WOODLAND PHOTOGRAPHY
Smoke filters through the thatched roofs and mysteriously descends. The tropical sunlight’s intensity diminishes as the clouds gently drift down from the rainforest above the village. This weather phenomenon is rou
tine for the Yali’s: a post-cannibalistic tribe who live on the steep slopes of the Snow mountains of Irian Jaya. It is one of the most consistent things in their lives - actually living in the clouds; and even being so near the equator the mist and rain at 8,000 feet is damp and cold.
The view from the air is breathtaking. We fly over raging white water between lush green canyon walls and past spectacular waterfalls in a Hughes helicopter. If there are many places left on earth that can still be considered remote, the village of Lolat is high on the list. It had taken two hops from Jakarta across the thousands of islands that make up Indonesia, and we still weren’t close to the village. It took another plane ride inland from the coast and then a chartered ride by helicopter to bring us to this point. Our other option would have been a rugged three day trek by foot through the mountains. As we descend, our pilot keeps an eye on the encroaching clouds. He’s hoping we make it to the small clearing and land before loosing visibility. The Hughes is loaded to capacity. It was a tight squeeze getting our three-man television crew and gear into an area smaller than a Volkswagon Beetle. We are making this trip to produce a documentary about the martyr of two Christian missionaries by some of the men from Lolat. An inherently suspicious people, the Yali’s had gruesomely murdered Stan Dale and Phil Masters when conflicts arose between them and the tribe.
They have been kinder and gentler to the missionaries who followed Stan and Bruno. Producer Paul Petitte, videographer Mike Pearson and I step off the helicopter into a time warp. The Yali’s are no longer cannibalistic, but they are a primitive looking people to our eyes. 
As we clear the blade wash we see two sexually segregated merry-go-rounds of dancers. The men are yelling and rattling spears in full battle dress, which for Yali warriors consists of black pig grease smeared all over their bodies and feather headdresses with bones through their noses. Long, pointed gourds are lashed on and over the warriors' genitals. The women wear only grass skirts. Our hosts are Art and Carol Clark, Canadian missionaries who have worked with this tribe for over twenty years. After we roll some tape of the welcoming party, the Clarks unexpectedly pull us away and suggest tea and cookies - tea and cookies? Inside their home we find a comfortable place built over the years in stages from materials flown in by helicopter. A school, church and work shed were built the same way and sit in contrast to the Yali’s thatched roofed huts. Over tea we barrage Art and Carol with questions about what we had already seen. 
The most obvious, “what’s the deal with the gourds?
” Even though he’s been with the tribe for twenty years, Art doesn't have a clear answer to our question. One theory is that it's a Yali man-thing, the bigger the gourd - the better the warrior…?
After our break we get right to work with shooting the first re-enactment of a raid by another village's war party on the men from Lolat working in the fields. We then move down to a steeply cascading river, which is to represent the site of the final attack on the two missionaries. Our Yali “actors” are told to charge down the river-bed, which is strewn with massive boulders, and shoot arrows over the camera. Mike is using an umbrella to keep rain off the camera. Thankfully there were no low flying arrows or spears to deflect. It is a challenge to direct the scenes. First Paul gives directions to the Clarks, who then tell one of the Yali what we want. He then directs the 50 or so others. The women line up along the riverbed off-camera and use large dried leaves woven into a pod-like shape to protect themselves from the rain. They watch impassively with that look most women get on their faces when men are playing at something. After several takes and a lot of discussion and translating back and forth, we finally call it a wrap and plod back to the village. I watch the warriors literally dance over the rocks
with their wide bare feet. It seems they aren't even looking where they step, and I wonder what they think of us, picking our way over the rocks at a tenth of the pace. Noting our slow pace a couple of smiling boys hover around us and actually point to where we should step.
