There are no charismatic leaders like Yali today. This was the message James Yali, Yali Singina's son, conveyed to the crowd gathered at his mother's funeral in Umuin Village. We will not soon see a man like Yali again, he told us. It is hard to say whether this point was proven or subverted by the fact that the Police Commander from Beon Prison stood next to James, as he spoke to those of us from all over Madang Province who had gathered to say goodbye to his mother, Mama Sugum Yali, knowing we had waited for his transfer from Buimo Gaol in Lae and his release under guard for the day today, to attend this event. There is some echo of his father in James' natural and easy way with the public, some intuitively political talent that cannot be supressed and surely did charm the Rai Kos and Madang mourners today. But no one would mistake the man, now thinner and grayer for his years in jail on sexual assault charges, for his revered father who passed away on the eve of Independence. It has been a long time since this crowd could be rallied by Yali's ideas, Yali's hopes and dreams. But what James wanted to say was that this may be the end of an era, an entirely different Madang than the one Yali left thirty four years ago, and one that may look like a realisation of his dreams (we all have mobile phones now, James said, and wear western clothes), but it is far from the world he envisioned. Yali taught us about pride and self-restraint and, above all else, care for the environment. On the occasion of his widow's passing, James Yali wanted to remind us that the kind of leadership we actively seek all over the world today, one that will preserve and protect the environment like a mother provider, not to be handled recklessly or ungratefully, is exactly the leadership Yali demonstrated during his lifetime. Yali taught health and hygiene and self-respect, and he told villagers to build houses off the ground and put aside a room in the house for worship only for prayer or meditation of some kind. And he taught us to pay fines for transgressions against nature, to cherish what natural wealth is the birthright of Papua New Guineans, and to hold fast to the kindness and generosity that is traditional PNG kastom. Mama Sugum survived her husband for more than three decades during which time she rode out endless cargo cult accusations and an unending series of bizarre movements born in the name of her husband. But she did not waver from his laws, and she never hid from her role as Queen of New Guinea, the oft-persecuted and increasingly misunderstood figurehead of the Dabsau Association. By the time she passed this week, 28 July, 2008, she had weathered every Back Jesus and Yaliwan-esque storm in an smaller and smaller community of Yali faithful. Virtually all were there to bury her today, with the children, grandchildren and their children who had come of age as caretakers to this gentle old woman and the memory of her charismatic husband. They may be fewer than before, but the Dabsau Association is no less committed to a form of independent thinking and self-governance that shuns institutional authority for a 'third way,' a simple hardworking (virtually protestant) existence to be rewarded on earth as well as beyond. The Lo Bosses prayed to Tibud, and blessed Manup and Kilibob today. They recalled how it was an Australian administration and both Lutheran and Catholic churches that once patronised Yali, and taught him how to clean and maintain a village, how to raise a healthy family, and place croton leaves in a bottle as a form of decoration, and a symbol of modernity; that it was these same institutions that quickly condemned him when his following swelled beyond expectations and people from Ramu to Morobe walked days to hear him speak on the Rai Coast, in Bogia, Amele and Madang. They recalled how Mama Sugum herself, called up under accusations of cargo cultism to the Saidor authorities after her husband was incarcerated in 1950, stood unwavering in her denials and finally told the white man that this road belong cargo (referring to the phrase Peter Lawrence coined for the movement, and the title of his 1964 book) was not something she ever spoke about. It was something the white people talked about all the time, though. It was their obsession, not hers, she said. So we remember her today, and know that she lived so long after Yali's death for a purpose: to bring this lesson through the Independence era to the 21st century, when we would need it now more than ever before.