Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25240
Accessible only by air or a month's steamy walk through ick jungle, representatives of this area periodically emerge from e forests. In 1990, such a group surfaced. Ambassadors of the ~~~tribe, evidently shocked by what they saw, immediately disap- red again. One of the world's last isolated cultures hangs on in e remote jungles surrounding Irian Jaya's Grand Baliem Valley, re Dani tribesmen wear only penis gourds-early-model jock- straps made from dehydrated yellow squash shells that are fitted over the genitalia and fastened skyward by thin strings tied around he waist. Irian Jaya is the western half of equatorial New Guinea and Indonesia's least-populated territory. It is a spellbinding hold- out for some of Earth's last pristine jungles, mountain ranges and indigenous people, most of whom were "discovered" by missionar- ies in the '60s and '70s. Today, many of these tribes are succumb- ing . to government directives like "Operation Penis Gourd," deSigned to get them out of their traditional getup and into Western clothing. I spent a month trekking in these highlands, a zone tha doesn't exist in contemporary terms. The terrain is a fabulous checkerboard of Dani villages surrounded by stone fences and neatly-kept sweet potato gardens, canals and terraced mountain- sides. The Dani live in little thatch and wood, grass-domed huts called honays. Trekking here is a blend of valley walking, high endurance climbing and harrowing cliff scaling. The terrain is rugged and often muddy. The walking routes make up a prolifi trade trail system. Occasionally I had to pullover to allow a trio bow-and-arrow-toting hunters to pass. The awe-inspiring mountain ranges in the central part the island are permanently covered in snow and ice, while the I lying ar~as to the north and south maintain great tropical jungles. orrentlal rivers plunge from the mountains into gorges and lush owland rainforests, then out to coastal plains. Palm tree-lined, hite sand beaches rim the island. A raft of bohemian types have filtered in and out of Ileys since 1938. But I'm not sure if anyone else encou uuf, my Dani guide. He led me, calm and wise, leaping bare log to slippery log . When I lost him, I tailed his footprints in mud. A billum bag slung around his head contained potatoes, a palm-leaf mat that doubled as a rain poncho and com pressed tobacco and leaves for rolling cigarettes. . One day, monsoon rain splashed down abruptly. Pausing re In the Jungle I contemplated my deviation from the essential of human existence. Chil by flooded shoes and a eat-soaked raincoat, I looked across the trail at Rufus ling under his thatched poncho-habit, not even a dro~ of water on his petrified squash. Rufus and I shared many bowls of rice. He nibbled I finger fulls and gazed around the forest identifying inging birds. It's difficult to process the rugged, amazing beauty of these Melanesian people who only discarded stone axes for steel in the mid-1900s. They continue to hunt and gather, spending their days as deliberately as nature. Traditionally, men fought battles and guarded he women while they raised children, pigs and sweet potatoes. Today, women still bear the brunt of the field work while the men generally walk around, chat, pose for rists and smoke cigarettes. Intrepid archetypes indeed! men also tend the gourds that grow according to the shape of the weenie sheath they fancy. I slept, and reflected, in Dani honays. Men and women sleep and pass time in separate ones. A whole, empty egg shell atop the roof indicates that there is a sick person inside. Particular huts are the privilege of Dani men who've established themselves as warriors. These alp~a-male sanctuaries are fertile pastures for the imagi- nation-ail around hang animal heads, spears, weaponry .... __ .1- d charms. Dani converse in very soft tones, if they speak II. We sat in a circle, enveloped in smoke, illuminate nly by a fire, smoking clove cigarettes and noshing 0 warm sweet potatoes. I accepted the si lence as me