CANOE FESTIVAL 2007 MILNE BAY, PAPUA NEW GUINEA.
From malinovsky
Magic however efficient will not make up for bad craftsmanship
But both are considered indispensable.
24th of October 2007
by the market place all the convicts are busy erecting shelter for the upcoming canoe festival. John kaniku, the chairman and inspiration behind it all conduct the scene like a brilliant orchestra chief.
“I like misfit. The convicts, low security will also provide entertainement for one of the dancing evening.
This is a festival for the people, by the people. Not heavily sponsored, most dancers and canoe making the journey from far away, will only receive small token of appriciation at the end, but the spirit of sailing and padelling is what needs to prevail.
A mobile phone wanted to sponsor, but at the same time wanted to put giant logo over the stage. It is not a corporate show.
Over my dead body, said john.
The real motivation is to revive an art that is weakening. With the new market economy making its advance in the most rural area as well, the trading aspect of the canoe culture will loose it’s main source of economic insentive. School fees are a constant concern for most rural area. Unless a mission is established. But then you pay with your soul in the name of the Christian god.
“once you give them a bible in the end, you in there for hours.
Well so much for the Christian spirit, everything that was planned was changed and all the 6 canoes decided to do their own thing.
The first 3 leaving their respective village behind, took off taking advantage of the favorable winds.
We loaded all the food, big bunches of bananas, yams, sweet potatoes on our aft cabin, relieving weight to make the canoes lighter.
We arrive in Esala, late in the afternoon. The scenery out of fairy tales book. Dobu the volcanic island, shines with the golden glow of the setting sun, and sailing canoes pass by. Very soon paddlers on their small canoe arrive. We are no strangers here. We came here 2 years ago with the heraclitus, meeting the communities that will sail their canoes down to alotau for the big seapeople rendez vous.
We never made it, had our ship taken away from us, started an exodus to a new vessel, the infinity and missed the last one. But we are here now.
The hands become one with the canoe. A symbiosis between the crew and the magical “flying canoes”.
The steer man and the one holding the sheet of the sail need to be in perfect accord. It will give the edge to win the race. To much wind in the sail and the steerman won’t be able to hold it, not enough and the canoe will loose speed.
Of course a lot of magic is involved, but in the eyes of the “natives”, magic won’t make up for bad craftsmanship, or incompetent sailing. It will provide the extra edge.
This morning the woman are sending the canoes out.
The canoe is brought to the beach in 3 steps, each time with a song. First the woven mats protecting the canoe from the sun are taken off, then the men are pushing the canoe onto logs.
A elder lady, representing the woman of the village speaks. She distribute beetlenut to everyone present, and young girls, dressed in grass skirt are now standing in line. Fragrant leaves in their hair, body ointed with coconut oil. The canoe is then launched without a single man on board. Then one man paddles the canoe to shore, ready to get loaded.
Meanwhile everybody is saying good by. The owner of the canoe, a lady watch every move. On this particular canoe, it is the maiden voyage of a new captain.
The ocean is flat. Not a ripple. The reflections and the carved and painted bow watch themselves.
The canoes have been newly painted, red white and black. So are the paddles.
For the first leg, sails with modern material, plastic are used. But also, packed for the raise are the woven pandanus sails. Their have been dried and patched up the day before.
Now for the patty that holds the board together, some canoes use modern patty.
The traditional wood sap one requires a lot of attention. It cannot completely dry, and everyday, the seems need to stay moist. Otherwise the patty would dry and crack, turning the canoe unseworthy.
On the last festival a canoe had to turn back. The patty was first not dryed properly, and then not moistened, and the canoe started to leak.
All in all 6 canoes are ready. Some others are being build, other blame the organizers for not communicating the right date. Everyone now that the big day of departure has come blame something or another for not being there. But the reality is that their didn’t put the energy, and resources to get their canoe ready. Now it is too late.
While the canoes are coming over, to unload their exchange food, we get a chance to sail. Almost sunset, and here we go taking the breeze, and feeling the movement of the canoe. The stern sing a song in the water. A gentle hiss, and the water running along side comes as echoes.
I take the steering station. Raising or lowering the steering hoar, and applying more or less pressure to keep the canoe on course. The man holding the sails watch the tension of my mussles and gage the strengh that I can hold. Confident that I will hadle it he tighten the sail, and the canoe now slices the water. Before we reach the ship, all manouver to position ourselves properly are done with the sail. We “dock”.
Now it is time to try paddling. Ari, Tanya, myself and heather are now paddling.
A good crew of 9 paddlers can reach a cruising speed of 5 knots, with peeks at 6/7 knots. We tested it while the canoes where under way.
