Looking Through Another's Eyes

A Journey Into and Away from Myself

2010-02-27T04:29:00.000-08:00

Looking through another's eyes allows you to view the world from a perspective other than your own. To see things through another cultural lens.

Looking through another's eyes also allows you to see yourself, your culture, your interaction with others and the world around you from the perspective of others.

This experience has been a true journey into and away from myself. Each day, whether consciously or unconsciously, I learned more about myself, who I am, who I want to become.

I have seen and experienced many beautiful, unique, heart breaking, and utterly shocking things. Things that no matter how out of this world amazing or how horrific they may be, I am always reminded that they are all part of the human experience. The unique yet interrelated exchanges between one person and another, between mother nature and the human race, between the sun and the moon, the earth and the sea.

Thank you for reading and allowing me to share my life as a VSO volunteer in Papua New Guinea. Although I will not be making any new posts, I will not stop looking through another's eyes.

The Network

2010-02-27T01:18:00.000-08:00

The Network is Papua New Guinea’s National Disability Magazine

Edition 20: Millennium Development Goals: Is PNG Meeting Them? I have co-authored an article (pg. 12) about Goal 2: Achieving Universal Primary Education.

The Network is an awareness activity of the National Disability and Advocacy Center (NDRAC) based at Divine Word University in Madang. NDRAC recently became its own ngo and is currently staffed by 2 dedicated persons. The Network is distributed within PNG and internationally. Contact NDRAC (thenetwork@dwu.ac.pg) if you are interested in joining the mailing list or contributing to its content.

10 Facts about disability, poverty and education in developing countries

2010-02-25T08:06:00.000-08:00

1. Ninety-eight percent of children with disabilities in developing countries do not have access to education, 98%!! (UNESCO)
2. The United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which was adopted in 2006 after four years of negotiations, is the first human rights Convention of the 21st century, and addresses civil, political, social economic and cultural rights. So far, it is ratified by 25 countries (UNCRPD)
3. 50% of children who are deaf and 60% of those with an intellectual impairment are sexually abused (Save the Children Alliance as quoted on CRIN.org)
4. Hunger is the most extreme form of poverty; 1.02 billion people across the world are hungry; everyday almost 16,000 children die from hunger-related causes--one child every five seconds (bread.org)
5. Poor nutrition and calorie deficiencies cause nearly one in three people to die prematurely or have disabilities (WHO)
6. Every year, more than 20 million low-birth weight babies are born in developing countries. These babies risk dying in infancy, while those who survive often suffer lifelong physical and cognitive disabilities. (WHO)
7. In 1998 the US spent over $8 Billion in cosmetics, Europe spent $50 Billion in cigarettes. Compare that to what was estimated as additional costs to achieve universal access to basic social services in all developing countries: to basic education $8 Billion, to basic health and nutrition $11 Billion (Globalissues.org)
8. In Africa, only 62% of pupils complete primary education and are therefore ready to pursue their studies, compared to an average completion rate of 94% in North America and 88% in Asia . ( UNESCO Institute for Statistics)
9. The average primary school class in low income countries has a 60-to-1 student-teacher ratio (World Bank)
10. 80% of persons with disabilities live in developing countries (UNDP)

10 Favorite travel destinations of mine in '09 and why

2010-02-20T22:54:00.000-08:00

When I first decided to start a blog I was leaving for the Peace Corps and the blog's primary purpose was to keep my close friends and family up to date with my new experiences. Since then my blogging has evolved to include social, political and developmental issues (not claiming to have any expert knowledge beyond my personal grassroot perspective). But mostly I use the blog as a personal journal to remind myself of small things that have made big impacts on my life; to remind me of the lessons I have learned (and most often the hard way), the people I have met and places I have been. Which brings me to another list of 10: Favorite travel destinations of mine in '09 and why

1. Singapore is a busy and clean city with loads of diversity. It has endless shopping along Orchid Road and it is easy to explore places like China town, Little India and Raffles Hotel for a Singapore Sling!
2. Yogyakarta is a wonderful blend of Indonesian culture with the magnificent Borobudur (Buddhist) and Prambanan (Hindu) Temples, delicious vegetarian dishes and Via Via's off the beaten path tours. I particularly enjoyed the Religion Tour of temples and learning about the religions blends in Java.
3. Langkawi, Malaysia is a great place to relax on the beach and still enjoy inexpensive luxuries like the Red Tomatoe's mexican pasta dish and the all night dance clubs!
4. Sepik River, East Sepik Papua New Guinea was the most incredible adventure of my life! Crocodiles, canoes, fishing villages, marsupials, carvings, weaving, a culture that must be experienced!
5. Kar Kar Island, PNG, beautiful black sand beaches, lush coconut plantations, and volcano!
6. Goroka, Eastern Highlands PNG is known for its incredible coffee, Asaro Mudmen, and the Goroka festival
7. Hong Kong--top class Asian city! Food, shopping, culture, ferry from Kowloon to Victoria Harbour
8 and 9. The border crossing between Jayapura Indonesia and Vanimo, Papua New Guinea. The views are stunning, lush tropical trees and the pristine sea. The vibrant colors, the pureness of it all, simply untouched. The traditional villages spotted along the coast. All this contrasted by the adventure of riding with armed guards during the often times unstable border crossing! There is notable contrast between the two border towns, both beauty and beast.
10. Madang, PNG. Not called the Prettiest Town in the Pacific for nothing. Singsings, flora and fauna, spectacular reefs and fishes, countless islands with an amazing mountainous backdrop. A must for all adventurous travelers and avid divers,

10 Favorites of Papua New Guinea

2010-01-18T23:44:00.000-08:00

(In no particular order…except for Asaro Mud Men…they have to be #1)
1. Asaro Mud Men
2. ‘Bird of Paradise’ flowers
3. Jolanda, Marleen and the Nissan.
4. Flying Foxes
5. Kranget Island
6. Kundiawa Coffee Shop
7. Bilums
8. Eden’s Restaurant
9. Kalibobo Second Hand Shop
10. Kulau

The things you lose, the things you find

2010-01-15T07:45:00.000-08:00

Hong Kong: A feast for my senses!

2009-12-13T06:26:00.000-08:00

Three days in Asia's World City while in transit home for the holidays. This multicultural gateway is a complete 180 from PNG, a sophisticated metropolis where culture is respected and cutting edge technology embraced. Its vibrant, bustling, developed, everything that PNG is not. It has superb infrastructure with efficent transport. The leather seats and wood grain interior on the airport shuttle was a far cry from Madang's PMV buses where the doors fall off!

Close to midnight I arrived at my 4 Star hotel (less than US 100), but unlike Madang's empty dark streets, this city never sleeps! The lights, the 360 degree harbor skyline, trendy night spots, night markets and street hustlers selling "genuine copy watches" and "real copy handbags"...and windows without bars! For the first time in months, I could walk around without feeling marred down with tension and fear.

The first night I endulged in luxuries by taking a long, leisurely shower. I stood there letting the water wash PNG from my body and mind. Then I turned on the flatscreen and ordered room service from my fluffy bed!

The next morning I strolled the streets and popped into a coffee shop for an expresso and bagel..savoring each bite as I people watched from the cafe window front. Appearances are evidently important, no tatty second hand clothes here. These trendy, multicultural people hop in and out oft the subway and shops wearing the latest high end fashion. Gucci suits, Coach bags, and knee high boots.

Kowloon is a shoppers paradise. From shopping centers boasting names such as Vivian Westwood, Prada, Tiffany to bargain markets selling packaged plastic bangles, chopsticks and silk bags. Each shop I entered, I walked out wearing the new leaving behind the old for the trash! Every other store flashed neon lights with the latest high tech inovation. Nikon, Canon, Sony...my eyes were bulging from my head! And obviously the hustlers could see "easy target" written clearly across my face. Long story short, after hours of what I thought was bargaining, I found out that I was ripped completely off. When I finally found my way back to the one of hundreds of shops along Nathan Road, they would only refund 70% of my money! I left without my bargain Hong Kong electronics, but with a very expensive lesson learned.

The next day, in an attempt to avoid the endless choices of products and brands, I ventured out to Hong Kong Island. Subway and tram to The Peak, Hong Kong's largest tourist attraction overlooking the entire city and Victoria Harbor. The city was particularly buzzing with people and events for the 2009 Asian Games. Museums, cultural dances, martial arts. After a ferry across the harbor, I walked along the waterfront waiting for the worlds largest permanent light and sound show. Each night at 8:00 over 40 buildings along the 360 degrees of harbor skyline is illuminated by a laser light show. It was incredible!

Boasting the title of "Culinary capital of Asia" Hong Kong has thousands of resturants. Chinese traditional dishes, Japanese sushi bars, Balinese and Indian cuisines. (And of course a McDonalds and Starbucks on every corner) I particularly enjoyed the fresh sashimi and sushi...and Japanese beers and sake!

Hong Kong has now become one of my favorite cities, a real feast for my senses!

Pondering a Goodbye to PNG (edited from my personal journal)

2009-12-08T01:19:00.000-08:00

It's hard to know if I am saying goodbye. In my mind I am already gone. It is even possible to say that there have been moments over the last 19 months when I felt like I was never really here.
So for now, I am focusing on facing the world's opportunities directly in the eye. There are many uncertainties ahead and I welcome the feelings this brings. All I know is this, I will be in Hong Kong tonight--and the next 3 nights. Then I will be in the States surrounded by my family and friends for the holidays. But then there is January. When January comes there is a chance I could be in Cambodia or on a plane to Singapore with an open ticket to Indonesia before making my way across the Indo-PNG border back to Madang. Each of these possibilities have their own appeal. I often times catch myself smiling in complete amazement of my life. I am happy with my choices to live life in the unknown, where each day is wonderfully adventurous. I feel I am in a good place, I don't feel anxious or lost. Instead, I feel that life is moving me in a forward direction.

It's a wonderful feeling. It's like looking beyond the horizon knowing there is a great big world out there just waiting for me. I am enjoying every moment, every possibility, the excitement of knowing the world is my oyster! My thinking is circular at the moment. Not a dizzy, mind boggling type of chaos of thoughts, but more of like circular dancing in my head. I feel lucky that I have so many choices in life. In some ways I am saying goodbye to Madang, to PNG and to my life here. I would be lying to myself if I tried to say that throughout the last few days I didn't crave to hold on to every last moment. The last time to swim the pristine sea, my last time to gaze out to the "Land you can sometimes see", the last time for Jolanda, Marleen and I to be crammed inside the Nissan. Through all these nostalgic moments, my mind holds tightly to the possibility of returning. I dream of all the teacher trainings, of gaining the courage and confidence to take a PADI diving course, ~~to kiss his lips again.~~ to sit on the veranda drinking kulau smoothies and Highlands coffee. However, as my thoughts circle I feel excitement growing inside of me at the mere idea of starting a new life. Of surrounding my senses with new experiences. A life in Southeast Asia is appealing. It is safe, city life is buzzing, good food is easy to find and once again I will have the freedom to walk the streets day and night.

I am leaving for holiday tomorrow without knowing if I have the job with Handicap International. So, I have decided to pack as if I am not returning. Once again I have put my material belongings into 2 checked pieces of luggage. I first started to pack my artifacts and bilums. Reaching into the bilums I found an odd mix of randoms items that would only be found in the bottom of your purse in PNG. I found discarded flex cards, Chicken Snax, sunscreen, rotten bananas, shells, a piece of blue coral and ants among other things! Packing personal items was more cut throat. I began to make piles of things I definitely wanted to take, things I would give to Roselyn, schools, the Country Women's Association, Marleen and other VSO vols and a pile of things that didn't make the 'take' pile but I just couldn't bare to let go just that moment. In my mind, it was easier to think of the possibility of seeing them again if I were to return. So I set them aside and they remained in a neat pile just for peace of mind. However, I knew it was more likely than not that I would never see them again. This process of detachment is healthy, but hard. It reminded me of the time I left Folly Beach, SC for the Peace Corps. However then I sold my car, furniture,... well everything! Packing like this with only a few days notice forced me to put into practice my beliefs for not valuing things more than experiences. To follow Buddha's teachings that attachment is the source of all suffering. It helps me to live life more spontaneously. It was surprisingly easy to leave what didn't fit in my 2 bags all behind. Easy because I know that my heart is overflowing with memories and experiences. And regardless of my journey, I know I will always carry them with me.

Today I am free..for a new start, whether that be in Cambodia or PNG.

Go Pinis-Pondering a goodbye to PNG

2009-12-07T06:44:00.000-08:00

People frequently come and go from PNG. Short term volunteers, long term volutneers, consultants, anthropology students, researchers, and the occasional, adventurous tourist. With the holidays approaching and contracts ending, go pinis parties have booked the Madang social calendar. Dinner at Edens and The Lodge, sports themed parties, and karaoke parties helped to bring normalacy to the disturbing events plaguing the town. We shared our adventurous travel stories of various destinations across the globe. And highly emotional stories of escaping Madang's crime and danger. After the attacks last week highlighted the unpredicable dangers of PNG, several ngos in Madang decided to pull out and even VSO is evacuating all Asian volunteers. The town is on curfew and all alcohol sales have been banned.

The combination of the increased security risks and a recent shortlisting for a job in Cambodia leaves me pondering if my time here in PNG is finished. Several months ago I submitted a general application to Handicap International, a ngo targeting persons with disabilities and eliminating extreme poverty. Last week, I received an email stating I had been shortlisted for an Inclusive Education position, the same work I am doing here in PNG. After two international phone interviews, things are looking positive for a job beginning January 2010.

Things were moving quickly as I had my flight booked home for the holidays. It hit me that there was a possibility I may get the job in Cambodia after I leave PNG and I may not return. I only had a few days to wrap my head around this idea. Packing. Goodbyes.

This was not the first time I have had to pack my life into a bag with a few days notice. In true 'Charlye fashion' I didn't give it much thought, and enjoyed my days, my friends and the beauty of the moment.

My potentially 'last' day in Madang was one I will never forget. Morning coffee on the veranda with Marleen and Jolanda overlooking the sea. An afternoon boat ride to the beach house for food and cheers with the expat community of Madang. That evening on the ride back to the mainland, we stopped for skinny dipping in phosphorescence. This was one of the most amazing natural experiences of my life. Swimming under the stars above the reefs surrounded by the emission of lights produced by the bioluminescent plankton was spectacular. We took turns diving off the boat and watching with our snorkels as our bodies plunged through the water like a rocket in the sky. We looked like comets shooting through a star filled sky. Then we transformed into the most beautiful underwater, sparkling angels as we spread our arms and kicked our legs to the surface. A fanstactic natural phenomenom!

My next adventure, Hong Kong. Living in the moment, I am not thinking too much about the possibility of a real goodbye to PNG, a future in Cambodia or even hoildays in the States. To the unknown again!

Is PNG meeting the Millennium Development Goal 2: Achieve Universal Primary Education?

2009-12-02T19:17:00.000-08:00

The 2007 school census reported 674,169 school-aged children are out of school in PNG. But why? PNG faces challenges beyond that of other poorer countries of Asia and Africa. 85% of the population lives in rural areas where the road to school for children is extraordinary: they climb mountains, cross rivers, and paddle canoes. PNG children come from diverse communities with over 800 cultures and languages.

Education Department officials, in collaboration with partners and donors, have developed a Plan to realize its international commitments such as the Convention on the Rights of the Child, Education for All and Millennium Development Goals. This Plan is titled ‘Achieving Universal Education for a Better Future.’

Within the PNG context, the Plan has three goals for achieving Universal Basic Education as outlined in Papua New Guinea Universal Basic Education Plan 2010-2019 (National Executive Council, July 2009).

1) Access: All children should enter school at a specific age- they should enter elementary prep at the age of 6 years.

2) Retention: All children should complete the elementary and primary cycles of education that constitute basic education- this is nine years of basic education.

3) Quality: All children should reach a required standard of literacy and numeracy at the end of their years of education.

PNG is seeking a breakthrough in universal basic education by abolishing school fees for elementary in 2010. But ending school fees is no magic wand. The surge in enrolment after eliminating school fees brings immense challenges to the entire learning infrastructure, from the physical building, to the class size, to the teachers.

It is expected the Plan will address issues such as expansion of school infrastructure, pre and in-service teacher training, advocacy and awareness raising, water and sanitation facilities in all schools and provisions for remote and overcrowded schools.

But abolishing school fees and building classrooms is not enough. We must build inclusive schools that respect diversity and encourage the participation of all children including street children, girls, children with disabilities, those from remote areas, and children affected by HIV/AIDS.

Much remains to be done in order for PNG to deliver on the global promise to get all children quality primary education by 2015. The success of this Plan will depend on the support and commitment of communities, parents, schools, teachers, churches, ngos, and all levels of government. We all have an important role to play to ensure a happy and healthy future for PNG children.

Rapes and Attacks Grip Madang!

2009-12-01T22:22:00.000-08:00

In the 18 months I have been in Madang, I have witnessed many disturbing and violent acts. PNG is known for its tribal fighting, domestic violence, compensation, gender based violence, gang rapes, and armed robberies. I have myself been a victim as well as many of my friends, both National and Expatriates. Yes, violence occurs across the globe, but violence in PNG in more prevalent and certainly more volatile. Being a volunteer in development, an optimist, and a public blogger, I have tried my best to describe PNG, its culture and people, in a positive and diplomatic manner.

Today, however, I cannot. I can only tell the truth. A truth that I have been holding back as not to worry my friends and family at home. A truth that is so disturbing that all readers should be warned of the content, which may only be suitable for....well, actually no one, regardless of age, sex or mental stability, should ever have to read of a truth so unsettling.

Last night five men broke into a house of an elderly expat who has spent most of her life in PNG. They must have known her husband was out of the Country and took this opportunity to hold her hostage in her own house. The gang tied her up, bashed her and raped her. The neighbors notified the police, however, when they finally arrived, the men had fled.

A pure act of animal violence!

My heart pours out to this strong and committed woman, who has dedicated her life to the people of Papua New Guinea. She is known by most as 'the mother of Madang' for her community service with womens groups, the Red Cross and the centre for persons with disabilities.

Her attack was one of the 8 reported rapes here in Madang in the last 4 days! This week alone there have been armed hold ups along the roads going in and out of town, a young boy was shot when his family could not give the man K1 (less than 33 cents), and two women were hacked to death while walking to the market to sell thier vegetables.

The Madang community is in an uproar! Myself included. What response will the government provide? Obviously there is complete chaos with the law and order situation in Madang town.

A Buzz in the Air

2009-11-30T22:04:00.000-08:00

For nearly 40 minutes my mouth hung open in awe. I didn’t know whether to hold on to my seat or jump from the window with the over whelming since of vertigo. Either way, my recent helicopter ride from the mountainous terrains of the PNG Highlands, through the vast Ramu Valley and rivers to Madang’s pristine coastline, was incredible.

Making friends with the pilots who live two doors down from our house on Coronation Drive has its advantages. I was in Kundiawa for an education conference and Jolanda had taken advantage of the VSO vehicle driving through Goroka to climb Mt. Oto before the end of her placement. Neither of us was looking forward to the 6 hour, body-jarring drive back to Madang. Lucky for us, one of the pilots was on a flight from Lae to Madang and felt sorry for us poor volunteers and decided to “scoop us up.” Just like that, like it was no big deal. Jolanda and I couldn’t believe this was happening. What were we going to tell the other volunteers? “Oh sorry we aren’t going to be riding back with you guys. We have another ride with a friend who is picking us up in his helicopter.” That’s exactly what we said before their eyes turned green with envy.

The pilot's phone call to discuss the details was short. How was the weather and cloud coverage? Where was the airport in relation to the town? He had never flown to Goroka. I told him the airport was in the center of town and we agreed to meet in an hour. I finished my hotel breakfast of salmon and eggs (I know, hard volunteer life) and headed to the art market to buy a beautiful helicopter painting I had my eye on as a thank you gift. The VSO Land Cruiser dropped us off at the Air Nuigini airport. But after fighting the crowds of passengers and speaking to the armed guard through a partially opened door, we were told that we needed to go to Pacific Helicopter for heli landings. Great. Where was Pacific? How long would it take us to walk? Is it a safe area? The guard pointed us in the direction of Pacific but we remained uncertain of where the helicopter was going to land. We started walking and a woman pulled up beside us offering us a ride because she said it was an unsafe area to be walking. We jumped in her car and she drove us to Pacific.

The ladies in the Pacific reception gave us a warm welcome leading us into an air-conditioned lounge with fluffy couches. This impromptu “scoop up” was getting a bit formal…visitor tags, signing a log book, call names. Lucky I heard the buzz of the helicopter and we were off before we knew it!

The pilot quickly pointed out a few buttons and helped to fasten our belts and adjust our headsets. It was hard to hear him over the blades, but I later learned that the button wasn’t to eject the seat but to talk through the radio!

Watching the terrain change so quickly from the “broccoli” covered mountains, to the rivers and valleys, to the coconut lined coast was incredible. The highlands were very remote with the occasional cluster of villages with round huts and patchwork gardens. It was amazing to feel the cool breeze through the windows and when we flew through bits of cloud coverage I remember thinking…I am literally in the clouds! When we came to the Ramu Valley, the pilot knew we would be in for an adventure. We decided to get a bit lower and follow the river. It was amazing to observe life from this perspective. The children were jumping and splashing full of excitement of seeing the helicopter. Men were fishing and women washing clothes and dishes, but all looked up to wave. Soon the air in the cabin was warmer and the coast came into view.

Before we knew it, we were back in Madang! A big thanks to our pilot friends for an amazing view of PNG!

Tip about Buai

2009-11-29T20:52:00.000-08:00

Never chew buai after a few beers, coctails, and/or wine!

I am assuming this experienced buai chewer already knew this!

Because I am not feeling particularly well today...I'll do a cut and paste about my first buai experience in PNG....today I can hardly look at or even smell buai. Last night may have been my last buai experience!

Buai is a huge part of PNG culture and I have wanted to try it since my arrival. Every few feet along the roads there are stands selling buai and tobacco rolled in yesterday’s copy of the National Courier. Just outside my apartment complex, my neighbors have a buai stand and have offered me buai on many occasions. Due to fear of my teeth being permanently stained red I have politely declined. Eventually, I caved to curiosity and had a go at this PNG tradition. Once I chewed through the outer shell, the betel nut (buai) was jaw clenching, eye watering bitter. My mouth began to salivate and the spitting began. Some people choose to chew buai without the mustard plant (daka) and lime which provides the “buzz” and the blood red color. I wanted the full experience. Once I chewed the buai into a ball I dipped the mustard stem in the lime, which is taken from coral. Once I began to chew the 3 ingredients together, my teeth, lips and tongue turned scarlet. My mouth tingled and grew hot. Although my entire mouth was filled with saliva, it felt very dry. I didn't feel the notorius buzz that buai chewers seek; however I was quite the entertainment for those walking past. They laughed at me spitting and trying to see my crimson tongue.

Buai is the green nut you see, daka is the mustard stem, and that's the lime in the plastic bag..not to be confused with anything else!

Karkar Volcano Erupted!

2009-11-26T17:09:00.000-08:00

An eruption occurred at Karkar volcano at 6:39 pm on 25th November 2009. The eruption plume reached a height of 45,000 ft. A magnitude 5.1 earthquake hit 90 km SSE of Karkar volcano 7.5 hours before the eruption.

Some of you may remeber that I climbed this volcano earlier this year ( I even wrote a nice little blog about it). I was sitting on my couch reading the glossy magazines Marleen brought back from Hanoi when I felt the earthquake, but I thought it was just one of the many that I feel here in PNG.

Opportunities.

2009-11-25T22:35:00.000-08:00

When they arise, you take them. Some happen once in a lifetime. Some are just around the corner. For persons in poverty, opportunities, unfortunately, tend to be few and far between.

I am not much of a believer in luck or chance and most certainly not destiny. But I have to say that I have been fortunate to have had many incredible, life changing opportunities in my lifetime. And I would have to say that I have had these opportunities because I was privileged enough to live in a Country that offers free basic education and grants for higher education; to be a part of a culture that teaches its youth to pursue their dreams; and to have parents that encouraged me to be the best I could be and supported me to do so.

Beginning in 2010, the educational opportunities for Papua New Guinean children will drastically increase. In an effort to reach the Millennium Development Goal of Universal Basic Education by 2015, PNG is for the first time offering free education for elementary students. Free education will provide opportunities for PNG to become a literate nation. It is intended for all children to begin elementary prep (kindergarten in the US) at the age of 6 and continue to elementary 1 and 2. Although enrollment will not have any age restrictions, the government is aware of the challenges the educational divisions may face with an increase in access without plans to ensure quality. Entire families will have the opportunity to enter elementary together; mothers, fathers and children. PNG plans to offer further educational opportunities in 2012 with free primary education for grades 3-8.

