One of the first friends I made when I first came here is the Director of Maintenance for my employer, Robert. He is a really nice guy and since we first met he has invited me to spend some time in his village. For one reason nor another, we haven’t been able to organize a trip but now with my time running out in PNG, I really wanted to spend some time away from work with my friend so we agreed to go away this past weekend from Friday to Sunday even though my stomach is still giving me problems. We agreed to meet at the parking lot at 5pm on Friday but at 5:30 with no Robert in sight, I walked up to his house. When I got there he was taping the rear window of his SUV together with tape. It seems that it kind of fell apart when he closed the back door after packing. I also noticed the large crowd around the SUV. Robert is a large friendly and happy man who loves children. I’ve seen his children around his house before but I never really knew how many children he had. I was about to find out since many would be coming with us. I all, Robert has 6 kids with his wife Margret, and also raised Margaret’s 2 children from a previous marriage who are also both married and have their own children. His parents also live with him however they didn’t join us on the trip. At 6pm we loaded up into the worn SUV with the taped rear window, Robert, Margaret, 4 children, a friend, a daughter in law and her baby. Several other family members were sent by PMV (public truck) to meet us. Our first stop was to get gas and then off to the food store to pick up supplies. At 7pm we started on the drive to Roberts’s village. It was dark and the trip was through some rougher areas of Port Moresby but after 20 minutes we were on the Hiratano Highway along the west coast from Port Moresby. The coastal area is quite green and forested and the mountains weren’t to far from the coast. This area is part of the Central province of PNG. All along the highway were squatter settlements made up of people from the mountainous areas to the north. The followed the mountain rivers to the sea and stayed there to try to eek out a living. Roberts explained that most of the lands that had been taken belonged to his village and that they had been in court to get it back but it was a long process. He also told me that we would be staying nearer to his wifes village because the road to his place was in terrible condition. No big deal, their villages Pino and Ishu, are on the opposite banks of a beautiful tropical river. The highway was in good condition for most of the way but there was about 20 kilometers of continuous pot holes. The interesting thing was that they had had circles painted around them to make them more visible. Funny, they can’t fix them but they can paint circles around them. We swerved and bounced our way through. We arrived at Margaret’s village and her relative’s house at 9pm. However there was no one to let us in. There had been a death in the family and most of the family members were in Moresby but two sons were supposed to let us in to stay the night. The house was the typical stilted village house made of different scraps of wood and corrugated metal. Eventually someone arrived but by that time we had decided to set up camp on the beach a few kilometers away. We borrowed a few pots and pans to use on the campfire and made our way to the beach. I talked them into not using the generator for the real peaceful experience. Our campsite was beautiful right on the banks of the river where it met the sea on the grounds of an old palm plantation. We set up our tents and shelters, started some camp fires and cooked some fresh prawns. It was great. After a few hours of eating and talking we went to bed for the night.

One group would not perform their dance outside of their village so we had to ride 2 hours up into the mountain to see it. The official reason was that they could not expose their secret dances outside of their village. The other reason was that they though they could make more money if they held it in their village. The group was of the Baining people and they did a dance at night through fire. The outfits they wore included masks that were 3 to 5 feet high and looked like Donald duck and Pluto. But they did run through burning coconut husks.

Soon after the dog had safely made its way through the crowd, the Tumbuans began to arrive by canoe. There were three or 4 fiberglass boats tied together to a traditional canoe. The tumbuans were dancing in the canoes and the village men were singing and drumming in the other boat. There were groups from 4 different villages. When the men came ashore, the village women presented them shell money. After all were ashore, everybody headed for the Mask festival village where the singing and dancing continued. There were singing and dancing groups from all over New Britain, New Ireland and Morobe. The asaro mudmen even came from the highlands. The village was constructed in a big field. There were village houses all around the perimeter selling food, drinks and souvenirs. In the middle was and arena with a stage at one end and a house for viewing the groups for the tourists at the other. The tourists meant the white people and there were quite a few from several different European countries including our Spanish friends from Tari. Many had big cameras and most got in everybody’s way when they tried to take pictures. It was a constant battle for the best shot. The festival lasted 4 days and was quite unorganized. Rarely did things follow the printed schedule and some groups didn’t come. But still it was quite enjoyable. The cultural displays were great.