Two weeks of school holiday + idol teenagers = tattoos of course! With nothing better to do than take the outrigger canoe out for fishing, Roland decided to give Dagma a tattoo. They used ink from a pen and a needle to put the cross on his arm. As I have stated before,infections are inevitable in the tropics, however the traditional cure of squeezing papaya juice in the wound didn't seem to be healing things. When the children and I were chasing the roosters around the garden, I noticed the infection had gotten worse. Grille, a very common skin disease here in PNG, had gotten into the wound. Joshua and Lily are covered in grille, so it is no surprise with all the children in the house that it spread to Dagma’s open wound. Now, after a few lessons in how to clean wounds and several days of antibiotics, his arm is looking better.
Grace, a small girl with the most beautiful eyes has come to join her older sister Regina, both from Mt Hagan. The first week she did nothing but cry. Age is not deemed an important identifying characteristic here, but from observing Grace’s developmental milestones I would guess her to be around 2-2 ½ . I would guess Regina to be in her upper teens. She doesn’t attend school here in Madang, but says she completed grade 6 in Hagan. In the States I was very good at determining a child’s age, but here this proves to be extremely difficult. Emily left again without a word. When I asked about her, they simply said she left.
My plot against the roosters has certainly developed. While in the Highlands for the Goroka festival, I bought a bow and arrow. Although I had a few lessons, I never managed to do anything more than send the roosters running. I support urban local level governance against raising chickens in towns. Probably not the best solution or the most ethical, but in a moment of frustration I offered Erik 50 Kina to get rid of the roosters. One can buy a rooster at the market for 20 Kina. An hour later Roland came to the veranda with a dead rooster in his hands. I handed over the 50 Kina and when he released his hand from the rooster’s neck, the presumably dead rooster began to struggle. It didn’t suffer long as the family was soon enjoying a feast! Now we are down to one rooster who supposedly belongs to the neighbors behind our compound. This rooster and his owners have been warned. His days of “cock-a-doodle-do”ing under my window before sunrise are numbered. I will soon be able to add ‘master archer’ to my résumé.
Dolly has proven to be a hunter. Unfortunately roosters aren’t on the list of the many gifts she brings to our door. Mice, birds, lizards and geckos are her favorite. Scooby has fattened up and no longer eats with her tail between her legs. Belden, who we thought lost her pregnancy, just had a litter of 6 puppies. Scooby isn’t taking too well to Belden sharing her canned dog food. My intentions are not to feed all 4 dogs, but just to supplement the diet for the ones who need it most. I am slowing weaning Scooby, however, she tries her best to sneak through the screen and bars on the back door for Dolly’s dish.
The neighbors to our right -the ones with the screaming alarm- have decided to convert the front house on their compound into a 4-room guesthouse. Unfortunately, they have removed all the lush tropical trees and plants from their garden to make room for the extension. With housing continuing to be a growing concern here in Madang, I understand why they would make this real estate investment. At 100 Kina a night for a room facing the sea, they will have no problems with bookings and will profit greatly.
Water. Those who know me well understand my efforts to conserve water. Our house has two enormous rainwater tanks, but when we first arrived the pump didn’t work so we used the town water supply. Months later we received our first water bill…Outrageous! Turn to find out there was a leak in the pipe in the back garden leading to the family’s water source. New Zealand contractors, who were hired by the Chinese owner of the house to remodel the downstairs apartment, agreed to replace the pump and repair the pipe. Problem solved…we assumed. Blackouts are our only concerns now. Several times a week, when there is no electricity to run the pump, we have the option to switch to town water with a flip of a switch and turn of a faucet at the main water supply near the road. Okay, simple enough. All was going well until a coconut fell from a tree and burst the pipe..again! Roland has made attempts to wrap the pipe, but the leak causes the pump to run continuously…and our electricity meter ticks on. We tried switching to town water to conserve electricity, but the water sprays even stronger from the leaky pipe…and our water meter ticks on. Damn coconuts!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The effects of the Cholera outbreak here in Madang
Cholera cases have been identified in the general hospital. To help prevent the spread of this preventable disease precautionary measures have been put in place. The Madang Festival was cancelled. Buai stands were forced to close. With PNG’s buai craze, this lasted about an hour (give or take). I will quote my neighbor-the one on the left that sells beer on the black market- “if we close our buai markets how will our children eat? And these men who gave the notifications had mouths full of buai themselves. So, we have no choice but to keep our markets open.” And when I say market, think of a wobbly table under a tree. The fish market selling smoked fish and kai bars selling flour balls, potato wedges, rice, lamb flaps, etc were closed. And individuals themselves were taking every precaution. I met with a teacher to plan an in-service and she greeted me with a gloved hand (without sequins).
