Papua New Guineans and trust

Trust is one of those qualities of human relationship and interaction that is essential for families, communities and ultimately nations to not only prosper but also to survive. In any civil society and at some level, somewhere-somehow trust and confidence in the people that one interacts with must exist or else the social fabric around one starts to self destruct. Humans basically need to know that there is someone out there whom they can trust in.

“Trust means being able to predict what other people will do and what situations will occur“. This is roughly how one from the so called “west” might define trust. In Papua New Guinea trust takes on a totally different meaning and if there was one thing that would ever lead me to “get the fuck out of Dodge” – it’s the lack of deep trust that I am slowly developing for Papua New Guineans generally.

A couple of months ago I wrote a post titled the “10 Paradoxes of Papua New Guinea“. Just to recap here they are as I noted them in that previous post:

You can trust a man with your life but not with 50 bucks.

Lovers will not hold hands in public but good mates do.

Order and chaos are one and the same.

A person’s wealth is measured by what they give away rather than what they accumulate.

There’s no such thing as PMV timetables but as a rule of thumb one does not have to wait longer than a few minutes for a passing bus.

There’s no such thing as a free gift even though the locals give freely.

It’s much easier to raise money for the dead than what it is for the living.

Papua New Guineans will patiently hang around for hours but when it comes to queues they lose all sense of courtesy.

It’s totally acceptable for a man to have close body contact with a young lass whilst riding on the back of a PMV other times it’s probably best not to have eye contact.

There is no word for paradox in Tok Pisin!

Why am I writing about “trust” and “paradoxes” on a Saturday afternoon instead of napping or going for a walk down to the local market for a story and a chew?

Folks say and joke about (although not really funny) that a white man married to a local woman will eventually find himself (if he’s lucky) with just the shirt on his back. All other material possessions that the bloke might have owned, slowly but surely ending up in the hands of someone else – more than likely – extended family and friends.

Well, there have been three incidents that have occurred lately which I would like to get of my chest that make me think that my little tirade on the lack of trust around these parts is a fact and not something I am just imagining.

Here goes…

1. We recently had a relative of Eli’s staying with us for a few weeks – a young kid by the name of Simon. Simon is roughly 13 years of age. On a previous visit to the village we felt sorry (big mistake) for Simon after he had just lost his Mum in a truck accident a few weeks before. The fact that Simon smoked whilst he was here (behind our backs of course) didn’t particularly bother me. The shit he did in the vegetable patch – although Mama Blogan was very annoyed and courted/charged the whole household – didn’t bother me – but the cash and MP3 player that he stole from Eli – now that irks me no end. We fed him, gave him pocket money, bought a bunch of clothes for him but still that wasn’t enough. The prick had to turn around and steal from us even after inviting him into our home. I had very stern words with Simon’s father the last time we stayed at the “hut” and as far as I’m concerned he will never – ever – ever be allowed anywhere near our home again.
2. The second incident concerns the fire we had at home a couple of weeks ago. Our neighbours and street friends rushed in to help us out – all very decent and unapproachable community spirit you might think – think again – on their way out after it was all over – folks helped themselves to various household items.
3. The last item and one that has only happened in the last week concerns some household items and groceries that we asked one of the relatives to take back to the village and give to one of Eli’s uncle’s. About K60 worth of goods: flour, oil, nails, betelnut etc… intended for Uncle Jacobmai as compensation for some building work that he is doing for us. Do you think that these things ever arrived? You guessed right!!! Disappeared and not seen since – together with the bloke that was meant to deliver them.

(A quick note on point ’3′… you haven’t heard the last of this one – we know who the bloke is and have just sent word back to the village! PNG justice can be very swift indeed (and nasty by the way). The least the culprit will be get away with (when caught) is a decent panel beating. In fact – I probably won’t recognise him next time I see him – due to the re-arrangement of some of his facial features!!)

So…

The moral of this story: “To live, work, stay safe and enjoy this country – one must interact with the locals – but one inevitably pays the price for this interaction – sad folks – but true“.