Back at the Clarks' house we sit by the fireplace to dry off. The gray light fades from the windows and the Clark’s tell us intriguing stories of life on the mission field. Art and Carol have reared two sons in Lolat, and their boys loved life in the mountains during the summer breaks from boarding school. They would hunt in the rain forest with the Yali’s, and Carol described how one time the boys played a practical joke by setting off firecrackers and scared the tribe half to death. But beyond the day to day adventure of life in a far-off land among these amazing people, I wonder about the accomplishments of the missionaries here in the last several decades. There is a fair amount of criticism by sociologists and anthropologists about whether Christian missionaries should be here at all. Have the Yali’s lives been changed for the better? Or have the Clarks been guilty of what other missionaries have done when they try to "civilize" the indigenous people - thus threatening their unique culture and identity. Art told us that they have seen changes in the hearts and lives of the people here on this remote mountainside.
Some of the Yali men who were working with us to re-create the story of the martyred missionaries, were actually part of the war party that hunted down and brutally murdered Stan and Phil. Through the Clarks' efforts, these men have changed in many positive ways. The gradual conversion of some of the tribe to Christianity has resulted in the abandonment of many of the more destructive practices that were once cornerstones of Yali culture. For example, these Yali‘s are no longer practicing cannibalism. And although superstition has not been eliminated altogether, the Yali no longer routinely commit murder to purge the tribe of evil spirits they once believed were the causes of misfortune in their midst. Art and Carol do appreciate and encourage many cultural expressions that make the Yali unique. But while they don't try to force them to give up what we would consider "uncivilized" ways, it sometimes can be frustrating for the Clarks. They wait teach and nudge them but ultimately have to let them decide for themselves to abandon some of their more barbaric practices. One of these is their treatment of women. Traditionally the Yali men’s wives are treated as a lower class than the pigs the men own. 
In fact the women live in separate huts with the pigs! During our visit I came to realize that even if the missionaries had not come and made this effort, the Yali’s culture and beliefs were destined to be changed because of the encroachment of the outside world. We saw that the Clarks genuinely love the Yali and want to show them how to better care for themselves, while other influences that lurk outside the remote Yali village seem destructive. Carol explained that the Yali men venture outside the community and into the boomtowns where they have encountered prostitution. Now she faces the new challenge of educating the Yali about the dangers of AIDS. But as the younger Yali inevitably ventures out to the world beyond their remote mountain village, the Clarks are compelled to warn them of the dangers of the modern world.
The tribe has experienced a regular parade of journalists and photographers over the years. Before our second day of taping begins, Art tells us the story of a television crew from Italy who came to shoot a feature about the Yali when the Clarks were on leave. The Italians gave their Yali "actors" a few lira after the first film set-up, thinking it would be a nice gesture. Even though money is used very little in the village, the Yali mostly barter in pigs, the villagers understood its value and began wanting money each time they did something for the TV crew. Unfortunately, after a few days the Italians literally ran out of lira. So the Yali began their unnerving practice of using threats and intimidation when they don't get what they want. When the Italian crew couldn't pay up, the Yali played this intimidation card even more, and even blocked their way to the helicopter when it came to pick them up. The pilot had to force the way through for his passengers.
We don't realize it but Art is trying to head off another Italian fiasco. He has set it up so our actors are receiving an agreed-upon daily wage for their work. Even so, we soon startreceiving some intimidating looks from the fiercer-looking warriors. Midway through our second day we are ready to shoot the scene of a big pig roast. The clouds and dampness begin to close in after a little morning sunshine. Paul had agreed to buy the pig, which they carry squirming and bleating by its front and hind legs. A warrior then shoots an arrow into the pig's heart from a few feet away. It takes several more arrows before the squealing and squirming stop. Their pig roast recipe goes like this: dig a pit, line with hot coals, add a layer of wet leaves topped off with a thin layer of damp soil. Place the pig in the pit and cover with large wet leaves and roast for a couple of hours. You can also throw in a few yams. Since Paul was the boss in the eyes of the Yali’s, he got the first taste. The rest of the village followed, getting their portions passed to them in what was apparently an important pecking order. The mood was light, even as it began to drizzle.
When the picnic was over we saw Carol with some of the Yali men engaged in an intense discussion. She called Paul over and says the men have words for him. Paul assumes this means a "thank you" for sharing his pig, so he got in the middle of the swelling crowd. 