East cape.
Sailing canoes, coming to trade come in. on the beach two world, side by side. The fiberglass with outboard motors, and the canoes. Huge bag of beetlenuts are brought to shore.
East cape has a trecheous passage with ripping current, and without motorpower requires skill and knowledge to cross.
The first EPOI canoe is taking back and forth in the distance.
We are anchored close to shore, the seabed dropping quickly to 200 meters, to deep to anchor. We watch the wind carefully, not to be blown to shore. It is the season of the south east trade, but the islands are working their strange attractions and bring winds from the north east.
The moon, full 3 days ago, calms the sea at night. Maybe she wants to look at herself and needs a good mirror.
With the kids near dobu, we sat on the infinity watching her rise over the island. A golden fruit rising above the trees. We contemplated, without a word, before resuming our conversation.
Here conversations means telling stories. So in that spirit I tell the young one stories of our travel. How we crossed the biggest ocean of all.
They watch everything we do. Carefully. Cookig, mopping the floor, working on the sails. Everymove is watched and then talked about. Lot’s of giggle.
Before departing our anchor get stuck on the sea floor. So we put the ship in reverse and in our own way of operating with repeated orders, the memes echoes from the different canoes. They must be wondering who roger is. They have not seeing him yet, they never will. Maybe he is the magician that cannot be seen but always talked about.
The canoes, in two teams of three are making their way towards the village of Toba, before their race to Alotau.
A story of survival, revival, a stand to keep knowledge that is dying, but not yet dead.
Fiji, Vanuatu and the solomons all have lost the art of sailing, and the milne bay province is the last strong hold of sailing canoes around Melanesia. The incoming tidal waves of development is changing the trading ancestral routes and patterns rapidly.
And the poetry of sailing still alive in the blood, but without the economic insentive to benefic the communities, the art is hard to keep alive.
The festival act has a mean to keep those traditions and skills alive. Proud can these sailors be, providing stories and epics for the culture to keep evolving. Creating new stories, instead of relying on past ones that many have forgotten. Talking to the sailors and captains and owners of the canoes, the bow and stern carved board are designed has they have always been. But the story that their represent, is now forgotten. Some of the names of the designs and part of their meaning still exist, but the complete view is gone, like a puzzle missing to many pieces to create the whole.
The expeditioner are now resting on the beach, fixing their sails, telling stories about their travel.
From malinovsky
Magic however efficient will not make up for bad craftsmanship
But both are considered indispensable.
24th of October 2007
by the market place all the convicts are busy erecting shelter for the upcoming canoe festival. John kaniku, the chairman and inspiration behind it all conduct the scene like a brilliant orchestra chief.
“I like misfit. The convicts, low security will also provide entertainement for one of the dancing evening.
This is a festival for the people, by the people. Not heavily sponsored, most dancers and canoe making the journey from far away, will only receive small token of appriciation at the end, but the spirit of sailing and padelling is what needs to prevail.
A mobile phone wanted to sponsor, but at the same time wanted to put giant logo over the stage. It is not a corporate show.
Over my dead body, said john.
The real motivation is to revive an art that is weakening. With the new market economy making its advance in the most rural area as well, the trading aspect of the canoe culture will loose it’s main source of economic insentive. School fees are a constant concern for most rural area. Unless a mission is established. But then you pay with your soul in the name of the Christian god.
“once you give them a bible in the end, you in there for hours.
Well so much for the Christian spirit, everything that was planned was changed and all the 6 canoes decided to do their own thing.
The first 3 leaving their respective village behind, took off taking advantage of the favorable winds.
We loaded all the food, big bunches of bananas, yams, sweet potatoes on our aft cabin, relieving weight to make the canoes lighter.
We arrive in Esala, late in the afternoon. The scenery out of fairy tales book. Dobu the volcanic island, shines with the golden glow of the setting sun, and sailing canoes pass by. Very soon paddlers on their small canoe arrive. We are no strangers here. We came here 2 years ago with the heraclitus, meeting the communities that will sail their canoes down to alotau for the big seapeople rendez vous.
We never made it, had our ship taken away from us, started an exodus to a new vessel, the infinity and missed the last one. But we are here now.
The hands become one with the canoe. A symbiosis between the crew and the magical “flying canoes”.
The steer man and the one holding the sheet of the sail need to be in perfect accord. It will give the edge to win the race. To much wind in the sail and the steerman won’t be able to hold it, not enough and the canoe will loose speed.
Of course a lot of magic is involved, but in the eyes of the “natives”, magic won’t make up for bad craftsmanship, or incompetent sailing. It will provide the extra edge.
