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Sleeping with Cannibals
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(Page 6 of 6)
My three days with the clan pass swiftly. When I feel they trust me, = I ask=20 when they last killed a khakhua. Lepeadon says it was near the time of = the last=20 sago palm feast, when several hundred Korowai gathered to dance, eat = vast=20 quantities of sago palm maggots, trade goods, chant fertility songs and = let the=20 marriage-age youngsters eye one another. According to our porters, that = dates=20 the killing to just over a year ago.
Lepeadon tells Boas he wants me to stay longer, but I have to return = to=20 Yaniruma to meet the Twin Otter. As we board the pirogue, the fierce man = squats=20 by the riverside but refuses to look at me. When the boatmen push away, = he leaps=20 up, scowls, thrusts a cassowary-bone arrow across his bow, yanks on the = rattan=20 string and aims at me. After a few moments, he smiles and lowers the = bow=E2=80=94a=20 fierce man's way of saying goodbye.
In midafternoon, the boatmen steer the pirogue to the edge of a swamp = forest=20 and tie it to a tree trunk. Boas leaps out and leads the way, setting a = brisk=20 pace. After an hour=E2=80=99s trek, I reach a clearing about the size of = two football=20 fields and planted with banana trees. Dominating it is a treehouse that = soars=20 about 75 feet into the sky. Its springy floor rests on several natural = columns,=20 tall trees cut off at the point where branches once flared out.
Boas is waiting for us. Next to him stands his father, Khanduop, a=20 middle-aged man clad in rattan strips about his waist and a leaf = covering part=20 of his penis. He grabs my hand and thanks me for bringing his son home. = He has=20 killed a large pig for the occasion, and Bailom, with what seems to me = to be=20 superhuman strength, carries it on his back up a notched pole into the=20 treehouse. Inside, every nook and cranny is crammed with bones from = previous=20 feasts=E2=80=94spiky fish skeletons, blockbuster pig jaws, the skulls of = flying foxes=20 and rats. The bones dangle even from hooks strung along the ceiling, = near=20 bundles of many-colored parrot and cassowary feathers. The Korowai = believe that=20 the d=C3=A9cor signals hospitality and prosperity.
I meet Yakor, a tall, kindly eyed tribesman from a treehouse upriver, = who=20 squats by the fire with Khanduop, Bailom and Kilikili. Boas=E2=80=99 = mother is dead, and=20 Khanduop, a fierce man, has married Yakor's sister. When the talk turns = to=20 khakhua meals they have enjoyed, Khanduop's eyes light up. He's dined on = many=20 khakhua, he says, and the taste is the most delicious of any creature = he's ever=20 eaten.
The next morning the porters depart for the river, carrying our = remaining=20 supplies. But before I leave, Khanduop wants to talk; his son and = Kembaren=20 translate. "Boas has told me he'll live in Yaniruma with his brother, = coming=20 back just for visits," he murmurs. Khanduop's gaze clouds. "The time of = the true=20 Korowai is coming to an end, and that makes me very sad."
Boas gives his father a wan smile and walks with me to the pirogue = for the=20 two-hour journey to Yaniruma, wearing his yellow bonnet as if it were a = visa for=20 the 21st century.
Three years earlier I had visited the Korubo, an isolated indigenous = tribe in=20 the Amazon, together with Sydney Possuelo, then director of Brazil's = Department=20 for Isolated Indians [SMITHSONIAN, April 2005]. This question of what to = do with=20 such peoples=E2=80=94whether to yank them into the present or leave them = untouched in=20 their jungles and traditions=E2=80=94had troubled Possuelo for decades. = "I believe we=20 should let them live in their own special worlds," he told me, "because = once=20 they go downriver to the settlements and see what is to them the wonders = and=20 magic of our lives, they never go back to live in a traditional = way."
So it is with the Korowai. They have at most a generation left in = their=20 traditional culture=E2=80=94one that includes practices that admittedly = strike us as=20 abhorrent. Year by year the young men and women will drift to Yaniruma = and other=20 settlements until only aging clan members are left in the treehouses. = And at=20 that point Ginol's godly prophecy will reach its apocalyptic = fulfillment, and=20 thunder and earthquakes of a kind will destroy the old Korowai world=20 forever.
For days I've been slogging through a rain-soaked jungle in = Indonesian New=20 Guinea, on a quest to visit members of the Korowai tribe, among the last = people=20 on earth to practice cannibalism. Soon after first light this morning I = boarded=20 a pirogue, a canoe hacked out of a tree trunk, for the last stage of the = journey, along the twisting Ndeiram Kabur River. Now the four paddlers = bend=20 their backs with vigor, knowing we will soon make camp for the = night.
My guide, Kornelius Kembaren, has traveled among the Korowai for 13 = years.=20 But even he has never been this far upriver, because, he says, some = Korowai=20 threaten to kill outsiders who enter their territory. Some clans are = said to=20 fear those of us with pale skin, and Kembaren says many Korowai have = never laid=20 eyes on a white person. They call outsiders laleo = ("ghost-demons").
Suddenly, screams erupt from around the bend. Moments later, I see a = throng=20 of naked men brandishing bows and arrows on the riverbank. Kembaren = murmurs to=20 the boatmen to stop paddling. "They're ordering us to come to their side = of the=20 river," he whispers to me. "It looks bad, but we can't escape. They'd = quickly=20 catch us if we tried."
