The unusually prolonged hiatus between volunteer assignments invoked some ancillary effects: I spent more money, but had a chance to do some work around my home.
I'd gotten into the habit of partaking of a rum and Coke each evening as I watch the news before cooking dinner and have not purchased any rum at retail prices for as long as I can remember (always had 'duty free'); but I almost ran out of Captain Morgan rum!
I also had to make time for a few medical episodes: on Boxing Day a tooth split and had to be extracted: that took an hour and fifteen minutes in the torture chair of an emergency dentist. A few weeks later, a filling decided to leap out and my regular dentist gave me a needle which at first had no effect and I nearly chewed her hand off. Reminded me of the Bill Cosby dentist's skit where he says that he realised that if he lost the use of his legs: he could walk on the cheeks of his backside. Thankfully, I was home for both episodes and not in some remote locale.
I also had minor eye surgery for a cataract in my right eye - an incredibly efficient process: appointments for day surgery were ten minutes apart and the actual operation took about six minutes. I was rather apprehensive about someone chopping into my eyeball while I was conscious but did not really feel anything; there was no real discomfort, and the improvement was instantaneous. I will go back to have the left eye done when I'm at home for a while and they can fit me in.
What could be looked on as an ancillary benefit of doing these volunteer assignments, which are ultimately funded by the Australian government (consequently creating heaps of paperwork), are the comprehensive health checks for fitness and the travel insurance.
As mentioned in the previous epistle - my laptop died in Vanuatu, and that resulted in lost data, including some records of my past assignments. I contacted the volunteer organisation's head office to fill in the blanks and their Excel records showed the start and finish dates, allowing calculation of the number of days on each one. SO - my analytical brain decided to add up the total number of days on volunteer assignments: it was equal to eight and a half years. So, including the years that I was living on Niue and then in Papua New Guinea and wandering: I have been out of Australia for around fifteen of the last twenty-two years. I was last 'employed' in Australia in 1966!
SO - a 2,240 mile flight in 4.5 hours diagonally north-east across Australia from Perth to overnight in Brisbane; then a 1,300 mile flight in 3 hours 10 minutes north to overnight in Port Moresby.
There was another (woman) volunteer present at a briefing we had that afternoon in which the In-Country Manager endeavoured to explain the inherent 'dangers' in Papua New Guinea. The hotel where we were staying was located across the road from a peaceful looking beach, but we were told to not even think about going for a promenade on the beachside footpath as it was too dangerous....if he found out that we did (and survived) he stated that he would "send you home". An over-reaction, I felt, but combined with a string of other similar admonishments, the lady was very strongly inclined to return home on the next available flight.
Next morning: off to the domestic airport for a short 223 mile flight on a local airline to the base for my next assignment - Alotau (a town that is only assessable by aircraft or boat, as there are no roads to other destinations outside the province).
Papua New Guinea can create a dichotomy of impressions to the uninitiated. For instance: on the early morning hotel shuttle to the Port Moresby airport, there were peaceful pedestrians wandering the streets, young kids playing or walking to school: a veritable picture of suburban tranquillity. However, as a security guard rolled open the huge steel gate and we drove through the hotel's razor wire topped security fence, the driver used a radio connected to a security centre to announce that we were leaving, the route we were taking and where we were going. About half-way there, he gave his location, and again when we arrived at the airport.
I found it interesting to note that, on international arrival in PNG, virtually every passenger was white and there were just a few people in the 'locals' queue at immigration. By contrast, at the domestic terminal the next morning, in a sea of milling humanity: I was the sole white face.
I learned after I arrived at the assignment offices of the provincial travel agency I was to work with that the manager had just resigned; so that left just one staff member (and two others concentrating on an annual canoe festival) plus a 29 year-old female Aussie volunteer (Monique from AYAD - Australian Youth Ambassador or Development - under the same organisation I volunteer for) who had started two weeks before and was there on a 12 month assignment...we were obviously going to have to work closely together. So - I was again working within a predominately estrogenic environment.
One of my first commitments was to attend a ninety minute Catholic service dedicated to those in public service in the province. Amid the rituals, the bishop gave a stirring speech encouraging dedication by the government employees in serving the public. Afterwards, we had a good chat with the bishop and the deputy governor before partaking of the usual repast following any gathering.
