poromoi tamu and the case of the drowning village: history, lost places and the stories we tell

Poromoi Tamu and the Case of the Drowning Village:History, Lost Places and the Stories We Tell

Bruno David & Lara Lamb & Jean-Jacques Delannoy & Frank Pivoru &

Cassandra Rowe & Max Pivoru & Tony Frank & Nick Frank & Andrew Fairbairn &

Ruth Pivoru

Published online: 19 April 2012# Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2012

Abstract Archaeological excavations at an ancestral village site within rainforest inPapua New Guinea has revealed buried cultural evidence that can be explained in anumber of ways. While interpretations based on Western archaeological methodssuggest regional landscape dynamics informed by geomorphological processes,Indigenous Rumu oral traditions suggest an interpretation of the site’s stratigraphybased on the workings of spiritual forces. The role of story-telling and new informa-tion in site interpretation and understanding is explored in light of these different yetcomplementary accounts.

Int J Histor Archaeol (2012) 16:319–345DOI 10.1007/s10761-012-0183-0

B. David (*) : C. RoweSchool of Geography and Environmental Science, Monash University,Clayton, Victoria 3800, Australiae-mail: [email protected]

C. Rowee-mail: [email protected]

L. LambSchool of Humanities and Communication, Public Memory Research Centre,University of Southern Queensland, Toowomba, Australiae-mail: [email protected]

J.-J. DelannoyLaboratoire EDYTEM (Environnements, Dynamiques et Territoires de la Montagne),Université de Savoie, CNRS, Chambéry, Francee-mail: [email protected]

F. Pivoru :M. Pivoru : T. Frank :N. Frank : R. PivoruKopi village, Gulf Province, Papua New Guinea

A. FairbairnSchool of Social Science, The University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australiae-mail: [email protected]

Keywords Archaeology . Oral traditions . Story-telling . Papua NewGuinea .

Worldviews

Introduction

The anthropologist Marcia Langton (2002) invites us to look at the night sky. Whatwe see, she tells us, are not only planets and stars, but something much grander: aconfirmation of what we already know about how the world itself operates—time,life, our place in the universe. These are understandings re-affirmed not in debates orexplicit statements about the ways of the world, but rather through more subtlereadings of observations that are consistent with what we already know, or with whatwe think we know. These understandings explain well our everyday and ongoingobservations, those things that we do, that we see, that we experience. And we cometo explain along the way those mysteries that we don’t really know too well but thatfeature in how we interpret reality, such as the spirit other-world, which, as otherness,we know only at its edges. But still we can talk about it, and we try to make sense of itby fitting it into the stories we tell about our world. We negotiate these under-standings through our observations and experiences, and we socialize them all inthe stories we tell.

In this case of the night sky what we see as tiny bright dots on a black, blankcanvas are gigantic balls of fire whose light emanates through time and space literallyat the speed of light, reaching us as the night sky that we gaze upon. It is not simplythat seeing is believing, but rather believing is seeing—not just seeing abstract visualspace but rather cultural places already rich in meaning (cf. Casey 1997), in this casethrough cosmological understandings informed by astronomy and all those relatedspecialist studies that come to subtly infiltrate general knowledge and that areexplicitly distilled to us non-professional onlookers as popular science. This is apopular rendition distilled into everything else we understand about the world,understandings that imbue, and that we come to communicate through, the storieswe tell each other about what we see and hear and experience through all of oursenses, stringing bits of information into narratives that make sense of our world, andof ourselves in that world.

But ours is not the only story to tell. And it is when we venture beyond the comfortof our own landscapes that we most realize how much our assumptions—our veryparticular worldviews—taint all that we know, along with how we interpret what wedon’t know. In the process we also come to recognize that what we do know could beknown in other ways. Thus, just as we subliminally receive from the night sky anemanation of Western astronomical knowledge, in Aboriginal Australia, MarciaLangton reminds us, the trees and hills and fauna, and the stars, are emanations notof Western botanical or geological or zoological, or astronomical, knowledge but ofthe numinous ancestral forces that gave and continue to give shape to the landscape ascountry, the meaningful homeland into which all things were given their definingcharacteristics in the creative events of the Dreaming and that is as much kin as it is“environment.” These are different renditions of how things are, that are told andretold in our stories, and they differ by the cultural perspectives that we hold. Ourstories socialize, and make sense of, a world otherwise unknown. Without stories we

320 Int J Histor Archaeol (2012) 16:319–345

would be lost: how would we make sense of our experiences and observations if wecould not locate them into broader narratives of existence? Through stories, atomizedobservations are oriented into meaningful universes, and in doing so set foundationsthat continue to trigger our imaginations, as knowledge, by which we can understandthe world in which we live.

In archaeology as in other things, knowledge, like stories, is constructed inmeaningful, social practice. Following Strathern (2004) generally, and Yarrow(2006) for archaeology specifically, such praxis “is composed of relationships”(Strathern 1988). And as Strathern (2004) further notes, such connections are alwaysmultiply enacted. In this multiply connected, relational process, knowledge is alwaysnegotiated at the cultural interface (Nakata 2007). Individuals and groups come tounderstand history in places by the way pre-understanding (the subliminal cultural,prejudicial notions that embed our actions and understandings) articulates with newfindings and new ideas that initially present themselves as an otherness that wenevertheless instantly try to make sense of through our existing pre-understandings(e.g., Gadamer 1987; also see David 2002). This connectivity of self with otherexpresses itself in our stories that reflect the changing meaningfulness of thoserelationships. Time is of the essence in this process, as it is through time thatunderstandings of history are formed through social and observational negotiationsthat internalize otherness, and in the process familiarize it into the self and pre-understanding.

In this paper we construct two stories about one cultural place. In doing so wereflect on how we have come to understand the history of a particular place andpeople in such a meeting of parties, when one Indigenous group in Papua NewGuinea, and archaeologists from Australia, examined a culturally significant histor-ical location. In doing so, two very different cultural perspectives meet, a meeting thatcauses us to reflect on our own constructions. As Edgeworth (2006, p. xiv) has noted,“The privileged viewpoint of the observer over the observed is maintained preciselythrough looking outward at some cultural Other—whether back through time into thepast or across distances in space—rarely or never turning that outward-looking gazeback onto itself.” While contact between the self and others generates influence, italso leads us to question our place in the broader scheme of things.

