Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Volcanic Madang coastline

The successful pig hunters with their prize
And one hour later the spoils are ready to be divided among the village families.

Rabaul volcano from higher vantage point, some people continue to live under the cloud.

Bananas/Plantains at a local market
A view from my day trip to Sogeri
Traditional costumes and dancing in Apu Apu
Three boys trying to fish at Moveave
Some houses around Malala village
Women fixing dinner in the kitchen
A boy climbing a cocoanut tree in Moveave village
Orchid in the Botanical Garden in Moresby
Kids in Apu Apu
My 'house' in Apu Apu village
A birdwing butterfly
June 23 Tuesday Willie and I did a 5 hour walkabout through a series of villages, including Malala where we stopped at the local high school run by a Catholic nun, who has been there for close to 50 years. She was Willie's teacher when he was at school there and he was quite sure she was from California. I did get to meet her very briefly. She is very spry for her age with a quick mind. Under her monitoring that school has gained a reputation as one of the best in the country and many students board there from other districts for the educational opportunities they have there. But she is not from California, she was originally a mid western girl. We stopped at the local health clinic and waited for a half hour so Willie could get some medicine for his mother, who fell nearly a month ago and is still having difficulty walking. He did get the medication, but the doctors have told the family she really needs to down to Madang and get an xray of the hip to see if there is more going on. I hope she hasn't been suffering with a broken hip for all this time, but it almost sounds like that could be the reality. The bus ride to Madang certainly will not be a comfortable one for her either. Willie took me to a private cove, where the neighboring village wants advice on the feasibility on putting in some beach front bungalows for tourist stays. The setting is amazing, quiet, secluded, a five minute walk from a decent sized village. The cove probably has fantastic snorkeling/scuba possibilities. I think it would be a wonderful place to spend a few days. We talk a lot about the work Willie had done in the government, why he left, his political aspirations for the next elections in 2012, the issues in his province. I think he has the background, experience, knowledge of the people, recognition, connections, etc to get things accomplished if he can successfully run for office. I feel there was a little bit of an ulterior motive in having me on the walkabout, because in each village, they know Willie already and the fact that he is giving a tour to a white man adds to his stature in the community. I am okay with that.

Back at Willie's uncles house, I am presented with two Madang bilums by the family after dinner. It is just another example of the generosity of these people and I again feel inadequate in receiving it as I am not in a real position to reciprocate. Since tomorrow will be an early morning we have our washes and go to bed.

June 24 Wednesday This was a long travel day. Because of the idiosyncrasies of the two airlines in PNG, almost all flights use Pt Moresby as a hub. So even though it would only be a 20 minute flight from Madang over to Rabaul on East New Britain Island, that route does not exist. Instead I have to fly from Madang to Mosbi, then turn right around and fly back across the country out to Rabaul. Thus twenty minutes becomes five and a half hours including the three hour layover in Mosbi. And it also means Willie and I have to get up at 4:30 am to catch an early PMV back to Madang. The PMV ride would only take an hour and a half, but because of all the other passengers and the stops they need to make, that gets stretched to nearly three hours. I made all my connections and arrived in Rabaul at just after 5pm where Terry was waiting for me at the airport. Two more bus rides and about an hour later we were home in the hills of Rabaul. In the town itself you can smell the sulfur and the air has a grey tinge to it. Out in the countryside you would hardly know a volcano is active in the area. Where I am staying is a flat tabletop section of land in the hills. It is large enough and the vegetation high enough that you cannot tell how high you are or how near you are to the ocean. The villages here are made up promarily of people who were evacuated from around the base of the volcano at various points in time. There are still some people living in the shadow of the mountain, but they do so against the wishes of the government and seeing the ash clouds, I can not imagine it is an enviable life.

June 25 Thursday Ever since I arrived here I have been addressed as Uncle Austin by the younger members of Willie's extended family. It is odd and I'm not used to it, but four of my nephews and three nieces went walking around the community this morning. I visited the Napapar SDA school/church partway down the mountain and had a chance to speak to the 7th and 8th graders about the importance of staying in school. The staff of the school wanted to know if I had any connections that could get well drilling equipment to them because they rely on rainwater and their supplies cannot meet the demands they have currently. Later we made an appearance at the Sunnybird SDA school/church and I addressed the student body of 132 again on the importance of education. They have needs in completing additional classrooms and getting some kind of library facility so they kids have more material to read. It is hard to motivate them to read, when they have so little in the way of reading material. It is a challenging problem. I do not think books last very long here because of the moisture/exposure, but there is a desperate need for more books nearly everywhere I have been. The preschool, 1st and 2nd grade children at Sunnybird all sang for me and it was deafening. They had a great time AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS. I was glad we were outside, but had to smile anyway at their enthusiasm.

As we continued exploring, my nieces and nephews took me to several locations with war remains. I saw a few Japanese tunnels, a usable bunker, bomb craters, aircraft engines, various metal parts, air defense cannons, plane propellers, etc. We returned to the family home for a simple lunch and then a few of the boys and I took a series of bus rides to some lookout points to get pictures of the volcano and other landmarks. Even with me paying for the fares of five people it cost less than some of my taxi rides in Moresby. Like in other villages, there is an abundance of food: fresh coconut milk, dried coconut foam (almost like meringue), oranges (green colored but ripe), bananas, a papaya that melted in my mouth, fresh pineapple, peanuts, potatoes, taro, fish, on and on and on.

June 26 Friday: Another early morning: the alarm went off at 4:20 am. I got up finished packing what little still needed to be done and went out where several of the other family members were already up and had breakfast ready for me. By 5:09 we were on the road and got to watch the sunrise as we drove to the airport. Very few vehicles on the road at this time, but the stirrings of humanity in the form of small groups of people walking is omnipresent. They dropped me off at the airport and then Dennis and Max were heading to the docks to catch a boat over to New Ireland Island to do some sawmill work, while the truck headed back to the hills.

I did not get a window seat so I finished my current book, Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins. I had seen a film based on one of his other books that I had enjoyed, but I do not think I will be picking up any of his other written work. He has an interesting way of describing things, but this book at least was far too irreverent. I had a sense that reading this triggered a response in me much like most people's to the commentary of Dennis Miller. A quote I did like was: “If There Was Something Else I'd Rather Be Doing, I'd Damn Well Be Doing It” said by Boomer Petway during a discussion of those I'd Rather Be.... bumper stickers and their admission to a compromised life on the part of the bumper sticker owner. One passage that made me think said “While the afterlife concept renders the masses manageable, it renders their masters destructive. A world leader who's convinced that life is merely a trial for the more valuable and authentic afterlife is less hesitant to risk starting a nuclear holocaust. A politician or corporate executive who's expecting the Rapture to arrive on the next flight from Jerusalem is not going to worry much about polluting oceans or destroying forests. Why should he?” Well, while I am sure that sadly this is a real viewpoint of many people, including many professed Christians, and Mr. Robbins is making light of religions on the whole, this could never be the view of a true Christian. I do believe that this world is a training ground, but we are given the command to be good stewards of it while we are here. To the good and faithful servants more responsibility will be given, while to the lazy or bad stewards (who I think would include all who hold the quoted world view) will have their talents removed. That does not sound like a smart plan as a way to get to heaven and by being efficient stewards with the resources of the earth, we can effectively make life now a foretaste of heaven and improve the lives of all people.

I make it to the Friday evening meeting that marks the final night of the revival series. It is a night for baptisms as 46 people take that step and close to 300 more make to request for baptismal classes. There must have been at least 10,000 people there tonight.
June 19 Friday. I got up, had breakfast and headed over to the Madang Resort and Nuigini Dive Adventures shortly after 8am. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to walk around unescorted for a change. I filled out my liability releases, while Yayo the dive instructor called The Dive Centre to verify I am certified. I had not had a chance to pick up my temp card and will have to make sure I do before I leave the country. That taken care of I got geared up, with a shorty wetsuit that just barely fit me. The boat dock is right there and within minutes we were heading out towards Big Pig and Small Pig island. Kar Kar island is visible on the horizon. We did two dives, one at Pig Passage and a second at Barracuda Point. It was beautiful, we encountered sleeping sharks at the bottom about 20 meters down, a couple sharks that were awake and moving around and thousands upon thousands of other fish. There were a host of variations of the little Nemo fish, each preferring a different type of anemone. There were puffer fish a foot long. There were giant schools of fish, tightly bunched together against the danger we presented (and the danger of the large grouping of barracuda that hovered on the outskirts of our vision). There were little yellow nudibranches on the sea floor, fields of mushroom coral, giant fan corals, brain corals, and so many plants and animals resembling a garden in full bloom. I had a thoroughly enjoyable time. During the hour and twenty minute surface interval between dives, I snorkeled around Big Pig Island.

