Dinner and a movie with my PNG Friends.

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

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

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!

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.

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

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

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.