As the tribesmen's uproar bangs at my ears, our pirogue glides toward = the far=20 side of the river. "We don't want to hurt you," Kembaren shouts in = Bahasa=20 Indonesia, which one of our boatmen translates into Korowai. "We come in = peace."=20 Then two tribesmen slip into a pirogue and start paddling toward us. As = they=20 near, I see that their arrows are barbed. "Keep calm," Kembaren says = softly.
Cannibalism was practiced among prehistoric human beings, and it = lingered=20 into the 19th century in some isolated South Pacific cultures, notably = in Fiji.=20 But today the Korowai are among the very few tribes believed to eat = human flesh.=20 They live about 100 miles inland from the Arafura Sea, which is where = Michael=20 Rockefeller, a son of then-New York governor Nelson Rockefeller, = disappeared in=20 1961 while collecting artifacts from another Papuan tribe; his body was = never=20 found. Most Korowai still live with little knowledge of the world beyond = their=20 homelands and frequently feud with one another. Some are said to kill = and eat=20 male witches they call khakhua.
The island of New Guinea, the second largest in the world after = Greenland, is=20 a mountainous, sparsely populated tropical landmass divided between two=20 countries: the independent nation of Papua New Guinea in the east, and = the=20 Indonesian provinces of Papua and West Irian Jaya in the west. The = Korowai live=20 in southeastern Papua.
My journey begins at Bali, where I catch a flight across the Banda = Sea to the=20 Papuan town of Timika; an American mining company's subsidiary, PT = Freeport=20 Indonesia, operates the world's largest copper and gold mine nearby. The = Free=20 Papua Movement, which consists of a few hundred rebels equipped with = bows and=20 arrows, has been fighting for independence from Indonesia since 1964. = Because=20 Indonesia has banned foreign journalists from visiting the province, I = entered=20 as a tourist.
After a stopover in Timika, our jet climbs above a swampy marsh past = the=20 airport and heads toward a high mountain. Beyond the coast, the sheer = slopes=20 rise as high as 16,500 feet above sea level and stretch for 400 miles. = Waiting=20 for me at Jayapura, a city of 200,000 on the northern coast near the = border with=20 Papua New Guinea, is Kembaren, 46, a Sumatran who came to Papua seeking=20 adventure 16 years ago. He first visited the Korowai in 1993, and has = come to=20 know much about their culture, including some of their language. He is = clad in=20 khaki shorts and trekking boots, and his unflinching gaze and rock-hard = jaw give=20 him the look of a drill sergeant.
The best estimate is that there are some 4,000 Korowai. = Traditionally, they=20 have lived in treehouses, in groups of a dozen or so people in scattered = clearings in the jungle; their attachment to their treehouses and = surrounding=20 land lies at the core of their identity, Smithsonian Institution = anthropologist=20 Paul Taylor noted in his 1994 documentary film about them, Lords of = the=20 Garden. Over the past few decades, however, some Korowai have moved = to=20 settlements established by Dutch missionaries, and in more recent years, = some=20 tourists have ventured into Korowai lands. But the deeper into the rain = forest=20 one goes, the less exposure the Korowai have had to cultures alien to = their=20 own.
After we fly from Jayapura southwest to Wamena, a jumping-off point = in the=20 Papuan highlands, a wiry young Korowai approaches us. In Bahasa = Indonesia, he=20 says that his name is Boas and that two years ago, eager to see life = beyond his=20 treehouse, he hitched a ride on a charter flight from Yaniruma, a = settlement at=20 the edge of Korowai territory. He has tried to return home, he says, but = no one=20 will take him. Boas says a returning guide has told him that his father = was so=20 upset by his son's absence that he has twice burned down his own = treehouse. We=20 tell him he can come with us.
The next morning eight of us board a chartered Twin Otter, a = workhorse whose=20 short takeoff and landing ability will get us to Yaniruma. Once we're = airborne,=20 Kembaren shows me a map: spidery lines marking lowland rivers and = thousands of=20 square miles of green jungle. Dutch missionaries who came to convert the = Korowai=20 in the late 1970s called it "the hell in the south."
After 90 minutes we come in low, following the snaking Ndeiram Kabur = River.=20 In the jungle below, Boas spots his father=E2=80=99s treehouse, which = seems impossibly=20 high off the ground, like the nest of a giant bird. Boas, who wears a=20 daisy-yellow bonnet, a souvenir of =E2=80=9Ccivilization,=E2=80=9D hugs = me in gratitude, and=20 tears trickle down his cheeks.
At Yaniruma, a line of stilt huts that Dutch missionaries established = in=20 1979, we thump down on a dirt strip carved out of the jungle. Now, to my = surprise, Boas says he will postpone his homecoming to continue with us, = lured=20 by the promise of adventure with a laleo, and he cheerfully lifts a sack = of=20 foodstuffs onto his shoulders. As the pilot hurls the Twin Otter back = into the=20 sky, a dozen Korowai men hoist our packs and supplies and trudge toward = the=20 jungle in single file bound for the river. Most carry bows and = arrows.
The Rev. Johannes Veldhuizen, a Dutch missionary with the Mission of = the=20 Reformed Churches, first made contact with the Korowai in 1978 and = dropped plans=20 to convert them to Christianity. "A very powerful mountain god warned = the=20 Korowai that their world would be destroyed by an earthquake if = outsiders came=20 into their land to change their customs," he told me by phone from the=20 Netherlands a few years ago. "So we went as guests, rather than as = conquerors,=20 and never put any pressure on the Korowai to change their ways." The = Rev. Gerrit=20 van Enk, another Dutch missionary and co-author of The Korowai of = Irian=20 Jaya, coined the term "pacification line" for the imaginary border=20 separating Korowai clans accustomed to outsiders from those farther = north. In a=20 separate phone interview from the Netherlands, he told me that he had = never gone=20 beyond the pacification line because of possible danger from Korowai = clans there=20 hostile to the presence of laleo in their territory.