In the example we present here, archaeologists were asked by Rumu clan leadersto investigate the history of a cultural place, Poromoi Tamu, on their own ancestralclan lands. They wanted to know more about their own history in the understandingthat this is what archaeologists do—investigate the past through what is held inplaces. Among the Rumu of the Gulf Province in lowland Papua New Guinea,Himaiyu clanspeople recount a story of their legendary ancestral twin villages atPoromoi. Poromoi is a <100 m-high limestone rise some 100 m east of Utiti Creek, atributary of the Kikori River roughly a third of the way from the coast to the PapuaNew Guinea highlands (Figs. 1 and 2). As elsewhere in Rumu lands, Poromoi and itssurrounding terrain are covered in thick tropical rainforest broken only by waterwaysand highly localized patches of open ground and secondary growth where villagesand gardens have recently been established. Once abandoned, these open spaces arequickly overtaken by the jungle, losing all obvious traces of previous activity exceptfor those that remain in social memory; told, retold and transformed over the ages inlocal story-telling. Archaeological evidence of such past occupation is neither

Int J Histor Archaeol (2012) 16:319–345 321

Fig. 1 Location of Poromoi Tamu along Utiti Creek, Gulf Province, Papua New Guinea

Fig. 2 The eastern bank of Utiti Creek, showing the coconut trees descendent from the ancestral coconuttrees that grew during the days of Poromoi Tamu. Photo taken from the mouth of Are Creek


common in this thick rainforest, nor expansive at individual sites, consisting rather ofsporadic locations dotted across a densely forested landscape. As the social anthro-pologist James Weiner (2002, p. 270) writes for the Foi, a nearby group to the north,“Virtually everything they manufacture is made of decomposable bush material thaterodes and degrades once its user discards it or is no longer able to continue putting itto use.” “How then would such a people create a sense of what we might callmonumentality for themselves,” he asks. “And in the absence (until fairly recently)of a written language, how could they maintain any sense of the tension between whatis recorded and what is forgotten and newly remembered, or remembered againwithout realising it?”

Weiner explored these questions in relation to spatial referencing in one particulargenre of Foi poems composed and sung by women during sago making and reworkedbymen in ceremonial contexts. Here we explore another dimension of that same generalquestion of making sense of place and of how the workings of the world give particularplaces their lived significance through story-telling. Based on a single set of observa-tions at the ancestral site of Poromoi Tamu located in two very different interpretativeaccounts—Rumu and archaeological—we examine the process of knowing as coming-to-know through “participant story-telling.” By examining the stories we tell, and theevidence we use to tell those stories, we attempt Edgeworth’s project of reflecting ontoour own constructions in light of those of others. By using the example of a singlearchaeological place, we are thereby “bringing ethnographic perspectives back to bearon archaeological practice,” the aim being “to transform the way that archaeologists—and ethnographers—view their world and their role within it” (Edgeworth 2006, pp. xv–xvi). We begin with the Rumu story that led us to this site in the first place.

Snake Holes and Drowning Village: A Himaiyu Clan Story

At Poromoi the Himaiyu clan once had two villages, although for generations now noneare to be seen. High up on the mountain could be found the mountain-top village ofPoromoi Woi (literally “high on the mountain Poromoi”), home of Kutiripuna and heryounger sister Kukumani (Fig. 3). It is said that those two sisters had little to do but tocook for a standing rotten tree who Kutiripuna mistook for her husband.

At the base of Poromoi on the banks of Utiti Creek was the second, large village ofPoromoi Tamu (“at the base of the mountain Poromoi”). In this village lived ahusband and wife, a man called Kuiaru and a woman Laria, together with Paiyeand Kopoki, a sister and her little brother. They all lived together at Poromoi Tamu,although Paiye and Kopoki were not the children of Kuiaru and Laria.

One day, when the girl Paiye had her period (mun sik), Kuiaru and Laria went tomake sago at Kamuri, the sago palm swamp some distance from Poromoi Tamu. Ontheir way back to the village at the end of the day they saw a snake whose name wasKuiaru—coincidently the same name as Laria’s husband. They caught the snake andbrought it back to the village, building a small fenced enclosure by which to safelykeep it in. Kuiaru and Laria then made a plan: discussing the matter openly, theydecided to go back to Kamuri to make more sago with which to cook the snake justcaptured. But as they made their plans, the snake in the enclosure listened to everyword they said.


While Kuiaru and Laria were away making the sago for the feast, the snake beganto call out to all the other snakes, those of other clans included. It called out to them toassemble at Poromoi Tamu. As this was happening, the girl Paiye looked on,observing all the snakes coming together. She stopped the little boy Kopoki fromventuring too close, ensuring his safety. And all the snakes came together.

Inside his enclosure, the snake in the fence told all the other snakes what to do.Kuiaru the entrapped snake was making a plan of his own. “Kuiaru and Laria arethinking to kill me” he told the assembled snakes. “When they come, they will eat mewith the new sago that they made.” So the snake in the enclosure told the assembled

Fig. 3 Poromoi rising above Poromoi Tamu and home of Kutiripuna and Kukumani


snakes to make holes all around the house so as to make the waters rise, therebycausing the house and the whole village to drown in the rising waters.

Hearing those words the gathered snakes began to make holes across the landscape(Fig. 4), causing the groundwater to flow up through the holes and swell to flood thewhole village. Kuairu and Laria’s house broke up in the process, drowning in therising waters along with all its contents. Their goods were all gone in the river.

Seeing the mayhem as their house broke down and sank, the sister and brother,Paiye and Kopoki, themselves escaped to the two sisters Kutiripuna and Kukumani atthe mountain-top village of Poromoi Woi. Kutiripuna and Kukumani were shocked tosee them in such a state, asking what had happened to them, by which they told thesisters to look down and see for themselves what had happened to the mountain-basevillage. And then they saw that the house and all its contents were gone inside theriver. The flood caused by the snakes had eaten up the village (Fig. 5).

When Laria and Kuiaru came back from making sago, they saw that there was avery big flood. They saw the leaves they had used to build their house floating on therisen waters. And as they came closer they saw that their house and all that they hadowned were gone inside the river. So they too left Poromoi Tamu to join the others upat the mountain-top village of Poromoi Woi. All that remains of Poromoi Tamu todayare five coconut trees, descendants of the coconut trees that had been planted at thetime of the village (see Fig. 2).

