That being said, the descriptions of the Papuan cultures, wildlife, and ecosystems are as accurate as I could make them, based upon the research by authors listed below.
I adapted the language of Sinanie’s tribe from the amazing work of Gerrit J. van Enk and Lourens de Vries in their studies of the language and culture of the Korowai, a Papuan community of treehouse dwellers of southern Irian Jaya (now called Papua). Astoundingly, the Korowai had never come into contact with outsiders until the early 1980s.
The following are recommended books (and one video).
Flannery, Tim. Mammals of New Guinea. Chatswood, New South Wales: Reed Books Australia, 1995. Print.
Flannery, Tim. Throwim Way Leg: Tree Kangaroos, Possums, and Penis Gourds – On the Track of Unknown Mammals in Wildest New Guinea. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1998. Print.
Marriott, Edward. The Lost Tribe – A Harrowing Passage into New Guinea’s Heart of Darkness. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1996. Print.
Merrifield, William, Gregerson, Marilyn, and Ajamiseba, Daniel, Ed. Gods, Heroes, Kinsmen: Ethnographic Studies from Irian Jaya, Indonesia. Jayapura, Irian Jaya: Cenderawasih University, 1983. Print.
Muller, Kal. New Guinea: Journey Into the Stone Age. Lincolnwood, Illinois: Passport Books, 1997. Print.
Souter, Gavin. New Guinea: The Last Unknown. New York: Taplinger Publishing, 1966. Print.
Van Enk, Gerrit J. and de Vries, Lourens. The Korowai of Irian Jaya – Their Language in its Cultural Context. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Print.
Wallace, Alfred Russell. The Malay Archipelago. 1869. Print or ebook.
This astounding work, which is in two volumes, is now in the public domain and can be found in a variety of print and ebook formats. If you are at all interested in the exploration of this part of the world, I highly recommend reading Wallace’s work.
Sky Above Mud Below. Dir. and Perf. Pierre-Dominique Gaisseau (organizer and leader) and Gerard Delloye (assistant leader). Lorimar Home Video, 1962. VHS.
This is an amazing video filmed as it happened in 1959, when a group of explorers set out on a seven-month attempt to cross the jungles of Papua (then called Dutch New Guinea). Winner of the 1961 Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.
Acknowledgments
I am not capable of creating a book such as this on my own. I have the following people, among others, to thank for their assistance.
When it comes to editing, my son Micheal Smith is extremely talented, and his tireless and meticulous suggestions are invaluable. If you find a sentence or detail in the book that doesn’t seem right, it is likely because I failed to implement one of his suggestions.
My wife, Trish, is always the first to read my work, and therefore she has the burden of seeing my stories in their roughest form. Thankfully, she does not hesitate to point out where things are a mess. Her suggestions are what get the editing process started. She also helps with various promotional efforts. And finally, she not only tolerates my obsession with writing, she actually encourages it.
I also owe thanks to those in my Advance Reviewer group. They were able to point out numerous typos and inconsistencies. Several of them went above and beyond, particularly Mandy Walkden-Brown, Tammy Fiess, Lisa Sherman, Sherri Rusch, Ilene Roberts, Elizabeth Copeland, Linda Brand, Lois Welsh, Rosemary Standeven, and Sue Williams.
Marifer Walter and Lana Spaller-Little provided valuable assistance with Spanish dialogue.
Finally, I am thankful to all the independent freelance designers out there who provide quality work for independent authors such as myself. Jake Caleb Clark (www.jcalebdesign.com) created the awesome cover for Profusion.
Copyright © 2016 by Stan Smith
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To those who are compassionate. You are the future.
Savage
Definition:
A fierce, brutal, or cruel person. An uncivilized human being.
If you have found this book,
the end of the world has already begun.
Are you prepared to face
what the new world might bring?
Foreword
by Peter Wooley
CEO, SouthPacificNet
Kembalimo designer
Very few people know the name Samuel Inwood. Major players in the shaping of civilization rarely have the opportunity to live obscurely, though Samuel Inwood managed to do so. Once this book is published, the vast majority of humans will read it. As we all should. Samuel’s name will then become well known around the globe.
The following text is from his personal journal, a field diary that will become recognized as historically significant. Leonardo da Vinci wrote thousands of pages of loosely organized thoughts and sketches, and his journals have fascinated and inspired people for over 500 years. Charles Darwin began his pocket journal habit as a naturalist aboard the HMS Beagle. His journals display a progression of ideas leading to a world-changing understanding of the origin of species by natural selection. Anne Frank’s diary became an iconic work of literature that reminds us that a menacing layer of human nature exists dangerously close to the surface. The men of the Lewis and Clark expedition in the early days of the United States recorded more than a million words in their journals, offering a distinctive snapshot of that frontier. Years after the Lewis and Clark expedition, the men of the Burke and Wills expedition maintained journals, giving us a glimpse of inland Australia that at the time had been explored only by Aborigines.
