Goroka last day

Breakfast at the Bird, downstairs in the bistro. Smorgasbord. And no one in sight except 3 japanese men, dressed in safari wear, eating toast and jam. But the staff at the Bird knew where id been. I had booked in with Samuel and Gilbert. Gilbert carried my bag in. People knew people... Sam started there as a waiter about 20 years beforehand. Him and the Bird go way back together.

At 9am i am the only person driven to the airport in the big new courtesy bus. The driver talks right off " Your the guy that went with Sam, you went up into my country. Howd you find it! First i said Landai and he said Landai and we both grinned. Then i said it was the best place id ever been.

Then i said Moondai and climbed out and into the airport. Im in Sydney 8 hours latter.

and here is the last pic

moondai

Goroka Eco Trek Day 5

We have rice for breakfast and set off, Samuel, Kevin, Gilbert, Lisa and the 2 pikininis, with Jessica and her brother all stretched out over a couple of valleys. Jessica said sorry about the rice, sweet potato was getting low.
I said Landai to all i met. Everyone shook my hand. Samuel told me once that some folk, the old especially, were still convinced that white people were dead people. If so they treat the dead well here and even shake their hands. Moondai I said on parting, we go.

A woman on the way to her garden. Landai! Moondai! Goodbye. More and more children are using Tok Pisin in preference to the local language. Jessica was very interested in the Australian experiment of using the aboriginal language during the first couple of years schooling. Tok Pisin or English after that? For global integration, English would be preferred. But for national integration, Tok Pisin is the go. Samuel and Kevin could talk English, Tok Pisin and all of the various Gorokan languages. People met randomly on the track could answer in one or all languages, often their English was clear, precise and very limited. More usually Tok Pisin was understood better than English. But learning the local hello was the very best thing to do.
The word "masta" is still pigin for european. I felt very uncomfortable with this. In a pmv one day was an albino child. I heard him called masta. I felt a bit better.

We walked back along the track towards the pmv stop. We now numbered around ten travelers for in addition to Gilbert's family we were joined by Jessica's cousin. The country held no fears for me now. I could walk anywhere in that country even with a screwed ankle. So i enjoyed it and felt sad cause i was leaving. There were views over the valley of course and lots of conversation after i had passed folk that were unaware there was a white man about.

Lisa with her hair undone, the schoolgirl again. But she will be the head of the house when in Goroka, she will need to feed and look after her two younger siblings. She says that their home in Goroka is in a Community but now it is more like a Settlement. She said that violence is on the rise as people who are not from Goroka move in. Lisa also spoke of the number of asians (chinese) moving into png. She thought corruption was the biggest problem facing the nation and that politicians were not doing enough. There is a university in Goroka. She plans to attend it.

Before i  left Furiri i had given Jessica a few bits of my woeful first aid pack. Lisa who had asked once before if i had any medicine, had her ankle dressed the next day.

Catching the pmv back to Goroka was happy/sad. Gospel music played and the driver looked like a Rasta. I knew that half the folks sitting at my back were traveling with me. Entering Goroka town the second time was very different than the first.

From the pmv stop to the Bird was a walk through the heart of Goroka town. I had friends walking beside me. I wore a bilum given freely and when i said goodbye i said Landai.



And then i went back to the 21st Century and showered and watched TV.

Goroka Eco Trek Day 4

I slept great. I had a bed to myself with walls around it, the noise of a creek flowing nearby. No mosquitoes . My midnight piss coincided with a most tremendous downpour. I had to don all the wet weather gear and be very brave. For breakfast we had greens and sweet potato with some rice. Jessica said sorry for the rice, sweet potatoes were getting harder to come by. After breakfast we had a traditional dance. The Firuri Spear Dance.

Spear Dance at Firuri

The Spear Dance troop was depleted on the day as a local politician was giving away bags of rice. Most of the village had taken off. But there was still a small but appreciative crowd and the dance itself was very fun and not scarey at all. But it was the traditional war dance. It involved a lot of shaking while holding a posture then a sudden change on the note from a deep bamboo pipe. It reminded me of Gurdjeif's dances.

Some of the dancers who had missed out because they were getting rice got annoyed when they worked out the cut for six dancers. I had paid the same $60aussie. One of the dancers must have taken off real quick after the gig because i snapped him coming back the other way with a big bag of rice. Pretty pleased with himself too i reckon.
As the sun was setting i watched a string of people come back with bilums bursting with rice. They were happy and engaging. Some joked about how many pots of rice they would eat that night. Jessica told me the politician had promised to be like a Joseph amongst then during the coming famine. We both think politicians hilarious.

Sam said the in png the only sure way to become a millionaire is to become a politician. The only sure way to become a politician is to give stuff away. Firuri still had running water but even here the gardens were failing and people were hungry.They were very glad of the rice. At least Samuel Lulu has a vision, has a plan. He may have to give away rice, but he has more to offer than that.

