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Published: October 10th 2010
Tari Market
Several of the older men were dressed up in traditional dress, and considering I was the only white person at the market, I don't think it was for my benefit!A car full of young men screeched to a halt beside our bus and started shouting at all the people who had got off for a short break. Everyone quickly ran to the bus and pushing and shoving, started to clamber on. I turned to Howard and he shouted “Tribal fight!” and urged me to get back on the bus. With everyone looking on edge and all of the windows tightly shut we continued on a few hundred meters to the next village. There was a big group of sullen looking men waiting by the side of the road, all holding machetes and with black paint smeared on their faces. Thankfully they paid very little attention to us and we crept past and continued on our way a little more mindful of where we would take our next pit stop.
I had first heard of this particular tribal dispute when I landed in Port Moresby and hopped on the bus to town. I had read in the local paper how eleven people had reportedly already been killed over a land rights’ dispute and another very recent fight which had already claimed several lives started over sexting on mobile phones. Nearly
Making new friends in POM
Hanging out with Wikai and his friends while we waited for his Uncle to pick us up. all of these disputes were in the Highlands, which is where I planned on spending most of my two weeks in PNG, so this was very interesting and relevant reading! Arriving in the centre of town I started to look around for a place to stay and after searching unsuccessfully for a while I was lucky enough to meet a guy called Wikai who approached me and asked if he could be of assistance. To cut a long story short Wikai was an absolute champ and I ended up staying with his family in Port Morseby (POM) and with his relatives in Lae and Hagen. In POM I was taken to the Botanical Gardens where I saw tree kangaroos and birds of paradise for the first time, as well as cassowaries. In Lae, Wikai’s relatives took me up into the mountains for a swim in a river followed by touch rugby on the sand with fresh coconuts for half- time drinks. We visited the Rainforest Habitat, where I saw cuscus and a massive salt water crocodile, and the Australian War Cemetery where hundreds of Australian soldiers from WW2 are buried.
From Lae I caught an overnight bus up into
PNG Roads...
As you get deeper into the Western Highlands the roads get rougher and rougher. This was a particularly bad spot. the Highlands to a town called Hagen. Buses heading up into the Highlands form a convoy, reportedly to repel bandits who are common on that stretch of road although I’m not so sure that is the real reason! The drivers treat it as a race, overtaking recklessly on blind corners while dodging pot holes the size of swimming pools and the passengers cheer and shout as each bus is overtaken! I felt sorry for our overladen bus as it groaned and screamed, as the driver tried to overtake on 10% inclines! Then when I thought the bus couldn’t take it anymore the “race” ended as mysteriously as it had begun. We then heard that a bridge had been destroyed in the floods and we would have to return to Lae. The driver, however, was undeterred by these “rumours” and continued on. Arriving at the bridge we discovered that a section had actually been washed away. Some local men had placed a big tree over the gap and for a small fee they directed us over safely. An hour later we came to a landslide and once again paid some local men to clear the soil and trees off the road.
The Family I stayed with in POM
Even though they only had a few rooms in the house, I was given my own one! Very generous hosts! As you can imagine I arrived in Hagen at 7am feeling quite exhausted and very happy to be welcomed into Wikai’s relatives’ house.
In Hagen I spent a lot of time walking around the villages talking to people and learning as much as I could about the culture and the reasons behind tribal fights. During this time I was escorted by a guy called Howard and despite the fact that he was only 21 he told me a lot about his past fights and the reasons why they had begun. When he went into gory details of how he had hacked other men’s legs attempting to maim them I felt a little uncomfortable; however, when he offered to go to Tari with me for “security” I couldn’t have thought of a more appropriate guide! The next morning we found a bus to Tari and just as we were about to leave I found out that there were no banks there. Not wanting to hold the bus up I quickly jumped out of a back window and ran to an ATM to get some more cash. People looked at me very strangely and a few guys said “You OK Whiteman?”
Tree Kangaroo
Pretty self explanatory I guess... :P Howard who had caught up with me then told me that only thieves run in PNG so if you run through town people will chase you and catch you! Laughing all the way back to the bus we hopped on and headed off on what would be a 13 hour bus ride, due to break downs, bad roads and the aforementioned tribal fights. Arriving in Tari at 8pm it was too late to try and find Howard’s relatives so we walked a couple of kilometres to a nearby village and for the first time since arriving in PNG I paid for a night’s accommodation.
