On a remote archipelago off Papua New Guinea, Mark Stratton finds amorous islanders, the most unruly games of cricket and the gateway to heaven on a virginal, white-sand beach.

If the Trobriand Islanders were allowed to take part in the just-completed Cricket World Cup, they would have caused quite a stir, surpassing the razzmatazz of the modern game.

From the boundary at Yalumgwa's cricket ground I'm watching a violent tribal encounter at the crease without the slightest hint of sportsmanship.

"This is the colonials' doing," says Maurice, a tribal elder watching with me. "When the missionaries came to the Trobriand

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