The Wisdom of the Elders
After a few months on Sabarl Island I grew quite comfortable with virtually everyone, especially the elders, to whom I showed great respect.
Sabarl society was a matrilineal society so, for the most part, wealth and power descended through the women on the island. Men still went fishing---it was bad luck to have women on an outrigger when you went fishing---and men were expected to have a focus on tasks that required physical strength. But real authority, power and wealth appeared to be in the hands of women.
I learned that grandmothers had a special tea they would brew for their granddaughters to keep them from getting pregnant. When a grandmother was pleased with her granddaughter’s suitor, the tea was withdrawn, pregnancy followed and a young family was established.
The disciplinarian for village children was their mother’s oldest brother, not their father. So the Oedipal complex was non-existent. Kids up to the age of about 8 would throw the most incredible tantrums I have ever seen while their mothers and fathers remained calm. As adolescence approached these same kids became utterly devoted to their parents and remained so for the rest of their lives. Many things were different from what I knew, or thought I knew.
Various island communities throughout eastern Milne Bay had, at one time, practiced cannibalism. It was a ritual practice (endocannibilism or funerary cannibalism) that involved retaining an ancestor’s spirit within the descendents and was not about raiding other villages to kidnap and kill someone for food. This practice was investigated among the Fore people of mainland Papua New Guinea for a number of years and it was discovered that an incurable disease called Kuru, from the Fore word which means “to shake”, was killing the Fore people and the problem was traced to this ritual practice. Australians Michael Albers and Shirley Lindenbaum began researching this in 1961. After an Australian law was enacted which forbade cannibalism and Christian missionaries’ influence grew, the practice ceased. Anyone who lived in the decades up to and including the 1960’s, however, may have in fact consumed human flesh at some point.
My wife, Debbora, and I had discussed this subject occasionally, on the one hand genuinely considering it to be a legitimate research question and on the other, with a kind of adolescent ghoulishness attached.
We were outsiders, white people, Europeans---“dim-dims” in the Motu and Police Motu language that most Papua New Guineans knew in one form or another---a kind of pig-Latin. Since there were over 600 indigenous languages throughout the country, some basic form(s) of communication was necessary for trade purposes and just to get by, and these two dialects, with their limited vocabularies, had developed over a period of years to serve that purpose.
As “dim-dims” though, we had a kind of special status. Debbora had access to women’s points of view, traditions and activities but she also was almost an honorary man, so some information was shared with her that normally would have been left in the domain of the men for dispersal or discussion.
One evening, while I was sitting around the fire with ten or so of the elders---some nearing 80 years old or more, and Simon, a younger man who spoke English and was our main translator, I thought it might be okay---it might be time---to bring up the subject of cannibalism. Everyone was happy and seemed comfortable with my company as had been the case for many weeks.
At some point in any gathering, the Sabarl islanders would launch into a discussion revolving around food. This evening was no different. They spoke at length about the flavors of different kinds of fish, sea turtles, birds, insects, sago, coconuts, shellfish, pigs, yams---on and on and on---shaking their heads and smiling while Simon translated for me.
When I felt the time was right I asked Simon to ask them “what people tasted like”.
And he did. Turning to some men on his right he spoke in the Sabarl language. When he finished speaking the circle of men went silent, the smiles disappeared from their faces, and they began whispering to one another.
“Oh, shit,” I thought, “I’ve done it now”.
When silence returned to the assembled elders, the man sitting to Simon’s right leaned towards him and spoke quietly, then leaned back to look at me. Everyone was staring at me with sober expressions on their faces.
Then Simon spoke slowly and carefully: “It’s like this,” he said. “Only they have heard……..only they have heard…….It’s a little bit sweet like pig, and a little but tough like dog.”
They continued to stare at me for a few moments until, one by one, they all burst into gales of laughter, slapping their knees and shaking their heads.
And then we moved on to other topics.