Interesting office hours on this one: office opened at 8.00am and we were obliged to leave before 4pm as hours were until 4.06pm (no, that's not a misprint). A Bureau gal collected Monique and me in a government car just before 8am and had to get the car back by 4.06pm. She lived out of town - got up at 5.00am, bathed in a stream because there was no running water, walked about 40 minutes from the village to a road to catch a PMV (public motor vehicle = small bus) to get into Alotau; then she had to go through security to get the car! She lived in a village with no electricity or scheme water, did the family laundry and bathed in a stream; and cooked with a wood-powered fire ... and then came to the office, drove a car (very well, actually) and used a computer - I kept thinking that she (and many like her) had just skipped the 20th century.
Refreshingly, Alotau must be among the friendliest locations in Papua New Guinea, in a sea of external troubles it is a peaceful oasis. It was safe to walk anywhere (during the day anyway) and most locals would smile and say "good morning" or "good afternoon".
A local quirk - you cannot buy any alcoholic products in Alotau from Thursday night until Monday morning. A new Governor repealed the law and was pressured into bringing it back in again!
My accommodation was very civilised indeed this time. I was to be self-catering again, in a 'self-contained apartment' situated on a large bay by the ocean in an education complex, among gardens with lawns, shrubs and tropical flowers. Mains electricity: refrigerator, air conditioner, toaster, microwave! BUT - just to make me feel 'at home' in the boondocks: the television reception was intermittent (vacillating between an almost watchable picture to a bright blue screen), rats were charging around and partying in the ceiling (I swear that they were wearing hobnailed boots), and the power would go off for protracted periods (there were also regular power cuts at the office). The complex was situated by the ocean so: I guess if one was neurotic, you could worry about a potential tsunami!
All the roads around town were sealed and (overall) in pretty good condition. As mentioned, there is no road connecting Alotau to the outside 'world'. Some guys came in to the office one day doing a survey on a planned highway out of Alotau to a nearby town and asking for input. Interestingly they were told resoundingly "no" - that they'd rather preserve their isolation and peaceful attributes without any outside contamination.
The situations one can become embroiled in on some of these assignments in remote locales amid complex cultures can sometimes become delicate and involve some careful side-stepping. I had discussions with one of the gals in the tourism office and, as the first born of an influential father in her local community she had some authority (even as a female in the society), and a strong sense of responsibility. We had discussions about the need to preserve their culture and her generation turning more to western values. She kept telling me how she was trying to discourage what she referred to as the 'sex trade' even in her small local community. One cannot help but be inclined to offer at least moral support, especially when given graphic details of a 12-year-old girl in the 'trade' - with her parents' collusion!!!!
The locals had a penchant for chewing betel nut (known colloquially as 'buai') which I referred to as their 'drug'. They chomp on the 'nut' accompanied with lime from a little plastic bag; which can result in a red mouth and teeth. The 'lime' is a white powder, (not the fruit like a lemon) and is made from crushed coral or sea shells. If someone is seen carrying a bunch of buai 'nuts' - it attracts other people like a strong magnet, all wanting a chew!
We (the office) organised an event for sixty visiting international media and potential investors. The arrangements included large 'war canoes' and several local dance troupes in full costume. Oddly, when compared to our culture: the women wore grass skirts and headdresses, but nothing in between - bare breasts are OK, but not exposed thighs. We had arranged for a woman to act as the Master of Ceremonies (which she did very well); she was also wearing only a grass skirt while she stood on stage and then wandered unselfconsciously around among conservatively dressed white folks. A photographer was snapping away and took several photos of us tourism personnel as we handed out free gifts to the media. At one stage, I placed the handles of a billum (woven bag) in my mouth - and that's the one that finished up in full colour in the national press the next week.
Luckily, there was a prevalence of the use of English in general conversations in Alotau. PNG is a small country of six million people, but with about 800 different languages. In fact, the pidgin word for a 'friend' is 'wantok' (for 'one talk', or speaking the same language). Many seemed to use English for their general conversations and those working in offices or commerce could easily converse in English, even though many could speak maybe half a dozen languages. In fact, this would be the first assignment where I've experienced English being spoken in meetings, staff talking to each other and with customers!