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Independence
What does being independent mean?
Yesterday PNG celebrated its 34th year of independence. Here in Madang this was marked by a parade complete with PNG flags waving from car antennas, piles of men, women and children in traditional dress beating kundu drums from the back of Land Cruisers, and an address by the Prime Minister himself, Michael Somare.
Relatively speaking PNG is a young country, not too much older than myself, yet the ‘western world’ sets exceedingly high expectations. These high expectations do not come without high costs.
I am not an economist or anthropologist, nor do I claim to have had a formal training in international development. However, I feel I am in a unique position with an interesting perspective. I am a “westerner” living and working alongside Papua New Guineans at a grassroots level. I may not have the answers, nor may I be able to write with the level of understanding that some of my readers may be expecting from an international development worker, however, I am able to reflect upon what I have experienced and ask questions.
With such high dependency on foreign aid, which comes mostly from AusAID, is PNG independent? Would PNG and its dependency on the infamous ‘cargo culture’ function more independently if all volunteers, missionaries, expatriates and development workers were to leave tomorrow? And who’s to say whether the ‘western way’ is the way for PNG?
All I know is that in Madang over the past year there has been an increase in jobless youth roaming the streets, settlements have multiplied, and violent crimes are occurring around every corner. It’s a vicious cycle that only a strong, independent state can break. Change must come from within.
Papua New Guineans have left their villages, have paid for an education that is not relevant to their lives, and are given no job opportunities. They cannot return to their villages and live a traditional life of carving canoes, building houses and planting sago. They want Land Cruisers, air conditioning, and coca-cola. When they don’t find jobs to get the things they have seen and tasted and become accustomed to, one does the only thing he feels he can do. Bows and arrows are the things of the past. Guns and knives are in the hands of the desperate youth. And for what? For mobile phones and dvds. Western cargo.
The solution is not to abandon development or to stop providing aid, but these efforts should be joined by an awareness of the unintended consequences of development.
Development brings cultural change — much of it swiftly — but it doesn’t necessarily change all aspects of a culture at the same rate. The resulting clashes between modern capabilities and traditional practices can make some aspects of life worse before they make them better.
This work-consume mode of the western world doesn’t work here in PNG. The People, the Papua New Guineans are rich in land, natural resources, and culture. They are independent of the needs of the western world.
Yesterday PNG celebrated its 34th year of independence. Here in Madang this was marked by a parade complete with PNG flags waving from car antennas, piles of men, women and children in traditional dress beating kundu drums from the back of Land Cruisers, and an address by the Prime Minister himself, Michael Somare.
Relatively speaking PNG is a young country, not too much older than myself, yet the ‘western world’ sets exceedingly high expectations. These high expectations do not come without high costs.
I am not an economist or anthropologist, nor do I claim to have had a formal training in international development. However, I feel I am in a unique position with an interesting perspective. I am a “westerner” living and working alongside Papua New Guineans at a grassroots level. I may not have the answers, nor may I be able to write with the level of understanding that some of my readers may be expecting from an international development worker, however, I am able to reflect upon what I have experienced and ask questions.
With such high dependency on foreign aid, which comes mostly from AusAID, is PNG independent? Would PNG and its dependency on the infamous ‘cargo culture’ function more independently if all volunteers, missionaries, expatriates and development workers were to leave tomorrow? And who’s to say whether the ‘western way’ is the way for PNG?
