Robert@PNG

Yesterday we travelled to Kaubasis in Simbu; we managed to leave home at around 7:30am as we wanted to be back in Goroka before dark. After a little confusion at the main markets trying to organize a PMV (fairly normal) we finally departed town for Eli’s village. There were four of us, Aunt Anna, Eli’s brother Mai, Eli and me.

The PMV dropped us off at Mangiro Junction on the Highland’s Highway just over the Eastern Highlands border. We had about a two hour walk ahead of us to Eli’s village so we got going as soon as possible, by this time it was around 10:30am. I was barefoot as always when I go “bush”.

The walk into Kaubasis is an experience in itself; somehow one always manages to bump into a relative or two. That is perhaps an understatement; the entire valley is full of relatives, clan members, brothers,
sisters, uncles and aunts. The concept of clan or tribe is something else, the network and web of relations between clan members seems never ending and I still catch myself out asking Eli when in the village: Are you related to such and such? Essentially, anyone within the clan is family. One clan – one tribe – one family. For a white person the concept of clan or extended family is easily grasped, in practice not so easy.

Shortly after leaving Mangiro Junction we bumped into Enoch, one of the “Boku” clan and uncle to Eli. I had a photo to give him which I had printed when Downunder over the Xmas break. It was nice to see Enoch again and we hugged. Hugging in PNG is very common, especially between friends and family, I love it.

Some sad news, Enoch informed us that the previous night, at around 6:00pm, one of the old “bubus” had died. I happened to be carrying a photo to give to the old man. Sadness struck me and I walked alone for the next little while, feeling the pain of loss, it was like I had lost a grandparent.

The walk into the valley seemed to go on forever, a never ending stream of people to greet and share stories with. Since coming to PNG I have found belonging but when I visit “Kaubasis” this sense of belonging is heightened, I have come to feel like a part of the clan and valley. With each visit this sense of belonging and connection seems to grow stronger and stronger.

I finally fired up the digital camera again and managed to snap quite a few photos on the day. There was an ulterior motive for the photo taking as the local school has its annual show next week and we (Eli and me) came up with the idea of printing the photos and taking them back next week to sell to the locals; donating the monies collected back to the school. Needless to say that this was an effortless task as Papua New Guineans love having their photos taken.

The building of our village “home” has started and is now well under way. We wanted to visit “Kaubasis” to see how the hut was coming along, check the actual location and give some last minute design input. My
original idea of a traditional round house with four annexes is a go-er. There will also be plenty of space for flower and food gardens. The ground is close enough to the river to hear the roar of the nearby fast flowing river. From what I gather there are many involved and participating in the construction project, a very deep sense of honour and gratitude is emerging within. Interestingly this feeling appears to be mutual, Eli’s clan is over the moon that we would want to come and stay and participate in village life. All else aside, I feel humbled. Did manage to capture some photos of the building “site” and these will be posted shortly. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to provide pictorial updates as the building of our “dream” home progresses.

A house warming has already been planned for the new house and this will take place when Mum comes and visits us in September. This is guaranteed to be quite an occasion and perhaps our dear little friends “Prof”
and “Princess” have finally found their fate.

The next stage of our day adventure was a walk up a very steep and slippery bush track, the village we were headed to next was where the old man had died. I was determined to pay my respects to his wife and also handover the photo which I had snapped last year. When we arrived in “Deganel” we were met with the warmest of greetings, hugs, tears and more hugs, everyone gathered around the “haus man”, remembering the life and times of their dearest of elders. After another short walk we finally made it to the home of the old man and were invited to sit down inside for a short time. We sat inside the old man’s hut together with his wife and other clan members, for around 30 minutes. The atmosphere inside the hut was intense yet light, people holding each, young and old, stories shared and together with the wailing many tears were shed by all.

3:00pm and time to head back…

And this folks leads me to the last installment of the story from yesterday’s outing. As they say around here, PNG is the Land of the Unexpected and yesterday this proved to be truer than true. We managed to catch a PMV at the Mangiro Junction at around 4:30 or 5:00pm, the timing was perfect as it was going to get us back to Goroka town just before dark.

Just before reaching the summit of the infamous, cold and magnificent Daulo Pass we were held up! Not
by some masked raskols wielding home made guns but by a drunk, holding a rather large rock. He somehow managed to position himself right in front of the bus and was ready to throw the rock straight at the driver. The PMV stopped and the passengers started to chitter chatter, rhubarb rhubarb like. The rock wielding drunk walked up to the drivers window and demanded Two Kina! Two whole fuckin Kina!! Enough to buy four tailored ciggies but not even enough to buy a beer! Passengers were yelling: “Give him the money” and others: “Don’t give him the money”. I started to get a little nervous when I noticed a bunch of other drunks on the side of the road, they all seemed ready to assist and support their fellow clan member at a moments notice.

The driver looking straight ahead and appearing to ignore the drunk at his window, tells him to go and see the “bos cru”. The whole bus is involved by now, except for me of course, I was cursing myself for not bringing any toilet paper, I could feel my tummie rumble and move. As the drunk reaches the other side of the bus ranting and raving a la drunkard demanding two kina, the “bos cru” appears to totally ignore him, with rock in hand the drunk continues to demand two kina. As occurs in PMV’s all the time, passengers start telling “bos cru” what to do and insist that he give the drunken Two Kina. Finally “bos cru” hands over some
coins; the driver engages PMV into gear and we continue our return trip to Goroka to town.

So that ladies and gentlemen is the story about the “Two Kina Hold-Up”. This is something that could only happen in PNG. I spoke with Eli about the incident afterwards and she tells me that what happened wasn’t a
big deal at all. This kind of “Hold-Up” occurs in the Highlands quite frequently, local Land Owners demanding “toll” for passage of vehicles through their land. At the time I suspected this to be the case but the fact is that situations can turn violent at a moments notice. Papua New Guineans are rather partial to a fight and the situation with the drunk and roadside full of fellow tribesmen in reality could have gone either way.

In a bizarre sort of way it’s these types of experiences that make PNG an interesting place to live. Never a dull moment and as is common, chaos followed by structure and a positive outcome. The drunk has some
buai and smoke money, nobody is hurt and the passengers have something to make jokes and laugh about on the way back to town.