The underwater magic mosaic is a captivating art form that combines the beauty of the ocean with the enchantment of magic. It involves creating intricate mosaic patterns using various colorful materials in marine-inspired designs. These mosaics are then placed underwater, creating a mesmerizing display that can be enjoyed by divers and marine enthusiasts. The concept of underwater magic mosaics is believed to have originated from ancient civilizations that recognized the allure of the ocean and the power of artistic expression. The mosaics often depict aquatic creatures such as fish, coral reefs, and seashells, bringing the underwater world to life in a unique and enchanting way. Creating an underwater magic mosaic involves careful planning and execution.
Kissam’s quest is now to prevent more victims like Justice. The 2013 murder of the girl’s mother prompted PNG’s Parliament to take steps to crack down on sorcery-related violence. It reintroduced the death penalty for murder and repealed the controversial 1971 Sorcery Act, which allowed murderers to use the allegation of witchcraft as a legitimate defense. Peter O’Neill, PNG prime minister from 2011 until his resignation in May 2019, described sanguma as “absolute rubbish” whose believers are “cowards who are looking for someone to blame because of their own failure in life.”
Some 3 million of government funds allocated for an intensive sanguma awareness program has been frittered away, say activists, who insist that foreign assistance must be tied to tackling social ills like gender-based violence and improving access to health care. There is little doubt that in every inhabited continent of the world, the majority of recorded human societies have believed in, and feared, an ability by some individuals to cause misfortune and injury to others by non-physical and uncanny magical means this has been one of the most striking lessons of anthropological fieldwork and the writing of extra-European history.
Creating an underwater magic mosaic involves careful planning and execution. The artist must select materials that can withstand the harsh conditions of the ocean, such as ceramic tiles or glass. These materials are then arranged and adhered to a durable substrate, such as cement or epoxy, to ensure that the mosaic remains intact underwater.
How a 7-Year-Old Girl Survived Papua New Guinea’s Crucible of Sorcery
J ustice is 7 years old. She’s besotted with Frozen’s Princess Elsa and knows all the words to the film’s hit song “Let It Go.” Every morning, she collects the frangipani flowers that have fallen into her guardian’s yard in the Papua New Guinea capital Port Moresby and turns them into floral brooches, poking the central stem through each snowy petal. When Justice laughs, which is often, her smile beams so wide it seems to stretch her face to breaking point.
It’s hard to imagine how anyone would consider this little girl the encapsulation of pure evil. Yet in November 2017, the population of her village convinced themselves Justice was a witch. That’s why a mob imprisoned and tortured Justice for five days. It’s why they strung her up by her wrists and ankles and began flaying her with heated machetes. It’s why they screamed at her to recant the black magic they accused her of using to strike down another youngster.
“They came to my house and wanted to kill me,” Justice tells TIME matter-of-factly. “They got a big knife and put it in the fire and then hurt my feet.”
Justice, whose real name TIME agreed not to use for fear of reprisals, was eventually rescued by the Papua New Guinea Tribal Foundation, an NGO based in Port Moresby that provides education, health care and humanitarian assistance in Papa New Guinea’s remotest communities. Justice has since been cared for by the organization’s director of operations, Ruth J. Kissam, who is now her legal guardian. TIME met Justice and Kissam for a playdate in Port Moresby, where she has lived since her flight from Papa New Guinea’s arcane Highlands.
No child should have to describe such heinous cruelty. But Kissam, who became a community activist after being forced to drop out of law school to care for her ailing mother and three younger siblings, has spent her life battling the sorcery-related violence that increasingly blights this southwest Pacific country of 8 million. Kissam allowed TIME to meet with Justice because she says the child will only reconcile her ordeal by talking about it. But there is also a far grimmer reason. “We are talking now to raise awareness because we are seeing a lot more kids just like her coming into our system,” says Kissam, whose work earned her the Westpac Outstanding Woman of 2018 Award, which celebrates Papua New Guinea’s most dedicated female talent.
Belief in sorcery, known locally as sanguma, exists across the Pacific and especially in Papua New Guinea or PNG, a country just off the northern coast of Australia incorporating half the island of Guinea, plus some 600 other islands. Eighty percent of the population live in far-flung villages without access to electricity, running water or health care. Its clans speak over 800 distinct languages.
Many aspects of sanguma are entirely benign, part of a folk religion that stretches back millennia. Hunters may collect a tendon from a dead relative’s body to rub on their bows while hunting, believing the spirit helps guide the arrow home. Colds and other ailments are ascribed to the meddling of capricious spirits. Surprisingly, sanguma and Christianity — introduced mainly by Western missionaries — are often revered side-by-side.