© Kent Jones 2016
After a few months on Sabarl Island I grew quite comfortable with virtually everyone, especially the elders, to whom I showed great respect.
Sabarl society was a matrilineal society so, for the most part, wealth and power descended through the women on the island. Men still went fishing---it was bad luck to have women on an outrigger when you went fishing---and men were expected to have a focus on tasks that required physical strength. But real authority, power and wealth appeared to be in the hands of women.
I learned that grandmothers had a special tea they would brew for their granddaughters to keep them from getting pregnant. When a grandmother was pleased with her granddaughter’s suitor, the tea was withdrawn, pregnancy followed and a young family was established.
The disciplinarian for village children was their mother’s oldest brother, not their father. So the Oedipal complex was non-existent. Kids up to the age of about 8 would throw the most incredible tantrums I have ever seen while their mothers and fathers remained calm. As adolescence approached these same kids became utterly devoted to their parents and remained so for the rest of their lives. Many things were different from what I knew, or thought I knew.
Various island communities throughout eastern Milne Bay had, at one time, practiced cannibalism. It was a ritual practice (endocannibilism or funerary cannibalism) that involved retaining an ancestor’s spirit within the descendents and was not about raiding other villages to kidnap and kill someone for food. This practice was investigated among the Fore people of mainland Papua New Guinea for a number of years and it was discovered that an incurable disease called Kuru, from the Fore word which means “to shake”, was killing the Fore people and the problem was traced to this ritual practice. Australians Michael Albers and Shirley Lindenbaum began researching this in 1961. After an Australian law was enacted which forbade cannibalism and Christian missionaries’ influence grew, the practice ceased. Anyone who lived in the decades up to and including the 1960’s, however, may have in fact consumed human flesh at some point.
My wife, Debbora, and I had discussed this subject occasionally, on the one hand genuinely considering it to be a legitimate research question and on the other, with a kind of adolescent ghoulishness attached.
We were outsiders, white people, Europeans---“dim-dims” in the Motu and Police Motu language that most Papua New Guineans knew in one form or another---a kind of pig-Latin. Since there were over 600 indigenous languages throughout the country, some basic form(s) of communication was necessary for trade purposes and just to get by, and these two dialects, with their limited vocabularies, had developed over a period of years to serve that purpose.
As “dim-dims” though, we had a kind of special status. Debbora had access to women’s points of view, traditions and activities but she also was almost an honorary man, so some information was shared with her that normally would have been left in the domain of the men for dispersal or discussion.
One evening, while I was sitting around the fire with ten or so of the elders---some nearing 80 years old or more, and Simon, a younger man who spoke English and was our main translator, I thought it might be okay---it might be time---to bring up the subject of cannibalism. Everyone was happy and seemed comfortable with my company as had been the case for many weeks.
At some point in any gathering, the Sabarl islanders would launch into a discussion revolving around food. This evening was no different. They spoke at length about the flavors of different kinds of fish, sea turtles, birds, insects, sago, coconuts, shellfish, pigs, yams---on and on and on---shaking their heads and smiling while Simon translated for me.
When I felt the time was right I asked Simon to ask them “what people tasted like”.
And he did. Turning to some men on his right he spoke in the Sabarl language. When he finished speaking the circle of men went silent, the smiles disappeared from their faces, and they began whispering to one another.
“Oh, shit,” I thought, “I’ve done it now”.
When silence returned to the assembled elders, the man sitting to Simon’s right leaned towards him and spoke quietly, then leaned back to look at me. Everyone was staring at me with sober expressions on their faces.
Then Simon spoke slowly and carefully: “It’s like this,” he said. “Only they have heard……..only they have heard…….It’s a little bit sweet like pig, and a little but tough like dog.”
They continued to stare at me for a few moments until, one by one, they all burst into gales of laughter, slapping their knees and shaking their heads.
And then we moved on to other topics.
© Kent Jones 2016