In the afternoon, I decided to walk around on my own, so I took a route that brought me to the Madang lighthouse, along the golf course (beautifully landscaped, but no one playing; many groups picknicking though), zig zagging through town, to the outskirts, past the cemetary and eventually to the SDA church. When I arrived there, the sign board indicated that they had a Friday evening service starting at 6:30. It was 4:30, so I figured that gave me enough time to walk back through town, get some food for dinner and walk back for the vespers program. It took me a little more than 30 minutes to walk there, so it probably around two miles. Good exercise, but it seemed to surprise people when I told them I had done it. There was a nice program and a family gave me a ride back afterwards.

June 20 Sabbath: I had breakfast of cereal and bread & jam and walked through town out to the cemetery and the church. I arrived about 10 minutes early and the church was about half full, with those present already singing. A man named Willie Keng came and sat beside me. He shared his hymnal with me. It has been surprising on this trip that in many places, they simply call out a hymn number and the people know what it is with or without a hymn book. I have gotten to sing many songs I have never sung back in the States. I had left my lesson and Bible in my bags back in Moresby, so a boy on the other side of me shared his. I was not the only guest at church this morning, there was also an Australian man who had spent many years as a child living in Madang, and we also had the honor of three government officials, including the Minister of Environment and Conservation and the First Secretary Minister of Fisheries. All three are Adventist and had been in Madang for the groundbreaking of a new tuna processing refinery in the area. We were all introduced as guests and the service was a good one with the sermon adding on to the lesson about community. There was a meeting planned for later in the afternoon and both the Minister of Environment and Conservation and I were asked to speak as extra speakers for that meeting. So much for blending into the woodwork for me. I will continue to trust in God and His larger plan and if this is something He needs me to do, I will do it gladly. Willie Keng is apparently involved in politics in this province so he invited me to lunch with him and the three government officials. It was an interesting lunch spent discussing issues that are affecting PNG now and how the global changes are affecting things here. There is also a fine line between a view that the end of the world is getting nearer and the need to make sound long term decisions in the best interests of the people of PNG while we wait for that inevitable eventuality. After lunch they dropped me off at the Lutheran Guesthouse for a rest and would come back to pick me up close to four.

A side note: Madang is a city that is blanketed by flying foxes, they are in certain trees in large numbers, screeching away and at all times of day some are wheeling about in the sky. It is beautiful to watch their bat like wings against the gray sky and their large fuzzy bodies as they hang from the tree branches above.

A little after four Willie and Bennie, the Minister, arrived and we headed to the meeting. They thought we were late, but the meeting began at 4:30 and we arrived right on time (and to a full house of nearly 300). The Australian man from this morning spoke first and told a little about his travels and how Madang would always hold a special place in his heart from the years he spent here growing up. I spoke next, told a little about my trip and my goals for it, the things I had experienced in PNG so far, and told a story about how we influence and are influenced by everyone we meet and how God can use that in ways we may never know, but that they do work together for His good. The Minister spoke next and talked about the affects of Global Warming and the direct results visible in this part of PNG. At first it is a little disconcerting, like listening to a doctor with a southern accent, to here a high level government official speaking in Pidgin, but it the only common language they have and it works. He seems to be a very thoughtful man and I get the impression he is a good man to have in his position.

June 21 Sunday: I spent the day close to the guesthouse. Most of the stores are closed on Sunday; I did get some groceries at the one open supermarket. Willie came by and we agreed on when to meet tomorrow to visit his village overnight. He told me that the Minister had wanted to invite me to a dinner they had last night, but they did not want to disturb me. I feel honored that they would even think of including me. I read quite a bit today as well, finishing two books that were here in the Lutheran Guesthouse library and making more progress into a book I brought myself. A Japanese guy checked into the room I'm staying in and he is just finishing a year long trip around the world, so we talked about his trip and mine, compared some notes and looked at his atlas for a while. He had some interesting pictures of a tank located in the jungle near Madang and gave me the rough directions, in case I had time to explore, but I probably will not. I have yet to really explore WWII relics, but they are all around and surprisingly close by most of the time in this part of the world. As for my new Japanese friend, Cuba was one of his favorite places. He took a train through Russia, went through Poland, Germany Italy, Monaco, France, England, the East Coast of the US, Mexico, all of Central America, Columbia, Jamaica, Cuba, LA, Australia, and now is in PNG and running out of money. He is still hoping to get to the Philippines and Taiwan before he has to go back to Japan. And he is already planning another trip to spend more time in Africa and South America.

June 22 Monday:I had a leisurely morning, with breakfast and reading. At noon I called Willie to see when I should head over to the PMV depot. He said we should wait an hour before heading there, so I walked to the resort Fish Market and got a good lunch of sago, fried banana, and potatoes for less than 3 dollars. At one, I met Willie and we walked to the PMV point together. We met his uncle who had come into town for the day and was returning with us. The buses are marked 17A through 17K designating how far on the road north they will travel. We have to wait for a green bus going to 17F, one of two buses that belong to a man that lives in Willie's uncle's village. Normally it shows up by 2pm, but it is just our luck that today he doesn't arrive until almost four pm. Willie and I had already discussed and made up our minds that I would stay all day Tuesday and that we would have enough time to get back to Madang Wednesday morning for my flight. If I had left again on Tuesday in the morning I really would not have gotten to see anything up north. We arrived just before 7pm and it was already too dark to do much besides getting a bath from the wheelbarrow and having dinner. We went to bed at 10 after I had spent some time showing pictures of my trip so far to the family and gathered friends. Again, the whole time I am treated as an honored guest. They make it clear that while Madang gets a good number of foreigners traveling through, almost none of them ever attempt to go and stay in the villages as I am doing. That apparently makes me unique and it is intriguing to them. We spend a lot of time talking about my motivations for the trip and how it is that I can do something like this. Willie's uncle has a large house (with six bedrooms) and it is just out side of the main village here. He has another house in the village, but the family prefers the privacy and relative quiet of having their space.
June 15 Monday:This morning my primary goal was to get online and go through a checklist of things on there. So to that end I got a ride with Andrew and three of his coworkers in the morning. They dropped me off at an internet cafe and I would call them when I was done to be picked up. But before getting dropped off we stopped at a gas station to fill their work vehicle. At the gas station was a man with three cuscus' in small cages, selling them. I got a picture. He was selling them for K100 each and the guys in the car said they would be used for food. They are so cute I have a hard time imagining eating one. I did get online for nearly 3 hours and got most of the things on my checklist done. When I was done I called Andrew and he said they would come soon. I waited on the balcony of the cafe and read my book. It was an hour and a half before they arrived. It was partially due to traffic, but I am not complaining since it is free and they are doing me a favor. We stopped at the Boroko district market and I purchased a PNG shirt, a mask and a couple other craft items. Then they dropped me off at the Lodge. A little bit later I walked up to the nearby supermarket to get some supplies. There was a man outside that had an awesome mask, but it was nearly five feet tall. It was a good price for that size and had feathers, pig teeth, shells, and more incorporated into it. I talked to him a little and he said what others had already told me: you cannot take feathers out of the country. Which of course begs the question: why put them on if you know it is going to cause problems? I told him I loved the mask, but it was too big for what I was looking for. When I came back out of the supermarket, he walked back to the lodge with me and saw what I already had to get a size comparison. I did buy a few other items from him and he said he would stop by on Wednesday morning with some pieces in the size range I had shown him.

June 16 Tuesday: I stayed close to the lodge most of the day, but did venture out in the afternoon with another guy at the lodge to go to the Air Nuigini office that is a short walk from where we are staying. The distance was not a problem, but I would not have found my way without help. I have asked a number of people where one gets maps either of all of the country or of individual cities like Moresby and no one knows. But they sure know their way around the city themselves. At the airline office I checked on ticket prices to Madang, Wewak, and Rabaul. Since the leg from Madang to Wewak is only a 20 seater, it was booked up the whole time I was looking at, but I could have paid nearly $500 for standby tickets. Sorry, but no thanks. I did get tickets to Madang and Rabaul, so that will get me a short exposure to two more provinces before I leave the country.

