A Travellerspoint blog

Nuclear thief in Timbuktu: A journey to the Sahara

Bamako to Timbuktu by 4X4............................by Ramdas Iyer, Author


Having grown up in India, I often reminisce about my elders and their usage of idioms. My uncle Krishnan Periappa often used the term “It is like going to Timbuktu”: whenever god-forsaken places were mentioned. I now realize that it was indeed an old English adage,” As hard as reaching Timbuktu". The successes of Victorian English conquests of Africa somehow did not bear fruit in Mali. Disease, terrain and cruel rulers along the Niger kept them from reaching the fabled city of Timbuktu until late 17th century. This led to this usage in the Anglophone world. My preparations for my own conquest included reading the book by Kryza, F (2007) The Race for Timbuktu: In Search of Africa's City of Gold. HarperCollins, which gave me a sense of adventure, that brewed constantly in my mind and that of my young son Arjuna, my companion on this trip.

After a long rough terrain drive and a crossing of the Niger River, Arjuna and I arrived in the fabled city of Timbuktu. Followers of history may know that this was a 13th century center of trans Saharan trade and its many madrassas produced scholarly Islamic works. The Sankhore Medrassa is a World Heritage site where important astronomical observations were made. As a center of gold, ivory and slave trade its long reach influenced governments in 16 Th century Tripoli and Cairo. Its inhabitants were the Songhai people and the Empire of Songhai came under pressure in the 15th century by the Tuareg people of Arab descent who until recently formed the local majority.

The West African tribes which include the Bambara, Bobo, Bozo, Fulani and the Dogon often preyed on each other for the slave trade and handed their captives to the Arabs near Timbuktu.

While planning our trip and researching Timbuktu I and came upon an article in the Times of India about the Hotel Hendrina Khan, where we planned to stay. The excerpts from Google search of that article is attached herein:

Feb 1: 2004 “ISLAMABAD: The architect of Pakistan's nuclear programme Abdul Qadeer Khan, who has been sacked as scientific advisor to the Prime Minister, had amassed properties at home and abroad besides building a "fabulous" hotel in an African nation where he transported furniture by an air force plane.

Hendrina Khan hotel, named after Dr. Khan's Dutch wife, in the city of Timbuktu in the African state of Mali was one of the dozens of business undertakings of the nuclear scientist that were now being investigated by Pakistani intelligence officials to verify allegations by International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) that the country's scientists collaborated with black marketers of nuclear technology, The News daily said.

It said the probe revealed that not only did Dr. Khan build a hotel in Timbuktu but used Pakistan Air Force's transport aircraft C-130 in early 2000 to ferry an exclusive range of carved wooden furniture from here to his hotel.

The aircraft landed at Tripoli airport in Libya and the cargo was then taken to Timbuktu by road, as it could not land in Mali. Dr. Khan himself accompanied the furniture from Islamabad.

Dr. Muhammad Farooq, a centrifuge expert at the country’s premier nuclear installation, Khan Research Laboratory (KRL), revealed the details of the trip. Dr. Farooq is one of the 13 scientists and officials of the KRL interrogated by the investigative agencies.”
That evening we met the owner of the hotel who was a puppet of A.Q. Khan and was extolling the virtue of a great scientist who was his partner. While seething under my skin, I played the part of a curious listener to hear the story of an international criminal being praised by an under educated simpleton.
So after all the excitement we made our first foray into the town. Perhaps the only town that is built on sand, as there are no paved roads but just sand everywhere. It was awesome. The town had as many camels as there were 4X4’s, the only means of transportation to the interior. Our local guide Bebe, a young Tuareg man humored Arjuna by dressing him in Indigo turban (see photo). The Tuareg of the Sahara were known as the Indigo men as they were caparisoned in Indigo cloth, a dye that is made from a natural dye extracted from a desert plant. The 1850’s Levis Blue jeans were originally made with this dye until it was later synthesized.

