October 7,2008

We're going to a native village on Friday for an art festival.  You can read a little about it here:

http://www.adventureindonesia.com/asmat.htm

Hopefully we'll have some good stories and photos when we get back!

10 October, 2008

The Asmat Festival

We were fortunate enough to be invited (thanks to the Ibu-Network here) to go to the annual Asmat Festival this year, something few employees get to experience.  Freeport is a large contributor to the local economy and previously had been an official sponsor of the event, so anyone who was selected to go was expected to show “support” (aka: spend money) for the event.   How could we pass up this adventure?

The day started with us sleeping in (to 4:30am).  A few cups of coffee, some last minute packing of essentials into the backpack (antibacterial wipes, water, sun-block  etc…), we left  to pick up some “Ibus” that were also going to attend the festival.  After picking up three very nice Australian ladies, we set out for the bumpy ride down to the lowlands – and the airport.  It was actually quite clear in the highlands…a high overcast cloud cover, but no rain or fog.  As we got closer, we could see below: clouds.   It looked a bit sketchy as to whether or not we would be able to fly to the airstrip in the jungle.

We checked into the airport, and found that our flight out was a bit delayed due to weather (a previous group of Freeport employees and guests also going to the festival had just taken off, after a bit of wait for the weather).  It was our first time in the new airport terminal.  While we missed the authenticity and ambiance of the old airport terminals (chicken wire walls, bare concrete floor, wooden benches, and a single ceiling fan hopelessly fighting the sweltering lowlands jungle air), the air conditioned modern terminal was nice.  We sat and had a cup of coffee and a pastry in the new airport Kantin (café) while waiting for the Twin Otter to return and pick us up.    After some additional caffeine and getting to meet each other ( our group consisted of Australians, Indonesians, a representative of the US Embassy in Jakarta and ourselves), our plane had returned and was waiting on the ramp for us.  After a safety briefing on what to do in the event of an emergency (a crash into the remote lowlands jungle of Papua, Indonesia…hmm…), we crammed into the Twin Otter. 

A brief note about the DeHaviland Twin Otter DHC-6 …there are a lot of them running around in the South Pacific…mainly because of the amazing short take off and landing capabilities.  We have seen up to four of them parked on the ramp at the Timika airport.  They are either sitting on floats, or they are used on very short jungle landing strips.  We had never flown on a Twin Otter before, but its capabilities were immediately demonstrated when we taxied out from the ramp to the runway (the ramp is at the midpoint of the runway).  The pilots lazily taxied towards the end of the runway as they finished their takeoff checklist.  Instead of going to the end of the runway to turn around for a full runway takeoff as we normally would in a 737, the pilots jammed the throttles to full about ¾ of the way down the runway, and we were wheels up well before the threshold.  WOW! 

The pilots set the course South-southeast to the Ewer landing strip, near the village of Agats, where the festival was taking place.  Within 5 minutes of takeoff, we were engulfed in tropical clouds, flying in instrument conditions.  After Eric peeked into the cockpit and confirmed the pilots were using the flight navigation instruments, and they were in fact lined up, we relaxed a bit and tried to think happy thoughts as we bounced in the fog.  About 45 minutes later, the pilots backed off the throttles, we started to see bits of the coast line…a sea of green cut through by large brown rivers, all flowing into the grey Arafura sea.  A steep banking 180-degree turn, and we were approaching what looked like a tiny strip of cleared land on the bank of a river, surrounded by tall trees.  It was the steepest, fastest descent that we had ever taken in an airplane, right as it seemed like we were going to auger into the earth, the pilots flared the plane, we felt the wheels squish onto the landing strip, we fishtailed left, then right, then we were stopped.  The pilots turned the plane around, and taxied to the beginning of the runway that also functioned as the ramp.  As we came to a stop, a few curious villagers came out of their huts that lined the landing strip to welcome us.  We stepped out of the plane and grabbed our stuff.  While we were unloading, one of our guides was pointing out the pierced steel planking that gave a hard surface to the landing strip, and explained that this landing strip was constructed in WWII, and the very steel planking we were standing on was likely placed by Australian troops (other possibilities include US Navy Seabees, British or Kiwi troops), and was used as a landing strip for scouting and resupply planes.  The planking was still in pretty good shape.  Amazing!