Last week while attending an education conference in PNG’s highlands at Kundiawa, I learned of the shocking numbers of out of school children in PNG. According to a recent document released by the National Executive Council, Madang’s children are the most marginalized, with an estimated 58,791 school aged children out of school. This number is compared to the 51,025 who are currently enrolled. Less than half of children in Madang have educational opportunities. Girls and children with disabilities are the vulnerable groups who are most likely to be excluded. And when I go out to communities to see half of Madang’s children who are fortunate to have these educational opportunities, I find schools with no books, children sitting on dirt floors or under trees, and even more dramatically, eager children without teachers.

Taking this giant leap to provide free elementary education to PNG children is incredible; however, there are many questions that provinces, districts and school communities are asking. Infrastructure: are there enough schools and classrooms? Teachers: how do we cope with the existing elementary teacher shortage in addition to recruiting and training new teachers? Currently elementary teachers undergo a 6-week training course. Now with the introduction of free elementary education, elementary teacher training will be introduced at three of the country’s teacher colleges.

A world of opportunities is just around the corner for the children of Papua New Guinea!

More on PMIZ

2009-11-08T21:38:00.001-08:00

If you are interested in following the controversial Pacific Marine Industrial Zone (PMIZ), check out the very insightful blog of fellow American and Anthropologist Nancy Sullivan, who as been living in PNG for over 19 years.

http://www.nancysullivan.typepad.com

Halloween PNG Style

2009-11-01T22:57:00.000-08:00

We celebrated Halloween by hosting a great party with people from 13 different countries coming together to show off their costumes!

I think Marleen, Jolanda and I had the most fun going to the second hand shops and buying all the costumes for our neighbors (and those who dared to come without a costume).

Of course we had a good time trying them all on ourselves first!

We had fun carving watermelons

Stephanie and Dunston were proud of their watermelons!

And the neighbor kids loved bobbing for passion fruit!

My favorite costumes of the night were Ben and Federica's...Madang's famous flying foxes!

The Beach House

2009-11-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

VSO's Country Director and her partner invited us out to their beach house.

We left from the Madang Fishing Club with our reels ready.

It's not a hard life at the beach house. You float right up to the deck bar for a cold SP!

You soak up the sun after a swim around the lagoon.

And there is plenty of food and cheers to go around!

Alexishafen and the Ramu Valley

2009-11-01T17:55:00.000-08:00

My work with Inclusive education has taken me to two buzzing areas of Madang this week. To Alexishafen, where an industrial marine zone is underway and to the Ramu Valley where nickel is mined and other resources are exported from the Country.

The first part of the week I was in Alexishafen to promote early childhood education. I helped facilitate a training targeting community leaders from remote villages throughout Madang. These leaders form the committee that governs the Kindergarten schools in their villages. These men, some of whom never had the opportunity themselves to learn to read or write, have taken a step forward to ensure the children of their communities have the educational opportunities they never had.

Alexishafen is a Catholic Mission station about 25km north of Madang along the North Coast road. It is also the site of a highly controversial National Government initiative to create an industrial port. Many local landowners from the villages surrounding the area are against the Pacific Marine Industrial Zone (PMIZ). My knowledge on this topic is limited to what I read in the National papers and from conversations with others. I believe the intention is to create a ‘zone’ which will enable numerous Pacific and South East Asian Countries to fish PNG and Pacific waters, bring massive ships into Madang’s harbor destroying the reefs and the villagers fishing livelihoods, and build fishing canneries to process the fish and dump their toxins into PNG waters, and export the fish across the world. Basically, that is PMIZ in a nutshell. I am obviously biased, environmentally conscious, and sincerely concerned about the livelihoods of the People of PNG.

The second part of the week I joined John and Marshall from the VSO education team to visit two schools in the Ramu Valley. Traveling along the South Coast road following the nickel pipeline I noted significant changes from last year. There are increased amounts of Chinese workers, heavy machinery and hard physical labor of local community members. The Ramu Valley is abundantly rich in oil, gold, nickel, and particularly in land for the production of palm oil, cows, and sugar cane.

The two school visits were extremely fruitful. As always when I contact head teachers, they say they do not have children with disabilities in their schools. And as always they are surprised when I identify over 10% of their students with special needs. And even more surprised when substantial numbers of children from the surrounding communities who do not attend school are identified through child-to-child activities.

Garim, the first school I visited was quite large, with 23 teachers and over 1,000 grade 3-8 students. All classrooms are on stilts and inaccessible for children with difficulties in mobility. Unfortunately, brainstorming efforts did not result in the simple solution of building ramps when I asked how they could make the school more accessible. It was encouraging to discover two teachers had received previous training in special education; but dispiriting to see they are not practicing the skills they have been taught.

We stayed the night in the valley in a room attached to a local church, well John and Marshall did. The Pastor’s wife insisted I stay in their house, as it is improper for a young, unmarried woman to sleep any where near men. I joined her and her 5 children on a mat on the floor, while Marshall and John enjoyed sleeping on mattresses with sheets to protect them from the strong valley winds. I sat through a long-winded devotion after dinner. It was only when I heard the reading of John 3:16 in Pidgin that I realized the significance of the verse for Papua New Guineans, where children especially male children are so valuable to the family.

I thought of Richard’s story after seeing him earlier that afternoon. Richard lives in Madang town, but he is staying with an Aunt in the valley to seek sponsorship from the Ramu Nickel Mining Company in order to buy a new wheelchair for the upcoming PNG Games. Richard is a PNG gold medalist in weightlifting and track. When Richard told me his story of how he lost his legs, my heart skipped a beat. When receiving his vaccinations there was a mistake. The only option given to Richard’s family was amputation above the right knee and below the left knee. Richard said his father, in all his fury, chased the doctors and nurses around the hospital with a bush knife screaming “My only son, my only son!”

Before leaving the following morning, the Pastor’s wife gave me a bilum from her village in the Highlands made of kaskas fur. My bilum collection is growing fast!

We climbed back in the Cruiser to Walim Primary. Walim is a much smaller school than Gusap with only 10 teachers and 130 students grade 3-8. With a school of this size, I was able to do child-to-child activities in each class. Through role-playing, games, drama, and group discussions, the children were able to understand what it feels like to be excluded. They were able to talk about ways to include all children in school. And together we were able to identify over 60 children who are not attending school from their villages. In an effort to increase enrollment, the teachers went out into the villages to conduct awareness on children’s rights and the importance of education for the future of their communities.

In two resource-rich districts of Madang, we were able to identify numerous out-of-school children. Hopefully we can build a future full of educational opportunities for PNG children who will be able to manage these resources and the changes that come with them.

The Road to School

2009-10-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

The road to school for most PNG children is extraordinary. They face many barriers and travel great distances. Inclusive Education works to make that road less difficult to travel.

I was eager to get my idol hands into other projects while waiting for the Provincial Government to move forward with the logistics of the inclusive education training program. The Country Womens Association (CWA) and their work with early childhood education immediately came to mind. I first worked with the CWA when I facilitated a training back in March for the teachers of the 15 Kindergarten Long Ples schools. So, I organized a meeting with the CWA and they were happy to include me into their outreach programs.

My first outreach was along the South Coast in Garim Village. The children of this village gather under a mango tree for school. The two teachers and their helper take advantage of the wide-open space to play games and sing songs with over 40 children. I was told there were three children with hearing impairments in the village; however they did not attend school. When I asked, the teachers were happy to walk me to the children’s houses. When we didn’t find them at their houses, I asked the teachers to walk me to their gardens. The teachers were surprised I would go to so much effort to see the children. When crossing the river to the gardens I was warned of the crocodile that had eaten a dog the night before. Unfortunately no one warned me of the sand flies and I was eaten alive!

Recently, our team traveled up the North Coast to three remote villages in Madang's inland. I had no idea I would be walking for days, climbing up and down mountains and crossing rivers that reached my chest. My heart pours out to the children who walk these great distances along mountainous terrains just to satisfy their hunger for knowledge. The everyday struggle I witnessed of the people of Butelgut, Kamba and Bidimai villages will not be soon forgotten.

Our outreach team targeted a variety of activities including health promotion, screening for disabilities and early childhood education. In an effort to prevent the further spread of cholera in PNG, our team educated the children of the importance of washing their hands before eating. We encouraged the children to brush their teeth by distributing toothbrushes donated by the Rotary Club. To promote child friendly, inclusive schools, I read some children's books I had recently written with stories about children with disabilities and the things they can do. We gathered leaves and shared stories about the different colors, shapes and sizes of our leaves, but regardless of their differences they are still leaves. We gave compliments to all our friends to learn that it is never okay to make fun of children with disabilities.

During our stay in Bidimai Village, we slept in a house made of bamboo above the kindergarten school. One night we were shaken awake by a massive earthquake. Fearful the entire structure would fall to the ground, we jumped up from our mats and headed down to safety. My legs were so sore I barely made it down the makeshift ladder. Without any form of communication, no mobiles, land lines or radios, we were completely unaware of the tsunami warnings issued for Madang. Luckily we were safe in the mountains!

The village elders called me "win meri" saying that I made history. I was the second ‘Western’ woman to ever reach this remote village. The first was an Italian backpacker in 2007. News of the arrival of a specialist in disabilities quickly brought people from the surrounding villages to see me. I identified children with vision, hearing and physical disabilities. Bradly in particular won my heart. He is 3 years old and appeared to have the characteristics of a child with cerebral palsy. Initially he cried when I, the strange white woman, reached out for him. But soon he was reaching out for my balloons and candy as I demonstrated various exercises to strengthen his muscles. As I taught his mother additional exercises to continue at home and ways to encourage his speech, the crowd around us grew. The community was interested to see what Bradly could do. Soon the community was working together to build a chair to help stabilize his body and a set of rails that will help him learn to stand.

On our journey back to Madang we followed the Gum River and took our time to swim and wash. We caught prawns and gathered ferns along the river banks for our dinner that night. We celebrated the end of a successful week with a huge feast and in true PNG custom I was given gifts of bilums and wooden bowls.

Although I prefer the villages to Madang town, I will always appreciate bathing without being fully dressed and the luxury of sitting on a toilet.

I plan to continue working with the Kindergarten outreach program in addition to the teacher training program to promote Inclusive Education. Over a month ago my project proposal was approved by the Education Department; however, things seem to be moving slow. Although I have been told there is money in the budget allocated to a training of trainers project of this scale, I have yet to see any concrete evidence that the project can be implemented across the Province.

Being the social networker that I am, I shared my difficulties over a few drinks with an engineer working with Heli Nuigini, a local helicopter company. He was inspired by my work and shared my story with his boss the next day. Before I knew it I was discussing the inclusive education project over dinner and drinks at the fishing club with a crew of Heli Nuigni engineers and pilots. Networking obviously paid off as it looks like Heli Nuigini is interested in supporting inclusive education efforts in Madang!

The road to school is long with tall mountains to climb and deep rivers to cross. But we push on to pave the way and create new paths to follow along the road to school for PNG's most vulnerable children.

Another episode from Coronation Drive

2009-09-28T23:56:00.001-07:00

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!

The effects of the Cholera outbreak here in Madang

2009-09-27T23:50:00.000-07:00

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).

Independence

2009-09-17T18:46:00.000-07:00

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.

The Full Moon

2009-09-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

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.

Approved! Thank you President Obama!

2009-09-03T23:01:00.001-07:00

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!!!

It's a Zoo around here!

2009-09-02T22:27:00.000-07:00

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.

Papua New Guinea hit by cholera

2009-09-02T21:59:00.000-07:00

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.

Culture and Violence: The Melanesian Philosophy of Human Dignity

2009-08-26T21:45:00.000-07:00

As I volunteer who has been in PNG for 15 months, I was not surprised by the hard facts and shocking truths revealed at the symposium hosted by Divine Word University.

Hard Facts and Statistics
• Gender based violence is now one of the leading factors of HIV infection in PNG.
• In the Highlands, 100% of wives reported being beaten by their husbands.
• In hospitals throughout PNG, trauma patients constitute 70% of all surgical presentations, 65% of all surgical admissions, and 20% of the overall hospital admission rates.
• 75% of all trauma cases are non-accidental.
• Domestic violence constitutes 21% of all trauma cases.
• In Madang alone, between January and July 2009 1,336 cases of assault were reported to the police.
• PNG has the highest maternal mortality rate in the Pacific (730/100,000) PNG is 2nd in the World behind Sub-Saharan Africa
• In one study, 60% of PNG men reported to have participated at least once in gang rapes.
• In incidents of sexual abuse reported in Alotau hospital, 52% of cases were of children under the age of 16.
• 110-150 men and women are accused of sorcery and killed every year in PNG with a higher percentage of these being women.

I felt as if the symposium began to address the real key issues mid-day on the second day. PNG men and women spoke with passion, a real desire to address the issues of culture and violence. They were able to bring together all the issues of traditional cultures, the realities of violence, limitations of governmental sectors, isolation, the effects of the mining industry, pornography, and evolving cultures and limitations networking with other sectors.

Many women and counselors shared their stories of how survivors were first raped by their perpetrator, then by the police, then by the doctors, then by the courts, then by their community.

The Governor of the National Capital District (NCD), a doctor from Modilon Hospital in Madang, and a woman officer working for Boroko Police force in Port Moresby spoke of the truths within the layers of challenges within their sectors.

Governmental: The issue of Government spending in response to trauma was addressed. Trauma is a high cost for governmental sectors such as health and justice. The Governor of NCD spoke openly of the costs of violence and culture in his province. He addressed key issues such as the influx of settlements, transient workers, lack of job placements, homosexuality and PNG’s changing culture. In his response to violence, a hotline has been established that will link callers to a security company within all provinces across PNG.

Health: “Trauma in PNG is an epidemic out of control.” Dr. Vincent Atua, Emergency Dept. Modilon Hosp. Doctors and nurses barely have the time to make rounds and see to their patients. The reality is that the level of engagement at hospitals is on a clinical level. There is no time for social supports such as counseling and rehabilitation. The reality is patients are being sutured with unsterile instruments. Emergency vehicles are bashed and staffs are not trained to make repairs to donor equipment. Identified needs include: trainings in trauma mgt, increased communication with networks, hospital social worker.

Law & Order: In NCD, a pilot project is in its first year establishing the only Family and Sexual Violence (FSV) Unit. The FSV Unit has 10 trained staff working in 3 areas (Wagani, Boroko and Moresby South). The Unit conducts trainings in communities and with ngos, helps to make protection orders accessible, and is working to make amendments to sexual offenses in family court. The officer strongly encourages witnesses to step up and help justice prevail. The realities are there is no fuel in the vehicles to respond or follow up on cases, there is corruption and bribery within the police force itself and police turn women away stating, “This is a family matter. Control it elsewhere.” “Police are forced to resort to illegal methods because the people do not respond.” The police force is looking for more to be done with prevention and networking.

There are governmental sectors, organizations, and individuals who are working to address the culture of violence in PNG; however, more must be done. As stated by the Governor of NCD, “The law and policy is there; what is lacking is the implementation.”

Welcome Home

2009-08-24T00:07:00.000-07:00

It felt great to be welcomed back to PNG by so many friends. Madang has really become a home to me and with each hug I felt how much I was truly missed.

I was surprised to realize how much I missed my life in Madang. With such amazing friends and unique adventures and scenery, how could I not miss this place.

I honestly missed the flying foxes, such an important Madang fixture!

I didn't realize how much I would miss the sea and I immediately hit the islands to soak in the sun and sand. The blue coral really brought out the color in my new tattoo I picked up at Artistic Ink in Greenbrier, TN. (plug intended!)

Its dry season now and the winds and sea currents are strong. The children quite enjoy the splash of the waves at Machine Gun Point!

The heavy rains filled the abandoned boat outside my house and the neighbor children decided to have a wash. Too cute!

I met some new friends who travel the skies of PNG. Always the adventurer, I dared to join a test flight above the islands of Madang. Pure bliss!

My bestie Roselyn, her two children Dunston and Stephanie as well as Roselyn's mother, gave me a beautiful carving of PNG's National Emblem with a unique birthday message. While I was home I turned the big 29 and my family here in Madang was sure to celebrate this day with me. I am very lucky to have people who love and care for me, just as my family does at home.

And an even longer way back.

2009-08-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

August 3, 2009
0800-Always the procrastinator, I began to pack my bags. Spices, clothes, books, and of course a float with “cup” holders (an essential item for long weekends resting on the islands).

0900 Tearful goodbyes curbside at the Nashville airport. It’s never easy to leave my family.

I believe I do qualify for the Expert Traveler Lane, thank you very much.

1025 Surrounded by our honored Men of Service, Delta announced the cancelled flight. Smoke and engine in the same sentence is never a good combination. I was put on standby for the next flight to Atlanta and my international connections bumped someone out of their seat.

1430 Arrived in Atlanta 25 minutes after my flight to Tokyo departed. I missed the connection and all my other international connections had to be changed. This must happen frequently with Delta Airlines, because all of us (and we came in masses) were sent to self-service stations. We scanned our boarding passes and our new itineraries were printed. The machine spit out one $7 food coupon, a hotel voucher for Nashville, and a boarding pass to Minneapolis 6 hours later. My itinerary scheduled me to depart from Minneapolis the next afternoon and resume the same flight times to Tokyo and Hong Kong only a day behind. How was I going to tell this ‘machine’ that this was not going to work? I had additional international flights beyond Hong Kong. The flights out of HKG to PNG run once per week and I had scheduled myself a day in Hong Kong to insure I made the flight (and I wanted to buy a camera). Arriving a day later would only give me 25 minutes to exit the plane, go through customs, the rigorous health check, baggage claim, find my gate in the expanse of Hong Kong’s International Airport, and check-in with Air Niugini. “Excuse me Machine, isn’t there another way to make these international connections? And if I am to stay the night in Minneapolis, why is my hotel voucher for Nashville? And if I am expected to delay an entire day, how could I manage to buy 3 meals with $7!”

Finding a Human wasn’t much help either. The Delta Rep hastily directed the masses to a station filled with phones. As time crept by without any sign that a Human voice would be heard on the other end of the line, the masses grew in hostility. I followed the example of those who had abandoned their stations and insisted immediate assistance from the Reps behind the counter. Finally, a Human. An annoyed, over worked, underpaid, self-righteous, American Human. She did not know about International flights. I was in the wrong line, before the wrong counter, and obviously talking to the wrong Human. My work in developing countries has helped me to practice my skills in patience and flexibility, but I was not in a developing country. I was in the United States of America. Surely, in this land of Leaders, someone could manage to sort matters such as these efficiently.

Guess not. Delta counter. International Terminal. Tired, stressed faces from across the Globe stood in line. As I stood and watched our visitors’ frustrated faces, I could not help but to be embarrassed. Of American inefficiencies. The rude tones of the Reps. I soon shared their frustrations. There were no other flights to Tokyo or any other Asian Pacific destination that would put me in Hong Kong in time to make my connection to PNG. No, Delta would not compensate me for my missed connecting flights with Air Niugini. No, they would not upgrade my seats (stomping my American foot again). Whose great idea was it to fly to Minneapolis when the same flight can be made out of Atlanta? The Machine? In the end, I left with an Atlanta hotel voucher and three $7 meal tickets in my hand. Such a crap deal. I headed straight for the bar to join the masses!

August 4, 2009
1230 Hotel-Airport shuttle dropped me at the terminal. More self-service machines. More Reps directing me to phones. Too hung over to fight to speak with anyone. To no surprise my machine could not print my boarding pass. More long lines. Baggage claim tickets, but no sight of my baggage.

1420 Delta Flight Atlanta to Tokyo 13.5 hours. Distance: 7504 miles.

I sat next to a child who had just visited the Coca-Cola museum. Needless to say he wanted lots and lots of Coke. Coke = caffeine. Caffeine = high energy child = no sleep for me. This also meant lots of trips to the bathroom and I wasn’t willing to give up my aisle seat. In and out. Out and in. And on top of all that, with the rebooking of my flights, the Machine or the Human failed to transfer my vegetarian meal request. So I was hung over, hungry, annoyed by Coca-cola boy, had no idea where my baggage was or if I was going to make my connection. Nice.

0500? 1700? (Day or night, I didn’t bother to ask). Tokyo to Hong Kong 4.5 hours.
Would I be able to make the connection to Port Moresby in 25 minutes? The next available flight would be next week, could I possible stay in Hong Kong? Who would pay for my hotel? The Delta Rep made it clear they would not compensate my missed connections. VSO? A week holiday in Hong Kong!!! I would be willing to pay. Maybe VSO would prefer I make another connection, maybe out of Singapore or Australia? It would be nice however to have an unexpected holiday in Hong Kong.

The flight left Tokyo a bit early “to avoid Hong Kong weather,” and arrived 45 minutes before my connecting flight to PNG. At the arrival gate I was met by a young Cathay Pacific Rep holding a sign with my name. “Follow me!” he yelled. We took off with a sprint. Guess we were going to make a run for it after all.

We ran up and down escalators, through Staff Only doors, down empty corridors. We made it to the Cathay Pacific counter. “Ms. Ramsey, are you willing to make this connection without your baggage?” I feel as if I have heard this in a previous life. “We have only located one of your bags and there isn’t enough time to transfer it.” The young guy looked at this watch. A decision must be made soon; I could tell we had more running ahead of us. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. “Yes, I will board the flight.” No week in Hong Kong. No camera. No duty free. No chance to wash my face or brush my teeth.

Boarding pass in hand, we took off again at a dead sprint. We ran through all the red tape. No customs. No masks or gloves. No health checks. We went through personnel security. No long lines just a pounding heart and a sweaty brow. When we arrived at the gate it was empty; all passengers were boarded. The young guy turned to me and asked, “What about your baggage?” Oh my goodness! What? I thought we had that taken care of at the first counter! Here we go again. By this point I was completely done. I no longer had the energy to deal with airlines, baggage claims, airline representatives typing away on their computers. The Cathay Pacific Rep told me to make a lost baggage claim once I arrived in Papua New Guinea. Yeah right I thought. After giving them the best smile I could manage and pushing a few words around, all three Reps flipped open their mobile phones. I was given a lost claim number and guarantees that once my bags were located they would put them on the next flight to Australia to make a connecting flight to PNG within the week.

Air Niugini Flight PX 110 Hong Kong to Port Moresby 8 Hours.
I looked out my window and realized I wasn’t the only one in the middle of a storm. Supposedly the flight was leaving a bit late because of typhoon warnings! The plane was filled with missionaries and their football team of screaming children, Chinese nickel mine workers and international development workers.

Air Niugini Flight PX 115 Port Moresby to Madang 1 Hour.
I literally never want to board another plane in my life! And I will not need reminding to only pack a carry on!

Back in Madang! Shower, lunch at The Lodge and a nap! Welcome back to Paradise!

Dixieland Delight

2009-07-25T23:09:00.000-07:00

Summer life in the small, country towns of Springfield, TN and Eddyville, KY. Town squares, barber shops, and one show theaters. Rolling hills, tractors, and fields of grain, soybean, corn and tobacco. The beautiful expanse of the bright blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. The blue birds fluttering through my grandmother’s flower garden. The smell of horses and hay. The echo of aluminum bats at the baseball diamond. The geese floating lazily on the rippling ponds. The 4th of July fireworks reflecting off the lake. The smell of leather in the tack room and grease in the shop. The taste of a home grown tomato. Or a hotdog at the ballpark. The long days that leave you swinging on the back porch with a glass of iced tea.

From my personal experience and from conversations I have had with others who have lived abroad, returning home is a mix of emotions. I believe this to be true. Coming home is something you have to learn to do. This is my third time to come home from abroad; I’m still a work in progress. My stories, my pictures, my memories tend to be lost in the great ocean of wonders that are Papua New Guinea. You see, when explaining the wonderful mysteries of ‘the land of the unexpected’ my own story within them seem to vanish.

While eating lunch with my family at a bustling meat-n-three in town, a man commented on the hand woven baskets I had brought home as gifts. My Aunt Julie explained the baskets were from a village along the Sepik River in Papua New Guinea. Nevertheless, this man was certain the baskets were American Indian artifacts because he had seen them while watching an episode of Chuck Norris.

Most times I felt right at home again. As if nothing had changed. To quote Alabama (the band, not the entire State), I was “born country and that’s what I’ll always be.” I was “raised up down home” chasing cows and playin’ in the dirt. Where it’s a sin to not sing every word of Dixieland Delight and Rocky Top. Where best friends know you better than you know yourself and family roots stretch further and wider than the Mississippi. And I hope its okay to share here on my public blog that our family tree is growing- horizontally, not vertically as some may say of us country folks! My brother Houston and sister-in-law Becky announced they are expecting their first child. The Ramsey family’s first grandchild. I am so thankful I was able to share their happiness!

There were other times when I felt like an alien from Mars. Or if you are from the South you would say, there were times when I looked like a deer in headlights. I was completely overwhelmed by traffic, Wal-mart, and menus. Just to name a few instances of over stimulation. It’s not that I have forgotten how to drive or that you can get your tires changed, eyes checked and pick up dog food, light bulbs and milk at a one-stop mega-mart. It’s when these are once a year occurrences that the ‘rat race’ can be a bit overwhelming. Do we really need 15 combo meal options? And don’t dare to ask anyone to hand over their blackberry. When I couldn’t find a payphone and asked a man if I could make a call, he turned and walked away from me like I had the plague. Guess it’s unheard of to not have a mobile in America in 2009.

