link traditional culture with national pride.
There is a comic side to these collisions at the ragged edge of the world. On that first trip I flew up to Enga in the highlands. Enga, home to the Mount Hagen festival, was the last province to be contacted by Europeans. (Although he never talked much about it, my father was one of those first Europeans to enter the province, having served as a medical corpsman in World War II.) One evening I went to the local theater, which was showing Stanley Kubrickâs Barry Lyndon, starring Ryan OâNeal as an eighteenth-century Irish adventurer and swordsman. Scattered among the audience were a number of Papuans in grass skirts, all of whom understood the plot perfectly, as it dealt with honor, betrayal and fighting skills. Later I learned that the theater had adopted a policy requiring natives to check their own weapons before entering, because some would become so caught up in the films that they would take sides and hurl spears at the screen.
Thanks to some friends who had worked in New Guinea in various UN programs, I had some contacts in the country. Thomas Unwin, the resident representative of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) station in New Guinea, gave me an introduction to John Haugie, the minister of cultural affairs, who in turn wrote a letter to the provincial commissioner, noting that my journalistic visit had his official approval and support. This introduction magically opened doors, the most important of which was that of Chief Inspector Leo Debessa, the provincial police commander of Western Highlands province. Debessa was typical of the professionals I encountered in New Guinea: strong, well trained, and sensitive to the complexities of dealing with clans and tribesâperhaps because he professed himself only one step removed from the Stone Age ways of his family.
At the time of my visit, 4,000 Europeans were living in Mount Hagen, the provincial capital of Western Highlands. Debessa told me that in the previous year there had been 1,000 reported breaking and enterings. Since the majority of Europeans were there with their families, it was safe to assume that virtually every European had suffered a burglary or worse.
Chief Debessa was somewhat resigned to the persistence of such crimes. Since the theme of most cargo cults was that Europeans had come to possess their riches through trickery, theft was in effect a form of repossession, and that meme was far more widespread than the details of any particular cargo cult. Debessa was more worried about a rise in actual assaults, particularly that the unsophisticated tribesmen would get ideas from the violent films that were often shown in the theater, and that showcased the firepower of modern weapons.
Tribal warfare posed another headache for the chief. He was sensitive to the fact that the village bigmen achieved their rank through skills in war, and he needed their cooperation and the respect for traditional law to maintain order. At the same time he wanted to quell these wars, which could flare up over an issue as minor as an intemperate remark and disrupt regions intermittently for years. (As one weary expatriate remarked to me with considerable understatement, âPeople here are incredibly short-tempered.â)
Once Debessa became comfortable with the idea that I was not in New Guinea to ridicule his countryâs backward ways, he began to offer me opportunities to accompany his men and associates on missions. Toward the end of my stay, he invited me to join a force from the elite Police Mobile Unit to try to stop a tribal war in Gumine between clans of the Yuri and Koksam tribes on one side and the Golin on the other. The battle had been raging on and off since 1973. I jumped at the chance. For one thing I was interested to see firsthand whether the natives still forswore modern weapons in their tribal conflicts. If that proscription was ever abandoned, the death toll in these conflicts
There is a comic side to these collisions at the ragged edge of the world. On that first trip I flew up to Enga in the highlands. Enga, home to the Mount Hagen festival, was the last province to be contacted by Europeans. (Although he never talked much about it, my father was one of those first Europeans to enter the province, having served as a medical corpsman in World War II.) One evening I went to the local theater, which was showing Stanley Kubrickâs Barry Lyndon, starring Ryan OâNeal as an eighteenth-century Irish adventurer and swordsman. Scattered among the audience were a number of Papuans in grass skirts, all of whom understood the plot perfectly, as it dealt with honor, betrayal and fighting skills. Later I learned that the theater had adopted a policy requiring natives to check their own weapons before entering, because some would become so caught up in the films that they would take sides and hurl spears at the screen.
Thanks to some friends who had worked in New Guinea in various UN programs, I had some contacts in the country. Thomas Unwin, the resident representative of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) station in New Guinea, gave me an introduction to John Haugie, the minister of cultural affairs, who in turn wrote a letter to the provincial commissioner, noting that my journalistic visit had his official approval and support. This introduction magically opened doors, the most important of which was that of Chief Inspector Leo Debessa, the provincial police commander of Western Highlands province. Debessa was typical of the professionals I encountered in New Guinea: strong, well trained, and sensitive to the complexities of dealing with clans and tribesâperhaps because he professed himself only one step removed from the Stone Age ways of his family.
At the time of my visit, 4,000 Europeans were living in Mount Hagen, the provincial capital of Western Highlands. Debessa told me that in the previous year there had been 1,000 reported breaking and enterings. Since the majority of Europeans were there with their families, it was safe to assume that virtually every European had suffered a burglary or worse.
Chief Debessa was somewhat resigned to the persistence of such crimes. Since the theme of most cargo cults was that Europeans had come to possess their riches through trickery, theft was in effect a form of repossession, and that meme was far more widespread than the details of any particular cargo cult. Debessa was more worried about a rise in actual assaults, particularly that the unsophisticated tribesmen would get ideas from the violent films that were often shown in the theater, and that showcased the firepower of modern weapons.
Tribal warfare posed another headache for the chief. He was sensitive to the fact that the village bigmen achieved their rank through skills in war, and he needed their cooperation and the respect for traditional law to maintain order. At the same time he wanted to quell these wars, which could flare up over an issue as minor as an intemperate remark and disrupt regions intermittently for years. (As one weary expatriate remarked to me with considerable understatement, âPeople here are incredibly short-tempered.â)
Once Debessa became comfortable with the idea that I was not in New Guinea to ridicule his countryâs backward ways, he began to offer me opportunities to accompany his men and associates on missions. Toward the end of my stay, he invited me to join a force from the elite Police Mobile Unit to try to stop a tribal war in Gumine between clans of the Yuri and Koksam tribes on one side and the Golin on the other. The battle had been raging on and off since 1973. I jumped at the chance. For one thing I was interested to see firsthand whether the natives still forswore modern weapons in their tribal conflicts. If that proscription was ever abandoned, the death toll in these conflicts
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