This morning we arrived at Namowa Village on Dobu Island, which is a pivotal link in the Kula Ring for the D’Entrecasteaux Islands. Heaps of kids and charming men and women greeted us and took us around to the memorial plaque for Rev. Bromilow who arrived from England as the very first Methodist (LMS; now called Unitarian) missionary for the islands of New Guinea in 1891. He is most visibly remembered by the old cement church still standing. The school headmistress organized a brilliant series of dances by the Primary school kids, who all wore wonder traditional dress, including two girls who wore excellent pieces of Kula soulavi or bagi jewelry, of their fathers. This is one of the stopping points for series Trobriand kula players, and we actually met a gentleman from Kiriwina who had been staying one week on Dobu with his kula partner, who was about to bequeath to the Kiriwina man a piece if mwali or shell armband in return for a soulavi this partner had given him several months before. A piece if history unfolding before our eyes. Those of us who have read Bronislaw Malinowski’s classic Argonauts of the Western Pacific (on the kula) will recall how the Austrian Pole journeyed on a kula expedition in 1915 to Dobu, where he learned about the Dobuans infamy for controlling sorcery throughout these islands. Malinowski then went back to the UK and sent his student, Kiwi named Reo Fortune, back to Dobu to study the island, and Fortune produced his own classic ethnography called Sorcerers of Dobu. This was only a couple of years before he fatefully met Margaret Mead on a ship returning from Samoa, fell in love and married here before returning to PNG with his wife to study Manus.

In the afternoon we visited the Dei Dei hot springs on nearby Fergusson Island, where landowner Susan showed us how to call out for the mythical Seuseulina geyser to erupt (after some several tries). In the past there was a woman named Seulseulina whose husband had run away with another woman, and she threw herself, heartbroken, into the largest of these hot springs, which thereafter became this sprouting geyser. Susan threw stones and called out “Seuseulina dasurabe udaseura sundine ama oagao sida ital” (which all of us memorized) and the geyser sprayed furiously in response. There’s another myth about Dei Dei that involves two masalai spirits, a man and a woman, who live underground in the network of streams, and come out at midday to check out the area—as guards really. Eventually the sun dries them out and they slide down under again. But no one in the village is allowed to see them, so they never visit the springs after the morning or before the late afternoon.

12.10.05
In the morning we had hoped to set ashore at remote Alchester Island, but found the watercourse too shallow and the tides too rough to land. It was the most beautiful place we never saw: a small beach village protected by a great limestone escarpment, no doubt no more populous than a few families. But in the afternoon we got to one of the outer islands of Egum atoll for a swim, where we were greeted by the landowner (who resides at the main Egum Island) and who gave us permission to swim. He was a bit worried, we learned, because tourists had once come ashore and destroyed his garden inland. This may have been due to their birdwatching, because we found the interior filled with black noddies. One of the landowners relatives climbed a tree with a stick and a swinging cord at the end to scare the birds out of the branches and, by swinging what may have been a stone at the end, strike them down. He returned to the beach with a clutch of about ten live noddies tied and ready for the night’s cooking. The Egum Atoll people move around these outer islands periodically in fishing and bech-de-mer camps, the latter being their major source of income.

13.10.05
This morning we landed at Egum atoll had were charmed by the beautiful small village with its almost picture-postcard beauty. Gabog bwana bwen we said in Woodlark language. They had a kula canoe at the beach which was promptly covered up as we began peering and photographing it. Throughout the village people were kind and gracious as we marched through like men from Mars, viewing their lovely graveyard, the small houses only recently remade from a hurricane that wiped out all their homes, and the beautiful kids trailing us everywhere. We stumbled upon the home of Nancy Kaliton, whose home contained a wall of beautiful mwali she had recently received from her kula partners. She inherited her Uncle’s kula lines, and he (Abraham Kaliton) mist have been a skilled player, because amongst her treasures was a particularly old, lined, cracked, signed and renowned mwali called Alalabwakaya, which she no doubt hopes to hold onto as long as humanly possible. There was one remaining soulava from the many necklaces she would have given these kula partners prior to their handing her to armshells. We had to leave quickly, though, saying kali (thanks) to all.
After lunch we went ashore at remote Gawa island in the Marshall Bennett group, where the people speak Kiriwina with a slightly Woodlarkian twist, the Gawa dialect. Good afternoon we said: Buena kwoiyai, and made our way past the beach to where two men were carving a new kula canoe from rosewood. Then we made our way up a coral track to the first clearing where everyone eventually congregated around us and began to pull out their wares---bowls, lime spatulas, splashboards and baskets. Soon enough we had a real crowd and the men began dancing a series of story dances, before the women took the floor with their more ebullient circle dance—all with big hibiscus in their hair. They pulled about five of us into the ring and we did our best to keep step, more for the crowd’s amusement than anything else. Eventually a few decided the venture up the coral mountain to the village, a flat-steep-then flat again walk not for the feint-hearted, but really rewarding in the end. We were followed by tons of kids and charming women, and given green coconut juice to refresh ourselves as we introduced ourselves around the classically circular village and found two newborn babies, plus the tall cement grave of the recently deceased chief. The kids finally got the better of us and we took a few big group shots before quickly heading down the path again. These people in the Marshall Bennetts are an interesting mix of Woodlark and Trobs, and important kula players for the eastern flank of the main kula ring.

