Introduction

I can’t exactly say how many times I went there. The Highlands of Papua New Guinea (PNG) are sensational, to say the least, that counting those visits is impossible. It all seemed one big visit linked by several extraordinary tales. What I do clearly remember is the first time. It was 1973, I was nine years old, and my mother arranged a charter flight from Port Moresby. We flew into the largest town in the Highlands, Goroka, place of perpetual spring, high in the ranges. It’s nestled amongst the high peaks and a very pretty town in those days. I remember the Hotel being like a huge hospital. Days were clear, warm – the night’s cold. Each morning you wake to cries from nearby tribesmen yelling, “Boody, boody, yeah!” to one another from peak-to-peak, as their way of staying in touch daily.

The town was prosperous and peaceful, then amenable to tourists, and not at all dangerous. I made friends with the Hotel owner’s son and we mucked around in the swimming pool and the hotel grounds. Those were happy times.

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The Asaro Mud Men

PNG is made up of thousands of tribes, tongues and cultures stretching from coast to coast and peak to peak. The Highlands was first opened up in the late sixties, when the great Highlands Highway was completed from the Highland mountain ranges, to Lae – PNG’s second largest town – on the nation’s North Coast. Goroka is today the Highland’s the largest town and is nearby home to the Asaro Mud Men. Being a kid I had no idea what I was about to witness, when my dad told us we were going to visit them, on the second day of our tour.

Asaro is a tiny village sheltered in thick, overhanging trees. They stage the planet’s strangest show. Each of the men from the village daubs their naked forms in a grey silt-clay from the river. The warriors then don mud-helmets, hiding their heads, with pokey-alien eyes with pigs teeth inserted for mouths. We all waited in anticipation in the village clearing for the show to start. It seemed weirdly dark, in that shady place, although it was ten am.