All I know is that in Madang over the past year there has been an increase in jobless youth roaming the streets, settlements have multiplied, and violent crimes are occurring around every corner. It’s a vicious cycle that only a strong, independent state can break. Change must come from within.
Papua New Guineans have left their villages, have paid for an education that is not relevant to their lives, and are given no job opportunities. They cannot return to their villages and live a traditional life of carving canoes, building houses and planting sago. They want Land Cruisers, air conditioning, and coca-cola. When they don’t find jobs to get the things they have seen and tasted and become accustomed to, one does the only thing he feels he can do. Bows and arrows are the things of the past. Guns and knives are in the hands of the desperate youth. And for what? For mobile phones and dvds. Western cargo.
The solution is not to abandon development or to stop providing aid, but these efforts should be joined by an awareness of the unintended consequences of development.
Development brings cultural change — much of it swiftly — but it doesn’t necessarily change all aspects of a culture at the same rate. The resulting clashes between modern capabilities and traditional practices can make some aspects of life worse before they make them better.
This work-consume mode of the western world doesn’t work here in PNG. The People, the Papua New Guineans are rich in land, natural resources, and culture. They are independent of the needs of the western world.
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Full Moon
The beautiful flowers on the cactus plant in our garden opened themselves to the glow of the full moon Friday night. We had come home after our usual Chinese dinner followed by a few G&Ts at the country club to find Kopi’s truck parked outside our gate. 'Kopi' is a copra buyer who left Australia years ago to volunteer in PNG. He was standing on our veranda with a blood soaked towel wrapped around his hand. The gin in my body was quickly replaced by adrenaline. My mind started racing. Oh god, he has been held up and he has come to our house. We’ve got to get in the gate quick; they may be coming back for him. I hope we can stop the bleeding till we get him to one of the many international research doctors here in Madang. Wait, how did 'Kopi' get into the gate anyway? Where is the family? Why aren’t the dogs barking?
Okay Mom, Dad, before you have a heart attack…..it turned out to be that Kopi had cut his hand at home and came over to get help stitching it. But it did highlight the fact that someone very easily drove right to our gate, jumped the fence and stood on our veranda for 10 minutes shouting our names without anyone taking notice.
Jolanda, the only one of us with a medical background, took care of Kopi’s hand. Soon our minds were absent of adrenaline and gin. We lingered on the veranda and admired the moon flowers.
The next morning I convinced Jolanda, who is always on the move, that we should take our time through the market. All morning we had pillaged in the heat of the second-hand clothes shops so we needed to quench our thirsts. Coconuts in hand, we walked along the market’s edge looking for shelter from the sun and the rascals. We found a tree near an area where women were selling pink, green and blue rice bags on one side and heaps of tobacco leaves on the other. I had my eye on a bag that had “Greetings from Beautiful Madang, Yu naispela tru ya!” hand painted next to a picture of a flying fox and the Coastwatcher’s Lighthouse. I was thinking, There is nothing like the taste of fresh coconut juice on a hot day. In the corner of my eye I could see an old man with two teeth pushed along by the expanse of the Saturday crowd. I noticed him because he too was enjoying kulau. He was enjoying his kulau so much it had dribbled down the front of his shirt. He then noticed me, with a huge smile across my face enjoying the nostalgic moment.
“Yu Australia aye?” the old man asked.
“Nogat, mi bilong America.”
“Aye-oh. Americas, em nispela tru. Long Chinese, em no nispela tumas.”
(For your sake and mine, I’ll continue this conversation in English)
“Aye-oh. Americans, they are nice people, but the Chinese, they are not very nice.
I smiled and looked at Jolanda. She obviously preferred not to have to explain that Holland is a Country in Europe. The old man continued. We drank our kulau.
“The Japanese, they are good. They have a right to come. They have blood on our land.”
Oh no, I thought. It’s going to be one of these conversations.
“I fought in the war. I was crazy then. I fought with the Australians because I did not know.” At that moment, he unexpectantly raised his arms, a coconut in one hand while the other hand had a finger extended and thumb raised. He began to shoot all the women selling their pink, green and blue rice bags. He continued shooting his finger gun and spit rounds of ammunition from between his two teeth.