It’s hard not to notice that America is wasteful and indulgent. We are the biggest consumers and the largest polluters. Each time I see clean, clear water running without a purpose, first I think of all the men, woman and children I have seen drinking, bathing and washing from rivers or various stagnant water sources. Then I think, You wouldn’t be letting all that water go to waste if you had to walk 2km to the well, pump it into a jerry can and carry it the 2kms back on your head.

Living in poverty brings a reality to the distinction between wants and needs. There were specific things I needed while back in the ‘land of plenty.’ Glasses, contacts, a visit to the dental hygienist. But being the American girl that I am, I couldn’t leave home without giving into a few of my favorite American indulgences! Coffee shops, bookstores, live music venues, breweries, key lime pie, pedicures, cream cheese….oh and walking through the streets at night!

Family, friends and key lime pie…these are the reasons I come home. “It’s my life, oh so right, my Dixieland delight!”

A Long Way Home

2009-07-01T12:31:00.000-07:00

0500: Madang Lodge pick up and drop off.
0600-0700 Air Niugini flight Madang to Port Moresby
Layover in Moresby 9 ½ hours at Airways Hotel
1630 Air Niugini flight POM to Hong Kong 8 hours

What Air Niugini lacks in food they make up for in free drinks!

After 22 hours of flights and departure lounges I arrived in Hong Kong. Flying in over the city lights and high rise buildings was an incredible sight. Hong Kong was an interesting stop over. Customs had a very strict health check. Officers wearing surgical masks and gloves stood at the customs gate ready to check our temperature. In addition to the usual custom claims forms, it was required to complete health forms declaring you hadn’t been in contact with anyone who had the swine flu, you didn’t have a sore throat, fever, or that you were not feeling sick in any way. It was intense. At check point #2 I realized I left my neck pillow at checkpoint #1. Yep, I had to head to the back of the line and look forward to another temp check! And on top of that my luggage was no where to be seen on the conveyer belt. The customer rep said not to worry; it would be in Norhtwest’s storage and to just check-in with them in the morning.

The departure lounge was filled with people whose blank gazes never left the television screens…Michael Jackson’s death truly impacted the entire world. I had a lot of time to catch up on the news of the King of Pop. Over 10 hours at the Hong Kong airport. I was starting to feel like Tom Hanks in the movie Terminal. I was hungry for a new book, magazines filled with the world’s current events and of course American fast food. After a few quick emails home and a status update on Facebook, I found a row of empty seats and tried my best to sleep.

The next morning after more Real Life: Hong Kong Terminal, I arrived at the check-in counter in hopes to find my bag. I was not surprised to discover that Air Niugini had lost my bag somewhere between Port Moresby and Hong Kong. Too long in a Country of inefficiencies will do that to you I guess. Flipping Hell! All my PNG artifacts! Lost. Not in the “system,” not in the basement, not found by Niugini's partner carrier in Hong Kong (since there is no office for Air Niugini in Hong Kong). After I involved all reps with Northwest in an effort to get it back I began to realize my bag was gone. Responsibility of Air Niugini-in other wards I’ll never see it again. It basically came to the point where the NWA supervisor told me that the gates were closing and if I wanted to check in I needed to do it immediately and without my baggage. Absolutely not! There was no way I was leaving this side of the world without my bag. I didn’t ride 4 days in a boat up the Sepik River to have all my artifacts lost by a stupid airline. I stomped my loud American foot and insisted for the reps to continue looking in storage. Tears. At that moment I realized how upset I was over material possessions, I remembered one of my favorite quotes from Buddha “Attachment is the source of all suffering,” I checked in without my bag and walked to the gate with my head hung low. I tried my best not to think about all the hand carvings, the baskets, the paintings, the jewelry, the coffee… I wasn’t going to think about how I sat on the edge of a boat, before sunrise, in the pouring rain, with artifacts shoved inside my poncho to only have them so carelessly lost.

When going through yet another security check point, I had forgotten to remove my duty free from my carry on bag. I was already late and I knew this breach of security was going to take some time. I hoped I wouldn’t miss my flight on top of losing my bag. The officer suggested I return to check-in and put my South Pacific beer in my checked luggage. Ha! That’s really funny! The counter was closed and that’s beside the point, I no longer had any check-in luggage! I was forced to watch him throw my last souvenir in the trash. I forced myself to focus on the positives of seeing my family and getting out of that terminal. I hurried to the gate. I was completely flustered by this point. I handed the attendant my passport and boarding pass with the hopes of a stiff drink aboard. “Ms. Ramsey?” the soft spoken attendant asked. “We have found your bag.” WTF! I knew it! It was one of those 'told you so' moments....I told them they had it and they just needed to look harder! I was so elated that my positive energies blocked out all the questions of how and where. The attendant assured me that NWA would check my bag all the way through the 4 hour flight to Tokyo, the 11 flight from Tokyo to Detroit and the other 2 hour flight to Nashville. And yes, to my added pleasure NWA served bottomless bottles of wine! Karma!

0830-1230 NWA/Delta flight Hong Kong to Tokyo 4 hours
Skyscraper madness, cut price electronics, computers and photography equipment. Young girls with dyed ginger hair, short skirts, Prada bags and glasses bigger than they are, all carrying cell phones that make US versions look like relics. A giant-modern day metropolis that screams, “We are not afraid of progress.” They have style with sass. Refinement witih flair. Pulsating with urban adventure. A dynamism between the old and the new.

11 hour flight NWA Tokyo to Detroit
I have lost all concept of day/time by crossing the International Date Line. US Customs and Border Protection Declaration form asks: What countries have you visited on this trip prior to US arrival? PNG, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, China. And it’s only been 6 months since my last US arrival. A security breech leaves us all standing in US customs. Alarms sounding. Officers shouting orders. No flights outgoing. Airport on lockdown. Welcome to the United States of America! An hour later I am running to my gate….again… My last flight. I cannot stand another moment in an airport departure lounge.

2 Hour flight Detroit to Nashville
I finally made it home. Back to the Big Easy. Back to where I look just like everyone else and no one bothers to find out any different. Surely I am not the same person who left 6 months ago. Surely I have transformed so completely that I should walk into an unrecognizable light. But instead I found comfort in the familiar. The emerging solo artist strumming his Gibson guitar. The slow southern accents, the big 4 wheel drive trucks, the dark denim jeans slouched over cowboy boots. The song of the south.

There’s no place like Home. We immediately emptied my bag and the distinct PNG aroma filled the room. All my artifacts made it alive and well through all custom checks. Despite all the turmoil with my bag, only two pukpuk (crocodile) carvings lost the tips of their tails. Nothing a little wood glue can’t solve. My parents marveled over the Sepik artifacts as I told stories and explained PNG culture.

Freshly showered and wearing some of my favorite clothes from my closet, we headed straight to the Mexican restaurant and drank margaritas! A long way home, but well worth the journey!

Life is Calling

2009-06-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

One of the things I told my family before deciding to volunteer on the other side of the world was that if they ever needed me I would come home. James Taylor sang it best, Just call out my name and you know where ever I am I’ll come running to see you again.

I'll be going home on a one month leave and will return to PNG the first week in August.

Save the Children

2009-06-25T19:12:00.000-07:00

Recently I have been working on a Peer Counseling project with Save the Children. First we did a one week workshop targeting the training of trainers. These trainers are current staff members of Save the Children from all across PNG. The goal is for the trainers to gain skills in counseling and apply these skills in their daily work as well as train volunteers in the Youth Outreach Projects throughout the Country.

Save the Children in PNG targets the impact of the HIV and AIDS epidemic on children. Save’s programs focus on promoting HIV prevention, treatment, care and support for vulnerable parents such as female sex workers and men who have sex with men, vulnerable future parents (youth) and vulnerable children.

Save the Children in PNG’s projects include the Poro Sapot (Supporting Friends) Project, the Youth Outreach Project, the Tingim Laip (Think about Life) Project, STI (Sexually Transmitted Infections) Clinical Improvement Project, and a project to work with (OVC) Orphans and Vulnerable Children.

My work here in Madang promoting Inclusive Education aligns with Save the Children’s work including children’s right to health, education, protection and survival.

This week I have been supporting the trainers to facilitate the first Peer Counseling program in PNG! There are 20 volunteers in the Youth Outreach Project here in Madang. These 15-25 year olds are out-of-school, jobless youths who are vulnerable to the HIV epidemic and its impact on their lives.

Working with the incredible staff of Save the Children has opened my eyes to a new reality here in PNG. They are working in urban centers such as markets and bus stops that are notorious for at-risk behaviors including prostitution and drug-use. Save is also working in rural areas with community outreach and rural health projects. The real stories they share touch me.

A staff member in Morseby told me about his struggles within the Poro Sapot Project targeting sex workers. He said there are a significant number of people who are living with HIV/AIDS and because of negative stigma their families have abandoned them and they are forced to live on the streets. The homeless are reduced to roaming alleys and eating only if they are lucky to find something in the trash that day. They aren’t able to take their ARV treatment because they become nauseous and sick if it isn’t taken with food. They are forced to make the decision to sell sex for money to buy food in order to take their medicine. This vicious cycle unfortunately continues to spread the virus among these vulnerable groups.

Another staff member in Moresby working with the Poro Sapot targeting men who have sex with men spoke about the daily challenges he and his friends face. As homosexuality is illegal in PNG, these men face stigma regarding their HIV status as well as their sexual orientation. This inspirational staff member has found ways to support men from around the Country through involvement in activities such as support groups, camping trips, and even a Ms. Universe pageant. Because these men are unable to express themselves openly in their communities, these activities help to create safe environments where their rights are respected.

Most of the staff shared stories about people with mental illnesses. Mental Health is an interesting topic in PNG. Word both on the street and within hospitals, organizations and individuals working within the mental health field here in PNG is that mental illnesses are a result of drug and alcohol abuse, with a particular focus on marijuana use. The belief (the misconception in my opinion) is that people who are “longlong” (the slang pidgin word meaning ‘crazy’) have become this way because of marijuana. Society stigmatizes persons with mental illness in the same manner people with HIV/AIDS and disabilities are stigmatized. These people are rejected from their families, homes and communities and may be left on the streets, thrown in the sea, or hidden in the house.

Increasing my awareness of these realities helps me to apply my work in a more practical way that will hopefully address the real needs of the vulnerable groups I support.

Time. A month. A year.

2009-06-09T20:22:00.000-07:00

How does one measure time? Joshua is beginning to walk. My hair has grown to my shoulders again. My tube of toothpaste is crinkled and my shampoo is balanced upside down in the shower. My Dad is back to cutting hay in the fields just as the day I said goodbye and turned to the next chapter in my life.

I can hardly believe it's been a month since my last post. Even harder to believe that a year has come and gone since I arrived in Papua New Guinea. Some days I feel as if time is flying by..these are usually the good days. Maybe a teacher used a strategy I taught or a parent felt empowered to enroll her child with a disability in school. Other days I feel as if time is standing still here in PNG while the world, and particularly everyone and everything at home, is changing so quickly.

Time is an interesting concept here in PNG.

Cletus, our knowledgeable guide on our trip up the Sepik River this past week, had a very different concept of time as we quickly discovered. As Westerners we felt the need to know what time we would leave the village in the morning and how many hours it would take for us to canoe to the next village. Cletus, in his best attempt to satisfy what I assumed he thought was an irrational need, would say “We will leave after breakfast around 6 or 7:30 arriving in the next village in 2-4 hours.” Distances and time…..being an experienced guide Cletus knew general markers such as morning and afternoon would not be enough for tourists. We needed numbers and exact times and a map and a plan. So that’s what we got, but my traveling friends found this broad time range even more frustrating and continued to question the time they should set their alarms and any deviation from “the plan.” Wise Cletus knows nothing is ever exact or planned in PNG, especially on the Sepik. And as for myself, who is habitually late and lives for spontaneity, find I fit better in the South in this regard.

Take the time. Sit and tok stori, tell stories. Shake hands with strangers, ask questions, listen to the birds sing and the children play. Otherwise life will pass you by. I will quickly forget the names of the 5 destinations we highlighted on the map, but I will never forget the newly initiated young man covered in pukpuk (crocodile) cuttings telling me the history of his ancestors settling the land. It’s the unexpected events that mark time in ones life, the moments of surprise. Bathing in the river where the villagers used the toilet and reaching a low spot in the river and having to get out and push the boat through the mud. These events, mishaps, adventures.. whatever you would call them.. were definitely not included in the plan, but these are the stories we find ourselves sharing about our time on the Sepik River.

And speaking of time…once I find some more I will write and tell you all about our trip on the Sepik. The landscape, the fauna, the people, the fish, the canoes, the art, the spirit houses!

Sagulu Outreach

2009-05-14T20:09:00.000-07:00

“Whit meri kum!” Children from the remote elementary school rushed to touch me, to stand close to me, to look up at me and say nothing. Unlike Zambian children they do not hide behind their mother’s legs in fear. We jumped, we danced, we stood on one foot just as Simon said. Within moments I easily identified children with cloudy eyes, draining ears, extended stomachs and infected skin. Anton, the nurse with the Deaf Education Resource Unit (DERU) team, cautioned me of the muddy ground as I ran with the children. I was the only woman in our team and the men were protective. My game of chase ended quickly as the ground was in fact extremely slippery. The children continued; their slips and slides adding excitement to the game. Even after a year, I am still shocked by their aggressiveness. Powerful smacks across the heads, shoves that propel them 3 feet forward. No reflex of self-protection, no eyes set in revenge. Like a child in Zambia when flies swarm his eyes, they hardly blink.

Although it was just the eight of us, things were still quite formal. After the prayer came the introductions including your name and family name, where your parents are from, whether you are married, how many children you have, your job title and how many years experience you have and of course many thank yous. All in the Pidgin language. Our knees were pressed to our chests and our feet rested on the dirt floor of the classroom as we balanced on 4-inch wide by 6-inch tall stools. Our group included the three teachers from the school and the chairman of the school’s Board of Management. Our team from the Creative Self Help Centre included me, the inclusive education advisor; Ketso, the community-based rehabilitation (cbr) officer; Michael, the deaf education promoter (who comes up with these titles anyway?) and Anton, the nurse. The Sagulu community was identified by Ketso, the cbr officer, due to the high number of elementary students who appeared to have ear and eye infections. As a part of our outreach across the three days, we screened over 130 students’ eyes, ears, vision, and hearing. In addition, we provided a community awareness on child development and care and conducted a teacher in-service training targeting teaching strategies for children with special needs.

Buai break—I am not offered any. I came prepared to chew a lot of buai over the three days. Why wasn’t I offered any? Gender? Race? I ate an apple imported from New Zealand I had shoved in my bilum instead, feeling guilty with each bite.

It was arranged for me to stay with one of the teachers while the men stayed in the chairman’s haus boi (house for men). The house was an hour walk away and I was again warned of the slippery path. I, of course, slip and the teacher held my arm. I slide, his grip tightened. I take off my Keens for a better grip, his eyes filled with worry. I fall, sweat coveed his brow. He remained quiet. The ‘American’ in me, feeling the need to fill the silence, chattered on and on about the Gum River pukpuk and about how the guys will get a good laugh when we tell them I fell after all their warnings. All in Pidgin.

We passed women returning from the market. Their brown wrinkled skin, buai filled bags across their foreheads, naked breasts revealing the law of gravity resting barely above their laplaps which were wrapped securely around their waists. Red smiles. Extended hands. Translations from Pidgin to Tok Ples. A beautiful sound, not a distinguishable word.

We crossed a river; the mud was washed from my legs. Spectacular views of thatch roofs hidden between palm leaves, naked children filling the porches, an old man weaving a mat from sago palms. Sitting on a bench were two boys with red fingers. They were preparing body paint for the singsing later that night.

The Medo Clan treated me with warm PNG style hospitality. “Taim go long waswas, taim bilong kaikai nau, yu go malolo nau.” Being told when to bathe, eat and rest was annoying at first, but I knew this was how they showed respect to guests. So when they insisted I waswas (bathe) while it was raining, I knew it would be disrespectful to decline even though I didn’t want to bathe in the dirty river where there had been recent pukpuk sightings. The teacher’s three teenage daughters were to escort me down to the liklik wara. I grabbed my laplap and bar of soap full of dread. We grew in numbers as we made our way to the river. Several young children joined our group to obviously watch the white meri waswas in the rain—how absurd?! Only when the girls stood over me with an umbrella did I realize I was the only one who was to waswas. My usual tactic of “watch and learn” wasn’t going to work in this situation. What do they expect me to do? Do I undress under these watchful eyes? Maybe I’ll only remove my shirt-breasts are commonly exposed in the village. The water barely reached my calves, do I squat? What’s that floating over there? Why were they holding an umbrella over me when I was obviously expected to get wet during this process? Why couldn’t they just waswas too? I ended up just sitting on the river bed fully dressed, Keens and all, pretending to wash in 6 inches of water while teenage girls held an umbrella above my head and the group of young children watched my every move. I could do nothing but laugh.

I enjoyed being a part of village life. Fetching water from the river, cooking over a fire, bending down for everything. Taro for breakfast. Taro for lunch. Taro for dinner. The mats I saw the old man weaving covered the walls of the liklik haus (pit latrine) which was just okay. The most amazing experience of my stay in the village was the singsing. The Medo Clan is famous for their singsings and they had been asked by the Governor of Madang to perform a singsing the following week during a meeting for the Local Level Government delegates. I felt privileged to watch and be included in this significant part of their culture. By the light of the stars and two Coleman lanterns, the clan practiced their singsing throughout the night. The elders stood close by and guided the younger boys, as young as 3 or 4 years of age, learning the songs and dance of their ancestors. Over four hours I witnessed this incredible part of PNG culture being passed from one generation to the other, pure and intimate. Their voices never faltered, their legs never grew tired. With each passing hour, their movements grew stronger and the beats of the kundu drum louder.

On the afternoon of our last day the women of the community prepared a huge kaikai (feast). This is the customary way to showing appreciation. Pots were filled with taro, kaukau (sweet potato) yams, and tulips (literally a plant with ‘two-leaves’) all soaked in coconut milk. Until this time I really never cared for PNG kaikai, but after days of taro, taro, taro I was never so happy to eat leaves! Maybe the food tasted so good because I felt like I truly earned it. Many children were identified and treatment and care tips were given (breathe, blow, cough..BBC). This outreach was a definite highlight if not the most significant part of the past year. I felt connected, fulfilled, and I believe as a team we made a positive impact in the lives of the Sagulu community.

Gum River PukPuk

2009-05-10T18:54:00.000-07:00

A pukpuk (crocodile) has been paraded around town as a trophy strapped to the grill of a police land cruiser.

I had the pleasure to hear the story through Dunston and Stpehanie, the children of my bestie Roselyn who I work with at the Creative Self Help Centre. Stephanie said two young sisters were fishing for prawns in the Gum River near their village. The younger of the two warned her sister about the pukpuk. The older sister (13 years old) simply made a joke of it, proclaiming her death would be celebrated in the haus krei and everyone would get to eat pig. Moments later, a 12 foot crocodile jumped out of the water and carried her away. She was screaming for her younger sister to help, but nothing could be done. Soon the villagers were gathered at the river and fingers were pointed to an enemy of the family. Duston said the girl's father is currently in a land dispute with another man in the village, which led them to believe sorcery was involved. They believed the village man spoke to the spirit of the pukpuk and the girl (since she predicted her own demise) and led them to one another.

The family called upon an elder in the village who could speak pukpuk and asked him to release the sorcery and beg the pukpuk to return the girl for burial. The girl's body was returned to the bank of the river. The elder asked the village if they wanted the pukpuk dead and of course this was agreed. The elder tied lamb flaps (common protein dish here in PNG) to a hook and the end of the line to a tree. The next day the pukpuk was caught, beat and dragged behind a truck to the police station. I asked "why take the pukpuk to the police station?" and Dunston said it was for evidence that the pukpuk was under sorcery by the man and he would go to jail. As far as Steph and Dunston knew there wasn't enough evidence to put the man in jail.

The pukpuk was driven throughout Madang. Everyone was taking the opportunity to get their hands on the huge croc. Cameras were flashing and children were screaming. It was intended to be a warning to the people. More like a mobile petting zoo if you ask me. Maybe I am simply jealous that I didn't get to touch it myself?

I am off to the village this week for an outreach with the Deaf education team. We will be staying in a village near the Gum River. I am told that all the bathing and washing will be done in the river....looks like I may get an opportunity to pet the croc after all! Let's hope not!

The Have and The Have Nots

2009-05-06T19:22:00.000-07:00

The Madang Fishing Club

Guess he's not going to school today.

Training an Octopus to Chase Chickens

2009-05-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

I was asked to give a training last week for elementary teachers on the topics of counseling and positive behavioral support (or in simple terms… why teachers should not use physical or corporal punishment in schools). I listened to their experiences and concerns with students in their classes. Based on their stories I realized the emotional, psychological or socio-cultural needs of children are not addressed in detail during teacher trainings, therefore, I had to start from the beginning. What can teachers do to prevent or deal with children’s emotional problems? One way is to think logically about how one would deal with any illness. I asked them to consider how they would prevent or deal with a child who was sick with malaria. You would try to remove the cause (sleep under a mosquito net, burn mosquito coils). But if it’s too late, you try to treat the illness (giving medicine). You wouldn’t tell a child who is sick with malaria to stop shivering. That would be silly. Shivering is a symptom of the disease and one has no control over it. In this respect, emotional illness and physical illness are much alike. Children may not understand their emotions or how to express them. What is important is to look for the signs children show when they are distressed which varies by culture, then to ask why are they behaving this way. Once you know the reason, you can begin to remove the cause or provide treatment. This lead to interesting conversations about the use of physical punishment in the context of PNG culture. We agreed all children across the world need to feel safe, loved and worthy. We shared our ideas on rewards, positive attention and praise. In the end, I hope I was able to share my perspective of positive behavioral support and provide them something to consider when helping children with emotional or behavioral needs at school.

I saw my first live octopus Friday. While I was enjoying the view from my veranda, a man holding a spear jumped out of the sea. I am always amazed by the PNG culture unfolding before my eyes. Always wanting to soak it all in, I ran down to see what he had found during his dive. Bob had speared nearly 10 octopuses! He had been in the sea all day, over 6 hours hunting. His hands and feet were all wrinkled and his body was shivering. So while he lay on the warm coral at the edge of the sea, I explored his catch of the day. The octopuses were slimy but strong and tough. At first I was reluctant to touch them, but I gave in to my curiosity and tested the suction of their tentacles. I couldn’t keep my hands off them. I ended up buying three for 20 kina ($6). Bob said he would sell the rest within the hour; they are in high demand with the Chinese nickel mine workers. He recommended I wrap them in papaya leaves for them to be good and tender. I have not ever tasted octopus so I will take advantage of my Catalonian friend Albert’s eagerness to make sushi!

It was hilarious watching Lilly chase the chickens back into the fence this morning. Lilly is small for a 7 year old but she knows how to round up some chickens! They were scared out of their minds, flying into the chain-linked fence, flapping their wings. She just kept going at them with a stick that was twice her size. Poor chickens!

Did you really think I could train an octopus to chase chickens? It got your attention though didn’t it!?!

PNG Highlanders sue Jared Diamond

2009-04-26T21:46:00.000-07:00

The latest international news about Papua New Guinea involves a $10M lawsuit against Pulitzer Prise winning author Jared Diamond. Most of you may know him from his best selling book Guns, Germs and Steel.

A bit ironic don't you think, that Diamond wrote about the high costs of compensation and revenge for tribal clans of the PNG Highlands and he is now in a large compensation case himself against this very tribe!

I'll let you read for yourself....

The $10m lawsuit against the New Yorker - Papua New Guineans challenge Jared Diamond article
April 23rd, 2009Posted by Judith Townend on journalism.co.uk

A curious case is fast-escalating in the US: it involves a $10 million defamation lawsuit, two Papua New Guineans who feel they have been inaccurately portrayed, the New Yorker magazine, the research site StinkyJournalism.org… and Jared Diamond, the well-known UCLA professor and author.
A summary of major events, in brief:
• In April 2008, Jared Diamond [linguist, molecular physiologist, bio-geographer] publishes an article in the New Yorker entitled ‘Vengeance Is Ours: What can tribal societies tell us about our need to get even?’
• The article, about blood feuds in Papua New Guinea, featured the story of Daniel Wemp and an account of how he spent three years pursuing revenge for his uncle’s death. Allegedly, the feud resulted in six battles and the deaths of 300 pigs.
• Diamond reports that Henep Isum Mandingo, the man Daniel Wemp was alleged to hold responsible for his uncle’s murder, was shot by a hired hitman in the back with an arrow, leaving him paralysed and in a wheelchair.
• In 2008, the media ethics and research site, StinkyJournalism.org, begin an investigation in Papua New Guinea into the facts of Diamond’s article.
• On April 21, 2009, The research team report that The New Yorker fact checkers ‘never contacted any of the indigenous Papua New Guinea people named in Jared Diamond’s article as unrepentant killers, rapists and thieves, before publication’.
• The team also reports that Henep Isum Mandingo is not paralysed in a wheelchair with spinal injury, as Diamond claimed.
“He [Henep Isum Mandingo] and Daniel Wemp, Diamond’s World Wildlife Fund driver in 2001-2002, and only source for The New Yorker’s revenge story in Papua New Guinea, as well as dozens of tribal members, police officials, deny Diamond’s entire tale about the bloody Ombal and Handa war, calling it ‘untrue’.”
• On April 20 2009, Daniel Wemp and Henep Isum file a summons and sue for $10 million in the Supreme Court of The State of New York. They charge Jared Diamond and Advance Publications (publishers of The New Yorker magazine and Times-Picayune newspaper) with defamation.