The collected churchs in Moresby are hosting a two week revival that started on Sunday evening. It is located within walking distance of my lodge but tonight is the first night I ventured over there. It is located in a large field next to a major road and they have erected three large screens for people in the back to be able to see better. They are needed as the crowd easily surpasses six thousand. There was a session of singing, a segment where the children from one of the churches put on a little morality play, then a health lecture on tuberculosis and a spiritual talk by the conference president Tony Kamo. I was seated front and center in a section of lawn chairs, while most people sat on the grass. I would have been content to sit in the grass, but I was quickly ushered to the chairs when I did sit in the grass.

June 17 Wednesday: I got another mask this morning, made by Samson Kamali and set about the adventure of the day getting my souvenirs in the mail to America. First we went to PNG Art an artifact dealership that does packing and shipping. They would only do the packing if I bought an item from their place so I did and had it all packaged up. They said I was better off taking the box to the post office myself because it would cost twice as much to use their service. I should have gotten a price quote just to see if that were true. We took a taxi to the Boroko post office and despite them having a sign that they accept Visa, they do not accept Visa. The total for my box was K580 (close to $250) and that was more than the value of the items themselves. I only had K400 with me and had left my atm card back at the lodge. So we took a taxi back, got my card and returned to the post office. I had to wait in line for the ATM and got the needed funds. Then back to the cargo office, fill out a bunch of forms, and eventually the package was secure and ready for a journey back to the US. I am starting to seriously keep track of my spending here and should be able to keep it to the limit I have set if I am cautious and I do not have any more large items to cover. I am seeing how when I return to this country there are a number of ways to keep the costs down and had I known them before it would have saved me quite a bit of money. I also have made enough contacts that I could quite easily have help getting to many parts of the country if I only ask. I do not regret the cost one bit though, it has been an amazing trip so far. I stayed around the lodge for most of the afternoon making sure I had everything ready for my flight on Thursday.

I went to the revival meeting in the evening and enjoyed the music and lectures. Afterwards, I walked back to the lodge with two local church members who will watch my extra bags while I make the trip to Madang. If I did not do this I would get some major bonus charges for carrying too much weight. The church members only condition is that I attend church with them the Sabbath after I get back. Done and done. I took a nice cool shower and got to bed a little before 11pm after confirming my ride to the airport in the morning.

June 18 Thursday. My alarm woke me at 4:30 and by 5 I was in the transport with another guest with an early flight and we headed to the Airport. My flight was scheduled for 6:55, so I had given myself plenty of time. My bag was 2 kg over the 'limit', but they did not charge me for it. Book in hand I waited with the rest of the passengers. Our plane was delayed and eventually at 9 am we were allowed to board and get underway. The delay was simply because a crew member had slept in and they had to wait for that person to arrive. I stared out the window for the bulk of the flight and the terrain passing below was fascinating to see. I really want to come here again and do a lot more exploring.

Once we landed at the small airport, it took a while to get my baggage and by the time I did the shuttle that would have taken me to my lodge was already gone. It was almost 40 minutes before another one came and I got a ride to the Lutheran Guesthouse. This is a nice location, close to the center of town, breakfast is included in the room price and even that was reasonable. After getting settled in my room (which is shared with three other people), I walked down to the Madang Resort, where one of the two dive shops in Madang is located. They were out of the office on a dive and would be back at around 1 pm, so I walked around the Resort itself, very fancy, and had a lunch at one of the restaurants there. I could have saved myself some money and had a better lunch just down the street at the Fish Market, that I visited later in the day. The dive shop people did not arrive until nearly two, but in the mean time two Aussies came by looking for information on refilling dive tanks and that is how I met Jordy and Rueben. They are actually staying at the same place I am and are part of a group from Australia repairing a large wooden sailing ship to take back to their home country. After I made arrangements to do some diving in the morning and they got the information they needed, they asked if I wanted to hang out with them, so they took me around town, which was really helpful for the rest of my time in Madang. We also checked out the boat where the rest of the group was working. This is a serious boat: all wood with living quarters for twelve, a large galley, etc. The two guys that own it had been using it in Kavieng to do dive charters until it needed work earlier this year. They brought in a team of their friends from Australia and once it is repaired in the next couple weeks they will all sail back Down Under. When talking about my trip, they all say I seem like a person that would really like Melbourne and that I should spend as little time as possible in Sydney. The two that own the boat have done world tours themselves, but the others are younger and interested in adventure where ever it takes them, which has not been around the world yet. They had all been staying on the boat, but had torn up enough of the sleeping quarters and galley that it was not practical for living on for a while. They like the Lutheran Guesthouse and so they have stayed, even though they could be back on the boat now.

Another interesting thing that happened today was that another man checked into the guesthouse and he recognized me from the Transit Lodge in Moresby. I only had met a few of the other people staying there, but being the White Man, I stick out and everyone knows who I am within a few hours or days apparently. And so he knew who I was, and that prompted him to talk to me. It turns out he is also SDA and took the later flight from Moresby. His final destination was Wewak where he lived, where I had wanted to go, but he had to wait until tomorrow because of the small number of passengers allowed on that jump. He was able to give me detailed directions to where the SDA church was, for which I was grateful.
June 10 Wednesday: I stayed in bed until 6:30 but was awake earlier. Took down my tent, packed my bag up and headed outside. The women were all singing religious songs as they cooked. After another filling breakfast with the men, we headed back to the river and our boat. An elderly woman was riding down stream with us and we were going to get out and walk a portion of the way ourselves. Riding in the boat yesterday I found it somewhat amusing that every time we passed people on the riverbanks, people in the canoe would shout out greetings and messages to them. We could barely make out what someone at the front of the boat was saying to us in the back, so I figured they were talking to themselves when they yelled to the riverbanks. But when you are on the banks themselves, you can quite easily make out what is said on the water, and the distance sorts out the engine noise enough to aid that process. They apparently have learned this from experience and it makes a good deal of sense when I think about it. We did eventually get out of the boat and walk a section through the jungle. The bird sounds are incessant and obviously nearby, but we only glimpsed hornbills and cockatoos, as before. After walking about an hour we emerged on the far bank within sight of Apu Apu village. There were two canoes waiting for us and so we were ferried across. As we approached the drums started up and a group of dancers came to the shore to greet me. They were outfitted in colorful costumes of flowers and feathers and I had to climb from the canoe and make my way through them. Tommy lead me to a house that had been specially prepared for us and after climbing the ladder I watched as they did three more dances, with Marcel describing what the dances meant. They left after that and we set up our sleeping arrangements including my tent. I soon was called to witness the various stages of processing sago since it is such a staple in their lives and diets. First, we came to a felled sago palm where they were using a wood mallet to mash the fiberous trunk into smaller strands. These were similar in color and size to good sized yellow string beans. When a large pile of these had been gathered the operation moved over to an actual sago press/trough. They will continue until the entire sago trunk has been chopped up. At the press the loose sago is added at the top, a filter of banana and palm branches is set halfway down and a banana leaf catch basin sits at the bottom. As bowl fulls of water are added at the trough top, the sago is kneaded and a milky juice filters down to the catch basin. This is repeated until the catch basin is filled with milky water. Then everything is let to settle. We went and had dinner during this time. At the end of dinner a young boy brought in a three foot crocodile he had caught and I got a picture before he headed off to kill the creature. We returned to see the next part of the sago process. The sago had indeed settled and the water was poured off, leaving a cake of sago at the bottom of the banana leaves. This was scooped up into a seperate bag and taken over to the open air kitchen for baking, frying, etc. The process can be repeated until the sago pulp is no longer producing milky runoff and sago paste. As a special treat, they brought out the village generator and set up a couple speakers, tv and dvd player. We listened to a cd of songs from the area that was recently recorded right there in the village and is being pressed in Moresby right now for public sale. Then they had a couple dvd's of PNG music videos, most of the music seems to be heavily reggae influenced with some r n b thrown in. After the music was done, they wanted to watch a movie and what they had was the first season of a miniseries from HBO or one of those about Rome. Rome or Empire was the title. They watched about four hours worth. I was fading out after a couple and had to wonder how much of that they were understanding. It certainly was not high class, historical work in any case and if I had had more time I would have liked to find out what they thought was going on in the film.

