A TEENY JUMBLED GRAFFITI SITE

BROUGHT TO YOU WITH LOVE FROM INDONESIA

Nabire, Irian Jaya

is old 18 passenger crumbling, drafty, 2 engine,

70 minute plane ride from Biak.

The World of Irian Jaya is green.

Irian Jaya is a totally green engulfed universe.

A living reigning virgin of green,

broken only by winding, endlessly flowing rivers,

and a few scattered people.

Most of this country has never been explored by any man.

Can't. The jungle and forest is solid everywhere one looks.

Thick and uninviting to anything with 2 legs.

Civilization is being cultivated into Irian Jaya.

Along with civilization disease, and the diseases of poverty

and exploitation are now being introduced

to this million year old land. A few years ago only tribes

inhabited Irian Jaya. Today business looks like

the hungry tiger stalking dinner here.

Highways are creeping, cemented into the Jungles.

Each road trudges, cuts deeper and deeper

into this vast haven of green.

3 million, or so people, live on the island of Irian Jaya.

Irian Jaya is a total, water surrounded, vast natural resource.

Timber of every variety wets the lips and staggers the imagination.

Plants and foliage collide with the earth from all four corners of direction.

Minerals, oil, natural gas, gems, rare animals, birds and fish,

all from the earth's beginnings lie dormant, ready for harvest.

And society needs, desires these jewels. And

the gold ....

Ah, the Gold.... Irian has gold.

Oh yes, Irian Jaya has mountains of precious gold.

The mountains have hidden this treasure, this gold forever.

The rains and rivers flush the gold down the mountain sides

and out into Man's land ....

Gold is business, and business comes first.

Thousands and thousands and thousands of Irianese,

brown skinned men pan for gold 7 days a week.

Gold silent, hidden within the camouflaged canopy of green.

The ocean fronts Nabire,

the other 3 directions are jungle and forests,

just a couple minutes from anywhere around Nabire.

We take a rented half bus, holds 20, we have 25 into the gold country.

There is no air conditioning on the bus, the doors of the bus

stay open so breath is possible.

Irian Jaya is jungle humid year round.

Hot and muggy is where the green lives, and thrives.

The pavement ends quickly, the jungle spreads its

haunting green arms 10 minutes out.

The dusty, bumpy, winding dirt road takes over. Its noon.

The green invades all. The endless visible green.

There are countless greens, every variety

and species of imaginable green is available.

The greens change hue and tone

with the coming and setting of the sun.

If Green were God,

this would certainly be Heaven....

I am overwhelmed, captured by the green.

There is no brown ! There is no dirt, where the ground should be,

where the brown of the earth lives, the green devours all brown.

I am now hunting brown, looking for signs of brown.

I stand, fixed, in the open doorway of the bus,

hanging half way out, looking for browns.

I look in vain. Where ground was, green grass grows.

Some is the short green grass I have lived with all my life.

The green grass I have know from childhood.

But a few feet from the edge of the road is new green grass,

large grass, like pampas grass only this green

grass is 4 to 12 to 15 feet high.

This behemoth green grass is mile after mile.

Stalks of this green grass sways and intermingles,

dances in the sunlight.

There are plants, and shrubs, and trees,

and the green ivy. The ivy waterfalls and cascades

from almost every tree.

The ivy snakes into all the green, everywhere.

The trees have their leaves, and the trees have ivy.

Trees become cathedrals of falling ivy.

Trees are sculpted meticulously with ivy.

The delicacies of the growing green ivy mosaics are breathtaking.

Any talented artist would be humbled

by shapes and images the ivy creates without effort.

You could stand within one of these cascades

and never be seen again.

The miles dance by, I hold onto the outer luggage rails,

and handles of the bus, and am shifted side to side

as we roll and pound along.

My hand is cramped from holding to tight.

I have forgotten to go with the flow.

I smile, one of this days many smiles to myself,

and easy my hold.

My body becomes one with the bus,

I float freely with the bus, my gaze once again becomes green.

The jungle trees climb a 100 feet into the air,

the ivy climbs the same distance.

I am intimidated, I am vainly looking for brown.

Dead trees and branches are swiftly buried by the green.

A tree dies, falls over.

A year later the tree is gone, covered by layers of green.

All browns become entrapped, softly imprisoned

by the overpowering green. A leaf falls.... A leaf falls,

but.... the leaf never completes it journey to the ground,

never !

The ground is mounded by eons of green.

The leaf falls, falls upon another green, dies,

turns brown momentarily, then evaporates into dust,

and is painted green once again.

An hour is moving by, this little crowded mini-bus has a tape player.

All music in Indonesia is played loudly.

If the volume can be turned up, it is...., and it was !

The passing greens of Irian Jaya are now being shouted

I can only smile.

No one understands English, yet all are humming,

singing and seat dancing....

(I think of Richard. Richard would just love this,

be fully amused by this scene. Richard and I would look at one another,

shooting the sheriff, raise our eyebrows unnoticeably

to one another, and smile quietly.)

I go back to the green.