For more detailed reading check out this link
http://www.stinkyjournalism.org/latest-journalism-news-updates-149.php

25 Things

2009-04-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

I have learned while in Papua New Guinea

A did a similar post on my Peace Corp blog about my experiences in Zambia and based on the comments I received, people appeared to enjoy this type of entry. So here I go….

1. “Take care of your feet” wasn’t only good advice for the troops in Vietnam.
2. Blending in is hard to do.
3. Cuts, scraps and burns take 4 times as long to heal in the tropics.
4. One can live on the simple diet of kulau and bananas.
5. In PNG, your family and your land are your life, not your job.
6. Everyone loves a good country western song.
7. One can never have enough bilums.
8. Infections are inevitable; tropical ulcers are likely.
9. The arrival of a cheese shipment causes a buzz throughout the expat circle!
10. No matter how many times I see them, sea urchins scare me!
11. If you don’t wear a bra your boobs will sag to your knees.
12. Nature’s beauty can take your breath away.
13. Sago is the tree of life.
14. Asario mud men are the coolest ever!
15. If you want to know the gossip, buai loosens the tongue.
16. It’s possible to sit next to someone whose grandfather was a cannibal.
17. I have an eye for good finds in second hand clothing shops.
18. Emails and letters are precious.
19. Boiled, fried, or with coconut milk...either way, tree tastes bad!
20. Skin diseases can be seen as body art.
21. True beauty cannot be captured through a lens.
22. Sea lice are a bitch!
23. It’s not always better to give.
24. Papaya tastes better with lemon juice.
25. Piglets go crazy for breast milk (yes…its true, PNG women breastfeed pigs).

KarKar Island

2009-04-20T19:06:00.000-07:00

For the term break, I took a trip to KarKar Island with my two dear Dutch friends, Marleen and Jolanda.

At sea.
Our trip started with an hour drive up the north coast road to catch a boat at the wharf. We waded knee deep in the sea against the crashing waves to sling ourselves into the dingy. Soon the refreshing wind was in our face and the energizing sun kissed our cheeks. The boat soared over the waves as we aimed towards the white fluffy clouds hanging over the island in the distance. I spotted flying fish, as fast as the dingy boat, speeding atop the water. Little did I know these fast as a speeding bullet fish have been known to pierce through a man's body and exit the opposite side! I didnt' know which was more dangerous, the flying fish or the skipper and his mates smoking cigarettes while sitting atop opened containers of fuel. I kept my gaze toward the island to avoid the fear of either being blown to pieces by a careless boat crew or being pierced by a flying fish!

The sea was calm and shifted through various hues of blue. As we neared the island the sun reflected off the turquoise waves as they came to a white crest and crashed over the black sand. Pure bliss! The skipper lead us towards a cave and began a story about how the cave leads to the crater of the volcano and is home of a two-headed creature. My pidgin has improved but I always have difficulty understanding when ones mouth is filled with buai (which is the case most of the time). There was something about darkness and a spirit with a head of a man and of a snake. I asked if he had ever gone into the cave and he was quick to retell his story about the spirit-creature!

Garamut Welcome.
An hour after we left the wharf our boat slid onto KarKar's black sand beach and we climbed into one of the island's few flat bed trucks. As we rode along the single paved road circling the island, our gaze was drawn upward following the long, slim trunks of the coconut trees. There were coconut trees as far as the eyes could see. Some were straight, some leaning towards the sea, the occasional twisted like a cork screw. When we arrived at the guest house in a local village we were traditionally welcomed with the beating of the garamut drum. It was all very nostalgic!

Gial Village.
The village was filled with botanical gardens, tropical trees and vibrant flowers. Everything was so green and so lush. With each gust of wind you could smell the sweet nectar of the flowers and the juice of the ripe fruits dangling from the trees. We were surrounded by nature in its purest form. Bathing under the stars again reminded me of my time in Zambia. As did the fear of things crawling out of the pit latrine. There was as much fresh papaya as one could ever dream and the largest grasshopper I have ever seen. We experienced the simple village living. Washing was on the line, the dirt yards- compacted from years of pounding feet-were swept clean, and fires were constantly smoking in the kitchens. Women were carrying water from the wells, firewood from the bush and sitting with their legs extended in front of them chopping vegetables in their laps. Men were playing guitars and resting under mango trees chewing buai. Children were rolling old bicycle rims with sticks and playing chase. For me, it brought a spirit alive in my heart again, something I haven't felt since I left Zambia.

The Cone.

Walking along the lava river flowing down the cone had to be one of the highlights of my trip. We came upon it after climbing through the densest rainforest I have seen, denser than the rainforests in Indonesia or Malaysia. The earth was moist beneath my feet, the moss thickly covered the trees and rocks, and the vines tickled my arms and neck. The singing birds of paradise echoed in my ears. The view from the top was of a crater within another, more immense crater. Smoke still rises from the smaller of the two craters; however, lush greenery has managed to grow around its sides. After over 7 hours of climbing, I was exhausted. The heat here is like no other. We were given fresh kulau, coconut juice, to quench our thirst as we reached the village at the base of the cone.

The Beach.
I had so much fun swimming in the sea with over 20 children. I hope to forever hold in my memory the image of the drops of water that seem to remain in their thick lashes and curly hair for eternity. Their playfulness and fearlessness of the sea was inspiring. They wanted to take me to the caves along the rocky beach where their villages collect the warm water heated from the volcanic energy within. But, I have to admit I was timid to swim amongst the enormous black rocks and the powerful, white waves crashing over them. The scene was unforgettable. The children, the caves, the lava rocks. The porpoise frolicking in the sea, throwing their young in the air creating perfect triple axle twists. The turquoise sea against the black sand beaches. After a long afternoon at the beach, we walked three hours in bouts of rain and intense sun through villages, past the airstrip, through the coconut plantation, and across black sand beaches. Finally at the point of desperation, with my blisters and bloody toes, Jolanda's sunburned face and blown out flip flop, and Marleen's blown out knee, the island's flat bed truck came to our rescue. Back to Gial Village for a warm South Pacific beer!

The Refugee Exit.
I am never surprised by the manner in which events occur here in Papua New Guinea, the Land of the Unexpected. The rains began pouring down when we arrived at the wharf to return to Madang's mainland. Regardless, we piled in the dingy, this time with a few added passengers.. or 7.. and two guinea pigs ( and, no, I am not making this up for an interesting blog). Although the rains were pelting down the sea was calm. And with the rain I had the relief that the skipper and his crew wouldn't be smoking near flammable liquids! Now I only had to worry about capsizing due to the boat being overloaded with people, cargo and guinea pigs! The crew covered us in thick, blue tarp. The smell was intense, a mixture of sea, fish, and feet. I would rather have been soaked, not to mention that without a view of the horizon my chances of sea sickness were pretty much 100%. We felt like refugees hidden under cover with all the sweaty, crowded people carrying their food and animals, risking our lives trying to make it to freedom. Endings are never anticlimactic here in PNG. The rains were too heavy and the sea rough so we sought shelter on a nearby beach. We hid under the trees breathing in the fresh air and allowing our nausea to lessen. This time when we piled back in the refugee boat I found myself next to the guinea pigs while Jolanda was high from her motion sickness pills (why didn't she share!?!?!). An hour later, we arrived soaking wet and climbed onto an open-bed truck to Madang!

Chicken in a Bag

2009-04-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

There are lots of ways to carry a chicken. Just loose, in a basket, in a cage made of sticks, in a bilum like a baby, or in a plastic bag with the chickens head poked out of a hole. This last is my favorite. Some months ago I saw a woman carrying a chicken in a plastic bag. Unfortunately for the chicken, it must have pulled its head inside the bag and couldn’t find the hole and was left at the bottom of the bag to suffocate. A few weeks ago during a home-based visit I found a chicken in a plastic bag hanging from roof. The bag was twirling in the wind making the scene all the more mesmerizing.

Bung Wantaim, Wok Wantaim, Stap Wantaim

2009-03-29T19:39:00.000-07:00

Today Papua New Guinea celebrates its National Disability Day. The Madang Disability Group worked together to host the Province's largest and most engaging disability day yet! The theme was Bung Wantaim, Wok Wantaim, Stap Wantaim (Come together, work together and stay together). The Governor was the key speaker and other governmental officials gave speeches and recognition during the event including the Mayor (who has a disability as a result of being shot by the police before "God saved him from his life as a criminal").

The Day started with a parade of floats, singsing groups including a bamboo band who uses flip flops to drum the music! It was incredible! A brass band, drums, traditional dancers, songs in sign language, ability sports, and a comedy act by PNG's famous comedian Kanage! A huge crowd swarmed the event! There were over 10 stalls filled with awareness materials and resources from various partners who are working in the area of disability and equal participation.

Mi Wankain Olsem Yu! I am like you! The message of the day was to respect persons with disabilities as people with equal rights. I believe Bro Adrian, a person with disabilities who is a leader in disability rights in the country, got it right when he said, "Don't give us pity or tears. If you want to help us give us jobs, open your schools and your businesses."

Today was one of my best days in Papua New Guinea!

Patterns

2009-03-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

Once you become familiar with a place, it becomes easier to pick up on the day to day activities and patterns. This is how we, as a human species, develop routines. I have to say that here in PNG nothing is ever day to day. There are no routines. Nothing can be expected. This is why Papua New Guinea is known as the "land of the unexpected."

I have always had a great sense of wonder. I desire more than a calm course of existence. And although each day of my life here in PNG brings a new level of excitement, I have noticed patterns. Patterns I have developed in my daily activities and patterns of those in my community.

Every afternoon I walk home. It’s a beautiful stroll along the coastal road. I recognize faces and give friendly greetings. Each morning my neighbor is sweeping the leaves in her yard. Each afternoon I find the same women behind their buai stands. Like school buses, the security companies make their routes picking up and dropping off truckloads of guards for patrols.

Each day I am visiting different schools and training different groups of teachers. My spontaneous schedule isn't the only thing that keeps the action going at work. The behavior patterns in my colleagues keep things spicy. There are those who are trustworthy and those who only highlight the predominate corrupt society that seems to plague development in PNG. There are those who lie directly to my face. Those who have obvious anger and aggression issues and physically attack other staff. Those who avoid me because they feel psychologists are able to read people's minds.

The one thing that has remained constant in my life is my desire to share happiness with others. As some of you may know, I am a big fan of the high five. I have noticed that high fives aren't appreciated in PNG. I once had a roommate who loathed high fives saying they were way over rated. As for myself, I love a high five. Here when I raise my hand for a celebratory high five people flinch and take cover as if were about to give them the beating of their lifetime. Even grown men raise their arms to protect themselves from my vicious high five! Who knew?! Guess that's a pattern I will have to break.

Each Friday night the VSO vols all meet at the Lodge. This is a pattern I tend to avoid. It's not that I don't enjoy the Lodge or the individual company of the volunteers. I just find it a bit uncomfortable for a huge group of white people hanging out ordering expensive plates of food and talking about how differently they would do things here in PNG. It's not a pattern I want to develop.

Most of you would laugh at the extreme measures Marleen and I find ourselves taking to get rid of the rats in our house. Each night we meticulously set out the rat traps. Marleen has formulated a routine. It's like she counts the pellets in the trap and knows the exact angle of the box or something. She seems certain that we haven't gotten them all yet.

I enjoy the excitement and the unknown of living in a culture different from my own. It challenges me each day. Just when I think I understand someone or something, they surprise me. Just when I think I understand an aspect of the life here in Madang, my eyes are opened and I discover a whole other meaning. I am constantly being flipped, turned upside down and round and round.

So maybe this is the pattern of life as a volunteer here in PNG. This is the pattern of my life. To be ever growing, changing, evolving!

It's about attitudes!

2009-03-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

It's not about resources; its about attitudes. Personal beliefs and attitudes have a direct effect on how one perceives a person with disabilities. Here in PNG, traditional, religious and medical/educational beliefs play a role in the development of a person's attitude. Traditionally in PNG culture some may believe that if a pregnant woman eats red fish from a certain area of the sea then her child will be born with a disability. Or if a woman goes into an area of the rainforest where the spirits have said is forbidden to pregnant women, then her child will have a disability. Some religious beliefs consider a disability as a punishment resulting from committing a sin. Although medical/education research have scientifically proven some causes of disabilities, the traditional and religious beliefs appear to be a contradiction. For these reasons, there are numerous misconceptions about people with disabilities. Awareness activities are essential to challenge ones beliefs and change their attitude towards providing persons with disabilities a barrier free society.

Along with awareness comes identification and early intervention.

In remote kindergarten schools, nurses target the country's most vulnerable children. At a recent training, I helped to empower the kindergarten teachers and spoke to them about the importance of early childhood education and identification.

In preparation for National Disability Day March 29th, we gave an awareness training for teachers. Desmond is a volunteer at the centre. Before he became blind he was a teacher in mainstream schools. Now he works with communities to promote the rights of persons with disabilities through awareness activities. He also provides home-based education for students with visual impairments in remote villages. Here, Desmond demonstrates Braille with teachers.
Desmond had a good laugh blindfolding teachers and sending them around the centre. In fact, by the end one teacher was begging to take the blindfold off and he said with his usual smile "I can't remove my blindfold, so neither can you."

Teachers experienced the daily struggles of persons with physical disabilities. While seated in a wheelchair they were asked to get a book off a shelf or put on a pair of pants.

When we reach out to teachers who express concerns about not having the right teaching aids or materials needed to help children with disabilities, we respond..."It's not about resources; It's about attitudes!" This is a lesson for us all around the world. I challenge those of you reading to reflect upon your personal attitudes and beliefs not only towards those with disabilities, but also those who are disadvantaged. How do you view the poor, those who have immigrated into your country, those with different religious or sexual views than your own, those who have nothing and live on the streets, the hungry, those who are forced to beg?

Mi wankain olsem you! We are the same! It's how we view one another that is different.

20 Things

2009-03-10T20:27:00.000-07:00

This is my attempt to quickly catch you up on what has been happening in my volunteer life recently.

1. I moved into a 3 bedroom house across from the sea near the golf course.

2. I drove on the left side of the road--and didn't kill anyone.
3. I have a Dutch roommate who loves Dolly Parton. (love ya Marleen)
4. We are busy planning a huge event for National Disability Day on March 28th
5. My backup pair of glasses broke, now I try to make it thru the day with contacts.
6. I said goodbye to Kina Beach and the broken water pump and moldy mattress!

7. I learned how to make pineapple beer.
8. I gave a lecture at Divine Word University on Inclusive Education.
9. I am networking with the National Disability Resource and Advocacy Centre.
10. I created an Inclusive Education brochure.
11. We are planning to give disability awareness in 25 schools in Madang District.

12. I try not to feel guilty that we now have a haus meri (cleaning lady)
13. I will be staying in PNG thru July 2010
14. The physiotherapist at the centre was charged with the sexual harassment of a female teacher and a blind male client attacked him with a screwdriver (he missed).
15. I chewed purple buai
16. I learned to make chairs from cardboard and newspaper.
17. I participated in a disability awareness in the village and I was able to understand most of the Pidgin language.
18. I attended Divine Word University Graduation to support my colleague Paul who is now among the 24 people in the Country who have a Bachelors in Special Education.

19. I discovered that chocolate macadamia coffee gets me out of bed in the mornings.
20. We now have 5 dogs (maybe more but I can't keep them straight), 2 chickens, and a cockatoo .

Women in Development

2009-03-08T19:49:00.000-07:00

Women do two-thirds of the world's work but receive only 10% of the world's income. Women in Indonesia are 84 times more likely to die in childbirth than women in the UK. In the Amhara region of Ethiopia, at least half of the girls become wives before reaching their 15th birthday.

Indonesian women returning from the rice fields with their harvests.

Every year in every country March 8th marks the day when women's solidarity presses for equality. International Women’s Day is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. This may be a day of global celebration but there is no room for complacency as women continue to face inequity on many fronts.

Girls are often the most marginalized and vulnerable members of society. There are 600 million adolescent girls in developing countries who don’t have even the most basic opportunities we take for granted.

We live in a world that tolerates the subjugating of women. There are however women who profess to be entirely happy with the status quo.

In the predominately Muslim countries of Indonesia and Malaysia, women wear head scarfs and conceal the natural shape of their bodies. These elements combine to produce hijab. During my travels, I saw some woman wearing black chadors (long cloaks that includes head covering), the most severe form of hijab.

I wore a chador while visiting a Muslim mosque during my religion tour in Jogjakarta.

Other Muslim women were wearing their scarves and modest attire with so little conviction. Appearance is every bit as important as in the West. Muslim women express their style and fashion on the streets, but are certain to stay within the law. In Indonesia the look can be quite glamorous with skinny jeans, rhinestone barrettes clasping the scarf in place, strappy, heeled sandals, Prada sunglasses and Gucci handbags. Since eyes, nose and hands are the only features on show, eye make-up is applied with scientific precision – and Tehran, in Iran has become the nose-job capital of the world, with 70,000 rhinoplasty operations a year.

Young girls express their style outside a Muslim school in Jayapura, Indonesia.

The scarf, often Hermès and in bright colors, is knotted under the chin, and tilted back at a flattering angle to show a broad band of hair. Blonde highlights and carefully coiffed fringes seem hot this season. Huge sunglasses pushed up on the head, and a short, tight-fitting belted coat over narrow jeans complete the look.

My bare shoulders and hand woven PNG bilum made me feel underdressed in more ways than one.

Here in PNG we work to empower women to play a full part in society, not just as typists or nurses. While visiting a school, the Head teacher repeatedly called out to “typist” as if this were her name, as if she had no other identity. Husbands tend to pull their educated wives out of their jobs because they want them to be in the house. This provides them no choice and takes away their independency and their identity.

Women’s Associations in Papua New Guinea work closely with women to provide counseling, continuing education opportunities, job training, business skills and other services to support them to become equal members of their communities.

Today, on International Women's Day, I send all my positive energies to all the women in my family and friends across the world.

Who does Inclusive Education include?

2009-02-25T19:30:00.000-08:00

Katarina Tomasevski, in a study of government reports to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, listed no less than 32 categories of children that are particularly likely to be excluded from education:

abandoned children; asylum seeking children; beggars; child labourers; child mothers; child prostitutes; children born out of wedlock; delinquent children; disabled children; displaced children; domestic servants; drug-using children; girls; HIV-infected children; homeless children; imprisoned children; indigenous children; married children; mentally ill children; migrant children; minority children; nomadic children; orphans; pregnant girls; refugee children; sans-papiers (children without identity papers); sexually exploited children; stateless children; street children; trafficked children; war-affected children and working children.

Just something for you to think about.

Community Based Rehabilitation

2009-02-17T21:10:00.000-08:00

The rain gods were in our favor today. The sun was bright. The paths into the villages not washed away. Together with the community based rehabilitation worker from the Creative Self Help Centre and physiotherapy students from Divine Word University, we headed into the villages.

The first client we visited was a 5 year old boy with cerebral palsy. While the physiotherapists completed their evaluation measuring his range of motion, elasticity, etc, I observed his social skills, interactions between himself and his family, and some simple cognition skills. He was able to make eye contact, reach out for the balloon, and follow simple commands. He was smiling and responsive. His parents want to work toward the goal of him sitting independently. We took measurements to make him a chair and I urged the parents to continue to talk and play with him.

This compound was filled with children. No shirts or shoes. No school. No toys. Skin rashes and diseases. Extended stomachs. Thin and frail arms and legs, like toothpicks. Inclusive education targets not only the disabled, but the disadvantaged too. Its heartbreaking, but we can't save them all.

Our second client presented more challenges. When completing village assessments, the most valuable information is gained through observations. This picture is worth a thousand words.

This 10 year old boy was adopted by his aunt. His parents did not want a child with a disability. Just like his wheelchair, this child has been left out. Due to lack of stimulation and other treatments and therapies, this child has multiple disabilities. In addition to his inability to hold his head up, make eye contact, or interact in any way other than crying, he has limited range of motion when assisted and presents with an inverted sternum.

This family lives near a lagoon and the CBR worker plans to provide water therapy in an effort to increase independent body movements. I modeled social interactions for the family and encouraged them to talk, sing, and play with their adopted son.

Friday, the CBR officers are conducting a workshop on making cardboard chairs. The physiotherapy students and I will make chairs for these two boys which will allow them to sit up and be a part of the daily interactions of their families.

In addition to providing therapy services to these children, another goal of outreach visits is to increase the awareness of disability rights. Helping them to understand their child and assuring them that their child's disability wasn't punishment from their wrong-doings or from the gods. Showing these families that their child can smile, laugh and play like their other children is the most important component of our visits.

Community based rehabilitation and inclusive education are the future in PNG!

Rascal Rain

2009-02-13T17:14:00.000-08:00

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.

This one elicited a response from Dad....

2009-02-11T22:52:00.000-08:00

I never really know which stories to share, but my Dad seemed to remember this one from one phone call to the next, so that has to be saying something.

When I came home from my travels my apartment was covered in mold and mildew. This isn't your ordinary soap scum in your bathroom. This is furry, green and yellow mold growing on walls, between sheets and on every piece of clothing in the closet. This is the mold that lingers in the air, infiltrates the mattress, and never goes away.

For two weeks I have lugged my less than comfortable spring mattress down my more than hazardous spiral staircase. I have heaved it above my head balancing it on the clothes line in hopes of the sun killing the bacteria. The neighbors do it and if I learned anything from my life in Chadiza village....do what the neighbors do.

I have washed my entire wardrobe TWICE. I have bleached the walls. I have scrubbed and disinfected and I still have mold. I bought some 3-In-1 imported spray. I tried everything, so what if I cant read the Chinese label, this is my last option and it had to work.

The furry mold is no longer visible, but the smell lingers. I still sleep on my couch and I turn my head each time I open my closet. I hope the smell of buai and sweat of my National counterparts overpower the smell of my moldy clothes in meetings.

Representing the United States

2009-02-11T21:14:00.000-08:00

The United States Ambassador, Leslie Rowe, formally opened the mathematics lab at Divine Word University in Madang. While she was in town, she and her husband welcomed all U.S. citizens as well as all Papua New Guineans who studied abroad in the States to dinner.

It was an intimate event with the Ambassador, her husband Tim, 4 VSO American volunteers, 3 DWU lecturers, and an interesting (yeah…interesting… that’s what I’ll say) Irish-Australian. (I’m not really sure how she fit into the picture, but she definitely added an element to the event.)

Over the main course of filet and lobster (and I thought we were in a financial crisis), I was able to discuss the details of inclusive education with Tim. As a Peace Corps volunteer, he taught English in the Philippines during the late 60s. It was interesting to discuss the similarities and differences of our services. We shared our ideas of job placement, vocational services, and internship programs to help PNG vulnerable youth. We discussed books and recommended our favorites. We shared our concerns with development projects.

I had to ask myself, how does a girl from Springfield, TN manage to attend an elegant dinner party with the U.S. Ambassador? And more importantly, was I really able to hold an intelligent conversation regarding development issues? I surprise myself daily. I am truly thankful for enriching moments such as these.

Through Mikal's Eyes

2009-02-02T22:09:00.000-08:00

This post is taken from my friend, and fellow VSO volunteer, Mikal's blog as she describes our trip from Flores to Bali, Indonesia.

From here to there by…
Airplane
Bicycle
Bus
Bemo
Coach
Donkey cart
Ferry
Motorcycle
Small boat
Taxi
Van
… and foot.

I knew it was going to be a long trip. And we weren’t taking the easy route. Nevertheless, each leg was defined with unexpected turns and adventures. Luckily what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger... next feat, conquer the world.

Perhaps this was an omen of the events to come. Our bus trip to the village for an introduction to the world of cashews.

Now keep track, here commences the journey from Bajawa to Ohio. It all begins with a benevolent lift to the bus station (very inconveniently locate out of town) with Sanne on her motorcycle.

Bus #1 – 10 hours cross Flores… Bajawa to Labuanbajo
Norah Jones got the soundtrack started right with, The Long Way Home

Charlye (my travel companion in this tale and fellow VSO volunteer from the States assigned in neighboring Papua New Guinea) had gone a day ahead to Labuanbajo after several days exploring with wonders of Bajawa complete with cashew processing lessons.