But Carol was reluctant to translate all that they were saying. She finally explained that some of the men had decided they want to be paid more money, or they will quit. Carol is clearly embarrassed, and fusses at them for being so greedy. She scolds like a mother whose children won’t share with other kids in the neighborhood. But these “boy’s” begin making a statement by gripping handfuls of arrows and hitting the shafts against their bows. We're getting those looks again, and we know the intimidation game is on. Mike and I are tired wet and cold, so with Art's help we work our way down the steep muddy trail back to the house. Paul quickly joins us, leaving Carol to negotiate. The warriors are getting louder. We traded nervous jokes and tried not to listen as the shouting began to sound an awful lot like war cries. We wondered just how much of a handle the Clarks really have on things here. I couldn’t tell if Art was just embarrassed by the whole thing, or if he's feeling as nervous as we were. After all, this is the same tribe who killed Phil and Stan and hacked them to pieces. Carol tried to reassure us, but our last scene of the day didn't go well. We were trying to re-enact a rite-of-passage ritual where the boys get their gourds. It became a disaster because the older Yali’s who know the rituals had in fact, gone on strike. We struggled through the shots and ended up with a bonfire scene where the Yali burn their fetishes. Burning of their fetishes was the incident that led to Phil and Stan's martyrdom. I could sense that the “striking” warriors were watching from the shadows as we re-enacted the scene. That, coupled with the earlier intimidation sparked my imagination, which fanned the flames of possible worst-case scenarios. I kept thinking of that poor squealing pig...
The next day brought a humorous outcome to the whole incident. We were scheduled to fly out to another village for a few hours in the morning. The men who had gone on strike showed up for work as usual, and when they found out we were leaving they became concerned that we were angry with them. Carol decided to play tough and gave them the impression that because they went on strike, we had gone to another village to film. Without knowing it we’d called their bluff, and upon our return the Yali were anxious to get back to work without any more fuss.
There was one final location left to capture for our story. It was the actual remote site where the missionaries had been killed. It was too remote to reach on foot in the time we had left. A short hop in the chopper was needed, and in the interest of saving on fuel I end up going with our pilot Len. The helicopter lifts off the ground and pivots away from the village. It then leans forward and we rush headlong over the edge of the several thousand foot precipice. Banking to the right I see a spectacular view of the valley below since the door is off to get better shots. I’m glad I had anticipated the wind chill this would cause and put on a coat. I keep a tight grip on the camera and struggle against the wind to maintain a steady shot. The location we are looking for is along a beautiful mountain stream that meanders down from the snow-covered mountain peaks. The stream guided us from the air and helped in pinpointing the exact location. Moving further upstream above the silver and black water, we look for two beaches that sit almost facing each other at a bend in the river. Soon we spot what seems to be the spot. It was hard to imagine Stan and Phil fleeing to this remote location and being chased down to face the angry warriors. There is no place to land in the rugged terrain; but Len manages to put one skid down on a large log crossing the narrow beach. I record the placid scene, and on cue Len gently lifts off giving the camera an impressive crane shot which lasts six or seven hundred feet.
Later I learn more details of Phil and Stan’s last moments on the beach. Once hunted down, they were shot to death with hundreds of arrows by the Yali’s, who were convinced the men were evil spirits. The missionaries had pulled many of the arrows out and broken them in half. The eyewitnesses from the rescue party that arrived later said there were hundreds of broken arrows littering the site. A boot was the only other piece of evidence they found that the men had been there. The Yali said they were not eaten for fear of ingesting their evil spirits. Also, in order to keep these spirits from returning to the bodies they were hacked into pieces and scattered across the mountainside.
It was the end of our three days in Lolat and I sat in the back of the Hughes for the return to the twentieth century. I was reflecting on the future of the Yali’s and a story Carol had shared came to my mind. It was about a Yali man and his first trip to a large city. The sight of a big man who stood perfectly still and never moved amazed him. He was looking at a statue in a traffic circle and found it fascinating. There was a certain child-like innocence to this. How would the encroachment of the outside world impact them? Would they be able to stand up to the challenges this would bring? Then I remembered that this is the same group who took the Italians for a ride...
The Yali
Story and Photography by Mark Woodland