14.10.05
Today we arrived at Kiriwina, the Trobriand’s big island, and came ashore at Kaibola, where we experienced the most exuberant and brilliant singsing yet. Several sensing groups off all ages, from the tiniest tots to the most beautiful young men and women, and even older adults, danced the traditional yam harvest dances that have made the Trobs so famous. Because they were somehow expecting 1000 people (such is the nature of communications here), we were somewhat overwhelmed with their numbers, and yet this made it all the more wonderful and over the top. Some of us even danced with the dancers, and Russell gave a little girl K2 in appreciation of her dancing, and her mother handed him back a child’s doba skirt in return. The night before I had given a lecture on sagali and women’s work in the Trobs, so many guests were interested in the banana fibre skirts and other signs of women’s wealth. They also had a terrific and very organized market of artifacts, which we made a dent into---lots of ebony wood from Woodlark, terrific bowls with mother of pearl inlay, lime goards, baskets and baskets, betelnut pestles, and even yellow cheese wood carvings. There was the usual frantic hustle at the shore when we departed, with everyone pressing their wares upon a few hapless tourists, but it was much better, all in all, than it has been in the best—thanks no doubt to the presence of police these days.

15.10.05
Today was a day at sea, when we had lectures and read as we pleased. I had given a Melanesian lecture early on, then two on the Trobs, followed by one lecture on colonial New Guinea (mainly German New Guinea), and today gave a lecture on New Britain, Duke of Yorks and New Ireland culture—the tubuan and dukduk societies.

16.10.05
We visited Monty’s home island of Nissan today, sitting squarely between New Ireland and Buka, making it a true watershed of the two cultural types east and west. The beautiful people here were delighted to see their long-gone son (Monty hadn’t been back since 2003), and hosted us with organizational zeal. They even provided a day’s program for us, including walks to points of interest and beginning with seven cultural dance groups, who were all, to a one, fantastic. Probably the most memorable, though, were the young can dancers who whipped each other and ended by chewing glass bottles as signs of their magical prowess. We were told how the young men must prepare for two weeks to endure this act, consuming magical ginger and betelnut and arriving at a state of out of body detachment that one of our many tourguides described as ‘astral traveling.’ It was the most frightening and impressive thing we’ve seen so far, that’s for sure. And after a quick return to the ship for lunch, we were back to visit more leisurely with these warm and lovely people---who bear the stamps of so many cultures in this one small atoll—there are New Britain (Tolai), New Ireland and Buka faces and blue black to warm brown skin. The outsiders (not including ourselves of course) were easy to spot for their pale and reddish skin types compared to these Nissan islanders. We were so sorry to tear Monty away from family, especially his Mum, when we left—but I promised to send him back next time as Prie Minister, and one of his uncles said ‘We know that already.’

17.10.05
This morning we visited Lamassa Village in Lamassa Bay, where we were greeted by charcoal covered spear-wielding ogres, in imitation of the way the villagers greeted the first Europeans to set foot on their land. Perfectly appropriate, as we soon learned we were the first tourists to ever visit Lamassa, which is itself the first of three villages now that they have rebuilt following the devastating 1970 earthquake. The highlight of the visit had to be the tubuan and dukduk performances especially for us. First two choral groups sang for us, and they were beautiful. Then, as the women stood at the far end of the men’s clearing (forbidden to enter, traditionally) we watched as a line of three extraordinary figures walked down from the bush to the end of the clearing distant from us---their legs were covered in orange clay, they wore short bushy banana leaf skirts, and over their shoulders and heads were black kundu-drum shaped masks, each smoking with fire from their top and towered over by a long decorated pole. They slowly walked down the hill, led by one man, and then turned to go back—eery and ominous in their calm. After this, three young men came down and performed the cane ritual for us, where an older man whipped their forearms with bamboo and the air cracked but none of them even flinched, thanks to their state of trance. Finally, we were visited by the major tubuan and dukduk figures, walking with clay covered legs and wearing big leafy body covering and tall painted conical masks, with eyes and towering poles above. Really awe-inspiring, especially when we saw the women and kids quickly dash away in fear. Afterwards some went for a swim at their lovely beach while kids and their parents got a quick spin on the Explorer.

