Humbled again

This afternoon, a typical rainy Tabubil Sunday, we received a phone call. It was Serah, the team member who visited us a couple of days ago to give us gifts. She told us that her children were upset and wanted to visit again "because we gave all the gifts to Boss and not enough gifts to Stuart and now we have gifts for Stuart". They were on their way. So I flew into the kitchen to make a quick-mix chocolate cake with thick butter icing in readiness for their arrival. This was a fortunate decision because when they arrived they carried not only a bag of gifts but also a coconut fish curry and banana sago! After we convinced them to sit down, they presented Stu with a "Bilum", a traditional woven bag with a forehead strap that is only made and worn in the highlands of PNG. We shared the food, talked for an hour, laughed a lot and took photos. Then they left to enjoy the rest of their Sunday, leaving us to again wonder about the generosity and selflessness of these people.

 

 

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Across two centuries

Just before dinner last night, we had a visitor. Actually, we had 3 visitors. One of my direct reports, who has only recently moved to Tabubil, dropped in with 2 of her 3 daughters. They carried a huge polystyrene bag which they placed on the floor in our dining room. After a few minutes of conversation, Serah leaned down, dug into the bag and brought out several treasures. They were gifts for our imminent departure and they included 2 bags woven from tree bark, another bag woven from cane and a set of jewellery made from shells (necklace, bracelet, earrings). She ceremoniously placed the bags around our necks and pressed the jewellery into the palm of my hand. Although I was standing in the middle of our dining room, I felt like Captain Cook on a distant beach surrounded by natives. I was decorated with meaningful items skillfully crafted by people from foreign lands. I don't know how Captain Cook felt but I was very humbled indeed. Serah is from Manus Island, the beautiful island to the east of PNG where Australia has just started to redirect illegal boat people. She had sought the assistance of family members and friends back on Manus to make these gifts, then to carry them from the island to the highlands for us. A couple of centuries ago, Captain Cook was an "invader" who had received garlands from natives and here was I, another generation of "invader" still receiving garlands from natives. Much has changed between generations but this remains the same...

 

 

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When size counts

I have a special treat for readers today...yours truly herself! Well, i simply had to put something in the photo that could demonstrate how big that beautiful orange flower is!

 

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A finished masterpiece!

I am proud to announce that I have actually finished a craft project! While I remain surrounded by unfinished masterpieces in the form of half-knitted hats, half-knitted ponchos, half-knitted shawls and half-knitted collars, there is now a finished article amongst them. Here is a crocheted bag. I must remain honest, though...my clever photography hides the threads that haven't yet been worked in...

 

 

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Give and take the children...

Sometimes we are confronted by the sheer selflessness of Papua New Guineans. A while ago, a cleaner in our office told me that she had 4 babies "but I give 1 away, Boss". Apparently, she gave 1 away to her sister because she couldn't have children. I asked her if she ever sees this baby or her sister and she said she doesn't; her sister lives in another village. This week, I learned that our receptionist has 1 child and another on the way. I expressed surprise that she had 2 children at the age of 25. She said "Actually, Boss, I have 4 children". My interest was peaked. Apparently her parents work in a refugee camp for Iryan Jayans. A few years ago, her mother came across a very young mother in the camp who had a baby that she couldn't look after. Our receptionist's mother suggested that she adopt this baby. A year later, her father told her about his friend, who "had 5 wives and many many daughters but no sons". The 5th wife was pregnant again and the friend had asked our receptionist's father "If this baby is a girl, will you take her?" The baby was born a girl. This baby is now 1 month old and our receptionist will adopt her during her next roster off period. I asked her what adoption involved and she said that she "just has to sign some papers". I asked her what her husband thinks of all this and what he does for a living. She said "he loves children" and that he has "deferred his degree in journalism to look after his children". He shares this task with his mother-in-law while our receptionist works at the mine and lives in the camp. It is very humbling indeed to be amongst a community where people are prepared to, and able to, look after other people's children. While there's certainly something to be said for a lack of red tape, I wonder what complexities this brings later...?

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Up up and away

Today we booked our flights to Italy! We leave Australia on 1st October via Finnair and travel via Hong Kong and Helsinki to Milan. Very exciting! The beginning of the next phase of our lives...

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More of the unexpected

Yesterday I wrote about a number of international visitors that we had on site and the wonderful exposure to PNG culture that they had experienced. While we were able to get the visitors back to Tabubil yesterday on 2 chopper flights, it seems that PNG wasn't finished with them yet. It's "winter" in the jungle and this means cloud, cloud and more cloud. The cloud is so thick that no commercial airlines have been prepared to land at Tabubil for days. This in turn meant that no commercial airlines had been LEAVING Tabubil. So our visitors remain stranded with no hope of escape...yet another experience of "the land of the unexpected"...

 

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The land of the unexpected

I have had an interesting 2 days. On my return from roster off, I was asked to attend a 2 day site visit by tenderers to our dredging operations a few kilometres down the river at Bige. Several international visitors came for the visit, from Belgium, Denmark and USA. The visit involved a small aircraft, a helicopter and a lot of coordination. It had taken considerable effort to organise and a number of my team members had been involved over recent weeks. Half of the 12 visitors flew in and out of Tabubil, while the other half in and out of the smaller Kiunga. The Tabubil group left early yesterday morning in the company's chartered Twin Otter aircraft. Our first stop was Kiunga, to collect the remainder of the visitors, then on to Bige. The first day was spent explaining the company's objectives and touring the operation. Significant effort was put into explaining the cultural challenges of the country, a critical consideration in order to conduct a successful business in PNG. At the end of the first day, we were rather casually advised that the runway at Kiunga was unable to be used for the remainder of the week because it was "under construction". Just like that. Suddenly and inexplicably, "under construction". This announcement sent a mild panic through the group as half of the visitors needed to meet international connections out of Port Moresby after the visit. In their best efforts to be efficient, our international visitors hadn't considered the great capacity of PNG to send the best laid plans into disarray. I guess this is why Papua New Guinea is known as "the land of the unexpected"...and I guess this experience was more effective in explaining the culture to them than anything we said!