I chatted with Lisa, daughter of my hosts. She is 14 and is afraid of witches. She studies at a school in Garoka and wants to be a doctor, or a nurse like her mother. She says that witches are still hunted, that a body after death is searched for signs. Even when destroyed such a witch will only reappear in another village. She said the only protection was the church.
The Post-Courier, a Murdock paper, headlined with "Brothers chopped to pieces", a story of witchcraft 20 clicks from Goroka. I love the way some of the young people dab some color on their faces. Young men did this too.

This man was one of the dancers! Round his forehead are strings of traditional shell money. Hanging at the back of his head is a slingshot. These are deadly. The owl wings in the guesthouse came via a slingshot. Everyone had bows and arrows. I tried out a little one, like a toy. The arrow went off like lightning over a small but distant rise, towards the village. fuck. And that arrow had the little boys fingerprints all over it. I would deny everything and run. We heard no screams. Imagine the power of the big ones, like what Jim hunted me with. The Bow is pure bamboo including the string. The arrow is from the pita plant (?) with a head from a heavier wood, sharpened and tied. I gave this kid a frisbee we played with one evening.
Everyone was happy with the weapons they already had. Everyone wanted to keep guns away.

Looking towards Mt Michael and Chimbu lands

Gilbert explained that cooking fish was new to highland people. Eating carp was new to me. I was asked if i liked protein. I said yes, hence the fish. What i ate was yummy, what i left was added to the plates of the others and consumed in every way till the head was steam cooked over a mass of vegetables. Later at night we laughed about politicians. I was told the french man that had broken down was accompanied by his girlfriend. We howled with laughter at his shame. The next morning he apologised to everyone for the day before, but then still needed to be carried over the stream back onto the track! In front of his girl ! (more howls). He weighed 95kg. I only weigh 50! I told stories of my water pipes freezing at home and of my drive to work. Sam, Kevin and me drank Wildman and Kevin would give me a little Brusch to smoke outside under the stars. Kevin showed me how to hunt the small bats that winged overhead. He threw his beanie high into the air. I saw the bats swerve towards it. He said if you do it long enough one will become ensnared and fall to the ground. Ive seen these bats in many lands but never seen hunting like this : )

LiveLave or WildMan has the best label of any beverage anywhere.

Goroka Eco Trek DAY 3

Here is where i slept, with all these folk and and Sam and Kevin, on the traditional sleeping platform. We had sweet potato for breakfast, with a great helping of broad beans. We  bagged some sweet potato for later. Water was boiled then allowed to cool before pouring  into my plastic bottle. I tested my foot and the swelling did not effect my shoe, so i gave balloons to kids and decided to go on. I slept quite well after making it known i was a mountain man myself and didn't need fires at night, same with lights. But Kevin didnt sleep well. He had toothache. I told him about my ankle and we split some panadol.

Boomai (L) shows us around

The way out of the village was more of a track, not so much a jungle footpath. It still went up for impossible distances then down down... but it was evident that a vehicle had passed this way, but a long time ago. At the bottom of one valley we passed a broken down Toyota Hilux, one of my favorite trucks. Latter i spied a stick planted by the road with a big knot of palm leaves looking like a head. A warning to trucks i was told, go back.

 Then out of jungle to magnificent views. And the pmv stop. People may have walked prodigious distances to be here, to get a ride into Goroka town . Everyone looks down into the valley. Great views are magnetic. We part with Mr Boomai but only after promising i would remember his name and call it loudly when i next visited his village. We walk on. I note that Sam And Kevin dont require water as much as me. They think whites drink more water too. Mind you i sweat more than they do. We set off after lunch and the walking is easy. I ignore my ankle. Sam gets FM working on his nokia and shares some classic rock.

 This is the home of Gilbert and Jessica. It is in Firuri and I was the first to stay here for two nights and the first Australian traveler through! This house has a louver window opposite the door for ventilation, most unusual. But then Gilbert is an innovator and mechanical whiz. Jessica says it is a gift from god. Gilbert has a fish farm fed water from a stream, he hand dug huge pools, now full of carp. He has rigged up a cold water shower and is now planning a hot water system. But best of all he constructed the guesthouse. And to the guesthouse was brought a huge plastic bucket of hot water and i washed ladle style. Heaven. The water ran through the mesh floor.

The guesthouse.

Scattered around the guesthouse were various traditional artifacts, a drum, some spears and the wings of an owl. Gilbert had killed the owl a couple of weeks before with a slingshot. He was said to be a very good hunter. The guest house had been built on the suggestion of Sam, as part of Sam's planned Eco Trek.

