimmy Stephens, the founder and leader of the messianic Nagriamel movement. Jimmy Stephens had never been to a French school and could hardly put three words of French together, any more than the vast majority of his supporters, some of whom were English educated, for example those from Tomman Island, Malakula. Among the "Francophones" was a man called Amos Andeng (a future member of parliament and Minister of Transport). He hailed from Ambrym, was a Seventh Day Adventist pastor, and knew no French. Or there was Eddy Newman, a planter of Australian ancestry, an Anglophone. Grouped among the pseudo-Anglophones were all the faithful of the Anglican Church, the Presbyterians, the Church of Christ, even the Anglicans who had been educated in Mota and had never learned English, and the adult convert Presbyterians who were completely illiterate. In addition, among the "Anglophones" there were also true Francophones, people who had attended French schools, but who, through personal conviction had become members of the Vanuaaku Pati. There is even the case, and this is an isolated example certainly, but one which points up the absolute stupidity of such a division, of the former mayor of Port Vila at the beginning of the 1980s, S.Puyot-Festa, a French citizen born in New Caledonia. Right from the beginning he was a member of the Vanuaaku Pati

426 Chapter 10 and so became known as an "Anglophone". This myth, according to which political affiliation confers linguistic competence, perdures today, especially among certain expatriates in Port Vila. It has too often been raised, even deformed, sometimes ridiculously. The Pacific correspondent of the highly rated French newspaper, Le Monde, wrote of the "Francophone" Barak Sope, when he was a minister of the Lini government, after he was refused entry into New Caledonia as he did not have a visa. This affair was to lead to the expulsion of the French ambassador to Vanuatu. Barak Sope, later to become Prime Minister, was enrolled for only one term at the French school on Ifira Island, where he was born, even if one of his sisters speaks French perfectly, and two of his sons are graduates of French universities. Is this sufficient for him to be called a "Francophone"? This pseudo-linguistic division according to which the Vanuaaku Pati consisted of Anglophones while the opposition was made up of Francophones had lasting consequences for the fate of the languages of Vanuatu. For this myth, as all anthropologists know, was a myth with driving force. The so-called "Francophones" emerged from the events surrounding independence vanquished, ill-treated and humiliated. "Francophone" became synonymous with "rebel", "secessionist", and worst of all "antiindependentist". All foreigners who arrived in Vanuatu after independence did not see that the terms "Anglophone/Francophone", in spite of their appearance, were related to complex linguistic realities from which French and English could be completely excluded. Often the term "Francophone" took on a pejorative meaning among English-speaking writers, such as Early (1999: 30) who remarks: For education it was proposed yet again that the vernaculars and Bislama should be promoted as languages of instruction in early education (Government of Vanuatu 1997a: 45). However, this draft document was vetted by the francophone oriented Council of Ministers, and among the very few changes made was the axing of this particular proposal.

Contrary to what Early suggests, it is not because the government included "Francophones" that the proposal was abandoned, but rather because there was no funding available to put it into practice, as would be confirmed by later events. Excluded from government, naturally, and very largely absent from the different administrative services, despised by many of the English-speaking advisers, the "Francophones" and among them the Melanesians of French education, subject to almost certain ostracism, far from seeking to remedy the situation, accepted it. As Melanesians and "Francophones", they devel-

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oped a policy of systematic obstruction. Anything which came from the "Anglophones" and especially from the "Poken" (English) advisers was perceived as a trap or a trick, and so should be rejected. In particular, in the language domain, the "Tanna Programme" was far from forgotten. Accordingly, any attempt to promote the use of Bislama was perceived as a blow against French. They were aware that no important decision could be taken without them, that a minimum of consensus was necessary and that, as in the villages, they could stop any project: "Mifela i save blokem!" ('We can block it')· 10.1.2.1.1. The ideology of the Prime Minister and the pragmatism of the minister of education (1980-84) The Prime Minister, Walter Lini, the winner of the struggle, drew a few lessons from recent events. The only allies he had were Pacific Islanders. Thus he concluded an alliance with Prime Minister Sir Julius Chan of Papua New Guinea. This was partly military in its intent, but also cultural. Every attempt would be made to neutralise or eradicate the differences which existed between Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin, Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama, which were already largely mutually intelligible. Already there were numerous ni-Vanuatu studying in Port Moresby. The idea of the unification of the Melanesian peoples was in the wind, with the Solomon Islanders supposedly in agreement. Prime Minister Lini, already in favour of the universality of the Bislama which had allowed him to be heard by the greatest number of ni-Vanuatu, must have been aware of the political schism which was dividing his country. This gulf added to the religious, geographical and customary divisions in existence already. Bislama appeared as a cultural element shared by almost everyone. Although Bislama had its resolute opponents and was therefore an element of division, Walter Lini decided to make it the instrument of national unity and reconciliation. In order to achieve this, he began to attack those he believed were against his projects, namely the French. He made contact with and received promises of assistance to eradicate French from Canadian anti-bilingual movements. These people were particularly active in New Brunswick, a province which had just been declared bilingual in spite of the fierce opposition of the English-speaking "Loyalists". Prime Minister Lini's projects were cut short, however, as Vanuatu benefited from the dispatch of bilingual Canadian civil servants, and the government of Pierre Elliott Trudeau, very much in favour of English/French bilingualism in Canada, was equally supportive in the case of Vanuatu. Lini backed off and it was perhaps at

428 Chapter 10 that moment that the last chance to set up a quasi monopoly for Bislama in the primary education sector was lost. At the same time, the Minister of Education, Donald Kalpokas, was following quite a different policy. He had brought in a number of people from Mauritius, as part of a development project, as they were bilingual. Far from being an ideologue in favour of or against Bislama, Kalpokas had to be pragmatic in view of the closeness of the beginning of the new school year. Immediately after independence, when the great majority of French technical assistance personnel left the country and relations with France were veiy bad, Charpentier asked the minister if he intended to close the French schools, which was a real possibility in view of the political situation. His reply, in English, was the following: "Jean, don't even mention it! What will I do with these 13,000 children?" From the evidence, his maintaining French-English bilingualism, rather than launching into teaching in Bislama, seemed to be motivated by humanitarian concerns. However, he immediately added: "With France, it's an exchange", in other words, France is continuing to provide us with financial aid, so we are maintaining French-language schools. This deal is still current. This is what Early (1999: 25) forgot when he proposed that French be eliminated as an official language in the Constitution, as it entails costly translations. The economies achieved could then be used for the promotion of Bislama and the vernacular languages. The result of such a move would have as a probable consequence the reduction of French aid to the same level as that provided by France to the Solomons or the Kingdom of Tonga, where it has no interests, even of a cultural nature. Worse still, Australia, feeling that it was no longer obliged to maintain its aid, slightly greater than that provided by France, might find other priorities. Far from helping the country, such an initiative would only impoverish it. In Vanuatu, like elsewhere in the world, there is an economic dimension to language, which may not be of interest to linguists stricto sensu, but which has its importance for the maintenance and development of languages. 90 If Vanuatu were economically rich, it could make much freer linguistic choices. Donald Kalpokas was aware of the situation right from independence. So, with the assistance of John Weeks, an Australian graduate of English origin, he initiated a single curriculum for both French and English language schools. As a mark of goodwill towards his "Francophone" oppo90. The granting of scholarships to foreign students is never economically disinterested, for example.

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nents, he even proposed that the French diplomatic authorities fully fund this unified education programme. This offer of peace, this quest for unity and equity, would doubtless have assisted the learning of the two languages by a large number of pupils, had the "Francophones", lacking in vision, not strongly opposed the proposal. They caused its failure, and the unification of education has still not been achieved in Vanuatu to this day. This unconsidered attitude had as a consequence that more than ever Bislama became an irreplaceable medium between ni-Vanuatu educated in the two different systems. The "Francophones" had in fact strengthened the role of pidgin which many of them were trying to combat. Others, however, ingeniously found a way to support the Prime Minister in his quest to strengthen the role of Bislama. 10.1.2.1.2. The task of translating the spirit of the Constitution into reality A conference entitled "Vanuatu Language Planning Conference" was held in Port Vila from 13-17 July 1981. It was organised by the branch of the University of the South Pacific which had recently been established in Port Vila, and by the Vanuatu Council of Churches. The aims of the conference were the following: The purpose of the Conference was to provide an opportunity for niVanuatu to discuss the future role in the life of the country of the different languages used in Vanuatu and to make recommendations to Government. Participation, therefore, was limited primarily to ni-Vanuatu from various key groups and institutions. A small number of linguists from overseas also attended, but as observers. They were present only as resource people for the Conference. (Report: 1).

For reasons completely independent of the wishes of the organisers, this conference, planned for 1980, did not take place because of unrest. The delay meant that the conference took place at a period when passions were running high, making any objective assessment of the socio-linguistic situation impossible.91 As the government of the day was the Vanuaaku Pati, as well as an overwhelming majority of public servants, when invitations were sent to "the key groups and institutions" of the period, there was no representation from the opposition. The "Francophones", the "rebels", 91. It is strange that linguists such as Jeff Siegel still refer to this conference as a demonstration of the unanimous sentiments of the ni-Vanuatu people, especially with respect to Bislama.

430 Chapter 10 were of course excluded. It is true that even if they had been invited, they would probably not have come. They were not even represented by anybody from the Catholic Church. Naturally no francophone linguist was invited to participate as an observer. Although it was as far away as possible from seeking the consensus required which would allow concrete decisions to be made, this conference had to be politically correct so as not to displease the Prime Minister of the period. Thus, there could only be a strong show of support in favour of pidgin, although certain participants toned down their remarks. The circumstances and the membership of the conference participants were such that the outcomes could only be wishful thinking. The conference brought together people who were known to be mostly supporters of Bislama, which is a strange way to advance a cause, when it was the opponents of Bislama whom they should have been trying to convince. In the proceedings of the conference, the Report of the Vanuatu Language Planning Conference, the Prime Minister provided the orientation which he wished the conference to follow: In his opening address, the Prime Minister focused his comments on the importance of developing Bislama as the main language of communication within the country. He assured the Conference of the present Government's full support should appropriate recommendations regarding the development of Bislama emerge from the discussions.

This encouragement to develop Bislama and especially to standardise it, is in stark contrast to the remarks of the Minister of Education, who made no allusion to it at all: The Minister of Education, Hon. Donald Kalpokas, led off the discussion by explaining Government policy regarding language in school. He pointed out the ministry's desire that all children in Vanuatu should have a good grounding in at least one of the metropolitan languages and that work was beginning to develop a national curriculum to be taught in both English and French, which would unify the school system.

This conference revealed a lack of convergence of views, even within the government, on questions of education. The Prime Minister and the Minister of Education had differing priorities. One had a Utopian political vision while the other was pragmatic, embracing the possibilities of the moment. This cleavage was not just a simple opposition of ideas between two major players. It was to emerge also from the various ideas expressed by the participants.

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Most of the discussion was concerned with Bislama, whose history and present situation were summarised by the Rev. Bill Camden. Attention was focused on such questions as the requirement that Bislama be standardised, its role as a nationalising catalyst and its place in the education system. Nobody had noticed that Bislama, which had stopped being a potential replacement for French, had become a danger to the vernacular languages if it were to be given a pre-eminent place in education. The first group concerned with the necessity to standardise Bislama were the professionals who had to use it on a daily basis, such as the announcers on Radio Vanuatu. The director stressed the work overload caused by having to announce the news in three languages, Bislama, English and French. He expressed the wish that only Bislama be used for national news broadcasts, a proposal which was partly rejected by other participants who supported the idea that priority be given to Bislama, but that English and French be maintained for expatriate listeners. Another problem raised was the difficulty in translating technical government texts from English into Bislama for populations who did not speak exactly the same pidgin, according to their home island and to the education they had received, in English or French. The absence of standardisation was also the subject of complaints from the written press. Here again the lack of translators was deplored. Given the potential market for readers of Bislama newspapers in the islands, it was recommended that an adult literacy programme for Bislama be initiated. However legitimate these measures may have been, they were never implemented. However, the representatives of the Ministry of Education were much more prudent. Roslyn Tor, then director of the Curriculum Development Unit, is reported as saying: When children learn Bislama at an early age, it tends to interfere with their learning of English. (Report: 9)

The representative of Malapoa College, an English-medium secondary school is quoted as follows: Mrs Sope explained that on entering high school, those students who spoke less Bislama were better in English, which led her to the conclusion that Bislama interfered with the learning of English, though it did not seem to affect the learning of French. (Report: 11)

The message from these two statements is that Bislama is a hindrance to the learning of English, an opinion shared by all native speakers of a lan-

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guage other than English, but often challenged by English-speaking linguists, who have to learn only one of the two codes. As Mrs Sope remarked, the early learning of Bislama was indirectly beneficial to French, as there was no interference. These reasons, legitimate or supposed, were sufficient to prevent pidgin ever entering the education system in Vanuatu for twenty years. The conference also discussed the role of Bislama as an indispensable catalyst of national unity, but also as a possible means of bringing the Melanesian world closer together, expressed in the concluding remarks: The Conference endorses the statement made by the Prime Ministers of Vanuatu and PNG that Bislama should be developed as a language of communication between the countries of Melanesia to unify the various nations of the region. This "Melanesian" solidarity, which translated into a pan-Melanesian political entity known as the Melanesian Spearhead Group, re-emerged at the next conference on Pacific languages held in 1984. This conference, "Pacific Languages: Directions for the Future" was held in Port Vila from 27 to 30 August 1984. While the previous conference had a national character, this conference was much broader in coverage, with representatives from twenty Pacific territories. One of the central themes of the conference was Melanesian unity. In spite of the admitted differences between national variants, each of which played a unifying national role, Melanesian Pidgin Englishes were presented as mutually intelligible and therefore called upon to play the same unifying role right across Melanesia. There was even a resolution passed that pan-Melanesian pidgin should be extended to include New Caledonia, from which it had disappeared a century previously. These feelings of potential Melanesian Pidgin unification were reinforced by the remarks of the then Acting Prime Minister, Sethy Regenvanu: Bislama may not be known to as many of you as English or French, but it is the language which unites us in Vanuatu, not only among ourselves, but also with almost three million of our "wantoks" or language mates in Papua New Guinea. While the 1981 Conference had the merit of discussing practical problems, the conference dedicated to Pacific languages was more concerned with political considerations. There were no concrete outcomes, the recommendations remaining statements of good intention. On the other hand, scientific language research in Vanuatu was to have quite a different impact.

