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Check Hilarious Ancient Place And People Far Away From Civilization by Nobody: 6:55pm On Aug 04, 2015 |
Papua, a hidden world that time forgot. 'Discovered'
less than 50 years ago the wonders of Baliem Valley
are still available to the intrepid adventure traveler.
The only access to this valley, in the rugged
mountainous interior of Papua, is by small plane. A
rare situation indeed this lack of outside influence has
allowed the Dani tribes people to remain innocent in
many ways. Locals are a joy to be around and
certainly welcome a good joke. Villages remain
unchanged without lights, phones or TV, and
agriculture or building projects still utilize stone tools,
as in the stone age.
Rose Macaulay (1881-1958), British essayist queried,
"The great and recurrent question about abroad is, is it
worth getting there?" The answer with Baliem Valley is
a resounding yes. Just remember to breathe. We
have had Papua as a goal for our almost 5 years of
continuous travel. Not a place you can just happen
upon, we have been researching Baliem Valley and it's
festival over the last 6 months. Never choosing to
travel in a herd of tourists, it is now easier to see why
travelers go with the security of a tour guide, even
though the trip costs $1500 - $3000. Frustration set in
as we repeatedly called Trigana Air, the only airline
servicing the valley, and had them giggle and hang
up. The August Festival and event dates were set,
changed and changed again. Flight on the twin
propped planes loaded with local beer were cancelled
due to bad weather (at one of the most dangerous
airports on the globe), mechanical problems or the
government chartering the planes out from under fully
booked flights. Linda, the sweetest check-in clerk on
earth, will do what she can to help but she can only fill
planes that actually are flying.
An expensive destination by Asian standards, it is
controlled in all respects by the government and
organized tour companies, no doubt dishing out
payola. Make it your goal to arrive at least 3 or 4 days
before the supposed festival dates and you may just
catch the action of the mock battles between
neighboring tribes. We carefully booked our flight to
Jayapura on Guaruda Air and it was cancelled, starting
the dominoes to fall and causing us to miss the
Festival all together. We had discovered that you
'can't get there from here'. I had to take a long walk
to work that one off. Patience is such a hard lesson.
Arriving during festival time also may have you staying
at less than desirable, but expensive accommodations;
only one step above sleeping in the smoky, straw filled
lofts of the Dani huts. Crawling out from under our
dirty temporary 'rock' on the first morning in Wamena,
a room opened up in a more expensive hotel down the
road. This allowed us to settle in a bit and get down
to the real reason we came, the local tribes people.
While packing my things to move I looked up and
standing in our small room was a totally naked man,
just watching me. Well totally naked except for the
boar's tusk through his nose, a cowry shell stone and
ammonite necklace, and a prominent penal gourd
(horim or kotika). I greeted him with surprise. "Well
hello there!" He returned my smile and continued
silently watching me as I sorted out my world's
possessions. This was our introduction to the genuine
child like nature and innocence of these beautiful
people. Everywhere we went we were amazed at the
primitive style in which the Dani tribes people lived,
yet their timid ways were only a learned behavior
around new situations or people. In their villages, at
the markets or on 'bemos' (small transport vans) we
were overwhelmed with their contagious mischievous
curiosity. Not a smile or greeting went unanswered
and our mouths were sore just from smiling. This
more than made up for the scattered showers floating
on the clouds blowing over the valley. One day while
out exploring we watched the rain pour first in one
direction then another. Catching a ride on the back of
a pickup truck full of locals we prepared for a deluge
but instead drove through the corner of the black
clouds back into the sunny blue skies over town.
Arriving dry and laughing with our new traveling
companions, we were certain we had escaped the
drifting rain clouds only because we had our ponchos
and umbrellas in tow. An appendage of the
environment in which they live these folk seem
unaffected by the weather and simply wrap a thin
shawl around them when it rains or when the coolness
of nightfall turns them into moving shadows in the
dark streets. Besides if you aren't wearing any
clothes, as many of the older men weren't, there is
nothing to get wet. We did notice one guy shivering
when the cold mountain wind moved in and later
smiled as many of the old guys walked down the
streets towards town, in only their penal gourd,
sporting a colorful new umbrella against the intense
intermittent mountain sunshine.
