My Year with the Tribe (2018): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode #1.1 - full transcript

In the rainforests of West Papua...

...there lives a tribe that is one
of the most ancient and isolated

cultures on Earth.

The Korowai were not visited by
outsiders until around 40 years ago,

when anthropologists
and missionaries returned

with stories of cannibalism,

Stone Age tools, and extraordinary
houses built in the trees.

Over the years, many documentaries
have been made about them...

...offering a snapshot
of their lives.

But in this series,
I want to try something different.

I want to find a family
who will let me film with them



over the course of a whole year.

So that I can better understand the
pressures that the Korowai culture

is now under.

Caught between the modern world

and the pull of their
traditional way of life.

With so many tribal people
around the world

now facing such rapid change,

I want to see how much of this
most traditional of cultures

still survives.

They represent something, something
that is really important to us.

They are our link to our own pasts,

you know, back when we were
all living in the forests

as hunter-gatherers.

They're the last generation
of that breed of people



and that's a massive,

massive chapter in human history
that's going to come to an end.

This programme contains
some strong language

Here she is.

This is West Papua.

It is the western half of the
great island of New Guinea.

New Guinea is located, of course,
just above Australia.

It's an immense, immense space.

I think it's, sort of, the third
largest island in the world.

I've been to West Papua
a lot in the last decade,

but, in all of my time in Papua,

I have never yet made it
to the Korowai territory.

My name is Will Millard.
I'm a writer and expedition leader.

I've been coming to Indonesia
for the last ten years,

and have made several
anthropological documentaries.

Normally, a producer and a local
fixer go out ahead of the crew,

and plan who and what to film
in advance.

This time, nothing has been set up.

I don't know where I'm going,
or who I will meet,

or even how many Korowai are still
living in the traditional way.

But I'm hoping that, if I can find a
family who will let me visit them

four times over the course
of a year,

I will get closer to them
than is normally possible.

And so be better able to understand
the pressures that they face

as they're pulled between their
traditional way of life

and the modern world.

It's a huge, huge daunting prospect.

Heading off now with, essentially,
three boats filled with food,

not really knowing
where we're going,

don't know who were going to meet.

I don't know who I'll to end up
staying with. I've got no idea.

I'd be lying if I said
that I wasn't a little bit...

...intimidated.

My starting point is Mabul,

a village on the edge
of the Korowai territory,

which I've been told is the
gateway for expeditions

into the interior.

Mabul?

Yes. Yes, we have made it!

That was quite a long eight hours.

We're here. Amazing.

I was starting to think this place
didn't exist, actually.

But this is it.

Mabul is one of the
oldest villages in the region.

But with generators, a school,
and the arrival of smartphones,

it's already pretty well developed.

Yes. Yes? Yes.

It sounds like
there are several villages

where they still live in the trees.

And it sounds like they live
in a traditional way.

These guys say that they don't
wear clothes so, yes,

it sounds like a start.

I speak Indonesian,

so I have no problems
understanding the people in Mabul.

But once we're in the forest,

it's likely the Korowai will only
use their own unique language.

So my local producer Shinta
is helping me find an interpreter.

Shinta, what's being said?

I think it's, they give me
information, like, five hours,

seven hours away from here,

they have family there
called Markus.

Really? Yes.

LAUGHTER

As well as Perez,

we've had to hire 18 porters
to carry all our food and kit

to Markus's tree house,
a five-hour walk away.

Even children are expected by their
parents to help earn money.

I feel bad.

It's hard to believe
that there are still people

somewhere in this jungle
environment in front of us...

...going about their daily business.

And that this...

...this is their pathway.

As far as anyone knows,
there are fewer than 4,000 Korowai,

spread out over an area
the size of Greater Manchester.

But Perez tells me that, for years,

the government has been encouraging
people to leave the forest

and move to villages like Mabul.

So I've no idea
what I will find ahead.

A sense of anticipation is building.

My heart is starting to go.

Here we go. There's a clearing.

Really? Yes.
That's where Markus lives.

Up there.

SHOUTING

I've been waiting quite a long time
to actually see a tree house

in the flesh.

Oh, yeah, Markus.

Brilliant.

Living up to ten metres above
predators and the damp forest floor

is one obvious reason
for building a tree house.