We got our first thrill when Bebe introduced us to 4 fearsome looking Tuaregs with curved knives in their waist. They had just returned from a forty day return trip to the salt flats of the Sahara, an ancient sea bed, A train of thirty camels walk 500 miles to Taudenni to bring back salt which was worth its weight in gold until 50 years ago. (Read this National Geographic article http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2003/05/0528_030528_saltcaravan.htm). Even today, Mali being a land locked country depends on Saharan salt brought by camels carrying 400-500 lbs. each. It is then distributed to the interior by donkeys and mules carrying 100 -150 lbs. each. Having a young son dressed in Indigo turban amused the traders that they invited us the next day to their camp and since they had traded some goods along the away they promised a nice Tuareg outfit for Arjuna.

The next morning we walked from our hotel into town where freshly slaughtered lamb was broiled in small domed ovens all along the road. We picked some tender pieces, wrapped in some French newspaper and walked to the Tuareg Indigo men's tent. WE sat around a bunch of handsome and feisty looking Arabic salt merchants. They offered us very sugary tea with dried camel cheese to cut the sweetness. We opened our meat offering and we all ate very elegantly from the newspaper. Dining traditions are a good example of culture. Despite sitting in a tent, in the Sahara with a bunch of tribesmen, the picking of small morsels by every one and not showing greed was a very interesting observation of mine. This I would not expect in Papua. While I had visions of D.H. Lawrence, I must tell you that this amazing meeting and talking to the traders through Bebe was a fantastic moment in our trip. Arjuna took the time to inspect their swords and accepted some camel cheese to take back to school. A native cigar mounted on a silver holder was also passed around.

The leader sensing that the conversation did not extend beyond the tea and meat, brought out a classic green tunic of the Tuaregs and an amulet from a trunk, that had Koranic versus for protection from the Djinns of the desert, for sale. He had a small size purchased from traders for his family who lived in the middle of the Sahara about 40 KM from Timbuktu. (See Photos) .A mere $20 (but a huge fortune) exchanged hands since an entire 40-day trip into the desert to fetch salt only yielded $40 per traveler. Bebe did mention that whenever he got a chance, he introduced the rare travelers to the area to meet such people. There are no group travels thankfully in this area and a group has to travel in several 4X4's. The joy of traveling alone exposes one to so many opportunities not available to many.
Emailme at ( riyerr@aol.com)


To Be Continued

Posted by Ramdas Iyer 18:28 Archived in Mali Tagged camels sahara mali timbuctu tuaregs caravans arabs Comments (2)

Travels in Papua in Dani Tribal Lands, Papua, Indonesia

Down the Mountain to a Mummy, The final segment of the Dani Experience.................Ramdas Iyer, Author

The "Baliem Highway" as I call it, is a network of small trails issuing out of hundreds of villages sequestered in the lush mountains of Papua. I was amazed to discover that the trail distances are measured in "days of walking" to Wamena, the only town in all of the Papuan Highlands. These trails descend from 6000 feet down to the valley floor, at about 1000 ft. above MSL If the fearsome Yali wanted to purchase some batteries, or aspirin or even simple comforts like candy or cigarettes, they have to walk a minimum of 8 days on the "Baliem Highway". On the last day of my stay in the highlands I enjoyed walking the highway, which is nothing more than 5 feet wide hugging the crest of the mountains. There was a steady flow of people in either direction, and to give you an idea of human density, contact was made every 30 minutes or so. From space it would almost look like ants walking a forest floor.

After my host villagers wished me good-bye, some of them walked alongside this pedestrian highway and set themselves up in various stations along the way trying to sell sweet potatoes, sugarcane, tobacco and taro roots for the hungry travellers. I met a young man with a rooster in his hand. He will be walking 2 days down and two days up to sell his rooster in the market and pick up some essentials on the way back (See Photo). One of the most interesting observations was that of one of my porters carrying a two-gallon can of petrol amongst our supplies. I initially thought that it was fuel for our trip. Instead he sold the can at our farthest point thereby garnering a good price for its supply to the interior. Unfortunately this fuel is also used for chain saws to cut trees.

