10 things I think I think

The format of this entry is stolen directly from Peter King, Senior NFL writer for Sports Illustrated. He is the best football writer on the planet. Anyway, I tried to write a ‘closing thoughts’ essay and was having all sorts of problems so I turned to the old numbered list, first cousin to my beloved bullet points. Here we go…

1. I think what you have in PNG is a violent collision between a tribal society and modern technology/methodologies. In Kundiawa, there is an computer shop with an internet connection and not 50 meters away lives a family in a hutch with no running water, electricity or gas stove – living exactly like their ancestors did hundreds of years ago. The contrasts are startling and don’t mix very well.

2. I think the term ‘developing nation’ has a negative, almost pitied connotation. USA was once a developing nation – a collection of farmers and laborers in an untamed, rural territory. But America had time to develop, and went through several stages along the way. PNG is only 30 years old yet has advanced a great deal, taking short cuts with the help of foreign aide.

3. I think PNG is not a poor country. This is not Afghanistan – a baron, mountainous wasteland. Nobody is starving to death in PNG. The land is a green, lush paradise – there is nothing that cannot be harvested here. Beneath the mountains lie fields of minerals and ore that could be exported. The country just needs to tap into their own pool of resources.

4. I think PNG is too dependent on foreign aide. The first thing organizations do when wanting to start a project in PNG is to write a funding proposal to AusAide or another donor agency. There is an underlying thought process that just assumes Australia or England or whatever will come and bail out PNG if a crisis comes down.

5. I think the loyalty towards the clan, over the loyalty to country, is the biggest obstacle in the effectiveness of the national government. PNG people care about their family – the wontok system. The country is a distant second. Politicians make decisions and misappropriate funds to help out their own clan. Policemen do favors for their wontoks and allow them to commit crimes unchallenged. The PNG people waved the country flag around a few weeks ago for Independence Day but their patriotism begins and ends with their own village. This problem is not ignored by the government – a national campaign with the theme ‘Let’s put PNG First’ has flooded media outlets for weeks. The clan ties are strong – a sense of national pride and identity will take time.

6. I think the AIDS epidemic in PNG is frightening. It is reaching Africa proportions. Many organizations are conducting tireless awareness campaigns but it is a tough sell. You have a society that is deeply religious, believes in the wrath of god and that sinners are justly punished. So when a person dies of AIDS, the consensus is that he/she was struck down for their crimes, whatever they may be. Now you have volunteers streaming in, warning of a mysterious disease that EVERYONE can contract if they do not practice safe sex. Oh, and by the way, the symptoms of the disease won’t show up for a few years. And you won’t actually die from the disease itself but from ANOTHER illness that could not be fought off because of the former disease. Try explaining that to a villager who does not speak English.

7. I think PNG is in jeopardy of becoming a drug haven – Central America style. You have a rural, relatively lawless nation with an ideal climate. Everything grows here. You have Australia to the south and China to the north – countries with money and a recreational drug habit. You have a corrupt police force and easy access to automatic weapons. I would not be surprised if cocaine started streaming out of PNG – and it might be already.

8. I sometimes think it would do PNG better if all the volunteers and missionaries and Non Government Organizations (NGOs) pulled out and let them figure out everything on their own. It won’t happen. Australia wants to keep an eye on their little buddy to the north and fear radical religious groups streaming through PNG, rallying new followers.

9. I think that the volunteers that I have come in contact with have been some of the finest people I have ever met. There is an unspoken bond between the volunteers in PNG. We all know we are far away from our homes and families and friends and we are exposed in this wild land so we all got to stick together and watch each other’s backs. Furthermore, almost everyone is intelligent and hilarious. I am in good company.

10. I think I have gotten much more out of this experience than PNG has gotten from me.



That’s it. I fly out tomorrow. Australia for a couple weeks and then back to the USA. Home. I doubt I will ever return to Papua New Guinea. These are strange days, for me. I feel different.

The blog will continue though the venue will change. Australia looms.

Rounding the turn

The Highlands are a memory. I was annoyed when people told me that the time would fly by. First of all, it just seemed like a cliché thing to say. I hate generic statements. Like when someone says ‘well, what are you going to do?’ What does that mean? There were sections of my stay when time would lurch to a virtual stand still. But now, at the end, the six months appear to be a blur.

This has nothing to do with the experience itself. The human brain just does not have the capacity to archive six months of time. Moments are defragmented and compartmentalized. For instance, I have spent over 200 hours* staring at nothing in particular in a thoughtless stupor over the past 180 days. My mind has smashed all that empty time into one solitary moment. It does the same for all repeated acts and actions (and there were many). So did time go fast? No, absolutely not. My brain is just not that big.

*This could be considered an estimate. And likely an under-estimate, at that.