Ferry #1 – 10 hours Labuanbajo, Flores to Sape, Sumbawa (island)

Motivated by the sense of adventure. The want to be environmental conscience, keeping our potential ecological footprint to a minimum. The budget of volunteer life. We go by bus. We go by boat.

Our seafaring seats… prior to the crowds chickens, goats, and smoking men.

Bemo #1 – 2 hours Sape port to Bima, Sumbawa
Met at the port by a guy with picture of the bus on our tickets… “SAMA!” (same) He shouted grabbing my hand. We pile in with the chickens.

Coach Bus – 13 hours to Lombok
Coach buses in Indonesia… who knew!?

1:00 AM stop for… Dinner? Breakfast?

Ferry #2 – (not sure how long… slept through it) Poto Tano, Sumbawa to Labuhan, Lombok
Snooze.

Continue on bus Labuhan to Mataram, Lombok

Bemo #2 – 30 minutes Bus station Mataram to Bangsal, Lombok
Our first steps on Lombok, and in agreement, we were ready to get back on the bus to avoid the hawkers. Swarmed by drivers and their helpers trying to get us to our destination (our their destination) with tremendous inflation. Finally. We figure out a Bemo, bursting at the seams with locals. Seems to be a pretty big deal that I refuse to pay until we get to our stop… but after much negotiation, we’re off. I in the front with 4 chain-smoking men. Charlye on a stool clinging to the open door. Goats on the roof.

Donkey cart – 10 minutes Bangsal, Lombok to harbor for Gili Islands
A donkey cart conveniently awaits to take us from the main road to the harbor. Wanting to get there. It’s hot. The backpacks heavy, causing the cart to tip and drag and the donkey look near death. A driver and his… I think ‘pimp’ best describes it. The cost of 3,000 rupiah per head as listed in our LonelyPlanet seems to have jumped to 40,000! Inflation they say. I don’t think so, buddy. We offer 5,000 taking into account ‘inflation’. They refuse it.

Banter, banter.

Still refused. The pimp says to get back in the cart and he’s taking us back. Whatever. We’re leaving. The driver looks fearful and takes the money.

Small Boat #1 – 30 minutes Bangsal harbor to Gili Meno
We wait. For the boats to fill. Two hours, later and still not full. Nevertheless, we’re headed to the sandy islands.

5 minute walk on foot (with backpacks)

Bicycle
Tandem? Perhaps, we’ve over estimated our abilities.

Small Boat #2 – 30 minutes Gili Meno bacl to Bangsal harbor

Donkey cart – 10 minutes Bangsal harbor to Bus stop
This donkey cart duo, has no problem with accepting our 5,000 rupiah.

Bus #2 – 2 hours Bangsal to Senggigi, Lombok
A tourist shuttle. Have we sold out? It’s quicker, and the awaiting luxury of Bali calls.
Walk – 5 minutes Bus stop Senggigi to Beach

Small boat transfer to Boat – destination Padangbai, Bali
First boat and second boat in distance

Bus #3… almost – Padangbai harbor, Bali
It’s a package deal from Gili Meno to our destination in Bali. We confirmed when we bought the tickets that they’d drop us. Handing our backpacks to the bus driver, I tell him “Denpasar”.

“Ok, airport”

“No, Denpasar” (the airport is technically in Denpasar but a long ways from the city… and our destination, VSO offfice)

“Ya, ya. Airport.”

“No, kota (city)”

“We don’t go to Denpasar.”

“What?” We’d definitely checked on this and the ticket office even called… somewhere. Frustrated and wet from rain, we try to work it out with a guy (not the driver)… then the bus is leaving. Leaving us. Leaving us.

No taxis. No public transport.

Van – 1 hour Padangbai to Sanur, Bali
We managed to persuade the guy to give us partial refund (a small partial) but still not really enough to get to the city. A lot of unsuccessful haggling takes place. Finally, we find a taker. To the VSO office in Denpasar and on to our hotel in Sanur… it’s even a better deal than with the tour company.

Walk – 5 minutes to hotel
The driver decides to go for more money once he heard the name of our hotel… so we walked the last several meters.

Taxi – 45 minutes Sanur to airport
Thank God for metered taxis at our beckon call.

Airplane – 2 days… destination ‘home’
Bali, Singapore, Hong Kong, Chicago, Cleveland

Can’t wait to do it all over again… Mother Earth, you’re welcome.

Following the Beat of the Kundu Drum

2009-02-01T21:37:00.000-08:00

Some may say that PNG follows the beat of a different drum. Some rhythmic patterns in my volunteer life are the same. Saturdays on the boat with Jan to snorkel the colorful reefs. Sara in the market selling vegetables from the Highlands. Volunteers popping in and out the VSO office. The neighborhood children screaming and the roosters crowing. Rides in crowded PMVs and in the back of Marleen and Jolanda's Nissan. The desire to take 3 showers a day, but resisting because you know you will be sweating again in 5 minutes.

In a place where progress is painfully slow, relative changed has occurred in the last 2 months...at least through my eyes. I am most hopeful for VSO's new country director. The special education coordinator for the Creative Self Help Centre has returned after 5 months of unexplained absence. Shantica, my neighbor who has to be around 7 or 8 years old, is now chewing buai. The addition of two big families to my compound has given reason for a "mini market" to be established under the clothes line. A wontok of the family that lives below me sells heaps of buai, peanuts and ice blocks from a feed bag spread across the grass. I have opened up my spare bedroom to Roselyn, my friend and deaf education teacher, who is having housing trouble. And my couch to a volunteer who is here in Madang as a "political refugee" from Vanimo. My dear friend Alex with the European Union has left along with other international development workers.

Most importantly, I have decided to follow the beat of the kundu drum. It took a meeting with my program manager to open my eyes to see that I am making progress in my placement although it looks quite different than progress in other settings outside of the PNG and development context.

Return of the Buai

2009-01-27T21:08:00.000-08:00

After 10 weeks shoving things in and out of my backpack, I returned to Madang. No worries of an anticlimax when returning to PNG. My arrival was just as eventful as my departure. Militia border control and a corrupt Minister had Vanimo town in an uproar. No buses were running and I was in fear of being stuck at the border in the cross fire. Luckily the Chinese logging company was returning from Jayapura and I was able to hop in the back of their land cruiser filled with cakes for the Chinese New Year celebrations in Vanimo.

I was in a euphoria upon my return. Indonesia and Malaysia's beauty does not compare to the pure, untouched wonders of Papua New Guinea. The sounds and smells were returning, the coconut factory, the salt in the air, the flying foxes, the heady flowers, the distinct smell of hot Papua New Guineans. I felt the urge to chew beetle nut and felt my bilum obsession return as I saw the beautiful patterns and bright colors.

School resumes next Monday. I have a week to scrub the mold off my couch cushions and the inches of dust covering the walls and floors. I'll restock my fridge and cabinets, try to learn the names of my new neighbors who have filled the complex during the 2 months I was away, and mentally prepare for the 5 months left of my placement.

The Piggy Pitt Princess

2009-01-02T16:45:00.000-08:00

Being the spontaneous person that I am, I woke up one morning in Ubud, Indonesia and decided that I wanted to go home for the holidays. Within two hours I had secured an online booking from Singapore to Nashville via Tokyo and Detroit the next morning. Finding a flight from Bali to Singapore was not as easy. It was Sunday and all the local booking agents were closed and phone or online tickets were not an option. I hopped on the earliest bus to Denpassar airport and went to every ticket office in search for a last minute flight to Singapore.

It didnt really hit me that I was home for several days. My arrival was a surprise for everyone.

Dragon hunting, volcano treking, and island hopping

2008-12-11T03:50:00.000-08:00

Does the title say enough? Each day I am simply amazed with the natural wonders, cultural diveristy, and pure beauty of Indonesia. How can I explain my experiences in words? I'll try the best I can while typing away at this internet cafe in Bali. This is the second time I find myself in Bali for the night, only to leave the following morning. But this time, I will get a slice of pizza from Pizza Hut and fries from McDonalds (they deliver 24 hrs) just because I can!

Flores was spectacular! I flew to Ende because of my tight schedule to meet Mikal, my friend who I met at VSO training in Ottawa. She is volunteering in Bajawa (town in the middle of Flores) with a farmers co-op helping to market their cashew exports. So, when I arrived in Ende I was immediately swarmed with guides shouting "Transport!" "Obama!" "Transport!" "Obama!" A guide who could speak English caught my attention and I agreed to ride the 2 hrs to Moni on the back of his motorbike (with my 13 kg backpack)after I learned he is "friends" with Mikal. Other than markets, Ende is less than exciting, so I decided to make a direct trip to Moni to trek up Kalimutu. Its a volcano that has three colored lakes that change colors. The road to Moni was spectaular. Waterfalls are a definate advantage to rainy season...in one panoramic view I saw 8! Rice fields, monkeys, buffalos, villages with thatched huts, satellite dishes and elaborate tombstones. I opted for a homestay to get a true village experience and I helped to cook rice and papaya leaves over a fire and then watched TV. The contrast was surprising. That night the guide took me to hotsprings in the middle of a rice field. Scorpians and 6 inch preying mantas (sp?) didnt allow me much sleep before my 4:00 am alarm to start my way up the volcanoe to see the lakes at sunrise.

The topography was similar to my Mt Wilhelm climb in PNG. When I arrived at the lakes they were a turquious, chocolate latte, and dark green color. They have been red, blues, orange, greens and black. (Two days after I left I was told by another tourist that the green lake turned red!!) Their changing colors remains a mystery, but some say its the spirits while others say its disolving minerals and/or the changing seasons.

After Moni, I headed back to Ende to catch a 4 hour bus to Bajawa. Party buses, thats all I can say about that...other than Two Live Crew at insane decible levels. Bajawa is inland and has two volcanos..I climbed one, the other is too dangerous during the rainy season. Bajawa is also known for its traditional villages and ikat (sarong) weavings. The carvings in the village and the men and women "houses" were as beautiful as the mountain top views. There are hobbits in Flores..I felt like a giant sitting next to the tiny woman as we pounded coffee beans.

Mikal's VSO experiences is a far cry from the expat lifestyle I live in Madang. No running water, bucket baths, and trantula spiders climbing the walls. We took a bus to a nearby village so I could see cashew processing. I had no idea so much work went into cashews...I appreciate them on a whole new level now. They grow from the bottom of a fruit that looks like an apple. Once the fruit falls to the ground, the cashew is ripe. then it has to be dried, the cracked, the dried again, then peeled, the dried again. But the process of cracking and peeling is dangerous and if you dint wear gloves your skin will itch like a bad case of poision ivy. We went to the head of the village (because that's where all the business is done)so I could get my hands on some cashews. And of course, they made it look simple. Alignment is essential as broken pieces are worth less than whole cashews.

Some other highlights of my trip were the beautiful rainbow over the volcano after an afternoon rain shower, the waterfall deep tissue massage in the hot springs, and my stroll through the market which lead me to fried tofu! Yummy!

After 3 days in Bajawa I boarded yet another bus to Labwaunbajo, for some of the world's best snorkeling and Komodo Drangons. Plastic bags were handed to each passanger. I soon realized why and was thankful. 10 hours later I arrived just in time for the stunning sunset over the harbor. The hotel was filled with travellers seeking the ultimate dive spots and the only island in the world with Komodo dragons. They appeared to me more like dinosaurs verses lizards. Either way, I stayed close to the guide whose only protection from these dragons was a stick! Komodo drangons can run 15 kms per hr and can weigh 50 kgs. They hunt goats, wild horses, buffalo and other dragons. Their saliva is poisonous and after they bite their prey they lay in the sun and wait for them to die. After two hours on Rinca Island in the intense heat hunting dragons I caugh the boat for snorkeling. I may be biased, but I think the coral and fish in Madang are much better!

The next morning, Mikal and I began our 30 hour journey across Lombok to the Gili Islands. We took a 10 hour public ferry with chickens and goats and smoking poker players, then a 2 hour bus to the Bima coach bus for a night bus. At dawn, the bus drove onto another ferry for 3 hours, then we drove off and across Lombok where we took yet another bus to climb onto a horse and buggy that took us to another boat to Gili. All in all, 30 hours later were were on Gili Meno, an isolated paradise. There were only a handful of tourist and for 3 days and nights we felt like we were on a deserted island. We snorkeled with turtles and manta rays (the coral is still better in Madang in my opinion. Body surfed, watched sunsets and built bonfires on the beach. The Gili's are a chain of three islands off Lombok. We opted against the "party island" but took the island hopping boat to Gili Air where we rode bicycles across the entire island and drank Bintang beer in a bungalow overlooking the white sand beach and turquois water.

We decided to pay the extra money and charter a ferry and bus to Bali (we deserved it after 30 hours of people puking in plastic bags). The sea was rough and transportation was cancelled, but 8 hrs later we arrived at the Bali Hyatt (thanks Nolan family!!!!) Pure luxury in every form. Wine, bread, cheese, olives, lattes, smoked salmon and scallops. White sheets slippers and robes, cable TV, and spa. I splurged for a 5 hour Balanese spa treatment complete with steam room, jacuzzi, sauna, facial, body scrub, scalp massage, milk bath, hair treatment, massage and gourmet lunch! Worth every precious US dollar!!!! Too bad I had to carry my backpack across Bali's Poppies District tonight looking for a homestay.

For the next week I plan to tour the temples and observe Balanese cultural dances and artifacts. Stay tuned.....

Jayapura

2008-11-27T23:08:00.000-08:00

After two nights on a ship, curled around my bags, holding my trusty Swiss Army knife as protection from the spak (drunk) man that assaulted me in Wewak, I found myself in the sleepy town of Vanimo. While waiting the 24 hours it takes to receive my Indonesian visa, I snorkeled in the bay and body surfed waves near the seaside market.

Thanks to my American passport, the border crossing was relatively easy. The Indonesian officials required my Japanese friend, who I met on the ship in Wewak, to complete a few extra formalities.

I noticed the differences between PNG and West Papua immediately. The scenery transitioned quickly from seaside huts to motorbikes speeding across smoothly paved roads. Although its only a 2 hour drive between Vanimo and Jayapura, the culture is quite diverse; however, both are equally covered with trash. Guess that goes along with being border towns?

The city is buzzing with people and motorbikes. Its so freeing to be able to walk the streets at night and not have to worry about being raped or stabbed with a bush knife. People are everywhere, kids running in and out of the stalls. Imagine any Southeast Asian country. Street vendors selling everything from buai, sunglasses, pirated dvds and dcs, dried fish, shoes, mobile phones. Most of the food I've eaten has been from street vendors...fried bananas, fried taro, fried something that was greasy and crunchy??? For my Thanksgiving dinner I had some type of fish ball noodle soup...well, I hope it was fish and not one of the may cats I see roaming the littered streets. Its not like I can read the menu or understand the language.

Everyone speaks Bahasa, which makes things more challenging. In the taxi crossing the border I was able to get a few translations from Pidgin to Bahasa. Most communication is written in a small book I carry around. Yesterday when I tried to book a flight to Flores with the travel agency, the man drew a clock with the hands pointing to 9:00..I took that as "come back tomorrow at 9!" Finally today after 3 hours, a motorbike ride to buy a map, and the handful of words I had scratched into my book, I was able to get a flight to Bali.

Today Kit (the Japanese volunteer) and I roamed through an enormous market. Shirts, mops, fresh fish, oil, buckets, garlic, watermelon, shoes, chairs, soap, nuts, dried fish, and lots of other familiar and unrecognizable things. We tasted some fruit which skin looked like a snake. It wasn't delicious but was very interesting.

Luckily tonight there is a live music festival! I couldn't have arrived at a better time.

I leave for the airport at 430 in the morning and hope to find my way to Flores from Bali. And the adventure continues.....

Tis the Season

2008-11-23T19:51:00.000-08:00

A buzz fills the humid air of Madang. Everyone is flooding into the Provincial Capital for graduations and to visit wontoks for the holidays. The streets and shops are swarming with people. Ships flow in and out of the port filled with visitors and cargo. All the resorts and guest houses are booked through the end of the year. With the incoming tourists and rascals looking for opportunities, the none too hidden costs of security are heightened. The crowds gather at the main bus stop outside the market, where Nestle and Digicel adverts painted on cinderblock passes for development. Street children with yellow eyes walk aimlessly hustling for toea (coins), or for nothing. They cling to uncles and brothers who sell single smokes and stolen mobile phones as they walk through the diesel fumes between buses. The alleys between shops are filled with vendors selling buai and smokes. Men with bowl cuts, shaved heads, cornrolls, and dreads spit and throw market trash and buai everywhere. Big football sized bare feet stomp around mounds of pawpaw rinds and wopa biscuit wrappers.

In Papindo Supermarket it’s definitely the Christmas season. The decorations look as if they were taken directly from Clark W. Griswold’s attic. Cheap plastic Santa Clauses and reindeer are hung to anything standing still. Loud speakers blaring Pacific reggae music lure customers inside for a free cup of rice. Two solemn faced security guards give pat downs as you enter and exit the shop.

School holidays have unofficially begun despite the approaching official closing day, December 5th. When I first arrived I was told that the Country basically shut down for over two months during the Christmas break. This is proving to be true. Several weeks ago when visiting schools to follow up with teachers who participated in a training, I found schools partially filled with students without teachers. The classrooms were speckled with the occasional gathering of children twisting each others hair and playing cards, Head Teacher offices were empty, and oblivious mothers were selling flour balls and ice blocks under nearby mango trees.

For these reasons, tis the season for a vacation! My great Pacific adventure by sea begins today!!! For 10 weeks, with my backpack, camera and snorkel in tow, I plan to travel solo from Papua New Guinea, across all the islands of Indonesia, through Malaysia and back.There’s an amplified tendency to give into whims when traveling independently. It’s fueled by the sense of empowerment and backed by inspiration to take a chance, to explore, to learn. The embodiment of life leads to the most interesting of destinations. I hope find internet cafes to be able share my stories during my travels!

International Children's Day

2008-11-20T22:10:00.000-08:00

November 20th marks the day that the United Nations Assembly adopted the Declaration of the Right of the Child in 1959 and the Convention on the Rights of the Child in 1989.

Children and teachers from all the schools in Madang town gathered at the Provincial Government Offices where we rallied to begin our march.

We marched through town shouting "Respect Children's Rights!" It was chilling; it was moving. It felt incredible to march through the streets of Papua New Guinea to take a stand against corporal punishment.

Seeing these children's faces and hearing their voices crying out to their community moved me to tears.

Mangos, Dancing, Bilums, & Blackouts

2008-11-13T18:15:00.000-08:00

Leaping towards the sounds of falling mangos is rainy season entertainment. You hear the ripe mango as it falls, splitting the leaves and bouncing off branches. Seconds after the thud, the golden mango is held high above a proud head. You think to yourself, I almost had it…the next one is mine! The entire country smells as sweet as a mango….well besides the PMVs. They still smell like buai sweat.

I can’t say it’s a hard life here in paradise. Marleen and I decided to hit the second hand shops yesterday afternoon during our lunch break. It’s hit or miss. After smothering in the “heat box” as I call them and rummaging through the mostly Asian brand clothing, I happened upon two good buys. And by good buys I mean, the stains came out in the wash, there were no holes, and they fit! My waist line continues to grow with each expat dinner party and each empty bottle of wine and SP (South Pacific Beer). We have discovered the night life at Madang Country Club on Fridays where we first eat Chinese dinner at the attached Eden’s Restaurant. Then once the lights go down and the parka carpet is rolled back, we hit the dance floor. Last Friday we met PNGs only mortician…I call her Tina. On the dance floor she is Ms Tunner herself! For two weekends in a row we closed down Pils Rapa, Madang’s only night club. They blast PNG music with a few Australian and American hits from the 80s and 90s. It’s funny to watch the waves of people enter and exit the dance floor with each song. As soon as a song ends, the people run off the floor…no one wants to be caught on the floor without music. As soon as the next song begins they run back on the floor. This continues all night, on and off, on and off. I enjoy Pils Rapa, being able to let loose and dance!

Work continues to be a roller coaster of successes and challenges. Last month I facilitated Madang’s first inclusive education stakeholders meeting.
Of the 23 stakeholders within the province, 13 were in attendance. Over half, that is a success in my eyes! The teachers at the center finally had an “ah-ha” moment the other day after 5 months of discussion about enrolling the center-based students into mainstream schools. The Provincial Department has yet to take ownership of special needs students in school and the board of the center is reluctant to stop center-based school enrollments for next year. Although much as been accomplished, there is a lot to be done. I am glad I am being challenged…I am growing, learning, becoming a more competent advisor.

Still haven’t faced my fear of diving. I had planned to take the open water course before my trip to Indonesia but somehow November 26th is just around the corner. I plan to travel by ships and ferries from Madang up the coast to Vanimo, the last town in PNG before the Indonesian border, where I’ll stay the one day it requires to get an Indonesian visa. Then I’ll cross the border to Jayapura and begin island hopping across Flores, Lombok, Bali, Nusa Lemmbongan, and eventually through Java, Sumatra around around xmas and new years. Then I’m meeting Marleen, Jolanda, Anna and Albert in Singapore to hop on a train through Malaysia for most of January. Then I’ll have to start making my way by ship back to Madang. Ships and ferries will be an adventure as I have been told that they may only go once or twice a week…and that’s even uncertain! But really, what travel plans in any developing country are ever certain?!?!?

Kate models her new braille pattern bilum.
My bilum obsession...I mean collection, continues to grow. Roselyn gave me another bilum , which brings my collection to 6 now! This one is great because it has a long strap. Its a patchwork pattern not the Braille pattern that I dream of or any of the other traditional patterns such as the mosquito coil, hockey stick or key patterns. Roselyn and her children, Stephanie and Dunston are coming for the weekend. I received a package from The Graves family, friends of my Dad and Carol, and inside where tons of American luxuries! Thank you! I plan to share the M&Ms and dvds with Roselyn and the kids when they come.

Blackout and earthquakes seem like everyday occurrences. So, when I ran out of electricity units the other night I thought it was another black out. I noticed the glow of my neighbor’s security lights from my veranda and realized it had been a while since I topped up my meter. I didn’t have my usual 10 kina back up units so my black bean burgers had to wait another night. This meant I had a sleepless night without a fan. Hot and sticky with the air so thick I could barely breathe. After topping up at The Butchery, Madang’s high end grocery store, the following morning, I rushed home to enter my top up code into the meter…I had fresh yellow fin tuna in the fridge that I didn’t want to spoil. I turned out all the lights and fans from the night before and hurried down my wobbly stairs for work. Now that it’s the end of the school year, I am busy writing strategic plans for next year and find myself working late hours. When I entered my house after 6:00 I was hit by a wave of heat. It’s usually very warm in my concrete house in the afternoons, but this was much more intense. When I entered the kitchen I found the heat source, a bright red stove coil! Last night when the units ran out I was boiling black beans and in my rush through the house that morning turning off fans and lights I forgot about the stove!

Typical life of a volunteer in Madang. According the volunteers in the highlands and other islands, life is much different.

Obama Makes History

2008-11-05T00:27:00.000-08:00

November 4th 2008 is an epic day. A day that I will remember forever. A day that will be marked in history. Barack Obama is the 44th President of the United States! Barack Obama is the 1st African American President of the United States. Barack Obama is our voice of hope and change.

As President-elect Obama said so eloquently last night, “our stories are singular but our destiny is shared.” I couldn’t agree more. In today’s interconnected world, America can’t do it alone. He reminded us that this election is not change itself; this election brings the opportunity for change. He challenged us to "summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other." His powerful and inspiring words moved me to tears and I couldn’t have been more proud to be an American than I was at that very moment. YES WE CAN!

I find it incredibly enriching to experience this moment within the International and multi-national contexts. From this distance I get a good world view. I see how this election effects more than just Americans. Discussions on the significant impact the American election has on the world and questions regarding voting systems and electoral colleges arise. Media saturation stretches beyond the East and West Coasts and spreads across pages of PNG newspapers. It’s all abstract for PNG, the idea of market crashes and bailout plans. The idea of a near two year campaign trail is also abstract for PNG and smaller countries. The elections in Holland span a single month. In Australia, where mandatory voting is implemented, the elections trail for one year. Elections in Papua New Guinea, using a rank voting system of your 1st, 2nd and 3rd choice of candidates, cannot hide corruption and often times leads to administration disputes. In Mt Hagan last week these disputes resulted in the burning of the Provincial Administration Building and bridge to the town. For my Italian friend, I can see how he is skeptical of one person bringing about change when there are new political officials elected each year in his country. But isn’t that what is great about America, our freedom and our ability to change? Not all are skeptical. My Spanish friend said she was moved to tears by Obama’s speech.

Viewing the questions of race and gender elicited by this presidential race within a developmental context intensifies its significance. CNN and their “magic wall” of touch screen statistics indicated that Obama and the Democratic Party won in less southern states than during the Clinton, Gore and Kerry campaigns. I am not a political analyst, but I believe this indicates certain levels of concern. At the election party tonight, my Italian friend critically questioned the Papua New Guineans celebrating in the streets. He challenged the idea of their celebration of a black man winning the American Presidency calling it racism. Through my eyes I see their celebration as an opportunity to dream. They see that there is a country out there --call it America-- that is filled with millions of white Christians who voted freely to elect a black man, son of a Muslim, to be their President. I see it as a promise that there is a place in the world where such a thing happens. With Obama's background, including his upbringing in Indonesia, he is able to understand the problems faced by poorer countries. This glorious epic makes America stand again as the land of extraordinary opportunity and limitless possibilities. I voted for my candidate not due to race or gender, but for the hope he inspires, the vision he shares, and the motivation for change he summons of the American people.

