The 10th Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (APT10) Catalogue

The 10th Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art 86 Projects Penias Wagire, Uramat Elder, Gaulin, December 2020 Uramat bamboo orchestra Engini (fire dance), Gaulim, January 2021 Images courtesy: Indigenous Uramat Identity / Photographs: Juan Lowe Nearby are a small cluster of sprightly Irhu spirit figures, along with the masks and turtle-shaped costumes relating to the Guman — songs of a small child being washed by his mother near the river. There are the headpieces of Guki , the small frog, and the face-like Varhit worn to perform with songs about big rain going to the place where two rivers meet. As we navigate around these figures, we come across window-like projections depicting the extensive preparations that precede the activation of these day and night spirit forms. An introductory video shows men moving noisily through the forest’s dense green undergrowth, chasing the day’s sacrificial pig. Elsewhere — and as if choreographed — women gather in small groups around the clearing. The rhythm of the ceremony begins with the sounds of their work: the scraping of metal over the hard flesh of just-harvested taro, a swish of broad banana leaves being dragged across earth and heaped next to the smooth, round river rocks clinked together in readiness for the mumu (hot stone oven). In the second of two gatherings the community stages for Uramat Mugas , footage reveals a wet day and a sombre atmosphere. Dorothy Asikar’s grieving family members arrive in Gaulim with coconut-leaf baskets full of taro and kaukau (sweet potato), tins of meat and sacks of rice — symbols of their connection to the deceased. We view the first of the spirit figures led from the forest to begin the ceremonies for Dorothy’s end of mourning: a presence covered in soft, lichen- coloured paint with a face-covering wig of vibrant, golden shredded leaves and yellow croton shoulder pads. Metre-long lengths of bamboo used as drums are held in the hands of men who occupy a platform of bamboo and timber outside. As the rain hits the iron, this group responds to the spirit’s presence and begins the meditative beat that will continue, on and off, until dusk. Of the Uramat’s unique musical traditions — their bamboo orchestra — Lazarus Eposia says, ‘Everything is in the songs — the stories, history, knowledge and genealogies of his people — everything ’. 4 Off in the forest, the men and young boys gather for the first of the daytime dances. The orchestra begins its beat revealing the song of the Irhu : the playful spirit figures that shadow the Uramat in this world. A line of six, carrying long stalks of sugar cane and bulging bilum bags, emerge from the forest and dance in a circle around the small fire, matching their steps to the rhythm of the drums. Slowly they circle — and then faster as the beat and singing escalates. In the centre of the orchestra is Penias Wagire, an Elder wearing a soft bark-cloth headband marked with black and red designs found on the masks. His body is also painted: short broad stripes of white and black earth on his brown skin. As the light fades, torches come out and kids start to scoot about on worn dirt paths. There is a buzz in the air in anticipation of a big meal and night of ceremony ahead. The sky is big and dark and full of stars. The sound is ebullient: excited children chatting and fighting, women laughing, the soft murmur of men’s voices as they talk in small clusters around the orchestra or on the far perimeter of the circle. A group of young men light the fire and the orchestra begins the drumming that will last as long as men keeping adding wood to the blaze — often until dawn. The Engini has begun at last. Both males and females have masks designed for night performances. The Qawat (kavat) is the most spectacular of these objects and [it is] the object [designed to] traverse the blazing hot fire … Again and again, [the dancers] jump into the fire, relishing the heat like honeybees mining for hot nectar. The orchestra is deafening. Then the rhythm increases, and the creatures withdraw their attack and retire in front of the orchestra, always moving … New wood becomes new coals, the beat slows down and the swarm attacks the fire again. Flames leap and sparks fly everywhere. The attack [is] relentless, until the firewood is exhausted and the creatures vanish. 5 Ruth McDougall Endnotes With thanks to Anis Pitalai and family for sharing his wife Dorothy’s mourning with us; to the late Gideon Kakabin and his family — Judy, Miriam and Tipia — who supported and believed in the Uramat and this project; to the Uramat of Gaulim and Wunga villages for the gift of the masks and, more so, for their trust and confidence in QAGOMA to carry them forward. 1 Gideon Kakabin, The Uramat [unpublished manuscript], Nanga Nanga, East New Britain, 2018, p.7. 2 Celebrated internationally for spectacular night and day performances, and their associated masks, the Uramat are one of six linguistic subgroups of the tribe or group of people indigenous to East New Britain who are incorrectly referred to as the Baining. The word ‘Baining’ derives from the Kuanua language of the Uramat’s first colonisers, the Gunantuna (or Tolai), to whom Kakabin belonged. In Kuanua, Bai means ‘to go into the bush’ and ningning means uncultivated area, so that Baining roughly translates as ‘wild, uncultured people who live in the bush’. 3 Kakabin, pp.8–9. 4 Kakabin, p.13. 5 Kakabin, pp.16–17. Scenes from Gaulim village, July 2019 / Photographs: Ruth McDougall