Day 7: Yanak, the Sorceror
Today, our paddlers are two brawny Papuans called Anton and Negatimus. I would like them to accompany us all the way to Kubkain, a full day's paddle away, but they don't wish to go that far. Our raft has become wider. They have tethered their pirogue to ours. When we arrive at Oum, in about five hours' time, they will detach it and paddle home. They expect to get home after dark, and Anton has brought along his crocodile catcher: a long bamboo spear with a barbed metal spike in the end. Crocs are abundant, he says, but nocturnal (we have only spotted one so far, a two-metre-long beast asleep on a mud-bank). A good hide sells for 500 kina, apparently.
It is a tricky day for me. Yesterday, I drank too quickly from a creek feeding the Sepik, not allowing our "Pristine" purification tabs to do their work. Now I have diarrhea. From time to time, I have to strip down to my undies, make apologetic sounds, and slide off our plank into the river. Nadya captures my facial contortions on film. I am grateful for muddy water. Today's slow pace allows us, however, to enjoy the bird life. There are two dominant families: eagles and cranes. The largest of the former are the size of American bald eagles and have white breasts and black wings. The white plumage extends down the legs, and they look like they are wearing shaggy, white drawers. A smaller hawk has a pale yellow head and tawny body. After rain, it perches on a dead branch and "hangs out" its wings to dry. With feathers awry, it looks like it is wearing a rag jacket. The largest crane is identical in form to our blue heron, but it is snowy white. Anton calls it the "Symbol of the Sepik" as it is everywhere on the river (we see at least fifty a day). With its S-shaped neck, it is a fitting symbol, given the windiness of the river. There is a dwarf version - an egret, perhaps - with a yellow crest, and a smaller, grey-winged, white-fronted, yellow-beaked water-rail (?). Red and green eclectus parrots barrel by overhead; rainbow bee-eaters (?) fidget around in low branches. (Oh, for a bird book!)
With my rotten belly, I am not ready for the reception at Oum. Anton and Negatimus help haul our bags onshore and leave us sprawled out on a wooden tray, surrounded by a hundred kids, wild-eyed and hollering. "What's your name?" "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" "What grade are you at school?" we ask. Several I see have "sipoma,"a disease that turns the skin pale and causes it to flake. Nadya and I become giddy in the noon-hour heat. We are grateful when Walter, son of a local "big man," and Clifford, a school teacher, penetrate the ring and lead us to a large stilt hut. Walter, a Mike Tyson lookalike belying his gentle manner, sends a boy with our water bottles to the village rainwater tank, and Nadya digs out some rehydration salts for me.
When we have recovered, our hosts offer to show us around their village. We see the massive, big-leafed sago palms and spindly ones bearing betel nuts (to which most Papuans are addicted). Walter points out "limbun" palms used to make floor mats and to "lau lau" or water-apple trees. We meet Clifford's wife, who is cleaning sago and see their vanilla vine (not consumed by villagers, vanilla sells for 1,100 kina or $440 a kilo in Vanimo or Maprik). There are cocoa, banana, and pawpaw (papaya) trees. We pass a newly cut pirogue, and I ask which trees are good to use. Our pirogue is grey, this one orange.
"Katwa, ewa, or kwila," Clifford replies.
Many of the houses are larger and less dilapidated than those we saw upstream (the limbun in one was so cracked and rotten that Nadya put her leg through). They have drainage ditches and square garden plots in front containing taro, mustard, pumpkin, and chilli pepper plants.
Oum is about to celebrate Easter belatedly, and a pastor from the Assembly of God church has come. I ask Clifford what the "woniam" tribe believed before the missionaries brought the "gut nuis."
"We had sorcerer called Yanak, who could kill any man, woman, or child when he want."
"And why did he want to do that?" I ask.
"Oh, he have some problem with them."
"How did he kill them?"
"He take betel nut and put it in fire and then wrap it in leaf and give to victim. He gets sweats and fever and then fall down and die."