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10.1.2.1.3. Towards the standardisation of Bislama, the 1980s The decade which followed independence should have seen the implementation of decisions taken when the Constitution was written. As is often the case, political considerations prevailed over linguistic ones, maintaining the status quo which at least ensured peace. There were countless efforts by politicians, academics and user groups to standardise Bislama and promote the return of vernacular languages to the national education system. First, the Prime Minister at the time, Walter Lini, although he was from a region with a long tradition of vernacular literacy, north Pentecost, became the mentor of Bislama. However, his interest in Bislama, a medium spoken throughout the country, was above all of a political nature. For Prime Minister Lini, Bislama was seen as the principal catalyst of national unity, an essential tool for nation-building. It was also an indirect means of eliminating French. This return to the old 1977 Tanna Plan, which aimed at using Bislama as a springboard towards a monolingual English education policy, was due in large part to the poor relations between himself and the French Embassy. Lini was in contact with a Canadian organisation, CORE, in New Brunswick, the only bilingual province in Canada, whose aim was the eradication of English/French bilingualism in that country. However, the Canadian Prime Minister, Pierre Elliott Trudeau, who was responsible for providing assistance to Vanuatu, warned Lini off such an approach.92 This diplomatic blunder explains Lini's apparent volte-face regarding the future fate of Bislama. During a debate on languages in the first ordinary sitting of parliament in 1982, Lini explained: The only reason to teach Bislama in schools was to read it and write it. This would require standardisation, and it would take the life out of it. If they wanted to make it a unifying factor they should not teach it. (Summary of Debates, Parliamentary Sitting, 30 April 1982)

However, during that sitting, members of parliament expressed a unanimous wish for change in the education system, in particular the need for the use of Bislama and the reintroduction of vernacular languages at least at primary school level. No vote was taken, which laissez-faire policy was to be pursued until the end of the century.

92. Members of the Lini government had not been kept informed of these developments, in particular the Minister of Education.

434 Chapter JO In 1984, the Malfatumauri or National Council of Chiefs, expressed its clear wish that vernacular languages should be used again in the education system. Unfortunately this council, whose responsibility for culture and the cultural heritage of Vanuatu is defined in the Constitution, has no executive power, so once more there was no change. The First National Plan (1982-1986) foresaw the creation of a Vanuatu Education Commission to oversee curriculum development and specify language usage in the education system. However, the commission never saw the light of day, as the unified education plan produced by Minister Donald Kalpokas was scuttled by the non-participation of the "Francophones". This obstruction was to continue for almost two decades, until the World Bank proposed a system which would have allowed the development of an education system in conformity with the Constitution. Academic efforts Perhaps following the support of Prime Minister Lini for pidgin during the 1980s, the bulk of academic effort focused on the standardisation and teaching of Bislama. Much less attention was paid to the promotion of the vernaculars. Two academics played a leading role in these domains. First, Terry Crowley, the first director of the Pacific Languages Unit at the University of the South Pacific, based in Port Vila. Apart from the two conferences which he organised, mentioned above, he wrote a grammar of Bislama entirely in pidgin. This innovative work did not receive the attention it deserved, probably because of the lack of a standard form which was known and practised by the speakers themselves. Two other major works were published by the same author at the end of the decade, Beach-La-Mar to Bislama: the emergence of a national language in Vanuatu, and a dictionary, An illustrated Bislama-English and English-Bislama dictionary. Darrell Tryon published less on the subject, but wrote Bislama: an introduction to the national language of Vanuatu, a teaching manual and major reference book, which was used in courses provided for newly arrived expatriates, especially at the University of the South Pacific Centre. The role played by Bislama user groups As we saw during the 1981 Conference on language in Vanuatu, certain socio-economic domains are particularly concerned with both oral and written Bislama, and its associated problems of usage. Agriculture and health are particularly important in this regard. Bislama is required to reach the whole population in public information dissemination programmes,

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 435 both as an oral and written medium, in spite of the absence of a recognised standard form. As most ni-Vanuatu carry no intellectual baggage, not being wedded to any particular spelling system, they have no trouble in reading a whole range of spellings with apparent ease. So the lack of a standardised orthography is not perceived as a major problem by ni-Vanuatu. In these circumstances it is easier to understand the lack of political pressure for standardisation, which the average ni-Vanuatu seemingly only passively supports. On the other hand, it is the users who need a standardised Bislama. Newsreaders on radio and television receive their scripts in English, and less frequently in French, and have to translate them immediately into Bislama. Listeners' letters, many of which reach them in an idiolectal form of Bislama, require a response in a pidgin common to all. Newspaper journalists are under even greater pressure as they have to express themselves in writing, without the benefit of a common standard. The result is that they are subject to all sorts of criticisms. The same applies to the official translation service, which has to transcribe the parliamentary debates. All of these professionals decided to establish a committee to work towards a standardised spelling and terminology. This was not a government instrumentality which could impose its decisions, and for this reason nothing concrete was ever achieved. Thus the "Komiti blong Bislama" simply disintegrated. At the same time the major churches in Vanuatu continued their work of translating the Scriptures, a task which was begun at the beginning of the 1970s. In 1971 Gud nyus blong Jisas Krais appeared, followed in 1974 by Ol Wok blong ol apostol. In 1980 the Bible Society of the South Pacific published the New Testament (Nyutesteman long Bislama), while in 1996 the translation of the whole Bible (Baebol long Bislama) was completed. The problem which emerged from the abundance of publications which further helped the national coverage achieved by Bislama was the lack of cohesion between the Komiti blong Bislama (which had a USP linguist attached to it) and the churches, to the extent that there was a danger of two competing norms appearing, neither of which was officially recognised.

10.1.2.2. The testing of Bislama: its expansion and limits In the twenty years following independence nothing could halt the advance of Bislama towards universal coverage of the country. The various linguis-

436 Chapter 10 tic declarations by successive political figures, sometimes completely at odds with each other, had little influence on this evolution. Born of necessity to communicate in a complex multilingual society, Bislama, already indispensable, was to see its role increased many times over after Vanuatu became a sovereign state. 10.1.2.2.1. The generalisation of Bislama as a lingua franca (1980-1984) While at the end of the 1970s many women in the most isolated regions did not speak Bislama, for example in north Pentecost, Maewo and central Tanna, today there remain only a few areas in central Santo and Tanna (among the kastom people) where women do not know pidgin. Among the men, only a few mountain people in Santo still do not speak the national language of Vanuatu. It should also be added that children are learning Bislama earlier and earlier, in town of course, but also in the rural areas. The reasons for this development are many and varied. First of all, independence signaled the end of the Condominium, a period during which internecine warfare ceased, and the establishment of dispensaries and bush hospitals brought the coastal populations the benefit of modern medicine. These factors led to rapid demographic growth, accompanied by a breakdown in customary village authority and the traditional exchange of wives between clans, which meant that girls could marry freely throughout the archipelago. At the national level exchanges between individuals and distant communities increased, and the traditional bilingualism became inadequate. Only Bislama could respond adequately to these new communicative needs. During the three or four years following independence, Bislama was the only national identity marker shared by everyone. Even if at the political level some of the declarations in favour of pidgin were often tinged with overtones which had little to do with the linguistic future of the country, many young nationalists took them literally. To speak Bislama, to address Europeans in pidgin, was to affirm one's nationalism. At the National Library the publications in European languages were largely replaced by others coming from Papua New Guinea or the Solomon Islands, all in pidgin. Newspapers, pamphlets and small editions of magazines appeared in Bislama, all of which had disappeared by the beginning of 1984. This was the period when Bislama seems to have reached its apogee, covering the whole country, and sometimes serving as a pan-Melanesian medium. By 1986, however, the aura surrounding Bislama had begun to wane a little.

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10.1.2.2.2. The intrinsic and external limits of pidgin The ambiguous attitude of Prime Minister Walter Lini towards Bislama, the pragmatism of the Minister of Education and the stern opposition of certain French-educated members of parliament meant that the expansion, the generalisation of the usage of Bislama, took place more or less consensually, in a laissez-faire environment. The fact that Bislama was, in terms of the constitution, a "national vehicular language" and an official language, seemed to suit most people. Donald Kalpokas, Minister of Education and later Prime Minister, never hid his position. "We do not use Bislama as an official written language, but we use it as an unofficial language every time that we feel the need (personal communication to J-M.Charpentier)." What emerges from this is Melanesian pragmatism with respect to languages in general. They are above all tools. When Sethy Regenvanu became Minister of Education, succeeding Donald Kalpokas, he recommended the oral and written use of Bislama within his ministry, in preference to the former colonial languages. However, after a few months this experiment was terminated, with English and French resuming their place as the written languages. The problem was that Bislama lacked a standardised form, orthographical or morphological. In order for it to become a written language, the standardised form would have to be taught throughout the country. However, this has not yet been undertaken in Vanuatu. In the first decade after independence, English became more or less generalised as the written language of the administration, with French coming a very poor second. This development accentuated the cultural divide between the town, Port Vila, largely westernised, and the islands beyond, from which the expatriate population had all but disappeared. There were repercussions in terms of the universality of Bislama, as certain fields linked to diplomacy, public finance, and parliamentary business were packed with English borrowings. While these terms may have been understood by ni-Vanuatu in the urban areas, they were incomprehensible for the inhabitants of the islands, whose rural pidgin was less sophisticated. In the four years immediately following independence, contrary to expectations, the level of creolisation, where pidgin becomes a first language, stabilised after a period of rapid growth in the period 1975-80. In fact it is very difficult to predict how a socio-linguistic situation as complex as that of Vanuatu is going to evolve, as there are so many different factors involved. There were a number of new developments which had a significant impact. First of all, the Malfatumauri, the National Council of Chiefs, re-

438 Chapter 10 sponsible for the cultural heritage of the country, including its languages, decided to send back to their home islands young women who had worked as domestics and baby-sitters for the Europeans during the days of the Condominium. Since many of the expatriates left the country at the time of independence, without being replaced by an equal number of advisers, many of these young women became jobless. The Malfatumauri considered that they were becoming involved in prostitution and shipped many of them home to their home island or that of their grandparents. In fact, many of the young single women often married young men whom they had met in town, often from a different island. This type of marriage was the main source of pidgin creolisation, as the children born of these unions learned Bislama as their first language, as their parents used it in the home in preference to their own languages. Even if some of the young women sent home found their way back to the capital, in the beginning they tended to associate with their own language community in the town and often married within the group. The dynamics of the creolisation process were ruptured, especially as during the years which followed independence migration patterns changed. Until 1980, ni-Vanuatu left their home islands for town individually, since it was relatively easy to find work with a European. Employees were often housed by their employer or went to live as part of a very mixed community on the edge of town. Very few had an opportunity to use their mother tongue on a daily basis, making the use of Bislama indispensable. While prior to 1980 people came to live in Vila only from overcrowded islands such as Paama, Tongoa, and Pentecost, living together in urban communities, after 1980 thousands of people came from other islands to try their luck in town. Many of these people found themselves in material difficulty, in response to which they became grouped together in various quarters in the urban centres. This produced the well-known wantolf3 phenomenon, similar to the situation in the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea. Within these communities of man-Tanna, man-Bankis, man-Pentikos, for example, the children first learned the vernacular language of their ancestors, and very early they learned Bislama as well, as a second language and lingua franca. In these circumstances it is only immigrants from small communities who are likely to become creolised, as they are reduced to linguistic isolation in town. Rapid urbanisation and uncontrolled growth of the suburbs on the edge of town naturally gave rise to problems of cohabi93. Wantok 'speaking the same language'.

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tation among immigrants from diverse backgrounds. In response to this situation a number of associations were established, bringing together people from such and such a place. The goal of these associations was to foster and protect the interests of the group, so favouring the maintenance of the vernaculars in the urban areas, and putting a brake on creolisation. This phenomenon was unknown before independence.

10.1.2.3. 1984 to the present: the difficulty of creating a multilingual Melanesian State 10.1.2.3.1. 1984-1991: The end of the Lini era and of pan-Melanesianism While institutions such as the Melanesian Spearhead Group continued to exist and meet regularly, internal political problems within participating Melanesian states pushed the hoped-for linguistic unification of Melanesia through pidgin into the background. And in none of these states did pidgin really receive sufficient support to compete with English. In Vanuatu, Bislama, for a long time sole symbol of national unity, no longer played this role to the same extent. Ni-Vanuatu students studying in Papua New Guinea reported that that country had its own "Bislama". During the troubles at the time of independence in Vanuatu, the presence of Papua New Guinea troops demonstrated that "Bislama" was not exclusive to Vanuatu. People began to speak of Bislama blong ol man Nyu-Gini or just Bislama blong Nyu-Gini, Bislama blong ol man Solomon or Bislama blong Solomon. After having for a long time been erroneously believed to be the language of the Europeans, pidgin was gradually considered to be an interethnic language, belonging to no particular community, before taking on a purely national connotation with the approach of independence. While Bislama was closely linked to national identity while nationalism was at its height, the fact of having to share it with Melanesian states to the north changed this quasi-monopoly. Ni-Vanuatu realised that what made their country a unique entity in the Pacific was to be an officially bilingual English/French-speaking state, and so a bridge between English-speaking groups and those which use French as an official language. This new approach, which meant that for the first time there was a consensus on the "bilingual" character of the country, did not mean that individual niVanuatu, especially those who were English-educated, sought to be able to handle both languages correctly. The statistics on English/French bilin-