18.10.05
We spent the day in Rabaul today, the guests on a morning tour of the Japanese tunnels and the ash-covered residences near Matupit Island. We entered Blanche Bay under the regular puffing of Tavurvur, and left covered with fine ash. In the evening we saw the Baining fire dancers, which was fabulous, at Rapopo, near Kokopo. Six or seven dancers with the big totemic masks, symbolizing bush spirits or masalai of Baining legend, and wearing the penis gourds with big flat circles at the end, their bodies painted in red and white clay, danced playfully around the bonfire and stepped over the coals releasing great sprays of light and fire. Kids were giggling---these are supposed to be playful, they say---and everyone got dramatic photos. The women are never supposed to see the mask preparation because its for initiated men and boys only, but the dance itself is always public and can go on through the night. It is less about endurance and states of trance than the Tubuan-dukduk dances; much more fun. These are the original inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula, who were pushed out by the Tolai when they migrated from southern New Ireland and the Duke o Yorks.

19.10.05
Today we arrived in Kavieng, New Ireland. Our first excursion was to the market, which was feeling the aftermath of a downpour that greeted us as the boat entered the harbour. Mostly tobacco and betelnut sold there, and people were very friendly and accommodating. Then the guests were taken down the Bulminiski Highway to see Cathy with her famous maleo, or eels.

20.10.05
Today was Hepi Hepi Turis Day on Tingwon Island, where a crowd of adults and children welcomed us at the shore with their rendition of a hymn adapted to our arrival. They danced three story dances with their distinctive balsa wood headdresses that bore carved terns on top---one about fishing and the birds gathering over a school of bait fish, which we were told was traded in from the Solomon Islands. Another was about a Tingwon ancestor who drifted at sea to Manus and finally made his way back home. Good morning, they taught us, was ‘tenai bauk,’ good afternoon was ‘tenai nerlik’ and good day was ‘tenai ee’is’. They walked us along their most idyllic of sandy paths lined with tall coconut palms to the aid post, and then from there to the little school where the students stood waiting under a magnificient tree. There we were serenaded again, beautifully, before being accompanied around their residences and finally back to the beach. We called out ‘kall ro luai’ or thank you as we pulled away, enchanted by such a lovely place. And after lunch they tolerated our bizarre presence as we snorkeled off their shore.

21.10.05
Today we arrived at Manus Island, in the Admiralty Islands. Actually we came ashore at the naval base, now sometimes used as an internment area for Australia’s migrants, at Lombon, on Los Negros Island. After a great Manus singsing, hip-twisting and filled with dogs’ teeth currency, we were greeted by important dignitaries, including the former journalist of renown, Luke Sela (OBE). As rain threatened, guests were hurried into the vans for a drive to Lorengau, the capital town, where Belaun Island dancers and more dignitaries yet met and greeted them at the marketplace. Lorengau’s market is amongst the best in PNG, with trussed tree possums, green snails, octopus, and all sorts of vegetables for sale---not to mention the finely woven Manus baskets. Following this, we went for a cold drink and chit chat with locals at the hotel, where we met the Tourism Promotion Authority rep, and the Education Commissioner, and talked about the very complex WWII history of Manus. The Japanese arrived in 42 and drove out most villagers, but built the airstrips in Momote (which still survives) and Lorengau. By 1943 the Allied troops had arrived, and Manusians saw their first American Negroes who, although segregated from white US soldiers, were certainly more materially wealthy than villagers, and helped foment the incipient cargo cult ideas of the time. The Manus people are actually three people—the Matakor, in the small islands; the Usia in the inland of the mainland; and the Manus, who are actually the Mouks and the Mbuke. The Mouks are said to have come from an imploded volcano and populated all the seashores of Manus with stilt villages and cultural characteristics that are distinctly ‘Lapita’ [which is to say from the Taiwanese influx roughly 6000 to 3000 years ago that wiped the coast and island across Melanesia].

22.10.05
We are now at the Murik Lakes region at the mouth of the Sepik River, a place distinguished by is ‘half-half’ culture—half maritime and seafaring, and half riverine and lowland. They have chiefs as well as initiation here, and it is best known as the home of the ‘father of the country’, Sir Michael Somare, better known by all as the ‘Chief.’ We went ashore at Karau Village, which is actually Sir Michael’s home (and saw his large house by the lake’s edge), where they had three singsing groups ready to dance for us. The grounds was soggy with mud and crushed mussel shells everywhere, and at one point, in the market by the seaside end of the village, a large swell washed all the way down the market path and threatened to soak the carvings on display. They laid out their classic bowls and some masks, as well as the elaborate chiefly walking sticks here. We also saw some of the nassa shell money they string onto reeds in amounts of 12 to 18, which are valued at 1 kina each, and the basis for the national toea (cent) currency.