Gilbert had built it against advice from many in the village. No tourists will come they said. But he went ahead and the first tourist that came broke down in tears a little way before the village. Gilbert had to carry this guy over a stream and up to the guesthouse. Poor Gilbert i said, even you must have had doubts then! Gilbert is 4 square church and doesn't drink but didn't mind us hitting the WildMan after dinner. We went down to the family home and Jessica cooked a fine meal of sweet potato and rice.

Story time was just us and the family. Unlike previous nights nobody dropped over. Jessica is a Registered Nurse and attended university in Port Moresby. She has a clinic with no panadol and teaches family planning. She delivers babies and has no amoxicillin when pneumonia sets in. What a huge bride price, Gilbert! He grinned.

These aint toys, i almost killed someone with one of these.

 

                

Goroka Eco Trek DAY 2

In the morning there was no sound, no radios or cars. I couldn't even hear pigs! In the middle of the hut a woman sat roasting sweet potato over a small fire, the smoke rises through the thatch leaving it blackened and shiny from underneath. On seeing me rise the woman opened some shutters and light flows in. She had a filigree of tattoos across every inch of her face and was old and beautiful. I noticed around the walls near my bed, small flowers placed beautifully as decoration and welcome.

We ate sweet potato for breakfast and bagged a few more for lunch.

I paid  for a traditional Singsing, about $60aussie.  Sam’s uncle Eki Lahana led this group (kneeling with a yellow ocre strip over his  nose). This is the traditional welcome. It is getting rare. It was a first for some of the pikininis. I wish i had a video. And a sound recorder for the voicing and the pipes.

After the Singsing Sam says for me to pay Jim in front of all the village. I hand Jim a bunch of notes of different denominations. Jim does maths with pen and paper, then calls out individuals, or smaller groups of people, maybe family, and they each get a share. I am then required to say something! I say something about cultural identity. Sam translates (i think) then seems to talk about the future of tourism.

 Then goodbye and up our first hill past gardens into jungle then mountains (there is a lot of this in PNG). It just kept going upwards!. Kevin came with us. I was delighted. Kevin had very good English and was really good company. Sam had given me the option of a short cut that would give me a taste of the jungle and i had agreed, i could blame no one but myself.

Some hours latter collapsed on a jungle ridge i thought about chucking it in. I was too stuffed to say it out loud. Kevin took my pack. I knew these guys would do whatever it took to get me back. And for some reason that made me get up. I said nothing and kept walking. I then experienced ecstasy! Because of  the views, the endorphins or the altitude i don't know. For the pure hell of making it so far perhaps.For just going on. Then exhaustion and with the sun going down, on the outskirts of our destination, i rolled my ankle. Then I did it again a few steps further, same ankle. I hobbled completely ****** into the village. Time to quit. Perhaps to die but certainly quit.

Looks close  but taken telephoto.  Near the ankle site towards Orumba

Orumba has maybe 1000 souls and awesome views in every direction. I noticed none of this on arrival. I followed Sam into some random hut and crashed out on somebodies bed while a fire was lit and some coffee  made. I had bought the coffee in Goroka. It is grown by the locals but its too expensive for them to buy back once processed. After a couple of mugs with maybe six sugars in each, i was human again and introduced to Mr Boomai, man of the world and Seventh Day Adventist. It was his fire. Landai.

Boomai's house is to the left.

Mr Boomai was a Chimbu man who liked Goroka because the place is peaceful. His English was good and we discussed gardening. He said that some local men had many wives. Even some that were christian. He was content with one. At night i heard a transistor radio from his home. He explored the future with the eye of a connoisseur. His wife worked from morning till dark.

Orumba

There was a crowd around the fire that night for story time. I was told that another traveler had been through before me, they remembered his name, that he was American and had shared cigars with them. They told me of the drought which had been going on for some 18 months. Their gardens were effected, people were hungry. Sam spoke of the benefits of tourism. I was asked about city life.

We ate sweet potato that night and i was careful to hand on what i could not eat myself. We opened another 2L of WildMan and chatted on. I smoked some brusch with the guys outside. I liked these people. They were intelligent and nice.

They tried to teach me their handshake. When shaking hands, as each lets go they click fingers. It is seriously cool and should become a world wide teenage sensation. If i ever can do it ill youtube it!

I slept better that night. Drank less WildMan and took some Panadol. I was with friends.

In the middle of the night, out to  the designated spot and the lights of  Goroka town below me and lightening far off and the stars as bright as 2000m and no pollution, it was like a light show as i pissed.

Goroka Eco Trek DAY 1

I was a big scared old whiteman waiting for a pmv in that town. Over on one corner were the markets. Oh my god.. there could be raskols. I  clutched my backpack between my knees cause i didnt feel safe and thought about the fate of Michael Rockefeller. Sam eventually located a ride and bundled me onto a big white traytop truck. This filled up quickly. I was introduced to Jim Aho who was headman of the village we were heading for. I felt lucky and forgot about Rockefellers and... not entirely of raskols :)

We headed up dirt roads at impossible angles through hills denuded by slash and burn, through jungles then mountains till Sam said get out. Yabiufu. Jims place. And a language and a place. A different world.

