Pulsating rhythms of bamboo pipes and drums intensified, as menfolk and their boys gathered in a circle ready for the tribal ritual. As the beats reached a crescendo the first giant mask appeared, and performers were slowly lured from the forest to the edge of the fire.
The crocodile is worshipped as the creator god; dances and initiations are held in honour of these prehistoric monsters. Catholic missionaries also left their influence here – the croc and the cross fascinatingly cohabit the jungle and swamps of one of the world’s most remote locations.
On paper – it’s a shocking place. But juxtaposed against this picture of a dysfunctional society is the gentle, kind nature of the people we met. University students, spirit house elders, boatmen and barflies; we were greeted with the same warmth, smiles and courtesy. Quietly spoken people who wanted to tell you about their country, about their lives.
The screams still haunt me… Apocalyptic flashbacks to the jungle of Papua New Guinea where scarlet trickles of blood run down the backs of five freshly carved initiates. The pulsating sound of village drums as our canoes pull up on the shore, beside the spirit house. Outside a human representation of the crocodile...
Witnessing the ceremonial carving of young, fresh skin with razor sharp bamboo is a memory for life. Black skin, pink flesh and scarlet blood; a real-life horror show. This August I found myself back on the Sepik River, in the spirit house at Yen Jen village, where I had witnessed that brutal initiation 7 years previously. Some … Continue reading The crocodile men of the Sepik River (2020)
The Lonely Chopstick 