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Fierce Battle Cries and Penis Gourds in the Wilds of New Guinea
Story and photos by Jackie Chase

Abruptly, distant voices drowned the stillness in the air. Rustling through the jungle growth, we entered a clearing of burned wild grass, which destroyed any means of concealment or protection. We stopped dead in our tracks within seconds of hearing the swishing sound of flying arrows.

"Did you hear that sound?" Katherine whispered frantically, grabbing my arm.

"Yes, but where did it come from?" I asked.

"I'm scared and don't like this," she said with hesitation.

"Katherine, will you ever forgive me if we do survive this?" I asked.

She took a few steps backwards but I could hear her say, "It's okay mom. We will be okay."

Our eyes caught two groups of local tribal men called Dani crouching in the yellow grass. Crudely carved spears protruded above bodies glistening with pig grease. Muscled arms waved bows while calloused fingers manipulated arrows. The opening between the groups equaled the distance of a short arrow shot. The warriors watched with eyes empty of expression and lips drawn in straight lines. The men's silence led us to believe it was imperative we remain still.

Opposite the smallest group, a warrior rose to his full height. He reached for an arrow, and shot toward us, high over the heads of the crouched warriors. Lime-powder paint, pig grease mixed with soot, and curly plumes of the bird of paradise decorated the warrior's body. A scary silence had settled over the warriors.

A form of paralysis swept over my entire body. Sounds of the jungle diminished beneath the drum-like beating of my heart. My bare knees didn't feel the thorn bushes that I noticed later had left scratches on bare skin. My brain rushed into a state of crisis. My thoughts came more rapidly when I thought I was going to die. I had to summon the courage to be stronger than my fears. My mind, fully alert, sensed my body detached. My eyes searched for Katherine's position. Safe and secure?

Our first day in the jungle, and our expectations and foregone conclusions were dissolving.

Hiding From the Heat of Battle

The sudden yelling, which came from every direction, alarmed me even more. Streams of nervous sweat ran down my cheeks. Were these cannibals out looking for their dinner or just angry warriors out to rape and kill anything in their sight? I glanced around but could see only our guide, Julius, above my thorn-bush cover. My body felt heavy like one of those cement statues in a garden. About six feet behind me, branches from a fallen tree hid slivers of blond hair covering eyes tightly squeezed shut. I could barely see the tips of her fingers covering her ears.

I remembered about ten years ago finding Katherine as a small child standing beside a squished frog in the driveway. Her eyes closed so tight they were nothing more than thin lines. Her knuckles were white from pressing her hands hard over ears. I asked her why she covered her ears.

"My eyes can close, but my ears can't," she said.

Without any doubt, I expected our imminent capture. Although against government rules, cannibalism existed in the well-hidden forests of the Asmat tribes. I knew they fought battles mainly over women, food, and land. Maybe we had trespassed on a sacred burial ground. My trembling fingers, damp with sweat, untangled the strap of the camera, my witness to the extraordinary scene. Would the movement from lifting the camera to my face trigger a barrage of arrows and spears?

Ignoring us, several Dani leaped forward, whooping and yelling, leaving a curtain of dust in the chaos. They never looked back and didn't seem to care about the startled intruders interrupting their war games. Warriors chasing warriors crashed exuberantly down a steep embankment of loose rocks, laughing and singing. A group on the far side of the field ran in the opposite direction, moving their spears and bows up and down to the sounds of their chanting. There were no captives or wounded or even cries for help. Both sides appeared content with the outcome of the battle. I looked across the field of flattened grass where minutes ago, men crawled like lions on a hunt. I sighed with relief.

Close inspection of an arrow under my boot revealed a long stem of a plant. In lifting my leg, I realized the tightness in my muscles. Could I take another step? Katherine and I both were breathing hard, as if we had just run a mile race. Instead of using the extra adrenaline filling my body for fighting or escaping, I felt satisfied that in the face of that unsettling event, I remained calm. By not screaming or attacking the warriors with the pepper spray attached to my belt, I may have set a good example for my daughter. Every exhausted muscle in my body felt the adrenaline rush dissipate. I managed enough steps backwards for my shaking hand to reach for Katherine's hand, cold but clammy.

"It's over. Are you all right? I hugged her with all the strength I had left to give.

She wrapped her arms around my back and squeezed. And with a half-smile said, "We survived our first real encounter with adventure, didn't we?"

Releasing Aggression, With No Casualties

As we soon learned, a mock warfare battle between rival villages is an integral part of Dani life. The men play the pretend games to impress their opponents and their women, with much time spent on making weapons and decorations to wear during the battles. Pig grease covers their entire bodies with a coating of soot. Boar's teeth hang from their noses and bird feathers and flowers intertwine to make their head garlands. Paint and plumage transform their faces into masks. They must, of course, don their finest penis gourd for the occasion, the only thing covering the lower half of their body.

The Dani have a legend about a snake and a bird. The race between the two was to determine the life of humans. If the snake won the race, then man should shed his skin and live forever like snakes. If the bird won the race, man must die. The bird won the race. Using feathers, the Dani decorated their bodies, their armbands, hair, and the holes in the nose, illustrating their close spiritual relationship with birds.

Katherine later said, "The whole scene looked like a movie set, so the reality of the experience frightened me less because it didn't seem real."

Oh, to be a teen again, I thought. At that moment I came to realize my assumptions of Katherine's maturity were correct. Acting with discrete confidence, as if nothing threatening had transpired, I absorbed a bit of her teenage courage. I felt blessed with a new awareness of my own body to summon the strength to move forward. Throwim way leg in New Guinea pidgin language translates to "taking the first step in a long journey."

Jackie Chase has received two dozen international book awards for her seven published books. Her passion is facing the challenges of remote travel and weaving those experiences into words with story-telling photographs for sharing. She has met unique challenges in over 150 countries including five trips around the world. See more at culturesoftheworld.com.

Related Features:
A Warriors' Welcome in Maikmol, PNG - Tony Robinson-Smith
Tanna: The Isle of Curious Cults - Stephen M. Bland
Dug-outs Downstream in PNG - Tony Robinson-Smith
Healed by Adventure Travel on the Way to Raja Ampat - Julia Hubbel


See other Oceana and South Pacific travel stories from the archives