“Tttttttttt, Tttttttttt, Ttttttt!”
I looked at Jolanda. She continued to suck at the small hole in her coconut.
“The Chinese, they do not have blood on our land. Do you hear me?”
“Yes sir, I hear you. Aye, very sorry.” I could feel the eyes of the market women watching us.
He continued. “The Japanese, they have a reason to come here. They have blood, lots of blood.” His eyes seemed to drift to the past as he spat more rounds of ammunition towards the women selling heaps of tobacco leaves.
“ttttttt, ttttttt, tttttttt!”
There was a pause.
“America, you are good.” And with that he reached out to shake my hand, the same hand that just shot down all the market women around us, and left.
Jolanda and I finished our kulau and walked over and bought the “Greetings from Beautiful Madang” bag. “Yu nicpla ya!” That is, unless you are Chinese and are in PNG at the moment.
The next afternoon while cutting Marleen’s hair on the veranda, a PMV bus pulled up to the gate. I was concentrating to ‘not make her hair look too American’ as she watched the Sunday traffic. Her favorite pastime; watching cars pass. Marleen said, “I think more people have come to stay with us.” We watched Emily grab her things from the Highlands bus and hug her mother. In July Emily had returned to her family in Simbu, now she has come back and the number of our extended family in PNG has grown to 13.
In Zambia, the full moon nights bring dancing and drumming. In America, some may believe that full moons bring out werewolves. From my experience here in PNG, the full moon brings moon flowers, bleeding copra buyers, toothless war fighters, and a daughter to her mother.
Okay Mom, Dad, before you have a heart attack…..it turned out to be that Kopi had cut his hand at home and came over to get help stitching it. But it did highlight the fact that someone very easily drove right to our gate, jumped the fence and stood on our veranda for 10 minutes shouting our names without anyone taking notice.
Jolanda, the only one of us with a medical background, took care of Kopi’s hand. Soon our minds were absent of adrenaline and gin. We lingered on the veranda and admired the moon flowers.
The next morning I convinced Jolanda, who is always on the move, that we should take our time through the market. All morning we had pillaged in the heat of the second-hand clothes shops so we needed to quench our thirsts. Coconuts in hand, we walked along the market’s edge looking for shelter from the sun and the rascals. We found a tree near an area where women were selling pink, green and blue rice bags on one side and heaps of tobacco leaves on the other. I had my eye on a bag that had “Greetings from Beautiful Madang, Yu naispela tru ya!” hand painted next to a picture of a flying fox and the Coastwatcher’s Lighthouse. I was thinking, There is nothing like the taste of fresh coconut juice on a hot day. In the corner of my eye I could see an old man with two teeth pushed along by the expanse of the Saturday crowd. I noticed him because he too was enjoying kulau. He was enjoying his kulau so much it had dribbled down the front of his shirt. He then noticed me, with a huge smile across my face enjoying the nostalgic moment.
“Yu Australia aye?” the old man asked.
“Nogat, mi bilong America.”
“Aye-oh. Americas, em nispela tru. Long Chinese, em no nispela tumas.”
(For your sake and mine, I’ll continue this conversation in English)
“Aye-oh. Americans, they are nice people, but the Chinese, they are not very nice.
I smiled and looked at Jolanda. She obviously preferred not to have to explain that Holland is a Country in Europe. The old man continued. We drank our kulau.
“The Japanese, they are good. They have a right to come. They have blood on our land.”
Oh no, I thought. It’s going to be one of these conversations.
“I fought in the war. I was crazy then. I fought with the Australians because I did not know.” At that moment, he unexpectantly raised his arms, a coconut in one hand while the other hand had a finger extended and thumb raised. He began to shoot all the women selling their pink, green and blue rice bags. He continued shooting his finger gun and spit rounds of ammunition from between his two teeth.
“Tttttttttt, Tttttttttt, Ttttttt!”
I looked at Jolanda. She continued to suck at the small hole in her coconut.