Alotau in Milne Bay Province is an oasis of calm compared to some other areas of Papua New Guinea. A group described as 'armed insurgents' infiltrated the secure compound of some western volunteers in Goroka - luckily there were no injuries. The Milne Bay residents rightly highly prize their reputation as a peaceful, friendly people and want to remain so. Although, as with most small towns, rumours abound - such as the one that staff told me in all sincerity that a group of Highlanders were in town, killing local people and cutting out their hearts for sale...mmmm tasty with some fauve beans and a nice Chianti, perhaps?
March turned out to be not a good month for news from the world outside PNG. I had a message from the wife of a good friend in Oregon telling me that Bob had been in hospital and was due to go home the next day - that night he passed away. A few weeks later I had a message from a school friend (we were at each other's weddings and shared a series of joint adventures) that he had a 'growth on his brain' and had been given a month to live!!! It's a bugger getting OLD?
A significant cyclone (Ita) was headed straight for us in early April and we were advised to have an 'emergency pack' ready and to get away from the sea. It caused significant flooding in the Solomon Islands with 25 dead. Luckily it veered south and we were just caught by its skirts as it slowly trundled past at 10kph. We did have some strong winds which seemed to have gone through town in bursts - there were large trees torn out of the ground, I saw a steel power pole which had been bent to an almost 45º angle by the wind, power lines were down so there was no electricity and water was off that night. We had the heaviest rain I have ever experienced. It was as though someone had a huge, bottomless bucket full of water and just tipped it straight on Alotau - there must have been millions of litres ... my thought was 'how on earth was it possible for the sky to hold so much water?' The rain gauge where I was staying was full and they estimated that we'd had over 8-inches of rain! The cyclone subsequently headed for northern Queensland as a category 5 (highest rating) with forecasted 300kph winds; luckily, the severity reduced.
Two days later (early on a Sunday morning) after the cyclone crept past, there was a 7.6 magnitude earthquake at sea near the Solomon Islands and a tsunami alert was broadcast, including for PNG. Fortunately it was later rescinded. Two weeks later at 1am on a Sunday, my mobile phone beeped with an incoming message: another tsunami warning following 7.8 magnitude earthquake - also later cancelled.
Working with the previously mentioned volunteer (Monique) gave me another insight into the inherent challenges of being female in these societies. Monique is a very capable, imaginative and energetic woman, but there were subtle challenges she faced that I did not. We would go to meetings together and she was better at presenting the case for our client. However, sometimes other factors would be highlighted, such as: We went to the police station to meet and inform them about the arrival of a large cruise ship; before we were ushered into the Chief's office, Monique asked me to do the talking because I was male.
We walked into a hotel to meet with staff and as we passed the security guard at the front gate and said "good morning" (virtually in unison) the guard responded: "good morning, sir".
The client's board met (after several attempts because they could not achieve a quorum) to choose a new manager. We'd seen the CVs of the six applicants and two females were by far the most qualified - a male with no experience was appointed without any interviews and the feedback we got was that they 'wanted a man'.
Also, in the local hierarchy, age trumps gender - so a 'young' female has two strikes against her!
My dear late friend, Meg, did an assignment in Vanuatu and even as a mature woman she would go to meetings but was not permitted to address the men directly, she had to whisper her questions to a male who would ask on her behalf.
So - this one ended and the time came to say goodbye and take the long trek back to Perth (the most remote capital city in the world). Arrived on schedule to overnight in Port Moresby and was supposed to be collected as arranged - waited for an hour and a half with local security guards telling me that taking a taxi was not a 'safe' option. I (hoped that) I knew which hotel I was booked into so waited until I saw their shuttle bus come through, flagged him down and scrambled aboard - hoping that was where I had a booking for the night. I did!
That evening a gal from the PNG tourism office took me out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant and we had a good chat.
The journey home took three flights Alotau to Port Moresby - to Brisbane - to Perth - it took 12 hours. The landing in Brisbane was interesting - wheels down, flaps extended then, just as the wheels were about to touch tarmac full throttle and we were ascending rapidly. Pilot came on the PA a few minutes later to advise that there was another aircraft on the runway and he had to abort the landing.
Rumours that my next assignment is in the process of approval - back to PNG soon if it comes off.....
PHOTOS ON
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