But PNG is experiencing a spike in lynching of suspected witches, as uneven development means ever more people leave their villages looking for work. Without established village chiefs or time-honored tribal justice systems in place for addressing sanguma accusations, these swelling communities of economic migrants become more vulnerable to hotheads instigating violence. And because most people who live in PNG lack education and proper healthcare, when a sudden death or illness strikes — a growing scourge as junk food and drugs make previously unknown conditions like diabetes and HIV/Aids more prevalent — angry mobs often go looking for a scapegoat. “There are people who go to different communities and say, ‘If you pay me 1,000 kina [$300], I’ll tell you who is a sorcerer,” says Gary Bustin, director of the Tribal Foundation.
Neighbors gather near the home of 55-year-old mother-of-two Rachel in the Tsak Vally in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea after she recounts how in April 2017, she was accused of sorcery and tortured by people she knew, on November 20, 2018.
Peter Parks—AFP/Getty ImagesVictims are almost exclusively vulnerable women: single mothers, widows, the infirm or mentally ill. The U.N. has estimated that there are 200 killings of “witches” in PNG annually, while local activists estimate up to 50,000 people have been chased from their homes due to sorcery accusations. But sanguma is so secretive, and communities so remote, that experts say the vast majority of incidences slip under the radar. “It’s a really big problem,” says Geejay Milli, a political science lecturer at the University of Papua New Guinea and former crime reporter. “The media is not reporting on it enough.”
Social media is compounding the problem. The West is all too aware how a torrent of fake news leads to arguments, hate-filled identity politics and polarization, even influencing democratic elections. But the sudden proliferation of smartphones and platforms like Facebook is even more unsettling across the developing world, where tech neophytes are less discerning consumers.
Conspiracy-laden social media posts played a role in the genocide of Myanmar’s Rohingya Muslim minority. In India and Mexico, rumors of shady figures kidnapping children and selling their organs have led to multiple lynchings. In PNG, accusations against suspected witches spread with alarming speed. In one case, a woman who had been accused of being a witch but rescued and relocated to a faraway community was attacked and mutilated after she was recognized from viral Facebook posts.
In a statement to TIME, Facebook said it proactively meets with external experts, NGOs, government officials and organizations with culture-specific knowledge to keep people safe. “We treat threats of violence or physical harm very seriously and will remove this content as soon as we become aware of it,” said a spokesperson, highlighting that Facebook removed 4 million posts containing hate speech globally in the first quarter of 2019.
Development brings other pressures. Resource-rich PNG lies at the center of the geopolitical battleground in the Pacific between the U.S. and key allies like Japan and Australia on one hand, and China on the other. China has pledged some $5.9 billion on more than 200 projects in the region since 2011, according to Australian think tank the Lowy Institute. Analyst and social workers fear social problems like the spread of sanguma-related violence may go untreated as China’s footprint grows, given the Asian superpower’s no-strings-attached investment model, where money is typically funneled to central government without well-defined social deliverables attached. This opacity allows graft to thrive; PNG ranks 138 out of 180 nations on Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index 2018. While it is too early to put the blame of the current spike in sorcery-related violence at Beijing’s door, “China’s lack of concern about human rights, and track record in that regard, is worrying,” says Adam Everill, cofounder of Equal Playing Field, an NGO that works to stem gender-based violence in PNG.
Once the mosaic is complete, it is carefully transported to its underwater location. This may involve diving to great depths or using specialized equipment to ensure the mosaic is properly placed and secured. The artist must consider factors such as water currents, visibility, and the ecosystem of the location to create a seamless integration of the mosaic with its surroundings. The underwater magic mosaic adds a touch of whimsy and beauty to the underwater world. It offers divers and marine life a unique experience, transforming ordinary dive sites into enchanting underwater galleries. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns of the mosaic capture the imagination and create a sense of wonder, allowing viewers to feel connected to the ocean and its inhabitants. In addition to their aesthetic appeal, underwater magic mosaics also serve a practical purpose. They can help promote marine conservation by raising awareness about the importance of protecting and preserving our underwater ecosystems. By showcasing the beauty of the ocean through art, these mosaics can inspire people to take action to safeguard our fragile marine environments. Whether viewed by divers or enjoyed through photographs and videos, the underwater magic mosaic is a testament to the creativity and ingenuity of artists around the world. Through their skillful craftsmanship, they transport us to a world of underwater enchantment, reminding us of the magic that lies beneath the surface of the sea..
Reviews for "The Spiritual Significance of Underwater Magic Mosaics"
- John - 2/5 rating - "I was really disappointed by Underwater Magic Mosaic. The concept sounded interesting, but the execution fell flat for me. The puzzles were too easy and repetitive, and the graphics were not very impressive. I was hoping for a more immersive and challenging experience, but unfortunately, this game did not deliver."
- Sarah - 1/5 rating - "I have to say I hated Underwater Magic Mosaic. The gameplay was extremely boring, and the levels felt like they dragged on forever. The graphics were also very dated, which made the overall experience even worse. I regret buying this game and would not recommend it to anyone."
- Mike - 2/5 rating - "Underwater Magic Mosaic was a letdown for me. The game became repetitive after a few levels, and I found myself losing interest quickly. The story was not engaging, and the graphics were mediocre at best. I expected more from this game and was disappointed by what I got."