He cut through the night like a knife with a vengeance and silence fell in two; dogs woke up, pricked up his ears, barely groaned and curled up tighter, eyes looking fearfully. A baby cried, but the village slept.
In the torpor of this 13th hour, slow breath measured for each villager sounded like a choir trained a choir master - nothing less than a maestro. It had been hovering, looking for the right tone and now had found.
Pius, found himself half awake in his mummified state, weak and trapped. He could not open his eyes, mouth, or move his limbs. The only sounds he could do was "umms' unintelligible. Useless. The air was putrid, heavy with the smell of rotting meat, dirty feathers, the breath that not breathing life into him, but putrefaction. He was nauseous but he could not escape, trapped in his own body. He felt decomposition.
His heart tightened painfully as he saw, he felt the heavy black shape lying on him now. He moved with measured power swinging on him, as for the choke. It was more than just a physical heaviness that frightened Pie: black took the whole room, but it was cumbersome which released consuming inevitable pain and foul that knew no end. He moved screeching newspapers with his claws. The sound pierced through the body of Pius XII. He could not decide which was worse torment - this or the final destruction to come - die by the hand of Swangi, because that was what the creature is -. The spirit of evil that the elders have always warned against
Grabbing his head, Pius was split from chin to groin and whipped up through the roof tap of the sheet. The claws of the painfully bright Swangi, pierced his throat and the blood began to flow. Pie heard his wife and neighbors begin to rise from their crash through the roof. Soon people were with oil lamps and lights the torch. Screams rang as they saw the Swangi hang Pie triumphantly challenge to save him. He laughed mockingly.
The Swangi shook vigorously about Pie with taste - it was one of his favorite moments. He grabbed one of the legs of Pius XII, turned him upside down and shook what he could of his stomach and intestines. Pius as a rag doll was thrown about, rocked and shaken, knowing that torture would not stop until everything inside was out.
He was losing consciousness even as the Swangi, eager to begin his midnight feast finally decided to shoot on Pius esophagus, move his lower lip and plunged his teeth into the best bit of everything - Pie 'still beating heart.
Swangis appear in Kamoro legends and fables that evil spirits and they still have that fascination with bowels. Victims cut heads appear or bloody scenes of men in full extension - just the kind of thing that little boys love. Fortunately, you will not find in most Swangis Kamoro sculptures except a village. This village (I will not say that - you need to come to the exhibition to find out) has an excellent style fretwork and great tools for them to be able to make a very fine and precise work. One year someone made a particularly good piece with a Swangi in it which sold very well and since then we had a wave Swangi.
Grandmas and Grandpas
If wild Swangis are not your thing, you need not look further than your own home to your own fairy godmother or Peter Pan. When there is a great ceremony as the initiation of boys, a huge totem is carved and installed in front of the ceremonial house. On the pole are carved two or sometimes three people - usually honored ancestors, so it could be a couple of grandparents or great-grandparents. They are there to ensure that everything goes well and bless the occasion. They are also visible in smaller sculptures in single digits.
Good spirits are also seen in festivals wearing masks woven chain bark and palm leaves.
Boogey Man
Yopi picked up his parang and stomped into the jungle behind him. Sullen and still face bluntness, he has had a difficult day ahead and was not going to wait babysitting some newbie. Arnold should either use his senses and find him or be written off as useless.
He had been working in the tree, cut the bark and obtained a portion Off. It was difficult, but more could be harvested. Then Arnold showed. "Hey, what's up Yopi, why not wake me? We could have come together."
No answer except the regular chop, chop, chop metal wood. "Since you're here, get this play off, I want to start on the next tree. When finished, go ahead. And make sure to get as much as possible of that tree."
and the day went, each man working separately until they had counted Yopi bark enough to start the next process of soaking, beating and drying the bark.
Every morning he got up early and started without Arnold. It seemed that the young man was not ready for learning this art. But he will say nothing.
Finally, the time has come to turn the fibers into strings. Arnold got excited by this process. "Hello, Yopi, I think we should finish these strings soon."
Yopi felt a lightness in his heart and began to include the boy more in his plans. "Tomorrow we start weaving. You have much to learn."
By itself and without any distractions, Yopi could have finished the mask in about two weeks, but with a student he needed another. But Arnold proved to be a worthy person.
So far, the mask was hidden from the women and children, so no one knows what it looks like and Yopi is proud that he is beautiful with its yellow feathers , pearls and fine decorations.
A week later, the batsmen have played in front of the ceremonial house and everyone danced happily. The children laughed and continuing around or lying half asleep. Suddenly there was a commotion in the street of the village a strange apparition jumped and jumped to the ceremonial house, intent on his destination. The children were rooted to their spots, screaming stopped. Some jumped on their mothers also began to cry. Others fled into the jungle behind. The creature with its rough cone head, black eyes, stick growing from his head and beaky mouth seemed ready to eat anything small enough it might bite.
While cane rubbed on his shoulders and he could not really see through the eye holes, Arnold was really happy to wear mamokoro that was made and dedicated to the spirit of grandfather Yopi who brings blessings, even if everyone knows the boogy man playing with children.
A bird on a wire
There does not seem quite right to him. Something was a little off. Maybe the mask was a bit askew. Not a big deal, it takes to get the scale and twist slightly.
The show was a contemporary of joint exhibition Indonesion Kamoro Art and Artists, and the Conservative John made his final checks.
The voltage cable that was stretched across industrial grade and they had used before. So no problem leaning against the ladder, which is what he did, up and made the tweak.
The tweak does not happen. At the top, he leaned across and took destiny. Life slowed down to a very slow speed as he watched the mask on the floor crash into a pile of leaves, voltage wire whiplashed across the room as he and his ladder were left for all time suspended in the air until another ran personal and grabbed the ladder. For three seconds, John and scale were in mid-air, frozen without support.
As far as we know, all the masks are made for commercial purposes, but it looks like a grandmother Kamoro (or grandfather) loves John. We still have the mask, and John is still with us.