“The Chinese, they do not have blood on our land. Do you hear me?”
“Yes sir, I hear you. Aye, very sorry.” I could feel the eyes of the market women watching us.
He continued. “The Japanese, they have a reason to come here. They have blood, lots of blood.” His eyes seemed to drift to the past as he spat more rounds of ammunition towards the women selling heaps of tobacco leaves.
“ttttttt, ttttttt, tttttttt!”
There was a pause.
“America, you are good.” And with that he reached out to shake my hand, the same hand that just shot down all the market women around us, and left.
Jolanda and I finished our kulau and walked over and bought the “Greetings from Beautiful Madang” bag. “Yu nicpla ya!” That is, unless you are Chinese and are in PNG at the moment.
The next afternoon while cutting Marleen’s hair on the veranda, a PMV bus pulled up to the gate. I was concentrating to ‘not make her hair look too American’ as she watched the Sunday traffic. Her favorite pastime; watching cars pass. Marleen said, “I think more people have come to stay with us.” We watched Emily grab her things from the Highlands bus and hug her mother. In July Emily had returned to her family in Simbu, now she has come back and the number of our extended family in PNG has grown to 13.
In Zambia, the full moon nights bring dancing and drumming. In America, some may believe that full moons bring out werewolves. From my experience here in PNG, the full moon brings moon flowers, bleeding copra buyers, toothless war fighters, and a daughter to her mother.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Approved! Thank you President Obama!
The Inclusive Education training project has been approved! This is THE accomplishment of my placement. This is an example of awareness raising leading to ownership and sustainability. The fruits of building relationships before building projects. And of reaching out to local communities to impact the lives of PNG’s most vulnerable.
First I would like to thank my President, Mr. Barack Obama. You must be thinking, what role did the Leader of the free world play in the approval of this project in Papua New Guinea? It all started under a mango tree where Mr. Ura, along with other administrators of the educational division stood chewing buai. I was introduced by a British volunteer. “This is Charlye Ramsey, from the United States of America.” Mr. Ura’s eyes immediately widened. “You’re from America? Obama?”
From that day forward, our conversations began and ended on the topic of Barack Obama.
“Will America elect a black leader?”
“Oh-ya, your country is nice ya true. If only I could go there one day.”
“I saw Obama last night on the TV. If only I could hear all his speeches.” Tiss-tiss-tiss.
Mr. Ura, like most Provincial administrators, is a busy man. A continuous line of teachers can be found waiting outside his office. So how did I manage to get through his door? With copies of Obama’s speeches. PNG culture is to give with the expectation of receiving something in return. I returned week after week, month after month. I continued to knock on his door with one hand while clutching Obama’s most recent speech in the other.
That’s how Obama helped me to build my relationship with Mr. Ura and the Provincial Division of Education. Without the support (and financing) of the Provincial Division, particularly Mr. Ura's office of teacher in-service training, this project would not be possible.
Mr. Ura and I agreed with the then president-elect when he said, “I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive...” Based on these common dreams, Mr. Ura and I built this project.
The project aims to train teachers as trainers in inclusive education within each of the 6 districts of Madang Province. These teacher trainers will learn about the types and causes of disabilities which will in turn help to dispel many myths about disability in their community. They will learn how to identify various disabilities and how to modify their teaching methods, classrooms and schools to be more inclusive.
Using existing in-service training structures, these teacher trainers will then return to their clusters of schools and train the other teachers within their district. Ultimately, every teacher will be trained within the Province and therefore every child will benefit from more inclusive schools.
Yes We Can!!!
First I would like to thank my President, Mr. Barack Obama. You must be thinking, what role did the Leader of the free world play in the approval of this project in Papua New Guinea? It all started under a mango tree where Mr. Ura, along with other administrators of the educational division stood chewing buai. I was introduced by a British volunteer. “This is Charlye Ramsey, from the United States of America.” Mr. Ura’s eyes immediately widened. “You’re from America? Obama?”
From that day forward, our conversations began and ended on the topic of Barack Obama.
“Will America elect a black leader?”
