We arrive across turquoise water and land sandy-footed on the blond beach.
The remote Trobriand Islands are famed for their gentle Solomon Sea culture, beautiful women, master canoe builders, dance and song.
Already there is a buzz.
A temporary fence has been made from palm fronds, and hundreds of people from the five villages on Kitava Island sit in the sand outside it, waiting for the spectacle. There is a gateway in it. "Well-come". Two brown-skinned and bare-breasted girls greet us with garlanded flowers.
The islanders watch the "dim-dims" who have arrived pale-skinned, hatted, bespectacled and clumsy with gear, cameras, water bottles, backpacks and clutter.
We sit on the benches that I later see carried back on heads to villages far off through the humid heat.
And then it begins. The first dance to be performed is briefly described, and then lines of boys come in, kicking sand before them. They launch into a chanting, energetic, animated dance.
It's over too soon, but then there's another, and then women kneeling to sing a lullaby song, and then the youngsters again with a thrusting war dance. And somewhere between, another group of young men, who have obviously drummed up a dance poking some inter-tribe fun.
The place erupts with laughter, but we get only a fleeting idea of the joke. After the welcome ceremony, we buy carvings, bracelets and necklaces which these villagers have laid out on cloth in the sand — traditional Trobriand items, many worn in the ceremonial dance.
And then we walk up the hill though the sago, taro and yams in gardens that are at the heart of island life. Protein from the sea, and immaculately tended gardens and villages, which seem so quiet without the electricity and technology of our western lives.
We see yam houses and hear how important these vegetables are to the islanders — not just as a staple food source, but in terms of prestige. Yams, which look like sweet potatoes and have been cultivated since 50,000BC, can grow to 3m and weigh 70kg. They are stored, carefully ventilated and last six months. Some are stored in these yam houses, built to impress with one's wealth, in the broadest sense.
We walk back down the hill against a steady stream of villagers heading home after the welcome festivities. The girls have their costumes rolled in the woven string bags that are so much part of the culture of these islands. Almost everything else, it seems, is carried on heads. Even benches for visiting and aptly named dim-dims to sit upon.
STEPHEN SCOURFIELD