June 11 Thursday; I awoke at 6:30 again. My hips are not accustomed to sleeping on hard floors with a few straw mats on top of it and despite my sleeping bag in addition to what they have available, I am sore. It continued to rain most of the night so the guides confirmed their decision to head back up river and take an upper trail to avoid the swamp. They say if we take the swamp we will be wading chest deep in sections and that is a no go with all our packs. While we waited for breakfast a tribesman who had been out hunting came into the village and said he shot two pigs on the far side of the river. Excitement all around! Tommy, Wally, myself, 6 other guys, and several younger boys hopped into a boat and crossed over to retrieve a pig. While he had hit both pigs, one ran off and they would search for it with the dogs later in the afternoon after we were gone. A ten minute walk/machete chop into the woods brought us to the fallen boar, a husky healthy specimen resting in the mud. The guys quickly had its legs tied with vines, a vine through its mouth and another set of vines around its midsection. Then a small palm was chopped down to get a pole to carry the pig on. Since it was such a large beast the guys frequently changed places, but the pig never stopped moving and we got out of the jungle faster than we went in. With the pig secured in the boat we headed back to Apu Apu. Lots of people came for an appreciative look and to congratulate the hunter. Palm and banana leaves were spread out, the pig was put down on them and washed off as best you can with dirty river water and the butchering process began at once. We got called to breakfast shortly thereafter and my dilemma began: I knew as guest of honor they would try and get some of the pig to us to have with our breakfast. I ate quickly and gorged myself on sago, green banana, rice, sweet potato, etc. They confirmed that they were boiling some for us and that we could take it to have with our lunch, since breakfast was clearly over. In less than an hour the pig had been completely dismantled and divided amongst the various families in the village. It is rather disgusting to see so many pieces of meat with hair still on it, the flies indiscriminately walking all over it, etc.

As we got into the boat to leave, the last thing to get loaded on was a portion of pig meat for the crew members. And a small package for us to celebrate the morning with. That turned out to be boiled pieces of pig heart and I was doled out a portion. I have never had pork before and people always tell me how great it is in its various incarnations of bacon, ham, snout, pepperoni, hooves, etc. I have not been tempted. But given what the pig meant to the village and the honor they were giving me as a co-participant in their lives over the past few days, I made an effort. As I said it had been boiled, there was no seasoning, just meat. I managed three bites and it was all I could handle. I had this overwhelming sense of taste and smell that shouted swamp. Since so much of their food is bland this was a powerful sensation and stuck with me the rest of the day with a thankful respite when I had some black currant juice during our late lunch on the trail. What I didn't eat I dispatched into the jungle when an opportunity arose. It made the guys all happy to see me take part and I do not think they had any idea of the internal battle my stomach and mind were making to keep it from coming back up. They all had large hunks, more for lunch, and still more for dinner, carrying it in their backpacks. **CORRECTION** everywhere I have the name Pukei listed, it should be Putei. My notes and the map are at odds and I think the map wins in this case.

The trek itself was an adventure/ordeal. As already noted we went back upriver to take a higher trail due to the rain. Well, I was only able to wear hiking shoes for about half an hour and by then they were partially wet and I had been carried over water by the guides once. There was a lot of water. I knew continuing with hiking boots was pointless and it was slowing us down to try and make a new trail beside the existing (often flooded) one. So I switched to my sandals. The others were all barefooted by this time having removed their hiking shoes earlier on. The sandals seemed to work okay for awhile, but as we slogged through knee deep water and thick mud, I was still slowing the whole thing down. Every few steps I would be suctioned down in the mud or the sandal toe would catch a vine. This was putting extra strain on my feet and once I realized I was rubbing several spots raw, it was already too late. I went barefoot like everyone else and that was actually the fastest option. I should have done it earlier. The soles of my feet were completely fine and I got no cuts or punctures from going without shoes for a long time. As we waded on mile after mile I could only imagine the other route if this was the dry one. There was definite consolation in knowing that at least this was fresh rainwater and I did not have to worry about leeches, which would have been an issue on the other trail. It took us four hours to finally get out of the deep water. We had lunch in a dry spot and shortly after crossed paths with a group of 10 people walking back to the village we had left that morning. I went back to the sandals for a time, as there was still lots of mud and puddles to get through. The sandals just confirmed that I would have several blisters or raw spots on the tops of my feet by the time I was done for the day. When we came to the hill portion of the days walk, I thankfully put my hiking shoes back on and we covered a lot of ground in the next two hours. That took us to the 'highway': a dirt road connecting Makara and Kerema 67 km apart. The road is impassable during the rainy season, but now it was drying out enough that some vehicles would brave it. We emerged onto the road about 5 km from Makara, which in turn would get us quickly to Moveave and our final resting place for the trip. We were all tired. They said that when the weather is good and the trails dry that would take just over 3 hours. We made it in 6 and a half. I was disappointed that we did not see more birds and animals, but it was clear that they had moved to higher and drier ground and I did hear their calls and sounds throughout the week, so that was something. I also had taken only a few photos during the jungle/water portion of the day, since I was concentrating on not falling in. But it was a great experience and I am glad to have done it. We had another feast for dinner, told stories, showed pictures, and talked until 9:30, then we all crashed and slept.

June 12 Friday: Tommy had said that we should head to Terapo Bridge by around 9 because the PMV's start arriving between 11 and 12 and it is basically first come first on. We all got up at 6:30 like normal and broke down all our gear. I went around with Tommy on another walk through a different part of Moveave and we met one of the eleven SDA members: a lady going to a small home store. Back at the homestay house I took pictures with many of the family members, met a couple more old people who had heard I was in the area and came to say hi, and the husband of the lady we met earlier in the morning. He was happy to meet another Adventist and asked me to be a good example for the guides and porters. I think I have done my best in that regard. It is an easy task when I compare myself with their stories of the last American. Breakfast eventually was ready and I filled to bursting. Some of this food is so dense that you fill up on just a small amount, but I usually have more food on my plate than I need and keep finding ways to pack it all in. I think so far on the trip I may have lost a couple pounds, so this is good for getting that back, too. This last home cooked feast consisted of two kinds of green bananas, sweet potato, rice noodles, fish, and still more pork. I used the family outhouse one last time. A whole bunch of people came out to see me/us leave, including a couple young boys climbing palm trees leaning out over the river. They jumped into the water as we motored by. I have only spent a few days with these people, but it is an emotional farewell for me.

The ride up to the bridge passes quickly and then we start the waiting game. As mentioned already, the PMV's start arriving at a standard time and it is first come first going. There was already one PMV there when we arrived. Tommy said they had been here all night, because they did not have enough passengers for a full load. We did not fill it either, so we still waited. Slowly people drifted in, some waiting like us for a PMV, some to sell their wares at the impromptu market that sprout up in every village and along many roadways. A man came through with a large butterfly on a string leash. I got a few pictures of the butterfly itself and it with the man. A little while later I saw he had let two children play with it and within a minute they had released it unintentionally. Bye Bye Butterfly, good luck with the string. Since they do not expect visitors out in these parts of the country, none of the vendors is selling bags or statues or crafts. It is all food and in a limited variety. Shortly after noon, the cry goes up and a PMV is ready to go. We quickly get our things on board and in a few minutes it is packed with 30 people and their belongings, bags of betel nut, sago, mustard and more betel nut. We all rode in the back this time and I now know it would not have made much difference for picture taking. I was tired and have taken enough pictures (and know what pictures look like from a moving vehicle). I was content to watch things go by and nap when the feeling struck. There is an ebb and flow of humanity on any bus-like vehicle and we were constantly losing and gaining passengers. We got stopped at the one police checkpoint and held for close to 20 minutes. The main offense was that the driver had not bothered to take down all our names for his passenger registry (I could easily understand why given the number getting on and off so frequently) and that if we were in an accident it would make identification a much bigger nightmare than it would be otherwise. He was also chastised for being over the 30 passenger limit at the time we hit the checkpoint. With that behind us we made the rest of the journey in reasonable time and a little over five hours after starting we were in Moresby again. We got dropped off directly at Ecotourism Melanasia's headquarters in Bokoro. I called Clare, who I had arranged to stay with for the weekend, but her phone was off. I left a message and we waited half an hour, but then Aaron brought me to the Gordon's Transit Lodge, a slightly more expensive place than the Magila, but in much better shape, no alcohol on the premises, a decent working kitchen, a neighborhood Aaron says I can walk around in without worrying like I would have to in 6 Mile. So I'll see how it works here for a few days. First things first, I took a nice cold shower and rinsed off the jungle. Then made some cous cous, read a little and went to bed.