Rising early the next morning we met up with Howard’s relatives and they showed us around their village. The most interesting thing about the villages was the high walls and deep trenches which separated them. These are built mainly for defensive purposes, so that no one can see what is going on in the village. I saw some 3m high walls but some walls are apparently built to 5m or even 6m high. The villagers also wore more traditional clothes than anywhere else in the country I had been to and when I commented on
this some of the men in the village offered to go with us to the main market. The main market was about an hour from Tari and was very interesting, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but heaving with people selling all kinds of vegetables. I took a few photos of some old men in traditional dress but the real highlight was the ‘moomooed’ sweet potatoes which were delicious! A moomoo is a PNG oven created using hot rocks. Firstly a layer of leaves is placed on the ground, and then a layer or rocks, heated to a dull glow in a fire, is placed on top. Then lots of vegetables, and sometimes meat, are placed in the middle before being covered again by hot rocks and leaves. The food is then left for 5-6 hours to cook and the results are amazing!
We hitched a ride back to Tari on a diner (a truck with wooden seats in the back) but when the driver heard there was a Masta (what white people are called in rural areas) in the back he insisted I join him in the front. Hopping off the back and wandering around to the front I
was almost knocked over by a very inebriated man stumbling out of the door carrying an almost finished carton of beers. Getting into the middle front seat I was greeted by a very enthusiastic driver and his equally “joyful” friend. They had obviously had quite a few and weren’t close to stopping with a nice stock of beers near the gear stick and a bottle of coke mixed with “jungle juice” (AKA homebrew, it is made from pineapples and bananas and is very potent). I casually inquired if I should put my seat belt on and they both laughed and the driver reached down, grabbed a beer, and skilfully opened it with his seat belt which hung unused by his side. Handing me the beer he said “Police no problem” and smiled from cheek to cheek! I couldn’t help but like these guys but I did feel a little uneasy about all of the people in the heavily crowded diner section. Ironically, their large number was their saving grace as the truck could only crawl along the hilly roads and we rarely got over 60 km/hr. Over a few beers I chatted with these guys and discovered that this is
the norm in PNG, and drivers often drink to pass the time and stay awake. It was a very interesting ride but I must say that I was happy to alight safely in Tari and wish them farewell! That night we stayed close to the airport in a village where Howard knew the people. I was even invited into the “Houseman” to “story” with the other men of the village and they had a lot of fun dressing me up in various traditional headdresses made from cassowary feathers.
The next morning we caught a bus back to Hagen storying all the way, with short breaks for local music and a sermon as it was Sunday. We also stopped at one point for the driver to buy a cooked cuscus from a hunter and he proudly cut off a leg for me to chew on.
I had been hoping to do a challenging hike in PNG so when Howard suggested climbing the highest mountain in the country in one day, when it usually takes four, I couldn’t refuse. The next day, however, due to a very bad road and several tyre punctures we arrived at the base of the
mountain just as it was getting dark and to make matters worse it started to rain just as we got out of the car. I only had one pair of shoes so thought that I would save them for the summit attempt later that night so I hiked up a steep path that was fast becoming a river, barefoot, carrying a backpack under a borrowed umbrella and using my mobile phone as a torch! Arriving at base camp four hours later I thawed my frozen feet over a small fire and then we tried to dry our clothes as much as possible. Sadly at 1am it was still raining so we had to abandon our summit attempt but we did get to enjoy the amazingly beautiful views early the next morning of the two lakes half way up the mountain connected by a massive waterfall. W e had to hike back down to the valley just as the rain arrived. It was a really interesting experience and a good challenge but I think that the next time I try to climb a mountain I will do it in the dry season and I might take some waterproof shoes... :P
My
Australian War Cemetary
Visiting the War Cemetary with the family that I stayed with in Lae. final stop in PNG was Madang, a small town on the North coast. Arriving in town after over 55 combined hours on the always- eventful PNG public transport I was very happy to farewell the bus for the very last time. Madang is the most tourism- oriented town in PNG so I wasn’t surprised that after 10 days exploring the country it was here that I saw my first tourists! They were in a big group and were apprehensively walking around the local market following two guides. They were huddled together so closely that they looked like they were on a rollercoaster ride. I couldn’t help but smile, as I thought about all of the things I had been lucky enough to do in the last two weeks and gave them a very serious nod as I wandered past.
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Colin
non-member comment
Beautiful!
So great to read your commentary and see the amazing photos, Joel! What a great time you had with the local people, seeing things that many other visitors would never see!