As we pass through Yaniruma, I=E2=80=99m surprised that no Indonesian = police officer=20 demands to see the government permit issued to me allowing me to = proceed. "The=20 nearest police post is at Senggo, several days back along the river," = Kembaren=20 explains. "Occasionally a medical worker or official comes here for a = few days,=20 but they're too frightened to go deep into Korowai territory."
Entering the Korowai rain forest is like stepping into a giant watery = cave.=20 With the bright sun overhead I breathe easily, but as the porters push = through=20 the undergrowth, the tree canopy's dense weave plunges the world into a = verdant=20 gloom. The heat is stifling and the air drips with humidity. This is the = haunt=20 of giant spiders, killer snakes and lethal microbes. High in the canopy, = parrots=20 screech as I follow the porters along a barely visible track winding = around=20 rain-soaked trees and primeval palms. My shirt clings to my back, and I = take=20 frequent swigs at my water bottle. The annual rainfall here is around = 200=20 inches, making it one of the wettest places on earth. A sudden downpour = sends=20 raindrops spearing through gaps in the canopy, but we keep walking.
The local Korowai have laid logs on the mud, and the barefoot porters = cross=20 these with ease. But, desperately trying to balance as I edge along each = log,=20 time and again I slip, stumble and fall into the sometimes waist-deep = mud,=20 bruising and scratching my legs and arms. Slippery logs as long as ten = yards=20 bridge the many dips in the land. Inching across like a tightrope = walker, I=20 wonder how the porters would get me out of the jungle were I to fall and = break a=20 leg. "What the hell am I doing here?" I keep muttering, though I know = the=20 answer: I want to encounter a people who are said to still practice=20 cannibalism.
Hour melts into hour as we push on, stopping briefly now and then to = rest.=20 With night near, my heart surges with relief when shafts of silvery = light slip=20 through the trees ahead: a clearing. "It's Manggel," Kembaren = says=E2=80=94another=20 village set up by Dutch missionaries. "We'll stay the night here."
Korowai children with beads about their necks come running to point = and=20 giggle as I stagger into the village=E2=80=94several straw huts perched = on stilts and=20 overlooking the river. I notice there are no old people here. "The = Korowai have=20 hardly any medicine to combat the jungle diseases or cure battle wounds, = and so=20 the death rate is high," Kembaren explains. "People rarely live to = middle age."=20 As van Enk writes, Korowai routinely fall to interclan conflicts; = diseases,=20 including malaria, tuberculosis, elephantiasis and anemia, and what he = calls=20 "the khakhua complex." The Korowai have no knowledge of the deadly germs = that=20 infest their jungles, and so believe that mysterious deaths must be = caused by=20 khakhua, or witches who take on the form of men.
After we eat a dinner of river fish and rice, Boas joins me in a hut = and sits=20 cross-legged on the thatched floor, his dark eyes reflecting the gleam = from my=20 flashlight, our only source of light. Using Kembaren as translator, he = explains=20 why the Korowai kill and eat their fellow tribesmen. It's because of the = khakhua, which comes disguised as a relative or friend of a person he = wants to=20 kill. "The khakhua eats the victim's insides while he sleeps," Boas = explains,=20 "replacing them with fireplace ash so the victim does not know he's = being eaten.=20 The khakhua finally kills the person by shooting a magical arrow into = his=20 heart." When a clan member dies, his or her male relatives and friends = seize and=20 kill the khakhua. "Usually, the [dying] victim whispers to his relatives = the=20 name of the man he knows is the khakhua," Boas says. "He may be from the = same or=20 another treehouse."
I ask Boas whether the Korowai eat people for any other reason or eat = the=20 bodies of enemies they've killed in battle. "Of course not," he replies, = giving=20 me a funny look. "We don't eat humans, we only eat khakhua."
The killing and eating of khakhua has reportedly declined among = tribespeople=20 in and near the settlements. Rupert Stasch, an anthropologist at Reed = College in=20 Portland, Oregon, who has lived among the Korowai for 16 months and = studied=20 their culture, writes in the journal Oceania that Korowai say = they have=20 "given up" killing witches partly because they were growing ambivalent = about the=20 practice and partly in reaction to several incidents with police. In one = in the=20 early '90s, Stasch writes, a Yaniruma man killed his sister's husband = for being=20 a khakhua. The police arrested the killer, an accomplice and a village = head.=20 "The police rolled them around in barrels, made them stand overnight in = a=20 leech-infested pond, and forced them to eat tobacco, chili peppers, = animal=20 feces, and unripe papaya," he writes. Word of such treatment, combined = with=20 Korowais' own ambivalence, prompted some to limit witch-killing even in = places=20 where police do not venture.
Still, the eating of khakhua persists, according to my guide, = Kembaren. "Many=20 khakhua are murdered and eaten each year," he says, citing information = he says=20 he has gained from talking to Korowai who still live in treehouses.