There is a lone bicycle parked in the grass,

later some bundles sitting still and alone in the grass,

a little later some telephone poles (no wires, just poles),

later a lost motorbike. There are no people along side these things.

Just these things, sitting solo, naked in the high green grass.

I know there must be people around, owners of these things,

But none are visible.

Were they captured and scurried away, never to be seen

again, by the green jungle. I smile to myself,

the jungle greenery keeps passing.

Winding and twisty, dusty and bumpy,

and up into the Irianese Mountains.

The green changes, trees with elephant ear leaves

are now being herded into this called highway.

They are huge leaves, larger than an elephants ear.

I'm amazed by their size, some over 3 feet wide.

The miles curve by, I'm still hanging out of the bus.

Comfortable now, I just sway with the turns and

let my knees flow with the bumps.... I'm lost within the determined green.

Lost within the mystery of the ceaseless green of the jungle,

lost within my thoughts of the people who live here.

I felt they are here, watching. And you cannot see them.

This is their world, not ours.... I am humbled....

For no reason there is a painted Cement Arch....

It's just there, in the middle of no where.

We pass the Arch, the road is paved.

No change has happened, just the Arch and pavement....

This goes on for some long

minutes, then the pavement dies, and the dirt road is just there again....

The green never shifted or changed....

Interesting, and why ?

Some little while later we come to the Cop Shop....

A Cop Shop in the middle of the jungle.

Sure.... We are entering Gold Country....

We have 3 cops with us.

You cannot go into this part of the country without a

People are kidnapped regularly, people are eaten regularly,

people disappear around here regularly....

We have 3 Cops with us for protection....

Interesting !

They are quiet cops.

They have pressed cop clothes on. They carry sidearms.

They watch,

I go back to watching green.

We check in, are logged,

pay the Cop Fee, and depart once again

into the beauty of the jungle.

Some time later we come to our destination,

Topo....

There is little there.

Topo could be built or dismembered in an hour.

Blue and black and white plastic

hangs over roughly cut wooden poles.

Topo is a Plastic Tent City ....

People are hanging around, children are playing,

women are sitting around, some men are squatting and talking.

All and every movement stops as we come to a halt,

and depart the half bus....

We are watched by a hundred watching black eyes.

We convene, we split into 4 groups....

Like unwilling Boy and Girl Scout fashion.

I have no idea where we are, or what we are about to do.... ?

This is the way I like it in my seasoned years.

I have learned, for myself, to never ask questions about

where, what or why we are about to do,

what we are about to do....

I don't really care about that anymore.

I don't care how long it takes

to get there, where is it, or what is the plan of the day.

In Indonesia one learns,

hopefully, to let the journey just be.

And, it never turns out like you think

it's going to turn out anyway....

This was no exception....

So I'm always childlike eager just to see what happens.

Who ever said, life is a trip was correct.

Life is a trip.... !

One of the guys from the group knows where we are going,

this is good. We are assigned a Cop, and off we go down the road....

50 yards down the road, we veer right.

Up a steep slope, help the ladies up, and into the jungle we go....

Within 3 seconds all disappears, sound changes, sight changes,

feelings change, air changes, mind changes.

There is nothing but jungle in all 6 directions.

There is no sky anymore, the green has stolen the entire

sky, above there is only giant green canopy of trees....

Across we slowly go, then down and downward,

we go even slower.... The air is filled with a thousand green smells,

each different and enchanting. Each smell has mystery,

each is exotic. There is no trail, the ground is green jungle wet,

it never dries. You walk on dead shrubs, leaves, roots and

branches, there is no brown ground.

Down and down we go....

The stillness is sudden and unexpected,

most sound just evaporates into the void of the green.

We begin to hear water, there is a river approaching....

Down and down we continue....

We can see the small river, but this is not a river,

this is a creek....

There are brown men in the creek,

they are panning gold.

They all stop at once as we approach, they stand and greet us.

There are 9 half naked men, covered in the brown / red creek mud.

We say, hello. They respond, hello....

We begin our chat....

We talk about gold, their lives,

why they do what they do, who they are,

where they come from, money they earn,

sexually transmitted diseases

(We are in the pure nature of wildness, the jungle forests,

deep within the heart of Irian Jaya, and were talking

about sexually transmitted diseases!)

I am amused about all we are now doing....

I am alone in my thoughts....,

how many hours a day they work,

how much money do they make

for each hard earned gram of gold they find

(They get about 70,000 rupiah for a gram of gold.

About 7 dollars US)

These men, all the men in this part of Irian Jaya

pan for gold using cooking woks.

They use a steel bar to move rocks and dirt, a wok,

and their bare hands. I look up, I notice the Cop....

This Cop is a smartly dressed Cop. Boots polished,

clothes pressed, gun and holster on his hip.

The Cop is now panning gold.

He borrowed a wok, and he's panning gold.

This Cop is good at panning gold!

The wok is spinning and eking water.

Now the Cop is down to the tiny black dirt,

this is where the tiny chips of gold are hidden.

Carefully he lets little black dirt and water out of the wok,

checking for golden splinters.