People were carrying piglets, walking adult pigs like one would walk Dalmatians, holding hemp baskets for sale and in one case one of them had a collection of fine boar's tusk for sale in the market. What does not qualify to make it into the nostrils end up as necklaces used for ceremonial purposes; one such artifact was acquired there for my New Jersey home along with penis gourds and bead necklaces. With a keen eye on statistics, I purchased 5 and as expected two made it back whole.

We paused at several points as my porters were purchasing and consuming sweet potatoes from select vendors. I was given to understand that the ones grown in steeper slopes had a better taste than the ones found in the valley. I would imagine that the tuber had to grab every ounce of tumbling water to put out its fine sugars. It brought back memories of buying Malbec wine in Mendoza, Argentina a few years ago, when the same grog was available back home perhaps even cheaper. I am glad that restricted baggage in air travel has put an end to my trans- national appellation transfer. I have made it a point not to buy duty-free since the $10 saved is lower than the $20 copay my chiropractor charges, along with the question “Did you carry something heavy?”
We came upon some spectacular springs were water from the ground caused rivulets, resulting in waterfalls just a mile down hill. The porters and I had our last group picture together in the highlands and thereafter the trail dropped steeply towards Wamena.



If you remember, I had mentioned that Wamena had only five miles of paved roadway. Alongside this roadway, there are many stops were minivans picked up these tribal coming down the hill and transported them into town. We took one such conveyance and reached Wamena. After leaving our luggage and saying sad good byes to my porters (The silent one gave me a gift-a necklace with a single round rock in the middle) It felt as though the boomerang throwing kid in “The Road Runner” movie had grown up and was saying his good byes to me. (Mr. Gibson!)
We crossed a flimsy steel rope bridge secured by weighted steel drums over some scary waters. Since it was fairly sturdy, I would imagine that the builders loaded the steel drum pylons with concrete.(see picture)

The next morning, Scorpio and I trekked a couple of miles to see the famous mummy of Jwicka village

Indonesia has some of the most fascinating death cults. The cremations in Bali, the cave and rock burials of Sulawesi, the sea-burials of the Bugis people of Makassar and lastly the mummification of the Dani. Traditionally the Dani, after the death of a leader or chief used to drain the body fluids of the chieftains and smoked them for preservation.( It almost seems thath the enemy would be vanquished in the digestive tract while the leaders will be preserved for eternity;Ying and Yang!) These mummies were kept in the chief’s hut and were used as a talisman for war successes.
Upon arrival, we were shown the long houses of these people and finally the famous 300-year-old mummy. This today has become a touristy pursuit and did not have the real excitement of being with the villagers; nevertheless it was an unusual sight and a great experience since I was the only tourist there at that time of the year. There were several mummies scattered around Papua just a few years ago. Collectors and museums decamped with most while the remaining ones were badly damaged due to age and poor preservation.

After final good byes were exchanged Scorpio walked me to the airport, only to be interrupted by a motorcycle carrying two drums of fuel for our aircraft! (see picture)

This trip had been like a dream come true. With no one interested in sharing my costs, I tried to do it very economically using frequent flyer mileage. The biggest cost was the hopper flights from Jakarta to Jayapura.
I am very keen on visiting the coastal Papuans; The Asmat who live in spectacular villages with totems akin to the the British Columbian Haidas and the Tlingits, The plains Papuans namely the Korowai, who live in gigantic tree houses and eat grubs and worms as delicacies. These trips involve many porters and travellers to subsidize the boats and planes to reach the interior. If any reader is interested in pursuing this trip please contact me.

Posted by Ramdas Iyer 09:29 Archived in Indonesia Tagged indonesia trek dani tribes tribal papua jayapura cannibals aboriginals tribals yali lani Comments (0)

Reflections on Tibet whilst in Lhasa, Tibet

Flight over the Himalaya into Lhasa......................Ramdas Iyer, Author



As one gets older the 11 hour jet-lags seem to linger longer than in the past. So at 4:00 Am today I decided to share my thoughts and experiences during our Tibet trip earlier. As an Indian at heart, Tibet is held in a lofty place in my mind. It is the abode of our Gods (Mt. Kailas), the roof of the world and the land of snows. Yes, I have an affinity for snowy places. It has been a subject of many British adventures during the great game of the 1860s, when England was paranoid about Russia invading India and therefore wanted a beachhead in Lhasa to monitor them. (Read The Great Game by Peter Hopkirk).During my childhood and thereafter I have been a great fan of the Dalai Lama and have been closely following China policy in Tibet with some revulsion.