In town the women covered themselves with shirts over
their grass or string skirts but were never without their
strong string bags. These colorful hand woven bags
carried everything from produce, to tiny children,
firewood, rocks or even a new squealing piglet bought
at the market. Women often still go bare breasted at
home, a much easier scenario for the suckling babies
hanging on their bosoms. While crammed in the back
of a bemo with 6 women and wide eyed children of all
ages, we watched a mother chew up a treat bought at
the market and spit it into the mouth of her "baby
bird' waiting on her lap. Living simply ourselves we
enjoyed watching these friendly folks go about their
daily tasks, amazed how many chores still hadn't
advanced from the stone age activities used from the
beginning of time. Curious all, we watched, as they
watched us back. The Dani people could tell we
genuinely enjoyed experiencing them and their culture
and our interactions were nothing less than
wonderful. We observed as they wove and created
their crafts, cooked sweet potatoes and wild boar in
'imu' rock and dirt pits, and tended their crops in
sprawling garden plots.
A typical village is rectangular in shape with a circular
thatched hut (honai) for each wife on the left side, the
cooking, storage and pig huts on the right, and the
husband's hut on the end. Hubby shares his space
with the curled up mummy of an ancestor, often 300
years old, and spends his days organizing the
activities of his harem. The thatched huts are very
primitive. The dirt floor is covered with straw and the
low ceiling has a trap door leading up to the 3 ft. high
straw covered sleeping loft. Sounds cozy but the
smoldering fire down below, without a chimney,
virtually turns everyone into smoked jerky. This may
ward off mosquitoes and keep them warm on cold
nights but eye problems are common. As an added
layer against the cold the men smear themselves with
pig fat. All of a sudden our simple guesthouse back in
Wamena seemed like the Ritz in Paris. Somehow
things crawling over, under, and on us and our hair at
night was an experience we could skip. (Actually
trekkers usually sleep in a separate shed or building
for that purpose). Children are naked and unmarried
girls can be spotted wearing grass rather than string
skirts. Polygamy is the rule even with the increasing
influence of Christianity and the more wives the better,
up to twenty. It is common to see a proud naked old
guy walking down the road with part of his harem of
wives trailing 10 - 20 feet behind. He has as many
wives as he can afford and take care of. This is a sign
of his power and wealth. Multiple dialects impede
communication, causing conflicts (as anyone in a
relationship realizes). Wives have always been
allowed to leave their smoky Prince Charming and
remarry, another prime source of tribal wars between
families and villages. Times are changing though. We
were surprised to hear that the 'divorce' rate is up.
The grass is greener on the other side of the hut or
mountain.
Many traditions are still adhered to such as sex is
taboo for 2-5 years after the birth of a child, while
nursing their babies. Childbirth continues to be a
common cause of death, as it was in our society only
80 years ago, but still the average age of the Dani
people is about sixty. Must be that good clean
mountain air and simple living. A practice stopped
about 15 years ago was the shocking tradition of men
or mainly women chopping off their fingers at the 2nd
joint when a loved one or close friend died. A very
curious custom considering the women do most of the
work in the fields and in a land where no mutual
language is spoken, often bargaining is done with
fingers. It was a common sight with the older men
and women we met to proudly flash their maimed
hands with only a couple stumps remaining or display
corners of ears clipped. We were shown how it was
done and offered a razor sharp stone to buy in case we
ever had the need for self mutilation. Maybe this
would catch on in the tattoo and body piercing
circles? Usually done themselves we were told it was
simple. Just put the small stone adz on the finger
joint, hit it with a big rock and Voila! Any takers?
The going rate is 4 pigs for a new wife and I was
offered camaraderie a few times by the old village
men. They liked to take my face in their hands and
longingly gaze into my eyes knowing that I cost too
many pigs for their pockets. They instead settled for
talking with us, inviting us into their huts, shrieking at
their image in Joseph's digital camera, commenting on
photos of our family or Hawaii and laughing as the
children played games with their new balloons.