These journals and many others help us see the personal side of historical events. They allow us to gaze into the past through the eyes of those who lived it, something history textbooks rarely do. The importance of each journal is determined by two factors. First, the significance of the events witnessed by the author. And second, the quality and thoroughness of the writing.
Regarding the first of these criteria, the events Mr. Inwood described in what is now Indonesian Papua will be considered by historians to be a pivotal turning point in human history. Whether the influences are for better or for worse is yet to be seen. Either way, the importance is undeniable.
Regarding the second criteria, Samuel’s journal is detailed and coherent. I will point out that, although the following text appears as one continuous journal, Samuel’s original bound journal became filled with his writing, forcing him to continue writing on various media available to him at the time, including the bark of trees. Eventually he gathered the fragments and transcribed them all into one book, often elaborating and filling in gaps from memory. If you are reading this book, it is likely you understand how he was able to do this with flawless accuracy.
Mr. Inwood’s transcribed journal is provided here in its entirety. Since he intentionally structured it more like a book rather than field notes, the words have not been altered, other than changing certain spellings to more universally-accepted forms. Also, certain passages were removed to prevent revealing specific locations. Nothing is to be gained and much could be lost by encouraging throngs of curious onlookers to descend upon pristine wilderness and indigenous people who value their seclusion and traditional existence. Despite these warnings, some of you may set out to discover the indigenous tribe he lived with for many years. If so, you will almost certainly fail. And if you succeed, you will probably never be seen again.
Mr. Inwood’s journal includes great detail about certain events and then nothing for long periods of time. But there is more than enough here for the world to understand him and his importance.
I have personally had the life-altering experience of visiting the wilderness region and indigenous people with whom Samuel spent so much of his life. There are only a few others who have, which is as it should stay. I have also had the honor of playing so
me small role in the more recent events unfolding as a result of Samuel’s work. And so I have a rather exceptional perspective to offer you before you read this journal. My message is one of caution.
To loosely borrow from Einstein’s thoughts on relativity, all cultural diversity is relative. Consider the diversity of human cultures. It is quite astounding, really, and Samuel’s descriptions of several remote Papuan tribes further illustrate this. But with every passing decade, burgeoning transportation and communication technologies are transforming the planet into a global culture. These technologies accelerate cultural diffusion and homogenization. Customs, ideologies, and technologies are rapidly diffusing, resulting in blended and diluted cultures. It is not difficult to imagine the eventual consequence. Some of you will applaud this progression, reasoning that a global culture will facilitate communication and compassion and therefore reduce conflict. Others will condemn it as the tragic extinction of multitudes of unique and splendorous cultures and languages. I will not argue one way or the other, as this progression is inevitable either way.
Now let us consider things on a much larger scale, a task we have never had to do before. Whether you consider the human species to be richly diverse or one global culture, you must concede that we are all currently only one species. One human civilization. But we are now learning that there are other civilizations besides ours, with technological achievements far beyond our own. Cultural diffusion will likely continue on this larger, cosmic scale.
You may think we are walking a path into the future that is new to us. But be cautious my fellow humans. Understand that we have walked similar paths before—on numerous occasions. The meeting of vastly different cultures has not always gone well, particularly for indigenous, less technological societies. Take a moment to ponder the implications.
There is much to be learned from the thoughts and actions of Samuel Inwood. He was a product of his time, and you may find some of his notions offensive by today’s standards. But look deeper. He seemed to have an uncanny understanding of the long-term consequences of his discoveries, and if he had acted differently it is quite possible none of us would be here today.
As always, our future is uncertain. And it is likely to be breathtaking. But rushing into it will not make it arrive sooner. We would be wise to follow Mr. Inwood’s example and take one restrained, vigilant step at a time.
And finally, Mr. Inwood challenges us to look within ourselves. Are we compassionate beings? Many of us believe so, but I’m not so sure the state of our civilization verifies this. In the words of Samuel Inwood, we must all become improved.
— Peter Wooley
1
February 16, 1868
The Journal of Samuel Inwood
Transcribed by Mr. Inwood
Let it be known that I, Samuel Thaddeus Inwood, am not a man of the sea. It is with certainty that I make this claim, having spent the last seventy-four days aboard two steamers and a schooner on my journey from the port at Southampton to my current position in the great Pacific Ocean off the northern coast of New Guinea, Humboldt Bay being my final destination. Were you to lay eyes on the first ship of my voyage, the magnificent P&O steamship Deccan, you might think me a cowardly, unsturdy man. This ship carried me from England to the island of Singapore. Admittedly, the Deccan was a grand and impressive ship, with its long hall below the deck, the saloon. The saloon was comfortable, appointed with a large, ornately-carved table bolted to the floor, and every visible surface elegantly decorated with paint and gilt. But the meals served there, although numerous and of considerable size, were generally cold and plain. And the ship was crowded, with four berths per cabin and barely room to stand between them. Notwithstanding the ship’s size, the motions of the sea produced constant rocking. This was accompanied by the ceaseless clanking of the engines, fueled by the labor of half-naked stokers shoveling coal into the furnaces.
