I went to Papua

Trip Start Unknown
1
13
14
Trip End Ongoing


Loading Map
Map your own trip!
Map Options
Show trip route
Hide lines
shadow

Flag of Indonesia  , Papua,
Sunday, December 7, 2008

Sure, I ate tombello (a giant bi-valve like a foot-long, inch thick string of snot) out of a tree lying in the foot-swallowing mud of a mangrove swamp at low tide, but that's not what I'll remember.  It is the sweet Kamoro woman taking hold of my leg to clean the mud off of my foot as I climb into our giant canoe, dug from a tree that once stood somewhere nearby.

I tried the Sago grubs too, both fresh and roasted, and they weren't that bad.  But though quite memorable, they're not what come first to my mind.  Instead it is a man smiling as his thighs are slit over and over until blood runs in bright red ribbons down his legs to be collected and mixed with the ashes of burnt seashells.   This then becomes the glue used to attach the skin of a monitor lizard to a headless drum which, dried for a few minutes over a fire, soon plays and sounds as good as any I've heard.

I met people in full "traditional" dress, covered in shells and feathers, bones and body paint, presenting to us their "primitive" carvings, but I'll remember them as the welcoming, gentle, regular people they were later, back in their board shorts and rolling stones t-shirts, just proud to have their culture and incredibly refined art skills acknowledged.

I stood at eye level with one of the seven summits, over 14,000 feet high, and looked down into the world's single largest reserve of gold and the source of 10% of our copper, but what took my breath away was the patchwork of clouds below dotted with the fresh green of the jungle-covered landscape stretching to the sea.

I went to Papua, which, though together with the rest of New Guinea is the second largest island on the planet and the home to 1/5 of all known languages, is still considered by many to be one of the most remote and primitive places on earth.  But I'll just remember it as a hell of a lot more.

(Thanks Paul.  We'll never forget it.)
Print this entry