Daren
Like many young New Zealanders, Martin Kerr finished a bachelors degree at University and headed to Australia with an end goal of reaching Britain or Europe "keen to see the world". In Sydney he "spent a night of harloting" then hitchhiked to Brisbane. Cutting cane was far too hard work for the soft hands of a university graduate so he got a job as a rigger. He ran into a school friend, set himself up in a flat with his old friend and two other New Zealanders and settled into working , drinking and pub fights.
Yep, it was going to be one of those book where the author shares all his intimate details, despite them making him look like a lout, a womanizer and a man who runs close to the line - every line I suppose, including laws and 'rules'.
Hi mate was shifting to Sydney to get married, the other two were tagging along, so Kerr jumped on a flight to Port Moresby (Papua) on the basis that it was north, and the general direction he was wanting to go!
So the book starts. Published in 1973, this means Kerr spend time in Papua (the southern part of the eastern half of the island) formally the Territory of Papua, administered by Australia from 1906 until 1975; and also in the northern part of the eastern half of the island - the Territory of New Guinea, from 1920 when it was confiscated from Germany. This too was administered by Australia, but was occupied by the Japanese before being taken back by Australian and American troops. From 1945 the two territories were combined, and in 1975 they were given their independence, becoming Papua New Guinea - so there were preparations going on for the Australian withdrawal while Kerr was ending his own time there... but I jumped ahead a bit.
In Moresby, Kerr considered his options and came up with a Patrol Officer being the most suitable for him. Essentially, the experienced patrol officer is a policeman, magistrate, jailor, surveyor, agricultural adviser and general administrator. A junior patrol officer, such as Kerr, works under and assists, and this is what Kerr did for the first half of the book.
In between taking up with native wenches (definitely underplayed or spoken about subtlety) Kerr was sent out to pursue criminals, visit villages and all manner of other tasks. Kerr writes descriptively and well sharing all the details of preparation, transport, communication and the work he carries out. He is moved about from posting to posting as he gains experience.
About halfway through the book (and it's hard to work out the timeline) Kerr packs it in and returns to New Zealand to attend University and obtain an honours degree (a BA hons), and during this (presumably) year out, decides that he isn't finished in New Guinea, but won't return in the public service - it was obvious that was a road coming to a dead-end. He also ruled out volunteering, or any form of religious institution (how very unsuited he was to this!), and out of the blue he was contacted by a trader (and politician!) from New Guinea, an Italian Australian named (Big) John Pasquarelli, and offered a job.
And so in the second half of the book Kerr tells of his experiences as a trader and crocodile hunter up the remote Sepik, Green and May Rivers. Again he shares all the details of his fascinating adventure, his love life and his hunting.
Not all readers will warm to Kerr's laddish outlook, but I can say he has a genuine respect for the Papuan people and their culture. I won't spoil any more for those who might find a copy of this somewhat obscure book, but one quote before I stop.
P56
There will always be the memory of these sturdy men in gourds. I am proud to have walked with them - through every conceivable type of country - jagged limestone ridges, slippery boulder-strewn river beds and leech-infested jungle.
It makes me secure and happy to have sat with them, a revolver in my belt awaiting ambush, beneath their crude bush shelters, while freezing rain pelted down. Seated on their haunches, the water lapped their balls, while I had the comfort of woolen socks in jungle boots, trousers, and a heavy jersey and balaclava.
I would surely have dies, but for these men on a handful of rice a day, naked and unsheltered themselves. These 5-foot giants of Stone Age culture were responsible for my safety. No, not my native police, the sophisticates from the cost, waddling in white mans boots. They were cumbersome extras, though they did not hesitate to load their own equipment on to the carriers or whip them along with a piece of cane when they began to tire.
The pint-sized carriers bridged the raging torrents with cane bridges up to 75 yards long. They could set up camp in an hour... Let it be said that without the assistance of the poorly paid or impressed carriers, Administration patrols into this area would never have been possible.
