Imagine you live in a land where swamps and lagoons surround you. There are no bridges, roads or cars. The only way to get to your neighbors in the next village is either to walk five miles on a circuitous route around flooded marshland or take a 20-minute jaunt by dugout canoe across the lagoon. Would you value your canoe? I think you would, especially if you had to make the trip every day or sometimes several times a day. This is the Gogodala way of life. Canoes are even more central to Gogodala culture than cars are to ours.

As a kid at junior camp, I aced my canoe class. One rule that I remember: never stand up in a canoe. I hope I don’t have to give back my canoeing badge, but I admit I find myself breaking that rule all the time here in Papua New Guinea. The Gogodala paddle their canoes from a standing position. It seems strange, but it makes sense to them. Standing, they can better see over the mats of floating grass, and they can use their leg muscles to add power to their strokes. Also, after hours of paddling, one’s bottom doesn’t get sore.

Dugout canoes to Gogodala are like ice skates to Canadians or cross-country skis to Finns. The children learn from very young how to paddle standing up with perfect balance. Their canoes play a central role throughout their lives. When they die, their canoes become their caskets.

One day, I was walking through the forest with a young Kotale man. As we rounded a bend in the path, he exclaimed, “There’s my canoe!” I looked around to see where he was pointing, but I didn’t see a canoe, just a tree. He pointed to it and said again, “That’s my canoe.” I’ve come to understand that the Gogodala view certain trees as canoes, albeit canoes that have yet to be carved.

Canoe racing is a popular sport among the Gogodala. Seventy years ago, missionaries banned the races, but racing has recently made a revival. An impressive, colorful spectacle to witness, it is a very spiritual event for the Gogodala. It is much more than an athletic event. It is a competition of spirits. Before the race, the canoe must be removed from its resting place on the bank where it is believed the canoe’s spirit has been sleeping. A crowd of men and boys (women are not allowed to witness this) gather around the canoe and hit the sides vigorously to awaken the sleeping spirit so it will help them win the race. To cover their spiritual bases, they then ask a local Christian pastor to say a prayer to give them an edge over their opponents in the race.

The canoe is central to Gogodala beliefs about their origins. Legend has it that their ancestors came across the ocean in two large canoes, each one carrying equal numbers of men and women who were brothers and sisters—the red clan and the white clan. The Gogodala also believe a canoe had a part in forming the creeks and rivers. Moved magically by unseen forces, a canoe carrying Gogodala ancestors plowed its way through the clay flat lands, meandering back and forth, splitting the earth and creating riverbed as it went.

I once heard a politician who was running for office give a speech in our village. His story started like this: “I see a canoe traveling down the river with some men in it. As it proceeds down the river, more and more men jump on board.” Clearly, he was referring to his political campaign and hinting that those who didn’t join his side would be left behind. At the end of his speech, there was a standing ovation. His use of canoe imagery was obviously a big hit with the Gogodala. This keen politician was not Gogodala, but he knew enough about their culture and how they think to find a path to their hearts.

Jesus used stories and parables that spoke to His audiences’ hearts. As missionaries, we are called to preach the gospel with clear tones that speak clearly to our Gogodala people. Thank you for your prayers as we complete our culture research and prepare to develop culturally relevant evangelistic materials.

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