Considering the climate of the tropics, clothes are not a necessary attribute and can be minimal to the extreme. Totally naked children and adults, as well as those only partially covered with simple outfits are a typical scene for Irian Jaya. Nudity among the Papuans doesn’t cause any shame and is not an ethical idea. The almost total lack of clothes has been brought about by the climate and their way of life. It is easier and more comfortable for them this way. Even more so, our guide Isaya once told us that the missionaries’ attempt to teach the Papuans to wear clothes ended in diseases due to uncleanliness. The Papuans in their nudity are as natural and harmonious as the Eskimos in their heavy walrus coats.
The latest reference book on ethnography defines clothes as “an artificial cover of a human body”. This is a very bone-dry and academic way of putting it. Getting to know the Papuans made me think about the functions of certain “artificial” covers. First, it happened in the Jayapura museum where we noticed very specific things in one of the niches. Almost without hesitation, Alexey defined them as “bullet-proof vests”. In fact, they were ancient protective items woven from very thin and strong willow reeds. We had never seen anything like that before. Tribal hunters usually do with common wooden shields which protect them from the enemy’s arrows and spears. What we saw here was real chainmail woven from whatever was at hand. By the way, we found the “great-grandmother” of the modern string bag in the same museum. Contrary to our women, the Papuans see it as a piece of clothes, wear it on their heads and use it not only to carry different things but also to carry babies. Every young man or woman makes their clothes themselves. The idea of craftsmanship is not developed here, so presenting or exchanging something that a person wears is not customary.
By the way, decorative clothing functions in Papuan culture is especially strong. In some pictures in the museum and even in some tribes in real life, we saw some richly and even smartly “dressed” Papuans with splendid crowns made of feathers, and wearing bright decorative elbow and knee pads with several layers of beading and rivieres. The fact that the person was actually naked wasn’t obvious to the eye. Different tribes have different traditions in this aspect though. The custom of men’s clothes usually differs, whereas women’s outfits are the same almost everywhere – they are aprons or skirts made of grass (tapa), which vary only in length from tribe to tribe.
The main element of men’s clothes is a phallocrypt – a device covering a man’s reproductive organ. In the tribes of Irina Jaya it’s called a koteka. In the Dani tribe, the koteka is made from the hard peel of a local cucumber (gourd) whose texture reminds one of a light-yellow covered pumpkin. A koteka’s size depends on a warrior’s status and on whether it is meant for everyday use or for ceremonies. The length as a rule varies from 21 to 47 centimeters. The wider end has a special cut in it and a small string to tie the “decoration” to the body. In addition, kotekas can be attached by a cord going around the waist or by a rather wide tapa belt.
In the Lani and Yali tribes, kotekas are wider and are made from the same vegetable, but harvested in a later period. Except for dissimilar sizes, they are in principle no different from the Dani’s phallocrypts, but by function they also serve warriors as convenient pouches to carry small things, including the ever popular tobacco.
In the Kombai and Korowai tribes, kotekas as such don’t exist. Men cover themselves with a small leaf case, rolled from a palm-tree leaf. I must say here that walking around the jungle completely without a protective cover is too dangerous. Numerous thorny plants, the necessity to walk through thick bushes or climb rough trees will eventually cause an injury. However, we noticed that both the Korowais and Kombais in some villages also wear belts. It is difficult to explain their function. Most probably, it is a type of men’s decoration which is a symbol of belonging to a certain clan.
Compared to the men’s belt (the mahl), the women’s belt is additionally decorated with a fringe which sometimes goes down to the knee and in this way it looks more like a skirt. Among the tribes of the Baliem Valley, we saw women’s mahls colored in red and yellow with natural dyes. The Kombais and Korowais’ women’s belts are not additionally colored or decorated and have the natural color of dry grass. By the way, the fact that the women’s belt exists allowed Mikloukho-Maklay to make a hypothetical conclusion that these tribes have a feeling of shame. From a functional point of view, such a skirt doesn’t protect one from anything, but it is an obligatory part of women’s outfits. The conclusion that the mahl is just a way to identify sex seems more logical to me. My example won’t be the most convincing but nonetheless here it is: tying a blue or pink ribbon around a baby nest to identify a boy or a girl in our culture is similar to the Papuan tradition of wearing a woman’s mahl. In all fairness, I have to say that the hospitable Korowai and Kombai tribes we spent quite a lot of time with had some elements of a feeling of shame. In particular, not only women but men as well never completely exposed themselves in our presence. Isaya explained to us that they don’t do it even in each other’s presence either. Only family couples are an exception, and only at night. By the way, the Kombais wearing miniature kotekas think of themselves as nicely dressed. However, when the Papuan men caught us swimming in the river totally naked, they laughed at us and probably condemned us as well.
Speaking about clothes, I can’t but mention such an important element of the Papuan culture as their custom of rubbing their bodies with clay, creating tattoos, and having piercings and cuttings done to them. Unfortunately, we obviously lacked some of the knowledge necessary to grasp the idea of all these actions but I am sure that only true specialists can analyze the precise meaning of the different ornaments, and their possible connection to irrational, magical and ritualistic purposes.
Chapter Three.
Preparing to Start.
“We still have 14 minutes to go…” (Song lyrics)
Andrey’s Story Continues.
For us, arriving in Wamena wasn’t only marked by the usual pre-start fuss (i.e., working out the route, buying food supplies, determining the cost and dates of our flight by the missionary plane), but also by some unpleasant events. Two out of four of us got sick, with Michael feeling really bad. The reason must have been not so much with the change in climate, with its frequent temperature drops between the open-air heat and freezing cold of our air-conditioned rooms, but our old tiredness brought from Moscow. We had worked really hard the previous year, but none of us managed to rest well and return to good physical shape before the trip. Alexander had just come back from a shooting expedition somewhere in the Ussuriysk taiga; Michael and I had been working overtime at the end of the year to catch up on some work and had been busy doing so almost 24 hours a day. As for Alexey, he set off without any preparation at all, joining us literally from behind his desk. I believe that those who decide to follow our steps on the route should be more careful during the preparation stage in Russia and take some vitamins, maybe, or go to the gym for a while… I don’t know exactly. We did it the way we did it.
As a result of all the abovementioned issues, on December 25th, Michael went down with the suspicion of acute bronchitis. The fever was well over 39º C, he was terribly weak and there were only a couple of days left to the start. We did our best to speed up Michael’s recovery as much as possible – went through the instructions and precautions for all the medications in the first-aid kit, consulted the local doctor, and gave him a series of antibiotic injections. Very likely, that thanks to our efforts, all the hotel workers’ sincere care, undying attention on Isaya’s part as well as Michael’s rare courage and optimism, the disease retreated rather quickly. On December 27th, still shaky on his feet with weakness, Michael came out on the veranda of the bungalow to write in his diary. We realized that everything was going to work out. Nothing was going to fall apart! We had less than 28 hours left to prepare, so we took a separate mini-bus and rushed to Wamena. Every three hours, Alexander contacted Michael on the radio to make sure our “patient” was feeling ok and to inform him about our route, which he was following non-stop on his GPS-navigator. It must be said that Michael was very patient about