Refusing to give out candy or cigarettes, as is the
norm unfortunately, we provided entertainment or gave
a box of matches to the really dear ones. Never in a
hurry, an extended handshake allows time for Dani
tribes people to have a good look. Feeling each
other's hand or face is common, while gazing into our
eyes they would often slowly utter their traditional
welcome, 'wa wa wa waaa waaa'...
While pausing in a grove of pine trees to make lunch
one afternoon; an ancient guy, sporting his gourd
covering only the barest of essentials and a smile,
carrying a heavy shovel head suddenly materialized
out of thin air, not unlike the little fellow in the movie,
"The Gods Must Be Crazy" . He squatted next to us for
a good look and tasted a piece of our cucumber. He
talked and talked and told us his whole life story. It's
times like this that knowing all of the hundreds of
languages of Papua would have been handy. Then he
motioned to us that he had to be going. Walking the 5
miles to Wamena would be tough carrying the heavy
shovel head and it sure would be nice to catch a ride
on the bemo. We offered him 24 cents to catch a ride,
most certainly on the way home after he had
purchased his new handle. He then vanished, showing
us his two remaining teeth in a smile of farewell. That
shovel would be in great demand back in the village,
along with his story of meeting two strange strangers
in the forest.
An agricultural society, they still till with wooden and
stone tools, powered by water buffalo. The well
maintained plots were full of vegetables of all types,
accented by bananas, papayas or sugar cane. Of all
the markets we have been to over the years we rated
the produce on blankets in front of the women vendors,
as the healthiest we have seen. Cooler climates mean
less bugs and being so poor they can't afford
chemicals, (unlike in Baguio, Philippines).
Having to turn around while hiking the valley, due to a
deep mud hole, we met several groups of women and
another old man carrying heavy fence posts he had
just cut from the mountainside with his machete and
stone adz. Proudly he showed us his land, neatly
enclosed by a solid wooden fence covered in straw.
Some villagers ask for money for their photo or ask for
smokes when a guide is along, but he was pleasantly
surprised when we gave him a box of matches while
we were expounding on the good job he was doing with
his land. You understand that very little English is
spoken in Baliem Valley but, as all over the world,
communication carries on at all levels.
Not knowing that anything outside this 60 km by 16 km
valley existed, life amongst the scattered tribes
remained unchanged. Can you imagine skipping from
the 'stone age', (missing the bronze, iron age, etc.
altogether) and being thrown into the fast paced
confusion of our high tech modern society. Jaunts into
town must be like visiting the moon. Going from a
totally self sufficient society to having new fangled
gadgets dangled in front of them in shops has created
fascinating markets where tribes people sell
vegetables, pigs, tobacco, decorated skulls of monkeys
or the ostrich like cassowary, live or flattened colorful
wild birds, and handicrafts; in hopes of picking up a
little income for doo dads. Luckily a worker with a
NGO told us they haven't discovered the downfall of
many societies, alcohol. Yet. Most of their
handicrafts and jewelry were large, rough and heavy. I
spent one afternoon with a Dani man and one of his
wives, in front of our hotel, making a necklace and
bracelets from reeds, seeds, beads and feathers. And
don't forget the boar's tusks and intricate horim gourds
for the men. It was a fun, rewarding experience for all
of us and I am reminded of it with whiffs of smoke
from the braided string encircling my neck
occasionally.
Ritual cannibalism (the Fore highlanders of
neighboring Papua New Guinea honored the dead by
eating their brains) and tribal fighting was common
before the arrival of the missionaries in the 1950's.
Bow & arrows and spears were the only weapons used,
as with the headhunters of the Philippines. Now the
mock fighting ceremonies of the festival are to
commemorate those great battles.
Sulking a bit because we had missed this mock war
festival, we were overwhelmed and elated on the
'carnival day' to see close to 1000 men, women, and
children from Wamena and surrounding villages show
up for the closing parade. Interestingly all the tourists
had flown away (we only saw 6 foreigners all day); and
we got totally immersed and lost in the enthusiastic
crowds, afire with excitement. Only one group of
villagers, represented by middle aged men and women,
was completely traditional with gourds and bare
breasts, dusted with a light coating of mud and paint.
