00:14 |
(Up sot, dancing, shouting outside congress.) A swirl of
colour and excitement as members of Papua’s 250 tribes gather at thus
stirring spectacle. To dance, sing, and shout about independence and their
future. (Up sot shouting, chanting.) |
00:33 |
But this show
is as much a defiant celebration of Papuan tradition and identity. Men sport penis gourds, considered by Indonesian authorities to be primitive and offensive. |
00:48 |
From the
highlands, the Dani tribesmen enjoy a warrior reputation, leading their
charge Matthias Wende a veteran of the free Papua movement who’s log waded a guerrilla
war against the Indonesians to preserve what his enemies regard as a stone
age existence. |
01:12 |
GRAB Matthias Wende Tape 12 at 13:08 “in the year 2000, there must be an acknowledgement of independence to the people, in the hands of Papua.” |
01:23 |
(Up sot, plane, perhaps food pack sequence, looking out window etc.) From the capital
it’s an hour’s flight to the heart of Dani territory, across inaccessible and
unexploited rivers and rainforests. Over jungle some claim to be home to head hunters and cannibals – to tribes which have never made contact with the outside world. |
01:50 |
(Up sot, wah wah shouts, mock battle.) In days gone
by these Dani tribesmen could be fighting over women or their prized possessions:
pigs; sometimes both. Today’s
encounter is more a show a show than a show of strength – casualties are
convicted and theatre is the victor. As in the past when realism triumphed over exhibitionism, women and children keep their distance. |
02:24 |
Mock battles
are now part of a muscular and manly warm up for special occasions –
welcoming ceremonies, weddings and the like. (Up sot, men or women applying make up, talking, preparing for ceremony, tape 16 59.50 etc.) |
02:42 |
These age-old rituals
remain pivotal to everyday life, but increasingly displays like this pay
greater heed to accommodating the spirit – that’s the spirit of tourism, than
observing Arcane tribal traditions and customs. (Singing and dancing, then to Chief as T/T.) GRAB Chief Pato Kugia “We are doing traditional parties like this from long ago. This is done by our ancestors and we have them at certain moments, such as marriages, Christmas parties, opening a church or a welcoming party when a special guest comes, like you.” |
03:24 |
(Up sot, dancing.) The majority
of Dani are Christians, but for many their conversion is perfunctory –
polygamy is still widely practiced – and it’s a strong belief in ancestral spirits
that’s at the centre of Dani life. |
03:47 |
(Up sot, pig shoot, tape 18.) And central to
any Dani festivity – A sight not for the squeamish nor the faint- hearted. Alas for the
pig it’s reprieve is brief. Mercifully for
porker, and reporter alike, so too its suffering. But for the
Dani it’s an event not to be taken lightly. Dani tribesmen believe that
slaughtering a pig releases a powerful spirit, a gift to their ancestral
beings. (Put pig on fire.) |
04:24 |
Roast pork is
the greatest gift, it’s also a delicacy. The more eaten, the more favourably
the ancestors’ spirits will look upon the village. (Up sot, breaker, women wailing, pig roast in Subima village.) In the nearby village of
Subima, another pig feast is about to be unearthed, this time for a funeral. (Up sot of men mourning, great old guy eulogising.) The deceased was a comparatively
young man, more than likely a victim of cancer. Traditional medicines,
including pig meat, have failed to save him. Mourning the
death of a Dani is an important time. The men lament the loss, so too do the
women, in a nearby hut. |
05:11 |
There was a
time when funerals were the most important Dani rite and could last for
weeks, even months, depending on the status of the deceased. |
05:23 |
Many of the
older Dani live with the legacy of the crude, and ugly practice now
abandoned. The death of a family member once led to a bizarre form of
mutilation. Yet another earthly attempt to impress the ancestral spirits. GRAB Iook Talak (man) “I cut one finger because my mother died. Cutting one finger marks one member of the family who died. Cutting four fingers means four members of the family have died.” GRAB Maluk Kwe (woman) “My husband died, as a deep condolence I cut the two tips of my ear. I also cut my fingers.” In the village
of Aikima it’s still possible to come face to face with one those ancestors. |
06:16 |
In a bid to
please the spirits and reap good fortune some men – important men – were not cremated
but desiccated. This is
Werapak Elosa a once feared warrior leader. His mummified remains are
preserved by smoke, held together in parts by string and gaffa tape. By say he is
brought out from the men’s hut and reclines in an old wooden chair. And just how
old is this extraordinary human antique? |
06:45 |
GRAB Maikwe Wilil “This mummy is 300 years old. My parent is the ancestor of the mummy. This mummy is the hero of the family. He teaches how to use an arrow and make war. And died because of war.” As a gesture
of good will Indonesian government officials built a brick hut to house the
mummy, but the hut was too hot and the mummy started to melt. |
07:10 |
Now the hut is
used for the pigs, and the men of the village again bed down with the mummy. (Up sot, laughing man.) (Up sot, taking picture, “say cheese”.) The locals are
more than happy to pose with their legendary ancestor, but it’s worth
wondering just how the Dani will choose to honour the great warriors of
today. |
07:45 |
END |