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gualism remained confidential, so ensuring that Bislama maintained if not all of its value as an identity marker, then all of its functional role as a lingua franca, at least orally. After eleven years in power, the figure whose supporters called him the "Father of the Nation" lost the elections in 1991, without having achieved anything for Bislama (or the vernacular languages), in spite of often dramatic declarations of support. This period of eleven years of strong personal power was to be followed by a succession of coalition governments. 10.1.2.3.2. The coalition governments and Bislama While since independence in 1980 the Vanuaaku Pati had governed alone, internal dissension led to splits, and when Father Lini lost control of political life in Vanuatu, no single party could form a majority government. From that time until the present, there has been a succession of coalition governments. Linguistically, the division between "pseudo-anglophones" and "pseudo-francophones" was greatly devalued, although a new myth was to see the light of day: from 1991 onwards any government led by a French-educated prime minister was "francophone", irrespective of the number of English-educated ministers in his government. If "anglophone/francophone" rivalry lost much of its sharpness on the political level, it was maintained within the public service, where because of cutbacks the number of jobs available was significantly reduced. There was competition at all levels, especially between English- and French-educated candidates (Thieberger 1997). A natural consequence of coalition governments is that the position of Bislama was strengthened, as the ministers are unable to communicate among themselves in any other language. 10.1.2.3.3. The Korman government and its attempts to limit the use of Bislama The leader of the first coalition government was Maxime Carlot Korman. This former French Residency teacher and Condominium administrative assistant, a French-speaking Presbyterian, set about re-establishing an equilibrium between French and English at government level. In order to achieve this he benefited from his strong links with the French government of that time, which brought him many favours and much financial support, such as the establishment of national television, installed and funded by France. As for radio broadcasting, for some time the great majority of air time had been devoted to Bislama compared to English and French. In the new

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 441 television service, for technical and economic reasons Bislama was used only in local news telecasts. The prime minister's well-known zeal for French was matched only by his supreme contempt for Bislama. He decided that the government controlled trilingual (English/French/Bislama) newspaper Vanuatu Weekly Hebdomadaire would henceforth appear only in French and English. This information appeared in the press, in the Vanuatu Weekly of 17 June 1995 and in the Trading Post, a mainly Englishlanguage newspaper. There were many hostile reactions from both niVanuatu and expatriate observers. The following week, E.S. George Pakoa, a senior anglophone civil servant wrote the following in the same newspaper: Mi ridim long wan copy blong Trading Post newspaper se i gat possibility blong VWH I save do awe wetem Bislama oltugeta mo bae English mo French languages nomo bae i stap. Sipos hemi true, mi tink se desisen ia i propa wrong desisen blong mekem from wetem due respekt long whoever body we i mekem desisen ia, mo wetem due respekt long ol gud wok we English mo French languages oli bin mekem long field of education in general, mi ting se Bislama hemi the best National language we Vanuatu i gat apart from its other hundred dialects. Bislama hemi wan language we ifolem phonetic sound mo mi tink se i save helpem pikinini long eli stej blong ol ridings blong hem. Only risen we yumi no usim long ol kindergardens blong yumi hemi no from Bislama i no gud be from pro-English mo pro-French Education Administrators oli stap wantem supresem folem ol personal prejudices blong olgeta. Plante English mo French words oli sound different mo spelled long different way mo wetem due respekt, mi ting se plante complicated spellings blong olgeta oli unecessary blong saed ia. Bislama Dictionary we Dr Crowley i bin writem long J990 mo i gat four thousand words long hem mo ol wok we Bill Camden i bin mekem bifo i soem se Bislama hemi come wan established language blong Vanuatu we VBTC i mas tekem into full consideration. Bae mi suggest se VBTC i seekim advaes long wan reputable linguist long Pacific languages bifo i save tekem wan desisen olsem. Although it is fairly long, it is important to reproduce the text of Mr Pakoa's letter in full, published in the Vanuatu Weekly Hebdomadaire of 24 June 1995. This letter presents a good resume of the ambiguity that exists with respect to Bislama, recognised as a distinct language, but suspected of still suffering from "insufficiencies" which would prevent it from being taught at the beginning of the school cycle. For Bislama speakers, more

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than the content of this letter, which reflects the opinion of very many of Mr Pakoa's compatriots, it is the form which attracts our attention. While Mr Pakoa seeks to defend the pidgin cause, in fact he unwittingly does it a disservice. In fact, this senior anglophone has slipped in a number of typical English expressions and turns of phrase, seemingly whenever he wishes to elaborate on his thoughts. This gives rise to two hypotheses: either Bislama is still intrinsically unsuited to express anything but the generalities of daily life, or Mr Pakoa, by dint of his sound English-language education, prefers to use that language when he wishes to elaborate on his thoughts and express abstractions. In both cases, this letter which was written advocating the use of Bislama serves the very opposite purpose. This attempt to suppress the use of Bislama in the governmentcontrolled Vanuatu Weekly Hebdomadaire, resulted in intellectuals such as Professor John Lynch, a linguist from the University of the South Pacific, writing a letter to the editor in the same edition as Mr Pakoa. He writes as follows: NO TEKEMAOTBISLAMA LONG V. W. Mi wantem agri fulmah wetem Consern Ni-Vanuatu (VWH 17/6/95) we hemi agensem tingting blong katemaot Bislama long Vanuatu Weekly. Konstitusen blong Ripublik i talem se i gat wan Nasonal lanwis long Vanuatu nomo; hernia hemi Bislama. Long saed blong konstitusen, Inglis mo Franis i stap lelebet daon: tufala i lanwis blong skul, mo tufala ia, wetem Bislama, oil ofisiol lanwis, minim se lanwis we Gavman i save yusum long wok blong hem. Bislama hemi namba wan ο namba tu lanwis blong evri ni- Vanuatu, nomata long taon ο long aelan. Sapos VWH i katemaot Bislama, hemi katemaot tu fulap man mo spesli woman Vanuatu we oil no skul, ο we oli no save gudInglis ο Franis...

Naturally, unlike Mr Pakoa, Professor Lynch avoids all anglicisation, so demonstrating that pidgin may be used as a written medium, that it is an autonomous and efficient means of communicating with the greatest number. However, by ignoring the French version of the constitution, which keeps Bislama at the level of unofficial written language, Professor Lynch advances a very specious interpretation of the constitution, giving a national language a higher status than an official language. Such an interpretation is a source of conflict in Vanuatu, especially in the French-speaking community, whose interpretation would be just the opposite. At the initiative of Prime Minister Carlot Korman the first Vanuatu Ombudsman was appointed nearly fifteen years after this office was written

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into the Constitution. Among the numerous responsibilities detailed for the Ombudsman in Chapter 9 of the Constitution is the requirement that an annual report be furnished relative to Article 62: "Rights of a citizen to services in own language": (3) The Ombudsman shall, each year, make a special report to Parliament concerning the observance of multilingualism and the measures likely to ensure its respect.

The first two reports appeared in 1995 and 1996. They provoked vehement criticisms from the Vanuatu Cultural Centre and from Robert Early of the University of the South Pacific (Early 1999). The criticisms were principally based on the Ombudsman's interpretation of the term "multilingualism". For her, this term applied only to the official languages and particularly to the two former colonial languages French and English. Bislama was given only superficial coverage, while the Melanesian languages were ignored. It was recommended that the equilibrium between French and English in Vanuatu be re-established, in keeping with the Prime Minister's ideas of rectifying the apparent inequities of the Lini era. The Ombudsman's Report recommended a numerical equilibrium between the two languages, especially in terms of school pupils, which rightly unleashed a stream of protest, as the Constitution guarantees equity but not equality between the languages (Early 1999: 17). Much of the problem stemmed from the fact that when the Constitution was drafted in 1979, it was agreed that, as there were some significant translation difficulties with respect to linguistic terminology (see 10.1.1.3.2.), in case of dispute the French text would prevail over the English one. The Ombudsman's office was unaware of this fact and of the lack of true equivalence between the English and French technical vocabulary. In terms of Bislama, the 1995 Report pointed to its neglected role as the sole national language, and raised the prospect of a Bislama translation of Vanuatu law (Ombudsman 1995: 16). However, the 1996 Report signaled a fundamental change of attitude, due in part to a new awareness of the constitutional situation and to consultations with former members of the Constitutional Committee, including Charpentier. The 1996 report was "unwilling to suggest measures that would enhance Bislama, and support for it is significantly more restrained than in the first report a year earlier". In the Fourth Special Annual Report on the Observance of Multilingualism, tabled in Parliament on 25 November 1998, the Ombudsman said the following:

444 Chapter 10 Bislama cannot be considered as a language of education because the people of Vanuatu have already given this status to English and French in the Constitution. The French version of the text specifies that Bislama is the "lingua franca" of the country ( " L a version fran9aise de ce texte lui donne speciflquement le Statut de langue vehiculaire...). It certainly ensures nationwide communication and the term "lingua franca" means that it is " a common tongue between speakers whose native languages are different". However its pronunciation and vocabulary vary greatly from island to island. Also it lacks exactitude and abounds in English neologisms. Before even thinking of making Bislama a language of education, one would need to evaluate the mammoth task of translating all the existing teaching materials from the other two languages and the financial cost involved. A n army of writers/translators, which does not exist in the country, would be necessary to achieve this task. It would be necessary to train intensively for this specialised exercise. Considerable delays and numerous translation errors would result, which would in turn seriously compromise the quality of the knowledge acquired. In particular, as far as teaching issues are concerned, and with few exceptions, translation is a compromise and can never replace knowledge directly accessible when the subject is presented in its original language.

This text, which conforms exactly to the spirit and the letter of the Constitution, recognises that English and French are the "principal" languages of education, leaving the way open for the use of any and all of the other languages, including Bislama. It is, however, very pessimistic about the future of Bislama as a language which is written and taught. Such a situation is largely due to the apathy of the political leaders, who have never shown any great interest in the linguistic and educational future of the country. During his twelve years of almost absolute power, Father Lini had every opportunity to take decisions which would at least have provided Bislama with a standardised spelling, with which the population would gradually have become familiar. This did not come to pass. The policies of the Korman government, whose aim was to redress the FrenchEnglish balance, were not successful because always politicised. In educational terms, the proportion of enrolments in French language schools continued to fall at the same rate as during the latter years of the Lini administration. There is no surprise here, for in the Condominium days France set up an expensive boarding school system (Charpentier 1979: 94-98). After independence such a system was difficult to sustain, as a report from the Ministry of Education in 1981 showed that a pupil at a French-language school cost four times as much as a pupil in the English-medium system.

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The closing of the French-medium boarding schools reduced their catchment areas by half, and today French-language schools represent only 2530% of the population. The persistent myth of an anti-francophone plot was doubtless one of the major factors which prevented any thorough reform of the education system and one which prevented the implementation of a "multilingual" system as envisaged in the Constitution. 10.1.2.3.4. The Vohor government and the World Bank Between November 1995, when the first Korman government fell, and the end of 2000 there were no fewer than five governments. Sometimes called "anglophone" and sometimes labelled "francophone", depending on the schooling of the Prime Minister, these were all coalition governments whose ministers came from both traditions in about equal numbers. Naturally the ministers in question could only communicate among themselves in Bislama, as they were only rarely bilingual in English and French. After 1995, there were multiple party splits, with members much more interested in their own political survival than in the linguistic or educational future of the country. However, demographic and economic conditions became such that it was no longer possible to pursue the suspicions and plotting which led to the failure of English/French bilingualism and worked in favour of the ever-increasing use of a still not standardised pidgin. Faced with the increasing hostility of the teachers and parents who underwent considerable sacrifice in order to pay school fees for a less than satisfactory education for their children, the government of francophone Prime Minister Serge Vohor, in office since 30 September 1996, was forced to accept the advice of the World Bank. This international organisation had for some time been conducting "Education for All" programmes around the world. In June 1997 there was a "National Summit" held in Port Vila, which accepted a Comprehensive Reform Program (CRP), of which education was the key element. Experts from the World Bank consulted all those involved in education throughout the country, and on 7 October 1999 they published a document entitled "Education Master Plan 2000-2010" for the Republic of Vanuatu. 10.1.2.3.5. Thoughts of introducing Bislama into the education system Since the end of the 1980s there were occasional literacy programmes arranged, both at preschool and adult levels. Almost always the language involved was Bislama. The institutions concerned, such as the SIL (Sum-

446 Chapter 10 mer Institute of Linguistics), World Vision and Baha'i Faith, who seek to broaden their sphere of influence throughout the archipelago, find it much more economical to train teachers and produce textbooks for tens of thousands of potential students than for a few dozen or a few hundred, when one thinks of the vernacular languages. It was doubtless financial considerations which made the preschool association, Priskul Asosiasen blong Vanuatu, chose Bislama as the language to be used in kindergartens. Another factor in this choice is that these associations are often managed by expatriates who can rapidly become good speakers of Bislama, while they would take years to achieve the same result in one of the local vernacular languages, applicable to only a small community. The choice is less a linguistic or cultural one, but one which is based on efficiency and economy. Indeed it was this which motivated the Vanuatu Council of Churches to translate the Bible into Bislama. These arguments in favour of pidgin had not escaped the attention of the Vohor government. Faced with an impossible financial situation, many of the teachers not having been paid for some time or very late, the government turned towards pidgin as a way out of the impasse. However, as soon as news of such a plan became known, political and diplomatic pressure saw that it was scuttled; at the same time the Vohor government was only to survive for a few more months. In Vanuatu, pidgin literacy remained the business of the NGOs, and the semi-official Preschool Association, which had obtained some financial assistance from the government.

10.1.3.1. "The Education Master Plan ": Towards the teaching of Bislama? 10.1.3.1.1. The impossibility of the existing education system Feasibility studies conducted by the World Bank showed an average annual increase of 3% in the Gross National Product of Vanuatu since independence in 1980. However, like the Melanesian countries to the north, Vanuatu is experiencing a population growth rate unparalleled elsewhere, approximately 4% per annum. As a consequence of this growth rate parents can no longer pay the school fees of all of their children, especially when one of them enters the secondary system. Thus many children do not attend school at all. If school places seem to have reached their limit, education costs appear to be ever increasing, especially teachers' salaries. The cost of living in Vanuatu is higher than in fourteen other countries studied by the World Bank, especially in urban areas. Added to this is the fact that teach-

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 447 ers have not had a salary increase since 1994, leading teachers to leave the profession for more lucrative employment in the tertiary sector. With a budget of 3 billion vatu in 1998, or 22% of the national budget, even if the goal of 26% can be reached, after 2010 it will be impossible to maintain general education up to grade 10. This was the conclusion of the preliminary study carried out by the World Bank.

10.1.3.1.2.

