The Dani of Papua

From Houston to Sydney 2013

The Dani of

West Papua 2015

 

Before I left Australia for this trip, I checked the weather forecast for the coming week in Wamena.  Each day had essentially the same forecast – 60% to 70% chance of rain the mornings and 90% to 100% chance of rain the afternoons.  Only one day was different.  Today, Tuesday, was forecast to have the worst weather of all, with 80% chance of rain in the morning and 100% chance in the afternoon.

On the other hand, I am told that a person can always expect good weather in the Baliem Valley after a night of torrential rain.  If that is true, then the weather today should have been superb.  (I should note that it seems to rain EVERY night in the Baliem Valley).  Anyway, we had quite heavy rain last night, so much so that the roof of my room leaked.  Indeed, there were two leaks, both just a few centimetres away from each side of the bed, perfectly placed so that the mattress remained dry.  It was just the sort of precision engineering that one might expect of a German-Indonesian joint venture operation such as this hotel.

After a foggy start, the weather did begin superbly.  I had been hoping that this day would be fine as I was scheduled to attend a pig kill ceremony in the nearby village of Hukuluak, about 20 minutes walk from the hotel.  However, the weather deteriorated from mid-morning onwards, and the rain began at about 12:30 pm.

Pig kill ceremonies were traditionally very rare events, held perhaps once or twice per year.  They were significant because they brought together people from neighbouring villages who might otherwise have been traditional enemies (which in Dani culture meant going to war and killing each other).  Once people from one village had attended a pig kill ceremony in another village, they were in debt to their hosts until a reciprocal invitation was issued.  The complex web of reciprocity obligations was one of the forces that helped preserve peace in traditional times – as everyone knows, you are less likely to kill someone who owes you a debt.

The ceremonies were also significant in pre-contact times because they were the main occasions when people had protein in their diets.  Very few Dani are traditionally fisherfolk, so pig meat was their main source of protein in an otherwise very starch-heavy diet of sweet potatoes. 

When the Christian missionaries arrived, the timing of the pig kill ceremonies shifted slightly, and they were used as a means of celebrating religious festivals such as Easter and Christmas.  Since that time, they have become more common, and most villages would average a pig kill about once a month.  This is still far from an adequate intake of protein, but it is better than in pre-contact times.  Dani people get very little protein other than their monthly pork, although some fish and goat meat might supplement the starch-rich diet in a few villages.  Since more Dani have entered the cash economy, a wider variety of foods have become available to them in the markets, and even in restaurants in Wamena, further improving the diet of those with access to markets or restaurants.

Pig kill ceremonies have become even more common in those few areas where tourism is found.  Tourism is still a minuscule component of the Baliem Valley’s economy, but villagers are happy to host a pig kill ceremony for tourists.  In this way, tourism is helping to preserve a central part of Dani culture as well as improving the protein intake of Dani people.

The walk to Hukuluak took the expected 20 minutes, up the hill from the hotel.  Two additional guests arrived in the hotel yesterday afternoon from Germany, so they joined me for the pig kill.  Somewhat surprisingly, we were greeted by a traditionally dressed Dani man shooting arrows at us from the top of a watchtower.  Having caught our attention, we were then witness to a demonstration of the ritual warfare that characterised pre-contact Dani life.  It was obvious that this was going to be a big day for photographs.

We then proceeded in stages to the entrance of the compound where the pig kill ceremony would take place, with each stage being marked by a traditional welcome song.  When we entered the compound, the welcome began in earnest as parallel lines of about 20 women (10 each side), overseen by about half a dozen men, danced and sang traditional Dani songs as a formal welcome.

As they did so, a couple of men rubbed a reed through a split stick with some straw to start the fire that would be used for cooking the pig.  Today’s ceremony involved only a small pig – to be precise a 3 million rupiah sized pig.  Seeming to know its fate, the pig led the villagers on a merry chase around the compound before it was eventually caught and killed with two arrows through the heart.

With the pig dead, the women began the task of excavating the hole in the ground that would be used as the pit for cooking the pig using hot rocks.  As the men cut up pieces of timber for the fire using steel axes, the women began to build a pile of rocks ready to be heated in the fire.

So many things seemed to be happening at once.  While the fire was being built, a traditional ritual was conducted in which the pig’s tail and ears were cut off and placed in the men’s hut.  By the time this was done, the fire was burning and it was time to place the rocks on the fire to heat. 

While the rocks were heating, the significance of the women’s elaborate head decorations was explained to me.  But there was little time for talking as the pig had to be seared on the fire to burn away the hair from the skin.  This task was done by some of the young girls under the watchful eye of one of the mothers.

Once the pig had been seared, the men began the task of butchering the pig using a stone axe and sharpened pieces of bamboo for knives, while the children looked on closely.  Simultaneously, the women (assisted by a few men) began the task of carrying the hot rocks from the fire to the pit using long, split sticks as tongs.  Once the rocks were in place, sweet potatoes were placed on a bed of grass, and once a banana leaf had been put into place, the pig was placed on top before being covered by more grass and hot rocks.  The whole thing was then tied up using vines and left to cook for about an hour and a half – just as the rain started.

For a while the village was quiet, the silence broken only by the pitter patter of steady rain.  The temperature had dropped when the rain began to fall, so a few children gathered around the remains of the fire that had heated the rocks while most of the others took refuge in the warmth of the long, low hut used for the kitchen.  After a little while, everyone started joining in a community singing of Christian songs – Hukuluak’s residents are Catholic, and they all knew the words of several hymns in the Dani language.  As a side note, it was interesting to see several of the Dani men and women in traditional dress with a cross or crucifix around their necks, and in one case, a pendant showing Jesus’ Sacred Heart.

The singing stopped when a thanksgiving to God was offered and it was time to open up the pit and begin the feast.  The rain didn’t dampen anyone’s enthusiasm, and within a few minutes the vines were undone, the grass covering was removed, and the women began eating sweet potatoes as the men took away the cooked pig to the men’s hut for cutting up and distribution.  Some time later, one of the men came and offered some pieces of pork to the women who were eating outdoors.

By the time everyone had eaten, the ceremony was over, and there was nothing further for me to do other than to say “wa wa wa, yo go” (thank you, I’m going now) to everyone.

I had experienced a pig kill ceremony in the northern Baliem Valley back in 1989, and it was encouraging to see how few aspects of it had changed.  The men used steel axes today, whereas stone axes had been used in 1989.  The singing today while the meat was cooking comprised Christian songs, whereas in 1989 it had been a very repetitive song in which the lyrics consisted of a list of the 74 different varieties of sweet potato, sung over and over and over again.  In 1989 I didn’t receive the ‘tourist extras’ of the mock warfare, but in every other significant way, today was a repeat of the 1989 pig kill ceremony that I experienced – just as I was hoping.

This time, unlike 1989, I had a digital camera rather than colour slide film, so I didn’t have to restrict myself so much in my efforts to record the event.  A total of 540 photos, 29 video recordings and 2 sound recordings are testimony to the great experience I have had today; there are few other events like a Dani pig kill ceremony anywhere in the world.

A 28 minute video of the pig kill ceremony can be seen HERE.



Day 5 - Hukuluak pig kill ceremony

Tuesday

14 April 2015