Surprisingly this isn’t the name of a new Australian band, or even the name of one of the latest rappers, but rather the name of an incredible individual and his unbelievable team of porters or “the boys” as they are more commonly referred to out on the track. The “boys” were made up of a broad assortment of men (although we did have a 9 year old apprentice porter join us for the second half of the expedition) mostly from the village of Kagi which is located about mid point in the journey from Kokoda to Owers Corner. Kagi is perched on top of a high ridgeline about four hours trek from the highest peak (Mt Bellamy) and is located in one of the most scenic spots on the track - looking out majestically over the Efogi River which runs swiftly some 500 meters below the village.
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| Our youngest "boy" - Simeon - all of 9 years old |
Arriving into Kagi late on the afternoon of day four was quite a moment, as all of the children, wives and the majority of the villagers came out to greet us. At that time I wasn’t sure why everyone was so happy to see us…..up until this point the villagers had been generally very reserved and quiet when we trudged through their village, perhaps only stopping to buy some bananas, pineapple or strangely a can of warm coca cola which many of the villages seem to have in quantity. (And I thought we were isolated from the real world!) But this was the “boys” village and it was evident that everyone was happy to see them.
That night was one of the most memorable nights of our expedition as the local church choir sang for us, both at their regular church service which many of our group gravitated toward and then again after dinner as the local singers joined us around our campfire. Listening to their exquisite voices and songs relaxed me to the point of nodding off (yes, it was nearly 7:00 pm), and so realizing sleep wasn’t far off I bid my goodnight and wandered quietly to my tent. It was amazing to fall sleep to the sound of their beautiful and harmonious voices. I should try this more often as it worked a treat!
The job of porter is very prestigious not only in Kagi but in all the villages that we passed through, you could tell by the level of deference shown that the role of porter was considered pretty important and by Papuan standards they were generally well off in comparison to others who we saw on our expedition.
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| Freddy, "Mudman" and Sai out on the track |
Our head porters name was Ereul "Mudman" Senisi, it was completely impossible to guess his age – he could be anywhere between 30 and 50 years old or maybe even older….. “Mudman” as he was commonly known was a quiet and somewhat shy fellow with us trekkers, but a seemingly tough task master when on the track or in the bush with the “boys”. He was the boss, no questions about that and each day he directed them as if he were a conductor leading an orchestra. He was completely in tune with each and every porter, irrespective of age or experience and knew exactly what was needed to ensure the trip was a success for everyone concerned.
The story of how he became known as “Mudman” is a little odd, but here goes……early in his career as a porter, when he was a mere lad, he often had trouble with his bowels when walking on the track, and so everyone began calling him Mudman because of the difficulty he had with his bowel movements. I guess his mates all agreed that whatever he ate obviously turned to mud and so that’s why he couldn’t go on a regular basis – it stuck, and henceforth he’s always been known as “Mudman” or Mud. Truth be told a rather fitting nickname don't you think?
One day I asked him how many times he had done the track – his response was 64 times. Wow, I thought to myself here I am struggling to do it once. As I explored this with him in conversation he added that he only counted the times that he had completed the trip with a tour party ……he doesn’t count the times after the end of a tour when he walks back to Kagi from our end point at Owers Corner. So at a minimum he’s walked the track at least 130 times, and this rather conservative estimate is without him walking the track any other times in his life. Holy crap – just in tours alone that’s 100 km per trip X 130 times……13,000 km back and forth along the track. A more realistic figure is closer to 200 times! And here’s the scary part, when he isn’t held up by the likes of us (tour group) he completes the same walk in less than 24 hours (yes, folks for those playing along at home – normally the tour group completes the same trek in four days!). Did I also mention that most of the “boys” walk the track in bare feet as well…..yes its official – these “boys” are truly machines!
Mudman was up early each day coordinating all the logistics for the day ahead, often sending a couple of the “boys” out along the track as early as 3:30 am so that they could find a spot for morning tea, get a campfire going and a Billy of hot water prepared for us. Generally he’d give us a five minute warning before it was time for “packs on” and heaven help you if you were in your morning fog and you thought you heard him say “packs on” and slipped on your pack too early…….do I hear a five Kina fine coming? Thanks Nathan we’ll collect that tonight at Tribal council mate J
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| The "boys" at the end of the day....tired just like us? Not so much! |
Just close your eyes for a moment and imagine the following scene: it’s approaching 6:00 am (since when was the last time you were up and ready to go at 6:00am?) you’re deep in the heart of the Papuan jungle, the air thick with humidity, the ground soggy after monsoonal rains the night before, the pitter patter of the dripping canopy all around you, the acrid smell of wood smoke thick in the air as it hovers over the campsite and everything you wearing is soaking wet and extremely smelly! Add to this the exhaustion factor because you’ve been up since 4:30 am and now getting ready to face another 10 -12 hours of extreme hiking. “Packs on” he’d scream……then with the cadence of a well trained drill instructor lead us in our daily war cry to which he and everyone around me bristled and screamed back to him in unison:
Two arms….two arms
Two hands……two hands
Two steady bands……two steady bands (referring to your legs)
A product of our native land……a product of our native land
When suddenly, a voice cries within me……when suddenly, a voice cries within me
Then everyone provides a full throated roar, cheer, warble……….closely followed by a rousing rendition of Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi, oi, oi
His way of revving us up and getting us out of the fog was this simple, yet effective morning war cry. Trust me; his morning war cry had a way of making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and most mornings possibly even giving you a lump in the throat….. It certainly pumped the blood and refocused our attention in a very powerful way. Brilliant Mud!
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| TW living the dream..... |
Then he’d always end with his classic line “let’s rock n ‘roll……up or down” (depending on our immediate trajectory) in his unique and precise tones. Then off we’d set for another day of high adventure in the jungles of Papua New Guinea!
What can I say I was living the dream…….
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