My last excursion in PNG was to the Trobes (Trobriand Islands), or the 'Islands of Love', so called by the Europeans after a polish anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski was banished there in the early 1900's and published a number of books on the region inclucling one  called: 'The Sexual Life of Savages in North-Western Melanesia'. Apparently he had a  hard time trying to resist the beautiful, bare breasted girls. From adolescence, girls and  boys are encouraged to have as many sexual partners as possible until they get married and even then, during the Yam harvesting season, they can take other partners by mutual agreement.  

This culture has been fiercely opposed by missionaries with limited success, thank goodness, as the locals have strongly resisted any changes to their culture. Even church services are attended by dancing girls wearing only their grass skirts. The Yam harvest takes place over 3 or 4 months and each village has its own celebrations depending on the time and success of the harvest, which makes things difficult for tourists, as you may pick the wrong week and miss out all together.So they organised one week of festivities, called it the 'Mila Mala' festival, and this is what I attended. This was the 2nd year for this
event and they expected lots of tourists, but only about 10 turned up.  Which may have something to do with the fact that the telephones and radio weren't working for a month before the festival. I was told the radio's battery was flat.

Myself, a couple of teachers from Bega in Australia and an English photographer, took the boat from Alotau on the South East Coast of PNG, for a rough 18 hours to Kiriwina, the largest of the Trobe's Islands. I met the district doctor on board, who's grandmother is a herbal healer on Manus Island (Northeast PNG) and who reckons cured his Asthma and knows cures for Aids and Cancer.  When I asked him about diabetes, he said I should (and it would have to be something like this) drink my own urine twice a day for 4 days! I haven't tried that yet.  Its funny, that this was the second doctor in PNG that I met who says there is a local herbal cure for Aids. nbsp;Apparently there is an article in a scientific journal about a case where a man in PNG was cured. We were also serenaded by some pentecostal Christians on the boat, which the doctor took exception to and almost ended up in a fist fight with some of the more zealous brethren.

When the 4 of us arrived, we were met by a group of young girls garlands of flowers and treated to a feast, which was meant to feed at least 50 people.  That afternoon we had to eat twice more and didn't even touch our dinner.  I could only manage half a Yam and a Taro and I was full. I had to get used to eating when I could though, as many times the events were delayed by up to 8 hours and that was when you ate, so if food was provided, I ate as much as possible as I wasn't sure when the next meal would happen.  I also had to get used to local food and breakfast, lunch and supper consisted of yams, taro, sweet potato, a type of spinach, banana's, cooked paw-paw (on request) and fish (or corned beef for special occasions!). I was always fed first with enough food for 5 people, with the family watching me eat.  Only once I was finished would they eat from the leftovers.  No amount of protesting that wanted to eat with the family could change this, so I just had to accept it.

The 4 of us stayed at the Paramount Chief's village (the chief of the Island).  The only other tourists where a couple of French photographers and a yatch of 5 Kiwi's, so we were always the guests of honour and treated like royalty.  What it also meant was not a second of privacy: the family that accommodated me in the village and some of the boys were assigned to look after me and never left my side.

There was lots of dancing and Yam carrying by girls in nothing but short grass skirts and guys in 'Tapa cloths'.  One of the dances: the main dance which seems to go on all day and all night is the Tapioca dance.   This consists of couples (2 guys, 2 girls or mixed) dance in a circle around a small group of singers and do a lot of hip thrusting, simulating sex with each other.  These are mainly young boys and girls (any age) who use this dance to find a partner and then disappear off into the bushes. I participated in these dances at night and was a real crowd pleaser, as I seemed to be the only 'dim dim' (white person) to master the moves. It was a lot more fun with the girls than the guys, but alas, I never got dragged into the bushes.  There don't seem to be any sexual taboos, except prostitution, and I was even offered a few girls (for a fee). I declined.  Obviously other dim dims before me hadn't. < It seems that everywhere the white people go they end up ruining.  I am not sure how long this culture is going to remain unspoilt.  I guess as long as they don't have TV.

When it was time to leave the wind had come up and the boat hadn't arrived, which, as there was no communication, was the only way of finding out if it was returning.  So I ended up taking the plane.  We had to wait at the airport for 8 hours for the plane to arrive and didn't know whether it was coming until it arrived.

This was one of the best experiences on my trip in PNG.