“Oh-ya, your country is nice ya true. If only I could go there one day.”
“I saw Obama last night on the TV. If only I could hear all his speeches.” Tiss-tiss-tiss.
Mr. Ura, like most Provincial administrators, is a busy man. A continuous line of teachers can be found waiting outside his office. So how did I manage to get through his door? With copies of Obama’s speeches. PNG culture is to give with the expectation of receiving something in return. I returned week after week, month after month. I continued to knock on his door with one hand while clutching Obama’s most recent speech in the other.
That’s how Obama helped me to build my relationship with Mr. Ura and the Provincial Division of Education. Without the support (and financing) of the Provincial Division, particularly Mr. Ura's office of teacher in-service training, this project would not be possible.
Mr. Ura and I agreed with the then president-elect when he said, “I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive...” Based on these common dreams, Mr. Ura and I built this project.
The project aims to train teachers as trainers in inclusive education within each of the 6 districts of Madang Province. These teacher trainers will learn about the types and causes of disabilities which will in turn help to dispel many myths about disability in their community. They will learn how to identify various disabilities and how to modify their teaching methods, classrooms and schools to be more inclusive.
Using existing in-service training structures, these teacher trainers will then return to their clusters of schools and train the other teachers within their district. Ultimately, every teacher will be trained within the Province and therefore every child will benefit from more inclusive schools.
Yes We Can!!!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
It's a Zoo around here!
Things are never quiet around the house on Coronation Drive. When Marleen and I moved into this beautiful two-story nearly 6 months ago, we recognized our volunteer lives as we knew them were over. We traded our international apartment building near the settlements for a traditional colonial home facing the sea.
The house is owned by a second generation Chinese woman. Her family was prominently known for their real estate business in Madang. Her childhood was spent in this house, however, she spends her adult life in her coffee plantation in Mt. Hagan. Marleen and I (along with the entire expat community) admired the house while a Canadian volunteer lived here last year. That volunteer took a job with World Vision in Moresby around the same time VSO sent out requests for volunteers to live together in an effort to cut costs. Thus, we landed the posh house on Coronation Drive.
Our house has become the VSO Volunteer refugee camp. As passerbys come and go through Madang, we gladly offer our third bedroom (in exchange for wine of course). And with our 'donated' projector, our house is known as Madang's only movie theater. It is also the party palace, where every celebration from birthdays to Dutch Queen's day is cause for a party! It's also nice to catch the breeze on the veranda on hot nights.
The lush garden is another appeal of the house. A local family has been caring for the house and grounds for generations. The family is kind and bring a lot of excitement to the house. Understanding the relationships within the family continues to be a challenge as brother-cousins, aunties and sisters (same mom, different dad) come and go. The extended family is important in PNG and the people of the household tend to move between families frequently.
As of today there are 12 people living in the ‘hausboi’ in the back. Traditionally the hausboi served as the servants’ quarters. I have never been invited into the hausboi; however, I can not imagine there to be more than two rooms. The grandfather’s (Papa) wife left for Port Moresby several months ago to care for other extended family members there. This was when I discovered Pauline (grade 6) to be his daughter, not granddaughter. His son, Aloysius, is a preacher. Aloysius is married to Maria and they have 5 children, Roland (16-18), Erik (9), Lilly (6), Joy (3) and Joshua (1). There are several children who arrived within the last few weeks who appear to be between the ages of 6 and 16 that I have yet to get to know.
The family has 4 dogs, 2 roosters, 3 hens, 4 chicks and 1 cockatoo. Each night in my dreams, I plot the roosters’ murder. Marleen and I have a kitten named Dolly whose sole purpose is to catch rats. The dogs are muts, only distinguishable by their color. Blackie is black, Snow White is …well, Marleen calls him Off White, Beldin is black and will answer to Blackie and Scooby is spotted. They are all in poor condition and I tend to pity them. Scooby recently had a litter and the family seemed surprised when the puppies died. Scooby was literally skin and bones because the puppies were draining her. She stopped allowing them to ‘kisim susu’ weeks ago. Last week, I was walking through the garage to the laundry room to check on the water pump when I found the last puppy had died. I continued walking through to the back to tell the family. I found a young boy who I hadn’t seen before. I told him about the dead puppy in the garage near the old, abandoned Mercedes. (It seems as if the Chinese family just left and abandoned everything. Boat, luxury car, 1970s furniture, and even the dishes in the cabinets.) The little boy stared at me blanked face. “Do you understand me?” I asked. He nodded his head and said something unintelligible.