The landing strip is the closest land that stays above high tide to the village of Agats, however we were still a ways off, and the final leg of our journey began with us hopping into boats.  After 30 minutes of us buzzing through rivers (in the rain) and in the mangrove swamp, we got to Agats.

As we pulled up to the dock, we could hear some chanting, and eventually were able to see our welcoming committee: Asmat tribesmen and women dressed up in traditional garb…dancing for us.

We were quickly ushered down a long boardwalk (the entire village is built on a tidal flat, everything is elevated above high tide) past smiling villagers saying “welcome misses” and “welcome mister” to the area where the art auction was to take place, and were seated next to the stage, thankfully under an awning that kept us dry.

Immediately, an exhibition of traditional Asmat dance was put on: there were three groups of dancers, each taking their turns dancing.  Very impressive.

After the dancing, we sat through four welcoming speeches, one from an Indonesian politician, a westerner catholic bishop that resided in Agats, the tribal chief, and finally, the auctioneer.  The tribal chief’s speech was most memorable, as he gave it in the Asmat language, Indonesian AND English.  He warmly welcomed us guests to the festival, hoped that we could all enjoy Asmat culture, become friends even though we come from vastly different continents and cultures, and most of all, he hoped we would support the Asmats by buying artwork!  The area was ringed by hundreds of Asmat villagers, and we were being heavily watched, we made sure to clap when a speech was finished, and to smile and laugh, and be as pleasant as possible.  The speeches were interrupted a few times by late-arriving politicians and dignitaries, each time being escorted by military police.  Greetings and handshakes were exchanged, and the “banana besar” (big bananas) were seated next to the stage on leather couches with tables filled with bottled water and cake.  It was during one of these interruptions that to our horror we noticed on the headdress of the wife of the chief: the only bird of paradise that we had seen.  Still waiting to see a live one… until then, the headdress will have to suffice.

Finally, the auction began.  Each piece was displayed by the artist whom created it.  The most beautiful and intricate pieces were snapped up, the final prices between 12 million and 20 million rupiah ($1,200 and $2,000), which was a bit out of our price range.  The buyers were mainly art dealers from the U.S., Europe and Indonesian government officials…good for the Asmats, bad for us. 

After the first session of the Auction, we were given a break.  To interject a bit of reality into the situation…remember how earlier the discussion was about having coffee and caffeine? Now place yourself in a remote Papuan village, built on stilts (read: you can’t walk discreetly into the woods), surrounded by cute, curious, smiling Asmat children (read: you are never alone or unwatched), the bladder gets more and more stretched, and desperation sets in.  FINALLY, we found a kind person who understood the “issues” and escorted us to the bishop’s quarters where we were able to prevent any public embarrassment.   Note to self: A lot of caffeine is bad if you can’t get rid of it in a timely manner.

After the ordeal was over, we walked around the village square, where artists had their goods on display, ones that didn’t quite make the cut for the auction, but were never the less definitely for sale.

After a lot of looking, Cherine negotiated with an artist for a contemporary storyboard (the old ones tell a story through carving, however this one was more artistic, and did not actually tell a story).  Everything was priced a bit higher than we were used to, probably due to the many western art dealers present, however we bargained a bit, but in the end, knew we were getting an experience of a lifetime, and wanted to support the Asmat people.  A deal was struck, and the artist was extremely happy!

Some further walking around revealed some of the artists at work, carving.

The auction resumed with another Asmat dance with contemporary music.

Eric stayed with the auction, while Cherine toured the Asmat museum. 

