With this, the magic is not over yet, for on the same evening, when the canoe is put on transversal logs (nigakulu), another rite has to be carried out. Some herbs are placed on the transversals between them and the body of the big canoe log. Over these herbs, again, another spell has to be uttered. In order not to overload this account with magical texts, I shall not adduce this spell in detail. Its wording also plainly indicates that it is speed magic, and it is a short formula running on directly, without cross-repetitions.
After that, for some days, the outside of the canoe body is worked. Its two ends must be cut into tapering shape, and the bottom evened and smoothed. After that is done, the canoe has to be turned over, this time into its natural position, bottom down, and what is to be the opening, upwards. Before the scooping out begins, another formula has to be recited over the kavilali, a special ligogu (adze), used for scooping out, which is inserted into a handle with a moveable part, which then allows the cutting to be done at varying angles to the plane of striking.
The rite stands in close connection to the myth of the flying canoe, localised in Kudayuri, a place in the Island of Kitava, and many allusions are made to this myth.2 After a short exordium, containing untranslatable magical words, and geographical references, the spell runs:
Ligogu Spell. “I shall take hold of an adze, I shall strike! I shall enter my canoe, I shall make thee fly, O canoe, I shall make thee jump! We shall fly like butterflies, like wind; we shall disappear in mist, we shall vanish. You will pierce the straits of Kadimwatu (between the islands of Tewara and Uwama) you will break the promontory of Saramwa (near Dobu), pierce the passage of Loma (in Dawson Straits), die away in the distance, die away with the wind, fade away with the mist, vanish away. Break through your seaweeds (i.e., on coming against the shore). Put on your wreath (probably an allusion to the seaweeds), make your bed in the sand. I turn round, I see the Vakuta men, the Kitava men behind me; my sea, the sea of Pilolu (i.e., the sea between the Trobriands and the Amphletts); to-day the Kudayuri men will burn their fires (i.e., on the shores of Dobu). Bind your grass skirt together, O canoe” (here the personal name of the canoe is mentioned), “fly!” The last phrase contains an implicit hint that the canoe partakes of the nature of a flying witch, as it should, according to the Kudayuri myth.
After this, the canoe-builder proceeds to scoop out the log. This is a long task, and a heavy one, and one which requires a good deal of skill, especially towards the end, when the walls of the dug-out have to be made sufficiently thin, and when the wood has to be taken off evenly over the whole surface.
Thus, although at the beginning the canoe carpenter is usually helped by a few men—his sons or brothers or nephews who in assisting him also learn the trade—towards the end he has to do the work single-handed. It, therefore, always happens that this stage takes a very long time.
Often the canoe will lie for weeks, untouched, covered with palm leaves against the sun, and filled with some water to prevent drying and cracking (see Plate XXV). Then the carpenter will set to work for a few days, and pause again.
In almost all villages, the canoe is put up in the central place, or before the builder’s hut. In some of the Eastern villages, the scooping out is done on the sea beach, to avoid pulling the heavy log to and from the village.