4 stars
Like many young New Zealanders, Martin Kerr finished a bachelors degree at University and headed to Australia with an end goal of reaching Britain or Europe "keen to see the world". In Sydney he "spent a night of harloting" then hitchhiked to Brisbane. Cutting cane was far too hard work for the soft hands of a university graduate so he got a job as a rigger. He ran into a school friend, set himself up in a flat with his old friend and two other New Zealanders and settled into working , drinking and pub fights.
Yep, it was going to be one of those book where the author shares all his intimate details, despite them making him look like a lout, a womanizer and a man who runs close to the line - every line I suppose, including laws and 'rules'.
Hi mate was shifting to Sydney to get married, the other two were tagging along, so Kerr jumped on a flight to Port Moresby (Papua) on the basis that it was north, and the general direction he was wanting to go!
So the book starts. Published in 1973, this means Kerr spend time in Papua (the southern part of the eastern half of the island) formally the Territory of Papua, administered by Australia from 1906 until 1975; and also in the northern part of the eastern half of the island - the Territory of New Guinea, from 1920 when it was confiscated from Germany. This too was administered by Australia, but was occupied by the Japanese before being taken back by Australian and American troops. From 1945 the two territories were combined, and in 1975 they were given their independence, becoming Papua New Guinea - so there were preparations going on for the Australian withdrawal while Kerr was ending his own time there... but I jumped ahead a bit.
In Moresby, Kerr considered his options and came up with a Patrol Officer being the most suitable for him. Essentially, the experienced patrol officer is a policeman, magistrate, jailor, surveyor, agricultural adviser and general administrator. A junior patrol officer, such as Kerr, works under and assists, and this is what Kerr did for the first half of the book.
In between taking up with native wenches (definitely underplayed or spoken about subtlety) Kerr was sent out to pursue criminals, visit villages and all manner of other tasks. Kerr writes descriptively and well sharing all the details of preparation, transport, communication and the work he carries out. He is moved about from posting to posting as he gains experience.
About halfway through the book (and it's hard to work out the timeline) Kerr packs it in and returns to New Zealand to attend University and obtain an honours degree (a BA hons), and during this (presumably) year out, decides that he isn't finished in New Guinea, but won't return in the public service - it was obvious that was a road coming to a dead-end. He also ruled out volunteering, or any form of religious institution (how very unsuited he was to this!), and out of the blue he was contacted by a trader (and politician!) from New Guinea, an Italian Australian named (Big) John Pasquarelli, and offered a job.
And so in the second half of the book Kerr tells of his experiences as a trader and crocodile hunter up the remote Sepik, Green and May Rivers. Again he shares all the details of his fascinating adventure, his love life and his hunting.
Not all readers will warm to Kerr's laddish outlook, but I can say he has a genuine respect for the Papuan people and their culture. I won't spoil any more for those who might find a copy of this somewhat obscure book, but one quote before I stop.
P56
There will always be the memory of these sturdy men in gourds. I am proud to have walked with them - through every conceivable type of country - jagged limestone ridges, slippery boulder-strewn river beds and leech-infested jungle.
It makes me secure and happy to have sat with them, a revolver in my belt awaiting ambush, beneath their crude bush shelters, while freezing rain pelted down. Seated on their haunches, the water lapped their balls, while I had the comfort of woolen socks in jungle boots, trousers, and a heavy jersey and balaclava.
I would surely have dies, but for these men on a handful of rice a day, naked and unsheltered themselves. These 5-foot giants of Stone Age culture were responsible for my safety. No, not my native police, the sophisticates from the cost, waddling in white mans boots. They were cumbersome extras, though they did not hesitate to load their own equipment on to the carriers or whip them along with a piece of cane when they began to tire.
The pint-sized carriers bridged the raging torrents with cane bridges up to 75 yards long. They could set up camp in an hour... Let it be said that without the assistance of the poorly paid or impressed carriers, Administration patrols into this area would never have been possible.
4 stars