Papua New Guinea: The Land of Gifts
Light in the jungle: The highlands of the main island are up to 5000 meters high, lush overgrown - and yet inhabited
"Hold your eyes," hisses the fatherand the mini-warrior, less than three, takes all courage, turns his dark eyes on me, dances like a remote-controlled cat and swings the club. The father sneaks behind. He is smeared all over with clay, wearing a mask - a grim face with wrinkles in his forehead. In the gaping mouth stuck the tusks of a wild boar. He tenses the bow. He is aiming for my brain. The arrow is shaking. I am paralyzed. Four hours ago I got off the plane, out of the colorful, fast world of the world: eleven hours to Singapore, six hours to Port Moresby, capital of Papua New Guinea, one to Goroka, provincial town in the highlands. Then another 30 minutes by car to the village of Asaro - and now this. The tendon hisses. The arrow. Remains. At the bow. With soft steps the warriors withdraw.
"Why are you here?", Raphael, our guide, had asked on the way from the airport. And I had told from earlier. When we bugged children, my dad said, "If you do not stop, I'll go to Papua New Guinea." We thought: This is with the Ours. And we tried not to upset him. Sometimes he also showed us an old ethnographic book of his father. We saw pictures of men with pierced noses and were fascinated. Now I feel as if I have landed in this book: I am sitting on a wooden bench, in front of me in the village square warriors of the Asaro tribe, famous for their scary masks. Next to me Raphael is squatting. With him we will hike to his home village, a remote hamlet in the highlands - and from there onwards, to a small town on the coast. Two stations. No more.
We want to have time to talk to people. And we want to get to know their culture of giving: Gifts, we have read, are very important in Papua New Guinea. From gifts and contraries, the people here, in a scattered society of many tribes, spin a web of relationships. And only if that fails, you reach for bow and arrow. We also bring souvenirs from Germany. I hope her magic works.
On the next page: You can not claim counter gifts
Handicraft in the highlands: women in the village of Pompomeri make bags
The chocolate bars. , , , , , I give a few people from the Inaugl tribe. Two days we had wandered from the Asaro warriors to them. Papua New Guinea consists of groups of small islands and the great island of New Guinea, through the whole length of which a mountain ranges. We crossed a section of this highland on our way to the Inaugl: through a jungle whose canopy was so dense that little sunlight fell to the ground. There were clearings of purple butterflies dancing between white bleached stones and orange flowers. Overcame the 3200 meter high mountain Bugungegle, stayed overnight in a cabin in the forest.
"Road," the guys who guided us called the path, which was only as wide as a foot. Then we reached the village of Pompomeri: women came to meet us in colorful flowered dresses and skirts, and men in cargo shorts and loose T-shirts. "Api noon," they called out to us what Pidgin is, a gibberish shortened to about 1700 words, which many people here speak: "Happy afternoon" means happy afternoon. They took us to their guesthouse, where they host wanderers. Every few weeks. In the highlands, people live largely untouched by civilization.
Until 1927, it was even considered desertedbecause they lived in seclusion in their valleys, sometimes fought each other, but rarely had any contact. Not even a common language they developed, but 867 different - in an area that is just as big as Germany, Austria and Switzerland together. Nevertheless, they could communicate through the language of the gifts. That is still the case today. Friendship, they tell me in the evening, as we sit around the table together: friendship begins with us in a small way. Maybe you'll give someone a cigarette, over and over, so he'll notice that you care about him. Then you give him something big. And wait.
You can not claim counter gifts. But the other will give it when you need it. He is obliged to. That's the basic principle in Papua New Guinea. It's called "Wantok", that's Pidgin and is derived from "one talk": someone who speaks the same language as you do. That can be your neighbor. Or the son-in-law.Or the judge who runs the thief because he is his Wantok and he owes him something. This can also be the guest from Europe. Through the language of gifts you are connected. We end the day by donating our chocolate bars. And wake up in the morning with coffee smell in the nose.
On the next page: The precious costume is kept safe
Lodgings of the ChroniquesDuVasteMonde team under the Bugungegle Summit
Love . , , , , , Two people give each other a ritualwhich we meet the next day. We take a walk through the lush gardens, over sweet potato beds, a coffee plantation, past banana trees. In the shade of a tree are women, they take us to the village square. There, people are transformed, adorned with enigmatic pieces: an old woman wears a tree kangaroo skin in front of her breasts and a crown of feathers on her head. Around her hips cords rip like a raffia skirt; She wears a crescent mother's moon around her neck. And on a string a key. For what? "For my suitcase."