The choices made by the political leaders and the educational authorities Whether it be the second Vohor government, or the government of the anglophone Kalpokas which followed it in March 1998, the language policy for the period up until 2010 submitted to the World Bank experts remained the same. It is defined on page 3 of the Education Master Plan as follows: Language Policy We intend to follow the mandates stated in our Constitution, which provide that "The Republic of Vanuatu shall protect the different local languages which are part of the national heritage" and "The principal languages of education are English and French." We intend to use our education system to develop writing systems, over time, and as resources are available, for as many as possible of our indigenous vernacular languages. As materials become available, we intend to use them in the early years of basic education. We wish to preserve English and French as the principal languages of our education system, although we hope that in the future it can become increasingly bilingual at the upper levels of the system. We intend to strive to create a society in which all citizens feel at ease in at least one international language and in which our secondary-school graduates can function well in either.

This text, precise and clear as it is, written by the office of the anglophone Prime Minister Donald Kalpokas and the Minister of Education, Joe Natuman, also anglophone, can be described as both innovative and ultraconservative. The policy is innovative in that for the first time since independence priority is given to the indigenous vernacular languages so that they may be used in the school system. And at the same time the dual English/French language system is confirmed, but with the declared objective of producing true English-French bilinguals at the top end of the system.

448 Chapter 10 It is conservative in that Bislama, spoken throughout the country, appears to be excluded from the education system. In fact, Bislama seems to have gone backwards, since for years the Ministry of Education has allowed the use of Bislama or the local vernaculars by teachers in cases where pupils do not understand the lesson in English or French. This position appears to be officially maintained, at least, since Appendix 2 of the Vernacular education for Vanuatu document, written by the ministry states (page 68): The vernacular language to be used in each school will be chosen at the school level, by the school committee in cooperation with the parents. In rural areas, where the large majority of Vanuatu's population lives, the choice will be obvious: the vernacular language spoken by the people in the village. In Port Vila and Luganville, where mixtures of vernacular languages occur, the decision will again be made at the school level, by the school committee. It will probably often be the case that since Bislama is the common language used by the children in urban schools, the school committees in question will choose Bislama.

During all the meetings held for planning or explanatory purposes, with respect to the Education Master Plan, the question of the role of Bislama in the future education system was raised by many people from both the English and French streams. During a meeting held with parents of the Louis Antoine de Bougainville secondary school in August 1999, Charpentier, who had been commissioned by Minister Natuman to "sell" the future education plan and particularly vernacular literacy, was asked: "If teaching in the local languages requires so much preparation and care before it can be put in place, why not teach in Bislama?" Since it is universally known, and is extremely flexible in the absence of any universally recognised standard, Bislama is very often considered to be a language which anyone can teach since he or she speaks it and.. ..writes it when he or she feels the need. The requirement that there be an official standardised Bislama is raised only by education specialists and linguists. In the rural areas, where vernacular literacy is still remembered, these languages are considered more suitable for teaching than Bislama (Masing 1992: 51, quoted by Crowley 2000: 66). In the urban areas, where the population is often mixed, younger and so less attached to ancestral ritual, Bislama appears as a universal panacea in education as indeed it is for daily inter-communication. It is interesting to note that during a planning meeting held with World Bank representatives in September 1999, many of the young Melanesian professionals present expressed their wish to see not

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only the vernaculars, but also Bislama in the education system. During the working sessions, each time the chairman was a ni-Vanuatu, the session would begin in English, the francophones present being more or less bilingual or armed with dictionaries. After a few minutes, in spite of the presence of representatives of the World Bank, discussions would continue in Bislama. It is a strange education plan which does not take account of the main working language which played a key role in its development. This paradox did not escape the attention of the World Bank team, who were careful, naturally, not to interfere in the discussions. The linguists present, whether anglophone or francophone, unanimously agreed that a standardised Bislama be taught as a compulsory subject at the end of secondary studies, once students had acquired a sufficient mastery of English. This consensus on the part of the linguists came up against a brick wall on the part of the politicians, deeply marked by twenty years of dissension and prejudice at the very mention of pidgin. Reassured by their experience in Papua New Guinea, where there are seven times as many languages as there are in Vanuatu, and where pidgin also plays a major national role, the World Bank experts entrusted the government with responsibility for setting up their "Education for All" programme in Vanuatu. As there was not much liaison between government ministries, the formulation of the future education plan fell to a small group of technocrats, with little control from the Minister of Education or the Prime Minister. 10.1.3.1.3. From the conception of the plan to its application: the weight of the heritage of conflict In the face of a whole raft of difficulties, and the fear of replacing an outdated system with one with quite uncertain outcomes, it was decided to conduct a pilot scheme limited to twelve schools for a period of four years. The scheme was quickly taken over by the anglophone civil servants and advisers in the ministry. The Summer Institute of Linguistics, well-known for its support for an all English94 approach in Vanuatu, and its antiCatholic stance, was mandated as principal service provider. The fact that the planning group also recruited a well-known anglophone linguist, very competent, but unfortunately an author with strong negative views on the French presence in the Pacific, did nothing to encourage the French Em94. Recommending that French be discontinued and that the principal language of education be English only.

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bassy to back the project. For the World Bank would only approve a loan to Vanuatu if the member countries concerned agreed. Without the support of France, Australia and New Zealand were unwilling to underwrite the Education Master Plan. However, without any financial guarantees, the pilot scheme was launched in mid-1999 in twelve anglophone primary schools, with not so much as a mention of Bislama. At this point the government was overthrown, and a new coalition formed under the leadership of Prime Minister Barak Sope. The new Minister of Education, Jacques Sese, a francophone, having given careful thought to the World Bank plan for most of 2000, decided to proceed. However, he imposed certain modifications which largely followed the World Bank recommendations: the reduction of schooling from ten to eight years,95 with the first years of vernacular education very much in the hands of the local communities. While the new plan was to be implemented in an equal number of French and English stream schools, there were no pilot classes to be conducted in Bislama, in spite of the insistence of certain members of the Project Preparation Team. Taken on as a consultant by this team, Charpentier attempted to persuade Minister Sese that Bislama should be given a place in the programme. He argued that: -

-

-

A standardised norm for Bislama has been established by the linguists, which only requires official recognition by the parliament. Without infringing on what is written in the Constitution it is now possible to introduce Bislama at any point in the education system. It would be unjust to deprive creolised children of the possibility of being taught in their mother tongue. Bislama is already written on a daily basis in certain sectors (radio, agriculture). Therefore it would be better to write it with a standardised spelling rather than risk misunderstanding through idiosyncratic spellings. Since the first stage of the programme is experimental, perhaps it would be good to open at least one class in Bislama in order to see whether early learning of this language hinders the later learning of English or not. This would serve to test Siegel's (1996) claim that based on his Papua New Guinea experience, children who are first made literate in Tok Pisin learn English more quickly.

However, Minister Sese responded that Bislama is a danger to local vernaculars (echoing the concerns of Mühlhäusler (1996)), stating that his own 95. With the aim of reducing pressure on the education budget.

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language on Ambae is less and less well spoken by children, who sometimes prefer to speak Bislama, and who always pepper their own vernacular with Bislama expressions. He also claimed that it would be superfluous to teach Bislama as it is still expanding and is known by everyone. Finally, he maintained that only an education in the local vernacular languages can save the local cultures, one of the major objectives of the Master Plan. After several hours of discussion, the minister agreed to a compulsory class in Bislama Spelling for pupils in years 7 and 8 of the new Community Schools and in the Junior Secondary Schools in Vanuatu. In order to achieve this, Minister Sese envisaged reactivating the old Komiti blong Bislama, which had disappeared through lack of official recognition. However, this project was doomed not to be realised immediately as in April 2001 the Sope government was overthrown, replaced by a new government led by the anglophone Edward Natapei. Sese was reappointed Minister of Education and the general feeling was that the Master Plan was at last going to become a reality. It was only on 29 June 2001 that the World Bank loan documents were signed, after which time the real work could begin. But in a dramatic development the whole Master Plan was about to be abandoned. 10.1.3.1.4. The abandonment of the plan. Counter-proposals The causes of the failure of the Education Master Plan are several. The notion of vernacular education in Vanuatu has never had unanimous support, as many ni-Vanuatu prefer European languages as the way forward. The politicians are divided on the question and the task of setting up and implementing the new plan suffered as a consequence. However, it was not so much technical factors which brought about the abandonment of the project, as the basic problem that Vanuatu, faced with record demographic growth, is unable to permanently meet the primary needs of the population. The Master Plan, while reducing the number of years of schooling and paying the future vernacular teachers only half as much as other teachers, would achieve important economies. But the sudden arrival of US$3.7 million, the World Bank loan, would only stimulate the appetites of the various ministries. The failure of the Master Plan coincides with a renewed wish to revise the Constitution, many times deferred already. Already in 1999, in a criticism of the Ombudsman, Early did not hesitate to recommend a revision of the Constitution, particularly the articles which deal with questions of language.

452 Chapter 10 Article 3.2 of the Constitution should be amended to read simply "The Republic shall protect the different local languages, which are part of the national heritage". This amendment deletes the original continuation, which said.. ."and may declare one of them the national language". (1999: 29)

While this may be scientifically acceptable, one is surprised that Early takes it upon himself to provide such unsolicited advice in an independent sovereign state. In a submission to the Constitutional Review Committee, Lynch and Kanas have recently recommended that Bislama be the only official language listed as such in article 3 of the Constitution. This would of course spell the end for many local vernaculars, with a commensurate loss in Vanuatu's rich cultural diversity. Who would dare contradict those, like Mühlhäusler and Charpentier, who maintain that in the Pacific it is Englishspeaking expatriate researchers who claim to be the strongest supporters of pidgin, but without much thought for the possible consequences for local languages and cultures? Maybe by asking for a lot, in recommending that Bislama become the sole official language, Lynch hopes to gain a little for the Bislama cause. In any event it is a surprising development from such an experienced field linguist. If his recommendation were accepted would not Bislama become even more rapidly anglicised? No language commission, such as the old Komiti blong Bislama, could halt such a development. One has only to step outside the Pacific to realise that the recommendations of the different academies around the world are largely ignored, and that to try to avoid the introduction of borrowings is futile. To propose that Bislama become the sole official language for budgetary reasons, rather than using English, French and Bislama, would be too expensive in terms of the cost of translation required. In addition, as it would no longer have any interest in Vanuatu, even cultural, France, the third largest aid provider to the country, would substantially reduce its contribution. With the disappearance of French, Bislama would be left alone with English. The lack of ni-Vanuatu bilinguals in French and English, which has provided ideal conditions for the development of Bislama, would no longer be a factor working in its favour. In spite of its new status, Bislama would doubtless evolve towards a "Vanuatu English", incomprehensible to outsiders.

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 453 10.1.4.

Conclusion

The Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides was unique in the world. The legacy which it left, politically, evangelically and culturally, is equally particular to Vanuatu. As the preceding pages attempt to demonstrate, Bislama, universally used in all social domains, encountered the hazards inherent in the construction of a modern unified state, while at the same time subject to the burdens of the past. Countless fluctuating factors have influenced the role and the status of Bislama, making any long-term forecast extremely risky. De Saussure compared phonological systems to a chess board on which each phoneme has a value determined by that of its neighbours. Any change in the characteristics of one of these phonemes would have repercussions for the whole system and on each individual element. The multilingual situation in Vanuatu, with its different linguistic constituent elements, subject to the actions of numerous paralinguistic agents, presents a similar scenario. Whether the mastery of or use of the vernacular languages regresses or whether the many bilingual situations which existed previously continue to diminish, Bislama emerges as greater because it alone can fill these voids. In the same way, the strength of pidgin is derived from the low percentage of English/French bilinguals nationwide. The failure to master the "principal" languages of education, especially the omni-present English, no doubt moves young people to speak Bislama, the language of daily life, of spontaneous expression. No impediment troubles the speaker of pidgin, whatever his origin, because there are no strict normative constraints. Thus there can be no negative judgements made about Bislama speakers, no matter how they speak it. In Vanuatu, any language planning, which of course takes place in a context of educational reform, requires that one take into account a necessarily unstable equilibrium between the different types of language spoken (former colonial languages, lingue franche and vernacular languages). In fact this amounts to reaching a politico-linguistic consensus between the different cultural communities, whether they be traditional or the legacy of former colonial times. The Education Master Plan, developed with the assistance of the World Bank, was a response to these requirements, but its weakness lay doubtless in its complexity, itself a reflection of the country. The twenty years which followed independence have been marked by inaction, a lack of imagination, even a lack of courage. The old system developed a sort of sclerosis

454 Chapter 10 which made it impossible for it to move forward. This inability to change and plan has been very beneficial to Bislama, which looks very much as if it will become the default language, after the double failure of attempts to set up a French/English bilingual system and a system of vernacular education. A country which not long ago was blessed with an incredible richness of language and culture may well become an officially diglossic state in which the High Language would remain under daily pressure from standard English, its former lexifier language. Its culture, partially a titration of ancestral cultures, would remain to be defined. This is the implication of the latest proposal from the University of the South Pacific. To each State corresponds an (official) language and a (national) culture. This was the scenario a century and a half ago, when "nationalities" triumphed in Europe. Is this the wish of the ni-Vanuatu, as free and responsible citizens? Their leaders will decide. For the moment, the language question remains more open than ever in Vanuatu.