The story of Poromoi Tamu ends with the wife and husband, Laria and Kuiarujoining the two sisters Kutiripuna and Kukumani at Poromoi Woi. And forevermorethe base of the mountain came to be looked after by the sister and her small brother,Paiye and Kopoki. Kutiripuna the elder of the two sisters whose home was themountain-top village of Poromoi Woi thought that the rotten wood nearby was her

Fig. 4 Depression in the rainforest floor at the base of Poromoi immediately behind Poromoi Tamu, said tohave been made by the snakes to drown the village


husband. Her small sister always supported her, cooking food and helping her in herdaily chores. So today in the morning, when you come to Poromoi you can see acloud engulfing the mountain, a very big white cloud close to the mountain.Kutiripuna and Kukumani always cook food in this area and that cloud is the smokeof their fire. We end this story here with those two: wife and husband, they shifted upto the mountain-top village called Poromoi Woi, and this is where the story ends. Andtoday we always give the mountain name Poromoi to a pig. Only Himayu clanmembers name the male pig “Poromoi,” after the mountain. And whenever that nameis mentioned, Himaiyu clanspeople remember the story, the place, and their history.The name comes to stand not only for the single named thing, but as a shorthand forhow the clan itself came to be as it is today, much like how Marcia Langton’s starscome to instill an understanding of the universe itself and its workings onto theonlooker—time and space, or ancestral Dreamings.

Archaeological Investigations at Poromoi Tamu: The Archaeological Story

In February 2009, a small, 75×75cm archaeological excavation was undertaken alongthe inner bank of Utiti Creek immediately opposite Are Creek as it flows into UtitiCreek, where Himaiyu clan leaders pointed out the previous location of PoromoiTamu. In effect the ancestral village lay largely beneath Utiti Creek itself, they said,and the location of the excavation square they hoped would contain remnants of thevery edge of the village. After unfruitfully spending some considerable time scanningthe ground surface for any signs of an ancient village, the targeted location wasdecided to be the best location informed simply by the spatiality of Himaiyu oral

Fig. 5 The underwater location in Utiti Creek where Poromoi Tamu once existed. This photo was takenfrom the archaeological excavation square


traditions. Five tall coconut trees nearby, known to have been offspring of earliercoconut trees from the days of the legendary village, were further testimony to thislocation as the rightful site of Poromoi Tamu.

The immediate vicinity of the excavation square had only recently been cleared byHimaiyu clanspeople for a garden, offering good ground visibility in the process. Nophysical evidence of a past village had been unearthed through this gardeningactivity. The excavation square was located 8 m in from the edge of Utiti Creek inan area devoid of garden planting and soil disturbance (see Fig. 3). Excavationproceeded in 17 major and 11 sub-Excavation Units (XU) of average 2.8 cm thick-ness following the sediment layers (Stratigraphic Units or SU) where these weredistinguishable in situ (Fig. 6). Excavation stopped some 44.2 cm below the groundsurface, when culturally sterile alluvial sediments had been reached. Cultural objectsobserved in situ were plotted in three-dimensions and individually bagged, theremaining sediment matrix sieved in 2.1 mm-mesh sieves for subsequent laboratorysorting. A sediment sample was collected from each XU for geomorphological andpalynological analysis.

The stratigraphy of the excavated square consists of two major SUs each lying sub-horizontally except for the northeastern corner of the square where the upper SU1bdips down into the underlying SU2, reminiscent of an infilled pit or edge of a channel(see Table 1 for descriptions of each SU; Figs. 6 and 7). The interface between SU1band SU2 is typically about 10 cm, representing the general depth of post-depositionalsediment mixing.

Findings

Evidence of past cultural activity within the excavation area was limited to 19 flakedstone artifacts; five small pieces of heavily burnt and unidentifiable bones; 4.3 g ofcharcoal; 46.1 g of burnt earth; two fire-cracked hearth stone fragments totaling29.4 g; three small and undecorated pottery sherds totaling 3.5 g; and 1.7 g of seeds(plus one fragment of charred coconut weighed with the charcoal from XU8), at leastsome of which are cultural. Peak quantities of cultural materials between XU6 andXU3 indicate that occupation began after deposition of SU2 and/or early during the

Fig. 6 Poromoi Tamu Square 1, west and north sections


deposition of SU1b (see Table 2). In this tropical rainforest environment whererainfall reaches between 5,000–8,000 mm annually, natural bushfires are entirelyunknown, and any charcoal can be taken as evidence of anthropogenic fires. Aradiocarbon determination on charcoal from XU6 near the base of SU1b but at thevery upper surface of the “pit,” and at a depth with the greatest number of stoneartifacts, reveals an age of 562±30 BP (Wk-25289). This calibrates to sometimebetween 523–643 cal BP at two sigma (on Calib 6.0; Stuiver and Reimer 1993),shorthanded here to “around 600 years ago” (Table 3). Five other radiocarbondeterminations from SU1b, including one from the upper parts of SU2 where it meetsthe interface with SU1b, reveal calibrated ages between ca. 100 and ca. 300 years ago

Table 1 Poromoi Tamu Square 1, sediment descriptions by SU

SU Description

1a Very thin (1–5 mm thick), loose surface sediments consisting of the leaf litter layer. SU1a is virtuallydevoid of soil. Very fine rootlets abundant in the leaf litter itself, although there is virtually no plantgrowth in the area of the excavated square itself. SU1a rapidly gives way to SU1b sediments below;interface between SU1a and SU1b is marked. No in situ cultural materials were noticed in this SU.

1b Dark sediments. Homogeneous in texture and color throughout the square and with depth. Numerousrootlets around 1.5 cm in diameter are present. Roots tend to grow horizontally. Very easy to dig;moderately consolidated and slightly compact sediments. Generally humid at time of excavation.Interface with underlying SU2 is gradual, taking place over a vertical distance of 10–15 cm. Theinterface sometimes consists of clods of SU2 mixed within SU1b sediments, sometimes of clods ofSU1b mixed within SU2 sediments. In situ cultural materials were noticed in this SU.

2 Light-colored sediments, homogeneous in color and texture. Fairly compact and consolidated. Humidat time of excavation. Rootlets up to 1.5 cm in diameter are present, but less commonly than inSU1b. No in situ cultural materials seen in this SU.

