In 1993, my wife and I decided that it was time to visit Papua New Guinea with our daughter, Jamie. We traveled independently and made a stop in Tari, the main city in the Western Highlands. Tari is the home of the Huli Wigmen, famous for their wigs made of human hair, their flamboyant tribal dress, and their interesting and eccentric customs.
We stayed in a place called the Ambua Lodge, the only real option in the area. We were able to visit the Wigmen in their villages and I basically enjoyed the experience, knowing full well that it had to be contrived. You can’t expect to just casually show up at a Huli Village and catch the Wigmen dancing around in all their feathers and finery.
JAMIE WITH WIGMAN
The Ambua Lodge is rather upscale and exclusive and was quite expensive even in 1993. The individual thatched units are spread out along a grass covered hillside with the office and restaurant up the hill. Our unit contained 3 single beds and had a balcony overlooking the valley below. There was a helipad above the lodge to serve well-heeled visitors.
On our third night, we turned in early, just after dinner. The sun sets around 6 PM in this equatorial location, and after a bit of reading, we drifted off to sleep to the sounds of the tropical night. Several hours later, I started to hear a faint, slow flapping sound. It actually woke me up and had me puzzled for a few minutes. After thinking about it for a while, I surmised that it must be a late-arriving helicopter.
At the time, I failed to consider the fact that it might be difficult if not impossible to land a helicopter in the dead of night in such a remote and mountainous location. I tried to drift back to sleep, but the noise grew louder. It was definitely a helicopter and it was getting closer by the second. The slow flapping kept increasing in intensity. And then – all at once – SPLAT!!! An object the size of a large tomato had just landed directly in the middle of my face and it appeared to be alive.
I sprang to my feet, and saw to my horror and disgust, a huge Rhinoceros Beetle – the largest insect I had ever seen – struggling to get to its feet.
I dashed to the bathroom and grabbed the largest towel I could find. Meanwhile, my wife and daughter, both of whom cringe at the sight of an ant, were threatening to jump off the balcony. I ran back to the scene – a scene of furious flapping and kicking – and managed to throw the towel over the giant bug.
I picked up the whole package with both hands and tried to get to the front door with it. But the bug was actually struggling – kicking and thrashing its elbows around trying to escape. Can you imagine wrestling with an insect?
I made it to the door and managed to throw the towel and my captive out onto the front porch. I went back to bed and laid down, knowing there was little hope of further sleep. And then I began to hear the helicopter again. Was the bug coming back? Was there a big hole in the thatched roof? Was my face in further jeopardy? Should I put on my snorkel mask?
We managed to survive the night and flew by small plane the next day to the Sepik River where we would be confronted by a much smaller, but altogether more dangerous insect. More on this later.
We were lucky enough to return to Papua New Guinea in September of 2015 to attend the Goroka Highland Sing Sing. I’ll cover this interesting adventure in a future post.