23.10.05
Today we got a wonderful taste of river and sea cultures. In the morning we traveled up the Sepik and set off by river boat to visit some of the sago and fish camps dotting the waterway. These are Murik Lake peoples who have come to the river to fish and work their sago gardens for several weeks at a time. We ventured shore in one small camp, mostly comprise of women and children, where we watched one women roast and skewer the meat from mussels (or kina) to make the handy fast food snack they can sell at market here. The mounds of shells elsewhere in the camp were ready for roasting, too, because they’ll be cooked into ash for the lime that people use to slake their betelnut. We also saw family members arrive from Bein village with a baby cassowary in their canoe—quite a treat; they said they’d raised it from an egg. Then in the afternoon we arrived at Boisa Island, just west of Manam, the recently-erupted volcano, where villagers greeted us excitedly and almost seemed prepared for our coming. They have returned from the refugee camps on the mainland where all other Manam Islanders were evacuated to after last year’s devastating eruption, and now face ash-covered gardens and rebuilding some of their homes. We met the chief (Chief Grabriel) and were serenaded by SDA singers, as well as a threesome of women dancers, and kids everywhere, and in the end gave them fuel so they could go fetch their foodstuffs at the mainland camps. In the evening the Chief’s grandson, John, and his off-sider, Robert, kindly joined us on the top deck to present the ship with a mask and the pigs tusks of a chief, as a special gift for the first-time arrival of the Oceanic Princess. They explained that they would otherwise have a traditional pot broken over the bow, and a pig killed for our inaugural visit

24.10.05
Today was spent in Madang town, and at Bilbil Village; then swimming at Pig Island in the afternoon.

25.10.05
Tuam Island in the Siassi Islands set up terrific dances for us and we were welcome with terrific enthusiasm. Sitting in between the mainland and Bismark Archipelago cultures, they have a mixture of both: their decorations include dogs teeth, spondyllus shells (they call tambu),and wonderful balsa wood and sago bark headdresses (like Bilbil, and elsewhere in the Bismark Archipelago). But they also wear tapa cloth, pigs tusks and cowries in ways that resemble mainlanders we’ve seen ---like those at Murik Lakes. Their long and windswept village is protected by wind breaks and high cliffs, and on one side they get all the driftwood washing ashore that they could ever need for their houses. But we discovered that the elderly chief had died in August and his widow was still in mourning. As he was over 90, this should not have been a surprise, except that there are so many senior citizens on Tuam it’s almost as though there were a fountain of youth. In the afternoon everyone swam and snorkeled off Tami Island.

26.10.05
This afternoon we arrived at the Tufi fjords, where the women of the chiefly lines so famously tattoo their faces during a puberty rite that can take six painful weeks to endure. Swimming, snorkeling and glass bottom boating started the afternoon. Then we visited a village on top of one of the lush green fjords that we were told are the only tropical fjords in the southern hemisphere. The view was spectacular and they rewarded us with very sweet pineapple and kulau (coconut milk) for the walk up. Afterwards we enjoyed tea and biscuits at the Tufi Resort where the view was---as if possible—even better. Plenty of tattooed women in the market selling tapa cloth, where we also saw a terrific singsing with the same great feather headdresses we saw on our first day in Alotau---almost native American in appearance.

27.10.05
Today we visited the d’Entrecasteaux Islands, rounding out the great circle of our route through PNG, by returning to these outer islands of the kula chain just as we had begin with them. We arrived in the morning at Wagifa Island, just beside the larger Goodenough Island, where the chief’s son, Vincent, kindly welcomed us ashore with the Councilor. Phrases we learned include: malabatu iwagana---good morning; yadade waga—good day; levi levi wagi—good afternoon; siulei lagaina—thank you; and yamumuna—good. Navasiva Taudile is the name of the Chief, who we met in the second village. His younger brother, Didilem Taudili, has been recently widowed and was visiting Alotau, but we walked up to his homestead area where they displayed a market full of great kitoma valuables covered with bagi. Vincent told me a story about the new yam house they’ve erected there which bears the inscription Gugaimoa over the frontispiece. Apparently his cousin’s wife (from the other side of the island) died with child in childbirth, as a newlywed. Her family was so aggrieved that they demanded compensation for their loss in the amount of 4 bagi (soulava), 2 pigs, 10 Nabwageta pots, 2 heaps of yams, bananas and other foodstuffs. They also demanded that the husband’s line construct this yam house within a year of her death and fill it with 60 baskets of yams for them to take away. In fact, they painted the dlogan Gugaimoa over the top---meaning Just do it! (Goodenough’s version of a Nike ad). The house will stay until the husband’s elder brother ‘breaks’ mourning by killing a pig and having a feast. But they have at least avoided the threat of war by complying with their in-laws many demands.