Fig. 7 Poromoi Tamu Square 1, north and east walls after completion of excavation


Tab

le2

Porom

oiTamuSquare1,

details

ofexcavatio

nmaterials.The

XU8charcoal

isafragmentof

charredcoconut

Excavation

Unit

ExcavationDetails

Stratigraphic

Unit

14CDate

(BP)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atTop

(cm)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atCentre(cm)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atBase(cm)

Mean

Thickness

ofXU

(cm)

Area

Excavated

(m2)

Volum

e(litres)

Weight

(kg)

Weightof

>2.1mm

Non-Cultural

Sedim

ents(g)

11a

+1b

0.0

1.0

2.0

2.0

0.56

19.0

10.9

21b

134±30

2.0

3.6

4.5

2.5

0.56

22.5

17.7

31b

4.5

5.9

7.3

2.8

0.56

18.0

14.6

41b

104±30

7.3

8.8

10.2

2.9

0.56

25.0

20.5

51b

+2

114±30

10.2

11.4

12.6

2.4

0.56

20.0

17.8

61b

+2

562±30

12.6

13.9

15.1

2.5

0.56

22.5

21.1

71b

+2

15.1

15.9

16.7

1.6

0.56

11.5

10.4

81b

+2

16.7

17.3

17.9

1.2

0.56

11.5

9.4

91b

+2

69±30

17.9

19.4

20.9

3.0

0.56

27.5

25.6

101b

+2

20.9

22.0

23.1

2.2

0.56

17.6

15.5

11a

1b+2

23.1

25.0

26.8

3.7

0.48

26.0

22.6

11b

1b23.1

24.6

26.1

3.0

0.05

3.5

3.0

11c

1b/2

interface

23.1

24.6

26.1

3.0

0.03

2.0

2.1

12a

2239±30

26.8

28.4

30.0

3.2

0.45

26.0

23.0

12b

1b26.1

27.8

29.5

3.4

0.04

1.5

1.6

12c

1b/2

interface

26.1

27.9

29.7

3.6

0.07

4.0

3.9

13a

230.0

31.6

33.1

3.1

0.42

18.5

16.3

13b

1b29.5

31.0

32.5

3.0

0.02

1.2

1.0

13c

1b/2

interface

29.7

31.1

32.4

2.7

0.12

6.0

5.3

14a

233.1

34.8

36.4

3.3

0.45

21.0

19.0

14b

1b32.5

34.6

36.7

4.2

0.01

0.5

0.6


Tab

le2

(contin

ued)

Excavation

Unit

ExcavationDetails

Stratigraphic

Unit

14CDate

(BP)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atTop

(cm)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atCentre(cm)

MeanDepth

Below

Surface

atBase(cm)

Mean

Thickness

ofXU

(cm)

Area

Excavated

(m2)

Volum

e(litres)

Weight

(kg)

Weightof

>2.1mm

Non-Cultural

Sedim

ents(g)

14c

1b/2

interface

32.4

34.7

36.9

4.5

0.10

4.5

4.0

15a

236.4

38.1

39.8

3.4

0.48

30.5

25.4

15c

1b/2

interface

36.9

38.2

39.5

2.6

0.08

4.5

4.0

16a

239.8

41.6

43.3

3.5

0.54

12.5

11.3

16c

1b/2

interface

39.5

40.2

40.8

1.3

0.02

1.5

1.0

0.04

17a

243.3

45.5

47.7

4.4

0.52

14.0

12.6

17c

1b/2

interface

40.8

42.5

44.2

3.4

0.04

1.5

1.5

Total

2.8

374.3

321.7

0.04

Excavation

Unit

Characteristicsof

Excavated

Sedim

ents

pHOrganic

Matter(%

)Particles

>1000

μm

(%weight)

Sizedistributio

nof

particles<1000

μm

(%volume)

sand

(1000-

63μm)

coarse

sand

(1000-

600μm)

medium

sand

(600-

212μm)

fine

sand

(212-

63μm)

silt(63-

2μm)

clay

(<2μm)

14.44

22.4

0.1

24.5

0.0

2.3

22.2

61.4

14.1

24.48

17.7

0.0

17.3

0.0

1.4

15.9

68.2

14.5

34.64

16.6

0.1

18.5

0.0

0.4

18.1

68.9

12.6

44.60

16.1

0.1

22.5

0.0

1.1

21.4

63.3

14.2

54.62

15.5

0.1

29.4

0.0

6.2

23.2

58.5

12.1


Tab

le2

(con

tinued)

Excavation

Unit

Characteristicsof

Excavated

Sedim

ents

pHOrganic

Matter(%

)Particles

>1000

μm

(%weight)

Sizedistributio

nof

particles<1000

μm

(%volume)

sand

(1000-

63μm)

coarse

sand

(1000-

600μm)

medium

sand

(600-

212μm)

fine

sand

(212-

63μm)

silt(63-

2μm)

clay

(<2μm)

64.60

15.3

0.0

30.5

0.0

2.3

28.2

57.8

11.7

74.60

14.5

0.3

28.0

0.0

2.0

26.0

59.2

12.8

84.67

13.6

0.1

30.0

0.0

0.1

29.9

57.9

12.1

94.75

12.5

0.1

44.5

0.0

3.4

41.1

45.9

9.6

104.78

12.1

0.2

45.7

0.0

3.0

42.7

45.3

9.0

11a

4.34

11.0

0.0

44.5

0.0

3.4

41.1

46.8

8.7

11b

4.30

13.9

0.0

33.8

0.0

0.3

33.5

55.3

10.9

11c

4.42

11.6

0.0

47.3

0.0

2.2

45.1

44.5

8.2

12a

4.53

9.9

0.0

38.2

0.0

0.0

38.2

53.1

8.7

12b

4.51

13.8

0.3

41.8

0.0

0.3

41.5

49.0

9.2

12c

4.71

11.7

0.4

45.9

0.0

1.1

44.8

45.8

8.3

13a

4.73

9.7

0.3

58.9

0.0

5.1

53.8

35.4

5.7

13b

4.66

13.0

0.2

40.4

0.0

0.3

40.1

49.5

10.1

13c

4.75

10.2

0.1

41.2

0.0

0.2

41.0

49.7

9.1

14a

4.90

8.4

0.2

47.6

0.0

0.9

46.7

45.5

6.9

14b

4.35

11.5

0.0

21.9

0.0

0.0

21.9

65.7

12.4

14c

4.75

9.6

0.1

39.3

0.0

0.6

38.7

51.6

9.1

15a

4.81

8.8

0.1

47.5

0.0

1.3

46.2

45.5

7.0

15c

4.85

8.9

0.1

45.0

0.0

1.3

43.7

47.2

7.8

16a

4.84

8.7

0.1

44.8

0.0

0.8

44.0

47.7

7.5


Tab

le2

(con

tinued)

Excavation

Unit

Characteristicsof

Excavated

Sedim

ents

pHOrganic

Matter(%

)Particles

>1000

μm

(%weight)

