On the Rock

I'm back in Papua New Guinea, the other end of the island. Not much has changed in Port Moresby. Major road construction projects are winding up and it's easier to get around it seems.

One such project is an overpass built expressly for a big regional political meeting coming up in two years time. This overpass will swish dignitaries directly from the airport to the meeting site and

by-pass all the traffic and potential carjacking points and scenes of poverty. These meetings are great to expose these countries to world leaders, but I wonder about resources better spent on things like food and water and health care. But maybe there's some bigger plan.

The Australians have contracted with the Papuans to put a refugee camp here.  The Aussies  have taken a hard line against people coming to their shore by boat.  It may not make the news back home, but they intercept folks coming by boat and put them in camps where conditions are considered pretty bleak. On the island of Nauru, distressed refugees are immolating themselves to protest conditions. Recently the Supreme Court in PNG ruled that these camps in Papua New Guinea violated the constitution and they should be closed.

Coincidentally, on Papua, some refugees have been let out of the camps to live in the community as regular citizens.  A number of them, though have asked to move back into the camps citing safety reasons.

I just finished reading “Savage Harvest” by Carl Hoffman. He goes back and investigates the disappearance of Michael Rockefeller way back in 1961.  The grandson of John D  Rockefeller was off collecting primitively art in western Papua when he disappeared while boating off the coast. Despite an extensive search his body was never found. It was thought he was swept out to sea or was even by sharks, but was also rumored he swam ashore and was eaten by cannibals. I leave it to you to read more, but the book is fascinating look at some of the ageless spirituality that infuses the people of this region.

On my way to the airport, the driver told me an interesting story.

We passed by a rock, a huge boulder of granite. He told me that back in 1990 as they were building the road to the airport they had to carve a pass over a mountain.  They carved down through the mountain and hauled all the rock down to the harbor and dumped it there. They packed it all down and have started building on it as reclaimed land.

But, he pointed to the big boulder that had been fenced off by the side of the road, and said that they hauled that particular rock down to the shore 5 or 6 times, but every time they did they found it moved back to its original site up the hill.  After a few times, they decided they needed to talk to the rock to see what the problem may be.  

They found landowners who had some rights to the land and they asked them to come talk to the rock. They did, but the rock didn't listen until finally, they found an ancestor of some of the original people of the Port Moresby area. They had been displaced to up into the hills when the city was built. These people came and they talked to the rock and the rock talked back and they were able to reach a compromise where the rock would agree to be moved to the side of the road, but didn't have to go down to the beach.

So there it sits. Some 5 tons of stone. They've even built a little wall around it. Whether that's to keep the rock in or people out is not known.

He proceeded to tell me about a sacred spring that is inhabited by a snake spirit.  No one is allowed to swim there or fish there.  But, a the end of the dry season, when everyone is hungry and tired of the dust and the heat, they send someone up into the hills to splash about and make noise and soon after a flood comes and usually kills some people or destroys things.  

The loss is a payment to the gods, but at least they have rain.  

“Yeah, we've got a lot of stories about spirits and ghosts. It all goes way, way back.”  All that from a cab ride.  Well worth the fare.

PNG n Mi

I was back in Port Moresby recently.  If you read my last entry on the place, you’ll understand I had some trepidation about returning.  Not much has changed.  

Actually, that’s not quite true.  The Pacific Games are coming in some 70 days, so the whole city is getting a makeover with new roads and flyovers and stadiums and landscaping.  There are some new athletic looking sculptures that are in place, weight lifters and swimmers and the like. They are expecting 4000 athletes and 10000 visitors for the games.  One wonders where everyone is going to sleep since there are only a limited number of hotels, but they are doing their best to dress things up for the event.

The safety situation hasn’t really changed much.  I was still discouraged from walking anywhere.  Locals are still bickering with one another.  I read in the paper that one clan lost a pig and accused another clan of stealing it.  1 week later, 10 people are dead from both clans.  The killing was getting so bad, that the police chief went out and gave everyone a stern talking to.  “If I have to come back here one more time, there’s going to be consequences.”

There are worries about the local police barracks.  They are in a state of disrepair and there is not enough space for everyone.  They’ve been poorly maintained and there has been vandalism as well.  Everyone is waiting for money to come from somewhere.

You’d think the place was really poor, but there is tons of money here.  PNG has one of the fastest growing economies in the Pacific.  There is a ton of mineral, oil and lumber wealth.  I met two guys who work for the PNG central bank.  They were risk analysts and focused on investing PNG’s wealth overseas.  They took great pride in the fact they were protecting their country’s new found wealth, by investing it carefully and making the money grown.  But they send it all to places like Fiji or Australia or the US. They buy hotels or invest in other country’s infrastructure.  It is such a puzzle why the local police is clamoring for funds, but the government owns one of the best hotels in Suva.

   

Despite the no walking warnings, I did endeavor to get out one morning.  There was a monthly local craft market at the bottom of the hill that my hotel was on.  I mentioned I might walk down, and coworkers were leery.  They recounted stories of people jumping out of the bushes and mugging people.  I could, though, truly throw a rock from my hotel room and hit it.  I decided to risk it.  I mentioned to the hotel doorman and he said I should be safe since it was morning and well lit.  I think he let a guard know to keep an eye on my while I walked.

I only had a few dollars on me.  No phone. No credit card. No camera, but I did find myself on edge with every person I passed.  And there were a number of them.  This is a walking country.  People amble about.  And when they don’t amble they sit in whatever shade they can find.

 

But, nearly every person I passed bid me a good morning with a smile or paid me no mind.  No threat at all during my one minute out walking in public.

PNG is a country of 7 million people and over 800 distinct languages.  There are two main languages, English and a creole called Tok Pisin which is a mix of Indo-European and other languages.  It is a phonetic conglomeration.

I read book         IS            mi ritim buk.

I give money      IS            mi givim mani,

Child                      IS            pikinini

Today                    IS            tete

Tomorrow           IS            tumora

Perhaps my favorite phrase is the phrase for “I love you. “  It is “mi laikem yu tru.”  I may start using this in my everyday life. 

And finally, I’ll end with this letter to the editor I saw on my trip.  I think it speaks for itself.