The Lake Murray area of the Western province of PNG is a much more undeveloped area than the town of Mt. Hagen. Our little group landed on a grass runway and were taken by boat to our lodge that was built by hand in 2014 without the use of any big equipment! All of the material (including sand for the concrete, dishes, beds, blankets, saws) was brought up the coast by a big boat and then carted and carried inland over the mountains. ALL at one time! The planning and logistics for that seem impossible, but it is a beautiful solar powered lodge with separate cabins, each with their own deck view of the lake.
Janice Lamattina
Lake Murray shoreline
Today we skimmed across the lake - as far as our little 60 HP skiff would take us in 1 1/2 hours - to the village of Mutin. En route, we could see fishermen in their canoes (bass, barramundi (Yum!). Come to find out, these canoes are carved out of rosewood trees brought down out of the surrounding forest and will last a lifetime!
Janice Lamattina
After building a small hut for shade where the wife can cook, the man builds a platform to stand on while he cuts down the tree (by himself) with an axe. As our guide said: when the tree is ready to fall, you toss the axe aside and jump off the platform! Yeah! Tossing the axe sounded like a good idea!
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About a month later, after falling the tree and hollowing out the canoe, the man then creates - what is essentially - a logging road that he and about 20 friends will use to drag the canoe down to the lake. Don’t know how long it takes them, but it was a 30 minute walk for me....so a long way to drag a giant rosewood tree.
Mutin, beautifully situated on the shoreline, is unique in that it is home to two different tribes: the Kuni and the Pari. They still maintain their separate languages, different customs, different traditions, and live peacefully together. The Kuni blacken their bodies with charcoal to express their strength and power; the Pari paint designs on their skin with a beige colored clay.
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The Pari women make clothes from finely rolled cane. The Kuni women’s clothes are made from beaten sago. They also weave the sago into belts, bags, mats, baby carriers, etc.
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Both have diets based on sago flour. The children share a classroom, but have both a Kuni and Pari teacher. They do inter-marry and then raise their children to know both cultures.
This is subsistence living. The inside of their homes, which clearly are not water tight and with floors so patched together that I worried that the guide, one woman cooking, and I would be too much weight and we’d go crashing 10 feet to the ground! The homes have a few clothes scattered about, maybe one pot, suspended bags of “stuff,” mosquito nets to cover babies.
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To make sure the kids in the house don’t hurt themselves with the machetes laying around, they safely “store” the machetes through the outside wall!
PIC OF MACHETES ON WALL of house
Janice Lamattina
Their “income” is 30 cents for 2 pounds of rubber latex. Water is collected rain water. Woodland fowl is still hunted by bow and arrow. Note the photo of the Kuni man holding bow and several different arrows for different purposes. In traditional dress, a large seashell is covering “his shame,” as the guide called it.
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Fishing is done by weaving a vine with thorns (hooks) together, stuffing a worm in it and suspending it from cane (the line) that is then hung from “poles” stuck into the riverbed When the fish sticks his head in the “trap,” he’s caught. The ubiquitous pigs used as bride price and for celebrations are kept on a different nearby island, so there’s no need for fences and they aren’t rooting around in the garden (pumpkin, corn and taro crops were spotted).
Of course, the kids are always the best. Their open, inquisitive, often shy faces make you try to share a moment or exchange giggles. They laughed when I demonstrated “fish kiss” that I’ve done for my grandchildren. They loved the selfies.
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Those who have followed along on previous journeys with me know that the final post of my blog is typically a moment for me to share what made the greatest impression on me, what I think might be the lasting memory, the experience that will linger in my heart. This is not the final post of this blog. But today held a special moment for me. It was so profound that I have not yet fully captured the entirety of it and thus - am a bit hesitant to share. But. It was the important part of my day and for many in my group. I hope I can try to capture what happened.
At the end of our day in the small small village of Mutin, after the people had welcomed us into their simple and stark homes, eagerly reached out to shake our hands, followed us about curiously in small clutches, proudly showed us their children, displayed skills that have allowed them to survive for thousands of years, laughed as a funny moment was translated and shared, after this day in a village with people who, by nearly any measure, have nothing, there was a final “demonstration.”
In itself, it was not extraordinary. A group of about a dozen young Pari girls, faces lightly painted in traditional clay colors, wearing “grass” skirts and headdresses of cassowary feathers, were doing string tricks. Oddly, it’s a game many of us played. Remember “Cat’s in the cradle?” We were all taking pictures. Many of the villagers gathered around our group, watching us watching the girls. One girl caught my attention. Very focused. Very intent. And she occasionally returned my look.
Janice Lamattina
As the Kuni guide finished his description of the girls’ abilities with the string, which is made from tightly rolled fine cane, he noted the necklaces and decorations they wore, also made of this “string.” I thought the necklace looked so perfect and detailed and tight and soft. Just imagine! Made from a tree! I asked if it was okay for me to touch her necklace. Yes, he said. And so I did. It was quite smooth. I commented something like that to the people I was with and smiled at the girl. Suddenly, an older village woman in the group around us stepped out and spoke to the girl. She bent down, took the necklace off the girl and turned to me.
Then this small woman, with a dirty face, her breasts hanging thin and low inside her dress, reached up and tied the necklace around my neck and, looking directly into my eyes....whispered: “yours.” I looked back at her. I put my hands on her shoulders. Held her gently. I said thank you. And - for a moment - I just touched her and repeated, thank you. And she looked intently back at me, smiling gently.
Our group was silent. It was a special moment for everyone.I did thank the girl also, although I don’t think she had any say in giving up her necklace! I smiled and touched her head. And then the day was over.
I was quite teary and moved and walked by myself as we headed back through this village ....about 8 houses, a one room school and a building called the church...toward our skiff.
Janice Lamattina
This woman had made sure that I would remember her and the young girl. She had made sure I would always remember her village and her people. She had shown me a confidence that had nothing to do with appearances and possessions.
Janice Lamattina
I experienced generosity, an open heart and friendship today. This little woman will always be PNG to me.
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