My last week was strange. I felt like everything was falling apart. I was happy to go and I think I felt guilty because of that happiness. I had, to that point, been very proud of my work but now I felt like I had not done enough. In the months of June and July I had become a fixture in the Highlands – a true Simbu man. Now I was just another tourist, going back to my REAL life. The goodbyes felt more awkward then emotional. Some people cried on me and I could not help but think ‘how long do I have to hug you before I can walk away?’ I had a vision for my exit and the reality did not come close. I’m lousy at goodbyes.

On my way back down from the Highlands, I went to the annual Goroka show. This coincided with the Independence Day celebration. PNG is 30 years old. PNG did not force independence with a revolution. In fact, most of the country did not want to be independent and favored Aussie rule. Australia took care of PNG, and the nationals feared the loss of the warm blanket of security and order provided by the big island to the south. Regardless, enough minds were changed and in the early 70s, the vote was passed and the Australians calmly lowered their flag.*

Back to the Goroka Show. The show/festival/cultural expose is a PNG institution. Sing sing groups from around the country travel to Goroka (covering great distances over wild terrain) to perform their traditional dances to the masses. The head dresses and face paintings were beautiful. The groups were surrounded by obnoxious ‘white skins’ with complicated cameras. They squatted and contorted themselves in all sorts of positions to get that ‘one great shot’. I was embarrassed to be lumped in their group. They’ll leave with great pictures but they didn’t use they OWN EYES, when these fabulous groups were right in front of them. I think I have become a cantankerous, anti-tourist. This involves a lot of eye-rolling and sarcastic comments made under your breath.

*I think the PNG flag is magnificent.

Cafeteria riot

The students rioted last Sunday night. I heard a great calamity going on around 6pm - wild hoots and hollers during a torrential rain storm. I figured the boys were playing an intense game of rugby in the mud so I did not give the clamor another thought. I hear wild shouts all the time - they have become background noise, like a honking car horn. As I approached the administration building the following morning, I was struck by an eerie silence and students huddling in packs. I slipped into the staff room just in time for an emergency meeting.

The food supply had been dwindling for weeks. Portions have gradually gotten smaller - the kids did not get much to begin with. Tempers were beginning to fester. The powder keg blew Sunday night.

The attack was premeditated. The upper-class males stormed the mess hall and began flinging trays of food in all directions. Said trays were smashed to bits. The mess coordinator tried to stop the onslaught, slapping any student that came within his wingspan. The boys spared him and moved onto the bakery.

The baked bread (called scones) was scattered outside in the rain. The baker, fearing he may be implemented in the revolt, demanded that the students strike him. He has a problem with his spleen, or at least he thinks it is his spleen, so he requested a head shot. His wish was granted.

With the bakery and cafeteria in shambles, the boys released any remaining angst by shouting up towards the storm clouds. The storm shouted right back. The girls had just arrived from their barracks for dinner to witness the aftermath. The rains continued to thunder down. No one from the faculty left their homes to quell the situation, probably because of the storm. The kids eventually tired of the revolution and returned to their dormitories, soaked and starving.

The administration responded by sending the students home for two days (it takes some students one full day just to get home). No one was reprimanded and no investigation launched to discover the ring leaders. Only an unspoken consensus that the students had reason to rise up so let's forgive and forget. During the hiatus, the provincial government 'found' some money and put it in the school account to pay off outstanding debts. The school truck toured the local villages and collected kau kau donations - an act of kindness that will not be forgotten... by the villagers. The students are back now. Order restored.

I was on a PMV yesterday with a returning student and we shared this
exchange:

'So, what do you usually get to eat during the week'

He told me.

'Damn. Not much balance in that diet.'

'Well, we've been told before that we are in school to learn, not to eat'

I pondered this awhile and we sat in silence. Finally, I asked:

'So what have you been doing for the past few days?'

He looked at me and calmly said 'eating.'

The cruel irony is that Rosary over 40 acres of lush farm land.

9.9.05 - New Orleans

I have been able to follow the tragedy. Katrina was the top story in the world for almost a week. The world has since moved on to a different disaster.

I was furious when the news first came in. Every report, and I mean EVERY single report, began the same: 'The richest, most powerful nation in the world is in disarray'. The reporters carried a smug air that screamed 'well, well, look at big bad USA - can't even handle some bad weather in their own backyard.' I found myself screaming at the television, 'we're evacuating a major city, not a damn fishing village!!'

While the Bayou has lost top billing, the news continues to come in. I keep waiting for it to turn positive. It just seems to get worse.

The Bish

The Bishop was here yesterday to address the students. The principal introduced him as 'his Lordship' to the assembly. I nearly lost control of my bowels.

No one else in the crowd even flinched. This is my life.

Coach Huggins

If you add everything up - allegations of shady recruiting practices, national perception of a rogue program, embarrassing DUI, annual criminal activity by players and a grotesque string of early exits in the NCAA tournament - the firing of Bobby Huggins should not come as a surprise.