Sizedistributio

nof

particles<1000

μm

(%volume)

sand

(1000-

63μm)

coarse

sand

(1000-

600μm)

medium

sand

(600-

212μm)

fine

sand

(212-

63μm)

silt(63-

2μm)

clay

(<2μm)

16c

4.94

8.1

0.1

38.5

0.0

0.6

37.9

53.1

8.4

17a

5.01

8.0

0.2

42.1

0.0

0.7

41.4

49.6

8.3

17c

5.07

7.9

0.2

50.2

0.0

1.7

48.5

42.6

7.2

Total

Excavation

Unit

Excavated

Materials

CalcinedBone

Charcoal

Burnt

Earth

Fire-cracked

HearthStones

FlakedStone

Artefacts

Pottery

Sherds

Coconut

Fragm

ents

Seeds

(#)

(g)

(g)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(g)

11.75

12.03

11.12

21

0.10

0.42

6.41

37.00

0.21

30.88

8.30

20.16

10.29

0.17

41

2.98

0.46

7.30

30.21

0.11

50.05

6.99

114.48

24.12

0.05

63

0.09

0.20

7.18

40.28

11.22

0.01

70.03

2.22

80.05

1.69

10.04

90.14

3.44

114.91

11.41


Tab

le2

(con

tinued)

Excavation

Unit

Excavated

Materials

CalcinedBone

Charcoal

Burnt

Earth

Fire-cracked

HearthStones

FlakedStone

Artefacts

Pottery

Sherds

Coconut

Fragm

ents

Seeds

(#)

(g)

(g)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(#)

(g)

(g)

100.17

0.30

10.11

0.01

11a

0.04

0.16

11b

0.01

0.35

11c

0.15

12a

0.01

0.15

0.03

12b

0.04

0.07

12c

0.01

0.25

13a

0.11

0.02

13b

0.74

13c

0.03

14a

0.02

0.09

14b

0.19

14c

0.03

0.02

10.23

15a

15c

10.10

16a

16c

17a

17c

Total

53.17

4.31

46.14

229.39

1913.66

33.54

11.12

0.61


(at highest 2 sigma probability). We interpret these results to indicate deposition of SU1bduring the last ca. 600 years, and to include re-worked fluvial deposits (see below).

The excavated stone artifact assemblage of Poromoi Tamu is small in number (N019). Flaked pieces dominate the assemblage (N014), the rest of which consists of fiveflakes and one pot lid. The flake assemblage consists of two complete flake (fromXU2 and XU5) and three distal portions (two in XU3 and one in XU6; see Table 2).

With the exception of one flake from XU5, artifacts from Poromoi Tamu areexclusively tertiary (exhibiting no cortex), are less than 30 mm in their maximumdimension, with the heaviest artifact in the entire assemblage being 5.1 g.Modification through heating appears to have taken place on artifacts in the upperlevels of the site. This is evident in the form of chemical color changes (affectingluster) on a flaked piece from XU5; the presence of a pot lid, and of pot lidding on aflaked piece in XU4; and pot lidding on a flake in XU3.

There are single artifacts in both XU6 and XU14c which exhibit use-wear in theform of a high-gloss polish and edge-crushing. These artifacts appear to be smallfragments of sago pounders, as both polish and crushing are typically found on suchimplements from this region (e.g., Ellen 2008, pp. 70–71; Rhoads 1980). The polishis thought to be the product both of attrition and the deposition of a fine layer of silica(Unger-Hamilton 1984), obtained in the course of processing the sago palmMetroxylon sagu (Ellen 2008).

It is difficult to say very much about the Poromoi Tamu stone artifact assemblage,as the small sample size limits discussion. However, in most general terms, theartifacts appear to indicate one or both of two things. Firstly, they are consistent withlate-stage reduction activities, as is common when tools such as sago pounders arecurated, for example by resharpening edges. This is supported by several factorsobserved in the assemblage, namely the overall small size of the artifacts; the fact thatthey are almost exclusively at a tertiary stage of reduction; and the presence of sagopounder fragments. Secondly, the assemblage appears to represent the accidentalbreakage of tools such as one or more sago pounders, as evidenced particularly bythe artifact fragments which exhibit high-gloss polish. The small size of the assem-blage also suggests some degree of tool fragmentation through use.

The limited amount, tiny size of, and high-gloss polish on, stone artifacts signal thepresence of focused human activity involving sago production in an area devoid ofstone raw materials and where stone tools have therefore to be imported from

Table 3 Poromoi Tamu Square 1, radiocarbon determinations. All ages are AMS, on charcoal

XU Depth (cm) Wk- Laboratory Code δ13C‰ % Modern 14C Age (years BP)

2 2.0–4.5 28652 −23.3±0.2 98.3±0.3 134±30

4 7.3–10.2 28653 −24.2±0.2 98.7±0.3 104±30

5 10.2–12.6 28654 −24.7±0.2 98.6±0.3 114±30

6 12.6–15.1 25289 −24.9±0.2 93.2±0.2 562±30

9 17.9–20.9 28655 −23.5±0.2 99.1±0.3 69±30

12a 26.8–30.0 28657 −29.3±0.2 97.1±0.3 239±30


elsewhere. This is precisely the situation throughout Rumu lands, where duringethnographic times clanspeople imported chert sago pounders and other tools fromhighlands foothills peoples further afield, in particular from the Baina area in theupper Kikori River catchment some 70 km to the northwest. The finding of stone-using activities at Poromoi Tamu, in a part of the landscape devoid of surfacearchaeological evidence, is consistent with the Himaiyu oral traditions of a villagelocation and sago production nearby.

Geomorphology

The geomorphology of Poromoi Tamu, as based on the Square 1 sediments, can beinterpreted in three different ways. The first interprets the dip in the SU1b-SU2stratigraphic change as a solution pit (rather than the edge of a channel) in riverinesediments caused by the organic-rich acidic sediments of SU1b. This interpretationpresupposes relatively free drainage into the nearby riverbank and subjacent karstconditions. In this interpretation, the stratigraphic change between SU1b and SU2 isnot so much an erosional unconformity as the edge of the solution pit. However, whilethis interpretation accounts for the shape of the pit, the level of acidity of sediments, theproximity of the feature to Utiti Creek and the general karst environment, it does notaccount for the lack of any form of surface depression or the absence of stratigraphicevidence of basal drainage such as sediment staining below the depression.