I've read that life used to be
a pretty brutal business

for the Korowai,

so it was also how you defended
yourself against other clans.

Let's give it a go.

But apparently, one of the main
reasons that they stay in the trees

is their belief that witches and
zombies occupy the forest floor,

spreading death and disease.

There is not an enormous amount
in here.

A few bones.

Oh, yeah?

Ah, yeah, of course.

It might seem reckless,

having a fire in a wooden house
ten metres up a tree,

but Markus is using
a traditional Korowai fire pit

that can be cut loose
and drop to the ground

if things get out of hand.

But it looks like
some things have changed.

Cigarette lighter and plastic.

Markus lives in the treehouse
with his two wives and five kids.

Nearby, there are some abandoned
huts that are perfect for me

and the crew,
and our team of porters.

HE SINGS

And, as soon as we've settled in,

he announces that
it's time to go hunting.

Whoa, it's biting me!

Oh, my God, look at the jaws
on that. That is disgusting!

OK. Bite, bite.

Just eat it.

That's all right.

That's actually really nice!

Tastes like custard.

Oh, my God.

OK, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Hey!

It's working.

It's working.

I can hear it eating.

Oh, fucking hell!

Oh, Jesus Christ!

It's coming back out.

It's coming out. It's come out.

It's coming out, it's coming out.

Look at all that! Look!

It's full of ear wax.

Ayeee!

SNIGGERING

Got it!

Wow!

Back at our camp next
to Markus's tree house,

I get to meet
his wives and children.

I assumed this family spent
all their time in the forest,

but I'm struck by how
remarkably unfazed they are

by the outside world.

THEY LAUGH

Life out here is clearly changing
faster than I thought,

but the warmth of their welcome

means that this already feels
like it could be the family

I'd like to get to know
over the coming year.

HE SINGS

The next morning, Markus says
he wants to introduce me

to his neighbours, a two-hour walk
through the forest.

We've been going for an hour.

I'm absolutely knackered.

Covered in sweat.

And this is just to get to Markus's
closest neighbours.

These aren't his family.

This is next door!

Ah, right. Just for us.

He wants you to take his photo.

So big!

I can't quite put my finger on it,

but something doesn't feel
right about this tree house.

It doesn't look like it's been
lived in for years,

and everyone seems terrified

that we're going to drop
through the rotting floor.

Right, so that's why they're
worried how many people come up here

and that we might fall through the
floor. This is not where they live.

This is total artifice.

Most Korowai tree houses,
like the one Markus lives in,

are up to ten metres high.

It turns out these very high ones,

30 metres or more off the ground,

were built for foreigners.

The most impressive one in this area
has been built by Markus himself.

Whoa!

That is something else!

He does know that his cigarettes
aren't dependent on this.

This is completely... You know,
he doesn't have to do this.

Oh, for God's sake!

Don't look down, mate.
Don't look down.

Oh, my God!

OK.

This is unbelievably terrifying.

And, you know, the thing is...
The thing is this.

This has got nothing to do
with the Korowai people.

Can you ask him?

It is amazing up here.
I mean, it is just stunning.

But, it's... It's not real.

I mean, it is real,
inasmuch as it's here.

But, this place has been built
by my people,

for the purposes of telling
stories about theirs.

It turns out that it is not just
the Korowai in this area

who have built tall tree
houses for film crews.

There are many others scattered
throughout the forest.

From Tarzan to Peter Pan, the idea
of living in very tall tree houses

recurs in children's stories.

And it is enchanting to imagine

that there is a place
where it is actually happening.

There's no doubt that the Korowai
do sometimes build tree houses

very high up.

To look at the beautiful
views, or to show off.

But they rarely, if ever, live so
dangerously high in the tree tops.

'Parents are surprisingly
relaxed as their children

'explore their limits
in the new home.'

Yet that is the story
we all want to hear.

And it now appears that some
of the more entrepreneurial Korowai

have cleverly learned to deliver

exactly what their foreign
guests expect to see.

In fact, in the area around Mabul,

it is becoming clear that they have
built an entire economy

around selling Brand Korowai

to rich tourists
and television crews.

SHOUTING

Markus's neighbour
has been greeting tourists

with this amazing performance
for years.

WILL LAUGHS NERVOUSLY

You could argue that people
like him are keeping aspects

of Korowai traditional culture
alive.