No luck...., but he's having fun.

So are we....

This Cop is a Moslem....

Now the Cop has his socks and polished shoes off,

pants are rolled up knee high.

He's cleaning his arms and feet, hands and head.

Now the Cop is over on some rocks,

less than 12 feet away, it's Moslem prayer time....

The worlds overlap.

I am quiet, honored with introspection.

I ponder my reality, their reality, our reality.

The common and ever present play and dance of Lila ?

The reality within this multi-world-scene is

wonderful.

We have gold panners, simple men trying to make wages.

There is this white dude, with Nike shoes taking mental notes,

smoking Marlboro Lights.

A Cop in half-dress praying, and 4 Social Workers

asking about sexually transmitted diseases.

We are all in this green jungle gully,

another world from anywhere,

standing in a running creek that flows with tiny gold chips.

It is now mid afternoon, the rain clouds are forming,

and some light rain is beginning to fall....

I am struck by the magic, the raw transcript of nature,

and the abundant foolishness of the human being....

All is very funny....

Yet within the amusement, a distant and

detectable form of sadness....

There are orchids, wild orchids all around, everywhere.

Joyce and I love orchids, and rocks....

We always look for rocks, plants, and seeds....

All 3 are totally represented.

While others are talking, squatting and sharing,

Joyce and I are stealing, rather borrowing,

rocks and orchids....

We are in our own little secret play world.

We know one another so well.

The minute we got off the bus,

we started looking for our own little treasures.

We always know we will come home with a tote bag

filled with special rocks and seeds of plants....

Joyce and I plod and skirt around this rugged little green area,

we gather nature's natural treasure, others talk shop talk.

a gold miner presented Joyce with

a dark brown shiny rock and tells her that

it's a special rock

these types of rocks show that gold is nearby

Joyce is pleased with her present

I have finally found some brown,

I too am pleased....

Some are taking pictures, I am giving out Marlboro Lights,

the Cop is dressed Cop again. The rains are coming.

We shake hands, share good-byes and

we leave this magical place.... But....,

the miners have shown us a short cut....

We are up and out in minutes.

We took the long rugged way down....

Very interesting....

We are up on the road, by the Plastic Tent City

in just a few minutes....

We are happy !

We hang out, waiting for the other groups

to re-gather for the bus ride home.

We idle chat and eat road food.... Fun....

The bus driver and conductor also asked about

we eat and chat

amusing

We are now all together,

the other groups have returned with their own stories

and adventures. None was lost, that is good.

We board the half bus once again,

the rains of Irian Jaya come....

We hit the road, the real rains of late afternoon seriously begin.

The dusty, bumpy road becomes a river of mud.

An oozing, cruising, slosh of goo.

I am planted in the bus doorway again,

this is my special place....

The Cop is sitting by my left elbow, inches away

on the back seat, watching me hanging out the doorway.

I don't believe he's seen many white dudes

hanging out the doorway of a half bus,

having just a great time, while skidding and sliding

in through the rains and river of mud before.

I catch his eyes upon me. We smile....,

I go back to watching green rain !

The green changes colors again in the dusk

of the coming sunset, more so with the rains.

Everything is drenched, the green is dripping green everywhere.

The bus driver is unmoved by the rains,

he drives this cranky little half bus better in the rain

than he did in the dry, so it seems to me.

We roll along, slipping tires in the mud,

yet moving slowly into the heavy rains....,

heading home from this unforgettable day.

Night falls, the greens turns

and becomes endless black. All is now black,

all color has been painted black by the falling of night.

The only color available, other than black,

is the green within the headlights of the bus.

For a few feet in front of the bus, all is green,

except the road, which is now sparkling wet tarnish brown.

All color fades quickly into black the moment we pass.

Monsters, hidden and dormant within the trees by daylight,

appear at nightfall. These monsters are everywhere,

they try to reach their branch tentacles out to the roadway,

they try and lure us off the road and into the jungle.

The driver knows this,

he keeps driving through the rain....

The coconut bugs can be heard screaming

and shrieking in the night.

Coconut bugs make crickets sound like little whispers.

Coconut bugs are many times louder then crickets,

their sound is eerie and piercing within

all this blackness and rainfall.

They are wonderful, their song can be

heard for miles into the night....

The time and miles pass, I am wet from the rains.

I am tired from standing hours in the half bus doorway.

I am totally content with all....

The blackness has haunting splendor and is majestic....

My imagination is tickled.

I smile again.

We are back at the hotel safe and sound,

It's still raining. All are tired,

been a long day for everyone....

I will never forget this day, the green of the day,

this giant never ending green of greendom.

Joyce and I have found

a hoarde of small treasures, orchids and rocks

to take home as unforgettable reminders and souvenirs,

and I have a memory of a fantastic voyage.

6 hours hanging on the side of this little half bus,

being within the timeless moment held

unconditionally within this Kingdom of Green.

To say this was a special day for me,

would tenderize the poetry of the words,

so I simply share this day with you....

With love,

David and Joyce

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