In a celebratory call to my best friend Dre, now living in a Blue State for the first time in her life, we chanted OBAMA! OBAMA! OBAMA! from across the Pacific! It was a wonderful moment in my life. The celebration of Barack Obama as the President Elect of the United States of America is a significant moment across the world!

Promoting Education for All through Inclusive Education

2008-11-02T01:02:00.000-07:00

"A dominant problem in the disability field is the lack of access to education for both children and adults with disabilities. As education is a fundamental right for all, enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and protected through various international conventions, this is a very serious problem. In a majority of countries, there is a dramatic difference in the educational opportunities provided for disabled children and those provided for non-disabled children. It will simply not be possible to realize the goal of Education for All if we do not achieve a complete change in the situation." - Bengt Lindqvist, the United Nations Special Reporter on Human Rights and Disability

The Dakar Framework for Action adopted a World Declaration on Education for All (EFA) in 2000, which established the goal to provide every girl and boy with primary school education by 2015. It also clearly identified Inclusive Education (IE) as a key strategy for the development of EFA.

The constructs of IE is still an emergent topic. Conceptually, IE first emerged in PNG National Policy and Guidelines for Special Education in 1994 as the goal to integrate students with disabilities into mainstream schools. Despite IE becoming an increasingly familiar term it does not necessarily describe common knowledge and practice.

IE in the context of EFA is a complex issue. Disability includes an array of issues crossing health, education, social welfare, and employment sectors. Another area of complexity is the different classifications of special education needs. IE includes children who are disabled, gifted and disadvantaged (e.g., street and working children, children from remote or nomadic populations, children from linguistic, cultural, or ethnic minorities, children who have lost their parents to AIDS or civil strife) (UNESCO, 2001). This definition shifts the focus of disability from a biological deficit to disability arising from disadvantages from the environment. This is consistent with the social model of disability that is upheld by many disability rights organizations. Specifically, Inclusive Education focuses on the environment. Special and Integrated Education focuses on an individual who needs fixing-either by special schools, teachers, or treatment.

In PNG the focus has been on shifting ngo special schools into resource centres. The main roles of these centres are to provide trainings for teachers, develop and disseminate materials and teaching methods, support mainstream teachers and parents, and provide short-term (bridging) help to individual students. Another important component of these resource centres is Community Based Rehabilitation (CBR). CBR programmes provide an array of services aimed at creating inclusive communities. The coordination of CBR and IE will prepare individuals with disabilities to live and work in their communities.

Linking schools, ngos, governmental bodies and community resources involves enormous challenges. Clearly progress has been made, yet much is to be accomplished to achieve inclusive societies and Education for All through Inclusive Education.

The impact of my placement!

2008-10-26T02:02:00.001-07:00

In a effort to share the impact of VSO volunteer's work, my program manager asked me to write a brief statement of some of the work I have done in my placement. I thought I would share these great successes with you too!

I have been helping to build the capacity of inclusive education teachers to transition students with disabilities into the mainstream schools. Through parent awareness and mainstream teacher trainings, 10 students with disabilities will be attending the same school as their siblings in the next school year. A team approach to therapy at the centre. A physiotherapist, community based rehabilitation officers, and special education teacher working with a child with cerebral palsy.

Through networking efforts of the VSO volunteer, for the first time in Madang Province, the Provincial Education Department officially recognized an inclusive education training in the mainstream school. This empowered the resource teachers and motivated them to participate in additional trainings.

In addition, there has been an increase in awareness of the importance of inclusive education and a shift in ownership for the implementation of inclusive education. Trainings in inclusive education have been requested by elementary trainers in comparison to resource teachers approaching schools to offer trainings. People are beginning to request trainings and use the centre as a resource verses a "special" place to send "special" children for "special" services. A wonderful example of a shift in attitudes and beliefs! Elementary teachers only receive 6 weeks of training. I was asked to give a one day training on inclusive education.

Things that make me smile in PNG

2008-10-26T00:35:00.000-07:00

Colorful bilums filled with babies and fruit, Lonna learning to talk and asking me “Yu go we?” each time she sees me, Corination Drive on Sundays, children’s faces spilling out of shops with ice cream covering their faces and dripping from their elbows, Sarah at the market, the old man’s big, red smile behind the buai stand on my street, flying foxes, asaro mud men, when the electricity comes back on, Mahi and her wobbly head and big, black eyes, watching children climb coconut trees, Jolanda’s sarcasm, “Yu Tok!”, when I stumble upon a good find in the second hand shops, singsings, skype chats with Dad and Carol, beautiful flowers, telling Roselyn the story of Christiana and spak buai, view of Rai Cos from Madang mainland, smelling Egyptian Goddess oil in the card Lauren sent me, rain trees, when cheese is on sale, Marleen’s obsession with Dolly Parton, watermelons, Shantica’s voice crying out “morning Charlye,” as I walk to work each morning, children jumping from the reef into the sea at Machine Gun Point, pancakes, Albert and Anna’s picture on their fridge of Bush snorting oil, books, the mural at the Creative Self Help of the boy writing with his toes, Vannessa, SP labels on my wall, full moons, cards from Mom, meri dresses, kulau.

Mt. Wilhelm

2008-10-22T15:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry its been close to a month since I last posted. I was at a point where I found it challenging to write with an unbiased opinion. After much reflection and an inspiring holiday, I am back! I must apologize for the long entry. I will try to be more proactive in writing shorter stories more freqently.

Seasons
Monday, October20th

I just took a bucket bath for the second day in a row and the view of my tiled ceiling was no where as spectacular as the star filled Zambian sky. Can it even be called a bucket bath if you don’t have enough water to fill the bucket? The rainwater tanks at my compound have run dry. I thought we were in the rainy season, but obviously I was mistaken. PNG has two seasons, rainy and dry, but with global warming it is getting harder to distinguish the two. Seasons are more evident in the market. The avocadoes are sparse and the mangos dangle teasingly from the trees. The watermelons are too big to carry and the tomato fruit, which was my market experiment of the week this week, will be passed on to my neighbors, possibly in exchange for water!

I was mistakenly eager for the rainy season in hopes for cooler weather, but apparently rain comes with humidity. What’s the point of a bath? I am covered in sweat before I have the chance to dry.

In the Highlands it is definitely the rainy season, and much cooler. Last week, Marleen and I hitched a ride with the education team to Kundiawa in Simbu Province. “Chimbu” as it is commonly pronounced, is 2 hours drive west of Goroka, where I went for the Goroka show last month. Simbu Province is known for PNGs tallest mountains, including Mt. Wilhelm at 4509 meters. It is also known for its pigs, coffee, strawberries, and highly temperamental emotions that lead to notorious tribal warfares. With that being said, what would be the point of going to Chimbu if you don’t experience them all?!?! Kate, the Dutch VSO volunteer living in Kundiawa, helped Marleen and I have a true Chimbu experience! Me, Marleen and Kate...post Mt. Wilhelm!!!!

Road Trip…Kundiawa or Bust!
Saturday, October 11th

5 VSO volunteers, 1 driver, 1 guard, 1 education program manager and one 10 seater land cruiser. Cargo pressed against the windows, our knees in our chests. 8 coconuts, 3 watermelons and 300 kms ahead of us.

We left the sweltering humidity of Madang behind us as we passed New Town up the South Coast road past Gum Primary and Smelly Water. Up hills and across one lane bridges. Through pot holes so big you wonder if you can even call them potholes. Dense rainforests, traditional stilt houses, banana trees. Nickel pipelines and logging trucks. Landslides and half roads. 8 bobble heads. One changed tire.

At the turnoff, left to Lae, right to the Highlands, women sit under colorful umbrellas selling mangos. Across the road is a billboard sponsored by the Provincial AIDS council reading, The Beauty of AIDS….100% Avoidable.

As we continued driving inland we enter the Ramu Valley. The Ramu is one of PNG’s great rivers and the broad valley is filled with cattle and sugar cane and is home of the Ramu Sugar Refinery and Coconut Oil Plantation. It is also a major fault zone prone to earthquakes. Also in Ramu is the dam and source of hydro-electric power for Lae, Madang and the Highlands.

The rolling hills beyond the valley appear to be covered in turf, something like a putting green. They reminded me of the Telitubbie hills; I could imagine Tinky Winky and Po skipping along holding hands and singing Eh-Oh! I have been told these mountains are the world’s fast growing mountains as they are along the fault line.

The engine roared in low gear as we inched up the mountain. Winding roads. Cooling air. Amazing lookout over the Ramu Valley. We stopped for diesel in Kainantu (pronounced K-9-2) that is stretched along the highway. This little town has a Wild West feel about it. Close by is the PNG headquarters of SIL, Summer Institute of Linguistics. SIL is an American-founded missionary organization that translates the Bible into PNGs 800+ languages. The Lonely Planet says it’s worth visiting to see “little America” in the midst of PNG! Plus, another volunteer told me about a store there that sells all the favorite American snacks like Snickers and Hershey bars!

We stopped long enough in Goroka to enjoy lunch at the Bird of Paradise Hotel and to empty our bank accounts at the last working ATM before Mt. Wilhelm. I couldn’t resist a stroll through the bilum market. Minus 1 program manager, 1 guard, and 1 driver, we volunteers made the final 2 hour stretch to Kundiawa.

We bought a ring of everlasting flowers to place on our mirror as bilus (decoration) at the Daulo Pass. At 2489 meters, the Daulo Pass has spectacular views, but the road is dangerous. Remains of vehicles can be seen down the mountain side. Pigs roam the road. Rain covers the windshield. 4-wheel drive. Rocky edges, round huts, spirit antennas. Landslides and donated tents as makeshift homes. Fresh, crisp mountain air.

Kundiawa at last! We spilled out of the Cruiser. Stretched our arms through sweatshirts and stuffed our toes into shoes for the first time in months! 360 degrees of rugged mountains!

WaraKalap
Sunday, October 12th
While acclimatizing to the altitude for a day before our attempt at Wilhelm, we trekked to a waterfall just outside Kundiawa. Wara Kalap translates literally to “water jump.” Three white women roaming through small villages attracted quite a bit of attention and before we knew it we had an entourage of at least 15 children. These girls turned out to be very good guides. They knew the mountains and were quite nimble on their bare feet. We climbed to a lookout over where the Wara Chimbu (Simbu River) and Wahgi River meet. Although the rapids are intense, you find Nationals rafting down the rivers. It was a memorable afternoon.

Getting there……..
Monday, October 13th
After searching the blue tarp market for gloves and enjoying real coffee at a proper coffee shop, we found ourselves piled into the back of a truck. Along with 12 other people, we headed up the mountain to Kegsugl, the last village before Mt. Wilhelm. During the wet season (which we were in) the road to Kegsugl closes at times due to dangerous conditions. It’s 57 km along a razorback road that has to be seen to believe. The 4-hour, tedious and body jarring drive is along the edges of the mountains and through high-altitude villages. These people are literally ‘livin’ on the edge!” The views are fantastic and the landscapes dramatic. The people have transformed their steep, rugged countryside into a patchwork of gardens. Up every possible hillside the Chimbu have turned impossible terrain into beautiful vegetable and flower gardens. I was simply amazed by their strength and agility.

This wouldn’t be a proper PNG story if it didn’t include a tale of our truck breaking down. Not exactly sure what happened, my Pisin isn’t exactly fluent, but I believe the driver mistakenly put wiper fluid in the engine! Noken wori, liklik sumting! An hour later we continued our slow climb up the seemingly endless saw-tooth mountains. We passed limestone caves which were used as burial places, roaring rapids, impressive waterfalls and countless pigs. Roofs and fence posts are topped with “spirit anteneas” as Maarten, a Dutch VSO vol called them. These decorative tufts or clumps of dirt and plants are placed around homes for the spirits to talk to each other and hear the village secrets.

Just before dusk we passed the no longer used Kugsugl airstrip and made our way to Camp J.J. We ate a dinner of fresh trout and huddled near the stove to warm our bodies before we crawled into our sleeping bags.

The Summit…..
Tuesday, October 14th

With our bags packed with food and gear and the morning sun warming our faces, we met our guides outside the camp. As we crossed the bridge, our journey to Papua New Guinea’s tallest mountain began! For many, climbing to the summit of Mt Wilhelm is the highlight of their experience in PNG. From the top you can see both coasts. The climb is hard work and most stop over at the Pindaunde Lakes before making the final ascent. Like most, we planned to arrive at the Lakes, camp and start off in the black of early morning to see the sunrise and coasts before the clouds roll in. From the beginning I was a bit skeptical of this plan. I am not a fan of climbing on tracks that are not visible, especially when you add the element of rain. However, I was motivated by the thought of seeing both coasts ….that and overcoming the skeptics who thought I couldn’t make the 4 hour climb to the Lakes, which sit at 3500 meters.

The uneven tree planks placed across the path were wet and slippery. After ten minutes of steady, uphill climbing, we had stripped off our hats and top 3 layers of clothes. The first half of the trek was through dense forest with moss cover trees and singing birds of paradise. Marleen, who always has a song in her head, kept us motivated by singing “Take Your Time, Do It Right” by the SOS Band. When our breathing became heavy and our steps slower I could hear her singing, “You can do baby, do it tonight.” It made me laugh and continue to put one foot in front of the other.

We all appreciated the rest stops along the way. We filled our bottles with fresh mountain water and Kate tossed us candy. Our first lookout point was over the Kegsugl airstrip. The second half of the trek was through a less dense area that reminded me of a Jurassic Park movie. I expected T-Rex to tower over the mountains at any given moment. The fern trees and topography emitted a pre-historic scene.

The last leg of the trek to the Lakes was the steepest and most rugged terrain along a waterfall. By this point my legs were getting tired. My thighs ached each time I lifted them. John, the guide “pulling up the rear,” kept repeating “Wokabut isi” (Walk slowly). I knew the Lakes were the source of the waterfall, not much further to climb.

The view from the top was breathtaking…or was it the altitude, or maybe the climb!?! Either way, I made it to 3500 meters! And then I collapsed and enjoyed the beauty of the lakes with a panoramic view of white waterfalls contrasted against black mountains.

As we sat near the edge of the lake and watched the clouds roll in, Kate shared stories of her first two attempts up Mt. Wilhelm. During her first attempt, she did not make it due to altitude sickness. Less than half way to the summit she began vomiting. She trained for several months before her second attempt. Shit! Maybe I should have thought about training…too late now! She made it to the summit on her second attempt, but several others in her group weren’t as successful. One decided to remain at the Lakes and another nearly fell to his death during the descent. Shit! Maybe I should have taken this a bit more seriously…it’s not too late!

With the clouds came rain and it did not cease. It was very cold, wet, foggy and windy. That night while shivering in my sleeping bag listening to the rain pound the tin roof of the board hut, I made my decision. I decided I had accomplished a big goal by reaching the Lakes and that it would be best if I trained properly before making the final ascent to Mt Wilhelm at 4509 meters. And let’s be honest, the thought of climbing 5 hours in the dark, through the rain with weak, untrained legs was a bit frightening. Mi bai wokabut long Mt Wilhelm narapela taim.

Marleen and Kate made the ascent to the top at sunrise and saw the Lae Coast!

The descent….
October 15th

The bush path was soggy and covered in pine needles; my boots sank with each step. Our ponchos swishing rhythmically with our strides. We returned to Camp JJ in 2 hours. With a bribe of 20kina, the driver agreed to take us down the mountain despite the road conditions. Along the way we stopped to pick fresh strawberries. Marleen was singing the Beatle hit Strawberry Fields Forever.

I felt like I was in a royal parade, waving to the people. At one point we slowed to a rolling stop. People begin running toward the truck. Marleen and I continued waving to our crowd. Things happened fast and I was a bit confused. I thought we were stopping at the village market. The driver started fish tailing. Were we stuck? Were the people running to help push the truck carrying the white women? We continued to wave. The driver sped away slinging mud in their faces. It was then that I realized those weren’t the faces of people who were running to help; they were the faces of tribal warfare carrying bush knives shouting “Fight, Fight!”

At the next village we picked up a woman and two pigs. Pigs are one of the most important things in Highland life. I have heard stories of Highland women nursing piglets, but I had never seen it myself. This woman was interesting. Not only did she keep two piglets in her shirt, she also spoke to the clouds. As we rode along in the back of the truck with our ponchos wrapped around us protecting our half mashed strawberries, this pig woman was throwing her arms in the air pushing the clouds away (similar to the ‘raise the roof’ move). She was spitting some chant in her local dialect which made seem even more magical.

The entire week was spectacular if not magical. I felt like I had a true experience of Chimbu culture complete with mountains, waterfalls, pigs, coffee, strawberries and tribal customs.

My visit to Sier Village

2008-09-28T00:20:00.000-07:00

During the school holiday between terms, I visited my friend and wanwok (literally translated as "one work")Roselyn and her two children, Stephanie and Dunstan. It all started with a trip to the market to by cooking bananas, yams and kumu (greens. Next we sat at the water's edge and waited for the boat to take us to the island. I have to admit, this was one of the most scary things I have experienced here in PNG. The small motor boat was overloaded with people and their bags of food from the market. The boat was literally two inches above the water. I counted 26 people. I was certain the boat would sink!

The skipper decided that I needed a tour of the islands and he dropped us off last. The sea was calm between the islands and my fears of capsizing lessened. We slowly puttered from island to island and listened to the skipper's orders to shift our weight to help balance the boat. One by one the passengers would exit the boat and wade through the cyrstal clear water carrying their bags filled with yams, bananas and tinned fish on their heads.

It was refreshing to leave the mainland. I appreciated the peacefulness of the village. I sat on Roselyn's veranda overlooking the sea and wrote letters home to my grandmothers. I sat in the green grass under a mango tree and ate papaya with the women and children of Roselyn's village.
Roselyn is renting her house from a family for 100 kina a week. She struggles to make rent on her salary (it's almost 3 days salary for me). Dunston starting the fire for dinner.

I was surprised by the beauty of this "urban village" as she calls it. Dunston and I searched for fishing bait in the creek. Stephanie and I climbed trees for a fruit she said were cheeries, but they tasted more like plums to me.
The island was filled with colorful flowers and shrubs.
The island was filled with tropical fruit trees (banana, guava, papaya, coconut, buai and mango). We were surrounded by more fruit than we could ever eat. Stephanie and her double hybiscus.

Traditional yam house, the staple food of the islands.

On my next visit, the women are teaching me to row in a traditional canoe! I plan to make many more trips to Sier Island!

All these questions….

2008-09-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

Have four months already past? Is it possible that I am beginning to settle in and am able to understand more? Or have I only begun to realize that I know and understand very little? Has my understanding of developmental aid work grown? How have my perceptions changed? Mother Theresa, I understand that the ocean would be less because of that one missing drop, but what happens when our drops evaporate before they even reach the ocean? What change will I effect if I pour my half empty glass in the ocean? Am I thinking this way because I am on the downward slide of the emotional roller coaster that most developmental aid workers go through?

Why has my perception changed? I’ve seen containers of books donated. The disappointment was when the boxes were finally opened they were filled with termites. Clients are waiting for wheelchairs, schools for computers and after months and months of anticipation they finally arrive broken. Workshops are planned, hundreds of workbooks printed, teachers walk for hours from the villages and the facilitator is stuck in Moresby because the flight was cancelled. Computers and sewing machines arrived at a school and were broken within the first day because the users were not appropriately trained. How do the Papua New Guineans respond? Nokem wori (don’t worry), another organization will come tomorrow and bring us a new one.

What are the effects of developmental aid on this country? Have they developed learned helplessness? Have Papua New Guineans been conditioned to think that the white man will always bring cargo? What do they think when they watch one white man after another come in and change the things that the previous white man did before him? Are they learning and applying any new skills? Are they motivated to change? Do they even want change? Are they interested in improving themselves and their country? Do all developing countries face these challenges? Or are these situational circumstances for PNG alone due to the uniqueness of this country?

What will I accomplish during my time here? Will anyone apply the skills I share? Are my expectations too high? How do you measure success? Is it if I truly reach one teacher? Why is VSO asking me to do partnership reviews when I haven’t even had my in-country orientation yet? Is VSO more efficient in other countries? Will I be able to accomplish more or gain more skills if I stay here two years verses one? Can I meet my placement goals in 8 more months? Why don’t I feel connected to PNG? Is it because I am in an urban placement and have limited connection with the most vulnerable people? Why do I feel like a tourist? Should I feel guilty for living the expat lifestyle? Is it bad that I feel like I am on an extended vacation?

These are questions I ask myself everyday. I was once told that finding questions is often times better than finding answers. By asking myself these questions I have decided not to continue my placement beyond one year. PNG is a spectacular country and I am in no hurry to leave. I feel that I will be able to give and take away all that I can in one year; therefore, I have no intentions to stay.

Eastern Highlands-Goroka Show

2008-09-16T23:05:00.000-07:00

Tuesday PNG celebrated its 33rd year of independence. Many Papua New Guineans and tourists flock to the Eastern Highlands Province for the Goroka Show. The Goroka Show is considered the best singsing festival in the highlands and it is held annually during the Independence Day weekend. The Lonely Planet says the costumes alone rival Rio de Janeiro at Carnivale time! I have been to the Madang Festival as well as the Divine Word University Cultural Show and by far the Goroka Show was the best yet. Highlanders are skilled in decorating themselves with traditional costumes and elaborate face paintings.

Among my favorite singsing groups are the Asaro Mud Men. These warrior men traditionally cover themselves in grey mud and wear big mud masks. In stark contrast to the high energy dancing and singing of the other singsings, the mud men walked in a slow, deliberate manner. It reminded me of that creepy feeling you get when watching the “bad guy” sneak up on the victim in a scary movie.

Apart from the costumes and endless supplies of woven bilums, we enjoyed traditional mamboo and trekking up the majestic mountains. Bill, a physiotherapist at Goroka Hospital, preparing the mamboo

Of course I had to get my hands into things!

The Highlands, as described by Lonely Planet, are dramatic and beautiful, with wide, fertile valleys, streams and rivers, and seemingly endless, saw-toothed mountains. It is also the most densely populated and agriculturally productive region of PNG. The highlands are made up of a series of valleys and rugged intervening mountains that form the watershed for some of the world’s largest rivers, including the Ramu and Sepik.

Typical Highlands Village hut!
Goroka is the main town of the Eastern Highlands Province as well as the center of PNG’s coffee industry.

.....to be continued when I get more internet time! Life in the developing world eh?!?! I have soooo many wonderful pics that I hope to be able to upload :)

Wantoks

2008-09-05T00:04:00.000-07:00

Divine Word University Cultural Show

As an American in PNG, all other Americans here are my wantoks. Wantoks are members of your clan. They may include your family and those persons from where you live. The wantok system plays a significant role in PNG culture.

The system has both positive and negative effects. Wantoks provide for one another and maintain strong clan relationships. A member of the clan that does well for him/herself faces the pressures and strains of countless requests from wantoks. They may ask for money, food, jobs, school fees, place to stay, or even to care for their children. The system becomes complicated and dangerous at times. If a person feels that you have wronged them in anyway, they will often times gather their wantoks for retaliation. And retaliation in PNG usually involves serious injury or death by bush knives. If you happen to hit a dog, person, or a pig with your car you do not stop due to the threat of your life being taken, especially if you hit a pig. A VSO volunteer’s flash drive was stolen. A PNG woman found it and requested a reward. The volunteer gave the woman a cash reward; however, the woman wanted more and threatened to return with her wantoks.

Additionally, this is a problem with positions in government and other job placements. A teacher at the Creative Self Help Centre is frequently truant from work, physically assaulted another teacher, and reportedly stole the centre’s car. But because he has a wantok in an administrative position in the Department of Education, the centre’s coordinator refuses to enforce consequences due to rational fears of retaliation. Last week, a man came to the centre looking for this teacher because he owed him money. The teacher refused to pay him so the man threatened to return to the centre with his wantoks armed with bush knives. Due to the high prevalence of clan fighting often times resulting in death, these threats are not taken lightly.

As I said, the wantok system has positive aspects as well. If you are ever in need you know that your wontoks are there for you. Being so far from home it is comforting to be able to speak to wantoks. I feel a sense of familiarity, connection and understanding. Each time a white person comes over my neighbor asks “Em wantok bilong yu?” (Is she/he from your clan?) Having wantoks is important. I have met several of my wantoks here in Madang. On my birthday, Heidi and Jim, who came to PNG with Peace Corps years ago, gave me beautiful flowers from their botanical garden. A VSO volunteer, Pam, who works on KarKar Island met a group of Stanford University students who were there teaching English during their summer break. They were planning to visit Madang for a few weeks before heading back to the States, so Pam made the wantok connection. While I was in Lae, Jessica and Dani stayed in my apartment. That’s what wantoks do for one another!