Jim Aho

After a bite and a drink we headed up through gardens and bamboo forests to look over the Goroka valley as the sun was going down.We met some folk on the way who also joined us. Sam told me of his plan for a 5 day Eco Trek with 4 guesthouses, each a days journey apart. He explained that as yet only one guesthouse was built. Part of the trip for Sam was to build momentum for this vision.  Part he was standing for election next year to the provincial council and these people were his constituency. But mostly it was about me, Sam is a true professional.

Garoka town was barely a smudge on the floor of the valley we were so high and so far.They showed me the patchwork of gardens below, what was planted what left to fallow. I watched rain storms across the valley and another town, or township just down the road from Goroka. Samuel said these were the New Tribes, white americans who benefited the people. I marveled at the size of it. Id like to know more. I met Kevin on that walk. We wandered through his garden and he offered all his strawberries to us.

We ate sweet potato and sat round the fire in Jims house that night. Other folk dropped by. Story Time happened. We drank "beer" made in Goroka from King Tomatos (whatever they are), mixed with some coke. This stuff comes in 2L for around $10 ausie and is 11% pure and called LiveLave "wild man". No one got drunk. Everyone had a voice. I was probed on my religious affiliations(!) and  Sam spoke a lot about the future of tourism. The women in particular could be blunt in their speech. Jim pulled out his long bow and pretended to hunt me round the hut for a bit. I ran. They laughed. I felt safe but didn't sleep well.

 Inside each traditional house, opposite the door is a raised sleeping platform. If it is a round house then the longest person (me) would sleep in the middle. I had a little area of platform walled off, but had to share with Sam! And he snored (sorry Sam ). Jim had a bright kerosene light going all night. For me? Unsure of etiquette, i couldn't just turn the bloody thing off. I didn't sleep well.

Goroka traditional house. Kevin and Sam sit on the sleeping platform

Goroka Town and the Bird of Paradise Hotel

The "Bird" has just been done up and is quite pleasant and bright. Great tucker, small pool.It has a/c and two doorman that keep the real png outside. Stars im not sure about but it was sure shooting in that direction. I wanted to head in the opposite direction but till then used a lot of hot water and TV. I ate lamb chops done french style, drank gin and tonic and peeped out the window. It was quiet. There were no rascals.

Samuel arrived at 9 the next day. We drank out my hotel Nescafe then swiftly agreed it best to get out quickly
 and eat local food in homestays and maybe a guesthouse along the way. But first, around town. So we headed out.
We met a whole lot of people walking around town including Samuel's mother, a couple of brothers and and uncle or two. Friends by the hundred. Its Saturday and the internet cafe cant connect. I cant notify anyone.

Is that enemy you have stuck on your teeth?

The Asaro Mud Men are just a short pmv ride from town. The Mud men are definitely on the tourist track, they had a tourist bus through the week before. The headman wanted my sunglasses. I discussed dental hygiene. And thew away the corn i was eating as we waited for the pmv back to town.
Back in town we went shopping in the local supermarkets. I bought some western style biscuits and peanut butter.Samual bought a nokia. He then led me to one of the worlds busiest second hand clothing stores. I found a book to read Conrad's "Heart of Darkness". Sam bough a shirt, i bought the book. Highlands people wear second hand stuff. Everyone does. This shop is The Place to shop. It has security guys on the door who search folks leaving.

Jim Aho Headman of Tabiufa on a pmv

I was told i was the first tourist through in a while, apart from 3 Japanese that did day trips out of the Bird. These guys dressed like action dolls and had hired cars with drivers. Apart from that there were whitefolk at the Bird, but i never saw them on the streets. So i got a bit of attention, but no one tried me out and security guys mostly passed me through. Every fairdinkum store had security and i saw 2 scuffles that morning.

Sam showed me the markets. The Betel Nut comes up from the coast along the newly opened Highlands highway. It only grows around the coast. Its not traditional and not yet prevalent in or around Goroka. I chewed the stuff once in Rabaul. The effect was like amphetamine but short acting. The young woman beside the pool said things got a lot more interesting if alcohol was added to the mix. No thanxs.

Tidy vegetables

Untidy Betel Nut sellers

Later by myself i bought a single brusch. This is local grown tobacco. It is against the law in Australia. One buys it ready wrapped in newsprint from sellers on the street. No chemicals i had been told, ignoring what the Murdock press uses in its inks and bleaches. Smoking it on the streets outside the Bird elicited attention. Missionaries and Aid people dont smoke.I wandered as the sun was setting till an old man warned me back. I always like good advice. There was still no internet.