June 13 Sabbath. Today turned out quite a bit differently than I had planned, but looking back it may have been for a positive reason and the next few days will tell. I asked at the reception how to get to the Gordons SDA church since we are in the Gordons neighborhood. He did not know exactly, but said if I take this road down to the main road then follow the main road about 10 minutes, I should start asking people and someone would point me in the right direction. That was good enough for me. I enjoyed walking outside without an escort and with Bible in hand, I think I was even less threatening/a target. So I was asking people and they continued to point further down the road and I continued to head that way. I met up with a young man named Andrew, who said he was SDA and would walk me to the church even though he was not going to church that morning. Just a few minutes later we were there. BUT it was not the Gordons church I was at last week. I was warmly welcomed to the Foale SDA Branch church with around 250 members. Sabbath school was just starting and after the preliminaries we broke up into smaller groups for lesson study. In this case that meant everyone moved outside to sets of benches made up for this purpose. There was no English class, only options in Pidgin and Mokala (the dialect predominant among the membership at this church). I was guided to a class that was made up primaarily of new converts and those interested in learning about Adventism. Iwas again a center of attention and I soon found out that I was the first white person to ever attend services in this church. We all moved back into the sanctuary for church and had a wonderful service. The women's ministry and ACS groups were leading out this week. We finished just before 1pm. Now here is where things started diverging from 'my plan' even further. I had intended on going to the Gordons church because Lala Gilis and her sisters had told me the Adventist Youth from Gordons was going to PAU for the afternoon and I had wanted to go. As soon as church was out I called Lala's dad, whose phone number I had. He was not at Gordons church either, but his wife and daughters were. He said they would be leaving around 3pm and he would give me a call. That sounded okay and it allowed me to have lunch with some of the people from Foale who were inviting me over. Andrew also showed up again, this time with a bag with some bananas and fresh peanuts. We had lunch together and talked about a two week revival series that was starting up on Sunday in a public park very close to where I am staying now. After eating an elder at the church gave me a ride back to the Transit Lodge. Andrew came along. At the lodge he and I talked some more and he kept volunteering to show me around thecity and other places. He wants me to come again after my two year trip is over and he will show me 'all of PNG' and I can stay with all his friends. He is well connected both as an SDA and as the son of a councilman. Anyway, he left, I took a short nap, and at three o'clock I got ready for a phone call which never came. Periodically there are service outages on the cell towers here and this happened to be one of them. I could not call Tom to find out what was happening and if he tried calling me, I'll never know. So PAU did not happen, which was quite disappointing.

June 14 Sunday: Today was a fantastic day and lived up to the PNG motto of 'The land of the Unexpected'. So many people I have met want to talk my ear off about all the things I should see and more specifically things they want to show me and be my tour guide. With language barriers, prohibitive costs on some of these grand ideas, gold speculating, oil prospecting, etc, I listen and know not much will come of it. I had gotten this immediate sense from Andrew, the man who showed me to the 'wrong' SDA church and who talked with me for quite a while in the afternoon. One suggestion had been picking me up at 4 am from my lodge so we could go to a place called Sogeri before sunrise. Sogeri itself sounded interesting, but not if it involved that time condition. After the missed communication on PAU yesterday and having not heard back from a Couchsurfing contact, who had said she would have something planned for Sunday. I gave Andrew a call at 9 am and it went straight to his voicemail. So I figured the day was going to be a slow one and set about labeling pictures and checking my notes from the past week. I need to get on a computer with internet access soon for several reasons, posting to my blog being a big one. Anyway, at 10 my PNG phone went off and it was Andrew wanting to know if I was busy and if not if he could come over and take me some places. The day was saved. From the first days of being in PNG when the taxi driver wanted $80/K200 to drive me to the Parliament building, the National Museum, and an internet cafe and warned me not to leave any of the buildings, but to call him and he would come get me, progress has been made. The world is not so scary. Andrew said if I paid for his bus fares and got him lunch we could go where ever we wanted. That turned out to be a steal. First we headed to the much talked about Sogeri and for K12 for both of us we rode well outside of town, into the mountains (beautiful beautiful), past the start/end of the Kokoda Track and to the town of Sogeri and back. Because the land is so steep and mountainous in this area PNG Power has converted a lot of water to power generation. So pipelines channel the water through their plants and on down to supply water for Pt. Moresby and power is sent further up into the mountains and back to Moresby as well. The views were spectacular and while I'm not happy with all of my pictures (many were taken from a moving vehicle), the trip itself would have been worth MUCH MUCH more. Seeing the monuments at the Kokoda trail head was impressive. Seeing water falls and rapids and eagles and rural markets and the wonderfully windy road (I have video) made me very happy. We had left from the main Gordons bus depot, so when we got back we were right outside the main Gordons farmers market. This was also a treat. So many of the vegetable stands I have seen to this point have the same betel nut, pumpkin greens, banana, sweet potato selections. The options were very limited in the rural areas I visited last week. But this was an oasis. Everything imaginable: garlic, cucumbers, bell peppers, hot peppers, carrots, sweet potatoes, ginger, eggs, fish, oranges, bananas, strawberries, squash, onions, mustard, green beans, peanuts, and so many other things I'm forgetting now or do not know the names of. So after passing through the market, we headed over to the Botanical Gardens,which are located on the campus of the University of Papua New Guinea. I would never have found it on my own and to this point I have not been able to locate anyplace that sells maps either of Pt. Moresby or of the country as a whole. But we did find it and it is a beautiful setting, a wonderful place to walk around, see the plant life and animal life common to PNG, and even glimpse their orchid garden (which only had a few blooms as it is dry season). They even have a wedding chapel on the grounds and a lush grassy area for receptions. After thoroughly exploring the gardens, we set out to one more location: Ela Beach. They normally have big craft markets here on Sabbaths only, so I missed that, but the beach itself was lovely. Families sitting together on the beach, several volleyball courts in use, a couple basketball courts also in use, people in the water, the cool breeze from the ocean, a trio of comedians entertaining a crowd, the normal food market, all made for a pleasant late afternoon walk along the promenade. We also walked past the Central Papua SDA headquarters and had a nice view back to the Koki SDA church which is situated on a hill overlooking the Koki neighborhood. This section of town is built up on stilts in the bay, but the houses themselves are quite modern looking despite their precarious positions over the water. Returning home I marveled at how much we had been able to do and how cheaply it had all been accomplished. If this was the norm, PNG would be a fantastic place to visit, but unfortunately, it is far from the norm and the cost of my staying here continues to go up. The trip would not make it around the world if I kept up this spending pace for very long. Luckily, this should be the most expensive place of the entire trip and so far I haven't lost control.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Walking through a flooded Manila market.
How the poor live under a roadway.