10.2. Papua New Guinea (PNG) 10.2.1.

The inexorable and unsung expansion of Tok Pisin

Although it has many more native speakers and second language speakers than Bislama, because of the size of the country, Tok Pisin does not enjoy the same official status, and its role, although it is important, cannot be compared with Bislama in Vanuatu. Tok Pisin is the source of many fewer quarrels and its development progresses to meet the country's needs, communication and education, for example. This is an ongoing process, in spite of opposition, often from outside the country. This state of affairs, noted by all scholars familiar with the two situations, springs firstly from past and recent history, from the types of multilingual situation in the two countries, and the degree of participation in the political process in these two independent States. First of all used as a lingua franca in German New Guinea, the Pidgin English of the time was never decried by the colonists as a deformed kind of English. No such indulgence was accorded to Vanuatu Bislama or Solomons Pijin, territories in which the missionaries and administrators were English. From the beginning, Tok Pisin was able to develop autono-

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mously and forge structures that were sufficiently solid to resist efforts to hinder its expansion, even after New Guinea came within the zone of English influence. By bringing the former German New Guinea and British New Guinea (Papua) under one administration, the authorities unwittingly favoured the expansion of pidgin throughout the country. As it was no longer in contact with any prestigious European language apart from English, the unification of this already stabilised pidgin was easier than was the case for Bislama, used by native speakers of both English and French. However, it is doubtless the maintenance of this double influence which has ensured the present success of Bislama. Very early Bislama played the role of a neutral code, first between French and British citizens;96 today this neutral role is played out between anglophone and francophone niVanuatu. Until the eve of independence in 1980, Bislama, although often looked down on, remained a language used between nationals of the colonising powers and between them and the New Hebrideans (now niVanuatu) of that period. In Papua New Guinea, Tok Pisin, used as an interethnic language, and between the Australians living there and the different Austronesian and Papuan groups, did not enjoy a similar aura of neutrality. Europeans condescended to speak it and willingly handed its ownership over to the Papua New Guineans themselves. It was natural that with the intensification of communication between the indigenous groups, and the departure of many Europeans after independence in 1975, that Tok Pisin would become an element of national identity, the de facto national language. In Vanuatu the equation pidgin/nationality was achieved after a serious struggle by the young nationalists of the time. The constitution of the country reflects this, just as the Papua New Guinea constitution is the result of the quiet revolution which established the pre-eminence of Tok Pisin in the life of the country. Wurm (1966: 49) estimated the number of Tok Pisin speakers at some 300,000. The 1971 Census gave 750,000 pidgin users, of whom more than 10,000 were first-language speakers. In 1977, Wurm speaks of more than 1,000,000 speakers of Tok Pisin (Wurm 1977: 511). Rather than the figures themselves, difficult to establish and harder to verify, what should be retained is the progression in the number of speakers, regular and inexorable. Today more than half of the 5,000,000 citizens of the country have a more or less sound knowledge of Tok Pisin. While it 96. French and British planters spoke Bislama among themselves, as did colonial administrators; even French Catholic and English Protestant missionaries used it with each other, when they deigned to speak to one another.

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has not achieved anything like the Vanuatu percentages, where a knowledge of Bislama is almost universal, the spread of Tok Pisin, both in terms of numbers of speakers and geographical area, continues unabated, as does its position as a language of unification and a language of instruction.

10.2.1.1. 1975: Proclamation of independence; sociolinguistic situation When they attained independence, the citizens of the new State could rightly claim to live in the country with the highest number of languages in the world, some 750 vernacular languages, several lingue franche and the language of Australia, English. The vernacular languages The oldest of these languages, known as Papuan or non-Austronesian, number some 500. They are mainly spoken in the interior of the country, and are spoken by groups ranging from several dozen to thousands, such as Enga, with approximately 200,000 speakers. As Wurm (1975: 14-18) and others have shown, these languages are distantly related. The relationship of the Austronesian languages, about 250, spoken mainly in coastal areas, is much more apparent, due to the relatively late arrival of these populations, approximately 4,000 years ago. The two largest languages belonging to this family are Tolai, from New Britain, with 90,000 speakers, and Motu, spoken around Port Moresby, with 18,000. This generalised multilingual situation created situations in which individuals came to speak several languages, and even gave rise to local lingue franche even before the arrival of the Europeans (McElhanon 1979: 277), whose presence led to the appearance of new contact languages. The lingue franche Faced with a multiplicity of small dialects, which made evangelisation difficult, the missionaries chose certain ones and made church languages out of them, such as Suau, Dobu, etc. Although they had long been taught, they began to decline, when in 1955 it was decided that English would be the only language of instruction. Another vernacular language of wider communication was Hiri Motu, which underwent expansion chiefly due to the role assigned to it by the first Australian Governor in 1906. In order to eradicate Pidgin English, considered as a "bastard jargon", but spoken by those Europeans who had dealings with other Pacific territories, a contact

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variety of Motu became the contact language between the administration and the indigenous peoples of Papua. Dutton (1980) estimates that at the beginning of the 1970s Hin Motu was spoken by approximately 180,000 people. However, its use continued to decrease among the younger generation and the influence of this important lingua franca shrank, while that of Pidgin English (Tok Pisin) continued to surge. Born during the 19th century, like the other Pidgin Englishes used today in the southwest Pacific, a development of the trade jargons and Sandalwood English, Tok Pisin is different from the other Melanesian pidgins in several respects, see Chapter 9, above. Unlike Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands, today's Papua New Guinea was practically excluded as a recruiting area for Queensland. This English-based lexifier pidgin was chosen as a special language of communication by the German colonists in New Guinea and Samoa, where many New Guinean labourers were sent to work on the plantations (Mühlhäusler 1976: 122-125). Instead of being rejected, of being the object of negative remarks by the Europeans who used it, this pidgin was able to develop and stabilise without hindrance, and naturally to enjoy a certain prestige among the local populations, leading to an increase in speakers. It is worth noting that this pidgin, sometimes called NeoMelanesian, largely stabilised outside the area of influence of its principal lexical source, English, and that it underwent significant influence from Tolai, the language of the first recruits for Samoa. Thus it was under the Pax Germanica that Tok Pisin began its "nativisation" phase, as it became more and more a lingua franca between New Guineans, at least as much as it was a contact language between the Europeans and the colonised peoples. The Pacific context in which Tok Pisin developed is in stark contrast to the conditions in which the other two pidgins developed, conditions of violence due to blackbirding, and suspicion with respect to users often outcasts from their own society. Different opinions about pidgins were commonly expressed right up until the independence of the three Pacific States. The fact was that German New Guinea did not alter the place and role of pidgin, which had already become entrenched. As they could do nothing about it, the Australians sought to accommodate it through the development of a vertical variant of Tok Pisin, known as Tok Masta (Mühlhäusler 1979). As it was used in commerce, mining and local administration, Tok Pisin, the horizontal variant used among native Papua New Guineans, has thrived and developed right up to the present day.

458 Chapter 10 Different opinions about pidgins were commonly expressed right up until the independence of the three Pacific States. The fact was that German New Guinea did not alter the place and role of pidgin, which had already become entrenched. As they could do nothing about it, the Australians sought to accommodate it through the development of a vertical variant of Tok Pisin, known as Tok Masta (Mühlhäusler 1979). As it was used in commerce, mining and local administration, Tok Pisin, the horizontal variant used among native Papua New Guineans, has thrived and developed right up to the present day. In 1953, the United Nations recommended that the use of pidgin be stopped, as it was a language directly associated with colonisation. This directive could not but be ignored, as Tok Pisin had for a long time become indispensable in many domains. When it made of New Guinea and Papua a single and unique administrative entity, and placed its capital in Port Moresby, in Papua, Australia was going to lead Tok Pisin into new territory. As the language of the town, where ethnic groups are mixed, and the language of the administration, as communication with and control of the Highlands increased, the geographical area over which Tok Pisin was known expanded. English After having supplanted German in New Guinea and its dependencies, English became the only language of the single administration of the two territories. As the language of the all-powerful colonisers, who despised any other linguistic code, it was bound to enjoy both great prestige among the local populations, but also be rejected as it was a means of discrimination.

10.2.1.2. The constitutional choices in 1975 10.2.1.2.1. Imperatives shared by numerous multilingual nations Unlike Vanuatu, which was quite unique in having not only numerous vernacular languages, lingue franche, and especially two colonial languages, Papua New Guinea could be ranked among the multilingual colonised countries administered through a single European language, such as Nigeria, India and Sierra Leone. In those countries in which English had superimposed itself on numerous local languages and had been added to pre-existing lingue franche, it was retained, often when nothing better was

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Identity: everyone expects that a national language, essentially the language of all its citizens, symbolise the unity of the country, together with the flag, and the national anthem. The language is additionally an instrument for driving a culture. Neutrality: the national language, whether it be while it is being learned, or during its daily use, should not disadvantage any ethnic group, nor favour any group. Prestige: any language, in order to be a national language, should enjoy real prestige so that citizens will wish to identify with it. It must also be forward-looking.

These quasi-universal criteria were naturally taken into account by the constitutional experts, who on the eve of independence showed themselves to be surprisingly conservative. It is true, however, that independence in Papua New Guinea was more a process of accord rather than struggle.

10.2.1.2.2. English, the national language in the absence of anything better No local vernacular fulfilled the criteria cited above. No ethnic group was willing to accept an unknown language as the linguistic symbol and communicative tool of the future nation, since each group identifies with its language, which also often serves to distinguish neighbouring groups. To choose a particular language would be tantamount to elevating one group above the others. In particular, should an Austronesian or a Papuan language be chosen? If such a choice were made, nepotism would follow, especially as all national languages are languages of instruction, then the children who had that language as their mother tongue would be very clearly advantaged. As for prestige, no language, even the most important numerically, but cut off from the modern world, and ignored by the colonial powers, would fill the bill. Certainly lingue franche, whose role is precisely one of unification, seemed more suited to fulfill the different criteria. The lingue franche in use before the arrival of the Europeans were often in decline, being replaced by others. Even those that had been retained by the missionaries were slipping backwards since English had become the only language financed by the colonial authorities. The two lingue franche which emerged in the colonial era, Hiri Motu in Papua and Pidgin English in New Guinea, formed an irreducible duo which did not seem to fill the inherent needs of

460 Chapter 10 the new nation any better. As identity markers, however, they partially met with official recognition in that a knowledge of one of them is required in order to obtain citizenship. Hiri Motu, geographically limited and having a relatively modest number of speakers, had never succeeded in imposing itself in New Guinea. Even though it had an Austronesian language as its main lexical source, it remained associated with the Papuan world and a rural world at that. Tok Pisin could take advantage of its position as the widely spoken language of the capital, and its well-established and solid implantation in New Guinea. However, in 1975, it was far from being widely used in the Highlands, and had to bow to the supremacy of English in the upper echelons of the administration and in the technical field. If for one section of the urban elite and for the ethnic groups on the coast and in the islands Tok Pisin could be chosen as the national language, it would founder because of the special nature of Papua. In the face of the hesitation to make Tok Pisin the national language, the Papuans aligned their nationalism with the speaking of Hin Motu, threatening secession if Hiri Motu was not retained as a national language on a par with Tok Pisin. The protestations of the Besana separatist movement resulted in its promotion to that position. Such a choice is both surprising and unusual. Usually, at the time of accession to independence, the colonial language is elevated to the rank of official language, the State language, but not necessarily the language of the nationals. Two forces seem to have converged in favour of English. First, the threat of Papuan separatism, which caused Tok Pisin to be dropped as well as Hiri Motu. Most of all, the serving expatriates in country and the decisionmakers in Canberra worked towards the maintenance of the status quo, strong in their position of negotiators and sole aid providers. English, while having no value in terms of identity, appeared as the most neutral language and without doubt the one which held most promise for the future. This is doubtlessly why the Constitution stated that English would be the language of education, and that initial literacy would be carried out in the local vernaculars.

10.2.2.

Tok Pisin, a written code, and language of instruction

If there is one domain in which Tok Pisin is clearly ahead of the other two major Melanesian pidgins, Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama, it is in the

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 461 area of standardisation and its corollary, the use made of Tok Pisin in the education system, even if English retains its position as first language.

10.2.2.1. The complementary and competing usage of English and Tok Pisin Only these two languages can claim to play the role of lingue franche at the national level. This dualist monopoly implies a complementary fit between the two, making Papua New Guinea a special case in Melanesia, for in this case we have more a diglossic than a truly bilingual situation.

10.2.2.1.1. English/Pidgin diglossia in Papua New Guinea As is often the case, when one wishes to use the term "diglossia", it is necessary to define its meaning for purposes of the discussion. As it is employed in quite diverse situations, it often falls outside the criteria that Ferguson (1959) specified when he reintroduced the concept. The first of these, linguistic relatedness, which would mean that here we are dealing with two variants of the same language, cannot be invoked when one of the languages is a pidgin. This latter is certainly not a "variant" of its lexifier language, but an autonomous code in its own right (Charpentier 1982). On the other hand, the fact that the two codes are used in different semiosemantic domains and that one of them (the only language which is generally written) enjoys the prestige not enjoyed by the other, corresponds to the present situation in Papua New Guinea. Five years after Papua New Guinea independence, Laycock (1980) wrote: It is possible that Tok Pisin may be very close to reaching its maximum expansion. It is still expanding in rural areas, and among migrants from rural areas to the towns. But the townspeople are increasingly learning English as are large numbers of rural children.

This author argued that regionalisation would only favour a resurgence of the local lingue franche and the quasi-disappearance of the indentured labour system. Laycock continues: Otherwise, it seems that Tok Pisin has nowhere to go but down in the future. But this will not happen as a result of contamination from English; the fears expressed by Bickerton (1975) that Tok Pisin will disappear in a lin-

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guistic continuum between it and English seem groundless, as the two languages fall more and more into distinct slots: Tok Pisin as a socialising language across linguistic boundaries, and English as the elite administering language of a government network. Even if the term is not explicitly used, there is diglossia here, in the social sense at least. As stated above, the domains in which the two languages are used are different, and English enjoys peerless prestige. Fifteen years later, the situation has not fundamentally changed. Certainly Tok Pisin has continued its advance as a language of inter-cultural communication, contrary to what Laycock predicted in 1980, that by then it had reached its apogee. English is the language of the urban elite, of government, of the central administration and the University. It is the dominant language in the media: only the weekly, Wantok, is published in Tok Pisin, while the dailies, the Post-Courier, the Papua New Guinea Times and Niugini News are entirely in English. There is the same disproportion in the use of the two languages on radio. Technical assistance comes almost exclusively from Australia, and most overseas communication is with that country. All of these factors combine to make English the prestige language, and even if the monopoly which that language has long enjoyed at the educational level has largely been diminished, we are far from being in an English/Tok Pisin bilingual situation. In this sense it is an unequal partnership, as Tok Pisin is far from being intrinsically the equal of English.