Timing is the dirty little word that has the UC basketball community up in arms. Most boosters probably feel hoodwinked - their beloved captain of the Bearcat Armada was clipped days after their booster money was collected for the 2005-06 season. Recruiting has likely grinded to a halt, with the prize pig, homegrown OJ Mayo, becoming a mere dream. Now the program must limp apologetically into the Big East where they will be exposed under the bright lights of big time college basketball.

I underestimated the disdain UC president Nancy Zimpher has for Huggins. It's the only reason to explain the move - she simply could not stomach one more season of Huggins brooding around campus. Maybe she thought he was bigger than the school and wanted to reestablish the power structure. My problem is this: she had already won. Huggins was coaching the team on her terms. He was a lame duck, given two years to prove that he deserved to be the coach at Cincinnati. Huggins is UC Basketball - a 13-year veteran that rescued the program from obscurity. He is one of the biggest names in college basketball and was now told that he had to re-apply for his job.

And he agreed! Would Pitino agree to such terms? Zimpher had broken Huggins in public and he accepted her new deal with his tail between his legs.

With Huggins campaigning for his job on the court, Zimpher could have conducted a coaching search off of it. If Huggins fell flat on his face in the Big East (a distinct possibility), no one would have howled at his release. Recruiting would have held serve, Mayo could have been locked up and at the very least, the team could have arrived in the Big East (the most important move in the history of UC athletics) with a cloak of solidarity.

I'm going to miss Huggins. College basketball has become a collection of one-night stands, with players leaving their teams before they bother to take off their coats. The one constant that you could set you watch to was Coach Bob Huggins, patrolling the UC sideline with a ubiquitous scowl. His post-game interviews were comic genius, as he shared grunts and blunt answers with Chuck Mayshok. He was tough and so was the team, but I always thought I saw a glint of childish mischief behind his dead eyes. Now he is gone and leaves behind a program without a soul.

However, as the rule of the fan goes, we cheer for the uniform, not the men inside. If the Bearcats win 20 and advance to the Sweet 16, it will be all smiles and high-fives in Bearcat Kingdom. Huggins will just be a name on a banner, a statistical footnote in the media guide, a subject of pub chatter:

'remember that crazy coach we used to have that looked like a mob boss and stomped his feet like an 6-year old?' He will live on and so will Bearcat basketball.

I'm going to miss him anyway.

Window shopping at the Kundiawa Hardware Store

The Big E

This letter is from Eugene, a volunteer from Nigeria who is an agriculture teacher at Mt. Wilhelm high school. It was sent to Athar, an Indian volunteer stationed in Kundiawa. Athar passed it on to me. It requires no further introduction for I feel it would only inhibit a letter of its magnitude. Below is said letter verbatim, including accurate punctuation and spelling peculiarities.

The Big E

Hey Athar,
The man that belted students and at the same time cried aloud in agony that he will NEVER forgive them came into the lime light again!!! Last week he belted his wife (my Head of Department) at the school farm in the broad day light in the presence of students and other dick and harry within the domain of the village. After belting his wife, he popped/came into the department office where I was f**ckingly busy with the daily activities in the course of making progress in the kau kau state of PNG. He demolished his wife's documents, table and everything his hands could grasp at moment m and time t. I asked him if everything is all right, he came directly to me with intention to belt me should in-case I make further comment, but I pretended to ignore him while watching his movement should in-case he decide to knife me. He remained speechless for about five minutes just gazing at me like a deer gazing itself at sea. He eventually left for good!!! When I was out of the office just like a rat that has just escaped from a huge trap set by the cat, I noticed that students and some teachers alike had swarm like the honey bees waiting for the latest news. To cut the drama short, his wife (my HOD) decided to step aside from the marriage and the school in large, because she may be endangering her life to continue working in the school since it is located within the range of her husband's village.

Automatically, I have become the HOD!! That means that I have a loooottt to do!!! Especially for Grade 10 because, their final exams (national exams) is scheduled for early October and I have to collect all test scores before I leave for Madang for the holiday.

So how is your preparations for journey back to your loving India? Hope you have been eating a lot of curry of late to gain more weight. May I suggest that you should try to eat at least 1KG of kau kau and kumu daily to gain weight rapidly!!! I guess that you must be banging now. I think you need to bang to complete your story about your stay in PNG, because at the exit interview the first question will be 'have you banged?' If the answer is no, then your flight ticket shall be withheld pending when you bang.

Athar, because of the huge work at my disposal, may I suggest that I come to Kundiawa Tuesday next week. That means that I will have the whole Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday with you. I noticed that if I leave for Kundiawa on Friday this week, that means that I will miss about six working days and the school may think am not considerate. I will stay here for now, we will discuss at length when I come down to Kundiawa. My hearty cheers to the manager and all your meris bilong yu. Keep banging as you spend your last days in PNG.

I remain Gene.