In the thick, tangled jungles of Papua, far beyond where roads can reach and mobile signals fade to nothing, lives a tribe who laugh in the face of gravity. The Korowai people don’t just live off the land — they live above it, perched in tree houses that can soar up to 45 metres high. That’s nearly as tall as the Statue of Liberty, minus the torch.
Why? Not just to escape snakes or mosquitoes — though that helps. The Korowai climb to the sky to avoid something far more chilling: the ghosts of their dead relatives.
A Life That Defies Time
Until the late 1970s, no one outside Papua had heard of the Korowai. Missionaries only stumbled upon them by helicopter — they looked down and saw smoke curling from the treetops. Below was a tribe untouched by electricity, metal tools, or the outside world.
The Korowai hunted pigs with bows, fished with poisoned arrows, and grew sago, bananas, and sweet potatoes. Their pets? Wild boars and dogs with valuable teeth. Their currency? Dog teeth, pig meat, and shells.
Money was a foreign concept until missionaries offered them machetes, salt, and later rupees in exchange for work. Still, most Korowai preferred the old ways, trusting in magic over medicine and ancestors over outsiders.
Tree Houses Built with Bare Hands and Big Bravery
Their legendary tree houses aren’t quaint wooden cabins. These architectural marvels are crafted entirely from jungle materials — no hammers, nails, or measuring tape. A strong banyan tree forms the base. Then, they strip the top, lash together branches with rattan, and cover the roof with sago leaves. A notched log ladder swings below the house like a nervous warning system. Every step shakes the tree. Visitors can’t sneak up.
Some men build houses 30 to 45 metres high—not for comfort but to impress. Once finished, they throw a feast, gain respect, and then usually… move out. The homes are too impractical for daily life. The real family homes sit more modestly between 8 and 12 metres high—still high enough to avoid snakes, spirits, and nosy neighbours.
@anibal_bueno_ Los Korowai, una comunidad de cazadores recolectores que habita la selva de Papúa Occidental y que construye casas a más de 30 metros de altura, sobre los árboles. Parte de su comunicación se lleva a cabo a través de cánticos que suenan en mitad de la densa selva. #korowai #korowaitribe #korowaihouse #kombay #kombai #koroway #westpapua #papuaoccidental #papua #irianjaya #ewer #timika #asmat #mabul #indonesia #asia ♬ sonido original – Aníbal Bueno
They Believe Ghosts Are Watching
The Korowai believe the forest is full of invisible dangers — not just wild animals, but spirits of the dead. Ancestors may reincarnate as babies or animals, or just hang around the tree house. Certain birds, especially the native lark, might carry messages from the dead.
To protect themselves, they perform rituals, sing songs, and beat the walls of their new homes at night to scare off evil spirits before moving in. Women known for spiritual power can communicate with ancestors. Men feared as khakhua — magical sorcerers — are blamed for illnesses, accidents, even death.
What happens if someone’s believed to be a khakhua? According to many villagers, there’s only one punishment: death. And not just death — ritual cannibalism.
Witch-Eating as Justice
The Korowai believe that if a khakhua eats a human soul, then justice demands that he be eaten in return. After killing the accused, the community divides and eats his flesh. This practice, however, was said to occur only under extreme spiritual circumstances. Outsiders debate whether it still happens or if it ever truly did — some say it’s a sensationalised retelling, others say it’s very real.
Regardless, this belief system kept fear, law, and order in balance — at least in their eyes.
Where Women Marry Young and Pigs Are Sacred
In Korowai culture, girls marry right after their first period, often in early teens. Men wait until they’re older, because marriage costs pigs, and pigs are like pure gold. A dowry can cost several animals, and pigs are only eaten on big occasions — like marriages, deaths, or sago grub festivals.
Their homes hold up to 15 people — one man, his wives, children, maybe even his widowed mother. Babies hang in woven nets from their mother’s foreheads. Dogs are for hunting, and pigs are for respect.
Sago Grub Feasts and Forest Fame
The Korowai host massive sago grub feasts to celebrate life, fertility, and ancestral honour. Sago grubs — fat, juicy larvae from rotting palm trunks — are delicacies. Whole clans come together to eat, dance, and exchange gifts like pigs or dog teeth.
But these aren’t just parties. They’re social contracts. If someone gives you a pig, you’re expected to give back even more in the future. This keeps the community tight, or sometimes tense.
A World Between Worlds
Today, some Korowai have moved to villages where they can access medicine, schools, and small shops. They buy coffee, salt, and razor blades. Some kids now study in towns and cities. Tourism brings money — and curiosity. Trekking into the jungle to meet “the people of the trees” is a growing business, though only the west side of Korowai territory is frequently visited.
Others still roam the forest like they always have — nomads chasing sago, building sky-high homes, and holding tight to their ancient, mystical ways.
But even their forest is under threat. Logging, outsiders, and modern life creep closer every year.
How long can a tribe that talks to ghosts, builds in the sky, and once punished witches by eating them, resist the pull of the ground below?