On our third day of trekking, after hiking from soon after sunrise to = dusk,=20 we reach Yafufla, another line of stilt huts set up by Dutch = missionaries. That=20 night, Kembaren takes me to an open hut overlooking the river, and we = sit by a=20 small campfire. Two men approach through the gloom, one in shorts, the = other=20 naked save for a necklace of prized pigs' teeth and a leaf wrapped about = the tip=20 of his penis. "That's Kilikili," Kembaren whispers, "the most notorious = khakhua=20 killer." Kilikili carries a bow and barbed arrows. His eyes are empty of = expression, his lips are drawn in a grimace and he walks as soundlessly = as a=20 shadow.
The other man, who turns out to be Kilikili's brother Bailom, pulls a = human=20 skull from a bag. A jagged hole mars the forehead. "It's Bunop, the most = recent=20 khakhua he killed," Kembaren says of the skull. "Bailom used a stone ax = to split=20 the skull open to get at the brains." The guide's eyes dim. "He was one = of my=20 best porters, a cheerful young man," he says.
Bailom passes the skull to me. I don't want to touch it, but neither = do I=20 want to offend him. My blood chills at the feel of naked bone. I have = read=20 stories and watched documentaries about the Korowai, but as far as I = know none=20 of the reporters and filmmakers had ever gone as far upriver as we're = about to=20 go, and none I know of had ever seen a khakhua's skull.
The fire's reflection flickers on the brothers' faces as Bailom tells = me how=20 he killed the khakhua, who lived in Yafufla, two years ago. "Just before = my=20 cousin died he told me that Bunop was a khakhua and was eating him from = the=20 inside," he says, with Kembaren translating. "So we caught him, tied him = up and=20 took him to a stream, where we shot arrows into him."
Bailom says that Bunop screamed for mercy all the way, protesting = that he was=20 not a khakhua. But Bailom was unswayed. "My cousin was close to death = when he=20 told me and would not lie," Bailom says.
At the stream, Bailom says, he used a stone ax to chop off the = khakhua's=20 head. As he held it in the air and turned it away from the body, the = others=20 chanted and dismembered Bunop's body. Bailom, making chopping movements = with his=20 hand, explains: "We cut out his intestines and broke open the rib cage, = chopped=20 off the right arm attached to the right rib cage, the left arm and left = rib=20 cage, and then both legs."
The body parts, he says, were individually wrapped in banana leaves = and=20 distributed among the clan members. "But I kept the head because it = belongs to=20 the family that killed the khakhua," he says. "We cook the flesh like we = cook=20 pig, placing palm leaves over the wrapped meat together with burning hot = river=20 rocks to make steam."
Some readers may believe that these two are having me on=E2=80=94that = they are just=20 telling a visitor what he wants to hear=E2=80=94and that the skull came = from someone who=20 died from some other cause. But I believe they were telling the truth. I = spent=20 eight days with Bailom, and everything else he told me proved factual. I = also=20 checked with four other Yafufla men who said they had joined in the = killing,=20 dismembering and eating of Bunop, and the details of their accounts = mirrored=20 reports of khakhua cannibalism by Dutch missionaries who lived among the = Korowai=20 for several years. Kembaren clearly accepted Bailom=E2=80=99s story as = fact.
Around our campfire, Bailom tells me he feels no remorse. "Revenge is = part of=20 our culture, so when the khakhua eats a person, the people eat the = khakhua," he=20 says. (Taylor, the Smithsonian Institution anthropologist, has described = khakhua-eating as "part of a system of justice.") "It's normal," Bailom = says. "I=20 don't feel sad I killed Bunop, even though he was a friend."
In cannibal folklore, told in numerous books and articles, human = flesh is=20 said to be known as "long pig" because of its similar taste. When I = mention=20 this, Bailom shakes his head. "Human flesh tastes like young cassowary," = he=20 says, referring to a local ostrich-like bird. At a khakhua meal, he = says, both=20 men and women=E2=80=94children do not attend=E2=80=94eat everything but = bones, teeth, hair,=20 fingernails and toenails and the penis. "I like the taste of all the = body=20 parts," Bailom says, "but the brains are my favorite." Kilikili nods in=20 agreement, his first response since he arrived.
When the khakhua is a member of the same clan, he is bound with = rattan and=20 taken up to a day's march away to a stream near the treehouse of a = friendly=20 clan. "When they find a khakhua too closely related for them to eat, = they bring=20 him to us so we can kill and eat him," Bailom says.
He says he has personally killed four khakhua. And Kilikili? Bailom = laughs.=20 "He says he'll tell you now the names of 8 khakhua he's killed," he = replies,=20 "and if you come to his treehouse upriver, he'll tell you the names of = the other=20 22."
I ask what they do with the bones.
"We place them by the tracks leading into the treehouse clearing, to = warn our=20 enemies," Bailom says. "But the killer gets to keep the skull. After we = eat the=20 khakhua, we beat loudly on our treehouse walls all night with sticks" to = warn=20 other khakhua to stay away.
As we walk back to our hut, Kembaren confides that "years ago, when I = was=20 making friends with the Korowai, a man here at Yafufla told me I'd have = to eat=20 human flesh if they were to trust me. He gave me a chunk," he says. "It = was a=20 bit tough but tasted good."
That night it takes me a long time to get to sleep.
The next morning Kembaren brings to the hut a 6-year-old boy named = Wawa, who=20 is naked except for a necklace of beads. Unlike the other village = children,=20 boisterous and smiling, Wawa is withdrawn and his eyes seem deeply sad. = Kembaren=20 wraps an arm around him. "When Wawa's mother died last = November=E2=80=94I think she had=20 TB, she was very sick, coughing and aching=E2=80=94people at his = treehouse suspected him=20 of being a khakhua," he says. "His father died a few months earlier, and = they=20 believed [Wawa] used sorcery to kill them both. His family was not = powerful=20 enough to protect him at the treehouse, and so this January his uncle = escaped=20 with Wawa, bringing him here, where the family is stronger." Does Wawa = know the=20 threat he is facing? "He's heard about it from his relatives, but I = don't think=20 he fully understands that people at his treehouse want to kill and eat = him,=20 though they'll probably wait until he's older, about 14 or 15, before = they try.=20 But while he stays at Yafufla, he should be safe."