I did not realize Arnold had an office in Manila.
June 8 Monday: In the morning I met John and a few others from Magila, took pictures with some of them, and waited to be picked up. Ecotourism Melanasia director Aaron Hayes, guide Tommy Osi, and a young girl I think named Cheryl, on her first day of work with the company arrived at 8:20. I loaded my bags, dropped off my room key, said goodbye and we headed to the PMV stop. Much like taxis, people prefer to travel on certain PMV's because they know the
drivers reputation, are related, or for various other reasons. The PMV Aaron had planned for us to use, LUCY, was delayed and so they searched for another one they trusted. In the meantime Wally (a second guide for the trip) arrived and introduced himself. I spent some time talking to the new girl. She just graduated college here with a hospitality degree. After about half an hour we had selected a PMV and gotten our belongings loaded. I was ready to get in the back with everyone else, but they wanted me to ride in the cab. Tradeoffs: A padded seat for the 4 plus hour journey with wire screens covering the windows making picture taking a moot point, or a hard wood bench for 4 plus hours, but open sides and rear for better picture opportunities. Too bad I did not really realize this until after getting into the cab as requested. I would have preferred to take more pictures. Tommy rode in the cab with me and pointed out many things as we moved from POM, through Central province, and entered Gulf province. We made a few stops early on for open road side markets, mainly for passengers to pick up last minute items or get some food to eat on the way. Progress was slower than normal because ahead was a PMV carrying the body of a PMV driver killed two weeks earlier in a bad accident. The other drivers had agreed to not pass that particular PMV out of respect. The funeral procession is just the first of many because 23 people had died in a head on collision between two PMVs at about 1 am. Nobody wears seatbelts; there aren't any in the back of a truck anyway, and while most of the road necessitates slow speeds there are sections that they get up to 90 kmph. The other PMV driver had been drunk and this was the result. We passed the accident site and it was only partially cleared; debris everywhere and one crushed PMV still on its side. At one market stop, Tommy got me a sweet bread and I bought some cookies for later. We had a lunch of egg salad sandwiches. Back to the road conditions, they are a mish mash of dirt, gravel, mud bog, eroding pavement, newly striped asphalt, and crushed rock. Earthen speed bumps appear near towns, placed by the citizens to slow the drivers down and possibly to get customers, since markets are usually set up right along side. The drivers seem to have the pot holes, bumps, and other road trivia memorized and do their best to minimize the damage to our behinds. It did make me think of a couple things though: 1) For Josh, this would be heaven, a 4 plus hour Indian Jones ride and 2) for Gabe, I wondered how his reconstructed bionic back would handling this kind of jackhammering. We crossed many rivers, a vast swamp, an immense rubber plantation, and lots of green jungly vegetation. The grasses are routinely over my head. If it were not for the road we are driving on, even a few miles outside Pt Moresby could easily be a hundred or more years back in time. There is a beauty to it. When the funeral procession made a long stop, we left the line and continued to our destination, the Terapo Bridge. This is the way point to get into the Tauri river and also the location of Moveave village, the largest village in the Gulf province. There are around eleven thousand people living in this village next to the river without electricity, water, indoor plumbing, or many of the luxuries we take for granted. We got into a small boat and motored 10 minutes downstream to a point close to my homestay house. We walked to Michael's house and were welcomed warmly. Michael and Tommy gave me a short tour of the town, seeing the town center (where a Catholic church on one end and a United church on the other mark a split in the towns two primary religions. We also saw the cemetery and a memorial marker dedicated to the first missionary in the area, right around 1900. There are only a couple of schools and they only go through sixth grade. After that the students have to go to another smaller town to continue their educations, if they get that chance (for comparison, Majuro had close to 30 schools, all the way through college level for a population of 25,000). Even the public school cost money here, so many kids only attend when their families do not have other things for them to do, like gardening, fishing, etc. Back at my host's house there are 11: Michael, his wife and three boys, a deaf older sister, another sister, her husband and three kids. Tommy, my guide is married to another sister and has a home up the river, which we will see tomorrow. As the guest I had a private room, where we set up a tent on top of the straw mats for the added mosquito protection. I bathed using a bucket of rainwater and a scoop, while the rest washed in the river. I was shown were the family outhouse was located and have to get a key each time to use it. They keep them locked so they last longer. Still the edge of the forest on this side is dotted with little outhouses. After dinner, which the men eat separately from the women and children, we all sat around and talked, but by 9 pm I was feeling sleepy and Tommy said we should get an early start in the morning, so I excused myself and went to bed.

June 9 Tuesday: I got up at 6:30am after fitful sleep. We wanted to be in the river by 8, so I packed up my bags and went downstairs where everyone else was. I took some pictures and was ready for breakfast by the time it was set out at 7:30. It has fried mud fish, baked sago, fish soup, fried sago, fried corn fritter like things, and tea. Immediately, after eating we got loaded back into our boat and set out up river. It was Tommy, Wally, me, and two running the boat. The trip up stream was long, I got more sun than I need, and my butt is sore, but the cooler air on the water was pleasant. We passed many villages, including Apu Apu where we will be staying on the way back. The Tauri is a old serpentine river. On the way I saw cockatoos flying back and forth across the river, several of their variant of eagle (much like a bald eagle's coloration, but with white much further down the chest, and toucans/hornbills always flying in pairs. The toucans/hornbills also seem incapable of flight unless they are honking loudly. Between that and the sound of their wings beating the air you cannot miss them coming. When the boat motor is quiet the jungle is alive with sounds and those of the cassowary and bird of paradise were pointed out to me, so hopefully we will see some of them. As long as the trip was we apparently made good time and after picking up 3 porters just north of Apu Apu, we made straight for Hell's Gate, instead of doing that tomorrow. No one could come up with a reason why it is called Hell's Gate, because the people here call it Two Sisters and have a whole legend that goes along with that name. There is the little sister and the big sister, two immense rocks that largely block the river and have created a set of rapids. They say the two rocks protect the villages downstream by slowing the water down as it comes roaring off the mountains and keep the floods from being much worse. It is possible to portage around the rapids and they do on occasion go quite a bit further up river, but there is almost no need. We climbed around on the rocks, took pictures, and then headed back down to a split in the river, where we go up to our destination for the night: the Pukei mission station. Marcel, gave us a tour of the mission/village. His father helped bring a portable saw mill into the area in the 70's and it was still out in the jungle somewhere being used. Because of the mission presence (Catholic) there is a bit more infrastructure here: they have a newly build school, replacing an old one, a small health clinic with staff housing (unlike the much large Moveave village whose clinic is currently unmanned), a two way radio setup to send messages to Terapo bridge, and a satellite tv set up for the Catholic bishop's use. The school has about 130 students in the six grades they offer. On a sadder note, one of the teachers at this school and her husband were killed in that PMV accident. While dinner is being prepared I get a lesson in the bows and arrows of my host. There are different arrows for hunting wallaby/pig, birds, and fish. In these more remote villages, almost every man is carrying a machete and many of the little boys have a fishing pole, bow and arrow set, or knife of some kind with them at all times. My hosts have a pet cockatoo who does not like being left out of dinner and lets us know. The kids are curious about the camera and as long as I show them the pictures I take of them the are happy. Some other notes I have picked up: a 20kg bag of betel nut can be sold in Mosbi for K200. They generally make a trip with at least 5 bags. So a trip to the city grosses K1000 (about $390), then you have to take out K50 for PMV fare, K40 for canoe fare, food cost while traveling, a place to stay (if you do not have a family member/tribesman living in the city, and most of them do) and you can start buying goods to bring home. It isn't bad money, but it is all hinged on the detrimental addiction of the populous to chewing betel nut. Outlaw that and many of these people would be hamstrung for an income source. Almost everything else they grow is for personal consumption and not in quantities big enough to profitably take to market. The house I stayed in last night for example was entirely paid for by betel nut and the new one they want to build is only waiting on nails purchased with betel nut profits to get started. I am experiencing a familiar internal emotional battle. I understand that the US continues to call itself a Christian nation (which I see as being a more and more dubious title) and as private citizens Americans donate huge amounts of money to all sorts of excellent causes. I certainly do my share of monetary donating. But is it enough? Is it ever? So far on my trip I have encountered untold numbers of people with the vacant faces of the hopeless, those with little or no feeling that they can influence their own destiny or that someone or something out there cares about them at all. They seem to have given up and are merely existing/surviving. I live with a feeling of responsibility to try and better the lives of others because I am in a position to do so. I have a hard time reconciling the life of privilege I have had by chance of birth if I do not look at the needs of others. And yet how do I accomplish/address this felt need? That is my struggle. Simply being here with them sometimes seems to be what they really want. These people on the river lead simple lives. They are not overly complicated, but it is also a lot of work. They work hard and choose to live in these areas (usually after trying to make a go of it in the city and realizing this is better and healthier). They have little say in improving their lives, their government is corrupt in ways that hurts them immediately and often, but they believe God has blessed them and in many ways He has. Knowing that I had enough interest in them to make the journey to where they live has meaning to them and I am included as a family member. To me that is a great honor and it has been hard to not break down and cry on more than one occasion. Seeing elderly people that show up simply because they heard a white man had come (and I get the impression, some of them come quite a distance, not just around the corner), chokes me up. I am just a normal person and the gratefulness and respect they show me is overwhelming. It is strange to think that for some of the smaller children I am the first white person they have ever seen. The last visitors were a British couple in their 70's last year in June. The last American was in January a year ago and he was a 54 year old man who made the guides spend hours driving up and down the river looking for beer and drugs. I'll leave his name out, but they remember it well. Outside of the French Catholic bishop that lives here in Pukei, there simply aren't many strangers in these communities.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

June 5 Friday: God has such interesting ways of leading us where He wants us. I'll just say that and as I make my notes for the day you will start to see what I mean. Today was our first open water dive day. We have completed the pool sessions and all but the final written exam, so the real dives are all that is left. I got picked up just after 8 by John, Thomas, and another girl that works at the shop. Thomas is the guy who will take us on the dives today. His is a local. At Airways, we dropped off the girl, picked up Sibile and Christian, another passenger and all our gear. We dropped the extra passenger at the International terminal at the airport and made our way to the boat dock at Bootless Bay, which is actually a ways outside of town. It also serves the Loloata Resort on a nearby island. On the way we also passed a sign for a SDA high school. Thomas and Ghetto, his dreadlocked right hand man on the boat, got everything on board and we motored a short distance to Lion Island, passing the Loloata Resort and a research station on another island.

