An interesting occurrence happened last week. I was third from the last to board Garuda Flight GA607 from Jayapura to Makasar. Garuda is typically the best and most expensive flight in Indonesia. They operate the best of planes in Indonesia, therefore the higher prices. But for a change they had a sale and I was able to get on their flight for the same price as all the dirt cheap airlines. Wow, what an experience to sit on a seat where my knees actually fit. Two seats in the entire section were still available and they were next to me. But just then two Papuan guys came through the divider between my cheap section and the high rent district up front. I could tell they were headed my way. I was actually quite excited to have them sit next to me because at least my broken Indonesian would be respected by them when they knew I was from Papua also. Pastors in Papua are respected a lot.
I was on the aisle which meant I’d have to unbuckle and let them get past me. As they arrived closer and closer I kept smelling the distinct lack of Deodorant smell. Did I forget something this morning? I did the old turn your head to one side and slightly lift the arm trick just to see. Two thumbs up. . . Deodorant still working!
As the men started down the rows coming closer and closer toward me I could see hands going over woman’s faces in an attempt to block the odors now wafting my way. To be clear many Papuans are more clean than Americans when it comes to bathing but these guys were coming toward me. “Lord, Please help my nose to temporarily stop functioning,” I mumbled under my breathe. But God sometimes doesn’t answer according to our will.
Ok, what can I do to distract myself from this situation? This time God impressed me to just strike up a conversation. So after they got situated I launched into a question to the guy next to me but I got “the deer in the headlight” look. Did I not put the Indonesian sentence together right? Then the younger of the two answered in equally broken Indonesian, “I’m sorry, my father doesn’t speak Indonesian and I am still learning.”
“Oh! Do you speak English?”
Both men beamed at that question. My mind did a quick double take. . . Two Papuan men who know English better than Indonesian. “Are you from near the boarder with PNG?”
“Yes, our tribe is from the boarder area.”
That explains it, I thought to myself. I know the area because we have a Global Pioneer working in that area who speaks English better than Indonesian, also. So I asked a number of questions. Turns out that one of the Dads other sons lives in Makasar. Dad is the Chief of the tribe and has never flown on an airplane before today. As the chief of the tribe lots of politicians had come into his village during the recent campaign for Governor. In fact 10 of the 12 parties sent representatives to this leader of a large tribe near the boarder between Indonesia and Papua New Guinea. This is an important tribe because significant numbers of them live on both sides of the boarder. On election day some slip across the boarder from PNG and find ways to vote illegally. So Politicians to ensure that their party has all the votes possible try to sway the Chief to in turn sway his tribe in hopes of picking up a few of these illegal voters. The shortened story is that suddenly this chief had wads of cash which he received from hopeful politicians who hoped to sway this mans mind to their side. Whole boxes of money were dropped off for this old man. What does one do with all this cash? There are no roads into this region so no need to buy a car, no banks, his house is made of what God naturally gave him to build it with. He has 8 wives to forage for food for him. Normally, any self respecting man from his tribe would purchase another wife to gain her lands, help him with his work and bear his children but, shucks, he already had to many of those, too. So his son said, “Dad take an airplane trip to see your son who's in college in Makasar.” Dad was convinced. So he chartered a plane from the bush and booked a ticket with he and this son.
Knowing a little about this tribe from our worker up there he tells me that the older ones receive two baths per life at birth and a death. At death one is bathed by the remaining wives and then placed in a bed of, deodorant like, spices to help the family tolerate the decaying smells. Should I give him my deodorant? No, he might think I was telling him he was ready for death. Somehow I managed to tolerate this Olfactory yuck and in the process I learned a lot about this Old spice (pun intended). He knew about Adventists and was proud that one of his wives was going to the Adventist Church just over the boarder in PNG.
I contemplated telling him about the American tradition of putting old spice on even before we’re dead and maybe to keep others from dying! But I kept my mouth shut.
As I exited the plane the stewardess said in broken English to me, “Thanks for sitting there next to the smell.” I had to laugh because they were right behind me and they clearly understood English which she wasn’t counting on. And right on cue this “old spice” Papuan Chief lift his arm pit in the direction of the Indonesian stewardesses as he passed – smirking the whole time as I and his son and he had to laugh at her obvious revolt.
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