Soon the porters heft our equipment and head toward the jungle. = "We're taking=20 the easy way, by pirogue," Kembaren tells me. Bailom and Kilikili, each = gripping=20 a bow and arrows, have joined the porters. "They know the clans upriver = better=20 than our Yaniruma men," Kembaren explains.
Bailom shows me his arrows, each a yard-long shaft bound with vine to = an=20 arrowhead designed for a specific prey. Pig arrowheads, he says, are=20 broad-bladed; those for birds, long and narrow. Fish arrowheads are = pronged,=20 while the arrowheads for humans are each a hand's span of cassowary bone = with=20 six or more barbs carved on each side=E2=80=94to ensure terrible damage = when cut away=20 from the victim's flesh. Dark bloodstains coat these arrowheads.
I ask Kembaren if he is comfortable with the idea of two cannibals=20 accompanying us. "Most of the porters have probably eaten human flesh," = he=20 answers with a smile.
Kembaren leads me down to the Ndeiram Kabur River, where we board a = long,=20 slender pirogue. I settle in the middle, the sides pressing against my = body. Two=20 Korowai paddlers stand at the stern, two more at the bow, and we push = off,=20 steering close by the riverbank, where the water flow is slowest. Each = time the=20 boatmen maneuver the pirogue around a sandbar, the strong current in the = middle=20 of the river threatens to tip us over. Paddling upriver is tough, even = for the=20 muscular boatmen, and they frequently break into Korowai song timed to = the slap=20 of the paddles against the water, a yodeling chant that echoes along the = riverbank.
High green curtains of trees woven with tangled streamers of vine = shield the=20 jungle. A siren scream of cicadas pierces the air. The day passes in a = blur, and=20 night descends quickly.
And that's when we are accosted by the screaming men on the = riverbank.=20 Kembaren refuses to come to their side of the river. "It's too = dangerous," he=20 whispers. Now the two Korowai armed with bows and arrows are paddling a = pirogue=20 toward us. I ask Kembaren if he has a gun. He shakes his head no.
As their pirogue bumps against ours, one of the men growls that laleo = are=20 forbidden to enter their sacred river, and that my presence angers the = spirits.=20 Korowai are animists, believing that powerful beings live in specific = trees and=20 parts of rivers. The tribesman demands that we give the clan a pig to = absolve=20 the sacrilege. A pig costs 350,000 rupiahs, or about $40. It's a Stone = Age=20 shakedown. I count out the money and pass it to the man, who glances at = the=20 Indonesian currency and grants us permission to pass.
What use is money to these people? I ask Kembaren as our boatmen = paddle to=20 safety upriver. "It's useless here," he answers, "but whenever they get = any=20 money, and that's rare, the clans use it to help pay bride prices for = Korowai=20 girls living closer to Yaniruma. They understand the dangers of incest, = and so=20 girls must marry into unrelated clans."
About an hour farther up the river, we pull up onto the bank, and I = scramble=20 up a muddy slope, dragging myself over the slippery rise by grasping = exposed=20 tree roots. Bailom and the porters are waiting for us and wearing = worried faces.=20 Bailom says that the tribesmen knew we were coming because they had = intercepted=20 the porters as they passed near their treehouses.
Would they really have killed us if we hadn't paid up? I ask Bailom, = through=20 Kembaren. Bailom nods: "They'd have let you pass tonight because they = knew you'd=20 have to return downriver. Then, they'd ambush you, some firing arrows = from the=20 riverbank and others attacking at close range in their pirogues."
The porters string all but one of the tarpaulins over our supplies. = Our=20 shelter for the night is four poles set in a square about four yards = apart and=20 topped by a tarp with open sides. Soon after midnight a downpour = drenches us.=20 The wind sends my teeth chattering, and I sit disconsolately hugging my = knees.=20 Seeing me shivering, Boas pulls my body against his for warmth. As I = drift off,=20 deeply fatigued, I have the strangest thought: this is the first time = I've ever=20 slept with a cannibal.
We leave at first light, still soaked. At midday our pirogue reaches = our=20 destination, a riverbank close by the treehouse, or khaim, of a = Korowai=20 clan that Kembaren says has never before seen a white person. Our = porters=20 arrived before us and have already built a rudimentary hut. "I sent a = Korowai=20 friend here a few days ago to ask the clan to let us visit them," = Kembaren says.=20 "Otherwise they'd have attacked us."
I ask why they've given permission for a laleo to enter their sacred = land. "I=20 think they're as curious to see you, the ghost-demon, as you are to see = them,"=20 Kembaren answered.
At midafternoon, Kembaren and I hike 30 minutes through dense jungle = and ford=20 a deep stream. He points ahead to a treehouse that looks deserted. It = perches on=20 a decapitated banyan tree, its floor a dense latticework of boughs and = strips of=20 wood. It's about ten yards off the ground. "It belongs to the Letin = clan," he=20 says. Korowai are formed into what anthropologists call patriclans, = which=20 inhabit ancestral lands and trace ownership and genealogy through the = male=20 line.