The second interpretation posits the depression as a pit created when a tree wasuprooted and subsequently infilled by overbank sediments, in which case the SU1b-SU2stratigraphic change would represent an unconformity along the pit margin. However,like the first option, this interpretation does not fit well with the facts. Firstly, the stoneartifacts are stratigraphically concentrated in XU2 to XU10 rather than spread through-out the fill sequence as would be expected of a reworked deposit. Secondly, sedimentsinfilling the depression consist of dark, organic-rich loams. We would expect a rede-posited root hollow infill to contain significant quantities of light-colored clods from theunderlying SU2 intermixed within the SU1b dark sediment matrix.

We thus prefer a third interpretation that identifies the dipping feature as adisconformity. The Square 1 stratigraphic profile reveals three separate geomorpho-logical phases (Fig. 7), signalling temporal changes in hydrological regimes along theKikori River and its tributaries. The identification of these three phases is here basedon the sediment profiles revealed during the excavation of Square 1; the physical andchemical properties of the excavated sediments including particle size analysis; andmicro-morphological analyses of the excavated sand grains. These results are con-sidered in their regional contexts within the Kikori River basin, taking into consid-eration that Poromoi Tamu directly fronts the discharge of Are Creek into Utiti Creek.The site is located along the lower reaches of Utiti Creek, itself a tributary of theKikori River, where the landscape slopes gently down by an average of 1.1 m per kmall the way to the Kikori River delta some 35 km downstream, giving it a meangradient of 0.03 %.

Stage 1. The first geomorphological phase corresponds with the deposition ofXU17a to XU11a. These XUs represent silty-sand alluvial sediments. The relativelyhigh proportion of sand particles (45 %) in this downstream section of the watershed


indicates alluvial sediment deposits associated with high flow velocity. The physicaland chemical composition of sediments (weak pH with low concentrations of organicmatter) suggests that alluvial sediments originated largely from the erosion of devel-oped soils from higher elevations (Bleeker 1983). The presence of orange to redcoloured, weathered insolubles, evident in the micro-morphological analysis of finesands and coarse silts, can here be related to altered ancient soils eroded into andplaced in suspension by river flows. In effect, the geomorphic environment of the site,consisting of limestone karst outcrops, does not account well for the production ofsuch quantities of insolubles. These particles originated from sandstone strata andfrom flints contained within a calcareous matrix that have undergone intense alter-ation and karstification. This material essentially comes from the pinnacle karst-richcatchment drained by Are Creek and Utiti Creek.

Stage 2. The second geomorphic phase identified in the excavation correspondswith a period of incision into the pre-existing sediments (cf. the infilled channel in thestratigraphic profile; see Figs. 6 and 7). This erosional phase was likely caused byincreased water-flow strengths, such as occurs during heightened periods of rainfall,despite the low gradient of the river. During this phase, fluvial sediments fromupstream, together with those from the Are and Utiti Creek catchments, were flusheddownstream as a result of faster water-flows due to higher rainfall levels.

Stage 3. The third phase indicates a new period of alluvial sedimentation (XU16bto XU11b and XU10 to XU1, corresponding with SU1b). Alluvial sediments grad-ually fill the channel incised during Stage 2, prograding the ancient alluvial terrace(XU17a to XU11a) in the process. The results of the particle size analysis togetherwith the physical and chemical properties of the sediments from this new phase ofalluvial sediment deposition highlight a change in hydrological and geomorpholog-ical conditions. The fine, silty-clay sediments of this phase at Poromoi Tamu indicatethat the coarser, sand particles have been deposited further upstream as a result ofweaker water-flows. The predominance of such silty-clay particle sizes at PoromoiTamu suggest that sedimentation here took place under still-water conditions as istypical of floodwaters breaching (rather than cutting through) the protective banks ofUtiti Creek. The elevated amounts of organic matter in the soil, clearly more abundantthan during Stage 1 and consistent with higher sediment acidity levels, suggest anintensification of rates of soil erosion in upstream sections of the Kikori Rivercatchment. The presence of insolubables and of organic matter transported by water-flow from upstream sections of the Kikori River is noteworthy. The origin of thesecomponents from the highlands or highlands foothills suggest a different waterflowvelocity and with this hydrographic structure to that found during Stage 1. Takinginto account the present regional topography, we suggest that during Stage 3 theKikori River has been overflowing into (and infilling with carried sediments) thePoromoi Tamu district via the large Ipinai swamp located some 2 km to the north ofthe site (Fig. 8). In effect, Ipinai swamp itself became a swamp as a result of thepartial infilling of the previously less infilled Kikori River floodplains with highlandsand highland foothills sediments.

It is difficult to determine with the available evidence whether the increased rate ofhighland erosion during Stage 3 was caused by (1) changes in human use of theenvironment, as would be typical of an increased incidence of agriculture for exam-ple; or (2) changes in seasonality or increased annual rainfall. We know that


seasonally high rainfall levels cause increased levels of soil erosion and inundation ofdownstream sections of the Kikori River and its tributaries today. The lower propor-tion of sand particles in Stage 3 suggests that wet season discharge—when riverwater-flows and sediment loads are greatest—was lower and/or slower during Stage 3than during Stage 1. Stage 3 sees the onset of new environmental conditions andsedimentation regimes richer in fine-grained particles and organic components. Theenriched organic component of the upper levels represented by XU4 to XU1 inparticular can be explained as a period of soil formation involving the degradationof plant matter, and/or the presence of plant matter deposited by floodwaters.

The excavated sediments at Poromoi Tamu suggest cumulative changes in regionallandscape influenced significantly by high water-flows and sediment loads carried bythe Kikori River and its tributaries Utiti and Are creeks. At Poromoi Tamu Square 1,there is evidence for three consecutive geomorphic phases directly linked to alluvia-tion and fluvial erosion (Fig. 9): strong water-flow and sedimentation of sandy soilsfrom the local karst area (Stage 1) → very strong waterflow and erosion of riverchannels and adjacent banks (Stage 2) → weak water-flow and peak deposition ofhighlands/highlands foothills sediments (Stage 3). It also indicates the active devel-opment of upstream sections of the basin through the continued erosion of the alteredupper craton of the Kikori River catchment and morphogenically active river chan-nels. The dipping, sinuous profile from SU2 to SU1, underlined by the change from alighter SU2 to darker SU1b, can be linked to an ancient phase of fluvial incision datedto sometime before 600 years ago and caused by faster water-flows from Utiti Creek,from Are Creek immediately opposite Poromoi Tamu into Utiti Creek, and along theKikori River and its tributaries generally. The nature and timing of this increasedfluvial competence may well be related to a global period of heightened rainfallvariously known as the Medieval Warm Period or Little Climatic Optimum andgenerally dated to 950–1250 CE (with its commencement in some regions beginningearlier—e.g., Gribbin and Lamb 1978; Pearl 2006), and where at least in some partsof Southeast Asia neighboring the island of New Guinea “The implication is that thisperiod could have been one of regular and extreme flood events” (Godley 2002, p.246). This timing corresponds well with the stratigraphic positioning of the radiocar-bon date in XU6 at Poromoi Tamu. This was followed by a period of less vigorouswater-flow, yet accompanied by higher sediment loads caused by intensified levels oflandscape disturbance, as would be expected at a time of heightened levels ofagriculture in the upper parts of the Kikori River catchment and suggesting increasinghuman activity during the last few hundred years.

