“Development” in Papua New Guinea is a double-edge sword.
It is hard to imagine how the country could be more diverse! This rugged land of rivers teeming with crocodiles and jungle-clad, mosquito-infested mountains, is home to about 8.5 million people. Predominantly Papuans and Austronesians, the population also includes Negritos, Micronesians, and Polynesians.
Papua New Guinea only gained its independence from Australia in 1975 after being ruled by external powers since 1884. In spite of becoming the seventh fastest-growing economy in the world as of 2011 (thanks to the mining and resource sectors), the country still suffers from extreme gender inequities and life expectancy is shorter and infant mortality is higher than in most neighbouring Pacific countries. The extreme isolation imposed by the terrain has helped maintain indigenous traditions, but it has also hindered delivery of education and health services, not to mention basics like water and electricity!
The indigenous population of the country is one of the most heterogeneous in the world: there are 820 identified tribes, each with its own language, cultural traditions, stories, songs and dances. These different cultural societies and clans are explicitly acknowledged in the nation’s constitution, with the hope that these traditional villages and communities will continue to be viable units of Papua New Guinean society.
Of course, having all these different groups under loose tribal structures has led to inter-tribal violence, which has become more – rather than less – of a problem in recent years, as semi-automatic machine guns replace spears and machetes. Modern sing sings, based on traditional large-scale cultural gatherings, have been encouraged in an effort to promote peaceful interactions between warring tribes and to attract tourist money into low-income regions.
I was staying in the Middle Sepik village of Kanganaman: two days of rough plane- bus- and boat-travel away from the PNG capital of Port Moresby (see: Welcome to the Spirit House!). The heat and humidity were unrelenting. My fellow-travellers (photographer Karl Grobl from Jim Cline Photo Tours, and several other cultural-photography enthusiasts) and I were camped out in a structure of three bamboo rooms on stilts: women on one side, men on the other, with a common-room in the middle. Our roll-out mattresses were tucked under mosquito nets which blocked any chance of air-flow in the still atmosphere, and offered us NO protection against the clouds of insects in the purpose-built out-house a short walk away. Unlike most local villagers, we had the luxury of a gravity-fed rain-water tank for washing, and a few hours of generated electricity daily to recharge our camera batteries. On the other hand, while I think the locals eat quite well, our food was – at best – ordinary.
In the still, absolute-dark of night, I lay on my mattress drenched in sweat, trying not to scratch the myriad of insect bites on my arm and hoping that the prophylactic antibiotics and vaccinations were protecting me against malaria and Japanese encephalitis. I listened to the constant hum of mosquitos with visions of spam-spaghetti dancing through my over-heated dreams. It was a calm, if somewhat surreal, experience.
The people in this area had almost no contact with Westerners until the 19th century, and their clan culture remains strong. Our village, which has hosted the burgeoning Sepik River Festival since 2014, is an off-shoot of a “parent” village nearby. Each village in the Sepik region has several clans and sub-clans (see: Crocodile Men), with complex inter-relationships of the corresponding totems. It is said that the more diverse clans and spirits a village has, the stronger the village will be – especially in protecting against black magic. Sorcery and “payback” are integral parts of local tribal warfare.
While these smaller sing sing gatherings among neighbouring groups are predominantly friendly, they are also highly competitive: the “richness” and prosperity of surrounding villages are (informally) judged on their make-up and costuming.
This was very much to our benefit, as we were able to watch the men from our village prepare in their spirit house (see: A Black and White View), and photograph the local women helping each other get ready in the Little Spirit House before checking out the groups from neighbouring villages. The visiting performers gathered in small clearings hidden behind the village green; there they crafted their costumes from bird feathers and shells that they had carefully transported from their homes, and leaves and vines they collected from the surrounding jungle. Using mud, clay and tar, they applied their face and body paint, transforming themselves into the creatures of their dances.
Join me as I make some environmental portraits of the men of the Sepik River sing sing.
It was a real pleasure watching the seriousness with which these men prepared for and executed their dances.
I also enjoyed the performances of the women and children – more about them some other time.
Until then,
Happy Travels!
Pictures: 14August2017