Papua New Guinea is a destination steeped in mystery and tribal tradition. Synonymous with jungle intrigue, it is a country known to Westerners only through movies and rumor.

But the truth of the place is both more surprising and more welcoming than Hollywood fiction could ever conjure.

The capital city of Port Moresby boasts elegant hotels and luxurious comforts. Yet, with a short drive into the neighboring mountains, one can be transported to a world still governed by the traditional customs set down hundreds of years ago.

We enjoyed the modern infinity pool of The Stanley Hotel and visited the stunning National History Museum before delving deep into the interior to see dense rainforests and spectacular double waterfalls.

And that’s where description ends and experience begins.

The asphalt ribbon hugged a precipitous ravine on the left, with clouds rolling hard and low across the peaks ahead to obscure our way and make the progress slow. With glimpses of vibrant native plants — thorny, thirsty, and neon-inspired — breaking the fog at every turn, we wound our way up and into the prehistoric past. 

A road wishing to be seen but seldom getting that wish. And, yet, glad that we were here at long last.

Then we arrived. A granite promontory suspended in mist and threatening to crush the forest below with the slightest shake of the earth. And shake it does with regular earthquakes.

Through rock fissures and down a stone staircase of impossibly fused gravel, born in the bowels of a long-dormant but still feared volcano. Black and intricate and infinite in its unstudied details.

Far in the valley below and creating its own clouds and rainbows, roared the double waterfall of Koiari. A feature worshiped as a god in this place. And rightly so. The holy waters falling as if directly from heaven and plunging into a pool that feeds the dark, thirsty bosom of the earth.

We waited, and listened in awe to the jungle valley created, inspired, and owned by this cascade of relentless water.

How small are we.

But the most interesting experience happened on our way back to the city when our driver, a man who still maintains close ties with his ancestral family, shared details about life in Papua New Guinea.

Traditional practices and governance are still the norm, with most of the country’s land continuing to be claimed by tribal leaders.

He told us that the federal government was trying to change these claims of tribal ownership, but that those efforts would not succeed. The real authority of the country continued to reside with ancient leadership, and that was unlikely to be challenged.

Although the concept of communal land and shared spaces may seem quaint, or even backwards, to Western sensibilities, I think we could stand to learn a thing or two about social stewardship from the tribes of Papua New Guinea.

And we could also take a lesson on leadership itself. 

Our driver explained that the leader of each tribe is chosen by democratic majority without campaigns or fundraising. And largely without a platform.

“Then, how do the people make their decision?” I asked. “What is the criteria for who is the best leader?”

Our driver answered, “It’s very simple. The person who is chosen has demonstrated that they will always put the interests of the tribe above the interests of their own family.”

“A servant leader,” I shared.

“Exactly,” he said. “A servant leader.”

Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing.