Walking with Ghosts in Papua New Guinea by Rick Antonson

Author:Rick Antonson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510705685
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2019-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

In a trekking day defined by inclines, it did not surprise us that nearby Efogi 2 (Launumu Village) was over the top of yet another hill. There was a spectacular horizon. Then we were among villagers, free to stroll or stretch. I felt antsy, bending knees and rubbing my lower back against a log, trying to ease out an anxiety that had appeared from nowhere, as though the war trauma was getting to my subconscious. Excising the apprehension was just starting to work when Brett brought up a story that troubled me anew.

“Nishimura returned here after the war to retrieve the remains of his fallen comrades. That’s why he’s called ‘Bone Man.’ He made his base here and built a stone cairn in Efogi 2. It’s a tribute to all those who lost their lives on either side, not just the Japanese.” Unexpectedly, I felt reverence for the Bone Man.

It had been Yeoy’s plan that we stay the night near here in Launumu Village. Instead, ahead of schedule and with energy left over, we stopped at the village perimeter for lunch. Salami and crackers. Crackers and salami. There was also honey and a peanut spread; peanut butter is my favorite food, the one thing for which I have a gourmet palate, but at best I could only call this stuff “peanut paste.” We left for the valley, climbing downward over rocks and dirt and dislodged wooden steps. Part of the jungle looked to have been rooted out. The ground was furrowed erratically. “Wild pigs,” Brett explained.

Efogi River was 50 feet across where we greeted it, bridged by a mixture of trees that had drifted to this point in the river and bolstered with purpose-cut logs. This is a type of local architecture whose design is 1,000 years old. It was our first encounter with this river, which we would see again the next day as we climbed nearer to its source. When we were all safely on the other side of this particular crossing, there was again a collective sense of satisfaction that we had avoided anyone falling in. No one took it for granted, knowing we had been but one slip away from having to carry a companion or even helicopter out someone with a broken leg—or worse. Now we climbed. The trail away from Efogi River was switchback after switchback. The map of the day repeatedly stressed “Very Steep.” There seemed no relief from the vertical. Having trained, and beginning to feel our strength with each day, we were not inclined to bicker.

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