A young cassowary prances past, perhaps a family pet. A large pig, = flushed=20 from its hiding place in the grass, dashes into the jungle. "Where are = the=20 Korowai?" I ask. Kembaren points to the treehouse. "They=E2=80=99re = waiting for us."
I can hear voices as I climb an almost vertical pole notched with = footholds.=20 The interior of the treehouse is wreathed in a haze of smoke rent by = beams of=20 sunlight. Young men are bunched on the floor near the entrance. Smoke = from=20 hearth fires has coated the bark walls and sago-leaf ceiling, giving the = hut a=20 sooty odor. A pair of stone axes, several bows and arrows and net bags = are=20 tucked into the leafy rafters. The floor creaks as I settle cross-legged = onto=20 it.
Four women and two children sit at the rear of the treehouse, the = women=20 fashioning bags from vines and studiously ignoring me. "Men and women = stay on=20 different sides of the treehouse and have their own hearths," says = Kembaren.=20 Each hearth is made from strips of clay-coated rattan suspended over a = hole in=20 the floor so that it can be quickly hacked loose, to fall to the ground, = if a=20 fire starts to burn out of control.
A middle-aged man with a hard-muscled body and a bulldog face = straddles the=20 gender dividing line. Speaking through Boas, Kembaren makes small talk = about=20 crops, the weather and past feasts. The man grips his bow and arrows and = avoids=20 my gaze. But now and then I catch him stealing glances in my direction. = "That's=20 Lepeadon, the clan's khen-mengga-ab=C3=BCl, or 'fierce man,'" = Kembaren says.=20 The fierce man leads the clan in fights. Lepeadon looks up to the = task.
"A clan of six men, four women, three boys and two girls live here," = Kembaren=20 says. "The others have come from nearby treehouses to see their first=20 laleo."
After an hour of talk, the fierce man moves closer to me and, still=20 unsmiling, speaks. "I knew you were coming and expected to see a ghost, = but now=20 I see you're just like us, a human," he says, as Boas translates to = Kembaren and=20 Kembaren translates to me.
A youngster tries to yank my pants off, and he almost succeeds amid a = gale of=20 laughter. I join in the laughing but keep a tight grip on my modesty. = The Rev.=20 Johannes Veldhuizen had told me that Korowai he=E2=80=99d met had = thought him a=20 ghost-demon until they spied him bathing in a stream and saw that he = came=20 equipped with all the requisite parts of a yanop, or human being. = Korowai=20 seemed to have a hard time understanding clothing. They call it=20 laleo-khal, "ghost-demon skin," and Veldhuizen told me they = believed his=20 shirt and pants to be a magical epidermis that he could don or remove at = will.
"We shouldn't push the first meeting too long," Kembaren now tells me = as he=20 rises to leave. Lepeadon follows us to the ground and grabs both my = hands. He=20 begins bouncing up and down and chanting, "nemayokh" ("friend"). = I keep=20 up with him in what seems a ritual farewell, and he swiftly increases = the pace=20 until it is frenzied, before he suddenly stops, leaving me = breathless.
"I've never seen that before," Kembaren says. "We've just experienced = something very special." It was certainly special to me. In four decades = of=20 journeying among remote tribes, this is the first time I've encountered = a clan=20 that has evidently never seen anyone as light-skinned as me. Enthralled, = I find=20 my eyes tearing up as we return to our hut.
The next morning four Korowai women arrive at our hut carrying a = squawking=20 green frog, several locusts and a spider they say they just caught in = the=20 jungle. "They've brought your breakfast," Boas says, smiling as his gibe = is=20 translated. Two years in a Papuan town has taught him that we laleo = wrinkle our=20 noses at Korowai delicacies. The young women have circular scars the = size of=20 large coins running the length of their arms, around the stomach and = across=20 their breasts. "The marks make them look more beautiful," Boas says.
He explains how they are made, saying circular pieces of bark embers = are=20 placed on the skin. It seems an odd way to add beauty to the female = form, but no=20 more bizarre than tattoos, stiletto-heel shoes, Botox injections or the=20 not-so-ancient Chinese custom of slowly crushing infant girls' foot = bones to=20 make their feet as small as possible.
Kembaren and I spend the morning talking to Lepeadon and the young = men about=20 Korowai religion. Seeing spirits in nature, they find belief in a single = god=20 puzzling. But they too recognize a powerful spirit, named Ginol, who = created the=20 present world after having destroyed the previous four. For as long as = the=20 tribal memory reaches back, elders sitting around fires have told the = younger=20 ones that white-skinned ghost-demons will one day invade Korowai land. = Once the=20 laleo arrive, Ginol will obliterate this fifth world. The land will = split apart,=20 there will be fire and thunder, and mountains will drop from the sky. = This world=20 will shatter, and a new one will take its place. The prophecy is, in a = way,=20 bound to be fulfilled as more young Korowai move between their = treehouses and=20 downriver settlements, which saddens me as I return to our hut for the=20 night.
The Korowai, believing that evil spirits are most active at night, = usually=20 don=E2=80=99t venture out of their treehouses after the sun sets. They = divide the day=20 into seven distinct periods=E2=80=94dawn, sunrise, midmorning, noon, = midafternoon, dusk=20 and night. They use their bodies to count numbers. Lepeadon shows me = how,=20 ticking off the fingers of his left hand, then touching his wrist, = forearm,=20 elbow, upper arm, shoulder, neck, ear and the crown of the head, and = moving down=20 the other arm. The tally comes to 25. For anything greater than that, = the=20 Korowai start over and add the word laifu, meaning =E2=80=9Cturn = around.=E2=80=9D
In the afternoon I go with the clan to the sago palm fields to = harvest their=20 staple food. Two men hack down a sago palm, each with a hand ax made = from a=20 fist-size chunk of hard, dark stone sharpened at one end and lashed with = vine to=20 a slim wooden handle. The men then pummel the sago pith to a pulp, which = the=20 women sluice with water to produce a dough they mold into bite-size = pieces and=20 grill.
