Yesterday (May-03) we travelled from Bali to Port Moresby, PNG and stayed overnight at the Airways Hotel, near the Airport. We were now with only a small roll-on and uncertainty over the weather in the Western Highlands, our destination for the next two days.
This morning we boarded a commercial jet bound for Mt Hagen, a short 1hr flight.
Upon arrival the plan was to travel by bus to a local village and meet the Chief and his three wives. Remember, this is remote part of the World so our expectation was that our encounter would be the real deal.
Along the way, in the town of Hagen, the locals were always keen to wave to us as we passed by.
Also, as we bumped along the rough roads, our guide, from a local village, gave us an account of life in the PNG highlands - mostly farming and preserving local tribal traditions. In a country with over 700 languages, even nearby villages could be speaking a different language and would often war with each other (over pigs, land and wives. In that order). He lamented that education was being forced on the young yet there were no jobs for them when they finished school. Plus, the young were losing the basic skills to be self-sufficient as farmers so, with modernisation, large parts of their historic culture and tradition were disappearing. Like in many of the other countries we visited on this trip, colonization (by the Germans, Dutch, British, Australians) has precipitated an irreversible change in the natural order of the country.
After an hour or so, we arrived at the village - basically an open area for ceremonies, surrounded by assorted huts and other thatched-roof buildings. No toilet in sight! As we entered there were pens of pigs and casawerays, showing off the prowess of the village.
Some of the villagers came out to greet us and offer us their wares.
Then we got to meet the chief and his three wives. He pointed out that he used to have five but two had died.
He was a formidable character who, apparently had killed three enemies, including the previous husband of one of his wives. He could not recall how many children he had because there were so many. The tip of his spear was made from the tibia of his (deceased) Father’s leg and would be dipped in poison for battle.
We all had a nice chat through the guide who interpreted, forgetting he was holding the most vital component of the whole visit.
At the end, the Chief made an emotionsl speech, acknowledging we had come a long way to visit him and his people and how happy he was that we had made the journey. Then he went off to chew on beatle nut and some concotion of twigs and white powder. I think he decided to take the afternoon off.
We then made our way to our lodge - The Rondon Ridge Lodge, high (7,100ft) in the hills above Mt. Hagen. Accommodation is basic but comfortable. It is a small (and sometimes weird) group (~13 people) that travelled on this leg of the trip. We were very happy that our friends Jeri & Jerry were with us for company.