So what is Tibet today? how are the Tibetans faring?, what is China up to in Tibet? these are the few questions I am trying to answer in this article.

First let me explain the geography of this land. A vast land, it is bordered by Nepal & Sikkim &India in the south, Qinghai and Sichuan provinces in the east and Xinjiang province to the north. My earlier travels in Nepal (1997), Sichuan (2004) and Xinjiang (2007) were always about Buddhism and by default Tibet’s spiritual influence on those regions.

Pre Buddhist religion of Tibet was known as “Phon”, an animist religion until the local kings invited Indian scholars from Bengal to educate the king, teach the masses, create an alphabet and spread Buddhism as a state religion around the 7th century. This happened during the reign of Songtsen Gampo, their greatest ruler who presided over their golden age. ( I just realized that the Tang Dynasty in Xian was also at its Zenith in the 7th century with Buddhism as the state religion).. Pre-history dates Tibetan rulers from 2nd BCE and real emperors from the 7th century AD. Great scholars like Padmasambhava & Chandrasekhara moved to Tibet from India and are still revered there like Gods. At one brief moment in history the Tibetan empire reached Bengal, encompassing all the Himalayan states including Siliguri and Kalimpong in North Bengal. Even today, any trinket or object from India is first placed on their head as a holy relic by older Tibetans.Being in Tibet made me feel proud to be an Indian because they emphasized the fact that we are their protector and savior of their future.

We flew over some spectacular ice fields and ice peaks before we landed in Lhasa. The air was heavy and our movements strained upon landing. There was a heavy military presence at the airport with pointed machine guns. An intimidating presence for the visitors to remember during their short and well monitored journeys. Expecting Lhasa to be a hamlet as indicated in Heinrich Heirers novel “Seven years in Tibet”, we came upon a growing metropolis of modern buildings, good roads, clean surroundings. However upon further investigation and time walking in Lhasa one finds the Tibet of yore around the temples, markets and in the Tibetans themselves. China which has built a spectacular railroad for 1800 km on permafrost is currently transporting18 train loads of fortune seekers into Tibet daily. Lhasa has grown from 100000 denizens to 350,000 in 10 years.

I wondered why that with 6 billion people on earth, let us make it 5 by subtracting the Chinese, we were the only non mongoloid people in all of Lhasa, barring an occasional European or two. The beauty of travel at this time of the year especially in Tibet is that all the local people from various provinces and villages make their annual pilgrimage to Lhasa and the Jokhang Temple, the mother of monasteries for the Gelugpa (yellow hat sect). This affords us a unique opportunity to watch and learn the religious and spiritual side of Tibet. Tibetan Buddhism evolved from the red hat sect to the Black hats and since the 14th century the yellow hats. They followed different philosophies there and often collided in the past making many monasteries very war like in medieval times. Most of the great monasteries have walls and ramparts around them. Today the red and yellow hats co-exist with the former a minority.

The Potala palace a medieval fort and eventually the spiritual and imperial seat of Tibet is truly a marvel in architecture. The treasures inside, the tombs of the Dalai Lamas, the 1000 plus alters and shrines. Most people including me are not aware that Tibet had a long imperial lineage where State and religion were separate. In the 14th century during civil strife the Head of the Gelupa sect was asked by the various chieftains to take the mantle of State and religion. Around this time Altan Khan, the king of the Mongols invited Sonam Gyatso,the head of the Gelupa sect to Hohot to teach Buddhism to the Mongols. He named him “Dalai Lama” in mongol meaning Ocean of knowledge. This enhanced the power of the Gelupas and the Dalai Lama lineage began. The 14th Dalai lama whom we adore is actually named Tenzing Gyatso( Tenzing meaning Protector of Dharma and Gyatso meaning river of knowledge).( Altan King's son became the 4th Dalai Lama)