Thomas gave us a very brief review, watched us set up our gear to make sure we know what we are doing, then we discussed our dive plan 12 meters for 40 minutes. This would let us experience equalizing as we descended, practice our neutral buoyancy techniques, and a few other things while we visited a sunken yacht and some reef. For this first dive we suited up on deck, did our BWRAF checks, and took our big steps off the side, dropping about five feet into the water. This is a normal water entry from most boats and we learned what to do to make sure our masks, regs, and weights don't pop off while doing this. That was easy. Ghetto was kind enough to take pictures of me while this was happening. Thomas had us follow him down the guideline and equalize as we went. The visibility was about 3 meters he would tell us later, so we could not see the bottom at the start. Equalization was not as easy as I had hoped it would be and I'll have to either get better with practice or just plan on taking my time when initially descending. Once I was down and equalized everything was fine. I am using a 3mm full suit and I need five weights, which seems like a lot. No one else had that many, but I'm also the only one in a full suit; it is the only one that will fit me. At the bottom we got our neutral buoyancy and set off behind Thomas. First we went to the submerged yacht and immediately learned why this is known as Lion Island: two beautiful lion fish greeted us at the yacht. The guideline for breathing underwater is slow and steady. When I take slow, deep breaths I tend to bounce up and down quite a bit, even with the extra weight, but as the day goes on that does improve. As a group we continued to a point a hundred meters or so from where we entered the water and Thomas had us do a practice safety stop during our ascent and we were back on the boat exactly in our planned 40 minutes. Before completely exiting the water we practiced helping our fellow divers in distress, doing a tired diver tow and fin push and also doing an alternating snorkel/regulator exchange while swimming around the boat. That was just to practice clearing our air sources and switching while in the water.

Even though it was only about 10:30 we ate noodles and some cookies during our surface interval. The Germans had tea and when I did not, Christian asked if I was SDA. He said he had wondered the previous day when I did not have coffee with the rest of them during class. He works with a couple SDA geologists on the project he is working on. They are doing a complete survey of Papua New Guinea. He spoke very favorably of SDA's and our presence on PNG. He knew about our schools and the fine reputation they have here. He did not know about the medical work, but was not surprised that we would be involved in that as well. He mentioned that one of his coworkers is a local and even though he is SDA he chews betel nut (which I have been told by a number of locals is one of the major food groups in PNG) and drinks on occasion, but they are good workers. Thomas chimed in that there are many SDA churches all over the country. I mentioned that I had only seen the address of one in the phone directory for Pt Moresby, but he said there were many. Both Christian and Sibile were slightly surprised I was not working on a project through the church, since that is the type of thing I plan to do a lot of on this trip and I told them it was basically because I had not been able to find a way to contact the right people before hand. I had mailing addresses, but no phone numbers or emails until I actually arrived. They know I have two extra weeks of flexible time and I could quite easily find something for that period of time. Sibile was also telling me a little more about her work as a freelance book copy editor and how that works for her spending the split time between Germany and PNG.

Our second dive was again to a depth of 12 meters for about the same amount of time. This time we would be doing some exercises and visit the top of a sunken prawn trawler (it extends down to below the depth we are supposed to go as novices). We also did a different water entry this time: suiting up in the water. Then it was underwater. Again, it takes me some time to equalize, but once I do it is golden. We got to partially fill our masks with water and clear them, remove the mask completely and put it back on, 'lose' our regulators and retrieve them, “run out of air” and get emergency air from our buddies, and then do a few fin pivots (for the only time we will ever have to do them according to Thomas), just to get the sensation. We went over some hand signals and how to convey how much air we had to each other. After the exercises we followed the reef until we approached the trawler. On the way, I saw needlefish, clown fish, angel fish, parrot fish, several schools of shimmering silver and blue fish of various sizes. We could only see the bow and some of the rigging of the boat, but it was alive with groups of fish and other creatures. Again, we did a safety stop on the way back up and got out of our gear in the water. Then we had to snorkel 300 meters to a buoy and do our 10 minute treading water test. Everyone passed. As we headed back to the dock, Thomas reviewed the dives with us and we logged them in our dive logs.

During the ride back we again passed the SDA High school sign and this time John said that they were having a youth camp meeting there this weekend. There were many many tents already up in a large meadow visible from the road. He said that the SDA school system runs a farming operation that provides 70% of the fresh vegetables found in Pt Moresby. If that figure is true it is absolutely amazing and I really have no reason to doubt him as he has lived here nearly all his life. We arrived back at Airways to drop off our equipment and take our final written exam. The German couple wanted a half hour break to shower and change (they conveniently live just up the hill from the hotel), so I read a book and waited. I also was able to remedy a situation I had inadvertently created on Wednesday. After classes on that day I had a Greek salad outside the deli on the premises, while waiting for a shuttle to take me back to Magila. Partway through John had joined me and we talked about diving spots in PNG and other things to do. After a while we just got up and left. It wasn't until Friday that it dawned on me that I had not paid anything for that salad. So while waiting on Friday I went in and asked if my recollection was right or not. They hesitated at first, but then said yes they had been short. The girl who had served me was not there, but they thanked me for being honest and I felt better. The test was multiple choice and I got a 98%, so did Christian. Sibile was only able to muster a 96%, so we all managed to pass.

I got a ride back to Magila after the test, changed and went outside to read and hang out with the locals. I was sitting with Paul Kaimx and Terry, when Terry asked if I was SDA, since I did not drink and several people had offered in the few days I have been here. He apologized for the rough language he uses and asked if I needed a ride to church the next morning. I told him I wasn't even sure where there was one, that I had only seen one listed in the phone book and it was quite far away. They both said no there are a couple very nearby. Paul told me a friend of his was coming in a bit and I could talk to him about where the church was. That friend turned out to be a local policeman named Manasa. One of his two wives is SDA and he said if I would give him a call in the morning he would take me to the church in Gordons, a nearby neighborhood. There was a church closer, but it is in a settlement and he did not think it was very safe to go there. Since I have been here people have been exceedingly helpful. I get the distinct sense from them that the area is not the safest, but they all are willing to take me places and make sure someone is with me so I will be safe. The Magila Backpackers Hotel is located in Six Mile, the neighborhood in Moresby with the roughest reputation. The Hotel itself is partially a brothel and you see the girls around every night, but the people have been so happy that I would come to their part of the city. They know they have a reputation and respect that I am really interested in meeting them and talking to them and spending time in their world. There is also a palpable sense in which because I am from America (and what it still represents) I am welcomed in a way a white person from Australia would not be. There is still enough of a colonial mentality that brings up resentments on both sides. This is similar to the feeling I experienced in South Africa a few years ago. So many people have come and treated meeting me as a rare privilege. It is undeserved on my part. Some can barely make themselves clear with pidgin, others are well educated and interested in discussing the world, the problems in PNG, different cultures, rugby, etc. etc. I think I am the privileged one to be here with them.

One guy I met tonight was Kennedy, a young man from a small coastal town, trying his hand as a machinist in the big city. He is going to stick it out until Christmas time, but has pretty much already decided to return home. What was interesting about him is that when I mentioned going through the SCUBA course he lit up. He was certified for Open Water (what I'm doing) back in 1997 and got his advanced cert a year later, followed by a Dive Master cert in 2001. He was employed as a dive instructor/master at a resort near his home town for five years. The money is not as good as he thought and he just does not like city life, so he wants to go back and get his old job again. The issue of money comes up every time. PNG has a population around 6 million, but there are only 160,000 people on official tax rolls. That should give you an idea of how much goes on under the table and how many people 'back home' depend on each of these family breadwinners.

June 6 Sabbath: When I first got up I was filtering water and brushing my teeth after eating and I noticed a guy sitting at a table in one of the common rooms. He was reading the lesson quarterly. I asked him if he was SDA (kind of obvious) and he said yes. His name is Tony Walwal. I asked him if he was going to the local church, he said no because he was going home to his family outside of the city, but he wanted to call the pastor and make sure I got to church. I told him I already had someone taking me there, but he wanted to call anyway. He says the Magila is not a good place to stay and the pastor will find me a place to stay with church members. He is only here because he is visiting for a couple days unexpectedly (but just when I could run into him). He also said he is traveling to the far end of the country near the Indonesian border with his friend, a pilot, who I also met and wanted to know if I would like to join them. I'll talk to him again in a couple days to see if this might work out. This is getting exciting!