This morning the woman are sending the canoes out.
The canoe is brought to the beach in 3 steps, each time with a song. First the woven mats protecting the canoe from the sun are taken off, then the men are pushing the canoe onto logs.
A elder lady, representing the woman of the village speaks. She distribute beetlenut to everyone present, and young girls, dressed in grass skirt are now standing in line. Fragrant leaves in their hair, body ointed with coconut oil. The canoe is then launched without a single man on board. Then one man paddles the canoe to shore, ready to get loaded.
Meanwhile everybody is saying good by. The owner of the canoe, a lady watch every move. On this particular canoe, it is the maiden voyage of a new captain.
The ocean is flat. Not a ripple. The reflections and the carved and painted bow watch themselves.
The canoes have been newly painted, red white and black. So are the paddles.
For the first leg, sails with modern material, plastic are used. But also, packed for the raise are the woven pandanus sails. Their have been dried and patched up the day before.
Now for the patty that holds the board together, some canoes use modern patty.
The traditional wood sap one requires a lot of attention. It cannot completely dry, and everyday, the seems need to stay moist. Otherwise the patty would dry and crack, turning the canoe unseworthy.
On the last festival a canoe had to turn back. The patty was first not dryed properly, and then not moistened, and the canoe started to leak.
All in all 6 canoes are ready. Some others are being build, other blame the organizers for not communicating the right date. Everyone now that the big day of departure has come blame something or another for not being there. But the reality is that their didn’t put the energy, and resources to get their canoe ready. Now it is too late.
While the canoes are coming over, to unload their exchange food, we get a chance to sail. Almost sunset, and here we go taking the breeze, and feeling the movement of the canoe. The stern sing a song in the water. A gentle hiss, and the water running along side comes as echoes.
I take the steering station. Raising or lowering the steering hoar, and applying more or less pressure to keep the canoe on course. The man holding the sails watch the tension of my mussles and gage the strengh that I can hold. Confident that I will hadle it he tighten the sail, and the canoe now slices the water. Before we reach the ship, all manouver to position ourselves properly are done with the sail. We “dock”.
Now it is time to try paddling. Ari, Tanya, myself and heather are now paddling.
A good crew of 9 paddlers can reach a cruising speed of 5 knots, with peeks at 6/7 knots. We tested it while the canoes where under way.
East cape.
Sailing canoes, coming to trade come in. on the beach two world, side by side. The fiberglass with outboard motors, and the canoes. Huge bag of beetlenuts are brought to shore.
East cape has a trecheous passage with ripping current, and without motorpower requires skill and knowledge to cross.
The first EPOI canoe is taking back and forth in the distance.
We are anchored close to shore, the seabed dropping quickly to 200 meters, to deep to anchor. We watch the wind carefully, not to be blown to shore. It is the season of the south east trade, but the islands are working their strange attractions and bring winds from the north east.
The moon, full 3 days ago, calms the sea at night. Maybe she wants to look at herself and needs a good mirror.
With the kids near dobu, we sat on the infinity watching her rise over the island. A golden fruit rising above the trees. We contemplated, without a word, before resuming our conversation.
Here conversations means telling stories. So in that spirit I tell the young one stories of our travel. How we crossed the biggest ocean of all.
They watch everything we do. Carefully. Cookig, mopping the floor, working on the sails. Everymove is watched and then talked about. Lot’s of giggle.
Before departing our anchor get stuck on the sea floor. So we put the ship in reverse and in our own way of operating with repeated orders, the memes echoes from the different canoes. They must be wondering who roger is. They have not seeing him yet, they never will. Maybe he is the magician that cannot be seen but always talked about.
The canoes, in two teams of three are making their way towards the village of Toba, before their race to Alotau.
A story of survival, revival, a stand to keep knowledge that is dying, but not yet dead.
Fiji, Vanuatu and the solomons all have lost the art of sailing, and the milne bay province is the last strong hold of sailing canoes around Melanesia. The incoming tidal waves of development is changing the trading ancestral routes and patterns rapidly.
And the poetry of sailing still alive in the blood, but without the economic insentive to benefic the communities, the art is hard to keep alive.
The festival act has a mean to keep those traditions and skills alive. Proud can these sailors be, providing stories and epics for the culture to keep evolving. Creating new stories, instead of relying on past ones that many have forgotten. Talking to the sailors and captains and owners of the canoes, the bow and stern carved board are designed has they have always been. But the story that their represent, is now forgotten. Some of the names of the designs and part of their meaning still exist, but the complete view is gone, like a puzzle missing to many pieces to create the whole.
The expeditioner are now resting on the beach, fixing their sails, telling stories about their travel.