It is indeed one great world heritage site. During summer months the government restricts visits to 1000 visitors per day with a one hour cap on the tour. Tour guides are punished 1000 Yuan($150) for violations. It is almost impossible to see anything let alone climb the hill with altitude sickness!. All the tickets have a time stamp. We on the other hand spent 4 hours inside the Potala and drank the air of spirituality until we decided to descend. The elating (and sad) sight every morning is to see Tibetans with their prayer wheel walk many times around the Potal praying and worshiping the last sign of their ancient religion, the home of their Dalai Lama, their spiritual leader.

We were lucky to see the local pilgrims ( local means travelling several hundreds of miles by either foot, prostration or some rickety mechanical conveyance) decked in their finery eagerly bowing to the many thousand Buddhas, touching everything they consider holy, spinning yards of prayer wheels mounted alongside the walls of the Potala or simply looking at the palace with deep seated longing and achieving a sense of deliverance.


To be continued………

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Posted by Ramdas Iyer 17:57 Archived in China Tagged buddhism tibet lama lhasa potala dalai Comments (0)

Living with the Dani People of Beliem Highlands.....

papua Journal...Volume 2

We packed all our supplies in several bed- raggled cartons covered with tarpaulin and set off for our trek. It was not like Amundsen or Scott setting off for the poles, calculated, organized and fighting every impulse for failure. Ours seemed to be one of practicality, a
vague lack of purpose and leaving a lot to chance. The A-Type me simply ignored getting involved since the weather was always pleasant, the mountains filled with villages and the land as lush as it could be. We boarded a beat up mini van that took the six of us on a 20-minute ride. Why? That is where the road ended. Wamena is a jungle town with a 5-mile highway running on either side of the airport built by missionaries, block by block.
Kilese was our destination. My lonely planet research was pooh- poohed by Scorpio, my guide, who was sincerely interested in showing me the real Papua. It took a lifetime to get my police permit to travel the areas we were planning to traverse. The climb was steep and my porters lifting heavy loads were moving fast in order to reach the village before nightfall. Scorpio and Hanuman (a name I have used here to notate the faithful caretaker of mine, since I do not remember his name) were with me during this lovely trek in misty rain with a Chinese ponchodoing a slow water torture on my body.
The path leading to the village, which was about 6 km to the hilltop comprised of wild flowers, hand carved sweet potato plantations, old growth trees and lovely vegetation that seemed to be well tended. We passed small huts with families tending pigs and washing sweet potatoes on the mountain streams. Here is where I realized that Papua is all about pigs and sweet potatoes. It was their Nasdaq and DJIA.
As the evening was wearing thin I was wondering about our camp. Scorpio was very vague about our campsite causing me considerable anxiety. Close to 6:00 PM I noticed kids and families moving about the trail. It was very foggy and the rain ahead picked up in intensity making me wonder if wipers on glasses will indeed be a practical invention. Alas! We arrived. If the opening scene from the Lord of the Rings, showing an idealistic gnome community in a fantasy landscape was a “Ten”, then Kilese was a 20. An arched floral gateway, very natural in its presence, followed by several steep steps brought me to this commune of several huts holding about 30 members of an extended family. We were first shown to our common habitation, a large hut with plenty of firewood and hay for flooring.
We dried ourselves in the fire and the cook who had already arrived earlier was brandishing his ware in front of the smoky hearth, which served as light, stove and heater: it was certainly the most important element that evening.
Scorpio whispered into my ear that I should proceed to one of the huts in the far extreme corner of the commune. It was still raining, but I could see flickering light and some figures in the hut. I walked in from the rain to see the most impressive sight any adventurerc could expect to see. It was the daily evening congregation of the men folk of the commune in front of the fire. The chief had a whisk, a conch shell necklace and spectacular feathers in his headdress. His brother a wiry muscular figure had a boar’s tusk going through his septum, an uncle dressed less exclusively sat in the far side and a brother-in law who seemed to have more curls in his groin than on his head sat quietly with a lonely feather sporting out of his ornate head