We were limited in the size of artwork we could buy; it had to fit in the cargo hold of the Twin otter, which meant it had to be less than 3 feet long, and less than 20 pounds.  Eric watched in frustration as many beautiful pieces were auctioned off that were just over the limit.  The rain dried up, and the sun came out.  Eric again forgot how the sunburn thing works this close to the equator, while he did manage to drink about 5 liters of water, the sunscreen sat, unused in the pack…

Meanwhile, Cherine and a few other Freeport people walked through the village on the narrow boardwalks, and were able to further appreciate the conveniences of western life that were very apparently missing here: toilets, trash pick-up, etc.  But as is everywhere, on a hot day kids are immediately drawn to anything above the water that will serve as a diving board and try to make the biggest splash possible, whether it’s a lake in the US Midwest or a mangrove swamp in Papua.  We were fortunate to have a guide take us to the museum so that we would not get lost, and also to tell us a little bit about the art that was in the museum.  On our walk we also met the Catholic priest who was responsible for starting the Asmat Art Festival several years ago, and learned he’s from Minnesota.  Yes, the world is that small!  The museum’s original intent was for the winning art pieces from each festival to be displayed there, and to be an inspiration to new young carvers.  The museum was very impressive as it contained several very old traditional pieces, as well as newer forms that were introduced by the Catholic priests as they moved into the area.  It was amazing to see all of the different forms the carvings can take.  Of course, there were a few cultural items as well, like full body masks that they use during a separate festival to ward off spirits of those who had died and had not gone to the next world, and some human skulls.  Although the legend says these people were head-hunters, the skulls in this case were from dead ancestors and they are were used as pillows.  (I think I’ll stick with my Tempurpedic pillow for now.)

All too soon, it was time to begin the return journey, as we had to fly back before the cloud cover returned.

We were escorted back to our boats, passing many stalls on the side of the boardwalk, filled with vegetables, fish, wild pig, generators, cheap clothing and cigarettes.  As we got in the boats, the dock filled up with children, wishing us well, and inviting us back.  The engines started and we drifted off to the calls of “bye bye misses” and “come be back”.

As we crossed out into the main tributary, we passed more children, having a ball diving off of an abandoned boat.  After some universal signs of “cool”, the kids waved and dove in.

We raced back to the airstrip.  There were three boatloads of us.

We arrived back to the airstrip, and we had a huge welcoming committee.  All of the people were very friendly, and the kids were more than willing to ham it up to the camera.   Eric got mobbed when it was apparent that he was going to get his picture taken.

After some frantic waiting for one of the three boats (some engine trouble, nothing that some “jungle repairs” couldn’t fix), we piled in the Otter and got ready to go.

After another short but energetic takeoff, we were on our way back home!  The clouds were making a comeback, but not before we got to see some good lowland jungle, complete with a winding brown river flowing through the mangroves.

Towards the end of the flight, the clouds obscured the ground, so we amused ourselves by watching Eric grow more and more pink by the minute.  Good thing we packed the sunscreen around all day…

We had an uneventful landing (other than the amazement of how we could land on 1/4^th of the runway that normally the 737 pilots are cramming on their brakes to not overrun after touchdown).

All of us, hot, sweaty and exhausted piled out of the Otter, grabbed our purchases, got on the bus and rode back to the terminal.  The amazing day was topped off on the drive back up to the highlands by an unusually clear evening, and as we topped over the last rise before dropping down to Tembagapura, we were treated to a rare view of Carstenz Glacier gleaming in the twilight.  What an amazing day.

One of the main reasons we decided give up our comfortable, cushy lives in Montana and move halfway around the world was to experience things that most people would never get to experience, and that was firmly realized on this trip to the Asmat festival.  Never could we have imagined doing this, flying out to one of the most remote places in the world, to come into contact with a remote tribe, and experience their culture.  We felt very welcome, always surrounded by genuine smiles and curiosity.  More than once some of the Asmat children would reach out and grab our arms, as if to see if we really existed.  There were times where we wanted to do the same, our brains hardly comprehending what our eyes were seeing.  Now, we want even more to go back, and experience more of these people.  The festival was a great start, but not necessarily a realistic picture of their lives and culture.  The memories of being surrounded by warm smiles and curiosity leaves a desire to return and reconnect…

October 17, 2008

After weeding through over 300 photos (HOLY COW!!) from last weekend, we've managed to edit a few more.  I'm sure this will keep us both busy for a few weekends.  I'll put more on the Photos2 page as I get them done.

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