His speech impairment caused me to wonder if he was the son of the deaf lady that visits periodically. The first night the lady came to the house after her late shift at the fishing cannery she scared Marleen and I to death. At night we are always on our guard and were quickly awakened by the sound of her feet dragging as she walked through the garden. We realized she must have been deaf when she didn’t answer our screams “Yu laikim wanim?” People come and go from the back so frequently we didn’t give it a second thought. Now, when we hear dragging feet late at night, we know it’s her.
The little boy and Papa picked a leaf from the banana tree and wrapped it around the puppy. Papa walked passed the children playing near their mother’s buai stand and threw the puppy in the sea. No one took notice. No crying children. No burial. Just as the rats, they simply tossed the puppy to sea. I was screaming on the inside…“If you don’t feed your animals they die!” I have been feeding Scooby canned dog food everyday since.
Our neighbors on the right have a faulty alarm system. Each day around dusk the alarm screams so loud you feel as if it’s piercing directly through your skull. Our neighbors on the left sell beer on the black market and all night every night cars pull in and out honking their horns.
Needless to say with volunteers and our family coming in and out, the zoo of animals running around the garden, the black market to the left and the screaming alarm on the right, things are never dull around the house on Coronation Drive.
The house is owned by a second generation Chinese woman. Her family was prominently known for their real estate business in Madang. Her childhood was spent in this house, however, she spends her adult life in her coffee plantation in Mt. Hagan. Marleen and I (along with the entire expat community) admired the house while a Canadian volunteer lived here last year. That volunteer took a job with World Vision in Moresby around the same time VSO sent out requests for volunteers to live together in an effort to cut costs. Thus, we landed the posh house on Coronation Drive.
Our house has become the VSO Volunteer refugee camp. As passerbys come and go through Madang, we gladly offer our third bedroom (in exchange for wine of course). And with our 'donated' projector, our house is known as Madang's only movie theater. It is also the party palace, where every celebration from birthdays to Dutch Queen's day is cause for a party! It's also nice to catch the breeze on the veranda on hot nights.
The lush garden is another appeal of the house. A local family has been caring for the house and grounds for generations. The family is kind and bring a lot of excitement to the house. Understanding the relationships within the family continues to be a challenge as brother-cousins, aunties and sisters (same mom, different dad) come and go. The extended family is important in PNG and the people of the household tend to move between families frequently.
As of today there are 12 people living in the ‘hausboi’ in the back. Traditionally the hausboi served as the servants’ quarters. I have never been invited into the hausboi; however, I can not imagine there to be more than two rooms. The grandfather’s (Papa) wife left for Port Moresby several months ago to care for other extended family members there. This was when I discovered Pauline (grade 6) to be his daughter, not granddaughter. His son, Aloysius, is a preacher. Aloysius is married to Maria and they have 5 children, Roland (16-18), Erik (9), Lilly (6), Joy (3) and Joshua (1). There are several children who arrived within the last few weeks who appear to be between the ages of 6 and 16 that I have yet to get to know.
The family has 4 dogs, 2 roosters, 3 hens, 4 chicks and 1 cockatoo. Each night in my dreams, I plot the roosters’ murder. Marleen and I have a kitten named Dolly whose sole purpose is to catch rats. The dogs are muts, only distinguishable by their color. Blackie is black, Snow White is …well, Marleen calls him Off White, Beldin is black and will answer to Blackie and Scooby is spotted. They are all in poor condition and I tend to pity them. Scooby recently had a litter and the family seemed surprised when the puppies died. Scooby was literally skin and bones because the puppies were draining her. She stopped allowing them to ‘kisim susu’ weeks ago. Last week, I was walking through the garage to the laundry room to check on the water pump when I found the last puppy had died. I continued walking through to the back to tell the family. I found a young boy who I hadn’t seen before. I told him about the dead puppy in the garage near the old, abandoned Mercedes. (It seems as if the Chinese family just left and abandoned everything. Boat, luxury car, 1970s furniture, and even the dishes in the cabinets.) The little boy stared at me blanked face. “Do you understand me?” I asked. He nodded his head and said something unintelligible.