10.2.2.1.2. Linguistic politics and education As we saw above, the former Papua and the former New Guinea, like other countries in the region, benefited only from a modicum of education delivered by the different missions. This schooling was naturally philosophically oriented, and culturally more destructive than constructive. Literacy was provided in the vernacular, with programs and methods left up to individual teachers. Such an atomisation was far from providing the universal education recommended by the international agencies, but at least it sheltered many communities from all kinds if imperialism. Rejected by the United Nations as a language spoken only by a minority, Tok Pisin was unable to play the role of sole medium of instruction at the primary school level. Only English could satisfy this need. The choice of the colonial language as sole language of instruction was made also for political reasons. There was a requirement to train executives and managers for the future emancipation of the country, still partly under United Nations control. After 1955, the

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encouragement of English-medium education led the missions, who did not have the financial means, to abandon their policy of giving a special place to vernacular languages. Contrary to initial expectations, this all English policy, which ignored the fact that more than 80% of the population lives in rural areas, soon became hyper-elitist, and failed to provide the planned general literacy hoped for.97 This policy, which certainly strengthened the knowledge of English in Papua New Guinea, quantitatively and qualitatively, was pursued until independence in 1975 and beyond. Faraclas (1995) paints a sad picture of the results obtained. Unfortunately his description can be extended to the other Melanesian states, and often to the majority of the decolonised countries of the world. Local literacy has either been actively discouraged (children are still being beaten for speaking any language other than English within the school grounds) or passively tolerated. The results of this policy have been predictably disastrous, both in terms of the overall literacy rate, which, at between 35% and 50%, is among the lowest in the Asia-Pacific region and the low rates of school attendance and retention (only 70% of the school aged population ever go to school in the first place, 20% make it beyond Grade 6, and 3% make it to Grade 10). The school system thus produces a large number of 'Pushouts' who have little or no interest in reintegrating themselves into village society, but who lack the qualifications necessary to get well paid employment in town and satisfy the desire for the northern lifestyle that school, the media, and other institutions have shaped within them. Alongside these alienated 'Pushouts" (who will soon constitute over two-thirds of the population), the school system also produces a very small elite class (less than 3% of the population), who are even more alienated from their villages than the 'Pushouts', but who have the educational qualifications to get a 'good' job in town. (Faraclas 1995: 183)

Accession to independence was more a judicial formality than a turning point in terms of education. While it was specified in the constitution that every person had the right to access to literacy in his or her mother tongue, in practice the situation did not change, and the official policy remained wishful thinking. It was the failure of the system and the social consequences of this failure that rekindled interest in the local vernaculars and associated cultures. Added to this was pressure from local and international 97. The same scenario occurred at the same period under the British and French in Ghana, Nigeria, Ivory Coast and Senegal.

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NGOs for education policy to be more in line with the realities of the country. In 1992 the elitist all English approach made way for a dualist policy. The six-year all English "community school" programme was replaced by a three-tiered system of "elementary schools". Under this system the first year, "prep grade" was conducted in the vernacular, the next two years devoted to bridging to English. Following this, the "primary schools", from grade 3 to grade 8, were solely English medium. As we shall see, this reform allowed the central authorities to once more take education in hand, which it had largely failed to do during the previous decade. In spite of appearances, in terms of the vernacular languages at least, this represented more a regression than a positive advance. In fact, for many years after the abandonment by the long established missions of a policy of literacy in the vernacular, it was foreign NGOs, often with evangelical interests, which filled the vacuum, "such as the U.S. fundamentalist Christian dominated Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) as a form of Cargo" (Faraclas 1995: 183). After 1989, in response to this new type of imperialism, a local NGO established a movement whose goal was to take charge of vernacular literacy. This take-over of local affairs by the communities themselves was a refusal both of the rarely disinterested "aid" provided by foreign NGOs and the all English approach which had always been promoted by the central administration. This movement, well and truly decentralised and largely beyond the control of outside agencies, achieved a success level unparalleled elsewhere in Melanesia. In 1992, more than one thousand literacy programmes were launched in some 250 languages, supported just by the communities themselves. Teacher training, salaries and programmes were decided at grassroots level, beyond central control. The 1992 reform was simply a reaction by the ministry of education, and particularly by the very many expatriate advisers, a recovery of the indigenous movement which they had never controlled. By making it compulsory for preschools to be registered with the ministry, and for teachers to be certificated and paid by this ministry, they removed the dynamism of the movement and, worse, by handing the programmes over to overseas NGOs, in particular to the SIL, the nominal independence of the country became independence in name only in the education field. Consequently, this attempt at emancipation, in which the vernacularisation of teaching should have been the instrument which ensured the return to and maintenance of cultural authenticity, finally failed. Was it a spontaneous movement, a sudden enthusiasm for vernacular literacy, as Siegel (1998) seems

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to think, or was it rather just a logical reaction to foreign interference which had failed to produce results? It is interesting to note, that following the announcement of the setting up of the Master Plan for Education in Vanuatu (see above), most of the NGOs present in the country proposed their services to the ministry of education, each of them advertising the distinguished role that they had already played in the field. The minister had the following comment to make: "These NGOs are trying to be involved in the future education plan not so much to help the country as to try to justify their presence here." This reaction to outside interference in local affairs strangely links up with the attempts at emancipation made by the local Papua New Guinean NGO, which sought to take over one of the "lines of business" of the new religion-oriented NGOs, namely vernacular literacy. A generation after the independence of these countries, the presence of the "North", in these new manifestations, is difficult to accept because it is ill-adapted to the local context and its socio-cultural needs. Far from resolving the problems which it has caused, westernisation seems to make them more entrenched through tighter controls. During all these changes within the education system in Papua New Guinea, no direct mention of Tok Pisin was made, stricto sensu. However, over the last fifteen years it quietly strengthened its position, as it had done during the decades leading up to independence. As Johnson (1977: 459) observed: Pidgin, the real success story among the languages of Papua New Guinea, was condemned outright by every language planner who was consulted or who offered an opinion on the subject until very recently. It flourishes in spite of them.

As well as being an oral lingua franca, Tok Pisin had become a written language which was to begin to be taught.

10.2.2.2. Tok Pisin, a written and oral medium 10.2.2.2.1. The early establishment of an unofficial written norm Naturally, in this chapter, which is not devoted to the genesis of Pacific pidgins, we are not so much concerned with discussing the different factors which have made these pidgins so close, while remaining clearly identifiable. Rather we are concerned with certain apparently extra-linguistic factors which have worked either for or against standardisation. Here we will

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discuss only those factors which have made Tok Pisin the best known and most widely used contact language to this day. Tok Pisin, historically a continuation of the trade jargon of the South Seas, as are Solomons Pijin and Vanuatu Bislama, spoken in what was formerly a German colony, benefited from the benevolence of the colonists who did not regard it at all as a "bastardised" English. As it was cut off from its principal lexifier language, English, it could only expand through internal creativity. Very early on, rules were established, at least orally. Certainly, until the 1950s Pidgin was still an infrequently written language, with a variety of orthographies which its increasing numbers of speakers found difficult. In 1957 Mihalic's dictionary appeared, solving many of their problems. This dictionary, the only one published to that date, was received without a great deal of enthusiasm by the colonial authorities. However, it was accepted by Tok Pisin users as the main reference book, especially the editors of the only weekly newspaper written in Pidgin, Wantok. So it was eighteen years before independence, right in the middle of the colonial period, that a written standard was established, and used from that time onward. This is very different from the situation in Vanuatu at the same period. At the beginning of the 1960s Bislama was simply not a written language, and it was to be another thirty years before anything comparable to Mihalic's dictionary appeared, the Bislama dictionary produced by Crowley (1990). The relatively long period for which a standardised Tok Pisin orthography had been available led Crowley to say: Consequently, we find that although Bislama is used more in its written form for national purposes than is the case with Tok Pisin, it is written with far less consistency, and speakers have far less idea about what is an appropriate spelling for a particular word. Etymological spellings are in far greater abundance and there is less appreciation of the fact that written forms do not necessarily have to follow exactly the way each particular individual pronounces a word. (1990: 7)

The fact that there was a recognised written norm, and that there existed a socio-cultural environment if not favourable to Tok Pisin, at least not surrounding it with controversy, made a possibility into a reality. Other factors in favour of Pidgin have meant that today this lingua franca has an important place in the education system in Papua New Guinea.

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10.2.2.2.2. Factors favouring the teaching of Tok Pisin After the Second World War, the former German New Guinea (mandated to Australia since the end of the First World War) was formally assigned to Australia by the United Nations as the Trust Territory of Papua New Guinea. It is not surprising, then, that a single approach prevailed in terms of language and education. Vanuatu inherited different approaches from each of its two colonising powers. Thus terms as well known as pidgin/creole/vernacular do not represent the same realities for anglophones and francophones. For the latter group, a Creole, a mother tongue, is a vernacular, while a pidgin, a second language, is a vehicular language or lingua franca. Thus the French or English spoken in Africa would, in these conditions, be described as English or French vehicular languages, while American or New Zealand English are, of course vernacular languages. If science, and linguistics in particular, never had a terminology that was too precise, sometimes distinctions, like those mentioned above, very useful at the descriptive level, may turn out to be handicaps at the applicative level. In Papua New Guinea, for the Anglophone advisers still present or for Papua New Guinea nationals trained in local or Australian schools and universities, the pidgin/creole distinction, when one refers to whether it is learned as a first language or a second, does not matter. Both are vernaculars. Laycock (1980: 6) and Siegel (1998: 105) describe both pidgins and Creoles as "vernaculars". In the article just referred to, Siegel makes a general criticism of articles published by Mühlhäusler (1995, 1996) and Charpentier (1997). He criticises these authors for having stated: 1. That literacy, in Pacific vernaculars (pidgins and Creoles being included as such, and placed in the same category by Siegel) is imposed by external agencies. 2. That teaching these contact languages and English at the same time creates a risk of interference and confusion.

On the first point, historically there can be no debate. Even if it is superfluous to mention it, written language is a "gift" of the West. Actually it is doubtful whether the indigenous movements born in reaction to the takeover of vernacular literacy by foreign Non Government Organisations appeared spontaneously, ex nihilo. As for the second point, the scholars whose views were criticised did not think it served any good purpose to reply and so enter an endless debate, since world views and epistemological approaches are not reducible to a common denominator, each one having its own validity. First, both of these scholars were born in Europe, where they first learned a dialect (their

468 Chapter 10 mother tongue) associated with a regional culture, and secondly the official language of the nation-state in which they received their education. Even at their mature age today, the speech of both of them reveals unwitting interference between Alemannisch and High German, in the one case, and Poitevin and French in the other. How could they believe that for a Pacific Islander, for whom contact languages and English are often second or third languages (the creolised population for whom these languages are mother tongues being only a tiny minority), the distinction would be made easily and unerringly? These two writers know, having lived through it, that granting licence to a national language as a medium of instruction does harm to the dialects which remain ignored by the State.98 Charpentier, quoted by Siegel, took care to distinguish Bislama as a lingua franca (as a vehicular language, second language, pidgin) from creolised Bislama (a first language, mother tongue and language of cultural transmission): This point of view is reiterated and reinforced by Charpentier (1997: 236). In a section entitled "The problems in teaching in Pidgin", he depicts hostility towards teaching in Bislama among the whole teaching establishment in Vanuatu. The reasons he gives for this hostility and "failure of pidgin as a school subject and medium of instruction" have to do with learners confusing Bislama and English. (Siegel 1998: 114)

Even if the confusion mentioned above could be avoided, as Siegel (1996) claims, to license the teaching of only (non-creolised) pidgin instead of the local vernaculars at the literacy level would still be unacceptable. The prestige conferred on a language which is taught would in time put under question the very existence of many of the local languages and their associated cultures. Mühlhäusler (1996: 337) makes a rather pessimistic evaluation of the state of local languages in the Pacific and Australia, when he says: "Indigenous languages of the Pacific and Australian area are declining and dying at an alarming rate." Referring particularly to Vanuatu at the beginning of the same work, he states that "the killer language is not English or French, but Bislama" (1996: 20). Even if Mühlhäusler's pessimism might seem a little harsh for the immediate future, it is obvious that in certain semantic domains pidgins are 98. Present-day policies which favour the regional vernacularisation of education in Europe are sufficient to demonstrate this; by saving moribund dialects an attempt is being made to preserve what remains of the cultures which were associated with them.

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progressively supplanting the local languages. This is evident, for example, in number systems, kinship terms, and subtle distinctions in flora and fauna. In the first domain, it is often the case that the old system is already forgotten and wiped out." As far as kinship terms are concerned, the more general pidgin terms are gradually replacing the traditional labels and their associated kinship rules and marks of respect. Christine Jourdan sums up the problem well, speaking of the Solomons: Yet an analysis of kinship terminology reveals that the semantic categories of Pijin kinship are not directly mapped onto those of the vernaculars; it seems that the retention of vernacular kinship categories in Pijin is selective and that not all kinship labels (and their underlying categories) present in vernacular languages are transferred into Pijin. (Jourdan 2000: 99) As for the very numerous terms for the different types of vegetables and fruits (yams, taros, tapioca, etc.), these have been replaced by generic terms of English origin, and sometimes of Melanesian origin. None of these refer to local techniques of preparation, consumption and preservation. With these lexical losses - fortunately up until the present not accompanied by parallel morpho-syntactic loss - whole domains of local culture are disappearing. Certainly, they would not all be maintained anyway, but the fact of teaching only pidgins in preference to the local vernaculars would only accentuate this process of deculturation. Thus promoting the extension of the use of pidgins is tantamount to supporting ethnic extinction. Mühlhäusler (1985: 75) provides a good summary of this academic conflict, the outcome of which has crucial practical implications: Linguists who have commented on the relationship between languages and the world fall into two camps: a) those who believe that languages simply provide labels for pre-existing entities in the real world and b) those who believe that languages are crucially involved in creating the world that their speakers live in. If one was to hold the former view, then the loss of indigenous grammar or lexical classification systems would mean the occasional loss of finer distinctions (the continuum of reality is split up into fewer portions to which fewer labels are attached) but no overall loss, as by definition all languages are capable of expressing anything that goes on in the real world. 99. Far from condemning the teaching of or in Bislama, Charpentier (1999:9-10) recommended that, wherever pidgin becomes a mother tongue, that is a language corresponding to a culture, the local cultures having disappeared, it should be used at the literacy level.