The pollen record at the site is consistent with the above geomorphologicalinterpretations (Fig. 10). The transition between a basal zone 1 pollen assemblageand an upper zone 2 assemblage is marked. This transition centres on XU10,corresponding therefore with (1) geomorphological Stages 1–2 conversion to Stage3; (2) the initiation of SU1b; and (3) archaeologically, a concentration of stoneartifacts above XU10.

Between XUs 17a-11a pollen concentrations are high (across these samples theaverage pollen concentration is 6241.2 grains/cm2). Thirty-one pollen types wereidentified and only very minor levels of fine charcoal (10–125 μm) are present. Herea fluctuating forest type similar to today was present, with conditions sometime priorto 600 years ago favoring the dominance of a leguminous species (Fabaceae)


Fig. 8 The preferred geomor-phological interpretation of re-gional landscape evolution thataccounts for the stratigraphicchanges at Poromoi TamuSquare 1


Fig. 9 The preferred geomorphological interpretative sequence for the Poromoi Tamu Square 1 sediments


accompanied by a highly variable suite of the subdominants Dipterocarpaceae, Ilex,Machaerina/Mallotus, Combretaceae/Terminalia, Ficus, Alstonia and Sterculia/Sterculiaceae (recorded inter-changeably). Notably, ferns and Arecaceae are consis-tent in the assemblage and Cocos pollen is tentatively identified in XUs 15a, 14c, 14aand 12a.

Paijmans (1978) observes unstable soils as influencing variation in lowland hillforest structure, species composition and timber volume. The strong water flows ofgeomorphological Stage 1, initiating an active environment—whether the erosion ofdeveloped soils from high elevations or the movement of soils local to Poromoi Tamu—would contribute to irregularity of the subcanopy. Where the presence of water in theenvironment is generally greater than today, with flooding/inundation and potentially ahigher water table, the forest may have been more open and of a lower structure. Suchforest formation would have encouraged fern growth (observed in the pollen) andfavored Arecaceae. However, environmental activity does not appear to have affectedthe predominant Fabaceae.

Pollen counts were low in XUs 1–10, and those pollen grains observed werehighly degraded. The Stage 2 period of incision has therefore dramatically affectedthe deposition of pollen at the excavation site. The pollen record has either beenremoved and eroded downstream as a result of the faster water flows, or the water

Fig. 10 Pollen diagram for Toromoi Tamu Square 1, showing representation of the major taxa only


activity has carried with it such insolubles and/or coarse particles as to degrade ordisintegrate the pollen altogether.

The pollen record does not improve in upper zone 1, where sediments correspondto geomorphology stage 3 and date to 600 years in age or more recent. Despite stage 3being a period of gradual alluvial infill under comparatively still-water conditions,pollen preservation has not occurred. The organic richness of the upper level sedi-ments involving the presence of plant material (in a state of decomposition orotherwise) has created a dynamic, oxidative, biologically active environment inwhich the pollen has not survived or has become unrecognizable. Upstream erosionis maintained, contributing to the dynamic soil status as well as the turn-over of suchsoil (and in greater volume).

Discussion

On the last day of the excavation at Poromoi Tamu, as the stratigraphic section wasbecoming clear on the exposed walls of Square 1, Nick Frank and a Himaiyu clanmember from a strong culture family who was participating in the archaeologicalexcavation, came to BD to communicate a significant observation. Pointing to theinfilled stratigraphic depression dividing SU1b and SU2, he quietly announced thatthe excavations were indeed revealing very significant evidence of the site’s formationhistory. The depression, he stated, was evidence of the snake’s actions and proof of boththe site’s history and of the oral tradition that gives it meaning. As he pointed to the northwall where the infilled stratigraphic depression was most evident (Fig. 11), he recountedthe story of Kuiaru and Laria, which until then the archaeologists had not heard. Soonafter, senior Himaiyu clan members Max and Frank Pivoru assembled all presentaround the excavation square and, with Frank’s eldest son Tony Frank translating, gave adetailed account of the story of Poromoi Tamu. While the assembled members of theHimaiyu clan knew well that Western scientists have a different understanding of theworld to that expressed by the legendary story of Poromoi Tamu, the newly exposedstratigraphic evidence at Square 1 could, it was understood by all present, be taken asevidence or proof of either interpretative positions. In itself, this evidence is consistentwith both the worldviews that have come to variously inform interpretation.

Archaeological excavations at Poromoi Tamu, the site of a legendary ancestralvillage well-known in Himaiyu lore, revealed clear traces of past human presencedating to within the last 600—therefore to a period contained with the last 24generations or so—including both oral tradition and geomorphological evidence forflooding of the local landscape. We can surmise that certain events of the day havebecome enshrined in what is now the legend of Poromoi Tamu, and while it may betempting to suggest that certain components, such as the flooding of the creek-bordering village, represent actual events (“fact”) in this flood-prone environmentwhile others, such as the revolt of the snakes represent transformations of history(“fiction”) in the telling, we suggest a more nuanced, complex process of landscapeunderstanding and history-making. That is to say, history itself is known ontologi-cally, and understanding the meanings that people construct around present and pastevents requires an understanding of the worldviews that come to inform how weconstruct knowledge in the telling. We need to consider how we give meaning to


history through the constant renegotiation of observation and pre-understanding viastory-telling, itself a very social act that allows for a mingling of minds and in this anaccentuated historical dynamism.

