Meeting the tribes of Papua New Guinea

by Lynn Stephenson (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection United Kingdom

Papua New Guinea is the craziest place I’ve visited, 750 tribes speak 700 languages. This is the story of 1 of the tribes I stayed with, the Huli Wigmen. I’d found Michael who was trying to set up a tour guiding company, I was to be his guinea pig. On arrival there had been a little trouble. A woman had committed suicide which led to tribal tensions. We had to get a lift in a police vehicle with 2 policemen with sub-machine guns. They were going to calm down the situation and alleviate tensions. We passed what had been the house and shop of the husband of the suicide victim. It was still smouldering away, having just been burnt down. The husband had allegedly not paid enough bride money, normally consisting of an amount of pigs. There had rowed and the wife ran back to her village and hung herself from a tree. Some accusations said she may have been murdered. There was talk of more retaliations. We passed people today with bows and arrows, machetes and home made guns, ready for the fight. There was no tension though everyone was happy and smiling and wanted to shake my hand. Many villagers still wear traditional dress, so colourful and individual. They loved having their photos taken and came flocking when the camera came out. 2 old men saw me and jumped out of the way in fright. They thought I was their ancestor who’d come back from the forest to haunt them! They had never seen a white person before. I came to look at these people but they spent more time looking at me – at times in absolute amazement. The biggest tourist attraction here was me. Today I met the Huli widows, the wife, sisters and daughter of the dead man, who died several years ago. He had been murdered by another clan. In retaliation her clan/relatives murdered 2 members of that clan but were still not satisfied. The tradition here is to keep the bones in a wooden box on top of a pole near to the house. This keeps him alive and his spirit can come back to visit. The mourning process was nearly over for one of the sisters. They wear special necklaces and remove one each year. When all have been removed mourning can cease. The widow was completely covered in mud. They asked of our customs for death and mourning. When I told them about our burials and cremations they were horrified. That said we have no respect for our dead. When we got to Stephen’s village everyone had fled. Stephen’s mother had stayed to welcome us. She was a lovely old lady with a face full of character. The next day I was going to meet the Huli Batchelor Boys. A great honour as women are not allowed to see or contact them. There had to be special dispensation and the they had to be sprinkled with special water and have spells cast over them so I didn’t contaminate them. I’ve never been classed as unclean before. They grow their hair for 16 months, then cut it off to make ornate wigs. They sprinkle their hair with a type of moss which changes the colour. A frame is put under the hair so it grows in the correct shape. They sleep with a log under their necks so as not to flatten it. Their wores skirt made from tree bark with a covering of long leaves at the back. They wore reeds through their nose. They have a Cassowary bone carved into a knife tucked into their belt. Their faces are adorned with red clay. Myself and Stephen also had to put some of the clay on our faces as a sign of respect. Most have at least 3 wigs, for everyday use and for ceremonies and like ‘Sing Sings’. They are decorated with Bird of Paradise flowers and everlasting flowers. It was fascinating, a world as far removed from my own as possible. Good news, with an elders meeting and the exchange of more pigs the situation calmed down. The villagers returned and I was able to continue my travels.