He now spends lots of the time
in the village at Mabul,

and, as he joins the cash economy,

who can blame him
for wanting to earn money

from the attention that his
traditional lifestyle brings?

But all this performance
is making this area feel

more like a theme park
than a real village.

It's a bit like trying
to understand the English

if you've only seen Morris dancing
and fish and chips.

I don't think I've ever had
a mirror put in front of my face

quite so brutally as I have
here in the last few days.

Where I've actually been made
to look at myself,

especially as a television presenter
and be like, you know what?

Look around you, mate,
you made this.

It turns out that Markus
and his family

also spend a lot
of their time in Mabul,

and only came out
to their treehouse

when they heard I was looking
for somewhere to film.

Although he doesn't charge
for individual activities,

he has a daily rate of about £15 for
each Westerner that stays with him.

I've been invited to dinner.

And it looks like
we have three rats.

Wow!

It smells good!

Where to start?

That's his foot. That's his foot.

Oh, got one of his bollocks
as well.

That's... That's nice.

Yeah!

There's nothing wrong with that
at all.

It tastes... a bit porky.

Markus?

That's its balls.

The dream that they've
created here is ideal.

All that they've tried to do
is provide people like me

with the experience
that they actually want.

And it would be so, so much easier
if I just succumbed to it

and said, you know what?

Give me the gourd, I'm going
to live in the tree house.

We'll do the tribal thing,
we'll do the scenes.

It'll be easier for them, it'll be
easier for me and I suspect,

you know, for the people back home,
it'll be easier for them too.

Because that's what they want to
watch. You know?

Everyone's a winner!

Yet here I am,
sort of sat on the log thinking...

Yeah, but, you're not telling
the truth, are you? You know?

You're not telling the whole truth.

HE COUNTS OUT LOUD

I feel very conflicted.

I've come to West Papua to find
a traditional Korowai family

to spend a year with, in order to
explore how well they're adapting

to the modern world.

But everywhere I look, the
modern world has already taken over.

Part of me thinks I should just
stay here in Mabul, and accept

that most Korowai today
live in tin hut villages like this.

But at the same time,

I've just been told that there's
somewhere further upstream

where people might still
be living in the old way.

And now that I've come so far,
I don't feel I can pass by this

chance to find out if anyone still
lives the ancient Korowai lifestyle.

But to get there, I'm going
to have to pass through Muara,

a remote village with a reputation
for hostility toward outsiders.

There's definitely
a change in atmosphere

amongst the guys today, you know?

People are feeling a bit anxious,
a bit low on confidence,

because this is the unknown.

Only three members of our group have
actually been any further upriver

than we're about to go.

And none of them had
a good experience, so...

Yeah, I don't quite know
what to expect, really.

It's only couple of hours to Muara,

but, apparently,
it's very different to Mabul.

The Korowai here only recently
left the forest,

and the village is barely
three years old.

We're here. This is it.

Wasn't so bad.

It's little more
than a collection of huts.

But, despite its reputation,
it doesn't feel hostile.

I don't understand like,
last night, all of this drama...

Yeah. You know, about everything.

And now we're here, it just doesn't
seem... Are we in the right place?

Like, why are we here?

This is... This is the village
that's near to Muara.

Right. Yeah. So that, that is
the place they were worried about?

It is the place, yeah.

Er, slightly unexpected.

Perez is saying we should wait
now for the head man to arrive,

and question that person properly.

We're running out of time.

We haven't got much time left
on our visas, we'll get one chance.

If we get it wrong, there is
no other chance.

If we get there and there's no
people, I can live with that,

that's fine,

because that's it, that's the story,
they're not there any more.

But I want to be sure.

We can't carry
all our equipment ourselves.

The £10 a day we are paying
for porters will be the only cash

some of them will see all year.

But no-one wants to cross into
White-beard's land

without someone
who knows the family,

so we've hired Dupen,

one of the heads of the village,
to lead us there.

This forest is massive. Huge trees.

It's already a step up from Mabul.

Incredible primary rainforest.

A couple of years' time,

this forest is just going
to swallow this part.

And the people that are
still living in the forest

are going to be cut off completely.

Just counted, there
is 41 people with us.

We employed 15.

I guess what must have happened

is everybody just tacked on
as we left the village.