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As long as it has not become completely creolised, a pidgin is culturally the common denominator between the different cultures where it is spoken. Once it has become an urban Creole, it is linked to the often emerging culture of the town. It is precisely the rural indigenous cultures (language and culture being inseparable for them) which Mühlhäusler and Charpentier wish to defend. Although he has given no explicit indication, Siegel gives the impression of being a language technician for whom the words "culture" and "language ecology" are foreign, or the domain of other specialists. If science advances and is enriched by this kind of academic opposition, when scientists are called as experts, then the greatest prudence is called for on everyone's part, since, unlike in the physical sciences, experiments cannot be repeated. Creolisation is irreversible. It is true that in Papua New Guinea this potential creolisation is far from being an immediate danger, which means that literacy or even teaching in Tok Pisin may not appear to represent any threat whatsoever. Many factors which are specific to Papua New Guinea assist in making the experiment of the large scale teaching in pidgin and of pidgin acceptable, for example: a. Perhaps the long-standing knowledge of the unofficial standard pidgin has brought about a clearer distinction between it and English there than in other Melanesian countries. b. The size of the languages and cultures, and their isolation, mean that the teaching of pidgin would not represent a danger to the cultural heritage of the communities, at least not in the immediate future. c. The presence of Tok Pisin, in all domains, is not comparable with that of Bislama in Vanuatu. Hin Motu and English are in competition with it, while in the Highlands it is still not universally known. d. The Papua New Guinea government works in a much less centralised way than the government in Vanuatu, for example. In Papua New Guinea linguistic problems are not at the heart of political and ideological debate. Education there is often a delegated function: no fewer than 123 organisations were involved in literacy work between 1991 and 1993 (Siegel 1996: 45), of whom two-thirds were directly linked to churches or Non-Government Organisations.

All of these factors result locally in overseas NGOs opting for the easiest, most economically viable solution, namely teaching in Tok Pisin, as they are often more concerned about proselytism than the protection of local cultures. The local populations, sometimes relatively large, naturally are far from imagining that their ancestral heritage (language and culture) could disappear one day. Nobody warns them about it. What is more, they see in

Today 's world: 1975 to the present 471 a mastery of pidgin a means to gain access to the wider world. In Papua New Guinea the situation is unique, and not transferable as a model to other pidgin-speaking Pacific states. Although they are very young, the independent states in Melanesia have carved out individual identities for themselves, in which the roles and status of their respective pidgins should not be seen as the same. This point is also valid for the Solomon Islands, to be considered below. In conclusion, Tok Pisin is doubtless a "superlative" pidgin. It is the pidgin with the greatest number of speakers, both as a mother tongue and as a language used occasionally. It is also the best studied and documented. It should be recalled that it also was the first to achieve a standard form which is today the most recognised and respected in its written form. It is for this reason that it occupies a unique place in the national education system. Of the three major Melanesian pidgins it is the one which is the most cut off from the Austronesian substratum, since it serves as a interethnic medium in a Papuan universe. Certainly, it does not enjoy the same prestige as Bislama does in Vanuatu, and in the towns, chiefly in the capital Port Moresby, it is in competition with English. This means that a continuum has been created in which the acrolect is a very anglicised form of Tok Pisin, which could become the target language, so threatening the established standard. The sociolinguistic situation is sufficiently complex to suggest that the greatest prudence is required when discussing the future of this lingua franca. After all, did the late Don Laycock not write in 1980 that "it is possible that Tok Pisin may be very close to reaching its maximum expansion"? History has shown that this was not the case.

10.3. Solomon Islands 10.3.1.

Pij in: a long ignored language

Many of the superlatives applied to Tok Pisin could well be reversed when speaking of Solomons Pijin. All scholars who have written on the three major Melanesian pidgins are in agreement that in many respects Solomons Pijin enjoys the least enviable position. It is the least well described and documented variety, and it is the Melanesian pidgin with the lowest prestige by far. Until very recently Pijin survived in the shadow of British English. In the two previous cases, the fact that there were two colonising pow-

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ers favoured the development of the pidgins, while in the Solomons the presence of a single colonial power seems to have had the opposite effect.

10.3.1.1. The victim of British condescension The destiny of languages springs from the conjunction of various and variable factors, which makes any forecasting all the more risky. However, it is certain that the prestige conferred on any language type by the ruling powers is often determinative. During a meeting with representatives of the World Bank in Port Vila in September 1999, John Lynch in an off-the-cuff remark said: I dare say P.N.G. citizens have been lucky enough to be colonised by we Aussies. As we have never been good in English, we were more tolerant towards pidgins than the British (in the Solomon Islands)!

Jourdan and Keesing (1997: 410) were moving very much in the same direction when they wrote: The British Solomon Islands Protectorate government had heavily emphasized the teaching of English, and its use as the language of administration. The early Melanesian urban families were thus, in the main, relatively welleducated and English-speaking. The British fervently hoped and fully expected that Pijin, in their mind a "bastard", simple and vulgar makeshift broken English, would wither away and be replaced by English.

It was inevitable that such an attitude, because of its constancy, should leave lasting traces, especially as English remains the dominant language throughout the South Pacific. In 1991 a study of language usage and the wishes of the Solomons population was carried out. This Language and Literacy Survey revealed that even if Pijin is the most used language in the school environment (55%), with English at 17%, it was the former colonial language which remained the preferred language of parents (40%), as opposed to 21% in favour of Pijin (Siegel 1996: 91). Like all statistics, the numbers can be interpreted in different ways, and this preference for English, the most useful language in the modern world, does not necessarily imply a rejection or at least a great reserve with respect to Pijin, if the policies pursued since independence did not lead one to such an interpretation.

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10.3.1.2. Independence: a new lease of life forPijin? After 1978, several factors worked in favour of Pijin. As was the case in the neighbouring countries, local vehicular languages (with the exception of Hin Motu) diminished in importance, abandoned as they were by the churches, the institutions which had formerly promoted them. So, Mota, the lingua franca of the Anglican mission, Roviana and Marovo, in the west, chosen by the Methodists and Seventh Day Adventists respectively, made way for Pijin, the only language used throughout the country. Indeed, Pijin, in spite of opposition to its use, is the only common language between the sixty-four ethnic groups represented in this island State. English, although it has been declared the official language of instruction in the school system, remains the language of an urban elite and plays a minimal role as a contact language once one travels outside the capital, Honiara. It was precisely urbanisation which favoured the increase in the use of Pijin, with the inflow from the islands of different populations and through the appearance of resultant "mixed" marriages. The amplitude of this phenomenon has highlighted the limits of the usefulness of "wantok" languages and made Pijin even more indispensable in this situation (Jourdan &Keesing 1997:411). With the gradual localisation of administrative staff, and with the departure of British citizens, the pressure for the omnipresence of English has been naturally relaxed in favour of the formerly banned Pijin. And even if Pijin has not achieved any great prestige, it is still recognised as being an indispensable tool for the affairs of the country. As in the capital cities of the two contiguous independent states, the permanent residence of the first urban migrants has created an ever increasing proportion of young people for whom Pijin is the mother tongue and for whom urban culture is the only culture. For all of these people, the recognition of Pijin as a separate language seems self evident, both judicially and educationally.

10.3.2.

The failure of an all-English approach; consideration of Pijin

The failure of English is of course relative, since there was an Englishlanguage elite formed, proportionally as big as in neighbouring countries. However its failure is obvious for those who believed that general literacy could be achieved in English, which was the wish of the British education authorities. From the beginning of the 1970s voices were raised pointing

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out the fact that the system was producing more illiterate than literate youth, even among those attending school. New ways had to be envisaged as a matter of urgency, and among these was a return to literacy in the vernacular languages and potentially in Pijin.

10.3.2.1. Unambiguous evaluative reports In 1978, the year of independence, the University of the South Pacific Centre in Honiara organised a language planning conference at which it was unanimously agreed that vernacular languages should be reintroduced in the education system, at least to provide initial literacy. The Solomon Islands Literacy Association summarised the spirit which was to prevail in the following terms: .. .vernacular languages are seen as the most effective means to initial literacy and the best way to express local cultures... (LASI 1992: 1)

In 1991 the government decided to undertake a study of languages and literacy throughout the country and a National Literacy Committee was established to oversee the project. Its results are clear: While English is the official language of instruction in the education system, Pijin is the de facto medium of instruction in most schools, (p.28). 78 percent of schools use a mixture of English and Pijin, with or without a vernacular, as the medium of instruction, (p.43). Note that the report distinguishes Pijin from the other traditional vernaculars of the country.

These lines, extracted from Siegel (1996: 88) reveal a situation which is mirrored elsewhere, since it could well describe the state of education in Vanuatu today. The writers of the report have recognised the national dimension of Pijin, since their third recommendation stipulates: Pijin should be adopted as the national language of the Solomon Islands.

It is even given priority over the vernacular languages at the level of initial literacy, as recommendation 4 seems to indicate: Instruction in educational institutions should be in Pijin or a vernacular.

On the other hand, although it is not specified, Pijin is considered to be a "contact vernacular" and not a "vernacular" in the full sense of the term in English. In fact, it is the distinction between "pidgin" and "creole" in terms

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of culture which underlies this point. It is expressed at page 43 of the report, as follows: In view of the large number of people who understand Pijin, the most effective language in this respect should be Pijin on a national basis. It would be where teachers are able to instruct in the vernacular that this should be done. Indeed instruction in the vernacular will lead to maximal cognitive development.

In other words, it is the vernaculars (Austronesian languages for the most part) which are the most suited to encapsulate local cultures and allow a child to achieve maximal cognitive development. As was stated previously, pidgins (and among them Pacific pidgins) reflect emerging urban cultures and in part the semantic domains of the different local cultures. As is the case in Papua New Guinea, these distinctions, far from being simply academic, play an important role at the level of vernacularisng literacy.

10.3.2.2. Pijin and non-formal

education

The government took note of the 1992 report which it had commissioned and officially accepted its recommendations. Rather than seeking to maintain a state monopoly on literacy, it was decided that all bodies working to reduce illiteracy100 would receive assistance, namely the churches, the Literacy Association of the Solomon Islands (LASI) and other appropriate groups. In order to ensure a minimum of cohesion the Ministry of Education established the National Literacy Committee. Such a policy was tantamount to accepting that literacy would be above all in the hands of NGOs like in Papua New Guinea. There was, however, the difference that in the Solomons it was not a question of taking literacy back from the NGOs, although it was these organisations which initiated the movement. Rather it was an admission of impotence, a measure of wisdom, which national pride had to suffer. In fact, the governments of the Solomons found themselves, and still find themselves confronted with the same dilemma as other Melanesian countries: with a population increasing much faster than the national budget, the State has to leave the funding of education, even basic education, to outside agencies. Projects such as the 1995 LASI project, which

100. Which stood at 78% in 1991.

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lowered adult illiteracy to less than 10%, certainly advanced the cause of literacy, especially in Pijin. It should be observed that if there is a single domain where literacy in pidgin is a necessity, it is in the area of adult literacy. These people will never learn English. Therefore the risks, real or imagined, of interference with that language do not need to be taken into consideration. As they have full command of their ancestral language and culture, learning to read and write in Pijin can only be a plus. It remains to be seen whether adult literacy is necessary in all cases or whether it is just a new "cargo" as Faraclas (1995: 182) claims. Westerners think that writing, which was a key first step in their development, is a compulsory way forward for the development of others. Pijin, and pidgins in general, is also a key neutral medium in vocational schools, in which the priority is the learning of techniques, rather than the mastery of the language of Shakespeare. In addition, it is undeniable that the training of a large number of teachers and the writing of a large number of literacy textbooks is much less onerous if a single language medium is used. In the Solomon Islands, then, it is more through lack of financial means than through any spontaneous support that Pijin has won favour. Costs can be further reduced by collaboration with parallel institutions in neighbouring countries. While the harmonisation of pidgins wished for by the participants of the conference on the Future of Pacific Languages held in Port Vila in 1984 may have appeared Utopian, collaboration and harmonisation of teaching methods in these languages are progressing, lending weight to the arguments of its proponents. It is doubtful, however, whether the NGOs, whose objectives are ambitious, namely the elimination of illiteracy in the 21st century, can succeed alone, without substantial assistance from the State. This is especially so in view of the political events which overtook the country at the end of the 1990s, the effects of which have been to alter national priorities.

10.3.3.

Conclusion: Solomonislands

Although vernacular languages have officially been acknowledged as indispensable for safeguarding the ancestral cultures, economic imperatives and reasons of State make it look highly likely that they will lose out. For the State of the Solomon Islands is at present incapable of ensuring their survival and development. The recourse to Pijin wished for by those who are bent on practicality at the expense of any anthropological considera-

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tions and who see in it the return to prominence of a language too long unappreciated run the risk in the short term of setting up new tensions between the principles of "nationalism" and "ethnicity".

10.4. Conclusion of Chapter 10 To conclude would of course be presumptuous and above all an error, since the three contact languages which have just been discussed all have a bright future. It is the inability of the other codes, both European and indigenous, to respond to the needs of these developing States which have made these languages indispensable. While certain Creole speakers are still struggling for the recognition of their vernacular language by States with a unilingual policy, for example Broken (Torres Strait) or Kriol (Northern Territory), the Melanesian pidgins are all recognised, even if unofficially, by their States. As these pidgins perform services of inestimable value at many levels, their governments must find them a place beside the European and ancestral languages. Even though the problems are often identical, such as the protection of local cultures or the avoidance of anglicisation, the alchemy needed to resolve them varies from one country to another. No one country seems to hold the universal panacea to solve them all.