In every house, she says, there is a safe place for the costumebecause that's so valuable. The reason she made the clothes today is singsing - a ritual in which the tribe's boys and girls court each other: in two rows, they sit opposite each other, holding hands, singing and wiggling their heads. They are romantic songs of flowers, mountains, butterflies and two young people meeting under a big tree. The women look at the man on the left, sometimes the man to the right deep in the eyes. And sometimes something flashes suddenly. A spark that says: I like you. I want you. You want me too? "You go to the disco," says the young teacher standing next to me, "we found each other almost at singsing."
The first cookie jar. , , , , , I give Raphael at the end of our hike through the highlands. He brought us back to the hotel in Goroka, "Bird of Paradise", almost international standard. Tomorrow we will fly on, without him, to the coast. Now we sit happily in the lobby, and I hand him the package. Thank you: "I'll take care that nothing happens to you," he had said at the beginning. And he kept that promise. Raphael takes the packet. Clamp it under his arm. Go out, barefoot over the marble floor, back to his village. I look after him, get a little sad. And suddenly I realize that I have not just given him the can as a thank you: Maybe she reminds him of me. On our journey. At least for a short time. I, too, seem to have my own rituals of giving.
On the next page: The women belong to the country
Blue Hour at Alotau Canoe Festival: At the peaceful regatta, tribes meet and fight each other
The second cookie jar. , , , , , I give Bogi, a woman from Mutuyuwa, a coastal town in the southeast of the great island of New Guinea. Because she accompanies me for three days. Or better: me she. Because Bogi is busy. Alotau has been hosting a canoe festival for a few years, and their village wants to go there with a few boats. Green, the shore in Mutuyuwa nestles against the bay, palm trees bend over the water. Occasionally there are houses between the trees, high on stilts. On the beach are three dugouts. War canoe, 20 meters long. When we arrive, the boatbuilders put the last hand on. One still paints the carvings on the bow, three birds, a rainbow, the mouth of a barracuda. "That says we come in warlike intent, in the haze of the morning," he explains.
Previously, such canoes were used in tribal feuds, to fight on the water. Today, however, the canoe festival is to connect the tribes. Women come to the construction site, bring pots and food. One of them is Bogi. "The men work," she says, "and we cook." Not only these roles, but also the ownership follows fixed rules in the land of donation: "We own the land," says Bogi and means the women. The society on the coast is matrilinear, marked by the mother sequence: the mother passes on to the daughters - instead, as in many places in the world, the father to the sons. "But the man is the boss, he determines where we live." If she moves to him, her country is administered by her brothers. But if the man dies or they split up, she can go back. Likewise her children.
The brothers are obliged to accept them. Soon the potatoes are peeled, the pot is full. Two women put him on fire. He is very tall. Bogi sees my eyes: "Are you afraid that we will cook you?" In fact, I have come to understand that Papua New Guinea had other rituals than donation traditions: until around 1950, the flesh was eaten by enemies in ceremonies. The women giggle. Only Bogi suddenly gets serious. "Once upon a time missionaries from Samoa tried to land here, the people in the village were outraged, and if my great-grandmother had not let them in, they would have fared badly, but do not worry, the cannibal era is over."
On the next page: A jaunt in the water
?Street? The locals call such trekking paths
The canoes. , , , , , are not just for drivingI learn the next day. At first, however, everything looks as follows: When the sun sends the first light over the mountain, a deep tone awakens us - the call of the shell blower. The canoes are on the way to the small town Alotau to the fairground. We also open, over land. Alotau lies in a deep bay; a place with 10 000 inhabitants and two supermarkets. On the opposite bank of the river, gray-blue mountains rise up.
There! A triangle appears on the horizon. The first sail. It's getting closer, then another, many. Soon the beach is full of boats, the sailing canoes are there, go a regatta. The war canoes will come later. Flags blow in the wind, children play, men talk shop. Guys linger in the shade; one asks: "Will you come for a spin?" They push the canoe into the water, set the sail, and the thing shoots across the river. It leans to the side. Water hisses past the ship's side, only a few fingers of wood separate us from the waves. But the captain stands quietly on deck and brings us safely back to shore.
The boys enjoy that we admire them. They come from one of the islands: "A man is only a man with us when he has built a canoe," says one. As a bride price, he often needs two: he gives one to the family of the bride's father, one of her mother's family. "I toil for my wife's family." What he does not say is that later, as compensation for the gifts, the wife works for him. Ordered the garden. The food is cooking. The children are cared for.
On the next page: chains of salmon-red shell discs
Also beautiful in the back: native costume
The jewelery . , , , , , is here on the coast part of an ancient gifts ritual. That's what Amoz, the sailor's spokesman, tells me, an elderly gentleman with a goatee and a plaited bag carrying a calendar and betel nuts - the favorite drug here that makes you feel strong and invulnerable. "Guys," he says, "can sail, of course, but only the elders understand what the Kula ring is." In this ritual, pieces of jewelery are passed on according to a fixed order: A man travels by canoe to a neighboring island and gives his partner chains of salmon-red shell slices or bracelets made of mother-of-pearl.