The whole scene was so unexpected that I was short for words. Several thoughts raced through my mind, Do I whip my camera (a little one) and start shooting, or should I attempt to make gestures or just simply let them enjoy the sight of an Indian, whom I suspect they had never seen. Along with the thick smoke emerging from their wet timber hearth they were all smoking cigarettes and instead of offering me one asked for some more from me. A habit certainly started by the Dutch who ruled this land, as a barter item. I slowly eased my camera out of its moorings on my hip and tried to take some pictures only to
realize that it was completely fogged from my trek in the rain. Photographers reading this article will sure share my anguish at this importune moment, as my SLR was in a far away hut.DSC07072.jpg
Scorpio after letting me simmer inside with no communication, cigarette or camera finally came in with some smokes and sweet conversation. It seemed that after all the chores are done in the plantations the men-folk retire to their “Alpha Hut” where they discuss their day’s issues: pigs, swine, sweet potatoes, war paint and old tales of blood and gore. They also wonder about Christianity that is being pushed on them, something called the Indonesian Government, tourism & brown people who offer cigarettes without barter and above all the threat to their unique way of life. The Alpha hut serves as a meeting room, a 'men only' gathering place where every male member (only) is accepted, a place where an ancestor or two are smoked after mummification and preserved and a place where all the elders sleep on a platform away from their wives and families.
I offered a few cigarettes to the elders from my new stash while smoking one myself. I had a feeling of hometown bonhomie with the Dani at that moment. The altitude, the tedium, the cheap tobacco and the overall atmosphere was indeed taking me to a higher plane.
Scorpio proceeded to explain to me that the men slept next to each other on the platform above the fire (see plates attached), but did their matrimonial duties by visiting their family hut briefly where the wives and kids along with their pigs slept. In fact within the compound of each family hut there was an interconnected stockade, where the swine would spend their daytime hours. Like stashing any other valuables, these pigs would occupy the living quarters in the night providing financial security and physical warmth.
Nature had provided them a perfect climate for this type of arrangement to evolve. Jarred Diamond, the author of “Guns, Germs and Steel” observed that this living arrangement of man and beast led to virus jumping species in Papua amongst other places. The same is true with sheep in the Middle East, cattle in Asia (I remember SenKhazani, our milkman in Madras living with his favorite cow in the Government provided housing, dogs and cats in Europe and monkeys in Central African Republic.DSC07054.jpg
I felt very touristy trying to take my pictures with the elders. Upon review of the pictures one could see the stupidity of that enterprise (See plates) we took leave after several introductions, handshakes and pleasantries. After a dismal meal in the communal hut, I was shown my hut. It was a hut and just that. I was given an old pillow, which I quickly covered with a jacket and a straw mattress. The floor of the hut was made of cane reeds and the door was an excuse for a portal. It was pitch dark inside the hut but after midnight and after the rains had abated out came the stars; the milky way, constellations, star clusters, white dwarfs, red dwarfs, black holes?. This humble traveler was soon stargazing in absolute awe.
The only other time I had observed such an event was in the Sahel Desert in Mali. Every time I tried to crawl back into my hut to sleep, out came the creepy crawlers. They were moving, gnawing, chewing and boring into the straw floor. It was not the former cannibals with whom I was lodging that would give me the
creeps, but the unseen critters encompassing my space was simply too much to bear. I barely slept.

Ramdas Iyer can be contacted at riyerr@aol.com

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Posted by Ramdas Iyer 17:00 Archived in Indonesia Comments (0)