A snake that falls from the toppling palm is swiftly killed. Lepeadon = then=20 loops a length of rattan about a stick and rapidly pulls it to and fro = next to=20 some shavings on the ground, producing tiny sparks that start a fire. = Blowing=20 hard to fuel the growing flame, he places the snake under a pile of = burning=20 wood. When the meat is charred, I'm offered a piece of it. It tastes = like=20 chicken.
On our return to the treehouse, we pass banyan trees, with their = dramatic,=20 aboveground root flares. The men slam their heels against these = appendages,=20 producing a thumping sound that travels across the jungle. "That lets = the people=20 at the treehouse know they're coming home, and how far away they are," = Kembaren=20 tells me.
My three days with the clan pass swiftly. When I feel they trust me, = I ask=20 when they last killed a khakhua. Lepeadon says it was near the time of = the last=20 sago palm feast, when several hundred Korowai gathered to dance, eat = vast=20 quantities of sago palm maggots, trade goods, chant fertility songs and = let the=20 marriage-age youngsters eye one another. According to our porters, that = dates=20 the killing to just over a year ago.
Lepeadon tells Boas he wants me to stay longer, but I have to return = to=20 Yaniruma to meet the Twin Otter. As we board the pirogue, the fierce man = squats=20 by the riverside but refuses to look at me. When the boatmen push away, = he leaps=20 up, scowls, thrusts a cassowary-bone arrow across his bow, yanks on the = rattan=20 string and aims at me. After a few moments, he smiles and lowers the = bow=E2=80=94a=20 fierce man's way of saying goodbye.
In midafternoon, the boatmen steer the pirogue to the edge of a swamp = forest=20 and tie it to a tree trunk. Boas leaps out and leads the way, setting a = brisk=20 pace. After an hour=E2=80=99s trek, I reach a clearing about the size of = two football=20 fields and planted with banana trees. Dominating it is a treehouse that = soars=20 about 75 feet into the sky. Its springy floor rests on several natural = columns,=20 tall trees cut off at the point where branches once flared out.
Boas is waiting for us. Next to him stands his father, Khanduop, a=20 middle-aged man clad in rattan strips about his waist and a leaf = covering part=20 of his penis. He grabs my hand and thanks me for bringing his son home. = He has=20 killed a large pig for the occasion, and Bailom, with what seems to me = to be=20 superhuman strength, carries it on his back up a notched pole into the=20 treehouse. Inside, every nook and cranny is crammed with bones from = previous=20 feasts=E2=80=94spiky fish skeletons, blockbuster pig jaws, the skulls of = flying foxes=20 and rats. The bones dangle even from hooks strung along the ceiling, = near=20 bundles of many-colored parrot and cassowary feathers. The Korowai = believe that=20 the d=C3=A9cor signals hospitality and prosperity.
I meet Yakor, a tall, kindly eyed tribesman from a treehouse upriver, = who=20 squats by the fire with Khanduop, Bailom and Kilikili. Boas=E2=80=99 = mother is dead, and=20 Khanduop, a fierce man, has married Yakor's sister. When the talk turns = to=20 khakhua meals they have enjoyed, Khanduop's eyes light up. He's dined on = many=20 khakhua, he says, and the taste is the most delicious of any creature = he's ever=20 eaten.
The next morning the porters depart for the river, carrying our = remaining=20 supplies. But before I leave, Khanduop wants to talk; his son and = Kembaren=20 translate. "Boas has told me he'll live in Yaniruma with his brother, = coming=20 back just for visits," he murmurs. Khanduop's gaze clouds. "The time of = the true=20 Korowai is coming to an end, and that makes me very sad."
Boas gives his father a wan smile and walks with me to the pirogue = for the=20 two-hour journey to Yaniruma, wearing his yellow bonnet as if it were a = visa for=20 the 21st century.
Three years earlier I had visited the Korubo, an isolated indigenous = tribe in=20 the Amazon, together with Sydney Possuelo, then director of Brazil's = Department=20 for Isolated Indians [SMITHSONIAN, April 2005]. This question of what to = do with=20 such peoples=E2=80=94whether to yank them into the present or leave them = untouched in=20 their jungles and traditions=E2=80=94had troubled Possuelo for decades. = "I believe we=20 should let them live in their own special worlds," he told me, "because = once=20 they go downriver to the settlements and see what is to them the wonders = and=20 magic of our lives, they never go back to live in a traditional = way."
So it is with the Korowai. They have at most a generation left in = their=20 traditional culture=E2=80=94one that includes practices that admittedly = strike us as=20 abhorrent. Year by year the young men and women will drift to Yaniruma = and other=20 settlements until only aging clan members are left in the treehouses. = And at=20 that point Ginol's godly prophecy will reach its apocalyptic = fulfillment, and=20 thunder and earthquakes of a kind will destroy the old Korowai world=20 forever.
