Rascal Rain

The pump from the rain water tanks at my complex is having some major issues. The pipes howl and shake. The faucet viciously spits. If there is water at all. You never expect it. Sometimes it returns in 5 minutes. Sometimes 5 hours. Bucket baths. Nalgene mouth rinses. Always having buckets full. Soapy clothes left behind. Dirty dishes in the sink. Not a great idea when the daily question is “I wonder if that’s gecko poop or rat poop?” The flat manager promises repairs week after week, “The part is on order from Lae.” We’ll start digging this week.” No shower today. One plate left. Guess I can’t be too disappointed; we finally got a security guard. It only took seeing the landlord in a social setting and explaining ‘rascal rain’. Heavy rains are great for opportunistic rascals. Noises are easily hidden behind the weight of the rain pounding the earth. Two weeks before my return there was a break-in in the apartment below me. Jeremiah, who says he must be12 or 13 years old, was woken by the noise and grabbed a knife. Jeremiah stabbed the guy as he was running out the door. The next night the wontoks of the injured intruder returned and threw stones at the house in retaliation. Typical PNG, a rascal seeking compensation for being injured while committing a crime. I stack my furniture in front of my doors and jump at every sound, even when it’s just the pipes.

Two women I know were beat by their husbands this week. I stopped to greet her, the teacher who lives in the neighboring complex as I passed the afternoon crowd gathered around Christopher’s buai stand. I did not notice at first, I was standing on the other side. I could tell something was different about her today. After the usual small talk, from where are you coming, where did you spend the holidays, and will the rain come again tonight, we turned to leave. That’s when I saw it. A black eye. I asked again “Are you sure you are okay?” I did not expect her to open up to me. Our relationship has not gone beyond the simplicities of comings and goings. She confided, “No, I am not okay.” She did not want to talk about it then and took me up on my offer for a coffee on my veranda other time. That was three days ago. I’ll go to her school tomorrow.

My young neighbor confided that her husband beat her with a stick because she wore a thin dress while swimming in the sea.

I join many women in PNG by wearing black on Thursdays to silently speak out against domestic violence.


Today I met with the Regional Standards Officer, who is the director of all the inspectors in 4 provinces. This is a new position aimed at the decentralization of the National Department of Education. It was a good conversation and he affirmed his support for inclusive education efforts in the region and appeared genuinely eager to learn more. So Monday when I meet with the Provincial Standards Officer, I will have some weight behind my project proposal.