 

 

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What is furry and green?

Welcome to the joys of returning to Tabubil in the wet season...furry green teabags and curtains...

 

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Still moving

I have now taken to dreaming about moving. It would appear that the last week has been too much for me. Last night I dreamed about cardboard boxes and tracking systems for shipping containers. Today I am one exhausted little bunny...

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Emptiness

It's Thursday evening, the removalists have gone and we're sitting on our lounge room floor, bereft of "things". Tonight I will sleep on a 3cm thick mattress, at $35 the cheapest foam thing I could find. I only need it for 2 to 3 nights so it didn't make sense to buy anything more. Actually it's the cushioning for an outdoor chair but hey it will do, even if my lower legs do hang off the end!

 

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Until we meet again

We spent last evening reading, every so often lifting our eyes from our books to ponder the white plastic wrapped furniture and cardboard boxes that surrounded us. I found myself badly distracted by all that this move meant. I considered all of our previous moves and the meaning of traipsing all over the globe with our "things". Some of our things have been from Australia to Singapore to Australia to Switzerland to Italy to Australia and now back to Italy. There is a lot to be said for crystal balls. Much earlier than normal we slithered into our sleeping bags and felt that incredible feeling of being horizontal and cocooned in a tube of duck down. Only campers and backpackers can truly understand that feeling. When we woke, we were met with a very crisp winter day. At 7.30am, the sun was up but the air was still frigid and into that late dawn Wridgways arrived with a twenty foot container. We have a morning of farewelling our treasure and trash...until we meet it again...

 

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On the move. Again.

Well, we're on the move again. At 7.30am this morning, we welcomed Wridgeways into our apartment. After days of discarding, organising and panicking, we were ready; tired but ready. As I write this blog post at noon, two men are still packing our treasures. And our trash. The sounds of tape being pulled off rolls and butchers paper being folded and scrunched have been my constant companions all morning. Each cardboard box has "Aust to Italy" scrawled on it. My blood pressure is up. This is the second last international move we make. The last one will be our return to Australia.

 

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Truly blessed

Never before have I appreciated the blessings of my birth more than during the last year. Since I have been in Papua New Guinea, I have seen much poverty and felt a sense of "this is all there is". While the culture is traditional, tribal and intensely proud, it is also deeply superstitious and violent. I wonder about the luck I have been blessed with in my life. Last week, one of my team members said to me "You have done so much in your life". Her simple statement really hit me. Yes, I have done so much in my life...and all of it simply because of the luck of my birth. My birth parents, my birth place and my birth era. Middle class parents + Australia + late 20th century. This combination made for a life full of opportunity and without limitation. I have always had a car, a job, a home. I have travelled extensively, I have lived overseas in 3 different countries. I have had an incredible international career. I have been a dance sport champion. I have snorkelled, ridden horses and taken long distance treks. I have knitted, crocheted, read and cooked. I have loved, lost and laughed. I have rushed, watched and loitered. I feel truly blessed.

 

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Learn Pidgin with me!

This morning, we flew out of Tabubil on the "happy" flight!!! Yippee, we are in Cairns and I am slowly drying out. Literally. Here is a useful sign in the Tabubil airport for readers who want to learn Pidgin...

 

 

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No idea

This morning on the way to work I had an epiphany. The ultimate idea for a blog post had entered my head somewhere between leaving our carport and turning right to drive down the main road of Tabubil. Unfortunately, thats where it stayed. As I sit here with fingers poised above my keyboard I have utterly no idea what I was going to write about...

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No yarn

I am stuck in the jungle with no yarn. Life has turned pear-shaped for this little knitter! I am knitting a shawl which has come to a sudden stop at the end of row circa 150. However, there is hope. We "escape" on the Sunday morning "happy" flight. Soon after, my hoard of wool and I will be reunited.

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To stop or not to stop

Today, Stuart and I were driving down the main road in Tabubil when we came across some roadworks. A couple of "stop and go" men were managing traffic on each side of the road. As dutiful law abiding individuals, we correctly stopped and waited. And waited. And waited. Somewhere in our culturally sensitive expat minds we had accepted that this wait was typical of PNG. After many long minutes, we started to wonder why we had the stop sign when there were no other vehicles evident along the entire road. We looked a little closer. Both "stop and go" men were showing their "stop" signs. If nothing else, PNG teaches you patience...and acceptance...and to intervene if necessary...

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Soon to be free (again)

We have resigned. Again. The state of the PNG nation is not good. As we watch PNG regressing, these are worrying times. Government ministers continue to promote the removal of foreigners from their country and violence is increasing. Just this last week, one of my employees watched as his uncle was hacked to death by a machete-wielding highlander at a football match. The reason was not who was winning or losing the match but simply tribal warfare. There could have been any number of reasons. But the jungle drums don't toll for we foreigners. They are silent, eventually surprising or shocking us and always after the fact. The added worry of low metal prices means that our big hole in the jungle is not earning as much as it usually does. The company is bleeding and has been for many months. Drastic measures will be taken. Now may well be the best time to leave PNG...

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Little blooms amongst the rocks

Tiny pieces of joy amidst the rocks...

 

 

 

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