Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea
Sept 16, 2026
Some 60,000 years ago, humans (Australo-Melanesians) crossed land bridges of Sahul into Papua New Guinea. When the sea levels rose some 10,000 years ago, they were isolated and have so remained. For thousands of years, they established themselves in the highlands, developing entirely unique languages and culture.
When a wave of Austronesian migrants headed east from South-East Asian islands to Papua New Guinea, by some estimates around 3300-3000 years ago, they found no virgin land. Faced with a rugged terrain and an established hostile population inland, the newcomers settled instead along the north coast and nearby islands, intermingling with the local population slowly over time.
If I were to follow the Austronesian migration as it unfolded, I should be heading to the north coast and Bismarck archipelago. But there is a yearly event in Papua New Guinea highlands where hundreds of tribes congregate. It is a massive event, and it is now. How can I resist? Although genetic studies show that highland tribes have zero Austronesian DNA, I am heading to the highlands. Chalk it up to poetic license if you will.
The event is centered around Independence Day in PNG and the first signs are the dresses and headdresses of shells and feathers in the airport in Manila. I can feel the tell-tale tingle of excitement as I check in.
At Port Moresby, the domestic terminal is engulfed in chaos. The security guards have a difficult time bullying the crowds into forming lines and more than one argument erupts over belongings that have to pass through the x-ray machine. Backpacks and suitcases look boringly staid amid the buckets, mops, mats and some intriguingly packaged goods.
The planes are small puddle-jumpers as in most mountainous regions, but it is access to the plane that is a novelty. A metal cage-like structure funnels passengers along the edge of the tarmac. We are spit out at the gate closest to the plane. Whom are they keeping out I wonder. Or are we being kept in?
We fly over the mountains, with hardly any signs of cities or towns. The dirt roads are few and far between as we head deeper into the highlands. I am glued to the window squirming in my seat with excitement.