The rest sported more proper 'Christian' attire with
breasts covered by string tops and penal gourds
replaced, except in a dozen cases, with bright shorts.
The head dresses made of 'squashed' birds of
paradises were spectacular and the painted bodies and
spears of the young warriors sent chills of excitement
down your spine. Each tribe gathered in a large field
and would spontaneously burst into harmonious song,
led by drums, as the excited young people danced in
circles around the musicians. In a unique blending of
cultures, groups of Indonesians, each dressed in the
bright traditional costumes of their home island such
as Sumatra, Java or Suluweisi, sang and played
instruments while waiting. Small floats representing
different valley activities were mixed in with marching
school groups. Policing troops, obviously out of place,
kept a stern eye for a possible uprising. The two
cultures walked side by side and we were hopeful that
with each new generation, the Papuans and
Indonesians will be on more equal footing and learn to
live in harmony.
The whole town was on fire with excitement! So many
spectators climbed trees for a better look that we
thought the branches would break. The energy
igniting the villagers and townspeople was contagious
as they frolicked and posed for us. The day was
spectacular! And as with so many of these gala
cultural events or ceremonies, it just ended. Everyone
went home to their villages and Wamena transformed,
once again, into a sleepy little frontier town.
There wasn't a forced take over of Baliem Valley.
When the elders saw the first white men they were
scared. Not because of the threat of battle but
because they knew that they would be changed
forever. The takeover here was by missionaries,
evident by small churches in the larger villages.
Groups of fully clothed locals walk to church Sunday
mornings, while their naked counterparts head up the
mountainsides to commune with the gods of Nature.
When Indonesia battled with the Dutch in 1962 for the
western half of New Guinea island, it was 'required' by
the United Nations that a referendum be created for
the Papuan people. In 1969 the "Act of Free Choice"
vote was put before a group of 'specially' chosen
delegates and surprise!, Papua became part of
Indonesia, a country easily 'bought' by outside
interests. Irian Jaya was created as hundreds of
thousands of Indonesians, from mainly overcrowded
Java, were transplanted. Tensions are sometimes
apparent between the local black Papuans and the
ruling Indonesian forces. Racism is common as is the
case with their Aboriginal cousins in Australia, a bit
further down under. Human rights issues are reported
concerning these now labeled 'dissidents'. Troops or
'police keeping the country safe' are in place
everywhere, just in case one of these quiet, kind
hearted guys shoots some wild arrows. Simply
wanting control of some of their native Papuan land
the prospect seems hopeless. An agreement in 2002
offering a percentage of profits on all natural resources
to the newly established Papuan territory seems to be
on paper only, as locals look in at their country from
the fringes, most living in abject poverty. Papua has
the 3rd largest copper mine on the planet and is now
home to the world's largest gold mine - operated by
US and British interests. As the 'created conflict'
continues, the natural resources disappear. Same
scenario, different location. So the story goes....
It is common here to be greeted, "Hi Mister!" and it
was a fitting end to our valley exploration to be flying
up into the blue sky on tickets boasting Mr. and Mrs.
Mister. Try getting through a security check at a US
airport with a ticket like that. We also passed two
curious Dani tribesmen chatting and squatting under
the arch of the unmanned metal detector on our way
into Wamena's tiny airport. Our tickets from Sentani
to Sulaweisi, the neighboring Indonesian island in the
chain, had us under another alias: Mr. & Mrs. Joseph.
We would be hard to track for sure. No wonder we had
trouble making reservations in advance. This laid back
attitude prevalent on Papua was the charm that
beckons adventurers in for a glimpse into the valley
forgotten by time.
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Re: Check Hilarious Ancient Place And People Far Away From Civilization by Nobody: 7:15pm On Aug 04, 2015 |
source: www.world globetrotters.com
|
Re: Check Hilarious Ancient Place And People Far Away From Civilization by Nobody: 7:19pm On Aug 04, 2015 |
naso |
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