Deep inside Yali, Dani and Lani territories, Papua,Indonesia

A fascinating trek amongst a unique people..... Author Ramdas Iyer



The third and fourth days of trekking took us to greater heights and deeper into Dani territory. It was an exciting time for a photographer with the land and its unique people offering many opportunities around every corner. The climb was very vertiginous slowing down our pace considerably. We crossed many mountain waterfalls tumbling towards the white water Rivers below, traversed several vine built bridges and saw some magnificent flora.
The Baliem valley consists of three main tribes; The Dani, the Yali and the Lani. The Lani are – like their neighbors, the Dani - experienced farmers and use a highly sophisticated irrigation system to produce mainly Sweet Potatoes, Tobacco, Beans, Taro, Spinach, Sugar Cane and Bananas. 
Their villages in a beautiful surrounding southeast of Wamena are larger than the small compounds of the Dani and the Yali.
The Lani men, who are stubbier than the Dani, wear thick kotekas (penis gourds), which also serve as a “handbag”, a case for tobacco and valuables. Men sometimes wear hairnets, but the Lani extensively use bird feathers as decoration. Quite often a feather crown is worn even when the men are dressed in western clothes. The women wear short grass skirts, but like everywhere in the valley tend to wear western clothes more and more today.

Like their Dani and Yali neighbors, the women carry everything – like vegetables, small pigs and even their small children – in net-bags across their backs.The Yalis on the other hand resided on the steeper slopes at higher elevations. As a result they were not discovered until 1976. They were the fiercest cannibals in Western Papua. They not only ate the bodies of their enemies, they also ground the bones and scattered them in the mountains to totally annihilate them.. Though very tiny in stature (Average make height was 5 feet or less), they were the most feared. They wore their penis gourds parallel to the ground in a pointed manner, but of a relatively smaller size.
As a photographer, I hate to see these magnificent tribesman wearing jeans and T-shirts saying “Jesus Saves”. While not a big fan of proselytization, I must admit that the Christian missionaries have done yeoman’s work in this harsh land trying to bring modern comforts and education to these people. Like many before them these cultures will be relegated to the history books and I count my blessings to have witnessed them prior to extinction.

As a traveler the Dani and Lani can be distinguished by the relative sizes of the Kotekas (Penis gourds or more scientifically called Phallocrypts) and the Yali by their height. The Lani live 3-4 day trek from Wamena while the Yali live 5-6 days trek from Wamena. Since more Papuans are adapting to western clothing it gets harder to identify them. I was fortunate to meet a Yali man about 4 days trek into the mountains, but unfortunately he was wearing western clothes (See Photograph)

Upon arrival at the village for nightfall around 3:00PM, the heaviest downpour ever witnessed by me continued straight for 8 hours trapping me with my porters and the occasional naked villager straggling into our kitchen hut. I took this opportunity to explain life in the USA to the porters through Scorpio to a fascinated audience. They asked me if I had sat in one of those flying buses that are seen from the mountains. We also discussed their individual lives, their farming techniques, relationships with women, ancestral stories etc, etc. Our cook was making the same noodles with cabbage and eggs every day that I couldn’t take it anymore. I realized that I had not eaten anything tangy in 4 days but I noticed a lemon plant in the fringe of the village. I grabbed a few lemons and offered to cook them all noodles my way, much to everyone’s satisfaction except perhaps the stunned cook.
There was a time inside the hut when 5 naked villagers were sitting around the fire with us, just watching. The highlands after rain cools down to about 60degrees F and the men, instead of wearing an outer garment rely on the warmth of a hearth. They live in such perfect harmony with nature that I fear any changes in global climate would adversely affect them.

The next morning we spent 3 hours walking around the village and studying their homes, farms, pigs and enjoying the mountaintop vista. Here is where I met a Yali member. He was passing through the village, along the trail that would eventually take him to his destination in higher terrain. He was no taller than 4 feet 6inches, with an elf like ear. In the 2is century we still live with homo erectus who have not closed the gap with the civilizations from the fertile crescent.

I met a woman who was constantly waving both her hands with open palms. It struck me as odd for her to continue to do it for an extended period of time. Scorpio explained that she was proudly showing all her 10 fingers, since none had perished in her family: a sign of a very brave and successful warrior family See photograph). An elderly gentleman actually took the time to demonstrate the art of septum piercing and nasal decoration (see Photos). This was our turn around point and to head towards Wamena for 2 days in a very different trail along the ridge of the mountain.

Posted by Ramdas Iyer 17:00 Archived in Indonesia Tagged indonesia dani papua jayapura cannibals lani wamena Comments (0)

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