Culture Shock in the Valley

I don’t know what the Baleim Valley was like when the writers for the Lonely Planet book did their research, but I suspect that it’s much different now and that it’s changing fast.

Mickey met me at my hotel at 8:30 this morning and we set off in a rickety public bus to explore a few villages in the northern part of the valley. I showed Mickey a picture in my guide book of Dani tribesmen who had large bones through their noses and said that I’d like to see that today. Shortly after getting off the bus on the main road from Wamena we met an indigenous man who looked amazingly similar to the men in the photo in my book – except this man looked shrunken and malnourished and, sadly, there was no bone through his nose. Mickey had a short conversation with him (in Indonesian, I assume – although it may have been a tribal language) and Mickey, myself, and the naked tribal man walked slowly down the road through the sun-covered valley. Once the tribal man split off from us to head down a dirt path I asked Mickey what the valley was like twenty years from now. I had a hard time deciphering his English, but he said something to the effect that it was much different, and that it’s always changing. The only detail I could gather from the conversation was that the road we were walking on didn’t exist back then.

Mickey led me off the road onto a dirt path and for two hours we hiked through narrow trails, over treacherous bridges spanning small streams, and through tiny villages made of grass huts. Several times during the hike I spotted beautiful giant pink flowers in small ponds along the trail. I asked Mickey what they’re called and he said something that sounded like ‘Oumika’. I’ve never heard of Oumika flowers before and that may not even be the real name for them, but they were pretty incredible looking and I took several pictures. Other sightings during the day included countless villagers tending their fields (dressed in western clothing, not the traditional variety), a panoramic vista of the valley from the top of a large cluster of rocks, and several wild pigs – one of which was itching itself ferociously against a tree.

Mickey told me that one village along the path featured a mummy that we could see – albeit for a small fee. Towards the end of the hike we reached the village; conveniently located only a few hundred yards from the main road and clearly marked by a large painted concrete sign that read, ‘MUMI’. Even though I had a decent mummy experience yesterday, I figured one more couldn’t hurt; but unfortunately the village was completely deserted. Mickey pushed open a small door that entered into the courtyard of the village and the entire place was covered in overgrown grass and looked as if nobody had lived there for years. Several large round huts were there as well as a long rectangular hut, and the layout of the village was nearly identical to the tribal village we visited yesterday, but perhaps with the main road so close by and Wamena only a 20-minute bus ride away the locals found better lives for themselves in the city.

As we waited by the edge of the road I tried to fit all the pieces together in my head to figure out exactly what’s happening in the Baleim Valley. For one thing there are practically zero tourists here. At first I thought it was because this place is just so isolated, but maybe it’s because the diverse cultures in the valley are only a shell of what they once were. Perhaps nobody is interested in the valley anymore. Then there’s the deserted village. How many more villages like that are there? Probably hundreds. Any half-rational man living in one of these tribes would have to say to himself, ‘hey, wait a minute, everyone with a decent lifestyle in this valley is making it for themselves in Wamena’. Finally, how could I forget the old decrepit Dani tribesman that we met this morning? The men in the picture in my guidebook looked healthy and strong; wearing their decorative outfits and nose-bones as proudly as ever. Mickey said that picture must have been taken ten years ago. The hunched-over, malnourished old tribesman with no nose-bone is a symbol of what has happened to the tribal cultures in the Baleim Valley. At some point a man in one of these tribes must decide he looks completely foolish wearing a dried gourd on his penis and that’s when he pulls on a pair of shorts and takes the first bus to Wamena.

With every cargo plane that touches down at the Wamena airport the whole valley becomes a little more modernized and loses a bit of its culture forever. The wild tribal cultures that existed here for thousands of years are clearly harder to find these days than they used to be, but remnants of them are still around. Ten years from now there may be nothing at all to indicate that the Baleim Valley was once a place rich in indigenous cultures. Ten years from now Wamena may be just another Indonesian city, with nothing of interest to offer outsiders except, perhaps, a museum showcasing the tribal cultures that once existed here. I have to be honest and say that the valley is not quite what I hoped it would be; but with that said, I’m glad I saw it now while there’s still something to see around here.