During the first portion of this voyage, I found comfort only in the generous offerings, at no additional cost to me, of ale, porter, claret, port, and sherry. Champagne was even served twice a week. But finally, having decided to tour the engine rooms, which were open to the passengers, I discovered the ship’s menagerie, a large compartment containing hundreds of animals, no doubt outnumbering the people on board. There were cows to provide milk, as well as pigs, sheep, chickens, and ducks. Notwithstanding the smell, I spent many hours there, perhaps more comfortably than in the company of my fellow travellers, although the collection of creatures steadily diminished as the ship’s butcher converted them into meals for approximately three hundred passengers and crew.
As I have said, my cabin on the Deccan was small and barely tolerable. I can therefore scarcely imagine the conditions my assistant, Charles Newman, will endure when he travels to join me in the coming weeks. Due to the fortunate position of the family into which I was born, I was able to purchase a gentleman’s first class ticket. Charles, I’m afraid, will be in possession of a servant’s ticket, with its proportionably less elegant accommodations.
Upon arriving in Singapore, I went about procuring provisions, as I had been told that the islands I would encounter nearer to New Guinea would be lacking in articles often used by Europeans, particularly those used for cleanliness and comfort. After six days of searching and bartering for the items on my list, and then carefully packing them, I set off on a small screw steamer and made my way to the spice island of Tidore. This portion of my journey involved nine days living in wretched quarters. To pass the time, and to procure fresh sea air in order to escape the discomfort of seasickness, I spent many hours on the deck, watching innumerable islands pass. This had the effect of increasing my anticipation for arrival at my final destination, as each of the islands was covered with lofty and luxuriant forest. Beyond the shores of larger islands were hills and mountains, and I was told that few of these had ever been trodden by civilized men.
When I arrived at Tidore I endeavored to procure a meeting with the Sultan, who had been granted rights by the Dutch to much of the northern coast of New Guinea. I made the acquaintance of a Dutch trader there who assisted with arranging this meeting. The Sultan, a man of Malayan race, was eager to assist in any efforts that might result in trading colonies being established within his jurisdiction. He generously provided me a letter of authority to go where I pleased and receive every assistance I required. As an additional service, he assigned a lieutenant and a soldier to accompany me until I could establish myself. They were to provide my protection and assist with my relations with the natives at Humboldt Bay, who were generally known to be hostile.
I now find myself on the last portion of my journey, aboard the schooner Hester Helena. This is the same ship used by Alfred Wallace, who explored and collected specimens throughout the Malay Archipelago for eight years, from 1854 to 1862. Mr. Wallace’s descriptions of his travels so inspired me that I sought out the occasion to introduce myself to him in London. I told him I was most determined to carry out a zoological and entomological study of the magnificent island of New Guinea, particularly a part of it he had not the opportunity to visit. The dear man immediately became interested and graciously agreed to provide any assistance he could. We met for dinner soon after that, and he provided valuable information beyond my expectations, including the name of the man who owned the Hester Helena, as well as a list of supplies I would need. I believe, in fact, that this trip would likely end in disaster were it not for his guidance.
My final destination, where I expect to arrive tomorrow, is Humboldt Bay. Mr. Wallace, during the eight years of his expedition, spent only a few months in New Guinea. He made residence at Dorey, on the western peninsula. Although he had greatly anticipated visiting New Guinea, he found Dorey to be disagreeable. He described the natives there as inferior to others in the region, both morally and physically. There was continual rain there, and he became quite ill. There was also a preponderance of abominable biting ants and blow-flies, which made his most trifling tasks wearisome. And
all of this was uncompensated by any great success in collecting impressive specimens of birds or insects.
But Mr. Wallace had the fortunate opportunity to visit with a ship captain who had stayed several days at Humboldt Bay, some five hundred miles to the east of Dorey, just at the border of the western portion of New Guinea administered by the Dutch Government. The captain reported that Humboldt Bay was a much more agreeable place, more beautiful and with a better harbor. The natives there were shy and untrusting, and they were unsophisticated, having only been visited by occasional stray whalers and Bugis traders (industrious sailors from the large island of Celebes). Most intriguing was the observation that the natives wore as ornaments the most magnificent Bird of Paradise feathers. Only about eighteen species of Paradise Birds are known to exist, but I suspect there are more to be found, as well as new species of mammals and insects, by a naturalist willing to venture some distance inland. Which is exactly what I intend to do.
Hence it is with great anticipation that I now approach my final destination. Yet I also must admit to some amount of trepidation. Tribes of New Guinea’s northern coast are known to be murderous savages, in the lowest stages of barbarism. And unlike my esteemed friend, Mr. Wallace, I have had few previous opportunities to dispose peaceable negotiations with such savages. It is quite possible that my expedition might end with a savage’s arrow in my heart, or his knife across my throat as I sleep.
Diffusion Box Set Page 87