I was in Lae for a workshop held by the special education department targeting the country’s “new” curriculum reform, Outcomes-Based Education (OBE). I use quotations around the word new because OBE was introduced at the National level several years ago; however, as generally so in developing countries, the reform policy has not yet reached the local level. Lae is in Morobe Province, which is described by the Lonely Planet as “the industrial heart of PNG and the gateway to the Highlands.” Lae is PNG’s second largest city after the capital Port Moresby. Although Lae is an industrial base surrounded by container ships and known to most as “rainy Lae” or “pothole Lae,” the city is laid out around beautiful Botanical Gardens. It also boasts one of the best places in PNG to see wildlife without trekking up mountains through the dense bush. While visiting the Rainforest Habitat, I saw tree kangaroos, salt water crocodiles, birds of paradise, and the world’s largest pigeon. Among my favorite birds was a parrot who, when approached, would say, “Give me kaikai, give me kaikai.” (Kaikai is food in the Pidgin language). I also saw one of PNG’s most dangerous creatures, the cassowary. Don’t let the beauty of these huge birds, similar to ostriches, fool you. They have been known to rip through people’s rib cages with their razor sharp talons.

The Rainforest Habitat in Lae. Jolly and Bernard, 2 VSO physiotherapists and Martin, who works for NOPS National Orthopedic and Prosthetics Services. Martin made his own prosthesis and drove us all around "Rainy Lae."
The World's Largest Pigeon

I met a bigpela (important) wantok last weekend at Divine Word University’s Cultural Show. While walking through the crowds of Papua New Guineans performing their traditional singsings, I met the American Ambassador, Leslie Rowe. We stood under my umbrella and spoke over the sounds of drumming and singing about my work here as well as my experience in Zambia with the Peace Corps. Her husband was a Peace Corps volunteer and they are advocating for Peace Corps to return to PNG. We were unable to chat a length as we were quickly pushed aside by a group of marching Highlanders with their faces painted as elaborately as the colorful bird of paradise feathers on their heads.

Thanks to the column I write in my hometown newspaper, The Robertson County Times, I met another wantok yesterday. I was shopping for bicycles at Papindo department store. Well, actually it was my third visit to Papindo to get a bike. Each day I left with various promises. Yes, we will make the fitting adjustments and have it for you by tomorrow. Yes, we will replace the bent rims. The third day, I gave up and took matters into my own hands. While the three customer service guys and I were removing the bikes one by one from the wall to find the one that had the least bent rims, a woman approached me. “Excuse me, do you know a (insert botched pronunciation of Charlye here) from Tennessee?” I guess it is a small world after all. This wontok is from Springfield! Her mother read my column in the paper and sent it to her. Who would have ever thought that I would meet someone from Springfield in Papua New Guinea? She is here with her family as missionaries. They will be living in the world’s largest missionary compound for 4 years.

Mi got plenti wantoks bilong mi long Madang! Mi hammamas tru! (I have a lot of wantoks here in Madang! I am very happy!)

I would like to give a shout out to a few of my wantoks back home. Thanks Mom, I received your package filled with goodies (only 2 weeks shipping time, a lot faster than in Zambia eh?). Uncle Mark, I was so excited when I read your comment on this blog! It really means a lot to me that you are taking the time to read and letting me know you are thinking of me. I am thinking of you too and I hope you are taking care of yourself. Dre, what would I do without our weekly gchats? You really help me stay connected to real life back home and remind me of who I am! And to everyone who has sent emails, cards and who have commented on this blog, thank you! You help to keep a smile on my face on the days that aren't filled with sunshine and beaches :)

The Return of the Flying Foxes!

2008-08-21T22:06:00.000-07:00

They're back! After 2 weeks Madang's flying foxes have returned to their spot high in the rain trees. Their disappearance continues to be a mystery. More and more rumors and theories have been spread across Madang. In addition to all the others I mentioned previously, some people suggest that the bats left due to a food shortage. Others believe Air Niugini sprayed some chemical in the air that forced them to leave. Some say the spirits from the singsings of the Madang festival drove them away. The most common and sensible explaination for their disappearance is the frequent but small earthquakes Madang experienced.

Madang's icon is back! The town felt so strange without the flying foxes. Their familiar squeals bring a since of comfort to me. I will not walk under a rain tree without looking up in appreciation.

Air Niugini-where the unexpected is expected!

2008-08-21T19:51:00.000-07:00

The Madang Air Niugini Airport is a samll, but busy place. The planes taxi right up to the one-room building where check-in is located in one corner and baggage claim the other. Wooden benches that remind me of an old southern church are arranged in the middle of the room. Directly behind them is the "Kiosk and Gift Shop" where you can top up your mobile phone, drink a cold Coca-Cola and feast on as many flour balls as you desire. My ears continue to ring from the powerful sounds of the plane engine. It's 10:10 and the 8:30 flight to Port Morseby just departed. I now sit alone on the hard, wodden bench waiting for my 9:20 plane coming from Wewak to arrive. I will fly to Mt. Hagan and make the connection to Lae. The flight schedule is written in blue marker on a dry erase board behind the check-in counter....not that it helps!

While waiting for the Moresby passengers to board, I sat next to a handsome man from Fiji. He was travelling home after a year abroad a yacht working as a chef. He is among 13 other crew members from all over the world. It's an American yacht that holds 15 passengers in addition to the 14 member crew. The yacht will be headed for China and eventually back to South Africa. The chef said the American owners typically decline the food prepared by the villages they visit. They usually eat fresh fish caught at sea and food flown in from the States or Australia.

Our conversation was facinating. Before joining the crew, he worked in Fiji with a ngo creating awareness on sexual orientation. He identifies himself as a gay man who is advocating for the rights of the gay, lesbian, and bi-sexual communities of the Pacific. We had an interesting conversation on this topic which lead into gender equality and violence against these vulnerable groups including those with disabilities. He mentioned he wanted to continue his studies in psychology to counsel persons in these vulnerable groups. He was very refreshing!

Still no sign of the plane from Wewak. Reportedly the pilot is out sick and they are waiting on another plane. So typical Air Niugini! While waiting I met a man from Australia who is here starting a gold mining buisness. Our ideals did not allign. He arrogantly stated that he found a way to motivate the people of this rural village where he will be exploiting their land. He is promising them all big screen TVs so they can watch football (that's soccer in the US..haha!)! As our conversation continued, I told him about my work as a volunteer here in PNG targeting children with disabilities. The arrogance in his voice wasn't as prodominant as it was during the talk of gold and widescreens! "The gold digger" as I like to call him, mentioned that the people in the village did state that their children were unable to go to school and that the nearest teacher was a 9 hour hike up and down mountains. I took advantage of the situation and spoke about my project in Zambia developing community schools and helping communities with income generating activities to pay a teacher's salary. The "gold digger" was intrigued by the project and his focused changed from football and broadband access to the education of vulnerable children. Without trying to be too leading I suggested that since the community identified the education of their children as a major concern, he may consider offering to build schools and pay teacher salaries verses bringing big screen TVs powered by generators into bush material houses. It just amazes me how completely out of touch some people are with the realities of poverty. Does he really think television and soccer will bring happiness to this village? Hopefully our conservation will weigh heavy in his mind and lead to positive changes in a village in rural PNG.

The great thing about airports are the conversations you have with people from everywhere coming and going anywhere! My flight has been cancelled and redirected. I will now fly to Port Moresby at 4:00 and then to Lae tomorrow. The only advantage of the constant cancellations of Air Niugini flights is that they put you up in posh hotels! So, I now have the opportunity to see the capital again and possibly stay in the 5 Star hotel I stayed in when I first arrived in PNG. That means I get a seafood buffet dinner, white robe and slippers, and a television! I guess TV does bring happiness!!!

Gaining a Clearer Picture

2008-08-19T23:33:00.000-07:00

The Creative Self Help Centre

Things are really staring to become clearer in regards to my work. I have been attending workshops learning Melanesian Sign Language, holding in-services on learning disabilities, flexible grouping and teaching strategies, as well as planting the seeds for ideas of how to roll out inclusive education here in Madang. We are making progress, slow progress but it is still progress. I try not to be too leading in my approach as I hope to build the capacity of my partners and help them to develop skills and strategies to use in project planning. Through the use of participatory tools, which I continue to learn about myself as I am not formally training in international development, we are beginning to closely examine the needs and way forward for inclusive education here in Madang.

Teachers making E charts as a part of a training on vision and hearing screenings.

We are in the beginning phases of forming planning groups to help facilitate the transition of students from centre-based services to more inclusive services in the mainstream schools. This will be an intensive project. The resource teachers themselves will need training in consultation and practical skills of how inclusion really works. Mainstream teachers,parents and communities will need awareness trainings. So far the mainstreaming efforts have yielded little success as most of the students who have been included in regular education classrooms have dropped out of school entirely. My role has been to begin to plant questions into my partners' minds. Why are these students dropping out after they are mainstreamed? Are we providing them enough support? If not, what support do they need? Do the teachers feel confident in their skills teaching a children with a disabilities in their class? If not, how can we assist in strengthening their skills? Do the parents and communities repect the rights and dignity of students with disabilities to see the value of sending their child to school? Once we really begin to grasp an understanding of the underlying issues of why inclusive education isn't working here in Madang we can begin to make positive, sustainable changes.

Teacher at a sign language training.

I have been spending most of my time at the Creative Self Help Centre and at Gum Primary School, which is a short PMV ride out of Madang town. The long term goal is to train an internal resource officer (IRO)--similar to a resource teacher in the US---in each school. As of now, the province has trained a total of 8 IRO teachers. One of these teachers is at Gum; therefore, we hope for Gum to become a pilot school for our project.

Friday I am leaving for Lae to attend a workshop for all Special Education Resource Centres. The workshop will be targeting the "new" curriculum reform and outcome-based education. It will be a wonderful netwroking opportunity to speak with other professionals working in the field of inclusive education. It will also be great to visit another part of PNG. I will be in Lae for 10 days, spending a few days before and after the workshop with two other VSO volunteers from the Philippians who are working with VSOs disability program.

I am certain to have so interesting stories once I return from my trip to Lae.

"It's PNG....And I am in the middle of it all."

2008-08-13T04:15:00.001-07:00

Some of the usual sights around Madang town. There's so much to tell and so few words to express the culture and beauty of PNG. I hope these photos help to create a colorful picture for you! Kalibobo Lighthouse

Cooking bananas and taro, staple food of island provinces.

Yes, this is a baby in a bilum hanging from a tree! Women also carry their babies in bilums strapped across their foreheads.

Women outside the school selling buai for the teachers and ice blocks (in the cooler) for the children. Ice blocks are like freeze pops---frozen, colored sugar water.

Yes, I sometimes manage to do some work here!

2008-08-13T02:23:00.000-07:00

Today I facilitated a training focusing on reading disabilities and flexible grouping at Gum Primary School. The teachers here in Madang report they face difficulties teaching students English. The National Department of Education is promoting a new (2004) curriculum that focuses on child-centered learning and outcome based education (OBE). Although this curriculum was introduced nearly 5 years ago, many schools and teachers continue to struggle with implementing these teaching strategies. I tried to explain that I am not a trained teacher. Although I am a psychologist who works with children with disabilities in the school setting, to them I am an expert in OBE.

To illustrate the difference between teacher-centered teaching methods and child-centered methods, I filled the blackboard with all my "lecture notes" and asked them to copy them into their "exercise books." This is the typical teaching strategy used here in PNG. After 5 minutes of watching them copy my notes directly from the board, I asked them to stop. It was amazing to see their responses. They simply refused to stop copying. I literally had to place my hand over theirs to get them to stop writing. Next, I grouped them into 3 small groups to illustrate child--centered teaching and flexible grouping.

They appeared to enjoy the phonic activities in thier groups. I was invited to come back in two weeks to address writing disabilities. Guess they thought these learning games were more interesting than copying from the board!

Where are the flying foxes?

2008-08-06T23:14:00.000-07:00

The flying foxes that fill Madang’s trees and skies have vanished. The disappearance of these enormous fruit bats has caused a stir of rumors across all of the country. Over a week ago, I noticed a large number of flying foxes flying from the trees at an unusual time of the day. I didn’t think too much of it as I haven’t been here long enough to truly understand their patterns. Typically they sleep high in the trees of Madang throughout the day and leave for the village settlements at dusk and return before dawn. During the Madang festival the drumming of the sing sings and the large crowds of people disrupted their pattern and they filled the sky during the daylight hours. It’s been over a week since the flying foxes have left Madang. Their absence is clearly noted.

The most troubling of all the rumors was that their disappearance was a warning of a natural disaster approaching Madang. The streets were filled with rumors of a tsunami. There have been many documented cases were animals and insects have acted “strangely” or “disappeared” shortly before an earthquake or tsunami, so the assumption is not entirely unfounded. There has been recent earthquake activity and extremely rough seas. Several mornings I have been woken by small tremors shaking my bed. Rumors being what they are, grew and grew and created something of a “panic” in Madang. Apparently, the people of Madang were filled with fear and began packing their homes and heading out of the coastal area. The police drove through the streets shooting their guns in the air warning people of the tsunami. Not long after, they returned shouting through megaphones for everyone to return to their homes. VSO was monitoring both the earthquake and tsunami alert websites and there was no tsunami warning issued of any kind. Therefore, the VSO office took no action. What a disaster! What will happen if there is a valid threat of a natural disaster?

After the seas calmed and the threat of a tsunami passed the flying foxes did not return. However, the coastline was covered with driftwood and the streets were filled with people carrying wood to their homes. The days grew hotter and hotter as the rumors grew faster and faster. The radio announced the arrival of the Madang flying foxes in Maprik of the East Sepik Province. Some suggested they left Madang due to the heat. Others said they went for “a meeting” with other flying foxes. A teacher told me that the flying foxes left Madang in 1973 and returned in massive numbers. He believes the flying foxes have left again for their mating season and will return in even greater numbers. I thought to myself….oh, flying foxes only mate every 35 years! I think that’s highly unlikely.

The mysterious disappearance of the flying foxes continues to hold a heightened buzz around Madang town. The latest buzz and most humorous apart from being at a meeting, is that they have been infected by the avion flu. Although their whereabouts is known, questions remain. Why have these creatures that are the symbol of Madang left? Will they ever return to reclaim their place high in the trees over Madang?
Sunset from my veranda...why would they leave this place?

Dinner and a movie with my PNG Friends.

2008-07-27T23:27:00.000-07:00

Dunston and Roselyn
I invited Roselyn and her two children to my house this weekend. Remember, she was the teacher that invited me to her village Fourth of July weekend, but I was sick and had to postpone. Each day this week I walked with them from Lutheran Day School where Roselyn and I were holding a workshop and where Dunston attends grade 5 and Stephanie grade 1. We would make our way back to the Creative Self Help Centre to eat a late lunch of smoked fish and saksak, which is made from the soft bark found inside the sago tree. Saksak is not very appetizing, but I ate it regardless of its slimy texture and horrible smell. I would not have thought that tree would taste that great anyway! Since they had shared a taste of PNG food with me and had invited me to their home, I decided I would invite them to my home for a taste of an American favorite—pizza!

Papua New Guineans love country music. To easily build rapport, I have made a habit of mentioning that I am from the city of Nashville, known as Music City USA. Knowing that I am from the “ples bilong kuntri musik,” as soon as they arrived they asked to hear some country music. We listened to Alabama, Hank Williams Jr., and Dixie Chicks and I taught them the steps I could remember from my mom’s line dancing days. I showed them pictures of the farm and they enjoyed seeing cows, horses and tobacco barns. They were amazed at the pictures of the trees in the fall and the snow covered mountains in the winter. Stephanie and Dunston were as amazed as the children of my home stay family in Zambia when I took out the deck of cards and began to shuffle. If it wasn’t for the distraction of cooking pizza, I believe they would have practiced shuffling all night!

They said they had seen pictures of pizza in books and magazines, but they had never tasted it. They had their hands in every part of the cooking, but I think they enjoyed kneading the dough best. Just like any child, they loved anything that allowed them to get a bit messy! Roselyn shared in her children’s excitement as they topped the pizza with cheese and slid it into the oven. Although I explained that pizza is a food that is eaten with your hands, they insisted that all Americans eat with a fork and knife. Stephanie was as determined to master eating with utensils as Dunston was to shuffle like a Vegas dealer.

After dinner, the four of us piled on my couch and watched Happy Feet from my laptop. Although they had watched dvds before, their excitement was as high as it was when they were cooking pizza and shuffling cards for the first time. Their smiles covered their entire faces and I couldn’t have been happier to share this experience with them. Stephanie really enjoyed the hammock!

The next morning Roselyn couldn’t wait to call her family and tell them about her weekend with her American friend. She smiled when I told her I was excited to tell my family and friends about my Papua New Guinean friends.

Hole in the Wall

2008-07-26T00:02:00.000-07:00

Today was a public holiday --National Rememberance Day--so a group of us drove up the North Coast road to a tropical paradise called "hole in the wall." It is an actually hole the size of a greyhound bus in the wall of the coral. It's amazing! At times it's hard to believe that I actually live here!

Albert and Anna's sweet land cruiser!

Marleen and I snorkeling towards the wall!

Jolanda, Marleen, and Anna enjoying the spectacular view!

PNG children are fearless of the sea.

It's a hard life I live!

Black Thursday

2008-07-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

Roselyn, my closest PNG friend, wore a beautiful black dress today. When I complemented her she told me some women wear black on Thursdays as a silent stand against violence against women. Violence against women and children is highly prevalent here in PNG.

I had an enlightening conversation with a young woman I met at the Country Women’s Association (CWA). She works for her father, a high profile lawyer in Madang town. She shared that she and her family were and continue to be targets for attacks due to the nature of her father’s job. She remembers practicing drills and following family routines for safety measures. She has been held at gunpoint and physically attacked on many occasions. She feels that women should always be on guard. She carries a knife in her bag and a screwdriver in her pocket. Recently, along the road to her village, she was approached by a drunken man. When he attempted to attack her, she was prepared and turned on him. The next day she returned to that village along the road and called a meeting. She stood confidently among the people of her attacker and gave a convincing warning. Not long ago, she heard cries of mercy from her neighbor who was being beaten by her husband. She helped the woman escape by stifling gas out of a nearby drilling rig to fill the vehicle at the community health post. She took the severely beaten woman to the hospital and police post to file a report. These unfortunate events have helped shape the incredible person she is today. She is confident, educated, liberal, aware, strong, and holds the potential to be a leader for women’s rights. She is a symbol of strength to the battered women in her village. She is a constant reminder to the youth of her community of the importance of education and self respect.

All it takes is one woman, or one black dress. We can make a difference in the fight against violence against women.

Happy 28th Birthday!

2008-07-13T18:15:00.000-07:00

Jeremiah, Lonna, and Jasimine, my neighbors.

Just last week Jeremiah and Lonna brought some passion fruit up to my apartment. Luckily my fridge still contained plenty of kulau and I had something to offer them. Lonna being a toddler walked around opening and closing my cabinet doors and picking up everything she could get her hands on. Jeremiah saw the map on my wall and couldn’t believe that I flew off the map and arrived on the other side! Yes, the earth is round Jeremiah. I was also surprised that he didn’t know his age. “I must be around 12 or 13,” he said. An eight year old child in the U.S. will proudly proclaim that he/she is 8 ½! You must include the half. Birthdays are a big deal in America. Parties are planned at school and at home with cakes, balloons, and presents. Here birthdays are just another day. There are not viewed as "personal holidays" as my friend Brittany would say. Similar to PNG, age and birthdays were not culturally significant in Zambia either. Adults and children could not tell you their age when asked. This identifying information is regarded with such importance in the U.S., it is measured as a indicator of intelligence on IQ tests. Obviously it’s heavily cultural in nature.

Nevertheless, I am American and I wanted to celebrate my birthday. Lyn and Roger had an afternoon tea (I believe the British call it 'high tea'). Nine Nationalities were represented. Expats from America, England, Germany, Holland, New Zealand, India, Philippians, Ethiopia, and Australia brought various cakes unique to their culture. Lyn cuting the cakes!
It was a beautiful day, sunny with a breeze. Children were running and playing oblivious of their own diversity. I stuffed myself with cake and soaked in the uniqueness of my 28th birthday in PNG! Me and Marleen!
My American wontok gave me these beautiful flowers from her garden!

Tell me what you want…what you really really want.

2008-07-10T20:15:00.000-07:00

I wouldn’t call myself a fan of the Spice Girls, but I do enjoy writing this blog. I enjoy sharing my thoughts and stories of my experiences with you. I strive to share the happenings of PNG life in a way that entertains you as well as enlightens you. My focus is to keep my family and friends in the loop of my life here in PNG. I also write for myself; a journal to reflect upon my personal, cultural and professional growth.

At times I find writing this blog a challenge. I write for a wide-ranging audience. I know my Mom is eager to hear stories around what I am eating and how I am staying safe while others may be expecting weighty entries regarding the challenges faced by the developing world. Part of me feels that since I am here working in development I should be serious and try to educate others on the injustices of the world. The name of the blog is Looking Through Another’s Eyes because I hope to help others see the effects of development and the challenges Papua New Guineans face through the humble eyes of a volunteer. While telling my story, I hope to get in a few messages that encourage others to take a step back and view the world from a perspective other than their own—to remove our cultural lenses.

I hope to share my story in a way that entertains you and brings you back. I try to write in a manner that is engaging. I have written entries that touched upon the more serious aspects of development work, entries regarding cultural customs, and entries that reflect upon my personal experiences. I receive little to no feedback that may enlighten me to what you, my readers, are more interested in. I would find writing this blog less challenging if I knew what you wanted, if I were to receive some comments. So, this is my effort to elicit some type of response to my blog. Who knows if anyone besides my immediate family and best friends even take to time to read my experiences?

So, please leave comments not only to this entry, but past and future entries as well. Respond to my perspective and engage me and other readers to look through another’s eyes. Related to the entry or not, all comments are welcome!

Home Sick

2008-07-08T19:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry it’s been over a week since I last wrote. I have been quite sick. I am feeling somewhat better now but the doctor recommends that I stay in bed for a few more days and continue to drink plenty of kulau. Doc says a person could live for quite sometime on the simple diet of kulau and bananas. Luckily the market is filled with assortments of bananas and fresh coconuts and now, so is my fridge.

Last week I attended meetings at the Provincial Education Offices and the Creative Self Help Centre and continued my jogging around Kina Beach in the afternoons. Wednesday I woke up with a headache and feeling a bit weak but I attributed it to the possibility of being dehydrated. I often wake up feeling this way regardless of the amounts of water I consumed during the day. I filled my nalgene with a mixture of Gatorade because I needed the strength to make it through two 2-hour lectures at the Teachers College. After lecturing to over 70 teachers I was exhausted, but I was determined to stick to my commitment to get in shape. During my run I felt nauseous, but I attributed it to the heat. I decided to stop and cool down by the sea. While I was stretching I noticed my legs were covered in red splotches. Mosquito bites. Headaches. Nausea. Could I possibly have malaria? I stopped taking my doxy 3 weeks ago (sorry Mom, but you know I hate taking meds and I must build my immunity).

When my symptoms increased the next day I decided that I should go see the doctor, malaria isn’t something you wait around for to get worse. Plus, I had plans to go to Sier Village for the weekend and I knew I would need my strength if I was going to make the trip. My friend Roselyn, a teacher in the Deaf Unit invited me to spend the weekend in her village. The island is only a 15 minute boat ride from Madang’s mainland, but Sier Village is a 45 minute walk through the rainforest from the shore.

My screening test for malaria was negative, but Doc said my symptoms were classic of malaria and insisted I immediately receive an injection while we waited for the results of my blood tests. He shared that statistically, a person living in Madang was bitten 2 times a week by malaria carrying mosquitoes. In the Highlands, the numbers jumped to 2 times a day! He didn’t want to risk the vital 24 hours it would take to confirm the screening. I was escorted into a room overlooking the beautiful blue waters of the sea. A breeze blew through the curtains and filled the room with cool, salty air. If it weren’t for the metal basins filled with cotton balls and brown bottles of medicine lining the shelves I would have thought I was being lead into a day spa. For a brief moment when the nurse, wearing her floral dress, asked me to lay on my stomach I dreamed of getting a relaxing massage. Instead I got a needle poked in my butt.

The next day I barely had the energy to cut the tops of the coconuts to drink the kulau, much less walk down the stairs of my apartment to climb into the VSO vehicle that drove me back to the doctor. I had to postpone my trip to Sier Village. I was really looking forward to eating traditional PNG food and staying in a village in the rainforest. Now, I would be spending the 4th of July alone and sick while I imagined my friends and family back home enjoying fireworks and cookouts. It was the first time since my arrival that felt a bit homesick. I had purposely planned to have my mind occupied for the holiday. I didn’t want to worry Mom or Dad, but I selfishly called them just to hear their voices. They were happy to hear that I didn’t have malaria or Denge Fever or any other tropical disease that Doc tested me for. It was a viral infection that kicked my butt.