His speech impairment caused me to wonder if he was the son of the deaf lady that visits periodically. The first night the lady came to the house after her late shift at the fishing cannery she scared Marleen and I to death. At night we are always on our guard and were quickly awakened by the sound of her feet dragging as she walked through the garden. We realized she must have been deaf when she didn’t answer our screams “Yu laikim wanim?” People come and go from the back so frequently we didn’t give it a second thought. Now, when we hear dragging feet late at night, we know it’s her.
The little boy and Papa picked a leaf from the banana tree and wrapped it around the puppy. Papa walked passed the children playing near their mother’s buai stand and threw the puppy in the sea. No one took notice. No crying children. No burial. Just as the rats, they simply tossed the puppy to sea. I was screaming on the inside…“If you don’t feed your animals they die!” I have been feeding Scooby canned dog food everyday since.
Our neighbors on the right have a faulty alarm system. Each day around dusk the alarm screams so loud you feel as if it’s piercing directly through your skull. Our neighbors on the left sell beer on the black market and all night every night cars pull in and out honking their horns.
Needless to say with volunteers and our family coming in and out, the zoo of animals running around the garden, the black market to the left and the screaming alarm on the right, things are never dull around the house on Coronation Drive.
Papua New Guinea hit by cholera
By Phil Mercer
BBC News, Sydney
An outbreak of cholera has reportedly killed more than 40 people in a remote area of Papua New Guinea.
Government officials said that hundreds of other villagers in Morobe Province have fallen ill.
A World Health Organisation medical team has confirmed the outbreak and PNG's health minister has ordered measures to contain its spread.
Cholera is usually spread through contaminated food or water and can be fatal if not treated.
This is the first time the disease has officially been confirmed in the country.
Mystery illness
Health Minister Sasa Zibe warned that more cases of the acute intestinal infection would put added pressure on the country's "fragile health system."
The deaths are reported to have occurred in the remote Finsch-hafen district of Morobe province on the northern coast of Papua New Guinea.
Officials said that up to 800 people have been taken ill.
Villagers with cholera's diarrhoea-like symptoms or severe dehydration have been advised to seek immediate treatment. The region's isolation and lack of development make that difficult but the government has dispatched medical teams to the affected area.
At the end of last week the World Health Organisation sent experts to Morobe province to investigate reports that a mysterious illness was sweeping through a number of settlements.
Tests have shown the disease to be cholera.
BBC News, Sydney
An outbreak of cholera has reportedly killed more than 40 people in a remote area of Papua New Guinea.
Government officials said that hundreds of other villagers in Morobe Province have fallen ill.
A World Health Organisation medical team has confirmed the outbreak and PNG's health minister has ordered measures to contain its spread.
Cholera is usually spread through contaminated food or water and can be fatal if not treated.
This is the first time the disease has officially been confirmed in the country.
Mystery illness
Health Minister Sasa Zibe warned that more cases of the acute intestinal infection would put added pressure on the country's "fragile health system."
The deaths are reported to have occurred in the remote Finsch-hafen district of Morobe province on the northern coast of Papua New Guinea.
Officials said that up to 800 people have been taken ill.
Villagers with cholera's diarrhoea-like symptoms or severe dehydration have been advised to seek immediate treatment. The region's isolation and lack of development make that difficult but the government has dispatched medical teams to the affected area.
At the end of last week the World Health Organisation sent experts to Morobe province to investigate reports that a mysterious illness was sweeping through a number of settlements.
Tests have shown the disease to be cholera.
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