Huli Wig Men, Papua New Guinea: Tales of the Unexpected
It seems reasonable to expect the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea to be full of wild men. And they are. The day I fly into Tari, deep in the island’s mountainous interior, I discover my fellow guests at the Ambua Lodge in a state of agitation. “Get here all right?” one American asks. Just the day before, I learn, the minibus transferring them from the airfield had been held up by robbers attempting to run off with the staff wages. They failed and no one was hurt, but the incident is indicative of the lawlessness that characterises a country still considered a “last frontier” on the holiday map.
The next day, out on a sightseeing tour, a drunk breaks the wing mirror of our vehicle, prompting a heated altercation with the driver. A crowd quickly forms, restless and threatening. In Tari most people carry a machete as we do a smartphone. It’s an uncomfortable moment, but to be expected in a country still fast-forwarding from Stone Age to Digital. It was only in the Thirties that an Australian gold prospector, Mick Leahy, ventured into the Highlands to discover a million people living in a lost world of banana-leaf loincloths, feathered headdresses and deadly bows and arrows. He took a 16mm camera, and the resulting footage includes terrifying scenes of tribes fighting with huge shields and clubs.
Feuds and clan warfare remain a fact of life, so it is a welcome surprise to find that amid Tari’s air of anarchy and volatility, the local Huli men also have a more placid side. It is obvious in the Highlanders’ general talent for personal decoration, which is best seen in the large singsings (festivals) held in Mount Hagen and Goroka in August and September respectively. Performers sport a vivid costume featuring colourful feathers, egg-yellow make-up and a cassowary quill through the nose – not forgetting the tanket, an apron of leaves (otherwise known as “a--- gras”) that covers the bottom, with a belt of dangling pig tails “to attract the women”.
Most important of all is a splendid hairpiece specially grown for the tribe. Its creation is serious business, and a visit to the Huli Wig Men a high point of any visit to Tari. My pursuit of the hirsute involves driving to a clearing where four bare-chested men are waiting in the bush like an identity parade of male models. Overseen by a wigmaster, they are students at a monastic-style school where the nurturing of locks is a round-the-clock obsession. All sport a barnet of intensely curled, Afro-style hair shaped like a large mushroom. They look like hats, but are in fact living wigs-in-progress that in due course will be cropped and sold to fellow tribesmen.
Why do Huli men desire wigs? All the better for putting feathers in, of course, along with accessories ranging from shells to the lids of tin cans. The Wig Men speak little pidgin, but a spokesman explains that it takes 18 months to grow a wig. One student already has 14 months of growth, another is on to his sixth wig – but it will definitely be the last as cultivation must cease once you are married.
What’s the secret of growing a good wig? “Spells.” In addition, it’s advisable to sprinkle your head with holy water three times a day, to keep the hairs soft. You’ll also have to sleep on a special neck rest with a wooden bar that can be raised as the volume of your wig increases. Come harvest time, the hair is cut away with a bamboo knife then stitched to a light wood frame. Some wigs are for every day, others for ceremonial use, fashioned into elaborate bicornes dyed with charcoal, red clay and pig fat that sell for up to £390.
Flamboyance comes naturally in this country, which is home to 38 species of bird of paradise, 2,000 species of orchid and sensational marine life. “Does England have the sea?” one tribesman asks. “Do you live with the Queen?” another wonders. As we talk, the men relax and start preening each other, picking and shaping their mops, whispering the confidences that are a universal feature of a trip to the hairdresser’s. It’s a touching and intimate sight, and a welcome reversal of the warrior mindset I’ve encountered back in town. Travelling in Papua New Guinea will always be a wild adventure, but it’s only when you meet the Huli Wig Men that it gets truly hair-raising.