I called Manasa at 8:20 and he said they would pick me up close to 9. He and a friend came when they said and quickly had me over to a church compound. Sabbath school was just starting and the place was packed. I got a seat on the front row and there must have been nearly 700 in the building. Partway through the service a rain shower hit and when I looked out the window to see that, there were probably another 150 people outside sitting and standing with umbrellas. I happened to walk into the compound with a pastor and he wrote down my name as a visitor (I was announced as the White Man from California during SS and church). During the few times we stood to sing songs, I could see that I was a head taller than almost everyone. I had not really paid attention to that, I rarely do, but with that big a group it sticks out more. During SS, each of the children's divisions played a part and there was a general lesson study. I understand they normally have a number of groups, but because of the special presentation they did it this way. There was also a child dedication (something that happens once a year, I learned later at lunch). In the US that is usually for babies, but they included children through about the third grade and that meant there were 118 kids in a mass dedication. The normal service followed this. I can keep up with about half of what is being said when they use pidgin, which is what most of them have to use. That is the common language in a nation with over 800 distinct languages. When the service wound down and I checked a clock it was about 1:15. I do not want to hear anyone in the US complain about having to sit through long services. We are sooooo soft. Think about what the day really means before you do that.

Because the service had run so long Manasa could not pick me up, which was fine since a girl with very good English came and asked if I wanted to have lunch at her parents home. She just graduated from Oakwood College/University last month with an IT degree. She had convinced 7 other students from a singing group at Oakwood to come and spend a little over a week traveling PNG and singing as they went. Her name is Lala Gilis. And so I met the whole family, dad Tom, an accountant for the government finance administration, sisters Diggy (still in school) and Susan (a teacher), and her mom, whose name I embarrassingly did not get, although I know she is also an accountant. Two other girls, both their cousins, also live with them and they had also invited a new church member. So we all had a pleasant afternoon and a fabulous late lunch. There was fresh grilled tuna, chicken, fried rice, greens, two kinds of sweet potato, potato salad, fresh peanuts, bananas, papaya, and a carrot cake. The best food I've eaten since I arrived. Lala plans to go back to the states in a few months for a job with Intergraph, the makers of Microstation CAD software, among other things. The end of May is the end of rainy season, but it rained slowly and steadily all afternoon. I learned over the course of the afternoon that there are at least 30 SDA churches in Moresby, with 10 of those in the 500-1000 weekly attendance range and the other 'small' churches each with around 200. In the South Pacific Division 2/3rds of all SDA membership comes from Papua New Guinea. Tom also told me about a project he is working on with some property he owns on the island he and his wife come from, Kavieng, that will be like a bed and breakfast. If (or more like when) I come back to PNG, I have an open invitation. The girls said if I am not busy next Sabbath, after church the youth are all going out to Pacific Adventist University. That sounds fantastic to me. I will just be getting back from my trek next week and I had told David, the Burmese contract teacher in the Marshall Islands that I would try and go there to pass on greetings to his aunt and uncle.

I got a ride back to Magila with Tom Gilis and spent some time catching up on my notations for the past week and getting ready for diving again tomorrow.

June 7 Sunday: We did two dives again today: one at Susies Bommie and one at End Bommie; Bommie being a local word for 'world'. I also clarified what seemed so obvious on Friday: Lion island is so named because it looks like a reclining lion with mane, much like the Sphinx, not for the coincidence of the lion fish that do live all over the area. When we dove on Friday, we were at an angle to the island which did not show the lion profile. This time there were five others finishing their courses with me, two extra dive masters, and a French speaking diver with a large underwater photography rig. He dove on his own with one dive master and the rest of us were paired up to complete our requisites. There could have been as many as 8 more, but due to less than ideal weather outlook (which turned out not to be the case) the others had cancelled. Our first dive was to 18 meters and it took quite a while for me to equalize. It was more awkward because before in the shallower depths we had followed a guideline down and I could clearly measure my progress. Now we only had a short starting line and then were free swimming before dropping to the lower depths. I seem to have the most difficulty with this aspect of diving. Everyone else adapts quite quickly. More exposure will let me know if it gets easier with time/practice or if it is a long term issue. We did full mask removals and regulator removal/retrieval at that depth. Outside of the equalization everything does seem to get easier as we go on and get accustomed to doing the various tasks. At this lower depth we saw many much larger fish hanging around the edge of the reef. The visibility was much improved over Friday and there were so many fish. Due to the depth we could not stay under as long and started for the surface after 24 minutes. At the end of the first dive I got a longer break than the others, who still had to do their 300 meter swim and 10 treading water requirements. Two in the group are Indian Nationals and the swimming proved to be a huge hurdle. There is no time limit on the swim and they used a lot. One called the rest of the day off after that, he could not tread water and was going to try that in a pool setting and do his final dive on a later date. We had noodles again for 'lunch' at 11am and after an hour and a half we were ready to enter the water a final time. This dive was to 17.6 meters (approximate only) and our only real skill challenge this time was learning to navigate by compass underwater. In pairs, one using a compass picks a heading and follows the lubber line after marking a couple set points. The buddy holds on to the first diver and makes sure both their elevations stay reasonably level while the other is concentrating on direction. You also keep a rough gauge of distance by the number of leg kicks you have made in a specific direction. It feels like a lot to keep track of all at once, but I'm sure it gets easier with practice. We took a slightly longer safety stop, due to our depth again, and got back into the boat.

Our dives complete, we headed back to the dock and The Dive Centre. We filled in our Dive logs, got signed off on our coursework and I just need to stop by sometime after I get back from trekking to pick up my temp PADI card. The real one will be delivered to California in the next couple months. The temp is good for three months, which would cover Australia and New Zealand anyway and I should be able to have an address long enough at some point to get the real one sent to me on the road. John, the director said actually any place that will rent equipment will be hooked up to the PADI diver registry and we will be entered in there almost immediately, so they only need to verify my ID and see that I am registered and current. A side note: on the return trip we passed the SDA campmeeting which had grown into a small tent city with many people milling about.

One of the locals has been asking to take me to a few places and since this is my last night in Magila for a while (and since the only other option seems to be watching a horror movie called Midnight Meat Train with a small group of people), I said lets go see what you want me to see. Well, it turns out he wanted me to see a few of the happening night spots in Moresby. The first one was Mustang Sally's, a decent sized club, playing much the same music as they often play at the Magila club, and filled with people from PNG. I had a Sprite while we watched the entertainment for the evening: a transvestite beauty pageant. There were seven contestants ranging from the startlingly believable to the almost hilarious caricature. We left after a highly entertaining second round talent portion, which consisted primarily of very good lip synching to bland diva music, but also included a tremendously skilled hula dancer. The second club was called Penthouse and this was an international hangout. There were all sorts of Asian, Caucasian, Indian, Middle Eastern faces mixed in with the locals. The music was slightly different, with more of a hip hop flavor (not really an improvement, for me anyway). The dance floor was much busier here, but I found myself watching one of the pool tables where a string of bad players faced off against each other and through sheer luck and stick-to-it-ism the balls made it into the pockets eventually. We had arranged for a ride to get us at midnight because I knew I had a long day planned for Monday, but things broke down slightly ahead of schedule. A drunk man ran into a woman seated at a table near the men's bathroom. Some name calling and pushing later, the drunk took a good swing at the woman. He missed. But as security closed in, the woman squeezed out and grabbed a pool ball from an active table. You could see she meant to use it as a weapon. While people were trying to tell some of the security that she had the ball, the man got loose and there was some wrestling before they were separated again. But not before an Asian guy got kicked in the stomach and a table overturned. Things appeared to be calming down when the woman yelled some more comments at the man and he was off again, this time snatching a pool cue from a player. He shattered it in three pieces against a table in one mighty swing at the woman, again missing her, but one of the broken cue pieces did ricochet and cut another woman under the eye. He then grabbed three billiard balls while about 12 security guards tried to handle the situation. They shut the pool games down, got the balls out of sight, removed the parties involved, and seemed to have restored order, but we had had enough excitement for the time being. As we were leaving we saw the injured woman with a lot of blood on her face. Back at home I made a few adjustments to my bags, but am basically packed and ready for tomorrow.