Friendship Band: The jewelry is part of an ancient gift ritual that connects thousands of people
The recipient is very honored and keeps the jewelry for a while. Then he breaks for his part. That's how the gift goes, and over time a partnership is created that connects thousands of people. That this connection is not taken for granted, we now realize, at the grand finale: strokes appear on the horizon. There they are, the war canoe! Soon one sees the rhythmic up and down of the paddles, the bowed bodies charred with charcoal, the muscles, the sweat on the shoulders of the men. The paddlers align the canoes, the shell horn sounds: The race begins. "Muuutuuuuuuuyaaa!" Barks Bogi.
The men fall into the rhythm, like sewing machine needles sting the paddles. The people cheer. There is a canoe capsizing. Ours! The men swim, cling to the hull. A little later, a second capsizes. Our second! Rammed. Silence on the beach. Softly someone says: "That was intentional!" "Those were jealous," the leader of the paddlers of Mutuyuwa will say later, "because our canoes are so beautiful." The incident will have to be clarified. But not with spears, but with words.
On the next page: The rocking pig
"The canoes are coming!" Bogi, who accompanied our author for three days
The pig . , , , , , is one of many giftsBeing exchanged at the end of the Canoe Festival. The highlight is festively decorated. Bogi put on a bast skirt and painted his face with a circle of white dots.
Each village presents presents of friendship to others: sacks of rice. Bananas. Canned beef. Coconuts, sweet potatoes. And a pig: It is tied to a tree trunk with its feet and rocks when the men carry it.
Where is the coconut? He knows it
"Give him shade!" Shout the women, "otherwise it will die." And someone is holding a beach umbrella over it. Dancing, the exchange partners move up. One reaches for one's hand. Eye the gifts. Loads on her shoulders and leaves. This looks a bit like Christmas. How nice, so Christmas will be more for me in the future as a package under the tree with a lot of food. It will remind me that gifts are something other than niceties. I will think of the principle of connectedness. To the singsings. To a fat pig over the grill. I left a few biscuit tins, I take these pictures with me.
On the next page: Travel information Papua New Guinea
Travel information on Papua New Guinea
Getting there: Flights to Papua New Guinea always go through the capital, Port Moresby. For example, with Singapore Airlines to Singapore, then with Air Niugini via Port Morseby to Goroka, return flight from 1900 Euro.
Natural Drugs: Who chews betel nuts, feels strong and invulnerable
Best travel time: Open all year. Trekking in the highlands is best during the dry season from May to October. Mid-September you can experience the Goroka-show the cultures of the region www.gorokashow.com
Canoe Festival in Alotau mostly on the first weekend of November www.milnebaytourism.gov.pg
Book: Ikarus Tours offers group and individual tours, eg. B. 18 days Papua New Guinea and Fiji Islands, DZ / VP from 4290 Euro / person
(Tel. 08 00/463 64 52, www.ikarus.com). - Best of Travel Group organizes personalized travel. Price on request
(Tel. 028 31/13 32 09, www.botg.de). - Pacific Travel House has dive trips in the program. 12 days in Milne Bay incl. Flights and 21 dives, DZ / VP from 3133 Euro / person (Tel. 089/543 21 80, www.pacific-travel-house.com).
- The Driftwood Department organizes boat tours around Alotau. It lies on the beach, from there a traditional commercial ship travels between the islands in front of the Milne Bay. Overnight in wooden houses. B & B from 78 Euro / person (PO Box 295, Alotau, Milne Bay Province, Tel. 006 75/641 00 98, Fax 641 01 76, www.driftwoodpng.com
- Raphael Kogun was the guide of our team in trekking in the highlands. With his local team he organizes similar tours in the Goroka area (PO Box 271, Goroka 441, Eastern Highlands Province, email: niuginiadventuretrekkers@yahoo.com).
Read: Papua New Guinea & Solomon Islands. Thoroughly researched travel guide; in English (Lonely Planet, 25,50 Euro). - Solomon Blue. Half as reportage, half as narrative portrays Milda Drüke the adventure to build a canoe in Papua New Guinea (19.90 euros, Frederking & Thaler). - jungle child. From the girl who came from the Stone Age. Memoirs of author Sabine Kuegler on her childhood in West Papua, largely untouched by civilization (8.95 euros, Knaur paperback). INFO Tourist Office Papua New Guinea, Kaiserstr. 47, 60329 Frankfurt, Tel. 069/63 40 95, Fax 631 33 32, www.pngtourism.de
Well? Angry? That depends on the Asaro, whether they wear masks
On the next page: Papua New Guinea in pictures