At Poromoi Tamu we have come to understand the archaeological evidence indifferent ways, each informed by socially given, underlying assumptions about howthe world works, as these assumptions are told and retold in oral traditions and in theprocess imbue all things experienced and known (see Fig. 11). People think about

Fig. 11 Nick Frank pointing to the infilled stratigraphic depression and telling the story of the snakes infront of Poromoi Tamu Square 1, shortly after the stratigraphic sequence became apparent on the walls ofthe excavation towards the end of the dig


their world according to a particular set of culturally specific impressions (Degh1994, p. 243). Those impressions are not merely random views but rather systemat-ically derived conclusions based on generations of observation, problem solving andinterpretation. This process of giving meaning to things through prior social meaningunendingly renegotiated through observation, experience and reinterpretation appliesequally to the Rumu as to Western scientists (each of whom has used detailedevidence and cultural knowledge to construct understandings of Poromoi Tamu, forexample). Both Rumu and Western knowledge involve observations interpreted inter-textually: how we come to understand the stratigraphy of Poromoi Tamu Square 1 hasas much to do with what we know about other worldly things as it does with what weknow about snakes, holes in the ground, archaeology or geomorphology.Understanding such specific occurrences as the infilled stratigraphic depression atPoromoi Tamu Square 1 is intimately based on how we generally understandenvironmental forces to operate, including what we in the West have come todifferentiate between knowable and thus legitimate explanatory physical processes,and unknowable and therefore unconjurable spiritual forces. In Rumu understanding,however, all things are deeply connected and human experience itself incorporatesspirit forces as part of world processes. Spirit essences are actively embedded in thelandscape as a spiritually charged “natural” world that includes snakes that talk andanimals that can, under the right conditions and on a routine daily basis, communicatewith people (see David et al. 2008 for a discussion of Rumu spirit beliefs andpractices). Rumu landscapes, and Rumu landscape-forming processes, are rich inwhat we would call intangible, even unknowable spiritual dimensions that givelogical, culturally meaningful shape to interpretations of particular observances suchas the Poromoi Tamu Square 1 stratigraphic depression. In Western understanding,however, those forces at work in the landscape are more compartmentalized, so thatthe physical environment can essentially only be understood in relation to measurablephysical forces long-defined by the earth sciences. Ours is a purely materially chargedlandscape and landscape process. But these are differences in ontological startingpoints, not in epistemological processes. In effect, both Rumu and Western interpre-tations of the Poromoi Tamu Square 1 sediment sequence are scientific in approach,rather than operating from distinctly different epistemological approaches. That is, onboth counts observations are related to pre-expectations based on contemporary (andin this equally “modern,” although not equally “modernist”) understandings of theworld, partly allowing pre-understandings to change according to the degree of non-fit, and partly requiring the observer to search through the inter-textual sum ofknowledge to find a process-match by which to explain the new observation. Thefinding of such a match amounts to support for the original pre-understanding,thereby strengthening the explanatory power of the ontological framework, whichorients the new observation. What gives power to how the new observation isunderstood, the pre-understanding which enables its interpretation, and its ontologicaluniverse is the spatially far-reaching and psychologically deep social communicativeprocess of story-telling. Story-telling creates a rapport, a personal absorption, ofunderstanding in social communication. It is an act of giving meaning that mediatesobservation as data-retrieval and worldview through epistemological processes thatbound how knowledge is to be generated. And in this, story-telling both communi-cates and generates bounded rationality (cf. Gigerenzer and Selten 2002) as an


unending interplay of new evidence and pre-understanding: story-telling is a Möbiusstrip that combines two faces, new observation and old knowledge, into a dynamic yetunified process of working out and socially communicating understanding and mean-ingfulness. These two stories—the archaeological and the oral tradition—are told insimilar ways: both reference the evidence systematically; both stories are told anddebated in social interaction. Here we have presented the evidence for the archaeologicalstory in greater detail than the oral tradition, simply because the Rumu clan leaders askedus to investigate this site’s archaeological evidence. Today the archaeology forms part ofthe evidence that local people amass in thinking about their past, their sites, and theirliving landscapes, just as previously all available lines of evidence were used to thinkabout these same issues. These processes are no different to the scientific ones thatarchaeologists use when addressing the past through disciplinary procedures; what isdifferent is access and reference to a broader range of ontological concerns by Rumuclanspeople.

Conclusion

In one sense Poromoi Tamu is a lost place. There is no physical evidence ofthe village. Himaiyu clanspeople know the place because they were told of itspresence by their parents and other relatives, who themselves only knew itthrough the stories that their kin had told them and so on into the deeper past,although the coconut trees on the river’s edge themselves demand explanation asevidence of a past human presence. Thus, the village of Poromoi Tamu and its story isonly known as it is remembered in oral traditions. Here remembering is an act oflocating, not just on the ground, but in pre-understanding. We have shown how eachstory-teller is well-versed and deeply implicated in their story’s underlying ontolog-ical perspective. Furthermore, by negotiating one’s understanding of new thingsthrough story-telling, the story-teller participates in ontological reproduction. BothRumu and archaeological interpretative traditions are scientifically based, in the sensethat both involve making grounded observations through which the truisms of one’sown pre-understandings are assessed. In these sensual observations, specific under-standings and, with this, general worldviews, are either corroborated and in timereproduced, or modified through lack of fit. It is the stories we tell that give voice toour worldviews and hereby set up the initial propositions upon which to guideepistemological questions of corroboration and processes of ontological reproduc-tion. Epistemologically, both Rumu and geomorphological-archaeological investiga-tive logics only become meaningful to the degree by which they enable us to assessand re-assess what we already know about the world. Story-telling connects episte-mology and ontology in that by relating the degree of fit between particular obser-vations and specific understandings, the stories we tell enable us to negotiate how wecome to understand a world that has already obtained ontological meaning in pre-understanding. And in doing so, stories enable us to (re)negotiate how we understandall things, ourselves included, to be in a meaningful world. Whether we wish tounderstand the site’s sediments through Rumu or Western scientific eyes, the processis the same: we make sense of things through the meaningful process of ontologicallyinformed story-telling in a constant process of social mediation.


Acknowledgments First and foremost, we extend our warm thanks to the Pivoru family and Himaiyuclan of Kopi. It is with deep gratitude that we offer our thanks for the gracious welcome that we haveexperienced, and invitation to undertake clan history research in Himaiyu country over the last five years.Many thanks also to Toby Wood at Monash University for drafting Figures 6, 7 and 9; Bernard Sanderreand Robert Skelly for their kind support; Cathy Alex and the staff at Community Development Initiative(CDI) at Kikori for their support and wonderful assistance in the field; and Jacinta John, Kongel Pombreoland the staff at CDI Port Moresby. BD also thanks Monash University for the wonderful support andcollegiate environment; Ian McNiven for comments on an early draft; and the Australian Research Councilfor funding this project under Discovery grant and QEII Fellowship DP0877782.

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poromoi tamu and the case of the drowning village: history, lost places and the stories we tell

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