I filled my days with naps and books. I finished Half of a Yellow Moon and I am half way through Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet. I highly recommend them both.

Jasmine is back from Lae. I noticed she was gone but I didn’t notice how quiet things were around here until her return. My goodness this little five-year-old has a set of vocal chords on her. I also didn’t realize how much she cries. From the trail of braids along the sidewalk, I assume she was crying today because they took out her hair extensions…you know every 5 yr old needs extensions right. A week at home has helped me to get to know my neighbors a bit better. Jasmine’s parents manage the Exxon station down the road. Jasmine and Jeremiah (remember the kid that taught me to scrape coconut) are cousins not siblings and the girl who I thought was an older sister or young aunt is actually the house meri (nanny/maid). Earlier last week, I had made a vegetable curry dish only to realize that I didn’t have much of an appetite. So I gave it to my neighbor Linda, who is 18 and has been married to her husband, Tommy who is in his mid 30s, for little over a year. This helped build a relationship and she has come over since to check on me.

Latest news around Madang: the main bank in town was robbed on Friday. Men dressed in police uniforms held three employees by gunpoint and stole over 2 Million Kina from the uninsured bank. The bank is closed until further notice. I guess there is one advantage to my empty bank account, the robbers didn’t steal any of my money.

Oh and I chopped off all my hair. After a few days of fever without air conditioning, I couldn’t stand the heat and cut it all off (again, sorry Mom). I think I did pretty well seeing that I don’t own a comb or brush.

Movin'' On Up

2008-06-29T17:48:00.000-07:00

Sunday, June 29, 2008
I can hardly believe another week has come and gone. Things were busy for me this week. My move into Ed’s apartment with my two bags and a box of kitchen wares was by far the simplest move of my life. I took pleasure in turning the modestly furnished apartment my home. I filled the bare cabinets and draped the stained furniture with the hand-me-downs I have acquired from volunteers who have left since my arrival. My favorite spot is on my veranda where I have hung my hammock over looking the coconut, buai, guava, banana, and bread fruit trees. My apartment complex. My veranda is 3rd from the left, top floor.

I am slowly piecing together a vision of my placement. The Madang Teacher’s College may benefit from an updated special education curriculum. The Creative Self Help Centre lacks a mission statement and vision with clear aims and goals. There is an identified need for direct lines of communication between the National level and Provincial levels of education particularly relating to Special Education. There are many opportunities and possible directions for my placement. In relation to sustainable development, I know my work would yield more benefits if I help to build the capacity of each stakeholder. However, my role is to train and assist teachers in inclusive practices, not to build the capacity of organizations. I am trying to find a balance where I am able to share the most of my skills while I am here. After school visits and interviews with key partners, I believe I have an idea of a starting point.

I went to MTC Wednesday to observe a lecture on Learning Disabilities. I read the course curriculum prior to my visit and I had many concerns with the outdated information. I contributed as much as time allowed during the lecture. I must have made an impression as I was invited to return Friday to give a lecture to two classes. I had one day to research and prepare for a two hour lecture on learning disabilities for over 30 teachers. Based on my review of the curriculum and my observation, I decided to focus on the characteristics and teaching strategies for each of the 8 areas of learning disabilities. The lecture was well received and I felt exhilarated. It felt incredible to be able to use and share my knowledge. I felt alive and passionate and for the first time I actually missed working as a school psychologist. I made resource packets full of teaching aids for each the 8 areas of LD. The two hours felt like 10 minutes. I could have continued to share for hours. Many teachers stayed behind to ask questions and get a closer look at the packets. I was invited to return next week to lecture for 3 more classes.

I was able to observe a screening at the Creative Self Help Centre with the Deaf Education Resource Unit. I have grown close with their team. They have relatively high levels of skills as they were trained by Callan National Unit, the largest disability NGO in PNG. The little boy was referred by his uncle, who happens to be a Special Education lecturer at MTC. I was surprised by the low level of awareness from the uncle and father, who is a teacher at a primary school. The 12 year old boy (who I guessed to be around 8 years old) had a severe ear infection that had traveled to his eyes. The boy passed his vision and hearing screenings and was given a prescription for antibiotics from the DERU nurse after the father was instructed on the importance of ear toileting (cleaning the ears) and avoiding swimming in stagnant water.

Each Saturday I look forward to my trips to the market. The crowds of people carrying bilums filled with fruits and vegetables. The passionate man shouting from the speaker’s corner—I think he is preaching the word from the Christian God. The hustle and bustle of men, women, and children pouring in and out of shops. The smell of the coconut oil factory. The respite of cool air inside Papindo’s supermarket. The squeals of the flying foxes. The occasional shouts of disagreement that send you in the opposite direction in fear of a bush knife being drawn. The largest carrots, zucchini, and squash I have ever seen. The widest variety of bananas from all across PNG. The sweat dripping down the small of my back. The weight of my growing bag ripping at my shoulder. It’s all a part of the market experience.

Since eating and drinking seems to be all I do here lately, mi got bigpela bel. I have decided that I need to start exercising more regularly. I started tennis lessons last week at the Madang Country Club. An Australian Missionary and prior tennis instructor gives lessons for 5 kina every Wednesday. It’s a mixed group of Nationals, VSO vols and a teenage Indian boy. I need more than my once a week tennis lesson and the occasional Pilates DVD, so today I explored the kina beach area looking for a safe route for daily runs. I walked toward the sea where children were swimming and men and women were laying in the grass chewing betel nut. As I ran the loop around kina beach I stopped and introduced myself to families sitting on their verandas and people behind their buai stands. Just as I was feeling safe I ran upon an aggressive dog that began to bark and run towards me. His teeth looked sharp and his growl sounded fierce. I screamed and wished I had more than my empty hands to protect myself. I knew I couldn’t show fear and running was not an option, so I just stood still and quiet hoping he wouldn’t attack. Luckily this tactic worked and he simply walked away. Hopefully I will not run into him tomorrow.

Networking

2008-06-23T17:43:00.000-07:00

Monday, June 23, 2008
Without even realizing it a month has passed. In some aspects I find myself quite settled in; however, I appreciate that there is much more to discover. I eagerly awoke this morning looking forward to my meeting with a key person within the Provincial Education Department. I ran through all my morning routines; cutting off the security lights on my verandas, hiding my ipod and laptop in my oven, and packing bottles of water, bananas and oranges into my bilum. During my walk to the bus stop I gave and received the occasional “Morning tru.” I have begun to recognize familiar faces lingering under trees and around buai stands. I hardly notice the flying foxes above my head or the trails of splattered buai that have painted the path crimson. I know that bus 6A takes me to town, 9A to Divine Word University and 17A to Madang’s Teacher College. I climbed into 6A where I always find opportunities to practice my Tok Pisin. I laughed with Brenda, who works at ChemCare pharmacy, about how the bus attendant opened the door at the crosswalk out of habit thinking it was a stop.

As we approached Modilon, a supermarket near the VSO office where egg sandwiches and cold Fantas are found, I shouted for the driver to stop. While at the office, I printed the agenda I prepared for my meeting and submitted several requests to my program manager. For security reasons, I requested to move into Ed’s apartment on the second floor of my complex. His placement with VSO is ending and he leaves for the UK in a few days. I also recently discovered that all the volunteers, except for me, received the TB vaccination, so I requested an appointment with VSO’s doctor.

My meeting at the Provincial Department with John Ura, the Provincial In-service Coordinator, went relatively well. We managed to get through a third of the agenda and scheduled another meeting next week. I didn’t however manage to get any information on the National policy for Inclusive Education. One of the targeted aims of my project is to assist in bridging the inclusive education network. After my meeting, I bumped into Michael, a teacher from the Deaf Education Resource Unit (DERU). It just so happened that I just gave a briefing of the DERU in my meeting. Fortunately, Michael said he had a copy of the National policy that he could review with me later in the afternoon. It’s all about networking. (Picture of the Creative Self Help Centre)

At 4:06, the official end of the workday, I came home to find Jeremiah scraping coconut on his veranda. This was my chance. One thing I learned from my initial days in Chimate Village about building relationships was to find something that can be done together that didn’t involve language. I asked if I could come to learn to scrape coconut. He smiled and let me take his place on the bench which the scraper was attached. Scraping is much more demanding than it looks. You actually have to put quite a bit of muscle into it. Unlike Zambians, Jeremiah and his family who now surrounded me did not laugh at my blunders. Jeremiah patiently modeled the technique for me again holding the half coconut in his hands showing me the proper grip as he slid the coconut at an angle across the blade. I have spoken to Jeremiah, his younger sisters, and the other children of his extended family (wontoks) that play in our compound many times. Jeremiah must be around the age of 12 or 13 and his sisters possibly between 1 and 3 years. I left with the promise of Tok Pisin and PNG cooking lessons.

Buai is a huge part of PNG culture and I have wanted to try it since my arrival. Every few feet along the roads there are stands selling buai and tobacco rolled in yesterday’s copy of the National Courier. Just outside my apartment complex, my neighbors have a buai stand. I often stop and chat with Christopher and his daughter on my walks to and from work. Christopher has offered me buai on many occasions, but due to fear of my teeth being permanently stained red I have politely declined. Ed wanted to try buai before he left so I told him I knew just the guy who would teach us this PNG tradition. Once we chewed through the outer shell, the betel nut (buai) was jaw clenching, eye watering bitter. Our mouths began to salivate and the spitting began. Some people choose to chew buai without the mustard plant (daka) and lime which provides the “buzz” and the blood red color. We wanted the full experience. Once we chewed the buai into a ball we dipped the mustard stem in the lime, which is reportedly taken from coral. Once we begin to chew the 3 ingredients together, our teeth, lips and tongues turned scarlet. My mouth tingled and grew hot. Although my entire mouth was filled with saliva, it felt very dry. We were quite the entertainment for those walking past. They laughed at us spitting and showing one another our crimson tongues. Although I did not feel a buzz or any effects of the buai other than a dry tingling mouth, I did feel a sense of acceptance. My greetings were much better received when paired with a red smile. This is what I could look like if I made chewing buai a habit!

Dinner parties are the main social events here in Madang. Marleen, Haley and I cook dinner together 4 nights of the week—it’s much better than cooking and eating alone. We typically have veggies with either rice or pasta. Haley’s father is a chef in the UK so she has offered to give me cooking lessons. Tonight we made garlic hummus and an Indian curry dish. My taste buds needed something a bit spicy after the buai.

Like clockwork the rains have begun to hum their nightly lullaby. The splattered buai will be washed from the dirt. The air will cool. And if I am lucky, I will be in a deep sleep before the rooster begins to crow.

Speaking a Common Language?

2008-06-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Today was another exhausting day as a researcher. I seem to ask the same questions rephrased over and over again and manage to illicit varied, irrelevant responses. Information seems to change day by day, person to person. Each stakeholder has a different title and definition for inclusive education. After many exhausting visits and interviews, I learned that although we are speaking English, we are not speaking the same language. Even the differences between American English and British English add to the mental effort needed to express your thoughts clearly. Selecting and phrasing words can be quite tedious. Before we can move forward with promoting inclusive education, we must all begin speaking a common language. Gum Primary School Grade 3 Class

In 1993, PNG adopted the National Special Education policy. Now 15 years later, most educators including the senior staff at the provincial department have not received any training on the policy. How are teachers going to receive support on mainstreaming efforts when the Director of the Provincial Department views inclusive education as simply “providing for those with physical disabilities?” Most persons holding high positions within the educational disability sector have limited qualifications or experience in either education or disability. The director of the Creative Self Help Center is a banker; the Chairman of its board of directors is a dentist. The teachers of the center and the lecturers of the teachers college received most of their trainings on special education from in-services held by NGOs. Divine Word University, located here in Madang, offers a BA in Special Education. Why are these highly qualified persons not filling these positions?

I have learned several key cultural factors that will have effects on my research. Sharing information is not valued in PNG. Knowledge is power and power is not shared. When teachers attend workshops it is intended that they return to their respective clusters and hold in-services on the information they have received. Instead, they keep this information stacked on their desks as a sign of power. Culturally, telling stories or “tokstori” is very important. I have found that providing case studies and elaborating on real life examples helps me to talk their language.
Rempi Primary School Office

Next step……locate a copy of the National Special Education Policy and find a definition of inclusive education.

Is PNG Rich?

2008-06-16T22:16:00.000-07:00

It seems ludicrous to me that a block of cheese and a carving which consumed 3 days of a Highland man’s life are of the same monetary value. Fifteen Kina is worth approximately $4.97 USD. At a second hand clothing store I bought 7 articles of clothing from Australia and Asia for less than 15 Kina. I just can’t justify buying a box of Kellogg’s or a jar of pasta sauce for the same price as a weeks worth of clothing. From the market, I can buy enough fruits and veggies to feed me an entire week for K15. A heap of 5 to 6 potatoes costs K1 as does 1 tomato, or 10 bananas, or 3 small eggplants. From the pharmacy however, I bought contact solution for K50 ($16.56), the same price as a mobile phone. Although I struggle to keep a budget, my lifestyle is not stricken by poverty.

As a VSO volunteer I make K1250.00 monthly in addition to my housing costs. To put this into perspective, a typical “house meri” or cleaning lady makes K10 a day, the VSO accountant’s (a PNG National) salary is less than a “volunteer’s” salary and his housing is not provided. Most assistant program managers are not financially able to own or rent their own house and often live with their wontoks, extended families. I use quotations around the term volunteer because I question if we can call ourselves volunteers. Are we really working for free? We are given a good rate of pay, which when our housing is included, is equivalent to that of a highly trained National in a managerial position? Is “volunteer” the right term?

Unlike Zambians and many people from southern countries, Papua New Guineans are not hungry. The land is rich with fruits and vegetables and the sea with fish. And yet during the lunch hour people are spilling out of kai stores (restaurants) with their take away and ice cream cones. Could this explain the high prevalence of Type II diabetes here? Although I see much more disposable income than that of Zambia, PNG is still impoverished. The hospital in the country’s third largest city has depleted its oxygen and blood supplies. Families cannot afford to pay school fees and consequentially the numbers of sex workers have increased. Why do families have to pay for education at all? PNG is very rich in natural resources which are being traded internationally at high rates. Rather than PNG, Asian mining and fishing companies are reaping the profits with no social responsibility. The land, sea, and reefs are being destroyed at the cost of the next generation of Papua New Guineans.

In my fourth week in this country I find this difficult to understand. These questions and concerns are not all my own. These are drawn from many discussions with other “volunteers” at The Lodge on Friday nights over K25 plates of fish-n-chips and K6 SP beers—a house meri’s weekly salary.

An Expert

2008-06-11T23:13:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, June 11, 2008. VSO finally offered some guidance today (only 2 ½ weeks into my placement). It was initiated by a volunteer who is filling in while two program officers are out of the office. I finished language training today and was treated to lunch at The Lodge—my assumption after Day 2 that volunteers never really leave The Lodge is proving to be true. Reef at the lodge.

Over a veggie pizza we discussed my role and how I would begin my placement. I have a very unique role within VSO as I will be combining both the education and disability programs. I also have 5 key partners with very different ideas for the direction of my placement. With that being said, I also do not appear to have a direct Line Manager. I was told that my position was more like a Program Manager’s position verses a volunteer’s position. So, my first step is to conduct a stakeholders analysis. The list is exhaustive but at the minimum it would include (1) the Provincial Department of Education, (2) Madang Teacher’s College, (3) the Creative Self Help Centre, (4) VSO Disability Program, and (5) VSO Education Program. In my analysis I will learn about the organizations mission and goals, about ongoing projects, as well as the people in the organization and the positions they hold. Then I will conduct a needs assessment of each stakeholder. What are their needs, what resources do they currently have, what are their partner organizations, and what are their expectations of my placement? This process of familiarizing myself with these organizations may take several months. I will basically work as a researcher to assess the needs of inclusive education. Once I have gathered the initial information I will create a work plan to submit to each of the stakeholders. VSO has assisted me by outlining a tentative schedule to begin my analysis with each of the stakeholders. I am eager to begin my extensive research but I am also a bit overwhelmed by their expectations of me as an “expert in my field.” At home I am just a school psychologist who enjoys submersing myself into new cultures. Here, I am an expert. No pressure! So for the next few months I will be building relationships and learning the culture of education and disability in PNG before I begin building my project.

Building Relationships vs. Building Projects

2008-06-10T23:09:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 10th, 2008. I decided to volunteer with VSO because I am interested in learning more about development work. At times, I find myself questioning the very idea of western development and its influences. I was recently asked, “So what got you into development?” Surprisingly no one has directly asked me that question. It was strange hearing those words aloud. The imprinted image of a missionary holding a curriculum with a hidden agenda flashed through my mind. How did I get here? Am I really interested in development work? I am not certain. Although I have a strong compassion for others and the skill set to make a difference, I feel that I am more interested in learning about cultures and embracing a new way of life than I am of blindly imposing “improvements.” Does this make my reasons for volunteering less altruistic? I want to live in harmony with the land in a place where there is coexistence between humans and the earth. In Zambia, I was able to witness and have the privilege to live this life. A life where the community had an intimate relationship with the land. A life that was rich well beyond that of material wealth or technological sophistication. I have a great concern about the unknown effects western development will have on “developing” societies and their intimate connection with the natural world. Is there a way to provide aid without the abandonment of their cultural values and customs? In my humble opinion, I feel that we as a western culture have a lot to learn from people like the Zambians about building sustainable societies. I learned more from the people of Zambia than I could have ever hoped to have taught them. Most notably, I learned the importance of building relationships before building projects.

Tab Island

2008-06-07T22:56:00.000-07:00

Week 3. Saturday, June 7, 2008. So much has been happening and I am exhausted but I want to get some of my thoughts and latest adventures down before I forget the details. I tried taking a nap this afternoon in my hammock but I was distracted by #1 the heat, #2 the noises, #3 the guy next door climbing to the top of a buai tree! It amazes me how they can climb those small but tall, very wobbly trees so quickly. Maybe I’ll have to try it one day-it’ll help me get over my fear of heights. I am certain it’s a high risk activity that VSO is sure not to endorse, but so is walking alone and diving.

Today I went out on a boat to Tab Island for some snorkeling and swimming. The views of the mountains and islands were incredible. The sea level was high from the storm a few days ago and the continued high winds. Last night while at the Lodge for the ritualistic Friday evening yoga, swimming, and fish-n-chips, the sea came crashing over the wall. Today the swells were big and the waves were crashing over the reefs. We headed out of Madang past the Coconut Oil Factory; its aroma fills the air. We dropped anchor between two islands, Tab Island Wildlife Preservation and another small island with a few bamboo houses. There is an amazing reef between these two islands. While some went diving the rest of us snorkeled. This was my first time to snorkel and I felt like I was in the middle of a Microsoft screensaver! There were so many vibrant colored fishes. I was surrounded by blue, yellow, pink, orange, and purple fishes. The coral was a mixture of colors including a bright blue. It was nothing like I expected. I was simply amazed and once I grew comfortable with my snorkel and found a regular breathing pattern I never wanted to climb back onto the boat. I was a bit nervous at first about kicking the coral with my fins or sinking down a bit too much in the shallow areas and cutting my stomach or thighs. Thanks to Tristen, a guy from London who is here working with World Vision who was my snorkeling partner, I saw an angel fish and a scorpion fish—which I later learned is poisonous. When we needed a break we would swim up to the beach and to avoid damaging the reef we had to swim til our stomachs touched the sand. Once we were on the island we walked inland into the forest. Caution: Beware of falling coconuts, they could knock you unconscious or deliver a fatal blow. Death by falling coconut, now wouldn’t that be tragic? The forest was so green and lush. I saw the breadfruit tree that Willie was telling me about during Tok Pisin language training. My barefeet sank into the rich, moist soil of the forest similar to the wet sand along the beach. If only we had a bush knife we could have drank kulau, fresh coconut.

Madang Festival

2008-06-06T00:05:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 6th, 2008. This morning, I walked to the bus stop in a larger than normal crowd and wasn’t able to catch a bus. I decided to endure the heat and walk. As I got closer to town and the crowd grew larger, I heard drumming and realized I was walking in the middle of the Madang Singsing Festival! I keep my eyes on the uneven ground to keep from tripping on rocks or tree roots. I looked up to see that I was standing directly in front of a singsing. I was amazed to be so close to this incredible display of PNG culture. I was already running late for my language session, but I couldn’t walk away from this spectacular event. I followed along as they danced their way through the street toward the field where the Festival was held. They wore tall black feathers on their heads, leaves around their waists, pig tusks around their necks, and vibrant colored flowers on their arms and legs. They danced around in circles singing and playing drums. I couldn’t tear myself away to go to the VSO office, I watched in complete awe until they entered the field.

Later in the afternoon, I returned to the singsing with two other volunteers, Denis and Chris. Denis was actually in Zambia working with VSO while I was there with Peace Corps. We know a lot of the same people but we never ran into each other there. It is absolutely incredible to speak ChiNyanja and make references to Zambian culture with him. Chris also visited Zambia on his way to Malawi so he too knows a bit of Nyanja!

In the middle of the field were the stage and many singsings. There were four groups performing in various spots on the field. The Coastal singsings had colorful skirts and boars teeth around their necks while the Highlanders had their faces painted vivid colors. Bright, colorful feathers and flowers covered their heads, arms and legs. They danced and jumped around singing, shouting and playing drums. Denis and Chris said that if people were seen dancing like this in their home of Uganda they would be considered sorcerers.

As I walked around the field with Denis and Chris I noticed a difference in their interactions with the PNG Nationals from what I have experienced in the past two weeks. Everyone greeted them and shook their hands. I can hardly get a “Moning tru.” I don’t know if it can be explained by the fact that they are male, or that they are black or that they have been here longer and are familiar faces to many Nationals.

We walked around the stalls and surprisingly this aspect of the festival was much like any other festival or fair I have been to in the States. There were vendors selling crafts and souvenirs such as laplaps, bilums, paintings and shirts. There were businesses and industries promoting their products and ngos such as Save The Children and Australia HIV/AIDS Council creating awareness. There was face painting and games and of course food vendors. Women cooked fish, sweet potatoes and greens over fires in the back of the stalls and served them on palm leaves. I passed on the food but bought my first coconut.
The man selling the kulau (fresh coconuts) took out a huge bush knife and began chopping off the shell and cut a hole in the end for me to drink from. It was so refreshing in the heat!
Drenched in sweat and back to the place we started, we decided to begin to walk against the crowd and head to The Lodge. Every Friday evening the VSO/expat community meet at The Lodge for yoga and swimming followed by fish-n-chips and cold SP (South Pacific) beer. I feel as if I am on vacation!

Kina Beach.

2008-06-04T23:57:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, June 04, 2008. There are no sandy beaches around the mainland of Madang town, only coral reefs so the name for the area where I live, Kina Beach, isn’t really fitting. I cannot hear nor do I have a clear view of the sea from my apartment, but I know it’s just a walk down the road a bit. I do however have an abundance of banana, coconut, and buai (beetle nut) trees and flying foxes. Kina Beach is a safe area near the hospital and Provincial Government Offices. It is also a lively place. There are always bats screaming, dogs barking, roosters crowing, birds singing and children crying—there is a nursery school next door. I didn’t imagine I would be living in an apartment complex in PNG. I expected something like a house made of bamboo on stilts, not a concrete building with 7 other apartments. Living in my complex are 2 local PNG families and their many wontoks (clan members) who seem to come in and out, a young Indian couple who have a 2 month old baby, 3 single guys (my neighbors) who work for Digicel, one of the two local mobile phone companies, as well as, 3 other VSO volunteers. The VSO volunteers are Ed from the UK, Marleen from Amsterdam, (me and Marleen)
and Veronica from the Philippines. There are 3 other volunteers who live in the Kina Beach area, Hayley and a married couple, Ian and Sue, all from the UK.

I have pretty much settled in. I have bought sheets, pots, towels and all the other things one needs. The apartment came equipped with furniture, fridge, stove and washer. I am thankful for the washer, yet I am fairly certain that I am not doing something quite right. It’s one of those double tub washers. The first tub is for washing and the second for spinning but it’s the rinsing that I haven’t figured out yet. Do I drain the first tub and refill it to rinse or do I periodically open the spinner and pour in buckets of water? I have tried both ways and my clothes still come out sudsy and dry crispy. Although I conserve water, I try not to worry too much about wasting because we use rainwater and it pours down rain every night. The rainwater is collected in tanks and attached is a solar unit that provides hot water. I look forward to my cold showers at night, so I haven’t had a need for hot water. I boil my water for drinking but Marleen upstairs says she drinks from the tap. I also have a gas stove, which is good because that means I can still cook during the daily power outages.

Gecko and ants are inescapable! They are everywhere crawling on everything. The good thing about geckos is that they eat mosquitoes and keep to themselves as they hang on my walls and ceilings. The ants are a bit more annoying because there always seems to be two or three of them crawling on and biting me. The good thing I can say about the ants is that they carry away my crumbs and the dead roaches!