He tells of Yanak putting a dead dog in a tree until the stomach swelled. The victim would be ambushed by Yanak's disciples and forced to drink the fluid from the dog's stomach. Yanak would take the nails of a flying fox, and puncture the skin of the victim so the poison went in. Soon the man would shake, lose control, and fall sick.
"Everyone afraid what will happen. Every illness was bad sign."
I ask Clifford how the villagers feel now that Yanak has passed away.
"Good. Very good. Now we are free!"
It is a tricky day for me. Yesterday, I drank too quickly from a creek feeding the Sepik, not allowing our "Pristine" purification tabs to do their work. Now I have diarrhea. From time to time, I have to strip down to my undies, make apologetic sounds, and slide off our plank into the river. Nadya captures my facial contortions on film. I am grateful for muddy water. Today's slow pace allows us, however, to enjoy the bird life. There are two dominant families: eagles and cranes. The largest of the former are the size of American bald eagles and have white breasts and black wings. The white plumage extends down the legs, and they look like they are wearing shaggy, white drawers. A smaller hawk has a pale yellow head and tawny body. After rain, it perches on a dead branch and "hangs out" its wings to dry. With feathers awry, it looks like it is wearing a rag jacket. The largest crane is identical in form to our blue heron, but it is snowy white. Anton calls it the "Symbol of the Sepik" as it is everywhere on the river (we see at least fifty a day). With its S-shaped neck, it is a fitting symbol, given the windiness of the river. There is a dwarf version - an egret, perhaps - with a yellow crest, and a smaller, grey-winged, white-fronted, yellow-beaked water-rail (?). Red and green eclectus parrots barrel by overhead; rainbow bee-eaters (?) fidget around in low branches. (Oh, for a bird book!)
With my rotten belly, I am not ready for the reception at Oum. Anton and Negatimus help haul our bags onshore and leave us sprawled out on a wooden tray, surrounded by a hundred kids, wild-eyed and hollering. "What's your name?" "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" "What grade are you at school?" we ask. Several I see have "sipoma,"a disease that turns the skin pale and causes it to flake. Nadya and I become giddy in the noon-hour heat. We are grateful when Walter, son of a local "big man," and Clifford, a school teacher, penetrate the ring and lead us to a large stilt hut. Walter, a Mike Tyson lookalike belying his gentle manner, sends a boy with our water bottles to the village rainwater tank, and Nadya digs out some rehydration salts for me.
When we have recovered, our hosts offer to show us around their village. We see the massive, big-leafed sago palms and spindly ones bearing betel nuts (to which most Papuans are addicted). Walter points out "limbun" palms used to make floor mats and to "lau lau" or water-apple trees. We meet Clifford's wife, who is cleaning sago and see their vanilla vine (not consumed by villagers, vanilla sells for 1,100 kina or $440 a kilo in Vanimo or Maprik). There are cocoa, banana, and pawpaw (papaya) trees. We pass a newly cut pirogue, and I ask which trees are good to use. Our pirogue is grey, this one orange.
"Katwa, ewa, or kwila," Clifford replies.
Many of the houses are larger and less dilapidated than those we saw upstream (the limbun in one was so cracked and rotten that Nadya put her leg through). They have drainage ditches and square garden plots in front containing taro, mustard, pumpkin, and chilli pepper plants.
Oum is about to celebrate Easter belatedly, and a pastor from the Assembly of God church has come. I ask Clifford what the "woniam" tribe believed before the missionaries brought the "gut nuis."
"We had sorcerer called Yanak, who could kill any man, woman, or child when he want."
"And why did he want to do that?" I ask.
"Oh, he have some problem with them."
"How did he kill them?"
"He take betel nut and put it in fire and then wrap it in leaf and give to victim. He gets sweats and fever and then fall down and die."
He tells of Yanak putting a dead dog in a tree until the stomach swelled. The victim would be ambushed by Yanak's disciples and forced to drink the fluid from the dog's stomach. Yanak would take the nails of a flying fox, and puncture the skin of the victim so the poison went in. Soon the man would shake, lose control, and fall sick.
"Everyone afraid what will happen. Every illness was bad sign."
I ask Clifford how the villagers feel now that Yanak has passed away.
"Good. Very good. Now we are free!"
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