Comments
This is very interesting, and exciting! Is it possible to contact the = author,=20 Paul Raffaele, to ask some further questions? I would like to write my=20 anthropology paper on cannibalism that is still being practiced and this = tribe=20 really speaks to me. Thanks for a true report on the subject without = unneccesary=20 disgust or jugement. Holly
Posted by Holly on January 28,2008 |=20 10:15AM
It pains me to here of another people who are going to loose their = way of=20 life. Hopefully at least the elders in the tribe will be dead and gone = before=20 civilization destroys their world. What a sad situation !
Posted by DENISE on February 11,2008 |=20 08:30AM
Such is the way of life. It fiercely perpetuates itself, only to be=20 vanquished by time. Mr. Raffaele, I enjoyed your article and = photography. Thank=20 you for making me 'feel' the presence of your experience. Sounds like a = 'one in=20 a lifetime offer'. Thank you Smithsonian!
Posted by Ife (ee-faye) on March 25,2008 |=20 07:51PM
What a truly facsinating and factual read!It is sad to think that = there way=20 of life could very easily be destroyed and become part of history. = However=20 fascinating they could be and however many treasures we could find = amongst=20 tribes like the Korowai do we ever stop to think that we could be doing = more=20 harm than good by disturbing them and wanting more!
Posted by Jo on March 26,2008 |=20 05:37PM
Hello All, An extremely interesting read, I in turn have decided to = hike into=20 the heartlands of this country. I'm departing November, and am planning = on=20 hiking into this trecherous territory. Please email me closer details on = the=20 location of them, and the nearest civilised town for hiking thanks. = Kalki=20 French, Djmad722@Hotmail.com
Posted by Kalki French on April 23,2008 |=20 04:17AM
I wish these indigenous people could be taught the error of = cannibalism while=20 retaining the other wonderful aspects of their culture. I can never = believe that=20 cannibalism is acceptable anywhere in the world, in any people group, at = any=20 time. I think that the practice should be stopped.
Posted by Julie on May 22,2008 |=20 07:43PM
Cannibalism is one of the worst crimes that can be committed towards = a human=20 being. Although this story is highly interesting, we can see that these = people=20 do not believe they are killing humans but another creature. It is for = the=20 benefit of all humans that this way of life becomes history, and i hope = it=20 will.
Posted by jamilah on June 2,2008 |=20 04:02AM
i like the picture and words. your the best article writer = ever.
Posted by amanda on June 10,2008 |=20 01:59PM
It is truly amazing to read of such an interesting insight of a = culture far=20 away from modern day civilization. No matter what their value systems = are, it is=20 definitely praiseworthy to note that not everyone is trying to ape the = world in=20 terms of being attracted to all its gadgets, gizmos and beliefs. And = last but=20 not the least, kudos to such a brave author for allowing us to have a = peek at=20 something like this.
Posted by Neel Das on July 10,2008 |=20 12:17PM
Mr. Raffaele is far braver than anyone I know. I hope he is able to=20 recuperate fully and can write many more interesting stories.
Posted by Colette Shannon on July 16,2008 | = 12:29AM
do you have a web site that i can join about this stuff? i find this = stuff=20 very interesting.
Posted by bluedemond on October 19,2008 |=20 06:42PM
Mr.Raffaele is a person with alot of courage. this article is an = inspiration=20 to me,as i do believe in cannibalism. in my country India, i have seen a = group=20 of holymen feeding on corpses.it is their believe by doing so they = become=20 ageless. in near future i would like to meet other tribes who do = practice=20 cannibalism.
Posted by Sayantan Das on October 30,2008 | = 03:54AM
It is a wondeful work done by Mr.Raffaele .It is really amazing to = know that=20 cannibalism is still followed in this world.The narration gives a clear = picture=20 about the true lifestyle of Cannibals and also it brings out their = values for=20 life,culture and tradition.The narration made me feel that i am one = among the=20 travellers and i had the thrilling experience of being into a rainy = dense=20 forest.Through this article it has come to limelight that eventhough the = world=20 is taken over by advanced civilizations and modern practices there are = people=20 who live far enough not to have an impact of these developments..."THREE = CHEERS"=20 to the brave author for giving us a valuable note on our fellowmen who = resembles=20 us in physique but are still with the stone age culture,character and=20 tradition!!!!!!!!!!!!
Posted by Thangalakshmi Ramakrishnan on = February=20 27,2009 | 01:54PM
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"The Free Papua Movement (OPM) is widely believed to be the core of=20 opposition to the Indonesian Government in West Irian. But it is = difficult to=20 track down the OPM as an organization, although not because its security = is=20 tight or people unwilling to talk. On the contrary, everyone talks about = the=20 OPM; it has few, if any, secrets, and many Irianese proudly proclaim = they are=20 "members" of the OPM. A foreigner travelling in West Irian has no = difficulty in=20 contacting anti-government activists. They stop you on the street and = groups of=20 them gather around when you visit a native village; in short, no one is=20 reluctant to discuss the OPM and their reasons for disliking = Indonesians." "The=20 OPM, however, does represent an amorphous mass of anti-Indonesia = sentiment.=20 Card-carrying members of the OPM as such must be few, although partisans = claim=20 that it has anywhere from 1500 to 5000, oe even 500,000 members." = "Regarding the=20 magnitude of the opposition to Indonesian rule, probably a decided = majority of=20 the Irianese people, and possibly 85 to 90 percent, are in sympathy with = the=20 Free Papua cause or at least intensely dislike Indonesians." - U.S. = Ambassador=20 Francis Galbraith 1969.
Posted by Andrew Johnson on January 24,2008 = |=20 02:27PM