Equal Opportunity in the Highlands?

Some time ago, I wandered around the Southern Highlands of PNG. The Highland regions are densley populated and are among some of the last tribal areas to come in contact with Westerners in the world. Clan warfare is still commonplace, to the extent that during the last general elections in 2002, some serious, permanent damage was sustained in Clan fighting to the majority of the amenities in the major centre of Tari.

The Huli men live in the Tari Valley and it is the Warriors of this region that intrigue me about the Highlands of PNG. I was fortunate to spend some time with the Huli people and learn about their way of life. Men and Women still, rarely live together and the children are raised seperately when it is deemed that they themselves are aware if they are a boy or a girl. The Huli men spend a great deal of time preparing for war and defence of their clans.

So it seemed odd to me that recently in Port Moresby I witnessed a traditional Huli Sing-sing group perform, and I noted that attached to the end of the row of brightly painted, dancing Huli men, there danced a trio of young girls. On their faces were the looks of caution as many white tourists took photographs of the entire Sing-sing group.

My gut feeling was that these three girls were experiencing life for the first time in a city like Port Moresby and were most likely witnessing such a large group of white people for their very first time. The Huli people have a simple yet seductive dance that draws the audience in. It would be a truly terrifying spectacle to see a full clan of Huli men preparing for warfare.

I plan on visiting the Huli people again, I may have to wait until the end of these 2007 elections before doing so.

I think I have something stuck in my eye...

I spent the day wandering around a nearby rainforest... I spent the whole time with one of my dearest and closest Papuan friend whilst he continually told me to be quiet, to stop and look, to step away from and to make sure my centre of balance was alright....

We walked through some treacherous mud, and up and down some disgustingly steep inclines that some of us were spending more time sliding on our backsides than going forward to the top of the hill. We started to liken ourselves to the Australian Soldiers whom trekked from Moresby to Kokoda during the second World War. My friend soon became a "fuzzy wuzzy angel" in our eyes as he helped my stricken companions up each muddy climb...

But all along the way he would stop and say "Yumas lok wantaim antap long diwai, em i narapela Orchid bilong Dendrobium" to which I would look up at the tree he was pointed at, and see the grape-like cluster of ruby red orchids, each one no larger than half the size of the fingernail on my smallest finger.

On other occasions he would stop and make me listen to the call of the Bird of Paradise, but unfortunately, they were too alusive for us to see. We heard the calls of the Greater Bird of Paradise and the Sicklebill. He would tell me that the Sulphur Crested Cockatoo was making such a noise, because a Pig or a Wallaby was coming our way. We should prepare to kill it and perhaps cook it for lunch...

My friend's quietest moment came when we stood at 900metres ASL and looked out over the lowlands in front of us. I asked him "Mi laik save wonem yu tingting?" and he told me that he could see his home, the place were his wife was, where his children were, where they lived whilst he lived and worked in Moresby.

I have been to his village and met his last born son whom was sick at the time. I spent time with the kids at the school and saw their joy and amazement of being with a white guy. I saw the bridge that the Australians built which was destroyed in the last flood and I struggle to help...

What a tough and beautiful place to be.