It's just dawning on me now,
perhaps a bit too late,

that turning up
with this many people

might not be the best of ideas,
really.

I think if I've chosen to be,

chosen to isolate myself
to this extent,

I probably wouldn't want half of the
village turning up on my doorstep

with a bunch of white people.

I'm in it now, committed.

We're nearly there.

Here we are.

Hey.

I need to leave my bags here
and go up there on my own.

I can see a man with a white beard.

OK.

This is crazy.

Just taking off my boots.

OK.

The white beard.

No-one speaks Indonesian.

I know one word of Korowai.

HE SPEAKS TO THEM

Thank you.

I'm so pleased to see these guys.

Incredible.

THEY SPEAK KOROWAI

WILL SNORTS LIKE A PIG

WILL SNORTS AGAIN

Oh, my God.

What a place.

Wow!

Perez, can you help me translate?

I'd expected to find one old man
living in the forest like a hermit,

but White-beard's whole family
are staying in this tree house,

which feels very lived in,

and quite unlike the other
tree houses I've seen so far.

OK, I've figured out
who's related to who.

White-beard and Alp are brothers.

And when August was very young,
he lost both of his parents

so they brought up August.

This is August's wife.

These are August's sons,

and then she is Alp's daughter.

Oh, my God.

That was unbelievable.

I have never, in all my time
in Papua, seen anything like this.

That's incredible.

While I've been talking
to White-beard and his family,

the porters have started
constructing a camp.

I'm in a really difficult situation.

I've only just met this family,
and I want to take things slowly,

but everyone else is rushing ahead.

It's all a bit of a disaster,
basically.

40 people ended up
following us into the forest.

And I knew it was going
to be a problem,

and, really, I'm annoyed at myself.

We should have just said,
"Stop now, go back."

But we didn't,
and now we've come out here,

I thought the guys would just be
happy to turn around and walk back.

I feel like I've finally found
the traditional family

I've been looking for, but the
modern world has come with me,

and it's difficult to control.

OK, well, that's a good start,
you're not angry. OK.

Oh, Jesus.

Until recently, the Korowai of Muara
lived as isolated families

spread out across the forest
in a society without leaders.

They still find the idea of being
told what to do insulting.

I didn't realise at the time
that asking them to leave

only made them
more determined to stay.

Part of me feels, you know,
like this experience

is already irreparably broken,

and, you know, I may as well
be in a 40 metre-high

tree house built for television.

Literally, I may as well be,
you know?

In many respects, a 40-metre tree
house with just me on my own

with a camera for the night
is going to be more meaningful

than being here with people that are
genuinely living in the forest,

but with 40-odd people
on their doorstep, you know?

The situation, we have
completely changed this place.

This is...
We are the amusement park.

We've brought it with us, you know?

We have brought the caravan
to this place.

The right thing to do
is to see what happens tomorrow,

and if nothing changes, than we're
just going to have to leave.

But next morning,
without needing to say anything,

half of the village
has left for home.

Hey, August.

I feel I owe White-beard
and his family an apology.

We can see, you've broken
your shoulders across here.

It's amazing you can
use your arms, actually.

August has just been saying that the
reason why he continues to live here

in this house is because he feels
a moral debt, a debt of obligation

to White-beard for everything that
he's done for him,

bringing him up, and saving him
when he lost both of his parents

so if what they say is true,

and this genuinely is the last
tree house in this area,

then this very much represents
the last stand for this way of life.

Almost by accident,
I've walked into an amazing story.

There are three generations of
Korowai people in the tree house

and they are living through
a moment in history.

These are the last of the old
generation existing in the forest.

But it's obvious that August wants
to move his family to the village.

This is the Korowai of today,

living between two worlds.

I think that this is the place
that I would want to spend my year.

This feels right.

I've made mistakes, and they've
been pretty glaringly obvious,

and I think I can make some changes
and I can come back here

and it will be different

and I will have an opportunity
to get closer to this family.

August.

But even here, as I was to find out
over the course of the next year,

all is not quite what it seems.

When I return to Papua,

my idea of what traditional culture
is turned on its head... again.

August.

Everybody's wearing clothes.

What is going on? What's going on?

There's a woman over there
who's given birth on her own

in the forest,
cut her own umbilical cord.

This is the Korowai,
this is how it is.