Chapter 11 Conclusion

Pacific pidgins and Creoles have received a good measure of attention over the past twenty years, as attested in the writings of Stephen Wurm, Peter Mühlhäusler, Tom Dutton, Roger Keesing, Jakelin Troy and Darrell Tryon, all from the Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at the Australian National University (see References, below); Jean-Michel Charpentier (Paris), Derek Bickerton (Hawaii), Ross Clark (Auckland) and Terry Crowley (Waikato, but formerly University of the South Pacific, Port Vila). Many other scholars have also made significant contributions. As discussed in Chapter 3, most of these studies sought to provide regional explanations for the genesis of the different pidgins. Mühlhäusler demonstrated the key role played by Samoa and the plantations in the evolution of Tok Pisin; Keesing insisted on the maritime environment as the locus of Pacific Pidgin development, and the role played by the Malaitan substratum languages; Crowley concentrated his attention on southern Vanuatu and the Loyalty Islands; Troy focused on the development of early pidgin in New South Wales. Here we have attempted to draw all the threads together and demonstrate the unity of all English-lexifier Pacific Pidgins, all historically related in one way or another as Clark (1979) tentatively proposed. At the same time we have examined the differentiation of the Melanesian Pidgins which has taken place in Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu over the past century, after the end of the overseas plantation era. This book highlights the central role played by Sydney in the development of Pacific Pidgins, right from its first European colonisation in 1788. It insists on the symbiotic relationship which existed between the port of Sydney and the islands of the Pacific, right through the formative years of those pidgins, as they passed through their successive developmental stages (jargon, early pidgin, stabilised pidgin, expanded pidgin, Creole). For ships and their crews traveled out from Sydney to destinations all over the Pacific, and returned there with cargoes, either for the new colony or for onward dispatch to Asian or European cities. In Sydney they had regular contact with not only ships and crews from other Pacific ports, but with Aborigines and with the emergent New South Wales Pidgin English. At the

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same time, the ever important English acrolect was constantly playing its own role. An important element in the book is the demonstration that there is a direct developmental link between Queensland Kanaka English or Kanaka Pidgin English and Pacific Pidgins, in particular the Melanesian Pidgin English varieties, Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea), Pijin (Solomons) and especially Bislama (Vanuatu). It was through a comparison of variation within Kanaka Pidgin English and the Bislama of the 1960s and early 70s that we have been able to point up the nature of the dialect differences which existed in Bislama up until 1975. These differences were not so much geographical as a local extension of the language as it was brought back home by the islanders at the end of their contracts at the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries. At that time, a more or less generalised form of Melanesian Pidgin/Kanaka Pidgin was spoken by those who remained in Queensland, and by returned recruits in Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides), the Solomon Islands and, to a lesser extent, Papua New Guinea.101 After about 1975, plantation life in Island Melanesia wound right down, accompanied by significant migration from rural to urban areas. At the same time, Papua New Guinea attained independence (1975), followed in 1978 and 1980 by independence in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu respectively. Linguistically, this led to the gradual disappearance of former dialect differences in the face of increasing lexical and grammatical standardisation, as the Melanesian Pidgins were called on to play a major role in the construction of national identities. Modern dialect variation is the product of social dynamics different from those operating in earlier times. Among these dynamics is an opposition between the pidgin spoken in urban centers and that of the islands and territory beyond, the rural zone. A number of social factors have also come into play, such as age, sex, education, mother tongue. These pidgins are today identity markers. They have become extended pidgins which play the social role given to Creoles. They have become languages, almost like the other languages of Island Melanesia. The only thing that they are lacking is their own culture. However, in all of the independent states of Melanesia

101.

Both ni-Vanuatu and Solomon Islanders served also on the plantations in Samoa, in some cases prior to the arrival of the New Guineans from the Bismarck Archipelago.

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there is an emergent neo-culture, associated with the three contact languages, Tok Pisin, Pijin and Bislama. The developmental path of English-lexifier Pacific pidgins and Creoles since the first European colonist settlement of Sydney in 1788 has become fairly clear after two decades of intensive research. The process began with the introduction of English, the target language, first in New South Wales, and then gradually all around the Pacific. It was simplified and learned as a second language as a vehicle for communication between Australian Aboriginal/Pacific Islander groups and European colonists, whalers and traders, through the filter of the regional substrate languages, which often shared many common features and structures, resulting in the contact languages of the Pacific. These contact languages, then, passed through certain stages on their way to achieving the status of pidgins and Creoles: jargon, early pidgin, stabilised pidgin, expanded pidgin, Creole, well described in the literature of pidgin and Creole linguistics. A vexed question which has exercised the minds of specialists over the past two decades is that of when exactly a given pidgin may be said to have passed the unstable and unfixed "jargon" stage and become a "stable" pidgin. Based on the written records provided in the accounts of nineteenth century observers, in travel, evangelical and administrative letters and documents, some pidginists are of the opinion that Melanesian Pidgin English stabilised by the mid 1840s (Keesing), the 1860s (Clark, Crowley), or the 1880s or later (Mühlhäusler). Our reading and analysis of the written records from the 19th century suggest that the material is simply not adequate as a basis on which to make any such pronouncement. While it is clear that there was a good deal of variation in the pidgins recorded in the late 19th century, with competing forms common right up until recent times, one phenomenon which emerges is very striking. This is that when one compares the pidgin recorded for a certain region by an observer who was a longtime resident and obviously a daily user of the language with the observations of passing travelers and even residents who had no special reason to be attentive to detail, over the same historical period, the difference is quite remarkable. We have noted instances of this from all three Melanesian Pidgin English speaking countries, all independent and covering different historical periods. The first observer is the noted linguist Otto Dempwolff, whose recordings (see Chapter 9.4.) for Tok Pisin at the beginning of the 20th century are very close to the Tok Pisin of today, and rather different from

482 Chapter 11

the Tok Pisin recorded for the same period by other less experienced observers. The same thing may be said of the Solomon Islands data. Here Cromar (see Chapter 7.1.4) provides a good range of samples reflecting the Solomons Pijin of 1882-86. He was obviously a fluent speaker and constant user of the language. The language which he records is very recognisably the Solomons Pijin of today, whereas other witnesses from the same period record a much more anglicised (and perhaps romanticised) account. Lastly, for Vanuatu, we have the Bislama used by Pionnier, a French priest on the island of Malakula, in central Vanuatu. Again, with the caveat that the pidgin of the time contained some competing forms, the language recorded by Pionnier for liturgical purposes is very recognisable as an earlier form of modern Bislama (see Chapter 7.1.2.), although it reports on the situation in 1900. The same might be said of the Bislama recorded by Jacomb, for a slightly later period (see Chapter 9.2). The difference between the material adduced by these evidently experienced and linguistically attuned observers and those which have traditionally been gleaned from the writings of more casual observers in the literature of the 19th and early 20th centuries is so great that one must treat material from casual observers with great circumspection. In our opinion it would be unwise to base assessments of when pidgins became stabilised in the various areas on such material. However, the material derived from the observations of Dempwolff, Cromar and Pionnier make it clear that Melanesian Pidgin English had certainly attained a fair degree of stability by the 1880s-1890s. Today, English-lexifier Melanesian Pidgins are undergoing a process of partial creolisation, especially in urban and peri-urban areas, as they become the mother tongue of a greater number of children as the urban agglomerations expand. In fact the creolisation process began more than twenty years ago. They have reached such a degree of complexity and maturity that, whether they be mother tongues or simply contact languages, they have become national languages de facto and de jure in the newly independent states of Melanesia. The fact that they are universally recognised as such does not, however, prevent them from coming up against hostile opposition in some quarters, whenever the question of teaching pidgin in schools is raised. This has been no obstacle to their expansion in different socio-political contexts. Even though they have encountered the same constant hostility for decades, they have shared the same positive destiny.

Conclusion

483

The two major Australian Aboriginal varieties, Broken, or Cape York Creole, and Northern Territory or Australian Kriol, not treated in any detail in this book, are the closest relatives of Melanesian Pidgin English. They have a partially shared history, Broken sharing the early history of the preGerman beche-de-mer and pearl industry in the Louisiade and Sud-Est groups off the eastern tip of Papua, which also encompassed the Torres Strait. This activity also involved New Guineans from Daru in the Papuan Gulf opposite, leading to the development of what Mühlhäusler called Papuan Pidgin English, the early lingua franca of the police force in Papua (on the Papua New Guinea mainland) before it was replaced by Police Motu. Australian Kriol, which has a complex history, is a descendant of the original New South Wales Pidgin, which first made its way north into Queensland via an inland route (see Chapter 4), before spreading north and west to the Top End of the Northern Territory and the Kimberleys in Western Australia.102 Both of these pidgins have large numbers of speakers, and have become the first language of thousands (see Chapter 2). Among the other Pacific Pidgins, there is no guarantee that contact languages such as the Ngatik Men's Language, Pitcairn/Norfolk, or even the recently reported Nauruan Pidgin English will survive indefinitely. These linguistic fossils and oddities such as Palmerston English are worthy of detailed further study as they will enhance our understanding of the full range of the processes involved in pidginisation and creolisation. Finally, Chinese Pidgin English has been recorded from three places in the twentieth century, Hong Kong, Macao and Shanghai. It used to be spoken by shopkeepers, seamen and domestic servants and nursemaids (Baker and Mühlhäusler 1996: 516), but because of social upheavals and demographic changes the circumstances in which it was used have long disappeared, and with it the oldest form of Pidgin English in the Pacific. (For an account of Chinese Pidgin English, see Baker 1987 and Mühlhäusler & Baker 1990)

102.

As we saw earlier, the New South Wales Pidgin stream that moved north to Queensland via a coastal route encountered the early Pacific Pidgin through the labourers recruited from Melanesia to work on the plantations there, so completing the evolutionary circle from the Pacific to Sydney to Queensland and back into the Pacific as the Melanesian recruits were repatriated at the end of their contracts.

484 Chapter 11

In conclusion, Pacific pidgins and Creoles are of immense significance to specialists, as they make an important contribution to our understanding of language change and development. And the Melanesian Pidgin English varieties which have been the focus of this book are important by any standards, especially to the people of Melanesia, as they are already spoken by more than 3,000,000 people in the South Pacific. This number is increasing every day and will probably reach 5,000,000 within a decade or two, as it reaches into the far interior of Papua New Guinea. Most importantly, Melanesian Pidgin English is the social cement which links all the peoples of Island Melanesia. Its ever increasing creolisation and expansion will ensure its significance and standing in the years ahead.

Appendix I Konstitusin blong Ripablik blong Vanuatu

486 Appendix I

•

KONSTITUSIN •

BLONG

RIPABLIK BLONG

VANUATU (NIU HEBREDIS)

•

1980 •

FASTOK BLONG HEM

Konstitusin

blong Ripablik blong Vanuatu

487

YUMI OL MAN NYUHEBREDIS. YUMI STAP PRAOD from we yumi bin faet strong blong kam friman. MO TINGTING BLONG YUMI I STAP STRONG YET blong yumi lukaotgud long olgeta samting ya we yumi winim long faet ya. YUMI STAP HOLEMTAET FASIN YA we yumi gat ol naranarafala kala mo ol naranarafala lanwis mo ol naranarafala kastom. BE YUMI SAVEGUD we long fyuja bambae yumi evriwan i wokbaot long wan rod nomo. ΝΑΟ YUMI TALEMAOT WE NAOIA YUMI STANEMAP RIPABLIK BLONG NYUHEBREDIS, we tingting blong yumi man pies i wan nomo mo yumi ol friman. Kantri ya blong yumi i stanap long ol gudgudfala fasin blong ol bubu blong yumi bifo, wetem fasin blong bilif long God mo ol fasin Kristin man. MO BLONG STANEMAP RIPABLIK YA BLONG YUMI OLSEM, yumi olgeta man pies evriwan, yumi agri blong stap aninit long Konstitusin ya, blong hem i holemgud laef blong yumi. JAPTA WAN KANTRI YA MO PAOA BLONG RUL LONG HEM Ripablik blong Nyuhebredis, hem i wan kantri we olgeta man pies blong hem i holem paoa blong gavman, nao gavman blong olgeta nomo i rul long hem.

RIPABLIK BLONG NYUHEBREDIS

KONSTITUSIN I STAMPA BLONG OL LOA LANWIS BLONG RIPABLIK MO OL

2

Konstitusin ya, hernia ol loa we i stampa blong ol narafala loa blong Nyuhebredis.

3.(1) Lanwis blong Ripablik blong Nyuhebredis, hernia Bislama. Trifala lanwis blong mekem ol wok long

488 Appendix I kantri ya, i gat Bislama mo Inglis mo Fraunis. Tufala big lanwis blong edukesen long kantri ya, i gat Inglis mo Franis. (2)01 netif lanwis blong Nyuhebredis oli haf blong ol gudgudfala samting blong bifo long kantri ya, mo gavman blong Ripablik bambae i lukaotgud long olgeta blong oli no lus. Sipos gavman ya i wantem mekem olsem, bambae hem i save jusamaot wan long ol lanwis ya blong i jenisim Bislama, i kam lanwis blong Ripablik blong Nyuhebredis.

LANWIS BLONG WOK

PAOA BLONG RULUM KANTRI, MO FASIN BLONG VOT, MO OL PATI BLONG POLITIK

4.

(1)

Long Nyuhebredis ol man ples bambae oli holem paoa blong rulum kantri, mo bambae oli stap jusumaot ol memba blong Palamen, mo oli stap givim paoa long olgeta blong oli rul.

(2) Sipos Palamen i no mekem loa blong blokem samfala man, olgeta man pies we oli gat eitin yia blong olgeta finis bambae oli gat raet blong vot. Bambae olgeta evriwan oli gat sem raet blong vot, mo taem oli vot bambae oli gat raet blong mekem long fasin ya we narafala man i no save tingting blong narafala man. (3) Bambae ol man pies oli save statem ol pati blong politik, mo ol pati ya bambae oli save stanemap ol kandidet long taem blong eleksen. Bambae ol pati ya oli wok aninit long Konstitusin ya, mo bambae oli folem ol fasin ya we i letem ol man ples oli holem paoa blong gavman.

Appendix II Maps

490 Appendix II

υ Ο « PL,

N | m o a

Rossel (Vela) I

V s ^ ^ S u d e s t (Tagula) I Hinau Bay Kyi

Map 19.

Plantations of the South-Eastern Division 1940

,

510 Appendix II 157°E ELEVATIONS

PLANTATIONS

H

•

Above 6 0 0 m

OEMA

Active in 1941

P j 3 0 0 m to 600m I Less than 3 0 0 m 10 15 _1_ kilometres

20

25

MASAMASA PIRU/7 00 /Sipiru Nusave

Harapa 705

Kamaleal

0

Saeghangmonoi

Laomona l c Taukuna^ j i «„]

7°S-

Balalai G>öc

SHORTLANDIST (ALU) Kokonal

Ο

MUNIA

Parotang^FaisI LofanggJf yOflofl

^Nila Keplal· (^>A'u(Tapokal) MAGUSA ΙΑΓ \PIRUMERI LaguguJ -Bambagrai

·Λ\®

(

MONO

^v-

\

· Falamae STIRLING

Map

20.

S h o r t l a n d Islands.

157°E

Maps 511

3 υ Ol 'θ JS υ